The first Reasoning. IVST, and his SOVLE.

IT is well nighe day, and I can not sléepe, it shal be bet­ter to rise & do som­what, than on this fashion to lie in bed and not sléepe: for I can not thinke, that this only slum­bring can be very healthfull.

Well, I poore wretch may now assure my self, that I shall neuer haue rest nor cōtentation in this bo­die, neyther yong nor olde.

What voice doe I heare, who is there?

When he was yong I helde [Page] him excused for his want of Liuing, although he held me alwayes occupi­ed in this his handy craft. For first it is necessarie to prouide for the néedes of the Bodie, and then to séeke for the perfection of the Soule.

Who is there, I say? Who is that that whistleth in mine eare?

But nowe he is olde, & hath sufficiently, I thought surely, that if he had giuen him selfe to contempla­tion, & somtime liued half in a tr [...]ce, that I hauing no cause to minister spirit to his senses, might withdrawe me to my selfe, and enioy those intel­lections of the firste principles that I brought with me, since that I haue w^t him learned none newe.

Do I sléepe or no? it séemeth in my head: but soft, it may be some reume, that makes a man thinke, he hath whistling in his braine.

And nowe hée folowyng the maner of olde men (whiche the older they be, the more couetous they are) [Page 2] as soone as hée waketh, hée ryseth to worke.

Oh, she files hir wordes, and is in my heade, and speaketh euill of olde men. What thing may this be? Iesu, Iesu, God graunt that no spirite be entred into my body.

Stay thy self Iust, and be not afrayde: for I am one that loues thée more, and haue more care to pre­serue thée, than any other that is in the worlde.

I can not tel so great loue nor so great preseruation: It is a greate gentlenesse to enter into a mans hed and neuer leaue babling. As for me, I beleue thou art the wicked whistle, In nomine Patris, & Filij, & Spiritus sancti. Amen.

Although it be well to blesse thée as thou doste, bicause it groweth of a good meaning, procéeding from a good faith in thée, (without the which all your workes be dead) yet now it is nothing to the purpose. For I am a [Page] christian as thou art, yea if I dyd not beleue in Christ, thou shouldest be no christian.

Séeing thou fearest not the Crosse, thou art not the whistle as I thought, but more like to bée the spi­rite, that as men say, walketh all the night, and therfore I wil say a prayer to make thée goe hence. Procul reci­dant somnia, & noctium phantasmata, hostem (que) nostrum comprime, ne polluan­antur corpora.

Ah foole, if thou knewest who I am, thou wouldst not séeke to driue me away, but rather pray me to tary still, for if I should go from thée, thou couldest not liue.

Thou art full of words: dost thou thinke it a prety sporte to heare a noyse thus talking in a mans head, which haste made me almoste beside my selfe.

Thou haste well sayde, not knowyng how that thou art halfe be­side thy selfe. But when thou shalte [Page 3] know who I am, thou wilt not mar­uell.

Then tell me what thou art, that I may assure my selfe of thée.

I am content, knowe thou Iust, that I am thy soule.

My soule how?

Yea thy soule, by whome thou art a man.

Oh howe can that be, am not I my soule my selfe?

No. For thou art one thing, and thy soule an other, and Iust the Couper of Sainct Peter the greate, is an other.

If I am not Iust the Couper, then I am made an other, & therefore I sayde well, that thou wert some e­uill thing, which wouldest doe to me, as was done to Grasse the carpenter, who was made beleue, that he was become an other man: but that shalt thou not doe by me, for I will stande constant.

Be content Iust, and moue [Page] not thy self: for there is nothing that doth more hurt reason, and the vnder standing of man, than anger. Wher­fore quiet thy self, and beleue me, for that that I tel thée, is y^e truth it self.

Wel, let vs put case that I am not Iust (as thou sayst) but sée, I doe not graunt thée it (for if I did so, what would other do) who am I then?

Thou art the body of Iust.

And who art thou?

The soule of Iust.

Th [...] what maner thing is Iust

We two together, for neither is the body nor the soule, the mā, but that cōpound thing that coms of them both. And mark, that whē the soule is separate fro the body, it is called man no more, but a carcas, after the Latin tong, and a deade body, after y^• vulgar spéech, so as thou spakest before, when thou saidst, y^• wert half beside thy self.

This is true, and I can not de­nie it. But heare me, if thou art my soule as thou sayst, what means this [Page 4] thy beginnyng to talke of thy selfe, without me, shalte thou euer depart from me▪ Alas, I would not that, for then I should die as thou sayst.

Haue no doubt of y^• Iust, for I haue no lesse will to remaine with thée, thā thou hast to remain with me.

O blessed be y^• my swete soule.

Yea I praye thée that thou wilt not put me from thée.

Mary God forbid, beleue not that, for I wold liue lōger if I could, than did Mathusalem.

Yea, but y^• is not inough, for y^• may not do as one of our Citizens did, which was wont to say, y^• he ne­uer put away seruant: but he handled them so, whome he liked not, as they went away of themselues.

And what wayes be they that I must kepe, y^• thou goe not frō me?

Take héede thou make no disorder:, whereby the temperature of thy complexion, wherevpon thy life is founded, doe not come to suche [Page] alteration, as it choketh th [...] ▪ vital spi­rites, and force me to depart▪ frō thée.

And if I regarde, my selfe, as thou sayest, how long wilt thou tarie with me?

So long as thy grounded moysture [...]e not dried vp: for thy na­turall heate shall bée quenched,▪ as a lampe that lacketh oyle.

And wherof commes that?

Of age, the which is nothing else but a drying▪ vp of the one, and a cooling of the other.

O good Soule hears▪ me, teach me then if ther he any way to restore this moysture that thou speakest of, that dothe quenche as the oyle of the lampe, that it may continue longer.

There is none other waye, but that whiche nature hath taughte thée, giuing thée appetite to eate▪ and drink: with one of the which heate, & with the other moisture, is restored.

Then he that eats and drinks well, shall neuer die.

Rather the contrarie, for too much nouriture▪ doe gendre too great quantitie of humours▪ and the moste parte not good, whereof come those infirmities, that violently doe stran­gle the liuely spirites, euen as a light put out by force, and is the cause of death before our time.

Oh how might a man then do it, by eating and drinking by rule?

Neither by this could a man liue euer▪ for that restorement that is made, is of moisture & [...]eate, which be not of y^• perfection, as those which nature haue giuen, although they [...] better or worse, in one and an other, according to the cōplexion. And Iust, thou knowest y^t in this thing it haps, as doth in a vessel of wine, out of the which if thou takest euery▪ day a drop and put in as muche water▪ in space of time, it wil come to passe▪ that it is no more wine, nor can not be called watred wine, but rather wined wa­ter, bycause there lackes in it▪ [...] [Page] worke the operation of wine: euen so when moisture and heate restored by outwarde meane of eating and drin­king, do ouercome the naturall, it can not doe those operations that the na­turall doth, wherby the life falleth to decay.

What is the cause, that amōg men that vse all one manner of diet, some haue longer life than other.

Cōplexion which one hath by nature better than an other, by which his hea [...]e is more temperate, and his moisture lesse apte to be dried vp and corrupted, as in sanguine [...] and al them y^t haue their moisture lesse wa­try, & more [...]ry▪ Of the which thing thou mayst see euident experience in trées, amōg which, they that haue wa­trie moisture▪ as alders, willowes, & salowes, and other like, endure but a while, & they that haue airy, as pine, [...]rre & cypresse, do liue long time▪ and and all this commeth bicause the airy moisture, is more hardly dried & cor­rupted, [Page 6] than is the watrie.

Oh my soule, I do not remem­ber, that since I had vnderstandyng, I haue euer had so muche pleasure as this morning: and forasmuche as I am a litle assured of thée, and begyn to beleue that thou art my soule, and not a spirite, or a vision, as I thought at the first, I will aske thée certaine questions.

Say what thou wilte, for I willingly answere thée.

But before I doe aske any thing, I would haue thée tell me, why after we haue ben together .lx. yeare or more, thou haste deferred to disco­uer thy selfe, and to reason with me as thou dost now: for if thou haddest done so before, I should perhaps haue bē an other maner mā thā I am now.

There haue ben many causes that haue kept me from doing of it, & the principal cause hath ben thineage not apt vnto it: for in thine Infancie and Childehoode, thy members and [Page] partes be not apt to my seruices, and in thy growing and youthly time, the passions of the sensitiue parte, that then be most vehement, & in thy ripe yeares, care how to liue at lust, hathe not suffred me to withdrawe▪ me into my selfe, as I haue done now, when I am not letted of like things▪ although as yet▪ I can not do it, as I would, for thou being afrayde euery houre not to lose that thou hast (as other old co­uetous men) thou doest not suffer me to rest one halfe houre in the day: for when thou hast eaten or sleptte, thou runnest to thy work, wherby I being forced to minister vitall spirites to thy senses and thy members, I neuer haue any rest: and of this did I lamēt at the beginning (if thou remēbrest) when I began to talke with my self.

Wel tel me (for this it is that I wil aske th [...] first) what is the cause why thou didst lament of me? Haue I not alwayes loued thée, euen as thou haddest ben my proper soule and my [Page 7] life, as thou sayst thou art?

Yes, but thou haste muche more loued thy selfe, and where thou oughtest to haue loued thy selfe for my sake, and haue made much of thy selfe, that I mighte the better haue wrought in thee mine operatiōs, thou hast loued me for thy seruice: & so the parte lesse worthy & lesse noble, hath euer cōmāded y^e more worthie & more noble, as it doth notwithstāding in y^e most part of men, y^t thou sholdest not thinke thou art alone: therfore haue not I good cause to cōplain? But now I wil not tell thée euery thing, for it is day, & I will haue thée go to pro­uide for thy necessaries: for else I should want my selfe, to morowe as thou sayedst, I will returne into my selfe as I doe nowe, and will tell thée at large, whether I haue cause to la­ment of thée or no.

Oh, wilt thou depart frō me?

Departe, no: for then as I tolde thée, thy death should folow.

I had feare of that, and there­fore did I aske thée.

I will vnite my selfe againe with thée til to morow in y^e morning.

Wel: but my soul, I wold y^• to morow whē y^u comst again to me, we do not as we haue don this morning.

Why?

I woulde if it were possible, that we should beholde one an others face. For in this sort me thinke I am half mocked, and I haue douted, till a litle while since, lest thou haddest tal­ked in mine eare by a wile, as I haue sene one doe with a dead mans head, which had bored an hole in a plank at the foot of a deske, vpon y^• which stode y^e dead hed, by which a trunk did passe into y^e mouth of the head, y^• euery mā thought it had ben a spirit: of y^e which thing I stand yet in dout of thée. And finally I wold haue thée certainly as­sure me, whether thou art my Soule or no, as thou sayest.

Very wel, I am contēt, I wil [Page 8] deliuer thée of this dout by & by▪ heare and mark well what I say vnto thée, and I will speke it softly, that no mā heare it, if any be by, for it is a secret, which none other knoweth but Iust the Couper, which is thou and I.

I am sure: for this I know that none other person but my selfe, kno­weth, therfore since thou knowest it, y^u art also I: & I haue no more doubt, Therfore y^t we may to morow reson more effectually, I would y^• one of vs might sée an other: for then it séemeth a man speaketh more the truth, than thus without seing together.

It is impossible y^t thou sholdst sée me as I am, bicause I am without a body, & I haue neither figure nor co­lor: for y^• figure & y^e quātitie be only in bodies, & color can not stād but in the vpper part of the same, wherby I am inuisible: but I might well take a bo­dy, and so might I shewe me to thée.

And howe?

Thou professest a scholer of [Page] Daut, haste thou not red it in his pur­gatorie? I coulde with my vertue in­formatiue, make me a body of aire, giuing it thicknesse, and after colour, euen as the Sunne makes the Air [...] grosse & vaporous, wherof comes the raine bow. The whiche waye the an­gels holde, and other spirites, when they will shewe themselues to men.

Thou wilte make me beleue some straunge thing then.

What straunge thing? hast thou not reddde in the Gospell, that Christ when he appered to his disci­ples after his resurrection, that they should not beleue he had one of these bodies, he sayd, touche me, for spirits haue no bones.

Then let vs do so, but sée with al, that thou partest not from me, nor go frō my body, for I wold not die yet

Well, I will finde the way not to part at all.

And howe? for I will vnder­stande that, and not lette this thing [Page 9] passe, for it is of too great a waight.

I wil seperate my selfe wyth my intellectiue parte, and with onely fantasie, without the which I coulde not vnderstande, leauing in thée all my other powers, that is, vegetatiue, by the which thou lyuest, and sensitiue by the which thou féelest, and discourse by memory, that thou might reason by the helpe [...], things which thou knowest, and, demaunde me what thou wilte.

And by this meane shall I not dye?

No I say.

Very well, remember then, I am out of perill, and I will not sée thée before.

Doubt not I say, and lose no more time, but rise and goe to thy busi­nesse▪ for the sunne is now risen.

Well well, tomorow we méete agayne.

The .ij. Reasoning. SOVLE. IVST.

SInce thou sléepest no more, aryse & make thée ready, and light a candle, and in the meane time I wil forme my selfe a body of this aire about, euen as I said vnto thée yesterday, that thou mayst sée me, and we at our ease talke together.

Oh my Soule, with a good wil, but heare me. I praye thée remember that I saide vnto thée.

What?

That thou makest no separa­tion from me, wherby my death might ensue.

What nedest thou to replie so oft? haue I not saide vnto thée, that I will leaue in thée all mine other po­wers, but onely intellect and imagina­tion, which is it that makes you vnder­stande, and not it that makes you lyue, [Page 10] for that is the power called vegetatiue the whych you haue common wyth trées.

If I beare no peril of death, I am content, and if I do not agree vnto it, blame me, for beastes lyue, and vn­derstand not.

Ah foole, dost thou esteme life so much, that thou woldst rather choose to liue fiftie yeres without vnderstan­ding as a beast, than tenne with intel­ligence, as a man.

For my parte I had so: doest thou thinke it a prety sporte to die? I tell thée, I neuer sawe any yet come a­gaine: and of Lazarus that was raysed, they say he was neuer séene laugh af­terward, and that was, bicause he was afraide to die once againe, so fearefull was the first vnto him.

This thou speakest, bicause that part, which is voyd of reason, is it that nowe speaketh in thée, but if I were with thée, thou wouldest not say so.

I knowe not that, and as for me, since I can remember, I haue euer ben of this minde, and yet thou haste ben with me.

It is so, but as a seruant, not as a maistresse, as I ought, for [...] thou haddest folowed my counsell, and not the other called sensuall, thou wouldest haue done as Paule did & many other, which desired to be taken out of thys life, where they knew they were Pil­grims, and brought home to their coū ­trey.

Thou beginnest to trouble my brayne: till a man comes to the points of death, euery one saith so, but when death is present, the man changeth his fantasy: remember our master y^• went to pray in the gardin, to sée if he coulde escape death.

Ah Iust, he did it not for that, but to shewe with these passions natu­rall that he was a man, as he had she­wed by miracles, and with workes su­pernaturall, that he was God: but let [Page 11] vs reserue this talke till a more conue­nient time: what meaneth it thou arte so long about to light that match?

I thinke it is somewhat moist, and the stone is not very good, and this iron hath almost worne out the s [...]éele.

Thou doest as the Poet Daut saith in his banquets. All artificers not cunninge, doe impute all the er­rours they do, to the matter they work on: why diddest not thou say, bicause I am olde and haue the palsey, and misse the stone oftener than I hit it.

That is true in déede, I cannot deny it, and would to God I did not so al soin other things, for I haue delite to do nothing, and I am come to such a time of age, that euery thing is irksom vnto me, and very pleasure is vnplea­sant to me.

And yet wouldst thou not die.

Doest thou not heare that I would not?

And doest not thou sée that this life of thine is nothing but a death?

Though it be, I haue séene of them that be much more elder than I, and haue no téeth, and goe with theyr mouth to the grounde, and yet would not die: rather I wyll say vnto thée, that the elder a man is, the more doth death grieue him: and I haue séene the proofe in my selfe, for when soeuer my heade doth but ake, my heart quaketh, and I begin to say: Woulde to God this be not my last request, for I didde not so when I was young, rather doe I remember, that I hadde a sicknesse that brought me euen to the port of an other world, and yet I neuer thought to dye, but rather laughed at them, that would haue hadde me confessed: so as if I had dyed then, I had gone withoute any care or griefe, whych nowe I shall not doe, for I thinke of nothyng else, and lyue euen as he made the declaration of the Tyrantes lyfe Dionysius of Scicily, whych tyed a naked sworde with a horse haire, and hong it ouer his head.

And what is the cause Iust, as thou thinkest, wherefore death is more fearefull to olde folkes than to yong?

I thinke bicause they are more entangled with the world, in the which they haue liued so long.

Ah that is a very simple rea­son, and taketh place onely in [...]otyes as thou art, and I beleue thou haste learned it of Trées, whych the longer they lyue, the déeper roote they make, and are then harde to be pulled vp: but by the reasonable discourse whych thou haste, and long experience which thou oughtest to haue by thy longe time thou hast lyued, thou oughtest to haue made a better reason.

Be contente, thys may per­happes come of that thou sayest, that a man who hathe lyued longe, and made a Iudgemente by longe expe­rience more perfect, doth better knowe, howe goodly a thyng lyfe is to him, [Page] and howe much he ought to estéeine it and haue it in price, wherefore it grie­ueth him the more to lose it, thā it doth a yong man that doth not knowe it: As it would grieue a man more to lose a iewel that knoweth the value therof, than it wold him that knoweth it not.

This thy second reason is not much worth neither, & though it were true, it maketh no lesse for hym that would say the contrary, than it doth for thée.

Which way? tell me.

Bicause if he that liueth get­teth a iudgement, by the which he kno­weth better the things, he shal knowe also better how full of miserie our lyfe is. And if a man should not hope for a better in the other world, he should be the most miserable and vnhappy crea­ture in the vniuersall worlde, which is manifestly against al right of reasō, he being the most perfecte of all, & hauing vnderstanding, which is a most diuine thing: by the which not onely the holy [Page 13] letters, but also the Pagans and Gen­tils, do cal him lorde of all other Crea­tures, and the ende of all other things, which they say are made of nature for him.

Howe canst thou proue, that a man should be the most vnhappy crea­ture of the world, if he dyd not hope for a better life than this?

Bicause in this life he is much disgraced, naked, without a house, not able to speake, hauing nothing to eate, vnlesse he getteth it; and when he hath it, cannot vse it, vnlesse it be of other dressed: wheras other beasts be borne clad, some with one thing, some with an other, they haue their houses, some vnder the earth, some in woods, some in flouds, and the earth bringeth forth all things nedefull for them, without any payne: and what testimony canst thou haue more cléere of this, than Plinie, which in his consideration of al things, was so angry with Nature, as he cal­led hir mother of beasts, and stepdame [Page] of man.

Wel, I am content it be so, but what makes this to my reasō? which y^• saist is aswel against me as with me?

Bicause, he y^• shal handle these matters reasonably & without any af­fection, he wil conclude, that his felicity is not in this life, wher the other brute beasts inferiour to him haue it (if they may neuerthelesse be called happy) of y^• which being certified by natural reasō & the light of fayth, he wil not much re­garde lyfe, but rather be troubled: with a desire to be out of it, and to go to the other, as they haue done that haue de­spised vice, & gon by the way of vertue, so as if thou hast no better reason, this is only in aparāce, & cōcludeth nothing.

Oh my Soule, wherof cometh that?

That is it I haue thought to tell thée (O my body) for so must I call thée, to speake rightly, & not Iust, as I haue done & wil doe, bicause I will not trouble thy brayne too much: but wilt thou that I tell thée?

Yea, I pray thée, for I desire no­thing so much.

It commeth of little faith: and surely ther is nothing that causeth deth both to olde and yong to be sorowfull, but that they beleue too little.

Ah, ah, a great Citizen of ours said well, who I thinke had in himselfe proued by experience, when he caused his graue to be made, halfe within the Church dore, and halfe without.

Well, this thou must thinke Iust, y^e men be like vnto on vs, wherof the yong be soone taken. But as thy friend Daut fayth.

Oh God, I thinke thou sayst true, bicause I remember since I was a yong man, that many times at cer­tain deuotions that we made in a com­pany, & certain prechings that I heard, I was easely to be entreated to die: [Page] But nowe backea while, for I would make any contract, to liue.

Ah, ah, how thinkest thou, is it not as I haue faide? but maruel not at that, for the maner of yong men and women is easely to beleùe.

I am of thine opinion, but heare me, the fault is more thine than mine, for thou art she to whom beli [...]e doth appertaine, and not I.

It is true that I ought to be­leue, neuer the lesse, the principall cause that maketh that I doe not, is thy selfe.

Oh, how so? sée how thou wol­dest cast the blame vpon an other.

Thou knowest howe I can haue no knowledge whiles I am vni­ted with thée, but by the meanes of thy senses, the which, knowing nothing but sensible thyngs, doe force me tho­row the great vnion that is betwene thée and me, to goe by that path, which thou shewest me, & that is by the things of the world.

These he but wordes, for thou [Page 15] art one thy selfe, and as thou sayst, the principal, why then d [...]st thou not make me folow thée, and not thou follow me, if I goe a wrong way?

I am bound within thée, and: so clo [...]ged of thy earthly nature, that I lose the, greater parte of [...] strength; and [...]a [...] lifte vp my selfe to heauen, as the perfection of my nature doth re­quire. Besides this, the reasons with the which I shoulde make thée assured of the light of faith, haue not so great forc [...] ▪ as haue the knowledge of sense which thou [...]euest me. But beleue me Iust, that death doth not greue hym that deleueth.

This might as well be of him that b [...]leueth not, for [...] might thynke that when he dieth, as his pleasures shall [...], so shal his paynes ende also: of the which I thinke there is no lesse number in the worlde than of the plea­sures, as thou didst say.

And who is he that thinketh there is nothing in the other world?

Oh, oh, there is happ [...]ly one or two. I would I had so many [...] ducates, as I haue known & do know.

Oh, it had ben aswell said, so many vertues hadde I, but I sée Iust that thou [...] an earthly piece, and cra­uest nothing but earthly things.

Oh, if there were nobody else, howe many Popes haue there bene▪

What Popes, how like a [...] speakest thou?

I speake of them tha [...] ha [...] in­terpretedThe Pope, cause of some euill opinion of the Soule. the booke of Lazarus so wy [...] ­kedly, as they haue sayd, that in the o­ther worlde is nothing.

What booke of Lazarus spea­kest thou of▪

Oh, as though y^• knewst it not.

No not I.

Well thou shalt know it now. They say y^t Lazarus being asked after his rising, of many of his friends, what was in the other world, he aunswered, he wold leaue it in writing. Now, ey­ther that he forgot it, or that it is not [Page 16] lawfull to speake of things of the other world, of one y^• had ben ther, as S. Paule saide, when he died lefte a booke sealed, with order, it should be giuen to the Pope, in the which nothing was writ­ten: wherfore the Pope that no slaūder shold be giuē to the world, which with great desire, did loke to hear what was ther, did hide it, saying, he might not o­pen it to any, but to his successor, & so the Bishops haue done from one to an other till this day. Now they that haue expounded the matter godly, affirming the cause to be, that it is not lawful for men to know the things there, farther thē hath ben declared to vs by the scripture, be they y^• haue ben good men: & the other, that haue thus interpreted y^• mater, that the meaning is, that in the other world is nothing, be they whom thou hast séene, which when they haue come to their Papacie, haue done thatPopes serue their turnes. they thought might serue their turne.

A Iust, these be tales deuised of such as thou art but I wil say this vnto [Page] thée, that if thou considerest well, thou neuer foundst any that can beleue this, that there is nothing absolutely and without al respect: for they should haue to much contentacion and pleasure in this world, & they might fulfil all theyr desires without any trouble of [...]nde, which were no small thinge, and they might also say, as that honest woman, which being taken in the sacke of Ge­noua, saide: God be thanked, that I shal once haue my luste, without any re­morse of conscience.

I thinke thou sayest truth, for I haue hearde there was once one in Florence that was called M. Iohn de Caui, a Phisitian & Philosopher, most famous, the which whilest he liued she­wed him selfe alwayes to be re [...]olued, that the Soule was mortall, neuerthe­lesse when he was a dying he saide, by and by I shall be out of a great force. And diuers other whō I haue knowne to be of that opinion in their life, haue ben otherwise at their death. Wherof [Page 17] one Naum Grosso, and Lance Golde­smith liuing pleasantly, and beleuing in apparaunce, not muche aboue the house top, yet at their deathe, the one called for a crucifixe, but woulde haue it giuen him by the hand of Donatello, that was dead. The other sayd, I re­commend my self to him in the other worlde, that can do moste, be it God or the deuil, and he that most may, let him most catche.

Let these things go, for they haue more of brutishnesse than of rea­son: and if thou remēbrest, thou shalt finde, that in thy time, there haue ben halfe a score & more, whom thou hast knowne to haue bē in their life scarce religious, & haue séemed to beleue too litle, and yet haue liued morally, and as behoueth to reasonable creatures, which at the point of death not beyng able neuer to quench a certaine prick of reason, and a certain desire and ac­knowledgyngImmortali­tie of the Soule. of Immortalitie, al­though it were confused, and iudging [Page] it naturall, and knowyng that natu­rall desires be not vain, nor of things that can not be hadde, they haue bene reduced to God, and haue confessed their erroure, and so recommended them selues to God, as he hath giuen them the lyghte of Fayth, whereby they haue dyed Christian men. But lette vs leaue thys reasonyng, and goe lyghte thy candle, bycause it shal be tyme by and by that thou go to thy worke.

Thou haste a thousande rea­sons, and I stayde to reason wyth thée. What ayleth thys tynder that it wyll not take? nowe thankes bée to GOD, it is lyght. Oh, oh, good Lorde, What a goodly thyng? what a goodly Creature? Oh my Soule, blessed bée thou, for thou art a faire thyng.

Sitte, sytte Iust, least thou fall, for thou art olde.

I can not holde my selfe, but [Page 20] I muste néedes embrace thée, wyl­lyng thée so, well, and neuer hauyng seene thee before. But alas, what is the matter, I féele nothyng, yet I sée thée: Am I not well in my wyt­tes?

Iust, thou makest profession of a Dautist, and thou doest not re­member it, when thou shouldest. Doest not thou remember, that the lyke also happened vnto Daut hym­selfe, when that he woulde haue em­braced Casella: And the cause is this, that we be as shadowes, and do on­ly shewe oure selues to the sighte, but wée can not bée proprely tou­ched, bycause that we be withoute bodyes: And this body which I haue made me, being of the aire, is also vn­touchable.

Then you be (as a man might say) a thyng of nothing.

Yea, folowing the opinion of the common people, whiche call that [Page] nothyng, that is not compounded of earthe, water of fire, makyng no ac­compt of aire. I thinke if in this chā ­ber there were not these chestes, thys bed and other thyngs, thou wouldest say it were emptie, if thou wouldest say truthe.

Should I not say it wer emp­tie, when nothing is in it?

Yes surely, but there shoulde be somewhat in it.

What should there be, when there is nothyng? I feare me, thou woldest make me beleue glasse wor­mes to be lanternes.

The aire should be there.

What? aire or no aire, when a tubbe is emptie, I knowe there is nothing in it, and I sée it euery day.

And what vessels be they that thou euer hast séene emptie?

Mary all those in my shop.

Ah foole, be they not ful of aire?

No: for if thou lookest well, there is darkenesse, and where aire [Page 19] is, there is light.

Then the nyghte when it is darke, is none aire. This is as ye speake of yong babes, whiche you say haue no soules, vntill they be bapti­zed, which if it were true, it shoulde folow, that neither Turke nor Iewe had soule: but let vs leaue this. Thou art little practised and followest the ignorant: but that thou shouldest not remain in this thy false opinion, thou oughtest to vnderstand; that the ayre hath a body, as well as the water, or the earth, but it is a little more fyne, & is darke of it self, yf it be not light­ned of the Sunnebeames, or of some other lighte. And further, thou must vnderstande, that no emptye called Vacuum, can be in Nature, that is to say, that in this vniuersall worlde, there is no place, but is full of some bodye. And of this thou mayst make a thousande experiences euery daye, but I will teach thée but one, and that is, with that vessell wherewith thou [Page] watrest thy gardin: for stopping the the hole aboue, the water commes not out of the holes beneath: and that cometh of none other cause, but that the hole aboue; beyng stopped, the aire can not enter in, whereby if the water shoulde goe oute, that place shoulde remayne voyde, the whyche bycause Nature can not abyde; she makes the water remayne, contrarie to hir nature in that place.

And who knowes that that is the cause?

Who knowes? euery man that hath witte.

I will tell thée the truth, these be certaine things that I can not skil of, and I think they be toyes to make a man madde. I doe knowe that a vesselle that hathe nothyng in it, is voyde: and I can neuer beléeue o­therwyse, I hope that thou wylte not vse me, as Mathewe Serui was, who was made to beleue that he was an other man than he tooke him selfe, and [Page 22] that he was a Carpenter, and made Tergates, whereby he entred into such a conceipte, that when he came to houses where he vsed to goe, and sawe olde Tergats hang there, hée beganne to saye, that he knewe of them that were made of hys owne hande.

Then sée howe harde it is, when one is farre brought to vnder­stande a thyng euill, to sette hym in the ryght way.

What wouldest thou say, that when I woulde euen nowe haue em­braced thée, and founde nothyng that I did imbrace somewhat? ah.

Dyddest thou not imbrace the aire?

What ayre? I knowe I im­braced nothyng: within a while thou wouldest make me beleue, that when my stomacke is emptie, it were full, the whiche yf I woulde beléeue, I shoulde dye for hunger. God kéepe mée.

I saye vnto thée, that yf wée should graunt voidenesse, a thousand inconueniences shoulde folow, as for example: If betwene thée & me were nothing, thou couldest not sée me.

Oh God, sée howe this geare groweth. For out of doubt it is con­trary:Nullum vacuum. for if there were any body be­twene thée and me, then coulde I not see thée.

It is true, if it were such a body, that thy syght or imagination coulde not passe, thou couldest not sée me, but that should rise of an other oc­casion, than a voide place betwéene thée and me.

Tell me howe this thyng is meant, for I vnderstand it not.

If betwéene vs were empti­nesse, & none aire, thē shold ther be no light. Wherfore the beames of thine eyes coulde not come to thée, nor my image come to thine eyes. For light is a qualitie, and qualitie is an acci­dent, and no accident can stand with­out [Page 21] a subiect that rules it: then if here were none aire that did stay the light here coulde be none.

As for me, I vnderstand not what thou meanest.

Heare then, if thou canst vn­derstande me an other waye: when thou standest by the fyre, what is it that heateth thée?

The fire: Who knoweth not that? this is a childishe thing.

But that is not true.

Oh what heates me, the wind? Thy matters be childrens toyes, if I would beleue them.

The aire heateth thée which toucheth thée, whiche is heated of the fire, for the fire not touching thée, can not heate thée, for no body can worke in an other vnlesse he touche it.

What meanest thou by that?

I meane that if there were any emptie place betwene thée and the fire, thou shouldest neuer be hea­ted: For that heate whiche is an ac­cident, [Page] hauyng nothyng to holde it, coulde not come vnto thée, but bée­yng stayde by the ayre, whiche com­meth to thée, that ayre that toucheth thée, being hotte, doth heate thée also.

Wel, I wyl tel thée the truth. Thou myghtest tell me thys tale an hundred yeare, and I beleue, I should neuer vnderstande thée any thyng to thys purpose, and neuer beléeue thée.

I sée thys mornyng thou art not apt to receyue the truthe: there­fore I wyll not talke of any other thyng, and it is tyme thou goest to thy worke: To morowe at the accu­stomed houre I will goe from thée, and take this bodye and reason wyth thée, and thou shalte be better dyspo­sed to vnderstande mée, than thou art nowe.

If wée tarrie vntill to mo­rowe, thou shalte peraduenture bée better in thy brayne: and tell me no thyngs that no man vnderstands.

But sée thys nyght thou ke­pest [Page 24] thy candle lyght: for I wyll not thou spende so muche tyme aboute it to morowe.

The .iij. Reasoning. SOVLE. IVST.

THe crowing of the cock hath not serued this morning (O Iust) to wake thée, it is almost day, and thou stepest, thou answerest not, but stretchest thy selfe, what meanes it?

I am halfe mynded to be an­gry with thée.

Why arte thou sorie I haue broke thy slepe?

For slepe I care not, yet it gre­ueth me thou haste waked me, for I haue dreamed the most swete and plesant things that euer I saw.

What things?

I can not so welle tell thée: for they were not as I am wont to [Page] dreame things that haue neither hed nor taile, and begin with one thing, & ends with an other. But me thought I was in a quietnesse, and without a­ny trouble, remēbring the resons we haue had together, and I will tel thée one thing, that I haue vnderstanded sleping, that I coulde not doe yester­day wakyng: of that Vacuū, or emp­tieNullum vacuum. place, which yesterday would not enter, and I remembre I haue pier­ced a full barel, and neuer could cause wine to come out, if I did not first o­pen a vente: and I neuer considered that it came of that thou diost speake. And I will tell thée more, that nowe I know, how a swimmer a compani­on of mine was one day deceiued, of one of out citizens that wan certaine fishes of him, whiche of them shoulde stande longest vnder the water: and heare how he did. He desired to holde on his heade one of these pottes with two eares, saying he did so, bicause the water did hurte his head: and he that [Page 23] vnderstode not the deceit, did graunt it him: My friende set it on his heade downewarde, and occupied the tyme that the aire that was within, did not go out, and so no more water did en­ter than doth in a cuppe that is rineed downeward, in such sort as he might stande as long as he woulde, hauyng no water aboute his mouthe. Thou séest what I haue vnderstanded by dreaming.

And whereof thynkest thou commeth this dreame, since thou cal­lest it a dreame?

What know I? wherof com­meth other, that I haue all the yere?

No Iust: for this didde rise of me onely, and the other that thou dreamest, riseth of mine other inferi­ourDreames. partes, and of spirites, which do represent to thée sléeping, the images of those thyngs that Fansie hath im­pressed in the bloud, by the meane of the senses, and therfore many tymes we dreame in the night those things [Page] we sawe in the day, and the more the bloud is altred, the more strong and disordinate thyngs wée dreame, as thou mayst know by thy selfe, when that thou haste bene sicke or troubled with a feuer, or when thou hast bene well washed with wine, in the which (yf it bée good) thou thou haste de­lyght.

It hath pleased thée also as I thinke, for I neuer dronke but when I was whole Iust, of whom thou art so great a part, as thou sayst.

Ah, ah, thou haste now lear­ned so much philosophie, as thou kno­west, that neyther the soule, nor the body of it selfe, is man.

I can not tel, I haue told thée.

Surely, when soeuer one is touched where it grieueth hym, hée crieth: But be not angrie Iuste, I wyll not for all thys, speake of thée any villanie. For in very déede, it is is not altogether euill to me, for good Wine maketh good Bloud, and goodVinum. [Page 22] bloud dothe make the spirites more cléere, whereby the senses maye the better healpe to woorke my operati­ons.

I looked thou wouldest haue sayde: And good bloud maketh a good man: and the good man goeth to Pa­radise.

Make thée ready, make thée ready quickely, and sitte downe that we may talke together at leasure.

Sitte thée downe till I bée ready.

Ah Iust, thou doest not yet vnderstand, that I am one of the sub­stances without body, and immortal, and suffer none of those thyngs that doe offende thée: and that that I will now say vnto thée, may be a mean to make thée beleue, that thy dreamyng thys mornyng, was not a dreame in déede, bycause it proceded not alto­gether, as the other, which thou hast wisely called dreames, of y^e sensitiue parte, which thou hast common with [Page] other brute beastes which do dreame also, but it was as I told thée, only my work with the help of thy senses. For whiles thou wert dreaming, finding my self frée, I dyd retire into my self, and with my part diuine (for so may I call it, hauing it of God) I did work in thy partes apt to vnderstande, and to learne those intellections and con­ceipts, which thou confessest thou ne­uer hadst before: wherby thou mayst easily persuade thy self (that although I am vnited to thée in suche sort, as it semeth I cannot be without thée) that I am immortal, and can wel be with­out thée, seing I can do some operatiō without thée, as thou hast perceiued.

I will tell thée the truth, thou doest persuade so wel, that thou sayst that I can not but beleue thée, bicause I thinke, that thou being my part (I meane when I am perfect Iust) that thou oughtest not to deceiue me. But now I am ready, and I will sette me downe, as thou baddest me, and aske [Page 25] thée certayne questions more quietly than I haue done.

Say what thou wilt▪ for I wil satisfy thy desire in all thyngs that I can.

The first thing I would knowe of thée, is: Why thou shouldest lament of me, for the first time that I hard thée speake in my head, as I remēber, thou saydst, thou neuer hadst rest in me, be­ing yong, and lesse couldst hope to haue any now when I am olde.

Iust, neuer repeate that, for if I did lament of thée, I had good cause.

I do not remember that euer I did any thyng against Iust, for then I had done it against my selfe, and then haue I done nothing against thée, sée­ing thou sayst that thou and I, be Iust.

It is so, but thou haste not done as I would.

How can that be? for I neuer knew till nowe, that any other was in my selfe, but I: but if thou louest me as thou sayst, I pray thée thou wouldst tel [Page] me wherin I haue offended thée, that at least the little time we haue to lyue together. I may no more offend thée.

Wel Iust I am content. DostAnima no­bilissima cre­atura. thou not know that I am the noblest creature that is from the Heauen or the Moone dounward?

Yes, and I haue heard it prea­ched many times.

Dost thou not know also that I am all diuine, all spirituall, made of the proper hand of God, after his simi­litude, & preferred afore all creatures that be in this world?

I haue read all thou saist, in the Bible, but of man, not of thée only, and let vs vse it so, that thou dost not attri­bute it to thy selfe only, where I also haue a parte.

Iust, our vnion, whereby of vs is made man, is so maruellous, that what is spoken of the one is spoken of the other, as Aristotle doth well shew, saying, that he that saith the Soule lo­ueth or hateth, myght as well say the [Page 26] soule spinneth or soweth: neuerthelesse this dignitie thou haste of me, bicause thou art earthly, corporall, & without reason: but I cause y^• thou art called a person diuine & a creature reasonable.

And how?

It were a long work to make thée vnderstand that, let it suffise thée y^• I being with thée & becōming thy form by mean of thy vital spirit, which is the [...]and y^• holdes vs togither, I make thée a creature y^• taketh part with substāce seperate, which you cal Aungels, wher thou didst onely participate with brute beasts, wherof, we being vnited toge­ther, haue ben called of some Philoso­phers, the band of nature & the world,Ʋinculum mundi & naturae. for in thée do ende the earthly & bodily creatures, & in me beginneth y^• diuine & spiritual & be only one vndiuided, made so maruelously of two cōtrary naturesMiraculū naturae. (as I haue said) y^• Mercury Trimegist did call it y^• great miracle of nature.

I confesse al this to be true, but wherfore dost y^• praise me, this makes [Page] not for thy lamenting of me.

Heare me, and thou shalt sée if I haue cause to lamente. I being so noble a creature, haue not (as reason is) mine ende and my perfection in this vniuersall, nor in those things wherof that is made as haue thother creatures inferiour to me, wherof if thos [...] markst well, God, after he hadde created all things of the world, he caried into Pa­radise only man, that he being sepera­ted from other, might haue vsed the o­perations there, that were conuenient to his nature, from whence he, by hys fault, was most miserably driuen out, (which thing grieueth me more) that rightnesse taken from him, that wa [...] Originall Iustice. vs, that is to say, originall Iustice, by whose meane thou shouldest haue ben obedient to me, and shouldst not haue striuen against me as thou haste done since.

Well, well, I haue so many times heard the same things told in the Pulpit, that thou néedest not tell [...] [Page 27] them again, therfore let vs come to the conclusion.

If thou be not altogether a foole, thou mightest haue gathered of these my reasons, y^• my end & thine (for that I speake, I speake of man) is not in these bodily and earthly things, for y^• is of other beastes which lacke rea­son, but it is only in the contemplation of truth, by the which, beholding theContemplatiō of the truth. maruelous works of the mighty hand of God, a great part in this world, may be had, whither I was sent from God, and vnited in thée, that by the meane of thy senses, and thy helpe, I might get all those knowledges, that the nature of man can doe, that those should be a ladder to bring me to consider the truth it selfe, without any Vaile, whereof should haue grown my felicitie, ioyned with a blessednesse.

All this that thou hast saide, is well: but wherin haue I hindred thée, or euer anoyed thée, that thou canst cō ­playne of me?

I wil not speake Iust, of those impediments common, that rise of thée & thy proper nature, weake, and encli­ned to loue & seke only earthly things, but I wil onely lament of thée in this, that thou hast euer held me occupied in so vile exercise as thy craft of Coupe­rage is: what griefe thinkest thou Iust hath it ben to me, that I being so no­ble a creature, haue euer ben forced to minister to thée all my knowledge and power, that thou sholdest make barels, pitchers, bowes for babes, and patens with such other like, and that onely for thy businesse I must leaue the contem­plation of the beauty of this vniuersal, & hold mine eyes down vpon a thing [...]o base & contrary to my nature. Tel me, haue I not cause to lament of thée?

These thy reasons seme to me, y^• in one thing they be true, & in another no. As touching the cōsideration of thy nature they be true, but in consideratiō of mine & of man, not so, for thē al han­dy crafts should be taken away, & thou [Page 28] knowst how necessary thei be, not only to me, but to thée also, for whē I suffer thou canst not do thy works perfectly.

I wil not take away manuell craftes, for I knowe well howe many things man hath néede of, and thy selfe particularly, without the which thou sholdst fal into a thousand infirmities, & a thousand anoyances, which shold let me so, as I shold lesse giue my self to cō ­templation than I doe, being as I am.

How so, if al soules wold y^• those men of which they be part, should giue thēselues to contemplatiue life & study?

No I say, for I wold that they to whom is by lot giuen an vnperfect body, or compound of humours or euill cōplexion, or that haue the instruments of the senses by some impediment that nature hath found cōtrary to hir inten­tiō, not wel apt to do their offices, were I say, those that shold haue pacience to exercise thēselues in these base things.

The thing shold surely turne to al one term, for ther shold be more that [Page] would apply bandy occupation, though liberall science, bicause the more parte be of them that be borne of that sorte, that are little bound to nature, & com­monly be called men grosse.

Thanke the little wit of men, which, when they sowe a field of corne, they vse all diligence that the séede be good and cleane, and the land wel in or­der, but when they will get a child, theyError in gene­ration of chil­dren. haue little count of the one, and lesse of the other: the more part seking after it when they haue supped, or be otherwise altered by eating and drinking, wher­by it is not to be marueled, though ther groweth more Sloes than Damasins, for so wyll I speake for the honor of mans nature, which hadde more néede than other creatures, not to be in loue but at certaine times, séeing he doth so little worke that knowledge that is gi­uen him of God, wherby he might put a bridle to his vnreasonable passions: but let vs leaue this, for it toucheth not me, for I was allotted to a body well [Page 29] complexioned, & indued with very good instruments, wherewith the senses be exercised, as well interior, as exterior, and made liuely wyth a blood so good; that engendereth so cléere and subtill spirits apt to do any operation perfect­ly: of thée, thus I say, that thou were apt to do any noble exercise, aswel con­templatiue as actiue, and yet hast thou alwais kept me in making of slippers: what sayst thou nowe, haue I cause to lament or no?

What wouldest thou I should haue done? I was set to this art of my father being a childe, whych as thou knowest, did occupy the same: beside I was poore, and not able to goe to my booke.

If thou hadst ben rich, & able to make thine owne choyse, and of age to knowe, I would haue otherwise la­mented with thée than I doe, whereas now I hold thée excused for this cause.

Then tel me wherin thou haste cause to complayne.

I may complayne bycause that thou being come to the age of dis­cretion, and knowing thée in so good a trade, as thou didst lay vp money eue­ry yeare, that nowe thou dost not begin to thinke of me, séeking to gyue me, though not in all, yet in parte, some perfection, as thou diddest to thy selfe of wealth and commoditie.

Oh how shold I haue done it?

In giuing thy selfe to some science, that might haue brought me perfection and contentacion, & begin­ning to open to me the way of know­ledge of the truth, which as I haue said vnto thée, is my chiefe ende.

Be shorte, and tell me what I must haue done.

Thou must (I say) haue giuen thy selfe to the study of science, diui­ding thy time so, as thou shouldest notLabour and study. haue let thy worke.

And wouldest thou that I shold both haue plaide the Couper and the Student?

Yea would I.

And what would the people haue said?

What say they at Bolonia of one Iames Fellay ther, which kepes his occupation, & yet hath profited in lear­ning, that he may compare with many that haue done nothing else but study: and in Ʋenice an Hosier that died of late, and was very wel learned?

What time should I haue had to it?

So much as should haue suf­fised, which thou didst spende somtime in play, or in going abroad babling by the way: for dost thou thinke that they that study, do study euer? if thou lokest wel thou shalt sée them most part of the day walking abroad: remember of Ma­thew Palmer thy neighbour, that euer was a Potecarie, and yet got so much learning, as the Florentines sente him embassadour to the king of Naples, the which dignitie was giuen him only to shew a thing so rare, y^• a man of so base [Page] condition shold haue so noble conceits, as to giue himself to study, not leauing his exercise: and I remember I haue heard that the king said: What Phi­sitians be at Florence, when their Apo­thecaries be so singular men?

I knowe thou sayst true, and I hadde inclination inough, but two things caused me that I neuer had no minde that way, the one was the base arte that I was of, the other, the payn that I haue heard of many that is in study.

Thou art euen fallen wher I would, alleaging this second cause, for as for the first, if these examples of our time which I haue named doe, not suf­fise thée, let the auncient examples ofPhilosophers vsed some oc­cupation. those olde Philosophers suffise, which vsed all some occupation, and specially of Hippias, which did shape and sowe his clothes, did make trappers for hor­ses, and many other things: but to the other I answere thée, that in the world is not so easy a thing as to study and [Page 31] to get learning.

Thou telst me a thing, which I thought the contrary.

Heare me and I will proue it.Learning easy to be gotten. Euery thyng holpen of his proper na­ture, getteth his perfectiō without any paine: and perfection is the knowledge of veritie, wherefore a man in getting it, should haue no payne at all. Of this cōclusion, the propositions being true, I know that thou hast no doubt at all: but bicause thou mightest doubt of thē I wil proue them, and first the maner. Tell me, thinkest thou the earth endu­reth any paine in going to the centre?

I thinkē not.

And doth y^• fire take any pain to mount to his Sphere?

Lesse.

And doe the plants take any pain to be nourished, to be augmented, and to bring forth their séede? and the beasts to [...]oa [...]e and gender like to them selues?

No, for I sée euery one doth [Page] these operations if he be not letted.

Then thou knowest that no­thing dureth any paine to get his per­fection, bicause the earth is onely per­fect when she is in hir Centre, and the fire when he is in his Sphere, wher he hath no contrariety, and the trées whē they become to their termes & brought forth their fruits, & the beasts whē they haue gendred like to thēselues to main­tain their kinde, which they can not do in thēselues singular, bycause so doing they grow more like their, first mouer. Now I haue only to proue thée, y^• them and perfection of man is to vnderstand, but I knowe that the desyre of know­ledge the which thou séest to be in eue­ry man, doth assure thée of it.

Oh, I wold not haue ben dead yesterday for nothing in the world, for thou haste opened mine eyes so well, that I sée now that I neuer sawe afore in thre score yeares and more.

I will saay more vnto thée, it were more easy for Iust to vnder­stande [Page 32] a worke of Aristotle, than to make a Pitcher or a payre of Soccles for a Frier.

Nowe thou speakest of a great matter.

I speake as it is, and heare the reason. What pleasure hast thou in making a paire of patens, or a vessell, or such like?

I haue pleasure, bicause I sée I gaine therby, and so prouide for my neede that riseth euery day.

Let vs leaue gaine, for that also cometh of study, but what other pleasure hast thou?

None surely.

And I lesse, rather I haue an extreame passion, knowing (as I haue told thée) and finding my selfe occupied in such things vile.

Then what is the cause? sée­ing it is (as I see) that so fewe men be giuen to study, and chiefly of them that might, and wante not the way to doe it.

Of their euill bringing vp &Euil bringing vp, hinderance to learning. gouernement of their fathers, and of their euil way of life, which is now in the world, and also in the feare whych they make that be counted lerned, she­wing that study is the hardest thyng that a man can doe.

Thou sayst truth, for I haue hapt many times to heare them say so, & they play as phisitians, which alwais makes the diseases of their parents to be greuous and daungerous, to shewe; that if they recouer them, they haue done a great cure.

Ah Iust, would God that this occasion only moued them to do so, but they be moued of an other worse prin­ciple.

What is it, tell me?

I must haue more time, and now it is broade day, to morow if thou will reason as thou hast done this mor­nyng, I will tell thée, that and other things.

With a good will, and I pray [Page 33] thée too.

Well, I will tarrie till thou callest me: for I will no more wake thée, to grieue thée as thou werte this morning.

So will I doe.

The .iiij. Reasoning. IVST. SOVLE.

Haue slepte euill thys nyght, God I what would it meane? yet I fynde no euill at all. Some other wil say; that these be the things which the in­firmitie that all men couereth, I meane Age, bringeth, to slepe euill, and watche worse: but it shal be bet­ter for mée, since I am entred into this Fansie, to talke with my Soule, with whome I haue had suche plea­sure these thrée rymes that wee haue talked together, that euery houre see­meth a thousande yeare to renue the [Page] same: yet may it be a Dreame, wher­of I stand halfe in doubt: for I neuer heard that any such thing hath chaun­ced to any other before this time: and thoughe it séemeth that Dauid in hys Psalmes sometime talketh with hir, as in the begynning of the Seruice, where he asketh hir why she is so me­lancolie and troubled, yet could I ne­uer learne that she made hym any an­swere as myne dothe me: so as myne may well be a dreame: yet I can not beleue it: for I knowe many thyngs which I did not before. But now that I am sure I sléepe not, nor dreame not, I wyll sée, yf shée wyll reason wyth me, as she hathe done, and call hir as she appoynted yesterday in the mornyng I shoulde doe. My soule, O my soule.

What wouldest thou Iust?

Sée it is trewe, that I dydde not dreame. I woulde wée shoulde talke a whyle together, as we haue [Page 34] done, and that thou wouldest con­tente me, in that thou dydst begyn to speake of yesterdaye in the mor­nyng: But sée, I wyll not that thou go out of mée any more, as thou hast done these two mornyngs: For I passe not now to sée thée: and I know I haue bene in greate peryll, and also playde the very foole to put my selfe in suche hazarde, wherevpon my lyfe laye.

What perill was that?

As thou sayest, thou haddest a greatte wylle that I shoulde stu­dye, wherefore when thou haddest bene from me, and mynded to re­turne no more to mae, but for to enter into the bodye of some Stu­dente, then shoulde I haue bene a body withoute a Soule: and yf not as dead, yet at least one of the base beastes.

Doubt it not Iust, thou art in no suche daunger: for if thou remem­brest [Page] wel, I tolde thée I dyd not in all separate my selfe from thée, but only with my part diuine, y^• which is suche, as being immortall may be withoute thee.

Very well, and bycause she may be without me, therfore I feare, bycause I would not become a beast, I say, and sée one other with my brain and with his, sell me by and by, and then other, euery day ten times.

Although I can be withoute thée, which shall be after that separa­tion that death shall make of vs, ne­uerthelesse I can not informe any o­ther body but thée, til the day of iudge­ment.

Wherfore?

Bycause of that perpetuall qualitie that I must informe thée, and none other.

What is that qualitie thou speakest of?

It is a certaine conuenience and inclination that I haue to worke [Page 35] by thée, to begyn to taste my perfecti­on, which was not gyuen me of God at my creation, as to angels, which if I had, I shoulde haue no nede of thée. And this is the onely thyng that ma­keth me differ from other soules, by­cause, we being not different in kind, as of y^• other beasts, forasmuch as we be reasonable, & they not, nor can not be different in number, bicause we be not materiall, it shoulde folowe, that we were all one thing: and this consi­deration hath brought many greate men into greatest errours: but one of vs is different from an other, by that qualitie & respecte, that she hath with hir body, and not with other.

I will be playne with thée: I vnderstande not this matter.

Maruel not, for Duns (whom they call the subtill Doctour, who thought he vnderstode it better than other, gyuing it the name, Eccheita, a name altogether strange to the bar­barous eares, muche more to the La­tines, [Page] did not vnderstande it perfect­ly him selfe.

Then let it goe: for I woulde not that we shoulde enter into these toyes, and then happe to me as dyd to hym, that going aboute to blynde other mens braynes, dydde so blinde hym selfe, as he was buried quicke. Whiche thyng myghte well happen to me, if I were founde once wyth­out thee: therefore tarrie wyth me, as thou haste done, for I wyll no more abide the perill, and I care not nowe to sée thée.

I sée thou haste such feare of our separation, that it is full tyme I deliuer thée of it. Vnderstand, that al­though I haue tolde thee, I goe out of thée, yet I neuer dyd, nor can doe it, but by death, and that is bicause I am thy forme, & am not in thée, as a mari­ner in a ship, as many haue beleued.

This is a new tricke, what? I haue séene thée.

It appeares s [...] to thée.

Appeare? wilt thou make me beleue I see not a thing when I see it?

I say it dyd but appeare so.

Which way?

I wil tell thée, I moued from those visions and images, which thou hast in fantasy, and represented them to thy vertue imaginatiue, as I doe when thou dreamest, and so it semeth thou dyddest see me.

Canst thou deceyue me after this sort?

I can, and in this sort spirits deceiue mē many times, and therfore their apparitiōs be called fantastical.

What is it true there be spiri­tes in déede?

Dost thou doubt?

I can not tel, I haue heard say of many learned men, that they bée things fained, & things that appeare only to certain simple mē, & that they come somtime of melācoly humors, y^• bréede by hearing of strange things.

They be of those lerned men [Page] that think they vnderstand all things and shewe, they haue redde little in Stories, or in Scripture, and litle to beleue in the same, which is worse. I tell thée that spirites be, and besides this, make them that beleue them, to seme they be sometyme an other thing: hast thou not hearde that they that be witches, think they be Cats?

Be these sorcerers also true?

Would God they were not true, which he suffreth for our sinnes. Reade what the Count of Mirandula, writeth of one that he had in his hāds. And the Canonists wold haue forsene that it had not ben true, whiche haue made a particular law of the witched and enchaunted.

Surely that is a greate argu­ment, but let it go. Thou hast taken a great waight from my heart, saying thou wylt not go from me. But now let vs turne to our talke yesterday in the morning, tell me, whereof comes it, that these Doctors do [...] so discorage [Page 37] other from study, shewing them it is a greater paine than to cary the stone of Ʋerma, (as the Prouerbe sayth.)

Thou knowest Iust, that the least part of men be good, but whether this commeth, either of the infirmitie of the fleshe, or of euill custome, or of little religion, I will not nowe dis­pute.

Thou sayst truth, ther be more bad than good, and do so increase, that I feare we are nygh the ende of the worlde. Thou séest how we haue gro­wen worse & worse these fiftie yeres. I wil not reason of Popes, CardinalsPopes. &c. Worse and worse. and Priests, and lesse of Friers, that thou sholdest not by and by proclaime me a Luterane. But consider children of ten yeares olde, how they be with­out reuerence, without shame, bolde, dishonest, and mocke a man of fiftie yeres. Alas, I remember that in my time, we passed twentie yeres, before we knewe what Venus, or Bacchus was: and nowe so soone as they bée [Page] borne, the one is gyuen them for a nurse, & the other for a master.

Ye may thank their good edu­cation and the small wisedom of their fathers, which think it a propre thing that a little childe can speake an vn­honest worde, or taste well of wine, and doe not marke the euill to come, whyche they gette thereby, in tea­chyng them suche thyngs: but lette them alone, for they will repente it after when they be older, but lette vs returne to oure talke. Thou muste knowe, that the goodnesse of men, (I speake not onely of it that is re­quired of hym that wyll lyue lyke a Christian, but of that that is con­uenient for man) commeth of loue, the whiche dothe bryng a desire and gladnesse of an others weale.

Thou sayest well, and truely yf men dyd loue one an other, wée shoulde néede no lawe at all, for then there should be no murder, no thefte, no vsurie, no robbyng [...] and till ende [Page 38] we should liue in such a quiet, as here men dyd in the golden age.

So also euilnesse groweth of a contrary to loue, whiche bredeth enuie, and sadnesse for others weale, and therefore yf thou consyderest well, thou shalte fynde, that all ma­ligning men be enuious.

Not only they be enuious, but also foolishe.

Bicause foolishnesse is also an imperfection of man, and not being ruled with a good minde, produ­ceth infinite euill effects, and bicause fooles cannot purchase that riches and those honoures that they woulde by the meane of theyr sufficiencie and vertue, they séeke to procure it by a thousande wayes vniust and vnlau­full, so as they thinke they can doe it closely, and care not for the ruine of other, a thyng so wycked, that e­uen the brute beastes doe abhorre, which, when they wil nedes do euyll [Page] onely with force, where as men she­wing them selues friends, malicious­ly and with a thousand fraudes do de­ceiue one an other euery day.

Oh my soule, thou speakest wisely and truely, and he that wyll sée this thing wel, let him loke among vs artificers, and he shall finde that all the malicious & foolish be enuious.

And so it happeth among the learned, where, as well the foolishe as the euill, doe nothing els, but plucke men from studie, the foolish to be este­med, which they shoulde not, if theyr foolishnesse were knowne, coueryng it onely with reproche, but doing no­thing. The malicious, bycause an o­ther shoulde not ioy that good and that honour, that they thinke they haue.

What way hold they?

They saye, there can not in the world be found a thing more hard than it: and for al that as I sayd vnto thée this other day, bycause to the na­ture of man, there is nothyng so con­uenient, [Page 39] withoute doubte it is the more ease.

In good faith, in good faith, I be­gin to open mine eyes, and to sée that I did not before.

Thou must know that when Letters fynde a man wise and good, they make him more wise and more good: And when they fynde a man a foole, and euill, they make hym more foolish and more euill. Doest thou not see that there haue bene of these lear­ned men, that hauing no regard at al, I wil not say of the law of god, which they ought to esteme aboue al things, but of them selues and of the worlde, to appeare learned, haue written a thousand workes in the hurte and of­fence of other men. I wil not speake of them that beare the signe in theyr forheade of that they be, as the Corti­gian, and the Dialogue of Vsurie, al­though the one be sufficiēt to corrupt the honestie of the Romane. Lucrece, & the other the liberalitie of Alexander [Page] Magnus, but I mean of them that vn­der the shadowe of good, do teache all naughtinesse that can be thoughte, as the boke Of the three Chastities, y^• So­lution of Miracles, which were a good dede to take them from the worlde,

Oh thou sayest truthe, and they that haue the charge oughte to sée, that euery thing were not put in print.

What thing can make thée more assured of this than experience: which if thou markest diligentely, it shall shewe thée, that all lerned men, béeyng good of Nature, séekyng to communicate those good thyngs that God hathe gyuen them, will exhorte all men in suche sorte, as his state and habilitie requireth, to giue him­selfe to vertue: and yf they see a car­penter, they wyll at least encourage hym to the Mathematicalles. As in our dayes that Image of God M. Iu­lian Caruine, (for so wyll I call hym, bycause that so wyllyngly, after the [Page 40] similitude of hym, he doth communi­cate his good thyngs) did to Camerino, the Carpenter, whome he hath made so experte in that facultie, as he per­aduenture is not seconde to anie o­ther that in Latine, or Greeke, (of the whiche he hathe no knoweledge) haue studied in the like Science: and so shoulde exhorte an Apothecarie to study Physicke: and to be shorte, e­uery man to seeke to obtayne those thyngs, whyche they thynke maye be in any thing profitable or honoura­ble to them.

Thou sayst truthe certainely, for I remember, that Mathew Palmer of whome thou spakest yesterday, did neuer other but exhort euery man, of what sort soeuer he wer, to giue him selfe to Vertue, vsyng to saye, that there was suche difference betwéene a man that knoweth somewhat, and hym that knoweth nothyng, as was betwene a painted mā & a mā in dede. [Page] And maister Marcello likewise, which was my neighboure, and a man not onely good, but goodnesse it selfe, to e­uery childe that had asked him his opi­nion of any matter, he woulde haue answered all that he knewe: so desi­rous was he to communicate his ver­tue, alleaging oft that saying of Plato, that one man was borne to healpe an other.

What nede we more? Dyd we not sée this other daye that moste holy and learned olde man, maister Francis Verino, a philosopher so excel­lent, as no man in his age was lyke him, who reading philosophie, and se­ing Captain Cepe sometime come to his lecture, and vnderstode no Latin, he beganne by and by to reade in the vulgar, that he also might vnderstād: and a little before he died, to shew his exceding goodnesse, reading openly in the studie of Florence, the .xij. boke of Aristotle, he dyd expound it in the mo­ther tongue, that all men might vn­derstand [Page 41] it, affirming as S. Paule, that he was debtour to the vnlearned as to the ler­ned.

Such be the good men. But can those things of philosophy be taught in the vulgare toung?

Why not? Is not the vulgarVulgare tongue. toung as apt to vtter hir conceipts, as the Latin and other?

I haue (as thou knowest) no great knowledge in those things, and therfore I cannot aunswere thée, but I heare of the learned of our time, that they can not.

Iust, this is one of the things which enuy maketh them speake, but it will not be long, (thanks be giuen to our most noble Duke, who continuing to exalt hir as he hath begoon) ere those spectacles shal be taken from our eyes, that make euery thing séeme yelow: neuerthelesse, men myght haue séene cléere inough a good while since, if they had wel considered the writing of frier Ierome of Ferrara, who wrote in this [Page] our tongue the moste high and hardest things of philosophy, no lesse easly and perfectly than any writer of the Latin tongue.

Was not this frier Ierome a Florentine?

He was, & consider how much it holpe him to come and dwell in Flo­rence, (I meane for the tongue) which was such as euery man may know the difference that is betwene the thyngs he wrote before and since.

That I know not, but I haue heard that without grammer a man is not learned.

A Notarie can not be without grammer, and yet it is Coccoribus grā ­mer that endes euery word in a conso­nant: but let vs leaue th [...]se trifles, grā ­mer or to speake better, the Latin is a tongue, and tongues be not they that make men learned, but vnderstanding and science, for otherwise it should fo­lowe, that the Iew that is a goldsmith at Pecors corner, which can speke eight [Page 42] or tenne tongues, shold be the best ler­ned in Florence, and the Starling that was giuen to the Pope Leo, should be better lerned than these that haue on­ly the Latine, bicause he could say good day, and many other things both in Gréeke and Latin.

Ah, ah, thou art disposed to dally: this Starling knew not what he sayd, but did only speake what he was taught.

Thou makest good my word, that the things and not the tongues make men learned: and although they be signified by tongs, yet he that onely vnderstands the wordes, shall neuer be learned: tell me if this proposition of Aristotle were spoken to me (Euery thyng, euery Arte, and euery Disci­pline desyreth that that is good) in vul­gare, and I vnderstande it, what néede haue I to haue it spoken in Gréeke or in Latin?

I can not tell, but they say so.

Let them say their pleasure, but this is truth, and I wyll tell thée more, that the vnderstanding of things is not sufficient to make a man lerned, but hath néede also of iudgement.

This I beleue well, for I haue séene in my dayes many learned men fooles, which haue not ben worth two handful of nuttes, and yet haue studied inough: and I remember amongst other one Michell Marullo, which was one of those Grecians that fledde from the losse of Constantinople, & was very well learned, as men sayde, and yet he was a fonde foolish man, wherfore one day one Bino Corrierie his companion said thus merily to him. M. Michell, men say you are very skilful in gram­mer, and in gréeke, it may wel be, for I vnderstande nothing that way, but in vulgare, me think you are a very foole.

Sée, howe thou by little and little beginnest to sée light, I say vnto thée, that they say [...]o only for enuy, and wilt thou sée it? now that they sée that [Page 43] Latin letters be made somewhat more vulgare than they were wont, they be­gin to say, that he that knoweth not Gréeke, knowes nothing, as if the spi­rites of Aristotle and of Plato (as that honest Cortigian sayd) were shut in an alphabet of Gréeke, as in a glasse, and a man learning it, might drinke at one draught as he doth a sirupe.

Truely thou sayst trueth, and they say so.

Then what will they doe fife­tene or twenty yeres hence, when the Gréeke toung shal be also as common, to so many at this day studying it? then they shalbe forced to runne to another, and for example to say, he that knowes not the Hebrew, knowes nothing, and so from one tongue to an other, and in thend be driuen to come to the Biskay tongue, from whence they can goe no farther.

Why so?

Bicause that tongue can not be learned nor spoken but of them that [Page] be borne in that countrey: but I can say vnto thée, that they must doe other things like vnto these, if they will be counted learned: for now men begin to doe as children doe, that haue no more feare of Robin good fellowe.

What meane you by that?

I meane, it wil not serue now a dayes, to say I haue ben at study, or at the Vniuersitie, for men care not, till they sée an experience therof.

I heare of certayne yong men that haue begon a certayn Achademia, onely that men by that experience may gyue some proofe of themselues.

And thou séest howe they re­pine at it, and bicause they sée some man well lyked, of whom before was no name, they begin to finde fault, and affirme that it will hinder the reputa­tion of good letters, and that men only study for a shewe, and in the ende it shall be as Burchiell sayth.

What a diuel haue these silke worms [Page 44] in their bodyes, that alwayes eate leaues and deliuer silke?

This Achademia, hath done to the learned, as the siege dyd to the braue, for where at the fyrste it was inoughe to saye he was braue, and euery man had feare of hym, nowe no man cares for such shadowes, in so much as a lyttle chylde, if he haue dis­pleasure done him, wyll not be afrayde with a knife to strike a souldier: and of this more than one example hath ben séene.

Thou haste sayde truely Iust, and though these that giue not them selues altogether to studye, can not excéede them that be so learned, yet they discouer them, and cause that they can not now féede men with emp­ty spoones, as it was once sayde to one of them, as they coulde doe, and haue done to thys day: and in déede it was a gaye thyng sor them, that when they didde saye, it is so, euery [Page] man must agre to their word, as Pitha­goras disciples did: but nowe they must shew wherfore and why, if they will be beleued: but let them alone. I say vnto thée, that this opening of eyes which this Achademia hath done to men, is Triacle for them.

And doest thou beleue in déede that they that fauour this trade, shal be able to bring to perfection in time the sciences in our toung, as they say they desire?

For their sufficiency, I dare say vnto thée, I know many very apt, and I beleue when so euer they will, shal be able to doe it wel, as already no smal tokens be shewd, but as touching the aptnesse of our tong to receiue thē perfectly, I speake vnto thée resolutely, that our tongue is most perfect and apt to expresse any maner conceit of philo­sophy or astrology, or any other sciēce, and as wel as in Latin, and peraduen­ture in Gréeke, of the which they make so great a bragge, for I remember that [Page 45] M. Constantine Lastari, that Grecian of the which men of our age make so great a vaunt, vsed to say in the gar­din of Rucellai at the table, wher many gentlemen were present, of the whych peraduenture some be yet aliue, that he knewe Boccace not to be inferiour to any Gréeke writer for his eloquence & maner of speaking, & that he did esteme his hundred tales as much as an hun­dred of these Poets.

What dost thou tel me? I wold not for all that, thou shouldest make me beleue a thing, which should make me be laughed at of the people if I shold speake it, and yet I know many honest men that doe finde fault with thys our tongue.

Who be they?

They say Trissine is one.

That is not so, but rather sée­meth so pleasant vnto him, as he wold robbe it, and though it be proper Flo­rentine, as Boccace saith, to haue a part in it, he would make it Italian or Corti­gian, [Page] to be called.

I haue not reade, nor hearde reasoned by chance, as of the other that makes the Dialogue of tongues. in the which they say, this is so much repro­ued: and what say you to that?

I saye he reproueth it not, but rather honour it: but truth it is, he maketh one to speake those thinges which they doe that reproue it.

That is well, doest thou not thinke he speaketh it to that purpose? Mahomet whē he toke the vse of wine from his men, that they should not wax of greater corage and better wit, wher­by they mighte forsake his lawe, he made them beleue the Aungell Gabriel did speake it: but if he did it to prayse it, why doth he not aunswere to those things?

I will tell thée, to one parte he aunswereth not, bicause it is not worth the aunswering, as when they say, that this tongue is nothing worth, bicause it is the corruption of the La­tin [Page 46] tongue, for all may sée many times that of the corruption of one thing, ri­seth the generation of a better thing, as in the generation of man: and what wilte thou say to him that sayeth, that this consonance that is in our tongue, is lyke the harmonie or musycke of drummes, or rather of harquebusshes or [...]alconets.

And should he not answere to that?

No, for as thy Dante sayth, he should be no lesse a foole to answere him that would aske if there were fire in the house, where the flame wente out at the window, than he that asketh the question. And beside, Trissine doth answere sufficiently to this in his boke which he made of Poetrie, where he sheweth what maruellous Art is foūd in our verses.

Me thynketh thou sayest truth, but take thou héede that loue doe not deceyue thée, as it doeth the [Page] most part of men in their own things.

I doe not deny but that loue doth much, but tell me howe coulde it come to passe, that it is now so estemed in euery court, as euery man endeuo­reth to write in it, the moste & best that he can, but of the selfe goodnesse & mar­uelous beauty.

I beleue as thou sayest, but wherin standeth the betternesse of it?

In verse, by many very rea­sonably, but in prose, by few, and much lesse than in verse.

In this thou makest me maruel much, for I would haue beleued, that men doe better that thing which they do oft, and that is to speake in prose, & not in verse: but what is the occasion of it?

I wil tel thée, and note it wel. The beauty and grace of the tongue, procedeth not only of the words, but in the knitting & placing them together: and he that will sée, as in a glasse, what this second parte well vsed can doe, let [Page 47] him conferre with the writings of the Florentines, & with other writings that be not Tuscanes, and he shall finde (if he hath eares) the swéetnesse that vniuer­sally is in the clauses of this, & the hardnesse that is in other: sand this order & facilitie can not be obserued & kepte in verses, bicause of the measure, the soūd and the rime, and yet it séemeth to men agreing in certayne particuler lawes, they can more equally méete in a way of composition, & so better make verse than prose.

Of this I can gyue no iudge­ment, although I haue read Dant, but this I can say, that I haue straight knowne a man by his pronunciation whither he be a Florētine or no, though he forceth him selfe to speake neuer so well.

No doubt of that, and be cer­taine of this also, that if thou markest well, thou shalt knowe whither one be borne, or brought vp in Florence city or in the countrey, for they haue cōmon­ly [Page] a certayn rude pronunciation, & can not leaue it without some difficultie.

That I thinke makes no mat­ter, for he that is of the cuntrey, is cal­led and speaketh Florentine.

Maketh it no matter? rather is ther great difference, if it be not hol­pen by good vse.

What is it thou saist? was not Boccace of Certaldo, and yet one of the most famous Florentine writers?

His auncesters were whereof his house alwaies kepte the name, but not he: & if thou beleuest me not, reade the booke which he made of Flouds, where speaking of Elsa, he saith it is at the foote of Certaldo, sometime the cun­trey of his auncesters, before that Flo­rence did recouer them for Citizens.

Then the tongue of which is made so great accompte, is Florentine proper.

Who doubteth therof? doth not Lodouico Martello proue it wel in his aunswere, which he made to Tris­sinc? [Page 48] And know that who is not borne & brought vp in Florence, do not learne it perfectly: and of this it commeth that many dispayring to speake or write it well, haue entred to speake euil and to reproue it, and I thinke it hath hapned to them, as did to a great master of our time touching the poet Dante.

What was that?

I wil tel thée. He coueting to be compted chiefe in our tong, and bele­uing he iusted as well as our Petrarke, he prayseth him maruelously, so thin­king to praise himselfe, but perceiuing after. (as he is very witty) that he can not come nigh to Dante by no way, be­ing driuen by Enuie, he did what he could to disprayse him.

Then he did, as they say, she Counte of Mirandola and Fryer Ierome did, the one of the which, fyn­dyng by Astronomy he shoulde die a younge man, and the other by the handes of Iustice, they began to be­leue it was not true, and so both spake [Page] and wrote euill of it, but marke, for I remember, he blameth that only in the tongue, the which neyther he nor none of y^e other wold haue done, if they had considered in what termes he found it in his time, & that he, taking the myre from it, gaue more helpe vnto it, than peraduenture Petrarke did, bringing it to such a perfection.

That should be well also to cōsider in sciences, saying, that he only to shew him selfe a master, in them had made such Poetry, as might be resem­bled to a great fielde full of many wilde herbs, & a thousand other things more immodest and vnhonest, that I maruel, that though it were true, he would not holde his peace, for the reuerence of so great a clerke.

If he were not a great master as thou sayest, and so should speake of Dante, I would say he were presump­tuous.

Say it boldly, séeing he spea­keth it wythout respecte of Daut, to [Page 49] whome he is more inferiour than art thou to him, if we will not now mea­sure the perfection of man, by the fa­uour of Fortune, as many do now a dayes: but let him alone, for he hath nowe the pen in hande, that shewing the greatnesse and the beautie of this Poet, shal discouer eyther the rashe­nesse, the foolishnesse, or the enuie of hym.

And he shall doe very well, for he that is enuious, deserueth none o­ther but to be chased and fled of eue­ry man, euen as a wylde beast.

Thou speakest like a Philo­sopher Iust, for enuie is it that more hurteth the societie of man, than any other thing, and the worse effectes it bryngeth forth, as it is in men more wyttie and learned: But nowe the Sunne is high, I will that thou rise, and goe to thy worke, and an other time we will reason of this more at the full.

The .v. Reasoning. IVST. SOVLE.

IS this the bell at S. Crosse? it is so. O it is to long afore day to rise:

These Graye Friers haue this cu­stome to ryng to Matens about myd­nyghte, when a man is in hys beste sléepe: although to them, that goe to roust as hennes do, it is small griefe, & yet vniuersally it makes a demon­stration of no small disease, it shall be wel to slepe agayn a while, although the tyme that is slepte is as lost, yea, is litle lesse than as a man were dead, therefore it shall be better to ryse. But what shall I doe then? it is so long tyll Sunne ryse, that I shall be weary: But I may proue if my soule wyll talke with me, althoughe I be­gynne to doubt, if I followe on, shée wyll make me a foole: and it is not to [Page 50] be laughed at: for all they that waxe madde, be madde in soule and body: and so shall thys myne make mée, if I doe beleeue hir too muche. Beholde, shée hath begonne to tell mée, that a man may be wise, and learned, with­out knowledge of y^• Latin or Greeke tongue: whiche is a thyng, that yf I shoulde speake among the learned of oure dayes, I shoulde be wondred at, as an Owle: As for mée, I neuer heard a man could be wise in vulgar, but a foole well inough: and I neuer sawe man, of whome any greate ac­compte was made, yf hée knowe not some parte of Grammer, so as I wyll not thus beleue it. And peraduenture I haue not vnderstanded hir wel, and therefore it shall be well to sée, yf she wil reson with me a while: and I wil aske hir the question. My soule, Oh my deare Soule, shall we talke a lit­tle thys mornyng?

Yea, I pray thée Iust, and I haue no greatter pleasure than that: [Page] for whiles I stande gathered into my selfe to talke with thée, I am not oc­cupied in those vile and base conceits, which thou hast the more part of time nor néede not minister to thy senses and strength in making thy pattens and barelles.

I do not maruell thereat, for I my selfe doe labour very vnwillyng­ly, and nothing is more grieuous vn­to mee: and were it not that cursed force doth cause me, I woulde neuer worke stroke.

What wouldest thou do, liue and be always in Idlenesse?

No, but I woulde bestow the time in some thing that shold delight me, where as to worke is paine and trouble to me.

Then think what it is to me being much more contrary to my na­ture than to thine.

I knowe not that: I sée that God, after man had sinned, mynding to giue him part of penance, as he had [Page 51] done the woman in trauailyng with paine, sayd vnto him: Thou shalt eate thy bread in the sweate of thy face▪ gi­uing him labor, for y^• greuousest and troublesome thing he could giue him.

Ah, ah, sée, sée, howe by litle & litle thou commest to mine opinion: Thou didst maruell when I sayd vn­to thée the last day, that it was more paine to a man to make a paire of pa­tens, than to study halfe Aristotle: the reason thy selfe haste shewed: for to studie, is naturall and propre to mā, and leades him to his perfection: and to labour, is a penance.

Yea mā must haue also to liue.

That is true: But all is to be content of that which is necessary, and not to séeke superfluitie, whiche bringeth a thousande vnprofitable ca­res to man, and kepes hym alwayes occupied in the earthe, and neuer lets hym hold vp his head to heauen, from whence his soule came first, and whe­ther she desireth to returne: & know [Page] Iust, that the greatest good and profi­table thyng to man in this life, is to acquainte hym selfe with thyngs as they come, and content him self with a litle: for he that so doth, liueth with small care, and is mery the most part of his time, if not all.

I beléeue it certainely: for I proued it in my selfe, howe profitable it hath ben to me, to content me with that I haue, measuring my will with my fortune, and if I woulde haue ly­ued or clothed me better, I must née­des haue done some vnhonest thyng, or gone and dwelt with other.

It were euyll for great men Iust, if all men were of that wil: for they then must serue them selues: by­cause it is nothyng but immoderate desire, eyther of dignitie, or of diete to eate and drinke delicately, or to be clad sumptuously, that causeth that a mā which reasonably might liue thrée score yeares (in ten or twelue of the which, he knoweth not what he doth, [Page 52] and of the rest hée sléepeth the halfe) selleth those fewe that he lyueth, ly­uyng in seruitude, for a little price: Whiche thing that wise Philosopher Diogenes woulde not doe, to whome Alexander the greate, sayde: That he shoulde aske what he woulde, and it shoulde bée gyuen hym. Hée aun­swered: Thoughe he were poore, he lacked nothing, but required hym to stand aside, bicause he toke the Sunne from him, that was not in his power to gyue hym.

Certainly to depend of himself is a goodly thing, and to be a friend to lordes, but not a slaue, honoryng and obeying them neuerthelesse, as them that holde in earth the place of God: and when a man wyll aduaunce hym­selfe, he oughte to doe it with Ver­tue, and not with seruice, thynking neuerthelesse, that in euery state he shall lacke somewhat.

Then cōplain not of thine, & know certēly, ther is no state in this [Page] worlde, but hath some discommoditie and some thing that displeaseth, and none can be found as thou haste sayd, but that lacketh somewhat.

Wyth this reason woulde I once proue vnto a friend of mine that all the states of men, were alike, and I told him that euery one lacked som­what, which chiefly he desired: as for example: The lame desireth to bée sounde, that he might get his liuyng and not go a begging. He that is hole and hath nothyng, to haue somewhat to lyue, that hée needeth not labour: and he that hath to liue sufficiently, to gette so muche as he myght kepe an horse and a boy: and he that hath that, to get a dignitie, or a gretnesse aboue other, and then to be a Prince, and be­ing a prince, neuer to die.

Then do not thou lamente though thou labourest a litle, seing e­uery man lackes somewhat.

To labour a little were a ple­sure, but always, as I do that haue li­tle [Page 53] or nothing, is a despight.

Marke, thou doest as other do: but tell me, what wouldest thou haue, what wantest thou?

Swéete Ducates of reuenue, and then I should liue well.

And when thou haddest that, thou shouldest then lacke somewhat, and desire it, as thou dost this, bicause as thou hast sayde of thy selfe, in eue­ry state ther lacketh some thing, thin­king when thou hast it, thou woldest be content, and yet when thou haste it, thou arte not content, but begyn­nest to desire an other: So as once a Citizen of oures sayde wisely, to one that was entred into greate disorder, to bie a piece of grounde that lay next him: Thou muste thinke, thou muste haue neighbours, and when thou hast bought this, thou shalt haue an other neighbour, of whome thou wilt haue the like desire.

I beleue certainly, that there is care in euery state but more in one [Page] than in an other.

And is not thine one of them that so hath, and of the greater?

It is, seyng I must onely liue by my worke, which (as I sayd afore) was put to man for penaunce of hys synnes.

Yea, to them y^t haue their wil­les disordinate, & be not contēt with y^t is conueniēt to their state, as Adā had when this hapned to hym. But to him that directeth paciētly his way in this life to that he is called, it chaunceth not so. What swéeter thyng can be, than to liue with the trauel of his hā ­des? So that Dauid y^• Prophet, which was also a King, as thou knowest, did call such like, blessed. And know this for a cōclusion, the more a man hath, the more care he must take: and it is greater and paynfuller pensiuenesse, to rule superfluous things to him, thā is the swetenesse to possesse them, and the more seruantes and labourers he hath, the more enimies he hathe, as [Page 54] that philosopher sayde well. But let vs leaue these matters, in the whiche me thinke we haue sayde inough: let vs turne a litle to them of yesterday, which we left vnperfect, bicause thou doubtedst before, y^t if thou beleuedst me, I should make thée a fole, as though y^u hadst not thy part as well as other.

Take this too, if it please thée: wilt thou say that euery one is a foole?

A foole? no: but that euery man thinketh so.

Oh that is al one.

Know Iust, that euery man hath a brāch, & be thou sure, y^t one gre­ter thā an other: but this is y^• differēce of y^t wise & y^• foolish, y^• the wise carieth it couered, & the fooles carie it open in their handes that euery man seeth it.

Ah, thou art disposed.

Be cōtent, I wil proue it thée in thy self: how many times hast thou walked in thy house, setting thy féete in the mids of the pauing tyles seking w^t great diligēce not to touch y^• ends?

Oh▪ a thousande tymes, and haue bene about from my window to tell how many runne by, and to doe dyuers other childish things.

Then tel me, if thou haddest so done abroade, woulde not the chyl­dren haue runne aboute thée, as they doe about fooles?

By my faith thou sayst truth, and I will no more denye, but that I also haue my fondnesse: and now doe I thynke that Prouerbe moste true, which I haue oft hearde spoken, that if foolishnesse were a paine, we should heare groning in euery house.

I will tell thée more, thou shalte finde fewe men in the worlde, that haue lefte any fame, but if thou dost consider their life, they haue born their braunch vncouered: but bycause it hathe to them come well to passe, they haue bene praised, but I wil not we talke any more of this. Lette vs turne to our reasoning, tell me howe thou that hast no Grammer, nor hast [Page 55] studied, diddest knowe, that laboure was giuen of God, to our first fathers for a penance & punishment for theyr disobedience.

Oh, dost not thou knowe, that so ofte hast redde with me the Bible, which I haue?

How dost thou vnderstand it?

Why should I not vnderstand it, knowest thou not, that it is in vulgare?

Yes. I know.

Then why doest thou ask me.

To make thée confesse that thou hast spoken, that if sciences and the scripture were in the vulgar, thou shouldest vnderstande them.

Yea, as touching the words, but to pierce to y^e sense, is an other mater.

It is inough, that thou shoul­dest haue no difficultie in vnderstan­dyng the wordes, but onely in the in­telligēce of the sense, which they haue also, that reade it in Greke or Latin: for thou mayst not beleue, that by vn­derstanding [Page] a tong, al authors be vn­derstanded, and all sciences that be in the same: for to do that, there is néede of some schoolemaisters and interpre­ters, and yet with great difficultie be vnderstanded: and the like shold come if they were in vulgare. But now it is inough for me that thou knowest, that it is not tongues that make the learned men, but Science.

Therefore a man can not bée learned, vnlesse hée vnderstande the Latin tongue, wherein they be all written: what wilte thou learne in ours?

Thanke the Romaines that haue translated, if the Latin tongue be riche, and blame the Toscanes, that haue not cared for theirs, if theirs bée poore.

All is, if the faulte commeth of the tongue, that it is not so copious of wordes, as men can write in it.

Newe wordes be made, and brought to vse as things require.

What? Is it lawfull to make newe wordes in a tongue?

Yea, in them that be not dead, and of them onely, of whiche they be propre.

Which callest thou dead?

Those whiche be not spoken naturally in no place, as at this day, the Latin and the Greeke, and in our tongue, it is not lawful to make new words to them that be not propre and natiue vnto it.

Why, is it not lawful to those strangers that knowes it?

Bicause it not being to them naturall, they can not make them so, as they shall haue grace. Marke well suche as in our tongue, of some nowe a dayes haue bene deuised.

Then thou iudgest it is none errour to make them in our tongue?

Not of hym that speaketh it naturally, rather were it laudable. Tell me, doest thou thyncke that eyther the Gréeke, or Latine tongue, [Page] were so perfect and plentifull of wor­des at the beginning as they were af­ter when they flourished with so wor­thy writers?

I beleue it not.

Be thou wel assured: for there is none of these things that be exerci­sed of vs, that was in the beginnyng perfectly produced of nature, or found out of arte: for if that could be done, the one of them shoulde be in vaine: for if Nature broughte forthe euery thing perfect, we should haue no nede of Arte: and if Arte of hir self coulde make them perfect, we should haue no nede of Nature. Dyd not Cicero and Boetio, make new wordes when they would put philosophie and Logike in the Latin tongue?

Dyd they borow them of other nations?

Be thou sure they did.

And of whome?

Of the Grekes, and the Gre­kes of the Hebrues, and the Hebrues [Page 57] of the Egiptians. Haste thou not heard that nothing can be sayd, but that hath ben sayd before? but the Romanes be­ing other men, and of other iudgement than be now the Toscanes, louing more their owne things (as reason is) than others, did study only straunge tongs, to gather out of them that was good to enrich their owne.

Truly in this me thinke they were worthy praise.

Search all the aūcient things, and thou shalte sée that there be fewe Romanes that wrote in Gréeke, as our Toscanes do in latin, which is not their tongue, and for al their doing, it is wel knowne, that tha [...] puritie is not séene in their writings, which is séene in the stile of proper Latines.

In this they deserue to be excu­sed, it not being their proper tongue as thou sayst.

Rather they deserue to be dou­ble blamed. Dost thou remember thou hast heard, that when M. Cato did read [Page] certayn things of Albino the Romane, written in Gréeke, and finding that in the beginning he did excuse him selfe, that they were not written with that elegancie that they ought, bicause he was a citizen of Rome and borne in Ita­lie, and a straunger to the Gréeke tong, he did not only excuse him, but laughed at him, saying: Oh Albino, thou hadst rather aske pardon of an errour done, than not doe it.

Truly these reasons be so good, that I for me can say nothyng against them.

Sée how the Romanes did séeke to enrich theyr tongue, and thought to bryng no lesse noble fame by this, than by conquering to theyr Empyre some Citie or Kingdome: and that thys is true, reade the Proeme that Boetius makes in his translation of Aristotles Predicamentes, where he sayth: that being a man of Counsell, and not apt to warre, he woulde labour to instructe his countrey men wyth doctrine, and [Page 58] that he hoped to deserue no lesse, nor be no lesse profitable vnto them, by teachyng them the Arte of Gréeke sa­pience, than they whych wyth force and valiauntnesse, haue subdued some Citie or Prouince to the Romane Em­pire.

O mindes and thoughtes, holy in déede, and wordes worthy a citizen of Rome: for the very office of a citizen is alwaies to helpe his countrey as much as he can, to the which we be no lesse bound, than to our fathers and mothers.

And therefore at this day is theyr tongue hadde in so greate estima­tion, for that it is so full of good Scien­ces, as he that wyll obtayne them must néedes fyrste learne it: where, if our Toscanes woulde translate likewise the same, to them that would learne them, they shoulde not néede to spende foure or sixe of their first best yeares to learne a tongue▪ that they might by the meane [Page] therof passe to the sciences, which other wise might he had with more ease and more surety: for thou must know this, that we neuer learne a straunge tong to possesse it well, as we do our proper: and likewise a man speaketh not so as­suredly, nor with such facility: & if thou beleuest not me, marke them whō thou knowest study the Latine tongue, that when they would speake in it, it séemes they beg, they vtter their words with such difficultie, and speake so leisurely.

Thou saist truth, but this way of the Romanes was very good, to tran­slate into their tongue so many goodly things, that he that will vnderstande them, must be forced to learn the tong, and so was dispersed throughout the world.

They did not onely this, but whiles they were Lordes of the world, they caused it to be learned of the most part of their subiects by force.

And what did they?

They had made a law, that no [Page 59] Embassador shold be heard, vnlesse he spake Latin: & besides, all causes that were hearde in all Prouinces vnder their gouernment, and al processe, was written in the Latin tongue: wherfore all the noble men of euery cuntrey, and all the aduocates and attorneys were forced to learne the tongue.

I doe not maruel though Rome became so great, if they vsed this way in other things.

Of this I will not reason, for the goodly things that they got of al the world, doe make cléere testimonie to all that consider it.

O custome very laudable, O ci­tizens very louers of their countrey.

This custome, Iust, was not only of the Romanes, but of al other na­tions: Séeke as much as thou wilt, and thou shalt neuer finde that any Hebrue hath written in Egipt tong, nor Greeke in Hebrue, nor Latin (as I haue sayd) in Greeke, and if there be any, they be very fewe.

Wher then haue these Toscanes gotten this vse, to write in Gramer as thou speakest?

Of their inordinate loue of themselues, and not of their countrey, or of their tongue, for so doing, they haue thought to be taken the more ler­ned.

They do as the Phisitian that Iones had, which to séeme the more ler­ned, did ordaine certaine receipts wyth certain names out of vse, that made me to maruell: among the which I remē ­ber one morning, that he made me a re­ceipt, for the impostume that thou kno­west I had: where amongst certayne other things, one was called Rob, an other Tartaro, and an other Altea: so as I thought I must haue sent into the new found Ilands for an Interpreter: and when it came to passe, the one was Sope, the other Lées of a vessell, and the third M [...]owes.

Oh thou hast sayd well Iust, and if thou considerest well, this world [Page 60] is nothing else but a confusion: yet if the Toscanes woulde endeuour them to translate sciences into theyr tongue, I haue no doubt at all, but in shorte time it should come into greater reputation than it is, for it is séene that it pleaseth much, and is this day much vnderstan­ded and desired, and this cometh onely for naturall beauty and goodnesse of it, the which thing straungers not know­ing, many times going about to pullish it, do blemish it, and so it comes proper­ly to passe to hir as doth to a woman, which thinking to make hir selfe faire wyth painting, doth vtterly destroy hir selfe.

How can that be?

I will tell thée, whiles they séeke to make it more beautifull, and make the clauses like to the Latin, they destroy the facilitie and naturall order of it, in the which consists the beauty: and besides, they will take some words vsed of Boccace or Petrark very seldom, the whych they thyncke the goodlyer, [Page] bicause they be seldome vsed of them, & bicause they haue not by nature the true signification, nor the true sound in the eare, they put them in euery place, and many times out of purpose, and so they hurt the naturall beauty therof.

I doubt if they cannot inunitate other, it might not be sayde to them, as one Pippo said to Francis di Loma, who thinking to excuse him selfe of a crosse­beame which he had made in the galle­rie of the Innocentes, which bowed to­ward the earth, saying he had taken it out of S. Iohns Temple, he aunswered, thou hast counterfaited only the worst of it: but if the tong be of such perfecti­on as thou sayst, wherof comes it, that many of these lerned, do blame so much them, that translate any thing?

With what reason?

They say the tong is not apt, nor worthy, that such things should be translated into it, and that it taketh frō them the reputation, and much emba­seth them.

All tongues, by the reasons ITranslation in vulgare. haue shewed thée before, be apt to vtter theyr conceit, and the businesse of them that speake, and if it were otherwise, they that vse them, make them so: ther­fore alleage not this excuse, for it is no­thing worth.

What cause then can moue them to say, that things translated into the vulgare, be abased and lose theyr reputation.

That which I tolde thée this other day, which was the occasion of so many other euils, euen the wicked en­nie and desire they haue to be compted more than other.

Surely I beleue thou saist truth, for I remember me, that being one day among these learned folke, and one of them shewing that Bernard Segne had trāslated; Aristotles Rhetorike into the bulgare, one sayde he had done a great euill, and being asked why, he answe­red, it was not méete that euery vulgar should vnderstand that, which an other [Page] with great trauayle, hadde learned in many yeares, in Latine and Gréeke bookes.

O wordes inconuenient, I wyll not say onely to a Christian, but to a man, knowing how much we are bound to loue one an other, & more to y^e soule than to the body, to whō no grea­ter good can be done, than to make easy the way of vnderstanding.

But softe a while, I remember they say an other thing.

What?

They say that the things that be translated out of one tongue into an other, neuer haue the force nor grace that they haue in their owne.

They haue not that in theyr owne that they haue in other, for euery tongue hath hir fynesse and delicacie, & peraduenture the Toscane more than an other: and he that wyll sée it, let him reade Dante or Petrarke, where they haue spoken of any thing that was be­fore spokē of a Latin or Gréeke Poet, [Page 62] and he shall sée they passe hym farre, and that in fewe thyngs they be infe­riour.

But in translations they muste haue more regarde to the sense, than to the wordes.

I know they translate, by rea­son of science, and not to sée the force or the beauty of the tongs: and if it were not so, the Romanes that thought theyr tongue the fayrest in the world, would not haue translated the feates of Mago of Carthage, into their tongue, nor tho Grecians that were so proude and vayn glorious of theirs, (calling all the reste barbarous) the Egiptians and the Chal­deis workes: Neuerthelesse in transla­ting, beside that a man ought to be faith full, he must séeke to speake the wordes as ornately as he can. Therefore it is necessary to him that translateth, to know well the one tong and the other, and then to possesse well the things or Sciences that be translated, that he [Page] may vtter them well and pleasantly ac­cording to the nature of the tong, for if a man will tell the things of one tong, with the maner of an other tongue, it hath no grace at al: and if this were ob­serued, translating perhaps should not be so much blamed.

They say further, that they doe contrary to the authors intent.

How can that be? séeing who soeuer writes, he doth it for none other purpose, but that his things being pre­serued by letters, and not los [...]e by voy­ces, might be vnderstanded of all the world.

Then thou thinkst that to tran­slate sciences in our tong is good.

Yea, I affirme nothing can be more profitable nor laudable, bicause the greater parte of errours, cōmeth of ignorance, and princes ought to regard it, bicause thei be fathers of the people: and to a father appertaineth not onely to gouern his children, but also to teach them and correct them, and if they will [Page 63] not do this in euery thing, at least they ought to doe it in necessary things.

And which be they?

The lawes, as well diuine as humaine.

What profit should that bring to men?

What profit? how much more should they be louers and defenders ofGods lavve in vulgar. christian religion, if it were begon to be read of children, and from hand to hand exercised in the same, as the Hebrues do, which thing they can not do, not ha­uing them translated and well placed in the vulgare?

It is no maruell though the Hebrues do all so well know to speake of things of their law, and a shame it is to christians which teach their children to read eyther matters of marchandise or other things wherof no good is to be gotten, wher they ought to teach them firste what appertaines to a christian,Seruice in vulgar. knowing that those things which be learned in the first yeres, be euer more [Page] than other kept in memorie.

And beside this, with howe much more reuerence and attention shold we stande at seruice, if we did vn­derstand what is said?

Truly it is so.

Tell me with what deuotion, or what minde do men praise God, not vnderstāding what they say? thou kno­west wel the talke of Children and Po­peniayes is not called a spéech, but an imitation of a sound only, bicause they vnderstand not what they say (for spéech is properly to expresse words, that may signify the conceit and the meaning of him that speaketh) wherefore our rea­ding or singing of psalmes, not vnder­standing what we say, is lyke the tat­ling of Children, or the babling of Po­peniayes. And I know no religion but ours, that kepes this forme: for y^• He­brues praise God in Hebrue, the Greeks in Greeke, the Latines in Latin, the Sclauonians in Sclauony: thanks be to S. Ierome that translated euery thing in [Page 64] their tong, as a very louer of his cūtrey.

Surely my Soule, this thy opi­nion pleaseth me much.

It may please thée, for it is S. Paules, who writeth to the Corinthians, that they ought to say their Seruice in Hebrue. Howe shall an ignorant say Amen vpon your blessing, if he vnder­stand not what is said? and what fruite shall he euer get?

Wherof cometh it then y^• when these things were first taken out of He­brue▪ they were not put into y^e vulgar?

Bicause then for the confusion of many barbarous nations that were that time in Italy, ther was none other tongue but Latine, which was vnder­stand through out: & marke that there is found no writing in that time, of ho­ly things, but in that tongue: and let this suffise for the lawes of God. Now lette vs come to mans: if they be those that muste rule men, and after whose precept we ought to lyue, why are they in a tongue that fewe do vnderstand? [Page] The Romanes that made so many, and had so many of the Greekes, they made them in none other tongue but in their owne. And likewise, Licurgus and So­lon and others, that gaue lawes to all Greece, made them in none other tong, but in that the people vsed.

If this be so necessary a thing as thou sayst, what meaneth it, that as well holy as ciuill lawes be not transla­ted into vulgar.

The couetousnesse of priestesCouetise of Priestes and Fryers. and friers, to whom the portion of the tenthes, which God by law hath ordey­ned for them, not being sufficient, desi­ring to liue so sumptuously as they doe, doth hide them, and sell them by little and little, as they say, by inch, and yet as they list, bicause they will afray men with a thousand threatnings, which do not so sounde in the law as they inter­prete, so as they haue got from the poore seculers, more than the one half of that they haue.

Ah this is a fault which I think [Page 65] is not only to be giuen to priests, but to euery one, for there is no man that thinkes vpon other thyng, but to get money from an others bagge, and put it into his: but it is true, that priests Friers and notaries that doe it with wordes, be more wittie than other.

Alas, it shoulde not come to them so easily, if mē had more know­ledge of Scripture than they haue: and the cause why mans lawe is not translated, is likewise the impietie of many doctors and aduocates, that wil sell common thyngs, and that they might the better do it, they haue foūd this pretie toye, that contractes can not be made in vulgar, but onely in their faire Grammer, which they litle vnderstande, and others lesse. I mar­uell certainly, that men haue suffered such a thing, vnder the which may be wrought so many deceipts.

Though that be not so, yet it wer more profitable, they were done in our tongue: for a man shuld vnder­stand [Page] what he doth, and then witnesse what they haue to testifie, & they shold see them written also, that they toke not the name onely, and then make a long dashe at their pleasure, puttyng to euery worde, Et caetera, which (as I think) is nothing but an hooke, where as men not vnderstāding what they doe, it is inough for them to say yea, & doe not regarde the conditions, that many tymes be comprehended, wher­by doth grow many sutes.

And that is the cause I think why they doe it: and therfore I wyll say this vnto thée: Wée haue no lesse cause to lament of priests and of law­yers, thā haue those Princes subiects, which would sell them water & light.

Of them, I let thée speake as much as thou wilt, but of Friers and Priests I wold not haue thee say euil: for as I haue herd thē say, it becomes not secular men to reprehende them.

Beholde one of the opinions which the worlde beleueth true, by­cause [Page 66] they vnderstād not the holy let­ters: tell me, are not all we the chil­dren of God, and consequentely, the brethren of Christ?

Yes, we be.

And brethren, in that they be brethren, be they not equall?

Yes they be.

Therfore we as christians & children of god, be equal: & to one bro­ther apertaines to reprehēd an other.

That is true: but they haue this dignitie of priesthode that maketh thē more worthy than vs.

What greater dignitie cā be than to be y^• children of God? Wilte thou y^t the lesse light should couer the greater? It is greater dignitie to be a Christian, than a priest, or a Prince,A Christian. which be offices giuē of God, & make men the ministers of GOD. Thou knowest it is more to be the sonne of a prince, than his minister.

Then am I more than y^e pope.

Not so: for first he is a christiā [Page] as thou art, in y^t which you be equall, then bicause he is chosen to be a mini­ster vnder God, one waye he is more than thou: but for al this, it is not pro­hibited thée, to reprehende the errors that he doth and cōmitteth, as a man and as a christian, so thou dost it with that reuerence that charitie teacheth. And that this is true, thou hast exam­ple of sainct Paule the Apostle, which sayth: He reproued Peter, that was his greater, bicause he was worthy of it.

Of truth this thy opinion doth not displease me, but I wil not speke it: for besyde their authoritie, they haue also force, and defend themselues with armes, séeing their excommuni­cations will no longer serue them, as in the primitiue churche, where when they dyd excommunicate any, sodenly eyther he fell deade, or was caried a­way with deuyls.

Surely, if they had not other armure than their maledictions; a mā might doe with them, as the souldier [Page 67] which haning takē from a Frier half a piece of cloth, which he had begged, and the Frier thretning hym he wold require it againe at the day of Iudge­ment, he toke al the rest, saying: Se­ing I haue so long a day of payment, I will haue this too?

Alas, why can they not do mi­racles as they haue done?

Wel said sainct Thomas of A­quine, when Pope Innocēt had a moū ­tain of money afore him, and shewed it him, saying: Thou séest Thomas, the church can no more say now, Argen­tum & aurum non est mihi, he aunswe­redThomas of Aquine to Pope Inno­cent. no: neither Surge, & ambula.

O my soule, thou knowest so many things, that certainly thou ma­kest me maruell, and thou art muche wiser and learned than I tooke thée. But tell me, couldest thou haue kno­wen them without me? for thou hast said vnto me, that we be al one thing, and whiles thou art vnited with me, thou canst not worke but in me.

O Iust, this wold be too long, and I will we deferre it till an other time, for it is now day, and time thou goest to thy worke.

Oh thou sayst truth, it is clere day in déede. Oh how the time passeth, and a man séeth it not, when he dothe or reasoneth of any thyng that plea­seth hym.

The .vj. Reasoning. SOVLE. IVST.

WHen I cōsider somtime with my self, howe great the plea­sure must be, which the hap­pie soules fele, which being departed from their bodie, with good grace of their lorde, be returned into their he­uenly cuntrey, to fil themselues with the contēplation of the first & chief ve­ritie, I do not maruel a whit though Sainct Paule (which had tasted part, when he was rauished to the third he­uen) [Page 68] did say, that he desired nothing else, but to be losed from the body, and be with Christ: and the great delight, that I sometime feele when I am frée from the impediments of the body as I am now, induceth me to consider it. I can (with that light that my Lorde hath giuen me, in making me like vn­to his image and similtude) consider the nature of so fayre and diuers cre­atures sensible, of the which this vni­uersall is composed and beautified, & by the meane of them to ascend to the contemplation of celestial and diuine thyngs: wherof I say ofte to my self, howe ought they to be contente, that be altogether attente to regarde in those diuine treasures, and my con­tentation being so great in beholding those fewe knowledges that I haue of thys and them, yet am not so per­fectly bent to the lyke worke, bicause those powers, whiles they attend to digestion and other operations neces­sary to the conseruation of my body, [Page] be so vnited with me, y^t I cannot shift but they giue me some impediment: albeit by the meane of natural heate, they séething the meate, do make a fu­mositie to rise to the head, which be­ing ioyned togither, do binde the sen­ses, and gender slepe, whereby I may returne into my selfe, as I am nowe. O happy be they in déede, which being but little occupied in the cares of the world, and in the visions that the sen­ses do impresse in their fantasie, re­main and enioy them selues. Certen­ly it is no maruell, though they some­time sée the things to come, whereby men do honour them so much, and call them Princes, half Gods, and things verily diuine. But alas, I can no lon­ger tarie in swéete things and delec­table studie: for I féele the naturall heat hath so fined and consumed those fumes that cause sléepe, that Iust wil wake by and by. Therefore let vs re­turne to our olde businesse, & if he wil not occupie me otherwyse, we wyll [Page 69] talke a whyle together, as we haue done.

Oh with what consolation and what pleasure haue I slept a while? I cānot tel whether it hath bē a dreame or other thing, which hathe giuen me such a contentation whiles I slept, as I thinke I neuer felt suche a comfort in all my life before.

Thanke me Iust, if thou hast had any suche comforte in thy sléepe, for I haue ben the chiefe cause therof: although thou hast holpe me somwhat with the litle eating thou madest ye­sterday.

O my deare Soule, I thanke thée very heartily, but tel me, in what sort hast thou ben the principal cause?

I not being letted, whiles thou wert bounde in sléepe, with su­perfluitie of meate, or occupied in a­nie of oure common occupations, I retired into my selfe, and there began to bée very busily occupied with cer­tain knowledges which I haue gottē [Page] by helpe of thy instrumentes.

Stay a while, and before thouIn the. 24. line of the page before going, in the place of very busily occu­pied, reade in Negotia­tion. goest any further, tell me what thou meanest by being in negotiation, for as for me, I vnderstande it not.

Negotiation is nothing else but to be doing and occupied in some thing, doing in it asmuch as behoueth, and it is a worde that hath his begin­ning of a latin worde, called Negotiū, which in our tong signifieth businesse.

It is of late vsed, for I do not remēber that euer I hearde it before.

So it is: but haue not I told thée, that from hande to hande when tongs go to perfection, that they must take new words for their purpose?

I begyn to beleue it in déede.

So as they can not say, that sciences cannot be translated into our tong, for lack of words, for new may be made in ours, as hath bē in other.

It is well: now to thy talke.

Exercising me, as I haue said, being frée from the impedimentes in [Page 70] those knowledges, I felt so great cō ­tentation & pleasure, y^t I reduced my self into a quiet, which dyd not onely make me happy, but also did passe into thée, holding al thy partes content in them selues, wherof came that quiete and swete slepe, y^t thou hast so praised.

O if it be in thy power to doe this, & thou louest me as y^• sayst, why dost thou not cause me to sléepe thus always, hauing so much nede of it?

Bicause of the enmitie that is betwene thée and me, or to speke bet­ter, the contrarietie of nature, many times doth not let me do it.

Howe so?

I will not speake now of the impedimentes whiche these organes wherin the senses be exercised, do giue me, when they be altred of thée, either wyth too muche eatyng or drynking, or with too muche labour, and wyth a thousande other passions: but tell me thys, howe ofte doe I, beyng forced of this thy parte of luste, gyue place, [Page] and leaue thée to do things, which be clean contrary to my nature. Wher­fore I, séeing I am commaunded of a power inferiour to my selfe, fall into so great discomfort, that thou also fe­lest it: for our vnion becometh a con­tinual bataile, which doth suffer ney­ther of vs to be at rest. Where as yf thou didst obey me, and dydst let me holde the bridle in my hande as were conuenient, we shoulde liue in suche peace, that the operations that pro­cede of me, as they that haue their be­ginning of thée, and be giuen vs prin­cipally of nature, for our conseruati­on, shoulde be broughte to their ende without any difficultie.

I knowe certainly, thou sayst truth, and therefore I mynded to re­quest thée, that thou woldst giue some order & rule of it, what I ought to do, that we might long kepe oure selues in vnion, with the least grief & disple­sure that is possible: I wyll not nowe say without any, for that I knowe to [Page 71] be impossible in this life, But before thou doest this, I would desire thée to rid me of that doubt, that much trou­bleth mée, and holdes me in suspense, and that is (as I said vnto thée yester­day morning) how thou knowst these things without me.

It is an harde thyng whiche thou demaundest of me, and before this time hath made many fall (which haue bene accompted wise) into great errours: therefore it might be better for thée not to know it: for to knowe that nedes not, genders more confu­sion. Neuerthelesse, for the satisfactiō of thy desire, I will tell thée what the opinions haue ben: but I will not af­ter, that thou with thy discourse of re­son shouldest confirme or content thy selfe with any of them, but submit thy desire to the determination of christi­an religion, which bicause it is guided of light more cléere and sure, than is the sapience of man, it can not erre, as it doth.

What light is that?

The most holy light of faith,Faith. reueled of God to the worlde by the mouth of his seruants, and last by the same of his most sanctified sonne, the way, the truth, and light of y^• worlde, that the creatures reasonable mighte by the meane of this be broughte to their perfection, which certenly is no­thing else but a contemplation of the first and vnspeakeable veritie.

Both in this and other, I will do that thou wouldest haue me.

Thanke thine age, whyche hath so cooled thy blood, and weakened thy force, as thou leauest a parte the pleasures of the world, and art redu­ced to this way of life. Wherefore it may be rather sayd (as once that Citi­zen didde) that sinne hath left thée, be­fore thou it.

Bée it as it may, I wil not con­tende with thée.

Nor I wold not for this, but thou sholdest cōtinue to do well, for if [Page 72] thou hast begon to liue in order by ne­cessitie, this seruile feare (for so wil I cal it) might one daye by the grace of God, be turned into the feare of a son. By the which thou should deserue no lesse thanke of hym, than reputation of the worlde.

It can hardly be brought about, but youthe and other ages will haue their course, and hée that doth it not yong, will doe it olde, as those birdes that can not sing in May, sing after in September: but let vs speke no more of this, delyuer me from the doubt, I tolde thée.

Althoughe there haue bene many opinions of them, whiche the worlde calleth wyse, whyche haue sought howe I should knowe and vn­derstande thyngs, they may be redu­ced to two, for two principall sectesHowe the Soule kno­weth. haue ben that haue spoken and writ­ten of mée: One of them is, that hold I am immortall, all diuine, crea­ted of God, moste good and greate, [Page] and poured into thée: and of these Pla­to, Plato. with his other Achademicall Phi­losophers was chiefe: an other is of them that hold that I haue my begin­ning with my body. And of this, Ari­stotle with his Peripatetical scholers isAristotle. head, although he spake not so, as it might cléerely be gathered of his wor­des, whether he held I was mortal or immortall: but hée strikes at large somtyme, and sometyme so at hande, as some holde by hym, that I am im­mortall, and some mortall.

Howe doth he it?

I wyll tell thée. Hast thou e­uer hearde of one that asked counsell to take a wife? And when he sayde, Shée is faire, take hir quod the o­ther: And when he sayd, she is of euil bloud: take hir not then sayd he: but she hath a good dowrie, take hir then. No, she is somewhat proude, take hir not: And so he still answered yea or no, as he brought forth new matter. And so dothe Aristotle with me: For [Page 73] when he considereth me vnited wyth my body, he sayth, I am mortall, and when he considereth me, as an agent intellection, & that I can worke with­out it, he sayth, I am immortall: so as finally, he that readeth hym, is ne­uer certain, whether I am mortall or immortall.

Peraduenture he was not cer­taine himselfe.

I think so surely. Wherfore he dyd, as they do, that loue y^• worlds glorie more than the truthe, whyche when they know not a thing, bicause they will not lose their estimation, they wyll not confesse it, but speake confusedly, that men shoulde rather thinke they wyll not speake it, than that they know it not.

Of how great euil is this world­ly pride the cause?

Yea, and that maruellously. Consider a little in things of religion, that they which the worlde calleth di­uines, for y^t they wil not confesse they [Page] do not vnderstande thyngs appertay­nyng to Faith, by naturall light, they haue taken vpon them to proue it by propositiōs of Philosophy, which is alDiuines scholastical. contrarie to Faith, for that procedeth with order & naturall principles, and faith excéedeth & passeth all nature.

Who haue these ben?

Those which commonly we call Scholasticall, which haue sought a reason of euery thing that God hath made, with their learning.

I maruell he is not once sure­ly angrie with them.

That is, bycause he is the chiefe goodnesse.

As for me, I knowe no prince but that wold be angrie with his ser­uant, that woulde knowe a reason of all his doings. Me think this is plain­ly to cal God into the consistorie. But tell I praye thée, whether these be the diuines, that are called Paris schole?

Euen they, thou hast hit it.

Oh, those matters are decayde. [Page 74] For Bartol y^e bokeseller my neighbor hath told me, that he selleth no more of thē, & that he hath an hundred hors­loade which he wold barter for cleane paper, and giue somewhat to boote.

Thāk y^e Lutherans, who giuing.Lutheranes. no faith but to y^e holy Scripture, haue caused, y^• men be forced to returne to rede them, & to leaue such disputatiōs.

Marke that it is true, whiche is sayd: That many times of a great euill, commeth some good. But let vs leaue thys, and turne to our talke.

Of these two sectes which I spake, Plato which held I was immor­tall & diuine, séeing that I vnderstode euery thyng, sayde, I was created of God, full of all sciences eternally. And after when I descended into thée, (for so God had ordeined that I shold purgo me of certain spots that I had) I forgot them al: and after by helpe of Schoolemaisters and exercises in stu­dies, I returned to my minde, and so hée sayde, that our learnyng was [Page] a remembrance, and not a learnyng of newe.

That opinion I could like wel inough.

Thou woldest say so, if thou heardest the reasons that he maketh, whiche be such, as they made Origene Origen. and many other christian diuines to holde the same opinion: and Austen also, when he wrote vpon the Genesis Austen. although he dyd retract afterward.

Did Origene reuoke?

Not that I know.

And dyd he saye too, that you were made of God eternally?

Yea, and that we wer of an­gels shape, whiche opinion was after reproued of the churche as erronious and hereticall.

Thou makest me now remem­ber of my neighbour, which said, that our soules were those little Angels, which were not comprehended in sin, nor in seruice of God, but betwéene bothe, and were after sent into vs to [Page 75] be determined, whether they wold fo­low good or euil: & it was neuer kno­wen he helde this opinion in his lyfe, but after his death it was founde in his bokes. Wherfore his bones were taken vp, and buried out of the church yarde.

Who was that?

Mathew Palmer, dost thou not remember? but thinkest thou he was damned for this?

I do not beleue it: for though this opinion is holden erronious, yet he feared God, and regarded the ho­nour of the same, and he was a louer of his neighbour, as thou doest well know, in the which things consisteth all christian religion. So as it is not to be beleued, that a man of so holy and good behauior, for holding such an opinion, which is not against the ho­nor of God, shoulde be damned: and chiefly, beleuing he did not erre, and being euer disposed to chaunge to the contrary, when nede had bene, as he [Page] so playnely dothe confesse in his boo­kes.

I will not then say, that as his body was taken vp, by the comaunde­ment of him that then did gouern the Florentine Churche, so hys soule was sent to Hell.

It were euill for vs Iust, if it lay in their power to send vs to Hel as it is in theyr power to take vsPurgatorie popishe. from Purgatorie, (as they saye) and take none oute, but suche as pleaseth them, or paye them somewhat: for so would they sende all them that were not obedient to their willes, what so it were.

Of Purgatorie I woulde not much care, since ther be Bulles found out to fetche vs from thence.

But they gyue no more, for as they dyd put much money in their purses one way, so are they great lo­sers an other.

Howe losers?

Of that is sprong the Luthe­rane [Page 76] doctrine, which hath caused them (beside the losse) a thousād dishonors. I wyll speake of none, but of him that toke in hand to delyuer a mans father from Purgatorie, promysyng a Flo­ren, and as soone as hée hadde it in hys hande, he ranne his way, saying you sayde he is out, and that is inough for mée: for I can neuer thynke you will be so cruell, that you wyll putte hym there agayne for one Florens sake.

Here it was lyke to that that Carlo Aldobrandy dydde to the obser­uant Friers, to whome he was bound by a legacie of his vncle to pay euery yere two Florens, to say an office for his soule. Then a certayne pardon commyng from Iulio, whereof these Friers were ministers, gyuyng par­don to take soules oute of Purgatorie, the sayd Charles tooke one for his vn­cle, and made it so to be written with their hande, and after when they went to him for theyr two Florens, [Page] according to the legacie, he answered he was no more bound to gyue it thē, bicause he was in Paradise, and had no nede, and in Hel was no redemption, and out of Purgatorie they themselues had deliuered hym, and shewed them their own hand. But let vs leaue this talke: for I will not that we speake against the Church.

Ah Iust, if thou knewest that the church is nothing else but the vni­uersitie of good Christians, that be in the grace of God (and not these vi­carsChurche. that goe hither and thither, flée­ing the people of the worlde, or these Friers, that haue deuised to delyuer them selfe from the penance of labor, which God hath giuen vs, exercisyng the inquisition, rather to maintayne themselues fat, and liue at ease, than for charitie) thou wouldest not so say: but let it suffise thée that Dant sayth.

I can not tell, but I thinke it [Page 77] an hard thyng, not to be buried in theBuriall in Churchyard. churchyard.

Ah Iust, it is well séene thou art a body, and thinkes after nothing but y^e body. Dost thou not vnderstand that this is one of y^• things that hath bene ordeined of them, rather for the profit of them, than any benefit of vs?

What profite haue they?

They make it be payde by waight of golde: which thing Ponta­nus Christians vnhappie. considering, vsed to say, that chri­stians were the moste vnhappie and miserable nation in the worlde, by­cause they must pay for the very erth they were buried in.

In very déede it is a very wic­ked thing.

And where they haue theyr Masse for a work of mercy, they ought to call it a worke of gaine.

Frier Succiell sayde well, that there were six workes onely of mer­cy. And when he preached, he exhorted men to giue meate to the hungrie, to [Page] clad the naked, & the other good wor­kes: and when he came to the buriall of the dead, of that (sayd he) I wil say nothing, for he that will not bury thē let hym kéepe them in the house. But lette vs leaue these talkes, and make an ende to tell me that thou haddest begoon.

I am contente, therefore marke well Aristotle with them that followed hym, the whych me thynke holde mée mortall, saying: That I haue my begynnyng wyth thée, and that I can worke nothyng withoute thée, and that I am nothing of my self but onely apt to learne, by the meane of a certaine lyght, I haue in my self, called of them intellect agent, by the which I vnderstande certaine things which be intelligible by theyr owne nature, as that one thing can not be and be in all one time, and such lyke, called of them first principles, and of thy Dant first knowledges: and wyth the help of these they say, that I lerne [Page 78] all things. So yf thou holdest these things with Aristotle, thou canste ne­uer know, how I can do these things without thée. But if thou holdest with Plato, thou shalte haue no difficultie at all.

Then what shal I doe, if thou tellest me nothyng else, I remayne more confused than I was before, not knowing whiche of these two be true?

Maruel not, for such is the sa­piēce of the world, & al they that will walke only with the light of that, the more they learn, the lesse they know, and wax continually more vncertain and lesse quiet. Which Salomon wold very wel signifie, when he sayth: He that ioyneth Sapience to a man, ioy­neth dolor.

Wel, what way then must I take to satisfie my desire?

Runne to the Light of Faith as I sayd in the beginning.

that wer to enter into a more vn [Page] certaintie.

Why?

Bicause the things of Faithe, as thou sayst, be much more difficult, and farther passe our knowledge, thā of nature.

Yea to them that séeke to vn­derstande them with naturall lyghte, as I sayd before, but not to hym that walketh with simplicitie of heart and light of the same.

And howe shall one do to haue thys light?

To prepare as much as mās power may to receiue it, and then as the Apostles dyd, to aske it of God, who hauyng sayde to vs: Aske, and it shall be giuen you, he wil not fayle to giue them vs.

And what preparation is it, we must make?

First to persuade our selues, that there is one intelligence that vn­derstandes more than we, and though we doe not vnderstande howe he can [Page 79] make a thing, yet it foloweth not but he can do it.

In very dede it were a greate presumption, not onely a foolyshnesse, to say, I vnderstand not this thyng, and I can not do it, therfore it cannot be done.

Yet there be inow, that hold this opinion, and they may promyse them selues, neuer to haue the lyke light, bicause it is written: God resi­steth the proude, and to the humble he gyueth grace.

And worthily.

Further it behoueth to be ex­ercised in the studie of holy scripture, and aboue all to be a louer of religi­on, and euer to haue it in honour and reuerence most great: for who so euer is a despiser of his religion, ought not to be called a man, muche lesse to be put among the louers of sapience, as Aristotle sayth of those Philosophers that did dispise and denye the Gods. And so doing, we obtaine of God, the [Page] light of Faith, the whiche as I haue sayde vnto thée, is onely it, that may quiet mans vnderstanding.

Wel, séeing thou iudgest it good to quiet my selfe, and be firme in the determinations of the faith, I am con­tent, and therfore I pray thée, that lea­uing those things whiche the wise of the worlde thinke, thou wouldest tell mée what the christian religion hath determined: for in the other I neuer found quiet nor contentation.

Thou must beleue, bicause so it is, that so soone as the bodies be dis­posed, God of his infinite power doth create vs diuine & immortal, and doth create vs all equall, as touching those powers without the which we should be no reasonable soules, but after gy­ueth vssome particular giftes for our benefite, knowing that by the meane of them, we may the more easily ob­tain our perfectiō, and that we might worke also holily in the ministerie of God, wherof he giueth to one the gift [Page 80] of prophecie, to an other, the inter­pretation of Scriptures: & to one, one thing, & to an other acording as his sa­pience disposeth, & semeth good to hys goodnesse. And yet no mā ought to la­mente, though it be in his power to make of one matter, some vessels for honour, and some for rebuke.

I thought you all had ben equal, & that those differences y^t are knowne in a man, had risen of the goodnesse, or of the imperfection of the body, & had not bene particular giftes of God.

So thinkes also, all the wise of the world, which walke only with the light of nature. And therefore not to lose more tyme, thou must know, that if I knowe any thyng, whiche thou thoughtest not, that it is a gifte, which God hath giuen me, bycause it hath so semed to his goodnesse for our benefite, that I béeyng illuminated, might giue light, and gouerne thée. Of the which thyng we oughte muche to thāk him, bicause he hath only giuē it [Page] for a weale: and I ought to guide thée in his ways, and thou not to striue a­gainst my counsels.

I know certainely (my soule) that thou sayst truth, and I féele that of these thy words is growne in me a certaine suretie, a contentation, and such a quiet, that I am determined ne­uer hereafter to be contrary to thy will, nor rebell agaynst thy counsell and lawes. Wherfore I praye thée, that thou wouldest tell me, what I oughte to doe, to maintaine my selfe in thys sweete vnion, and chiefly in those operations that depend and rise properly of my selfe.

I think it shal be very méete, bicause I can not well worke if thou be not disposed. But bicause it is now broade day, and the thing is somwhat long: I wyll that wée tarrie tyll to morowe, and therefore goe to thy businesse.

The .vij. Reasoning. IVST. SOVLE.

O How the time flées away, it is day, & yet me thinke I went but now to bed. This cometh bicause I haue slept wel, thinking of nothing. Wherfore I helde it out to the vttermoste, from my firste sléepe till I awoke, & therfore haue not knowne the time betwene, for I haue heard of a wise man, that it was the soule, that by musing made y^e time, wherof it comes, that they who be in miserie, thinke the days and the nights long, bicause they euer thinke of theyr infelicitie: and the like haps to him that lokes for some thyng that he desireth, bicause he thinks alwayes of it. When I was a boy, I thought it a thousande yere from one Shrouetide till an other, bicause I desired it, and now me thinke the one is no sooner gone, but the other is come. And peraduenture I am as he [Page] that hath money inough, & passeth not what he spende, but when he hath but litle left, he beginneth to spare, & thinks vpon it, as though he were robbed whē he departeth with any. But let euery man say what he wil, sone is a yere, ten, and twenty, gone, & mans life is a short thing in deede, so as it is a great foolish­nesse of vs, that shall so little time tarye here, to charge and wrap our selues in so many matters of the worlde, whych kepes a man alwayes eyther in no smal feare, or in great trouble, and the more he hath, with the more he must striue. But much more foolish be we to fighte with our selues, as we do the most part of our time, by the reason of our immo­derate willes, which we norish with ap­petite. Wherfore we liue with cōtinual remorse of reason, which doth alwayes molest vs: wheras if we did subdue our part sensitiue to the reasonable, as be­comes, we should liue in mery and per­petuall peace, firste with our selues, and then with little dolor or feare of things [Page 84] which the world and fortune brings, as I knowe by experience, since that, that my soule being illumined of my lord, she hath made mine eyes also open, where­by, being minded from hence forth to liue as shal become a man, I féele in me a quiet and contentation, as the lyke I haue not felt in my life: therfore blessed be thou alwayes (O my soule) that hast ben the cause therof.

What doest thou muse Iust, that thou art so waking? what diddest thou thinke of?

I thought howe contented a man myght lyue, and how much more happy hys life shoulde be, if he woulde lyue after reason, and not after senses, as he doth. Wherof it comes, that wor­king, as a man may say, contrary to his nature, he lyueth in an vnquyetnesse, and in a war with him selfe most great. For much greater be the vexatiōs that our inwarde passions worke, than the outward.

What other greater good had our first father Adam before he sinned, than this inwarde peace and quiet?

Oh why haue it not we as well as he?

Bicause we haue loste tho­rough his disobedience, the gift of that iustice, which they call originall, which God had giuē him, which was nothing but a bridle and a rule, that kept the in­ward partes subdued & obedient to the superiour, by the which the flesh did not kicke against the spirit, nor the sensitiue partes wholy did desire other in man, but the preseruation of the singular, cal­led indeuided, by the benefite of the part reasonable, and not for delight, as they doe nowe, nor did séeke other than the good it selfe: the which thing thy Dante no lesse pleasantly than learnedly doth expresse, when being brought to the earthly Paradise, in the state of inno­cencie, he caused Virgill thus to say.

Well my Soule, me thinke I am returned into this state, since I be­gan to be reconciled with thée, and ha­uing no more mater to trouble me, and not desiring other, than to liue after thy counsell, I féele such a contentment in my self, that I thinke I am happy. But I lamēt me much of thée, that thou hast not taught me thus to liue in my youth, for then would I haue thought my selfe most happy.

Lament of thy selfe, for thou wast the cause, for I neuer fayled, when thou gauest thy self wholy a pray to thy senses, as beasts do, to reproue thy selfe, at the least with the remorse of consci­ence, if not otherwise. But thou driuen of passions and seruent desires, whych that age bringeth with it, didst bewrap thy selfe in false pleasures of the world, that eyther thou dydst not heare me, or not regarde mine admonitions.

I wil not here after do so again.

Thinke of it in time, as I haue sayde vnto thée before, for when thou [Page] goest about it, thou shalt find it yet pain ful, bicause of thy former vse of life.

Wel, be it as thou wilt, we wil no more striue, & I will doe after thy way, but I pray thée, y^• thou wouldst giue me some rule, how I shoulde rule my selfe, that I may liue in accord with thée, this little time that is lefte, & shew me what I ought to regard that I might be with thée so long as might be, & with y^e fewest displeasurs, as wel of thée as of me.

This pleaseth me much, for I also, though I can attaine to my chiefe perfectnesse, I desire to be in thée, so lōg as may, for without thée, I am in a ma­ner vnperfect, & this can not be but by the meane of life: which as I said vnto thée afore, consisteth in natural heate, & grounded moysture, of the which vntill the one be spent by violence, or y^e other by old age, the life endureth: the which thing, some Philosophers considering, said, I was nothing else but a tempera­ture of complexion. If I then teach thée to maintayne this temperature, I shall teach thée to liue long, but sée y^u suffrest [Page] not thy self after to be ouercome of wil.

Of this I haue said vnto thée di­uers times y^u sholdst haue no suspition.

Many things ther be, that haue néede to be considered & regulate neces­sary to the life of man, which, for being more perfect than any other creature, & better membred, that by the multitude of instruments, he might exercise many operations, & not one alone or fewe, as other creaturs do, he hath néede of more things than any other, & chiefly ought to consider the aire, the place, and the hou­ses where he dwell.

This I perceiue wel, for of theAire. aire I am nourished by breathing conti­nually, & of the place & habitaciō, I take great comfort, if they be agreable to my nature, & so cōtrary, if they be not good.

The habitaciō which thou hast,Habitation is very good & méete for thy behauiour, for it is safe frō moysture, defended frō winde, & standeth toward the south, that makes it no lesse pleasant thā helthful.

In good fayth, I may reasonably content me herein.

For the ayre thou néedest not make any businesse, being borne in Flo­rence, where it is moste helthsome, and though it séemes to some a little sharpe those two monethes in the heart of the winter, thou maist by some diligence de­fende thy selfe in the house with fiers, & with windowes well closed, and abroad with wearing somewhat on thy head, y^• may defend thée, séeing they vse now no more hoods, as they did in olde time, the which, as our aūcients said, were found only for that effect: therefore they were made with great rolles that bare out, & full of softe rushes, to be the more light.

In this also I will doe as thou wishest me.

Thou must also vse great di­ligence in thy Diet, both in quantitieDiet. and qualitie, for nature in this age is so weake, that she may not be troubled with much meate, nor vexed with vari­ety therof, and further the natural heat is so weake also, that hardly can we di­gest the things that be contrary▪

Teach me a rule to kepe, and I will not fayle to doe it.

Thou shalt diuide that quan­titie of meate which thou iudgest suffi­ciente to the conseruation of thy lyfe, without much trouble of nature, into two or thrée meales a day, as thy sto­makeMeales. shall beare, and of this thou shalt not faile being none other impediment.

This pleaseth me.

And bicause, as I haue tolde thée, nature hath for none other end, or­deined that thou shouldst eate & drinke, but to restore thée moisture and natural heate, thou shalt vse for thy meates, all those things that be hot and moyste, for of those thou mayst only take nouriture apt to preserue thée aliue and hole.

Which be they?

All those thinges generally, that be swéete, for among those tastes,Sweete. only the swéete nourishe, and the other seme to be made of nature not for other but to represse & temper too much swéet, that it should not distemper a man.

How?

Bicause it is hote and moiste temperatly, whereof the other .vj. kinds of tastes, (for so many they say, the prin­pall be,) not numbring the oylie, which they say, is all one with the swéete: the strong which is called sharpe, the quick and the tarte, doe decline to colde, the strong, which is in Pepper, and is cal­led biting, the bitter and the salte, take too much parte with the hot.

Then swéete wine, and fruites that be swéete, shall be best for me.

Wine, surely yea, if it be sub­til & odoriferous, but thou must drinke little, for the swéete, bicause it is hot, is also light, & straight assaileth the head. Fruites in déede be swéete, but bicause [...] they be raw, and hard to digest, they get no good bloud, nor good humors, but on­ly figs, and grapes, which be very good as Galen doth wryte, affirming that all beasts & countrey men, in y^• time y^• they be, be fat, & haue their flesh cléere & soft.

And what of fruits that be kept?

Swéetings, Apples, Almonds, Pynochus: but these woulde be laide in sirrupe, & after often vsed, and so take the milke from the Almonds, and vse it with suger. And swéete Fenell is veryFenell. good, for it doeth disperse and beare the nourishment through all the members, & the natural humor encreaseth, in such sort, as milk doth to him that digesteth it: & I wil tel thée further, y^• Dioscorides wryteth, y^• the serpēt euery yere, casteth his olde skin after he hath eaten Fenel.

Oh these thy discourses please me very wel my Soule, and I wil true­ly (say as that Philosopher) we die euen then, when we learne to liue.

Thou must mark also, that theWater. water which y^• vsest to drinke, be pure, & not mingled w^t any thing, which thou shalt knowe when it hath smell or tast, and whan it is more lighte than other: no water to be found, that wayeth lesse than water pure.

It were to much, to way waters.

To auoide that, thou must take the water of conduits, the which being [Page] raynie water gendred in the ayre, of ba­pors which the Sunne hath drawen vp, it foloweth it is more properly water & lighter than it that passeth by the vains of the earth, bicause the Sunne taketh from the water with his heat, only the partes more light, which be the more swéet: by which occasion some haue saidS [...]. the Sea is salt, bicause the only earthly and grosse parts remaine in him which be saltish.

Now I know what wrong they doe to nature, which, not vsing the pru­dence that God hath gyuen them for their profit, do eate and drinke of euery thing as beasts doe, without any consi­deration.

The flesh of which thou wyltFlesh. féede, must be of those beasts and byrds that haue long life, for that cometh only (as I tolde thée) bicause they haue good moysture, and lesse apt to be corrupted, and consequently, more heat and more perfect.

I perceiue it well.

But marke aboue al, that they be yong, for in them only be found heatYong. Olde. & moysture perfect: for olde eyther haue not heate and moysture, or they haue it counterfeate and vnnaturall: and that this is true, experience it selfe teacheth, finding y^• no old beast is good, beginning with Pigeons, Pullein, Kid & Veale, and so through all.

I haue heard spoken of fish, thatFish. it would be olde.

Know thou wel Iust, that they would say great, but not olde: bycause whē a creature cometh to his gretnesse,Great. then he comes to y^• point of his floures, & in the top of his youth. Marke kine, and thou shalte sée howe much better a Veale is of thrée or four yere, thā a biefe of eyght or tenne, and yet they be a lyke great. Which thing can not be séene in fishe, bicause we can haue no know­ledge of their age, they liuing vnder the water.

I beleue certainly that thou saist truth, for I remēber I haue once eaten [Page] at Pisa, of Mullets of .x. or .xij. pounde aMullets. péece, and the one was good as could be, and the other dry like a straw.

And whereof thinkest thou it came, but bicause the one was yong, and the other olde.

In wine how must I gouern▪ myWine. self, for I hear much y^• old wine praised.

Yea to drink it for a medicine, but to nourishe, it would not passe oneOlde. yeare. For though it waxeth more hot and strong, yet it hathe lost that moist­nesse naturall, the which doth recreate, and séemes muche to comfort man.

Certainly y^• hast taught me a way to liue, which if I kepe, I beleue to liue xx. yeres lōger, than I shold haue done.

It is not inough to be norished after this sort spoken of before, but also thou must séeke w^t al diligence, to cōfort & helpe y^• vital spirits, which be in thée,Vitall spirites. for thy great yeares muche debilitate.

How shold I do that I know not?

With things that cōforte, with exercise, with diet, with mery life, and without thought.

Tell me a little more distinctly, the way I ought to kéepe.

Bicause the seate of those spi­rits is principally in the hart, and fromHeart. thence be dispersed by all the members, thou oughtest to vse all the things that comfortes, among the which the Miro­bolane, is so fit, as some saye, that they be the trée of life, put in Paradise for the foode of man. Many hearbes also beHearbes. much to y^• purpose, as Mint & Borage, and some Spicery, as Canel, Saffron,Spices. & many other, which thou mayst vnder­stand of thy selfe, and of them that haue wrytten of the conseruation of the life of olde men. But I will not thou trou­ble thy selfe in vsing certaine supersti­tions,Superstition [...] (for so wil I call them) that they wryte, as though mans milk, and yong mens bloud wer drinkable, which they wil haue drawn at the ful Moone out of y^• left arme, and y^• they be mery, tēperat & sound, & then vse it sodden w^t suger.

No, this wil I neuer do, I wold choose rather to die, than liue with such vaine trifles.

That which Auicen writethYong childe. to holde with him a yong child to sléepe, of the first age, male or female whether it be, as Dauid the Prophet did also vse to recreate his naturall heate, wyll not displease me.

These be of the same super­stition, wherof I will not thinke, for I thinke they be of men, that too much de­sire to liue.

It were also good for the in­crease of this naturall heate, that thou shouldest sometime make exercise, butExercise. no longer than thou féelest sweate com­ming and a wearinesse, séeking in win­ter warme and caulme places, as herds and flockes doe, and in Sōmer, pleasant and fresh, as the birdes doe: It helpeth much to walke alongst the riuers run­ning,Riuers. Plants. and among the plants gréene and odoriferous, bicause the course of water séeme to cause an appetite of eating, & the odor that the liuely plants giue, hel­peth much the vitall spirits of man, and gréene colour comforts much the sight.Greene colour.

Tell me the reason why wri­ters vse to haue greene aboute them, and euery one sayth, it comfortes the sight, but dost thou know the reason?

Be it so, but thou must know that the nature of sight is cléere, andSyght. friend of light, but is very easie to be put abroade and dispersed. Therefore when it looketh on things much light, it is dispersed to much, euen as when it loketh in darknesse, which is enimy to it, it fléeth and restraineth the bea­mes into a small place. Wherefore sight desireth to enioye light, in suche sort as it delighteth, and not disper­seth, and so it can take no comfort or litle, in those colours, y^• take more of darke than of light, bicause it can not there delight nor spread: and of those that takes part too muche of light, it can not lykewyse take delight with­out hurt, for spreding to much: but the gréene colour only participating tem­peratelie of cleere and darke, gyueth bothe of the one and the other, that is [Page] delights & preserues with a plesāt al­teration, as doth also the clere water, which resisteth without offence of the eies, not suffring to spread al at once: for thyngs that be hard & sharpe do in a maner cleaue them, & those that be raw, giue thē way to passe: but those that haue a thicknesse in them, & with it a certain plesāt shining, as glasses, do not cleaue, nor disperse them.

When all is done, he that ly­ueth, shall euer learne.

I wold also thou shouldst cō ­fort thy braine sometyme with sweteBrayne. things: for think not that nature, the which as she neuer faileth in thyngs necessary, nor aboūds in superfluous, hath made, y^• a mā shold only take ple­sure of odors (for other creatures take no pleasure in odors further than by eatyng) without any cause, rather hathe she done it, that hée wyth that shold temper the coldnesse of his brain the whiche though it be in all beastes colde by nature, so a man hath it most [Page 90] colde, bicause he hath it greater, rate for rate, than any other, for as much as he hath to worke by it more opera­tions than any other: and odors be allOdours. hot in themselues, for they be nought else but euaporations that come frō things, and be dispersed by the aire by the meane of heate.

Oh howe goodly be the secrete things of nature? I do not maruell su­rely, y^• the more part of them that be­gin to tast them, do for sake many ty­mes all other doings.

The rule of the diet thou shoul­dest vse for restoring of the strēgth of thy stomak, it self shal teach thée w^t de­sireStomacke. or refusing of meat. But I would not for al that, that thou sholdst passe one of those termes, in the which thou art wōt to take meate, but that thou take somwhat: for y^e stomack, whē he lacketh to eate, either he wasteth him self, or he doth digest of those humors, y^• make yll blood. And for this purpose I thinke it very mete to take y^• yelke of an egge new laide, or the crūme of [Page] new breade in a glasse of good wyne,A soppe in Wyne. wherof I can not see a thing of nature made more perfect: for it heateth the cold state of the bodie, it refresheth y^e heated, it moysteth the drye, & drieth the moyst, it receiueth y^• grouded moi­sture; and norisheth the heat natural.

Certainly man may sée by this how much Nature hath ben friendly to hym, hauing made for him onely, so perfect, and so precious liquour.

Thou muste also sée, if thou wilt that we be long togither, that thou putte away Melancolie and pen­siuenesse, which draweth the spiritesMelancolie. to the head, takyng them from that part, where they should make digesti­on, and other workes appertinent to preserue thee.

Certainly thou sayst truth, for when I haue any care, I haue no de­sire to eate.

Flée to much watche, and tooWatche. Solitarinesse much solitarinesse, for the one makes thée weake, and the other causeth in [Page 91] thée, many tymes wearynesse and slouth: and yf thou wilte néedes lyue alone, thinke on mery and pleasaunt things, which may recreate thée, and not destroye thee. Seeke sometime to play, y^t may make thee passe the tyme,Playe. and do not altogether refuse y^e things that pleased thee whē thou wert yong. For it is impossible to reuiue the bo­die, vnlesse the wit also waxe yong. But vnderstand thou not by this, that I counsell thee to gyue thy selfe to the pleasures of Venus, for that is cleaneVenus. contrary to thine age, and as muche wolde hurt thee, as it woulde perad­uenture help them that are to come: and it woulde happe to thée in vsyng them, as dothe to the Grassehopper,Grashopper. which when the newe commeth oute of the olde, they leaue their skynne eyther voyde or dead in the earth.

Of this I haue no care: for it were a great foolishnesse to diminishe hymselfe, to encrease other.

Surely it were no small er­rour, [Page] knowyng that Nature that at­tends onely to saue hir kinde, by and by as she hath brought forth one, that can get an other like him self, makes no more count but to saue hir selfe.

Doubt not of this: for I will not swarue from thy will.

These be the things y^• I desire thou sholdst obserue (y^t we might lyue as lōg as we could togither) & do only appertaine to thee: but to liue merilyMyrth. there be certain other y^• appertain to vs both, which although they procede principally from me, yet can I not do them without thy helpe, and if thou let me not do thē: of the which I will say somwhat how thou oughtst to go­uerne thy selfe.

I desire it much, seing (as I haue sayde vnto thée) it séemes vnto mée that all the contentation and quiet that I feele, doth rise of our lyuing to­gether vnitedly, and in suche perfect­nesse of peace.

These yeres of age in y^• which [Page 92] thou art, being the last (for when thou liuest til the age decrepite & impotent the strength is so diminyshed, that I can not longer exercise in thy mem­bers perfectly my operations) euen as the ende is euer more perfect, than the meanes that be ordeined to it, so must it bée more perfecte and more notable than all the rest, for as much as many things in our young and lusty yeares, that were worthy of excuse, be nowe in vs doubly to be reprehēded. Wher­fore bicause man ought, for that Na­ture so requireth, euer as hée can, to helpe an other, in this age he oughteHelpe other. most to do it, and takyng the fashion of a Rose that can not remaine shut,Rose. as thy Dant sayth in the last parte of his Banquet, to put forth and spreade the odour that it hath gēdred in it self, wherby those vertues that he hath v­sed in other ages, and that haue ben in him onely proofes and purgations, ought in this to be exāples & lessons.

Surely thou sayest truthe: [Page] for nowe it semeth that of euery litle errour that I committe, I get more blame, than of the great that I did in youth.

All vices be fowle in euery age, but in this they be moste fowle:Vice in age. and therefore thou oughtest firste to spoyle thée of all passions, and not to giue eare at all to the instruments of the senses, but for thy néedes onely: for thou knowest we ar so fastned to­gither, that if thou sufferest thée to be caried away of other, I muste sufferPassions. my self to be caried away of thée.

I am well disposed so to do.

Hauing thus subdued thy pas­sions not reasonable, and attendyng onely on my seruices, I may exercise me with thy great delight, our honor, and the profite of other, in all those vertues that be mete for oure age, a­mong the whiche y^e first is Prudence, which seemeth, that aboue all the o­therPrudence. by long experience belongeth to olde men, directing al our operations [Page 93] to a laudable and honest end, and nei­ther to wyl nor speake any thing but honest, and to prouide to al our nede with reason and perfecte iudgement. And beside this, with the helpe of Me­morieMemory. the preseruer of things passed, to iudge wel the present, and to coun­sel and admonishe right others: then with Fortitude we shal not feare anyFortitude▪ thing, but onely euil and blame wor­thie, and frākly we shal beare aduerse thyngs, & in prosperitie we shal kepe vs firme and constant: with Tempe­raunceTemperāce we shall refrain desire of eche thing that might afterwarde bryng a­ny repentance of it: and with Iustice finally, giuing to euery one (as wellIustice. in our selues as in other) that that is conuenient, we wil direct al our ope­rations.

Oh, what happie lyfe? a God be he, that giuing vs of his grace may mainteyne vs in so quiet and caulme maner of liuing.

An other reson also cónstrai­neth [Page] vs to liue vertuously, and that is that it séemeth that to olde men it is méete to be wyse, otherwise they bée despised, and so where that age ought to bring them reuerence and honor, it is to them dispraise: and none séemeth wise, vnlesse he be cōpted good, though he be not good: for the begynnyng ofWisedome. Wisedome is to feare God.

That is moste true: For as there can not a thing be found, that is better & more profitable to men, than a good man, so can there not a thing be found that more hurteth him, than an vniust man, of leude and euil conditi­ons, of the which thing a certaine phi­losopher considering, sayde, that one man was the woulfe of an other, and not the Woulfe.

We ought also to consider, y^• this age bringeth with it a certen au­thoritie,Authoritie in Age. by the whiche it séemeth con­uenient, that other men shoulde cre­dite him: wherfore we ought to be ve­ry gentle in spéeche, and to reason al­ways [Page 94] of good, to reproue yong mē, yet with a certain swéetnesse, which may cause in them rather a loue of good, & an appetite of honour, than a feare of paine, or a dread of shame, which we shal always wel inough do, if we wil remember that we were once yong men our selues, & subiect to those wil­les that that age bringeth with it.

Oh in how fewe reigneth of like age such discretion?

Our talk must also be plesantTalke. but ciuilly and honestly, fléeing alway to lament those incommodities that olde age bryngeth wyth hym, and not to prayse more than nedes, the tyme in the which we were yong men: for in that age it being pleasaunt of it selfe, a man taketh pleasure of euery thyng, which seme much better than they do in olde age.

Many times all olde men fal­leth into this errour.

If we dyd otherwyse, wée shoulde be eschewed of other, and so [Page] lacke Companie, which is one of theCompanie. greatest pleasures that this age hath. Which thing Tullie knowyng, in hys booke of olde age sayth, in the person of Cato the elder, a will and desire to reason more than I was wont, is in­creased in me.

These things be very true.

Yet thys is not inough: for we must thinke there is an other life,Other life. to the which we goe continually: for in this we be as pilgrimes that haue no certain Citie, and we be in an age that can not long be from death, so as we muste studie to gaine some thing for that place, where we must alway remaine.

This is nothyng to my desire, euery thing had gone wel, if thou had­dest not spoken of death.Death.

Wherfore cometh thys, but that eyther thou art yet to muche gy­uen to the worlde, or that thou hopest not to goe to a better life? The which shall not chaunce to thee, if thou vnite [Page 95] thy self to me: for I that am immor­tall, shal shew thée, that this that thouShadow of lyfe. callest life, is a shado [...] of life, yea ra­ther a great and continual death.

I can not tell I, but it is sure a great thing to lose this being.

Yea, if it should be lost, but it is not loste, but rather woonne, ey­ther a worse or a better: and it is in oure power by the meane yet of the grace of God, which gyueth to who so euer wil haue it, and already hath she­wed to vs by his great liberalitie, the greatest parte, in makyng vs to be borne in christian religion.

It is true, and by this that thou speakest, dothe diminish a little the feare of it.

Let them feare deathe that haue not the light of Faith: for to vs Christians, since our Sauior died for vs, it is become but a slepe▪ as he said of those dead that he raised, that they were not dead, but they slepte, out of the which slepe we being awaked by [Page] his grace shal returne into a more frée being, without any perturbation.

Well go too then, and be thou sure I will assuredly beleue thée.

We then must do as that wise Merchant, which going into a certainMerchant. prouince to gaine, and the time of his return to his contrey drawyng nigh, doth dispose and order all his things, & then satisfie either with dedes or wor­des, all them that he thynketh be in any meane burdened by him, that de­parting with good grace, he may be af­ter of euery man thankefully & with more honor receiued in his countrey.

This certainely dothe not dis­please me.

We must therfore dispose, that the substance whiche we haue in oureOur goodes. handes, may come to them that they ought after oure separation (that no contention bée for them, whiche thou knowest to be great and troublesom) but so as we do neuer lack that is ne­cessary, & so take from them the loue, [Page 96] that though we saw some not go wel, it should not trouble vs, thinking that those should go euil that were theirs, and not oures. For he that liueth inRyches. Riches with feare to lose them conti­nually, is poore. Thē discoursing with memorie, our life passed, we shal séeke to satisfy al we haue offēded any way, and as the good Mariner whē he dra­wethMariner. nigh the port, we wil strike sail of our worldly operatiōs, & returne, to God. We wil leaue al study, & onely y^• litle, that this age wil beare, we wil exercise in holy letters, of the studieHoly letters. of the which shal grow in vs a liuelyFaith. faith, informed of charitie, by whicheHope. we shal loue God aboue al things, andCharitie. our neighbor as ourself, with a certen hope of the merites of Christ, that as sure of our helth without any pertur­bation we shall go to death.

Al these things but one do plese me, and that is, y^• calling again w^t me­mory of y^• life passed, for in doing so I know y^• we shal find to haue offended [Page] God so sore and so ofte, that it will bring vs feare, and not trust in death as thou sayest.

This might well come vnto vs, if Christ had not, as he hath, borneChriste. all our synnes vpon him, and had not promised to pardō vs euery tyme that we returne to him, and sayd vnto vs, that he loueth vs much more than the carnall fathers do their sonnes.

Wilt not thou, that he shoulde be angrie with vs euery time we sin?

When we sinne? No: but when we perseuer in sinne, and wyll neuer acknowledge him for our God. Yea, tell me if a Grauer will not bée angrie, séeing his pictures, if they be not holden vp fal and euer go downe, bycause hée made them of a matter which hath that inclination? wouldest thou that God should be angrie wyth vs, when we sinne, whiche knoweth much better that he hathe made vs of this fleshe so much inclined & prompte to sinne, as we can not but synne, ra­ther [Page 97] doing otherwise, we should be no men? But bicause he knoweth that to will, and not to will, is ours, it suffisethWill. him, after that we be sory (so it be from the heart) that we haue offended hym: & therfore let vs take héede that the sinne we doe, do not rise in vs of malice, but be of the infirmities and inclination of the flesh: y^• returning after to him, we may say for our excuse together with the Prophet.

Wherfore he regarding our intention, sayth of vs as he did of him.

With what boldnesse shall we euer goe before his face, hauing so oft offended him, by our sinne and disobe­dience?

With that, with the which, the sonne alwayes, goeth to his father, al­though he hath ben very disobedient, it he will yelde himselfe in his faulte. For although the father whiles he is absent [Page] and séeth him not, waxeth cruel against him, so sone as be séeth him turne again to him, & repente that he hath offended agaynst his will, he féeles growing i [...] him by the meane of fatherly loue, a pi­tie so swéete, toward his sonne, that al­though he force to shewe himselfe to be angry wyth hym, yet he can not, but wyll shewe some signe of loue to hys Sonne in his countenance, and in the ende leaue his Ire, and receiue him in the place of a sonne. Hast thou not readProdigall childe. in the Gospel of the Prodigal child, the which being departed from his fathers cure, and hauing done away al the part of his heritage, which he had of hys fa­ther, fell into great miserie and wante, and remembring his fathers house, de­termined to return thither, who being come before his Father, of two things that he thought to haue spoken; he sayd but one: that is, that he had sinned be­fore God & him, and that he asked par­don: the other that he would haue sayd, was, that if he wold not receiue him for [Page 98] his sonne, at leaste he would take hym for a seruant, but he spake it not?

And why?

For so sodainly as he spake, ther apéered in his fathers face, so great a fatherly loue, that he knew he would neuer suffer hym to be among his ser­uants, whiles he stode vnder obedience of his father, but would restore him to the degrée of his sonne: wherfore he put him selfe liberally into hys armes, lea­uing to him to thinke that that he wold doe.

Thou dost comfort me, and en­corage me (my soule) with these thy con­siderations, that I wil not say I desyre death, but I may well say that I haue not so great feare of it as I had.

The more thou shalte remem­ber thou haste euery houre folowed thy senses, & I folowing thée cōmitted grea­ter errors, the more shal we be afraid of our selues: & as he y^• knoweth the more infirmities he hath, with so much moreSicke man. spéede and care he runs to the phisitian, [Page] so with sinceritie shal we run to Christ, that can only heale vs: and remēbring that he that hath suffred for vs, is our aduocate, and he that shall iudge vs, we shal haue no feare at all of our condem­nation, being for all that in continuall fear, and in great care, as much as lyeth in our power, no more to offende.

Thou haste giuen me this mor­ning, my Soule, so great comfort; that where before there was nothing that more troubled me than death: nowe I haue none other feare, but that myne vnperfect nature can not flée, the whych forcing me from henceforth not to dis­sent from thy commaundements, I wil submit me to thy yoke, and will accorde me to all that thou shalte counsell me, thinking that that must be my health.

That is it that I desire aboue al thing: and in this good purpose I wil that thou ryse and goe to thy worke, for the Sunne is now a good heighth.

The .viij. Reasoning. SOLVE. IVST.

WHat aylest thou Iust this night that thou sléepest not? what mea­neth it that thou turnest so ofte in thy bed and rest not, thou art well inough, and I trouble thée not, we being thys good while so wel agréed togither.

Although I féele none euill, and thou my soule doest not trouble [...]e, yet haue I other cares that suffer me not to sléepe.

What cares can they be? tell me séeing we be agréed, tell me what it is (thāked be the libertie & the strength that God hath giuen vs) that can hurte vs, but only he? or who can worke such griefe or payne, as may take vs from our good purpose?

Who? they that worke woe to euery man, the World and Fortune.

The World & Fortune, giueWorlde. Fortune. annoyance onely to them that can not guyde their owne lyfe, for they eyther be of such sorte, as they may be auoyded or no. And those that may be auoyded, the wise man shifts away with his wis­dome: and of the other, foreséeing what they be, he is not grieued.

These be things easy to be spo­ken, but to doe them, more is required than words: tel me, how can a man flée Enuie, which is euer borne against good men, of the which ryseth euery day a thousand things displeasant?

Doth Enuie anoy thée, and is [...]auie. it that that makes thou canst not sléepe.

It is: for since by thy counsel I haue brought my selfe to this mery and quiet lyfe, such Enuie hath ben borne me that I can not endure. One sayth what thinketh he he is? is he any better thā a Couper? An other sayth, I esteme no man, and nothing can please me. An other sayth, I thinke my selfe too wyse, and that I wyll reproue euery man: and [Page 100] in effect I am so enuied, that euery man is a griefe vnto me, & that I can abide in no place.

Thou art fallen into a talke, wherin before this time I haue wished to deale wyth thée, to delyuer thée of this thy false opinion, for I perceyued well thou wert awry, but nowe I wyll that we tell truth, & not one to deceyue an other, willing it to be vnderstode, that we haue done for the cōmoditie of other, that which we haue done for our selues. And I will not doe now, as our neyghboure didde, whych, after he was broken, being reprehended of some of his creditours, that he spente too much, he woulde make them beleue he dydde it for theyr sakes, that he myght be in health and able to pay them, for he that is deceiued of himselfe, shal easely be de­ceiued of other.

I doe not desire other thing, but that thou wouldst tell me truth, as I am disposed to doe to thée.

What Enuie is it that thou [Page] sayst is borne thée?

What enuy? haue I not tolde thée, that it séemeth that euery one a whyle since doe disprayse me, and say e­uyll of me, and doe not estéeme me as they wer wont? This can not be other wyse but for the enuie they beare me, bicause I lyue so contented in this my state, as it is, and that I passe the tyme so merily, and with such quietnesse as I doe.

All is, whether it be Hate or Enuie that they beare thée.

What is that the matter?

Yes, for Enuie comes of an e­uillEnuie. intention of him that enuieth, and hatred of some fault that is in the thingHate. hated: But knowest thou wher of it co­meth theiseme to thée both one? bicause both of them is contrary to loue & bene­uolence, which is nothing else but a wil & desire of the weale of our neighbour.

Surely I thought they had ben all one thing, and that there was lyttle difference.

It is not to be marueled much, vices being, (as Plutarche writeth) like a multitude of hookes, whereof if a man touche one, many of the other cleaues vnto him. Neuerthelesse, if thou consi­derest well, they be muche different: for enuie is onely borne to them, whome thou thinkst doe lead their life happely, and hate, to them that be faulty, or that haue done thée some iniury. And there­fore enuie is borne onely to men, but hate also to beasts. Bisides this, beasts haue hate, but not enuie, & that comes, bicause not hauing the discourse of rea­son, they can not iudge of the felicitie of other.

O thou beginnest to make me vnderstande the truthe.

The hate may be sometime iust and reasonable, but enuie neuer. And that is, bicause a man may iustly hate the euill things, but he can not with reason euer enuie the good, but when they haue it that doe not deserue it: but that is no enuie. This iudgement must [Page] be left to God, that can not erre, & ther­fore many shal confesse they haue some in hate, shewing that he deserues it, but no man, or seldome, will confesse he beares enuie to any man, but rather when he doeth it, he wil séeke wayes to couer it, saying he hateth, affirming that he which hateth not euil, deserueth blame.

Certainely, all that thou tellest me, is true.

We sée also, when they whom thou hatest, fal in miserie, or infelicitie, thou ceasest to enuie them. But hate doeth not so, but euer foloweth him, who is hated, in what estate so euer he be.

This also is true.

Further, hate faileth as oft as thou art persuaded, that he whom thou hatest is good, or that he hath done thée no iniurie: where as enuie, the better he is spoken of, whom thou enuiest, the more thine enuie increaseth.

It is truthe.

Hate also many times is quē ­ched, when he to whom thou bearest it, doth thée some benifite: wheras enuie, (what soeuer benifite he doth thée, that is enuied) neuer diminisheth. And y^e like is, when any gift is made thée.

This is well séene true euery day, yet giftes haue many times suche force, as of enimies they make friends.

Then it is not to be maruel­led, though they doe many times cor­rupt iustice.

Our friend said wel, which was to plesant w^t this deuise, y^t he only ioyed in present state, bicause y^• time past was gone, & the time to come was vncerten.

Hate finally, til the thing ha­ted be vtterly extinct, persecuteth euer, as we sée many times one enimy to an other, wheras enuie so soone as felicitie faileth in him whom he enuieth, ceaseth straight: and thou knowest Iust, when it commeth properly of enuie, as of a house, the which bicause it is too highe, kéepes y^• light from thée, which anoyeth [Page] thée, whiles it is so high, but when it is made lower, thou carest no more,

This similitude hath wel satis­fied me.

Art thou yet certain, that hate and enuie be not one thing?

I am.

And that the cause of enuie, or to say better, the fault, is in the enuier, and riseth in him of his nature euil, ha­uing enuie (as I haue sayd) only to the felicitie of an other, where in hate, it is in the thing hated, the which is naught to thée or to an other, or so séemeth, ha­ting only the euill, or that doeth the in­iurie?

This I graunt.

Then tel me, what be thy feli­cities, or what partes haste thou to be enuied?

I can not tel, I liue quietly, cō ­ [...]ented with that little that I haue, and am not so careful for the world, as most men be.

This may euery man doe as [Page 103] well as thou.

It may peraduenture be, bi­cause I liue quietly after my state. And bisides this, I haue some qualitie more than other, and haue frendes that make accompt of me.

This is the lesse cause, for though thou art well to liue, according to thy calling, yet thou art not rich: and the rich be they that be enuied. Againe,The riche en­uied. though thou mayst be called witty, and of good iudgement by my help & worke, yet thou art not excellent, that any man might enuie thée therefore. If vertue may be enuied, if Nobilitie of bloud, of parents, or of state, I am most certaine that thou doubtest not, vnlesse thou be a foole, nor for thy friendes, not hauing suche as might make thée to be repined, many of them being worse thā thy self.

Wherof comes it then, that they grudge at me?

That is the very thing I thought to tell thée, that we bothe con­sidering these things, and the occasi­ons, [Page] might auoide the cares that come thereby, the little time we haue héereaf­ter to liue.

And that is the thing that I de­sire to know, therefore tell me what I must doe, not to faile?

Knowe (Iust,) among other things, of defecte and want which olde age bringeth with it. It bréedeth in him that knoweth not him self wel, such an opinion of him selfe, that makes him think him self wiser than he is, wherby he ceaseth not to praise him selfe, & his things, & to blame without all modesty other mens, to reproue, without all dis­cretion yong men, not remēbring what he did when he was yong, as they be.

Is not an olde man wiser than other, though for nothing else, but for his experience?

Yes: but all is, wisely to vse his wisdome in time, where and when it is conuenient. For doing otherwise, in chaunge of reuerence and honor, he getteth dispraise and hate, of the which [Page 104] thing y^• maist wel take exāple of thy self

What doe I, wherof this should come?

I wil tell thée, thou art so vain­glorious of thy self, that thinking thou hast no péere, thou despisest and contem­nest all men. And thou wilt stand some time in reasoning, as one that deceue [...]t thy self much, that there is none y^• kno­weth so much as thou, & certaine of thy friends: in maner, as by this so vain ar­rogancie, thou hast got a great sorte of enimies, which stand alwayes w^t their eyes turned vpon thée, to sée if thou doe amisse, that they might make it euidēt to other: & they be those, thou sayest doe beare thée enuie, which can not be, y^u ha­uing nothing, y^t deserues to be enuied, but hate they may well, bicause of thy vsage to them. Neuerthelesse, if y^u wilt folow my counsell, thou shalt make the most part of them thy frends, & of them that wilnot, thou shalt got some profit:Profite of enimies. for to haue some enimie i [...] good.

Wherto can an enimy [...]e good?

There is nothing in y^• world so euill, but may be good for some pur­pose. Tell how many Mines & Herbes venemous be in the world, which being wel vsed, be good to heale a thousand of our diseases. And so it is of enimies, for as those beasts that abound with heat, doe not onely digest many pestiferous things, but also nourishe themselues, where it would doe many other hurte, and as hunters doe not only take héede that the wilde beasts do not hurt them, but also do féede of their fleshe, and clad them of their skins: so wise men doe not only know how to deale with their enimies, as they can not hurt them, but also can get profite by them.

What profite can be gotten of enimies?

I wil tel thée First thy enimies doe thee this good: as the scoute & garde of a citie besieged, giues aduise to him that hath charge of al that might offēd, so they standing alwayes waking to obserue thy behauior, they aduise thée [Page 105] by speaking euill, and reprehendyng all that thou doest, of all that thou oughtest to take heede.

So do also true friends.

They doe: But bicause the loue they beare thee, dothe sometime blind them, they see not many tymes those wantes whiche the enuious see. And although they do see, yet being of thy part, they excuse thē. And so som­time they wil call craft policie, which thine enimie will call plaine malice, or fraude. Is not he therfore to be set by, that markyng all thy operation, might reproue thée of all thine error? And is not this able to work a know­ledge in thée of such prudence, y^• thou maist euer regard what thou dost, and restrain thy self, at the lest with fear, and euer liue vertuously & honestly?

It is true, that a man hath more feare to erre in the sight of his enimie than of his friende.

Therefore it is good to haue both friends and enimies, that at lest [Page] feare may draw thée from that which might work thy shame. Which thing Scipio Nasica well knewe, when hée hearde one saye, that the Romane e­state was in most suretie, bicause the Grekes were brought to bondage, and Carthage ouercome: Rather is it (sayd he) nowe in most great peril, bicause they haue nowe no more whome to feare or reuerence.

Oh goodly saying, and worthy so good a man.

And so ennimies (doing as he that would haue stryken Prometheus of Thessalia, did cut an impostume that he had, and healed him) many times beleuing to hurt, they do thée good.

Wilt thou not graūt me that it is better to haue frends thā enimies?Friendes.

Yes, and specially when they are faithful, nothing in the world ey­ther more swéete or profitable than true frēdship. Neuerthelesse enimies serue many times to stirre thée wyth their bitter words, which frends with [Page 108] their gētle reprehētion do not. Beside they aduise a man of certaine cōmon faults, which friends seldome know.

Of thys I know thou sayst wel.

Enimies also helpe to this, that in suffring both them and the in­iuries they doe thée, a man is acquainted the better to beare the troubles that come in the care of householde, and in rulyng eyther hym selfe, or hys familie, whereby it séemeth not so sharpe vnto thée, if Fortune gyue thee eyther a shreude wife or children of euil condition, or beastly brethren, and so ar no lesse profitable to thée thā thy friendes: for as thou learnest of thy friends by their conuersation, be­nignity, magnanimitie, & many other vertues, thou learnest by bearing thy enimies, mildenesse & pacience, which howe nedeful it is in this world, thou knowest, euery houre somewhat hap­ning that displeaseth vs.

That is often sene, and be sure troubles inowe in euery one.

Enimies be also profitable, bicause hauing sometime with whom to contend, a mā becomes more ware in his spéech, more prompt in answer, more quick in accusing, more sage in defending, more prudent in reprehen­ding, and more prompt in returnyng iniurious wordes to him that speakes them. But I will not they serue to y^• purpose, for being nowe in y^• age that we must shortly change our coūtrey, euery thing is méeter for thée than cō ­tention: but I will haue them serue thée onely for one thing, wherby thou mayste with thy lesse blame ease the part of anger (but with such modestie as thou mayst bée praysed) that after thou mayst be to thy friends al gentle and curteous.

How woldest thou then, that I shold gouern me, with these thou spe­kest of, that haue me so in hate, for I wil now beleue it is so, for the strong reasons that thou hast made therin.

I will tell thee: thou must doe [Page 107] two things, one of the which, and the more of weight, pertaineth to thy self and that is, that thou take away all those customes and maners, of which may procéede this hate, whiche they beare thee, as to despise or to contemn any person, and to blame other mens things, and the presēt time, and those maners y^• be vsed now a days, though thou be otherwise affected.

Shoulde I not blame thyngs when they bee not well? If I shoulde doe so, they woulde say I vnderstode nothing.

I will, if thou wilte get the name of a wise or prudent man, that thou doe it with woorkyng, and not with reprouing, for that is the waye which the ignorant vseth, and malici­ous: and when thou séest a thing that standes not well, it is inough not to praise it, and learne of our Punturi­no, who, though there be fewe in this age, that can compare with hym in painting, neuer blames any other mēs [Page] works, vnlesse he be forced to say his iudgemēt in a case. Praise those that thou praisest, moderatly, y^• no disdayn grow among them of that sciēce, y^• are not praised of thée. And in summe, lay away y^• opinion thou hast of thy selfe to be wiser than other, for that wold make thée litle to estéeme other, & the things that do not depēd of thée, wher­by thou shouldest be called rashe or proude: & thou maist wel do it, when thou thinkest other be men as wel as thy selfe.

This I can easily beléeue, for I neuer founde man yet but in some thing knew more than my selfe.

And when it shall happē that thou defēdest an opinion against some other, do it as modestly as thou canst, praising always him that doth as our maister Pier Francis Iambulari, a man certainely of no lesse good iudgement than great learning in his operation, wherin he hath with maruellous arte founde the scite and measure of Dants [Page 106] Hell, where beyng forced to speake against Anton Manetti, who hath also writen, but not so perfectly, saith, that if death had not preuented his honest trauailes, he should not haue neded to haue taken this paine, Manetto being a man mete to bring a greater thing to perfection than that.

Surely this was a way, and a scuse, in reprouyng of hys opinion, much to be commended.

Thou must also, when thou reprouest any man, do it gently: and aboue all, be sure, neuer to reproue any of them y^• be more cūning thā thy self: for doing otherwise, thou shalte many tymes heare that thou woul­dest not. As it hapt to Francis kyng of France, when he was in Bononia withFrancis of Fraunce. Pope Leo, whome reprouing for hys sumptuousnesse, and saying, the anci­ent Byshops lyued in more simplici­tie and pouertie, Leo answered: that was when Kyngs kepte shéepe. And the Kyng replying, that hée spake [Page] of Bishops of the new testament, and nor of the old: Leo againe answered: that was, when kyngs gouerned the poore in hospitalles with their owne hands, meaning sainct Lewes his pre­decessour.

Surely, none other answere was conuenient.

Thē thou must always speke honourably of them, and when it is tolde thée that any speaketh euill of thée, then do thou speake wel of them, excusyng them saying, y^• they doe not knowe thée, that so saye of thée, and therfore do not deserue to be blamed. And if thys will not helpe with them, (whyche absolutely will helpe, for to heare that one sayeth well, although thou knowest he sayth false, it delites thée) it shall helpe in the sight of the vniuersall, whiche hearyng that thou sayest well of them that speake euyll of thée, they wyll thinke thée a man of a good mynde: and then studie to mayntayne thys good opynion wyth [Page 109] good behauiour: and if thou wouldest nedes be reuenged of thē, whom thou thinkest to be thine en [...]imies, this is the best waye, bicause (as Diogenes sayd) the true way of reuengemente with thy enimies, is to become from time to time better.

These thy counsels, although they be contrary to the cōmon way of life, yet they please me muche.

Canst not thou, being a chri­stian man, be cōtent to do it for euery man, as a man ought to do it? yea, I wil further, that thou loue thine eni­mies: for in this onely consisteth the perfection of our lawe, and in this, it passeth in goodnesse all other: for wher the other graunt a man may doe iniu­ry to him that doth it to thée, our law, desiring to make man good, will not only thou pardon thine enimies, but also thou loue them.

O how can a man do that? thou hast told me, that he that doth thée in­iurie, thou hatest.

An enimie may be loued, not for hym selfe, but for others cause, in such sort, as thou louest the childrē or seruāts of thy great friend, although they haue done thée iniurie. For thou considering that thy neighbor is also the sonne of God as well as thou, and bought with the same price, that thou wert, although he be thy enimie, thou mayste loue hym for Gods sake: for doing otherwyse, thou shouldest loseParadise. Paradise.

Howe shoulde I lose it, is it mine?

Thine? yea, and who douteth, that is a christen man?

Which way?

Tell me, when doeth the inheritance of the father come to the sonnes?

So soone as he dieth.

Then Paradise was oures as soone as Christ died for vs, if that rea­son were good. But▪ thou hast not sayd wel in that, y^• the heritage of a father [Page 110] is his sonnes as soone as he is borne, and that none other thing doeth make him heire, but being a sonne, nor that the father seeketh for other thing to haue children, but to haue to whome to leaue his inheritāce. And so we, as soone as we be borne the sonnes of God, and brethren of Christe by bap­tisme and faithe, we be ioyntely hei­res wyth hym of the Kyngdome of Heauen. And by this cause, a babe that sodainely dieth, so soone as he is baptised, goeth to Paradise, whiche is his onely, bycause he is the sonne of God, and not by any other merite, he neuer hauing done any meritori­ous déede.

If Paradise be ours, what néede we then doo any good?

Yes, it is necessarie, not to gayne the heritage of Heauen, which is oures by the merites of Christ, as I haue sayde, but bycause that wée shoulde not gyue an occasion to our Father of Heauen, to disenherite [Page] vs, as all children doe, which behaue thēselues euill toward theyr fathers. Therfore a man must do good workes onely to the glorie and honor of God, folowing Christ, which wrought wel whiles he was in this world, onely to do the will of his father: so ought we to worke wel, to do his will (and not to degenerate and want of that is cō ­uenient, wée beyng children of a fa­ther so good, so liberall, and so gentle)Workes. but not gaine by them Paradise: for it is not conuenient, that oure workes which be temporall and haue ende, shoulde haue for rewarde the glory of heauen, which is eterne and infinite: and it is not inough not to doe euill, but thou must doe well, for he that is not with hym, is agaynst hym, and besides sheweth hym selfe vnkinde of so great liberalitie, which God hathe shewed towarde vs.

Thou haste thys mornyng my soule, kindeled in my hearte suche a loue towarde my creator, that I am [Page 111] sory I euer dydde thyng that myght displease hym, seing he hath ben so li­berall and so gentle towarde me.

This is it that I desire a­boue all other thyngs: for thys shall make thée worke as it behoueth a free child, and not as a seruaunt for scare: and in this good purpose, I will that to the honoure and glorye of hym, wée make an ende of this mornyngs talke.

The .ix. Reasoning. IVST. SOVLE.

IN déede Prouerbes bée all proued: this olde age (as we saye all day by prouerbe) comes with euery euyll amendes, for she doth depriue vs not onely of delyghtes (for an olde man is wearie, and yrketh al pleasure and pastyme) but also doeth take away a mans slepe, as it hath done with me, [Page] whiche in beste parte of the nyghte, when other men slepe, I do nothyng but turne me hyther and thyther, we­rying my bones in suche sorte, that when I rise, me thynkes, in stede of repose I haue felte a greate trauaile: And I thinke thys hapneth vnto me, bycause my natural heate is so weke­ned, for lacke of good moysture, wher­ofSleepe. it was nourished, that it hath not so much strength, as it can send vp to the heade such exhalations and vapours, the whyche beyng after made thicke wyth the coldenesse of the brayne, fal downe again, and filling those pla­ces, where the spirites passe, whych goe from the hearte to the heade, doe gender sléepe. And thoughe it sende some thyther, they be so vndi­gested and impure, that by the colde­nesse of the braine, they be turned in­to grosse matter, and in chaunge of sléepe, they bréede in mée catarres, [...]eumes, or other lyke thyngs, and [Page 112] so in steéede of slepe, I lye wyth e­uyl contentation, spitting and cough­ing all the nyghte, as cursed be the yeares, and the tyme that be occasi­ons of it.

Iust, Iust, what a fonde­nesse is thys? Doest thou suffer thy reason so to be shadowed wyth Ire­that thou cursest yeares and tyme on this fashion?

Who would not curse, when they make thyngs olde? Olde Age beyng nothyng else but a recepta­cle of troubles and griefes, and a priuation of all pleasures, whiche is worse, and a short way that leades al thyngs to corruption?

Howe many tymes haue I sayde, that all ages be good, to hym that can vse them as is conueniente: but we vse them so, many tymes, that when we shoulde blame our sel­ues we doe complayne of other, and moste tymes wrongfullye, as thou doest nowe of olde Age, muche la­menting [Page] she will not lette thée slepe, whereof thou oughtest to thynke thy selfe muche bounde.

Why so my soule? thou wilt make mée thynke that thou arte not the same thyng that I am, as I dydde beleue, since thou sayest I am bound to that that kepes me from rest.

Sléepe is a priuation of the most part of our exercises, and parti­cularly of all plesures and delights.

Rather it is a lightning of all our cares, and a most swete repose to all our troubles.

That is true, but that ma­kes not agaynste my sentence, and lesse proueth that sléepe shall be good: for firste, to mée it is euill, takyng from me the power of contemplation and to consider the nature of thyngs, occupying all those partes that be ne­cessarye to mée to vse in that office, whiche grieueth me not a little: for I am not wearie, nor suffer paine of my woorkes, but rather, the more I [Page 113] worke, the greater delite I haue, bi­cause I am not corporall, nor made of matter as thou arte, which should cause me any trouble, in making resistance to my operations.

How, art not thou wearye as well as I, which as ofte as I haue gone about to reade at night after sup­per, haste caused a sléepe to come vp­on me, that I must néedes goe to bed, and leaue reading.

Ah Iust, it is not I that hath bene weary, but these thy instruments, (without the which, I can not vnder­stande any thing,) being shutte wythin thée, haue bene so wearyed, consuming too muche of those spirites, by y^e meane whereof they doe their operations, that it hath ben conuenient for vs to repose vs, to thée by nature, and to me by res­pect that I am in thée.

I know not this, but I sée that thou hast as well slept as I.

I will not haue thée say so, for I haue bene euer awaked, in suche [Page] maner as I can. Bicause sléepe, (I not being corporall) hathe no place in me, and that this is true, thou knowest that he that sléepes, doth nothing: but I faile not to worke some way.

What operations be they, that thou doest when I sléepe?

First I attende with my en­creasing power, to make digestyon muche better than when thou arte a­wake, for not hauing the heart to sende the spirits to the senses, that they might doe their office, he sendes them to the partes, where digestion is made, and so I attende continuallye wyth greater force, to turne the nutriments into thy substaunce.

Oh, am not I also appertaining to doe this operation?

Yes, as occasion, wythout the which it can not be done, and as a pa­cient, but not as an agent and princi­pall, for thou knowest wel, that I haue tolde thée, that neither of vs can worke without the other. Although I acknow­ledge [Page 114] my selfe so noble, that I thinke I coulde vnderstande some thing with­out thée. Goe then further to my pow­er sensitiue, which thoughe some of them be bound with sléepe, as the out­warde senses, and the sense common, bicause those places where they be ex­ercised, be full of fumositie, so as they doe not wake, till they be consumed of heate naturall: and fansie neuer cea­seth to doe somewhat: wherefore re­garding to those visions and images of things that haue impressed the sen­ses in the heart, or in the bloud windy, whiles they were awake, doeth cause Dreames, and so that is also neuer idle.

What, there be some that drea­mes not, and some that dreames feare­full things and inordinate, in suche sorte, as thou arte little bounde vn­to them.

Very fewe.

Be those men, that dreames not [Page] sometime, at least when they be olde, if not afore: for not to dreame commeth of too moist a complexion, the which filleth the head with suche fumositie, that they trouble it, and doe not suffer those I­mages that are sene in sléepe, to gather whereof it comes, as of a stone caste after an other in a firme water, ma­king those circles and images that the first had made. And therefore children, and suche as goe to sléepe as sone as they haue eate and dronke, doe seldome dreame. But thou shalt sée them after in their age, when this moisture is dri­ed vp, dreame somtime of feareful drea­mes whereof thou speakest. Euill com­plexion is likewise the cause, which be­ing distempered, either of some infirmi­tie, or of too much drink, or of some me­lancholie or straunge thought, genders spirites, (in the which the things be imprest that men dreame,) so confused and disordinate, as they bring forthe suche monstrous apparitions as thou speakest of. But what can be said worse [Page 115] of slepe, if it, priuing you of al pleasures, doe not suffer you to féele any thyng at all?

If a man whiles he sléepeth, fée­leth no pleasures, he féeleth also no dis­pleasures: of the which I knowe not which he more and greater.

I know well there haue bene some of so timorous minde, that estée­ming more euery little dolor, than eue­ry great contentation, haue sayd that sléepe is one of the best and acceptable giftes that nature hath giuen to man, bicause it maketh all equall and alike, whiles they sléepe: for féeling nothing, the poore is as happy as the rich, whiles he sléepeth, the which opinion I neuer alowed. For if it were so, it were better to be a stone, or a trée, which féele not, than to be a beast or a man: and among beastes and men, he that euer sléepeth, or the most parte of time, shold be more happy than the other. Which thing is most false, for sléepe maketh vs like to deade men, which some other conside­ring, [Page] called it Deathes brother.

Why doe they call it so, they canSleepe, deathes brother. not make it euill? Doe we not sée two brethren, the one good, and the other naught, thou hast red with me in the Bible, the story of Esau and Iacob.

Yea, but he that hath called it deathes brother, hath not considered it as a brother by generation, but by simi­litude which it hath, depriuing you as it doth, of all your operations feli­cities and contentations, which consi­steth in operation. Wherefore, God, bi­cause he can euer vnderstand himselfe, and not sometime yea, and sometime no, is called most happy: and the like be those intelligences that serues him, bi­cause they be neuer letted of any thing, and may alwayes beholde God, wher­by they be reputed more happye and blessed than we, which althoughe we may well sometime taste by contem­plation parte of him, we can not stand long in so happy estate, bicause we be hindred of many diuers things: wher­of [Page 116] that parte which is in vs, that vn­derstandeth, bicause it vnderstandeth not alwayes, but sometime yea, and sometime no, is called intellect by name of a power, and they bicause they vnder­stand euer, are called intelligences, by name of operation, and of acte.

These thy reasons be very good, but they haue not yet persuaded me, that sléepe is not good. And when I re­member the great pleasure that I haue in sléeping one sléepe of will, as when I am weary, (which thing chaunced to me oftener, when I was a yong man, than it doeth now,) I can not but be sory of olde age, that hath taken it from me in suche sort, that mine may for the most parte, rather be called a slumbring than a sléeping.

Ah, hast thou séene that of thy selfe, thou haste confest that sléepe is not good?

Oh, in what manner? thou hast vnderstanded me cleane contra­rie.

Rather haue I vnderstanded thée well.

How?

Bicause those things that be not good of their proper nature, but on­ly for respect of other, be not called good absolutely, but by chaunce and respect, and to them onely that haue néede, a­mong the which is sléepe, the which be­ing as thou hast said, a restoring of tra­uailes, and of the paines of creatures, is only good to them, and yet not euer, but when they haue néede. And if it séeme, it bringeth them some delight, it is in respect of this wearinesse, which were muche better not to haue, as those intelligences, whereof I spake afore, to whome it were a greate im­pediment and annoyance, bicause they are neuer weary, for it shoulde dimi­nishe their felicitie, at leaste so muche time as they were occupied of it. But that thou sholdst be more cleare of this, tel me, is eating and drinking to be put among good things?

Who doubteth of that, being a thing so good and so desired, to liue, and that without thē nothing can be main­tayned aliue?

Then what is the cause thou doest not eate and drinke alwayes?

Now heare a goodly matter that thou hast spoken: bicause when I haue taken of them as much as my néede re­quireth, I haue no desire, and hauyng no desire, I haue no delight. Wherfore to eate or drinke more, should as much loth me, as afore it did delight me.

Then sée, that to eate, to drink, to sléepe, and like things be good, only to supply a want of them that haue néede: and the wante of a thing necessary, to the being or the wel being of an other, is neuer good, and it were much better not to haue néede. Wherof thou mayst cléerely knowe, that if olde age had not taken away thy sleepe, causing thée to haue lesse néede of sleepe than thou wert wont, thou hadst wrongfully complay­ned of hir, as thou doest also, lamenting [Page] of time & yeares, which thou saist, hath brought thée to this state, foolish & vn­kind that thou art.

O why may I not reasonably complaine me of time, it onely being y^• which hath made me so to grow olde?

First, bicause olde age is not worse in it selfe, than the other be: and furder, bicause it is not time that cōsu­meth and maketh things olde.

Neuer tel me that, y^• it is bet­ter to be olde than yong, for certainly, if I had .xxv. yeares lesse, I would thinke my selfe happy.

If thou hadst .xxx. lesse, thou sholdst be but Iust the Couper, as thou art now, and perhaps shouldest be in an age much more perillous and ful of tra­uaile than this is, that thou art in now. But I will not speake of this: for I will make thée know it manifestly, when I list. I [...] I doe not shew thée first, how false and foolish thy opinion is in com­playning of time, & more, that thou art olde, being a naturall thing to be olde. And no man ought to lament of those [Page] things that nature brings.

Say what thou wilt, for seing I cā not sléepe, it shal grieue me lesse, to looke for day, and shall reioyse me of that good that thou sayst little sleping bringeth.

Thou doest Iust, as the most part of men, the which not seing mani­festly the cause, which consumeth & wa­steth things, when they sée any present, they doe attribute it to the time. Wher­of if they sée a man wax olde, or forget that he knew, they say it comes of time, & likewise when they sée an house fall. yet whā they sée it builded, they impute it to the workeman. When they sée a man grow, and come to perfect stature, they attribute it to nature. And so whē they sée he learnes, they say his maister hath taught him.

What meanest thou by this?

Let me firste tell thée what Time is, & then thou shalt sée. Time, Iust, as I haue often heard, is no­thing but a measure, by the which all motions be measured, which thinges [Page] corporall doe, euen as thou doest with thy Brace, wherwith thou measurest al things in thy shoppe: and as that in it selfe and properly, is a péece of woodde, and intencionally in mannes minde by consideration, and as it serueth for mea­sure of things, it is a measure: so Time in it selfe, & really, is the motion of hea­uen, and as it serues for the measure of other motions, it is called Time.

I vnderstande thée, and not vn­derstande thée, and I would haue thée declare it better.

Heare me, and that thou mayst the better vnderstand, thou must know that a thing whych must all be brought vnder a determyned quantitie, thou must sée it so neyther more nor lesse in thy imagination, but with one of the very selfe same sorte, which thyng thou prouest euery hour in thy selfe: for whē thou wilt compt the patens in thy shop, bicause they be things diuided and sepe­rated, thou must doe it with numbers, which be also deuided & seperated. And [Page 119] when thou wylte measure an Axiltrée, thou must take a yarde, that is ioyned and continued, as that is.

This is most true.

Wherefore, when men wyll measure motions, whych they sée con­tinually in these things, generable and corruptible, it was of necessitie to do it otherwise. And bicause in al measures, this condition of necessitie is soughte, by reason they mighte be inuariable, and neuer chaunge, otherwyse thyngs coulde not be measured by them, (for if thy yard should sometime diminish and sometime increase, thou couldest neuer measure any thing rightly with it) men not findyng any motion among these natural things, that wēt alwais equal­ly, not varying, they wente to them of heauen, and not finding among them any so righte, as that, whych the starry Sphere maketh, called of them by thys occasion, without error, they toke that to be a measure for other, measuring with it all other motions that be found [Page] within these things that be moued, the which thing thy Dant dothso maruel­lously shew in his .xx. chapter of Para­dise, when he speketh of this sphere.

And after saith.

Truly he saith very well. But we giue so much loue to this our Dant, that I doubt we will make him séeme more faire than he is.

Doubt not of that Iust. For I tell thée, Dant is one of the best wri­ters, (as I haue heard of many learned men that is in any tong.

I would not we should prayse him so, as we shold be dispraysed, as we were once, in defending him that dis­praysed him.

What say they whome thou [Page] sayest do reproue him?

That we ought to haue some res­pect to his good qualities: yet y^u knowest he was on of y^• most excelēt in our time.

Surely he was a man in all other things to be honored, but in this not hauing respect to Dant, we ought to haue none of him, & chiefly of vs Flo­rentines, y^• do defend our Citizen, & one that hath ben a chief light of our coun­trey, & causeth the name of Florence to go through the world. So thou mayst aunswer them, that shall say any more so thée, as one did once, which defēding him selfe a good while with the staffe of a Partisane, & in the ende the dogge by­ting him, he turned the point, & stroke him with y^• sharp, whose Maister saying to him, he should haue ben content to strike him with the staffe, he aunswe­red: then shold he haue bytten me with his taile. But lette vs ouerpasse, these and turne to reasoning. This sphere not erring, called also the fyrst moua­ble, bicause it is the first and principall [Page] cause of al other motions, turning eue­ry .xxiiij. houres about the earth once, maketh the day naturall. And this mo­tion as moste regulate, is after taken by the measure of other motiōs, for of him is made the wéeke, and of wéekes, mo­nethes, and of monethes yeares: as you make of farthings groates, of groates, shillings, and of shillings crownes.

Tell me, I haue euer heard it called Day, all that time the Sun stan­deth ouer the earth, & not .xxiiij. houres as thou sayst.

Marke that dayes be deuidedDay. into natural and artificial, and one tur­ningNaturall. aboute of this Sphere in .xxiiij.Artificiall. houres is called a naturall day, in the whych is included day and night.

This is a thing I neuer heard before, and I can not beleue, that when a man speaketh of day, he shall include night.

It is as I haue tolde thée, and euer whē you speake of dayes in things naturall, you vnderstand natural days, [Page 121] and in things artificial, dayes artificial. Tel me, when thou askest thy Til man, séeing the yeare after thou hast sowen, a fielde of thy corne growing, how many dayes hath this corne ben a growing? and he aunswereth .viij. or .x. doest thou vnderstande by the day, onely the day a­lone, or the day and night together?

The day and the night.

And when thou askest him, in how many dayes he sowed it, what vn­derstandest thou by the day?

The day onely.

Sée then that in things natu­rall thou takest dayes naturall, and in things artificiall, dayes alike.

Surely my soule thou hast made me vnderstand that I neuer did afore. Wher hast thou learned so many good­ly things?

Of experience, bicause I haue so long ben in thée, by the help of know­ledge that thy senses haue giuen me.

Now I knowe how time is the measure of the motions of these things [Page] of the world, but I would haue thée tel me better what the motions be.

The motiō local, which is that, by which, things moue from one place to another: the motion of alteration, by the which one thyng goeth from one qualitie to an other, from heate to cold, or from youth to age: and the motion of quantitie, by the which, things be made of greater & lesse quantitie, increasing or diminishing, thus to be borne and to die, called generation and corruption. But these be rather mutations, than mouings, bicause they be done in an in­stant, and séemes they can not be measu­red by time.

How are these mouings mea­sured with the mouing of heauen?

Doest thou not sée euidently of thy self, that one goeth. 3. myle in an houre? how can he, vnlesse his mouing be equall to the .xxiiij. part of the▪ mo­uing which the heauen maketh aboute the earth, but vnderstand it of equalitie of duration? and as much is the one, as [Page 122] the other, and not of distance & length, for in them is no comparison: and so is measured how much one is made grea­ter, or lesse than an other, and from the one to the other, as from sick to hole, frō yong to olde, to the which mouings, be subiect these things generable and cor­ruptible, which euer varie, & none can be found, but y^• is euer moued of one of these mouings. Thou thinkest y^u stādest firme, & yet thou mouest euer in altera­tion, for thou growest cōtinually olde.

I vnderstand thée well.

Therefore all worldly things they say be measured of time, which is as much to say, as subiect to mouing, y^• is measured with the motion of heauē: which things hap not to things diuine and immortal, for not being neither ge­nerable, nor corruptyble, bicause they be no bodies, and by that can not be made lesse or more quantitie, nor be chaunged, by reason that they be made of no beginning, which haue any con­trarietie in them, as the Elementes, [Page] of the which al natural things be made, can not be measured with time as they. Of the mouings that be chaūged from place to place I speake not, for this be­longeth only to bodies, & I know thou hast heard preached a thousande times, that God and Aungels be not in place: but whē it is said they be more here thā there, it is vnderstanded, bicause they shewe more their operation there, than in other place, but not as they be com­passed of our outward form of an other body, the which is proper to be in place, as all things be in this world.

Then if I lament that the time hath made me olde of yong, being a bo­die, why sayst thou I haue not reason?

Bicause time as time is no­thing, but in our cogitation. And there­fore they say, that if there were not in­tellect humaine, there shold be no tyme, though there were a mouing of heauē: euen as thy yarde in thy shop, if thou diddest not vse it as a mesure, it should not be a yarde, but a trée: whereby [Page 123] it foloweth, a yarde to be nothing but in our cogitation, & as a yarde, can doe neither good nor hurt.

Thou mightst aske my prentice if it can do hurt or no, y^t so oft haue laid with it good blowes vpon him.

This operation he doeth as a trée, as he is really, & not as a yarde, & so shold an other haue done, that serued not for a measure. Therefore if thou wouldest nedes lament, thou must do it of heauen, which with his mouing, ma­keth al things to varie, that be included within thē, of the which thou canst not reasonably doe it, bicause he with his mouing gendring all things, is y^• cause why thou also art. And though it sée­meth the cause why thou & other decay, this commeth not principally of him, bi­cause his intētion is to maintaine this vniuersal, but by reason y^t he hath none other maner to make y^• things whereof you be made, which goeth continually chaūging vnder diuerse formes, & there­fore you wax old and finally decay. Yet [Page] can you not lament for this of him that hath made you, being better to be of a matter corruptible, thā to be nothing at all, which thou oughtst not to doe, for though thou arte mortall, thou arte v­nited with me which am immortall, in suche sort as I shall make thée also im­mortall, by the grace of him that hath created me & sent me vnto thée, when we shal rise at y^• day of the great iudge­ment. So sée how euill thou doest to cō ­playne of time, and perhaps the more, bicause thou art waxen olde, the age wherein thou now art, being no lesse worthie to be estemed, or paraduenture better, than all they.

To this I wil say thou art cun­ning, if thou cāst make me vnderstād it.

I hope it shall not be hard for me to doe it, if thou wilt heare reason, and folow it as thou oughtst. But it is now day, arise and go to thy businesse, and as I shall sée thée disposed another time of these things, I will kéepe pro­mise with thée.

The .x. Reasoning. SOVLE. IVST.

IVst, O Iust, awake, for it is now time, & complaine not this morning, that thyne age hath taken away thy sléepe, for thou hast slept this night as well, as when thou wast a childe.

O my Soule, thou saist truth, & I am so comforted, y^• me think I came but now to bed. But what is y^t cause I haue slept better now thā I am wont? I pray thée tell me the cause if thou canst.

If I should aunswer thée, the disposition of the heauen, which parad­uenture now is in a being much appro­priate to the temperature of thy com­plexion, thou mightst aunswer me, that this is y^• aunswere of y^• ignorant, which not knowing the particular causes of things, bringeth forth euer vniuersall, aūswering to thē y^• aske thē, God & the heauen wil haue it so. Wherefore com­ming to y^• perticularitie wherwith our desire is quieted, I say y^• thy temperate [Page] séeding hath ben the cause, which thou didst vse yesternight, whereby the quā ­titie of thy nutrimēt, not hauing ouer­come the force of the heate, that ought to séeth it, there hath risen in thée no trouble, & euerie power hath ben able to doe his office liberally. So as if thou sléepest not so other nights, the fault is many times of thy fragilitie, and not of thyne age, which as I haue sayd vnto thée, doth not deserue to be blamd more than the other which thou hast passed.

Wouldest thou make me vn­derstand, that olde age, which is the re­ceipt of troubles, should be good?

I wil not make thée beleue a­ny thing, but I will onely shew thée the truth, which thing I shall well doe this morning, bicause thou hast so well re­posed thy self, as thou art more hable to vnderstande reason now, than when thou hast by some accident altered thy humors, and troubled thy spirites.

I wil heare thée with a good wil truely, for I know that of euery opiniō [Page 125] be it neuer so muche against reason, a man learneth somewhat. But I shall desire thée, y^t thou wilt not doe as they, whose purpose is only to persuade, v­sing all reason and coniecture, being ne­uer so false, so it haue any meane to ob­taine their desire.

Doubt not of this, for I shuld doe thée too muche iniurie, and whome should I deceiue but my selfe, being so vnited with thée, that must haue the same fortune?

Then thou shalt doe thy due­tie, and when thou wouldest doe other­wise, I should yelde a recompence con­trary, and doe to thée, as he did to the frier maister of the reuestrie in the A­nuntiata, who wold haue bought a can­dle to haue offred to that image for a vowe, and the frier saying to him, take one of these that be here in the churche, and giue the mony which thou shouldst spend, to the reuestrie: then giuing him a bunche of candles in his hande, said: take which thou wilt, and it shall be as [Page] good as if thou hadst euen now put it in the altare. The mā doing as y^• frier bad him, said: now touche you this purse, wherin my money is, and it shal be euē as good vnto you, as if you had it, and so the one was euen with the other.

Iust, let these toyes goe, for I tell thée certainly, that I shal make thée vnderstand, y^t olde age doth not deserue to be blamed, nor called a worse age, thā any of the other. And that thou mightst better vnderstand, mark what wants it hath, or wherof men do blame it, and I wil shew thée how much both thou and they be deceiued, for I otherwise could not defend it, not knowing any wāt in it. And whē I haue deliuered it of those blames, then will I shew the praises of it, and I hope in the end, that it shall no lesse please thée to be olde than yong.

If ther wer none other thing but this, y^t we olde men be not only litle e­stemed, but rather scorned of euery one, dost y^u not think y^t old age is an il thing?

Yes if it came of hir self, but if [Page 126] thou considerest wel, to whom this hap­peneth, y^u shalt sée it procedeth not of old age, but of them selues, which hauing had little accōpt of their honor in their life, haue bene cause that mē giue them not that reuerēce y^t they ought to haue, wherby if they be in litle reputation w^t other, their behauior is the fault, & not their age. So as if thou hast none other cause to blame hir, this is worthe no­thing, but rather discouereth what thy maners be, or haue ben, y^t causeth their blame in their olde age.

Yes I haue reasōs too many, but bicause I sée I cā neuer proue any with thée, I will not speake them, but yelde to thée, and will also (if I can) force my self to beleue thée, for if I could do so, it wer much to my cōfort, for ther is not a better thing in the world, thā for a man sometime to deceiue himselfe, thinking he is wise or faire, or suche like. And he that is in this case, enioyeth the world, without any care.

Yea, to fooles it hapneth so.

And haue not they pleasaunt dayes also? Dost thou not remember of our physitian of Florence, which a while was frantike foolishe, and being sought vnto of a pore woman, to helpe a sonne of hirs that was in like case, he answe­red: good woman I will not deale in it, for I should doe him to muche wrong, for I neuer had so pleasaunt time, asFolishnesse. when I was so diseased my selfe.

Let these reasons goe, for they be not conuenient to our nature, and muche lesse to thy age: and since thou wilt not speake, heare me, for I wil not faile to doe that I haue promised.

I shall gladly doe it, for it is so much betwixt this and day, that I shold be so idle, and that would irke me.

Iust, I haue many times cōside­red with my self y^• al those things wher by they blame olde age, (for thou know­est with old men the other do not much kéepe company, bicause they of one age, are euer glad to talke togither) may be reduced to foure causes that be princi­pall [Page 127] of all, and by the meane of age, re­puted noysome and grieuous of euery man.

Which be they?

The first is, that it maketh them vnméete to do things: y^• secōd, it makes their body weak: the third, it depriueth them of pleasures: the fourth, that he is nighe death.

Thinkest thou then, that they blame it without cause?

Yea sure, and that thou maist know the truthe with thine errour, let vs first examine diligently this their opinion: and to begin with the first, tell me, what things be they whereunto a man is made more vnapt by age?

What be they? euen all.

I would not haue thée say so, for thou art wrōg: but wilt thou know which they be, only they that be done by force, & they be rather méete for bea­stes than for men, the greater parte of the which be made of greater force thā we be for our seruice, that they might [Page] case vs of superfluous trauaile, & to vs she hath giuen wit, to serue our selues with it. So if thou considerest wel, thou shalt sée that the greater parte of these operations, y^• haue néede of much force, be things seruile, & all wise men makes them to serue for those turnes. But the great things which be of importance, be not done with force, but with councell & wisdome, of the which things olde age doth most abound.

And what makest thou of Art of warre, thinkest thou that can be done without force?

No, but in this, many times councell and prudence doeth more than force.

Whom canst thou make beleue that, that wher néede is to do, he is more profitable, that sitteth & saith nothing, than he, that bestirreth his hands?

All they that haue so muche knowledge, or become so prudent by ex­perience of things, which knowe it is cléere, that it is much more hard well to [Page 128] know how to commaund and gouerne, than to do well and obey. For standing in this thy opinion, there should folow that he were more profitable in a ship, that roweth, or hales, or spreade sailes, thā the master that gouerns al, for they worke, and he stands and commaunds.

What should he doe, that com­maundeth, if he had not that did obey?

Fewer faultes a great deale, than they should, if they had not one to commaund them: therfore if thou consi­rest wel, thou shalt sée few cities main­tained in felicitie, but y^• be gouerned of old men. For although yong men som­time augmēt, yet cā they not maintain, for yong mē be caried with Wil, which in them is like the thirst y^• a great ague bringeth with it, whereby they suffer themselues to be ouercome of loue, of anger, or of many other passions, which y^• age hathe. And further, they be so am­bitious & desirous of praise, that many times they aduēture inconsideratly vp­on enterprises so hard and daungerous▪ [Page] that they bring away no lesse hurt than shame. And that that is worse, they be cruel, and put hope in euery litle thing, they make little accompt of their owne, they import their secretes to euery mā, whereby it is an easie thing to deceiue them. The which thing hapneth not to olde men, which for their long experi­ence, and for that they haue oft ben de­ceiued of things of the worlde, they put not so rashly themselues to perill, they tell not so easily their minde, they beleue little and hope lesse. And bicause they haue learned how hard a thing it is to get riches, they cast them not awaye as yong men doe, but make store of thē, to haue when néede shall require.

And so the most parte become co­uetous, berieuing them selues of that liberality, wherof there is nothing foūd so profitable for man, and chiefly to thē that shall gouerne other, for it causeth that men serue them for loue, and eue­ry man knoweth that rule that is done by loue, is muche more sure and dura­ble, [Page 129] than that is done by force.

That thou thinkst in yong mē liberalitie, is for the most part prodi­galitie: for young men giue easily to them that praise them, or bring them any delight, where olde men bycause they are more prudente, and knowe things better, giue more to whom is conuenient: in the which thyng, libe­ralitie proprely cōsisteth. So as thou séest howe much thou art deceiued, to say, that age maketh a man lesse apt to do things, wher as it maketh them more experte and prudent, with the which vertues (as I sayd before) only great affaires be done.

Wel be it so as thou hast said, which in dede I wil not vtterly deny: for abiding of trauel is rather a thing of beasts, than of men, to whom coun­sel and discourse belongeth: wilt thou denie me, that old Age doth not bring w^t it so many infirmities, as it so en­feebleth mans bodie, y^t it is to be shoon­ned, and deserues to be blamed.

All other ages doe the like, rather worse than it. For those infir­mities that childhode and youth brin­geth with it, be much more perillous. For they be more sodaine and sharpe, i [...] respecte of the humors and bloude, which be more, & of greater force in yong men, than in olde.

How wil you proue that?

What néede I labor in it, for experiēce wil make thée certaine? séest thou not that there die more children than yong men, and how fewe they be that come to olde age?

Certainely in this thou haste reason, for I do not beleue, that of thē y^• be borne, two of the hundred comes to fiftie yeares.

And wherof thinkest thou, co­meth that, but that those ages be sub­iect to more dangerous diseases than olde age is?

I cā not tel, but this I sée, there dieth so many yong, y^• there remaines but a fewe olde.

Now thou telst a pretie thing, must not all die at length?

Well I will graunt thée, that olde age hath not more of these daun­gerous infirmities, than hath any o­ther age, but of certaine coughes, ca­tarres, palseis, and other diseases which yong men haue not, and olde men be full: what sayst thou now?

I say vnto thée, that they ra­ther come of them selues, than of age.

How so?

If thou considerest well the life of suche as now be, or haue bene in that age, thou shalt know it of thy selfe, for thou shalt finde them men, which either not cōsidering their age, and how lesse their power is, to that they were yong, they wil drinke and eate as muche as they were wont, or peraduenture more, whereby nature for that occasion not being hable to make disgestion, genders in them that superfluitie, that causeth these accidents: or else in their youth haue [Page] made so many disorders, y^t they haue gotten these euyls, which shew them selues in age, whē they be more weak of nature: but an olde man that con­sidereth well his vertue, howe muche and what it is, and liues orderly ther­vnto, eating and drynkyng onely so much as may restore his strēgth, and not oppresse hym, would lyue muche more hole, than a yong mā. And thou knowest I haue many times taughte thée what way to vse in it.

Then if an olde man wyll be hole, he must marke so many things, as he shal lose all his cōtentation: for so thou hast confessed of thy selfe, that this other blame, whiche we gyue to this age, that it takes away all plea­sure, is not giuen for naught.

Let vs procede in order, that thou maist se thou hast not yet caught me. Doest thou not remember that that I haue said an other time, that ea­ting and drinkyng, and other thyngs cōming of some lack, be no pleasures [Page 131] but as a man hath néede, for when he is suffised, they be vnpleasant to him.

If these be no pleasures, there be ynow of other, that are taken from hir, that she may well be blamed, and without respect.

Rather ought she to be pray­sed most, for if thou considerest well, she depriues only those that be repro­uable in other ages.

That will not I graunte: for a man that can haue no pleasure in the world, is as though he wer not.

True: but what vnderstan­dest thou by pleasure?

Those delightes whyche the things of the world bring with them. Knowest thou not, that thou art like one born yesterday, & yet ther be ma­ny yeres since we first met together?

If thou vnderstandest of those pleasures, that eatyng and drinkyng bringeth, & idlenesse with those vaine & wanton thoughts that procede of it.

Of what thinkst thou I meane? [Page] of those that we haue by fasting or la­bor, or wasting our selues with study as some fooles doe?

Thou art much deceiued, ra­ther I say vnto thée, that nature hath not giuen to men, as Archita the Ta­rentine Pleasures said, (if thou remember of his life, for I know thou haste red it ofte) a greater nor more hurtfull euil than pleasure, and delight of the body.

Thou sayest so perhaps, bicause the least parte is thine.

Rather, bicause the truthe is so, wherof comes for the moste parte, treasons of the Countrey, ruines of cities, enimities of men, & other wic­kednesse, murders, rauine of richesse and adulteries, but of volupt and de­light? which so muche blinde men with their entisement and alluring, that taking from them the vse of rea­son, they he turned into beastes.

O reason, yet it feareth not them, as thou doest say.

There is no suche enimie as [Page 132] pleasure, which of good reasō was cal­led of wise mē, the bait of al euil. For where the senses rule, reason hath no place, no vertue is foūd in them that be giuen to the pray of their gorge, to wine, to sléepe, & those idlenesse, of the which groweth among vs, a thousand vaine and vnprofitable cares, which kepe vs alwaies after with our face to the earthe, like the brute beastes which lacke reason. Thinkest thou then, that age is to be blamed, when she defends vs from greater enimies▪ taking from them that force, where­with they offende?

If it were as thou sayest: but graunt there is one man that hath no plesure, is not he in déede, as he were not aliue, or as a thing w^tout sense?

Yes. But she takes not all al­wayes from men, but only those that be common with other beastes.

Then what be they, y^e remain?

All they that be properlye méete for menne, and be permitted [Page] is by reson, which principally be those delights, that be taken of operations, which rise in a man of those partes that haua in them diuinenesse.

Which be those?

All the speculatiōs and exer­cises vertuous.

If I shold always be occupied in like things after thée, my seruitude shold be too great: thou knowest som­time I would haue some comfort.

I wil not denie thée it, so that thou passe not reasonable termes: but I will say vnto thée, that delight that is taken in eating and drinking, and talking withthy frends, is much more acceptable to olde age, than to the o­ther ages.

What is the cause?

Bicause there is in olde men more moderate appetite, they fall not into dronkennesse, or any other alte­ration of the minde, as yong men do, (which haue their willes disordinate) if they haue not in their youth, made [Page 133] thē selues worse. Further they know to reason of more things and better, by the meane of time and experience, and better enioye the conuersation of men, & with much more swéetenesse imbrace the presence of them, than yong men do. For of their péeres they be honoured, and of their lesse they be reuerenced. Whiche thyng bryngs them no small delight.

If they haue séene many things they remember few, bicause memory in that age diminisheth much.

Yea, in them that exercise it not, which is a vice of maner, not of age, as in many of them to be suspici­ous, to be couetous, tedious, prayser of time past, estemer of himself more than other, and other like wants: but when she loseth any of hir strength, there increaseth so much for it in wit and iudgement, that they supply ful­ly for hir the fruits, which bring much more pleasure to olde men, than doth armure, horsses, huntings, daunces, [Page] and such other that delites yōg men. Of the pleasures of Ʋenus I will not reason, séeing ther is nothing causeth more errors in mā than it. But these things that I speake Iust, come not to all olde men, but to them only, that haue so liued in other ages, that their reputation and yeres haue encreased in them a like.

Which be they, tell me?

The greater parte, that thou sholdest not think they wer as white crowes, for who so euer liueth in any age, though not all, yet in part accor­ding to reason, (not being possible, but he that is a man, must erre somtime) so the errors he make, be comporta­ble, he is excused of the most parte of men, & that age after of hir selfe brin­geth him such authoritie and reputa­tatiō, that he is honored of euery one, and the first place giuen him in euery assembly. And to this is memory also ioyned, and remembraunce, y^t he hath [Page 134] liued ciuilly, and like an honest man, which thing is more worthe, than all the pleasures of any age.

Wel I wil proue thy opinion in this, for I know the plesure I haue had some time, when I haue séene my selfe honored for mine age sake. But to the other, that more importeth thā all the rest, what sayest thou?

What is that?

That we be nigh death.

It is true that the terme and ende of olde age is death, where natu­rally to the other ages it haps not so: the ende of childhode is youth, the end of youth middle age, the ende of mid­dle age, olde age. Neuerthelesse there is none of all these ages can promise them selues life one pore day. Rather be they more, (as I saide vnto thée,) that die in the other ages, than they that be olde, bicause of the multitude of great perrils, that doe chaunce in life?

Then an olde man is certain to die, and soone, where a yong man may at least hope to be olde.

The olde man hath possessed that the yong hopeth for.

What helpes to haue lyued, seing tyme past is not?

That that makes y^e hope of the time to come, whiche is to come: but what is .xv. or .xx. yeres more or lesse, seing we must nedes die, nothyng re­maining vnto vs of things gotten in time, but onely the acts of vertue?

What is xv. or .xx. yere? O my soule, thou she west to haue tasted but a little, howe pleasant thyng it is to lyue?

Thou séemest not to know: for if thou haddest consydered well the thyngs that haps in euery age, thou shouldest finde there be many more that it displeaseth, than pleaseth: and that a man muste striue with so ma­ny things, as our life hath bene wellLife, a War­fare. heretofore called, a continuall war­fare. [Page 135] But let vs goe further Iust: If death be to be feared, they ought one­ly to feare, that by death thinke they shall cease to be, which is desired and loued so much of all creatures, or to them that doubt to go to worse, ney­ther of the which ought to be in thee, thou being a christian man.

And what certaintie haue I, not to lose my being vtterly, when I shall die?

None of thy selfe, thou canst not thinke otherwise, beyng by thy propre nature mortal, and seyng that all other things lyke vnto thée, muste decay and die: but I say vnto thee, that whē that time determined, shal come, appointed by God, I that am immor­tall, shal be revnited with thée, wher­by thou shalt rise with me by y^• grace of the immortal God, voide of trouble and clere from all qualitie, that now causeth thée to chaunge euery day to an other, which in the end shall cause me to be separate from thée, whereof [Page] shall come thy death.

What certaintie haste thou of this?

That that excéedeth and pas­seth all other, the light of faith.

And that light thou speakest of passeth the certaintie of things, by meane of science. I haue heard say that science is nothing but a certain­tie.

It passeth farre, for sciences be the inuentions of men, which may erre, rather it neuer doeth thing, but there is founde in it some imperfecti­on,Faith. and the light of truth commeth or God, which is the high and vnspeake­able veritie. But I wil not bring thée more reasons for this, we hauing so many times red together, that diuine treatise that Ierome made, intituled the Triumphe of Faith, where is pro­ued of him, all this that I haue said, so as he that hathe redde, and doeth not beléeue, may say, either he vn­derstandes not, or else is obstinate [Page 136] in his opinion. Therefore lament no more Iust, that thou arte olde, for feare of short life, for if we be nigh deathe, we be nighe the ende of our Pilgrimage, & at the terme to arriue in our countrey, and porte of our sal­uation.

I haue many times heard this, that we heere be Pilgrimes, and that this is not our Countrey: and yet it séemes very harde to me, to thinke I shall departe.

This is full well knowen to me: for the ende which I shew thée, and to the which thou arte ordained by my occasion, doth passe and excéede thy nature: But suffer thy selfe to be guided of me, and let vs dispose all our businesse, that when it shal please him that gouernes all things, to loose this bande, let it grieue thée as little as may be, hauing a sure hope, to be vnited wyth me againe, in a farre better state, and I reioyce to returne to my maker. Therfore complaine no [Page] more Iust of thy age, for none of these causes, wherefore thou blamest hir, hath place in vs, bycause we be sure (as I haue sayd) to go to a better life.

Well, I will do all thou sayst, and in all things put my selfe to thy will, without makyng any more ac­compte of my will: for I thinke that we hauing so long ben together, thou hast ought me so great loue, that thou wouldest not counsell me but to my good.

Now it séemes thou knowest thy weale: for of our discorde should come the euil of both vs. Therfore let vs apply to liue together in the loue of God, and lette vs euer hold before our eyes these three things. The first, that God was made man, to aduance the nature of man to thys dignitie, that mā might be made God. The se­cond, that he hath bene willing to dye to satisfie and pay the pain of our deb­tes, we not being apt nor sufficient to do it, being made his enimies, through [Page 137] the fault of our first father. The third is, that we be mortall: wherefore the two first, like to spurres of loue, doe make vs to goe chearefully to the vt­termost of our power, throughe his most holy law, for he should be very hard, that would not be kindled with the loue of Christ Iesu our sauiour, if he consider he was made man for vs, and after died for our sinnes. The thirde shall be a bridle of feare, that shall not suffer vs to goe from his will. And though by the infirmitie of nature, we commit sometime some fault, it will make vs straight tourne to him, and humbly aske him pardon. For they only be blessed, whose sinnsBlessed. (as Dauid saith) be remitted of him.

How shal we be heard of him, I remember I haue red in the scrip­ture, God heareth not the voyce of a sinner.

We shall no longer be sin­ners, as ofte as we shall tourne to [Page] God, and run to him with true faith, seing sinne is nothing else, but to take our face from God, and tourne it to his creatures. But if we turne vs to Christ with all our heart, trusting that he hath satisfied for all our de­fectes, as a very mediator, and our Sauiour, it shall folow that we shall be vnited with him as with our head, in suche sorte by loue, that we shall become his members, whereby we shall euer worke, after his will. For as the eye, although it be an eye, shold not sée, nor the tongue, although it be a tongue, should not speake if it were not vnited with the heade, which giueth them strength to work, so we Christians also, although we be christians should neuer worke as we ought, if we were not vnited with Christ our head, which graūteth vs by his grace to do it. Of the which vnion riseth, that his merites also shall come downe into vs, and we shall couer our faultes with his in­nocencie, [Page 138] whereby going after so, before the Tribunall of God, he shal say after the manner of the greate Patriarke Isaac, of vs, although the voyce be of Iacob, that is of sinners, yet the members, that is their works be of Esau, that is of my first begottē sonne, whereby he shall giue vs his benediction, and in the ende the heri­tage of God.

Thou hast giuen suche a conso­lation this morning my Soule, that (as I sayd to thee before) I let my selfe héereafter be guided of thée, and apply me to all that thou doest coun­sel me, for so I know is for my weale clearely.

God of whome commeth all our good, long maintaine thée in this purpose.

Rise therfore, for sée it is day, and high is the sunne, and goe in his name to doe thy exercises, bearing in paci­ence that that comes, neuer lamen­ting more of any thing: for all that [Page] that foloweth, doth folow by his wil: nor he will neuer suffer that anye thing shall fall vpon vs, aboue our strength, and that we shall not be able to beare, bicause he desireth much more our saluation than our selues.