❧A DIS­praise of the life of a Courtier, and a commenda­cion of the life of the la­bouryng man.

M.DXLVIII. CVM PRIVILEGIO AD IMPRIMEN­DVM SOLVM.

¶Ʋnto the right noble William Marques of North­hamton, Earle of Essex & lorde Par, your assured louyng frēd Fraunces Briant knight, one of the kynges most honora­ble preuy Chamber, desi­reth to you perpetuall health and honor.

IT IS not lōg agone (my verye synguler good lord) that I foūd you loking in a lytell boke called in the Frenche lan­guage Mesprise de la court, et lalouāge de la vie rustique, whi­che is to saye in Englishe, the Dispraise of the Courte, & the [Page] laude of the rustical life. And when I demaūded of you what boke it was, after your accu­stomed gentlenes, you were cō ­tented that I should for ye tyme haue it, and loke on it, and I so doyng: after that I had in part ouersene it, I do ensure you I toke great pleasure therin, and not without good reason, for­asmuche as the matter was not onely pleasaunt and fruitfull, but also full in euery where of olde auncient stories and wyse saiynges of the noble and no­table Philosophers & clerkes. And at our nexte metyng toge­ther, partly at your request I promised to turne thesame out of Frenche into our maternall tong, whiche you right wel ac­cepted. And so at conuenient [Page] laysure (as ye may see) I haue finished thesame, praiyng your good lordship to take my pore labor in gre, yt not only in suche a trifle as this is, but in any thyng els that I may do you seruice and pleasure in, ye shal fynde me as moost bounden, e­uer prest and redy aswel for the great goodnes shewed vnto me by your moost wise father du­ryng his dayes whom I toke as a special patron: But fur­ther hauyng respecte to your most noble sister, my most good and gracious lady the Quene, I thynke me fortunate to em­ploy my poore engyn to that yt to her highnes or to your good lordship should seme either ac­ceptable or agreable. This li­tle boke then, lette it come into [Page] light vnder your proteccion. And in suche wyse that if that ye thynke I haue erred in the translacion, not to impute it to bee so dooen for lacke of good wyll and louyng heart that I owe vnto you, but for lacke of knowlage of the stories, which I do professe is hard for to vnderstand for one of no greatter litterature then I professe me to be. Thus almightie God sende you well to fare, and to prospere in honor more & more to ye cōforte of al your frendes, and me, that to my power ye may assuredly nomber me among that sorte.

To the right reuerende and worthy Prelate my lorde Willyam de Prat bishop of Cleremoūte, Antony Alay­gre sendeth gretyng.

IT IS not many daies past sithēs I beyng retyred for a tyme (my good lord) into ye village, and there takyng the commoditie and pleasure of the fayre swete fieldes, a certaine frende of myne sent vnto me a worke in the Castilian rong of the lorde Antony of Gueuera bishop of Mondouent, & Chro­nicler of the Emperour: in rea­dyng whereof I founde great pleasure and profite. The title of the boke is the Disprailyng of the Court, and the Praise of [Page] the life rusticall, dedicate vnto the kyng of Portingal in suche sort, that the better to kepe and to hold the wise sentence & eru­dicions therin cōteined, I em­ployed certaine houres after supper to trāslate thesame into Frenche, not thinkyng among mine other simple workes euer to put it abrode, but after that I had cōmunicat ye same with some of my frendes that haue knowledge of the Spanishe tong, to leaue it in a corner to make it meate for Rattes and Mise. Now for trueth, the first exempler was so euil deuided, and the leaues so out of order that I gaue charge to ye Scri­uener that was my nye neigh­bour to copye them, & as who should say to write it faire and [Page] in order, the whiche so euil went about it, a [...]ough by ignorāce he could not ensue ye originall, yet for to gette a litle money he solde where his pleasure was ye copies so vncumly set together that I was sory and repentant that euer I consumed the tyme to trāslate it, till at the last mo­ued by the persuasiō of Annas Regyn Vicar generall, and by Peter Cister your aduocate, by them twaine my great frendes, I thought it better to presente to the eyes of all men this euil translated, then to suffre lenger those euil exemplers so corrup­ted to my blame in ye hādes of those that haue no right iudge­ment, to know from whom the faute came: wherfore my good lorde, vnder your prudent fa­uor [Page] & correccion I do aduēture herein my name and fame ac­cordyng to my knowlege, tru­styng assuredly that your only name shal suffise to vanquishe and set aside this slaunder, the whiche slaunder as enemie to learned men, sease not to with­draw those that haue good wil and minde to studie: I say this that as me semeth it is well worthie that worke of the wyse bishop of Spayne be presēted to his semblable or superior in learnyng in Fraunce, or rather aboue him in knowlege & ver­tuous maners. I will adde to to this, that the graue sentēces & persuasion to vertuous life conteined in this boke deserue to be offred to you that are ac­customed to vse thē after suche [Page] sorte ye euery man haue plaine opinion of you that ye are sent of God to be protector and pa­tron of vertue, troubled & dis­pised. Therfore (my singuler good lorde, as one of ye chiefest of the best sorte) I dedicate to you this my litle laboure, not that I thinke it worthy to cum into your handes, but for to be a perpetuall witnes that I do owe vnto you my seruice with all reuerēce, to the whiche most humbly I recommende me.

[Page] A dispraise of the life of the Courtier, and a cōmenda­cion of the life of the husbandman, compo­sed in the Castilian toungue by the reuerēd father in God the lord Antony of Gueuera bishop of Mondouent and Chronicler to the Emperour Charles. And out of Ca­stilian drawen into Frenche by Anto­ny Alaygre, and now out of the Frenche toungue into our ma­ternal lāguage, by sir Fraun­ces Bryant knight, one of the kynges most honorable cham­bre.

The first Chapiter.
¶ Of certaine courtiers whiche ought to complaine of none, but of them selues.

AFter that the no­ble prince Phi­lippe of Mace­dony had ouer­runne the Athe­nience, on a tyme he beyng at supper amonges certaine of his Philosophers, [Page] asked theim whiche was the greattest thyng in the worlde? One of them answered, that to his thinking it was the water, because there was more of that onely then of any other thyng vnder the skye. Another sayd it was the Sunne, seyng his only brightnes doeth suffise to geue light to the yearth, to the starres, and to the water. Ano­ther sayd it was the great hill Olympe, whose heigth passeth the cloudes. Another sayd it was the most renoumed gyant Athlas, on whose sepulcre was builded the feareful mountain Ethna. Another sayd it was Homer, that in his life was so much praised & after his death so muche bewailed, yt vii. great cities made warre amōges thē [Page] selfes for ye recouery of his bo­nes, to kepe theim as a relike. The last & most wise Philoso­pher sayd, that nothing in this world ought to be calledgreat, but that heart whiche estemeth no great thinges. O high and noble sētence, since that by that it is geuen vs to vnderstande, that as touchyng the riches & honor of this worlde, more is ye glorye of him that settes light by theim, then he that hath the the cast for to get theim. Titus Liuius praiseth and neuer ceas­seth to praise, the good consull Marcus Curius in the house of whom, came Ambassadours of the Sannytes for to recouer certaine landes that he had of theirs, offeryng to him for the same plentie of golde & siluer: [Page] He hauyng in his hand certain herbes to put in his pot for his diner, answered them after this sort, ye shuld haue offered this money to the Capitaines that disdaines to dresse their owne diners, and not to me that desi­reth no greater riches them to be lorde ouer their lordes.

Deserued not more praise this Marcus Curius in settyng light those talentes of golde of the Sannytes, then the Consull Lucullus for robbyng theim of Spartes? Deserued not more glorie the wise Crates for the riches that he cast into sea, their the kyng Nabugodonoser for the treasure that he robbed frō the Temple? To your iudge­ment, did not they of the Isles of Bariares deserue more ho­nor, [Page] agreyng not to haue amōg theim neither golde nor siluer, then the couetous Grekes that toke by force & pilled ye mynes of Spayne? Was not more greater the heart of the good Emperour Augustus in setting light the Empire, then of his vncle Iulius Caesar that did take possessiō? It is nedeful to haue wysedome, experience to order it, cunnyng to set it furth, & for­tune to bryng it to good ende: but to vpholde it and kepe it, had nede of great strength, and for to dispraise it, a good heart, because that which is sene with the eyes is more esier to dis­praise, then that thyng whiche we haue already in our hādes. It hath been seen that many noble men hath had fortune so [Page] muche at their desires that thei haue enterprised a thing almost impossible to attaine, ye whiche after for lacke of good discre­cion wer not able to kepe it.

Wherby it is to be vnderstāde that the greatnes of the heart doeth not cōsist somuche in ob­teinyng the thing that we de­sire to haue, as it is to set light, & contemne that that one loues best. Apolonius Thyaneus, did he not dispise his owne proper countrey & trauailed thorow­out all Asia for to go to see the Philosopher Hyarchis in Y [...]e? Aristotle leauyng the familia­citie he had with Alexander, re­turned to his owne house for to rede Philosophy. N [...]s no­thing extemed the treasure that the great king Cyrus gaue him [Page] for to folowe him in ye warres. The Philosopher Anatillus re­fused thre times ye principalitie of Athenes, saiyng: he had ra­ther be seruaūt to ye good, then a chastiser of the euil. Cecilius Metellus a valiaunt capitaine Roman, neither would accepte the estate of Dictator that to him was geuen, nor ye office of Consull that to him was offe­red: saiyng, that he would eate in rest, that whiche with great trauail he had gotten in ye war. Themperour Dyoclecian (as it is manifest) forsoke with his free wyll the Empire, for no o­ther cause, but to fle the brute of the cōmon speche, and to liue in rest at home. Worthy is he to be praised that hath ye harte to care litle for an Empire or a [Page] realme: but yet more is he wor­thy that can sette light by him selfe and not to be gouerned by his owne will: for there is no man in this worlde, but that he is more in loue with that he de­sireth, then with yt he hath: but howe coueteous or ambicious so euer any mā be, if he trauail x. daies for that which he hath, he will bestowe an hundreth to obtain that whiche he desireth, because that we do not bestow our labor as we shuld, but we stowe it after our desires. If we do trauaile, if we be trou­bled, if we cannot slepe, it is not for necessitie, but for to satisfie our wil and appetite. And that is worst of all, we not conten­tyng our selfes wt that we can: do procure to can that that [Page] we desire. O how many haue we seen in the court of princes, to whom it had been better for them that thei had been no lor­des of their will, & lesse of their desires, because sythens they did that they might & desired, begon to do that thei ought not to do? If the man ye offēdes vs ought to aske pardon, let euery mā aske pardon to himself be­fore any other, for in my life I found neuer none yt hurte me so muche as my self, I haue been only the procurer of mine own hurt. Who made me fall into pryde, but mine only presump­sion and fondnes? Who durste haue prisoned my sorowfull heart with enuye, but lacke of naturall gouernement? who durst haue inflamed myne in­wardes [Page] with the fyer of yre, if it had not been my great impa­cience? what is the cause I am so great a gurmander, but that my bringyng vp was to deli­cate? what is the cause I haue not departed with my goodes to the poore and nedye, but the excessiue loue I had to my ri­ches? who gaue leue to my flesh to rise against my folish desire, if my heart had not been fixed in voluptuous pleasures? O my soule, of all this domage & open faultes, to whom do you lay ye blame, but to myne owne sensualitie? Great folly it is, ye thefe beyng within the house, to seke for him without: euen so it is with vs a manifest faulte of experiēce, when seyng in vs the blame, and yet charge another [Page] with the occasion: by this we ought to perceiue that we shall neuer cease to complaine vntil the tyme we begyn to amende. Oh, howe often & many tymes hath vertue fought with the botome of our cōsciences, whi­che stirred vs to be good, and our sensulitie resisted, whiche is vaine frowardnes, by the which battail folowed a darke corrupte iudgement: but to cō ­clude, we of oure selues as of our selues are very miserable. The Poete Ouid reherseth the louyng Philis the Rodian cō ­plainyng of her selfe & sayeth: Oh Demophon, if I had not bestowed tyme to loue the, and siluer, and shippes, for thexpe­diciō of thy voiage, thou durst not well to haue gone, nor I to [Page] haue bewailed thy departyng, in suche wise that with my own wepons was my bodye woun­ded. If we beleue Iosephus in that he did wryte of Maryana, & Homer, in that he sayd of He­lene, Plutarch in that he spake of Cleopatra. Virgil of ye quene Dydo, Theophrast of Pollysene, Zantippe of Cammilla, Assena­rius of Clodia: All these ladies & excellent princes neuer founde them selfes so deceiued by their louers as thei wer by beleuing their owne proper coūsels, and lightly consenting to the same.

If to Suetone, Zantippe and Plutarch we will geue credite & beleue those thynges that they declare of Pompe, Pyrrhus, Hannyball, & the Consull Ma­rius, of the Dictator Caesar, of Marke Antony & many others [Page] we shall finde they blamed not fortune so muche to be vāqui­shed by others, as in their pro­speritie they wer ruled by their owne aduise and counselles.

It is true, that often tymes the opinion of our kinne & frendes maketh vs to enter into busy­nes out of the waye of reason, not caryng but for a folishe a­uauncement of goodes and ri­ches. And at the ende when by their settyng forth one hath en­terprised a certaine busynes of importaunce whiche doeth re­quire ayd and helpe, those same be the laste that sheweth theim selues helping frendes: whiche is ye occasion many tymes that men cānot returne frō enterprisyng suche thinges as neither shall growe to their honor nor [Page] profite. Many men say that they haue enemies, recountyng theim often without findyng nūber: Although it be true if it be well noted, that none haue oftener or agreater enemy then him self. And the most greatest daunger that I see, is that vn­der the shadowe to preferre & make better my selfe, my selfe is the cause of my destruccion. The Philosopher Neotidas on a tyme beyng asked which was the beste counsell that a manne might take? He answered, the counsell of others with the dis­praisyng of his owne: and he sheweth the cause, for that the corrupcion of mā is suche, that often he searcheth in him self with great pain, that whiche in the head of another, he fyndeth [Page] wt great ease: then it foloweth, that in the best tyme of our life our owne life deceiueth vs, the euil cōmeth furth on euery side, heuy thoughtes ouertaketh vs our frendes leaueth vs, perse­cutors tormenteth vs, troubles maketh an ende of vs, and am­bicion burieth vs. If we be­holde this thyng: what we be: wherof we be: and wherfore we be, we shall fynde that our be­ginnyng is obliuion, our mid­dle age trauail, the ende sorow, and altogether an open errour. Then se how heuy is the cour­tiers life, as also how daunge­rous the waye is, where as bee stoones to stumble at, myer to sticke fast in, yse for to falle on, pathe wayes for to lose him in, water for to passe thorow, the­fes [Page] for to be afrayde on, great affaires and busynes to do, so that harde it is for any to goe there as they would, and more harder to ariue there as they desire. All these thynges haue we sayd, to the entent that the Courtiers may vnderstād that neither I nor they can chose ye good waye and leaue the euill, voide that that hurtes vs, and conserue that whiche profiteth vs, folowe reason and plucke awaye the occasion: but if by chaūse some good fall to vs, we thanke fortune, and if euil come to vs, then we do put the fault in her.

The .ii. Chapiter
¶How that none ought to counsel another to go to the court nor when he is there to come from it, but euery man to chose the life that best he liketh.

ARistarch the great Philosopher of Theban, sayd that tyme and mā was so diuers, that hard it was for the most wisest to chuse that to them was good, and to kepe them from that to them is euil.

There is nothing more true, for we see dayly, with the same that one is healed, another fal­leth sicke: with that that one waxeth better, another waxeth worse: with that that one is a­mended, another is put doune: and to conclude, with that litle thing that one is cōtent withal another is in dispaire. The ler­ned Alchymus was by his Moe­coenas [Page] kyng Demetrius, asked wherein specially did consist ye greatest trauail of the worlde? He answered, there is few thin­ges but in them there is either trauail or suspicion, but aboue all the mooste excessiue trauail that a man may haue, is neuer to be satisfied: And that this is true, we perceiue that when a litle thing cōtenteth vs, how lytle soeuer it be, we make it our paradice with ye rest of our life: whiche seldome chaunseth to fewe mē, because that liuyng as we liue, not beyng cōtented, would assaie & knowe if it wer good to be a kyng, a prince, a knight, a maried man, a religi­ous or a marchaunt, a laborer, a shepeherd, or of some other estate. And at the ende, when al [Page] is proued, it shall be harde to fynde where we would rest, so vnconstaunt is the lightnes of menne. The wise determineth y to chose the best is the meane. A simple creature is lightly contented with a small thyng, but he that hath a great harte, thinkes that pouertie is a gre­uous life, like as they that be of high estate feare ye fall of for­tune. Plato was in his yong yeres very worldely, as he that had sene muche, aswell in the warres as in offices, in whiche he was vsed, and also in handy craftes. On a tyme it was as­ked him wherin he had founde most quietnes and rest? He an­swered there is no estate of life wherin is not mutabilitie, ther is no honor where is perill, no [Page] riches where is no trauail, no ꝓsperitie but it endeth, nor also pleasure but faileth: but when all is sayd, I neuer founde so muche quietnes of mynde, as since I left myne offices in Ci­ties, withdrawyng me to my bokes: signifiyng, that as long as we liue seruauntes of the worlde, we desire all,, we proue all, we procure al, then al thin­ges well sene & tasted, all thin­ges do anoye vs: the greatest parte of our disquietnes com­meth hereof, that the aboun­daunce we haue, semeth to vs lytle, and the lytle of others, se­meth to vs muche. We saye that our wealth is trauail, and that the euil happe of others is rest: we condemne others actes and we allowe our owne: we [Page] watche to gette somewhat, and sodenly we slepe to lese it a­gain: we immagyn that al men liues content, & we alone nedy: And yet the worst is, we beleue that that we dreame, and put not our trust in that that we se before our iyen. What waye one ought to folowe or what e­state he ought to chose, none can well knowe nor counsell, because y thyng is so trouble­some and without good iudge­ment, by whiche many is decei­ued? If the sailyng on the sea be daungerous, so is the wal­king on the yearth troubleous.

As touchyng our life, we see that he that is whole, daily fal­leth sicke, the sicke dyeth, some other scapeth deadly daūgers, and some others lyngers forth [Page] to death. As touching the wal­faryng men, assone commeth he to his lodgyng that goeth foft­ly, as he that goeth hastely and loseth his way. He that is in fauor, liuyng in slothfull reste, had as muche neede of vphol­dyng, as he that continually sweates in trauail. Therfore I conclude, that there is no­thing in this worlde so certain, as that all thynges is vncer­taine.

Then let vs returne to that we spake of: It is sayd that it is fearefull, to counsell any to marry, to study, to go to ye war, or to take vpon him any other thing, then that he is called to: because in this case none is so apte to receiue, yt to him is sayd as he is to receiue that whiche [Page] he is naturally inclyned to. Plutarche greatly praiseth in his boke of the cōmon welth, ye good Philosopher Plato (and not without cause) for he vsed a great policy, which was that there was no yong man entred into his schoole, but first he would proue him whether he was enclined to lernyng or no, so that those that he thought not apte to study, he sent theim backe, causyng thē to vse their liues in ye cōmon welth. Alcib ia des the Greke mā be a sufficient wytnesse vnto you, whiche al­though he was yong brought to the schoole, and taught of a discrete maister, yet notwithstā ding his inclinaciō was suche, that he professed himself wholy to the warres. To him that is [Page] borne to weare a swerde by his side, it semeth him yll to wear a typpet about his necke, and he that loueth to kepe slepe, the court is nothyng fitte for him. To her that desireth mariage, it is harde to kepe her chast: He that loueth to be a barber, why should he be made a Paynter. To coūsel our frend to learne a crafte for to liue by, is but wel done: but especially to appoint him what crafte he ought to lerne, that me thynketh worthy to be reproued: which brought the lawes of the Lacedemoni­ans, the Lacedemonians com­maundyng to the fathers vpon great paynes, to putte none of their chyldren to no crafte, till they were .xiiii. yeres of age to see that in the age of discrecion [Page] what their nature was encli­ned to. Let vs leaue this long communicasion, and speake of that we ought to aduertise the redar of: to coūsell any to leaue the court, suche coūsel I thinke not best to geue, nor yet wise­dome for other to take, seyng that there is doubte to counsell any in that they ought to do: Howbeit myne aduice is, that the sage persons chose to liue in a quiet state, and to dwell in suche a place, that he may leade a life without reproche, & chri­stianly to dye. Oftentymes men do remoue from one coū ­trey to another, from one toune to another, from one strete, frō one house, from one companye to another: but to conclude, if that he had peine in the one, he [Page] doeth cōplaine himself vtterly of the wronges of the others: And this is the reason, because he layeth ye faulte to the nature of the countrey, which nothing els is but his owne euil nature. What more shal we say, but in Courtes, in cyties, in villages, and in other places, is seen the vertuous and the discrete cor­rected, and the vicious not blamed. The wicked with their wickednes sercheth by all mea­nes to make themselues worse. And likwise doth to ye vertuous with their vertues, make them selfes better in what state soe­uer he be called. As for the pre­lates, there is no charge in the Churche so daungerous but that a good conscience can a­uoyde it, but a weake or cor­rupt cōscience may sone be cast [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] great lorde, he wyll say that he hath nothing where wt to finde him: If we aduise him to be a religious, he wyll say that he cannot rise early, if to marry he wil say it wil greue him to here his litle children cry and wepe, to goe to studye it would trou­ble his braine, If he were coū ­sailed to withdrawe him to his house, he would saye he could not liue without company.

Then presuppose that whiche is said, that none ought to coū ­sell any to chose the life he will take concernyng his honor & the wealth of his life, because afterwarde he wyll more com­plaine him, of the counsell that he hathtaken, then the euil that he hath suffered.

The .iii. Chapiter.
¶Howe that a Courtier ought to leaue the Court for not beyng in fa­uor, but beyng out of it, to the en­tent of that beyng out of it be more vertuous.

PVblius Minus sayth in his Annotaciōs that we ought to thinke many daies on that whiche we entend to do in one daie. The kyng Deme­trius, soonne of Antigonus was asked by one of his capitaines named Patroclus, wherefore he gaue not battail to his enemye Ptolome, seyng his strength, his witt and his nōber of men? He answered, that a deede ones done, is harde to call backe a­gain, and before a man begyn a harde enterprise, he had neede of long counsell. Agiselaus a [Page] wise capitaine of the Lycaoni­ens beyng forced to answere ye Ambassadors of the Thebeans sayd: Know not you O Thebe­ans that to determyne a thyng of importaūce, nothyng is me­ter then long studye.

Plutarch doth greatly praise the life of Sertoreius in that he was not rashe in determi­nyng, but graue in enterpri­syng. Suetone sayeth that Themperour August was ne­uer hastye to gette frendes, but very diligent to kepe thē when he had them. Of these ensam­ples, note what daūgier he fal­leth in, that is hasly in bussines­ses and quicke in counsels.

None wyl wear a garment if it be not sowed: nor eate the fruit, if it be not rype: nor drynke the [Page] wyne, if it be not clere: nor eate the flesh if it be not dressed: nor warme him with wode, if it be not drye: Wherfore then do we counsell vs with grene coūsel, whiche soner shall smudder vs then warme vs. The wise man ought to haue before his iyen a sober deliberaciō in his affai­res, for if he thynke one houre of that whiche he would say, he had nede thinke .x. of that that he would dooe: wordes be but wordes, they may be corrected, but neuer the vncōsidered dede The fault of this, is that euery man studyeth to speake, to dis­pute, to iudge, but none to liue wel, nor yet to dye vertuously. The graue persons that wyll conserue their auctoritie may not be testie or stubburne in [Page] such thinges as they enterprice nor wilfull in that they take in hand, nor fickil in that thei be­gyn: for one of the greatest fau­tes that a man may haue, is not to be founde true of his worde, and inconstant in that he hath begun. A noble harte ought to foresee that he is charged with and if it be iust and reasonable soner to dye, then not to do it: by the whiche noble hartes are knowen. It it were a thyng harde & almooste impossible A­chilles to slee Hector: Agiselaus to ouercome Brantes: to Alexā der, Darrius: to Caesar Pōpeius: to Augustus, Marcus Antonius: to Silla, Mythridates: to Scipion Hanniball: and to the good Troian Dacebalus, these noble princes had neuer been [Page] so muche estemed as they bee, but that they vttered their no­ble courage. Then, good ad­uice ioyned with a noble harte, ought to gouerne great enter­prises. Then to our purpose, my maister the courtier sayth, he wyll leaue the cursed life of the court, and go dye at home, saiyng, yt to liue in suche trou­ble is a continuall death. O how many & often tymes haue I hard these faire wordes, that neuer were folowed, excusyng them onely by the desteny of the court, in the whiche they were fast glued. When that a cour­tier lackes money, that any mā doeth him displeasure, or that he hath lost his proces: God knoweth howe many othes he maketh that he will forsake al, [Page] not to leaue his euil cōdicions, but because that his busynes goeth backeward: but long his purpose lasteth nor, for if our courtier happe to cum to welth or that he be inhaunced by his prince, ye shall see his former promises to waxe colde, his wil and his desire to remaine there in suche wise ye ye would iudge him to be naturally borne ther. Fauor and couetuousnes gui­deth the Courtier, so that one groweth with the other, and at the ende conuerted frō the ma­ner of Christians to courtiers. For all men knoweth that the court is a place wher men may get welth, and likewyse ye place of mens vndoyng: We haue already rehersed the occasions why men do withdrawe theim [Page] from the court, some for lack of mony, some for pouertie, or not beyng in fauor, or for age, all these thynges be of necessitie & nothyng of free wyll, nor yet praise to them that so withdra­weth theim for the causes afore sayd: but the true leuyng of the Courte, and of the worlde is, when ye courtier is yong, strōg, in fauor, riche, & in helth, then with good harte to leaue the courte, to fynde in other places honest rest after his degre: this is sayd, to the entente that he whiche leaueth the court, shuld leaue it merily and without re­penting, for feare that after his sorowe is past, he would be a­shamed to returne to thesame, where he may chaunse to haue great busines.

[Page] The proude and vnpacient men do many thinges in a day whiche he had nede to mourne for all the daies of their life.

A colloricke heade is nothyng mete for the court, for if he will be reuenged of the shames, in­iuries, crastes, & wronges, that in the court he shall fynde, let him trust that he shall suffre more in one houre, then he shal be able to reuenge in ten yere: whosoeuer leaueth the court let him leaue it for euermore: be­cause that if he wyll returne to it again, & leaue his dwellyng in the countrey, he may be like­ned to him, yt hath a continual Ague: he that sinnes & mendes, and after returnes againe to synne, that synne is more gre­uous then ye first. In lykewise [Page] to leaue the court, and after re­turne to it, is so open a faulte that it cannot be hid, excepte ye will say, he goeth to sell vertue and to bye riches.

To our purpose, if we shuld aske of an auncient man, what hath been the whole course of his life, and that he would an­swere vs, he hath enterprised muche, wādered, spoken, sear­ched, founde and lost. &c. We would saye that his life hath been a dissēblyng folly. What shall we say then of our incon­stant Courtiers that dayly do thesame thynges? whiche for­gettyng themselfes, for the ob­teinyng of a litle fauour, do a­gainst nature, flatter, & begge. Remember aboue all thynges gentle reader here & els where, [Page] that I speake not but of the vndiscrete Courtiers that can not refraine their appetite with an honest cōtentaciō: which thing most chiefly causeth many sage & discrete persons to geue ouer the Courte, because to refraine the wil of the heart, is a greater paine then to content the body: for the bodye is soone werye of sinnyng, but the heart is neuer satisfied in desiryng: One may knowe easily the compleccion of the bodye, but the mynde of the heart neuer, and to conten­tyng lesse, for the heart at euery instaunt requireth nowe one thyng now another, and with­in a lytle tyme after forgetteth all. O dissemblyng heart that vnder a pretēce to be clere and loyall, make men to iudge that [Page] hypocrisy is deuocion, ambiciō nobilitie, auarice husbandrye, crueltie zele of iustice, muche bablyng eloquence, folishenes grauitie, & dissolucion diligēce: To conclude, that euery man ought to knowe how muche he may do: If a mā know himself to be ambicious, impacient, & couetous, let him go hardely to the court: And contrary, if the courtier fele his nature cōtent, peaceable, and desiryng rest & quietnes, let him be dwellyng in the village, and he shall well knowe that he neuer knewe how to liue, til he had drawen him selfe from the Court.

The .iiii. Chapiter.
¶Of the life that the Courtier ought co leade, after that he hath lefte the Court.

MYronydes a wyse & sage Philosopher, capitaine of the Bo­heciens sayd, that ye prudence of a man was aswell knowen by retiryng from the euil, as in chosyng of the good, forasmuche as vnder the euil commonly the good can not be hid, but vnder the pretence of good muche euil may be dissembled: euen muche lyke as the Antheme yt begynnes Persignū crucis and endes in Sathanas & Barrabas: In like maner ye great euils haue their beginnyng by sum pretēce of fained goodnes, in suche sort that they be coun­terfeict [Page] muche lyke Maskers, wrapt in swetenes as purgyng pylles, and gilte as is the Ru­barbe. Ther is no mā I thinke so mad that kepeth not himself in asmuche as he can from cat­chyng euil, & specially frō open euil: but contrarywise, it were wysedome to kepe him frō that whiche is not altogether good.

Alexander the great, causing himselfe to be healed of certain woundes that he had receiued in battail, was reproued of his great minion Parmeno for put­tyng himselfe into great ha­zard in the warre: To whom Alexander sayd, assure me my frende Parmeno of those that be dissemblyng frendes, for I wil be ware of them that be my open enemies.

[Page] Alcibyades, Agiselaus, Pyrrhus, Antigonus, Lentulus, and Iulius Caesar, were so circumspecte in these thynges that they wer al­wayes vāquishers, and died in the hādes of their frendes, and specially because thei chose the good and lefte the euil.

Then he that leaueth ye court ought not only for to see what he leaueth, but also what he ta­keth, cōsideryng that asmuche or more harde it is to contente him hauyng left the court, as it was afore in the desiryng to be in the court: what profiteth it to leaue the court wery & trou­bled, If thy harte can fynde no rest in the place whether thou resortest? Our bodye fulfilled with meates is led where one will haue it, but the heart is ne­uer [Page] satisfied with desiryng, and would (if he might) be in fauor with princes of the courte, and on the other side at his ease in ye village. If the Courtier dayly haue mynde beyng at home of the passions & affliccions that he had in the Court, it had been better for him neuer to haue gone frō it, because that in re­membryng them, the thinkyng is more prickyng, & the mynde weaker to resist them.

In the court of princes chaū ­ses often tymes that lacke of money or other great busynes makes a manne abstayne from doyng euil, the whiche beyng after in his house doeth suche dedes vnsemely to a gentlemā, that they deserue to be correc­ted, yea, and bitterly punished.

[Page] There be also another sorte of men that forsakes the court to be more idle at home: And suche would be reiected frō the nomber of honest menne, seyng they chose ye tyme for their pur­pose to sinne in the village, fea­ring to be infamed or dishono­red in the court, and yet beyng in the countrey liues wt shame forgettyng all reason. To ex­chue these thynges he that lea­ueth the Court ought to leaue his percialitie that he hath fo­lowed, & to forget all passions: otherwise he shal lamēt ye swete bitternes that he leues, & wepe the life that he hath begunne.

This is true, that in the court are more occasions geuen to destroy a mā, then are at home in his owne house to saue him. [Page] It is a small profite to ye cour­tier the chaūgyng of his dwel­lyng, onles by thesame meanes he chaunge his condicions.

When the courtier sayth I wil withdrawe me to my countrey and go dye at home, that is wel sayd: but this shall suffice that he honestly withdrawe him selfe, without determyng there dye. This mortall life is to vs so prescript, that we ought not to pursue it with sorowe, but that we are bounde to a­mende it. When Iob sayd Te­det animam meam vite mee, it was not for that his life we­ried him, but because he did not amende it.

Whosoeuer leaueth ye court may be bolde to say yt he goeth not to dye: but may wel thinke [Page] he hath escaped from a fayre prison from a confused life, frō a daungerous sickenes, from a suspicious conuersacion, frō a great sepulchre, & frō a mer­uail without ende. The wysest beyng in ye court may say eue­ry day that they dye, & at their houses in the coūtrey that they liue. And the reason is: that be­yng in the court, those necessary thynges that are to be done in the worlde, cannot be done as they wold, nor when thei wold, for lacke of libertie. Yet I will not say, but many in the court do their deuor to do as they would, but I dare affirme yt for x. pounde weight they haue of honest will, they haue not halfe an ounce of honest libertie.

Likewise, let him that forsakes [Page] the Court sette a wise ordre in suche busynes that he hath to do, callyng to minde that to go home to his countrey nedes no lōg iorney, but to dispoyle him selfe of the euil clothes of the Court nedes a wonder long tyme. For like as vices increase in a man lytle and lytle, so is it mete to roote theim out by litle and litle. This ought ye cour­tier to do that myndes to rule himselfe, plucke vppe by lytle pieces the most notable faultes that are in him, and so pretely dispatche himselfe of one vice to day, & frō another to morow, in such sort that when one vice takes his leaue and is gone, straight way a vertue do entre in his steade, so yt in proces he may go frō good to better. The [Page] courtier is in nothing more de­ceiued then in liuyng a wilde & wanton life, parauenture the space of .xx. or .xxx. yeres, thin­keth in a yere or two to become sage & graue, aswell as though he applied all his life in a sobre and sad life, & truely that hap­peneth for lacke of good iudgement, for it behoueth without comparison a lenger tyme for to lerne to cast away vice, then to learne vertue: consideryng yt vices enter our gates laughyng and goeth out from our house wepyng & lamentyng. O how muche greueth it ye ambicious courtier, when he can not com­maunde as he was wont to do? then it may be sayd, yt to forsake the court is requisite to a good heart, & a good witte to obtain rest.

[Page] Those that leaue the Court for fainte heart, be of that na­ture that it is more painfull to theim to see theimselues absent from the Court, then their ioye was when they wer in ye court: whiche sayd persons if they would folow myne aduice and counsel should not onely leaue the court, but forget it vtterly for euer. And farther, the cour­tier ought to retyre in suche maner that he may come to the Court againe, if the feare and study in orderyng of his hous­holde constraine him eftsones for to desire the voluptuousnes of the court. In the heart of the prudent courtier that forsa­keth the court, when there fal­leth bishoprickes or other great offices, the affeccions & desires [Page] of the mynde ryngeth alarme, when he shall thynke if I had not come awaye so soone, that office or that dignitie had been myne: but he again remēbryng that many suche thinges hath fallen which he had not: so like wise might he haue in the stede of ye, a plain nay, of that which fell when he was gone. Then, is it not muche better to ouerse and trauaile his owne house then to haue suche a shamefull denial in the court?

Therfore destinies of ye cour­tiers are so prompte and ready that for the moste parte one is constrained to dispise thē more by necessitie, then by wyll, and in that meane while their pur­pose is at an ende before they themselues beware therof, For [Page] when the Courtier commeth to be at a quiet wt himselfe, aboue all thynges it is necessary that he take hede of pesteryng of himselfe, for if he did liue in the court euil willed, let him take hede that in the village he dis­paire not, by reason of charge, the importunitie of his wife, of his children, & the sautes of his seruauntes, the grudgyng of his neighbours may parcase make him astonyed: but to thinke again, that beyng esca­ped from the daūgerous golfe of the court, he may repute him selfe halfe a God. And besides this, none ought to thinke that he dwellyng in a village in the countrey shall putte awaye all troubles and displeasures, for it can not be, but he that neuer [Page] fell in the croked & rough way may happen to stumble in the plaine way & breake his necke: and therfore it is necessary that he retiryng frō the court, take the tyme as it shall come, that he may the more occupie him selfe in vertuous exercises, to ye entent that to much rest, and to much busynes of minde let him not from the great good that commeth of this, to be well cō ­tented with a litle. Ioyne vnto this also that there is none so muche enemye vnto vertue as is idlenes, of the which idlenes be taken in the beginnyng thoughtes superfluous, & cōse­quently the distruccion of men.

To the purpose, hath not the courtier cause to cōplaine, that occupieth himselfe in nothyng [Page] but in eatyng, drinkyng, & slea­pyng, and in the meane season his better age, that is to say, his youth consumeth away, as the fume of smoke, which procedes of idlenes in the court & doyng nothyng? where contrarywyse he might in the village exercise himself to his honor, and to the helth of his body and profite of his neighbour.

In like maner also, the cour­tier that withdraweth himselfe shuld vse the company of suche as be graue, sage and honest, to the entent that in the stede of lyers, flatterers, & triflers whi­che he was associate withall in in the court, he may be accom­panied in the village with wise and sage frendes, or at the har­dest with good bokes, whereby [Page] in the lokyng of theim he may vertuously imploye the residue of his tyme, and with sobrietie entertaine euery man, that men may saye he is come from the court to please the good, and not to rule. And if parcase one would make him baylief in the village or other publique office I would counsail him to take hede therof as he would of the pestilence, for because there is nothyng so troubleous nor so harde a burden to the mynde as to take charge of the rude & symple. I do not saye naye, but that he may and ought to help the poore commons of the vil­lage with suche knowlege as he hath lerned in ye court, or had before he came ther, when they shall haue nede, either for loue [Page] or for money. Also if they be at variaunce, healpe to appeace thē: if they be euil intreated, de­fende them. And this doyng, he shalbe estemed of the cōmons & praised of ye wise and prudent. Aboue all thynges beware of prodigal apparel, superfluous bāquetes, and delicate meates, and strong or precious wynes. For the absenting frō the court ought to be to none other pur­pose but to liue soberly in the village, or els shall he make of the village the court, whiche should make of the court, the village. And the courtier rety­red frō the court ought to haue in singuler cōmēdacion mercy, as to visite hospytalles, succor the poore, counsel the orphans, vysite the prysoners, reade the [Page] holy scripture, and finally that he study to dispose his goodes vertuously duryng his life, for when he shalbe dead, euery mā wyll clayme his goodes, but none will or can discharge his solle. And moste chiefly, let the courtier that goeth from the court occupie himselfe vertu­ously to dye. All these thynges that I haue sayd, let no mā say that they be more easy to reade then to do: for if we wil enforce our selfes, we are more then our selues, & do not then well remembre our selfes.

The .v. Chapiter.
¶That the rustical life is more quiet and restful and more bene­ficiall then that of the court.

THE village whereof we speake and the de­maines therof, Put we ye case that it were all free and not subiect to any lorde (as certain there be so preuileged) that euery man there lyeth in his owne house, whe­ther it be by succession, or that he haue bought it freely with­out doyng any homage or ser­uice to any man. This I dare say, the courtier hath not, nor is not in suche free libertie in re­specte of suche as be of the vil­lage, forasmuche as of very ne­cessitie, my maister the courtier [Page] must wyn ye Marshal or Har­bēgar of the lodging, and must receiue at his handes the billet to come to his lodgyng, & that late ynough & wery to his host, breake opē dores, beate doune walles, disorder houses, burne implementes and sometime bet the good man, & defile the wife. O how happye is he that hath wherewithall to liue in the vil­lage without troublyng bothe of himself & many sondry pla­ces, without seking of so many lodgynges, without assayes of so many straunge occasions of straunge men, without weping of any person, but is content with a meane estate, and is de­liuered of al suche breake brai­nes. Another benefite of the countrey is this, that the gētle­man [Page] or burges that there doth inhabite maye be one of ye chief or chefest, either in bountie, ho­nor, or auctoritie, the whiche happeneth seldome in the court and in great cities and tounes: for there he shal se other go be­fore him, more trym and more braue and gorgious then he, as well in credite as in riches, as wel in the house as without the house. And Iulius Caesar sayd to this purpose that he had rather be the first in a village, then the second in honor in Rome. For suche men as haue high hartes and mindes, and base fortune, it should be to thē muche better to liue in ye village with honor, then in the court ouerthrowen and abated, and out of fauor. The difference betwene the ta­riyng [Page] or abiding in a litle place and a great place, is that in the litle places are founde muche people poore and nedy, of whō men may take compassion: and in the great place many riche men wherby enuy is norished.

Another commoditie in the village is, that euery man en­ioyeth in quiet and peace suche as God hath geuen him, with­out to haue suche to come to their houses, that shal cōstraine theim to make extraordinary expenses, or to haue his wife se­duced, or his doughters defiled The occasiōs to do euil be put away by reason that he is occupied in the mainteinyng of his housholde, in trainyng of his doughters, in teachyng of his sonnes and chastenyng of his [Page] seruauntes. He liueth confir­med to reason and not to his o­pimō: and liues hopyng to dye & not as he that loueth to liue euer. In the village, thou shalt not care for good lodgyng, nor for lookyng to thy Horses and Mules, nor for the ladyng of suche thinges as they shall ca­ry. Thou shalt not here the criyng of pages, the plaintes of the stuardes of the house, the babling of the Cookes, nor thou shalt not feare neither Iudges nor Iustices lest they should be to sore against the. And that whiche is muche bet­ter, thou shalt haue no craf­tie knaues to beguile the, nor women to betray the.

Another benefite of the vil­lage is this, that he shall haue [Page] tyme enought to al thinges that he will do, so that the tyme be well spent, tyme enough to stu­dy, tyme to visite his frendes, tyme to go a huntyng, and lay­ser when he list to eat his meat: the whiche layser courtiers cō ­monly hath not, forasmuche as they employe the moste part of their tyme in making of shiftes to play ye courtier, or to speake more plainely, to wepe and la­ment, in suche sorte yt one may say of thē that whiche the Em­perour Augustus sayd of a Ro­man a great busie broker the same day that he dyed. I won­der sayd he, seyng the tyme fai­led him to chop and to chaūge, how he could now fynde layser to dye? Another commoditie of the village is this, those that [Page] be dwellers there may go alone from place to place without to be noted to fall from grauitie, they nede no Mule nor Horse with afoote clothe, nor page to wayte of my lorde, or damosell to waite vpon my lady. And that were scorneful to do in the court alone: And without daū ­ger one may walke frō neigh­bor to neighbor, and from land to land, and not therby minish any part of his honor.

Another benefite is, that men may go whether they will, clo­thed simply with a staffe in his hande, a swearde by his side, or hacbut in his necke, and if he be wery of pounsed hosen, lette him wear sloppes, if he be a colde lette him take his furred goune for all is one there. A [Page] good Gentleman dwellyng in the village and hauyng a good cote of clothe, an honest Spa­nishe cloke on his backe, a paire of lether shooes, goeth as wel trymmed to the churche as doeth my lorde the courtier to the court with his goune furde with Marters or Sables. A man of the village of what sort soeuer he be, is in as good case, that rydeth to market or to the faier to make prouision for his housholde vpon a mare or a nagge, as a lorde of the courte is at Iustes vpō a great cour­ser trapped with golde. And (when all is sayd) better is the poore ploughman on a poore asse, liuyng as he should, then the riche man well horsed, pil­lyng & doyng extorcion to pore honest men.

The .vi. Chapiter.
¶That in the village the dayes seme more long and the ayer more clere and better, And the houses more easy and testfull.

ENsuyng styll the cō ­modities of the vil­lage, we ought not to forget that he whiche dwelles there, among other thynges hath commoditie of good corne, and consequently good breade: contrary to this, in the court, & specially ingreat tounes they haue bread for the moste parte euil baked or euil leuened or not leuened at all, & the cause is, forasmuche as in the tounes often there lacketh good corne, or good corne mil­les to grinde the corue, and hol­some water, wherby often hath [Page] come amōg them great death.

Another commoditie in the village is this, the whiche I praise mnche, he that dwelles there, may practise and labour in mod thynges and better im­ploy the tyme then in the court or in ye great tounes: in whiche places it behoueth a mā to dis­semble, to say litle, ful of reuen­gyng and enuyous, a treder of stones and pauemētes, & must vse grauitie, & seldome to come out of his house, and incessant­ly be graue. O half a God, that dwelles in the village, where liberally one may speake what he will and iest with his neigh­bours before his gates and his wyndowe. And this may he do without euer to chaunge or to lese any of his mean auctoritie

[Page] Another cōmoditie is in the village, that those that dwell ther, be wtout comparison more helthfull and lesse sicke then in the cities and in the courte, be­cause in the great tounes the houses be more higher, and the stretes narower, and more cro­ked, whiche is the cause that the ayre is corrupt and makes mē very euil at ease. In ye village the houses stand more at large the men more better disposed, the ayre better, the sunne more clere, the yearth more swete, the priuate goodes or cōmons bet­ter ruled without contencion, & the exercise more pleasant, and the company much better: And aboue all thinges the though­tes lesser, and the pastyme more great.

[Page] Another commoditie in the village is, that ther are no yōg Physicians, nor olde sicknes: And contrary to this, the cour­tier is constrained there to part his goodes in fower partes, the one part to flatterers, ye other to men of lawe, another to potte­caries, & the fowerth to ye Phi­sicians. O well fortunate vil­lage, forasmuche as in the, sel­dome or neuer is the Frenche pockes named, neither the pau­sy not yet ye goute: fewe or none there knoweth what is a Iulep, a Pyll, a Sirup, or a Thysan, nor no sodain sickenes. What will ye that I shall say more of the village? And if it were not, but that for necessitie, they are compelled to builde there litle pretie houses, ye should scant [Page] fynde one of theim that knewe what to do with morter & stoo­nes? And sometyme they are very well pleased with cabons made of small stickes well fa­stened together.

Another commoditie in the village is, that thee daies there seme to be more long, and they are better imployed, then they are either in the court or in the great tounes, forasmuch as the yeres passe awaye there or one be ware, and the daies without any enoiyng of them. And how beit that the sportes and plea­sures be more in the village then in the tounes, yet so it is that one day shall seine lenger there then shal a moneth in the court: & the reason is, for that the village is happye and for­tunate, [Page] forasmuche as there the Sunne semes to make a more longer day, the mornyng is re­dy to shew, and the night slow to come. Scarcely one can per­ceiue the dayes slyde away in the court: In the village if it be perceiued, it is bestowed with honest busynes, whiche cannot be done in the court.

In the village also is muche more plentie of wood then in other places: hay, strawe, Otes much better chepe then in good tounes. Also in the village a man is at libertie to eate his meate where he will, & when he will & with whō he will: but in the court they eat late, the meat euil dressed and colde, and with out sauor, and that whiche is [Page] worst of al, for the most parte, he must eate with his enemies, where as the good felowes of the village liueth at their plea­sures and without suspicion, keping their thre good fashiōs that belongeth to good repast, that is, first he erneth his meat next that he eateth his meate merely, & thirdly he eateth with good company.

Another commoditie is that the husbandman of the village hath how to occupy themselfes and howe to be mery, whiche the courtier, nor the citezen hath not, thathath enemies e­nough to feare, and fewe fren­des to company withall. O re­creacion pleasaunt of the vil­lage, to fishe with nettes, and with hokes, to catche birdes wt [Page] lyme, to hunte with dogges, to catche Conies with ferrettes, & hayes, to shote in the crosbowe and the hacbut at stokdoues, at Mallardes & at partryges: and se folkes labor in ye vynes, raise diches, amende hedgees, to iest with ye aūcient laborers, All these pleasures haue they of the villages, whereas the courtiers and citezens de­sire it & cānot haue it.

The .vii. Chapiter.
¶That commonly the inhabi­tauntes of the villages be more happy then courtiers.

ANother commoditie of the village is, that thei do fele ye trauailes lesse on the workyng day, & reioyce merely on the holy day: where [Page] the courtier continually vexed with weightie and troubleous affaires, neuer knoweth when it is holy day. O village, it is not so in the, wheras on the feastful daye the clerke ceaseth not to tolle the bell, to make clene the churche, to make redy ye alters, the people honestly apparelled the feastes commaunded to be obserued, the curate preacheth ye gospel, & after diner they make mery with a thousande honest pastymes. In the great tounes the holydaies are knowē when the wyfes goe gaye, when they slepe long in the mornyng, whē thei play after diner: and gene­rally when they consume the day involupteousnes and va­nities.

Another commoditie is this, [Page] that where the courtiers vse to eate fleshe and corrupt venison & wildefoule that is long kept, they of the village haue their meate freshe and freshe, tender and holsome, & as one may say, in good seasō: that is, housdo­ues, Partrige, pullettes, stock­doues, wodcockes, Fesauntes, fatte Capons, Conyes, Hares, and innumerable victayl of al sortes. And ouer and besydes this, to their great aduauntage they haue shepe that beareth woll to clothe them, good mut­ton to eate, dong to make fatte their ground, and Kyddes and Goates also, with Oxen to la­bor in the plough, and kyne to milke and make butter & chese: and hogges to make bacon of, Coltes for to norishe & horses [Page] for to serue them and for to sell when nede requireth. And an­other priuelege of the village is this, that the good shall be honoured for a good man, and the vnthriftie person knowen as he is, whiche is not so in the court, for ther is nomā praised for that he deserueth to be prai­sed, but because he hath aucto­ritie and riches.

O how muche is the wise mā honored in the village for his wysedome and good counsail? how many tymes is he thākeo and how many presentes hath he? If parcase one of his neighbors haue any goodfruit in his garden, a good melon, a good pear, or a good muscadel grape gladly they wyll present him therewith, as to him that [Page] hath deserued it.

Another preuilege of the vil­lage is this, that euery mā may marry his daughters to his e­qualles and neighbours, that thereby dayly he may receiue bothe pleasure and seruice, the whiche the courtiers cannot do that marry their doughters so farre frō theim, that for ye most part they lament theim or they see theim. O happy inhabitor in ye village that fyndes at his gate husbandes for his dough­ters, and wiues for his sonnes. He maryeth theim nigh to him that he may easly see his sōnes in lawe, his litle nephues & his posteritie: he is beloued of thē, succoured in his affaires, ser­ued & norished in his sickenes, and great cōforte to him in his age.

[Page] Another commoditie is, that they are not to muche carefull nor yet ireful or enuious: whi­che commoditie they of ye court and the citezens litle tasteth or emoyeth: for the courtier many times lacketh money, when his great affaires shuld be brought to passe. I say therfore o happy mā of ye village, that nedes not to go at ten of the clocke to the palice to beg counsel, to speake fayre to ye vssher, to waite vpō the president & make flectamus ienua to the lawyer, and flatter the kyng and his counsel, & the Magistrate: but hath in stede of these Idolatries for a happy solace, the benefites of nature and ye pastimes therof, to heare the shepe blete, the Bulles to bray, the Horse to nese, the Ni­tyngales [Page] to syng, ye Thrushes to warble, the Lynets to mynse their songes, dogges to runne, Lambes to leape, Kyddes to gambolde, & see the Pekockes set vp their tailes like a whele, Hēnesto kecle, kockes to crow, & a thousand kynde of beastes and birdes play and sporte.

Another commoditie is, that in the village one may be there more vertuous & lesse vicious then in the court or in the great citiees, and ye reason is, for that in great companyes we shall cōmenly fynde a M. that kepe men from good doyng & x. M. that will moue vs to do euill. And in the village euery man sanctifyeth the Sabboth day, kepeth the feastes, heareth the sermones, and by this meanes [Page] with great labor worketh his soule health assisted by grace.

Wherfore the village is to be praised for that ye occasions of euil, and of our destruccion are not so plentifull and practised there, as they are in the court & in good tounes, no cokes hou­ses to make them licorous: nor there are no great estates wher by enuy shuld arise: there is no choppyng nor chaungyng by vsury: whores to quarell and fight for, nor courtiers to tor­ney in armure, nor wanton and lewde places to corrupt youth withall: nor Iustices to feare them, ye (and that best of all is) no couetuousnes whiche shuld swalow vp and deuoure them.

Another preuilege there is, that there one may well gather [Page] some good, and spende muche lesse then in the court. For eue­ry man knowes well what ex­cessiue expēces are accustomed to be wasted in the court, & spe­cially in these dayes, that the great apparellyng of bākettes is suche that they be well wor­thy to be reformed. O peacea­ble peysaūtes which nedes not the tapettes of Flaunders, lin­nyng clothe of Holland, siluer plate, garmentes imbrodered, Parcement lace purfilde, nor yet cariage, Mulettes, varlet­tes to conduct them, nor other superfluous attyre: but contra­ry in stede of that, is contented wt a lytle houshold well ruled, with a grosse table and a fewe plaine stoles to eate his meate vpon, with dishes of Peuter & [Page] a mattres for to slepe on, two gounes, one for sōmer, another for wynter, one geldyng in the stable, one varlet, one chambe­rer to do him seruice: As muche happy is a gentleman and as muche honored with his lytle companye in his house in the village, as is a riche lord in the court with his great pride, and ruflyng traine.

The .viii. Chapiter
¶That in princes courtes the custome and vse is to speake of God and liue after the worlde.

IN the Court, euen as there is no rigo­rous iustice, no fa­ther that chastiseth his soonne, no frende that cor­recteth one the other, none that [Page] loueth his neighbor, no bishop nor curate that gouerneth well his shepe nor teacheth them af­ter the gospel: So he that is by nature good, hath great li­bertie to be naught. In the court if one wilbe an adulterer, he shall haue felowes. It he wilbe a quareller, he shal haue helpe, & that with suche as will drawe their swordes. If he be disposed to banquetyng, euery where he shall fynde gluttons, If he will manifestly & shame­fully lye, he shall fynde compa­nions ready that will approue his lies: If he wil steale, he shal fynde theim that will instructe him many wayes therto: If he will play, there is so many car­des and so many dise, that it is shame to see it: If one will be [Page] falsely forsworne, he shal fynde theim that will geue money for forswearyng: Fynally, if he wil vtterly geue himself to do euil, in the court he shall see perfecte examples. To the court resor­teth menne of diuers nacions, some for busines, some to plede or to serue or to shewe theim selues, whiche persons to bring themselues acquainted are for­ced to folowe the seruauntes of suche as be in auctoritie, to flatter them, & speake fayre to thē: and to folowe the companies & felowship of the taberers, the Pypers, the Musycians, the flatterers and mery iesters, and at ye ende become God knowes poore and nedy gentlemen, in suche wise that by very necessi­tie thei be cōpelled to demaūde [Page] rewardes, newyeres giftes and new apparell. And yet to this euil felowes, they whiche geue vnto theim any good thyng, geue it rather to get themselfes a name to be called ful of mag­nificence then for any charitie at all.

In the Court, fortune is in­constant, in that she promiseth, and yet more in that which she geueth, for at one instant, wher one ryseth, another falleth, one is borne, another dyeth: he is auaunced that is vnknowen, & the faythful seruaūt forgotten, he that will abyde is not recci­ued, but he that will runne a­way is taken in: fooles are be­leued and wisemen belyed, opi­nions be folowed and reason let passe. With these thinges [Page] and other semblable thynges that we assay and se in courtes of princes, euery manne may bee assured that fortune will knocke at his doore, though for the moste parte the Courtiers find soner their graue then any good fortune, & specially suche that vnder colour to be discen­ded of a good house, go to the court to bragge, and yet neuer­thelesse are so folishe and igno­raunt, that it may be sayd they are more mete for the cart then for the spere, so that they serue in conclusion to be a daliance to the mockers & iesters. And one great mischiefe is in the court, that there is euer hatred amonges the princes, enuye a­mong familiars, contencion a­mong officers and with their [Page] felowes. And among these there neuer lacketh medlers & busye bodyes, whiche profite more thereby, then some doctor of diuinitie doeth by prechyng. In the court all is suffered, all is dissembled withall, all is in­constant, and all sortes desyre there to liue: and forasmuche as al suche desire there to liue, it is impossible but there must be lyers, players, slaunderers, and a great nomber of naugh­tie persons.

In the court the euil folow­eth the euil: The brauler fyn­des one to braule withall: The adulterer one that he may sinne withall: The thefe a compani­on & receiuer: The sophister a babler: & all rekened together, one ready to deceiue another.

[Page] In ye court euery mā praiseth & commendeth himselfe of holy purposes and noble though­tes. One sayeth he will with­drawe himself from the court. And another sayeth he wil for­get his suites. Another sayeth he will quenche enemitie. And when they haue all sayd, all is but wordes, for the heart thin­keth of nothyng els but of the world. None knoweth there the one the other: The men of ar­mes go without harnys: The prelates without their rotchet­tes: The priest without his porteaus: The doughter without her mother: The wife without her husband: The clerke with­out his bokes: The thefe with­out a spye: The glutton from [Page] table to table. The vacabonde frō place to place, and ye baude from doore to doore, and from harlot to harlot. In the court there be bishoppes to cōfirme curates, to baptise & chaunge names: For he that is glorious gay, thei name him honorable, he that spendes all, full of magnificence, the cowarde wise, the valiaunt ouerhardye, the foole ioyous, the wyse an hypocrite, the malicious subtle, the scoffer eloquent, the adulterer Amo­rous, the coueteous mesura­ble, and he that talketh li­tle, a foole and an ig­noraunt person.

The .ix. Chapiter.
¶In the court fewe amende, but many waxe worse.

IN the court it pro­fites litle, menne to be wise, onlesse they be fortunate, foras­muche as good seruice is sone forgotten: frendes sone faileth and enemies augment, the no­bilitie doeth forget it selfe, sci­ence is forgotten, humilitie dis­pised, trueth cloked & hid, and good coūsell refused. The beste mine and the richest Alcumet that the Courtier may haue, is to haue wynde at will to sayle with, that is, to be in fauorwith them that be fauoured, till for­tune laugh vpon him: for the condicions and fashions of en­tretainment [Page] chaungeth dayly and hourely. To proue this true, Plato neades not to speake, nor Cicero to sweare, forasmuche as afore our eyes we see the foole become wyse, the meke, become proude, the sobre a glutton, the pacient a brauler, and the deuout an euil christian man.

In the court it is a great bu­synes and trauaile for to fynde vertue, and greater daungier & peril to kepe it. Is not humili­tie lost among theim that be in honor, or paciēce among wrōg doers, or abstinence among gluttons, or chastitie amonges women, or rest amonges busy­nes, or charitie amonges euil willers, or peace amōges sedi­cious, or silence amongest bab­lers, [Page] or good witte whereis so muche folly? In the court no man is content, euery man cō ­plaineth either because ye kyng geueth him nought, or because the prince healpeth him not, or that one or other is euer be­twixt him and home: He com­plaines of the porter he wil not let him in: of the treasurer that he payeth him not: of his cre­diture whiche taketh away his goodes: or of one or other that that doeth him wrong in the court. If one rede a letter of pleasure, he shal reade an hun­dreth of displeasure. The wife shall write to her husband and praye him for to come home, yt he may marry his doughters beyng of age, or yt his children be disobedient, that his frendes hath forsaken him, and that by [Page] ingratitude thei render euil for good, and werines doth assayle her on al sides, that her tenaū ­tes cal her to the lawe, that his goodes be spent? surely he shal heare suche newes, so that for two grotes that he geueth to the bearer of ye letters, he wold gladly haue geuē more to haue hard no suche newes

In the court a manne doeth many thinges by necessitie, that to dye for it he would not do in his house: he dynes and suppes with his enemies, he speakes with him that he neuer knewe nor pleaseth him not, defendes him that helpes him not, folo­weth him that honoureth not him, lendes to him that payeth him not, dissembles with him that doeth him iniury, and tru­stes to him that beguiles him. [Page] O vnhappy & sorowfull cour­tier if by chaunce he growe to be a poore man, no man will succour him, and if he fall sicke no man visites him, and if he dye he is incōtinent forgotten: if he be vertuous no man com­mendes him, and if he be out of credite no man regardes him. In the court there is nothyng more rare nor more deare to re­couer then vertue, nor more esy to fynde then the aboundaūce of thre maner of people. That is of tale bringers, of flatterers and of lyars. The lyers decei­ueth ye princes. The flatterers the riche menne. The tale brin­gers, those that be in fauour. The women, deceiueth the mē. The coueteousnes, ye olde men. The pompe the prelates. The auaricious, the priestes. The [Page] libertie ye religious, ambicion, the presumptuous, ye wise cōfi­dēce in men, & al they ioyned together be deceiued by fortune. In the court men employe the tyme so euil that from the tyme the courtier doeth arise, tyl he go to bed, he occupieth him self aboute nothing but in askyng of newes, iettyng aboute the stretes, write letters, speake of the warres, entertein them that be in fauor, counsell with bau­des, make as he were in loue and lese alwayes the tyme. In the court more then in any o­ther place the thinges are slow. For one rises late, and worst of all amendes his life late. All thynges there is variable and chaungeable and inconstaunt. The estates chaunge, The litle assende, the great fall. The [Page] widowes there be marde: The maried be defamed: The may­dens be shamed: The good spi­rites be dulled: The valiaunt becommes cowardes: The pre­lates waxe worse & worse: The sciēces are forgotten: The yōg leese their tyme: The olde vn­done: This is ye courtiers life. He is not worthy to be a cour­tier onlesse he be in debte and oweth to the draper for clothe, to the Merser for silke, to the taylor for the makyng of his apparell, to the goldsmyth for iewels for my lorde ye courtiers lady, to the Iudges for the dis­putyng of processes, to the ser­uauntes for wages, to their ho­stes for their spence. There is to muche euill counsail euen suche as is more then the halfe way ledyng to damnacion.

The .x. Chapiter.
¶That a man cannot liue in the court, without to trouble him selfe or some other.

A Courtier doeth ma­ny thinges, more for to say, I do as other men do, then for any neede he hath so to do. He ban­kettes with euery man because he will not be called an hypo­crite, Playes because he would not be named a nigard, & com­panyes with many, because he wil not be named a solitarymā and geues to rascall & naugh­tie persons because he would not be euil sayd of them. A mā in ye court is full of pensiuenes and passions: For it is trueth that it is appropried to theim of nature that folowes ye court, [Page] to be incessantly tormented. He muste praise his felowes, dis­praise straungers, & loke vnto therin that do well, and blame them that do euil, and spend at large with his felowes, and a­gainst ye enemeys spare not his owne proper life: And all this must he do because he will not be dispraised. In the court cō ­monly one professeth to wayte of one maister, but for all that he must serue at the taile of dy­uers others lordes. O broken heart of the poore courtier that must nedes serue suche as kno­weth him not, and make reue­rence to theim that deserue not to haue it, and must saye to my maister the officer an hundreth tymes a day, sir and if it please you. And he shall answere [Page] when I am at leyser? tary a whyle at the doore. And yet we must call him maister that de­serues it no more then the hāg man that strangles a man with a halter. O what pitie is it to se a poore suiter in his nedy bu­synes folowe the kyng from toune to toune euil norished & worse lodged? The kyng hath busynes, the counseler is defe, the Almoner hath no hande, & he that thou knowest hath no eyes: And without money and extreme pain, the fiue wittes of nature be laine.

In the court, albeit that one hath no enemies whiche is sel­dome seene, yet is it trueth that many tymes his owne frendes putte him out of quiet, foras­muche as if the courtier will [Page] take rest in his lodgyng, they grunt at him because he wyll not go see his frendes and pro­uoke him to go folowe ye prin­ces in the court, saiyng, that the rascall and the varlettes mocke at him, that he goeth not thether and shewe himselfe free and liberal: and when he is a­riued at the court, whiche is a naturall enemye to rest, and a desire of nouelles, then must he chaunge, as doeth the Egipci­an, whiche euery day seketh a newe countrey, a new lodging, newe apparell and conuersa­cions, busynes and fashions of menne. Lo my frende and the reader of this: This is the life of the courtier as it is here discribed: and also of him that [Page] liueth in the village the whiche sayd life of the peysauntes shal be muche praised of many, and chosen of a fewe, because that euery man readeth bookes e­nough & the more he readeth ye lesse he chaungeth of his euil customes. And to cal to reason why it is so, it foloweth that the court of prīces is good but for two maner of menne, for theim that be in fauor, & for the yong whiche be yet of a weake iudgement. And those that be in fa­uor, & doeth waite dayly, se thē selfes so riche, so feared, and so wel accompanied that thei fele not the paine of the court. And the pleasure they gette thereby makes them for cōclusion for­get themselues, yet notwithstā dyng for all this, it is impossi­ble [Page] but that their braines must be troubled, because they be to much occupied, for their houses are to ful of people, their eares full of lyes, their toungues to much troubled wt answering of euery mā, their heartes to much pressed to ayde and helpe them that they would helpe, & other. And finally ye greater in aucto­ritie & credite they be, ye shal se them ye more pensiue & the more astonyed, and for the most part sooner complaine then reioyce: but cōmaunde who cōmaunde will, haue credite who will, the truth is, none can take pleasure of his goodes, wtout honest rest Beside this those which be sayd to be in fauor, are euer in feare to be put doune frō their auctoritie: And by that meanes are [Page] in cōtinual drede and torment, the whiche is an enemy mortal to quiet and rest. And the yong in like case (as I haue sayd) yt be without iudgement & blyn­ded in vices, do not knowe nor see the incōmodities of ye court, nor care, neither for fauor nor honor, but boūden & drounde in volupteousnes and vices, passe the better parte of their daies in the schoole that is no­thing worth, vnder the maister of pardicion.

The .xi. Chapiter.
¶That in the court those that be graue are praised and well estemed, and the other that doeth the contrary not regarded.

THe courtier shuld not aquaint himself with vaine and ydle per­sons, that he be not reputed [Page] to be suche as he compa­nieth withall. For it had not been enough for him to saye he must nedes do there asother do and dissemble as other dissem­bles. Neither behoueth it him not to cloke his naughtie do­yng, in goyng secretely to suche as be naught, for why? the wittes of the courtiers are so fine, that they knowe not onely what one sayeth but what he thinketh. There is neither litle nor great but menne spye him whether he goeth, frō whence he cōmeth, & where he abideth, with whom he talketh, in whō he trusteth, and what he wil do, so wel, that ye curtens may hide a person, but to hide ye vices of the courters is impossible. The courtier also ought not to brag and crake that thynges shalbe [Page] as he would, he may not pre­sume to speake to the kyng and require audience as he himself lust: for he yt foloweth the court muste be as one that hath no mouth to speake, nor hādes to be auenged withal, beyng well assured that there is no more loue in the court, then are clo­thes vpon a bare horse. For he that is in the court, and is not armed wt pacience, it had been muche better for him not to haue come out of his countrey, for beyng a quareller & sedici­ous felow, in ye court he shalbe hated, and paraduēture bani­shed frō thēce, & then his retur­ning shalbe to his vtter shame.

Malice & displeasures take often an end in the village, but in ye court is alwayes an ouer­plus [Page] of theim. What is the cause? Fortune I say of her, whiche hath the rule ouer them who counteth for a gooddesse, whiche is more feared of a fo­lishe opinion, then for any po­wer she hath ouer men.

The courtier also ought not to condiscende to that whiche his sēsualitie requireth, but to that whiche reason doeth persuade him vnto, forasmuche as ye one demaundes more then nedes, & the other contentes him wt lesse then he hath. Forasmuche then as in the court, ther is so many tables to glutton on, so many newe founde playes to play at, so many quarelles to fight for, so many matters to pleade, there is no cause to meruaile if the sage be cherished, and the [Page] dissolute person blamed. The good mā within ye court, is as a nutte within the shale, & mary within ye bone, & a perle within the cokle, and a rose among the thornes. I do not say reder, for the qualitie and quātitie of the malice of the court, that all be vicious that be ther: God for­bid that it so shuld be, but whē I call to remembraunce we be all mortall men, I thynke it in maner impossible to ariue safe into the porte, among so many Syllas and Caribdes. Ye will say that the wily and the subtle person there waxeth riche, and that the great sūmes of money be there: I cōfesse it, & I would say your saiyng shuld be good if they yt were of the best know­lege & the most verteous nom­ber [Page] wer auaunced for their prudence, as the other be by hazard and chaunce or by theft, for the reward of vertue, is not like to the rewarde of fortune.

Item the courtier ought not to geue presētes, nor lightly take, for why? for to geue him that deserues it not, there lackes wysedome. And to receiue of him that one ought not, is a thyng but vile.

Who that will exercise libera­litie, ought to considre what he geueth, and to whō he geueth: for it shuld be but folly to geue that whiche one may not, & that whiche he himselfe nedes. And one ought to considre the tyme and the end and the season, and wherfore he geueth. And if the [Page] courtier geue somethyng ouer liberalitie & without iust cause of recompense of him whiche is out of credite and in the tyme that he beginneth to declyne.

Is not then the gifte euil im­ployed? is it not to be lamēted that one geues soner to ye flat­terer to tel some feined or liyng tales, or to a iester to make thē laugh, or to a common lyer to make them talke, or to a plea­saunt felow to inuent a lye, ra­ther then to a trustie seruaunt that hath all ye daies of his life deserued to haue thāke for his good seruice? Yet for all this, myne entencion is not to per­suade great mē that they shuld not geue to all men: but I say the true seruaūtes ought to be preferred, because it is more [Page] meter that their seruice should be rewarded, then the presentes of straungers considered.

When a mā geueth to straun­gers, the seruauntes seyng the same drawe backe: ye may be assured that they not only murmure at that whiche is geuen, but also accuse him of his vn­gentle dede, and become a mor­tal enemy to him that the thing is geuen vnto. The giftes ma­kes a man muche subiecte that receiueth thē, for assone as any man doeth take of another an horse or a goune, or often sitte with him at his table, he bindes himselfe therby to beare him fauour, to defende his quarel, to kepe him company, to take his parte, and to loue that that he loueth. And reason wil, that si­thens [Page] one feleth profite of ano­ther that he be not vnkynde, howbeit let a manne beware to bind himself so muche vnder ye wil of other men, that he therby forgetteth his owne honestie. Many yong childrē discended of an honest house go to ye court & take with them a good parte of their goodes and consume thesame plaiyng, eatyng, and drinkyng, and vsyng baudry & adultery vnder colour of lear­nyng their behauior: and re­sorte to the great mennes hou­ses, to no other intent, but to be much made of of thē wher they take a great repast, and after­ward so play the yong wanton fooles, that they spende rent, honor and all. And when the purse is flat, their office is to go [Page] all the day in the stretes to the churches and to the palaice to aske newes & tidynges, on­ly to pype out lyes and fables at the lordes boordes, & all for to go scot fre. And ther is a sort of yong men in the court, yea I may say to you, of those yt haue beardes, that neither haue ma­ster nor entertainers, that as soone as a straunger commeth to the court, straight waies thei boorde him, saiyng that they wyll shewe him the fashions & maners of the court, the plea­sures of the palaices, the ma­ner how to kepe him from de­ceiptfull felowes, and to enter­taine yong gentlewomen. And thus ye newecome courtier that is yet a foole, in the meane sea­son shalbe hādled in suche wise [Page] that now goeth a goune, now a coate, another tyme a horse, & sometyme purse and all. And there is another sorte of men in the court that busieth thēselfes with so great auctoritie & with so litle wit, that after they haue vsed ye company of some great lorde, thei wil send him a lettre by their page, saiyng they be poore gentlemen, kynsfolke to some great men, and that they be there suyng for some office, and that they haue a payment in hand, wherfore they require him to lende him a certain sum of money: And yet are they in no suche necessitie, but onely to get somewhat, either to buye a gay coate, or a horse, or to kepe a whore.

There is another sort of false [Page] & beggerly courtiers, the which after they be ones vsed to the court, they go from churche to churche to aske for Gods sake, saiyng they be poore suiters & that thei loue better to begge then to robbe, commending thē selfe to the priestes to begge for them on the poore parisheners when they preache, & so take a­gainst reason the good yt poore men should haue.

There is another sorte of haunters in the court, that goe from one house to another of ye great estates and lordes, coun­terfaityng to be diligent ser­uauntes, slatteryng ye steward, the butler, and the cooke, & liue of that whiche is lefte of the di­ners, and goe their waies with their pockettes and their sleues [Page] full of meate for so suppe with all. And ther is another maner of sorte that go two and two & thre and thre together in a mornyng to spye and see if there be any thyng euil kepte, and with that to looke and to prye if a sworde or a Spanishe cloke, or a purse be fallen aside, if ther be, thei syng in a mery note this is pro nobis. Other there be y for to cōduict & defend a whore when ye court remoues (as one may say more then ruffians) they liue of the gaine of yt mise­rable womā. Another hath falsdise, false marked cardes for to deceiue the innocentes, wynne their money, & lccse their owne soules. And ther lackes not in ye court olde women & wrinckled trottes yt after their haruest is [Page] past, cloke the synnes of other, and beguile those that be chast and vndermine such as be ma­ried, hurt their neigbours, sell maydens to whoredome for lu­cre, and do norishe them there­fore, wherof folowes that these olde whores sometyme sell wē ­ches better chepe then fishers do lamperyes. O beholde the company of the court, the holy­nes, the religiō, the brotherhed, and finally the foule disorder of thesame. And I say for my parte, go to the conrt who will and there abyde, and triumphe who will: as for my selfe I do remembre I am a christen mā, and that I must accompt for ye tyme I haue lost, & therfore I had muche rather to labor and dygge & delue out of the court [Page] and be saued, then to be nighe the kyng, my conscience not cleane nor pure.

The .xii. Chapiter.
¶That in the court of princes all say we will do it, but none do it.

BY as the great Philosoper of great renoume amōges the Grecians, said vpō a tyme to the great Alexander Quiliber in suo negotio, hebetior est quam in alieno, meanyng, that cōmonly euery man is more blinded in his owne affayres then in ano­ther mannes. And he so sayd by very good reason, for yt ther be menne, whiche for to geue a wise deliberate and sage coun­sel for to remedy a sodain mis­chiefe, [Page] haue excellēt wittes, so yt it be in another mannes mat­ter. But in their own affaires they haue neither witte to go­uerne their owne houses, nor stable mind to couer their own miserye. Cayus Iulius Caesar, Octauus Augustus, Marcus An­tonius, Septimius Seuerus, Mar­cus Aurelius, and other in great nombre, that were estemed in their priuy busynes, that is to say, in the rulyng of the cōmon wealth, wonders wittie: but we reade that they were so negli­gent in gouernyng their owne housholdes, their wiues & their family, that it is muche to their shame and reproche: therfore suche be sene often to be good to rule the common welth, that be nothyng worth to gouerne [Page] their owne, and had nede (if it might be honestly sayd) to haue a ruler to rule them.

Plutarch reporteth that the noble & valiāt capitain Niseas neuer lost battell, but onely in trustyng to muche to his owne witte & iudgement. And if we beleue Hiarcas ye Philosopher, it is more hurtfull to a manne to stand in his owne conceipt, then to phansye a woman: for in louyng a woman, a manne hurteth but himselfe: but in stickyng to muche to his owne phantasy, it may redound to ye hurt of a whole cōmon weale. All this that is sayd, shalbe to admonish them that tary in the court, to be cōuersant with the graue and sage persons, & with suche as be learned, and suche [Page] as haue good experiēce: For ye graue, learnes vertue: Scilēce is a certaine guide to a man: & experience, is the consūmacion of all. For although the cour­tier beyng young, be neuer so sage, graue, riche or in fauor, he shall nede a father to counsail him, a brother to persuade him, a guyde to teache him the way, and a maister to instruct him, and a corrector to punish him: because the mischiefes, craftes, & wickednes doeth so abounde in the court that it is impossi­ble that a man alone may de­fende him from all, and vtterly resist theim. For in the court there is none so high awaye to destruccion as for a man to be gouerned onely by himselfe, & haue his owne swinge.

[Page] The court is a perpetuall dreame, a botomelesse whorle­pole, an inchaunted phantasy, and a mase: when he is in, he cannot get out till he be mor­founded. One of the best re­medyes that the courtier may get against so many euils, is to haue a faythfull frende that flatters him nothyng, but that rather will correct and rebuke him if he goe home late, if he walke by night, if he be a false player or whorehunter. But where shall we fynde suche a frende? For we se the frendship in the court is commonly vsed among yong courtiers in this sort, that so sone as ii. or .iii. are met together, strayt fall they to quarellyng, fightyng, ryoting, so that there is rather occasion [Page] geuen to do euil, then good coū sail to refraine. Therfore he that haunteth the court, it wer mete that he had some frende to whom without feare he might common of his busynes, & that the multitude be also to him common frendes, but aboue al one perfite frende.

I would also he should kepe himselfe from the conuersacion of sedicious persons, from col­lericke persons & vacabondes, for the rascall sorte will slaun­der and say, the kyng payeth naught that those be in fauour haue all the swynge, that the officers are proude, that mens seruice is euil recompensed, & the good vnknowen: With these wordes & suche other like the pore courtiers forgettes to [Page] serue & begynne to murmure.

Also the good christian man ought not to ceasse to amende his life, for yt he hopeth to liue long: although those yt be olde there occupy thēselfes rather in newe pastance, then to correcte their olde synnes. Ye shal fynde theim that promise euery day for to amende thēselfes in their age, & yet neuertheles dye there worse then deuils: the cause is that they all say we wil do and yet neuer do. There be some old dotyng fooles, whiche shal bragge of the kinges & princes whiche they haue serued, of the chaūgyng of offices yt thei haue seen, and of the warres passed, and of the great mutabilitie & chaunge of fortune. And yet notwithstandyng all that they [Page] haue seen and endured, they be as gredy of gaine, and delight in yong and foolishe pastymes as though thei wer newe to be­gyn to liue. Alas miserable men that in perpetual trauail, and continuall sorowe, and in­finite trouble haue passed their liues, euen frō their fyrst tyme of knowlege (whiche is, xv. ye­res) to the time of manhod, and then frō that tyme to their do­tyng age, & all to haue gained riches and increace in renoune: not in all this tyme once re­membre that in the steade of a true and perfite rest, they prepare for theim selues a hell both for body and soule. The courtier also ought not lightly to complaine of aduersities whiche many tymes come to [Page] him, thinking that oftentymes (though it be our owne faulte) we do cōplaine of thinges whi­che should complaine of vs, if they had a toungue.

What tyme a man seeth him self base and is litle estemed, or poore & forgotten of the riche, and deceiued of that he looked surely to haue, incontinent he curses his fortune and lamen­tes his euil: In ye meane while it is not fortune that hath thus serued him, but him selfe that hath serched it and founde it. Suche a manne thinkes to be quickely riche, honored & este­med, yt shortely after seeth him selfe poore, ouerthrowen, dispi­sed, and blamed of all men, and cannot reuenge himselfe, but onely say, he is vnfortunate & [Page] vnhappy to the worlde, & that it is mishap: whiche is not so, but his owne folly that makes him to leaue the suretie of his house and prepareth himself to the hazard of fortune, and therfore hath no cause to complain but of himself whiche chose the waye to it. The best is, after that a man purposeth himselfe to continue in the court, yt then paciently he awayte and tarye the tyme of auauncement or a­uaūtage that he looketh for: or els if he cannot paciently dissē ­ble with the tyme, let him not remaine there, for contentacion consisteth not in the place, but in the ambicious heart, & trou­bled mynde. And take this for a trueth, ye that be courtiers that if .ii. or .iii. thinges succede [Page] to your purpose prosperoussy, there shall come a hundreth o­uerthwarte the shynnes, either to you or to your frendes. For notwithstandyng that ye cour­tiers doynges & desyres come to good passe, there shalbe thinges for his frend or felow that goeth all awrye, wherby often tymes he lamtēes ye hurt of his frende, & that whiche is denied him more then the pleasure he hath of his owne happe: wher­fore there is alwayes lacke or faute of contentacion. Wyll ye any more? the beyng in court or out of the court, ye shal here no nother matter, then, what newes at the court? what doeth the kyng? where is he? where is the counsail? and where lyeth the officers of ye houshold? and [Page] this is most true, yt they which desyre to here suche newes, are as desirous to see newes: And by this meanes the poore wene to make theimselues riche, the riche the more to commaunde, and the lordes ye more to rule. O what a pleasure is it for thē to be in the court hopyng that the kyng may knowe thē, that those that be fauor may dye, or that fortune may chaunge, and that they come forwarde? And it foloweth, that in tariyng the tyme, the tyme decei­ueth them, & then death taketh theim vn­ware.

The .xiii. Chapiter.
¶That there is a smal nombre of them that be good in the Court and a great nombre of good in the cōmon wealth.

PLutarch in ye boke intitled De exilio telleth of ye great Kyng Ptolome that hauyng on a daye at supper with him seuen Ambassadours of diuers pro­uinces, moued a question to them, whiche of al their cōmon welthes gonerned them selues with best lawes and customes? The sayd ambassadours, were Romayns, Carthaginiens, Ci­ciliens, Rhodiens, Atheniens, Lacedemoniens, & Cicioniens: among whō the question was effectually debated afore the kyng, forasmuche as euery one [Page] of thē beyng affeccionate to his countrey aleged the wisest rea­son yt he could. The good king desirous to knowe the trueth & the resolucion of the question commaunded that euery one of the Ambassadours should tell of the beste lawes or customes that were in their cōmon welth thre pointes, and that therby it might esely be sene whiche was better ruled and deserued more praise. Then the ambassadour of the Romaynes beganne and sayd, In Rome the temples be honored, ye gouernours obeyed and the euil chastised. The am­bassadour of Carthage sayd in Carthage the noble men neuer cease to prepare to the warre, the poore people to traueil, and the Philosophers to teache.

[Page] The ambassadour of the Cici­liens sayd, In Cicill is true iustice executed, trouth is belo­ued, and equalitie praised. The Ambassadour of the Rhodiens sayd, In Rhodes the olde men are honest, the yong men sham­fast, and the women meke and gentle. The Ambassadour of the Atheniens sayd, the Atheni­eus do not consent that ye riche should be parciall, nor ye meane people idle, nor the gouernours without learnyng. The am­bassadour of the Lacedemoni­ens sayd, in Lacedemony enuy raines not because al are equal nor coueteousnes because all is cōmon, nor idlenes because all men traueil. The Ambassa­dour of Cicioniens sayd, in Ci­cion they receiue no straūgers [Page] inuētors of newes, nor Phisi­ous that kyl the whole, nor ad­uocates that makes the proces­ses immortall.

When kyng Ptolome and his companye had heard these so good and holy obseruaūces, he praised greatly the institu­cion of euery of theim, saiyng, that he could not iudge whiche was the best. This historie is well worthy to be noted, and better to be folowed: And I beleue if in our dayes so many ambassadours shuld mete, dis­puting as these did of their cō ­mon welthes, thei should finde mo thynges to blame & speake euil of (and that without com­parison) then to praise & com­mende. In tymes passed the kynges houses were so well re­formed, [Page] the kynges themselfes so wise, and the gouernours so moderate, that litle offēces wer chastised, and once to thinke of great offences forbidden: to the entent that the chasticement should be terrour to the euil, & the prohibicion a plaine aduice vnto the good: It is not so in our common welthes, where is done so muche euil, and com­mitted so many bitter offēces & vnhappynes, that those whiche the auncientes did chastice for deadly sinnes by death, we dis­semble theim to be but veniall: the truans and wantons be so entertained as though we lac­ked theim: and not as mete to be chased and dryuen away.

My lady the widow or my ma­sires that is maried, if they fall [Page] to leude and wanton liuyng, ye shal not fynde one that wil say madā or mastres ye do nought: but rather sixe hundreth that shall procure her dishonor.

This is in our tyme, suche is our fashion and maners which causeth euil: so that he is more to be praised whiche may be called good in our common welth, then any of the Consuls of Rome, because that in ye olde time it was almost a monstrus thing to fynde one euil among a hundreth, & now it is a great chaunce to fynde one good a­mongest a hundreth.

The holy scripture praiseth Abraham yt was iust in Calde, Loth that was iust in Sodom Danyel in Babylon, Toby in Niniuie, and Neemyas in Da­masco. [Page] And likewise may we among this Cathalog of holy men nomber ye good courtiers if there be any, but it cannot be forasmuche as none goeth a­bout to moue the courtiers to vertue, but that counsail them to perdicion.

There is in the court so ma­ny vacabondes, so many play­ers, blasphemers, & deceiuers that we may be abashed to see suche a multitude: but it were a noueltie to heare of the con­trary, for why? the worlde hath nothing in hisrosiers but thor­nes, and for frutes of trees, but leaues, for vynes but bryars, & in their garnerdes but strawe, and in their treasures, but Al­cumyn. O golden worlde, O world desired, O world passed: the difference betwixte you and [Page] vs is, that afore you litle and litle the worlde passeth, but a­fore vs it is quite passed. In the O worlde euery mā vnder­taketh to inuent, to do, to begin and to make an ende of that he will: and that whiche is worst of all, liueth as he will: but the ende is right doubtfull. There is litle to be trusted in the O worlde. And contrary wise litle to defende, litle to enioy, & very litle to kepe. There is many thynges to be desired, many thynges to be amēded, & many thynges to be lamented. Our aunceters had the Iron world, but our worlde may wel be cal­led the dirtie worlde, because it kepeth vs continually in a fil­thy myer, and alwayes we be there in defiled and rayed.

The .xiiii. Chapiter
Of many offaires in the court, and that there be better husbandmen, then commonly is of courtiers.

THe Poet Homer hath written of ye trauels of Ʋlixes one of the princes of the Gre­kes: Quintus Curtius of Alex­ander and Darius: Moyses of Ioseph, And of them of Egipt: Samuel of Dauid & of Saul: Titus Liuius, of the Romaines: Thucidides of Iason, with ye Minotaure: and Salust of Iugurth & Cathelyne. I then willyng to folowe these good auctors, haue vndertaken to write the vnkynd trauailes of the court that the courtiers of our tyme haue which haue pa­cience enough for to suffre thē, [Page] and no wysedome to auoyde them: then it is not without a cause if I do call the trauailes of the court vnkynde, for they be accustomed vnto it as the olde horses are to the packesa­dle and to the plough, syth that the courtiers themselfes do suffer them so muche and haue no profite therof. Some men wil say that I am euil aduised be­cause I write ye courtiers haue not their ease, seyng that he yt may attaine to be in the courte is accompted to be fortunate. But he abuseth him selfe, if he thinke that al suche as are out of the court be beastes & igno­rant persons, and he only wise: they rude & he delicate: he ho­nored and they vile, they stāme ryng and he eloquent.

[Page] If it were so that God would that the most perfite men shuld be in the court, it shuld be to vs more then a faulte, not inconti­nētly to be a courtier: knowing that ther can be no better tyme employed, then that whiche is bestowed in hearyng the wise & sage men: but when all is sayd the places doeth not better the men, but the men the places.

God knowes (for example) how many gentle and good honest myndes labor in the villages, and how many foles & lubbers bragge it in palaices. God knoweth howe many well or­dered wittes and iudgementes is hid in the villages, and how many rude wittes and weake braines face and brace in the court. How many be there in ye [Page] court the whiche although thei haue offices, dignities, estates & preeminences, yet in the vil­lage (after a maner of spea­kyng) with great pain they are not able to rule .x. men. Howe many come out of ye court cor­rectors of other, that thē selues in the villages should be cor­rected? O how many thynges is sayd amonges the poore la­borers worthy to be noted? And contrary, spoken afore princes worthy to be mocked? O how many is in the court that make theim selues highly to be este­med, not for to be honest & dili­gent, but to come in auctoritie? And how many is there in the village forgotten and not sette by, more for lacke of fauor then for either lacke of witte or dili­gence: [Page] The princes geue the offices: Those that be in fauor haue the entry: nature the good bloud: The parentes the patri­mony: and ye deseruyng, honor: but to be wise and sage cōmeth onely of God, and menne haue not the power to take it away. And if it were so that princes might geue good witte to whō they would, thei should kepe it for theimselues, seyng they ne­uer leese, but for lacke of knowlege. I take it for an euil point of suche as newly commeth frō the court to ye village, & beyng there, rather vse mockyng then tast the benefite therof. But in the meane tyme, thou seest their maner of life, yt is, to go to bed at midnight and rise at x. of the clocke, & in makyng ready till [Page] noone, trimmyng their busshe, or bearde, and settyng the cap a wry. And all the day after, to talke of his darlyng yt he hath in the court, or of the battell of Granado wher he did meruails. And some there be of them that will lye and bragge that they were at the iorney of Pauay wt the capitaine Antony Deleua: at Tunes with the Emperour: or at Turron wt Andrew Do­ria. And for all his brabling he was no better then a ruffian or a zacar of Tholydo, or a knaue of Cordoua. We haue rehersed these thynges before written, to cause our minion friskers to leaue mocking of the poore in­habitantes of the village, este­myng theim to be but fooles & lurdens. For I beleue, if my [Page] maister the Emperor would banishe all ye company of fooles, I feare me he were like to dwel alone in the court.

Let vs say then, that very late thei of ye court know themselfes and ye order of their life & ꝓfes­sion, I meane ye profession of yt religiō whiche thei kepe strait­ly, the whiche consistes in this: theipromise to please the deuil, and to cōtent the court, and to folowe the worlde: They pro­mise to be euer pensife, sad and ful of suspicion: They promise alwayes to be choppyng and chaungyng, full of busynes, to bye, to sel, to wepe, to sinne, and neuer to reforme themselues: They ꝓmise also to be iagged and raggged, an hungred, in­debted and dispised: They pro­mise [Page] to suffre rebukes of Lor­des, theft of their neighbours, iniuries of collerike men, moc­keries of ye people, reproche of their parentes: and finally, missyng & lackyng of frendes.

Lo this is the profession and rule of the obseruauntes of the court: whiche I wyll not name a rule, but a confusion, not a order but a disorder, not a mo­nastery, but a hel, and a religiō not of brethren, but of dissolute persons: no pore Hermites but coueteous worldely menne. O pitie, O lacke of good iudge­ment. The Oracle of Apollo beyng asked by the Ambassa­dours of the Romaines where lay the point for one to gouern himself wel, The answer was, for a manne to knowe well his [Page] owne estate & degree that ther­by one may rule his desires, & bridle his affecciōs. The cour­tier desiryng al, & perceueryng in nothyng, shall thinke in his mynde, that if he get not in one yere some fee or office, that it is not for lacke of knowlege: but as a person ignorant & foolishe blameth his fortune, and cur­seth the hour that euer he came thether, wtout calling to mynd that ye court is as ye Palme tre whose rote is a feadome vnder the ground, before that he shew two fyngers brede of leaues a­boue the grounde. In like ma­ner, a man must be long in ser­uice before he be promoted: yet so muche resteth that ye per­seueryng & abidyng by it, cau­seth a man to hope: For to say [Page] the trueth, it is seen, if there be thre whiche deserue more then thei haue, there be thre hūdreth that haue more then they de­serue. O how seldome tymes doeth fortune that she ought for to do? And how many ty­mes fortunes hazard & chasice doeth better then the assurance of vertue? because she measu­res her merites by ye euil lēgth of opinion, and not by reason: she makes the water burne wt ­out fyre, the knife to cutte with out stele, the Candle to light without flame, the myll to go wtout water, & the cause is only her inconstancy. If she laugh in ye court of any, it is but with her eares, If she wepe, it had been better neuer for a man to haue come out of his house: If [Page] she lifte any vppe aloft, it is to throwe him doune againe lower then he was: If sometyme she dissemble, it is to take one in a trap. Let no man then trust of fortune, for she is so variable, that she neuer holdeth her pro­mise of that she geueth, neither by worde nor yet by writyng that she maketh.

The .xv. Chapiter
¶That among courtiers is neither kept amitie nor fayth fulnes: And howe muche the Court is full of trauail, of enuye & rancour.

ONe of the most ex­cessiue trauailes amōg the courtiers is, that none is re­sident there wtout he be hated or at the lest that he hate: that is not pursued or els [Page] doteh pursue, that doeth not mocke or els is mocked.

And one vnhappy thyng is in the court, many there be that will do of their bonette to you, that gladly would se your hea­des of by the shoulders: And suche there be that makes re­uerence vnto you that would haue his legge broken to se you dead and caried to your graue: Is it not a great pitie to be cō ­uersaunt all daye together, to laugh & make merye one with another, and yet haue mortall hate? Is not this more then a dissimulaciō, to honor him whō they would be glad to see led to the gallous? One thyng for al, it is ambicion & to muche hope of sharpe and bitter fortune, & lacke of knowlege, of this, that [Page] amitie well obserued, is muche worth to moderate a manne.

What life, what fortune, what tast may he take yt seeth himself daily present in the court, wher is so muche theft, bribry, mur­ders, poysoners, felons, & tray­tours ready to betray and sell a man, and he himself betrayed and solde? And contrarywyse what felicitie is it to be in the companye of those, with whom a man may faythfully recreate himselfe fearyng noman? In the court, there be gentlemen so rooted in vengeaunce & hatred that by no meane, request, nor gentlenes a manne may direct them frō their euil ententes, in suche maner that they be glad to make warre with their owne houses, to chase peace frō them [Page] selues to the houses of their e­nemies? Wherby one may wel presuppose as is aforsayd, that vnneth one may hope to haue frendes in the court, and lesse trust: and the greater menne in auctoritie, ye more afrayde they be to fall. What then causes a man there to tary in suche tra­uail? I haue wonder that any can suffre it or haue a heart to dissemble it. O how fortunate is he that leadeth his life in the village, with ye meane busynes of his litle possession, in comparison of y courtier whose estate is euer vnhappy & of al partes miserable, that neuer ceases to hope of thynges vaine, in pro­curyng vniust thinges & suche thynges that neuer can be de­termined. And if thoughtes [Page] were wynde, & his desires wa­ters, it should be greater daun­ger to saile in his heart then in the maine sea. In the court is one thyng I wotte not what, & one thyng I knowe not howe, and one thyng I vnderstande not, whiche causeth there inces­sauntly complaintes, and con­tinuall choppyng and chaun­gyng, and euermore dispite & enuy: and that worst is there is no libertie to depart thence.

The yoke of the court is hard, the bondes faste tyed and the plough so tedious that those that wene to be the first to try­umph, are the first that labor & drawe the weightie burdens. And suche as are poore & igno­raunt men suffre these intolle­rable trauailes, because they [Page] would not be as subiectes in their owne countreys, and to haue a greater libertie to do euil. But God knowes what suche libertie costeth them, that for a shorte and vaine pleasure purchase to theimselues, conti­nual trauail and perpetual bō ­dage. The propertie of this vicious libertie, or better to cal it, this mischeuous subieccion, is, that at the beginnyng it se­meth somewhat pleasaunt: but in the ende al cōuertes to a bit­ternes, sorow, and lamētacion, chiefly when a man hath expe­rience by litle & litle of the vice that this life conteyneth. For if he accompany with women, he must flatter them, serue them, & intreate theim: And if money lacke, then must there be some deuilishe shift made.

[Page] deuilishe nede. For why, when one commeth new to the court, my lady dame gorgious, ledes him a trayne, she entertaynes him, she makes muche on him, she colles him: but when she spyeth him to lacke, she sendes him to pasture in the bare fiel­des. And if the tyme of eatyng come, the courtier must often tymes fede with them, whom he would see eaten without sauce▪ Nowe, if his turne be to playe, therin is litle profite: if he wyn, he must liberally departe with the gaine to those that stād by: & if he loose, they restore to him neuer a penny. And if the cour­tiers turne be to iest, and to be mery, therin he findeth no fruit for the courtiers playe begin­neth in fayre wordes, & endes [Page] with braulyng, chidyng, & fightyng. And forasmuche as it is the worst life of al other lyues: Let vs conclude that there is nothyng worse then a vaine courtier, & an idle husbandmā.

The .xvi. Chapiter.
By how muche the comon welthes and the courtes of the tyme passed wer more perfite then the cour­tes of the tyme present,

THe kyng Anchyses did lament ye distruccion of the proude Troye, done by the princes of Greece: The Quene Rosaine bewailed her husband Darius, when he was ouercome by the great Alexander.

Ieremy the prophet cōplained the estate of Babylon, when it was helde captiue. Kyng Da­uid [Page] lamented his soonne Abso­lon when Ioab kilde him. The lady Cleopatra thought no no­ther but to dye for sorow when her deare & welbeloued Mar­cus Antonius was vanquished by the Emperour Augustus.

The Consul Marcus Marcellus lamented the citie of Syracuse when he sawe it on a fyre. Sa­lust, Rome, euil gouerned. The Patriarche Iacob his soonne Ioseph: The kyng Demetrius his good father Antigonus whē he founde him dead at the bat­tail of Marathone. It shalbe also conuenient that amonges these wel renoumed princes we should lament the miseries of our tyme, in the whiche we see thynges so merueilous, that ye curious auctours of the tyme [Page] passed neuer wrote thynges sē ­blable vnto them: Nor the men in those dayes neuer sawe the like. Truth it is that the Chro­niclers in those dayes wrote what they would, In our tyme scant any man dare speake.

The Philosopher Ariminius hath written of ye aboundaunce of Egipt: Demophō of the far­tilitie of Arabia: Thucidides of the treasures of Tyrus: Ascle­pius of the Mynes of Europe: Dodrillus in the commendacion and praisynges of Grece: Leo­nides of the triumphes of The­bes: Eumenides of the gouerne­ment of Athens: Thesiphontes of the order that is kepte in the court, and of ye princely houses of the Sicioniens: Pytheas of the profite that came by ye lytle [Page] speaking of the disciples of So­crates: Apollinus of the conti­nencie and abstinence that was kepte in schooles of the diuine Plato: Myronides of the great exercise, and of the litle rest that was in the house of Hyarcas: Aulus Gelyus of ye temperance and litle eatyng, and of the mo­derate slepyng of the disciples of maister Fauorimus: Plutarch of the wise women of Greece, & of the chaste wyues of Rome: Dyodorus, how those that were inhabitantes in ye Isles of Ba­lyares caste their treasure into the sea for feare lest the straun­gers for coueteousnes of their riches shuld make thē warres, and to the entent also that no parcialitie shuld grow among themselues.

[Page] Hearyng then all this that that I haue sayd, I demaunde of the reader his aduise what my penne should write of our tyme? If we should write of bountie and veritie, we should falsely lye: If of riches, men be so gredy that all be disposed to desyre and hunger couetously. How shal we then praise ye men of our tyme? Shal we say they be hardy and puissaunt & lear­ned, and we se that thei employ their myndes to nothyng els but to robbe and beguile eche one the other? How shall we praise theim of prosperitie and helth, seyng that the pestilence and the Frenche pockes more then common is among them? How shall we commende their continencie & abstinence, seyng [Page] that scant in fiftie yeres ye shal not fynde one that will bridle his lust and desyre? Shall we praise theim of litle rest and of muche exercise, when we se that there is a greater nombre that geue themselfes to idlenes and thefery, then to honest trauels & paines? How shall we praise them of temperat eatyng, when we see in our dayes the belly is mennes God? How shall we cō mend theim for hauyng chast women and obediēt, seyng that there is nothyng more cōmon among them then adultry?

Shal we say, they be not coue­tous, seyng that not onely men serche golde and syluer in depe mynes, but men trauail to seke it as farre as the Indiens, of a vyneyarde so froson, of a tre so [Page] dry, of fruit so vnripe, of a wa­ter so troubled, of bread so euil bakē, of so much false gold, of a world so suspicious, what shal we hope any other thereof but euil & confusion? Let vs reade that is written of the courtes of the princes of Siria, of Percia of Macedonia, of Grecia, and fi­nally of the Romaines: And let vs cōferre these to our courtes, and ye shal see suche euils and vicious customes in our com­mon welthes, that the auncien­tes did neuer attaine to ye knowlege how to committe suche ab­hominacions, nor yet (I say) to inuēt such euils. In those most happy times & golden worldes an euil condicioned man scant durst to haue shewed himselfe in any honest cōpany: but now [Page] alas (a thing to be lamēted) the worlde is so replenished with dissolute & corrupt liuyng, that it is counted but a small faulte to be euil, excepte he be suche a one as is past al shame & grace. The courtiers wil not deny me but that whiles they geue attē ­dance for the vprisyng of their maisters, they tell eche one the other what pastyme they haue had the night before, how they haue plaied, sworne and stared at their game, of their laugh­ynges, and the cōpanies they haue had wt the gentle dames: which of them was fayrest and best apparelled? and sometyme in secret of those that they haue committed adultery withal.

And thus, as the worlde is newe, the inuēcions are newe, ye [Page] playes new, the garmētes new, newe speakyng, newe maners, & new euery yere, euery moneth ye and euery day, & euery hour: we see vices so largely delated, and vertue so diminished, that I am ashamed to write it: And the true cause is, that in ye court vertue hath many controllers and enemies, and vice innume­rable vpholders and mayntei­ners. For if there be brought into the court one laudable cu­stome, it is no soner come, but furthwith it is chased awaye: And on the other part, vice can not so sone appeare, but it is as soone embraced & entertained. The sage lawyer Lygurgus did defend expressely by a law that the straūgers shuld not knowe the secretes of his cōmon welth [Page] nor that his citezens should meddle muche abrode, for that purpose as is said, that in med­lyng with them, they shuld not learne their vices nor their barberous condicions.

In the tyme when Marcus Portius was Consull, ther came an excellent Musician out of Grece into Rome, whiche for because that he put one stryng more on his harpe then was ac­customed to be plaied withall, he was by the consent of ye peo­ple banished from Rome & his harpe burnte: Howbeit in this our tyme, we could well agree with Musique, and would not passe how many stynges the harpe had: so that men might agree and stay theim selues.

Plutarch sayth that he saw once [Page] at Rome a priest of Grece sto­ned to death in the great place of Campus Marcus, because that he did sacrifice to the Goddesse Berecinthe in other maner then they were accustomed to be sa­crificed vnto. Suetonius affir­meth that in .iiii.C.lxiiii. yeres whiche was the tyme that the temple Vierges Vastales endu­red, there was neuer found but iiii. euil liuyng persons, whi­che were Domicia, Rhea, Albina & Cornelia, the whiche for their offences were openly buryed quicke. If at this daye one would registre the names of suche like, to be so punished, I leaue it to your iudgemēt whe­ther there shuld lacke hāgmen to do execucion. Trebelius Pu­blius sayd that the Emperoure [Page] Aurilianus Quintus toke a gret frende of his from the office of Dictator, whiche was named Rogerius, onely because he had daunsed at the weddyng of Po­steria Auia his nigh neighbour saiyng, that the good Iudge should not leaue his grauitie & vse suche wilde and common plaies. But so it is, whatsoeuer this Emperour sayd, In our tyme we will geue licence to iudges to remeue their feete as fast as they will, so that they holde their handes stil. It shal make no matter to the poore pleader whether his iudge sing or daunce, so that he ministre iustice with expedicion, that the the poore man come not often tymes and geue to muche at­tendaunce. In this case it were [Page] very good to rayse ye Emperor Domitian, whiche as Suetonius writeth made a lawe, that who­soeuer prolonged the proces of his clyant more then one yere, that he should for euer be ba­nished Rome. If this holy lawe had dured to this daye, there shuld haue been more ba­nished in Rome and els where, then there are now citezens.

The .xvii. Chapiter.
Of diuers noble and valiaunt men, that left the court & the great cities and drewe theim to their proper houses, more by wil, then by necessitie.

MArcus Crassus a captaine of the Romai­nes, was greatly cō ­mended and praised for that he was valiaunt in the [Page] warre, and wise in the busynes of his housholde: This is that Crassus that folowed the parci­alitie of ye Consull Silla against Marius and Iulius Caesar after Dictator. It chaunsed on a tyme that by the fortune of the sea, the sayd Caesar was prisoner to certain pyrates and robbers of the sea, and he sayd boldly to ii. or. iii. of the best of them that kept him fast bounde, It doeth (sayd he) greue me muche, not for that I am taken prisoner, forasmuche as that is but ha­zard of the warre, but of ye plea­sure that myne enemye Crassus will take when he doeth heare of ye newes. This Crassus was Maister to a Philosopher na­med Alexandrius, that gouer­ned him as a father, counsailed [Page] him as a frēde, and taught him as a master: And this did he by the space of .xviii. yeres, whiche passed, then he demaunded li­cence to returne to his coūtrey: And goyng his way, sayd these wordes vnto Alexāder: I aske of the none other rewarde for my payne, nor for my labors in teachyng of thee, then to graūt that I shall neuer returne to the court againe: & when I am gone that thou wilt neuer write vnto me of thyne affaires, for yt I am so wery of beyng a cour­tier, that I wil not onely leaue the court, but also forgettt all that euer I sawe or heard in it. Denis of Siracuse, albeit that he was a cruel tyrant, yet notwithstanding he was a great frende to the Philosophers, and a ho­norer [Page] of wise men. And he sayd that he toke muche pleasure to heare of the wise and sage men of Grece, but he beleued theim not, because their teachynges were wordes without dedes. Seuen of the moste sagest and beste learned of Grece came to Siracuse a citie where the sayd Denys was resident: that is to say, Plato, Chylo, Demophon, Diogenes, Myrtho, Pyllades and Surranus the whiche medled more of ye affaires of Denis then he did of their doctrin. Dyoge­nes dwelled a xi. ycre with him, and after returned to his coū ­trey, where he beyng & washing of herbes for his diner, another Philosopher sayd to him: If thou haddest not left ye seruice of Denis thou needest not now [Page] to haue taken ye paine to washe thyne owne herbes and make them redy for thy dyner. To whom Dyogines answered: If thou couldest haue been cōtent to haue washed & eatē herbes: yu nedest not at this tyme to haue been in the court of Dionisius. Cato the Censor of whom the names of Cato fyrst began, was estemed for one of the wysest of the Romaines: And he was ne­uer sene in .lxviii. yeres (for so lōg he liued) not once to laugh nor to do any thing repugnant to his sage grauitie. Plutarch sayeth that he was in speakyng prudent, gentle in cōuersacion, in correctyng sharpe & seuere, in presentes liberall, in eatyng sober, and in that that he pro­mised, sure and certain, & in ex­ecuting [Page] iustice irreprehensible.

After the age of .lv. yeres he lefte the court of Rome, & with drewe himself to a litle village nigh to Picene, which is now at this presēt called Puzol: & there he passed ye residue of his yeres in quiet and rest, accompanyed only with his bokes, & takyng for a singuler recreacion for to go twise or thrise a day to walk in the fayre fieldes & the vines, & himselfe oft to labor in them. And it fortuned on a day when he was absent from his house that one wrote with a cole vpō his doore O felix Cato, tu solus scis viuere, whiche is to say, O happy Cato, thou only knowest how to liue.

Lucullus Consull and capi­tain, a Romain, right valiant, [Page] brought to an end the warre a­gainst the Parthes whiche had continued by the space of .xvi. yeres, wherby he gat great ho­nor of the citezens of Rome, & immortall renoune for himself and great riches for his family. And it is sayd of him, that he onely of all the Romaines did enioy peaceably in his age, the riches that he had wōne in his youth in the warres. And after when he came from Asia & saw that the common welth was in deuision betwixt Marius & Silla, he determined to leaue Rome & make a house in the countrey nigh to Naples vpon the sea syde (nowe at this present tyme called ye Castel of Lobo) which he edified and liued there xviii. yeres in great tranquilitie. His [Page] house was haunted with many people, specially with great ca­pitaines that went into Asia, and with Ambassadours that came from Rome, whiche he re­ceiued very gently & benignly. One night when his seruaun­tes had made ready his supper with a lesse dyet then he was accustomed to haue, they excu­syng theimselues that they or­dained the lesse because he had no straungers: He sayd vnto theim, although sayd he, that there be no straūgers with me, knowe not you that Lucullus must suppe with Lucullus.

Plutarch speakyng of this va­liaunt mannes exercise that he did after he was retired to the place aforesayd, sayeth that he delited muche in huntyng and [Page] hawkyng, but aboue all plea­sures he most delited in his Li­brary, there reading and dispu­tyng incessantly. Helius Sper­tianus sayth that Dioclesian, af­ter that he had gouerned the Empyre xviii. yeres, forsoke it, and wente to take his pleasure in the fieldes, there in quiet to ende the residue of his life, sai­yng: that it was tyme for him to leaue ye daūgerous estate of the court & get him to a peace­able life in the village. Two yeres after he was thence rety­red, ye Romaines sent vnto him a solemne Ambassade to inuite and desire him effectuously that he would take pitie of ye cōmon welth, and returne, promisyng him that so long as they liued there should none haue the name [Page] of Emperour but he. Nowe when ye Ambassadours ariued at his house, they found him in a litle garden wher he was set­tyng of Lettys and Onyons: And hearyng what they sayd vnto him, he answered in this wise: Do you not thynke my frendes, that it is muche better for him that can sowe his Let­tys, and afterwarde pleasantly and merely to eate thesame, so still to exercise himselfe, then to returne & entre into the goulfe of troubles in a cōmon welth? I haue assaied bothe, I knowe what it is to commaunde in the court, and what it is to liue & labor in the village, wherfore I pray you suffre me here to a­bide in pacienee, for I desire rather here to liue with the labor [Page] of my hādes, then in the sorow and cares of an Empire. Note by this example that the life of the laborer is more to be desi­red, then the life of a prince.

Cleo and Pericles succeded in the rulyng of the common welth after Solon, a man excel­lently lerned and wel estemed, and taken among the Greciās for half a God, by the reason of the wyse lawes he made amōg the Atheniens: These two no­ble gouernours were muche be loued, because that (as Plutarch telleth) Pericles whiche .xxx. ye­res had the administraciō of ye busines and affaires of ye citie, was neuer sene to come into a­ny mans house but his owne, nor yet to sit in any open place among ye cōmon people, suche [Page] a grauitie was in him.

Aboute the yeres of his age whiche was .lx. he went from Athens to a litle village, where he ended the rest of his dayes, studiyng and passing the tyme in husbandrye: He had a litle small gate or wicket in the en­tryng of his house, ouer which was written Inueni portū, spes, & fortuna valete. That is to say, forasmuche as now (and before I haue knowlege of vani­tee) I haue founde the porte of rest, fye of hope, and fortune farewell. By this example, no courtier can say that he leadeth a sure life, but onely that cour­tier whiche doeth as this wyse captain did, withdraw himself.

Lucius Seneca, was as who shuld say, a right leder to good [Page] maners, & a instructer to good letters to Nero the sixt Empe­rour of Rome, with whom he taried .xxiiii. yeres, & had great doynges of thīges pertainyng to the cōmon wealth, as well of priuate causes as otherwyse, because he was sage and of great experience. And at the last, cō ­myng to great age and weryed with the continual conflictes & busynesse of the court, lefte the court and went and dwelt in a litle mancion he had nigh to Nole Campana, where he liued after, a long tyme as witnesseth his bookes De officiis, de Ira, de bono viro, de aduersa fortuna and other bookes whiche were to long to reherse. At last (for­tune and mannes malice did their office) Nero cōmaunded [Page] him to be slaine, not for that he had committed any crime wor­thy to dye, or done any thing o­therwise then an honest manne ought to do: but onely because the lecherous Domicia hated him: Note well reader this ex­ample, that sometyme fortune pursueth him that forsaketh ye court, aswel as the courtier.

Scipio the Affrican was so este­med among ye Romaines, that in .xxii. yeres, whiles yt he was in the warres he neuer lost bat­tell: And yet made he warre in Asia, Europ, and Affrica, and to this, neuer committed acte worthy of reproche: And yet he wan Africa and put to sacke Carthage, brought in bōdage Numance, ouercame Hannibal, and restored Rome weakened [Page] and nere destroyed by the losse they had at ye battail of Cānes. And yet for all this, beyng of ye yeres of. lii. he withdrewe him frō the court of Rome to a litle village betwixte Puzoll and Capua, where he liued a solita­ry life, and so content withal, that whiles he taried there a xi. yeres space, he neuer entred in­to Rome nor Capua.

The diuine Plato was borne in Liconia, and was norished in Egipt, and learned in Athens: It is red of him, that he answe­red ye Ambassadours of Cirene that required of him lawes to gouerne theim selues in sure peace, in this wise: Difficilimū est homines amplissima fortuna ditatos legibus cōtinere. Which is to vnderstand, that it is hard [Page] to bryng to passe to make riche men to be subiect to the rigour of the lawe. To conclude, Plato not willyng to abide lōger the clamor & cry of the court, went and dwelt in a litle village two myles frō Athens called Aca­demia, where the good old man after he had taryed there. xiiii. yeres, teachyng and writyng many notable doctrines, ended there his moste happye dayes. After the memorye of him, the aūcientes called yt village Aca­demia, whiche is to say in Eng­lish, a schole: The cōclusion is that all these honourable sage princes & wise menne, left Mo­narchies, kyngdomes, cities, & great riches, and went into the villages, there to serche a pore, an honest, & a peaceable life.

[Page] Not that I will saye that some of these lefte ye court, to be there poore and banished and rebu­ked, but of their fre wil and fre libertie, minding to liue a quiet and honest life or they dyed.

The. xviii. Chapiter.
¶The Aucthor complaineth with great reason, of the yeres that he lost in the court.

I Wyl demaunde of myne owne selfe, mine owne life, and make accoumpt of thesame, to the en­tent that I will conferre my yeres to my traueiles, and my trauailes to my yeres, that it may appeare how long I lefte of to liue, and beganne to dye.

My life (gentle reader) hath [Page] not been a life, but a lōg death: my daies a play new for to be­gyn: my yeres a very tedious dreame: my pleasures Scorpi­ons: my youth a transitorie fā ­tasy. My prosperitie hath been no prosperitie: but properly to speake, a painted castell, and a treasure of Alcumyn.

I came to ye court very yong, where I saw diuers maners of offices and chaunges, euen a­mong ye princes that I serued. And I haue assayed to trauail by sea and by lande, and my re­compence was much more then I deserued: and that was this, that sometyme I was in fauor, and sometyme out of fauor. I haue had experience of ye somersautes of destines: I haue had in the court frēdes & enemies: [Page] I haue had false reportes: I haue been euen nowe glad and mery, and furth with sadde and sory: to daye riche, to morowe poore: now mounted vpward, & straite throwen dounewarde: This hath been to me a mas­kyng, where I haue loste both money and tyme. And nowe I saye to the my soule, what hast thou gotten of this great ior­ney? The recompence is this, that I haue gotten there a gray head, fete ful of ye goute: mouth wtout tethe: raines full of gra­uel: my goodes layd to pledge: my body charged wt thought: and my soule litle clensed from synne. And yet is there more seyng yt I must nedes speake, that is, that I haue returned my body so wery, my iudgemēt [Page] dull, my tyme so lost, the best of my age so passed, and that is worst of al, I founde no tast in any thing that is in the worlde: so that to conclude, I am of my selfe al wery of my selfe. What should I more tell or say of the alteracion of my life, and of the chaunges of fortune? I came to the court innocent, and come from it malicious: I went thi­ther true and meanyng truth, & returned a lyar: I went thither humble, & returned presump­tuous: I wēt thither sobre, and returned a gurmand & gluttō: I wente thither gentle and hu­maine, and returned cleane cō ­trary. Finally in goyng thither I marde my self in all pointes: And I haue no cause to laye y faut in my masters, for ye vices [Page] soone learned wtout a master, & cannot be forgotten without a corrector. O miserable that I am, I kept in the court an ac­compt of my goodes, to knowe how they were wasted, and not for to distribute theim to the poore: I toke hede of my honor for to encrease it, not for to bet­ter my selfe by the tyme: I toke care of them that shuld pay me, to know what was owyng me, and not that I might gette to profite the poore withal, but to ꝓfite in riches and not in ver­tue. I helde an accoumpt with my seruauntes, to none other purpose, then to know how lōg thei had been with me & serued me, & not to enquire what life thei led: Finally, I held a coūpt of my life, but it was more to [Page] conserue it, then to correct it.

Lo, beholde, this was my ac­coumpt, this was my calcula­cion, this was the Arsmetrique that I learned in the court.

Let vs yet go a litle further and se mine exercises. I neuer was yet in the court but I foūd to whom I bare malice, or els that enuied me. I was neuer yet in the palaice but I founde a window open, and a courtier murmur. I neuer yet spake to princes, but I went from them not cōtented in my mynde with some parte of their answere. I neuer yet went to bed without complaint, nor neuer did ryse wtout a sigh. If I went about to do any good thing, my great affaires hyndered me. If I would study, my felowes letted [Page] me. If I went to take any ho­nest and quiet pastyme, myne affaires would not permit me. If I kept my selfe solitary and from companye, my thoughtes martyred me: Finally ther was neuer any thyng that so vexed my heart as the lacke of money in my purse. And yet all this is nothyng, remembryng that I was euer enuyous to suche as were myne equalles: a flatterer to my superiors, and without pitie to mine inferiors: & where I phansied one, I bare hate al­most to all other. I found eue­ry man worthy of reprofe, but against my selfe I could not suffre a worde to be spoken. O howe forgetfull haue I been, whiche should forget or a mor­sell of meate had been put in [Page] my mouth, and haue talked a­loude to my self alone, as it had been one that had been mad? O how often hath chaunced me yt in commyng from the counsail wery, or frō ye palaice thought­full, I would not heare myne owne seruaūres speake, nor dis­patche suche as I had to do wt ­all? O how many tymes haue I been so drouned in busynes, that I could not moderate my pensiuenes, although my fren­des did counsail me to the con­trary? O alas, how many times hath my mynde pressed me to leaue the court and the worlde, and to yelde my selfe to some solitary desert, as an Heremite? because I sawe ye kyng auaūce him and him, and I put backe as a person halfe desperate.

[Page] Moreouer to fulfil my trauai­les, alwaies I wente askyng & serchyng newes of the affaires of ye court: alwaies harkenyng what one sayd of another: al­waies spiyng and watchyng: & all this considered, I found by myne accoumpt, that I liued in heauynes, captiuitie, and state of damnacion.

Let vs yet go farther: If I were riche, one or other serched some meane to deuour me: If I were poore, I found none to succour me: my frendes cryed out vpō me, and mine enemies sought my death. Ouermuche bablyng of the courtiers brake my braines: and muche silence made me to slepe, and the solici­tude caused me to be sad: And ouermuche company oppressed [Page] me: muche exercise weryed me, and idlenes confounded me.

To cōclude, I so burdened and vexed my self in the court with so muche trauail in naughty­nes, yt I durst not desire death, although I had no desire to liue.

The .xix. Chapiter.
The aucthor maketh accoumpt of the vertues that he lost in the court, and of the euil customes that he learned there,

BVt nowe to pro­cede, my fortune passed, my frēdes dyed, my force de­caied, and my first fashiōs failed: O if al my paines had been ended at the first tyme when I came [Page] to the courte, howe happye had that been for me? but nowe all consumed, I complaine singu­lerly of my traitorous hearte, which would neuer cease to de­sire vain thinges, and the cur­sed tong to speake sclaūderous thīges. O gentle reader, be not wery, if I tel thee in fewe wor­des the difference betwixte him that I was when I went first to the court, & that I am nowe since I haue been in the court. First and before that I did cast my selfe into this perilous la­byrinthe (which is to say a pri­son full of all snares) I was a good deuout person, gētle and fearefull: and since I haue ler­ned to be a mischieuous felow, slowe in doyng good, and litle or nothing regardyng ye welth [Page] of my soule. I went thether be­yng very yong and of good disposicion, and came from thence deffe, & more then spurblynde, and nomore able to go then he that is full of the goute: And briefely and olde grysard, ful of ambicion, in suche wyse, that I am so variable, that scant I knowe on what grounde to set my feete. My heart was of so depraued a sort, that it desired to be discharged of all accions, and yet for all that founde no nother but peril and torment.

Sondry tymes I purposed to leaue the court, and sodenly I repented. Sometyme I pur­posed not to come out of my lodgyng, & strait waies I was enforced to trot a trot to the court. Sometyme I purposed [Page] not to come to the palaice, and or I were ware I was com­pelled to go thither sometyme or it were day. I purposed to be nomore vexed, & sodenly my passions augmēted, And it fo­lowed that my good purposes ceased and went frō me: and I did that was leude & naughty. Behold how I liued of wynde and of fooles imaginacions as many a foolishe courtier doth. I haue phātasied with my self (in the court sometyme) that I gouerned the kyng & the prin­ces, and that I came of a noble house and auncient stocke, ex­cellent in sciēce, great in fauor and beloued of all men, sage in counsail, moderate in speaking eloquent in writyng, prudent in seruice, and conformable to [Page] all. But when I waked out of my folly as from a dreame, and looked to my feete, I knewe easly that I had born false wit­nes to my selfe of this golden & pleasāt imaginacion, & sawe of truth in other, ye which I drea­myngly imagined of my selfe.

I serched the waie how to be estemed of euery mā, holy, wise, gentle, cōtent, & of a good zele, and a sea of sadnes. Lo this faulte happeneth to courtiers as it did vnto me, yt is, to ioyne folishe libertie with vertuous honor, whiche be two thinges that cannot agree, because that disordinate will is enemye to vertue and honor. But for my part good reader, I geue than­kes vnto God, my affeccions be somewhat wasted and mor­tified, [Page] for I was woont [...] in seruice, to desire daily t [...]at e court might remoue: [...] I care not though seldo [...] [...] neuer I come from my h [...]se I had a speciall lust to [...] for newes, And now I care n [...] for them at all. I saw the tyme when I loued not to be out of company, And now I desire no thyng more then to be solitary. I was wont to delite to heare, to see iuglers, daunsers, lyars, and daliars: And now so to do, wer to me more then death. In like maner I was wont to so­lace my selfe in Fishyng, Hun­ting, shootyng in the Hackbut: And nowe I mynde no nother but to bewaile and lament the tyme I haue loste: and call to minde the first tyme that [Page] the Emperor toke me into his seruice, frō thence where I was norished from my tendre yeres in great feare, & not knowyng what the world was, but occu­pied only in my deuocions and lernynges: I often rose at mid­night, I comforted the sicke, I red the gospell and other good bokes of good doctrine. Brief­ly, euery mā did helpe me to be good, and chastised me frō euil: If I did well, I was praised: if I did euil, I was corrected: if I were heauye, I was comfor­ted: if I were angry, I was ap­peased if in any agony, my frē ­des praied to God for me: O what cause haue I to repent out of measure, thus to haue forsaken rest and godly liuyng and to haue enioyed episcopall [Page] dignitie, in which the Emperor set me: forasmuche as a verte­ous life is ye hauen of all good, and the Episcopal dignitie the sea of all daungier. Lo how I haue passed my good yeres wt ­out emploiyng my tyme wel, & wtout knowlege what my for­tune should be. I do therfore admonishe the reder, to do bet­ter then I haue done in ye court, if yu be there, or els to forsake it in a better houre then I haue done: for so doyng thou shalt declare thy selfe, that thou hast determined to liue sagely and well aduised.

The .xx. Chapiter.
The auctour taketh his leaue of the worlde with great eloquence.

[Page] FArewell world, for­asmuch as one can nor may trust of ye nor in the. For in thy hous (o world) the passage is paste, and that whiche is present goeth soone away, and that whiche is to be­gyn, commeth wonderous late, forasmuche as he that thinketh himselfe most firme, sonest doth fall, the moste strongest soonest doeth breake, and perpetuities soonest decay, in suche sort that those which be destinate to liue an hūdreth yeres, thou sufferest him not of all that time, to liue one yere in quiet.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as thou takest, & renderest not againe, thou weryest, but com­fortest not, thou robbest, but [Page] makest no restitucion, & yu qua­rellest, but doest not pacifie, & accusest before thou haue cause to complaine & geuest sentence before thou hearest the parties, euen till thou kill vs, and then buriest vs before we dye.

Farewell worlde forasmuch as in thee, nor by thee, there is no ioye wtout trouble, no peace without discorde, loue without suspicion, rest without feare, a­boūdance without fault, honor without spotte, riches without hurte of conscience, nor high estate but he hath somewhat that he complaineth of.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as in thy palaice promises are made & neuer kepte, men serue and haue no rewarde, they are inuited to be deceiued, they la­bour [Page] to be troubled, & trauail to take paine, they laugh and are beaten, thou fainest to stay vs, to make vs fal, thou lēdest. to pull away strait again, thou honorest vs, to defame vs, and correctest without mercy.

Farewell worlde, thou flaū ­derest them that are in credite, and doest auaūce the infamed, thou lettest ye traitors passe fre, and puttest true menne to their raūsomes, thou persecutest the peaceable, and fauorest the sedicious, thou robbest the poore & geuest to the riche, deliuerest the malicious, and condemnest innocētes, guest licence to de­parte to the wise, and retainest fooles: and to be short, the most part do what they lyst, but not what they should.

[Page] Farewell worlde, forasmuche as in thy palaice no manne is called by his right name, for why? they call the rashe vali­aunt: the proude, colde harted: the importune, diligēt: the sad, peaceable: the ꝓdigal, magni­fical: the couetous a good hus­band: the babler, eloquent: the ignoraunt, a litle speaker: the wāton, amorous: the quiet mā, a foole: the forbearer, a cour­tier: the tyraunt, noble. And thus thou worlde, callest the counterfeat, the true substaūce, and the trueth, the counterfeat.

Farwel worlde, for thou de­ceiuest all that be in thee: pro­misyng to the ambicious, ho­nors: to the gredy, to come for­warde: to the brokers, offices: to the couetous, riches: to the [Page] gluttons, bākettes: to the ene­mies vengeance: to the thefes, secretnes: to the vicious, rest: to the yong, tyme: and to al thing that is false, assuraunce.

Farewell worlde, for in thy house fidelitie is neuer kepte, nor truth maintained: and also we may see in thy house, one glad, and another afrayd: some ouercharged: some out of the right way: some voyde of com­fort, desperate, sad, heauy, ouer­burdened and charged, & more then lost, and sometyme bothe.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as in thy cōpany, he that wenes himselfe moste assured, is most vncertain, and he that folowes thee, goeth out of the way: and he yt serues thee, is euil payed: and he that loues thee, is euil [Page] entreated: & he that contentes thee, contenteth an euil master: and he that haunteth thee, is a­bused.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as thou hast suche mishap, that seruices done and presentes of­fered to thee, profite nothyng, nor the lyes that is tolde thee, nor the bākettes made to thee: nor the faythfulnes we geue to thee: nor the loue we beare to thee.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as thou deceiuest al, backbitest all, & slaūderest al, chasticest al, threttest vs al: achiuest all, and in the ende forgettest all.

Farewell worlde, sithens in thy company al men complain, all crye out, all wepe, & all men dye liuyng.

[Page] Farewell worlde, sythens by thee we hate eche one the other to the death: To speake till we lye: to loue, till we dispaire: to eate, till we spue: to drinke, till we be drōken: to vse brokage to tobbery: & to synne, till we dye.

Farewell world, for beyng in the, we forget our infācy, & our grene age, with out experience: our youth, in vices: our middle age in turmoilyng & busynes: our olde age in lamētacions, & all our tyme coūted together in vaine hopes.

Farewell worlde, for in thy schoole we are led til ye heere be white: the eyes blered: the eares deaf: the nostrels droppyng: ye forehead wrinkled: ye fete gou­tie: the raynes full of grauel: ye stomacke ful of euil humours: [Page] the head full of migrain: the body ful of sorow, & the mynde full of passions.

Farewell worlde, for none of thy louers come to good ꝓfite, witnesse those that daily we see, are not false knaues marked in the face? theues hanged? man­quellers headed? robbers by ye hye wayes, sette vpon wheles? heritikes brent? false money makers boiled: killers of their parētes, torne in pieces, & other diuers punishementes of suche as are great in fauor wt thee?

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as thy seruaūtes haue no more pastyme, but to trot by the stre­tes, to mocke one another? to seke out wenches? to sende pre­sentes: to beguile yong girles: write amorous letters: speake [Page] to baundes: play at ye dise: plede against their neighbour: tell newes: inuent lyes, and studye newe vices.

Farewell worlde, for in thy palaice none will do good to other: for the Boare fightes a­gainst the Lyon: the Vnicorne against the Cocodril: the Egle against ye Vultur: the Elephāt against ye Mynotaure: the Sa­cre gainst the Kyte: the mastyf, against the Bull: One man a­gainst another, and al together against death.

Farewell worlde, because yu hast nothing, but to our ruine: For often the yerth openeth a­fore our feete: ye water drounes vs: the fyer burnes vs: the ayer mistempers vs: the Wynter doth kyll vs: the Sōmer doth [Page] chafe vs, the dogges doth byte vs: the Cattes doeth scrat vs: the Serpētes doth poyson vs: the Flyes doeth pricke vs: the Flees doeth eat vs: & aboue al, worldely busines deuours vs:

Farewell worlde, seyng no man can passe thy dominion in suertie, for in euery pathe we fynde stoones to stumble at: bridges that brekes vnder vs: Snowe that letteth vs: Moū ­taines that werye vs: Thun­ders that feares vs: Theues that robbe vs: Encoūters that hurtes vs, & euil fortune that killes vs.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as in thy countrey there is litle health: for some be lippers, and some haue the French pockes: some the Canker, and some the [Page] goute: and some haue the foule euil, and some the Sciatica, and some the stone, and some Quo­tidian feuers: some wanderyng feuers, some tercian & quarten feuers: spasmes, paulsies, & the moste parte sicke offaire folly.

Farewel worlde, forasmuche as there is not a manne in thy house but he is noted with some defaute in his person: For if there be any talle man, the rest is lubberlike. If he haue a fayre face, his iye shall be too blacke: If he haue a good fore­hed, it shalbe wrinkeled: If he haue a welfauored mouthe, he shall lacke teethe: If he haue faire hādes, he shal lacke faire heer, And if he haue faire heer, he shall haue a foule skynne.

Farewel worlde, forasmuch [Page] as the inhabitaūtes in thee are so variable to maners and cō ­dicions, that some will folowe the court, some wil sayle on the sea: and if one would be a mar­chaunt, the other will be a hus­bandman: If the one will be a hūter, the other will be a fisher: If one wil gouerne a Monar­chy, ye other vnder pretēce of yt, will pyll & poll ye poore people.

Farewell worlde, for asmuche as in thy house there are none that prepare themselfes to liue, and muche lesse to dye: And yet we see some die yong, and some in middle age, some in old age, some dye by hāgyng, and some by drounyng: some dye for hū ­ger, & some in eatyng, slepyng, and restyng, and some or they beware, and for the most parte [Page] or they loke for death.

Farewell worlde, forasmuch as we can neither knowe thy disposicion nor condicion: For if one be wise, another is a fole: If one be fyne, another is of a grosse witte: If one be valiant, another is a coward: If one be geuen to peace, another is sedi­cious: And if one be of a gentle spirit, another is very froward.

Farewell worlde, seyng no­man can liue with thee: for if a man eate to lytle, he becommes weake: if to muche, he waxeth sicke: if a man labour, straite he is wery: if he be idle, he li­ueth bestly: if he geue litle, he is called a nigarde: if he geue muche, he is called prodigal: if a mā visite his frēdes often, he is called importune: if to sel­dome, [Page] full of disdaine: If a mā suffre wrong, he is called false hearted: And if he do reuenge then is he wilfull: If he haue frendes, he is praised: If ene­mies, he is pursued: if one tary to long in a place, he waxeth wery: and if he chaunge to oft, he is grudged at. Finally, I say, that suche thynges as dis­please me, I am forced to fo­lowe, and that which I would, I cannot come by.

O worlde vncleane, I con­iure thee thou filthy worlde, I pray O thou worlde, & protest against thee thou worlde, that thou neuer haue part in me, for I demaūde nor desire nothyng that is in thee, neither hope of any thyng in thee, for I haue determinined with my self that [Page] posui finem curis, spes, et fortu­na valete. I haue finished worldly cares, therfore hope and fortune farewell.

FINIS.

EXCVSVM LONDINI, IN AEDIBVS RI­CHARDI GRAF­TONI, TYPOGRA­PHI REGII. MENSE AVGVSTII.

M.D.XLVIII.

CVM PRIVILEGIO AD IMPRIMEN­DVM SOLVM.

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