Affinitie.

AFfinitie cannot haue greater glory, then when the father is wise; the children vertu­ous; the brothers kinde; the cosins louing; and the kin­red conformable.

Affinity is happy, where cosins & nephewes are well bred, and kinde consorts; sisters are modest and gracious maidens; bro­thers [Page] are naturall and indiuiduall friends; children obedient and pleasing to their parents; wiues are vertuous and submisse to their husbands, and wise and careful to gouerne their housholds.

Aff [...]nity degenerating in honesty, is like foule scabs in a faire skinne: such Affines brings as much credit & comfort to their friends, as do lyce in their clothes; & they are much like of a lousie condition: they will cleaue close vnto you, while you haue bloud to feede them; but if you begin to die, or decay, they goe from them that breed them.

Affinity doth sometimes shew a catalogue of kinsmen, but a blank of friends. For it is not the similitude of titles or names, but the resemblance of like true and tender af­fection and harts, wherein the reality of right, and naturall affinity consists.

Affinity of faire words and false hearts, are like Tantalus his apples, they are euer hanging round about him, but he may die for hunger, before he shall taste them. Or they are like the apples of Sodom, that are faire without, and dust within. Good for nothing but to deceiue hungry passengers, [Page 2] who would, but cannot feed vpon them.

Affinity is pleased, when the children and childrens children, prooue the Parents de­light; but if vngracious, they are more charge then comfort.

Affinity with needy and penurious friends, is like a stemme, that hath many suckers or vnder-plants; which are still drawing the iuyce away from the great and maine root, but themselues neuer bring forth a handful of fruit.

Affinity hath that priuiledge, that in lordly houses, and of inheritors, there ought to be the haunts of brothers, cosins, nephews, vnckles, and all other of his kin; bearing good will to their affaires, & supporting their necessities: in such wi [...]e, that to them is no houre forbidden, or dore shut; ne­uerthelesse, there are some brothers, co­sins, and nephewes so tedious in speech, so importunate in visiting, and so without measure in crauing, that they make a man angry, and also abhorre them; and the re­medy to such, is to appart their conuersa­tions, and succour their necess [...]ties.

Affinity makes men presume in offences: but heere lies the danger, when kinsmen [Page] fall out indeed, they are at deadly food, and commonly irreconcileable: therefore a care must be had of the occasion, and a cunning to contriue a pacification.

Affinity setteth whole families many times at variance, euen to the drawing of stran­gers to take part: but when an attonement is contriued, the rest are not only condem­ned, but pay for the mischiefe, when a mans bloud returnes, and feare of ouer­throwing the whole family keepes malice in restraint.

Anger.

ANger is the heat of bloud, as feare the defect of nature: but in both tempe­rance bringeth men to perfection.

Anger and Enuy makes the body leane, and ma [...]erates the minde, when it had need of rest [...]u [...]ation by rest.

Anger is sometimes manly, as griefe vvith reason is naturall▪ but to be outragious [Page 3] is beastly, and to cry, childish.

Anger without discretion turneth into fu­rie, and continuing without restraint, en­deth in sorow.

Anger vpon good cause is wis [...]dome, and against sinne, honesty; and without sinne, holinesse: but to braule and swagger is vn­ciuell.

Anger without force, is like a lustfull Eu­nuch, willing but weak; or like a mocked old man, that holds vp his staffe, but can­not strike: in both, a man shall show folly in willingnes to hurt, and inability to exe­cute.

Anger bringeth hastie spirits in danger of hurt; and when the passion is cooled by consideration, repentance followes: but if it be too late, it is subiect to derision.

Anger and excesse of meates, are great ene­mies to health. For meats doe corrupt the humors, and anger consumeth the bones: so that if men did not eate ouermuch, and would not be ouer-angry, there should be little cause to be sick, and much lesse of whom to complaine. For the whips that do most scourge our miserable life, are or­dinary excesse, and deepe anger.

[Page] Anger, made great Alexander (like the least part of himselfe) kill his minionized friend Clytus: for, had it been drunkennesse, hee would haue tapt out his hart bloud before he heard him speake: for▪ drunkennesse is an afternoones madnesse, and can do no­thing aduisedly. But it was bold, through friendly reprofe from Clytus, stird Alexan­der to ire; ire increasing by exasperation, became furie; furie enflamed by the wild­fire of desperate rage, could not be quen­ched but with the life-bloud as it were of his own (or one he lou'd as his own) hart. Whereupon ensued too late repentance; which grew to such excesse of sorrow, as diuided the King (as mad) from himselfe; and almost life from the King; who would haue made his proper hands reuenge vpon himselfe that improper act, had not his friends watchfull care matched his blou­die carelesnesse.

Anger makes men sad, melancholy, heauy, sorowfull, and of an euill colour: whereas those that be mery & glad, be alwaies fat, whole, and well coloured: so that without comparison, there be more which growe sick by anger they entertaine, then of the [Page 4] meates they feed vpon.

Anger must not reuenge euery iniurie; for so shall a man neuer want worke, neuer want woe, but shall put his peace and fe­licitie in the power of euery enemy, vassal, or boy. He that wil goe to law vpon euery wrong, shal sildom gaine either credite or coine by the bargaine. After he hath for­saken his rest, imployd his cogitation, spent his time, mony, friends and paine, turnd slaue to his Lawyer, and his owne passion to haue his will on his aduersary, hee shall be a great looser by such a victo­rie.

Hee that will liue in the world and put vp no iniuries, is like him that sits and fights with a hiue of Bees: hee may crush, & kill many of them, but were much better to let them alone. For he shall be sure to be con­tinually stung, in body or minde, in goods or good name.

Anger of a Superiour prouoked by iust oc­sion, may with conscience and credite pro­ceed to moderate castigation: but must take heed of tormenting, least the offender inforced to repell outrage and violence, returne a mischiefe in his owne defence: [Page] or at lest discredite his Superiour by an out-cry or vproare, if he can do no more.

Anger must needs be auoided in officers of authoritie. For they ought to be honest in their liues, vpright in iustice, patient in iniuries, measured in their speech, iustifi­ed in that they commaund, righteous in iudgement, and pittifull in execution.

Anger is many times so beastly, that Magi­strates or ministers of iustice, doe disho­nour, misuse, shame and despise such as come to audience: so that the sorowfull sutor doth more feele a rough word they speake, then the iustice they dilate.

Anger is no other thing but an inflamation of the bloud, as Aristides saith, and an al­teration of the hart. Possidoniu [...] calleth it a short foolishnes: Tully saith, that vvhat the Latines call anger, the Greekes name vengeance. Aeschines saith, that ire was caused of the fume of the gall, & the heat of the heart. And Macrobius saith, that anger groweth of some occasion, and te­stinesse of euill condition.

Anger hath certaine priuiledges, or if you will, notes of discouery: not to belieue our friends, to be rash in attempts, to haue [Page 5] the cheekes inflamed, to vse quicknesse with the hands, to haue an vnbrideled tongue, to be fumish and ouerthwart for small causes, and to admit of no reason.

Anger put vs to the triall of reason, vvhe­ther wee differ from beasts. For they in­deed enraged, runne vpon one another for reuenge: but men must consider the cause, the euent, and circumstances of repen­tance.

Anger not onely transformes vs into fooles, but also makes vs to bee abhorred of o­thers.

Anger is sometimes a touchstone of vvise­dome: for Socr [...]tes holding a dagger rea­die to strike his seruant, remembring him­selfe, refrained because he was angry, and so might haue exceeded moderation. Which meditation brideled Plato also vpon the like occasion.

Anger lifteth the heart to a mans tongue, vvhen a vvise man keepeth his tongue in his heart.

Atheisme.

ATheisme maketh men worse then beasts, or diuels. For they belieue & tremble, when men neither feare God, nor the diuell, and therefore deserue a double hell.

Atheisme maketh Witches and Coniurers hells agents; and he that seeketh to them for help, goeth to the diuell by atturny.

Atheisme bringeth men to disobedience: for they are neither comforted with pro­mises from God, nor terrified with the punishments from hell; whereas yet the Oxe yeelds his necke to the yoke, the hound is at commaund of the huntsman, and the hawke stoopes down to the lure.

Atheisme and blasphemy are the high-way to hell, and maketh lies and stabs agents for the gallowes.

Atheisme maketh plenty of oathes, and hee that trusts them, is like him, which talks [Page 6] to the winde, and may haue aire for his answere.

Atheisme is the studie of the damned, and the diuell is author of the doctrine: for although men belieue there is no God, & so by consequence no diuell: yet therein is the cunning of the diuel more apparant, to harden their harts against the truth.

Atheisme is disputable, whether it proceed from pride or ignorance: for although Idolaters are not properly called Atheists, because they worship a dietie in the abo­minable deceit of representments; yet was Pharaohs host destroied for hardnesse of hart, & contempt of religion. So we may say of the worlds inundation, the buil­ding of Babel, and the burning of So­dome.

Atheisme made the Giants war against the Gods, and Salmoneus of Italy inuent fire­works to throwe vp into the element a­gainst thunder and lightning.

Atheisme can yeeld neither reason for the wilfulnesse, nor comfort in such opinion: for if there be no world after death, nor other life to be expected, how miserable is man to endure affliction, & how wret­ched [Page] satisfie a present lust, neither danger is feared, nor any following euent mistrus­ted.

Beauty in a foole is a disgrace to nature; and for an old man to dote on a faire face, is a discredite to wisedome. For a gray head, and wanton hart are ill suted.

Beauty in a woman that is honest and not proud, is like faire weather in haruest, both to comfort and profit.

Beauty of nature is vertue, and the due of vertue is honour.

Beauty blinds a vaine eye, musick drownes an idle [...]are, but reason rules a good wit, & grace doth blesse an humble soule.

Beauty is the witch of nature, as gold is the god of the world: so that a woman with­out beauty hath few followers, as a man without money hath few friends.

Beauty is much blemished, when a vvoman wanteth her teeth, and a man his beard: but vertue in the one, and wisedom in the other, ouercommeth natures imperfection and defects.

Beauty that is painted, resembles an idole, and hee that worshippeth it is an idolater. For as the one is made artificiall to the dis­honour [Page 8] of the deitie: so the other is mar­red by cunning to the disgrace of nature.

Beauty that breedeth loue is the forgetful­nesse of reason, and their wits are troubled with the studie of idlenes.

Beauty in a strumpet, is a faire ripened fruit to please the eye, but if it be rotten at the hart, it cannot relish the taste.

Beauty of women ouercomes the weaknes of husbands; whereupon Themistocles son merily vpon a day brake out into this pre­tie speech, touching his mothers power in the state; What I will, my mother will, what my mother will, Themistocles vvill, and what Themistocles will, the people of Athens will.

Beauty is one of the three things, that alters the condition and nature of man: for Ari­stotle obserued, that pride, women, and wine, ouercame all the world.

Beauty of Apame in Esdras, ouerawed Da­rius greatnes. For as hee tooke her in his armes to gaze vpon, shee would take the crown off his head to play withall: some­times putting it on her owne, and then a­gaine on his.

Beauty is held a diuine grace, and of the [Page] ancient Phylosophers much esteemed. For Socrates named it the tyrant of short time: Plato a priuiledge of nature: Theophra­stus, a silent deceit: Theocrites, a delightful hurt: Carneades, a solitarie kingdom: Do­mitius said nothing was more gratefull: Aristotle, a tongue-tied eloquence: Ho­mer, the glory of nature: and Ouid, a grace of God.

Beauty of the world pleaseth the eye of na­ture: but the contemplation of heauen rauisheth the soules of the Elect: so that there is great difference in outward and spirituall beauty.

Beauty and comlinesse euen make beasts proud: for when a horse is young, vvell shaped, perfectly managed, and richly a­dorned, he is as proud of his own beauty: as his master, that hath him to serue his turne.

Beauty of a new house may consist in out­ward building, & faile in seruiceable con­tinuance: when an old Castell is stronger for defence, and will endure to the owners profit.

Beauty of the proudest is momentary: for age & sicknes are her enemies, that many [Page 9] times they preuent her ostentation with vntimely accidents.

Beauty sooner ouercommeth old men, then enflameth youth: for old wood doth soo­ner burne then greene sticks. But then it is strange, how ridiculous they make their grauity, which should rather be imploied to study in bookes for wisedome, then looke on babies for recreation.

Beauty of a curtisan is a meere trap to de­ceiue one, and a worse danger: for the one peraduenture catcheth but our goods, or bodies; but the other rauisheth both our senses and harts.

Beauty is a very Lamia of wit: for Samo­cratius, Nigidius, and Ouid writ many bookes of the remidies of loue, and vsed none themselues. So they all three died, persecuted, and banished, not for those offences they committed in Rome, but for the loues they attempted in Capua.

Beauty of curtizans cannot be auoided, but by flying the conuersation, and eschewing the occasion: for in causes of loue; wee doe see many escape, that absent them­selues; but very few, that tary & abide it.

Birth.

BIrth bringeth life into light, & a good life is better then a learned: for hee knoweth enough, that from his birth kee­peth an vnspotted conscience.

Birth is like a messenger of gladsome ty­dings: for how euer the night may be full of sorow, yet ioy commeth in the mor­ning, that a man-child is brought into the world.

Birth & life enioy the vse of sence, but the soule hath the vse of reason: and therfore as the reasonable soule is more precious then life: so ought the life to bee spent to prouide, and regard for the soule.

Birth bringeth vs into a laborinth of so­rowes, and therefore not to bee loued: when death is but a short paine, and ther­fore not to be feared.

Birth and life full of offences make men mi­serable, but to die vnfaithfull, is vnpardo­nable. [Page 10] [...] to be borne to destruction; and [...] to die [...], then liue without [...] but when a happy life, and godlie end conclude our time, then is the soule at rest.

Birth is the cause of life in this [...] cannot warrant how long. For [...] life is but a span, and the continuance but a shadow: so that nothing is so vncertaine as life, nor so sure as death.

Birth setteth the loome of life [...] whereon we [...] many daies, and many dangers.

Birth is the cause of [...] of many fathers; yet [...] who is the [...] answered the [...] lies, of which [...] the world.

Birth and [...] thinke of any [...] remember [...] is a meere birth [...]

Birth of friendship [...] kindnes: so that [...] dies, loue and [...]

Benefits.

BEnefits without all exaction require all thankfulnesse: we must therefore blesse God for his bounty; be ioyfull in his mer­cie, and faithfull in our loue toward him for both.

Benefits haue sometimes a taste of bribery, and there is a fault both in the giuer & re­ceiuer; if honour be thereby purchased.

Benefits of magnificence are not measured by the smal desert of the receiuer, but the noble bounty and disposition of the re­warder: so Alexander giuing a citie to an inferior person, who thought it ouermuch for his merit, answered him, that though it was too much for him to receiue, it was not too much for Alexander to giue.

Benefits growe weary euen in common pas­sages, when men bee ingratefull: but to make comparisons for good turnes, bree­deth an euerlasting hatred.

[Page 11] Benefits that are weake make a mans tra­uaile greeuous, and when they seem wre­sted perforce, they lose a grace in their ac­ceptation; whereas a timely reward is like raine to a barren land, or a pleasant shewer in a distempered drought.

Benefits haue an excellent sound in their sig­nification, & Etimologie: for being deriued of bene-faciens, or doing well, they must needs do well, that bestow good turnes, as they doe not amisse, that deserue them.

Benefits makes beasts remember their be­nefactors: For in the story of Andronicus the slaue, when he was to be cast into the Lions denne at Rome, the principall and strongest amongst them, not onely ab­stained from hurting him himselfe, but kept others apart from any outrage a­gainst him. And this was the cause; this Lion he had healed long before in Affrica, when he ran from his M^r. and hid himselfe in his caue, which now remembred him in requital in Rome, when he was there to be deuoured. The story is in Aulus Gelius, and enlarged by Gueuara in his Epistles.

Benefits bestowd without desert shew some want of iudgement, but receiued without [Page] requitall, or thankfulnesse, absolutely con­clude an vnmannerly and ill conditioned man.

Benefits in time are the true blessings of friendship, otherwise, they may come when wee need them not, and so lose the grace of acceptation: or too too late, and so lose the life of their effects: thus an ear­ly frost is ill for fruit, and great raine noy­some in haruest.

Benefits from God are blessednesse in this life, and eternitie hereafter; which vvho will attaine to, must giue much, take little, seeke nothing, and be thankfull whatsoe­uer falls out.

Benefits from the suns light are not helpfull to the blind, & litle profiteth riches where the miser is: we must therefore do good, while we liue, & bestowe our good, where we may doe good.

Benefits of good are quickly forgotten, and nature is corrupted, where the drosse of the earth drawes a man to the diuell.

Benefits sometimes make a man proud and elated, when a man requited for a good ac­tion supposeth by and by his owne worth extraordinarie; and so either vilipendeth [Page 12] the recompence, or esteemeth better of himselfe, then he deserueth.

Benefits after death makes the graue thank a man for his bountie, and he that is mise­rable in life is a steward for hell.

Benefits receiued for flattery, are worse then punishments suffered for truth.

Benefits are excellent trialls of mens dispo­sitions: for he that taketh in worth a smal reward, shall bee sure of a greater: but hee that growes proud of a great one, shall want a small one; and hee that cares for none at all, meanes neuer to impart a­ny to others.

Benefits wherein Courtiers reioyce, are as they are bound to serue Princes, they haue licence to craue of them: as they endure many encombrances, so they hope for great preferment: as they toile in many iourneys, so they participate of diuerse pleasures: as they endure night watches, they are glad of daily newes: as they spend their owne substance, so they supply their home necessities: and as they wearie out their toilsome bodies, so they recreate their disquieted mindes, and at last accor­ding to their degrees growe forward to preferment.

[Page] Benefits multiplied to temporall prosperi­tie, & loued after with continuall greedi­nesse, shew some token of following mis­hap.

Benefits tie vs to obseruation, and keepe an honest man from speaking his minde: so somtimes vertue is betraied to wealth, and conscience made a slaue to respect.

Couetousnesse.

COuetousnesse maketh rich heires for a time, but he that is blest of GOD, is happy in his posteritie for euer.

Couetousnes is a spirituall idolatry, an vn­natural misery, a rich mans beggery, a wise mans mockery, a proud mans theeuery, a poore mans tyranny, a great mans infamy, and a meane mans disquiet.

Couetousnes eateth vp the beauty of a com­monwealth, the honor of a kingdome, the hart of the poore, & the soule of the rich.

[Page 13] Couetousnesse fills the Vsurers chest vvith trash, the poore mans eyes with teares, the good mans eares with wroth, the mouth of the distressed with curses, and the di­uels hands with soules.

Couetousnesse is base in a King, vncomely in a Court, dishonourable in a Captaine, prophane in a Churchman, vnnaturall in a whore, miserable in a Gentileman, vnpro­fitable in a foole, and dangerous in a Mer­chant himselfe.

Couetousnesse is such an enemie to the magnificence of Princes, that Titus the Emperous vvas vvont to say, he had lost that time, vvherein he did not some good turne, or bestowed a reward.

Couetousnesse is so great an enemie to the happinesse of life, that Alexander cryed out, there vvas nor life, nor delight in life, but to be liberall, and to requite good turnes.

Couetousnes is so contrary to the nature of a noble & valiant Captaine, that Theopon­tus the Thebane gaue his shooes off his his feet to a souldier demaunding mony to buy bread, saying plainly, thogh I haue no mony, it is better that I goe barefoot, then [Page] thou an hungred.

Couetousnesse is an enemy to charitie, the inuenter of vsury, the plotter of misery, and the breach of amity.

Couetousnesse feedes vpon prodigalitie, liues in penury, delights in scarsitie, and dies in misery.

Couetousnesse makes the whores spring, and the bawds haruest, the vsurers Christ­mas, and the prodigalls lent.

Couetousnesse makes the Lawyer vncon­scionable, the Iudge vncharitable, the theefe vngracious, and the hangman vn­mercifull.

Couetousnes made Laban a deceiuer, Na­ball a churle, Gehezie a leper, and Iudas a traytor.

Couetousnes is the roote of all euill.

Couetousnes should be so far from the hart of Kings, that they must not onely abhor it in others, but not practise it themselues. For thus one way Galba lost his life and Empire; and another way Dionisius the tyrant reprehended his sonne for keeping certaine iewels hee had: saying, Sonne, I gaue thee these iewels to bestowe, and not to hoord vp.

[Page 14] Couetousnes and Honor bee so contrarie, that they neuer dwell in one person, nor at any time had any aff [...]nity.

Couetousnes is contrary to all other vices, for euery other vicious man hath some tast in his sinnes, & intemperate humors: but the most vnfortunate couetous niggard is tormented with that, which others doe possesse, & takes no comfort in that, which he hath himselfe.

Couetousnesse is euer accompanied vvith feare & suspition; either the raging flouds cary away his mills, the cattell eate vp his medowes, the mildew blasteth his corne, the hunters breake his fences, the thieues rob his treasure, & the family spends more then he is able to maintaine.

Couetousnesse is a wicked and secret thee­uerie: for how euer a miser keepeth his goods from others, he robbeth nature of her blessings, and debarreth himselfe euen of necessary substance.

Couetousnes seeketh euer to hoord vp: wi­sheth that no man craue of him: hideth his head from spending: keepeth his hands from giuing: dares not stirre out of dores, nor cannot sleepe for disquieting himselfe [Page] with mistrust and despight.

Couetousnes is so terrible an enemy to con­uersation, that no honest man will ap­proach him, no man will talke, no man will accompany, no man giueth any thing, no man enters his doores, neither will any man fetch fire at his house. For who will hope to receiue good from him, which ne­uer afforded to doe himselfe any?

Couetousnesse keepeth the heart in fear, the minde in care, the body in trauaile, and the soule in sinne.

Couetousnes makes the woe of nature, the want of rest, the wonder of reason, and the way of hell.

Couetousnes debarreth the possessors from all loue and friendship: for who will be a friend to him, that is an enemy to himself? who will remedy his necersity, that neuer succoured others? who wil send him a pre­sent, that neuer gaue an almes? who will succour him, that suffered others to starue? who will giue him wood, that warmes himselfe with straw? who will lend him money, that hideth his owne in a corner? nay, who will wish him well, to vvhom God hath threatned to do vengeance.

[Page 15] Couetousnes is worse, then honest pouerty: for the poore man is contented with a lit­tle, when the rich miser with his aboun­dance seemeth to be in necessity.

Crueltie.

CRuelty is not so raging in beasts, as in men: for they pray, but for meere ne­cessity; when men rage of wantonnes. Yea in a great hunger, the Lion will not sease on a Lambe, nor the Eagle catch at flies, nor diuers others insult ouer inferiors. &c.

Cruelty maketh rich mens almes miserable, when the beggers wealth is liberty.

Cruelty and couetousnes sometime goe to­gether, and at all times procure infamie, as by the story of Andronicus in Aulus Gellius may appeare, where to this houre it is vpon record, that the Consull Da­cus vvas so cruell and couetous, that he gaue his slaue neither coat, shooes, nor shirt, and yet made him earne his owne [Page] liuing daily: which by any chance neglec­ted he was not onely debarred his neces­sary foode, but whipt, and beaten with rods.

Cruelty and pride are sometimes compani­ons: which make rash & bloudy officers: who because they would haue a name of seuere iustice, they will commit a thou­sand cruelties in their Countries.

Cruelty and fire haue both one condition: for they consume all things, and at last themselues.

Cruelty offereth wrong and reuengeth in­iury; maketh him vnhappy that receiueth it; him infamous that offereth it; him guil­tie that preuents it not; and him accessary that winketh at the violence and inhuma­nitie.

Cruelty correcteth beyond authority, and shameth honour: for to punish for euery trifle, breedeth rather hate, then commen­dation of iustice.

Cruelty is the effect of rage and madnesse, wherein if a man, especially in a great e­state, doe not restraine passion, hee may well be feared and hated, but neuer loued or esteemed.

[Page 16] Crueltie is increased by the povver of wrath, and enforceth despight; whereas clemencie is the grace of nature, and con­tinueth respect.

Cruelty & ingratitude are sometimes com­panions, when we rebuke him, whom we ought to reward, & punish those of whom we haue receiued good turnes: the right nature of a dogge, and wit of a diuell.

Cruelty maketh men fitter for a butcherie, then a common-wealth: when we wil not harken to a resonable demaund, nor re­lieue a poore distressed petitioner.

Cruelty hath deafe eares, while pitties eyes are subiect to teares.

Cruelty cares not, whether reuenge be base, nor regards the bloud of the innocent: but the one is a blot to honour, and the other a worme in conscience.

Crueltie can make no mans arme mightier then Pharaohs; yet was Pharao [...]s interior to the waters.

Cruelty kills the poore with famine, when we see him starue for hunger, and [...] relieue him.

Cruelty that reuengeth euery transgress [...]on leaueth no part, nor place for indgement.

[Page] Cruelty is the fuller of indignation, when wee haue an enemy at aduantage, vvhom wee haue abused before, and know he wil reuenge it, if he suruiue.

Cruelty and beauty are sometimes vnited, when a proud contemptuous woman in­sulteth ouer a poore louer, & knoweth no reason to deny, but because she hath heard, she must not yeeld at the first.

Cruelty and Enuy many times are compa­nions, especially in old women, who past the world themselues, speake ill of al spor­tiue exercises for vanities, because they cannot bee agents in the businesse them­selues.

Crueltie keepeth men from all assurance or hope. For when a man shall vse crueltie for charitie, which in this world in obedi­ence and loue to God hee oweth his bro­ther, how can he expect any fauour in the world to come of his heauenly father?

Cruelty is euer accompanied with forget­fulnes of Christian dutie; when furious & firie Iudges execute the lawes extremity, whereas true iustice is full of humanity, & a noble minde replenished with pitie.

Cruelty possessing the heart of the proud, [Page 17] makes pouerty be put to the height of her patience.

Cruelty in men of power without mercy, in punishing the poore distressed creature, pulls down more mercilesse plagues from the mighty Creator, vpon the head of the oppressor.

Cruelty makes a Tyrants frownes to bee feared, when the threats of a coward are smally regarded.

Cruelty makes the crying of children pitti­full, the teares of the aged lamentable, the complaint of the orphan miserable, the wringing of the widowes hands wofull, and the confusion of a Common-wealth execrable.

Cruelty is seene both in fire and water, which haue their force and course to ouer­throwe strong holds: yet when they en­counter, they destroy one another.

Cruelty breedes curses, when a man remo­ueth the marke of his neighbours land; how then can he think to be blessed, when hee would wring him out of his inheri­tance?

Cruell hearts are more harder then stones: for they are pierced with drops of water, [Page] when the other are not moued vvith the the teares of our cryes.

Curtesie.

CVrtesie & Charitie doe commonly hold hands together: for though an enemie haue been malicious, yet by a curteous man hee shall be remitted vpon the least submission.

Curtesie doth sometimes deceiue with faire words, and then is it flattery: but if it speake the truth, it is honestie.

Curtesie is seene and known by ciuill spec­ches; as modestie by ciuill lookes.

Curtesie that is common, is but a laughing ceremony; yet it reproueth rude behauior, and maketh ciuillity commendable.

Curtesie teacheth great Commaunders to deale with the meaner sort, as with sonnes: with the equall as with brothers: with the ancient as with fathers: and with the strangers as with fellowes.

[Page 18] Curte [...]y maketh a wise Lord to be more be­loued then serued: for by that meanes hee shall get the commaund of the hearts and goods both of neighbours and strangers.

Curtesie will not tread on a worme in di­stresse: yet he that kneeles to a thistle, de­serues the blessing of a nettle.

Curtesy sheweth, that a Gent: is of good bringing vp: for strangers do loue him, & his own do serue him, wherupon curtesy & friendly behauiour is more honor to him that vseth it, then to whom it is done.

Curtesie, according to Plato, is vnited to magnanimitie, and then it consisteth in three speciall things; salutations of peo­ple, relieuing the oppressed, and kinde v­sage of friends.

Curtesy sometimes leadeth a man to pietie: for king Alfonso beeing one day by one of his Counsel found fault with for his too much pitie toward great offenders, answe­red, that hee would be ready to make ac­count of his sheep, that hee had charge of, when God called him to account, and de­liuer as many safe and sound, as hee could.

Curtesie and kindnesse is naturally inci­dent to diuerse beastes: for the Elephant [Page] will lead the wanderer into his way; the Lizard wil wake a sleeping man in a dan­ger; the dogge will follow and attend him, though he be beaten; and the horse is most gentle to his rider, and master.

Curtesie debarreth vs from presuming ei­ther in iest or in earnest to speak to a gen­tleman any malicious or suspitious words; whereof he might remaine shamed or de­spighted: and commaundeth to performe the request of any Lady, or Damsel, which lies in his power to doe.

Curtesie winnes the harts of inferiors; and noble kindnesse teacheth vertue the mea­sure of grace.

Courtier.

The Courtier that is all for shew and com­plement, is the onely professor of humani­tie, master of curtesie, vaine promiser, idle protester, seruant of folly, and scholler of deceit: for in one word; he neither perfor­meth, [Page 19] what hee commonly sweares, nor remembers in absence, what hee hath for­merly protested: so that his oaths and words are like smoake and aire: and his deeds and actions meerly shadowes, and farre from substance.

The fantastick courtier is an antick inuen­tor of fashions, and so subiect to newfan­glenes, that ere a sute of apparell is worne on his backe, hee is deuising another to please with varietie.

A courtier is not a name incident to euery one that followes the remooues: for so you shall haue many sluttish groomes, and slouenly vnder-seruants: but is appro­priat to such, as either are voluntary for the Kings honour, or their owne prefer­ment: or in place of eminence, fit to at­tend on men and women of Honor.

A courtier is sometime taunted with the tearme of effeminate, and carpet Knight, because they know not how to tread, but on rushes of a chamber; nor where to be­stowe themselues, but on a beds side, or wanton places of rest.

A courtier must needs be hansome in ap­parrell; neither ouer-garish, nor ouer­plaine: [Page] but orderly comely, and extraor­dinarily fashionable, according to some priuat occasions, or publique solemnities.

A Courtier must be seruiceable to Ladies & women of Honour, dutifull to high offi­cers, gracefull amongst Councellers, plea­sant amongst equalls, affable to inferiors, and curteous to all.

A courtier depending on a faction in pal­lace, is like a man that laggeth on a cart going vp an hill; which if hee hold fast, will in time draw him vp with the same: but if it roule downe the hill, hee must ei­ther let goe his hold, or sinke to the bot­tome with it.

A courtier hoping for preferment by order of seruice, must not onely giue attendance accordingly, but endure with a great deale of patience; yea somtime with despight, to see an inferior person preferd before him.

A courtier is sometimes terrified with wants, and losses of time: for wee com­monly say, A young courtier, and old beg­ger: therefore it is wisedome to preuent the worst, and policie to prouide before wants knock at the dore indeed.

The meaner courtiers life may many times [Page 20] be resembled to Humble-bees, which flie abroad the pleasant fields all day, and then retire to a cowshard at night: so they frequent the pallace, and sometimes are in presence of the King; but how they lie and rest in their lodging, it is pittiful to relate, and barnes & stables are good re­sting places.

Courtiers are bad pay-masters; and vvhen the money is once in their purses, it is hardly got out againe. For how euer they sweare and protest, they dispence with the time, & make their creditors attend their leisure.

A Courtiers life is as bad as the Merchants: for he trauels and leaues his wife at home, longing for the end of a progresse; and this takes a long iorney, and cannot re­turn when he would: in both, discontinu­ance doth many times diminish loue; and while their husbands are troubled with the affaires of the world, their wiues are delighted with the pleasures of their bed.

A courtier scorneth to be counted vnciuill; yet esteemeth it a grace to bee braue and high minded: so that whē pride is in fashi­on, men may be vicious, & whē familiarity [Page] breeds contempt, it is an error to be hum­ble: thus are Courtiers the corrupters of vertue, and mock-apes of time.

Courtiers are companions of souldiers: & and how-euer they are curious and dainty in the pallace, they are noble and brauely disposed in the field.

Courtiers are companions with Schollers: for without learning & obseruation, they cannot practice humanitie and good man­ners: and vnlesse they study and read hi­stories, they will faile in discourse & con­uersation, the principall end of a courti­ers life.

A Courtier & Citizen are many times eye-sores to one another: & so foppish vve are by custome, that we thinke derision a kind of vertue. Thus when a Gentleman repre­hends his seruant, hee threatens him with playing the merchant with him: & when the trades man vpbraides his, he saies, he hath serud him like a gentleman. So fares it with the women; She is but a Lawyers Lady saith the Citizen: she is but a Lon­don Lady saith the Lawyer. Again, These Merchants are cutthroats, cryes the Cour­tier: These Courtiers are cosoners com­plaines [Page 21] the Merchant.

Courtiers of the vainer sort, are puzzeld in amorous encounters, and a crosse answer of their Mistres crosseth the armes, hangs downe the head, and puts a willow branch in the hat-band. Againe, a dissembling looke raiseth a feather of her colours, cuts the footcloth as her [...]ut-worke, and sets an Embleme on his Pages liuery.

Clergie.

CLergy men are at this instant the sub­iect of all discourses: because some of them doe resemble Physitians; who pre­scribe their Patients thin diet, and barlie water, when they eate themselues high nourishing meates, and drink good wine: so they admonish vs, how to liue, what to forbeare, wherein to continue, and teach a way to serue God; but are licentious in their own example, and run all the course [Page] of violent and vicious behauiour.

Clergy men are sometimes so corrupted, that I haue known such as will not preach in haruest, because they are busied & ouer­troubled; & may not preach out of har­uest, because they goe visitations; nor cannot preach at others times, because they doe not study; nor dare not preach at all times for weakening their bodies, and disquieting the auditory.

Clergie men, if they be ambitiously bent, beeing once beneficed are neuer conten­ted: but suppose them-selues seated on a staire of degrees, which leadeth to a roome, into which they must goe: and thus they ascend higher & higher, as they still sue for better place and better.

Clergy men of the common sort, suppose they liue sufficiently religious, if they ob­serue morning & euening prayer on Son­daies, read an Homelie, come to Church, receiue the Easter offrings, and keepe the orders prescribed in their canons: but nei­ther examin their own liues to amendment of their manners, nor endeuour the refor­mation of their neighbours by their good words, or good examples.

[Page 22] Clergy men, that liue religiously according to their profession, are worthy of their li­uing and maintenance. For if the Physitian that cures the body, must haue a fee, surely he, that saueth the soule, deserues a reward.

Clergy men are some way resembled to burning tapers, who consume themselues to light & pleasure others: so should they weary themselues, and tire out both body and minde to bring the ignorant to vn­derstanding.

Clergy men haue beene and are many times so ignorant, that both Prophets and Apo­stles haue cried out with our Sauiour: If the blind lead the blind, they must both fall into the ditch: and if they vvhich should direct vs out of the path of damna­tion, are vnskilful Pilots, how is it possi­ble to follow them in vncertaine courses.

Clergy men discredite their profession, and and make euen rascalls vilipend it, when they see them faile both in life and doc­trine. Nay, vvhen they giue ill example of prophaning the Sabboth, keeping bad company, following wanton sports, tal­king at randome, want of charitie, and vn­limitable licentiousnes.

[Page] As a Clergy man, if an idle or vnprofitable Preacher, or prophane liuer, is the most hatefull & pernicious person of all others, both to himselfe, and his auditours: so if he be a learned, faithful, sincere, and pain­full Preacher, and godly liuer, you shall hardly finde any man whatsoeuer, whom God hath dignified with so many tearmes of true honour. Calling Ministers the An­gels, or Messengers of God; the Embassa­dours of Christ; the Disposers of his hid mysteries; the seruants of GOD, and of Iesus Christ; the Paranymphs of Christ; the witnesses of the truth of God; the voice, or mouth of God; the trumpets of God, to denounce warre to the wicked, and to stir vp the godly, by sounding the alarum to the battel against sin and satan. The proclaimers or publishers of the Go­spell, or glad tydings of saluation by Christ, to all that beleeue in him. The co­adi [...]tors, fellow labourers, or fellow-hel­pers of God. Gods husbandmen, that plow vp, and harrow mens harts with the law, and cast in the immortall seed of his heauenly word; the builders of the church fallen downe in Adam; & the repayrers of [Page 23] of the ruines of sin, and satan. Stewards of Gods house, who after his precise rule, and prescription, deuide aright to euery one, his portion of meat, and worke, in due sea­son: keepe the keyes of heauen, open the doore to all faithfull seruants, and shut out the obstinate, and vnbeleeuers. The light of the world, set on the hill of euery Pa­rish, to dispell the darknes of ignorance and sin, and shine before men both in life and doctrine. The salt of the earth, to sea­son mens vnsauoury soules, and keep them from corruption; making their persons & actions liuely and sauoury sacrifices, ac­ceptable to God, and well pleasing. Fi­shers, or catchers of mens soules, out of the dead sea of their sinnes, and satans do­minions. Fathers or begetters againe of sinfull men, heires of wrath and perdition, to be the sonnes of God, & heires of hea­uen. Bishops or ouerseers, watchmen, or obseruers of mens soules, to discouer and giue warning of the stratagems & assaults of sin, and satan Guides or leaders, shep­heards or feeders of mens soules, with hea­uenly bread, & liuing waters. Sauiours of men, and remitters of their sinnes, vnder [Page] God, as his instruments. Princes in all Na­tions. Royall or kingly Priests, and shall shine in glory like the brightest stars. Of such high and precious account are these vvith God, tendred as the apples of his eyes, and graced with super eminent titles aboue all others.

Yet are they in the estimation of vvicked worldlings, and proud Popelings, repu­ted as the off-scouring of all things. Themselues as poore almesmen, or baser abiects; their wiues as lemans, their issue as bastards.

Their lyuings are thought superfluous, their labours tedious, their zeale ridicu­lous, their exhortations friuolous, their reprehensions malicious, their comforts hartlesse, their cōminations enuious, their religion puritanicall, their profession pha­risaicall, their conuersation hypocriticall, and their persons, prouisions, professions, meere needlesse burthens, the best of them all.

The godly Preacher is the Generall of the field, with whō all the parish must fight a­gainst their spiritual enemies: he is the man that must furnish & arme them with chri­stian [Page 24] and complete armour, where-wth (through his help) they shal encounter, & conquer the huge armies of pernicious ig­norances, pestilent errors, and poysonous heresies. Hee the singular Surgeon to ap­ply the soueraign salue that must heale the wounds thy receiue from the fiery darts of their fleshly lusts. Hee the high Marshall, that hath receiued the sword of the spirit, to suppresse the mutinies, and bring into obedience their rebellious wills. The high Controler of Gods house, that hath power to reproue the outrages of their vnruly af­fections, and riotous actions, & to punish their disorder by spiritual censure. The so­ueraigne Physitian, that hath the precious preseruatiues against all tentations; pre­sent remedies for perilous passions; the word of truth, to resolue all doubts; Christ his infinite merits to free them frō all fears; his precious promises to cure their cares; his heauenly-reposed pleasures to support all sorowes; and he procures the generall panacea of patience, to ease all paines.

In a word, he hath the only heauenly receits to heale all the diseases of their sinne-sicke soules; their boiling lust, their raging [Page] anger, their open hate, their close enuie, their couetous desire, their deadly de­spaire. Hee strengthens their fainting hopes, confirmes their trembling feares, reuiues their dying harts, beats back their deuouring enemies. Hee comforts them, when their conscience condemnes them; hee confirmes them, when sin, death, and damnation dismaies them: hee stands by them, when Physitians, and friends, and all the world forsakes them.

To conclude, GOD by his ministerie or meanes, regenerates their natures, illigh­tens their mindes, conformes their wills, orders their affections, reformes their vi­ces, confirmes their graces, sanctifies their liues, assists their deaths, and is the Myd­wife, that brings their soules out of end­lesse torments, into immortall ioyes.

The best of all men, are good Christians, the best of good Christians are good Mini­sters; but are the worst paid for their paines of all others. They vvatch many nights, burne many candles, reade many bookes, write many quiers, spend many spirits, preach many Sermons, conuert many sinners, saue many soules; and for [Page 25] all this, are defrauded of their tythes; which their parishioners take not to be necessary duties, but voluntary almes. The Minister must comfort all them, and all they may cosin him; he must feede them, but they may starue him. They make him like a captiue or bond-slaue cooke, who must dresse them dainties, but (without their leaue) may not licke his owne fin­gers. All the weeke [...]ng he must digge in Gods Myne [...] to bring them thence, Sab­both-siluer, gold, and precious stones; for which he shall be sometimes called to say grace at a Sunday supper, & like the lowest trencher at the table in lieu of hi [...] labour.

Time was when they thought the third part of their wealth, was too little for [...]ls Priests; but now the thousand part is too much for Gods Prophets. An ewdent ar­gument how little the prophane people in all places profit, and increase in any Christian duties, when their loue is so cold to God and his Ministers: and how vnlike they are now adaies to those good [...]ala­tians, who entertained their Pli [...]l as an Angell of God; yea, as Christ Iesus: not onely willingly supplying all his wants [Page] with their goods, but also (if it had beene possible) with their owne eyes.

A learned, zealous, honest, and industrious Minister, hath (by common consent, and manifold reason) this priuiledge giuen him aboue other men, to be truly termed a Di­uine, for his diuine calling by inward in­spiration, for his diuine ordination, by Christ his owne institution, for his diuine function, which meddles with no matters but onely diuine, hee studies the diuine bookes of the holy Scriptures, conceiues diuine meditations of heauenly things, works with diuine instruments, the word, the spirit, and holy sacraments, hath di­uine obiects, immortall soules, offers vp diuine and publike prayers for spirituall blessings, produceth the diuine effects of all theologicall vertues, proposeth, and obtaineth the diuine ends of the glory of God, and saluation of soules. Now the Mi­nister in these, & many moe diuine qualifi­cations, & gratious respects, being so di­uine, is for that very cause, so mightily maligned by worldly men, hauing so little or no correspondency with him. For they are altogether earthly, and for the earth, [Page 26] as he is for heauen, by his heauenly cal­ling, his function, his obiects, his [...] his instruments, his effects, [...] as they are vlterly opposite vnto his in all these. Whence because euery thing hates his contrary, the rich dispise him for his pouerty, the proud for his [...] the Polititian for his simplicity, the liber tine dislikes him for his strict discipline the licentious for his reprehension, the contumacious for his excoinmunication, the hypocrite hates him for his sincerity, the hereticke for his vefity the infedell for his Christianity, the Atheist for his d [...]ni­ty, the Prophane for his piety, the kn [...]ue for his honesty; and in a word the wicked worldlings for his whole course, which is so opposite to his owne. When notwith­standing the liues and estates of all these, their health, wealth, liberty, pe [...]e, pr [...]e­rity, and hope of heauenly felicity [...] haue any) are al the blessing of his minis [...]ry.

When the King of France thought it bo [...]n honourable and charitable to ex [...]ell the G [...]thes and the Vandals out of Ita [...]y and by his counsellors was assured, that men and money were the sinnewes & the life of the [Page] warre. For men quoth the King? be you carefull to fill the treasure, and let it be my imputation, if reward, and the name of a Prince draw not millions to affront any danger: whereupon they replied, that the wealth of the Cleargy might supply their wants, and the very, late and challices of religious houses, would coine so many crownes of the sunne, as would discharge the army, and recompence the souldiers. Not so quoth the King, a theeues almes cannot prosper, nor good actions thriue with wicked purposes: besides, I had ra­ther haue one godly man to pray for mee, then a hundred ruffians to fight for mee; and thus you know, when the Princes of Is­raell were discomfited in their warres, they repaired to the Prophets for intercession to God, who is not compelled with the power of swords, or strength of men: but enforced with the teares of the penitent, & deuotion of the religious.

Citizen.

A Citizen is a professor of ciuilitie; and liuing in a glorious quiet, maketh the Common-wealth to flourish: and how-euer he is condemned for too much ease, yet cannot the souldier repulse the enemy, or maintaine the warre, except the Merchant adde fuell to the fire.

A Citizen had a time of honour euen in the title: for to be a citizen of Rome, was once as glorious, as to be a gentleman of Ve­nice.

A Citizen, how-euer he may be noted for couetousnesse, and corruption in trading: yet vnder colour of priuat enriching him­selfe, he laboureth for the publique good▪ [...]or abroad is nauigation maintained, and the forraine kingdoms explored: and at home the Cities are enlarged, the country supplied, the commerce of people main­tained, the streets filled, the houses ador­ned, [Page] the subiects encreased, & the Prince honoured in the multitude of obedient seruitors.

A Citizen is master of dellicacie and neat­nesse: for what in other men wee some­times call pride, in him is but natiue han­somnes, and profession of cleanlinesse.

Citizens in times past did not marry be­yond their degrees, nor would a Gentle­man make affinitie with a Burgesse: but wealth hath taught vs now another lesson; and the Gentleman is glad to make his younger sonne a tradsman, and match his best daughter with a rich Citizen for e­state and liuing.

Citizens, how euer they are enuious one a­gainst another for priuat respects; yet as the triumuiri of Ierusalem against the Ro­mans, will they vnite their forces for the publique good: yea, if a stranger fall out but with a seruant in the street, let him be sure to haue a swarme of fists or clubs a­bout his eares.

A Citizen, if he will, may boast of his title: for I can tell him wherein hee is more no­ble then a Prince. For to be a citizen of heauen, is to bee preferred before a King [Page 28] on earth.

A citizen is more troubled with his vvife, then his wares: for they are sorted, locked vp, and neuer brought out, but by con­straint for the profit of their master; but his wife is decked, adorned, neatly appar­relled, sits for the gaze, goes at her plea­sure, and will not be restrained from any sights or delights, or merry-meetings; where they may shew their beauties, or riches, or recreate themselues.

A Citizen is in great danger of displea­sure, if he deny his wife any thing which her meere fancie conceiteth: as shee is in perill of despight, if hee would re­straine her libertie vpon suspicious iea­lousie: in both, loue beginneth to breake as ice, which once crakt, runneth further and further.

Citizens are neuer so out of countenance, as in the imitation of Gentlemen: for ey­ther they must alter habite, manner of life, conuersation, and euen the phrase of speech: which will be but a wrested com­pulsion; or intermingle their manners and attire in part garish, & in other part come­lie, vvhich can be but a foppish mockery. [Page] Whereupon, I remember a story of Sir [...] Cal [...]hrop in Norwich, who comman­ded his Tayler to make him a gowne of tawny cloth against Christmas; vvhich Iohn Drakes the Shoomaker liked so well, that hee would needs haue another of the same cloth and fashion. The next day, the Knight comming along, and seeing more cloth then his owne, asked what the mat­ter meant; and beeing told the truth, hee willed the Tayler to cut his, all to iagges, and small cuts, of which fashion the Shoo­makers was also made: but when he came to put it on, and saw such a spoile, all en­raged he chafed with the tayler; who an­swered truly, that he did no more then he was bidden; for hee made it like Sir Iohns in all proportions: whereat the shooma­ker sware, hee would neuer be in Gentle­mans fashion againe.

Country life.

COuntry life is toilesome: yet experience maketh the labour more easie, and the [Page 29] paines more pleasant: especially if profit come in apace, and a rich haruest fills the barne.

Country life is wholsome; for the bodie is strengthened with exercise, and diseases repulsed with simple, moderate, and or­derly diet. For whereas other men liuing in idlenesse, prepare their diet according to their stomacks, these haue good sto­macks for any meat and wholsome vi­ands.

The Country man is chu [...]l sh [...] for k [...]owing nothing but plaine honestie, he pr [...]ctiseth the same; and making a wonder at flatte­tery and ceremonies, hee either absenteth himselfe, or comming abroad vseth his owne customs.

The Country man is the nurse-childe of warre: for whereas a souldier must endure misery and wants, it may be done the bet­ter, if the body be accustomed to labour and sparing.

Country life is vnapt for cunning: for when a husbandman would practice deceit, hee resembleth the fielde-mous [...], that would faine come into the Mer [...]ants buttery with the City mouse to seed vpon be [...]te [...] [Page] and delicater viands, then his countrey [...]: b [...] when the Butler came rushing in, the citie mouse had his place of rety­ring, & [...]he other knew not where to goe, and so continued in a great perplexitie, till set at liberty, he would aduenture no fur­ther to hazard his safetie, to liue sweetlie by subtiltie.

Country life is blessed in imitation of na­ture: for they vse the night for rest, and the day for labour: whereas idle liuers incurre the woe in the Prophet, by ma­king day night, and night day; sitting vp by candle light in pleasure, and sleeping in the sunne-shine in idlenesse.

Country life is seasoned with experience: for he saith not to his seruants, Goe yee, but, Let vs goe; if hee cannot doe so, hee were better keep the plough at home, and his cattell out of danger. For the eye of the master maketh the field rich, and the horse fat.

Countrey life hath a touch of pride: for how-euer the huswise bee attyred at home, shee will goe as neat and clean­lie as shee can to the market, & as finelie to the Church: though a carnation gir­dle, [Page 30] a silke apron, a hat lined vvith vel­uet, and a fringd paire of gloues, are ornament [...] for a fiue hundred pounds por­tion: and in this generally the excesse of women deserues restraint and limitation, that they spend not aboue their husbands reuenew, nor exceede their place and pro­portion.

Countrey life is euery way commendable vvhen it comes in her ovvne colours: but to aduenture on the Cities nicetie, the Courtiers brauerie, the Gentlemans libertie, the Souldiers prodigalitie, the I awiers cunning, and the Merchants sub­tiltie, resembleth a hansome woman, that to follow the fashion, spoileth her face by painting.

A Countrey man in times past did not knovve, what Vsury meant, but by heare­say: for many a good house-keeper li­ued well, loued his vvife, broug [...]t vp his children, paied his seruaunts, [...] ­ged the taxes, gaue almes, and inuited his neighbours, yet neuer [...]avv t [...]nne­pounds at once in his coffers, nor [...]uer desired more then meanes of in honest life.

[Page] A Country man is thus farre a good fel­low; he will meet you at the Alehouse to make merry, at the market to bargaine, at the faire for prouision, at the Church to pray, at the field to doe his worke, and at the next Pari [...]n to renue his acquaintance: but will sildome come to your house, or inuite you to his, lest a greater charge come vpon him, and the spending of time hinder his necessary businesse.

Country life is peaceable; and he that will serue God quietly, may there bee ex­empted from the worlds vanitie, though not from the diuels subtilty.

Cuckold.

A Cuckold is a kinde of creature (as mad fellowes say) which God neuer made, man cannot endure, women cannot iustifie, the diuell cannot challenge, the world cannot banish, nor time cannot alter.

[Page 31] A cuckold is a deuise of the diuell against the peace of mankind: for as at the first he caused the woman to deceiue the man to his vtter condemnation; now hee instruc­teth her to abuse man, to his infamous de­rision.

A cuckold is an vnpreuentable destiny, the breach of loialtie, and an vnsufferable wrong; not for the losse of credit in him­selfe, but for feare of bastardie in his chil­dren. For when a wife care once play the whore, the man dare neuer after tr [...]s [...] her: and euen those children which by proba­bility are his own, shall be euer after sub­iect to suspition.

A cuckold hath many signifi [...]nt explicati­ons: but onely one true definition, which is, when a man hauing maried an honest maiden, findeth her afterward transported with the loue of another, and onely one other, who diuideth the stakes, and con­uerseth in friendship.

A cuckold is abused with this secret of na­ture, to loue him best, that [...] wife, and trust him most, tha [...] [...] soo­nest deceiue him.

A cuckold many times takes vp [...] [...] owne [Page] clothes to bee beaten: for in bringing wanton company to a wanton woman, it is as putting fire and toe together. Nay, such is the basenes of some men, that they marry wiues of purpose to make them whores; and care not for any reputation, so they may liue at ease, and riot by their dissolution.

A cuckold thinks himselfe safe if he can a­uoide the name of wittall. For hee thinks, men may conceiue, much water goes by the mill, which the Miller knowes not of, and an honest man may bee ignorant of his wiues wickednesse; but to giue way to filthinesse, and yeeld to a wiues pro­stitution, is a beastialitie contrary to na­ture and reason.

A cuckold is mocked with hornes, because of double iniury: another man lyes with his wife, and his child hath two fathers.

A cuckold that knowes it not, is question­lesse of a good beliefe, and so beares with that, he cannot remedy: but hee, which knowes it, is of an admirable patience, & endures more then man can suffer.

Death.

DEath oftentimes maketh the simple heart afraid, vvhile the faithf [...]ll soule is halfe way at heauen, and ready to meet with God.

Death maketh the wicked to raue vvith feare of their damnation, whilst the righ­teous are rauished with ioy of their disso­lution, and neerenesse to heauen.

Death is no more to be feared then age: for one followeth another; and [...] of both to bee preuented by any [...]iend­shippe, authoritie, wit, force, or entrea­tie.

Death in it selfe is indifferent to all: [...] much the more dangerous, by how much we are afraid of it, and knowe not what followes.

Death depriueth a worldly man of all [...]is treasure: but the diuell cannot robbe the faithfull of his comfort.

[Page] Death may boast of famous and gorgeous sepulchers, but no man would willingly be buried in them: for what man had not ra­ther liue in a narrow houell, then in a large sepulcher?

Death hapneth to young men suddenly, to old men timely. It stands vpon old mens thresholds, behind young mens dores, before old mens faces, behind young mens backs; young men may die soone, old men may not liue long.

Death commonly presents the rich vvith feares, the poore with comforts, concer­ning their future estates. For she tels ma­ny poore men, who are buried in Church­yards, that their soules shall rest & reioyce in heauen; and many rich men, who are buried in stately sepulchers, that they shal be tormented in hell.

Death well ended is birth to eternity: and a true faith purchaseth felicitie.

Death is not to be feared, when it deliuers from misery, [...] be refused, when it leads to endlesse fel [...]ity.

Death of a good [...], is the mis [...]ry of a good seruant; [...] of a good father, the ioy and reioycing of a reprobate childe: [Page 33] but hee is not worthy to liue, that is sick of the father.

Death both vntimely and shamefull, is commonly the end of theeues and lechers. For thé one furnisheth the hatefull gal­lowes; and the other is commonly fini­shed by lothsome surgery.

Death vndesired of age, sheweth little fee­ling of grace: as youth doth little signe of good nature or breeding, that doth not loue and reuerence his elders and betters.

Death endeth the sorrowes of the righte­ous, and beginneth the miseries of the wicked.

Deaths musick is sounded, when wee be­ginne the song with sighs, end it vvith sobs, and keepe time with teares.

Death belongeth to him that killeth his enemie; but hell to him that killeth him­selfe.

Death is one and the same to all, how-euer diuerse Nations differd in their seuerall burialls and sepulchers.

Death amōgst the Salamines & Agarens had an extreame enmity: for they were buried with their backs turned one against an­other; [Page] so that, if in life they were enemies, after death they scarce remained friends.

Death amongst diuerse Nations had as di­uerse entertainements. For the Hircanes washed their dead friends bodies vvith wine, and afterward annointed them with oyle, which they kept to eate and drinke. The Massagetes drew forth the bloud, and did drinke it, burying the bodies. The Caspians burnt the bodies to ashes, which they did afterwards drinke in wine; so that the entrailes of the liuing, was the se­pulcher of the dead. The Schithes buried no man, without one aliue were ioyned with him; which if any friend denied, a slaue was bought to maintaine the cu­stome. And so in many other Nations, according to the seuerall conditions of life, they had as many deuises of buriall. Yet death is but the priuation of life in all.

Death of good children woundeth the Pa­rents harts: but the life of a wicked wife, is the woe and misery of marriage; so that in such a case, it were better to be honest­ly dead, and worshipfully buried, then liue to be continually tormented.

Death eternall, and life abreuiated, is the re­ward [Page 34] of the wicked and damned.

Death makes an end of all liuing creatures, whereas derth destroieth but some king­domes, warres depopulateth but some countries, & fire cōsumes but some cities. Death is so much the more grieuous to the rich, by how much they made more ac­count of long life. For when a man shall bid his soule to liue at rest, what a terror is it to haue it taken from him that night? But life is irksome to the miserable, be­cause they cannot liue, as they should, nor die when they would.

Death of sutes proceeds from denialls; and they commonly come by corruption of bribes: and delayes are the mi [...]eries of hope; vnkindnes the scourge of loue, and combersomnes the breach of friendship.

Death and murther are wrought by vnskil­full Physitians, and ignorant, idle, or ill­liuing Ministers: the one receiues money to kill the body; the other, benefices to de­stroy soules; either for want of good Ser­mons, or by corrupt examples of their loose and lewd liues.

Death is often wrought by meere conceit of a faint heart, as the fight of a drawn [Page] sword is formidable to a coward.

Death is sweet to a quiet conscience, when life is irkesome to a distempred minde.

Death that is honorable, is farre to be pre­ferred before an ignominious life; and life that is vntainted, cannot but end with a glorious death: in both, necessity must preuent disquiet, and hope of heereafter good, extinguisheth the griefe of present bad.

Death is no way hurtfull in it selfe; but the manner, and the cause makes it most irke­some and odious.

Diseases.

DIseases amongst the Greeks, were pre­uented without physick, when they did gather sweet herbes in May, were let bloud once a yeere, did bathe once euery moneth, and also did eate but once a day. Diseases torment the flesh, as sinne woun­deth the soule: patience applyed to the [Page 35] one, and repentance to the other, (if ap­plyed in time) will preuent destruction.

Diseases vnfelt of the patient, are like sinnes vnthought of by the reprobate.

Diseases at Ephesus were cured vvithout money, or other instruction, then their own experience, and reading: for the ta­bles of medicines were hanged in the tem­ple of Diana for euery man to read; and such as had iudgement, to practice.

Diseases are a bridle to the flesh, and pull down the pride of lust: yet sinnes that in­fect the soule, are farre more dangerous. Diseases are not easily and lightly cured, when the patient is either inordinate or vnrulie, the Physitian ignorant, or vnfor­tunate, and the medicine ill compounded, or vntimely.

Diseases that continue are grieuous to na­ture: as wants vnsupplied are wofull to reason.

Diseases are not cured in one body so soone as in another: nor are the same medicines to be applyed to all constitutions alike at all times, and vpon the same occasions.

Diseases most times are bred by gluttonie, except such as growe from infirmity; and [Page] when the appetite is choaked, the stomack is made sick; whereas hunger beeing or­derly fed, and nature moderatly supplied, preuenteth that distemprature, which shall tend to sicknes.

Diseases of cruelty, are the gowt, collick, toothach, stone, and strangury; but of senselesnesse, loue, and the lethargie.

Diseases haue had new names with new times; and although in truth they haue been one & the same: yet are men so sub­iect to varietie, that they must still say, It is the new disease; haue new physick, and entertaine new Doctors.

Diseases are bred by infectious aire, as a venomous tongue may procure death.

Diseases of the minde are bred by opinion, which beguiles vs with a false taste of true happinesse: for false opinion leads vs into vaine delight; which is indeed the super­fluitie of desire, and enemy of nature.

Diseases are not cured without medicine, nor fooles made wise without instructi­on; which neglected, the one may die in his griefe, & the other run mad in his folly.

Diseases are most dangerous, that are not preuented betimes: for if the bodie be [Page 36] corrupt, they pull on still diuerse infirmi­ties; so that it many times chanceth, that when a Physitian hath healed that disease, which he was sent for, yet the rest remai­ning, bred by the former, procure the ru­ine of the body.

Diseases and wounds are of one nature, & both resemble the conditions of sin: for if diseases continue long, & putrifie, they cannot be healed without corasiues, and sharp burnings: no more can a long sin­ner and corrupted heart come to heauen, without true contrition or repentance, & troublesome afflictions.

Diseases weaken the body, but sin ruines the soule.

Diseases of the body may be sometimes cu­red, if the causes be apparant: but the tor­ment of a guilty and desperate conscience is incurable, though wee knowe that sin hath infected it.

Diseases are sildome cured with vvords without mature medicines; vvhich while the Physitian museth on, but misseth the true cause, or royall cures, the patient hits the way to heauen before he can agree vp­on his ingredients.

Drunkennesse.

DRunkennesse makes men worse then beasts; for they doe neuer exceed the measure prescribed by nature, but man will not be measured by the rule of his owne reason.

Drunkennesse and pride are hardly hidden, whē other wicked actions are many times couered, and most times excused.

Drunkennesse dimmeth the braine, dulleth the heart, spills the stomack, and spoyles the whole body. I could say, inflameth the stomack, burneth the liuer, infecteth the breath, dazeleth the eyes, loosneth the teeth, encreaseth the palsy, weakneth the ioynts, swelleth the flesh, and ouerthrow­eth the perfect temper and sound consti­tution of man.

Drunkennesse loues to open the follies of men, the shames of women, the gates of cities, the secrets of Common-wealths, [Page 37] the weaknesse of Princes, the discoueries of treasons, the burnings of incontinen­cie, and the errors of all ages and sexes.

Drunkennesse is many times cause of mad­nesse, but most times occasions of infir­mities: for when the interior senses and parts are brought into distemper, the ex­terior are weake in working, or worke in disorder.

Drunkennesse is contrary to all other vices: for eyther they leaue vs, or we leaue them through wants or age; onely drunkennes is made worse with continuance, and the older we growe, the more beastly we are.

Drunkennesse bringeth forth shame & im­pudencie: and it fareth with men in this vice, as with improuident sinners; vvho are so farre from repenting themselues, that they are sory they haue done no more. Which makes me remember a cer­taine Father; who hauing a Sonne giuen ouer to this beastlinesse, brought him in­to the streets to see a drunkard wallow­ing in the durt, and wondred at by many standers by; supposing that the lothsom­nesse of the sight would haue wrought vp­on him, & the odiousnesse of the example [Page] diuerted him from offending. But he was so farre from both, that hee asked his fa­ther where that good wine was, vvhich made the man so drunke, that hee might goe and take his part.

Drunkennesse misconstrueth kindnes, mis­taketh friendship, mistearmeth good fe­lowship, misuseth Gods creatures, despi­seth good counsell, scorneth assistance, & forsweareth his owne senses.

Drunkards sinne against God, who forbids the abuse of his good creatures; against the poore, that want them for their ne­nessary vses; against their owne bodies, which they fill with manifold diseases; against their own soules, which they defile with their swinish sinnes; against their whole persons, which they turne out of men into beasts; and against their eternal saluation (if they repent not) and forsake not that beastly & abhominable custome.

Drunkennesse makes a wet surfet, a full sto­mack, a sodden liuer, & a drownd soule.

Drunkennesse puts a Carpenter by his rule, a Fencer from his ward, a Poet out of his vaine, and a Player out of his part.

Drunkennesse makes the vict [...]er rich, the [Page 38] rich man poore, the poore man a begger, the begger a roge, a theefe, and a murthe­rer, and so the end is a halter.

Drunkennes, as it is beastly, so it is reme­dilesse, and maketh the father ashamed of his child, and the child carelesse of his fa­ther. Which brings to my mind a story of a wise man, who sending a son to trauell, and enformed of his wanton courses resi­dent in a lasciuious citie; yet excused the same, and hoped of reformation of all, till it came to drunkennesse. For when he was told of he was fallen into this filthie vice and abominable beazeling, O (saith hee) youth may be wanton, and heerafter stay­ednes may reduce him; puft vp with pride, that may be moderated by conuersation, or religious aduise; giuen to gaming, ei­ther wants, or the discouery of falshood may make him leaue it; delighted with le­chery, either age wil tame & coole him, or an honest wife diuert him; he may be car­ried away with ambition, it shewd a noble spirit, and some-thing must be gotten by men of worth: but when hee is drawen to drunkennes, he is to be lamented as vtterly lost, without all hope, but worse & worie.

Effeminatenesse.

EFfeminatnesse hateth exercise, is an ene­my both to strength and wit, when la­bour perfecteth the vnderstanding, and raiseth manhood to a full height.

Effeminatnesse maketh happinesse but an imagination; and then hope is a vveake hold: but when vertue and valour builde the house, the frame standeth on a good foundation, and the workmanship must needs be honourable.

Effeminatenesse is ridiculous in a Courtier, when a young man weares furred bootes, dares scarce tread on the ground, smelleth of perfumes, holds a fanne in his hand to keepe the winde from his face, rideth too softly in the streets, & must alwaies tread on a matted floer.

Effeminatenes is contemptible in a Knight, when hee rideth on a slowe-paced Mule, like an old Iudge; painteth his face, boa­steth [Page 39] of wrought night-caps and buskins, keepeth his bed because it is cold, dares not stirre out of doores because it is dur­tie, and will ca [...]e no meat but tender and minced.

Effeminatenesse is lamentable in a souldier, when hee must needs haue a downe-bed to lie vpon, a warme wastcoat, an oiled gauntlet, a sweet shirt, a perfumed armor, lined greeues, and a quilted burgonet.

Effeminatenesse is vnseemely for a Mariner, when he cannot endure a storme, girdeth his gowne to worke in, is afraid to foule his hands, and findeth fault with the smel of the pitch.

Effeminatenesse is an enemy to good hus­wiferie, when either the man dares not plow, because it mizells, nor the wife rise, for that it is a cold morning.

Effeminatenesse is a fault of all mothers; when their children may not goe to bed without warming the same, nor rise till the curtaines be all close, nor stirre out of dores, till their girdle be aired by the fire, nor goe to schoole, till they haue their breakfasts.

Effeminatenesse is the aduersary of health; [Page] when a young man will not walke with­out a candle, nor stirre, but in faire vvea­ther, nor ride without a foot-cloth, nor daunce without a Mistris, nor do, or weare any thing but tending to curiosity.

Eloquence.

ELoquence is the beauty of learning, if it proceed from wisedome; and in the eare of vertue truth is the best Orator.

Eloquence that ouerthroweth the speaker, is as bad as an ill perfume, that poisons the braine.

Eloquence with beauty, maketh nature gracious, and wit honourable.

Eloquence of heathen men, hath corrupted the heart of christians; but venomous is that breath, that poisoneth men in their soules.

Eloquence of liuely words cannot be ex­pressed in dead lines & letters: for he that giues, what he sales in writing, binds him­selfe [Page 40] to lose his credit.

Eloquence was so forcible in Demosthenes, that he had many times mony offered him to hold his peace, when other men lookt for great rewards to debate the matter.

Eloquence was so much laboured amongst the Philosophers, and Orators of Athens, that Damonidas florishing in the time of Pisistratus the tyrant, on a day he said vnto the Senate of Athens, All men may freelie come & speak with me in their affaires, ex­cept the Philosopher Damonidas; who may write vnto me, but not come & talke with me: for he holdeth such efficacy in his words, that he perswadeth to what he wil.

Eloquence is rather the gift of God, then the perfection of learning: for many wor­thy men haue attaind to great knowledge, who for want of elocution, haue lost their honors, and memorable renowne.

Eloquence applyed to purpose containeth great efficacy, which king Philip, Alexan­ders father knew very wel: for besieging a certaine citie, he came to this parlee, that if they would suffer Theomastes to enter, and make an Oration, he then would depart, and raise his siege. Sure Theomastes had [Page] great eloquence in his words, and forci­ble perswasion in his speech: for they not onely rendred themselues, and opened their gates, but acknowledged king Phil­lip for their Prince, as hee did the Orator for preuailing. Thus had eloquence more force in words, then the King in his Ar­mies.

Eloquence hath secret enemies, Folly and Ignorance: the one cannot vnderstand the secret; & the other cannot learne the qualitie.

Eloquence and Wisedome are not alwaies companions: for many times a ridiculous matter passeth in the eloquent deliuery; & weake thrusts pearcing the heart, dispat­cheth the combat.

Eloquence and discretion must needes be obserued in writing letters of impor­tance; and to a man delighted with vari­etie, and volubility of speech.

Eloquence maketh a man desire glory, and then he writeth with aduisement, & spea­keth with iudgement: and as you see the plough-man reuiew his furrow to straigh­ten what is amisse: so must a wise man ex­amine his writings, to make them seeme [Page 41] more meet and orderlie.

Eloquence in writing a letter is discoue­red, when it is pleasant to read, and dis­creet to be noted.

Eloquence and honesty are sometimes ene­mies: for a wicked matter enforceth at­tention by perswading speeches, and pro­cureth dispatch by a timely compulsion.

Eloquence is no way auaileable with God: for the simplest prayer of a good man shall be truly heard, when the vaine Ora­tory of the brauest Philosopher shall not preuaile.

Enuy.

ENuy frets the heart, and marres digesti­on in the stomack; nay farther, the fire of malice feedes on hellish furie.

Enuy of neighbours watch thy actions, and make thee stand on a guard of circum­spection.

Enuy cannot speake well of vertue, nor [Page] endure to heare another commended: especially in an enemy, or in him, vvith whom wee contend for superioritie, or glory. And if therein our aduersary pre­uaile, we cannot sleepe in quiet, nor eate with content.

Enuy and hate doe commonly goe toge­ther: so that Timon vvho enuied good men, because they were so good, beeing asked, why he hated all men; answered, I hate wicked men, because of their wic­kednesse; and I hate all other men, be­cause they hate not the wicked.

Enuy is somewhat contrary to othervices: for they commonly extend to the hurt of others, when the enuious man hurteth himselfe; and then most chiefly, when he cannot preuaile to doe mischiefe, and fai­leth in practicing reuenge.

Enuy wrought the destruction of Pharoh and his host, by his owne contempt a­gainst God: the troubles of Ioseph by his brethren: the death of Iohn Baptist by Herodias daughter: and the crucifying of Christ by the Scribes and Pharises, who knew, that hee was the Sauiour, and yet repined at his humilitie.

[Page 42] Enuy made Caine murther his brother A­bel; the Sodomites repine against Lot; Saul murmure at Dauid; Ioab kill Abner; Shemei raile, vvhen Absalom rebelled a­gainst his Father; and the Diuell him­selfe tempt the vvoman to bring all man­kinde to destruction and ruine.

Enuy makes men vvorse then diuels: for they beeing a legion, yet agreed toge­ther in one man: but two bretheren can scarce agree together in one house.

Enuy breedes a frowne in the forehead, a leere in the eye, vvrinkles in the face, lean­nesse in the body, malice in the heart, and a mischiefe in the soule.

Enuy bred by the pride of Lucifer, cau­sed his fight & contention with the Arch-angell; but especiallie made the Diuell vvatch the Woman in the wildernesse, to deuoure her child, when she should be de­liuered.

Enuy vvill doe him-selfe hurt to pro­cure his aduersarie a greater mischiefe. Which makes mee remember a storie of an Enuious and Couetous man vval­king together, vvho at last met with Iu­piter, and had the fortune to haue their [Page] petitions granted with this prouiso, That whatsoeuer the first man wished, the o­ther was sure to haue it doubled vpon him. Wherupon, the couetous man would not wish, because hee would haue had all the good to himselfe; and the enuious man durst not, for dooing another dou­ble good. But at last, in casting of lots, it fell to the Enuious mans turn to ask first; and so hee desired to haue one of his eyes pulled out, that the Couetous man might lose both: which was immediatly effec­ted; and Iupiter wondred at the malice of the wicked man.

Enuy breakes the knot of amitie, sowes the seed of sedition, and brings forth the fruit of ruine and destruction.

Enuy loues no number but one, no iudge­ment but partiall, no power but absolute, nor wisedome but will.

Enuy euen remaines in the graue: for the Salamines buried their dead, their backs turned against the Agarens, which vvere their mortall enemies; in such wise that their enmitie endured not onely in time of life, but also when they were dead.

Enuy is of that property, that it sometimes [Page 43] produceth a miracle. For after E [...]eocles and Polinices had killed one another in battaile, and that their bones and bodies were to be burnt and sacrificed together, the very flames diuided themselues asun­der, and shewed the enuy and disvnion of the malicious brethren.

Enuy is an incurable disease, a torment of the minde, a vexer of the spirit, corrupter of the bloud, canker of the flesh, rust in the bones, & consumer of the very soule.

Enuy and malice haue no mercy in case of victory, when weakenesse is forborne, when it is vnder the power of true forti­tude and valour, and ignorance is instruc­ted, not derided by Christian wisedome.

Enuy maketh quarrells vpon cold bloud, to the hazard both of body and soule: and how-euer they be dangerous vpon sudden heats, they be this way vnpardonable vp­on premeditated malice.

Enuy is euer a supplanter of the vertuous; who if they once rise to the fauor of Prin­ces, let them be sure of enuiors; yea, and peraduenture of such, as flatter them to their faces.

Enuy produceth horrible effects: for when [Page] Porrex had killed his brother Ferrex, whom the mother loued extraordinarie; shee so stomacked the matter, that find­ing her sonne the suruiuing King asleepe, shee stabd him to the hart.

Enuy is not to be trusted, nor reconciled: for questionlesse, at an opportunity her malice will returne, and doe a mischiefe, if shee can.

Folly.

FOlly, which in Scripture is the same with sinne, maketh the pride of the flesh swel to lust, and then asswageth it with woun­ding the soule: but wantonnesse is ouer­come, when the wise grow temperate and continent, by vertuous disposition and conuersation.

Folly maketh men weepe, because they were not borne a thousand yeeres agoe, nor can liue a thousand yeeres after: yet it is worse folly to thinke, there is no being [Page 44] after death; no hell nor heauen; which can not be conceiued but by Atheisme. It is the Athisticall foole that saith in his hart, There is no God.

Folly makes fooles proud of gay coates; and so the apparrell be gawdie, it neuer cares, though it be painted cloth, or guilt leather.

Folly is shown, when a man may be wise and will not; thinketh himselfe wise, and is not; supposeth other fooles, that be wise indeed. He would be wise, but can­not take any paines with his addle wit.

Folly makes vs not feare sinne; keepes vs in loue of vanitie; loseth time about trifles; and bringeth her followers to scorne and confusion.

Folly makes a man prattle with lesse delight and more hurt, then a Parret and other birds, that speake but as they bee vrged, and taught: but fooles runne at randome, without enforcement or reason; and such a glib tongue is (for the most part) as void of truth as it is of discretion.

Folly both wanteth vnderstanding in it self, and scorneth counsell from others.

Folly thinketh it selfe wise and is not, and [Page] so is as short of wisedome, as he which supposeth hee is at his iourneys end, and is but halfe way.

Folly loseth her wits in a wood by prying into other folks thoughts; but yet to hate the simple, is wicked subtiltie.

Folly beateth the aire with words, but wise men penetrate the senses with matter.

Folly makes him lose his wits in his way, that trauels further, then hee can returne: but he that sits still, and does nothing, is vnprofitably borne: yet better to bee a foole, then a knaue, and to sit still, then rise to doe mischiefe, or walke to practice re­uenge.

Folly makes one care for that, which is needlesse, and neglect that, which is ne­cessary.

Folly will not be taught any reformation; and hee that goes about it, loseth his la­bour: as hee that would wash an Aethicp white, loseth both his sope & his water.

Folly maketh men vncapable of scholler­ship: and to nimble spirits are as dange­rous to deale with: for wit and folly are commonly maried together, vnlesse dis­cretion askes the banes, and giue them [Page 45] orderly in the Church.

Folly presumes of ouermuch goodnesse, and seeth not his owne, nor cares to doe ano­ther hurt.

Fooles are not to be troubled aboue their capacitie: no more then a dwarfe should striue to reach heauen with his hand.

Fooles are more troubled with opinion then matter: subiect to feare, rather then faith: yet sometimes for lack of discreti­on, vnapprehensible of danger; and so as desperate, runne into irrecouerable perill.

Folly maketh men esteemed pratlers for fiue causes: much speaking; false speaking; idle speaking; desire of speaking, when hee should hold his peace; and not speaking at all, when he ought to declare his mind.

Folly sheweth a shallow braine, in bab­bling quicquid in buccam, without discre­tion; in boasting of knowledge without moderation; in reuealing secrets to euery vnwise or vnworthy acquaintance with­out distinction; in flattering him as a choice friend, and onely man, whom hee would trust with such a thing, which hee could not keepe himselfe, when it was in his keeping.

[Page] Folly proceedes from simplicitie of iudge­ment, wantonnesse of disposition; or idle­nesse of liuing: in all which, a well-mea­ning man many times may be taken.

Folly is not heere meant of naturall Idiots, in whose difference from other men, God setteth out his glory by such varietie: but of such, as either counterfet for worldly respects, or are obstinate of diuelish de­spight, or are ignorant indeed for want of instruction, or good will to learne.

Fooles are some-times Fortunes minions, but wisedome is truly, if not onely preci­ous; and is of the more reputation, by how much lesse it is more common.

Folly lies couched at Fortunes feet, as she rides at triumph in her Chariot; and when she riseth to visit the world, Folly catch­eth hold of her skirts, and will goe with her, or cry like a baby for being left be­hind her.

Folly setteth all men on worke against the great voiage, wherein the ship of fooles is Admirall of the iourney.

Folly speakes much, and knowes little: reads much, vnderstands little: spends much, & hath little: so that in little time [Page 46] hee must needs be little worth.

Folly makes a wise man in hope of a nigh way, to leaue the high way: and to finde a by-way, let him thanke himselfe, if it prooue a wry-way.

Fooles & villaines are commonly exemp­ted from sorrow: for the one cannot, and the other will not take thought.

Fooles are not to be affected, least they dis­grace thee; nor wise men to bee abused, least they reprehend & controle thee.

Folly cannot hide herselfe from discouery: for though she apparrell herselfe neuer so demurely, looke soberly, goe grauely, and still fit quietly; yet will shee be speaking to no purpose, and euen in the manner of deliuery, discouer her folly.

Folly may come by want of education, by ill accident, or by natiuitie: but vvhen it is counterfet, it proceedes from meere knauery.

Fortune.

FOrtunes wheeles are full of cogges, dri­uen with vncertaine windes, vaine de­sires, venturous braines, violent hands, & haue vnworthy, wonderous, and ridicu­lous euents.

Fortune, when she is feared, flowteth the weaknes of your faith: but once braued, flincheth at your fortitude.

Fortune hath many Emblemes; as standing on a wheele, which turning about, moun­teth the begger to the top, and whirl [...]h a Prince to the bottome: and so she shewes her inconstancie.

Fortune is painted blinde, as if she saw not, where shee distributed her fauours, nor cared not to whom: and so shee shewes her impartiallitie.

Fortune is deciphered with a hairy [...]retop, and a bald head behind: to signifie, that we must not let slippe any good occasion, [Page 47] but take all times to doe our selues good; and so she shewes her opportunitie.

Fortune is figured naked, and cares not to be cast into the Sea: fore she can saue her selfe without swimming; & so she shewes her power.

Fortune resembles a woman, who com­monly plays with men, as the bodie with the shadow: runne thou away, and it fol­lowes thee; follow thou it, and it flies from thee: and so she shewes her peeuish­nesse.

Fortune standeth on the globe of the world, as if she commanded all like an Empresse: and so she shewes her imperiousnes.

Fortune is the fiction of idlenes, and fancie of a frothy wit.

Fortune bringeth high floods to lowe ebs, and lowe ebbes to high floods: teaching men not to misse their passage, but take time while time is, and the tide as it falls.

Fortune is a tearme profanely abused: for what the heathen called a deitie, as Adra­stus built a temple to Nemesis, & in Rome she was honored as a Goddesse: we Chri­stians call Gods prouidence; or at least should thinke and belieue so.

[Page] Fortune is inexorable; for she will not heare the best prayers, nor be mooued with the greatest teares; it is not sighes can con­trole her, nor sobs make her flexible; and so she shewes her crueltie.

Fortune flies the encounter of sury: for where shee fights the fielde, manie mis­chiefes followe by ineuitable fate and de­stinie.

Fortune maketh order out of confusion: for as Christopherus Laucius said; Fortune is an influence, which proceedeth from the reuolution of the heauens; and shee, as they, doe continually turne about: for ri­ches beget pride; pride, impatience; im­patience, reuenge; reuenge, warre; vvar, pouerty; pouerty, humility; humility, pa­tience; patience, peace; & peace, riches.

Fortune is then most execrable and odious, when she so carrieth the cause, that one is punished for anothers offence.

Fortunes wheeles mount aloft like raging waters, which quickly throw downe slen­der banks: right so shee shewes her sud­dennesse, and violence.

Fortune laughes to see one fret at her, knowing he hurts himselfe, and not her: [Page 48] like an Adder in her hole, who lieth safe when she hath stung thee: it is in vaine to charme her, or coniure her, or curse her, when thou canst not reach her, nor re­uenge thee vpon her.

Friends.

FRiends thinke themselues discharged of their duties, if they remedie one another in necessitie, & comfort them in aduersity.

Friends are not to be lost for trifles, nor should a wise man cause himselfe to be be­holding to an enemy for any needful thing.

Friends once tried are to be made much of; and thou must both beare and forbeare, where thou expectest a kindnesse.

Friends that faile, breed deepe dislike; and there is no such griefe, as to be deceiued, where we trust.

Friends vntried or vnknown, make men vn­wise to build vpon them; but he that hath true friends & loues them not is vnwise, & [Page] he that betraies them, is a villaine.

Friends that are faithfull, are not to be su­spected: yet a reconciled enemy, though he seeme a friend, is not to be trusted.

Friends in their absence are vncomforta­ble; in their wants greeuous; in their im­portunities combersome; in their vnman­nerlinesse irksome; and in their death la­mentable.

Friends are parted by vnkind breaches, as kingdoms are diuided by the tumultuous seas: but wretched are the occasions, that seperate vnited friends.

Friends that are kinde, are sweet compani­ons: but a malicious man is a neighbour for the diuell and his damme.

Friends that haue sound hearts, haue sil­dome frownes; but false ioyes breede true griefes.

Friendship is delicatly expounded amongst the Philosophers: for Aristotle beeing as­ked, what he thought of friendship; an­swered, that it was one soule in two bo­dies.

Friends that are kinde, are pleasing compa­nions: but if they be constant, they bee rich iewels.

[Page 49] Friends may be trusted, when they haue beene tried; strangers when they are known; dogges when they be muzled; women when they be in sight; and ene­mies when they are vnder ground.

Friends are so priuiledged, that sometimes we may labour for their good, when we cannot speake for our own. As for exam­ple; there was a law amongst the Romans much vsed, and obserued; that vpon paine of death, none should presume to approch the tent where the Emperour did eate and sleepe: which yet in the time of A [...]relius a certaine Greeke did infringe, and so hee was taken and condemned to die: but the Emperor vnderstanding the matter by the hurlibu [...]ly, spake with a loud voice: If this man did come to sue for any thing for himselfe, let him die; but if for his friend, hee shall liue.

Friends that are sildome seene, and much lesse spoken and conuersant withall, are lesse familiar, but more sure; in that they loue not for rewards, but for vertue and goodnesse.

Friends before they make a perfect combi­nation, must obserue these circumstances [Page] If our friend be poore, we must giue him; if he be rich, we must serue him; if hee be fauoured, we must worship him; if hee be wilfull, we must obey him; if he be impa­tient, wee must beare with him; if hee be vicious, we must dissemble with him; and if he be malicious, we must beware of him.

Friends in their wants may be perilous vn­to vs, & in their importunities tedious.

Friends that are old and acquainted, once changed for new, make men resemble lit­tle children, who refuse an old angel for a new counter; and cry to goe from their true parents, to strange nurses.

Friends are thus farre vnprofitable, that they are the thieues of time; and come to seeke vs, not to do, what we think good, but to perswade vs to what they thinke conuenient.

Friends, though they be kinde, are some­time troublesome to suffer; as enemies are perilous to endure.

Friends remedy in aduersities, comfort in necessities, beare with imperfections, par­don transgressions, & endure in troubles.

Friends canot be rightly so named, that af­foord their persons for priuate respects, [Page 50] and deny their goods vpon plausible pre­tenses.

Friends are (in some Philosophy) denied to be in the plurall number: for as long as a man hath but one heart, hee can haue but one friend: who beeing vnited in loue, are as it were one minde and soule in two bo­dies.

Friends that are vnkinde, are vncomforta­ble: but an vnquiet wife is intollerable.

Friends come in at all houres, yea into all places: for sure to whom I haue afforded my hart, I will neuer deny him my house.

Friends are priuiledged aboue kindred: for a man may haue many kinsfolks, but few friends: yea kindred doe daily encrease, but a friend once lost, is hardly recouered againe; and once dead, neuer recalled.

Friends, so farre as they impouerish not our estates by lauish expences, may command our purses; but a great discretion must go­uern our passions. For hee cannot well be said a friend, but an enemy, who makes vs lose our time by friuolous or foolish im­portunities, or to vnnecessary or vntimely imployments.

Gentery.

GEnerositie is a speciall prerogatiue a­mongst all people. For to be descen­ded of noble parents, is commonly a signe of noble conditions: and as you see a faire Diamond made more rich by Art and em­belishing; so is vertue more gracious in a Gentleman, then in an Artificer.

Generositie teacheth her possessors so to recreate themselues, that thereof rise none offence; neither to themselues by immo­derate exercise, nor to others, by incon­uenient abuses.

Generositie ought to vse none but honest recreations, performed with moderate & harmelesse cariages, in due and seasonable times, directed to honourable and profita­ble ends.

Generositie is a great helpe to perswade the people a man is thereby more worthie to be a Prince: but that kind of ambition is [Page 51] subiect to great malice, and supplantati­on: so that many haue lost their liues, for feare lest their noblenesse in blood, and good conditions should preferre them to high and honourable places.

Generositie teacheth men to be temperate in feeding, sober in drinking, liberall in giuing, considerat in receiuing, short in sleeping, reposed in speech, affable in bu­sinesse, patient in hearing, prompt in ex­pedition, gentle in chastisement, and be­nigne in pardoning.

Generositie teacheth men neuer to be idle, or ill-doing; not to be a follower of wine or women, or euery effeminate fashion; not to brawle with any man; not to hurt enemies, nor to be vngratefull to friends.

Generositie is of so delicate a condition, that in any matter of controuersie, confe­rence may be admitted; but contention vtterly condemned: for noblenesse and despight did neuer accompany in one gen­tle person.

Generositie maketh knights and souldiers of so valiant a courage, noble minds, and worthy demeanors, that they are neuer in­flamed with choler, but in the field against [Page] enemies; nor angry with their friends, but for desperat vices.

Generosity teacheth knights and gentle­men, in the time of war not to write from their owne houses, but the campe: euerie man in his owne ranke; the priest praieth, the husbandman ploweth, and the knight fighteth.

Generositie doth not account him a gentle­man, which is onely descended of noble bloud, in power great, in iewels rich, in furniture fine, in attendants braue: for all these are found in Merchants and Iewes. But to be a perfect Gentleman, is to bee measured in his words, liberall in giuing, sober in diet, honest in liuing, tender in pardoning, and valiant in fighting.

Generosity hath preheminence of Honour: for H. 8. answered a man, that desired to be made a gentleman, that hee could make him a noble man, but not a gentleman.

A Gentleman vvithout meanes, is a painted bardge without oares; faire to looke on, but there is no vse of him, neither in calm, nor storme. While hee is tied to his post, and stayes at home, hee either rots as hee stands for want of rowing, or trimming; [Page 52] or else takes in such soule water of euerie vice, that floweth vnto him, as either in short time corrupts within him, or spee­dily sinks him.

But if you vntie his rope or chaine, and lose him from home, hee is not able to strike one stroake towards the staires of a faire fortune, though it be neuer so nigh him: especially, if the least winde or tide of any opposition be against him; but is carried downe the streame of head-long passion, without sterne or reason, or hand of friend to stay or direct him. So that if some luc­kie and vnlookt-for Neptune ioyne not with Venus, to hale him in, and land him in the lap of some lustie Lady, or rich widow, he is driuen into some dirty ditch, where hee rots, if not vnseene, and vn­known, yet vnpittied and vnrespected for all his rich painting.

A Gentleman without meanes, is like 2 faire house vvithout furniture, or any in­habitant, saue onely an idle house-keeper: vvhose rearing was chargeable to the ow­ner, and painfull to the builder, and all ill-bestovved, to make a mock-begger, that hath no good morrovve for his [Page] next neighbour. Who may knock, and haue no answer; or if he enter, he may goe into the kitchen, and be neuer the war­mer; into the celler and be neuer the wet­ter; vp into the chamber, and lie downe on the floer, & come out againe as much the neere for his need, as he came in. It was cost cast away vpon a faire fruitlesse frame, that brings in no rent, but is stil in reparation, or running to ruine.

A Gentleman without meanes is a prettie plant, but without rinde, without roote, without leaues, without fruit. He is a ten­der creature that can weare his clothes in good fashion, if his Mercer & Tayler will trust him. Hee can borrow with as plausi­ble and pittifull perswasion, and put off payment with as pretty inuention, and soader euery allegation, with as fast and firme oathes as any man. His minde rea­cheth to the Court, and cloth of State, but his horse tyres ere he comes at Court gate. Hee salutes, and sweares as courtlie as any man, and weares bad clothes in the best fashion.

Hee is a louing and frequent friend to his wealthy neighbor or country-man, wher­soeuer [Page 53] he meets him: and not ouermuch reserued towards any free-hearted, and openhanded Gentleman. Hee is of a fel­lowly condition, and comes to a feast (and that with the soonest, if it be of free cost) vpon the first inuitation: and to any mer­ry meeting (if the shot be not high, or the guests ouer-fine) he failes not to come. He feeds as choicely & freely, drinks as sweet­ly and soundly, and talkes as boldly and brauely as any in the roome: and yet vn­inuited, vpon necessary occasion to dine at home, he can eate as moderatly, and fit as soberly, as any other man.

He shall weare a cloake, & a paire of boots as long, borrow your horse as often, and ride him as well as the best in the towne: and shal as respectiuely diet him, & shooe him, as if he were his owne. Hee can hold vp the lower salt, with festiuall and timely table talke, in competent, and commenda­ble sort: and (barre distinction, and or­derly speaking) he wil ouer-argue a scho­ler in his owne profession. Hee can hold your cardes, or play your game; fill, and light, & taste your Tobacco with as good iudgement as the Merchant that bought [Page] it, and sold it: and if it be not of the right, he can tell you, where you shal buy it.

He can hold a trencher hansomly for neede, vpon an extraordinarie occasion: and car­ry a token, or message, and deliuer it, that no man shall mend it. You shall neede no better Intelligencer to bring home all the newes from the Burse & Poules, and other publique places, to be repeated at dinner. None shall sooner spy out a fit match for your sonne, or daughter: doe your person and state more credit, or sooner clap it vp, vpon loane of your nagge, and reasonable profit.

Take him to a play, and trouble not his co­gitation with the water-man, entrance, or sitting: hee shall laugh as hartily, obserue as iudiciously, and repeat as exactly for nothing, as another man shall for his halfe crowne.

Yea, you shall finde him able (or forward) in short time, to correct the Actors, and censure the Poet. Nay, if any want of his own, or enuy at the excellencie of another man, or indignation at his better fortune, do much importune him; you shal see him chuse some pleasant theame suteable to [Page 54] the time, and write a tolerable tract, or passable Poeme. He can flout a stranger, scorne a scholer, and scoffe a Minister, no man better. He is the onely medius [...]ermi­nus, or man to conclude a merry meeting, or to set downe the conditions, place, and time.

You shall finde him in the Cock-pit, in the vpper ring: he offers a Iacobin, but at next dangerous blowe, layes halfe a crowne; if it be sixe to one. He can mew or man your hawke; enter & traine your hound; shew you where to hunt, when the hounds goe counter; how to breake the fault; follow the game; and lie, if not run, as fast as the huntsman; who if hee call him not vp be­fore day, yet of his owne accord hee will rise before dinner.

Hee layes not many wagers, but stands as tightly on his reputation, and hath his pe­degree as perfect as any man; and can rea­dily recount, what a royall house-keeper his great grandfather was in euery parti­cular. He sowes his crop, and carries in his corne, with the best expedition. But as he neuer lends his neighbour his teeme: so is he, neither at season, sheep-sheere or [Page] haruest, beholding to any man. His rent to his Lord, at the due day is neuer vnpaid; his houses are neuer in reparations; no idlenesse or disorders are euer seene in his seruants. He discommends the vanitie and varietie of costly clothes, as the foxe did the grapes. Hee railes on Vsurers, the dearth, bribery, and corruption of the times. He abhors Bayliffes, Sergeants and Sheriffes. Hee hates collections for any vses. He hunts on Sondaies, and wrangles for tythes; yet he sildome or neuer goeth to law with his neighbours. His fences are so good, that no mans cattle can come in­to his ground: and his own are so ringed, and yoakt, and lawde, that they neuer tres­passe on any other man.

He is alwaies in pursute of some good wid­dow, but scornes to make his way by base briberie: onely the maid shall be made, by faire promises, and kinde kisses. His own mothers maid shall giue her word, that he is good for propagation and breed: none so good to plant a colony and people a country.

The dislike of his owne, inclines him to seeke better fortunes in other countries: [Page 55] and bar stormy winter, dry byscuit bread, and cold water, no man shall trauaile a league further. He well approues necessa­rie warres, for those that haue bodies fit for cold and hard beds, short commons, and sharp swords: but onely desperation of meanes driues himselfe to the vvarres; yet not vnlesse hee want hart to be hangd at home, for taking of purses. VVhich should not seeme so, by the often quar­rels hee entertaines with his inferiors, vp­on equall hazard of life and lands: saue that onely respect of reputation, and ho­nour, with-holds him, from fighting vpon vnequall tearmes, with base companions. And as for his betters, hee is very tempe­rate and discreet in forbearing them; and bearing their iniuries, who may be his be­nefactors. Hee lesse feares to offend God then his rich idols, to whose deitie he of­fers the incense of all his indeauours: be­ing euer superstitiously anxious to delight their eyes, tickle their eares, obserue their desires, sooth their humors, second their opinions, applaud their speeches, picke their thanks, by finding, and aggrauating the faults of their seruants.

[Page] This weake & worthlesse luie, must either not liue, or lie down, or else leane to some substantiall rich oake or other, as his sy­cophant, parasite, or iester; or else as his beadesman, or bayliffe, to goe afield with victuals to his woaders, or weeders, to o­uer­looke their labours. The top of his hope is to attaine to the chamber of some Court-fauourite, grand Councellor, graue Iudge, or great Officer. Where beeing soone slypt into his satin sute, silke stock, treble ruffe, and beauer hat; he is not long in learning his occupation, and the due re­spects hee is to haue, whose cause hee fur­thers, and whom hee admits: knowing that the profit of his watchful prouidence heerein, will in short time, enable him with means, to impropriate a prety punk, and purchase good lands.

But if this, & all other meanes faile, why yet with a little labour, he would proue a pre­tie excheator, a prowling promooter, or a good land-spaniel, or setter for a hungry Courtier, to smell him out a thousand pound sute, for a hundred pound profit. But to say the truth, the onely ordinarie vocation he is most naturally apt vnto, & [Page 56] hath dexteritie in; that he likes, and likes him, that he liues by, and liues in, is the Art of cheating.

For conclusion, this beggerly Gentleman, is too proud to be a seruingman, to poore to be a Merchant-man, too weake to be a husband-man, too wastfull to be a tradse­man, too lazie to be an artificer, too idle to be a scholer, too tender to be a souldi­er: and yet hath matter in him, to make him fit for all this, with good moulding in tract of time. For full and finall de­scription of this indigent gentleman; he is a rationall creature, potentially apt for any thing, but actually good for nothing.

A Gentleman without manners, is like a custard of addle egges, in a siluer coffin, which promiseth sweetnesse, by his suge­red crust; [...] p [...]ooues vnsauourie, and loathsome to the stomack and taste: faire to looke on, but fulsome to feede on. Or if you will;

An vnmannerly Gentleman, is like an vn­parboyld pastie of tainted venison, which graceth the table, and pleaseth the guests, as it comes out of the oven; but beeing cut vp, forth-with fills their noses, and [Page] offends their stomacks: so that that, which ear [...] delighted their eyes, doth now loath their appeties. It was ill imployed cost, of pepper and salt in the seasoning, and butter and creame in the crust. Right so, the out-side of an vnmannerly gentleman, seemes an obiect of worth, where hee is vnknowne: but if you taste him, or try him, by more neere commerce, or inward conuersation, you shall finde him, for ig­norant prating, for impudent lying, for scornfull scoffing, for rude rayling, for quaffing and quarrelling, for swaggering and swearing, for bawdery and blasphe­ming, of so riotous and rotten; so contagi­ous and stinking a condition, that of all others, you may least endure him: as the sweetest and best meats once corrupted, yeeld of all other, the most vnfauourie stinks.

The first sight of an vnciuill Gentleman, is the best; the further you see him, the bet­ter you like him; the neerer he comes, the worse you brooke him. Twas all lost was layd out on the education of so costly a caryon. To this purpose I remember a story in the time of H. 7. who was ledde [Page 57] after the sedation both of forren and do­mestick encombrances, by the hands of prosperity to the house of a great Maiestie and Honourable wealth: insomuch that the Court encreased to statelines [...]e, the Citie prospered, the Country thriued, and all sorts of people thought it the greatest glory to liue in the florishingest showe: wherevpon it is recorded, that a husband­mans sonne hauing been imploied in some seruices, vvhere example had raised his spirits to immitation, demaunded of the King, as a recompence to be made a Gen­tleman. The King, neither angry nor plea­sed, quickly dispatched him with this an­swere, he could not: For though Princes can raise men to Honor, noblenesse, offi­ces, and authoritie: yet lay it not in their power to enlarge vertue, good conditi­ons, and the renowne of ancestors, where­by and wherein a true Gentleman is best known, and shines most brightly. Be­sides, my friend (quoth he) with what co­lours of prosperitie canst thou florish thy estate? And it like your Maiestie, the Far­mer replyed, my inheritance is raised on the degrees of fortie pounds a yeer. Alas, [Page] said the King, the times are now corrup­ted; and that may keepe thee as an honest man, but will neuer maintaine thee for a Gentleman.

Generosity disclaimeth vilenes, sluggish­nesse, niggardlinesse, maliciousnes, lying, and cowardlinesse; so that in a Gentle­man, though there may be found some­what to be reprehended, yet there ought not to be contained any thing, worthy of reproach and infamy.

Generositie is more aduanced by noble and vertuous auncestors, then by wealth or inheritance: for to descend of noble bloud, doth not onely honour vs, but pro­uokes vs to be vertuous.

Generositie doth lead vs to honour, and teach vs to amend our estates; whereas in­famie doth tempt vs to be desperate.

Generositie doth cause vs to attend and be seruiceable to all Ladies and Gentlevvo­men; but especially to forbeare them in matters of contention, and with curteous demeanor to perswade them to the right.

Generositie was so esteemed amongst the Romans, that the law Prosapia ordained, that when contention did arise for the [Page 58] Consulship, then those which descended of the Siluians, Torquatians, Fabricians should be preferred.

Generositie is an ordinance of GOD: for Christ himselfe came of the noble Tribe of Iuda.

GOD.

GOd is incomprehensible in wisdome, absolute in power, vnsearchable in es­sence, glorious in his graces, infinite in mercy, inuisible in person, infallible in word, vnspeakable in bounty, matchlesse in maiestie, and endlesse in his abiding.

God maketh men wise through his feare, affordeth honour by his seruice, yeeldeth life to his belieuers, sendeth happinesse to his louers, yeeldeth comfort to his obser­uers, and crowneth his martyrs with euer­lasting happinesse and eternitie.

God hath his seat in heauen, his footstoole on earth, his church both in heauē & earth, [Page] his kingdom among his Saints: and bles­sed are those soules, which make their bo­soms his temple.

God is more dishonoured in blasphemi [...], then Kings endangered by conspiracie.

God will haue mercy, where faith pleades penitencie, and not sacrifice: and the an­gels reioyce at the conuersion of a sinner.

God hath told vs what wee ought to doe, and therefore wee ought to looke no fur­ther: for if we turne back againe to mens inuentions, we shall seem to despise God and trust in man.

God is of that excellencie in his properties, that euen heathen Philosophers (especial­ly Clcero) haue said, that as man by his wil moues the members of his body: so God by his almightie will moueth all the parts of the whole world.

God is more honoured with the hart, then the lips: & the poore more releeued with the hand, then the tongue.

Grauity.

GRauitie is an honourable ornament, but sometimes it represe [...]teth bad co­lours [Page] to shadow a deformitie: for a foole and an hypocrite may appeare both sad, demure, and sober.

Grauitie and orderly silence shewe a true vnderstanding; when a fleering counte­nance discouers dissimulation and folly.

Grauitie in a Tyrant is a dangerous note of tyrannie; and vvhen hee seemeth setled to study, it is commonly to contriue some bodies destruction.

Grauitie is not so sutable to a young man, as an old: yet doth it not amisse in either, if not counterfeited, or ouer-much af­fected.

Grauitie cannot be dissembled by a foole: for as soone as euer hee setleth his coun­tenance, he discouers a change; and in the very restraint, bursts out into ridiculous action in one manner, or other.

Grauitie is most necessary in a Iudge ouer criminall causes, as well for the reuerence of his place, as to strike a terror against offenders not to hope for mercie, hovv euer it may be affoorded vpon ture repen­tance.

Grauitie is made known by a quiet minde, reposed speech, decent actions, comelie [Page 62] gesture, sober countenance, stately gate, ciuill behauiour, & sildomnes of laughter.

Grauitie must not dally with a matter of importance, nor encline to derision, when a man in distresse stands at his triall for his life.

Grauitie may be dissembled by corrupt of­ficers, to the abuse of iustice, and ouer­throw of sutors, who haue confidence in the Magistrate.

Grauitie in religious men hath a due of re­uerence, when they studie Gods glorie, their own saluation, and the peoples edi­fying: but to make grauitie onely a step to vvorldly preferment, is the diuels po­licie.

Grauitie is the fame of a Matron; the reue­rence of a Bishop; the comlinesse of a Iudge; the maiestie of a Commaunder; the cunning of a Scholer; the hope of a Physitian; the dignitie of a Lawyer; the honour of a Councellor; the louelinesse of age; and the deceit of youth.

Grauitie cannot endure scurrulous foole­rie, idle Iesters, inconsiderat talkers, pal­pable ribaldry, wanton enterludes, impu­dent behauiour, lasciuious demeanour, [Page] and childish exercises.

Grauitie sometimes couers ignorance; and although pride may be suspected, yet it tempers it from violence and rage.

Grauitie is commonly a companion to Re­ligion: for from a Countesse to a country-wench, if she but seeme to serue God, she will shew it in a sober looke, and decent attire.

Grauitie keepes both men and vvomen from outward burstings out of follie; and indeede shadowes manie imperfecti­ons.

Grauitie is much abused, when an offi­cer vnder colour of State, vvill not or­derly admit a petitioner to tell his tale.

Grauitie is assumed on a sudden in the selfe-same persons vpon notable chan­ges: as when a Courtier is preferred to be a Chancellor; and a Chaplen to be a Bi­shop; a seruant a master; a young Gen­tleman a Iustice; a Merchant an Alder­man: and such like.

Honour.

HOnour, that breedes forgetfulnesse of goodnesse, is wicked; while the true eye of wisdom seeth all the world but va­nitie.

Honour that is gracious, is gotten by ver­tue, and noble merit: and is neuer at full height, till vertue bring it to heauen.

Honour in his true definition is a certaine reuerence, which one man yeeldeth to an­other extraordinarily, for his vertuous merit, and worthy desert: so that it should not be wealth, but vertue, which should make an honourable man.

Honour is more great, that maintaineth o­thers, then that, which obtaineth for it selfe: as wisedome, which is imployed for the good of the Common-wealth, excel­leth that, which aymes at a mans priuate ends.

Honour is persecuted by the enuious, riches [Page] and liberalitie by the couetous, and ver­tue by the vicious: so that no man aduan­ced to honor, can behaue himselfe so wel, but he shall be sure to be watched by en­uious eyes.

Honour hath certaine markes of prehemi­nence both in high titles of dignitie, and many ceremonies of attendancie: and this they receiue by imitation, and exam­ple of scripture. For Abraham was cal­led the friend of GOD: Moses the man of God: Iosua the great Captaine: Gede­on a valiant man: Iudas the strength of his brethren: and Christ Iesus a Sauiour, and Eman [...]el, or God with vs.

Honour in some cases is inferior to Gen­tilitie: for the auncestrie of bloud must needes haue preheminence ouer a familie newly erected. Whereupon I remember a story of Henry the eight: who beeing entreated to make a clowne a gentleman; answered suddenly, hee could make him a noble man, or person of Honour, as in the estimation of the Common-wealth it passed currant: but a Gentleman must boast of his famous auncestors vertues, and his owne worthy merit.

[Page 64] Honour without desert is like a word with­out substance, sense, or wit: and both may be incident to a foole.

Honour cannot consist in riches; for so clownes may be honourable: but in truth there can be no true honor in the loue of the world. For Diogenes being asked who were the most noble; answered, the de­spisers of riches, glory, and pleasures of this life, and the patient endurers of the contrary. And Socrates said, that true ho­nour consisteth in the due temper of the body and the minde.

Honour, though it be neuer so glorious, cannot be greater then Salamons, nor Sa­lomons, then the Lillies of the field.

Honour maketh worldlings happy in their titles: but heauen is the ioy of the blessed.

Honour of a Soulder consisteth rather in pitying captiues, then subduing of ene­mies: this made Scipio so famous in Spayn, who hauing a virgine of incomparable beauty brought vnto him, when he vnder­stood how she was betrothed to a Prince, he not only abstained from her, as remem­bring his owne honor, but gaue the ran­som which her father brought to redeeme [Page] her; with as much more of his own vnto her husband in dower.

Honour is truly established, when vertue is embraced; but both must depend vpon graue and good actions.

Honour may be graced by fortune, & for­tune may be great: but the vertuous are truly wise and honourable, and the godly truely noble.

Honour without desert is like a painted post without life: or a fantasticall idol without a spirit, or a flower without any sent.

Honor is most famous, when men are borne of gentle parents; rise to liue in great dig­nitie; die in glorious libertie; are buried with ensignes of vallure; and leaue a me­morie of their fames and glories to po­steritie.

Honor of the world is a meer chance of for­tune: but to be truly vertuous, the gift of God, and delight of his Saints.

Honour is neuer so out of countenance, as when men of noble eminence descend to base actions, and practice vile conditions.

Humility.

HVmilitie suffreth wrong, though it be enormous, and detaineth vs from do­ing any which is impious: so that, if it be for Gods sake, we are glad of the per­secution, and humble our selues to the rod, leauing the reuenge to him.

Humilitie and loue gaines the fauor of ho­nour; and the necessity of obedience cau­sed the law of allegeance.

Humilitie vpon comparisons confesseth want of power to be liberall; want of a­bilitie [...]o be seruiceable; want of libertie to visit; want of wealth to recompence; want of iudgement to conclude; vvant of wisedome to determine; want of ex­perience to aduise; want of power to ad­uance, and want of fauour to bring others in grace.

Humilitie cooleth the heat of ambition, and is notwithstanding the staires to honou­rable [Page] ascending.

Humilitie brought saluation to all man­kinde, and Christ became man, to bring men vnto God. By him were the burthe­ned vnloden; the wearied refreshed; the hungry fedde; the thirstie quenched; the lame restored; the lepers clensed; the God of the world riding on an asses colt; the childe of grace laid in a manger; the con­querer of hell fled into Egypt; the com­maunder of Angels buffeted on the face; the tamer of diuels scourged with rods; the ruler of heauen led away by souldiers; and the sauiour of the world cast down in­to a graue; and all this was done, when in the molde of loue, hee did melt the law of feare.

Humilitie in Christ did the worke of his fa­ther; and that was to conuert sinners, and saue the penitent soules.

Humilitie rather forgiueth the dissembling and treason of friends, then reuengeth the iniuries of enemies.

Humilitie teacheth vs rather to repent for dooing of ill, then proudly to boast of do­ing any good.

Humilitie keepeth the heart from swelling [Page 66] too high, as fasting keepeth the body from growing too fat.

Humily is commonly in league with loue, and so turneth rough into plaine, black into white, bitter to sweet, angry to quiet, malicious to simple, grosse to discreet, & the heauy to light.

Humilitie taketh in worth many despights, neuer reuengeth iniuries, will not mur­mure at them that anger him, deny them that aske him, resist them that take from him, answere them that reproue him, dis­grace them that shame him, nor absent himselfe from them that send for him.

Humilitie teacheth vs to pardon friends, & release offenders: but of all things wil not suffer any to be proud, theeuish, murthe­rers, adulterers, gluttons, malicious, nor blasphemous.

Humility striueth for no superioritie, is not proud of aduancement, boasteth not of knowledge, triumpheth not for preuai­ling; nor insulteth ouer the deiected.

Humilitie pleaseth God, is the gift of God, maketh men fit for God, reioyceth An­gells, afflicteth diuels, helpeth men, and preserueth the whole world.

Hypocrisie.

HYpocrisie turneth the prayers of the wicked into sinne, when the righte­ous preuaile with God by penitent peti­tions.

Hypocrisy makes a corrupt hart shew a dis­sembling countenance: and as a double face maketh a monster in nature; so a dou­ble hart makes a diuell incarnate.

Hypocrisie may deceiue a good eye-sight: for hee that sees the face, knowes not the hart, as when a man beholds a hansome shooe, yet cannot tell where it wrings, or pincheth him that weares it.

Hypocrisie & singularitie commonly walke together, and discouer each other: for in the attire, gesture, countenance, words, and actions, there shall still appeare some thing ridiculous, as if nature were forc't by some cunning of Art, and the minde restrained from his owne bent by filthi [...] deceit.

[Page 67] Hypocrisie is properly the poyson of true religion.

Hypocrisie is so great an enemy to mans peace with God, that hee will pardon the sorrowfull conuertist before the proud iu­stifier: for he that standeth vpon tearmes of dooing well, when hee determineth to continue bad, is worse then he that loo­keth vp to heauen, and falleth into some durty puddle or other.

Hypocrisie standeth vpon tearmes of prac­ticing and fulfilling idle ceremonies for outward vaine-glory; and leaueth vn­done all charitable actions and true de­uotions. Thus did the Pharises wash their hands, when their harts were defiled; cast vp their eyes to heauen, when their feete were fastned on the earth; went to the Temple to pray, when they deuoured wi­dowes and orphanes at home; knocked & thumped their breasts before the pillers, when their minde was on rapine, auarice, and augmenting their inheritances.

Hypocrisy doth tell his own secrets to learn out the affaires of other men, and makes you belieue shee would runne away with the Hare, when indeed he determineth to [Page] pinch with the hound. Thus are friends betrayed, husbands abused, virgins en­trapped, orphancs deceiued, masters im­pouerished, counsels discouered, treasons contined, and aboue all, God and religi­on dishonoured.

Hypocrisie seemeth to aske aduise of Gods seruants, how to proceed in religious courses, or iustifiable actions: but if the answere returne any thing against their owne mindes, they repine & follow their owne wilfull humors.

Hypocrisie will endure disgraces for ad­uantage, and seeme to be humble and sub­missiue, when indeed hee lyes in wait for opportunitie of greater aduantage, or so­rer reuenge.

Hypocrisie is the Genus or maine spring, from whence the riuulets of flattery, cog­ging, fawning, dissembling, vain-praises, superfluous speeches, & all cunning acti­ons ouerflowe mans naturall reason, and euen disperseth poyson into the veines of well enclined dispositions.

Hypocrisie takes roote in the heart, and so bursteth foorth like a growing tree into many seuerall geftures, counterfet [Page 68] shewes, seeming deuotion, vaine appari­tions, vvicked deceits, and absurd con­trarieties.

Inuections.

INuections sauor of detraction, and both proceed from enuy: impaire not therefore another mans credit, nor spend on his purse. For the one is his countenance, the other his maintenance.

Inuections of a venomous tongue, are the ruine of a multitude; as the blasting wind withers the fruit, or vnkindly mildewes withers the corne.

Inuections proceeding from iealous anger against horrible transgressions, and impu­dent sinners, are commendable, and repre­sent sharp corasiues to festered and inue­terat sores.

Inuections that are defamatory vvithout cause or good ground, are diabolicall, and tooke originall from the serpents rayling [Page] on God to the woman; whom hee knew well enough, that as soone as euer they should eate of the apple, their eyes should be opened, like Gods, knowing good and euill: and therefore he prohibited them; but indeed, it was to debarre them of so excellent a priuiledge.

Inuections find great grace with the world; for mens eares doe more itch to heare of other mens faults and ouer-sights, then of their vertues.

Inuections need small oratory: for to rayle on a man, bitter words are quickly found; when to commend vertues, the sweetest phrases are hardly belieued.

Inuections are not accepted at all times a­like: for in a setled State, libels passe as Pasquills; but in a time of innouation or confusion, they are dangerous in them­selues, and perilous to the author.

Inuections may be both waies matters of policie, and both waies dangerous; espe­cially in millitarie affaires. Thus did the explorators of the land of Canaan terrifie the Iewes: thus did Caleb and Ioshua com­fort their bretheren.

Inuections are meerely wicked, that de­praue [Page 69] praue the good, when they merit vvell; extenuate their worth, when they deserue farre better: and of a mole-hill of imper­fections, make a mountaine of transgres­sions. But if he be cursed, that remooueth the marke of his neighbours land: surely, he must needs be accursed, that killeth him oliue, and taketh away his good name.

In [...]ctions are so far from the rules of ver­tu [...] that whereas humanity pardons iniu­rie [...], these will not remember good turns; nay, from an ingratefull mind they repine at small ones, and take the best but of du­tie and necessitie.

Inuections are commonly taken in ill part, & may briefely be defined to be a too too vehement rebuking of others, when vvee are more faultie our selues.

Inuections without cause, are in a foole ri­diculous; in a Diuine irreligious; in a great man ignominious; in an officer ma­licious; in a meane man dangerous; in a wise man vngracious; and in all men, vn­worthy of commendation or allowance. Inuections with cause, must bee modera­ted against superiors; mittigated against inferiors; sparing against equalls; and [Page] confined vvithin the borders of charitie toward all.

Inuections are vnhappy ratings, when men shall be told of their faults in publique, that may otherwise be reprehended ciuil­ly in priuate: this way good aduise doth many times make the wicked worse: and and so the fault remaines with the shame; and the very best are rather obstinat, then reclaimed.

Ignominy.

IGnominy is due to those that hold the place of iustice, when Clyents are made miserable by the delay of Courts, and par­tiallity of Iudges.

Ignominy followeth sudden falls; which if it be from dignitie, is the anguish of the hart: from wealth, the griefe of the mind: but from [...] death of the soule.

Ignominy & [...]ll [...]ame, may well be com­par [...]d to a glasse that is crackt▪ vvhich [Page 70] without great circumspection cannot be preserued, but once broken, can neuer be recouered.

Ignominy followeth seuerall men in seue­rall sinnes; and is the more hainous, by how much more their offences are vnnatu­rall: as for a Diuine to be an hypocrite: a Musitian mercenary: a rich man a theefe: an old man lecherous: a young man im­pudent: a matron vnmannerly: a vvife a gadder abroad: a Prince couetous: a no­ble man proud: a gentleman seruile: a scholer ignorant: an officer vaine-glori­ous: and a graue man a great talker.

Ignominy is the shame of dignitie, when honour is the grace of vertue.

Ignominy was so fearefull to the Romans, that they haue chosen rather to die hono­rably, then liue infamously: nay, many of them meerely to auoide shame, and open opprobry, haue slaine themselues with their owne hands.

Ignominy must be auoided in our liues; as a Gentleman must not consent to dishono­rable actions for [...]: no, not po­uertie it selfe; or else we [...]annot preuent it [...] death. For hee that [...]ared to bee [...] [...] [Page] traytor, or committer of seruile crimes, must looke to haue his actions registred on record, and his infamy left to poste­ritie.

Ignominy is no other then a feareful shame for some base and degenerating courses taken in our liues: as when a noble man is auaricious, cruell, vnciuell, a receiuer of bribes, and scornfull: a souldier to begge or pilfer: a gentleman to proue a pandor, and such like. In all which, the great man must not presume on his power, nor the meane man be desperat of his pouerty.

Ignominy or reproach done to noble Cap­taines, stirre vp reuenge, and is not paci­fied without bloud. Thus was Narsetes reuenged on the Empresse Sophia: & ma­ny others despighted with scorn & taunts, incited to strange courses, to reintegrate their honours. The former story is thus; When Narsetes gouerned the Western Prouices for the Emperor Iustinian, and had been famous for many noble exploits; his enuiers suggested, that he ambitiously sought the Empire: whereupon hee was enforced to passe from Rome into Asia; where appearing before the Empresse So­phia, [Page 71] shee thus taunted and defamed him; Sith thou Narsetes art lesse then a man, & halfe a woman, beeing an Eunuch, I com­maund thee leaue the gouernment of the Empire, and get vp to weaue, where my maidens knit caules. Which words made so forcible impression, that hee changed countenance, the teares brake from his eyes, and his choler thus vented his griefe; Serene Princesse, I would you should cha­stise me as a Lady, but not defame me like a woman: It grieues me not so much for that you haue said, as the occasion you haue giuen mee to make you answere; I therefore presently depart for Italy, but to weaue, knit, and frame such a toile, as nei­ther thou maist comprehend, nor thy hus­band vndoe.

Ignominy is neuer more aggrauated, then when women are cruell, which should be pittifull; nor more deserued, then vvhen subiects are disloiall, who ought to be faithfull.

Ignominy is like an Adder in a path, from whose very sight a man would start back: but not be tainted with the poyson vpon any condition.

[Page] Ignominy maketh taunts so fearefull, that euen mean men haue answered great Em­perors distastingly to saue their reputati­on. As when Alexander the great reproa­ched Cle [...]nidus the pirat for a thiefe & ro­uer: It is true great Prince said he, because I rob but with one or two ships, I am ther­fore defamed; but thou that fillest the Hel­lespont with mighty nauies, art therefore a mighty Emperour, and Monarch of the world. Thus againe was the Lady Mary of Padilia reproued for her ambition and treason, when the commons reuolted in time of Charles the 5. Emperor in Spaine. If histories deceiue vs not, saith the au­thor, Mamea was proud: Medea cruell: Martia enuious: Popilia vnchast: Mirrha malicious: and Domiti [...] rash: But I haue read of none that hath been disloyall and a traytresse, but your Ladiship.

Ignominy is worse then blowes: for they punish but for a time, or at most our life time; but shame and reproach continueth after death: yea, maketh our posterity dis­honourable by our vile conditions, or base proceedings.

Idlenesse.

IDlenesse will rather begge, then vvo [...]ke, and then correction is needful: but when the rich will starue the poore, the plague is a good scourge of a Common-wealth.

Idlenesse is an enemy to Honor, and sloth bringeth pride to pouertie.

Idlenesse cares for nothing, maketh men gracelesse, and ioyned with sloth, quick­ly vvitlesse; as ielousie increaseth mad­nesse.

Idlenesse is the ground of ignorance, and a foole is the scorne of reason: but exer­cise maketh the fallow field fruitful, and a good wit pleasant and plentiful.

Idlenesse againe is the sister of doltishnesse, both enemies to Art: vvhereas exercise, conference, & experience make both arte and wit to yeeld forth fruit & exornation. Idlenes is cause of lazines, diseases, corrup­tion of bloud, & dulls the spirit, which per­aduenture [Page] by nature would produce com­mendable effects: but wearines may come of weakenesse and great labour, and then rest and idlenesse is a refreshing to nature, and recouery of strength.

Idlenesse worketh contraries against kinde: for commonly idle men sleepe a daies, and walke a nights: but woe be vnto them that make day nigh [...], and night day; for questi­onlesse they cannot preuent pouerty.

Idlenesse is called the graue of the liuing, & was so odious amongst the Persians, that to auoid idlenes they would whittle sticks, or rip the seames of their coats, to [...]end and sow them againe.

Idlenesse is a priuation of goodnesse, and it is ill to doe nothing, worse to doe bad, and worst of all neuer to repent and amend.

Idlenesse maketh a foole miserable, when trauell maketh a wise man honourable.

Idle men amongst the Philosophers were banished, the couetous hated, the traitors hanged aliue, the vicious were buried, and the lasciuious were whipped.

Idle Bees gather no hony, and so become drones to rob the hiue: thus are pampered iades vnapt to trauell, and lasie rogues vn­willing [Page 73] to worke.

Idlenes is to bee hated as vnprofitable, and wickednes to be abhorred as damnable.

Idlenesse causeth sleepe out of season, which must be auoided: for sleepe is a kinde of death, and therefore so much as you take from sleepe, you adde vnto your life.

Idlenesse is the mother of pouerty, the rust of reason, the enemy of health, the spring of malice, and the fountaine of vices: whereas labour is the improuer of wealth, the pre­seruer of health, the andidote of vice, the seed of vertue, the mistresse of experience, as experience is of art, and art of wit and delight.

Idlenesse may be excusable in grosse and fat men; yet Ioseph Bet [...]ssi being asked, what a fat man did, who stood sweating in the sun, answered, that he was either trying of suet, or warming of water.

Idle shepheards makes the Woolfe shi [...]e wooll.

Idlenes knowes not where to bestow itself, nor how to imploy the time: but when wakefull & working villany makes a cloke of honesty, God is dishonoured, and Gods nature abused.

[Page] Idlenes neuer preferreth to honour, wit is not challenged by inheritance, wisdome commeth not from ances [...]ors, nor can wee leaue vertue to our posterity, except by ex­ample and imitation.

Idlenesse boasteth of sleepe, as if it were a praise to liue at ease: but a great sleeper shall goe in a ragged coat.

Idlenes many times begets frenzy, and then the lunaticke and franticke are full of mis­chiefe, which cannot be auoided, but by industry and good endeuors.

Idlenes sleepes out the morning, to the losse of the whole day: but the night watches are the bodies weakenes, and immoderate sloath, the poison of health.

Idlenes is hatefull; yet better lie still, then goe about an ill busines: and better be a­sleepe, then awake to doe villany.

Idlenes is casie to a corrupt minde; yet wil­ling labor makes the taske more pleasing, and when all is done, no goodnes can come by the ease of lasines, whereas great mat­ters are compassed by industrious indea­uors.

Idlenes makes men nasty slouens, loathsome and vnholsome; as weomen out of coiues, [Page 74] pride, and folly, become ridiculously fine.

Kings.

KIngs as they be gracious and worthy of their scepters, are Gods Lieuetenants, and so they make Nobles vertuous, Offi­cers iust, Iudges vpright, Lawyers perfect, Preachers zealous, Merchants industrious, the Citizen honest, the Countrey-man la­borious, the Scholler studious, the Souldi­er vigilant, all estates orderly dutifull, and the whole land peaceable and plentifull.

Kings haue glory through wisdome and en­crease of happinesse, by the loialty of the subiect, and the confederacy of forren Princes.

Kings crownes seeme glorious, but the bur­then of them is heauy: for they bring more cares, then their heads haue haires.

Kings confederate themselues by diuine wisdome and counsell, but ciuill discord [Page] is a worke of the diuell.

Kings maintaine not their maiestly by bigge lookes, but by wise counsels, and reserued cariages, nor magnanimity consis [...]eth in high words: but in bountifull and roiall deeds.

Kings that are gracious, make the state beautifull and sure, as castels well fortified the indwellers secure.

Kings loue high flying Hawkes: but if they stoope to the Lure, they are the bet­ter manned.

Kings weare rich Diamonds as Iewels in their hats; but a gracious Queene is a iew­ell in his heart, and wise counsell a iem at his eare.

Kings that are good; are called gods: but those that are wicked goe to the diuell for all their titles.

Kings are Gods Lieuetenants vpon Earth; where if the Officers be not Saints, the Di­uell will creepe into their companies.

Kings hearts are in the hands of God, how euer the heart of the Kingdome is in the hand of the King.

Kings courts are best for fauourites; yet such as bee young and vnexperienced may sup­pose [Page 75] it a pleasure, as the warres are a bra­uery to those that are ignorant.

Kings must take heed of violence, or outra­gious actions: for Dionisius hearing that his sonne had deflowred a virgin of honor, caused him to be brought before him, and in great anger rebuked him; asking if euer his father did the like? to which his sonne answered? No? For you had not a King to your Father; nor quoth he shalt thou haue a King to thy sonne, if thou vse these vild actions.

Kings (after Alexander the Great his opini­on and answere to one, which demanded how he came by his Monarchy;) maintaine their estates by counsell, elloquence, mar­tiall discipline, and curteous liberality.

Kings are more glorious in their wise and vertuous gouernment, then in their sump­tuous pallaces: but aboue all their mercy shewes a diuine spirit.

Kings are blessed when God chooseth them for his seruants, and the Kingdomes are blessed when such a King is chosen ouer them.

Kings can neither endure comparisons, though the subiect should excell in some [Page] enriching quallity; nor contestings, though they are in the wrong themselues.

Kings haue scepters & swords, the one their subiects, the other for enemies, and both for the honor of iudgement, and ornament of maiesty.

Kings fighting for kingdomes, make a vali­ant conquest: but he that fighteth for his conscience, makes a heauenly victory.

Kings come to ruine by priuat profit, in­ward hatred, and ciuill warre.

Kings keepe their Crownes by armes, and preserue their kingdomes by gouernment, in both labour and art must make a league.

Kings that get their Crownes by the sword, enamell them in blood: but possessed with peace, they are brighter then a Diamond.

Kings are Masters in their own Kingdomes; but euery seruant shall be their fellowes in the kingdome of heauen.

Kings that flourish, are the beauty of the Earth, as Courts that flourish, are the beau­ty of a kingdome.

Kings may not be abused in their titles, nor God prophaned in his name: nay, to con­clude; you must not think euill of the King in your heart, no [...] practise against him, be he neuer so wicked.

Knowledge.

KNowledge & vnderstanding ioine hands with vertue and industry, to crowne the life with wealth and honour: so that by them foure men of base parentage haue come to place of high preheminency.

Knowledge hath an eare, wisdome an eye, trueth a tongue, and vertue a heart, which heareth soundly, seeth cleerely, speaketh wisely, and thinketh heauenly.

Knowledge is like a tree, whose root is in a reposed heart, the blossomes are elloquent words, and fruit worthy and commenda­ble actions.

Knowledge teacheth how well to liue, not how long: the one wicked men commonly desire, the other good men onely attaine.

Knowledge makes a Prince maiesticall in his Kingdome, and the care of Counsellors is the key of the Common-wealth: for thus are forren affaires discouered, and home [Page] [...]: and as for the [...] and flourishing of a nation, it can no way be established, except all men know and vnderstand one another in those places▪ wherein they act the Historie of then liues.

Knowledge sets the [...] working, and la­bour is the instrument of vnderstanding.

Knowledge remoues passion, and makes ver­tue predominant [...]uer folly; so that her perswasion is both sweete and powerfull with the auditory.

Knowledge preuenteth a mischiefe before it come▪ when hadiwist sees it not, till it is past and gone: puts on the helmet after the head is broken, and shuts the slable doore when the steed is stolne.

Knowing much, and doing little, is lasines: but to haue much, and giue little, is mise­ [...]: [...] action is the life of knowledge, as good workes is the fruit of faith.

Knowledge taketh instruction of occasion, and circumstances helpe knowledg to a method in proceeding: but of all things, the end must bee first foreseene, and then the meanes applied in their due time.

Knowledge in the wisest m [...]n is troubled, [Page 77] yea, tormented with the losts of the fl [...]sh, the temptations of the diuell, the treason of enemies, and the importunity of friends: In all which, though we know what wee ought to doe, yet we practice the contrary, and take part against knowledge with our wicked affections.

Knowledge is grauelled about the secrets of the soule, because God hath framed it after his owne image, and no man can tell what God is by description.

Knowledge directed all your Philosophers, and learned men in their exemplary lear­ning, especially such as studied diuine mat­ters, whereupon Thales Milesius hath taught vs, that the most ancient of al things was God, for that he was alwaies: the most beautifull thing, the world: for that it was the worke of God: the most capable, was place, because it comprehended all other things; the most profitable, hope: for that all other things gone, it onely remained; the best thing vertue, because without her, there could no good bee spoken off; the most swift, the minde of man; for in an in­stant it runneth through the world; the most forcible, necessity, because it goes [Page] beyond all other actions, and accidents: the most easie, to giue counsell to other: the most hard, for a man to knowe him­selfe: and most wise, Time: for that it fol­loweth, and obserueth all things.

Knowledge more delighteth in the food of the spirit, then the body: Whereupon Charles the 4. Emperour, entring one day into the schoole of Prage, and there stay­ing more then foure houres, to heare the disputations of excellent scholers; vvas told by some of his Lords, that it was time to goe to supper: whereupon he replyed, Ye that loue your bellies, get you to your victuals; for I am better pleased thus to increase my knowledge with these dispu­tations, then any other refections.

Knowledge teacheth vs, that bookes are faithfull counsellers: for Alphonsus of A­ragon was wont to say, that without fear, enuy, flattery, hope of reward, or any o­ther passion whatsoeuer, they did faithful­ly tell him whatsoeuer he demanded. And Cicero called them deerly beloued books, a pleasant houshold: for if he would, they would talke with him, if not, they were silent at his commandement: they were [Page 78] nigh him without importunitie, neither rash, cruell, rauening, nor malicious: but euery way affording satisfaction.

Knowledge most deceiueth a man, when he is proud of his own conceit, and so grow­eth to selfe-loue: whereby hee starteth a­side before he come to true knowledge in­deed.

Knowledge doth not consist in much rea­ding, but in iudicious obseruation, and orderly conceiuing, how to adopt, what hee reades, to good purpose and vse when hee shall haue occasion.

Knowledge teacheth men both secrets of Art, and wonders of Nature. By it a­mongst others you may obserue, that these three things are most firme in their ope­rations, suspition, winde, and loyaltie: the first, where it once entreth, neuer par­teth: the second, neuer entreth, where it cannot get out: and the third, where it once goeth away, it neuer returneth.

Knowledge leadeth to vertue, vertue to e­stimation, estimation to honour, honour to obseruation, obseruation to loue, loue to heauen; and these be the steps of the ladder of life.

[Page] Knowledge instructeth thus farre of the soule; that the soule being alwaies one & the same, by her qualities and powers as­sumeth diuerse different titles; as a spirit, whereby we contemplate; a sense, where­by we see, and feele; a minde, wherby we conceiue; a knowledge, whereby we vn­derstand; a reason, whereby we discerne; a will, whereby we consent; a memorie, wherby we record; & an essence, whereby we liue: and all these are but one soule.

Knowledge of Philosophy is a good studie; but a man must beware, least in seeking for gold, he lose not his siluer. For Alchu­mistrie is rather a knauery, then a know­ledge.

Knowledge discouers the errors of aunci­ent writings, & present experience feares not in many things to goe cleane contra­rie, and as it were flat against the face of antiquitie.

Knowledge teacheth a Gardiner to cull the weedes from the wholesome herbes: the husbandman to till & plough his seasons: the Physitian to decipher the operation of simples: the Artificer to fashion his work to the best formes, and with the best ad­uantages: [Page 79] and all estates sexes & degrees, perfection in the works of their callings.

Knowledge of a mans selfe onely makes a man wise, how euer his bookes teach him the knowledge of many other things.

Knauery.

KNauery makes men seeme good, which are not: but at last in deceiuing others, they deceiue themselues.

Knaues and Pandars are the venome of a Court, parasites and flatterers the poison of a Prince; brokers and vsurers the cor­morants of a city, and couseners and cun­ny catchers, the vndoing of the coun­trey.

Knauery sometimes gains credit by chance, as cunning without learning: but yet the seed that is sowen by knauery, for the most part makes an vnhappy haruest.

Knauery makes the heart false, and a face of brasse to blush at nothing, and outface any thing.

[Page] Knaues are impudent, as fooles be importu­nate: both a griefe to the honest, and trou­ble to the wise.

Knauery boasteth of shifting wit, and yet endeth with beggary; while a vertuous heart is sull of grace, and either obtaineth temporall blessings, or is contented with that which it hath.

Knauery is meer fraud & mockery of friend­ship, when vnder colour of loue and kind­nesse, a man either discouers his friends se­crets, or worketh vpon his estate, or makes way to entise and obtaine his wife, or de­ceiueth the trust committed vnto him, or leaueth him in misfortunes, or indeed ma­keth a dissimuled shew of loue, and falleth backe when there is a triall to be made.

Knaues in their knaueries, are like swine that are wallowing in foule and filthy places, who not onely bedurty themselues, but raise a stinke to trouble others.

Knauery makes the Officer take bribes, the Lawyer pleade in a wrong matter, the wife to cuckold her husband, the Merchant to play h [...]r querout when he need not; the ci­tizen vse false measures and weights, and euery tradesman to vse his peculiar deceits, [Page 80] the Mercer to mingle mice turds with his pepper, the Artifice [...] to loiter, the country­man to water his corne, to make it weigh heauy, the plow-man to make his furrowes too shallow, and all men to abuse them­selues, and cosen other in their calling.

Knauery is an ouercunning of wit and craft, which hath twenty tricks to cosen others; but at the last, of all others coseneth the author most. Yet an ideot is a disgrace to nature, and is neither profitable to him­selfe or any other.

Knauery of one man troubleth a whole towne. For as the windes doe make the seas to worke, which now doe tosse, now sinke the boat: so when knaues practice their intended plot, the trouble or mis­chiefe lights on some mans pate.

Knauery is an instrument out of the diuells budget, and serueth for as many purposes, as his workman will apply it vnto: It is neuer idle, and yet not wel imployed: it is euer busie, but deserueth little thanks for his labour.

Knauery still tendeth to deceit, and yet is sometimes caught in its owne craft: for a fox seeing a cock sitting vpon a tree, cal­led [Page] to him with these words; Good mor­row cosin, [...] tell you good newes▪ There is a great peace made amongst all the liuing creatures of the world, so that none may offend another; therefore I pre­the [...] come downe, and let vs talke a little merily together of this world. Indeed said the cock, these are good newes; but what [...] those two dogs, that come with open mouth toward thee? Whereat the foxe in a feare starting, and looking behind him, stayed a little. Why how now, quoth the cock; if the newes be true, why feare you the dogges? O, quoth the fox, I beleeue the dogges haue not heard of it, &c. But by this meanes, his knauery was detected, and he went without his prey.

Knauery makes a villaine laugh euen going to hanging, and as we say, breake a iest of the gallowes: but an honest heart findes matter of griefe and displeasure, at euery offence of God and his neighbour.

Knaues can doe great euil out of a little wit, when honest men can do little good wan­ting wealth.

Knauery is commonly either in wicked words, or villanous actions: yet some­times [Page 81] sullen silence dissembles, when most mischiefe is a working.

Knauery is the cause why the wicked are flattered, and the good depraued. The di­uell sets both on worke, and hee will pay them their wages.

Lawes.

LAwes make treason like the eyes of a Cockatrice, which kill, if they espy vs first with their venom: but are killed, if we discouer it in his poyson.

Lawes make a sword the seruant of iustice, and a scepter the instrument of mercy; & as iustice must be shewed to the repro­bate; so must mercy extend to the peni­tent.

Lawes in misgouernd Common-wealths are compared to cobwebbes, through which the great flies breake well enough & escape, when the little ones are caught and entangled.

[Page] [...]awes were first made for want of loue▪ so that a Realme without iustice is the har­bour of vnright [...]ousnes.

Lawes, or if you will, going to law, require both charge and trauaile; but miserable is that breath, which is sold to iniustice for mony, and terrible is that trauaile that vn­does the Master.

Lawes are broken by scorne, and custome: as for the fooles excuse ignorance, how­euer it may goe currant, when fauour ad­mits it, it is no plea against the fault, or the penaltie.

Lawes that are commaunded by God, are to be obeyed before such as are comman­ded by men; and thou shall finde it better to goe to prison, then to hell.

Lawes are like a paire of tarriers; and hee that enters into them, is like the treading in a Maze, who goeth in with ease, & out with labour. Or if you will, the fellow in the horne; who leapeth lustily into the great end, but is squeezed at the going out of the small.

Lawes are made to terrifie offenders, as Surgeons vse burning irons to festred [...] and although a sharpe knife cuts [Page 82] quickly off, yet now and then the violenc [...] is flayed, when it meets [...]

[...]awes are ridiculous without execution, but an vpright conscience fear [...]s neithe [...] one, nor other, no more then a sound man feares the Surgeon.

Lawes that are quickly dispatcht are the suters lubilee: as a fortunate voiage makes the Merchants holiday.

Lawes of all Nations and Kingdomes are reduced from three lawes; the law of Nature, which is gouerned by reason, when a man doth that to another, which hee would ha [...]e done vnto himselfe; the law of Nations, which are sometimes fra­med by opinion, when Kings and Com­mon-wealths make ordinances for them­selues & people; and the law of Custome, when an vse or rite by little and little is brought in amongst the people, which [...]e­pendeth vpon the well or euill obseruing the same, &c.

Lawes are infinite, but they vnite the peo­ple in peace and concord, which other­wise, would soone fa [...]l a- [...] sheafe of arrowes is quickly broken one by one, when the bundle is vntied [...] [Page] the people of Common-wealths & king­doms not vnited in loue and obedience to their lawes.

Lechery.

LEchery is loue abused in carnal delight: and as scoffes are the superfluity of wit, scabs of humours; so is lust of desires.

Lechery is a filthinesse belonging onely to men: for they against kinde, and times, a­buse both themselues and others without any respect; whereas beasts are limited by nature: and how-euer they rage in their seasons, yet are they moderate when the heat is past, especially the female, & will not abuse one another in an vnnaturall or vnseasonable sort.

Lechery is an inward infection; for all o­ther sinnes are without the body, but this is an offence against a mans own body.

Lechery is a filthinesse of such beastly vari­etie, that men may sinne with men, wo­men [Page 83] vvith vvomen: man may sinne by himselfe, by and with his owne wife, with beasts in abhominable prostituti­ons: with their own blouds and kinred in incestuous maner: with other mens wiues in adulterous copulation: with all sorts in filthy licenciousnesse: and in all, both a­buse GOD, and confound themselues in body and soule.

Lechery corrupted the vprightnes of Lot, weakened the strength of Sampson, be­fooll'd the wit of Salomon, prophan'd the holinesse of Dauid, confounded the peace of Israel, & brought a curse on Baal Peor for seducing the Iewes.

Lechery weakneth the body, shortneth the life, corrupts the mind, impouerisheth the state, infameth the credit, dulleth the vn­derstanding, dampeth the hart, and dam­neth the soule.

Lechery is so fearefull a temptation, that as a Father of the Church writes, Paul was stung with the loue of a virgin, which fol­lowed him in the seruice of Christianitie: how then can a man be safe alone with a bad woman, but he shall fall into the snare of the diuell. And if the choice Apostles [Page] haue entred this combat of concup [...]scence, how shall worldly men, and obsceane li­uers preuaile in the same?

Lechery, after Aristotle and other Phyloso­phers, is the ruine of the body, the abridg­ment of life, the corruption of vertue, the breach of the law, and the effeminating of manhood.

Lechery named the first whore, made the first [...]ckold, brybed the first bawde, and bred the first bastard.

Lechery was begot by ease and idlenesse, is maintained by pride and wantonnesse, de­caies by want and weaknesse, and dies in shame and filthinesse.

Lechery is an enemy to virginitie, the death of honesty, the breach of amity, and the nurse of iniquitie.

Lechery is remedied with fasting, and the body tamed with exercise: and if a man would be continent, hee must auoide the occasions, and meanes of the act.

Lechery is naturally attended with shame and feare: for the violentest man in his ra­gingest heat, would be loath to be seene, and afraid to be known in such an vnlaw­full action.

[Page 84] Lechery will proue an vnprofitable plea in Gods law: for if he could not be excused, that said, he had maried a wife, and there­fore could not come; hee cannot be excu­sed that is with a whore, and therefore wil not come.

Lechery makes age doat, youth mad, a ser­uant a commaunder, a free man a slaue, a foole ciuill, a woman impudent, a valiant man temperat, a coward valiant, a beast fond, and a tyger milde.

Lechery breeds a painfull pleasure, a woful repentance, a miserable delight, and hel­lish reward.

Lechery is in plaine tearmes extreame lust, vnlawfull loue, brutish desires, beastlie wantonnesse, and the itch or scab of old concupiscence: so that when a lasciuious man hath as it were no abilitie to sin, yet the polluted hart hath a good will to bee sinning.

Lechery rauished Dina; deceiued Iuda with Tham [...]r; destroyed Gomorrah; traduced Ammon; murdered Vriah; wrought fol­ly in Israel; and brought fiery serpents in­to the host.

Loue.

LOue breeds awfull subiection, and wil­ling obedience, without murmuring or questioning.

Loue is a hidden fire, a pleasing wound, a sweet poyson, a bitter sweet, a delightful disease, a pleasant punishment, a flattering death.

Loue which is vnhonest, ends in a thousand sorrowes and trauailes: for many times, if the woman doe not dissemble, play false, [...]nd impouersh one; yet doe men become wounded, watched, abhorred, flowted, defamed, and bepilled.

Loue of Princes glads the heart of the sub­iects; and when the reward of vertue is not delayed, then is vertue proud of good gouernment.

[...]oue is the ioy of the heart, as faith is the salue of the soule.

Loue of many, like a diuided flame or [Page 85] streame is weakened by diuision; but hee that loues not at all, is of a strange condi­tion and cold constitution.

Loue can sometimes yeeld no reason euen in sensible men; as hate no measure in an inraged humor.

Loue maketh a man hansome, that perad­uenture cannot reach to pride, and tea­cheth him ciuilitie, that otherwise vvan­teth common humanitie.

Loue breedeth melancholy, and melancho­ly requires solitarinesse; and solitarinesse setteth the thoughts on worke: but wise­dome preuenteth the mischiefe, and ma­keth exercise a dispeller of wantonnesse.

Loue is commonly both praised and posses­sed by constancie; but feare doth frustrate all desire, and is indeed loues onely ene­mie.

Loue is in his glory, when it is enamoured on vertue: but where beauty bewitcheth reason, there is a base, and (vsually) an vn­lucky passion.

Loue hath a language in silence, which is rather seene in action, then protestation.

Loue thy wife as thy selfe; thy children as of thy selfe; thy friend next to thy selfe; [Page] but GOD aboue thy selfe.

Loue trusteth our wiues with life, our friends with our goods, our kinred vvith our liberty, the common-wealth with our honour, and the Diuines with our soules: but God is to be trusted in all, & ouer all.

Loue, that makes ones head a cushi [...] for his Mistris feet, shewes that hee findes more force in her eyes, then in his own [...] hart.

Loue with ielousie and a mad man, are cosin germanes in vnderstanding: for question­lesse loue is a madnes, and then had Bed­lam need to be a great house: for hee that neuer was in that predicament, is either blind, or babish.

Loue, and the cough, and a woman with child, can hardly be concealed.

Loue is happy, where eyes speak, harts an­swer, and faith is firme.

Louers that are eager and affectionate, are like fighting hennes, who in hope of vic­tory thinke they haue spurres on their heeles.

Loue that is wanton, breeds but losse of time, and malicious humours bring the soule to destruction.

Loue not without a cause, and leaue not a [Page 86] sure hold: for affection may be deceiued, and fortune is faithlesse.

Loue is painted like a Chimera, which was a monster according to Fulgentius, with three heads: the fist a Lion; the second a Goat; the third a serpent: signifying, that loue was fierce and proud as a Lion in the beginning, libidinous and luxurious like a Goat in the midst; and in the end, full of poyson like a Serpent.

Loue of goodnesse begins in the loathing of euill, as the declining from good breeds inclination to ill: but both good and ill cannot agree in a godly soule.

Loue hath not her perfect obiects or best conditions, if men loue the world, which is so full of deceitfull flatteries; or their owne humors, which draw men into many dangers; or themselues more then their neighbours; or God not more then them­selues.

Loue relieueth the miserable, and sendeth soules to heauen; maketh the beautie of the Church to shine; and taking the name and effect of charitie, is the pathway to saluation.

Loue is not loue but sorow, not mirth but [Page] displeasure, not [...]aste but torment, not re­creation but confusion, when in the ena­moured, there is not youth, libertie, and liberalitie.

Loue, according to the world, enstructeth young men to serue; the liberall to spend; the patient to suffer; the discreet to haue skill to talke; the secret to keepe silence; the faithfull to gratifie; and the valiant to perseuer.

Loue the Bee for her hony, and allow her a good hiue: but trouble not her labours, lest her sting be vnpleasant.

Loue is seene euen in creatures void of rea­son: for the Pellicane makes her breast bleed, yea sometimes to death to feed her young; and the Stork is not vnkinde to feed her old one in age.

Loue, of all passions is the sweetest, and treason of all villany is the vildest.

Loue in youth, is full of kindnes: in age, ful of trouble: in folly, full of vanity: in ie­lou [...]e, full of frenzie: and in necessity, ful o [...] misery.

Loue was an old nothing to exercise wit in idlenesse: and is now a new nothing to feed [...]olly with imagination.

[Page 87] Loue is begotten by the eyes, bred in the braines, walks in the tongue, growes with the flesh, and dies in an humor.

Loue doth trouble wit, hinder Art, hurt nature, disgrace reason, lose time, spoile substance, crosse wisedome, serue folly, weaken strength, submit to beautie, and abase honour.

Loue is wills darling, patience triall, passi­ons torture, the pleasure of melancholie, the play of madnesse, the delight of vari­eties, and the deuiser of vanities.

Loue is the virgins crack; the widowes cros [...]e; the bachelers bane; the maried mans purgatory; the young mans misery; and the ageds consumption: a fained god; an idle fancy; a kinde of fury; & in some, a frenzie.

Loue is the abuse of learning; the ground of enuy; the stirrer of wrath; the cause of mischiefe; the disquiet of the minde▪ the distracter of the wit; the disturber of the senses; and destruction of the vvhole man.

Liberty.

LIberty is such a priuiledge of nature, that the bird had rather flie in the open fieldes, then sing in a siluer cage, or prince­ly banqueting house: from which euen with gladnes, if an escape can be made, she flieth away.

Liberty hath bin so precious euen amongst Cities and Countries, that many of them haue destroied themselues, rather then be subiect to their conquering enemies. Wit­nes Numantia, who from her ancient ori­ginall of Greeks, and immitation of their honorable maintaining their liberty, set fire of all they had, and after killed one an­other.

Liberty is so sweet a delight, that it hath made kingdoms forsworne, and Princes breake their vowes, which necessity enfor­ced: witnes al the tributs that France, Eng­land, Denmarke, and other Countries haue [Page 88] payd to one another: and for vvhich whole Armies haue been leuied, battailes fought, thousands slaughtered, Cities de­uasted, Countries ouer-runne, and peo­ple brought to ruine; and all to maintain [...] their libertie.

Liberty hath caused many rebellions, and taught great Princes admirable lessons of magnanimitie. For when Zenobia Queen of Palmira had lost her husband Odena­tus, shee raised warres in Syria against the Romans to maintaine her liberty: but at last, ouercome by Aurelianus the Em­perour, and carried in tryumph to Rom [...], shee there died in sorow for the losse of her libertie.

Liberty is a bewitching pleasure; for it bringeth vs to pouerty: for rather the [...] vvee will take paines, or serue in some honourable attendancie, we will be idle, as vagabonds, and abuse libertie in wic­ked and abhominable liues.

Libertie is cause of all disorder: for if the licencious be not restrained by law, & ter­rified from offending by punishment, and detained in obedience by denial [...] of liber­tie; they would runne at randome to all [Page] vices: and set open a larger fielde of in­temperancie.

Liberty is the mother of wantonnesse; and therefore as in a Citi [...] there be many wat­ches, Courts of gard, gates defended, rounds walking, and Sentinells standing to keepe men within their houses at vn­seasonable times: so in the libertie of our liues, there be diuerse vertues to suppresse our rebellious thoughts, and as it were, put in prison our impious cruptions of frailetie.

Liberty many times proceedeth from hono­rable respects, and causeth losse of life be­fore losse of reputation: as in the story of Sopho [...]isba may appeare; whom when Masinissa had promised Scipio to deliuer into his hands: because hee would per­forme his word, and defende her glorie from captiuitie, hee caused her to poy­son herselfe; and so rendred the dead bo­dy to the Romans.

Libertie is the iewell of life, and comfort of our verie soules. For if wee be free, it makes vs the Lords seruants: and if wee be seruants, it aduanceth vs to be the Lords free-men: so still we must be at li­berty [Page 89] from sinne, to auoide the seruitude of Hell.

Liberty is a good mother of many bad chil­dren: for sloth, idlenes, licentiousnes, vani­ty, wantonnes, abuse of time, pouerty, and wants are many times the birth of her tra­uels, and become monsters in the world through the abuse of libertie.

Libert [...]e in a young man is as dangerous as laciuious talke to an a [...]orous virgin, for both tend to destruction, and without spe­ciall graces there is no preuention of ruine. Libertie makes the deere leap [...], the horse neigh, the calfe skippe, the lamb [...] play, th [...] cony [...]risk, the dog wag his taile, the [...]ouir­rell gamboll, the ape mount the trees▪ and all creatures reioyce for this benefite of nature.

Merchant.

MErchant is a worthy cōmon-wealths man, for how euer priuate commodi­tie [Page] may transport him beyond his owne bounds: yet the publicke good is many wayes augmented by mutuall commerce, forren trading, exploration of countries, knowledge of languages, encrease of naui­gation, instruction and mustering of sea­men, diuersity of intelligences, and preuen­tion of forren treasons.

Merchant is onely traduced in this, that the hope of wealth is his principall obiect whereby profite may arise, which is not vsually attained without corruption of heart, deceitfull protestations, vaine pro­mises, idle oathes, paltry lyes, pedling de­ceit, simple denials, palpable leauing his friend, and in famous abuse of charitie.

Merchant must bee cunning in diuers artes, nay: neede both learning and iudgement, especially Arethmaticke, Cosmography, morallitie, Rhetoricke, vnderstanding to make vse of time, and place, and skill in his profession to knowe what is cheape to bee bought abroad, and deerely soulde at home? where ready money serues the turne, and exchange of commoditie sup­plies the want, how hee shall be entertai­ned, how long, and how many times wel­commed, [Page 90] because in some places they are tied to precepts, and limited to procla­mations.

Merchant is no common freeman ouer the world, as we suppose: for euery countrey hath her seueral restraints, he that trauels in the East, may not goe into the streights, he that goes into Indy, cannot trade into Tur­key, not he that sends to Turkey haue busi­nes in Stode, or other places of our princi­pall marts, except he be free of those com­panies, and haue serued accordingly in his prentiship.

Merchant is a ciuell and conuersable man, rich in money, delicate in apparell dainty in diet, sumptuous in furniture, elloquent in discourse, secret in his businesse, carefull in his losses, watchfull for his profit, and a­boue all, sparing in his lending of money. Merchant continuing his estate, may setle his fortune, and augment his credit: but if he once turne Gentleman before his time, hee is like a gamster that plales at a game he knowes not for a great deale of money: wherein I will giue you onely one reason, whereas before hee imployed his time to get wealth, he now spends it in consuming [Page] his substance: and whereas before he re­mained in his owne element, and so had some lustre, he now is counted but an in­truder, and purchaseth onely vanitle.

Merchant committeth this error in his na­tiue opinion to speake [...]uill of Gentlemen, when all that he labours for, is to be estee­med so, or at least to leaue his sonne so, both in name and libertie.

Merchant is a substantiall commonwealths man, how euer some pedlary fellowes, and paltrey brokers haue abused the title.

Merchant must take heede of keeping his word and credit: for if he faile at his daies, and absent himselfe from the common place of entercourse, as we cal it the Bursse, let him be neuer so rich, he looseth a good opinion, and hazardeth his reputation for euer.

Man.

MAn seeming wise, and is not, is no bet­ter then a foole: and hee that is [Page 91] wise, and seemes not: is a flower without a sent.

Man though neuer such a dwarffe growes not on the highest hill: or neuer so tall, looseth any thing in the lowest valley.

Men (as Astrologers doe dreame) doe re­ceiue qualities according to the condition of the plannets vnder which they are borne as from Saturne a man hath vnderstanding, from Iupiter strength and honour, from Mars courage, from the Sunne vertue, from Venus motion, from Mercury sharp­nes of wit, and from the Moon seed of ge­neration: the Phisitions againe agree, that man in his creation receiueth his spirit from the Sunne, his body from the Moo [...]e, his blood from Mars, his wit from Mer­cury, his desire from Iupiter, his voluptu­ousnes from Venus, and his humours from Saturne.

Man that liueth by loue, and dieth in faith: findeth in his soule the euerlasting com­fort of both.

Man is subiect to such blindnesse of minde, that he will fast, pray, and take paines for a momentary pleasure, but will doe neither for the true and heauenly pleasure.

[Page] Man that is carnall, persecuteth the spiritu­all, through ignorance or Enuy: but the spirituall man pardoneth the carnal throgh wisedome and mercy.

Man pleaseth his stomacke in nothing so well, as in meate disgested: nor his soule as in Gods word truely belee [...]ed.

Man and his ages are described by the foure times of the yeere: as the spring his infan­cie, the summer youth, the haruest man­hood, and the winter olde age.

Man was formed without Paradice, yet had he the name of superiour: Euah was fra­med in Paradice, that had the name of in­feriour: so it is not the place, but the perfection, that giueth the title to noble­nesse.

Man is the image of God, the choyce crea­ture of his loue, the commaunder of all creatures the lobourer of the earth, the ob­se [...]uer of nature the deuicer of formes, and the student of grace.

Man is the lesser world, the pilgrim of the earth, the traueller to heauen, the honour of reason, the wonder of nature, the ioy of Angels, and the iewell of heauen.

Woman is the femall of man, the second [Page 92] creature, the care of time, the trouble of reason, the exercise of patience, the strength of will, the weakenesse of vnder­standing, the encrease of numbers, the de­light of vanitie, the pride of beautie, the abuse of loue▪ the breeder of iealosie, and the deceit of trust.

Man being subiect to passion, will quicke­ly ouerthrowe his vnderstanding, if he doe not refraine by reason, so that euen world­ly loue, wherein the best men are ouerrea­ched, will turne to displeasure without manly restraint, and orderly remedies, which are absence and imployment.

Man of himselfe can doe no good, though he seeme to commend all the creatures in world.

Modestie.

MOdestie makes the countenance of [...] woman gracious, her eye pearcing, and her lookes amorous: but a dead eye, [Page] and dull spirit, are, if not odious, yet at lest louelesse.

Modestie will neuer [...]dure obsceane or fil­thy speeches: for how-euer the lippes of wantons will runne ryot to please them­selues; yet doth modestie restraine them from impudent discourses, and vndecent behauiours.

Modosty restraineth men from a greedy de­sire of vaine-glory, and cannot endure a­nie palpable and grosse flattery to mens faces.

Modesty keepeth women from going a­broad; when they are abroad, from en­tring into any infamous & notorious pla­ces when they come into such by com­pulsion, or necessitie of time or company, from giuing example of any ryot, and vn­ciuell behauiour: and when the companie is ouer-seene in either, from tarrying in the same, or forbearing the like excesse, as if they tooke no pleasure therein.

Modesty is euen an ornament in Princes; which made Alphonsus King of Naples the wonder of his time for many gracious ac­tions; especially when a Gentleman of [...]ples vpon an iniury done vnto him by a [Page 93] great officer, which he could not reuenge, fell into a frenzie: wherein he hauing pas­sed many idle actions like a lunatick, hee was further subiect to the noble mans en­uy. Whereupon, he came one day to the King to begge the gouernment of the Ca­stle which the Gent: had; alleaging it was not fit for a mad man to haue any pos­session of lands or castles. But the worthy Prince most modestly answered, Alas, thy request is vnreasonable; for if God haue layd his punishment vpon him for his sins, to distemper a little his braines, vvouldest thou haue me play the diuell, without of­fence, to take away his goods and honors, & so driue him quite out of his wits? No, I will not adde vnto his affliction.

Modesty is the daughter of Nurture: and how-euer sometimes it prooueth the cun­ning of nature, when a lasciuious woman would appeare honest and religious; yet questionlesse, it hideth the fault, and ex­cuseth the imperfection: so that shee pas­seth without publique condemnation, and infamous opprobry.

Modesty will not iustifie vnhonest actions; so that how-euer we are driuen by nature [Page] to vndue courses, yet doth modes [...]e re­straine vs from the publication and impu­dent defence of infamous abuses.

Modesty shutteth a young mans lippes, & encloseth a wantons eyes: so that he will not talke filthy, nor she looke lasciu [...]ously.

Modestie keepeth a wise man from scorning [...] foole; the learned from triumphing ouer the ignorant; an enemy from insulting o­uer anothers misery; a valiant souldier from disgracing a weake courage; a rich man from vp-braiding a begger; and all degrees from vaine-glorious appearan­ces.

Modestie fleeth from the conuersation of the lasciuious, and auoideth the occasion of incontinencie; so that though men doe amisse, yet in the sildomnes, and ciuel de­meanour, a pardon before hand is granted, and no man can iudge by the outward show.

Modestie apparrelleth in comlinesse, how­euer the hart is wrapped in wantonnesse.

Money.

MOney, or if you will riches, (for so re­member, that this word shall stand for both, yea for all) augmenteth the plea­sures of life: but the ioy of the godly is in such obiects and pleasures, as cause con­tempt of all worldly wealth.

Money maketh a man a [...]laue, if hee make not a slaue of it; and when it hath done, it will be gone, wee knowe not when, nor to whom.

Money imployed to necessary vses, & good purposes, brings comfort to our conscien­ces; but hoorded vp, is infectious, & will witnesse against vs.

Money breeds not so many inconueniences in the want, as in the bad imployment; e­uen as there is lesse hurt in the want of wit, then in the ill imploying of it. But the want of honestie and grace (which is the only true treasure, that cannot be abused, [Page] but makes men immortall if it be well im­ployed) is a greater want, and more la­mentable losse, then either of both.

Money and wit doth many wonders in the world; but the vertuous and faithfull are gracious with God, and shall be glorious with him in the world to come.

Money is the Monarch of the world; the maintenance of pride; the nurse of coue­tousnesse; the steward of Lechery; the sower of [...]edition; the cause of warre; the sinnewes of warre; and the ouer-throwe both of Citie and Country.

Money is the gluttonous purueyor, the drunkards cupbearer, the theefes tempter, and the hangmans master.

Money is the misguider of wit, the corrup­ter of conscience, the blinder of reason, the ouerthrower of honour, the Vsurers God, the poore mans oppression, the Law­yers hope, and the labourers hire.

Money doth good to few, hurt to many; pulls downe Churches, buildes faire hou­ses, makes the prodigall an ape, and the miser a dogge: makes furrowes in the O­cean, and fire in mens braines, fetcheth the beasts from the wildernesse, and the birds [Page 95] out of the ayre; drawes fancies out of fine wits, and eloquence from learned mouthes; makes friends foes, & enemies friends, and serues all professions, quali­ties, and conditions, from the King to the begger.

Money is the reliefe of the poore, and the ruine of the rich: because the one dooth lacke it, and the other abuse it.

Money is good, so it be well got; better, if it be well imployed; and not ill, if it bee honestly left.

Money makes men to commit idolatry, but hee is of a strange religion that thinketh gold a God.

Money for want of grace maketh man finde means to get riches; wit to increase them; will to keepe them; and power to possesse them: but teacheth not the owner the true vse of them, nor yeelds him any perfect pleasure in enioying them; but makes them that might be Lords of other mens, to be slaues to their owne proper goods.

Money causeth cursed auarice, which is far worse then honest pouertie; because the poore man is contented with his little, & the rich man with his aboundance, see­meth [Page] to himselfe to be in necessity.

Money is the grand witch of the world, which infects all minds, and worketh mis­chiefe where euer it comes: no Coniurer can allay the euill, that is raised by this de­uill.

Money in the best increase breedeth care, and the proudest confidence maketh our chiefest footing a changeable sleeting.

Money was not made to be kept, but well imployed: better are the vessels that poure out mercy, then hoord vp mettals.

Money makes the passage in all Countries, how-euer learning is good for iudge­ment, and language for trauaile.

Money in the want causeth much woe: but the want of grace is the soules misery. Money is a blessing, if the rich relieue the needy, and knowledge a true comfort, if the learned instruct the ignorant.

Money, wanting to supply necessity, puts a wise man to his wits, as a tired horse in a foule way to his patience.

Money is dangerous for surfet in the sweet­nesse, but vnsauorie and very sower, when it hath once bred the soules distemper: nay, then it is tyrannous in power, and [Page 96] terrible to the troubled minde of the ow­ner; drawing out the life in the length of cares, and shutting it vp in the misery of repentance.

Money makes the couetous man want that, which he possesseth; and the whole life of the niggard is spent in penance.

Money maketh a wretched niggard seeke carefulnes for himselfe, enuy for his neigh­bours, spurres vnto his enemies, a prey for theeues, perill for his person, damnation for his soule, malediction for his heires, & law for his children.

Money and the loue thereof maketh a wret­ched man dwell in a house, whose cham­bers are full of cobwebbes; the dores vn­hindged; the windowes cleft; the locks decaied; the floers vneuen & ful of holes; the chaires broken; the chimneyes fallen downe: that it is rather a house for hogs, or horse, or kyne, then for men.

Negligence.

NEgligence keepeth preferment backe, for many a man looseth the office due vnto him of course, for want of diligence to aetend the same: thus is the tide lost for not taking the time, and the day lost when a man angles wiihout fitte imple­ments, he shall neither catch fish nor frogs.

Negligence is the cause that water, as weake as it is, throwes downe whole cities if it bee not preuented, and the Sea in her ouerflowings drowneth whole countreys.

Negligence dares not plough the ground, because the earth seems duskey, and so hee supposeth it cannot bring forth daintie co­lours.

Negligence is the only enemie to good hus­wiuery, and the onely ouerthrowe of good house-keeping: for as diligence is the foundation of hospitalitie; so is negligence [Page 97] of pe [...]urie and beggerie.

Negligence is the cause that the horse is ill dressed, the cattle vnfed, the husbandrie backward, the vineyard barren, the season ill sowen, the corne as ill gathered, as ill growne, the meale mustie, the bread mol­die, the mault full of mice-turdes, and greene for want of turning, the drink dead as soone as it is made, the creame thin, the butter nastie or none, the cheese full of eyes and as hard as a horne, in a word: that no worke is well done, no foode whole­some, no life long.

Negligence cares not, how much is spent, how little is reserued, who eates the best meat first, nor when prouision is prepared.

Negligence of a sleeping sentinell, of the watch in a campe, the court of guard in a citie: causeth the ouerthrowe of the Army, the surprising of the citie, and the spoyle of a whole countrey.

Negligence amongst Mariners runneth the shippe on shelfes and sandes, leaueth the leakes vnstopped, entangleth the tackling, letteth the rudder loose, suffereth the ship to runne at randome, and at last, is cause that all is lost.

[Page] Negligence seeldome shutteth the doore, brusheth the apparell, fouldeth vp the lin­nen, maketh the vessell handsome, clenseth the garners, sweetneth the chambers, kee­peth any good orders, or maketh any good manners.

Negligence is a maruailous enemie to Prin­ces pallaces and profits, whose many offi­cers might and would better husband their businesse, if either they were to man­nage their owne affaires, or did tast of the wants in priuate houses.

Negligence is the onely aduersarie to all artes, trades, professi [...]n: and vertue it selfe; and although ignorance is a lamentable defect, yet may it be inuincible, and so lesse to be blamed then negligence which can­not be excused.

No body.

NO-body keepes such a rule in euery bo­dies house: that from the mistresse to [Page 98] the basest made, there is not [...] turne done without him: [...] band [...]ide his s [...]ie opened, [...] who did it? he shall finde No [...] good wise see her vtensels [...] demand who displast them, [...] uery seruants reply will bee [...] the seruants discouer the [...] the chambers durtied, it [...] when euery child is [...] children fall and breake their [...] scratch one anothers faces, and [...] ther or nursse seeme angry and [...] hurt them, they will [...] body toucht them; and [...] cuse hath brought lying to a custome.

No-body many times maketh the [...] man cuckhold, for though his [...] roso haue beene at home all day, [...] aske who hath beene there, she [...] suddenly, no body, who [...] say againe sweete hart, No-body?

No-body and Maister Negligence may [...] together: for if a doore be open [...] chiefe done, and a question bee made to finde out the offender, aniwere [...] with No-body [...] [Page] the horses runne astray: yet did no-body doe it.

No-body in a discomfiture runneth away, nor disordereth the rancks: for euery body layes his owne shame vpon another, and demaund of euery one in particular, and no-body began the disorder.

No-body resembleth Robin-goodfellowe, and the spirits of old time, who like Friers and cou [...]ining knaues came in the night, and swept the house for good cheere: and yet no-body did it, or it was done at least by inuisible fairies and diuels, and so by no-body.

No-body at confession abuseth her hus­band, though the men name so many wo­men offenders, & the women recount how many times they haue abused their bodies: yet when euery body examines his owne wife, the returne is found with no-body.

No-body is an admirable vndershriefe: for if he fauour the party, or is feed extraordi­narily, though he goe downe with an exe­cution of purpose: yet is no-body at home, nor nothing done.

No-body, no thing, and no where: are ex­cellent relatiues; for aske, who did such a [Page 99] thing, and they answere, no-body? where haue you beene sirrah all this while? for­sooth no where: or what are you doing all this while? why nothing: and thus with no, all certainties indeed are put by.

No-body cut the cloth, nicked the table, scratched the windowes, brake the glasses, croumbled the bread, spilled the drinke, durtied the house, tumbled the bed, ranne downe staires, made a noyse, talked aloud, let a fart, and made a perfume.

No-body came to rob a man that nothing had, and ranne away into no place, and no-body came to looke him out: and if they had found him, it had beene no where, doing nothing.

No-body telleth strange newes, inuenteth lyes, disperceth libels, setteth friendes at varience, and abuseth many millions: for when a priuie search is made for the au­thors, no-body is found to auoch the actions.

Nurture.

NVrture both helpes and beautifies na­ture, as you may see in many an vnrea­son [...] creature: for though the Falkon will sl [...]e in his kinde: yet is she taught by high flying to stoope the better, and so the Merlin by nurture and well manning, will kill a Partridge almost as bigge againe as her selfe.

N [...]rture is the mistresse of ciuilitie, and a­dorneth all Common-wealths with that maiestie, wherein Princes maintaine their estates: for though Kings by nature haue diuers prerogatiues, which breede obedi­ence in their subiects: yet doth nurture so sweeten their nature by sweetnesse, that it allures mens loue much more, and so there is pleasure and honour vnited together.

Nurture teacheth a Noble man affabilitie, a Gent [...]curtesie, an officer comlines, a Iudge vprightnesse, a Courtier hansomnesse, a Citizen cleanlinesse, a Merchant finenesse, [Page 100] a countriman sobernesse, and a Scholler ci­uilitie.

Nurture keepeth a great Lady from pride, an inferiour from nicenesse, a Gentlewo­man from rudenesse, a mistresse from coy­nesse, a dame from stoutenes, a good wife from sluttishnesse, a Damosell from rude­nesse, a child from boldnesse, and a woman in generall from vnwomanhood.

Nurture instructeth a father to loue, and yet correct: a child to obey, a maister to com­mand, a seruant to stand in awe, a husband to begentle, a wife to respect, a house-kee­per to prouide, the household to saue, a kinseman to obserue, and a friend to en­dure.

Nurture which teacheth the true and easie disposition of worldly wealth, maketh it a pleasure, which otherwise breedes trouble and perplexitie to the vnskilfull and vn­worthy owner; for if we knowe not how to dispose of our goods, when God doeth send them, we are vnworthy of them: and how can wee truely be saide to be wise or wealthy men, if we knowe not, or doe not make vse accordingly of our wealth by dis­cretion, and condition of our calling.

[Page] Nurture teacheth a schoole of good man-manners: to salute our betters with re­uerence, our equall with loue, our inferior in curtesie, to speake orderly, to giue the wall, not to be angry without a cause: and when there is cause to moderate the same: to looke cheerefully, to bee apparrelled cleanly, to goe soberly, to liue handsom­ly, to conuerse without offence, to enter­taine with cheerefulnesse, and to dismisse with freed liues.

Nurture purchaseth good report, when rudenesse and inciuilitie keepe a man from respect: nay, make conuersation tedious and odious to all men.

Nurture is such a iewell in a nation: that all others, where it is not; are called barba­rous, for lacke of ciuilitie, besides the beastlinesse of conditions, eate one ano­ther in necessitie, or rather wantonly or wilfully only in sauage inhumanitie, with­out necessitie.

Nurture is a handsome commendation, and so farre from flattery, that when we say: he is a well mannered man, we meane: there is a great deale more to bee spoken in his commendations then we haue yet vttered; [Page 101] whereas in all other praises we may quick­ly exceed, and incurre suspition of hypo­crisie or flattery.

Nurture teacheth vs to deale gently with women, how euer men may be answered with ruder tearmes, and manly contra­dictions.

Nurture and ciuility are in a manner all one: for good manners is the ende and scope of their iourney, and euery man must bee a scholler in that schoole, or else he shall ne­uer be preferd to vertues accademy.

Oeconomick.

OEconomick in one briefe definition teacheth all good rules of house-kee­ping, and orderly gouerning of a family: yet there bee some house-keepers, which keepe as ill houses as they doe ill orders; as the worme and mole that dwell in dark­nesse, the thiefe and cutpursse in a dunge­on, the strumpet and vagabond in Bride­well, [Page] the matchiauilian and murtherer in Hell.

Oeconomick maketh mariage the first de­gree, and foundation of a familie: for as a shippe cannot be gouerned without a rud­der; so cannot a house be ordered without an ouerseer, which must needes bee man and wife, subordinate one to the other: he to play the good husband abroad, and she the good housewife at home, and both to consent in a sweete harmoney of mutuall helpe to maintaine their familie.

Oeconomick hath great necessity and neere affinitie with nurture and ciuilitie, where­by the wife must haue grauitie in speech and action: wisedome in gouerning, pati­ence in suffring her husband, loue to bring vppe her children, affabilitie to conuer­sing, diligence to lay vppe and saue, and friendlinesse in entertaining, and dismis­sing neighbours and friendes when they come.

Oeconomick teacheth the maried man to be reposed in speech; milde of conuersati­on; faithfull wherein hee is trusted; wise wherein hee giueth counsell; carefull for the prouision of his house; diligent in or­dering [Page 102] his goods; suffering in the impor­tunities of his wife; and carefull in bring­ing vp his children, maidens, and men.

Oeconomick warneth, that men & women too young attempt not mariage or hous­keeping, lest their wiues are broken and spoiled in their childbedde; their strength weakned; their children multiplied; their patrimony consumed; ielousie inflamed; honesty and honor stained; the houshold vnprouided; the substance consumed; & the man and wife finally seperated, after long discontent, and great want.

Oeconomick must first of all prouide for ne­cessity, and then preuent prodigality: for after money is gone, and wants are come, it will be too late to spare, when the bar­rell is at the bottom.

Oeconomick is opposed & incumbred with manyu inconueniences in maried folkes, wherein if fortune cannot be preuented, wisedome must mittigate the extremitie; as commonly, a milde and modest maiden is a poore one; a rich one proud of her dowrie; a faire one of her beautie, and is to be watched; a foule one is nastie, and is to bee loathed; a wise and comely, is [Page] both wilful and costly; a semster, a singer, or dauncer, and no housekeeper; a hus­wife irksome and imperious; and an ho­nest one iealous. Besides, if thou make thy wife tarry at home, she will complain; if she walke at libertie, the neighbours wil talke of thee; if thou chide, shee will be sullen and dumbe; if thou be silent, no­thing shall be heard for her chime; if she haue the laying out, the stocke goeth to wrack; if thou dispose thy owne money, she scorns to come for euery peny; if thou keepe thy house, thou art suspicious; if thou tarry abroad, thou art vicious; if she be trim, shee must abroad to be seene; if she be but in ordinary fashion, thou art a base minded miserable man: and so may I goe infinitely on the inconueniences and crosses, that are incident to housekeepers and maried folkes.

Oeconomick is blessed, when the wife is modest; a housekeeper, no babbler; not fretting, fuming, nor of any ill condition: for the impudent, prating, angry, scolding and fighting woman, maketh her husband either a sheepe or a lyon; discrediteth her kin; is blamed of her friends; hated of her [Page 103] seruants; slouted & auoyded of her neigh­bours.

Oeconomick giueth warning that the hus­bands be not rigorous, especially vvhen they be new maried to their wiues: for as the wife is the honour and happiness of her husband in respect of her chastitie: so the husband is the hell of his wife, in regard of his cruelty.

Oeconomick giueth warning, that the hus­bands be not ouer ielous: for how-euer a man may sometimes shut the dores, re­moue his wife from the window, bar her going abroad, and detaine her from su­spitious company; yet must he bring this to passe with great skill, and shew, that he hath alwaies more faith in her liberty, then in his owne restraint or obseruant eye.

Oeconomick giueth warning, that though there happen vnkindnesse betweene man & wife, yet not to impart it to their neigh­bours, nor giue them cause of whispering; lest from thence it run ouer all the towne, and expose them both to derision.

Oeconomick teacheth husbands to pro­uide things necessary for all domesticall [Page] occasions, as to feed & cloth their wiues, and their children, and to giue them good education, to pay their seruants, & to mo­derate their expences, to cast abrode for their liuings, to be skilfull in bargainings, to get their goods honestly, to deale with all men equally, and vpon occasion to giue liberally; and in a word, to dispatch all affaires without dores. The office of wiues, is to keepe their houses, to gather and saue the goods, not to spend vainely, or to be too talkatiue with euery bodie, to [...] their words and actions and clothes with modestie, to oder all things within, with discreet frugalitie, and matron-like to gouerne her family; and to demaund nothing ouer-costly for her degree.

Oeconomick instructeth the husbands, that they bring no suspicious person to their houses; and the women not to be ouer [...] with any man, though a neere [...].

Oeconomick causeth the women to sowe with the needle, worke at the distaffe, spin [...] rock, play the cooke, take heed of [...], as the onely enemy to chastitie, to [...] about euen with her head vndrest, & [Page 104] her coats tuckt vp, her armes bare, and feet without slippers, chyding the maides, calling vp the seruants, and dressing the children: feeding the chickens, making the cheese, setting ouer the pot, tunning the beere, turning the mault; and so or­derly along to euery other necessarie thing.

Oeconomick te [...]cheth inferior women to make their owne partlets; to wash their clothes, to aire the wheat, to sift the meale, to make the bread, to set on the pot, and to dispatch euery meaner office in due or­der and place.

Oeconomick more reioceth the husband to see his wife working on the Saturday, then gossipping on the Sunday: but there can be no good husbandry, or housekee­ping for familie, nor good example for the neighbourhood or vicinity, nor commen­dation for the childrē, when the wife goes to bedde at midnight, riseth next day at a leuen, goes to dinner at twelue, sleepeth or talketh all the afternoone till supper time, spends much time in trimming her chambers, and neuer descendeth downe staires to looke to the inferior roomes. [Page] When the Husband giueth not the wo­man proportionable money to prouide for her family, but hanteth the tauerne, looks neither to maid nor man, tilleth not his ground in due season, and is negligent in all his affaires within and without dores.

Office and officers.

OFfices that are wel gotten, make good magistrates to releeue the widow and fatherlesse: but hee that oppresseth them, is both vnworthy of any office, and to be punished for example of iniustice to o­thers in like place.

Offices obtained by corruption, make the prosperity and posterity that get them vn­happy, because euil is vnpunished, malice couered, iustice hindred, vice nourished, and the inward enemies of our soules so strengthned against the vertues or our mindes, that they are either so weakened that they cannot shew forth their efficacy, [Page 105] or so vtterly banished, that they sildome returne to their natiue country.

Offices are commonly a way for the Prince to know the condition of the subiects: for as the touchstone trieth currant and coun­terfet mettals: so doth the integritie or iniquitie vsed in offices, try the disposition of magistrates; and by them, the opinion and conuersation of the subiect. For good Princes make good lawes; good lawes raise good magistrates; good magistrates ouer-see good executions; and good exe­cution detaineth the inferior sort in obe­dience and loyaltie to supreame authori­tie; in loue to the country, in due respect to their betters, curtesie to equalls, huma­nitie toward inferiors, and charitie to all of all sorts.

Offices are still subiect to this error; that such as should obtaine them by order of place, are commonly shut out by fauour or reward: insomuch that Princes cannot sometime eate or sleepe in quiet for such suters, as are euer begging and buzzing in their eares. Which makes me remember a story of Alphonsus King of Naples; who being at supper, and hauing on either hand [Page] some or other to whisper in his eare about the obtaining some office of honourable or profitable place, suddenly with a loude voyce cryed out; O how happy are the very asses, that trauaile with their bur­thens: for when they are at their bait, their maisters let them feede quietly, which you see Kings cannot doe.

Officers ought to looke into causes, not per­sons: that power may not oppresse mise­ry, nor pitie hinder iustice to the hurt of any.

Officers and Magistrates are to knowe, that mercy without remisnesse, seueritie with­out tyranny, zeale without hypocrisie, iustice without extremitie, and pitie with­out partialitie, not onely conserue Com­mon-wealths, but augment the reputation of particular offices.

Offices abused by wicked magistrates, make the rich murmure, the poore cry out, the widowe wring her handes, the orphan shed teares, the souldier mutiney, the scho­ [...]er complaine, and all sortes repine.

Officers that bee good may bee subiect to some imperfections: and then knowing their infirmities, they must rather with an [Page 106] humble lenity draw others from their er­rors, then with a rough tyrannie make them destitute of hopes, and more disso­lute in manners.

Officers that are wise, are the pillers of State; as a gracious Prince is the ioy of his subiects.

Officers that are wicked, sometimes do wel to gaine fame; like healing witches, that would be thought charitable, and do that they doe, meerly by delusion, to obtaine an honest reputation.

Officers corrupted, haue commonly euill eyes; dissembling tongues; hypocriticall harts; open hands; & close feet. For they will sit still for their owne profits, but sil­dome take paines to help others.

Officers thinking of nothing but gaine, for­get to enioy what they haue already got with labour and paine.

Offices obtained by money, and not to be continued long in probabilitie, make the possessors the more greedy to enrich themselues.

Offices bestowed by Princes in court, a­gainst ancient custome, and commenda­ble order, make the Courtiers to mur­mur: [Page] saying, The Prince doth not consi­der; the Councell doth not dispatch; the Paymasters delay; the Parasites beare sway; the Bishops be not residents; the Secretaries haue priuate pensions; Iusti­ces take bribes; the officers compound for duties; the gentlemen play the vnthri [...]ts; the husbandmen that drudge for all, are beggers.

Officers ought to be thankfull to God, and pittifull to men: for God hateth the sinne of ingratitude: & the poore doth reuenge iniuries with teares.

Officers in the administration of iustice, are gouerned by learning and wisedome: for learning, to giue sentence; & prudence, to gouerne; both which are two such pro­perties, as many desire, but few obtaine.

Offices amongst martiall men are bestowed by order of discipline, and knowledge in the warres: otherwise shall the vnexperi­enced hazard the businesse in hand, and giue the whole Campe cause to repine and repent. Yet many times the fauor of Ge­nerals may be iustifiable in the preferment of younger souldiers, who may be of grea­ter merit then their elders.

[Page 107] Officers that get to preferment with intent of priuat profit, are not onely voyde of good counsell, but continue therein to their greater scandall; the dishonour of the bestower; the infamy of the procurer; the feare of good men, and fall of good order.

Order.

ORder framed the world, [...]etled the heauens, proportioned the motions of the Sunne, Moone and Starres in their sea­sons; embelished the earth with infinite varieties of flowers and fruits in their sea­sonable times; limited the seas with banks and bounds; and fet an orderly course in all creatures. Where onely Hell is full of confusions, horrours, and vtter disor­ders.

Order but a little neglected, makes a small errour to growe greater: as a little spark ill raked vp, kindles a great fire; and a lit­tle [Page] foule & filthy water, marres the whol [...] [...]ot of pottage, howsoeuer the Cooke be his crafts master.

Order teacheth vs, that an ill fauoured face, a wicked nature, a horrible life, and exe­crable death, doe commonly accompany one another. The first is vgly, the second hatefull, the third fearefull, and the fourth damnable.

Order teacheth the Iudge to summon the parties in question, to appoint a day of hearing, to giue eare to both sides, to ex­amine the particulars, to certifie the iu­rors, to open the truth, to receiue the ver­dict, and giue the sentence. For as a car­penter by his axe and rule squareth and proportioneth his timber: so in deciding of causes, impertinent points are to be pa­red, ambiguities sifted, shyfts examined, the truth discouered, and so the cause or­derly and truly decided.

Order maketh the eye, though neuer so lit­tle, see many things, and that a far off, one after another.

Order setteleth the maiestie of a Kings pa­lace, and quieteth the ambitious spirits of noble men; who from order and princely [Page 108] direction, knowe how to take their place without repining: whereas if the offices in diuers mens hands are disposed without orderly rules, there must needs be vnor­derly proceedings in the duties that be­long to their seuerall places.

Order in proceeding keepeth a hote braine from running into any extreame, vvhere­by the whole work may bee ouerthrown. Whereas the minde is setled, the body ac­commodated, the hand ruled, the worke perfected, the workman commended.

Order marshalleth a feast, appointeth the banquet, disheth the meat, placeth the di­shes, setteth the guests, soundeth the mu­sick, and sets euery ones teeth on worke in his seuerall rank.

Order maketh the Physition famous, by preparing the body both for the purge & the vomit, to cast the cruditie out, & then setling the stomack.

Order altred in nature distempers the body, but peruerted in vertue damneth the soule.

Order is disturbed, when nature is peruer­ted; as when Sommer is cold, or Winter hote; so that the seasons of the yeere fall [Page] out so contrary, that they are pleasant or profitable to no body.

Order climbs vp the mountaine with labor, but teacheth you to come downe againe with discretion and leisure.

Order teacheth the eyes to direct the feet, the hands to feede the mouth, the mouth to fill the belly, the belly to satisfie the en­trailes, and euery part to assist one another in due time and season.

Oathes.

OAthes haue been of great antiquitie: for euen heathen Princes made their contracts vpon the assurance of oathes; as you may read betweene Abimelech and Abraham, who durst not offend God in the breach of the same.

Oathes haue assured damnation to the wic­ked: for God did sweare in his wrath, that they should not enter into his rest.

Oathes must not be made but by the name [Page 109] of God, and then are they as dangerous to be broken, as if you should rebell against him: so then as you vvould auoide the name of traytor toward an earthly Prince, you must take heed of the condemnation of rebel against the Prince of all Princes. Oathes were foreseene by Gode himselfe to come to corruption, and growe to abuse: therefore was the law proclaimed, to de­taine vs in obediēce; to limit our tongues, to curbe our vanitie; to suppresse our idle talke; to condemne our prophanation; and aboue all to limit vs, how farre wee might sweare, and must be silent.

Oathes are many times abused, euen to the eating them vp; as a man will sweare by the bread, and eate it; by the drinke, and drinke it: but when hee comes to the can­dle, he will refuse it.

Oathes are very forcible amongst most vn­ciuell people: for in Ireland to sweare by their hand, their fathers hand, their Lords hand, by Oneales hand, & such like, are as forcible, as if they called heauen and earth to witnesse.

Oathes taken in vaine, are the more to bee condemned; because of the greatnesse of [Page] the sinne, and the easinesse to auoide it: for of all other sins the naturall man can yeeld you a reason, or if you will an excuse, ex­cept swearing: which being voluntary, and not restrained, is the more to be con­demned, because of the presumption, and vnnecessary transgression.

Oathes vnnecessary are in themselues vn­lawfull, but in their violation abominable: so that to so sweare is wicked, but to for­sweare damnable.

Oathes are meerely accoustomary wicked­nes, or wicked coustome, and thereby odi­ous, euen to the naturall and ciuill honest man.

Oathes haue tied all men to obseruation: yet Euripides hath a saying, that in cases of loue and soueraingtie an oath is not to bee trusted, nor man to bee beleeued: for so sonnes haue ouerreached their fathers, and depriued them both of libertie and of life. Oathes are the more dangerous, by how much God is most holy, and cannot en­dure to haue his name vnhallowed at any time, much lesse by ordinary and audaci­ous custome.

Oathes are the more fearefull, by how much [Page 110] the casue is most friuolous: for you shall heare euen vagabonds, roagues, and boies sweare with horrible libertie for trifels, and slender occasions: yea in their ordi­nary discourses as they goe in the streetes, and walke in the fieldes.

Oathes and drunkennesse doe commonly goe together, and being fearefully vnited, make vp the diuels chaine to tie vs to dam­nation.

Oathes are monstrous in a woman, in whom impudency ioyned with prophanation makes them the more odious and loath­some.

Oathes doe commonly depend vpon ga­ming, wherein vnthriftines is ioyned with perdition: for with the losse of time, fol­lowes the losse of money, the losse of repu­tation, the losse of honesty, the losse of faith: and finally of saluation.

Pleasure.

PLeasures passe away with as great vani­tie, as there be passions: and as many men as liue in the world, haue their seuerall pleasures to content their mindes, and re­create their bodies.

Pleasures hinder our heauenly exercises, and are mayne enemies to contemplatiue stu­dies.

Pleasures of the world should not be so ea­gerly pursued by men, because they are transitory and vaine: but the ioyes of hea­uen are euer to be thought vpon, because they are euerlasting.

Pleasures delight the eyes with delicate ob­iects, the eares with musicall harmonie the heart with ioy of health, and the soule with the louely face of vertue.

Pleasure is a meere net of the diuell to catch a man that is idle: but honest exercise pre­serues the body, sets the minde on worke [Page 111] in some profitable study, wherein as [...]uredly makes the labour easie, and the attemptes runne on with pleasure and felicitie.

Pleasure must not so abuse vs, as to spend the precious treasure of time so vnprofita­bly, which we ought to imploy: first, to the benefit of our soules: secondly, for the aug­mentation and honour of our estates: and fourthly, for the reputation and credite of our persons: fifthly, for the helpe and com­fort of our neighbour.

Pleasures are dangerous in their extremi­ties: yet is moderate mirth a recreation of body and minde; musicke a diuine inuen­tion, hunting a martial imitation, hawking a Princely pasttime, riding manly and gracefull contentment, and if skilfully per­formed, an honourable ornament: and in­finite such like exercises followed in their fit and seasonable times, increase health and strength and agilitie in mens bodies, delight in their minds and relish and adapt both to better businesse.

Pleasure hath two great enemies; an ouer eager desire, and continuall feare: for what we desire to enioy, we are affraid to loose. Pleasure of hunting consisteth in three cha­ces [Page] the Deer, Fox, and Hare: but sinne hath the eescore times three, which to hunt from our soules is happines to our selues, & hea­uenly ioy to the holy Angels.

Pleasure is but a further degree of content­ment: whence a willing trauaile is more pleasant then a forced ease.

Pleasure hurteth the flesh more then exer­cise, as pride enuenometh the spirit aboue other more painfull sinnes.

Pleasure breedes a lamentable sorrow: or a dangerous mutiney, when the misery of a whole common-welth, breeds the mirth of a few.

Pleasure is wretched that breedeth sorrow, but it is a blessed sorrow that bringeth ioy. Pleasure of riches in Christian mindes con­sisteth in commendable spending, not in couetous hoording: for if the poore starue, the neighbour be needy, the orphane com­plaine, and the widowe shed teares; what pleasure can it bee to thee to haue many bagges lying by thee, and see them com­plaine and pine away in their necessitie.

Poetry.

Poetry was gratious, when Salomō made a loue song, and with spirituall influence described heauenly secretes as Dauid sung his Psalmes, and draue away the diuell by the sound of his Harpe.

Poetry in his vse is an admirable vertue, and a rauishing contentment: For it raiseth the honour of renowne, illustrateth the actions of famous men, eterniseth the memory of merit, and quickeneth the very spirit of the reader to the same prosecutions: againe it sendeth vice to hell, maketh miquitie a monster, keepeth vs from sinne for feare of shame, and compareth the odiousnesse of impiety to deepe pits, whence it is more easier to keepe ones selfe from falling in, then once fallen to come out againe.

Poetry in his abuse is a meere excrement of an idle frency, a drunken fury, a scorne of wise men, a popular iollitie, a common [Page] may-game, a storehouse for balladmon­gers, an lnne for rimers, and an idle and vn­profitable pastime: liuing in pouertie, and dying in contempt.

Poetry animated by musicke are dangerous companions amongst working spirits, and barbarous nations: witnesse the bardes and rimers of Ireland, and Wales, whose Si­ren songs haue excited such hellish trea­sons, and horrible tumults.

Poetry and pouertie march hand in hand commonly, though at first they scorned to take reward: yet at last it grewe so com­mon, that without reward they could not liue by the occupation.

Poetry now adayes marcheth with impu­dency, for whereas ancient poesie studied to make vertue famous, the moderne ende­uours to make vice glorious: esteeming honesty an idle word, and a simple orna­ment: but ribaldry a witty mirth and sweete contentment.

Poetry must take vigor and spirit from Bac­chu [...] company, and as a fainting stomach is setled and refreshed with some cordiall receite, so a wearied wit is refreshed with a little wine, and the verses slip more easily [Page 113] out, being washed ouer with that pleasant and liuely liquor.

Poetry seasoned with piety and learning is a Iewell of estimation: but corrupted with fancy and scurrilitie a counterfeit Iem, and the worst excrement and drosse of pure vnderstanding.

Pouertie.

Pouertie is subiect to many miseries: yet not to bee scorned, lest haughty pride make a man worse then humble pouertie. Pouertie is borne with patience, when feli­citie is corrupted by plentie, and he which is armed with vertue, can endure miserie, when, he which is fraughted with vices, can not moderate prosperitie.

Pouertie may come by worldly troubles, and as you call it, vnfortunate mischances: but wretched is that wealth, which is got­ten by the wofull wracke of others.

Pouertie that comes by prodigalitie, is ra­ther [Page] to be derided with scorn, then relieued by pitie: and meriteth so much the more reproch, by how much the more intempe­rately the prodigall liued in his former iollitie.

Pouertie will try the honesty of disposition, and patience the discretion of vnderstan­ding.

Peuertie hath an inward griefe, yet some­times is, endured with constancy, but vil­lancy is hard to bee concealed by the au­thors, or indured of others.

Pouerty maketh men rob the rich, and to excuse it by necessity: but the rich that robbe the poore, haue no excuse for their auarice and tyranny.

Pouerty triumphs to see the miserable diui­sion of rich mens goods. For one part is giuen to flatterers, another to Lawyers, a third to Physitians, a fourth to vnthrifts, and the last to funeralls: so that the wic­ked haue his goods, his children his infa­my, the graue his body, the wormes his flesh, and the diuell his soule: from most of which pouerty is exempted.

Pouerty comes by fruitlesse paines: for hee that plowes the seas, or sowes the sands, [Page 114] may haue his seede well washt, and a cold haruest for his lost labours and vnprofita­ble paies.

Pouertie is no vice: yet a wofull inconue­nience, for friendes forsake vs in our mise­ries, as crowes leaue the fleshlesse carkas­ses, that are eaten vp to skinne and bones.

Pouertie is a pitifull spectacle, and more mi­serable then a mo [...]ster: for men giue mony to see nouelties, but runne away from poore mens complaints and necessities, as from infectious leprosies or ruinous wals.

Pouertie is subiect to so many inconuenien­cies, to be suffered of mightier men then themselues, that poore men may not think on reuenge of their former wrongs, but rather on defence from further iniuries and mischiefes: as in this example ap­peares. A poore countrey man hauing lost a calfe, made a vowe to Iupiter to sacrifice vnto him a lambe, if he would doe him the grace to shew him the thiefe that had stol­len it: whereupon looking vp and downe, he saw a Lion feeding on the same; where­at much more affrighted, hee lift vppe his hands a new to heauen, and cried: O god, whereas I promised thee a lambe to helpe [Page] me to finde the thiefe that stole my calfe, I will now being found, such as he is, giue thee a bull to deliuer me out of his clawes,

Pouertie is troublesome in it selfe: but when other mischifes are added, it is much more grieuous and irksome. For when a poore man had a shrewe to his wife: one day in a fury he had happned to anger her, and shee for want of her will hanged her selfe on a figge-tree in his garden; at the sigth whereof much amazed, hee ranne to his neighbours being as poore as him­selfe, and wept extreamely: but at last brought them to the spectacle, which they perceiuing asked, why he was so foolish to weepe, when they would faine haue a graft of the same tree to set in their owne gar­dens.

Pouertie is a good helpe to knowledge: for Diogenes was wont to say, that a Phyloso­pher could not study without an emptie belley, thinne diet, want of money, poore apparell, and a good wit; yea, Phylosophy perswaded to pouertie, and maintained all the principels of the scorne of wealth and prosperitie.

Pouertie is a part of the play which we acte [Page 115] in this world, & as Epictetes said: if the ma­ster of a Comedy can adapt the dispositi­ons of his boyes to such seuerall parts, as shall well befit their natures and inclinati­ons, to grace the enterlude; so that some­times a beggers sonne shall play the King, and a Gentlemans a vagabond and rogue: shall not the God of heauen dispose of his creatures, as best befitteth their abilities, either to try their moderation in prospe­ritie, or patience in aduersitie? since without controuersie, it is onely God that permitteth pouertie as a triall or chastise­ment, or else sendeth it as a plague or pu­nishment.

Pouertie bursteth foorth into some extrea­mities, which may be pardoned: but inso­lent and causelesse mutineys are not to bee endured.

Pouertie and riches haue denominations and effects contrary to themselues in some persons: for the widowe was rich in her mite, when the rich were poore in their plentie.

Pouertie is the greatest profession in the world; for all men are beggers from the richest to the meanest, for some begge one [Page] of another, but all of God.

Pouertie is miserable, if it ouercome pati­ence: as wealth is wicked if it breed pride. Pouertie in a good scholler is as pitifull a spectacle, as a rich foole is a scornful.

Pouerty comes through a licentious wife, pilsering seruants, vnthrifty children, con­t [...]tious neighbors, & combersom friends.

Pouertie followes a carelesse spender, as a long sicknesse brings the body to a con­sumption.

Pouertie is fittest for a begger and a godly life: yet many honest men would not aime at such a marke, nor walke in such a pilgri­mage.

Pouertie hath more reliefe by the hand, then the tongue, as God is more honoured with the heart, then the lippe.

Pouertie makes hunger a good sawce, but too much takes away the stomach.

Pouertie without redresse, is like a naked body without a raiment: and both finde but cold comfort in compassionate words; For a word without a substance, is like a small light, that maketh the little yeelde a great shadow.

Player.

PLaier was not taken in ill part at the first but counted both a glory and a cōmen­dation: for as an Orator was most forcible in his ellocution; so was an actor in his ge­sture and personated action.

Player and Historian were gracious in all Common-welths: for as their Tragedies and Comedies were seeldome vsed; so when they were vsed, it serued for honou­rable purpose: either for the glory of a Court, the priuate pleasure of a Prince, the gracing of triumphs, the famosing of great Captaines, or the personating some parti­cular humors.

Plaier was euer the life of dead poesie, and in those times, that Philosophy taught vs morall precepts, these acted the same in publicke showes: so that vice was made odious, vertue set on a throne of immita­on, punishment warranted to the wicked, reward afforded to well deseruers, fathers prouoked to prouident loue, children taught obedience, and all sorts seuerally instructed in their seuerall callings.

Player is now a name of contempt, for times [Page] corrupt men with vice, and vice is growne to a height of gouernment: so that where­as before men were affraid to offend, they now thinke it a disgrace to bee honest: whence the eie must be satisfied with vani­tie, the care with bawdery, [...] the hand with obscenitie, the heart with lust, the feete with wandrings, and the whole body and soule with pollutions: in all which Play­ers are principall actors.

Players, Poets, and Parasites doe now in a manner ioyne hands, and as Lucifer fell from heauen through pride: these haue fallen from credit through folly: so that to chast eares they are as odious, as filthy pic­tures are offensiue to modest eyes.

Players haue by communitie mared their owne markets: for as vertue is the bet­ter by enlargement and communication, so is vice the worse by disimulation and common infusion of it's contagious poy­son.

Players are discredited in the very subiect of their profession, which is onely scratch­ing the itching humours of scabbed minds with pleasing content and prophane iests, and how can he be well reputed, that em­ployes [Page 117] all his time in vanity and lies, coun­terfeting and practising nothing else.

Player is affraid of the plague, as much as a cowherd of a musket: for as deth is formi­dable to the one, so is pouertie and wants to the other.

Player is affraid of the statute, for if he haue no better supportation then his profession, he is neither admitted in publicke, nor if hee bee a roamer dares iustifie himselfe in priuate, being a flat roague by the statute.

Plaiers practises can hardly be warranted in Religion: for a man to put on womans ap­parell, and a woman a mans, is plaine pro­hibition; I speake not of execrable oathes, artificiall lyes, discoueries of cousenage, scurrulus words, obscene discourses, cor­rupt courtings, licentious motions, lasciui­ous actions, and lewde iesture s: forall these are incident to other men, but here is the difference: in these they come by imperfection, in them by profession.

Player is a great spender, and indeed may resemble strumpets, who get their money filthily, and spend it profusely.

Player is much out of countenance, if fooles doe not laugh at them, boyes clappe their [Page] hands, pesants ope their throates, and the rude raskal rabble cry excellent, excellent: the knaues haue acted their parts in print.

Player hath many times, many excellent qualities: as dancing, actiuitie, musicke, song, elloqution, abilitie of body, memo­ry, vigilancy, skill of weapon, pregnancy of wit, and such like: in all which hee resem­bleth an exceellnt spring of water, which growes the more sweeter, and the more plentifull by the often drawing out of it: so are all these the more perfect and plau­sible by the often practise.

Player is at the first very bashfull, as struc­ken with a maze at the multitude, which being of various dispositions, will censure him accordingly: but custome maketh perfectnesse, and emboldeneth him some­times to be shamelesse.

Player must take heede of wrested and en­forced action: for if there be not a facility in his deliuerance, and as it were a naturall dexteritie, it must needes sound harsh to the auditour, and procure his distast and displeasure.

Player is like a garment which the Tailor maketh at the direction of the owner: so [Page 118] they frame their action, at the disposing of the Poet: so that in trueth they are re­ciprocall helpes to one another; for the one writes for money, and the other plaies for money, & the spectator payes his mo­ney.

Pride.

PRide is much abated, when a man thin­keth on his sinnes: as a Peacock puts downe his taile, when hee beholdeth his deformed feet.

Pride in authoritie maketh pouerty looke for misery: but wisedome abstaineth from extremities, and maketh vertue gracious.

Pride insulteth ouer miserie, and is for the most part coupled with Malice and enuie: so that when affliction doth most oppresse his enemy, hee not onely reioyceth ouer him, but helpeth to distresse him, till he be vtterly ouerthrown.

Prides wings transports vs, but to the [Page] height of wickednes, and both flie with vs vnto wretchednesse, or fall back againe to pouerty and destruction. For they are but slightly glewd, and quickly melted with the heat of Gods heauy indigna­tion.

Pride makes fri [...]ds [...] lious to one another, as appear [...] following story: Be­nedetto de Alb [...] of a friend of his to be aduanced a Cardinall, came to Rome of purpose to see him; [...] obseruing his stately and proud manner of behauiour, the next day he made him a mourning sute, in which hee came againe to visit the Car­dinall; who demaunded, why hee was so altred: Benedetro answered, for sorow to see the death of humilitie, and the life of pride in you.

Pride is so dangerous a vice, that common­ly there is no worldly help for it: where­vpon Alphonsus King of Naples, beeing vpon a time demaunded his opinion tou­ching the benignity of nature; made this answer; that nature had prouided a helpe for all her imperfections: as for lechery, mariage, or fasting: for hunger & thirst, meat and drink: for couetousnesse, spen­ding: [Page 119] for wrath, patience, and forbea­rance: but for pride, he saw no helpe: so that it was a thing not onely hurtful vnto nature, but hatefull both to God & man.

Pride apparrels the wicked with costly rai­ment; makes them thinke their speech like the voice of Angels; and swallowes the praise and popular applause of men with greedinesse: but let them remem­ber that of Herode, who was eaten vp with lice and wormes.

Pride threw the bright starre Lucifer out of heauen: therefore must not man in the darknesse of the earth presume too high, lest he fall into the like precipitation.

Pride maketh the minde greedy of power, and then can they neither abstaine from things forbidden, nor containe themselues within the compasse of moderation.

Pride causeth a man, that hath the eyes of his soule shut vp from the light of grace, to mount vp so high vnto vanitie, that he falls down head-long into hell: as a blind kite, that hath her eyes [...]eeled vp, beeing thrown from the first, mounteth vp on high so long as she can carry herselfe with her wings, till at last beeing weary, shee falls [Page] downe and dies.

Pride is the enemy to grace, the scorne of reason, and the absolute impediment of further progresse in goodnesse and lear­ning.

Pride bred the fall of Angels, the mis [...]ry of man, the curse of the earth, and the tor­ment of diuells.

Pride bedecketh the body, deformeth the soule, stores the Vsurers with mony, and the prisons with mis [...]rie. For many a man to go in braue apparrell, runnes ouer head and eares in the Mercers bookes, til stum­bling at the heape of his debts, hee falls headlong into a cold and comfortlesse, poore and penurious prison.

Pride made the Painters complection, the fantasticks inuention, the rich mans ambi­tion, the fooles correction, and the beg­gers conclusion.

Pride, or a proud man in gay apparrell, is like a prety virgin, who playeth the coun­terfet Queene amongst other mayds; puts on a sober and yet stately dem [...]anor, and will all that day scarce speake, nor looke vpon her fellowes; but at night when she puts off her apparrell, then she bids them [Page 120] all good night, and goeth home perhaps to some poore cottage, from whence shee came in the morning. So I say is it with a proud man; who all the daies of his life from the brauery of his purse ouerlooketh all his poore friends and neighbors: but at the night of his dayes, when he must be stript out of his richest ragges, and is go­ing to his graue, thē perhaps hee bids them all good night, when he is going not one­ly to the earth, from whence hee came; but it may be to hell, from whence he shal neuer returne.

Pride is vnprofitable for a Commonwelth, when the superfluitie of one night serues the necessity of many: and the disgrace of a Common-wealth, when a man shal care more to satisfie his owne vaine-glory, and outward vanity, then respect the profit of his country, the praise of vertue, the pa­terne of humilite, the example of sobriety, the times necessitie, the complaints of po­uertie.

Pride hinders charitie, endures no equali­tie, loues flattery, murmureth at superi­ors, triumpheth ouer inferiors, and wil ad­mit of no humble thoughts.

[Page] Pride robbeth the heart of wisedome, the mind of vnderstanding, the spirit of grace, and the soule of saluation.

Pride, or a proud man that is cladde in co­lours, like the Knight of the Rainebow, or bedawbed in gold like the calfe of Horeb, feeles neither the burthen of sinne, that lyeth heauy on his soule, nor the weight of a whole lordship, that hangeth heauy on his shoulders.

Pride ingrafted by nature, is somtimes tol­lerated in a great estate: but if the same party come to deiection, then doth pouer­tie expose his pride to the greater hate and contempt.

Pride is many times augmented by honour, as we say, Honors change manners: so that a man otherwise well disposed, when hee comes to preferment, not onely alters the course of his life, but the qualitie of his very soule.

Pride without controuersie, is the diuells hooke to pull sinners neerer to him: and can catch a man a farre off without anie other baite, then the hast of him, who of his owne accord doth come too fast on.

Profit.

PRofit is a kinde of witchcraft, & draw­eth so fast downward to the earth, that we haue no leysure to looke towards hea­uen: though it be lawfull to liue by honest gaine, if couetousnesse carry vs not be­yond good conscience, through igno­rance, that carelesnesse of the world, is the way to true happinesse.

Profit maketh a churle thankfull: yet hee that is onely gratefull in necessitie, deser­ueth small praise, and lesse pitie in his pe­nurie.

Profit forgetteth former paines, and pati­ence worketh a passage through many difficulties.

Profit which commeth by seruants, maketh them worthy of their wages: as a horse that trauailes, is of his oates.

Profit will quickly decay, if either a man sell much and buy little; or buy much, and [Page] sell little, or buy little, and sell nothing at all: so that all men, which liue by profit, must proportion their layings out to their gettings at least.

Profit maketh light ballances & false mea­sures, & both are an abhomination to the Lord.

Profit is the desire of many men, and losse their griefe: but when their faith growes to suspition, their loue is at the dore to be gone.

Profit many times comes in freely; as the Bee brings her hony like a sweet seruant to the hiue; and gathering from many things, labours to enrich onely one: but there is small profit to take from one, and disperce amongst many.

Profit is got by labour; and labour that brings profit, is sweet to the patient: but the impatience of a foole that wil not per­sist, nor can stay to expect, loseth his pro­fit, and may leaue off his trade.

Profit is vnlikely to rise to any great mat­ter, when the haruest is troubled with wet wether: yet may a latter spring recom­pence the losse of the former ill season. Profit in a base trade may befoule the fist: [Page 122] but the gaiue of briberie will deforme the soule.

Profit comes in with cheerefulnesse, when a good haruest makes the Farmer feast his neighbours; as faire wether and searoome glads the fortunate Merchant & Mariner, and makes them spend frankly, when they come home.

Profit, which is honest, needes little cun­ning, but true endeauours, and orderly dealing.

Quietnes.

QVietnes is the paradice of conscience, where a man walkes merrily, when all the world is in a hurly-burly.

Quietnes of minde is setled with comfort, when wee feare not the contrary; and are so prouided against mischances, that when they happen, they cannot disquiet vs.

Quietnes makes sleepe like a sweet refresh­ing showre to the senses, but slothfulnesse [Page] dulls them like a glut of raine. On the contrary, a setled melancholy makes way to madnesse, if it be without rest or inter­mission from continuall and intentiue co­gitation.

Quietnes of minde ioyned with quietnesse of body, makes the estates of our liues happy: whereas either body or mind dis­quieted, all outward blessings are but smal refrcshings.

Quietnes maketh honor to shine with a lu­ster, which otherwise is farre inferior to contented pouerty, and a setled medio­critie.

Quietnes and rest must needs be had after labour, or else, neither body nor mind can endure.

Quietnes and contentation of a Christian, was first procured and proclaimed by Christ: in saying that his yoake was sweet, and his burthen easie; meaning to them, [...] were a little exercised therein.

Quietnes must needes be disturb'd in time of generall troubles; and whosoeuer shal then repine, is as kinde to his country, as hee is wife that wil complaine, that drops fall on him in a storme.

[Page 123] Quietnes must not make her end to be idle­nes, for extreamities are alwaies vices: but the end of rest and quietnes, must be to enable mens bodies & mindes to future paines; as the Inne dooth rest, and refesh the trauailer, that he may rise againe, and goe further. So doe we vnbend bowes, to bring them again to as strong a straine the next time, lest continuall intention should boow the bowe, or breake the string.

Quietnes seasoneth & sweetneth all world­ly blessings, which haue no true taste, but in reposed mindes: otherwise, be they ne­uer so great or so good, they are but bit­ter sweets.

Quietnes and feare, are like day and night which cannot dwell together: they are in­compatible enemies, and expell each o­ther. A setled resolution to sustaine all chances, shuts out all feares; and fearefull apprehensions, and fainting expectations, forestalls all couragious and constant re­solutions.

Reason.

REason argues all matters in controuer­sie, it prooues truth, and approues it, it refutes falsehood, and refuseth it; it dis­cernes the good and iustifieth it; it re­ueales the bad, and forbids it; whereby the good is iustified, and the bad con­demned.

Reason is the ground of the law, which rea­sonable men will therefore obey. But such barbarous beasts as will not bee ruled by reason, which was giuen to direct them, must be ouer-ruled by law, which was made to correct them.

Reason hath two great enemies, wilfulnes, and power; who by tyrannous ouer-bea­ring all right and reason, doe incurre the more terrible condemnation.

Reason is much troubled with folly & wo­men; the one cannot vnderstand her, the other will not stand to her: for wee com­monly [Page 124] say, It is a womans reason; It is so, because it is so: I will not doe this or that, because I will not.

Reason is quite casheird in loue and passion. For the bold & blind Louer (neither see­ing, nor fearing the many mischiefes may follow him) hath his eyes & his thoughts onely on the face of his Mistresse. And the fierie cholcrick companion, beeing caried headlong with fury and madnesse in the heat of his passion, neither heedes the bloudy face of fearefull misfortune before him, nor of bleake and pale repentance be­hind him. Both loue and anger if they be strong, raise vp a clowd of clustring spi­rits, which cleane dazel and darken the cleare reason of man, and peruert all wise, orderly, and happy proceeding.

Reason sanctified, maketh cōscience a good schoole mistris, but when wit is wicked, & will peruerted, no order or goodnesse can be expected.

Reason animated by Religion hath a pow­er aboue nature; for if you offer to throw a child out of a window, it will quake for fear [...], whereas bring a martyr to the fire for Gods sake, he reioyceth for loue.

[Page] Reason erres from the rule of wisedome, when she doth not yeeld the necessity, or taketh not opportunity of time.

Reason sorteth the sound from the scabbed sheepe; as in Gardens it separateth the wholsome herbs and sweet flowers, from the noysome and vnsauoury weedes, lest growing together, the infection & offence of the one, take away the profit and plea­sure of the other.

Reason is the ground of law, law the foun­dation and strength of a kingdome, and iustice the crowne of a King; vvho must adde life to the law by iust execution, without which it is neither a buckler for innocencie, nor a sword against sinne. The law is, as it were, a dumbe or dead King, the King a liuing or speaking law: with­out execution, neither King nor lawe are worth a straw.

Reason teacheth the Gardner to cut his growne herbes, and not pull them vp by the rootes, & a good shepheard to sheere his sheepe, not to fley them.

Reason should teach vs a fearefull foresight and flight of future misfortunes, euen by the example of brutish creatures. For the [Page 125] hunted Hare feedes euen in feare, and a dogge once burnt with fire, is often after afraid of cold water.

Reason is discouered by speech, which in­deed is the image of a mans mind. For So­lon was wont to say, that speech was the life of action, the discouerer of the inward man, and that as in a glasse a man might see the outward lin [...]aments and proporti­on of the body: so in the speech, a man might discerne the inward disposition of the minde; whereupon when the same So­lon was to giue his iudgement on a youth sent vnto him, hee bad him speake, and answer him, that hee might see what was in him.

Reason tells you, that the trumpet giues no sound, but by the breath of the trumpeter, and religion tells you, that the Preacher cannot of himselfe propose any spirituall matter, without the gracious illuminati­on of a heauenly Inspirer. For what high or heauenly thing can proceed out of the blind vnderstanding of the naturall man, corrupted Adam, and a bespotted consci­ence.

Reason teacheth young men to liue well, & [Page] prepareth old men to die well.

Reason delighteth in contemplation, and the study of wisedome; as youthful spirits doe in sportfull recreation.

Reason is augmented by experience, and tells vs, that the strained wit hath not the strongest apprehension; nor a weake capa­citie is fit for a high designe.

Reason vttred by a plausible tongue, makes perswasions passasle with a popular eare; but iudgement that discernes substance from colour, the maske from the face, the forme from the matter, will easily find out the fallacie and error: euen as a good pen doth helpe and grace a good writer: but if the paper be nought, he shall make ma­ny a blot for a letter, or commit such slen­der faults as will bee easily discried by a Scriuener.

Reason rules the minde, as the eye directs the body, and the helm the ship, the bry­dle the horse; though bodies, shippes, and horses knowe not their rulers. So though the yeere is knowne by the dayes, the dayes by the houres: yet the thoughts & reasons of mens actions, are onely known to God and themselues.

Religion.

REligion is set down in diuers books, but the rest & resolution of the faithfull soule is onely in the Bible, the onely vnerring trueth of God, which Christ hath sealed with his blood.

Religion is sometimes made a cloake for villany, but he which doeth so, may goe to Hell with his cunning, and leaue his habit behind him.

Religion consisteth not in benefices or dig­nities of the Church; nor in a couetous zeale that eateth vp the house of God, nor in a malitious spirit, that enuieth the reue­nues of the Church: but in the fruites of vnfained faith, and feruent loue.

Religion inspired with grace, keepeth vs in friendship with God, and defiance of the Diuell.

Religion truely entertained, onely rauisheth the soule, howeuer Philosophy delighteth [Page] with knowledge, and looke how excellent the soule is ouer the body: by so much Religion surpasseth all sciences in [...] world.

Religion for the summe and most materiall points consisteth of two parts: either beg­ging of mercy, or giuing of glory; either prayers or praises.

Religion filleth the mind with Gods graces and then it careth not for worldly plea­sures: as full stomaches euen despice hony combes.

Religion teacheth vs, that in the booke of God lieth the tresure of the soule, as pearls are found in shels, and gold digged out of the earths entrailes: but herein is great dif­ference; these cannot be got without cost, labour, toile danger, torment of mind, and trouble of bodie: but Gods graces are ob­tained without money, yea all may come and buy for nothing.

Religion teacheth vs to be godly, howeuer the world may suppose it good to be wise, and better to be rich, &c.

Religion teacheth vs the way to heauen tru­ly: yet will Astrology measure the firma­ [...]t, (Cosmography, describe the earth, [Page 127] Magick search into hel, the Mathematicks discouer the secrets of nature, and Philo­s [...]hy direct our liues: but all is to no pur­po [...]e without the knowledge of God, which consisteth much in knowing our selues.

Religion is but one trueth, and the onely true worship of one God, and he that is of any more then one, is the diuels Chaplane.

Religion teacheth all sorts of people, how to finde in the Scriptures sufficient authors and writers for any purpose, whatsoeuer.

As a statist may looke vpon Moses.

• A Captaine Ioshua.
• A stoute man Sampson.
• A King Dauid and Salomon.
• A Prophet Samuel, Daniel, and the rest.
• A Courtier Nehemiah.
• A Shepherd Amos.
• A Lawyer Ezra.
• A Coustomer Mathew.
• A fisherman Peter.
• A Phisitian Luke.
• A Gentleman Iohn.
• A persecutor Paul.
• And a conuertist Timothy.

Religion tels vs plainly, that he which [...] [Page] not into the Communion of Saints, shall neuer attaine the remission of sinnes.

Religio sheweth that he, which seeketh God with a faithful heart, and loueth God with a ioyfull heart, and ioyeth in God with a thankfull heart, hath a gratious blessing, a blessed grace, a continuall comfort, and an endlesse happinesse.

Religion saith, that the feare of God is the learning of the wise: the grace of God, the glory of the learned; the peace of God, the prest of the faithful: and the loue of God, the ioy of the elect.

Religion assureth vs, that he which reades the booke of God, findes a glorious histo­ry: he that beleeues what he reades, hath a gratious inspiration: he that remembers what he beleeueth, hath a blessed memory; and he that maketh the right vse of his re­membrance, hath the perfection of vn­derstanding.

Religion warranteth vs, that impatience is the sting of nature, and presumption the pride of sinne, while humility is the ground and grace of vertue and, and quietnesse and contentation, the blessing of grace.

Religion heareth Christ by his word, belee­ueth [Page 128] in him by his grace, liueth in him by his loue, and ioyeth in him by his spirit.

Religion guideth vs to repentanc [...], and re­pentance powreth out incessant prayers: and true prayers will pierce the heauens, whilest worldly securitie goeth to hell like Diues and the diuel with a merry gale.

Religion is vnited thus farre with Philoso­phy, that euery thing feares a superior and higher power: as the deer fears the hound, the partridge the hawke, all creatures man, and man God.

Religion goes beyond superficiall know­ledge, or worldly vnderstanding: for it lif­teth vp our soules to God; as to the au­thor, former, and gouernour of all, and whosoeuer knoweth him, shall neede to know no other thing.

Religion maketh the stomach to hunger for grace, and so to feede on the bread of hea­uen: and the soule to thirst for drinke, and and so to carowse the water of life.

Religion saith, that true repentance com­meth by these degrees, sadnesse of heart, sorrow for sinne, confession of the mouth, promise to amend, and endeuouring to make a full satisfaction both in word and deede.

[Page] Religion tels vs, that such [...] vs at the day of our death, such w [...]ll hee pro­nounce vs at the day of Iudgement.

Religion telles you, that t [...]e [...]hest iewell in the world is the word of God, because all the world cannot buy [...] it is the chea­pest thing in the world, because it is to be bought of free cost.

Religion telles vs, that when a Churchman growes couetous, and a gentleman pro­digall: while the one is walking to begge­rie, the other is comming to ignominy: and both are going to hell.

Religion teacheth vs neither to offend the righteous, nor affect the wicked, lest God reuenge the one, and the diuell reward the other.

Religion makes conscience to confesse true­ly, when pollicy causeth vs to conceale or beguile cunningly.

Religion is scandalised in the varietie of fects, but in the vanitie of sinne is the mise­ry of our soules: yet say what you can, there is but one God, and one faith, nor can be but one true Religion.

Remembrance.

REmembrance is Cleanthes his library and learning with vertue is a steppe to honour.

Remembrance of the goodnesse of God to­ward vs, makes vs relieue the misery of the poore, regard the vertue of our seruant, and respect the loue of our friend.

Remembrance of former comforts, and ex­cogitating of future goodnes, are the re­liefe of a vertuous minde.

Remembrance may contriue a way, how a man may best beare his misfortunes, either by recounting, if he euer had any greater in times past, or to see thousands of other in as ill estate as our selues.

Remembrance is a great officer in Princes courts: for except all places are orderly supplied to the honour of the Prince, and the good of many particular men, which cannot be done, except memory o [...]der the [Page] businesse: confusion will ouer [...]htowe all, and disorder bring the court to an vprore.

Remembrance is sometimes the friend of reuen [...]e, and many times the enemy of friendship: for if iniuries are not forgot­ten, and vnkindnesse put out of minde: displeasure follows, and one mischife com­monly drawes on another.

Remembrance in some sence is an enemy to our saluation: for if God remember our sinnes, who can answere him, or if the diuel be admitted to record our transgressions, who shall dispute against him, or trauerse the inditement.

Remembrance againe is the comfort of our soules: for vnlesse God remember Dauids troubles, he shall neuer bee released, nor ouercome his enemies.

Remembrance is the onely treasurie of wis­dome: for vnlesse a man bee able to make vse of his reading by memory, and orderly adapting the obseruations of profitable precepts, it is to no purpose to reade the principles of art, or ouerlooke the histories of times.

Remembrance is an instinct of nature euen in beastes: for the horsse remembers his [Page 130] rider, especially his feeder: the dogge his maister, the hawke his fawlkner: the lion his keeper, and the beare his commander.

Remembrance maketh dumbe creatures re­ward good turnes, as in the story of An­dronicus the slaue, in Aulus Gellius may ap­peare: for when his maister Dacus had sent him bound to Rome, to be cast into the Li­ons denne: it was his fortune to chance in­to the hands of that Lion, whose sore foot he had healed in Affrica, which he present­ly tooke notice of, and not onely saued him from the rest, but fawned vpon him, and relieued him by his obedience, to the amazement and pleasure of the people.

Resolution.

REsolution is perfected by patience: so that valure and time effecteth euen im­possibilitie to faint hearts.

Resolution is fearelesse, and in a good cause makes a clean conscience, as a strong castle.

[Page] Resolution tendeth to extremities, and ca­rieth wilfull men into many dangerous and desperate conclusions, when without other reason, then that they are resolute to doe so, they runne headlong to infinite and vnreuerseable euils.

Resolution hath likewise a hand in Religi­on; for a man must resolue to denie the world, and dispossesse the diuell, before he can come to heauen, as he which deter­mineth to take possession of a house, wher­in a stronger man dwelleth, must needes forsake his ease and pleasures, verter on many dangers, and thrust him out, either by strength or pollicy, before hee get the victorie.

Resolution must prepare you to your tra­uaile, for if you cannot endure labour, want, disgrace, reuiling, discomforts, and diuers other inconueniences, you were better stay at home then vndertake a iour­ney into forren countries.

Resolution made Caius the Philospher, when hee was in a study at his going to death, answere the tyrant Calligula, that he determined to marke whether the soule would haue any knowledge or feeling of [Page 131] his departure from his body.

Resolution maketh women famous for ma­ny memorable actions, & worthy exploits As in the time of the Emperour Conradus the third, Caesar hauing wars in the king­dome of Bauaria, amongst other places came to the Citie of Monaco: where when hee had lost some principall Captaines in the assault, he swore: that if he entred the towne, he would not leaue a man aliue in it; whereupon when it was in a great di­stresse indeede, and not able to hold out: some of the Ladies and best sort of women went to the Emperor, and falling on their knees at his feete, beseeched him so farre to mittigate the heate of his wrath, that though he had sworne the death of all the men: yet to spare the women, and giue them leaue to passe away with life, and eue­ry one with that which she did cary order­ly away, which solemnly granted, not one woman issued out of the towne, but had either husband, brother, childe, kinseman, or friend on her back. Whereat the Empe­ror much amazed, cōmended their resolu­on, and forgate his anger, and in great mer­cy sent them with all the men into the [Page] towne againe, gaue them all their goods, and tooke the Duke not onely to mercy, but aduanced him to honour, as all the rest vnto fauour.

Resolution biddeth vs feare no shadowes, for their forces are litle: nor trust in dreams, for they are but illusions.

Resolution raiseth valour to the first steppe of honour, while excuse and feare are the disgrace of a noble nature.

Resolution made the siedge of Numantia so famous, and the destruction so glorious: for as the Romans one way were resolued to conquer it, and so endured infinit trou­bles and distresses: the Numantines were as absolute in the defence of their honours: and so put in practise a most memorable stratagem. For when there was no reme­dy but submission, they brought al the sub­stance of their citie into the market place and burnt it to cinders, and presently kyl­led themselues, so that when the Romans entred indeede, there was neither riches to cary away, nor persons to triumph ouer.

Statesman,

A Statesman cannot well maintaine the credit of his place, except hee haue bin a Trauailer, a Linguist, a Scholler, and iu­dicious: for it is not an outward fame, that can carry it away, but a substantiall know­ledge must leade you vp to preferment.

A Statesman many times hazardeth the cre­dite of his honesty abroad: for hee com­monly reuealeth his owne secrets to know other mens, and seemeth of any religion to pry into the businesse of a Kingdome.

A Statesman steps vp a higher degree then a Trauailer, for what time this spendeth [...] vanitie, the other must consume in ob­ [...]eruation.

A Statesman must not onely be secret him­selfe, but be very cautelous, that no man else discouers his secrets: for else hee shall onely passe with a superficiall knowledge, and neuer attaine vnto true intelligence.

[Page] Statesmen at home, haue agents abroad, who [...] are employed to obserue the businesse of other Kingdomes, where­ [...] [...], bee [...] to vse honesty, and [...], to certifie nothing but [...], to doe it with the first; wher [...]y commonly Embassadours them­s [...]l [...]es are i [...]ous of such men, because the affairs are certified vnderhand, before their letters are read in publicke.

Statesmen at home must euer remember the common good, before their priuate profit: wherein these particulars are much in vse; the honour of the Prince, the glory of the Nation, the confederacy of the Princes, which may soonest annoy being enemies: the affinitie of such as may best loue the countrey, if alteration should happen, the armies made sure, the nobilitie held in fa­uour, the Gentlemen maintained in their priuiledges, the commons kept in obedi­ence, and the publicke treasury supplied.

Statesmen must not bee ignorant of ancient lawes, and former antiquities, least pollicie ouerthrow custome, and new cunning sup­p [...]ant olde honesty: whereby much mur­ [...]uring ariseth amongst the people, and [Page 133] dangerous grudgings traduce priuate men for their priuate respects.

Statesmen endeuouring to ouerthrow anti­ent customes, must worke it out by polli­cy; and to set vp new deuices, contriue it by cunning; for the people will quickely espy a rent in the whole cloth, and dare doe more then whisper against the seducers of Princes.

Statesmen must take heede, that Princes doe not fauour corrupt officers: for though a Prince be good, yet if his fauorites be bad, it is as ill as if he were bad himselfe.

Statesmen must not practise any thing a­gainst the principles of religion, least it sa­uor of Atheisme rather then pollicie: and so the diuell seeme to bee serued, and God dishonoured.

A Statesman, if he be not carefull of his car­riage, will incurre the imputation of an enformer abroad, and at home of irreligi­ous: for abroad he must giue intelligence of his best friends, and at home flatter his very enemies.

Statesmen must obserue the Court, promise faire to the Citie: fauour the countrey, counterfet with the Nobles, entise the [Page] Gentlemen: pardon the factious: keepe the mightie in league: and detaine the commons in curtesie.

Scholer.

A Scholer is for the time a prentise to Art, and must serue out his yeeres be­fore he can sue his freedome: but heerein lies the difference betweene learning and riches; when a tradesmans prentishippe is finished, hee sets vp for himselfe; when a scholers, for others; as a principle in Phi­losophy, He liues not at all, that liues not to the good of his country.

Scholers, of all vices, are not couetous: for they care not how little they take for their money.

Scholers and souldiers must entertaine reso­lution to beare with all inconueniences, & tarry the time of preferment: for other­wise, if either start back, as wearied with [Page 134] some hindrances, he is anew to beginne a­gaine: yea peraduenture in as ill a case, as hee, that goes vp a ladder, but slippeth off the rondells; or when one breakes, falls downe in great danger.

Scholers are euer learning: for such is the excellencie of Art, that the more they stu­die, the more they may; and the more knowledge they haue, the lesse they seeme to knowe: for comparing the hidden se­crets with the apparant, they seeme no o­therwise, then a candle in the sunne, and a riuer to the sea.

Scholers ought to be penitent for nothing more then the losse of time: for the Mer­chant complaines of shipwrack; the Citi­zen of bad creditors; the Souldier of ill pay-masters; the Lawyer of long vacati­ons; the Artificers of slender setting on worke; the Physitian of temperate times and diet; the Countryman of wet har­uests; and the Scholers of ill imployed time, and worse spent houres.

A scholer that makes mysticall Arts the a­buse of wit and studies, imployes his time ill, to seeke preferment by the diuel; who yet will neuer serue his turne, but to bring [Page] his soule to destruction.

A scholer is an enemy of fortune, because they are many times preuented in their race to aduancement, by such as are farre inferior to themselues: and either for want of friends or presents, must lose their ex­pectations.

A scholer may vse honest recreation at sea­sonable houres, as well for the health of his body, as chearing his spirits: for as a knife, though it haue neuer so good an edge, may be quickly dulled, with conti­nuall cutting hard or sharp things: so the best wits in the world cannot retaine a continuall vertue without rest, and artifi­ciall supply from delight and further en­courage [...]ent.

A scholer should not be vain-glorious; yet this is a naturall imperfection incident to learning; that in young beginners they goe forward the better in beeing pray­sed; and in old Doctors, they liue the me­rier in hope to be commended.

A scholer must be of a spare and moderate diet: for how euer Venus cannot florish without the helpe of Ceres and Bacchus, yet will Minerua and the Muses liue glo­riously [Page 135] by the pleasant waters of Hellicon.

Scholers should haue great acquaintance with the morning: for two houres vvell imployed then, is of more force then foure afterward, for the attainement of lear­ning.

Souldier.

SOuldier is a name of that honour, that it is the genus of vallure & valiant men▪ for Emperors, Princes, great Commaun­ders, inferior Captaines, & military men, with all their famous exploits, are all comprised vnder this tearme, Hee is, or was a braue souldier.

Souldier seemes the prime honour and glo­rie of a Nation: for in that title all other professions are darkned, in a sort, as when a man discourses of a Countrey hee is not first demaunded; what Merchants there are; how the Citizens liue; how the Countryman tills the ground; how the [Page] Gentlemen liues idly, and such like: but what able men are in the same; what ga­risons maintained; what souldiers flo­rish; what exployts they haue performed; and this is commonly the first question.

Souldier in the best common-welth is com­pared to a nosegay, which is worne all day, while the sweetnes & freshnesse doth last, but at night, when it fades, is cast on the dunghill: so when necessity calls to our Countryes defence, and that worthy men must be imployed, they are much made of, entertained, admitted, welcom­med, and rewarded: but as soone as peace is confirmed, & the troubles ouerblown, then are the better sort dismissed perad­uentute with flattering words: and the inferiour left to the whip or to the gal­lowes.

Souldiers one way are the cause of welth: for wheresoeuer they be resident, victuals growe deere in the market: & those com­modities, which the Countriman must ei­ther spend himselfe, or sell at an easie rate, are vttered for double value: another way they are the ruine of a country vpon fu­rie of an execution, where all th [...]gs are [Page 136] subiect to fire and sword.

Souldiers augment their honour in pardo­ning of enemies, rather then their valour in killing of the vanquished: so that the greatest vertue in a Soldier is to ouercome by courtesie, when by force of armes they they haue got the victory.

Souldiers must neither attempt any thing by vain-glory, nor refraine through feare: but carry such a moderation and gouern­ment, that his courage turne not to fury and madnes, nor his forbearance to pusil­lanimitie and cowardise.

Souldiers are true Christians, and true Chri­stians are Souldiers: for hauing a spirituali warre-fare with the flesh, world, and di­uell: they must be euer in action, yea pre­uaile at last, or else be vtterly destroyed, for no composition can serue the turne: therefore, that we may neither faint, nor make friuolous excuses, God hath sent vs into an Armory to choose such weapons, as vnder the conduct of our Captaine Ie­sus Christ, we are sure to preuaile with.

Souldiers of the world through liberty and ease: quickly abuse their profession: For where is in noble designes they are hono­rable [Page] and glorious in filthy idlenesse, they are roagues and vagabonds: in the one they are seated in a chaire of preferment, in the other chained in a dungeon of in­famy.

Souldiers and saylers are brothers in good courses: for there be but two Elements, in which mortall creatures liue: Earth and Water; wherein the Souldier at land, and Marriner at Sea, dispatch all our busi­nesse.

Souldiers must either haue pay or spoile, and sometimes loue the one better then the other, because that pay comes by limi­lation, but spoile by fortune, which filleth many times the bag of a meane man with rich booty.

Shifting.

SHifting doeth many times incurre the indignitie of reproch, & to be counted a [Page 137] shifter, is as if a man would say in plain tearmes a coosener.

Shifting setteth ones wits on the tenter­hookes, for he which hath no certaine re­uenew coming in, and yet would faine hold vp his head in the sea of the world, must make hard shift to maintaine his cre­dite, and continue his estate.

Shifting is incident to very good men, who somtimes are compelled to vse great sums of money, which if they cannot procure by their owne credit, they must make shift by others suretiship, or some good pawne: sometimes inforced vpon some dangerous attempt: for if a man he with a wi [...]e, and her husband come in the mean while, he is put to his sh [...]fts to escape the danger: som­times subiect to ship wracke, and [...]o makes hard shift to saue his life, and when hee hath escaped, must shift himselfe, or else goe in a drunken sute: and somtimes trou­bled in a long iourney with an vntoward Iade, which if he doe not shift, he may ei­ther faile in his voyage, 'or fall in the dirt. Shifting may serue ones turne in the world amongst men: but when death comes, there is no shift for him.

[Page] Shifting is a very poore and troublesome trade, if a man haue no other meanes to get his liuing: for if his shifts faile, he must ei­ther beg, or steale, and then followes ano­ther shifting to put off his doublet, and put on a rope.

Shifting is the mother of cleanlinesse, and the commendations of a good housewife: [...]or if the seruants be not shifted they will become lowsie, if the sheetes be not chan­ged they will be nastie, if the trenchers be not turned thee will be greasie, if the beds be not tossed they will be fustie, and if the houses be not cleansed they will be dusty.

Shifting is a most necessary thing in Prin­ces pallaces: for if they make not often re­moues, the great concourse and continuall residence will breede offensiue aire and in­fectious sickenes.

Shifting is the onely brauery and credite of a Courtier, for if he be not able to change his apparrell sometimes thrice in a day, he is ous of countenance, and at least thrice a weeke out of credite, but yet I would not haue him make this shift to pawne his winter cloaths in summer, and his summer in winter, his Sunday-cloaths for working [Page 138] daies, and his working daies for holy dayes.

Shifting brings confusion to a mans fortune for he that taketh no certaine course to maintaine his estate, is like a man in a wood, that runneth wildly vp and downe whooping and crying, and cannot get out, because there is no certaine path to direct him.

Shifting robbeth Peter to pay Paul, and bor­roweth of this man to satisfie that: so that at last, as the pitcher going often to the water comes broken home: hee runneth so farre in debt to auoyde discredite, that he is cast into a prison, whence hee cannot returne.

Shifting a side is sometimes excusable, as when an importunate and troublesome su­ter will not bee answered, it is not amisse for a man to go a little a way, nor make an honest excuse to rid him of a troublesome businesse.

Shifting is lamentable, proceeding of neces­sitie: knauish, of wantonnesse: holesome for cleanlinesse: courtlike for comelinesse: Princelike for brauerie: whorish for vani­tie: diuellish for villanie: and hellish for [Page] want of constancy in true faith and christi­anity.

Singularity.

SIngularity in apparell maketh a man ri­diculous, when fantasticalnesse by cu­stome is neither de [...]ided not ashamed, [...]o odious is it to erre from that which is ordi­nary and common, and suspected of pride and selfe conceit to take vp a peculiar ha­bit and fashion.

Singularity discouered the pride of Diogi­nes euen in his pouerty: for he not onely de­spised the other sect of Philosophers, but contested with the great Alexander him­selfe, who yet commended his humour, and made him more proud in saying; that if hee were not Alexander, he would be Diogines: but all others traduced him for his singula­rity, and the common people called him Ci­ricke, or dogge.

Singularity is most odious, if it be secon­ded [Page 139] by hypocrisie: for so many attire them­selues, looke heauily, goe demure, sit sadly speake sparingly, feed priuately: and doe all things contrary to other men: but are yet mecie hypocrites, and either cut-throats, hard hearts, or licentious lechers.

Singularity for the most part, is singular­ly deceiued in its expectatiō, seeking praise, but finding reproch and derision by an vn­ [...]uth fashion. for singularity euen in ver­tue seldome scapes the note and brand of hypocrisie, but to vsurpe a singularity in things of common vse and nature, which in themselues are matters of indifferency (as apparell, speech, behauiour,) are euer sure of the generall censure of giddy humerous and ridiculous absurdity.

Singularity hath many synonimaes; curi­osity, when in all our attempts [...]e striue to hit the bird as it were in the eye; wilfulnes, when in despite of custome of discretion we will doe but what we list, and follow our own fashion; opposition, when our custome is contrary to all men; [...]ancy, when our new fangled fashion hath more lenity, then vse or decency: hypocrisie, when we reproue small fault's, and commit greater our selues: [Page] pride, when wee scorne others, contempt when we thinke none so good as our selues, and finenesse forsooth when wee are afraid to touch or tread on that that may foule our fingers, or durty our shooes.

Sinne.

SInne is the Diuels that old Serpents stinge, whose viperous poison it is farre easier to auoid, then being stunge, to expell the venome.

Satan that sworne enemy to man, hauing matched himselfe in marriage with iniqui­ty, had by her nine children, which he placed with seuerall persons, fitting in disposition to their seuerall humours and inclinations, in manner following. Viz. Simony with Priests, hypocrisie with Professors, oppres­sion with Nobles, vsury with Citizens de­ceit with Merchants, falshood with ser­uants, sacriledge with souldiers, pride with weomen, luxury with all.

[Page 140] Sinne is committed by humane frailty, but continued by diuellish peruersity.

Sinne is the high-way to hell, but a man were better goe in a priuate path, though a great way about, then follow many in the common rode.

Sinne continued with delight, ends in wofull and wretched smart.

Sinne is more infectious then the plague, and most deadly in despaire: for in the one sometime a recouery is had: but in the other soule and body are vtterly confounded.

Sinne vnreproued maketh the concealer accessary: but he that delighteth in it, shall feele the greatest smart of it.

Sinne maketh men afraid to die, though they be weary of their liues.

Sinnes proceeding of ignorance, and con­fessed with penitency, obtaine forgiuenes, and are written in forgetfulnes.

Sinne is a worke of darkenes: for Peter denied Christ in the night, but confessed him in the day, which shewes that repen­tance is an action of light.

Sinne is a trespas in thought, an error in speech, a wickednes in committing: but damnation in the delight and continuation.

[Page] Sinne followed with pleasure and speedi­nesse, makes a man slow of pace to meete with his Sauiour.

Sinne in vs is worthy to be afflicted with punishment for offending of God, when Christ was plagued in sauing of vs not for any sinne of his owne, but onely for ta­king our sinnes vpon him.

Sinne repented in health when we haue po­wer to proceede, shews a leauing of sinne: but [...]e that in sickenesse repenteth, when he hath no more power, sheweth that sin hath left him, not he the sinne.

Sinne through weakenesse is against the fa­ther and his mightinesse, through igno­rance against the sonne and his wisedome, through mallice, against the holy Ghost and his grace.

Sinne killed Saul with his owne hand: han­ged Absolom by his owne haire: slew Ze­nacherib by his owne sonnes, and betrayed Christ by his owne seruants.

Sinne is the baite of folly, and the scourge of villany, it brings the begger to the stockes, the bawd to the cart, the theefe to the gallowes, and the murtherer to the wheele, and all without repentance to hell.

[Page 141] Sinne makes wrath in heauen, warre on earth, woe for man, and worke for the diuell.

Sinne is the seed of darkenesse, the roote of rottennesse, the tree of cursednesse, the blossome of vanitie, and fruite of bitter­nesse.

Sinne toles the passing bell of life, strikes vp the drum of death, sounds the trump of in­famy, and makes the whole triumph of hell.

Sorrow.

SOrrow for sinne is a signe of grace, and ioyned with true repentance worketh our saluation. For as a warme hand moul­deth and fashioneth wax to what impres­sion it please: so do teares and true contri­tion worke God to compassion.

Sorrow is sinnes salue, and amendment of life keepes the soule in health.

[Page] Sorrowes concealed are killing paines, and repentant teares though they make lesse noyse are more forcible with God, then fained or strained outcries, with whom the throbs of the heart are as powerfull as drops of blood, and the sighings of a peni­tent and sorrowfull soule do alwayes pre­uaile.

Sorrowes vnfelt condemne vs for want of sense: but not forborne, proues we haue no patience, nor right vse of affliction.

Sorrow bursteth foorth many times into teares, which from a true heart are grati­ous, from a kinde heart pittifull, from a curst heart scornfull, from a false heart di­uellish, and from a foolish heart ridicu­lous.

Sorrow filleth the heart full of greefe, and maketh silence a heauie burden: yet is it better to suppresse sorrow in silence, then let it breake forth into rage with greater offence.

Sorrow is ended by death, and although patience is the ouerruler of passion: yet delay is the murtherer of hope.

Sorrow that is helples, is a heauy passion, & hopelesse patience is an endlesse griefe.

[Page 14] Sorrow, if moderate, may bee had for the dead, but extremities are to be auoyded i [...] all things. For as a glutting raine is eue [...] noysome to corne: for in seede time it drowneth it, in the growth it lodgeth it, and at haruest it rotteth or burneth it: so doth sorrow and excesse of teares dull our sences, quench our spirits, cloud our vn­derstandings, and in conclusion killeth all liuely operation of our soules and bodies.

Sorrow oppresseth the minde, breaketh the heart, and keepeth vs from our iourney to quietnesse, as a tired horse faintes in his way, sinkes vnder his burthen, and some­time lies downe in the dirt.

Sorrow, if great, makes the soule burst forth into cries; but if excessiue, it smothers them or choakes them in the very birth or conception: so that in sorrow, the lesse the sound is, the more is the sense.

Sorrow maketh a contrite heart to sigh, and teacheth the penitent to talke with God in prayer, which indeede is the true sacri­fice, and onely redresse of sorrow.

Sorrow fashioneth an vnruly heart to good order, as a wide and side garment is cut & pared, and plighted and put together in a [Page] sit and comely manner.

Sorrow is renued with remembrance of sins past, meditation of faults present, and feare of future offences.

Sorrow is the cause of a heauy heart, hot li­uer, bad digestion, vnsauoury breath, ab­stinence from meates, dry bones, swelling eyes, sad countenance, deiected lookes, dull and dolefull dispositions, pensiue pas­sions, and many melancholike maladies, and macerations, pittifull gestures, mourn­full speeches, and mad actions, sorrow is neuer so profitable as for sinne, nor ioy so comfortable as for forgiuenes of sinne.

Sorrow for sinne if true and hearty, causeth in the faithfull feare to offend againe, but causeth [...]eare ioined with hope of pardon; whereas the sorrow of the faithlesse fol­loweth feare of death and damnation.

Sorrow ouercharging the heart, puts it to a dangerous and deadly plunge: as a Faul­cons life is hazzarded by ouer-gorging, & a slender roofe by ouer-burdening; so that a weake heart is quickely ouerthrown, and a strong put to the more paine.

Sorrow and teares cleanse the soule of her sinnes, and contrition of the heart maketh [Page 143] confession with the mouth: for all true griefe makes a man know and acknow­ledge himselfe.

Sorrow in extreamity ouerpresseth a weake resolution, as a ship ouer-loaded, doth sometime sincke with the weight.

Sorrow about worldly businesse bringeth pensiuenes, and detaineth vs from such en­deauours as may preuent mischiefes, yea, keepeth vs from godly meditations and heauenly obiects, which are more profita­ble vnto vs.

Sorrow for wants cannot remedy them, nor preuent necessities, and therefore it is the way to proc [...]ed to action, and ouer come sorrow with painefull imployments.

Sorrow for vnkindnesse in Louers, must be vented by words, or else the heart shall ne­uer make knowne griefes, but by faire and friendly expostulations, it comes to passe often times, that the falling out of Louers is the renuing of loue.

Temperance.

TEmperance both in iudiciary procee­dings, and in priuate mens minds and actions, procureth tranquility, and preuen­teth outrage and calumny in Common­wealths: for so neither the bad are suppor­ted, nor the good oppressed, the mighty imperious, nor the weake refractarious, the souldier mutinous, nor the scholler con­tentious, the rich couetous, nor the poore enuious: for although most of these may bee comprised vnder the gouernement of Iustice; yet must Iustice her selfe be guided by temperance.

Temperance in diet and exercise, will make a man say; a figge, for Gallen & Paracelsus. Temperance sitting in the heart, and ruling the affection and tongue, keepeth a man from flattering, dissimulation, which is an extreame, which though the world say; he that wants, hath no wit, vet I say, he that [Page 144] vseth it hath no honesty.

Temperance keepeth vs from flattering speeches, which are like smooth waters, wherein men are drowned sooner, then in rough streames, because they are common­ly deepest, and most dangerous.

Temperance in wine, is a whet-stone to the wit: but excesse, is a milstone to the sen­ces.

Temperance through patience maketh the smart of others soares a lenatiue to his owne wounds; but indeed there need no such distinction: for there is no temperance without patience, and patience is a kinde of temperance.

Temperance is pace and moderate procee­ding, bringeth lowly snailes (as slowly as they goe) to the top of high towers, when gaping and fluttering Rookes breake their necks for hast, out of their lofty nests.

Temperance is the protectrix of all other vertues: for Socrates was wont to say, that hee which would loue his countrey as his owne life, must aboue all things loue tem­perance, or abstinence, and flie from selfe will and excesse, as from a Syren: and Epic­tetes the Stoicke did as it were knit vp all [Page] Phylosophy in two words, Suffer and Ab­staine. In the first whereof we may learne to beare aduersitie with a good minde: in the second to abstaine from our owne wils and vaine sed [...]cings.

Temperance keepeth our affections in or­der: for otherwise, if our appetite might seede alwaye on Manna, wee would loath it; if our inheritance did stretch to the plaine of Iordan, we would goe beyond it; and if we were seated in heauen, we would lift vp our heads aboue it.

Temperance was surely wanting when E­ [...]ah thought not Paradise sufficient for her habi [...]aton; the dainties of Eden sweete e­nough for her taste; nor the presence of God good enough for her company and contentment.

Temperance teacheth men to vse riches & endure pouertie: yea to moderate prosperi­tie, and ouercome aduersitie.

Temperance vseth wine moderately to the comforting the heart, and quickning the wit, whereas taken in excesse it dulleth the memory, weakeneth the sence, cor­rupteth the blood, troubleth the sto­macke, infuseth error, and bringeth vs to [Page 145] ignorance.

Temperance poyseth vertue in a meane and moderate scale, and hope of attaining fu­ture good by moderation, keepeth our wicked wils from extrauagant ranging.

Temperance keepes the spirits at rest, and in order, which otherwise would burst into passions and extremities: but nothing ex­cessiuely violent is durable; nor any thing orderly moderate is easily mutable.

Temperance brought most of the Romane warres to perfection, & all the great Cap­taines to glory. Thus Q [...] Fabius ouercame Hanniball and Scipi [...] Spaine: yea in his ab­stinence from the beautiful captiue espou­sed to Iudibilis, he wonne the hearts of all the people, and setled the Romane Em­pire.

Temperance is diet keepes the bodie in helth, but a cleare conscience is the sound­nesse of the foule.

Temperance ioyned with modesty teacheth apparell to couer nakednesse, and meate to nourish nature: but feasts cause surfe [...] ­ting, riches pride, voluptuousnesse idlenes, and excesse ouerthrowes all.

Temperance is the way to walke to perfec­tion: [Page] and as when we looke in a glasse, and see the spots in our face, vnlesse the hand be li [...]ted vp to make all cleane, it is to no purpose. So though wisedome discouer our imperfections, yet if temperance assist not to reformation, vices will spread far­ther and farther to our finall ruine.

Time.

TIme ouercommeth all labour, and en­deth the greatest miserie and heauines: for how forcible soeuer sorrowes seeme, yet there must be an ending, as there was a day of beginning.

Time amongst many other wayes, is not least of all lost in telling lies and wonders, and seldome are such men beleeued in true relations; like the shepheards boy, that called the shepheards to helpe him: for the Wolfe was comming for a Lambe; who therupon startled came once or twise bu. were deceiued: for the wanton boy [Page 146] did mocke them with a lie; whereupon when the Wolfe indeede was come, they would not beleeue him, and so lay still vn­till the Lambe was gone, and the boyes was turned to crying.

Time betwixt infancy and age seemeth long but in respect of eternitie it is much lesse then a minute: for God is before and after all times, which beare no proportion to his induring.

Time is pretious to the wise, but vile to a foole; to the learned a treasure, to the lasie tedious, to the blessed ioyfull, and to the damned horrible: for in hell their pai [...]e is surpassing and perpetuall.

Time is vnrecouerable, and threfore not to bee spent in want on fictions, or idle fanta­sies, or vaine pleasures.

Time watche th [...]our life, for the euening tels what the day hath done, the weeke casteth vp the dayes account, the monthes the weekes, the yeeres the monthes, our life the yeeres, and death our life and all our actions.

Time makes the snail [...] clime a great height, though hee hasten but a slow pace, the warmth of the Sunne recouers dead flies; [Page] the graine of mustard-seede becommeth a tree: the small seeds of the earth spred to florishing branches: and al naturers works come to perfection in their due time.

Time is not to bee let slip: for a bright mor­ning may haue a blacke day, and a glori­ous day a gloomy euening.

Time is lost, when wee labour in vaine, but whē we to work euil its to abuse both wit and time: so time gained is a proofe of wit, but abused the reproofe of wickednesse.

Time of har [...]est is ioyfull to the husband-men; of receiuing fees to to the lawyer; of taking rents to the Gentlemen; of rest and case to the souldier & laborer: of expences to the prodigall, of releeuing the poore to the charitable, and so in infinite other par­ticulars.

Time is pictured like Fortune with a hairy foretop and bald behinde: to shew that we must catch hold of time, while shee offers her selfe, and not let slip an opportunity to to do vs good; for there is no hold fast to be taken, when she is past and gone.

Time is pretious to the vnderstanding spi­rit, and labour easie to the louing heart, while losse of time is the shame of folly, [Page 147] and forced paine brings vnpleasing profit.

Time trieth all things, and openeth the eyes of true vnderstanding, making the eye of nature to guide the whole world in good order, the eye of reason to run the course of nature, the eye of art to note the rules of reason: but the eye of wisedome to take grace for her direction.

Time lost is hardly to bee recouered, olde sores are hardly healed, credite crackt is hardly restored, and long quarrels hardly quieted.

Time lost is the effect of folly, the shame of wit, the rudenesse of will, the rust of sence, the raine of reason, the wound of sinne, the woe of man.

Time and tides must be watched: for if they will not tarrie for kings, let not inferiour persons expect to command the heauens.

Traueller.

TRaueller is an excellent hunts-man of idlenes, and Phisitian to cure the pas­sion [Page] of loue: for by labour and more gene­rous imployment out of sight of the ab­sent and beloued obiect, the body and minde are otherwise so set on worke, that lasinesse and loue are quite extinct.

Traueller must doe more then looke on goodly buildings, and gaze on beautifull faces: lest he be like to his carriage truncke that is remo [...]ed hither and thither to serue his idle humours, to make showes, and fill vp places: but makes no profitable obser­uations for publike seruices.

Traueller must haue the head of a Philoso­pher, to carry away all he remembers, and sees, the heart of a Lyon to endure all af­flictions, and not be afraid of any dangers, the mouth of a swine to tast and eate all meates, the eyes of a Hawke to view the secrets of all places, where he resorts, the backe of an Asse to beare and forbeare ei­ther floutes or disgraces, the legges of a Cammell to carry his owne body, and o­ther necessaries if need be, and the vigilan­cy of a Cocke to bee awake at all houres, and be ready to attend his iourney.

Traueller at sea sees the wonders of God, & at land the pleasures of the world: at sea [Page 148] he must endure both stormes and wants: at land he may preuent extreamities, at sea he must prouide before hand, and so may make shift without mony: at land he must alwaies haue coyne or credit to serue his turne, as sea he liueth at ease without plea­sure, at land he hath delight with some la­bour, at sea he is in danger of Piracy, tem­pests, and shipwrackes: at land he may fall amongst theeues, couseners, and curtesans, at sea hee is troubled with the vnsauory smell of the ship, at land refreshed with the sweet scent of flowers of the field. To con­clude, at sea he must endure some inconue­niences, and at land he may enioy great contentment and delight.

Traueller must make vse of his labours: for it is not sufficient to goe from City to Ci­ty, from Countrey to Country, from house to house, from one delight to another, ex­cept he learne the language, obserue the most remarkeable things, conuerse with vnderstanding men, conferre with the iudi­cious, be in person at solemnities, giue [...]are to all reports, but beleeue onely truthes or strong probabilities, and not let slip any opportunity to enrich his knowledge, and [Page] pleasure his Countrey.

Traueller must not take exception to his Inne, find fault with his lodging, murmure at his bedfellow, grudge at his diet, raile on his waggener, speake ill of the religion, make comparisons with the state, villipend the place, where he remaines, not take ex­ceptions to the faults and imperfections of priuate persons, no though they be appa­rant impieties.

Traueller neede not care for costly or su­perfluous apparell: must haue money and not shew it, learning and not boast of it, secrets and not discouer them, abilitie of body and not abuse it, courage of heart, and not imploy it: and patience, but not ouerburthen it; for in matters iustisiable all conntries hearken after complaintes, and are prowd, when they may doe iustice to strangers.

Traueller must take heede of curiositie, ei­ther to enquire after dangerous newes, or to seeke after others secrets: for so he may be brought to the suspition of an intelli­gencer, and discredit of enformer: in both which, though there bee some things al­lowable; yet the very title maketh a blur. [Page 149] Traueller must be sure of credit, where hee meanes to reside: for as he cannot before­hand determine his returne; so hee may not trust vnto strangers for their charitie in vnknowne places: nay, his owne coun­treymen will faile him, and his wants de­feate and disgrace him.

Traueller may performe his businesse the better, by how much hee makes the lesser show: For from a priuacy of life, he is vn­suspected, whereas publicke eminence makes him dangerously marked.

Traueller must be tongue-tied in matters of Religion, and leaue disputation of contro­uersies: for to reise no arguments, to vse no contradiction, to make no comparison, to reproach or dispraise no man, or by nips or iests to expose him to derision, are se­cure points for a Traueller to build on.

Troubles.

TRoubles are incident to an honest life: but sometimes they are so many and so [Page] heauy, that they make honesty weary, & to sell her freehold: but troubles to confirme constancy in honesty are gracious trials.

Troubles are tokens of Gods fauour, where­vpon Policrates the tyrant was affraide of nothing so much, as the sicklenesse of for­tune, because he had neuer any trouble or mischance in the world, which made him cast his rich iewell into the sea, because he would haue some crosses: but a fisherman hauing taken an extraordinary Dolphine, brought it to the King, who found his iewell in her belley: whereat amazed, hee presently swore, there was some great mis­chiefe and trouble toward him, which fell out accordingly: for that night there was a conspiracy against him, and he lost his life.

Troubles are like sea-markes to direct vs in the channell of saluation, least wee fall on the rockes, and shelfes of worldly cares and couetousnesse: or sincke ouer-head with cares into the gulphes and skirts of deuouring vanitie, or filthy pleasures: from which we are often preserued by profita­ble troubles.

Troubles that are sudden and not foreseene, [Page 150] puzell our very thoughts; and perturbe our vnderstandings with pensiue cares: therefore is premeditation a great point of discretion, but it must forecast as well to preuent present mischiefes, as to pro­uide fo [...] future times.

Troubles make men-trust in God, and then they cannot be deceined, whereas hee that trusteth in man, shall be sure to be abused.

Trouble is of greater power to restraine the act, then satisfie the desire: for the body may be weary of sinning, when desire is neuer satisfied with sinne: as the drunkard that can drinke no more, yet cals for more wine; and the lecher vnable to satisfie his lust, yet loues to rub and scratch his scur­uey ytch.

Troubles bring a man much lesse griefe with a vertuous wife; but a vi [...]ious woman her selfe alone, will ouercome the patience of any man. They are much more trouble­some to mens hearts, then a smoaking chimney is to their eyes.

Troubles are comforts to none, but such as haue grace to see, who sendes them, and why? and so to profit by them according­ly. So imprisonment is pleasing onely to [Page] such as know their patience and good ca­riage for a while, will procure their grea­ter libertie.

Trouble not the Lion in his pleasure, nor an­ger him in his pray, it may doe thee hurt, it cannot good; hunting will not make the wilde bull tame, but starke madde.

Trouble of a disquieted minde can no more be concealde then the cough, or a woman with childe, it filles with frowardnesse and griefe, and both will forth.

Trouble is the common place of the poore, they are euer in it, and for want of meanes, there is great disquiet: but an vnruly wife is a quotidian feauer, and a continuall plague on earth.

Troubles are the trials of patience, and pas­sion the trouble of reason, feare is the ene­my of a weake spirit, but faith is the assu­rance of comfort, as temperance the war­rant of iudgement.

Troubles and trauaile keepe the body in motion, as study the minde and sences. But as ouermuch of the one trieth the bo­dy: so ouermuch of the other exhausteth the spirits.

Troubles happen sometimes to the best li­uers, [Page 151] and sutes in lawe are a meere labo­rinth to an honest man, and quiet minde.

Troubles cannot ouerthrowe godly resolu­tions, nor wise men bee ouercome with trifels.

Troubles of the spirit grow by the infirmi­ty of the flesh, and the infirmity of the spi­rit, is the flesh ruined: so that they are both wayes cause of each others calamities.

Vanitie.

VAnitie in words, cloathes, and actions, wherein men doe so much glory, shew­eth them voide of wisedome and pietie, which if it infused no other infection to the speaker, or hearer: actour, or beholder; yet were it herein a great sinne, that it is a lauish profuser of pretious time.

Vanitie and des [...]re of glory doe commonly keepe company, for gorgeous buildings, sumptuous tombes, large hospitalles, out­ward [Page] pompe, delicate banqueting houses, delightfull orchards, and all such fabricks, and sumptuous workes of purpose to bee talked of, and adde to our fame: are all but vanitie, wanting the substance of good deedes and true humilitie.

Vanitie is often vented with litle vnderstan­ding, and yet great study, while the hand of wisedome quickly discouereth the fol­ly of idle inuention.

Vanities are herein venemous, that they so blast the forward wits of youth in the blos­some or budde, that they seeldome come to substantiall and mature frute.

Vanitie maketh wit a foolish wanton: for he that delighteth in toyes, to neglect weighty affaires, hath litle vnderstanding.

Vanitie soothed corrupts wit and reason: but the correction of vice commendeth and causeth wisedome.

Vanitie transporteth to vnprofitable plea­sures, when wisedome delighteth in neces­sary imployments.

Vanitie of the world is like a smoake in the ayre, which seemeth to ascend vnto hea­heauen, but it goeth and vanisheth to no­thing, and letteth fall the followers there­of [Page 152] to the pitte of perdition.

Vanitie is seene in certaine things, whereto no trust is to be giuen. The chance of the dice, the continuance of prosperitie, the faire wether in winter, or sun-shine in A­prill: the teares of a Crocadile, the playing of Dolphins, the elloquence of a flatterer, the preferment of a tyrant, and the con­stancy of a woman.

Vanitie is soone seene in vaunting braua­does as appeares by this story. The Duke of Calabria going to make warre vpon the Florentines: in a brauery saide hee would not pull off his bootes before hee had en­tred the citie, to whom a merry fellow standing by saide, oh my Lord, you will I feare fret out a number of shooes then: for it must needes bee a longer businesse then you imagine.

Vanitie is a great reproach to true vnder­standing, when we either speak more then our cau [...]e in hand requires: or liue aboue our abilitie and estates, making a greater shewe and pompe then we can maintaine by our meanes: or attempt any enterprise, which we are not able to finish.

Vanitie sheweth it selfe much in idle actions [Page] and ridiculous iests▪ as in this tale may ap­peare. A Gentleman of Naples, whose spirit was too high for his fortune, liued farre exceeding his maintenance: and yet had the fortune by secrete supportation to hold vp his head in the sea of the world in despight of enuious eyes. Thus one night he lodged in the house of a baron, a friend of his, where waking somewhat early: he fell to make his prayers vnto God for the remission of sinnes, and worldly meanes, which a certaine i [...]ster ouerhearing, and lying in the next chamber, answered with a lowde voyce! oh thou prodigall childe, thou art borne a yonger brother, and to keepe but one man and a boy art stil beg­ging; but if thou wilt maintaine a number of idle followers (whereof thou art ambi­tious) learne to be thrifty, & spare in time▪ or thy prayers will not be heard, whereat the Gentleman seeing his vanitie, and per­ceiuing he had cōmitted some error, repli­ed. Indeed I spake too lowde to let thee heare me: and haue committed a greater folly to suffer thee to liue vpon me.

Vanitie of apparell sheweth the pride of heart: the weaknesse of wit, the fantastick­nesse [Page 153] of will: the defect of vnderstanding, or vnrulinesse of affection, the superfluitie of prodigalitie: and a prognosticate of pouertie.

Vanitie of discourse and foolish table-talke maketh men often ridiculous, as appeareth by this. A Gentleman sitting at the ta­ble of a great friend being his fauorite, the table fully furnished, and the company wel prepared to their viands: the maister of the house began to rouse his shoulders in a rich chaire, and himselfe as richly at­tired, spake to a kinseman of his somewhat abruptly, and then leauing him, he also spake to the former Gentleman: and then againe to his cousin, whereat all the com­pany amazed, expected to heare some matter worthy to be vttered: but he gaue onely a hemme, and with a spit, saide no more, but cousin: what is that pye before you; whereat a iester, cha [...]ing that he had stayed his teeth to giue time to his eares, replyed suddenly: better eate of a calues head, then heare an owle speake: whereat the ghuests held laughter so hard, that they were ready to breake, and thus is idle ig­norant vanity worthely made ridiculous by hier owne folly.

Valour.

VAlour aduanceth to honour, and thru­steth misery aside from pressing vs down in the durt.

Valour proceeding by wisedomes directi­on, perfecteth such actions, as otherwise would faile in the execution.

Valour may be accompanied with folly, and and then is it meere foole-hardinesse or te­meritie: so that now in the schoole of the wisest it is disputable, whether a wise coward, or a valiant foole is the better man.

Valour maketh a Captaine with a few soul­diers ouercome many enemies: but he that ouercommeth himselfe, is valiant indeede; but he which is his owne enemy, whether shall he flie for succour or securitie.

Valour differeth from foolish hardinesse, as a wise feare may be farre from cowardice: in bo [...] extremities turne to vice.

[Page 154] Valour scorneth to moue the impotent to impatiency, to betray the innocent to vil­lany; or to vexe the simple with impetuo­sitie.

Valour wil not insult ouer a weake hearted, nor picke a quarrell with one that cannot answer him, either for impotency, some defect of nature, disabilitie of person, ine­qualitie of condition, or imperfection of sense.

Valour in a good cause doth not feare death as true diuines in Gods cause are not ter­rified with the diuell.

Valour is often ouerthrowne by rashnesse, and had I wist is the worst part of vnder­standing: for rashnesse without reason may breed sorrow without compassion.

Valour is glorious in mercy, but a cow­heard is tyrannous in victorie.

Vallour must not attempt impossibilities, nor run into with absurdities; but carry an equalhead both in the practise of attempts and relation of actions, neither bosting of its owne worth, or extenuate anothers merit.

Valour of the Captaines is a maine meanes of victorie to the whole armie; whereup­pon [Page] the Numantines being great souldiers thus commended the Romans: when once in a battaile, or great peece of seruice they were put to the worst, and driuen to slight by Scipio Aemilianus: at their sitting down they were reprehended by their leaders in great rage for their base cowardise, with these words; are not these the Romane sheepe, that we haue so often beaten home to their foldes? to which the souldiers made this answer: they are indeed the same [...]eepe, but they haue changed their shep­heards, meaning they had now more va­liant Commanders.

Valour is so great a friend to learning, that that it will answer in her behalfe, vnterri­fied with swearing or swaggering: for so a noble young Gentleman much giuen to learning, and a great louer of study sitting one day amongst his bookes, was visited by a more hot braine, then wise witted gallant: a neighbour of his, who at his comming vnto him, vsed this speech? What still at thy booke? euer amongst the dead? come abroade, and liue with the li­uing? Oh answered the yong Gentleman I am sorry to heare thee say one thing, and [Page 155] prooue another; for my bookes are dead in show, but full of life indeede; and thou doest liue in shew, but to vertue the true life thou art dead.

Valour holds vp the sword of Iustice, and maketh life to shine with a lustre of honor, as the starres through the cloudes.

Valour raiseth meane men to order of her seruice, and degrees of militarie renowne so it be seasoned with experience and vn­derstanding; otherwise to see a yonger sol­dier preferred before another breedes re­pining, and how euer fauour and authori­tie may proceede per saltum, yet it is a meere wrong.

Vertue.

VErtue hath a countrey in heauen, and when she commeth on earth, she is like a traueller that goeth to a friend to per­swade him to change his dwelling for a better.

[Page] Vertue maketh life famous, and death glo­rious; and he that neglecte [...]h her is a foole: but he that hateth her is a diuell.

Vertue in youth maketh age honorable, and in age maketh death memorable: it is as harmony to life, and a sweet Di [...]pason in musicke to the comfort both of the play­ers, and standers by.

Vertue in misery is the ioy of the wicked, as wickednesse in prosperity is the griefe of the godly: which makes me remember a saying of a Phylosopher, to Phalaris the Tyrant, who reprehended him for wee­ping at the death of his friend, as being a principle against true Phylosophy: but he very confidently replied; I weepe not O Tyrant, that the vertuous doe die, but that the vicious doe liue, and such as thou dost gouerne.

Vertue is blemished with vaine-glorious ostentation, but to boast of wickednes and vice, is the top of sinne, and most abhomi­nable to God and good men.

Vertue in a Prince is the subiects ioy, and the peace of all estates is conserued by vertu­ous administration, mar [...]all discipline, due execution of lawes, worthy aduancing to [Page 156] preferment, couragious suppressing the in­solent, and resolute constancy to maine­taine true religion and ciuell administrati­on: all which must be performed by ver­tue, and cannot be done without her dire­ction.

Vertue of the wise is to be beloued, the life of the vertuous to be gracious, the seruice of the faithfull to be rewarded, and the ho­nour of the valiant to be aduanced.

Vertue maketh the minde of man to thinke right vpon God, and to doe right amongst men, so that true Vertue beginneth by good motions, good motions proceed to resolute meditations, resolute meditations must bee expressed by orderly wordes: orderly wordes must goe forwards to effectuall deeds: effectuall deeds to con­stant perseuerance, and perseuerance must knit vp the life with the indissoluble knot of eternall fame.

Vertue is most graced by mercy and pitty: for therein doe men come neerest the di­uine nature, whilst tyrants on earth breath nothing but blood and reuenge.

Vertue buildeth vpon hope of reward, and honour is a great spur [...]e to vertuous en­deauors.

[Page] Vertue hath her greatest lustre compared to the vicious, as starres shine brightest in the darkest night.

Vertue of the soule dimmeth the beauty of the body, as the brightnes of the Sunne di­minisheth the light of a candell: for vertue will appeare in despight of enuy, yet must men take heed of polluting ve [...]tue with the lest crime: for a staine is not so soone seene in a course cloath, as in pure linnen.

Vertue is gracious in the beginning, famous in the proceeding, admirable in the end, and glorious in the memory euen after death.

Vertue in the depriuation thereof, leaueth the soule more bare then the naked body.

Vetue is like a mirrour: for as when a man looketh in a glasse▪ and thereby discoue­reth the spots and staines of his face: so through vertue doe we behold the imper­fection of nature, and the deformity of sinne.

Vertue cannot bee obtained without an in­dustrious heart, and painefull pursuit: [...] ther­fore let no idle person euer thinke to at­taine vertue by following vanity: for a sha­dow in shew, cannot produce a substance in effect.

[Page 157] Vertue is the gift of God, but gotten by in­dustry.

Warres.

VVArres that are bloody, make euen the peace wofull, and those are accursed, that are sowers of ciuell dis­cord.

Warres dispeople Countries, deuast Cities, defloure Virgins, rauish Matrons, ouer­throw Common-wealthes, ruinate hus­bandry, spoile Merchants, empouerish the Trades-man, and turnes topsie turuy the whole Kingdome.

Warres are sent as a Nurse, and punishment of sinnes, and because sinne doth euer en­crease, till the last houre; there will neuer be a generall peace.

Warres attempted through ambition or vaine-glory, doe commonly end to the preiudice of the beginner: but if to propulse iniuries, then the decider of all controuer­sies [Page] commonly carrieth the cause with the innocent parties.

Warres are leuied to maintaine peace: for as a sword is an instrument of defence, and a cloake a shelter for the raine: so men vse wars to keepe themselues from the stormes of vtter ruine by forren enemies, or priuate subuersion, by ciuell, or if you will, vn [...]iuel friends.

Warres that grow vpon ambition, are like to bee terrible: but a luxurious peace is as miserable.

Warres are pleasing in conceit, or for out­ward brauery to the vnexperienced, as peace is vnpleasant to a troublesome spirit.

Warres are fearefull in the very rumour, much more in the terrible effects: for though the Drumme and Trumpet ye elda braue sound, yet doth the Musket and Pike giue a killing blow.

Warres are commonly forren, or domestick; the first may bee propulsed by like forces: but the other must be preuented by caute­lous endeauours, and both in the begin­ning, as we doe the bursting out of riuers, which otherwise will spoile all with their violent ouerflowings.

[Page 158] Warres cannot be maintained without men: Men cannot be got without money, mony cannot be leuied without taxes and impo­sitions, taxes cannot be paid without obe­dience, nor obedience shewed without loue, and hearty inclination to the Prince.

Warres resemble the eyes and beauty of a strumpet, pleasing to the sight, attractiue and full of fauour in outward resemblance: but there is death in her company, hell in her bed, and damnation in her entertaine­ment: so to see braue plumes and scarffes, rich cassockes, barbed horses, to heare the cheerefull Drum and Trumpet, to march in martiall manner through the streetes, and to be trained in the flourishing fields, our acquaintance beholding vs, and friends smiling on vs, is a gallant idlenes: but to lie in the durty fields, to watch in the dark [...] nights, to freeze standing sentinell, to fa­mish for want of meates, to be infeebled by the flix, to fight with cruell enemies, to be shot with their bullets, to be thrust through with their pikes, to be slaine with their swords, to be trampled with horses, to bee eaten vp by rauens, to rotte in the fields, or be buried in heapes, are fearefull [Page] ishues of faire showes.

Warres that are neuer so honourable and glorious, are farre inferiour to peace vpon any honest composition whatsoeuer.

Warres resemble a new broom, which swee­peth away the vnclean cobwebs, & casteth them out of our houses vpon our dunghils; so doth warre consume the caterpillers of a countrey, and carry the vagabonds and rogues, and rascall rabblement to their common graues.

Wilfulnesse.

VVIlfulnesse maketh him fall, that may stand, and then we say hee is iustly hurt by his owne hand, howeuer wee may excuse the stumbling of one that is blind. Wilfulnesse bringeth folly to woe, whilst the warinesse of the wise, runs the course of great comfort.

Wilfulnesse in steed of law, makes patience subscribe to power, and when wit wants [Page 159] iudgement, what hope can there be had of iustice.

Wilfulnesse is cosin german to madnesse, and he that will not be aduised, if he perish in his peeuishnesse should not be pittied.

Wilfulnesse in the Generall of an Army, many times ouerthroweth the whole acti­on, because he runneth head-long to de­struction, and nere disputeth what hinde­rances and obstacles may intercept him; which makes mee remember the History of Heluetia, when the Emperour Charles the fift determined to inuade the same, the Noble men and Captaines were so wilfully bent, that they presently resolued without further disputing to enter the Countrey, had not a foole standing by thus inter­rupted them: here are great words among you, that you will presently enter Heluetia, and goe into the mountaines: but let mee aske you, how you will get out againe: for when you shall be pusselled in the narrow passages, where ten men, may keepe out a hundred, you will repent your wilfulnesse: whereupon better aduice was taken, and the iourney for that time adiourned.

Wilfulnes brings repentance too late, when [Page] irrecouerable mischiefe hath light on a franticke pate, and made it too late to deli­berate, how to preuent it.

Wilfulnesse of the Gouernours is the high­way to the slaughter of their souldiers: for when at the first besieging of Belgrade, the great Turke in a manner saw the impossi­bility of the attempt, he yet was so wilfull, that he commanded the Ianisaries to come forward; who thereuppon pressing ouer tu­multuously, were slaughtered in thousands, to the filling vp both of trenches and dit­ [...]hes, so that there were slain aboue 60000. lamentably through the imperious wilful­nesse of the Empeour.

Wilfulnesse made the prodigall child runne his riotous race, to the offending of God, disobedience of parents, griefe of friends, consuming his inheritance, and hazzard both of body and soule in misery eter­nall.

Wilfulnesse causeth strumpets to pleade ne­nessity of maintenance, want of seruice, losse of friends, liberty of life, and priuiled­ges of loue; when yet it is meerely a wilfull resolution to doe wickedly, and enioy the pleasures of sinne for a season: for other­wise [Page 160] vertue cannot bee poore, nor want maintenance, if it want not industry.

Wilfulnesse in prodigall courses, begin and goe on with some sence and hope of de­light, but quickely runne into pouerty, and end in misery.

Wilfulnesse cannot endure either restraint or direction, but runneth on in the course of destruction, as a seeled Doue flieth head long on shee knowes not whither, and at last is subiect to the seisure of the Hawke.

World.

THe World hath so many bewitching properti [...]s, that we are so much the nee­rer to the diuine nature, as we lift vp our minds from it, or aboue it for there is great difference betweene temporall trash, and spirituall treasure.

The world must bee cared for to maintaine the body, the body to preserue life, life to [Page] comfort the soule: but neither to nourish vs in iniquity, and dispossesse vs of eterni­nie.

The world is but a daies walke: for the Sun goes about it in 24. houres, and the Sea is but shallow: for it is but a stones cast to the bottome, but the thought of man is vn­measurable, and the depth of wisdome vn­searchable.

The world holds him wise that is wealthy: but vertue knowes him to be wealthy that is wise: for many loose their liuing for want of wit, but very few loose their wits for want of land.

The world you see is a beautifull workman­ship, yet it shall be consumed with fire for deformity and pollution of sinne.

The world resembles a generall Merchants store-house, wherein are infinit sorts of wares for diuers vses; but if the buyers come more for idle fancies, then necessary vses, they may spend their money to little purpose, and loose their time to great re­pentance.

The world made the Phylosophers amazed to consider it: for they could not conceiue the originall, were ashamed to see the va­nity, [Page 161] and confounded to consider to what end and issue it would come: whereupon it is recorded, that three excellent Phyloso­phers gathered themselues together con­cerning the same: Heraclites, Democritus, and Epictetes the Stoick. After some dispu­tation, Epictetes put a fooles cap ouer the Globe, Democritus laughed to scorne the vanity, and Heraclitus [...] the mi­serie.

The world seekes wealth, the wealthy ho­nor, the honourable respect, but the true conuert careth for nothing but Christ, and him crucified.

The world doth commonly persecute men three manner of waies, in soule, body, and goods: the soule is troubled with vnlear­ned Diuines, the body tormented with vn­skilfull Physitians, and the goods purloi­ned by factious Lawyers: whereupon the Archbishop of Florence said to Cardinall Alexandrinus, that Lawyers themselues sil­dome went to law, Physitians tooke no physicke, and Diuines were many of them scarse good Christians.

The world by the opinion of Cyprian was corrupted with certaine abuses, wherein [Page] mans imperfections shewed a rediculous disparity, or rather an impious contrariety, as a wise man without good workes, an old man without religion, a poore man proud, a seeming matron without honesty, a noble man without vertue, a Christian without piety, a Church-man without cha­rity, a Priest without learning, a state with­out lawes, a Common wealth without go­uernement: Thus are men carried in the world with contrary humors, and infested with opposite vices.

The world was taught three good rules by Chilo: to know that it was Gods handy­worke, that it was made of nothing, and shall be consumed to nothing: so man was instructed to know himselfe, not to desire much, and to keepe himselfe out of debt.

The World is the toile of the couetous, whose wealth is the witch of the wicked, while heauen is the hope of the faithfull, and grace the ioy of the blessed: Thus again in the world we may say, that impatience is the sting of nature, and presumption the pride of sinne, while humility is the grace of reason, and patience the blessing of grace.

[Page 162] The world is a shop of such wares, as [...]hea­teth the deluded buyers, who count wealth as a iewell, pouerty a plague, conscience a foole, care is a Lord of mis [...]ule, and will the master of the sences.

The world sheweth vs plainely, that beau­tie is an eye-sore, learning a taske, valour a heat of blood, reason a gift of God, Kings Gods on earth, a Noble-man, a great man: a Souldier, a stout man: a Courtier, a fine man: a Lawyer, a wise man: a Merchant, a rich man: a begger, a poore man: and an honest man, a true man.

The world cannot continue, except times and seasons haue their courses: day and night make their changes, labour and rest comforts mens bodies, meate and sleepe preserue life, punishment and reward pro­ceed from true iustice, and wisedome and folly make the difference of all estates.

The world telleth vs that a kingdome brin­geth care, learning is full of trouble, power full of charge, youth full of action age full of griefe: and content is the onely happi­nesse.

The world is a laborinth of wit, the con­sumption of vnderstanding, the pilgri­mage [Page] of patience, and the purgatory of reason: so that in trufth he is happy, that dwelleth in it to Gods glory, his owne comfort, and the benefit of his neighbour: and to conclude, the vse is good; but the abuse dangerous.

Woman.

VVOman was the originall of mans de­struction: for he had not disobeyed God, but by the enticement of the wo­man: for the which God told him plaine­ly, hee was accursed and subiect to dam­nation.

A woman is a stinking rose, a pleasing euill, the mouse-trap of a mans soule, the thiefe of his life, a flattering wound, a delicate distraction, a sweete death: and the loue of her hidden fire; a pleasing wound, a sweete poyson, a bitter sweete, a delight­full disease, a pleasant punishment, a flatte­ring death.

[Page 163] Woman is the strength of will, the weake­nesse of vnderstanding, the exercise of pa­tience, the trouble of reason, the encrease of number, the delight of vanitie, the pride of beautie, the abuse of loue, the breder of iealosie, and the deceite of trust and confi­dency.

Woman is the wonder of nature: for shee maketh two bodies one flesh, and two hearts one soule: so that the husband and wife truely louing, so conspire in all their actions, that they haue in a manner, but one motion: for loue maketh vnion, as hate doeth seperation and deuision.

Woman is a necessary ill, a pleasing yoake­fellowe: and a strong supportation, to weake meanes of house-keeping; for as in a teeme, except the oxen be ioyntly vni­ted and draw together: the plough or cart cannot orderly goe forward. So in house­keeping, except man and wife doe louing­ly agree, and ioyntly labour in their seue­uerall places to maintaine & increase their estates, all will quickly be ouerthrowne; for a diuision of loue and action, makes a dimunition of substance, or rather a dissi­pation.

[Page] Woman againe is a purgatory on earth, and with contrary humors quencheth the hoa­test loue, and breaketh the hardest heart; for if she be honest, she will be imperious, if faire, she wil be venerious: if foule, she is loathsome: if a wanton, full of fraude or treason: if proud, costly aboue thy ability: if witty, impudent to shame thee▪ or make thee weary: if sheepish, she will neither increase thy commoditie, nor gouerne thy family: if familiar and affable, she will bee foolish and tell all: either she hath no good qualitie, or such as are quite ouermatched by the contrary.

Woman that prooueth a good wife, com­monly continueth a good mother, so that the husband hath ioy, the children com­fort, the seruants contentment, and all the house establishment.

Woman must auoide all occasions of bad rumors: for it is not enough that shee bee honest, but that she bee so reputed and re­ported; because the honour of a man de­pendeth on his wiues loyaltie, and the re­proch of children, on the report of her dis­honestie.

Woman is the weaker vessell, and therefore [Page 164] must man beare with the infirmitie of his wife, as she endure the impatience and im­perfection of her husband.

Woman is the author to her husband of much good or ill, as she is indued with the grace of God, or the malice of the diuell.

Woman faire, and proude, and wanting wis­dome: is a looking-glasse of vanitie, and a miror of inconstancy, idle, fantastick, de­sirous of nouelties, disdainfull, chargeable, a daintie feeder, a gadder, a talker, and e­uery way irregular.

Woman is seldome pitied in her teares: for they commonly proceede either from an­ger, or deceit; anger, that she cannot bee reuenged: deceite, that shee cannot haue her will in wantonnesse and libertie.

Woman is endued with the same vertues as man: for there hath beene as valiant, wise, godly, magnaninous, pollitick, iudicious, great spirited, and learned women as men: yea, our histories are filled with the glori­ous actions and famous conquests of wo [...] as well as Emperours, or other persons of honour, elloquence, learning, and iudge­ment.

A whore.

A whore hath many significant names, as filth, curtisan, queane, strumpet, puncke, light-hus-wife, concubine, leman, Ioue, mistresse, and infinite other fictions, according to mens fantasies; but all con­cluding, breach of chastity, and contempt of loyaltie, either to virginitie or mariage.

A whore once prostituted to lust, will hard­ly bee reclaimed to honesty: and there is more hope of a branded thiefe, then an im­pudent whore.

A whore is like a horse-leach: for as it suc­keth the blood from corrupted bodies and neuer falles off, till it swel with fuln [...]sse. So playes the whore with our substance, and best blood in our bodies, and neuer leaues a miserable besotted man, till she haue fe­thered her nest, and filled her coffers: nay, till shee hath emptied the bones of mar­row, [Page 165] and the purse of money.

A whore is knowne by the boldnesse of her face, pride of her eies, wantonnes of coun­tenance, vnconstancy of her lookes, gaudi­nes of cloathes, giddines of gate, immode­sty of her gesture, loosenesse of her beha­uiour, licenciousnes of her words, leawde­of her actions.

A whore is of the nature of Astrology, an art of all men embraced and practised; so a whore is railed and reuiled of euery body for her [...]ilthy conditions, and yet courted and embraced for her wanton al­lurements, and pleasing delight.

A whore studieth for nothing but wealth, brauery, and expences: yet she is neuer the neerer to attaine to any setled estate, nor a iot the richer at the yeeres end.

A whore is not to bee trusted with a secret, nor can be [...]ilent in a matter of importance especially if a bribe whisper her in the eare and a greater reward entise her to disco­uerie.

A whore bringeth a foole into the house of slaughter, and he that goeth into her cham­ber, is like an Oxe led by the Butcher.

A whore cannot bee better compared then [Page] to deepe pits, from whence it is [...]asier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then once fallen to recouer out: so it is more easie to absent thy selfe and neuer remember her, then by her company to content and satiat thy desire.

A whore is compared to coales taken out out of the fire, which either burne a man or besmeere him: so doe whores either con­sume our estates, or our credites.

A whore amongst many other hath one louely condition, that in her louers misery she will laugh and sing, and at his intrea­ties she will fleere and scorne.

A whore reprehended for her incontinencie standeth more stiffely then any other on tearmes of honesty, and reproued for her shamelesse and filthy desire of change and varietie, iustifies with fearefull oathes her constant fidelitie.

A whore supposeth to redeeme and wipe a­away her filthy crimes, by going to Church and giuing Almes: but let her know that the sacrifise of a theefe, is as if he had offered the head of Dog, and the charitie of a strumpet, as the stinke of a dunghill.

[Page 166] A whore hath this vsuall impediment, that she cannot repent. For while youth lasteth shee is loath to leaue her profitable sport, and when both faile, she sees that of a yong whore she may turne an old bawd, and so still liue by the trade.

A whore that is mercenary, will hardly bee drawn from her filthy life, she is so fast lin­ked to the loue of money, otherwise many faultie women repent their first o [...]ence, and become of bad maides very good wiues.

A whore thinkes her selfe excellent wittie, when she can practise disloyaltie cunning­ly, and ouerreach her friendes by her sub­tiltie.

The finest whore is but a filthy dripping­pan, so often set to the fire, till she is caught by the flame, and so burnes her selfe, and her basting sticke ere she hath done.

Good Manners preferreth as much as Vertue.

First then to encourage thee the more; beleeue it, that many men haue attained to great preferment by cheerefull and pleasant behauiour alone, when as diuers endowed with vertues of admiration, haue not yet stepped so high on the degrees of honour. Contrariwise, rude and vnciuill fashions make men both odious and combersome: for though there bee no lawes nor punish­ments articulated against them: yet is na­ture a principall corrector in his kinde, and maketh them vnsociable to mutuall com­merces, and others of moderate demeanor affraide of their rudenesse; for as men doe commonly runne away affrighted at sauage and cruell beasts, not seeming once to haue any feare of gnats, and flies, and other lesser vermine: yet by reason of continuall annoy­ance, they complaine more of these, then the other. So fareth it in the hate of wicked and impious liuers: but yet by being continual­ly conuersant with one another, wee are more affraide of vnmannerly and vntaught [Page] companions, then tyrannous and dissolute liuers.

Flattery.

Next to frame our selues conforma­ble to societie, wee must liue in such a fashi­on, that we may please others, and not satis­fie our mindes altogether: wherein discre­tion must so measure our actions, that as we ought to be farre from palpable flattery in­cident to a Parasite: so must we be remote from deprauing inuection, the office of a de­cractor and railer.

Loathsome and filthy things.

We must not onely refraine from such things as be foule, filthy, loathsome, and na­stie: but not so much as name them; so that neither the common sence of other men should be offended, nor the conceite and imagination with matter vnpleasant dista­sted: as for example; a Gentleman ought not openly to thrust his handes into his pri­uities, to reach to his head, or any part of his body, as if he fished for a louse, to ease him­selfe in publicke view, and so trusse himselfe [Page] in a brauery, to wash his hands on a sudden: as giuing the company notice, where he had beene, to shew them any loathsome thing, as hee passeth by the way: nor to offer to their nose any filthy or stincking weede, which may annoy, or displease their pati­ence.

Vnpleasant sounds.

We must not grinde the teeth, whistle, make noises, nor offend the eares with any harsh and vnpleasant sound: nay we should not offer to sing aloud, especially hauing an vntun [...]able voyce; as for coffing, sneezing, and yawning, they bee things so vnsauory, that a man is bound to auo [...]de them in pub­licke, or at least restraine himselfe as much as nature may suffer, and tollerate; but the principall reason is, the vile-pending the company, and taking vpon our selues a grea­ter state of preheminence, then either they will allow, or falleth to their proportion to carry.

Blowing the nose.

We must not blow our nose too lowde, nor open the hand-chercher at all to shewe [Page] any nasty filthinesse, nor lay it to the cuppe where another meanes to drinke, nor smell to the meate, which he determines to eate, no not to that, which thou hast chosen for thy selfe, no nor reach the cuppe or meate, which thou hast tasted to any other of thy owne voluntary will, except such a familiar friend, as dependeth on thee for loue, or ob­seruation: for though they seeme small of­fences, yet beleeu it, slight stripes haue pow­er to slay fast enough.

Vnmanner linesse at the table.

We must auoide all rauenous and greedy feeding, all vnmannerly besmeering the fin­gers, all filthy bedawbing the napkins, wi­ping our face with them, sweating with ea­ting, blowing in drinking, and rubbing our fingers on bread, table-cloth, or any other place vnbefitting; nor should a man blow vpon any thing to deliuer it to another, as the dust of a roasted appell, or a fether from ones ruffe and such like: for winde was ne­uer without water, nor offer thy hand-ker­cher to another, nor come so neere in thy talke as to brtath in ones face, nor indeede [Page] any thing which may breede offence, or breach of friendship.

Carelesnesse of the company.

We must doe nothing in our ciuill con­uersation, which may giue a distast to those with whom we keepe company of vile-pen­ding, or smally estimating them; as sleeping, where men be met to commune, and confer together; rising to walke vp and downe, when others are disposed to sit and com­plaine to on another, or dispute the matter; stretching our selues and yawning with o­ther rude iestures, pulling out of letters to reade, as if some great affaires importuned, and were committed vnto them: payring of nailes, dromming with fingers, whistling, singing betweene the teeth, humming, shuf­fling with the feete, when other men would sollace themselues otherwise: sitting with turning our taile to our next neighbour, lol­ling with our feete vpon a table, or higher forme: leaning on ones shoulder, punching with the elbowe at euery abrupt sentence we vtter, and such like, all which shew a cer­taine carelesnesse of the company, and set­ting [Page] at nought such, as we conuerse withall at the instant.

Decency of apparrell.

We must apparell our selues meete for our age and calling, and not haue other men in contempt by our singularitie, but fasshi­on our selues to common vse, though [...] lesse commodious or gallant, then ou [...] [...] ties and desires would aduenture vpon. A­gaine, when all men weare hansome beards, we should not shaue our selues with strange attire of other countries, or [...] of our owne, nor ill shaped, least th [...] world sus­pect we weare other mens: but fit & come­ly to the body without pride, vanitie, na­stinesse, miserablenesse, or vnmannerly slo­uenlinesse.

Curiositi [...] and cumber somnesse.

We must not be too tedious in trimming or apparelling our selues: for it either shews a pride or curiositie, which is as ill a vice: nor must we haue any busines to doe, when we should fit downe at the table, or seeme [Page] to be angry, that the meate is brought in so soone, when yet all the company would faine be at dinner, nor show a manifest pride [...]n sitting downe first, choosing the best bed, the hansommest chamber, going in a doores or vp staires without some ceremonious proffer, and sports and exercises, as if they were rather masters of the company, then companions.

Brawling and railing with seruants.

We must not brawle and raile too much at the seruants: much lesse strike, especially when company is within hearing; For ei­ther it shewes a froward and teasty humor, or foolish pride, which is of all other vnbe­sitting a Gentleman, who should boast of nothing so much as an humble minde, plea­sant affabilitie, and well sorted curtesie: nor should wee make our table a place of vn­kindnesse, quarrell, or chaffing; for mirth and solace is the physition of feeding, and to be then froward or fromward, is meerely an extremity, and breach of true friendship. Againe we must not be too sad or lumpish, but pleasant and familiar, so that the com­pany [Page] may suppose themselues welcome, and proceed in their entertainment, this cu­stome must be likewise obserued in all ciuill entercourse, and salutations: so that when a question is demanded, no dogged and vn­mannerly reply must followe: no musing nor extraordinary contemplation amongst friendes or company: no nicenesse, or effe­minate daintinesse: no dangerous excepti­ons, if friendes or companions should talke somewhat displeasing, or doe something, which might be forborne.

Filthy talke, ribaldry, prophanation, vn­seasonable speeches.

We must not defile our communication with filthy and obsceane talke: prophaning Gods name, or intermingling religious se­crets, with common entercourses, and vn­seasonable conference, and out of time, as telling Fryers sermons to yong Ladies dis­posed to be merry, or talking idly when the company is in serious discourse, is a thing to be auoided: as also at feasts and banquets to make relation of wounds, slaughters, or other tr [...]gicall accidents is vnciuill, and a [Page] custome to be reclaimed: nor should wee take vppon vs the discouery of our visions and dreames, as many will doe with a tedi­ous curiositie, and vnseemely confidence: but of all other things an honest Gentle­man must not dishonest himselfe with any fiction or lie, especially of his owne inuen­tion, either in hope of vaineglorious prayse of a good wit, or grosse flattery toward any in presence: nay in relating newes, and the report of other men, he must bee very cir­cumspect, and obserue such cautions; as may induce the company to good and wor­thy attention, and not to scorne or deride him, either for his owne vanitie in ambiti­ously discouering some commendable ex­ploytes, or his detracting others in proclai­ming their infamie.

Counterfeiting of greatnesse, Comparisons.

We must not counterfeit a greater port and brauery, then God hath established vs in, nor yet practise high and magnificent gestures, nor ouer-rich and costly apparell: nor ouer-topping and discountenancing our inferiours, we must not boast of our ho­honour, [Page] Ancestors, wealth, exploits, nor con­test with the company by way of vnequall comparisons, either to braue our betters, or insult ouer others of meaner condition: nor are we too too remisly to imbase our selues, lest it tend to a secreter pride by contemning what euery man thinketh due vnto vs: as if we deserued farre better, and yet seemed to disclaime it, till it were fully offred vnto vs: nor should wee refuse in modesty to tell the truth, either concerning our selues or others: but wee must auoide a prolixitie of speech, and fetching about, when we are de­manded our aduise: there is likewise a fault to be auoided amongst gentlemen, procee­ding from an abiect minde; which is when a man doth embase himselfe farre lower then his place, to the trouble and combersomnes of the whole company: but sometimes it proceeds from folly and ridiculous custome with them, and then it is lamentable.

Ceremonies.

We must auoid all extraordinary ceremo­nies, or curious entertainements, as vncoue­ring the head, bowing the body in token of [Page] reuerence, vsing high titles and stiles of ho­nour, kissing the hands, embracing the bo­dy, and such like; all which, as they may be [...]sed, are decencies, and things of meere ne­cessity and of duty: but for euery idle fellow in foppish meetings, and saluting one ano­ther without distinction of time, place, and persons, anticke like to confound them is meerly discrepant from generosity and good manners: therefore is it not a lamentable case for a Gentleman to honor them in titles, whom they despise in their hearts, and with verball protestations offer seruice, when yet wee thinke our selues worthy to command and controll them: yea, sometimes it hap­pens, that encountring with a stranger, how base and vnworthy soeuer he be: yet we giue him all the attributes of noble and high ex­alted, yeelding as much as vnto our best deseruers, yet I cannot denie, but there be ti­tles by priuiledge according to the degrees of men, as Princes, Lords, Gentlemen, Offi­cers, and such like, wherein yet wee must ob­serue a decorum, but not disperage the wor­thy by bestowing their graces on the vn­worthy.

Ceremonies for Profit, Duty, Vanity.

Wee must therefore consider, that Ceremo­nies are vsed for Profit, Duty, or Vanity. For profit as we see in flatterers, who sooth our humors in euery thing, not in regard of our wils, but because they themselues should be recompenced, wherein a Gen­tleman should not be seene: for it cannot be otherwise, then a lye; and a man cannot honestly make a lie, nor seeke by vertuous courses to pleasure himselfe, by the hurt of another.

Duty.

But ceremonies of dutie are not to bee left according to the ciuell custome of the place, and therefore we say, you, and not thou, to men of good sort: so in the rest, we must seeke to please others, as well as our selues, although sometimes we can yeeld no probable reason for the sam [...] [...] we doe in the lawes of Princes, which [...] not pre­sume to alter, till they in [...] thinke them me [...]t to be repealed: [...] at because [Page] custome alloweth those salutings of curtesy by tearme of kissing your hand. I am your seruant, and such like, as they doe in Italy, they are not to be left neither in writing, nor speaking, as for that harsh imitation of ex­ample of long former times, it is no more to be practised, then to send vs to eate akorns; because in the beginning of barbarisme we did so.

Vanity.

We must not be touched with ceremonies of vanity or pride, wherin custome of conn­tries is to be obserued: for what is conueniēt at Naples, being a City of Nobles and Gen­tlemen, is not so requisite in Florence and Leuca, places consisting of Merchants, and inferior degrees, as also because in Veni [...] there is an extraordinary kinde of kissing, and saluting one another, by reason of plea­sing one another, in giuing their ba [...]es, and consents for offices, yet must not euery City or Towne [...] like.

Combersomenesse.

Ceremonies are also to be restrained, that breed cōbersomnes, wherin the circumstāce of time, age, and condition, must be respe­cted: for a Iudge need not vse such humility as another, an old man as a young, a coun­try-man as a courtier, a seruant as a stranger, and diuers others: for where men exspect a duty, they care for no ceremonies, and where they respect them, they are also tied to de­cencies: for as curtesy and humility are gracefull euen to inferiors: so too much affe­ctation and foppish motions ten [...] to flatte­ry, and make vs mocked with the titles of double diligence.

Booke Ceremonies.

For when men are cunningly courted, they are weary of it, disdaine it, and herein is great reason, because these glauering fellowes doe thereby shew, that they estimate the party, as a vaine and arrogant person, or a simple and shallow-witted gull: we must therefore take heed of Booke Ceremonies, which in [Page] Spaine of all other places are vsed, yea, euen to the selling of them for money, and obser­uing how this man must bee spoken vnto, that Nobleman saluted, that Lord exalted, that woman magnified, &c. So that nothing passeth without prescription, which when ignorant men haue got once, they practice with immoderate basenesse, folly, and cow­ [...]rdise.

Slandering, Quarrelling, and Wrangling.

We must not slander or depraue another mans doings: no nor repine at our neigh­bors prosperity: for therein we shall imitate the Oxe that goreth with his hornes, or stri­keth with his feet: All quarrelling, wrang­ling, and ouerthwarting must be auoided: for as in a combat the victory is the princi­pall end of the fight; so in verball contenti­ons wee endeuor to seeme to be in the right and preuaile, as more iudicious then ano­ther, so that the gaining the cause in trifling matters, doth many times loose the loue of a faithfull friend: for who will be acquain­ted with such, that euery houre are conten­tious, and giue vs cause rather to stand vp­pon [Page] our guard to preuent a quarrell, then to desire conuersation to maintaine our de­light and contentment.

Counselling and Reprouing.

We must be carefull how, and whom we goe about to counsell or reproue: for com­monly it proceeds from self loue and pride, that we are wiser then they; yea, sometimes it seemeth a checke to him for his ignorance and folly, so that this interm [...]dling with o­ther folkes businesse, is a dangerous matter: for hee that counselleth, hath euer a good conceit of himself, and an ill opinion against the other, and he that reproueth others, see­meth as though hee had no faults of his owne.

Scoffes and Scornes.

We must not scorn or scoffe at any man: for it is a greater signe of contempt & disdaine to scorne a man, then to do him an open wrong. For as much as wrongs may be done either of choller, or of some couetous mind or other; and the nature and effect of a scorne, is pro­perly [Page] to take a contentation and pleasure to doe another shame and villany, though it doe our selues no good in the world: there­fore we must neither reproue the blemishes of nature in other men, nor make a sport to counterfet their imperfections, & although there bee some difference betweene a scoffe and a mocke, as that a scorne sheweth alway despight, and a mocke may be done in pa­stime▪ yet must a Gent, auoide both the one and other, or at least be limited in his mirth, that it turne not to shaming the party, and so may be counted as ill, as a scorne or depri­ua [...]ion. For it many times chanceth, that in boording and iesting one takes in sport, the other strikes againe in earnest, so that a mocke is no better then a deceit, and he that seekes to purchase good will, and be well thought on, must not make himselfe cun­ning in mockes and iests, and yet a pretty fashion of mirth is sometimes maintained from pleasant iests and conceits, and a good wit is both commendable and allowable: but herein must be a great gouernment and moderation, because it cannot be good to iest in matters of weight, and much lesse in matters of shame, Againe, where it is out of [Page] time for to laugh, there to vse any iests or dalliance, it hath a very cold grace: besides, iests must bite the hearers like a sheepe, and not like a dogge: for if it pinch as the bite of a dogge, it shall be no more a iest, but a wrong: so then iests be no other things but deceits, and deceit cannot be wrought but of men that haue fine and ready wits, and very pleasant. For to iest or taunt is not currant with euery man that will, but onely with them that can.

Counterfetting, Discourse at large.

We must not for other mens pleasures di­shonest, and dishonor our selues, as to coun­terfet to bee fooles, and vnsauery dolts, nor talke at randome with farre fetch discourses, and absurd relations, onely as I said before, a man may bee merry conceited, and vse a pleasant liberty in speech amongst his e­quals, as also vpon occasion, discourse at large with well disposed speeches vttered to purpose, concerning the trauels of for­ren places, or the H [...]story of Liues, or the re­lation of troubles, or such like circumstan­tiall matter, wherein it behoues them to vse [Page] proper names, and not to change them after, but aboue all not to say any thing, which vn­said in silence, would make the tale pleasant enough, and peraduenture glue it a better grace to leaue it out; yet sometimes men may dispose and order their tale first with by names, and then rehearse them as neede require, that are proper, as for example who would describe coue [...]ousnesse, or any other vice or vertue, may pe [...]sonate a name of any man notoriously infamed for the same, or gloriuusly exalted for the other.

Plaine Words, No double signification, Apt wordes.

Our words must also be plaine, that all the company may easily vnderstand them, and withall for sound and sence they must be apt and sw [...]t, and not old, rotten, and out of vse, but naturally bred in our [...] without d [...]ubtfull and ambiguous aenigmas or amphibologies, to put the hearers in a maze for the interpretation. They should be also apt and proper to that thing we goe about to deliuer, whereby the discourse shal be more pleasing, and the iudgement of the [Page] discourser more commendable.

Forren Languages.

We must auoid all talking in forren lan­guages, to him that vnderstandeth not what we say, nor should we vse it at all, but when it is needfull for vs to be vnderstood, and meerely when necessity enforceth to vse them. For without controuersie, our owne is more naturall vnto vs, and addeth a grace to euery discourse.

Words dishonest in their meaning.

Besides this, it becommeth euery honest Gentleman to eschew those words that haue no honest meaning: for the goodnesse of words consisteh either in their sound, or pronouncing, or in their sence and interpre­tation: so that a man must not onely beware of vnhonest and filthy talke, but also of that which is base and vile, and especially where a man talketh, and discourseth of great and high matters: as for example, to scratch the scabbes of sinne, to name weomen of the world scuruy whore [...], and infinite of this [Page] sort, wherein wee must auoide the filthines of speech, and rather accustome our selues to such gentle and courteous speeches, and so sweete, that they may haue no manner of bitter tast in them: nay as I said in the repre­hension of sinne, and discoursing of pleasant matters; we must be moderat, & vse couert tearmes and descriptions. Moreouer, a man should not bring a mans faith and honesty in question and doubt: but if a man promise you any thing and doe not performe it, you shall rather impute it to forgetfulnesse, then thrust out any stings of complaint, anger, or choller; you should therefore neuer speake before you haue first considered and laid the plot in your minde, what it is you haue to say; for in so doing your talke shall be well deliuered, and not borne before the time.

Voyce and tongue must be pleasant.

We must also beware that our voyce be not hoarse and shrill, and when wee laugh and sport in any sort, wee must not cry out, and scrich like the pulley of [...] well: nor yet speake in our yawning: so that if a man doe flatter by nature, or become hoarse through [Page] imperfections, it is most meete for him to be sparing of speech, and rather silent, and at­tentiue to others, then forward to discourse with displeasing; it is also an ill noyce to heare a man raise his speech high like to a common cryer, and yet not so low and soft­ly, that he that hearkens, shal not heare him: nay, if he be inforced to repeate his tale a­gaine: he must doe it soberly, and not as if he were angry indeed: our manner of speech must be also disposed, as the common vse is; and not vnsorted, disordered, and scattered confusedly, as many doe vpon a brauery like a Scriuener, or some pedanticall school­master: nor must wee preposterously place our words, as versefiers may doe: nor should we vse the pompe, brauery, and affectation incident to others; but withall we must take heed of such base speech, as vile meane peo­ple, or as we say the rascall scab accustome; in one word, as wee haue partly shewed be­fore: we must fashion our selues like Gentle­men, and professors of ciuilitie.

Talkatiue fellowes.

As the defects of slowe and fumbling spe [...]ches are to bee reformed: so must wee [Page] not talke too fast, nor too much, as many talkatiue fellowes, who out of vanitie loue to heare themselues speake, and trouble all the company; there is another fault like­wise to be redressed, and that is interrup­ting another mans discourse, which must not bee: for nothing mooues a man sooner to anger, then when he is suddenly cut short of his wil, and his pleasure, be it neuer so lit­tle & of smal importance: If any man there­fore be in a redinesse to tell his tale, it is no good manners to enterrupt him, nor to op­pose against him, although hee entermin gled some lie or fiction in his discourse: nor must you diuert the hearers from any mans discourse to a new begunne speech, and tale of your owne; for as the interrupting of a man is, as if you should take him by the sleeue, and stop his course beginning to run, so to aske abrupt questions in the midst of a tale, or offer to beginne another discourse, when a man is telling a story or such like, is as if you should shuffle stones against him which goeth. For euery man in his owne conceit thinkes he can tell his tale well, al­though for modesty sake he deny it: yet men must take heede of ouer much talking; for [Page] he must runne into some errors, and com­mit many faultes, that talkes too much, and he that talks all the talke to himselfe, would after a sort prefer himselfe aboue them that heare him, as a master would be aboue his schollers, and therefore it is not good man­ners for a man to take vpon him a greater state, then doeth become him.

Silence.

Wee must not also bee ouermuch silent: for to vse silence in place where other men walke too and fro, is in manner as much a fault, as not to pay your scot and lot as o­ther men doe; therefore it is good manners for a man to speake, and likewise to holde his peace, as it comes to his turne, and occa­sion requiers.

A good grace.

Wee must also vse a manner of grace in our speech and actions; For it is not enough for a man to do things that be good, but he must also haue a care he doe them with a ve­ry good grace: and a good grace is nothing [Page] else, but such a manner of light as I may call it, as shineth in the aptnesse of things set in good order, and well disposed one with an­other and perfectly knit and vnited toge­ther, without which proportion and mea­sure, euen that which is good is not faire, and the fairenes it selfe is not pleasant.

Of Vices, curled haire, sweet smels, custome, condition, country.

Wee must not offend any man with our vices; for as they be foule and filthy in them­selues; so they produce shamefull effects, and turne to our losse and reproach; it shall then be necessary for Gentlemen, and men of good behauiour to haue a regard to this measure, I speake of in going, standing, sit­ting, iesture, apparell, port, silence, rest and action; for a man must not apparell himselfe like a woman: as in their haire and beardes frisled and curled with bod-kins: their face, necke, and handes painted or starcht; their perfumes so hot as a daintie strumpet, and themselues meerely effeminate and woman­nish. As for apparell spoken of before, wee must vse them according to the fashion, and our calling: for we must not take vpon [Page] vs to alter custome at our will: for time doth beget them, and time doth also weare them out: yea, wee should apparell according to the countrey we liue in, for what peraduen­ture is allowed in Verona, perchance would not be suffered in Venice.

Comlinesse in going.

We must not run, nor goe too fast in the streete, least it make one sweate and puffe, which is too vnseemly for a Gentleman, nor yet are we to goe so soft and demurely as a maide: neither should we shake the armes, or writh the body, mince it: or walke with high gate, and lifting vp the leg, nor stampe with the feete, nor goe as it were splay-foo­ted, nor stroake vp the stockins in going, nor stare in ones faee, nor looke vp too high nor muse too lumpishly, nor doe any thing vnseemely when wee would bee professed Gentlemen, who should be masters of true ciuilitie, good manners and curtesie.

Many other things I could here relate: as a table, wherein a true life is pensilled our, and delineated for example and immitati­on: but because it would bring mee along, [Page] as it were into a confused iourney, I will de­sist from trauelling in vnknowen waies, and wading further in the deepe, then I shall be able to recouer the shore; and so I leaue with these few cautions, and abbreuiated princi­ples, and hope you haue the discretion to retire to greater volumes, and better direction, if these be not fully satisfactory.