Of Man. Chap. 1.

WHen I direct my flight now and then (my companions) euen vnto the heauens, and with the wings of con­templation behold their wonderfull greatnes, their terrible motions, be­ing contrarie and without ceasing, the liuely brightnes, rare beautie, and incomparable force of the sun and moone, their vnchangeable course, one while cause of light, and by and by after of darknes, the infinite num­ber of goodlie stars, and of so many other celestiall signes: and from this excellent and constant order of all these things, as one rauished and amased, when I withdraw my spirite lower into the elementarie region, to admire and wonder at the situation and spreading of the earth amidst the waters, both of them making one round masse or lumpe, which in the midst of this great firmament occu­pieth the roome but of a pricke or tittle in respect there­of: besides, when I acknowledge in this earth and water as many sundrie and most beautifull plants, and kindes of earthie and waterie creatures, as there are graines of sand on the sea banks: and when I delight my selfe in the vari­etie of minerals & pretious stones, considering the forme, [Page 11] qualitie, and vertue of each of these things: briefly, when I admire the diuersitie of times and seasons, the continu­all spring of fountaines, the certaine course of riuers, and generally, so manie wonderfull works vnder the cope of heauen, I cannot maruell enough at the excellencie of Man, for whom all these things were created, & are main­tained and preserued in their being and moouing, by one and the same diuine prouidence alwaies like vnto it selfe.

There is nothing more certaine than this, that all things whatsoeuer either the eie can behold, or the eare heare, were created for the benefit, profit, and vse of man, and that he was made excellent aboue all things to rule ouer them: yea the very Angels are sent to mini­ster for their sakes, which shall receiue the inheritance of Hebr. 1.saluation.

Oh vnspeakable and heauenlie goodnesse, which hast created man little lower than thy selfe, and crowned him with glorie and worship. But tell vs I pray Psalm. 8.thee (ACHITOB) more particularly, what this great and principall worke of nature, Man, is, to what end his be­ing was giuen him, and how he hath shewed foorth the fruits thereof. For it [...]st needes be, that there is some­thing All things were created for man.in him greatly to be woondered at, seeing all things were created to serue and obey him.

To knowo our selues is true wisedome. Truely yee haue reason (companions) to begin our happie assembly with that knowledge, which we ought to haue of our selues, as being the storehouse of all wisdome, and beginning of saluation: wherof we may haue an assured testimonie from that father of Philoso­phie Socrates, who beholding the first precept written at Delphos in that temple of Apollo, which was so renowmed throughout Graecia, namely, Know thy selfe, was foorth­with driuen into a very deepe cogitation, and being rapt with contemplation of spirit, he began from that time forward to doubt and to inquire of himselfe. Wherupon contemning that way, which all the Philosophers of his time, who busied themselues about nothing, but onely in finding out the causes of naturall things, and in dis­puting [Page 12] curiously of them, he gaue himselfe wholie to the The soule is tru­ly man.knowledge of himselfe, I meane of his soule, which he maintained to be in deed man, and by disputuation to in­treat of the soueraigne good thereof, and of vertue. By which meanes the gate of wisedome was opened vnto him, wherein he profited in such sort, that according to Socrates was called the fa­ther of Philo­sophie.the oracle at Delphos, he was called of all men the wise, the iust, the prince of Philosophers, and father of Philoso­phie. And surely out of his sayings, which being more di­uine than humane, were written by his disciples, all other Philosophers haue drawne their knowledge. Heraclitus another excellent man, minding to giue out in speech that he had done some notable act, woorthy of himselfe, said: I haue sought my selfe. Which beginning truely is verie necassarie for man, as being a guide to leade him to the true knowledge of God, which is a heauenly gifte of God, and peculiar to his. And this is learnedly taught vs by the same Socrates, where he saith, that the dutie of a wise man is to seeke out the reasons of things, that in the ende he may finde that diuine reason wherby they were made: and hauing found it, may worship and serue it, that afterward he may enioy it, and Socrates said that the know­ledge of God and of our selues must be ioined together. reape profite thereby. Moreouer he addeth, that the perfect knowledge of ones selfe, which consisteth in the soule, is in such sort ioined with the knowledge of God, that the one without the other cannot be sincere and perfect. And for the same reason, Plato, his disciple, who for the excellencie of his writings was Wherin the du­tio of man con­sisteth.surnamed the Diuins, saith, that the perfect dutie of man is, first to know his owne nature: then to contemplate the diuine nature: and last of all to bestow his labour in those things, which may be most beneficiall to all men. Ignorance of a mans selfe (saith Ignorance of our selues the cause of much euill. Lactantius) and the want of knowledge wherefore and to what end he is borne, is the cause of error, of euill, of lea­uing the right way to follow the crooked, of wandring out of the plaine way to walke in the ragged and vnee­uen way, or vpon a dangerous and slipperie mountaine: and lastly, of forsaking the light to walke in darknes. Now if we account it a shamefull thing to be ignorant of those things which belong to the life of man, surely the [Page 13] not knowing of our selues is much more dishonest. Let vs then consider what man is, according to that meane knowledge, which by the grace of God we are endued withal, not staying in those curious definitions, which the Philosophers haue made. Man is a creature made of God What man is. Gen. 1. Col. 3.after his owne image, iust, holy, good and right by nature, and compounded of soule and body. I say of soule, which was inspired of God with spirite and life, and of a perfect naturall bodie, framed of the earth by the same power of God. In this sort man had his beeing of the eternal work­master of the whole world, of whom he was created by his incomprehensible goodnes, to be made partaker of his immortalitie and permanent felicitie, for this onely ende to set foorth the glorie of his Creator, and to speake The ende of mans being.and do those things that are agreeable vnto him, through the acknowledgement of his benefits. From which ende man being fallen of his own free wil through ingratitude and disobedience, was bereaued of all those ornaments, which he had receiued before of God, and in steede of righteousnes and holines, all iniquitie, filthines and vn­cleannes entred into him: wherby he was made the slaue of sinne and of death, from whence all those miseries had their beginning, wherewith the life of man is ouerwhel­med. His soule also, was wrapped with infinite hurtfull passions, and perturbations, which worke in it a continu­all disquietnes, and his body became subiect to innume­rable trauailes, and violent vntowardnes. Of which cor­ruption the ancient Philosophers had great and assured knowledge, but the first and true cause therof, which was sinne, and the voluntarie fall of man, with his restoring vnto grace by the vnspeakeable goodnes and mercie of his Creator, from whence he was fallen, were alwaies hid­den from them, (as we shall see anon) as also from an in­finite number of men, who liuing holily according to the world neuer had the perfect knowledge of God in his eternall sonne. As for any good thing whatsoeuer they vttered, or found out, it came through earnestnes of stu­die, by discoursing and considering in the reasonable part [Page 14] of their soule, of those things which offred themselues to their minde. But forasmuch as they were not wholy ouer­whelmed in euery part of reason, and yet had no know­ledge of the heauenly word Iesus Christ, they vttered ma­ny things contrarie one to another: and in the midst of their great and woonderfull skill (according to that say­ing of the Scripture, who hideth his secrets from the prudent and reueleth them to babes) they had a continuall troubled spirit, wandring here and there aswell in the seeking out of themselues and of the causes of naturall things, as of those things which are aboue nature. And truely, the rea­son of man, naturally ingraffed in his hart, which so farre foorth as he is man, and according to his habilitie and There is a dou­ble reason in man.maner of life he imitateth and followeth, is diuers from that which by speciall grace from aboue commeth to the elect, accompanieth them, and helpeth them in all their actions. This is full of faith, and of vndeceaueable assu­rance of eternal promises: the other, weake, troubled and woonderfully hindred, wherin a man can neuer haue any certaine resolution. This is that which caused Aristotle, who was Platoes disciple, and prince of the Peripatetike schoole, to say, that the more knowledge a man hath, the greater occasion of doubting was offred. Neither can we Heraclitus wept continually. iudge otherwise but that the same reason of trouble and doubting mooued the aboue named Heraclitus that great Philosopher, to spend his life in continuall weeping, how­soeuer he alleageth wisely, that it was for the compassion he had of mans nature, both for that the life of men con­sisted in nothing but in miseries, as also because all the la­bours wherein they exercised themselues, seemed vnto him to be woorthy of great commiseration and pitie: namely, seeing that they being farre wide of iustice, did yet through too greedie desire make themselues slaues Democritus al­waies laughed.vnto all couetousnes and vainglorie. This also was an ar­gument of inconstancie and wauering in Democritus, who neuer came abroad amongst men, but he laughed vnmea­surably at all their works and deeds. Howbeit herein he said truely, that the life of man was vanitie and follie, and [Page 15] that all their lustes and desires were fonde, and woorthy to be laughed at. But such extremities of laughter and weeping are not seemely in him, who is well instructed in the studie of Philosophie, and in the certaine knowledge The iudgement of Philosophers concerning the nature of man.of himselfe: which thing these Philosophers so earnestly laboured to attaine vnto, as we shall see anon, after we haue learned what other ancient men haue thought of the nature and state of man. What other thing (saith Pin­darus) Pindarus.is man, than the shadow of a dreame in ones sleepe? Whereby he sheweth the vanitie of man by an excellent manner of speaking, verie significantly vttering his mea­ning. For what thing is lesse than a dreame, yea than the shadow of a dreame? Homer hauing compared mortall Homer.creatures together, both in respect of their continuance, as of the maintenance of their life, crieth out, that of all those which walke on the earth and draw breath, there is not one more miserable than man. Timon the Athenian Timon.detesting much more than al these the imbecility of mans nature, vsed and imploied all his skill to perswade his countrimen to abridge and shorten the course of their so miserable life, and to hasten their end, by hanging them­selues vpon gibbets, which he had caused to be set vp in great number, in a fielde that he bought for the same pur­pose, vnto whose perswasions many gaue place. Plinie re­hearsing Plinie.the great miseries wherewith man commeth in­to this world, and the manifold labors wherin he liueth, saide, that it were good for a man not to be borne at all, or else so soone as he is borne, to die. It was a custome a­mongst The custome of the Scythians.the Scythians to weepe at the birth of their chil­dren, and to reioice, and make a solemne feast at the death of their parents. Now as the opinions of these philoso­phers heere named by vs, who being destitute of the light of God, and of true religion had no other foundation but their owne humane and weake discourses, are to be reiec­ted for inclosing all mankind in such a vile and abiect estate, so on the other side we must take heed, that we en­ter not into that presumptuous opinion of many others, who endeuour to lead man to the consideration of his [Page 16] dignitie and excellencie, as being endewed with infinite graces. For they persuade him, that through the quicknes of his vnderstanding, he may mount vp to the perfect knowledge of the greatest secrets of God and nature, and that by the only studie of philosophie, he may of himselfe, following his owne nature become maister of all euill pas­sions and perturbations, and attaine to a rare and su­preme kinde of vertue, which is void of those affections: that being thus exempted and freed from all vice, he may lead a most happy and perfect life. This did the Stoike phi­losophers The presumptu­ous opinion of the Stoiks.with one consent maintaine and teach, saying: Whosoeuer receiued their doctrine, if in the morning he were very wicked, in the euening he should become a very good man: & if he laid himselfe downe to sleepe, being ig­norant, vicious & poore, the next morning he should arise wise, vertuous, rich, happie and iust. Zeno, Seneca, Diogenes▪ Chrysippus, and infinite mo, otherwise endewed with most fruitful doctrine, as we shall vnderstand heerafter, were of this opinion. Insomuch that Chrysippus said, that Dion the chiefest man for knowledge in Syracusa, was no lesse ver­tuous than his god Iupiter, to whom they attributed per­fect diuinitie. Seneca also boasted that he had receiued life by the benefit of God, but to liue wel, from himselfe. Thus whilest they granted to mans power such an excellent and diuine disposition, they lift him vp in a vaine presumpti­on, in pride and trust in himselfe, and in his owne vertue, which in the end cannot but be the cause of his vtter vn­doing. We therefore holding the meane betweene these two contrarie opinions (as the perfection and goodnes of all things consisteth in mediocritie) and continuing to speake of man as we haue alreadie begun, do say, that the knowledge of himselfe is very necessarie for him, and that The end of the knowledge of our selues.hauing perfectly attained therunto, he hath cause both to be humbled greatly, as also to glorie and reioice. First to humble himselfe through the sence and feeling of his va­nitie, peruersnes & corruption, in which respect he ought to hate and be displeased with himselfe, bicause he behol­deth his destruction and condemnation ingrauen in his [Page 17] conscience. Secondly, he is to glorie in the knowledge of God, which inseparably followeth the other, after he hath learned this, that in the mercie of God he may recouer that which is wanting in himselfe, hauing once beene made and fashioned of God, who is altogither pure, wise, true, good and almightie, to the end he might be partaker of his glorie. For the obtaining heerof, he had giuen vnto him from the beginning (as trustie guides) godlines, holi­nes, and religion: godlines, to the end he might knowe thereby, that he had God for his father: holines, to yeeld vnto him continuall glorie and praise: and religion, to keepe him in a continuall meditation of his grace and be­nefits, and to serue him for an indissoluble bond to knit him to his Creator, who threatened him with death, if he did the contrarie. But our first father through ingrati­tude The wilfull fall of man.and disobedience, forsaking those heauenlie guides to follow his owne free-will, depriued himselfe and all his posteritie of that promise of eternall life, that was made vnto him. Whereupon being dead to his first life, which was most happie and innocent, through his offence and peruersnes of his sin, he began from that time forward to liue a mortall life, so that his bodie and soule became sub­iect to infinite miseries and damnable infirmities, which draw vpon them the condemnation of eternall death. Notwithstanding God, whose goodnes and mercie are endles, reestablished and assured the succession of his im­mortall inheritance vnto those, whom it pleased him by The restoring of man.grace to make dead to sin and aliue to himselfe, through the satisfaction of his wrath made by the innocencie of his eternall sonne, purging them in his bloud, and ope­ning vnto them by him the gates of heauen, after he hath renewed them in righteousnes, holines and innocencie, that they may follow after godlines and religion. And knowing that man so fraile and weake, might easily fall downe vnder the heauie burden of those miseries and ca­lamities, whereunto the corruption of his nature made him subiect, and wherein by reason of hereditarie sinne he should remaine during this mortall life, as also that those [Page 18] furious and continuall passions, which are mingled togi­ther in his soule, being ioined to the common infirmities of his bodie, would be of too great force to throwe him againe headlong into destruction, this infinite mercie of God appointed, that from the beginning there should re­maine All men natural­ly haue some loue and liking of the truth.in the spirite of man a little sparke of light, which driueth him to a naturall loue of the truth, and to a desire to inquire after it, yea which pricketh and prouoketh him not to sleepe altogither in his vices. This weake instinct being awaked stirred vp, holpen and disposed by the pure grace, vertue and power of the author of all goodnes, Effects of Chri­stian regenera­tion.draweth and moueth a Christian, regenerated by the ho­lie Ghost (after knowledge of himselfe, and hatred of that which is in him) to seeke after and to couet with a speciall hartie desire, that goodnes and righteousnes whereof he is void, and that glorious libertie of which he depriued himselfe. Furthermore, the same heauenlie grace blessing this holie desire of the man regenerate, causeth him to draw out of the doctrine of holie scriptures that where­withall he may, if not heale perfectly his wicked inclinati­ons, yet at the least containe and represse them in such sort, that they breake not out into any damnable execu­tion. He teacheth him also to receiue the infirmities of his flesh as fatherly chastisements for his sin, and as necessarie means to exercise him, and to keepe him in awe. And last­ly, for the vpshot and perfection of all happines and felici­tie in this world, he instructeth him how he may lead a quiet and peaceable life in beholding the woonderfull works of the diuinitie, which he is to adore and honour, and in the amendement and correction of his maners na­turally corrupted, by squaring them after the patterne of vertue, that so he may be made worthie and fit to gouerne humane affaires, for the profit of manie: and at length at­taine The perfection of a wise mans life.to the perfection of a wise man, by ioining togither the actiue life with the contemplatiue in the certaine hope and expectation of a second, immortall and most blessed life. Whereunto also the precepts and discourses of learned and ancient philosophers, may serue for-our [Page 19] instruction and pricking forward: as also the examples (which are liuely reasons) of the liues of so manie notable men, as histories, the mother of antiquitie, do as it were represent aliue before our eies. And this in my iudge­ment is sufficient generally to vnderstand of Man, seeing we are heerafter to discourse more particularly of both his principall parts, the bodie and the soule.

Of the diseases and passions of the bodie and soule, and of the tranquillitie thereof. Chap. 3.

Nothing woorse to man than man himselfe. ONe of the ancient philosophers vsed to say, that no liuing creature was worse to man than man himselfe, bicause, albeit he hath dominion ouer all things, yet he cannot rule him­selfe, nor his desires. Experience causeth vs but too much to knowe the truth of this saying. For who can doubt in any sort heerof, seeing blessed S. Paule himselfe confesseth,Rom. 7. 18. 19. that he did not the good thing which he would, but the euill, which he would not, and that in his flesh there dwelt no goodnes? So vndoubtedly we haue both bodie andThere is no good thing in the flesh of man. soule compassed about with so many pernitious passions, that it is very hard, yea altogither vnpossible, that what good thing soeuer is in vs should not faint and sinke vn­der their heauie waight without a speciall and diuine grace.

Truly this is no vaine speculation, nor vn­profitable to man: as also for a man to know, that he is as it were tied in this world to all vncertaine things, which he, being mortall by nature, cannot any way shun and auoid, without the helpe of God. He which is in health expecteth sicknes: he that is sicke, health. Doth any one desire in his mind any thing? Before he enioyeth it, his desire is often changed into another. In a word, no man abideth still in one and the same estate. And therfore Plato Man is a muta­ble creature.calleth man a mutable creature, as if he meant to say, that he is easily altered and changed.

The change which this diuine philosopher meant (if I be not deceiued) hath relation principally to the conditions of the soule, which, being filled with infi­nite Pleasure and griefe the cause of passions.perturbations, fastened in the midst of it with the naile of pleasure and griefe, is carried away with incon­stancie and vncertaintie into a streame of troublesome passions, which if they be not cut off and maistred by rea­son, draw a man into vtter destruction. But giue vs to vn­derstand (AMANA) more at large of these passions of the soule, and of the way to remedie them: and if you thinke good, you may speake somewhat of those of the bodie.

Amongst the innumerable euils, which the desire of pleasure and feare of griefe, ingrauen in the most secret parts of our soule by our first corruption, bring to man, this is the greatest and most pernitious, that they make sensible things more euident and plaine vnto him than things intelligible, and constraine the vnderstanding to iudge more by passion than by reason. For vsing, through the sence o [...] pleasure or trauell, to attend to the erronious, vncertaine, and mutable nature of the bodie, as to that which is subsisting and subiect to sight, he re­maineth blind, and looseth all knowledge of that which truly is and subsisteth, namely, of the light of the soule, which is diuine and immortall. Moreouer, applying him­selfe wholie to the sensuall and vnreasonable will, which is that part of the soule that proceedeth of the corruption thereof, he laboureth with all his might to quench and [Page 29] choke that weake instinct of the soule, which aspireth vn­to the true Good, from whence she perceiueth hir selfe to haue fallen. And this he doth with such force and power, that if God strengthen not the soule, and reason the di­uine guide, accompanie hir not, without doubt she yeel­deth to such mightie enimies: and then (as we haue said) staying himselfe wholy in things subiect to sight, he ap­peereth too carefull and curious in seeking to decke that, Manis more carefull of his body then of his soule.which belongeth to the bodie: but as for the soule (wher­of all humane felicitie dependeth) bicause she is inuisible, and not seene of him, it is the lest of his cares to furnish hir with that which she seeketh and desireth, and which is ne­cessarie for hir. Wherupon in the end it commeth to passe that the lest ouerthwarts and discommodities of his flesh seeme very greeuous and burthensome to a man, but as for the incurable diseases, which ouerwhelme his soule, he doth not so much as feele them. Now to the end we may vnderstand more particularly that which is heer propoun­ded vnto vs, we will handle in order, and as briefly as we may (this matter being very large) the diseases and passi­ons of the bodie and soule, with the remedie which we are to desire and seeke after. And first we will speake a word of the diseases of the bodie, next of the naturall and ne­cessarie passions thereof, albeit we will intreat of the passi­ons of the soule, as of our chiefe matter subiect. Concer­ning the maladies and euill dispositions of the bodie, one Hippocrates, one Galen, nay infinite others skilfull in phy­sicke, are not able to describe them exactly, much lesse prescribe certaine and sure remedies. But seeing it is not my purpose or profession to stay long heere, neither yet necessarily belonging to the cause of our assemblie, I will content my selfe to speake these few words by the way, The ende, cause, and remedie of bodily diseases.that we ought to take euerie bodily infirmitie as a father­ly chastisement of our sins, and as a necessarie meane to awaken vs, to warne vs of our dutie, and to keep vs in awe. Besides, one principall cause of all bodilie diseases procee­deth ordinarily from vices, which are the proper inheri­tance of man, and with which we defile our selues conti­nually. [Page 30] Therefore if we heale our soules, we may cure our selues of the most of them: and as for others, which come by defect of nature, or by some other hidden cause, we haue the counsell and helpe of physicions, whom willing­ly Naturall pas­sions.and diligently we seeke after. There are besides these, certaine naturall and necessarie passions in the body, pro­perly belonging vnto it, euen from the first creation ther­of, which are not to be condemned, neither can be taken away, but with the abolishing of mans nature: as the de­sire of drinking, eating, sleeping, & such like, which onlie by the direction of reason are to be freed from all super­fluitie. But it standeth otherwise with the diseases and passions of the soule, deriued from our first corruption, and driuen forward by sinne, being plentifull and rich, which without comparison are far more dangerous than those of the bodie, more hard to be perceiued & knowen, more headstrong and vneasie to cure, and which is worse, man is very slothfull in seeking out a remedie for them. And for the most part thinking that he hath found some remedie, through want of skill and ignorance he falleth into a worse estate than he was in before, and as we com­monly say, from a gentle ague into a pestilent and bur­ning The definition of passion.feuer. But first we will generally define this word, Passion, according to the opinion of those philosophers, who were endewed with greatest light. Passion is euerie naturall and actuall motion in the soule. This motion is of two sorts: the one weake, good and holie, aspiring and reioicing in that which is truly good: the other verie strong, euill and pernitious, coueting with a disordered desire, and delighting with an immoderate ioy in a good falsly so imagined. The matter of these motions are opini­ons, affections, and inclinations, which being considered in their owne nature, are through sinne wicked and cor­rupt throughout the soule, yea the blossome and roote of them proceed from our owne substance, to the end (as Plato saith) that no man should thinke God to be the cause of euill. Now albeit these passions thus defined by the philosophers are many in number, yet drawing neerer [Page 31] to the truth we may comprehend and diuide them all in­to two principall kinds. The first kind shall be that which The diuision of passions.we beleeue by faith: the other according to our opinions and affections. Vnder the first we comprehend that which euerie one beleeueth, thinketh, and desireth concerning diuine and heauenlie things, as of true righteousnes, of the immortalitie of the second life, and of the iudgement to come. Vnder opinions and affections is comprehended whatsoeuer respecteth and concerneth earthlie things, this life, maners, gouernment of a houshold, of a common wealth, and generally al humane inclinations and actions. As touching that which we beleeue by faith, we are led thereunto, and stirred by the weake instinct and feeling of All men haue naturally a de­sire of happines.the diuine nature imprinted in euery soule, which after a sort mooueth man to aspire vnto, and to desire the true and souereigne good, and which, being more power-full, and of greater efficacy in some than in others, causeth the better sort to delight also in the same good. Neuertheles it is proper to euery mans vnderstanding, not to hold a No man by na­ture can finde out the right way that lea­deth to hap­pines.stedfast and sure way in seeking out the truth, but to wan­der aside into diuers errors (as a blind man that walketh in darknes) and to fill it selfe rather with lies, and with a continuall desire and curiositie of new, vnprofitable, and superfluous things, than to content it selfe simplie with the truth, insomuch that finally it misseth of all. But to the The word of God sheweth vs the right way to happines.end we be not of this number, we ought to hold fast the infallible rule of the holie scriptures: which gift we are to aske, hope, wait, and seeke for in the onely grace and mercie of that Spirit which indighteth them, and to looke for the full opening of these treasures in the second and eternall life. As for the second kind of our passions, pro­perly called perturbations according to the philosophers from whence all the euils and miseries of mankinde pro­ceed, and whereof we minde chiefely to speake, they are but affections and inclinations, which come from our will, corrupted by the prouocations and allurements of Of the pertur­bations of the soule.the flesh, and which wholy resist the diuine nature of the reasonable part of the soule, fastening it to the bodie (as [Page 32] Plato saith) with the naile of pleasure. Which passions the mind of man commonly beholdeth cleerly enough, when it applieth it selfe thereunto, if it be not altogither peruer­ted and depraued: yea by the grace and helpe of God, the mind is able to confirme it selfe against any passion through the discourse of reason before it be in force, and during the vehemencie thereof, to fortifie it selfe against The scope of our passions.it. And although the passion be contrarie to reason, and haue (for hir onely scope) pleasure, and the feare of griefe, which can preuaile greatly with man, yet reason by the meanes of Gods grace, can both easily constraine, maister and compell all passions in such sort, that they shall take no effect, and also bring to passe, that whatsoeuer is rashly desired, shall be ouercome by the discourse of prudent counsell. And for this cause we say, that the first motions are not in our power, but that the euent and issue of them is in some sort. Likewise reason doth not wholie quench and extinguish all passions, which cannot possibly be per­formed in the nature of man, but repelleth and hath the vpper hand of them, as the precepts of doctrine, and infi­nite examples of the liues of ancient heathen and pagan The ancient heathen may rise vp in iudge­ment against many Christians in these daies.philosophers do learnedly teach vs. Which thing as it ought to cause many at this day to be ashamed, who vaunt themselues of the name of Christians, so it condemneth them in a fault not to be excused before the iust iudge­ment of God, bicause those men, being destitute of the perfect knowledge of God, which they say they haue, far excelled and surpassed them in the bridling, ouercom­ming and killing of so many pestiferous passions as com­passe the soule about, as we may handle elsewhere, and see examples thereof worthie of eternall remembrance, when we shall discourse particularly of vertues and vices. In the meane while we may learne of Cicero (the father of Latine eloquence, whose skill in ioining philosophie with the art of Rhetorike, was excellent, and who, in my iudgement, handleth this our present matter more profitably than any other of the ancients) that all the aboue named euill passions are perturbations, which if they be not maistered [Page 33] by reason, depriue man of the soueraigne good of the The originall, nature and ef­fects of pertur­bations.soule, which consisteth in the tranquillitie therof. More­uer he saith, that through ignorance & basenes of minde, they proceed onely of the opinion of good or euill, either present or to come, which we imagine to be in the vnper­fect and transitorie things of the world, and which are ac­companied vnseparably either with good or euill. In re­spect of good things, we are caried away with a vehement desire or coueting of them, besides an immoderate ioy in them: in regard of euil things, we are oppressed with feare and sorrow. And these are the foure springs of all vices & All perturbati­ons are con­tained vnder these foure heads, Desire, Ioy, Feare, Griefe.sins wherein men plunge themselues during this life, and vnder which all perturbations are comprehended, which fill the soule with endlesse trouble and disquietnes, cau­sing man to liue alwaies vncontented, and to finde euery present kinde of life burthensome, and so to seeke after and to desire another. But as fearefull men, (saith Plu­tark, An excellent comparison.that excellent philosopher, & schoolemaster to that good Traian) and they that are at sea, subiect to casting, thinking they shalbe better in one place than in another, go from the sterne to the stem, then to the bottom of the ship, afterward to the highest part, frō thence go into the skiph, and in the end returne into the ship, without any a­mendment of their euil, because they carrie alwaies about with them both feare & griefe: so the alteration of life, & of worldly conditions and estates into others, doth not purge, but rather increase the perturbations & diseases of the soule, if first the cause of them, I meane ignorance of The cause of the diseases of the soule.things, & the imperfection of reason, be not taken out of it. These are the mischiefes, which trouble both rich and poore: these are the miseries, which wait vpon great and final, bond and free, yoong & old. Thus is the spirit of sick persons vexed, and that continually. One while the wife is troublesome, the physition vnskilfull, the bed vneasie, the friend that visiteth importunate, he which visiteth not, proud: but being once healed, they finde that what­soeuer was irksom vnto them before, now pleaseth them. But that which health doth to the diseased body, the [Page 34] Reason is the medicine of the soule. same thing reason worketh in the soule of a prudent man, by curing the passions and perturbations thereof, and by causing him to rest ioyfull and contented, in what estate and condition soeuer he be. Let vs note moreouer, (which we touched in the beginning of this present discourse) that all these passions of the soule are much more dange­rous than those of the bodie, bicause the most hurtfull passions of the bodie, are first ingendred of those in the soule. For the bodie yeeldeth it selfe ready to serue the de­sires, appetites, and pleasures of the soule, which being ouercome and in the power of fleshly prouocations, pro­cureth in the end destruction to them both. But contra­riwise, the soule being ruled by reason, resisteth mightilie all corporall passions, and is nothing at all, or verie little made partaker of their euill dispositions: whereas on the other side the bodie is constrained to alter and change with euery infirmitie of the soule. If the minde be trou­bled, what cheerefulnes can be seene in the face? The dis­eases of the bodie hinder not the soule from effecting all good & vertuous actions: yea many haue brought forth the fruits of wise philosophers and great captaines, when they were vexed with diseases, which they could neuer do, at least verie few of them, that were corrupted and defi­led A sound soule correcteth the naughtines of the bodie.in soule. And therfore Democritus said very well, that it was much more conuenient and meet for a man to haue care of his soule, than of his bodie. For if the soule be per­fect, she correcteth the naughtines of the body, whereas the strength & disposition of the body without the vse of reason, hurteth both the soule and it selfe. Moreouer, that the passions of the soule are harder to be perceiued and knowne, and consequently more vneasie to be cured, who doth not easily feele it, being greeued but in the least part of his bodie? yea what griefe doth not of it selfe sufficient­ly appeere, either by some inflammation, or by the colour of the visage, or by some other outward shew? But how many do we fee, whose soules are extreemly sicke, spoiled and corrupted with vice, and yet being depriued of all feeling they thinke themselues to be the soundest men in [Page 35] the world? And that they are headstrong and vneasie to The passions of the soule are headstrong and hard to be cu­red.be cured, we may know by this, that the body is in the end so farforth obedient, that if reason be vrgent vpon it, she forceth euen the naturall passions of hunger, thirst and sleepe, & findeth out besides a thousand remedies to help it self. But when the passions of the soule haue once beene grounded and rooted within it, without resistance they haue such pearcing pricks, that oftentimes they presse & ouerwhelme all reason, which is their onely medicine and preseruatiue. And yet to fill vp the measure of all miserie, such is the froward nature of man, that he is much more slothfull to seeke out this remedy of the soule, than that of the bodie, as we touched in the beginning of this pre­sent discourse. Moreouer, the iudgement of reason being oftentimes diseased within him, is the cause, that when he thinketh to finde health, he encreaseth his euill, and fal­leth into those inconueniences, which he desired most of all to eschew. Example hereof we haue in those, who, be­ing The passions of men commonly bring foorth ef­fects contrarie to their purpo­ses.led onely with a desire of glory and honor, obtaine nothing by their dooings, if we consider them well, but shame and dishonor. The like may be said of all the other diseases of the soule, which commonly are accompanied and followed with effects contrary to their endes and de­sires. What remaineth then, seeing we perceiue the dan­gers to be great, which follow al the perturbations of the soule, but that, knowing it to be more easie not to receiue them, than to driue them out being receiued, we preuent them, and hinder them from taking liuely roote within our soules, by making reason (which, as Hesiodus saith, is Reason, is wise­dome inspired from heauen.a diuine guide, and wisedome inspired from aboue) so strong and powerfull, that it may be able, by the grace of God, to resist al the assaults of vnbrideled desires, and the froward affections of this flesh? But behold yet a better A remedie a­gainst passions.and more certaine remedie: namely, that being assured, that all perturbations are but opinions drawne from our will, through a iudgement corrupted with the affections of this flesh, we labor by good and sound reasons to ouer­throw and confound these false and erronious opinions, [Page 36] perswading our selues that whatsoeuer we imagine to be good or euill in the world (which is the cause that our minds are depriued of their rest and quietnes) is indeede neither good nor euill, and so consequently, that it ought not in any sort to breed passions within vs. Hereof the se­quele of our discourses shall (by the helpe of God) giue vs to vnderstand more at large, and furnish vs with exam­ples of pernicious effects, which proceed from all the pas­sions of the soule. We will here by the way note their force, hauing learned out of Histories, that they haue of­tentimes set vpon the harts of men in such violent maner, that some through desire, some for ioy: those by feare, others by Examples of death by ouer­great ioy. griefe haue ended their liues. Diagoras the Rhodian, and Chilon hearing that their children had wonne the price at the games of Olympus, felt such a motion in them of the Herennus died for feare.spleene, that they were stifled with laughter. Herennus the Sicilian, as he was led prisoner, for being a copartner in Plautius through griefe.the conspiracie of Caius Gracchus, was so astonished, & op­pressed with the feare of his iudgement to come, that he fell downe strke dead at the entrie of the prison. Plautius the Numidian looking vpon his dead wife tooke it so to hart; that casting himselfe vpon the dead body, he arose no more, but was there stifled with sorrow. As for ex­treme desire or coueting, there is nothing that so greatly mooueth or carieth away the minds of men, or that com­meth neerer to their destruction, than this foolish passion The effects of desire.indangereth their life. Galeace of Mantua saying often­times to a damsell of Pauia whom he courted and made loue to, that he would suffer a thousand deaths for hir ser­uice, if it were possible, was in iest commanded by hir to cast himself into the riuer: which he presently performed, & was drowned. But we shal alleadge more fitly such testi­monies of the fond effects of desire, and of all the pertur­bations of the soule, when we discourse more particularly of euery vice that proceedeth from them. In the meane time I would gladly aske this question of him, that is most ignorant, vicious, and carnall, whether he will not grant vertue to be a good of the soule. There is none so impu­dent [Page 37] whose conscience would not compell him to con­fesse the same. And yet no man is caried away with too Vertue is alwais without exces­siue passion.great a desire of vertue, neither doth any reioice therein too excessiuely, after he hath obtained it. Likewise there is none that feareth so vehemently, least he cannot obtaine hir, as that the feare thereof driueth the soule out of his place and rest. For no man can fall into this feare, least he should not becom vertuous, except he be very desirous to be so indeed: and none can haue this desire, except reason, guided with heauenly light, and doing her dutie in him, had wrought the same: but reason thus qualified must needs be an enimy to all perturbations. Thus we see that no man, through feare of not being vertuous, is ouertaken with perturbations. The like may be saide of sorrow. For albeit a man be greeued bicause he is not ver­tuous, yet his minde is not excessiuely disquieted, seeing this desire is neuer in him, but when reason commandeth according to hir diuine nature, by causing vs to knowe our selues. Whereby we perceiue that perturbati­ons neuer arise in vs for that which is the true good of the soule, but onely for that which fooles do falsely call good, and which the philosophers call the goods of the bodie and of fortune. But these being naturally sub­iect The nature of worldly goods.to corruption, and, as we haue alreadie said, insepara­bly accompanied with vehement desire, vnbrideled ioy, feare and griefe, (as we shall see more at large when we handle them hereafter) are vnwoorthy to be cared for by the immortall soule neither may or ought they to be cal­led goods bicause they are possessed, much lesse euils, when they are wanting. If we be thus perswaded, we shall be masters ouer all perturbations, not esteeming that which is mortall and fraile, woorthy to be either wished for, or delighted in. Hereof it will come to passe, that our soule and spirit shall be quiet, and reason, which knoweth how discerne good from euill, wil deale with vs as a good husbandman, and vine dresser dealeth with his tree and vine, when he cutteth off the dead branches and vnprofi­table twigs, to the end that all noisome sap and moisture [Page 38] may be taken away. And thus shall we be taught to desire and do that, which we ought, and euery contrarie inclina­tion shall be weakened, not taking effects, and the soule shall fulfill hir dutie, in commanding absolutely ouer all the prouocations of the flesh, and in quenching them so foone as they do appeere. For as they that haue healthful A wise soule go­uerneth the af­fections.bodies, (saith Epictetus) easily indure both cold and heate: so they that haue a staied and setled soule, haue the domi­nion ouer anger, griefe, ioy, and all their other affections. What it is to liue happilie.Then shall we liue happily, not being terrified with any feare, nor vexing our spirits with any longing or tedious desires, nor being tormented with any lustes and dis­ordred affections, and lastly, not suffering our selues (be­ing drunken with sugred poison) to be ouer come and bound vnder the yoke of pleasure. This shall we learne by the studie of Philosophie, which is a certaine remedie, and a sound medicine for euery vice and passion, and is able to inrich and cloath vs with reason, which is such a beau­tifull, perfect and profitable ornament.

Of Philosophie. Chap. 4.

THe life of man (said Pythagoras) is like to that generall assemblie of Graecia at the Olimpy­an games, where manie carried with glorie and ambition, presented themselues at those exercises, that they might beare away the crowne and prize: otehrs led with couetousnes, came thither to traffike, selling and buying merchandise: and a third sort of men, more praise worthie and noble came thither also, who sought not af­ter vaineglorie, or couetousnes, but carefully marked whatsoeuer was done in that assemblie, that they might reape profit and commoditie thereby. So men comming The common drife of men.into this world, as into a faire or mart, some giue them­selues to ambition and vaineglorie, others to couetous­nes, and to heape vp treasure. But they that are of a more diuine nature, sequestring themselues from worldlie af­faires, [Page 39] meditate vpon heauenlie things, and thereupon fa­sten the scope of their intents, desires and wils. Diuine Plato, ioining action with contemplation in a happie and perfect life, saith, that next to the glorie of God we must What men ought chiefly to leuell at.haue regard to do that which is profitable for the Com­mon-wealth. Which excellent opinions of these two phi­losophers are comprehended vnder this onely word of practising philosophie, and that art, which giueth vs the precepts thereof, is called philosophie, whose worke and effect (as Seneca, Neroes schoolmaister said very well) is to find out, and to knowe the truth both of diuine and hu­mane The worke of philosophie.things. Iustice, pietie, religion, yea the whole com­panie of vertues neuer depart from hir. She teacheth vs to adore and serue God, and to loue men.

Surely philosophie is the mother and conti­nuall spring of all good knowledge. For she teacheth vs to knowe good and euill: she prouoketh vs by the vpright­nes of reason to flie this thing, & to do that, causing vs to liue as wise and prudent men, ioyfull and contented in euery estate, whereupon ariseth the sound rest of the spi­rit. Moreouer, the excellencie of this knowledge (as Plato saith) is so great, that it is but one and the same thing to be a king, a gouernor of a Common-wealth and a philo­sopher: bicause the roiall, ciuill, and philosophicall arts are compounded of the same matter, namelie, of iustice and prudence.

Philosophie cannot sufficiently be praised, seeing that whosoeuer obeieth hir may passe his daies without tediousnes. For the true scope thereof is to seeke The proper end and scope of Philosophie.to glorifie God in his woonderfull works, and to teach a man how to liue well, and to helpe his neighbor. Which perfection cannot be attained vnto without a speciall and heauenlie grace, and that after the knowledge of the soun­taine from whence all goodnes commeth. And this hath beene the cause, as I thinke, why so many great philoso­phers, knowing certainly wherein the true and perfect fe­licitie of man liuing in this world consisted, namely, in the tranquillitie of the soule, and labouring continually to [Page 40] roote out, or at least to weaken al the perturbations ther­of by the vprightnes of reason, and to engraffe vertue therein, yet could neuer perfectly enjoy this souerigneWhy the philo­sophers could neuer attaine to the souereigne good in this life. good, which they so much desired, bicause they were ig­norant of the fountaine from whence it proceeded, which is, the grace and mercie of our God in his beloued sonne. And albeit their life was maruellously quiet, and void of many vices, yet it standeth vs in hand (if we be Christians in deed) to lead, without comparison, a more happy, con­tented and excellent life, and to exercise philosophie ac­cording to that true wisedome, which our Lord Iesus Christ teacheth vs. But I thinke ASER is prepared to speake of this matter, and to discourse thereof more at large vnto vs. Let vs harken then what he will say.

That which presently offereth it selfe to bee handled, requireth truely a farre better spirit than mine. Notwithstanding, that I seeme not to shun those lists, into which we entered willingly, I purpose according to my weake iudgement, to tell you first what philosophie is, what good commeth vnto vs by it, the meanes to learne it, and to profit thereby, how a man may know he hath it, and how he must shew foorth the fruits thereof: and last­ly how we ought to contemne all things that we may ob­taine it, after the example of some ancient Sages, whomThe definition of philosophie. we will alledge. Philosophie is a loue or desire of wisedom. Or otherwise, it is a profession, studie, and exercise of that wisedome, which is the knowledge of diuine and humane things, and which properly belongeth to him, who onely is sufficient of himselfe, and is wisedome it selfe, namely, to God. Pythagoras was the first that gaue the name to philo­sophie, which being diuided as well by him, as by otherThe di [...]ision of philosophie. ancient philosophers into diuers and sundrie arts and sci­ences, we may distinguish into two generall parts onely: into the Contemplatiue part, and into the Morall, which som call Actiue. We will make two kinds of the Contemplatiue, Of diuine phi­losophie. Diuine, and Naturall. As touching the diuine part, it is that highest and most vnchangeable knowledge, whereunto we must wholy refer the end of our being, and the scope [Page 41] of all our purposes, studies, and actions, namely, to be able to know and to glorifie the Creator and preseruer of the whole world. Of this eternall knowledge, which Socra­tes called Wisedome, we say with Iustin, who was both a phi­losopher and a martyr, that all louers of Christian faith ought to endeuor not to be ignorant, no not of any pointHow we must behaue out selues in sear­ching our the secrets of God. belonging to the knowledge and perfect keeping of God his commandements, but especially they must haue in singular recommendation his seruice and true worship. As touching the absolute and perfect knowledge of hea­uenlie mysteries, they ought to desire the vnderstanding of them so far foorth as they are able, and according to the gift and measure of graces, which shall be giuen them from aboue. But if the eie of their soule dazell in the con­sideration of them, it shall be sufficient to honor and ad­mire them with due reuerence, and to beleeue them sted­fastly, knowing that mans vnderstanding is not able to attaine to the exquisite knowledge of so high mysteries. Naturall philosophie consisteth chiefly in the Mathema­tiks,Of naturall phi­losophie. which are diuided into many parts and particular sciences, of which the most of them seeme to manie not greatly necessarie, as that which intreateth of the nature of the heauens, of the sunne, of the moone, of their moti­ons, measures, & of the naturall causes of al things. Which oftentimes serueth rather to content the curiositie of hawtie spirits, than to make them better, insomuch [...]hat sometimes, by speculations, and by vaine and friuolous questions, they seeke out the naturall causes of things so curiously, that in the end they striue to finde out another beginning of all things than God: whereby at length they remaine deceiued and confounded in their know­ledge, as both the writings of so many ancient philoso­phers, and also the life of many in our time do proue vnto vs. Neuertheles, there are some parts of the Mathematiks necessarie to be knowen for the great profit that may come vnto vs by them, as Physicke, Atithmetike, Geome­trie, and others. But the subiect of our Academie will not suffer vs to handle all these sciences at this present. I will [Page 42] say thus much onely by the way, that we ought so to rule and direct the profession of all naturall philosophie, thatA [...]ule to be kept in naturall philosophie. we vse it not before we haue been well and sufficiently in­structed in the feare and knowledge of God, and of all things that concerne a good and happie life, and that vaineglorie should not be the end of that studie, but that it should rauish vs more and more in the contemplation of the works of that great maister-builder of the whole frame, to the end to glorifie him in greater measure. And yet we must aboue all things beware, that we fall not into that curse of the prophet, which he denounceth against those, who being destitute of Gods grace by reason of their sinnes, giue themselues to soothsaying, and to seekeAgainst sorce­rers, magitians and birth-ga­zers. after sorcerers, magitians, and calculators of natiuities, which things we see are too common amongst vs: inso­much that he is iudged as it were miserable, that know­eth not his Horoscope, from whence so many abuses, in­uocations, and cursed charmes haue proceeded by little and little. Let vs shun such vaine knowledge, proper to in­fidelsThe issue of all things is to be referred to the prouidence of God. and Atheists, and refer our euents and issues (which albeit we knew before, yet could we not assure our selues that we should auoid them) to the onely prouidence and direction of God. It remaineth now to intreate of the other part of philosophie, called Morall. Of this, I thinkeOf morall phi­losophie. Socrates the wise man meant to speake, when he said, that philosophie consisted not in learning manie things, or in medling with many arts, but in the perfect knowledge of iustice, prudence, and of all other morall vertues. He ad­deth further, that this philosophie worketh two things in our mind, the one in purging it as well of perturbations, as of false opinions, and the other, in causing it to returne into the right way by reasons and exhortations drawen from earthly and sensible formes to such as are spirituall, which are inclosed within our soules, that by them weGod the Idea of all good. may be led to God, the Idea and paterne of all good. This is that morall philosophie, which we haue vndertaken to handle in all our discourses, and which is so necessarie for the life of man. For as the vntamed horse by reason of his [Page 43] ouer-great wildnes is not profitable for any thing: so he that is drawen away by his affections (which philosophie onely can moderate) is vnprofitable and vnworthie of all companie, and of all gouernment either publike or pri­uate. It is philosophie that teacheth vs the doctrine ofThe benefit that commeth by philosophie. good life, and causeth vs to know our miseries, and the meanes whereby we may be deliuered from them. She it is that frameth in our vnderstanding the iudgement of reason, and learneth vs to lead a life agreeable to doc­trine: shewing vnto vs what true honestie is, what perfect beautie, and what in truth and in deed is profitable. She represseth all euil passions and perturbations of the soule, appeaseth the vnsatiable desires therof, deliuereth it from all feare, and from all earthlie carefulnes, filling it with tranquillitie, constancie, assurance, magnanimitie, and suf­ficiencie. She purgeth pride, presumption, ambition, cho­ler, reuenge, couetousnes, iniustice, and in a word, she it is, that (by the meanes of reason guided by the heauenly spi­rit, which teacheth vs reason, and giueth it vnto vs for a law) frameth all the maners and behauior of man accor­ding to the paterne of vertue, by ingraffing it in his setled soule, as his onely permanent good, and by causing him to do that willingly, which others (as Xenocrates said) do by compulsion, and for feare of lawes. We are by philoso­phie instructed at large in that dutie and obedience, which we owe to our parents, superiors, and lawes: and taught how much we ought to loue and honor one another, our wiues, our children, our brethren, yea al those that are not of our bloud. She it is (saith Cicero) that containeth the discipline of vertue, of dutie, and of good life: she is alsoPhilosophie is the art of life. the art and mistresse of life. Briefly, by philosophie we are taught that perfection, which concerneth all the actions and dealings of men, euen from those who are placed in the gouernment of monarchies, kingdomes, common­wealths, cities, and nations, vnto the lest that liueth vnder them. For she teacheth the one sort how to command well, and the other to obey well, and to maintaine them­selues vpright in euerie estate and condition of life, in the [Page 44] alteration either of prosperitie or of aduersitie, yea euen to shew themselues constant in contrarie things, by shun­ning pleasure & sustaining griefe, by despising glorie and enduring contempt. And to this effect, one of the wise Hebrew interpreters, being demanded by Ptolemie Phila­delphus What it is to play the phi­losopher.king of Egypt, what it was to exercise philosophie, answered, that it was to reason well and directly, to reape great profit by all things that happen, not to be carried away by lust, to contemn all vanities proceeding of world­ly pleasures, and to be guided in euery action by a cer­taine mediocritie. Now seeing it is out of question that the fruit and commoditie of morall philosophie is such and so great, let vs in the next place consider where and Where and how philosophie is learned.how we may learne it, that we may put it in practise. There is nothing more true than this, that it dependeth in such sort of the former, which we called contemplatiue and di­uine, or rather is so ioined vnto it, that without this, it can neuer but be vnperfect in man, seeing the feare and know­ledge of God is the beginning and perfection of all wise­dome. True philosophy is to be found in the word of God.Moreouer, it is so well and perfectly taught vs in the word of God, that nothing more may be added or desired. Neuertheles the doctrine ioined with examples, which we may draw out of histories, and from the liues of wise men, by things that haue beene done in deed, is of great force and efficacie in the soule to draw and moue it with delight to seeke to resemble them. For when as man, naturally desirous of glorie and immortalitie, shall see, that philosophers and vertuous men, who were so much commended and renowmed, are as it were reuiued againe in these daies, after so many ages past, he will be thereby awakened and pricked forward by this ielousie of glorie, which by nature is in him, to desire and bring to passe all great matters woorthie to be remembred, to the end he may deserue the like praise and commendation. Therfore we shall reape no small profit heereby, yea it will be vnto vs as an entrie to a happie and holie life, and as a guide to sacred contemplations, if we earnestly imbrace and exer­cise our selues in the reading and studie of good authors, [Page 45] who teach vs the precepts of good life: to whom (as Ale­xander the great said, speaking of his maister Aristotle) we How much we owe to good authors.find our selues no lesse boūd & beholding, if we through­ly taste their doctrine, than to our owne fathers (without offence vnto them be it spoken) of whom we haue onely our life and being. But bicause the excellencie & highnes of this part of philosophie, called morall (which is for the correction of life and maners) is such and so great, that the sound and perfect knowledge therof is very hard, and see­ing that good beginnings in all great matters are alwaies the difficultest part of them, we must lay a good ground of our enterprise, if we meane to attaine thereunto, and then ascend vpward from one degree to another. The The chiefe foundation of al philosophie.chiefest and most necessarie foundation must be a perpe­tuall and feruent loue of the truth, and of eternall things, ioined with the separation of lies, and of the desire of tem­porall things far from vs. Secondly, these particulars are Necessarie points for a philosopher.(as Plato saith) very necessarie for vs: a liuely and sharpe wit, a nature apt to cōtemplation, likewise graue, prompt, hardie to execute, and prouident of publike commoditie. But aboue all things the knowledge of the true God is infinitely necessarie for him that will be a philosopher, bi­cause that, as all things without the enioying of their vse and goodnes, are possessed without profit: so to haue knowledge of arts and sciences without the vnderstan­ding of the true God, is friuolous and vnprofitable. Yea no man can do any thing that good is, whether it be in priuate or publike affaires, if by reason he knoweth not what that is, which ought to be called good. But in this thing we shall be well instructed (God willing) by the se­quele of our discourses. Thirdly, we must continue with­out ceasing the studie of this morall knowledge, as Cicero the father of eloquence doth familiarly teach vs, saying, We must learne alwaies.that in our studies we are to vse some intermission onely, for the recreation both of bodie and mind in all honest sort, but we must neuer leaue and forsake them altogither. Neither ought these intermissions to be of any long con­tinuance, bicause vice alwaies watcheth to ouer-run vs so [Page 46] soone as we let our selues loose vnto idlenes, to the end to stir vs vp through the intisements of the flesh, to followe Against pre­sumption and selfe liking.our naturall imperfections. Much lesse ought we, through presumption of our selues, and confidence in our owne vertue and sufficiencie, altogither to forsake the professi­on of this studie, as they do, who thinke themselues such great doctors, that nothing may be added to their know­ledge. Of these men we may truly say, that they neuer had the true knowledge of this morall philosophie, wherein the more we profit, the more we shall desire to learne: and whether we be yoong or old (as Socrates said) we shall al­waies find what to learne, and be occasioned to diminish all vaine opinion of our selues, seeing this is one of the most notable effects thereof, to purge all pride and pre­sumption. A fit compa­rison.For as those vessels (saith Plutarke) wherin we put liquor, do let out the void aire according to the mea­sure of that which goeth in: so when the soule filleth it selfe with certaine and true goods, vanitie voideth and gi­ueth place. This is that which Plato saith in these words: The more reason a man getteth by philosophie, the more pride and Antisthenes, an example of great loue to knowledge. arrogancie he looseth. We haue a notable testimonie hereof in Antisthenes, who after he had heard Socrates dispute, tooke so great pleasure, and found such deepe skill there­in, that albeit he was very learned, and had a great num­ber of schollers, yet he willed them to seeke another ma­ster, because he purposed to learne himselfe. And by rea­son of the distance of place where he dwelt, he came twice a day aboue three miles on foote to heare Socrates. Plato.Likewise Plato shewed well how smally he presumed of his exceeding great knowledge, when not contenting him­selfe therewith, after the death of his master Socrates he made a voyage through Egypt, and after into Italy, to heare and conferre with the best learned of those coun­tries, and to learn that which he knew not before. Which zeale of his and burning desire vnto wisedome being so laudable, God so recompenced, that none of the Ethniks (except Socrates) euer came neere vnto his diuine know­ledge of eternall things. We see then how we must be the [Page 47] disciples of philosophie all our life time. Now as there is nothing, wherin a master builder reioiceth so much, after he hath laid a good foundation of some great worke, as to see the progresse and proceeding thereof: so after we haue laid our first happie resolution (as is said) of attai­ning to the knowledge of philosophie, and haue tasted of the first principles of hir holesome fruits, it will turne to our great contentation, and occasion of proceeding, when we see and perceiue that we profite and amende by this studie. This will appeare vnto vs by the consideration How we may know whether we profit in philosophie.of our present works and actions, being compared with the former, and by the diminishing and qualifiying of our wicked passions and naturall inclinations, which the pro­fession of this science will vndoubtedly worke in vs. For as we take it for a good signe when a disease remooueth into some parts of least account: so when our vices are changed into more meeke and soft passions, it putteth vs in hope that we shall wholy deface them afterwarde. The right and perfect way hereunto is to enter deepely into our selues, and to take a perfect and sound knowledge of our naturall, hurtfull and most vehement inclinations by comparing one with another. Next, as a good and expert Phisition before he dealeth with dangerous diseases, be­ginneth A good way to ouercome great faults.with gentle preparatiues, we are first to correct lesser faults, that after we may the easier ouercome the greatest. For it is certaine, that by such an exercise and cu­stome of keeping our selues from things that are after a sort excusable, yea that are permitted and lawfull, it will be farre more easie for vs afterward to amend & abstaine from vnlawfull things. After we haue thus reformed our selues, we shall wholy forsake small imperfections (which will be easie for vs to do) and make no more reckoning of little offences, as those which we shall auoid altogither. From thence we shall come to consider and to discouer better the nature and cause of our greater and more hurt­full passions, together with their vglines and deformitie. Then labouring to diminish their force by eschewing pru­dently the causes of them, and by cutting oft one branch [Page 48] now, and then another, we shall in the end woonder to see how reason perfecteth in vs hir office of commanding ab­solutely ouer all the perturbations of our soule, I meane so farre foorth as humane frailtie aided by God, can (as I When we may be called Phi­losophers.said before) attaine to perfection. Then may we truely call our selues Philosophers, when by our owne example we make it knowne, that the life of man at all times, in al pla­ces, in all passions, and generally in all affaires receiueth the vse of Philosophie. Now after we haue well profited through so great diligence & watchfulnes, through such industry of minde and continuall studie, I meane after we are become better than we were before, by reason of the tranquillitie of our soules purged from perturbations, we must be carefull that this our commoditie redound also to others, as the commandement of God and natural du­tie binde vs thereunto. Then (I say) we shall haue attained The perfection of Philosophie.to the perfection of this goodly knowledge, when we are seruiceable to our neighbors, brethren and countrimen, not of vaine glory, or for terrestriall riches, but for the loue of vertue onely, which of it selfe is a goodly recom­pence for it selfe, being ioined with a happy expectation of heauen. But let vs note farther for the last point of our discourse, (whereof I haue already briefely spoken) that one of the surest meanes, which we can take to come to a true knowledge of Philosophie, is, not to esteeme at all, but rather to contemne whatsoeuer is subiect to corrup­tion, and is in the power of variable fortune, as the Philo­sophers vse to speake: namely, vainglory, worldly wealth, and other earthly goods, forasmuch as the desire of get­ting, keeping and increasing them is that which carrieth vs away most, and which hindreth euery other good and The contempt of worldly goods necessa­ry in a Philo­sopher.vertuous inclination. Therefore let vs freely forsake all such things, let vs withdraw our mindes from all by­thoughts, and dispise all earthly discommodities: yea let vs patiently sustaine all greefe, that we may yeelde our selues wholy to the studie of Philosophie, which is the Crates.cause of so many good things. Crates the Theban forsooke his patrimonie of eight talents (which according to the [Page 49] common computation amounteth to foure thousand, eight hundred crownes) that being deliuered from the Notable exam­ples of loue to Philosophie.care of hous-keeping, and of guiding his goods, he might follow the studie of philosophie with greater libertie. Anaxagoras. Anaxagoras for the same cause suffered his lands to lie waste, and after long studie returning to his house, and finding it altogether fallen into ruine and desolation, he said, if these things had not perished, I had perished: as if he had said, that he should neuer haue gotten the treasure of knowledge, which was the ornament of his minde, if he had giuen himselfe to gaine and to gather goods. De­mocritus Democritus. Abderita, being verie rich (as may be gathered by the feast which his father made to that innumerable ar­mie of Xerxes who came into Graecia, which consisted, as Herodotus writeth, of more than two millions of fighting men) gaue all his patrimonie to his countrey, reseruing to himselfe but a little some of money to liue withall, that he might haue the more leasure to studie philosophie, for Euclide.which cause he went to dwell at Athens. Euclide, of the towne of Megara, being verie desirous to heare Socrates dwelling at Athens, betweene which two cities the warre was so cruel, that no Citizen of the one citie durst be seen in the other, without ineuitable danger of death if he were knowne, had notwithstanding so great loue to wise­dome, that although he were an Ethnick, and doubted of a second life, yet he preferred the desire of knowledge be­fore the care of his life, and being apparailed like a wo­man, went once in two daies to Athens and abode there all night to heare Socrates, who commonly spent the most part thereof in discoursing of wisedome, and then retur­ned againe about the break of the day. Now to conclude our present treatise, we will hold this, that onely philoso­phie can giue vs certaine knowledge, & teach vs how we Philosophie on­ly teacheth vs to know our chiefe good.may inioy in this life our onely & soueraign good, which is the rest and tranquillitie of our soules. Yea she is vnto vs in stead of a guide to lead vs to the eternall fruition of our supreame and euerabiding good, which is promised, and purchased by the blood of the immaculate Lamb in [Page 50] that second and most happie life. And, as Plato said, spea­king by the mouth of Socrates, that they onely shal attaine to the kingdom of heauen with God, who end their daies in this life purged by philosophie, so shall it be by the vn­speakable loue of this eternall wisedome, that we shall be purged, clensed and saued. Yea through the expectation of this blessed felicitie we may a great deale more perfect­ly than did all those great and ancient philosophers, lead a contented, ioyfull and quiet life, void of all perturbati­ons and feare, for asmuch as they knew the iustice of God onely, and not his mercy, which is assured vnto vs in his beloued sonne. Moreouer they were ignorant (notwith­standing their philosophie) of the chiefe point of his iu­stice, namely of the beginning of all things and of their The true cause of ioy and tran­quillitie in a Christian soule.end, which the word of God teacheth vs together with the truth of that permanent happines of the soule, where­of they had but a shadow in their life. Heerof our Lorde Iesus Christ himselfe hath left good and sure pledges in the depth of our harts, saying that he gaue and left his peace with vs, his peace (I say) in our soules, and not with the world. Therefore it appeereth sufficiently, that nothing is so much to be desired, whether we regard profite to our selues, or seruice to the whole bodie and societie of our brethren and countrimen, as the stu­die of philosophie, which is the knowledge of life, and the true medicine and til­lage of the soule where­by all vertue is taught vs.

Of Vertue. Chap. 5.

AMongst the infinite number of them that were honoured with this faire name and ex­cellent title of Philosopher, What this word Philosopher meaneth.which is as much to say, as a louer of wisedome, there were three principal sects, that con­tended together by generall rules; but especially about the souereigne good and feli­citie of man: namely, the Academiks, the Peripatetiks, and There were three chiefe sects of philo­sophers.the Stoiks. The best of them all, and they which came nee­rest to the knowledge of the truth were the Academiks, whose first authors were Socrates & Plato, who, as we heard yesterday, alwaies taught, that our true good consisted in the tranquillitie of the soule, void of all perturbations, & in stead of them adorned and enriched with all vertue, which is the proper substance and matter of philosophie, & therfore called the onely permanent good of the soule.

I can not but greatly commend this para­dox of the Stoiks, that There is no good but vertue, nor euill but vice, which is the contrarie vnto it. And to go a little further, following their opinion and the opinion of many ancient wise men, I say, that The vertuous man onely is free and happie, Who are happie and who vnhap­pie.yea although he were in Phalaris bull: and that The vici­ous man onely is a bond-man and vnhappie, albeit he had the riches of Craesus, the empire of Cyrus, and the glorie of A­lexander. For great callings are nothing where the mind is not content, and where the hart pricked with desire trou­bleth the tranquillitie of the soule.

Riches (saith Pythagoras) are no sure pillers, and glorie is lesse certaine. Likewise beautie, and the dis­position of the bodie, magistracies and honors are all of Worldlie goods are of no force.no force: but Prudence, Magnanimitie, and Iustice are an­kers [Page 52] of greatest stay, which cannot be plucked vp by any tempest. For it is the will and law of God, that vertue one­ly should be mightie and firme, all other things being but toyes and fooleries. But we must now learne of thee A­CHITOB, that which is necessarie for vs to know concer­ning this excellent disposition of the soule.

The disputation concerning the good of man hath indeed alwaies been great amongst the lear­ned, so that as well their diuers opinions, as their argu­ments would stay vs heere with too long a discourse, espe­cially seeing they are vnnecessarie for vs, who seeke onely to be instructed in the truth. Now that we may attaine heerunto, and to the perfect vnderstanding of that mat­ter, which is heere propounded vnto vs, we will heere set downe this Maxime, or principle, confessed of al the grea­test and most ancient philosophers, and agreeable to that truth, which is taught vs in the holie scriptures, that There Two sorts of goods. are two sorts of goods, the one which is the last end, the other is the meanes to attaine thereunto. The first is the souereigne, su­preme, most perfect, and eternall good, which we expect and hope for in the immortalitie of the second life, when we shall enioy that true and absolute felicitie, which nei­ther eie hath euer seene, nor eare heard, neither hath en­tredVertue is the effect of rege­neration. at any time into the hart of man. That which we call the meanes whereby we come to the first is vertue onely, whereof we are now to speake, and which is the proper effect of our regeneration by the spirit of God dwelling in vs. First then let vs consider what vertue is, also the di­uision, sountaine, incomparable excellencie, and inuinci­ble force thereof, with those woonderfull effects which it worketh in him that possesseth hir: wherein also we will see some notable examples of ancient men. Vertue (as theThe definition of vertue. philosophers say) is a disposition and power of the rea­sonable part of the soule, which bringeth into order and decencie the vnresonable part, by causing it to propound a conuenient end to it own affections and passions, wher­by the soule abideth in a comely and decent habit, execu­ting that which ought to be done, according to reason. [Page 53] But to speake more briefly, Vertue is a proportion and vprightnes of life in all points agreeable to reason. The di­uision thereof is altogither like to that of philosophie. For they are so linked togither, that it is all one to be vertu­ous, and to be a philosopher, the one being the matter and substance of the other. Vertue therefore is diuided in­to Contemplatiue and into Morall. The eternall Wisedome by the operation of his spirit, guideth and lifteth vp the contemplatiue vertue to hir proper end, which is that happie and immutable knowledge, that concerneth the maiestie of God. This did Socrates call Religion, and the greatest vertue, saying further, that the contempt thereof brought vpon men a cursed ignorance, and that no man ought to persuade himselfe, that he could finde amongstSocrates called religion the greatest vertue. the race of men any greater vertue than religion and pie­tie towards God, whose honor is the foundation of euerie good worke, which if it be ouerthrowne, the other parts are as soone dispersed as the peeces of a ruinous building. Yea religion is not onely the head of iustice and vertue, but also is as it were the soule to giue vigor and strength vnto it. From this supreme science floweth prudence,The dutie of prudence. which is a worke thereof, appointed to gouerne, rule, and moderate by the meanes of morall vertue, the passions and affections of the vnreasonable part of the soule in all mediocritie, by cutting off all excesse and defect of those passions, and by moderating them between too little and too much, thereby to [...]epe men from erring. As for ex­ample, she holdeth a man within the limits of prowes and valure, least he should cast away himselfe through rashnes or cowardlines: she causeth him wisely to vse liberalitie, bicause he should not be spoiled by couetousnes, or fall into prodigalitie. And that he should not be cast downe too much in aduersitie, nor lift vp beyond measure in pro­speritie, she keepeth him vpright and constant both in the one and in the other. Thus doth vertue generally teach a man, by following the reason of true prudence, to rule all his inclinations and actions as well for his owne priuate good, as for the profit and vtilitie of humane societie. [Page 54] Whereby it appeereth sufficiently vnto vs, that the foun­dationThe foundation and spring of all vertue. of all vertue is that diuine reason, which floweth into our soules from the free goodnes of our God, and which taketh liuely roote by care, studie, and diligence, when the selfe-same grace blesseth our labour. For with­out this we can do nothing, so that all our meditations and purposes to liue vprightly, continently, and tempe­rately become vaine and friuolous before his maiestie. In this maner, of that excellent reason and wisedome, where­with the eternall wisedome enricheth vs, that we might know good and euill, prudence is ingendred, which is most necessarie for the gouernment of earthlie things (whereof we will intreat heerafter) and whereby man is enriched with morall vertue, as with an infallible rule of all his works and actions, to the end that fully enioyingWherein hu­mane happines consisteth. humane felicitie, which consisteth in good maners, quali­ties and conditions of the soule, he may bring foorth the fruits and effects thereof to the profit of many. We say then, that all vertue consisteth in mediocritie, as vice doth in excesse or in defect, in regard wherof she is in the midst, albeit in respect of hir selfe, I meane of hir perfect and ab­solute excellencie she is extreme, and standeth not in need of any increase or diminution. Now as all the imperfecti­ons of the soule are called vices and passions, so all their contraries, which serue for remedies vnto them, are na­med vertues. And although vertue be alwaies one, so that he which hartily imbraceth one part of it is desirous of them all, yet may she be called by diuers names, euen by so many, as there is alwaies in euery good action some particular vertue, that maketh it eminent, and to be seene aboue others. Moreouer, according to the diuers subiects wherein she is, she bringeth foorth diuers effects, confor­ming hir selfe in some sort to the maners, conditions, and naturall inclinations of those which possesse hir. Heereof it commeth, that some are more apt and constant in someThe gifts and graces of God are diuers in men. one vertue than others are (for all can not do all things) and that one practiseth it after one fashion, and an other otherwise. Now it followeth, that I handle heereafter [Page 55] distinctly and in order, the pluralitie of vertues, with their seuerall properties. But in the meane while, to speake generally of this pretious and inestimable riches, I meane of vertue, and of the great, worthie, and wonder­full effects, which she bringeth forth in men, first, she is theThe excellencie and propertie of vertue. onely proper and true good of the soule, that can not by any accident be violently taken and caried away. She alone maketh hir possessor happie, causing him to finde euery kinde of life that is sweet, pleasant, and acceptable, contained in hir. Vertue alone, is the onely matter of rest and tranquillitie in the mind, being by reason purged of feare, of trouble, of worldly desire and ioy. Of this liuely fountaine spake Democritus, when he said that ioy was in­gendered in mens harts, of the mediocritie of pleasure, and of a moderate and temperate harmonie of life. Ver­tue (said Thales) is the profitablest thing in the world, bi­causeEuerie thing is made profita­ble through vertue. it maketh all other things profitable, by causing men to vse them well. Yea we may say further, that all o­ther gifts and riches remaine vnprofitable and hurtfull, without the ornament of vertue. Cicero prooueth by ma­ny goodlie reasons, that onely vertue is of it selfe suffici­ent to cause men to liue well and happily. And surely eue­ry good and vertuous man of what calling soeuer he be, is so happie, if he haue grace to know it, that he need not to wish for any thing with passion or trauell in this life, but rather is content of himselfe in regard of men, and con­temneth the care of worldly things, not iudging any thing euil, which necessitie of nature, or rather the ordinance of God bringeth vpon him. And where miseries are doubled, there vertue sheweth hir effects most wonderfully, giuing vs therby to vnderstand, that she consisteth in such things as are most rare and difficult. For which cause hir strengthVertue compa­red to a palme tree. is compared to the date tree, which the more it is pulled downe, the more it returneth vpward: so when vertue is most oppressed of hir enimies she shineth most gloriously. Onely vertue appeareth woonderfull to the minde that is cloathed therewith, and keepeth it from coueting that which others commonly worship, namely, great callings, [Page 56] riches, pleasures and glory. She despiseth the praise & flat­terie of men, wherunto so many others make themselues The reward of vertue in the life to come is of the free mercie of God.slaues, & remaineth alwais free in hir selfe, & free to euery one, without any other hope of reward, then to be accep­ted of God, & to effect things meete tobe rewarded eter­nally in the next life by the liberalitie of God. If we com­pare worldly goods with vertue (calling that good which vsurpeth that name, & is subiect to corruptiō) first, as tou­ching those which the philosophers cal the goods of for­tune, & namely nobility, wherin at this men stay so much, what is it but a good of our ancestors? Riches are easily lost, yea causeth the possessor of them to be sooner lost: & as for the glorie of the greatest, yea of al principalitie, it is Comparison of worldly goods with vertue.no lesse vncertaine. Concerning the goods of the bodie, beauty & comelines is but a flower of small continuance: helth, which is so precious, soon changeth: strength is lost by infinit inconueniences. Al bodily pleasure is vnperfect, & followed of perturbations. But vertue is that onely di­uine & immortall qualitie in vs, which, (as Hesiodus saith) Nothing hath power ouer vertue.is a stable & sure possession both to the liuing and to the dead: ouer which neither fortune, slander, sicknes, old-age nor aduersitie haue any power: and as for length of time, which diminisheth all things, it alwaies addeth somewhat to vertue, & encreaseth it. All the other goods aboue re­hearsed, are from without a man, working oftentimes de­structiō to their possessors, & commonly coming to those that are least woorthy of them. Onely vertue is the proper inheritance of the soule, worketh the hapines therof, and maketh a man alwaies worthy of true glory & praise, cau­sing him to be honored & esteemed euen of his enimies. In a word it cannot (as Cicero saith) be vttered how much Vertue cannot be valued.vertue surmounteth all other things in glorie & excellen­cie. And if all other goods of men (saith Socrates) were laid by thēselues they would amount in value but to one mote in respect of the price of vertue. Plato his disciple saith, that the difference of vertue compared with other goods, is so great, that if they were put into one skale of the balance, & vertue into the other, this would ascend vp to heauen, [Page 57] and the other would touch the earth. Moreouer, he wrote foure & fiftie books or dialogues, which did all intreat of vertue, out of which men may reape infinite profite, espe­cially out of those that intreat of a common-wealth, or of lawes. In these books that he might not seeme vngratefull Why Plato in his works brin­geth in Socrates speaking.towarde his master Socrates, who would neuer write any thing, he bringeth him in rehearsing that, which at other times he had heard him speake. Stilpo the philosopher, be­ing in his citie of Megara when it was taken & spoiled by Demetrius king of Macedonia, who fauouring him, asked if he had lost any thing that was his, made this answer: No sir (quoth he) for war cannot spoile vertue. And indeede this is that riches wherwith we ought to furnish our selues which can swim with vs in a shipwrack, and which caused Wherein the happines and greatnes of a king consisteth. Socrates to answere thus to one, who asked him what his opinion was of the great king, whether he did not thinke him very happy; I cannot tell (quoth he) how he is proui­ded of knowledge & vertue. Who may iustly doubt whe­ther vertue alone is able to make a man happie, seeing it doth not onely make him wise, prudent, iust & good, both in his doings & sayings, but also commonly procureth vn­to him honor, glorie and authoritie? It was through hir What it was that procured to Alexander the surname of Great.meanes, that Alexander deserued the surname of Great, by that experience which she gaue him in warre, by his liberalitie in riches, by his temperance in all his sumptu­ous magnificence, by his hardines and constancy in fight, by his continency in affections, by his bountie and cle­mencie in victorie, and by all other vertues, wherein he surpassed all that liued in his time. Yea the fame and re­nowme of his vertues procured a greater number of ci­ties, countries and men to submit themselues willingly vnto him without blowestriking, than did the power of his armie. Wherein this sentence of Socrates is found true, that whole troupes of souldiers, and heapes of riches, are con­strained oftentimes to obey vertue. What said Darius, mo­narche of the Persians, when he vnderstoode both what continencie Alexander his enimie had vsed towards his wife, who being exceeding beautifull was taken prisoner [Page 58] by him, and what humanitie he shewed afterward in hir funerals when she was dead? The Persians (quoth he) neede not be discouraged, neither thinke themselues cowards and effeminate because they were vanquished of such an aduersarie. Neither do I demand any victorie of the gods, but to surmount Alexander in bountifulnes. And if it be so that I must fall, I beseech them to suffer none but him to sit in the royall throne and seat of Cyrus. Will we haue testimonies of the inuicible force of vertue, and of hir powerfull and praisewoorthy effects in most si­nister and vntoward matters? Histories declare vnto vs, that amongst all the vertuous acts, which procured praise and renowme to the men of old time, those were the notablest & most commended, which they shewed foorth Examples of the force and effects of vertue, in ad­uersitie.at such time as fortune seemed to haue wholy beaten them downe. Pelopidas, generall captaine of the Thebans, who deliuered them from the bondage of the Lacedemo­nians, Pelopidas.is more praised and esteemed for the great and no­table vertue, which he shewed being prisoner in the hands of Alexander the tyrannous king of the Phereans, then for all his victories gotten before. For at that time his vertue was so farre from yeelding any iot to his calamitie, that contrariwise with an vnspeakeable constancie he recom­forted the inhabitants of the towne, that came to visite him, exhorting them to be of good courage, seeing the houre was come, wherin the tyrant should be at once pu­nished for his wickednes. And one day he sent him word, that he was destitute of all iudgement and reason, in that he vexed his poore citizens, & caused them to die in tor­ments who neuer offended him, and in the meane time suffered him to liue in rest, of whom he could not be igno­rant, that escaping his hands he would be reuenged of him. The tyrant maruelling at his great courage, asked why he made such great haste to die. To this end (quoth he) that thou being yet more hated of God and men than Philocles.thou art, mightest the sooner be destroied. Philocles, one of the most famous Athenian captaines of his time (who caused this law to be made, that the right thombe of all [Page 59] prisoners taken in war from that time forward should be cut off, that they might not handle a pike any more, but yet might serue to rowe with an oare) being taken priso­ner with three thousand Atheniens in one battell, which Lysander admirall of the Lacedemonians obtained against him, and al of them being condemned to die, was deman­ded of Lysander what paine he iudged himselfe worthie of for counselling his country-men to so wicked and cruell a thing. To whom he made this onely answere with an vn­moueable vertue, Accuse not those who haue no iudge to hear & A most constant death. know their cause. But seeing the gods haue shewed thee this fauour to be conqueror, deale with vs as we would haue done with thee, if we had ouercome thee. Which being said, he went to wash and bath himselfe, and then putting on a rich cloke as if he should haue gone to some feast, he offered himselfe first to the slaughter, shewing the way of true constancie to his fellow citizens. Anaxarchus the phi­losopher, Anaxarchus.being taken prisoner by the commandement of Nero, that he might know of him, who were the authors of a conspiracie that was made against his estate, and be­ing led towards him for the same cause, he bit his toong in A woonderfull magnanimitie.sunder with his teeth, and did spit it in his face, knowing well that otherwise the tyrant would haue compelled him by all sorts of tortures and torments to reueale & disclose them. Zeno missing his purpose, which was to haue killed the tyrant Demylus, did asmuch to him. But what is more terrible than death? Notwithstanding when did vertue better shew hir greatnes and power, then when death la­boured most to ouerthrow hir, as being resolued of that saying of Cicero, that all wise men die willingly, and with­out care, A wise man di­eth willingly.but that the vnwise & ignorant are at their wits ende for feare of death? If many, who haue not knowne the true and perfect immortalitie of the soule, and some, onely led with a desire of praise & worldly glorie, others touched with duty and kindled with a loue towards their countrey, haue shewed the increase of their vertue in the horrors and pangs of death, what ought they to do, who expect certainely an euerlasting life? Phocion, after he had [Page 60] beene chosen generall captaine of the Athenians foure and fortie times, and done infinite seruices to the com­mon-wealth, being at length through certaine parta­kinges and diuisions ouercome with the weakest side which he had mainetained, and being condemned to drinke poison, was demaunded before he dranke, whe­ther he had no more to saye. Whereupon speaking to his sonne, he saide, I commaunde thee to beare the A­thenians no rancor and malice for my death. And a little before this speech, beholding one of those that were condemned to die with him, to vexe himselfe through impatiencie, what meanest thou poore man, The feare of death doth not astonish the vertuous.(quoth he to him) doest thou not thinke thy selfe happie that thou maist die with Phocion? The feare and appreheu­sion of death doth astonish, as we commonly say, the stou­test, but not the most vertuous. For they know (as Plautus Callicratides.saith) that he dieth not, who for vertues sake is put to death. Callicratides, Generall of the Lacedemonians, being readie to giue battell to his enimies, the soothsaier, after sacrifice done to the gods said vnto him, that the intrals of the sacrifices promised victorie to the armie, but death to the captaine. Whereunto he answered as one without all feare; although he beleeued it as an oracle from hea­uen, Sparta consisteth not in one man. For when I shal be dead my countrie shall be nothing lessened, but if I recule now and draw backe, the reputation thereof will be diminish­ed. Whereupon substituting in his place Cleander, as suc­cessor in his office, he gaue battell, wherein it happened vnto him as the soothsaier had told him. If we desire infi­nite such examples, histories are ful of them, euen of those who loued rather to kill themselues (which a Christian neuer ought to do, but onely to suffer death patiently, if it be offered vnto him) than to commit any thing vnwoor­thie their vertue. Themistocles being vniustly banished Themistocles loue to his countrie.from Athens, retired to the king of Persia, whose great fauour and benefits receiued, caused to say to his chil­dren, We had beene vndone, if we had not beene vndone: as also to promise, that he would imploy himselfe in his ser­uice. [Page 61] Notwithstanding when he saw the war begun againe betweene this king and the Athenians, wherein he was offered a great charge, he chose rather to hasten his death by a poison which he tooke, than to seeme to be pricked or prouoked with malice against his vngrate­full countrie-men, least thereby he should obscure and blot the glorie of so many goodly exploites, triumphes, and victories, which he had obtained. Nowe if death can not stoppe the course of vertue, how much lesse can any other weaker. accident do it? Old-age, which di­minisheth Age hath no power ouer vertue. Agesilaus.and consumeth all the strength of the bodie, coulde not weaken the great vertue of Agesilaus king of Lacedemonia, who being fower-score yeeres of age, and seeing the glorie of his countrie brought to no­thing by that victorie, which the Thebanes had obtai­ned against him, withdrewe himselfe into the seruice of a king of Egypt, and tooke the charge of a cap­taine vnder him, that through the good seruice he should do him, he might deserue (whereof he assured himselfe) to haue succour of him for his owne countrey affaires. Enuie (saith Thucidides) is heard to be ouer­come, and followeth great estates and potentates. Ho­nour, glorie and riches, are but firebrandes to kindle it. Notwithstanding the excellencie of vertue often­times triumpheth ouer it, so that the enuious are con­strained to speake well of vertuous men. We see then cleerely, and haue better experience thereof in our selues if we be decked with vertue, that she is of an inuin­cible force, and that all things are tamed by hir. For who can doubt that through hir, great empires, monar­chies, commonwealths, estats and cities haue much more florished, than through force and might of armes? The Vertue causeth kingdoms to florish.sequele of our discourses shall furnish vs with examples hereof. Now to conclude our present matter, knowing that vertue deserueth so great praise in regarde of hir fruits, and of hir woonderfull great effects, we say, that Vertue is the onely honest, profitable, and pleasant good.she is the onely good both for honestie, profite and plea­sure, between which there is such a coniunction, that they [Page 62] cannot be seperated one from another, (as hereafter we may intreat more at large) so that the seuering of these three things to attribute them to other earthly and pe­rishing goods, is the fountaine of all vice, deceit, and mis­chiefe. If then, trouble, losse, hazard or danger are to be found in the practise and exercise of this holie and sacred vertue (as euen the greatest worldly happines is counter­poised with euill and difficultie) ought we not to dispise all such things, yea death it selfe for that happie recom­pence, which is assured vnto vs, not onely of immortall glorie and praise (which the men of old time promised to themselues) but also of life euerlasting, whereof the most of them were ignorant? Let vs not be like to a little child (for he that is a child in minde differeth nothing from a childe in age) who seeing a trifle wherewith he plaieth ta­ken out of his hand, casteth away for anger that which he holdeth in his other hand, although it be some daintie thing and good to eate. But let vs with feruent zeale and burning affection, alwaies imbrace this so precious and chaste beautie, I meane vertue, which alone filleth the life of man, with true, sound and perfect contentation. Let all things come behinde vertue, after the example of so ma­ny excellent and ancient personages, who ought to make vs blush for shame, when we consider, that the care of Anacharsis for­sooke a king­dome that he might the better obtaine vertue.earthly goods hath the first place amongst vs. Anacharsis a Barbarian, being led with the onely loue of vertue, left the kingdome of Scythia to his yoonger brother, & went into Graecia, where he profited so well with Solon, that he deserued to be placed in the number of the seauen Sages. Three things necessarie for the obtaining of vertue.Now if three things (after we haue asked them of him who only can and will giue them vnto vs) meete togither in vs, namely, Nature, Reason, and Ʋse, we may by them be­ing directed, illuminated, and guided by the spirit of God, attaine to the top of humane perfection in this rich ver­tue, which being thus grounded (like to a strong and liue­ly plant) will take sure footing and roote within vs. If she meet with a good and well disposed nature, that is able to endure labor, & that is tilled by reason with the precepts [Page 63] of philosophie, whereby it is made firme, mightie, and fruitfull, then vse and exercise will bring foorth the fruits thereof, as well for our owne, as for the common profit of men.

Of Ʋice. Chap. 6.

The knowledge of goodnes must go before the loue of it. AS he that is ignorant of goodnes cannot loue it, or boast (except it be falsly) that he seeketh after it, and if he should find it, yet he could not acknowledge it, or reape any profit thereby: so he that knoweth not euill, can neuer hate it sufficiently, much lesse shun it, or keepe himselfe from falling into the snares and ambushes thereof, where it lieth in continuall watch to surprise and ouertake men. Ye shall haue very few, but say, that they are enimies to euill, and that they labour to driue it as far from them as they can. But what? As they neuer knew what goodnes meant, so they knowe as little of the contrarie. Now hauing by our last speech declared sufficiently, that vertue is the onely true good of the soule, it is out of question, that vice, which is altogi­ther Vice is the onely euil of the soule.contrarie vnto it, is the onely euill thereof, and the fountaine of al the miseries of man, as wel earthly as eter­nall. Which, that we may more surely auoid, and marke better the excellencie and beautie of vertue, by the loth­somnes and deformitie of vice (bicause contraries set one by another, as blacke neare to white, shew themselues a great deale better) I thinke it will not be to wander be­sides the matter, if we bestow the rest of our mornings worke in the handling thereof.

There is no euill in man (as the philosopers say) but vice, if we take that for euill which is offensiue. Nei­ther What we ought to call euill.doth any thing offend and make a man woorse, but that which endammageth his soule. And in this maner vice onely and sinne is hurtfull vnto him, yea (as Plutarke saith) is sufficient of it selfe to make a man miserable.

As vertue (saith Plato) is the health and [Page 64] Vertue is the health, and vice the sicknes of the soule. forceable vigor of the soule, so vice is the sicknes and im­becillitie thereof, which hauing gotten a habit, maketh a man vicious and corrupt. For it is certaine that if men had sufficient force and constancie to resist vice (which we haue by inheritance) they would follow after vertue. But being ouercome by the loosenes of their sensualitie they are led captiues, as it were in a triumph, vnder the yoke of sin. Let vs then hearken to ARAM, who, I thinke, will not forget to paint out vnto vs this pernitious Hydra with all hir colors, that she may be so much the more odious vn­to vs.

I haue alwaies learned of wise men, that this saying of an ancient man is most true, That there is a hun­dred times more paine in doing euill, than in well doing: Vice is like a dropsie.and that vice hath the same effect in the soule, which the dropsie hath in the bodie. For both of them do plant in man a continuall desire of that which breedeth his grea­test bane. Whereupon most miserably he seeketh after his owne perdition and ruine with paine and trauell, wheras he might passe through felicitie in this life, into that life which is eternall and most happie. One chiefe occasion heerof, as I thinke, may be attributed to the ignorance of euill. For what wicked man is so dull of vnderstanding, that, if he knew certainly what vice were, would not with all his might separate himselfe as farre from it, as for the time he drew neere vnto it? By a stronger reason it folow­eth, that he which truly knoweth it, before it be growen When we begin to hate vice.to a habit within him, wil shun it more diligently: bicause we begin then to hate vices (as Plutarke saith) when by reason we vnderstand what shame and harme commeth of them. Therefore it must needs be very profitable for vs to vtter heerin that, which we haue learned by the studie of philosophie, and that briefly for this present, hoping heerafter to intreate more particularly of the principall parts of vice. First we will define it, then consider the per­nitious effects thereof in the soule, and the fruits which it bringeth with it: thirdly, declare how it neuer escapeth vnpunished: and lastly, shew how we must fortifie our [Page 65] selues against the priuie watchings and snares of such a dangerous and mightie enimie. Vice is an inequalitie and The definition of vice.iarring of maners, proceeding from mans naturall incli­nation to pleasures and naughtie desires. This inclination not being reined with the bit of reason, guided by the spirit of grace, nor ruled by the wise declarations thereof, causeth a man by little and little to giue ouer himselfe to all wicked passions (the end of one being the beginning of another) whereby he becommeth most vnhappie, yea more wild and sauage than any brute beast. Chrysippus a Stoike philosopher, called vice the proper essence of vn­happines. And surely it is a very perfect workmaister of wretchednes, disposing and framing men to all kinde of mischiefe and miserie. For after it hath once taken hold of the soule, it will neuer forsake it vntill it hath wholie brused, ouerwhelmed, and destroied it, filling it daily with The effects of vice.perturbations and new passions, with voluptuousnes, ran­cor, enmities, reuenge, murders, anguish, feare, fruitlesse repentance, ambition, couetousnes, and with all other lusts, which are incurable diseases of the soule, after they haue once taken roote therein. For the more they waxe, the more they will grow, vice being (as Plato saith) of an Vice is of an endles stocke.infinite and endles race. And therefore the aboue named Chrysippus said not without reason, that to auoid so dange­rous an enimie, and one that ought to be so odious vnto Although we are to hate vice with a perfect hatred, yet we must not kill our selues to be [...] of it.vs, it were better for vs to cast our selues headlong into the sea, than to suffer it to raigne ouer vs. Plato also wri­teth, that it is far better for a man not to liue at all, than to liue wickedly, or in ignorance. For such a life can haue no fitter name, than to be called a true shadow of death, I meane of eternal death, which followeth the wicked euen at the heeles. Bias, one of the Sages said, That no man could iustly be termed a captiue, although he were loden The vicious man onely is a cap­tiue.with irons, except also he were compassed about with vi­ces. Moreouer, we see that neither sword nor fire doth ca­rie away a man so violently as vice doth. Many haue suffe­red a thousand outrages and punishments with such con­stancie, that tyrants were sooner wearie of persecuting [Page 66] them, than they of suffering. Besides, they had so great power ouer themselues, that in the midst of torments they were able to stay their voice altogither: insomuch that one would haue either iudged them to be senselesse, or els think that in seeing them he did not see them. But vice alwaies discouereth it selfe, and euery where appeereth Nothing more hurtfull than vice.shamefull, infamous, and hurtfull. Thales called vice the hurtfullest thing in the world, bicause that where it is, it marreth and destroieth all. Moreouer, it maketh those things, which otherwise seeme honorable and magnifical, lothsome and vnpleasant, when it is mingled with them: yea it appeereth so much the more infamons, as the nobi­litie Vice ioined with authoritie is more hurtfull.and authoritie whereunto it is ioined is greater, bi­cause then it discouereth better what pernitious and dam­nable effects it hath. For taking a swift course by the high way of power, and driuing forward euery wicked affecti­on to execution, it causeth choler to be turned presently into murder, loue into adulterie, couetousnes into confis­cation, and so in other passions. But as the vices of the greater sort are more dangerous, so no doubt, shame and dishonor are likewise doubled vpon them, bicause they are better seene and noted, whereby they become more odi­ous and contemptible to euery one. Besides, their reward lieth at their gate in great measure, which will not be long from them. For to whom more is giuen, of him more shall A good lesson for great men.be required. And I pray you what greater cause of shame and blushing can that man haue, who being borne to command men of all estates and conditions, doth him­selfe obey such vile and abiect things, as are sensualitie, ignorance, concupiscence, & other like passions wrought by vice, which being without reason, are made to obey and to be ruled by reason? Neither are we more to be ex­cused than the greater sort when we follow after such things, bicause we are but of meane and small calling. For euery one is borne to command himselfe, whereunto our chiefe studie and labour ought to tend. We haue further to note diligently, that vice is not onely hurtfull to him that is infected therewith, but also that it vseth him as a [Page 67] minister and instrument to corrupt and spoile others. For The propertie of the wicked.you shall neuer see any wicked man, that laboureth not to make others like himselfe: which if he cannot do, yet he will so thinke of them, and seeke to persuade all others, that they are such, or rather worse than himselfe. Wherby it is easie ynough to iudge, that this is that, which vndo­eth and destroieth communalties and Commonwealths, townes and cities, when the gouernors and magistrates of them are ministers of vices. The change of monarchies, estates, and kingdoms proceeded alwaies of vice. Roboam The alteration of kingdoms commeth of vice.through want of prudence, Sardanapalus through intem­perancy and luxuriousnes, the last French king of the race of Clouis through retchlesnes, Perses of Macedonia tho­rough rashnes, with infinite others, whose examples we shall see heerafter, lost their kingdoms through vices. But that we may yet haue greater occasion to hate and shun this horrible monster of nature, let vs know that vice cha­sticeth it selfe. Which is not done onely by mans law, out of which the mightier sort (as Anacharsis said) escape as great flies that breake through the spiders web, the pu­nishment Offences are neuer without paine.also of which may oftentimes be auoided for a time, but euen the paine followeth the offence so neere, that it is equall vnto it both for age and time. For from that very instant wherein wickednes is committed, she frameth for and of hir selfe hir owne torment, and begin­neth to suffer the paine of hir mischieuous deede through the remorse thereof. This is that worme that continually gnaweth the conscience of a malefactor, and accompani­eth his miserable life with shame and confusion, with frights, perturbations, anguish, and continuall disquiet­nes, euen to his very dreames, so that all his life time he is destitute of all tranquillitie and rest of spirit, wherein on­ly humane felicitie consisteth. And therefore one of the Hebrew interpreters well and truly answered king Ptole­mie, who asked him how he might be in rest when he drea­med: Let pietie (quoth this wise man vnto him) be the How a man may haue continuall quietnes.scope of all thy sayings and doings. For by applying al thy discourses and works to excellent things, whether thou [Page 68] sleepest or wakest, thou shalt haue quiet rest in regard of thy selfe. Truly that man feareth nothing, whose soule be­ing free from all notorious crimes, followeth the will of God, who directeth all counsels to good. But (as Plato saith) there is nothing that maketh a man so fearefull, as the remembrance of his life passed in shame. Yea presently The force of conscience in the wicked.after the offence (saith Iustin Martyr) the conscience of a wicked man is vnto him in stead of an accuser, a witnes, a iudge, and a hangman. This is that, which the scripture Leuit. 26. 36.teacheth vs in Leuiticus, saying, that the wicked shal trem­ble at the fall of the leafe of a tree, & that they shall be as if their life hung by a thread. We ought to be persuaded that this violence of mans conscience commeth frō God, who causeth his enimies to feele his iudgement and furie in such sort, that they cannot abide it, but are constrained to condemne themselues. And if our hart condemne vs, God is greater than our hart. Now although the word should wholie faile in this, yet we haue the testimonie of nature imprinted with such characters in our harts, that it did euen compell the ancient poets to finde out and to faigne Furies, as reuengers of our sins, which are nothing else but the torments of euill consciences. This is that Esay. 66. 24.worme wherof Esaie speaketh, which dieth not, but gnaw­eth Examples of tormented con­sciences in the wicked.and deuoureth them without ceasing. Caligula, a most cruell Emperor, neuer had secure and quiet rest, but being terrified and in feare, awoke often, as one that was vexed and caried headlong with wonderfull passions. Nero, after he had killed his mother, confessed that whilest he slept, he was troubled by hir, and tormented with Furies, that burned him with flaming torches. Let vs not then suppose A wise man is ashamed to attend before himselfe.that, although a wicked act may be hidden and kept close from men, therefore the torment is the lesse, (which a wise man neuer thinketh of, knowing that he ought to be in more reuerence of himselfe than of others) but rather more greeuous within vs, not for the only feare of world­ly shame or punishment, but for the apprehension of the iust iudgement of God, from whom nothing is hid. He pursueth the wicked hard at the heeles for the most part, [Page 69] and knoweth how to take vengeance of their iniquitie in due time. And if he defer the punishment, it serueth but to Why God de­ferreth his ven­geance vpon the wicked.aggrauate their condemnation so much the more vpon their heads, and to make the punishment more horrible, whereof we ought to stand in greater feare, than of any bodily paine, bicause the dolor thereof abideth for euer. He that would go about to repeate heer seuerally al those vices wherewith men may be infected, and wherein we see them commonly wallow, should find their number very great, yea infinite. But (as Democritus said) let vs onely lay open that which is within vs, and we shal find there a heap and conserue of many, diuers, and different euils, which haue their originall beginning from thence. For as sha­dowes follow bodies, so passions and vices follow soules. Heerafter we may discourse more particularly of the grea­ter part of them, and of their proper and peculiar effects, with that iust punishment, which commonly followed them. In the meane time we may learne this, that if cu­stome be of so great force, that (as we say) it ouercommeth nature, it is chiefly to be seene in vice and dissolutenes, which is a gulfe wherein a man may very easily cast him­selfe Custome in sin­ning is dange­rous.headlong, but it is a very difficult matter, yea vnpossi­ble to withdraw himselfe againe. And (as a wise Romane said) most horrible and execrable offences through vse and custome are made small faults, and are commonly practised. For it is the propertie of vice to be head-strong and contentious, seeking to defend it selfe by reasons, which, although they be altogither vaine and friuolous, yet of great waight in regard of the weake flesh of man, which easily suffereth it selfe to be bound vnder the yoke of sinne. Therefore we are to take good heed, that we suf­fer not our selues to be surprised by so dangerous an eni­mie, nor giue him any accesse or entrance into vs: I mean that he should not dwell in vs (for otherwise we know that perfect righteousnes is in God onely) but rather let vs ex­ercise How we should fortifie our selues against vice.all those things that are contrarie to vice, accusto­ming our selues in such sort to maister our common and small imperfections (which are but too abundant in the [Page 70] iustest men) that they take no effect, howsoeuer of them­selues they may seeme excusable. By this meanes we shall labor euermore to make choise of the best in all indifferēt things: which will stand vs in stead of a sure rampire a­gainst the tyrannicall raigne of this enimie to vertue. We read of Pythagoras, that he accustomed himselfe to abstain from crueltie and iniustice euen towards brute beasts, by The humanitie of Pythagoras euen towards brute beasts.requesting fowlers, after they had taken birds to let them flie againe. And when he came amongst fisher-men he bought their draughts, and after caused all the fish to be cast againe into the sea. Moreouer, he forbad all his disci­ples to kill a tame beast at any time. After his example let vs abstaine from all things that may procure vice, and ne­uer suffer such speeches as these to passe from vs: What good will this do if that be wanting? Now I will deale in this ma­ner, another time I will do better. Oh how slipperie are such waies, how easily doth vice glide away like a streame vnder An excellent comparison tea­ching vs not to suffer any vn­lawfull thing.such pretences? For as a wedge maketh but a smal cleft in the beginning, yet afterward the rift being greater sunde­reth al in peeces: so the sufferance of vnlawful things how small soeuer it be, leadeth men by little & little to an vn­measurable licentiousnes. Moreouer, who can assure him­selfe of tomorrow, yea of a quarter of an hower? The ora­cle of Apollo answered those of Cyrrha, that if they would liue in peace among themselues, they should make conti­nuall war with their neighbors strangers. So, that we may passe the course of our short daies in peace, rest and tran­quillitie of spirit, and that we fall not into the cruell paw of this aduersarie to all goodnes, we must daily fight a­gainst We must neuer harken to the heralds of vice.him, and neuer giue eare to his heralds and am­bassadors of peace, which are pleasures, neglect of dutie, and such other baits, which he presenteth to vs, to deceiue and beguile vs withal. It is most certaine, that vice putteth How vice decei­ueth men.on a visard, and goeth disguised and couered with good­ly shewes that belong onely to vertue, and chalengeth falsely vnto it selfe those goods, which indeed and truth man ought to desire. And being thus clothed, with the helpe of corruptible pleasures that lightly passe away, it [Page 71] yoketh base minded men, whose care is onely set vpon the desire of earthly things, which it setteth before their eies as their felicitie, impudently imputing to vertue all those euils that are in it selfe. But they that haue sufficiently pro­fited in philosophy through the knowledge of that which is good, and of such things as are truly faire and beautiful, neuer harken to such hurtfull allurements, but rather do The prudence of the serpent.as the serpent doth, that stoppeth hir eares with hir taile, to the end she may not heare the charmes and sorceries of the inchanter. But if through the neglect of all good ad­monition, we giue place amongst vs neuer so little to the baits of vice, they may easily in the end (as thornes and thistles growing neere to good seed, do oftentimes choke it) darken all that good instinct of nature that shall be in vs. Diogenes the Cynike, walking one day through that Why Diogenes asked his almes of images.street in Athens, wherein there were many images of such ancient men, as had best deserued of the Common-welth, asked his almes of them all one after another. Whereat some maruelling and demanding of him the cause why: I learne (quoth he to them) to take deniall patiently: euen so when we can so far command our selues, as to shun all vaine & vnprofitable busines, wherin this age delighteth, and which serue but for allurements and baits to nicenes and pleasures, let vs not be ashamed not to follow them, but rather let vs say, that we learne to contemne that which is contemptible, and to make choice (according to that ancient precept of Pythagoras) of the best kind of life that is, to the end, that custome may by little and little make it easie and pleasant vnto vs. To conclude therefore our present matter, we say that vice, being inseparably ac­companied with a thousand miseries, and with vnspeake­able and exceeding mischiefs, which draw man into vtter ruine and eternall perdition, may be truly called the one­ly euill of the soule, as that which of it selfe is able and suf­ficient to make him vnhappy, who receineth it for a ghest. And as such a hurtfull thing, we ought to hate and to flie from it, by the meanes of vertue that is contrarie vnto it, labouring by all meanes to haue our soules pure and [Page 72] cleane from all wicked deeds, wils, and counsels, and our maners vndefiled, not being troubled or infected with any euill perturbation, wherewith vice alwaies aboundeth and is rich.

Of Sciences, of the studie of Letters, and of Histories. Chap. 7.

IT is a vsuall speech in the mouths of men alto­gether ignorant of the beautie and profite of Sciences, That the studie of Letters is a bottomeles The speeches of ignorant men touching the studie of scien­ces. gulfe, and so long and vneasie a iourney, that they which thinke to finish it, oftentimes stay in the midway, and many being come to the end thereof finde their mindes so confused with their profound and curious skill, that in stead of tranquillitie of soule, which they thought to finde, they haue encreased the trouble of their spirit. Vnder this goodly pretence, the most part say, that it is better not to know much, yea nothing at all: attributing the cause of mans imperfection, vnto science. Being thus perswaded, if they haue alreadie any beginning and entring in lear­ning, they draw backe, and seeke to hinder and to turne Why many fa­thers set not their children to schoole.others aside from following them. For this cause manie fathers set not their children to learning, or else bicause they finde this way of preferment too long and costly, & haue other more short and profitable meanes now a daies whereby to inrich them. But both the one and the other are greatly to be condemned, bicause we are to spare no labor and trauel, that we may get the treasures of the soul indued with reason, which are sciences, wherin al humane felicitie consisteth, and which neuer breed vexation of spirite. But all wits are not fit and apt to comprehende and conceiue them. Neither doth the corruption of our nature better appeare, than in this, that we loue rather to inrich our selues and our children with wicked and peri­shing goods, than with true certain and immortal goods, the happie knowledge wherof sciences and arts do bring [Page 73] vnto vs. Now hauing through the grace of God receiued this benefit by your liberalitie (most honorable fathers) as to haue beene instructed in the best and most necessa­rie points of knowledge, we thought it would not be te­dious vnto you to heare vs discourse, that we might stirre vp the memorie of our studies, and that the beautie and commoditie of sciences might worke in our affections a lyking and desire to continue and to finish them.

Man (saith Aristotle) was created to vn­derstand Man was crea­ted to vnder­stand and to do.and to do. For it is necessarie that instruction go before working. Knowledge begetteth iudgement, and by iudgement men execute all good and vertuous acti­ons. Whereupon it followeth, that the studie of letters is rich, and vndoubtedly giueth vs the knowledge of things. Moreouer nothing may be compared to sciences, which comfort vs in our life time and cause vs to liue af­ter death.

O science (saith Plato) how would men loue thee if thou wert knowne? Fire and aire are not more ne­cessarie for life, than is the art and rule of good liuing, which is shewed vnto vs by learning. And as health is the conseruation of the bodie, so is doctrine the safegarde of the soule. But we are to vnderstand more amply of thee (AMANA) what is the greatnes and beautie of sciences.

Whatsoeuer is profitable, not onely for a house and familie, for a citie and nation, but generally for all mankinde, may well be accounted deere, precious and woonderful, & as so excellent a thing ought to be bought with all that a man hath: especially if it be the true sub­stance of all happines and felicitie, and the efficient cause of prudence, which is an excellent guide for mens actions to make them woorthy of an immortality. What can one desire more than profite, pleasure and honor, which are those things wherewith all men are commonly led? The treasure of Arabia and India may well bring some plea­sure to man, but yet alwaies vnperfect: seeing all riches is of it selfe blind, & bringeth no light to the soule, but re­ceiueth hir brightnes from the soule when it is framed [Page 74] according to vertue. Great and proud armies may by no­table victories procure to themselues renowm and glory, but blame woorthy: a title of honor, but forced and vn­iust, if their enterprises are not grounded vpon equitie & iustice. The marchant sailing on large and terrible seas, may reape profite by his trafficke, but bought with the perill of his life, and hazard of his certaine patrimonie. Neither can this be done, except he haue first laide a good ground of his voiage vpon a sure discourse of reason, and vpon the direction of a good and wise pilot. Now of all these things, thus poore of themselues, and begging all their ornaments else where, what certain ioy, true honor, or great profite may a man chalenge to himselfe and not rather looke for a sodaine change of them into a woorse estate than they were in before, through the inconstancie and vncertaintie of mans nature? Where then shall we seeke for these great and rare properties, to finde that which of it selfe will be vnto vs profitable, pleasant, and The benefits which come by knowledge.honorable altogither, and that not for an instant, but for euer? Truely in science or knowledge, which first is able to mollifie mans nature, being before sauage and wilde, and to make it capable of reason: secondly, frameth and setleth his iudgement, that he may passe the course of his daies in al tranquillitie of minde to the profite of ma­ny: lastly, causeth him to die in honor, with certaine assu­rance of eternall life and happines. It is knowledge that maketh man prudent, (for doctrine bringeth foorth pru­dence) The proper worke of the spirit of man.and worketh vnspeakable pleasure in his soule. For the searching out of the truth is the proper worke and perfection of the spirite, neither doth any delight come neere to that which a man taketh in learning. It is science which guideth mens iudgements, whereby their chiefest deliberations and counsailes are executed, aswell in feats of war, as in the establishment and preseruation of lawes, kingdoms, monarchies, commonwealths, cities and peo­ples: likewise in the regiment and gouernment of all worldlie affaires, either generall or particular, which are well or ill guided, according as he that manageth or go­uerneth [Page 75] them is instructed. To this purpose Seneca saide, that they, who being destitute of knowledge, did learne It is long ere men without knowledge be­come good ma­gistrates.onely by experience to gouern publike affaires, although they were borne with a diuine and happy spirit, yet both late, and to the detriment of their common-wealth, they would in the end become good gouernors of the people. As contrariwise, they that should come thereunto being garded with the precepts of knowledge, (so they caried a good minde) woulde quickely and without paine be­come woorthy of their charge. O wisedome (saith Cice­ro) The praise of wisedome.the guide of our life, the onely cause of vertue, and enimie tovice, what should, not we only, but euen all the life of men be without thee? Thou hast builded townes: thou hast gathered together dispersed and wandering men that they might liue in a societie of life, and in com­mon friendship. Thou compellest them to come togi­ther, first by keeping all in a house and by mariage: then by the common vse of words and speech. Thou hast beene the inuentresse of lawes, and the mistres of maners and discipline. We haue no recourse but to thee in our af­flictions: we craue aide and succour of thee: we put our selues wholy into thine armes. Truely one day well and iustly spent according to thy holie precepts, is to be pre­ferred before an immortalitie of time consumed in wic­kednes and vice. With what riches shall we furnish our selues rather than with thine, which hast liberally giuen vs the meanes to obtaine tranquillity in this life, and hast taken from vs all feare and terror of death? Briefely, we may be assured, that science is the onely diuine and im­mortall qualitie in vs, and that infallible rule, which brin­geth both peace and warre to their perfect proportion: without which whosoeuer goeth about to frame any glo­rious or happy building, doth asmuch as if he should vn­dertake to sarle in the midst of the sea without a rudder, or walke through vnknowne places without a guid. Now the ancients knowing the greatnes & difficultie of know­ledge, and that it cannot be obtained (as it falleth out in all great matters) without great paine and trauell, that [Page 76] their labor might become profitable vnto vs, they I saie, who had spent their life euen with sweating, in seeking out the secrets of nature, and were desirous to ease mans studie, who otherwise is inclined from his youth to plea­sure & rest, haue diuided science for vs into diuers parts. Which they did to this ende, that step by step, according to the nicenes of our spirits (euen as our bodies are first nourished with milke and then with stronger meats) we might finde therein apt and conceiueable foode, and in the ende be made partakers of the secrets of perfect wise­dome, euery one according to his capacitie and need, ex­pecting the full vnderstanding thereof in the immortality of that second and most happie life. First then al arts and The diuision of sciences.sciences handled by reason, were diuided into three prin­cipall kinds: into Philosophie, Rhetoricke and Mathe­maticke. Afterwards, ech of these sciences was diuided into three other parts and kinds, Philosophie into Moral, Logicall and Physicall or Naturall. Rhetoricke, into De­monstratiue, Deliberatiue & [...]udiciall. Mathematick, into Arithmetick, Musick and Geometry. Since that, for grea­ter facilitie, and that it might be more easie to learne, all humane philosophie hath beene reduced into art, as we haue it at this day, from whence the name of liberall arts came, bicause they are woorthy & beseeming a free man. Grammer. Rhetorick.Their names are these: Grammer, which is the entrance and beginning of all knowledge: Rhetoricke, which is the art of fine speaking, and of perswading: Dialectick or Logick.Logick, which is to learne the truth of all things by dispu­tation: Physick.Physick, which is the studie of naturall things: Metaphysick. Mathematick and the parts thereof, as, Arithmetick.Metaphysick, which is of supernaturall things: Mathema­tike, which hath many members, whereof Arithmetick is the first, which is the science of numbers, and the foundation of all the other parts of Mathematicke, with­out which science of Arithmetick, Plato denied that a­ny Geometry.man could be either a philosopher or captaine gene­rall. Next to that is Geometry, that is to saye, the art of measuring the ground, very necessarie likewise for a captaine, and for many other martiall affaires. Then follo­weth [Page 77] Cosmographie and Geography, to know the situa­tion Cosmogra­phy.of the whole world, euen from the tower of the high­est heauen, called the first moouer, vnto the center of the Geography.earth, and likewise of the diuers regions therof with their particular temperatures. After that is Astronomie, the Astronomy.science that teacheth vs to know the course of the starres and planets, which thing practise onely might teach vs, I meane so much as is necessarie for vs, as our first fathers were a long time content therewith, vntill the curiositie of men inuented these names of Saturne, Mars, & others, attributing natures vnto them according to their imagi­nations, and also power ouer our bodies: yea those things that shall perish and are without life, are said to haue po­wer ouer our immortall soules. And from thence procee­ded iudiciall Astronomy, wherewith so many good wits are deceiued, and of which so many abuses haue their be­ginning. Next, Musick is set downe also for a member of Musicke.the Mathematicks, as being a science drawne from num­bers, bicause that by them harmonicall proportion was found. Lastly followeth Poetry, which is attributed to Musick. In this short discourse the woonderfull greatnes Poetry.ofscience appeereth sufficiently, as also how hard, yea vn­possible it is, to attaine to the perfection thereof through the sound knowlege of all the parts thereof. Wherefore Those sciences are first to be learned, that are most necessarie.we are first to seeke after those that are most necessarie, and then to desire a meane vnderstanding of them all ac­cording to the gifts and graces of God bestowed on our soules. But aboue all things we must shunne that idlenes and rechlesnes which is in many, who by reason of the difficultie, which they heare say is in sciences, and distrus­ting themselues for euer comming neere the skill of so many good wits, as haue gone before them, remaine as buried in ignorance, and vnprofitable amongst men. The greatnes of Alexander staied not his successours from try­ing the issue and euent of all sorts of noble enterpises. And the woonderfull knowledge of Plato could not keep Aristotle from handling philosophie as he thought good. He that distrusteth his wit and the inuention thereof, [Page 78] sheweth himselfe too vngratefull. For it seemeth he will condemne nature the mother of all things, as though she had put all hir gifts and graces in some men, and euer after purposed to be idle and barren, hauing no more strength to bring foorth any thing woorthy commenda­tion. We must not therefore in this sort be discouraged in the searching out of euerie good discipline, knowing that those things also, which draw neere to perfection are great. But yet for the chiefe part of all our studies, let vs take Morall philosophie, whereof we haue alreadie dis­coursed, that we may frame our maners according to ver­tue, and lead and direct our selues to that ende, which we desire, euen to liue well and happily. So let vs practise that What kinde of knowledge is es­pecially requi­red in a philoso­pher.diuine saying of Plato speaking by the mouth of Socrates, That more vertue and pietie is required in a philosopher than knowledge: and that all science, which is to be required in him, is, that aboue all thinges he worship and reuerence God the onely true master of wisedome, and authour of whatsoeuer may be knowne: and that he endeuour to se­parate his soule from his bodie, as much as may be, by contemning pleasures, ambition, vaineglory and riches, that so he may lay hold of the treasures of immortall life. This we may learne by reading books & writings, which are the instruments of wisedome, and are left vnto vs by learned men for a rule and for instruction. By the studie hereof we shall attaine to that knowledge of the true and perfect good of man, which consisteth in vertue and veri­tie, the onely nourishment, rest and tranquillitie of the minde. But will we know further what profite we may receiue by the doctrine of ancient men? Let vs onely read Anacharsis let­ter to Craesus touching the studies of Grae­cia.that which Anacharsis wrote to Craesus king of Lidia. Know (quoth he to him) that in the studies of Graecia we learne, not to command, but first to obey: not to speake, but to keepe silence: not to resist, but to humble our selues: not to get much, but to content our selues with a little: not to reuenge our harmes, but to pardon iniuries: not to take from others, but to giue our owne: not to take care to be honored, but to labour to be vertuous. [Page 79] Lastly, we learne to despise that which others loue, and to loue that which others despise, that is pouertie. Behold the faire fruits of science, and of the studie of these anci­ent Sages, to which no treasures of worldly riches are in any sort comparable, and which we ought to desire aboue The praise and prosite of [...].all things. Moreouer, by this studie of letters, we shall be taught to search out diligently the vnderstanding of hi­stories, which are the treasury of things past, the patterne of those that are to com, the picture of mans life, the tuch­stone of our dooings, the workmaster of our honor, and as Cicero calleth them, the witnes of times, the light of truth, the life of memorie, the mistres of life and the mes­senger of antiquitie. Histories cause vs to beholde that without danger, which so many millions of men haue tri­ed with the losse of their liues, honor and goods, that we may be made wise by their perill, and stirred vp to follow the vertue of others, which hath brought them to the top of all felicitie and glorie. Now if we thinke to learne by our owne experience these excellent instructions which we may draw out of histories, in stead of so rare trea­sures we shall know but few things, and those with losse & perill amongst a thousand aduersities, from which the vn­derstanding of that which is past, saueth & deliuereth vs. Prudence gotten by experience is too perilous, and so long a comming, that very often a man dieth before he haue obtained it, so that he had need of a second life to imploy about it. But we must hasten it forward by the searching out of things, which haue come to passe both before and since our time, in the studie both of philoso­phie, which is rich and plentifull in worthy examples, and also of histories, which are a singular gift of God, whereby he would haue his woonderfull works continued in the How a man may become happie.memorie of men. For this cause Zeno, being demanded how a man might become happie, answered, if he drew neere vnto and haunted the dead: meaning thereby, if he read histories, and endeuored to learne their good instru­ctions that haue gone before vs. Ptolemie also asking one of the wise interpreters, wherein a king ought to exercise [Page 80] himselfe, In the knowledge (quoth he) of things which haue been done, and in reading books of things which Wherein kings ought most to exercise them­selues.daily offer themselues, or which are fit for present affaires, and lastly in searching out whatsoeuer is written for the preseruation of kingdoms and correction of maners. And truly they that are exercised in the vnderstanding of hi­stories, although they be but yoong, yet in knowledge of worldly matters they become like to the aged and gray­headed: as contrariwise they that are ignorant of things done and past before their being, remaine alwaies chil­dren, and euen within their owne countrie where they were borne, they are in the same estate in respect of know­ledge that forreners are. If we yet desire more testimonies from amongst the ancients, of the honor, loue, zeale, and ardent affection, which they bare towards the studie of good letters, and how the chiefé glorie of all their heroi­call and noble acts doth of dutie belong to science, we The saving of Philip at the birth of Alex­ander.read of Phillip king of Macedonia, that when Alexander was borne to him, he gaue thanks to God, not so much bicause he had this sonne, as bicause he was borne in the time of so wise a philosopher as Aristotle was, whom he made his schoolmaister. Of him Alexander learned ma­ny goodly sciences, as well in philosophie as in physicke, and namely, those Acroamaticall sciences, that is, specula­tiue, and such as could not be learned but by hearing a teacher. Of which Sciences this great Monark was iealous, and taken with so greedie a desire, that hearing how Ari­stotle had published certaine bookes, he wrote a letter vn­to Alexanders let­ter to Aristotle.him in this maner: Alexander sendeth greeting to A­ristotle. Thou hast not done wel to publish these bookes of speculatiue sciences: forasmuch as we shall haue nothing aboue others, if that which thou hast taught vs priuately come to be published and communicated to all. For I would thou shouldest know, that I loue rather to excell others in the vnderstanding of high and notable things, than in power. How greatly this excellent prince alwaies loued knowledge, appeereth sufficiently by the exceeding liberalitie and gifts, wherewith he honoured the maisters [Page 81] and teachers thereof (as we may somewhat touch it heer­after) as also in that he alwaies caried Homers Iliads about His loue to learning.him, which vsually he laid vnder his pillow, naming it the nourishment and preseruer of warlike vertue. Caesar in the Iulius Caesar.midst of his campe had his commentaries in his bosome, and that time which he spared from fighting, he bestowed in reading and writing, holding a launce in the left hand, and a pen in the right. We see in these two mightie and sacred princes, and in infinite other great personages both Greekes and Romanes, the woonderfull effects of knowledge, which conducted them to the top of all ho­nor, felicitie, and prosperitie. Xenophon, the disciple of So­crates Xenophon.serueth for another witnes, who being guided by an vnspeakable prudence and prouidence gotten in the studie of philosophie, brought an armie of a thousand footmen out of Persia into Greece, going ouer the foords of fiftie riuers, and through the midst of a hundred thou­sand enimies pursuing him, and yet his aray was neuer broken, albeit he fought with them sundry times. Besides, if we are desirous of testimonies of the incredible delight, which the studie of any science worketh in mens soules touched with the zeale of knowledge, we read of Nicias Nicias.the painter, how he tooke such great delight in his works, that oftentimes he inquired of his seruants whether he had dined or no. Archimedes drawing his geometricall fi­gures Archimedes.vpon a table, was as it were by force drawne away of his seruants, that he might annoint himselfe with oile (according to their custome) before he did eate: and du­ring the time of his annointing, he would trace new fi­gures vpon his bodie. Socrates was seene standing a whole summers day for the space of 24. houres continually in Socrates con­clusion drawen out of 24. how­ers contempla­tion.contemplation and discoursing in his mind: which was when he drew this conclusion out of his thoughts, that There was but one only God, and that the soule was immortall. The Emperor Charles the fourth going on a day to a College Charles 4.in Praga, to heare the disputations of vertue that were there, remained aboue fower howers on foote in hearing them. And when his courtiers, to whom he was wearisom, [Page 82] Robert king of Sicilia.told him that it was time to sup, he answered, that It was no more time for him, and that he had supped. Robert king of Ie­rusalem and Sicilia, a very learned prince, was so affectio­nated to letters, that he oftentimes said, that if he were to lose either his kingdoms or his learning, he would choose rather to be depriued of them than of knowledge. What greater testimonie of loue toward Science can one desire Ptolemie Phi­ladelphus.than that of Ptolemie Philadelphus, that vertuous king of Egypt, who with incredible charges gathered togither in­to his librarie fiue hundred thousand bookes, and pur­posely caused seuentie and two of the most learned and religious men of Iudea to come and translate the holie Bible out of Hebrew into Greeke? And surely we should be too vngratefull towards our princes, if amongst so ma­ny famous men we should leaue no place for that great Charlemaine.Emperor and king Charlemaine, who was skilfull in the Greeke and Latine toongs, and who in fauor of those toongs, and of the louers of knowledge, erected the Vni­uersitie at Paris, and that at Pauia, according to the pat­terne of those places of learning which were at Athens. Francis 1. Francis the first, a prince of most famous memorie, so lo­ued and fauored letters, and the professors of them, that he deserued the name of the restorer of sciences and good arts, sparing neither care nor meanes to assemble togither bookes and volumes of sundry sorts, and of all languages for the beautifying of his so renowmed a librarie, which was a worthy monument of such a magnificall monarke: whose praise-worthy qualities we see reuiued in our king, treading in the selfesame steps. Now to conclude our pre­sent discourse, we learne heereby to despise all earthly goods for the obtaining of knowledge, which of it selfe is truly profitable, delectable, and honorable altogither, and whereby we are taught how to liue and die well and hap­pily. And bicause that arts and sciences consist of many parts, let vs apply our minds to the studie and contempla­tion of those which togither with delight do also draw vs to that which is our proper and peculiar good, namely, to the knowledge of truth and vertue, which worke in vs al­waies [Page 83] an affection and zeale to follow them, and cause all arts and sciences teaching other things to be esteemed base, mechanicall, and vnbeseeming good wits. This did Antisthenes giue one to vnderstand, who greatly commen­ded Antisthenes say­ing touching a flute plaier. Ismenius for an excellent plaier on the flute: it is true (quoth he to him) but otherwise he is good for nothing. For else had he not been so good a minstrell. So, euerie one applying himselfe to some base and vaine art, produ­ceth for witnes against himselfe that labor, which he hath bestowed about vnprofitable matters, to prooue that he hath beene idle and slothfull in learning honest and pro­fitable things. And for the last fruit and vse of our speech we see heere what great occasion we haue all our life time to become the disciples of knowledge, which is so high and profound, and to diminish all pride and presumption of our skill, after the example of that wise man Socrates, who although he were the learnedest of his time, and so The modestic of Socrates tou­ching his owne skill.iudged to be by the oracle at Delphos, yet alwaies said, that he knew nothing. And when he was demanded any thing, he would neuer answer resolutely, as if he would haue been beleeued, but doubtingly vsed to say, I thinke so, or, It may be so. Being therefore desirous to learne with all modestie, let vs endeuor to seeke out more and more by trauell and studie, the assurance and knowledge of veritie and vertue.

Of the Spirit and of memorie. Chap. 8.

HAuing now discoursed of the greatnes, beu­tie, and profit of knowledge, I thinke, that if we were to wish for two helps very neces­sarie for the attaining vnto it, those ought to be a spirit or mind ready to conceiue, and memorie, firme to retaine: without which two things we shall profit our selues little, and much lesse a great many.

Those two things, which thou propoundest vnto vs would seeme woonderfull if they were togither. [Page 84] Quicke wits commonly want memorie. For we commonly see, that they who haue a readie and quicke wit, for the most part want memorie: and they that learne with greatest difficultie and paine, do best retaine and keepe that which they haue once learned.

This talke of the spirit, whereunto you at­tribute the propertie of comprehending (and yet speake not of the soule) is vndoubtedly worthie of great consi­deration. For euen when we speake of a yong infant, we say by and by, that his spirit or wit will grow with his bo­die, and of a crooked old-sire, we say that his spirit waxeth old with him, which in many we see oftentimes becom­meth altogither dul and vnfit for the ordering & gouern­ment Psal. 102. 26.of affaires. Now that which waxeth old draweth to an end, as the scripture it selfe teacheth vs concerning times and seasons, which wax old like to mens garments, and are to take end. And yet we know that the soule is im­mortall, and therefore waxeth not old. So that one would thinke, that the soule and spirit are two distinct things, al­though we see euery where the one taken for the other. But let vs heare ASER discourse of this matter, and so we shall learne what the spirit is in the soule.

As the works of the diuine power are altogi­ther incomprehensible to the outward sence of man, and It is very hard for a man to know himselfe.very hard to be comprehended by reason guided & con­ducted by grace from aboue, so we are not to think much if the knowledge of a mans selfe, which is most necessary, be so hardly found out by him, seeing his composition farre passeth all the works of nature, that are visible and subiect to sight. Now if a man cannot know himselfe, how should he hope to comprehend greater matters, which are supernaturall and hidden in the heauens? And who can rightly boast, that he hath the true and perfect vnder­standing of the chiefest part and most powerfull begin­ning of himselfe, namely of his spirite? Who am I, saide Socrates opini­on concerning man. Socrates? Am I a subiect compounded of soule and body? Or rather a soule, that vseth the body, as a horseman doth a horse? Or, is euery one of vs that principall part of the soule, whereby we vnderstand, discourse and do, and all [Page 85] the other parts of the bodie but instruments of this po­wer: Or if there be no proper substance at all of the soule by it selfe, but that it is onely a temperature and com­plexion of the bodie so framed that it hath power to vn­derstand and to liue, am I not a sauage beast, more crafty, bold and furious than euer was the serpent Typhon? Or else, am I a meeker and simpler creature, pertaker of a better estate, and voide of pride? All the excellentest phi­losophers that euer were handled this self same matter as­wel as Socrates, with incredible trauel and paine, that they may attaine to this knowledge of the noblest part in the, which is the soule and spirite, taking indifferently the one for the other. But first of all this wise Socrates spake excel­lently of the dignitie and immortalitie of the soule, say­ing, that in truth the soule is man, and not this mortall The soule is [...] man.masse and lumpe of the bodie, which of it selfe is no more than a simple and base instrument is in regard of the most cunning workeman of any art of science. And for this cause giuing vp the ghost amongst his disciples, and being asked by Clito where he would be buried: As for Socrates Socrates answer touching his bur [...]all.(quoth he to him) take thou no thought or care. For thou canst not stay him, whose tombe hath beene from all time readie for him. But concerning that which he leaueth here below, it is not woorthy to be cared for by him. The greatest thing (said Periander) that may be said to be con­tained Periander.in a little place, is the soule in a mans bodie. Empe­docles Empedocles.speaking of the generation of the soule saith, that neither bloud, nor the vitall spirit congealed haue giuen vnto vs the substance of the soule, and the beginning of life. The bodie onely is compounded earthlie and mor­tall. But the generation of the soule is heauenly, being Of the generati­on of the soule.sent here below as a passenger, and stranger, or as one that is banished and sent out of his countrey. Whereupon she continually sigheth, groneth, and as it were drieth a­way, (like to a good plant translated out of a good plot of ground into a bad) vntill in the end she returne, and be receiued into hir immortall habitation, after she hath changed hir present life, which is vnto hir but as a vaine [Page 86] illusion of some dreame; in respect of a true, certaine and permanent life. Surely these philosophicall speculations are not vaine and friuolous, but very necessarie to lead vs to that happie end of our being, which we seeke for. For if we be well instructed concerning the great and honora­ble place and condition, which the soule enioieth aboue the bodie, as well in hir immortall generation, as in hir contemplation and action, as also that of hir happines dependeth (as before we handled it) the felicitie of the whole frame of man, will we not apply all our principall care, studie and diligence in prouiding such things for hir as she desireth, and which are meet and healthfull for hir? But we haue further (thanks be giuen to the author of all good) a second & more perfect vnderstanding of the soul, than had all these notable heathen men, both in respect of the blessed immortalitie and also of the cause thereof. We know also that so long as she is detained in this mortall prison of the bodie, & that we are become new creatures The soule is di­uided into the spirit and the flesh.by the grace of God, she is diuided into these two partes, the spirit and the flesh, betweene which there is a perpe­tual combat. Yea the flesh continually offereth to the spi­rit a thousand temptations, to delight it withall. For the bodie and flesh consisting of mortall and corruptible matter, are but a lumpe of sinne, and full of wicked de­sires, The spirit of the godlie both by creation and regeneration is enimie to vice.whereas the spirit of it selfe vertuous and good, and of an immortall essence, is of it owne nature enimie to vice and iniquitie: so that being ruled and guided by the spirite of God, it loueth and desireth eternall happines, and reioiceth in iustice, puritie and holines. And yet the soule is not so freed from the slauerie of sinne, but that there remaineth in hir many steps of the earthly man, so that she alwaies carieth about with hir the relickes of the The fight be­tweene the spi­rit and the flesh.flesh, whereby hir libertie is so much diminished. This is that fight whereof the true children of God haue dailie experience, when they are lifted vpward by the spirit, and by the flesh turned downeward: by the spirit they bend with an ardent desire towards immortalitie, by the flesh they are caried astray into the way of death: by the spirit [Page 87] they thinke to liue iustly, by the flesh they are stirred fore­ward to iniquitie: by the spirit they contemne the world, by the flesh they desire wordly delights. But in the ende the grace of God causeth the spirit to remaine superiour, Rom. 8 7.so that his children walke not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit. Whereas if we be left of God to What we are being left to our selves.our owne corrupt and peruerse nature, we haue not suffi­cient strength to resist the temptations of this wicked flesh, but in steade of commanding it, we obey it with shame and confusion. And then accustoming our selues to sinne, and to consent to the desires of the flesh, the diuine part of the soule is so weakened, that she hath no more strength or feeling of hir essence, which is enimie to vice, but hauing forsaken God, he forsaketh hir, and giueth hir ouer into the power of carnal desires. So that by this long dwelling in sinne, being as it were altogither dead, she ta­keth no more counsaile of reason, but followeth after de­testable vices, and such as are against nature. But on the contrarie side being guided by the grace of God, after we haue laboured by fasting, watching and praier, to resist the vnpure desires of the flesh, al the concupiscences ther­of wil at length be so tamed and forced, that the soule shal execute hir office in commanding ouer them absolutely, and in choaking them so soone as they shall spring vp. Therefore it commeth from the spirit, that we aspire con­tinually to our last and soueraign good, that with a singu­ler desire of hart, and with all our affection we studie to seeke and finde it out, euen with teares and sighes, by reason of those continuall impediments, which the flesh laieth before vs in following our course. Moreouer the spirit causeth vs to imploy all our might in the separati­on of the soule from the bodie, and in dispising pleasure, ambition, vainglorie and riches, that we may offer an ac­ceptable present, by yeelding vnto him the soul, which he hath giuen vs. Which thing cannot be done (saith Plato) but by keeping it, as much as may be, purged & cleansed from earthly spots, that she may be knowne and acknow­ledged aboue amongst hir companions, considering that [Page 88] no defiled thing shall enter into the kingdome of heauen. In this discourse of the soule and of the spirit thus inter­mingled, I thinke we may here set downe some special dif­ference betwixt them, although vndoubtedly the one is taken indifferently for the other, without any absurditie,The difference betweene the [...] and the spirit. yea they are one and the same thing. The difference may be made in this sort, if we say, that the soule is common to all things that haue life, as we vse to say, that all beasts are animated, and haue sensitiue soules: but that the spirite, which is immortall, and capable of reason & knowledge, is proper and peculiar to man onely. And it seemeth that Sophocles would teach vs this distinction, when he saith, that The spirit is the same thing to the soule, which the eie is to the bodie. Socrates also putting a difference betweene the soule and the spirit, saide, that as eucrie seditious man is to be banished out of a well gouerned citie, so a spirit en­clined to all mischiefe is to be remooued from that soule, which we would saue. Or else we may say otherwise (not diuiding any thing) that the spirit is the first and princi­pallThe three parts of the spirit. part of the soule, wherein the Minde, the Ʋnderstan­ding, and the memorie are contained, which are most necessary for the direction of all good and vertuous actions, and which stand in need of preseruation, nourishing, and ex­ercise, and therfore they are said, (not without reason) to increase & decrease in the minde of man. The minde is as a white paper, wherein as a man groweth in age & iudge­ment, he writeth his cogitations and thoughts, which the studie of letters and learning do affoord him. Vnder­standing is framed by the knowledge of reason, and lastlyOf Memorie. memorie followeth & preserueth it, being the mother of the muses, and the treasorie of knowledge. Plutark calleth it the hearing of deafe things, and the sight of the blinde. There is nothing, that serueth so much to beget and pre­serue learning and knowledge, as memorie doth, whereof we haue many examples among the ancients. We readeMithridates. of Mithridates king of Pontus, who was a great enimie to the Romaines, that he had vnder his dominion two & twentie nations, speaking diuers languages, all which he [Page 89] learned and answered their ambassadours in their owne toongs. Which thing he could neuer haue comprehen­ded without an excellent and happy memorie, which also was the cause, that Themistocles knew personally and could name all his countrimen, by their proper names. The emperor Frederick the 11. spake the Greeke, Latin, He­brew,Frederick. Arabian, Morisko, Almaigne, Italian and French toong. In our time there was an interpreter of Sultan Soly­maus, Genusbey. named Genusbey, borne in Corfou, endued with the richest memorie that euer was. For he spake perfectly the Greek toong, both vulgar & learned, the Turkish, Ara­bian, Moorish, Tartarian, Persian, Armenian, Hebrew, Russe, Hungarian, Sclauonian, Italian, Spanish, Almaign,P. Crassus. Latin and French. It is recorded of Publius Crassus, that at one instant he heard fiue sundry languages spoken, and answered ech of them in the same toong. Whereby we see that he was endued with an excellent and quicke spirite, apt to conceiue, and with a firme memorie, able to retaine them altogither: and this may be seene in many. But theFrom whence iudgement pro­ceedeth. perfection of these two great gifts of nature, is a good & sound iudgement, proceeding from pondering, and from a firme discourse of reason lightned by the spirit of God, and by the same spirit purged from error, illusion, and all vaine opinion, which are vsuall in man, and hinder him from iudging aright of the truth. But to continue our speech of the woonderfull effects of memorie so much esteemed of Plato, that he writeth, that we shuld leaue of to be men, & become like to the gods, if our memory could retaine and keepe so much as the eies can read and see. We must not here forget to make mention of Iulius Caesar, Iulius Caesar. that great monarke, of whom Historiographers report, that at one time he caused his Secretaries to write vnto foure seuerall persons of sundry matters, and that of­tentimes he would indight a letter to one of his Secreta­ries, read in a booke, and heare another speake all at one time. Seneca rehearsed two thousand sundry names, ha­uingSeneca. onely heard them pronounced before, beginning at the last and continuing to the first. By these examples we [Page 90] see the greatnes of memorie, wherby we may easily indge how profitable it is for the inriching of the minde with all things necessarie to the gouernment of mans estate. YeaA good [...]se of memorie. it is vnto vs a helpe requisite to saluation, as that whereby we keepe in remembrance the gifts and graces, which we daily receiue from the goodnes and fauor of God▪ to this end, that we should not be vngrateful, but yeeld vnto him glorie and praise without ceasing. Nowe bicause one of you (my companions) touched this, that they which haue a ready and quick wit, commonly want memorie, & that they which hardly learne, retaine and keepe better that which they haue learned, I will giue you this reason with Plutark, that hardnes of belecfe seemeth to be the causeReasons why quick est wits haue woor [...]t me­mories, and con­ [...]wise why men comprehend slowly. For it is very euident, that to learne, is to receiue some impression: whereupon it followeth, that they which resist least, are such as soonest beleeue. And therefore youth is easier to be perswaded than old folks, sick than sound, women than men: and generally the weaker that thing is, which discourseth and doubteth, the easier may a man put and adde vnto it, what he will, as likewise the selfe same thing is sooner lost and let slip away. Some others (as Iustine Martyr saith) haue rendred this reason of the quicknes or slownes of mans wit, saying, that it commeth of the good or immo­derate mixture & temperature of the elements, of which our bodies are compounded and framed, and of the sym­metrie and proportion of the organicall or iustrumentall parts ioyned togither in him. And surely these seeme to giue the true reason therof. For we see many, who in their beginning and first age shew that they haue a prompt and sharp wit, but when they come to old age are changed, & become slow and dul to conceiue. Which is a great token and argument that a good or bad complexion and con­stitution of the body, is the cause of such a disposition, ei­ther in quicknes or slownes of spirit, as the difference of yeeres doth affoord them. Besides, doe we not perceiue, that they which haue the head ouergreat and ill fanored, whom we cōmonly call great blockheads, (bicause there [Page 91] is not an equall symmetry and moderate proportion be­tweene that and the other parts of the bodie) are natural­ly vnapt to conceiue, and to bring foorth any sensible and wittie thing? But the resolution of al this speech shall be, that all gifts of the spirit are from aboue, & that amongst1. Cor. 12. all sorts of men, there are some found, that are prompt & wittie to comprehend great and diuine things, by a speci­all grace and fauour, which God hath bestowed vpon them. Some by the gift of the holie Ghost haue wisedom, others knowledge and vnderstanding of things, and all giuen to euerie one for the profiting both of himselfe and of his neighbor. Knowing therefore by this present discourse, according to the weakenes of our iudgement, the creation and nature of the spirit, which is the princi­pall and most noble part of vs, and that whereof depen­deth and proceedeth all our happines, rest and felicitie, let vs be carefull and diligent to search it out, and to pro­uide such things as it desireth of vs, as helps to that effect, bestowing all our care, labour and studie, to adorne and deck it with righteousnes and holines, according to the holie desire therof, wherin consisteth life and peace. And let vs beware that we seeke not to feede it with strange meats, which may make it sorrowfull, and with which our flesh aboundeth to hir death and destruction. But morti­fiengRom. 8. 1. all the deadly desires and affections thereof, let vs labour not to walke any more according to the flesh, but according to the spirit, and let vs know that all wearisom­nes and tediousnes which troubleth the tranquillitie and rest thereof, proceedcth from the want of experience in affaires, from the want of good discoursing, grounded vp­on a resolute and setled iudgement, and from the want of skill fitly to apply our selues to present occasions. And this is that which troubleth all sorts and conditions of life, as well rich as poore. But the way to preserue the spirite in rest and quietnes, is to nourish and exercise it in the studie of wisedome, where it learneth reason, which of it selfe can cure it of all sorrow, anguish and greefe through wise discoursing, and worke in it a like inclina­tion [Page 92] and constant behauior in euerie alteration of life, causing man to liue happie throughout the whole course of his life, not without the hope and certaine expectati­on of a blessed immortalitie.

Of Dutie and Honestie. Chap. 9.

The end of the creation of all things. ALthough all things were cre­ated of diuers natures and properties, and manie of cleane contraries, yet by an incomprehensible wisedom they were appointed to re­fer themselues to one onely certaine and common end, namely, to shew foorth the infinite power and greatnes of their worke-maister, sufficient in the lest of his works with admiration to rauish man, to whom he hath made al things subiect. But as in him alone the treasures of his heauenly graces haue been without comparison more li­berally vnfolded, and that in all fulnes and bountie, as well in regard of the goods and commodities of this life, which he draweth from heauen, from the earth, from the aire, from the water, from beasts and plants, and general­ly from all things contained vnder the cope of the firma­ment, as also in respect of that vnspeakable happines and eternall felicitie, which by the speciall grace of God is purchased and assured to him onely in the immortalitie of the second life, so also hath God from the beginning [Page 93] vntill this present and for euer, reserued to himselfe a par­ticular What homage we owe to God.homage, and that not for a time, or for certaine yeeres of his life, but to continue without intermission from time to time, namely, loue testified by obedience, which we may comprehend vnder this onely word of Du­tie, called by the philosophers, the welspring of all vertu­ous and laudable actions, and the foundation of honestie. Therefore I propound this matter to you (companions) to be discoursed vpon.

Which is the cheefe end of our being. The dutie of a good man consisteth in his good behauiour towards the chiefe and onely end of his being, compounded of these two things, the glorie of his Creator, and the loue of his neighbour. But the last vn­doubtedly dependeth of the first. For without the feare of God, men wil neuer preserue equitie and loue amongst themselues: as contrariwise the honoring of his maiestie teacheth them to liue vprightly one with another.

We ought not to assure or fortifie our selues with any other bulworke, than to do, to counsell, and to vtter al good and honest things, according to dutie, wher­unto we are called by nature, not onely for our selues, but also for the benefit and profit of many. Therefore of thee (ACHITOB) we shall vnderstand more at large what Du­tie and Honestie is.

No treatise in philosophie (saith Cicero) is so necessarie as that of Office and Dutie: forasmuch as no part of mans life, whether it be in publike or priuate af­faires, or in what action soeuer it be, either ought or may be destitute therof. For therein consisteth all honestie of life, and, if it be neglected, all infamie. And albeit most part of the ancient philosophers comprehended duty and honestie vnder vertue, affirming them to be one and the same thing, yet following the opinion of that great ora­tor and philosopher, who hath handled morall philoso­phie in very good order, we may distinguish them after this sort, saying, that dutie is the end whereunto vertue tendeth, namely, when in all our actions we obserue hone­stie and comlines. In which distinction we see neuertheles [Page 94] such a coniunction of these three things, Vertue, Dutie, and Honestie, that the one is the end of the other, the per­fection thereof consisting in all three togither. Dutie then What [...]u [...]ie is.is that, which bindeth the soule, cheerfully and willingly without force or constraint to giue to euery one that which belongeth vnto him: honor, to whom honor: re­uerence, to whom reuerence: tribute, to whom tribute: The diuision of dutie.and succor, to whom succor belongeth. This dutie is diui­ded into two generall kinds: the one is that which ap­pertaineth to the perfect and souereigne good: the other concerneth the preseruation and safetie of the common societie of men, and consisteth in morall precepts, accor­ding to which the behauior of al sorts of life may be squa­red. What dutie we owe to God and therefore.As touching the first, no doubt but all men are be­holding and bound vnto God, both for their being and preseruation thereof, as also for that abundance of goods necessarie for this life, which he powreth forth most libe­rally, both on the good and on the bad. Moreouer, Chri­stians are further tied and bound vnto him for the cer­taine hope of their saluation in his eternall sonne. For all which things he asketh nothing of vs but loue and good­will, testified by honor, reuerence, and seruice according to his holie ordinance, euery one after the measure of gifts and graces, which he hath from aboue: knowing that more is to be required of him to whom more is gi­uen. Obedience to Gods law is the mother of all vertues.This obedience being grounded vpon that rule of perfect righteousnes, which is giuen vnto vs in the law of God, is the mother and preseruer of all vertues, yea the What our dutie towards our neighbour is.beginning and roote of al goodnes. The other part of du­tie, which respecteth our neighbor, and whereof we are chiefly to intreat in this our Academie, is nothing but charity & loue of our like, as of our selues, which is greatly recommended vnto vs in the scripture, as being very re­quisit vnto salúation. This is that dutie, whereby we are bound not to do any thing against publike lawes, equitie, and profit, but to be alwaies constant in the perfect exer­cise and vse of vertue, by doing honest and seemely things for their owne sakes, and not of necessitie and constraint. [Page 95] We are not onely borne (saith Cicero) for our selues, but our countrie, parents, and friends both will and ought to reape some commoditie by our birth. For whatsoeuer is vpon earth was created for men, and they for themselues, Man created for man.that one might aide and helpe another. So that if we will follow nature, we must imploy our goods, trauell, and in­dustrie, and whatsoeuer else is in our power, in the behalfe of common commoditie, and in the preseruation of hu­mane societie: yea, that man liueth most happily, who, as little as may be, liueth to himselfe. And on the other side, no man liueth more disorderedly, than he that liueth to himselfe, and thinketh on nothing but his owne profit. This is that dutie, which requireth that for the safetie of our parents, friends and countrie, we should offer our selues to all perils, not respecting our owne profit or com­moditie. Neither ought we to esteeme any thing iust and Profit [...] be separated from honestie.profitable, except honestie: which are so linked togither, (as the philosophers say) that they can no more be sepa­rated than whitenes and cold from snow, and heate and light from fire. So that if any man be perswaded, that the rule of honestie and profit is not one and the same, he will neuer be without fraud or wickednes. For thinking thus with himselfe, this indeed is honest, but that is profitable for me, he will not feare to breake and rent a sunder all equitie ordained and appointed either by diuine or hu­mane lawes. And this diuision is the fountaine of all vice, falshood, and mischiefe. A good man (saith Plato) may not slander, steale, or lie for his owne commoditie. Is there any thing then in this world of so great value, any treasure so pretious, that ought to cause vs to loose the name of vertuous and iust? We ought rather to turne profit to­wards honestie, and that in such sort, that howsoeuer the words seeme to differ one from another, yet we should make them but one thing. Moreouer, the same diuine phi­losopher saith, that the true beautie of the soule, which is honestie, is nothing else but the brightnes of that perfect and chiefe good that appeereth in those things, which may be knowen by the eies, eares, and mind, whereby it is [Page 96] caused to returne towards the Idea and paterne of good­nes. Wherby this excellent man meaneth no other thing, than to giue vs to vnderstand, that whatsoeuer goodnes and honestie is in vs, commeth from God, as from the fountaine thereof, vnto which by the same vertue it re­turneth, leading the soule with it to liue eternally. Besides, from him and by him commeth the beginning and pro­ceeding of our good works: yea it is he that maketh vs to go forward according to true dutie, which consisteth in Two things re­quisite in euerie good worke.these two points: first, that the intention and end of our actions be rightly framed: secondly, that the like meanes to attaine to that end be found out. For these two things may agree or disagree one from another, as we see some­times the end well propounded, and yet men erre in the meanes to attaine vnto it: and contrariwise, it falleth out oftentimes, that the meanes are good, and the end pro­pounded, bad. So that it is from this liuely and euer-flow­ing fountaine, which is the cause of al good, from whence we are to looke for the perfect knowledge of our dutie, and the ends and meanes whereby to execute it, to the glorie of God, and to the good and profit of our like. And from this generall vertue, and fountaine of honestie and Fower riuers issue out of the fountaine of dutie.dutie, fower riuers issue and spring, called morall vertues: namely, Prudence, which is as a guide to the rest, and know­eth what is profitable for it selfe, for others, and for the common-wealth: Temperance, the mistres of modestie, chastitie, sobrietie, and vigilancie, and of all order and mediocritie in all things: Fortitude, which maketh a man constant, patient, couragious, hardie, and readie to enter­prise high, great, profitable, and holie things: and Iustice, which is the bond and preseruation of humane societie, by giuing to euery one that which belongeth vnto him, by keeping faith in things promised, by succoring gladly the afflicted, and by helping euery one according as abili­tie serueth. Which vertues are the true and certain goods of the soule, whereby all actions are directed according to dutie, as we shall speake particularly thereof heerafter. In the meane while let vs enter into the examples of the an­cients, [Page 97] and see how exactly and inuiolably they obserued all points of dutie, choosing rather to sacrifice their liues, than to infringe, and breake any of them, much more contemning all other weaker occasions, wherwith lewd and base-minded people suffer themselues to be easily corrupted. And first, touching the first point of dutie na­turally Examples of the zeale of the an­cients in the ser­uice of there god.imprinted in the soules of the greatest infidels, which is to acknowledge some diuinitie, with what zeale (although inconsiderate and rash) did the ancient hea­thens and pagans precisely obserue their paganisme, euen to the sacrificing and cheerfull offering vp of their owne children to their gods, as we read of the Carthaginians? What say I, their children? yea oftentimes themselues, whereof Calanus an Indian Gymnosophist serueth for a Calanus.witnes, who seeing himselfe old, after he had offered sacri­fice to the gods, bad Alexander the Great farewell, with whom he came to Babylon, and tooke his leaue also of all his other friends. Then lying along (according to the cu­stome of his countrie) vpon a little pile of wood, which he had prepared for that purpose, he caused fire to be put vn­to it, and so burned himselfe for a burnt-offering to his gods, not stirring at all, but continuing with such a won­derfull constancie, that Alexander, who was present, con­fessed himselfe to be vanquished of him in greatnes of hart, and magnanimitie of courage. Who will not admire the strict obseruation of the ancient religion of the Egyp­tians, Graecians, and Romans, mooued with a desire of yeelding the dutie of their being to the honor of a diuine nature? But for shortnes sake, and not to wander farre from the subiect of our assemblie, I passe it ouer with si­lence. Heere I will onely alledge one notable example of the Iewes, who were more zealous professors of their law, The zeale of the Iewes to their law.than euer were any people. Caius a Romane emperor, sent Petronius into Syria with commandement to make war with the Iewes, if they would not receiue his image into their temple. Which when they refused to do, Petronius said vnto them, that then belike they would fight against Caesar, not weighing his wealth, or their owne weakenes [Page 98] and vnabilitie. We will not fight (quoth they) but had ra­ther die than turne from the lawes of our God. And foorthwith casting themselues on the ground, and offe­ring their throtes, they said, that they were readie to re­ceiue the blow. In this estate (as Iosephus reporteth it) they remained for the space of fortie daies, letting slip the time which then was, of sowing their grounds. Which caused Petronius to defer the execution of his charge, and to send the declaration of these things vnto Caesar, whose death rid Of the loue which a man oweth to his countrie.the Iewes out of danger. Now we are to consider with what burning affection the ancients imbraced common benefit and safetie, seeking to profit all men, according to the true dutie of a good man, but especially their coun­trie, in whose seruice they thought it great happines to lose their liues. For truly besides the sweet affection, which nature hath imprinted in our harts towards our countrie, and the conformitie of humors, which commonly is found in our bodies with that heauenly aire wher we haue our first breathing, which seemeth to be a mutual and na­turall obligation, the reason of all humane right, and the religion of diuine equitie, besides the dutie of conscience, bind all persons to serue the publike wealth of their coun­trie, to the vttermost of their power: and that so much the rather, bicause that vnder it, the life, honor, and goods of euery particular man are comprehended. This reason Cato of Vtica.caused Cato of Vtica, a Consul and noble Romane, to an­swer one of his friends, who was come to giue him thanks for defending him in iudgement from a false accusation, that he was to thanke the Common-wealth, for whose loue onely he did, spake, and counselled all things. This also made him to vndertake the sute for the office of Tri­buneship of the people, that he might resist the faction of In what case a good man may sue for an office. Pompey, by whom he saw Metellus set on worke to sue and seeke for the same office, for the assurance of his affaires and strengthening of his league. Now is the time (quoth Cato to his friends) wherein I must imploy and bestow the power of such an office, and of so great authoritie, as a strong medicine, in time conuenient, and vpon necessarie [Page 99] causes, and either ouercome, or die honorably in the de­fence of common libertie. So likewise he opposed him­selfe as much as he could, against all nouelties and altera­tion of affaires betweene Caesar and Pompey. And when the selfesame Pompey, being desirous to win him to himselfe, sought to bring it to passe by alliance, and thereupon de­manded two of his neeces in marriage, one for himselfe, and the other for his sonne: Cato, without any longer deli­beration, answered him presently (as being netled) that caried backe the message, that he should returne to Pom­pey and tell him, that Cato was not to be taken by the meanes of women. Which was not bicause he would not haue him esteem greatly of his friendship, which he should alwaies find in him to be more sure and certaine than any alliance by marriage, so that he onely sought after and did things honest and iust, but at this time he would not giue hostages at Pompeies pleasure against the Common-welth. Afterward the affaires of Rome being brought to such necessitie through corruption of monie, and by vnlawfull and forceable meanes in procuring publike places of au­thoritie, many Senators being of opinion, that Pompey was to be chosen sole and onely Consul, Cato also was of the same mind, saying, that men ought to choose a lesse euill to meete with and to redresse greater mischiefs: and that it were better willingly to bring in a kind of mo­narchie, than to defer it so long, vntill the issue of present seditions should by force and constraint establish one. And it may be (quoth he) that Pompey will haue a longing desire to preserue the Common-wealth, when he shall see, that it is so liberally and freely committed to his fidelitie. This election being approoued and ratified, Pompey sent to seeke Cato, and hauing hartily thanked him for that ho­nor, which he had done him, requested him to be a daily assistant and Councellor vnto him in his office. To whom this graue man made answere, that he did neuer oppose himselfe heeretofore against him for any ill will he bare him, neither gaue this last counsell for any good he meant towards him, but all for the good and profit of the Com­mon-wealth. [Page 100] And as touching his priuate and particular affaires, he said, he would giue him the best counsell he could, whensoeuer he asked his aduise: but for publike matters, he would alwaies speake what he thought were best, although he neuer asked him any thing. Thus did Cato behaue himselfe al his life time as a good citizen, and as an vpright and iust man, free in speaking for the truth, and altogither void of corruption. Metellus a Senator of Rome left vs a notable testimonie, that he esteemed of Dutie, as of a sacred and inuiolable thing, when he would not sweare to the people to obserue and keepe that, which was to be ordained and established concerning a law put vp by one of the Tribunes against all right and equitie, notwithstanding that the Consul with the rest of the Senators through constraint and feare, which they had of the people, had sworne vnto it, and giuen their Metellus.promise. Then Metellus departing from the assemblie, said, that it was too easie a matter to do ill, as also a com­mon thing to do well where no danger is, but to do well when perill is certaine and sure, that was the proper dutie of an honorable and vertuous man. For this cause being banished, and making light account of the matter, he vsed these or the like speeches: When things shall be amended, the people repenting them of their error, will cal me back againe: but if the affaires continue still in the same state, wherein they now are, it will be best for a man to keepe Lycurgus.himselfe a farre of. Lycurgus after his lawes were giuen to the Lacedemonians fained that he had some thing else whereof to take counsell with Apollo concerning their estate, and therefore at his departure from Lacedaemon to go to Delphos, he caused his citizens to sweare and pro­mise, that they would keepe his lawes inuiolably vntill his returne, either dead or aliue. This done he went to the ile of Candie, where he remained in perpetuall and volunta­rie banishment, and commanded that after his death, the ashes of his bodie, being burnt should be cast into the wind, that by this meanes the Lacedaemonians might ne­uer be absolued of their oth, but that his countrie might [Page 101] alwaies receiue the fruit of his labors, for desire whereof he had freely forsaken it altogither. Marcus Otho the em­peror Marcus Otho.hath left behind him a more woonderfull example of the great loue he bare towards his countrie, for the be­nefit whereof he died willingly. For after he had lost a battell against Ʋitellius and Cecinna, fighting for the em­pire, he was solicited by the rest of his armie, which was yet of great strength, to trie fortune once againe, and to vse them and their persons as long as they had one drop of blood, and life in their bodies. And at the same time a simple soldier, hauing his sword in his hand, spake thus vnto him: Know, O Caesar, that all my companions are The couragious mind of a sol­dier.determined to die thus for thy sake, and therewithall he slue himselfe before him. Then Otho casting his eies all about, spake vnto them in this sort: I account this day more happie to me (Companions) than that other where­in ye did choose and pronounce me your emperor, behol­ding you so wel affected in my behalfe, and receiuing such honor from you with so great a demonstration of friend­ship. And if I haue been worthie to hold the empire of Rome by your election, I must now shew it, in not sparing my life for the good and safetie of my countrie. I knowe well that the victorie is not yet wholie mine enimies: and I haue receiued newes of such and such forces (which he named particularly vnto them) that are readie to ioine with vs. The Senate is on our side, and the wiues and chil­dren of our enimies are in our hands. But what? This war A notable ex­ample against ciuill war.is not against a Hannibal, or a Pirrhus, or against the Cym­brians, that we should fight for the possession of Italie, but it is against the Romans themselues: so that in this warre both the conqueror and conquered shall offend and hurt their countrie, bicause, whatsoeuer serueth for the benefit of him that ouercommeth, turneth to the dammage of the Common-wealth. Beleeue me, I know better how to die than to raigne, especially considering that I shall not so much profit the Romans, although in the end I should remaine the stronger, as now I can by sacrificing my life for the peace, vnion, and concord of my countrimen. This [Page 102] done, he tooke order for the Senators and others of his armie to retire and saue themselues: and said to a nephew of his whom he had adopted, I command thee my sonne, as the last admonition which I can giue thee, not to forget altogither, nor yet to print it too much in thy memorie, that thou hast had an vnkle, who was emperor. Then lay­ing him downe to rest, the next morning very early he tooke his sword, and turning the point thereof with both his hands against his stomacke, he fell vpon the top of it, without shewing any other token or feeling of griefe, and so died, being onely seuen and thirtie yeeres of age. Codrus Codrus.king of Athens did no lesse for his countrie. For hauing vnderstood, that the Oracle had promised and assured the victorie to the Thracians, who were enimies to the A­thenians, if they saued their king aliue, he went into their campe disguised like a handicrafts man, and slue one of their men, whereupon he was presently slaine of others, not being knowen what he was. And thus were the Thra­cians depriued of the hope of victorie, which before they accounted certaine, and in a maner gotten of the Atheni­ans. M. Curtius. Marcus Curtius a knight of Rome, who being Consul wan a notable battell against the Cymbrians, threw him­selfe headlong into a deepe gulfe, which was made in the midst of Rome by an earthquake, and which had greatly dammaged the citie. The reason moouing him so to do was, bicause the Soothsaiers had giuen out, that the gods would not be pacified and appeased towards the citie be­fore the gulfe had swalowed a man on liue. Curtius being desirous to procure the benefit and ease of the Common-wealth, would serue himselfe for this sacrifice. And so it came to passe: for presently this gulfe closed vp to the great astonishment of all the people. How shal we thinke that these, and so many others, as histories set before our eies, who haue freely offered their liues for the safetie of many, and chose rather to vndertake any danger, than to turne aside in any thing from that which they knew to be the dutie of a good man, how (I say) shall we thinke that they would haue fainted or yeelded through the entice­ments [Page 103] of honor, grace, fauor, & riches, whereby the great­nes of their courage, limited onely with the bounds of right and iustice, might haue beene weakened? But ho­ping that the sequele of our discourses will furnish vs with more ample testimonies both of this and of all the other parts of dutie, which respect euery particular action, and fearing least I haue been somewhat too long in the exam­ples alreadie alledged, we will conclude our present mat­ter with this generall instruction, that vnto what estate, qualitie, or condition soeuer men are called, they ought to propound to themselues in all their actions, Dutie and Dutie and ho­nestie are to be propounded in all our actions. Honestie, searching for them in the holie scriptures, and in the precepts of good life conformable thereunto, which are left vnto vs by the ancient Sages and wise philoso­phers, to this end, that being wel instructed in true pietie, we may first of all giue honor and glorie to God, and then be beneficiall, helpfull, and profitable to his creatures. These graces we may, by the direction and blessing of God, draw out of those fower riuers which proceed and flow from this generall vertue and fountaine of Honestie, of which we are to discourse particularly heerafter, name­ly, of Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Iustice, which are those morall vertues whereby all good and vertuous acti­ons are brought to passe.

Of Prudence. Chap. 10.

THere is one only wise, souereign Creator of al things, the almighty, strong, and terrible, who sitteth vpō his throne, frō whom com­meth Ecclus. 1. 18.al wisedom, which alwaies hath been, and is for euer with him, and which he hath powred out vpon all works, and vpon all flesh according to his liberalitie, and giueth hir abundantly to them that loue him. She teacheth the doctrine of God, and causeth vs to choose his works. She decketh vs with prudence, iustice, and courage, giuing vs the knowledge of the time past, and iudgement of that [Page 104] which is to come. The multitude of those which are en­dued with these gifts & graces are the gard of the world, and a prudent king is the assurance of his people. The sequele therfore of our speech leadeth vs to the handling of Prudence, the first riuer of the fountaine of Dutie.

Wisedome raineth downe knowledge, and wise Ecclus. 1. 23.vnderstanding, and bringeth to honor those that possesse hir. Of hir therefore we are to seeke for true Prudence, a necessarie guide to all our actions, but we must hate the prudence of the flesh, which is follie before God, and ma­keth all the thoughts of the wise of this world to become vaine and foolish. Moreouer, Cicero saith, that no man can be prudent but he must be good.

O how learnedly hath Socrates taught vs to know and marke this true and heauenly Prudence, pro­ceeding from the loue and feare of the highest, from that earthlie Prudence, which is full of darknes, when he saith, What prunence is.that Prudence is the generall vertue, the princesse and guide of morall vertues, and that wherein the knowledge of our souereigne good, and of the end of our being consisteth, as also the choice of those waies wherby we may come vnto it. But let vs heare ARAM discourse more largely of the great, woorthie, and wonderfull effects of this rich vertue.

All the life of men expressing a worthie end of their being, consisteth in contemplation and action. For knowing that the thoughts of all mortall men are vnstable, and their inuentions vncertaine, bicause the bo­die and the affections thereof oppresse the soule, and cast downe the spirit loden with care, they lift vp their harts towards the brightnes of the eternall light, who of his meere grace prepareth their soules, lighteneth their vn­derstandings, and directeth their paths to the knowledge of that true and perfect Idea of Good, from whence Pru­dence floweth, that she may gouerne their actions accor­ding to Gods will, and to the profit of humane societie. The effects of the vertue of prudence.Therefore it is from knowledge and reason gotten in the studie of wisedome by the grace of God, from whence the vertue of Prudence proceedeth, which is that rule of all [Page 105] the actions of man, whereby through good and sage ad­uice he discerneth and chooseth good from bad, that which is profitable from the contrarie, to the end he may shun the one and practise the other. This is that which A­ristotle saith, that the office of Prudence consisteth in skill to consult and to choose, to the end to execute that which vertue commandeth, namely, Honestie and decencie, and that for no other respect than for the loue thereof. And The difference betweene sci­ence and prudence.therfore wise men haue put a difference betweene Science and Prudence, saying, that Science is a dead knowledge of things, which of it selfe cannot change the will in such sort, that it may imbrace and follow the knowen good, or auoid the euill: which is euident in wicked men endued with knowledge. But Prudence is a beame proceeding from that true sunne, which doth not only illuminate and lighten the vnderstanding, but also warmeth and kindleth the affection. This vertue (saith Bias one of the Sages of Prudence com­pared to the sight.Graecia) is amongst the rest of the vertues, as the sight is amongst the fiue senses of mans bodie: thereby giuing vs to vnderstand, that as the eie, of al the other senses is most beautifull, subtill, and pearcing, so the vertue of Prudence by hir quicke and cleere light directeth and conducteth al vertues in their good and commendable operations. It is by hir that man is alwaies clothed with a milde and set­led disposition, whereof he standeth no lesse in need, than a ship floating on the sea doth of the presence of a pilot, that he may prudently vndertake, & wisely execute what­soeuer he knoweth to be good, after mature deliberation, and consideration of all the circumstances of the fact. Morall philosophers attributed three eies to this vertue Prudence hath three eies.of Prudence, namely, Memorie, Vnderstanding, and Pro­uidence: which three things Cicero calleth the parts of Prudence. With the first she beholdeth the time past: with the second, the time present: with the third, the time to come. Moreouer, a prudent and wise man, by the conside­ration of things past: and of that which hath followed since, iudgeth of that, which in the like case may fall out in the time following. And after long deliberation, he ex­pecteth [Page 106] the times, waigheth the dangers, and knoweth the occasions: and then, yeelding now and then to the times, but alwaies to necessitie, so it be not against dutie, he boldly setteth his hand to the worke. For this cause Iso­crates said, that a prudent man ought to remember things past, to vse things present, and to foresee things to come. A prudent man (saith Demosthenes) accounteth it a point of follie to say when a thing is com to passe, Who would haue thought it could haue beene? Now Prudence is apparant in him that possesseth hir, first by the rule and gouernment of his person, whether it be in things within him, as in his maners and conditions, or in outward things concerning his bodie, as in sobrietie of diet, comely intertainment, good house-keeping, commendable vse of his substance and riches. Of which perfections and other praise-wor­thie effects, that flow from Prudence vnder the name of sundrie vertues, we are to intreat particularly heerafter, as also how a prudent man being adorned with them may first become a good Oeconomist, that is, a gouernor and father of a familie, and after attaine to that great vertue of politicall knowledge, which is the art of skilfull gouer­ning & ruling a multitude of men. And then although he doubt not, but that it is an act of Prudence to know what is good and profitable for the Common-wealth, yet that he may knowe howe to execute that office with a perfect and absolute vertue, he seeketh for all occasions to profit the same, and vnto what place of authoritie soeuer he be The praise-wor­thy effects of prudence.called, he alwaies sheweth foorth dutifull effects of a good man. He neuer giueth or taketh but good counsel, and al­waies vttereth the same freely. He is able (saith Plato) to discerne the good from the bad. He helpeth innocencie, and correcteth malice. He is not astonished for any feare, nor altereth his mind for dispraise or commendation: he is not discouraged through violence or false accusations, neither is pressed downe with sorrow, or puffed vp with prosperitie. And as one not ignorant of the vncertaintie of worldly things, he abideth constant in all changes, and like to himselfe, knowing how to choose the lesse euill in [Page 107] all inconueniences, as the better. He sheweth himselfe va­liant in all things. He is maister of his pleasures, & know­eth how to command himselfe. He can reape profit by most sinister accidents, yea by his greatest enimies, and yet hurt them not. The conuersation of the prudent is al­waies healthfull and profitable. His quips, his laughters, his sports are not without some fruit, hauing in them a certaine power to correct and moue those that do amisse. He beleeueth not (saith Heraclitus) any thing lightly, but is a seuere examiner of the truth. To be short, Prudence causeth a man to refer all his actions both priuate and publike to the best end, which is, to serue God, and to profit his neighbor. This did Socrates teach very well, say­ing, that All the desires and inclinations of our soule gui­ded by prudence tende to happines. Wherin we may note The coniuncti­on of all the vertues.the indissoluble coniunction of all the morall vertues, of which no one can be had perfectly, but with hir compani­ons, albeit ech of them haue hir particular & proper du­tie. But prudence is especially necessarie in them all, as it will yet better appeere in the further handling therof, al­beit the effects hereunder mentioned of this first vertue being narrowly considered, may giue vs sufficient proofe thereof. Now to incite and stir vs vp to imbrace it with greater zeale and affection, and to seeke after all meanes of obtaining it, either by good instruction, or by long vse of things, let vs call to mind certaine examples of the an­cients, thereby to marke what woonderful fruits this ver­tue of Prudence hath brought foorth in them. If we consi­der all the heroicall facts of the worthiest captaines and generals of armies that euer were, we shall finde that they brought them to passe more by prudence, than by any other force and meane. Which thing Alexander the great, and first Monarke of the Graecians knowing very well, whensoeuer any speech or comparison was made before him of Vertue or Science, he alwaies had this verse of Ho­mer in his mouth: In counsell wise, and valiant in the fight: as if he would haue said, that of all vertues Prudence was most prince-like, and that prowesse was practised by [Page 108] meanes thereof. And indeed he being richly endued ther­with, vndertooke the conquest of the Persian empire, yea of all the world, when he had but thirtie thousand foote­men, Of the pru­dence of Alex­ander.and fower thousand horsemen, with monie and vic­tuals to furnish them onely for thirtie daies. But what? The meanes wherunto he trusted was Prudence, followed of Patience, Valure and Temperancie, wherewith the stu­die of philosophy had furnished him for his voiage. In this iourney he did not onely in two battailes ouerthrowe Darius monarke of the Persians, who had aboue twelue hundred thousand men, but also brought vnder subiecti­on fifteene sundry nations, and tooke fiue thousand ci­ties and townes, and laboured to put in reall execution & practise that forme of gouernment of estate, which was so greatly esteemed of Zeno the Stoick philosopher, & ten­ded in effect to this end, that all men generally might liue togither, not being diuided by townes, peoples and nati­ons, nor separated by particuler lawes, rightes & customes, but that we should take all men for our countrimen and fellow citizens: that as there is but one world, so there might be but one kinde of life. Thus did this prudent and vertuous monarck giue out that he was sent from heauen to be a common refourmer, gouernour, and reconcilour of the whole world, so that he imploied all his might to reduce and bring to ciuilitie barbarous kings, to plant Graecian cities, that they might liue ciuilly amongst the vntamed and sauage nations, and established euery where lawes and a peaceable kinde of life, euen amongst vnbri­deled people, who neuer heard word spoken either of peace or lawes. Those whom he could not assemble toge­ther by perswasion of reason, he constrained by force of armes, so that he caused them all to drinke as ye would say, in the same cup of loue & friendship, by intermingling their liues, maners, mariages and fashions of liuing. He commanded that al men liuing should account the whole habitable earth for their country, and his campe, for their castle and tower of defence, and that all good men should be of kin one to another, and the wicked onely strangers. [Page 109] Moreouer, he willed, that the Graecian and Barbarian should no more be distinguied by their garments, but that the Graecian should be knowne and discerned by vertue, and the Barbarian by vice, accounting all ver­tuous men Graecians, and all vicious men Barbarians. Therefore Plutark said very well, that they who were ta­med and brought vnder his yoke were a great deale more happie than those that escaped his power, bicause these men had none to cause them to leaue of from liuing mi­serablic, and the other were compelled by the conqueror to liue happily. Whereby he deserued no lesse the name of a great philosopher, than did Pythagoras, Socrates and others, who although they wrote nothing, yet were so cal­led, for their maner of life, and for that which they spake, did and taught. In all which things Alexander approch­ing next vnto them, went also beyond them in this, that they taught men of good vnderstandings, namely such as were Graecians as well as themselues, and that without great paine and trauell: but this monark sustaining infi­nite labor, and cheerefully sheading his bloud did change into a better estate, and reformed the rude maners of in­numerable sauage people, euen of such as were brutish by nature. Now let vs speake of Caesar the first Romaine Em­perour. Was it not prudence especially that prepared Of the pru­dence of Pulius Caesar.the way for him to so mightie an empire, first by reconci­ling together Crassus and Pompey, two of the greatest Ro­maine Senators, by whose fauor he obtained afterwardes the dignitie of Consulship? When he was placed therin, being desirous to win the good wil of the people & know­ing that he was alreadie well vnder propped of the Sena­tours, he preserred many lawes in their behalfe. Besides he was very sumptuous and popular, if euer any Romaine was, not sparing any cost vpon plaies, turneies, feastes, largesses, and other baits to curry fauor with the meaner sort of the people, and to gaine the honor and credire of a man that is gratious and charitable towards the poore. And when he was sent to take vpon him the gouernment of the Gaules, he warred there ten yeeres, being guided [Page 110] by an vnspeakable prudence, that was accompanied with diligence and forecast: so that by vsing all occasions wise­ly & to purpose, he subdued there three hundred sundry nations, tooke eight hundred townes & in manie battels discomfited three millions of men. The commentaries which he wrote himselfe, declare sufficiently that his own vertue wrought more exploits than all his armie. Of this also he gaue proofe enough in the beginning of the ciuill warre betweene him and Pompey, wherein he vsed such di­ligence, that comming out of Fraunce he made himselfe maister of all Italy in threescore daies, without any effu­sion of bloud, and droue away his enimy. And Cicero, who (as some say) conspired his death, in an epistle calleth him Caesar noted two faults in Pompey.a monster of prudence and of incredible diligence. Was it not prudence whereby he noted two faults in Pompey, which after were the cause of his ouerthrow? The first in an incounter of their armies, wherein Caesar being at that time the weaker had the woorst. And when he perceiued that his enimy pursued him not, but retired to his campe, he said. The victorie this day was in the power of our eni­mies, but their captaine could not perceiue it. The other fault which he noted was at the battel of Pharsalia, where Pompey was quite ouerthrowne, because he charged his souldiers being ranged in battell to stand still in their places, and so to attend their enimies. Then Caesar saide, that in so dooing Pompey tooke from his souldiers the ve­hemencie and violence of giuing the onset, which is as a spurre vnto them in their race, besides the heate of cou­rage which this speedie running forward worketh in thē. We see then how necessarie this vertue of prudence is in Agesilaus.feats of warre, which caused Agesilaus king of Lacedemo­nia, after great losses sustained by the violence of Epami­nondas, the generall captaine of the Thebanes, to say to his men, that they should not greatly care for the multitude of their enimies, but bend all their force against Epami­nondas onely, bicause none but wise & prudent men were valiant, and the onely cause of victorie. And therefore if they could beate him downe, they should vndoubtedly [Page 111] haue the rest at their deuotion. As indeed it came to passe in that battell which they fought togither, wherein the Lacedemonians halfe discomfited, one of those that fled being pursued by Epaminondas, turned back and slew him: The losse of a capt [...]e is com­monly cause of the ruine of an am [...]e.wherupon the rest tooke such courage, and the Thebans were so dismaied, that the victorie remained with Age­silaus. Now if in warfare prudence beareth such a stroake, who doubteth but that in ciuil and politike gouernment she is as necessarie, or rather more? Diuine Plato in his booke of a common-wealth saith, that if a man woulde do notable acts woorthy of perfect praise in the admini­stration of the common-wealth, he must haue prudence and iustice, followed of power and fortune. But we may further say, that onely prudence hath set aloft and preser­ued many great estates from ruine and subuersion. The Athenians being diuided and banded into three contra­rie The prudence of Solon.parts and factions, Solon being very prudent and wise, would not ioine himselfe to any of them, but kept him­selfe indifferent to all, practising & speaking whatsoeuer he could deuise to ioine & reconcile them togither again. Wherein he behaued himselfe so well, that being chosen by them all for the onely pacisier and reformer of their estate, he placed it in greater glorie than euer it was in be­fore, by his prudent and wise lawes which were receiued The prudence of Lycurgus.as inuiolable. The prudence of Lycurgus, the reformer and lawmaker of the Lacedemonians, was the cause of the maintenance of their estate aboue fiue hundred yeeres, so that it was the chiefest in all Graecia both for glorie and excellencie of gouernment, from whence they fell not vn­till such time as they wholy neglected those goodly ordi­nances and lawes which he left them. A prudent man al­waies gineth good counsalle, and vttereth the same free­ly, being also a good and willing helpe to innocencie. Phocion speaking his minde one day in the counsell cham­ber Phocion.of the Athenians, against the enterprising of a certain war, and seeing that his aduise so greatly displeased them, that they would not giue him leaue to vtter his minde, he spake freely vnto them in this maner: Ye may perad [...]n­ture [Page 112] (O Athenians) force me to do that which ought not to be done, but ye can not constraine me to speake any thing contrary to my opinion that ought not to be spo­ken or counsailed. Demosthenes knowing the innocencie of a poore woman drawne into iudgement with danger of being ouerthrowne, saued hir by his great prudence. The prudence of Demosthenes in defending the innocencie of a poore woman.For two strangers hauing giuen hir a good summe of mo­ney, to keepe with this condition, that she should not re­store it to the one except the other were also present, within a while after one of them came very sorrowfull fai­ning that his companion was dead, and bringing some counterfeit token therof with him. Wherupon he so per­swaded this poore woman, who ment simply plainely, that she restored the monie to him. Afterwards the other came, & demanding the money also, brought this woman before a iudge, who being without hope of escaping, De­mosthencs answered for hir, that she offred to giue him the money so that he brought his fellow, bicause, as himselfe confessed, she ought not to giue it to the one without the How a prudent man may reape benefit by his enimies, and by mishaps.other. The profite which a prudent man draweth from his enimies is in this, that he knoweth and taketh them for spies, for enuiers at his life, and ioint-labourers with him for honor and glory: wherupon he is the more care­full that his dooings may be blameles. And to this pur­pose Diogenes answered wisely to one, who demanded how he might be auenged on his enimie: By making thy selfe (quoth he) a vertuous and good man. Most finister accidents likewise turne to the profite of a prudent man. For being long time before prepared for all euents, the woorst that happen confirme him further in the know­ledge of the vncertaintie of humaine things, and lift him vp so much the more to the contemplation of heauenly things, that he may desire nothing but the blessed im­mortalitie Anaxagoras.of the soule. Anaxagoras hearing newes of his sonnes death, said nothing but this, that he knew he had begotten him a mortall creature. The foresight of pru­dence The prudent foresight of [...].maketh it also to be greatly admired. Marcus Cato, when he saw that Pompey ioined himselfe in league with [Page 113] Caesar, told him, that he did put Caesars yoke vpon his own necke, which then he perceiued not, but that shortly it would weigh heauy vpon him, and then should he finde himselfe taken and tied. A prudent man is not amased through feare either of blame or of false accusation, but alwaies goeth with his head vpright, trusting to his inno­cencie, and to his owne vertue. Scipio Africanus being ac­cused of many things by the Tribunes of the people, an­swered nothing to the crimes laid against him, but onely saide thus: In such a day as this is, sirs, I ouercame both The prudence of Scipio in an­swering to an vniust accusa­tion.Carthage and Hannibal, and therefore I am now going to the Capitoll to sacrifice to Iupiter the best and greatest God, and to giue him thanks for the victory. In the meane while if any man long to proceed against me in iudge­ment, let him do it. After he had so said, he went towards the Capitoll, being followed of his friends, and of the greater part of the Senators. When the people saw this, they likewise accompanied him, so that in stead of con­demning him, they caused him in a maner to triumph a­gaine. Emilius Scaurus being also accused of a certaine Emilius Scau­rus.crime by Varius, made this onely answer: O ye Romanes, Ʋarius affirmeth this crime laid against me to be true, and Scaurus denieth it: whom will ye rather beleeue? By this wise and couragious answere he made the accusation of no effect, bicause his honestie was well knowen to euery one. The conuersation, assemblies, laughters, quips, and pastimes of prudent men are neuer without some profit. Plato in his booke intituled Conuiuium, that is, a feast, dis­courseth of the last end of mens actions, and of the soue­reigne and chiefe good of man, but yet in very familiar speeches, by certaine examples, and pleasant fictions, and deuises fit for the time and place, and not with serious and graue words, as he vseth to do in his other writings. Moreouer, learned deuises are the sports and delights of The sports of prudent men.wise men, who account all other pastimes vaine and vn­beseeming them, and as hinderances and lets rather of their pleasure, than occasions of any recreation. Notwith­standing, wisely applying themselues to places & persons, [Page 114] they can in their serious discourses intermingle some ho­nest pastimes, but yet not altogither without profit. As Plato in his foresaid feast interlaceth certaine comicall speeches of loue, how beit all the rest of the supper there was nothing but wise discourses of philosophie. A Lace­demonian Pleasant sayings ful of doctrine.being asked of a certaine matter by an other, answered cleane contrarie to the truth. And when the other told him that he lied, behold (quoth he againe) what a foole thou art to aske me that, which thou know­est well ynough. Diogenes in a great assemblie of people, purposely going backward, and seeing that euery one laughed at him, asked them alowd if they were not asha­med to mocke him for going backward when he walked, whereas they did so all their life time. And as Aristippus on a time beheld him washing of coleworts for his supper, he said vnto him: If thou didst know (Diogenes) how to obey kings, and to seeke them out, thou wouldest not wash coleworts. And thou Aristippus (quoth he) if thou knewest how to wash coleworts, thou wouldest not serue kings, but liue at libertie. What profitable doctrine may a man draw out of these philosophicall disports and iests? Fur­ther, A prudent man doth not ouer­lightly beleeue any thing.a prudent man neuer beleeueth any thing ouer­lightly, but laieth aside all reputation and credit of him that speaketh, and examineth the speech by it selfe: so far is he from giuing credit to an ignorant or naughtie fel­low. Neither will he be dazeled with fine and eloquent speech, but (as Zeno said) considereth whether his speech be tempered with sense and reason, that so he may iudge foundly of the truth, and take order thereafter. O what number of examples to this purpose might be alledged of the great harme that hath followed the credulitie and light beliefe of magistrates, gouernors, and heades of monarchies and nations. Alas, our poore France hath but too great experience thereof to hir confusion and and destruction. But this matter may offer it selfe heer­after to be more amply handled, as also other effects of Prudence, which I haue briefly touched. In the meane while we will conclude, that Prudence is an excellent gift [Page 115] of God, that it is the guide and light of all the morall ver­tues, from whence all good and noble actions haue their being and beginning, and that without it a man can do nothing that is excellent and praise-worthy.

Of want of prudence and of Ignorance, of malice and subtiltie. Chap. 11.

NO man (saith diuine Plato) can be hurt or deceiued but by himselfe. Which proposi­tion at the first sight may seeme somwhat absurd. But if, being well instructed in philosophie, we wil follow the opinion of the ancient Sages, that Whatsoeuer How none can be hurt but by himselfe. we see of the bodie subiect to sight, is not man, but that the soule onely, which is inuisible and immortall, is that which truly ought to be called man, and that whereby we liue, and for which we ought to liue, it is out of doubt, that none can hurt our soules but our selues. The kniues wherewith we hurt our soules are either want of prudence, or Malice, which are as perniti­ous things, as can come to man, seeing by them he com­mitteth all sinnes and offences whatsoeuer, and by them hurteth himselfe onely, when as oftentimes he thinketh to offend another. As then in our former discourse we haue scene the laudable effects of Vertue and Prudence, so let vs now consider my Companions of the dangerous fruits of these two vices, which are altogither contrarie vnto it.

If the blind lead the blind both will fall into the pit: and he that knoweth his maisters will, and doth it not, shall be much more chasticed than the igno­rant. So that both want of prudence and malice are two plagues in the soule greatly to be feared: and therefore Bias saith, Be neither simple nor subtill.

Herillus the Chalcedonian affirmed, that Sci­ence was the souereigne good. But we see contrariwise many excellent men for skill and doctrine, who liue most wickedly. So that in my opinion if it be not accompanied [Page 116] with vertuous deedes, it ought rather to be called the chiefest euil: forasmuch as he that sinneth through igno­rance, is more excusable than the malitious, who sinneth Vertuous acti­ons are to be ioined with knowledge.wittingly. And for defence of my saying, besides the au­thoritie of the scripture, I haue Plato, who saith, that Sci­ence without the knowledge and practise of that which is good, is very pernitious. But let vs harken to AMANA, who will discourse vnto vs more at large of these two vi­ces, want of discretion, and malice or subtiltie.

All vertue being in the midst of two vices, the one of them is cleane contrarie vnto it, and the other being more dangerous, seeketh to couer it selfe with hir name, and it is called of the philosopher a false follower of vertue. For this cause they placed want of prudence, which vice is in the defect, at the right hand of prudence: and at the left hand, Malice or Craft, which is the excesse, and causeth a man to sinne, not through ignorance, but by deceit and subtiltie, and that vnder the name of Pru­dence. First then let vs consider of want of prudence or vnskilfulnes, and of the effects thereof in the soule. Vn­skilfulnes What want of prudence is.proceeding, or rather being the same thing that ignorance is, causeth a man (as Aristotle saith) to iudge euil of things, to deliberate worse, not to know how to take the aduantage of present good things, but to conceiue ill of those things that are good and honest in mans life. And as Prudence is the knowledge of that which ought to be done or left vndone, so vnskilfulnes is the ignorance of those selfe same things, and is alwaies followed of incon­tinencie, of want of ciuilitie, and of forgetfulnes. Briefly, want of prudence is so contagious and pestilent a thing in the mind of man, that all other infirmities of the spirit, wherewithall it is commonly molested, and all euill acti­ons seeme to proceed from the same. And truly whereso­euer it is, there neither God can be truly honored and ser­ued, nor vice auoided, nor any action, either publike or priuate can be orderly, and according to dutie executed. For as a weake and diseased sight cannot behold the light of the sunne, so an vnskilfull soule cannot know the truth, [Page 117] Vnskilfulnes causeth a man to fall into seueritie, when he The pernitious effects of igno­rance.thinks to exercise iustice. If he would be liberall, he be­commeth prodigall. If he thinketh to auoid superfluitie, he falleth into couetousnes. If he haue any apprehension of the diuine nature, he consumeth his soule with a confu­sed feare through superstition. If his mind cannot con­ceiue that there is a most happy and blessed nature, forth­with he iudgeth, that there is none at all: and thus guided by ignorance all his desires and inclinations tend to wret­chednes and miserie. Moreouer, Plato saith, that igno­rance taketh away the sight of the mind from those that are tainted therewith, as blindnes taketh away the sight of corporall eies from those that lacke their sight. And further he testifieth, that the ignorant mind is vile and wretched, and that it is more expedient not to liue at all, than to liue in ignorance. But if we giue credit to Cicero, he onely liueth indeed and possesseth a soule, who setling himselfe to some good matter, seeketh after renowme by some notable fact, or by some good art. It is good (saith Socrates) to leaue off altogither the vse of that thing wher­of we haue no skill to vse it well. And so for those that know not how to vse their eies, eares, and whole bodie, it were more profitable neither to see, heare, or helpe them­selues any way with their bodie. In like maner it were bet­ter for him that knoweth not how to use his soule, to haue none at all, than to liue. And if he must needs liue, being borne, he should be happier in the estate of a slaue than of a free man. The speech of this wise philosopher expoun­deth it selfe sufficiently, as tending to no other end than to giue vs to vnderstand, that it is better not to be, yea ne­uer to haue been borne, than through ignorance to fol­low vice: and further, that it is more dangerous when a man may freely do so without feare of any greater than himselfe. For as droonkennes engendreth rage and mad­nes, so (saith Aristotle) ignorance ioined with power be­getteth insolencie and furie. And it is all one (as Plato saith) to place an ignorant man in authoritie, as to lay a great burden vpon the shoulders of a man halfe dead [Page 118] through weakenes. All these things make me iudge an ig­norant man to be, I will not onely say, like an image or blocke of wood, but in a maner nothing differing from brute beasts. This caused the ancients to vse this saying: All ignorant men are euill.that Euery ignorant man was euill. And Terence going yet fur­ther saith, that The earth beareth nothing worse than an ignorant man. And in truth what mischiefs do we not see to come of ignorance? If a man be of a meane or base The effects of ignorance both in rich & poore.estate, it maketh him good for nothing, fearfull, supersti­tious, vnprofitable, needie, vnciuill, slothfull, and vnfit to euery good thing. If he be mightie and rich, besides that he may fall into the said miseries through the same imper­fection, he will so much the sooner become arrogant, cru­ell, rash, talkatiue, couetous, vnconstant, giuen to voluptu­ousnes, and vniust. In a word, the more meanes he shall haue to exercise vices, the richer in them will he grow to be through ignorance: and so not being able to gouerne himselfe, he must needs be vnwoorthie to intermeddle at all either in politicall or Oeconomicall gouernment. If an ignorant man possesse any great benefit or felicitie, he can neuer know so much, before he hath lost it againe. More­ouer, this mischiefe followeth him, that he can neuer make his profit of any good counsell, bicause of the pre­sumption of his owne opinion, which he alwaies thinketh better than any other: yea he supposeth that nothing can be well done except he put to his helping hand. For (as Menander saith) nothing is so rash as ignorance. And the more that an ignorant man is lift vp vnto some excellen­cie of dignitie or riches, the more vnsufferable he is, as one that knoweth not how to vse them: so that he is puffed vp with pride aboue measure, and not content with his estate, but driuen with ambition, he presumeth often­times to vndertake things against all reason and equitie. And contrariwise if fortune change, he abaseth himselfe out of measure, shewing nothing but abiection of mind, inconstancy and impatiencie, and that with so great trou­ble and disquietnes of spirit, that oftentimes he is wholie besides himselfe. Now these are but small fruits of igno­rance, [Page 119] namely, to make a man importunate: to cause him Common effects of ignorance.to stay another that hath great affaires, saying, that he hath many things to communicate vnto him, when in truth they will do him but small pleasure: to desire one that hath lost his suite to bestow a dinner vpon him, pro­mising to tell him a way how he may recouer it againe: to speake ill of women, when he is inuited to weddings, or in their companie: to request him to walke that hath alreadie gone a great way: when he seeth a thing sold to bring a chapman to the seller, who would haue giuen a great deale more for it: to repeate one thing oftentimes: to shew himselfe readie to do that which a man would not haue him to do, and yet dare not well denie it him: to woonder at all things, and to speake all in a word, an vn­skilfull man is alwaies in all places and in all affaires vn­ciuill and impertinent. The examples of these foresaid ef­fects are but too familiar amongst vs. And first concer­ning these of small and meane estate and condition, how many millions of men haue there been in the ages past, and do liue yet among vs, whose life being ignorant of euery good cause and reason, is not much vnlike, and in The spring of all errors.many things worse than that of brute beasts. The origi­nall of so many errors, foolish opinions, and impieties, hath it not had passage through the midst of their soules, bicause they had no true knowledge of the end of their being, nor of his will by whom they liue? From thence it commeth, that the best aduised among them exercise base handicrafts, not being desirous to learne further: that some lead a seruile and contemptible life, bringing their bodies and soules in subiection to the lusts and wicked desires of the greater sort: that others remaine idle and vnprofitable seeking to maintaine their liues by vnlawfull meanes: that all through a blockish ignorance depriue themselues of all present and eternall felicitie. Now albe­it these poore men, who haue no great meanes to execure their wicked desires, may after a sort seeme tollerable and excuseable to mans iudgement, bicause their ignorance doth not greatly hurt any but themselues, yet it falleth [Page 120] out far worse with those that haue wealth at will, and authoritie to command others, who not knowing how to vse their goods well by vertuous deeds, abuse them to all vice, dissolutenes, and pleasure: whereby for the most part they cast themselues headlong into infidelitie and Atheisme, bicause they neuer had true vnderstanding of the perfect diuinitie, nor yet considered the perfection of his works both in heauen & earth. O pitifull calamity The reasons which mooued the heathen to beleeue that there was a di­uinitie.abounding in this our age more than euer it did. A thou­sand millions of Pagans and heathens considering that there was nothing to be misliked in the heauens, neither any negligence, disorder, or confusion in the moouing of the stars, nor in the seasons of the yeere, nor in their reuo­lutions, nor in the course of the sunne about the earth, which causeth the day and the night, no not in the nou­rishing and preseruation of all sorts of liuing creatures, nor in the generation of yeerly fruits, and for a thousand other good considerations, beleeued and worshipped one supreme eternall essence, which gouerneth all things. And shall they that carie the name of Christians, to whom the vnspeakable treasures of the heauens haue been opened and offered with innumerable graces, shall they, I say, doubt, yea impudently denie that there is a God? But let vs returne to our matter. It is most certaine, that the high­er that ignorant men are aduanced, so much without que­stion are their faults greater than those of meaner estate, bicause they are hurtfull to many. Yea oftentimes it hath come to passe, that one onely fault of such a man hath been the losse and destruction of an infinite number of Nicias feared an eclipse of the moone.men. Nicias the general captain of the Athenians, through the feare which he had conceiued of the darkness of an Eclipse of the moone, and not knowing the cause thereof, staied so long vntill his enimies had inclosed him round about: whereupon he was taken aliue of them, and put to death, besides the losse of fortie thousand Athenians Caligula and Domitian.that were taken and slaine. Who doubteth but that igno­rance draue Caligula & Domitian into such pride & cru­eltie, that whilst they sought to be worshipped in stead of [Page 121] the true God, they were the cause of the death & destruc­tion of more than a hundred thousand men? In the time Otho 1.of Otho the first there fell a stone from heauen, which asto­nished all Germanie, and turned them from prosecuting an enterprise of great waight and importance for the be­nefit of their countrie. If they had knowen it to be a na­turall thing, and such as had come to passe long before, as Aristotle affirmeth, they had not been so fearfull, nor re­ceiued that dammage to the detriment of the Common-wealth, which came to them afterward. That speech of Anaxagoras a Greeke philosopher, agreeable heerunto, is worthie to be remembred, when he said, that a man ought Anaxagoras saying against the superstitious feare of celesti­all signes.to driue out of himselfe, and to tread vnder his feete all superstitious feare of the heauenly signes and impressions of the aire, which worke great terror in them that are ig­norant of their causes, and that feare the gods with a for­lorne and amased feare, bicause they want that certaine knowledge that philosophie bringeth, which in stead of a trembling and alwaies terrifying superstition, engendreth true deuotion, accompanied with an assured hope of good. Let vs looke a little into our Chronicles, and consi­der what profit our kings receiued by their ignorance, when they were called Simple, when they stood but for images, and were seene of their subiects but once a yeere. They suffered their wise maisters of the palace to take knowledge of, and to order and rule all things, who de­priuing them as vnworthie of all authoritie, tooke posses­sion in the end of their crowne. And surely it is no lesse pernitious for the greater sort to aduance ignorant men to charges and places of honor, and to vse their counsell, than to be ignorant themselues. For (as we said) ignorance causeth him that is aduanced to forget himselfe, and lif­teth him vp into all pride. There are amongst vs too many examples of the ambition and presumption of many ig­norant men, who, contrarie to Torquatus that refused the Consulship, bicause of his diseased eies, altogither blind as they are, deafe, dumbe, and destitute of all natural light, of prudence and experience to guide themselues, are not [Page 122] contented to manage the sailes and tacklings, but desire to haue the rudder of the Common-welth in their hands. And it is greatly to be feared, that such vnskilfull and am­bitious Cleander a trai­tor to Commo­dus his Lord.men will in the end shew themselues both in will and practise to be imitators of one Cleander an outlandish slaue, who being preferred by Commodus the emperor to goodlie offices and great places of honor, as to be great maister of his men of war, and his chiefe chamberlaine, conspired notwithstanding against his Lord, seeking to attaine to the imperiall dignitie by feditions, which he stirred vp in Rome betweene the people and the soldiers. But through good order taken, his enterprise tooke no effect, except the losse of his owne head, and destruction of his house. Although oftentimes it falleth out cleane contrarie through the iust punishment of God, for the ig­norance and impietie as well of the monarks themselues, as of their people. Now if fortune turne hir selfe about, and set hir selfe neuer so little against an ignorant person, he is straightway ouercome with a thousand perturbati­ons, and vrged with despaire, as being only grounded be­fore vpon the vaine and weake hope and confidence in externall and vncertaine goods. Perses, king of Macedo­nia, and one of the successors of Alexander the great in his The hase mind of Perses being ouercome of Emilius.great conquests, but not in his vnspeakable vertues, was ouercome in battel by Paulus Emilius, chiefe captain of the Romans, & was led towards him. Emilius, as soon as he saw him, arose from his seate, and went forward to receiue and honor him, as being a great personage, and fallen in­to that mishap by the hazard of fortune. But Perses, being wholie beaten downe through faintnes and basenes of mind, cast himselfe at his feete vpon the ground with his face downeward, vsing such abiect requests and supplica­tions, and so vnbeseeming the vertue of a king, that the Conqueror could not abide them, but said thus vnto him: Alas poore ignorant man as thou art, how dost thou by discharging fortune accuse thy selfe in this sort to be the onely cause of this ill successe that is befallen thee, seeing thou neuer deseruedst that honor, which thou hast had [Page 123] heeretofore, bicause of thy base mind within thee, which hath made thee an vnwoorthy aduersary of the Romans? And truly a man cannot iustly be called through the be­nefit of fortune, but by knowing how to vse hir well and wisely both in prosperitie & aduersitie. As for an ignorant & baseminded man, the higher that fortune lifteth him vp in great estate where he shal be viewed of many, so much the more shee discouereth, descrieth & dishonoreth him. For great calling, & riches are no more able to lift vp the hart of a base minded fellow, than pouerty can abate and lessen the great courage of a noble hart. I could here al­leadge many mo examples of the pernicious effects that are (as we haue said) wrought in the soule by ignorāce, but hereafter they will come in more fitly, when we shall dis­course particulerly of vices. Onely I say here with Plato, that arrogant ignorance hath now more than euer seazed vpon the minds of men, & filled them with euils, as being the roote and spring of them: that it peruerteth al things, & causeth him that possesseth hir to taste in the ende of a most bitter fruite. Nowe to come to malice and crafte, What malice and craft are.which is the excesse of prudence, it is that which leadeth a man through wilfull ignorance, to oppose himselfe a­gainst that which he knoweth to be dutifull and honest, causing him vnder the counterfaite name of prudence to seeke to deceiue those that will beleeue him. This vice is the chiefe cause of ambition and couetousnes, which most men serue in these daies: but aboue all things it is an enimie to iustice, causing all their actions to tende to the ouerthrow thereof. To this purpose Cicero saith, that the craftier and subtiler a man is, the more he is to be suspec­ted and hated, as one that hath lost al credite of goodnes. All knowledge seuered from iustice ought rather to be called craft and malice than science and prudence. Nei­ther is the onely act of malice (as the same author saith) euill & wicked, but also the deliberation therof although it take no effect, yea the onely thought thereof is vile and detestable: so far is it, that any couering or cloake can ex­cuse a fault committed of malice. Also he saith, that in de­liberating, [Page 124] Vertuous men seeke after ho­nest, not secret things.all hope of concealing and hiding the fact must be taken away, forasmuch as vertuous men ought to seeke after honest, not secret things. Moreouer it is the propertie of a malicious man to choose hypocrisie and dissimulation for his companions. Besides he hath for his first author and father, sathan, who by his subtiltie and Satan the father of malice and subtiltie.craft abused the simplicitie of our first mother to the o­uerthrow of all mankind. Amongst many we may note here the example of Nero a most cruell emperor, who being instructed from his youth by that wise man Seneca his schoolemaster, in the beginning of his empire coun­terfaited so great bountifulnes and clemencie, that when he was to set his hand to the condemnation of one adiud­ged to die, he cried out and said, Would to God I had no learning, then should I be excused from subscribing to The malice of Nero.any mans death. Notwithstanding within a while after he disclosed his detestable impiety and cruelty, by putting to death his mother, his tutor and a great number of ho­nest men against all right and iustice. Moreouer he pur­posely caused fire to be put into all quarters of Rome, forbidding vnder paine of death that any should quench it, insomuch that more then halfe the citie was cleane consumed. Afterward, to the ende he might haue some coulor to persecute the christians, he laid to their charge the kindling of the fire, & so put a great number of them Tiberius.to death. Tiberius also in the beginning of his raigne be­haued himselfe so wisely, vertuously and gently, that he seemed to be (saith Suetonius) a simple and plaine citizen. And yet soone after he became as detestable a tyrant as euer was, for crueltie and filthy pleasures. True it is that one may attribute the cause of such sodaine alteration of humors to the soueraigne authoritie and power of com­manding, which commonly hath his propertie to make him that seemed good to become wicked: the humble to be arrogant: the pittifull cruell: the valiant, a coward. But it is alwaies more likely that a prince changing his nature so quickly vseth to counterfeit and to dissemble, and to put a goodly vizard vpon his face, as historiogra­phers [Page 125] write, that Tiberius could behaue himselfe cunning­ly in that sort. Now that we may profite by this discourse, Math. 10. 16.let vs learne to be prudent and simple as the scripture speaketh, eschuing all shameles and damnable malice and deceit, al want of prudence and ignorance, which procure the losse of soule and bodie, whereof a man may accuse none but himselfe. For ignorance (saith Menander) is a voluntarie mischeefe. And although the knowledge of good & euill is most necessarie of all others, yet is it most easie. For the obtaining whereof, and auoiding (through the grace of God) of that condemnation, which is to fall vpon the blinde, and vpon the guides of the blinde, let vs neuer be ashamed to confesse our ignorance in those things whereof we want instruction: following therein that precept of Plato, That we must not be ashamed to learne, least happily we be hit in the teeth to our confusion with that saying of Diogenes to a yoong man whom he espied in a tauerne, who being ashamed to be seene there, spee­dilie fledde further into the same. The more thou runnest in (quoth this wise man to him) the further thou art in We must not denie or hide our ignorance.the tauerne. Euen so we shall neuer cure our ignorance by denying or hiding it, but the wiser we seeke to be ac­counted, the more ignorant we shall remaine: not vnlike to poore men, who being desirous to seeme rich, in the ende finde themselues poorer than before, by reason of their vaine and foolish expenses. But the ignorant man that searcheth for wisedome and inquireth after hir, shall be in some sort esteemed wise, and that inquirie ought to be taken for an argument of his wit and prudence: as contrariwise he that taketh himselfe for a wiseman and presumeth too much of his skill, falleth often into shame and dishonor, being reprooued of many. Therefore let vs daily accuse our selues of too much ignorance, knowing that euen the sharpest sighted do see but through a cloud and mist, I meane the instruments of our bodie, from which we shall not be deliuered vntill we haue put of this mortall to be clothed with that which is immortall in the enioying of the blessed life. So that it will be alwaies [Page 126] necessarie for vs during this life, to learne and to pro­fite in the knowledge of the truth, which is an enimie to ignorance.

Of speech and speaking. Chap. 12.

HAuing spent all this day in discoursing of Prudence, and of those vices that are con­trarie vnto it, I thinke that to finish this daies worke, we shall do well to take in hand againe, and to follow that which was too briefely handled cōcerning the commendable effects of this vertue of prudence in the soule of a wise man. This appeareth no lesse in speech than in any other action thereof, forasmuch as of the a­bundance of the hart the mouth speaketh. But it is a great vertue to speake little and well. The discourse of this matter I leaue to you my companions.

Surely the speech of man is a diuine worke, and of great admiration. And therefore we ought to ac­count it sacriledge to pollute and defile so holie a thing Math. 12. 35.with filthy and vile talke. A good man alwaies draweth good things out of the treasure of his hart, and a wicked man euill things. Therefore I greatly commend that say­ing of Plutark, that speach is as it were the nourishment of the soule, which is corrupted, and becommeth odious through the wickednes of men.

He that hath knowledge (saith the Pro. 17. 27. 28.wise man) spareth his words: euen a foole, when he hol­deth his peace is counted wise, and he that stoppeth his lips, prudent. If any man long after life, and to see good daies, let him refraine his toong from euill, and his lips 1. Per. 3. 10.that they speake no guile. For euery one shall eate of the fruite of his mouth to saluation, or to condemnation. But we will heare Aser discoursing more at large vpon this matter.

In the writings of the learned we finde men­tion made of a double speech or reason: the one inter­nall, [Page 127] or of the minde, called the diuine guide: the other A double speech or rea­son.vttered in speech, which is the messenger of the conceits and thoughts of man. The ende of the first is friendship towards a mans selfe. For respecting onely the marke of vertue, through the instructions of philosophie, it maketh a man to agree alwaies with himselfe, it causeth him to complaine neuer, to repent him of nothing, it maketh him full of peace, full of loue and of contentation in his owne vertue, it healeth him of euery rebellious passion that disobeieth reason, of all contention betweene will and will, and of the contrarietie of discourses. O rare ex­cellencie, which floweth from wisedome into the soules of blessed men! The ende of the other reason or vttered speech, is friendship towards others, which causeth vs to speake and teach whatsoeuer is fruitefull and profitable for euerie one, and carieth with it great force to per­swade. Of this speech we purpose here to intreat, as of that which occupieth no small place, but euen verie great amongst the secrets of nature, and which ought to rauish vs into an admiration of his works who is author there­of. The philosophers, diligent searchers out of the rea­son How speech is framed.of all things, said that speech is made by the aire bea­ten and framed with articulate and distinct sounde. But howsoeuer it is framed, the reason thereof is hard to be comprehended of humane sence. And we ought to be so much the more desirous to know for what cause it was gi­uen vs, and to feare least we make it vnprofitable, or wic­kedly imploy so great, woonderfull and diuine a thing. Democritus saide that words were the shadowe of works. Themistocles compared speech to a rich cloth of tapistrie, Words are the shadow of works.figured & set foorth with stories, bicause that both in the one and the other those things that are fashioned and re­presented are then seene when they are opened and dis­plaied, and are not subiect to sight, neither bring any de­light or contentation, when they are folded vp and hid­den. When a wise man openeth his lips (saith Socrates) we beholde as it were in a temple, the goodly similitudes & images of the soule. Vertue (saith Plutarke) hath no in­strument [Page 128] so gratious or familiar as speech, which being followed of works, is of great efficacie and force, and woonderfully pricketh forward those that heare vs, cau­sing them to giue credite to our sayings, and working in them a desire to resemble vs. And AEschines saide verie well, that it is not so necessarie, that the Orator and the Law should agree in one and the same thing, as it is requi­site, that the life of a philosopher should be conformable and agreeable with this doctrine and speech. Moreouer a wise man ought to take euery word he speaketh for a vo­luntarie and particuler lawe, laide vpon himselfe, seeing that philosophie is a profession of serious, graue & waigh­ty matters, & not a play or prittle prattle, vnconstanly vt­tered to obtaine honor onely. Whereby we see that all talke ought to haue reason for a foundation, and the loue The foundation and scope of all speech.of our neighbor for a marke to aime at. This is that which Agapetus would teach vs, when he saith, That the toong is a slipperie instrument, and bringeth great danger to those that neg­lect it: but if we direct it with a religious vnderstanding, it wil sing vs a song tuned with al the concords of a true har­mony of vertue. Plutark saith that speech ought to be like gold, which is then of greatest price and value, when it hath least drosse in it: so a fewe words ought to compre­hende great store of substantiall matter and instruction. Such was the speech of the ancient Graecians, as the sen­tences vttered by them do testifie: namely, Know thy selfe, Nothing too much, Nothing more than enough, and other short speeches full of great and profitable doctrine. Wherupon Of Laconicall speech.this prouerbe arose, Laconical sayings, that is, short and sen­tentious, which resemble streams running through a nar­row straight, where the water is so pressed togither, that one cannot see through it. And so truely it was verie hard without skil and great labor to comprehende the deapth of the sence & vnderstanding of their words, which were full of sententious grauitie. And when they were to an­swere any thing propounded on a sodaine, auoiding all superfluous speech, their answers were verie witty and wel contriued, their words very significant and short, hauing [Page 129] in them both grace and grauitie ioined together. As when Philip king of Macedonia wrote vnto them, that if he en­tred within Laconia, he would ouerthrowe them topsy turuy: they wrote backe vnto him onely this word, If. And another time, as Demetrius one of his successors, being angry with the ambassadour which they sent vnto him, asked if he came alone from the Lacedemonians to him, the ambassadour made this onely answere, One to one. Pit­tacus A pretie saying of Pittacus.vsed to say, that a dry and thirstie eare must be wa­shed with a sentence that is good to drinke, & that speech grounded vpon reason onely, is able to content and satis­fie the hearing. Notwithstanding that we may the rather and the more profite others, we are not to neglect, if it may be, the ioining of graue doctrine with sweet gratious and eloquent speech, mingled with some pleasure, grace, and delight, but voide of all dissolutenes. For (as Euripi­des saith) that is the goodliest assembly in the world, where Of graue and eloquent speechthe graces and muses meete togither. Right and reason are inuincible, being well vttred; bicause the soule is ther­by induced easily to beleeue the good reasons she hea­reth, through the delight that is ioined with them. Ex­amples also being vttred fitly, and with a good grace, pro­fit no lesse than the other, bicause with the force of per­swading, which is in the nature of the example, there is ioined the vertue of delighting. But we must carefully a­uoide all subtiltie of speech, all proude, superfluous and vnprofitable talke, least that be iustly obiected vnto vs, which Phocion replied to Leosthenes, who laboured to per­swade the Athenians to warre by an eloquent and verie loftie oration. Thy words (quoth he to him) yoong man and my friend, may fitly be compared to Cypres trees. For they are great and tall, but beare no fruite woorth any thing. Or else that may be obiected vnto vs, which Aristo­tle Against prating pleaders.answered to a great pleader of causes, who at euerie sentence he rehearsed, asked him if that were not a strange thing. Not that, (replied he) but this is a greater mar­uaile, that any man hauing two legs can abide thy bab­ling. And to another, who after a long discourse said vn­to [Page 130] him, I haue troubled thy head philosopher: not a whit (answered he) for I thought not vpon it. Such bablers, whom Plato verie aptly calleth theeues of time, are cōpa­red by Plutark to emptie vessels, which giue a greater sound than they that are ful. So he that is poore in respect of the goods of the soule, hath alwaies some fond speech in his mouth. But we must aboue all things shunne this The toong is the best and woorst thing that is.vice of intemperancie of the toong, which Bias called the best and woorst thing that was. It serueth vs to pro­fit and instruct others, and by the same also we hurt and corrupt others. And as a little fire consumeth a great wood, so this little member, which is a fire, yea a world of iniquitie, defileth all the bodie, and setteth on a flaming fire the whole world, if it be not extinguished and repres­sed. It seemeth that nature would teach vs this by fortifi­ing the toong better than any other part of the body, and by setting before it the bulworke of the teeth, that if it wil not obey reason, which being within ought to serue in steade of a bridle to stay it from preuenting the thought, we might restraine and chastice the impudencie thereof with blouddy biting. And because we haue two eares and two eies, it ought to serue vs for instruction, that we must heare and see much more than we speake. Do we not also see, that sight and hearing go before speaking, and that of necessitie, an infant must first vnderstand before he can be Isocrates ap­pointed two times of spea­king.able to speake? Isocrates appointed onely two times to speake in: the one, when the matter is necessarie: and the other, when a man speaketh that which he knoweth. And this we may put in practice without blame in this ma­ner. As touching the first point, it is lawfull and seemly for vs to speake when we stand in need of any thing: se­condly when our speech shall profit any: also to delight and recreate one another with pleasant deuices, void of dissolutenes, to mollifie and to ease the trauell of our af­faires, or else to relish our rest the better, and to induce vs thereby to giue glorie to God. All speech not grounded vpon one of these three causes were better restrained than vttred. Moreouer we ought to obserue inuiolably the [Page 131] second point of not speaking that which we know not, ex­cept it be in seeking and asking after instruction: remem­bring that which Apelles once spake to Megabyses a great Persian Lord, who comming into his shop to see him, in­termingled Apelles speech to a Persian lordsome talke of the art of painting. So long (quoth Apelles to him) as thou wert silent, thou seemedst to be some man of great account, by reason of thy chains, carquenets of gold and purple gowne: but now there is not the least of these boyes that grinde oker, who doth not mocke thee, hearing thee speak that which thou kno­west not. By which saying we may note, that great men How great men ought to speake.ought to weigh well, and to consider of that which they speake in publike places, and to vse graue and sententious words of another phrase than that of the vulgar sort, or else to hold their peace if they haue not this gift of spea­king. Or at the least they are to speake but little, seeing the verie words, gesture and countenance of a prince, are oftentimes taken for lawes, oracles, and decrees. Tiberius also brought vp this custome of speaking to the prince by writing, and of his answere by the same, to the ende that nothing should escape his mouth that was not well consi­dered of before. But to continue our matter, as the aboue named painter had set foorth a table of his owne for all men to behold, and had hid himselfe behinde it, that he might heare what could be reprehended, a shooemaker espied a fault in the fashion of the latchet, which Apelles afterward corrected. And hauing the next morning hung Apelles speech to a shoomaker.it out again to be viewed, this shooemaker passing by, and seeing that his opinion was followed, entred further to speake against other lineaments. But the painter not able to beare his boldnes came from behinde his table and stopped his mouth with this saying, That a shoomaker ought not to iudge of greater matters than of the shoo. This is the mea­ning of that common prouerbe, to go about to teach Mi­nerua: which is so intollerable a thing in men of honor, and so pernitious in the simpler sort that are light of be­liefe, Alexander gaue money to a poet to hold his peace.that for this cause Alexander the great gaue money to Cherillus an ignorant poet to holde his peace and to [Page 132] leaue writing. And seeing we are entred into this matter, we must know that we ought to be much more staied and Nothing ought to be written without great deliberation.aduised in writing any thing, than in bare speaking: bi­cause a rash and inconsiderate worde may be corrected presently, but that which is once set down in writing can no more be denied, or amended but with infamy. As ther­fore a man had need of a readie and quicke wit to be able to speake wel: so great wisedom is very necessarie to write well: yea the same rules and precepts that belong to speaking, agree also to writing. Besides, writing is called of many, a dumb speech, which ought to be short and full of instruction. Caesar in a letter which he sent to Rome frō Notable and pithy letters of ancient men.the Persian battaile wrote but these three words, Veni, vidi, vici, that is to saie, I came, sawe, and ouercame. Octanian wri­ting to his nephew Cains Drusus, said thus: For asmuch as thou art nowe in Illyria remember that thou deseendest of Casars, that the Senate hath sent thee, that thou art yoong, my nephewe and a citizen of Rome. Plato wri­ting to Dionysius the yoonger, vsed these words onely: To kill thy brother, to double thy tributes, to force the people, to forget thy friends, to take good men for thine enimies, are the works of a tyrant. Pompey writing to the Senate from the east parts, saide thus: Fathers of the Senate, Damascus is taken, Pentapolis subdued, Syria, Ascalonia and Arabia are confederates, and Palestina is vanquished. We see then the maner of writing vsed by the ancients, for which breuitie they were as much estee­med, as the great discoursers of these tiems after inst oc­casion of correction. But to returne againe into the path­way of speaking, we haue in Cicero a notable instructi­on A good precept for speaking.for this matter. Let our speech (saith he) be sweet and pleasant, not headstrong: and when we discourse, let vs not be so long that we hinder others from speaking. For speech of all other things ought to be mutuall and equall. Moreouer we must haue respect to that thing whereof we speake. If a man discourse of graue matters he must adde a certaine seueritie, but if he speake of de­lectable things, a pleasant and gratious behauior. Aboue [Page 133] all things we must take heede, that our speech discouer not some vice to be in our manners, which commonly falleth out when we speake euill of a man in his absence, either to mooue laughter or to his shame and reproch. We must also remember, if our speech vpon some occasi­on comming betweene intermit the first discourse, that it returne againe in conuenient time. But that is as thinges fall out. For all take not pleasure in the same things, nor at all times. And as we haue begun vpon some occasion, so we must end by some meanes. Now bicause in euery action of our life, the perturbations of the soule are to be eschewed, we must be carefull that our speech be voide thereof: namely, that it be without choler, without ex­treame affections, also without carelesnes, and other such like imperfection. Especially we must striue to make it knowne, that we loue & reuerence those with whom we speake. Further we must know that silence in due time The praise of silence.and place, is profound wisedome, a sober and modest thing, and full of deepe secrets. This caused Archidamus, when he saw that Hecatus the orator was blamed for not speaking one worde at a banquet, to answere for him, that they which knowe how to speake well, know al­so the time of silence. Hyperides likewise being at a feast Hyperides.amongst a great assemblie, verie full of noise & pleasure, and being asked why he spake nothing, answered thus: It is no time now to discourse of those things for which I am fit: and as for those things, which the time nowe re­quireth, I am vnfit. Bias being mocked of a babler bicause he spake nothing all a supper while, answered him thus: How is it possible that a foole should holde his peace at the table? The ambassadours of the king of Persia being at a feast with a citizen of Athens, and seeing Zeno the great philosopher say nothing, they began to flatter him, and to drinke to him, saying, what shall we tell the king our master concerning you, master Zeno? Nothing else (quoth he) but that you saw an olde man, who knew wel how to holde his peace at the table. And truly no speech vttred did euer so much good, as many kept in haue pro­fited: [Page 134] and that which is restrained may be spoken at any time, but a worde giuen out can no more be called backe againe. For words (as the poet saith) haue wings, and are presently dispersed euery where: and manie re­pent that they haue spoken, but neuer that they held their peace. How many examples do histories set before our Examples of mischiefes cau­sed by the in­temperancie of the toong.eies of men, who through the intemperancie of their toongs, haue throwne themselues headlong into infinite calamities, & of mightie cities and great estates destroied and ouerthrowne through the disclosing of some secret? The citie of Athens was taken and destroied by Sylla the Romane dictatour, who by his spies was admonished of the pratling of certaine old men in a barbars shop, where they talked of a certaine place of the town that was weak­est, and woorst defended. The ouermuch talke of one on­ly man was the cause that Rome was not deliuered from the tiranny of Nero. For seeing one of the prisoners that was taken by the tirant to be dismaid bicause he shuld be put to death, he willed him to pray to God, that he might escape but vntil the morrow onely, & then he should haue cause of reioicing. Wherupon the prisoner thinking with himselfe, that it were better for him to chuse a certaintie than to expect an vncortainty, and to prefer a safe way to saue his life, before a iust, disclosed this speech to Nero, who knew wel how to remedy the conspiracy. The gentle­man of Normandy who in his confession told a Francis­can frier, that he was once minded to haue killed king Fraunces the first, may wel be placed amongst these ouer­much speakers. For the king being aduertised hereof by the Franciscan frier, sent the poore penitentiarie to the court of parliament, where he receiued sentence of death. Those that are nobly & roially brought vp (saith Plutark) learne first to hold their peace, & then to speake. Therfore Antigonus the great being demanded by his son, at what houre the campe should dislodge: art thou afraid (quoth he to him) that thou alone shalt not heare the trumpet? Of concealing a secret.He trusted not him with a secret matter, to whom the suc­cession of the empire was to come: teaching him thereby [Page 135] to be more close and secret in such matters. Euerie parti­culer man likewise ought to be no lesse aduised in vsing great discretion when the questiō is of vttring any thing, which a man would haue concealed. For he (saith Plato) to whom one discloseth a secret getteth the others libertie. Now in this laudable silence which we commend here, we haue this to marke wel, that when the question is of spea­king a truth, or of profiting another, we ought not to doubt in any case, what pretence soeuer there be, to speak vtter, maintaine & freely to giue counsaile in that thing, which concerneth the dutie of a good man, or the charge wherunto we are called. The sages & vertuous men here­tofore haue alwaies shewed themselues to be such in their free counsailes & wise declarations, as hereafter we may handle more largly. In the meane time we may haue here Demaratus for an example of this commendable libertie Examples of the commendable freedome of speech.of speech, who comming from Corinth into Macedonia, when Phillip was at variance with his wife & with his son, was demanded by the king whether the Graecians did a­gree wel among themselues. Truly sir (quoth he to him) it becommeth you wel to inquire after the concord of the Athenians & Peloponesians, & in the meane while to suf­fer your owne house to be ful of diuision and domesticall discord. Diogenes also being gon to the camp of the same Phillip, at the same time that he returned from making war against the Grecians, & being led before him, the king as­ked him if he were not a spy. Yes truely answered the phi­losopher, I am a spy & com hither to espy thy impudency & folly, who not constrained by any, dost set downe as it were on a dicing boord in the hazard of one houre, both thy kingdome & life. Demosthenes being demanded of the tirant Epemetes why he wept so bitterly for the death of a philosopher, a cōpanion of his, seeing it was a strang mat­ter to see wisemē weepe, yea altogither vnbeseeming their profession: know (said he to him) that I weepe not for the death of this philosopher, but bicause thou art aliue. For I tel thee that in the Academies we are more sorrowfull for the life of the wicked, than for the death of good men. Let [Page 136] vs learne then by your present discourse, that talke being the messenger of thought discloseth our maners a great deal more than the lines & draughts of our face do. And as that tree whose root is drie can haue no greene leaues: so from a vicious and corrupted soule nothing but vile & filthy speeches can proceede, which a wise man ought wholy to shunne, bicause to make small account of euill words leadeth a man by litle and little to dishonest deeds. Let all vaine speech also be banished from vs, and let vs take great heed, that we neuer speake, either in sport or earnest, any one word that is not tru: knowing that to be true in word is the beginning and foundation of a nota­ble vertue. Moreouer let vs know that truth is not onely betraied of those that speake falsely, and maintaine a lie, but also of those that dare not confesse and defende it publikely. Let vs know that aboue all things we must de­dicate The constancie of Gordius.our voice and speech to sing the praises of God, re­membring the saying of that holy man Gordius, who, as he was led to the place of punishment was exhorted by some to leaue his opinion, and so saue his life. To whom he an­swered, that the toong ought to vtter nothing that is in­iurious to the Creator thereof. Lastly let vs know that we must refer euery word to the glory of his name, and to the profit of our neighbors.

Of Friendship and of a friend. Chap. 13.

MAn being a reasonable cre­ature borne for ciuill socie­tie to obserue lawes and iu­stice, and to exercise in the world all duties of gentle­nes and goodnes, the fair­est and most fruitfull seede that God hath infused and sowne in his soule, and that [Page 137] draweth him to this ende, is loue and charitie towards his like. But as euerie action of mans life standeth in need Prudence requi­site in a friend.to be guided by the vertue of Prudence, whereof we dis­coursed yesterday, so in truth she is verie necessarie in eue­rie good and vnfained friendship. For this cause I thinke (companions) that we shall obserue the order of our dis­courses, if we begin this daies worke with the handling of friendship, and of the true and perfect dutie of a friend.

No outward thing is to be preferred be­fore friendship. Nothing that seemeth to be profitable, whether it be honor, riches, pleasure, or whatsoeuer else is of this kinde, ought to be preferred in any respect before friendship. Yea a man is to make more account of friends (as Socrates said) then of any other mortall thing.

Perfect friendship (saith Aristotle) is to loue our friend more for his benefit than for our owne: and therefore a friend is alwaies profitable and necessary. But he is greatly deceiued (saith Homer) that seeketh for a friend in the court, and prooueth him at a feast. But let vs heare ACHITOB discourse hereupon.

Rare things are commonly most estee­med amongst men, & the more pretious they are of their owne nature, so much the more are they had in request. This we may very aptly apply to a friend, seeing there is Nothing more rare or excel­lent than a friend.nothing so rare as one that is vnfained and stedfast, nei­ther any thing so excellent and perfect as he is, if he be a good and prudent man. And for this cause the philoso­phers accounted friendship to be the chiefest and most excellent good of fortune, as being least of all subiect to hir, and most necessarie for man. But bicause the wicked­nes of men is so great in these daies, that nothing is so sa­cred and holy which is not violated, corrupted & brought to confusion, no maruell if men impudently abuse this name of a friend (so much reuerenced in olde time) that some take it to themselues being altogither vnwoorthie thereof, and others as freely, although to their losse and shame, grant them this excellent title, and esteeme them for such in truth towards them, as they falsely vaunt them­selues to be. But that we be not deceiued with the greater [Page 138] number, which is not alwaies the surest marke, let vs brief­ly consider what friendship is, what fruits spring from hir, who may rightly challenge this title of a friend, what ma­ner of one we ought to choose, how we must trie him be­fore we take him for such a one, then the meanes whereby to keepe him, and lastly what mutuall dutie friends are to vse one towards another. First we say with Socrates, that The principall cause and end of all true friendship.true friendship cannot be framed but by the helpe and grace of God, who draweth like to the loue of his like: that euerie perfect friendship is to bee linked with the bond of charitie, and ought to be referred to God, as to our soueraigne good and cheefest friend: and there­fore that true friendship cannot be setled betweene the wicked, who being at discord within themselues, can haue no concorde and agreement one with another. Moreouer, there is to be found in friendship whatsoe­uer men thinke woorthie to be desired, as honestie, glo­rie, tranquillitie of minde, and pleasure: and conse­quently a happie life, which cannot bee amongst the What friend­ship is.wicked. Friendship is a communion of a perpetuall will, the end whereof is fellowship of life, and it is framed by the perfect habit of a long continued loue. Whereby wee may perceiue, that there is a difference betwixt The difference betwixt friend­ship and loue.loue and friendship: bicause loue is a desire of the thing loued, and a beginning of friendship, but friendship is an inueterate and ancient loue, wherein is more plea­sure than desire. To loue (saith Cicero) is nothing else but to be desirous to profit and pleasure another with­out hope of recompence. For otherwise friendship would bee a meere merchandise, whereas it ought to be as free as charitie. Socrates also said, that the end of friendship was, that of two soules one should be made in will and affection, and that none should loue himselfe better than his friend. For there is a meane to be kept in all things, except in conuersing with a friend, in re­gard of whom this ought to be resolued vpon, that he is either wholie to be forsaken, or wholie to be trusted. What shall I hide from my friend (saith Homer) or what [Page 139] letteth why I may not thinke my selfe alone when I am with him? Whereby it appeereth vnto vs, that a friend is a second selfe, and that whosoeuer would take vpon him What things are requisite in friendship.this title in regard of another, he must transforme him­selfe into his nature whom he purposeth to loue, and that with a stedfast and setled mind to continue so for euer. Heereupon one of the ancients speaking of him that lo­ueth perfectly, saith, that he liueth in another mans bo­die. Friends therefore ought of necessitie to haue a con­iunction and conformitie of maners, of desires, of passi­ons, of speech, of studies, of pleasures, of inclinations, of intermissions, if they mind to professe perfect friendship. Whereby we may easily ghesse, that he which entertai­neth many friends, depriueth himselfe of the name of a true and stedfast friend, bicause it is altogither vnpossible for a man to fashion himselfe to all patterns, and to ap­ply himselfe to all natures, so diuers in euery one: especi­ally considering that he shall very hardly find himselfe like affected in all things to one alone. Now after we haue found such a disposition and conformitie in him that offereth himselfe to bee our friend, wee must en­ter further into the knowledge of him, by sounding out the depth of his hart, that wee may be certaine and sure of his good disposition. For to see outwardly a re­semblance of our maners and conditions in another, is not sufficient to prooue them such in deede without dissimulation, vnlesse they bee grounded vpon a good and vertuous nature, which is simple, vpright, and vn­fained. For otherwise we see that many (like to Prote­us taking diuers shapes) are so subtill, that when they would currie fauour with any man to deceiue him, they disguise themselues, and for a while applie themselues to all his humors. This is practised chiefly by flatte­rers The common practise of flat­terers.towards great men, who will counterfait rather than they will not imitate the naturall vice of the prince: so that as soone as euer they see him laugh, they be­take themselues to laughing, albeit they know not wher­fore. And namely wee reade that Alexander the great, [Page 140] and Alphonsus king of Arragon, hauing ech of them some­what a wry necke, this by nature, the other through cu­stome, the flatterers and courtiers held their necks on the What maner of man we must choose for our friend.one side, to counterfeit their imperfection. To the ende therefore that the sugred poison of such fained friends deceiue vs not, we must make choise of an honest, pru­dent & wise man for our friend, whose fidelitie (as Cicero saith) integritie, constancie and liberalitie are approoued of euerie one, and whom we shall perceiue to be led and possessed with the same zeale to vertue that our selues are, to the ende we may be aided and furthered by them in all good and laudable actions. For (as Plato saith) friendship is giuen by nature for a helpe to vertue, not for a com­panion of vices. To this effect Pythagoras saith, that it is not good to ioyne hands with euery one. Dicearchus also would giue vs to vnderstand the same when he saith, that we must make all men our well willers if it be possible, but onely good men our friends, who are not obtained but after a long time, and that by vertue. And as when we passe by a bramble or a burre that taketh hold of vs, we cast it farre from vs, but contrariwise seeke for the oliue and the grape: so we ought to seeke after their friendship, that deserue it, whose minds haue sufficient matter in them to cause them to be loued, but to forsake, yea to re­iect such as are vnwoorthy, and vicious, sensuall and dis­ordred, although they fawne vpon vs: bicause their con­uersation marreth and corrupteth euery good nature. Therefore Bias said verie well, that a wiseman receiueth not euerie one vnto his friendship. Hauing thus chosen him whom we desire to entertaine for our friend, & laid the chiefe foundations of friendship vpon his agreement of manners with vs, and vpon his good disposition (which we may know by familiar conuersation with him, and by diligent inquirie) before wee can assure our selues or boast that we haue a true friend, we must prooue his stedfastnes and constancie, and not trust to offers and promises, whereof men are verie prodigall now a daies. But this is cleane contrarie to the dutie of a true friend, [Page 141] whose propertie is to be sparing in speech, and prodigall in deedes, bicause great proffers are meete to be vsed to­wards strangers, and good deeds towards true friends. Now to proue a friend, we must not stay vntill need and necessitie vrge vs, least such triall be not onely vnprofita­ble and without fruit, but also very hurtfull and dange­rous vnto vs, bicause at such a time as necessarily requireth friends, we make trial of him, who in truth is no such man. How we must prooue a friend.But we are rather to gouerne our selues with prudence and foresight, as we vse to do in the receipt of gold and siluer. For before we haue need to imploy it, we consider whether it be currant, that we may be sure it will serue the turne when necessitie requireth. To this purpose Theophra­stus said, that we ought to prooue strangers to loue them, and not loue them to prooue them. Therefore albeit the true and right triall of a friend is in aduersitie, as of fine gold in a fornace, yet that is to be vnderstood of him, who is such a one indeede. For if we should expect the first tri­all vpon our selues in time of certaine danger, thereby to be assured and out of doubt, if then he should faile vs it would bring vs in great perill: so that we were better to trie him when we stand not in need, requesting him not­withstanding, as if we were vrged, and stood in need of his helpe and assistance in a matter of importance. If then he go forward with a sound zeale and readie affection, we are assured of him against another time. But if he stagger, and do it coldly, or turne away his face & refuse it, besides that we haue no hurt or hinderance, we shall also gaine much by withdrawing such a friend gently, and by little & little How we must shake off a false friend.from our table, and from our prosperitie: alwaies wisely obseruing that this friendship be simplie forsaken, and no enmitie vndertaken. For it is not good or seemly to quar­rell with him, with whom we haue liued familiarly. More­ouer, we must note heere, that triall is to be made in an honest, not in a wicked matter. For we must not do, as we read that Alcibiades did, who, being desirous to knowe whether he had so many friends as he thought he had, cal­led How Alcibiades tried his friends.them vpon a day one after another into a darke place, [Page 142] and shewed vnto them an image of a dead bodie, saying, that it was a man whom he had killed, and requesting them to helpe to carie it away. But amongst them all he found none except Callias that would harken thereunto. This kind of proouing a friend maketh vs vnwoorthie of such a name, and occasioneth euery good man to with­draw himselfe from our friendship. If we do all things (saith Cicero) both good and bad for our friends, such friendship may more truly be called a conspiracie of euill men, than a confederacie of good men. But, as we haue said, we must gaine another mans friendship by vertue, and not by vice, as also trie a friend in iust and reasonable causes: as if we be oppressed vniustly, if affliction and ad­uersitie follow hard at our heeles, if need or any other hu­māne accident betide vs, into which the best men com­monly The meanes to keepe a friend.fall. After we are sure that we haue a friend (which truly is very great riches) there is nothing that we ought to desire more than to preserue and keepe him. And first the mutuall opinion, which ought to be in euerie friend of the vertue of his companion serueth very much for this matter. For as Cicero saith, The opinion of vertue is the fountaine of friendship, and it is proper to vertue to win mens harts, to draw them vnto it selfe, and to preserue their friendship. Next, the coniunction of maners and wils keepeth backe all riot and contentions, when as the will and mind of the one shall no sooner be declared, but the other presently putteth to his helping hand to bring it to passe. Thirdly, we are to obserue this first law of friendship inuiolably, not to require our friend to do any thing that is not iust, or not in his power to performe, but to content our selues with the vse and seruice of that which he hath, without further seeking his hinderance, after the example of the industrious and painfull bee, which draweth honie out of flowers, and hurteth not the fruit. Aboue all things we must hold this for a generall rule, which we haue alrea­die touched, that true and perfect friendship ought to be Friendship must be free.free, as charitie is, from whence she hath hir beginning: I meane, that it ought to exercise it selfe not for hire or re­compence, [Page 143] but onely for his loue, who is beloued of vs. For the one is proper to a friend, the other sauoreth of a hireling. True it is that friends in these daies are like to crowes, which fly not but towards those places where there is some thing to feed vpon: euen so they common­ly visit not mens houses except it be for profit, neither re­uerence a friend longer than they see him in prosperitie, or may reape some commoditie by him. But we must shun such parasites, who are but saluting and table friends. Moreouer, we must reioice and delight in the companie and conuersation of our friend, as in that wherein the sweetest and most pleasant fruit of friendship consisteth. And for want of this benefit, friends must often commu­nicate togither by letters, thereby to shew that they liue in remembrance one of another. For by the letter of a true friend the spirit is refreshed, the eies delighted, friend­ship confirmed, and the mind contented. Besides we must haue our vertues, spirits, prosperitie, yea acquaintance, and all common togither, and nothing secret or hidden. Lastly we must yeeld to our friend all duties and seruices of sincere friendship, and that in all honest and profitable things according to right & iustice, which are the bounds and limits of an holie loue, desiring the like of him to­wards vs. Aboue all things his affliction or aduersitie, and all iniurie offered him, ought to be common to vs with him, wherein we are to assist and helpe him with all succor and sweet consolation, which is as souereigne and fit a re­medie as can be applied vnto him, especially when good doctrine is ioined with our speech. Heerof Phalereus con­fessed Phalereus.very well that he had good experience when he was banished from his kingdome, saying that his meeting with Crates the wise man had taken from him all care and thought of his miserie. And if friendship can greatly dimi­nish the greefe that commeth by aduersitie, no doubt but it can adde as much grace and pleasure to prosperitie. We may effect all dutie whatsoeuer we owe to our friend, by How many waies we owe dutie to our friend.succouring him with fower things: namely, with our per­son, with our goods, with comfort, and with counsell. [Page 144] Which we may also comprehend vnder these two duties, of releeuing the necessitie of our friend, and of comfor­ting him in his tribulation. Now bicause, what perfection soeuer is in our friend, as likewise in our selues, it cannot be but there will be alwaies some imperfection mingled therewith (mens doings being neuer without some euill) we must not presume to be able to build such a perfect friendship as shall be void and free of all vice. And there­fore How we must beare with the imperfections of our friend.we must gently support and beare with all wants and discommodities of our friend, and oftentimes frame our selues to many passions, so they be not directly contrarie to vertue, but such as proceed from the imbecillitie and frailtie of nature common with vs. Neuertheles against such imperfections we must in time conuenient and to purpose, vse free and gentle admonitions, which are so ne­cessarie in friendship, and worthie of such consideration, that in my opinion we shall do well to make a seuerall dis­course thereof. Now if it come so to passe, that some dis­pleasure or iar happen betweene vs, then is the time wher­in we ought most of all to studie and labour how we may do some profitable or honorable thing to our friend: and not harken to slanderous toongs, which watch for some small and light occasion to powre out the poison of dis­cord, thereby to rent and breake a sunder our good and sure friendship. To such parasites, and scrap-gatherers at free-cost feasts, who seeke for nothing but their own gain by the disagreement of others, we must neuer giue eare, but driue them as far from vs, as they thinke to come neer vs. And to the end we may be the better affected and dis­posed heerunto, we must often call to remembrance, what benefit and happines commeth to such men as are linked togither by true and vnfained friendship: as namely, in those affaires at which we cannot be present our selues, the fidelitie of a friend supplieth our place. From whence we will draw this conclusion, that he which violateth friendship, setteth himselfe against the common succour and aide of all men, and as much as in him lieth, ouer­throweth humane societie. For we cannot do all things [Page 145] our selues, and therefore friendships are ioined togither, that by mutuall duties one may profit another. Now con­sidering that all the aboue named things are both neces­sarie and also very hard and difficult to be obserued and kept in true friendship, a man may easily iudge that this so excellent a sympathie and fellow feeling of two friends is very rare, and not easily found: and by a more forcible reason it followeth, that it is altogither impossible that Against the plu­rality of friends.many such friends should be linked togither. So that who­soeuer goeth about any such matter can neuer attaine to a certaine and durable friendship. For it must needes fol­low, that he which beginneth new friendship cannot but diminish and waxe faint in affection in regard of his for­mer friendship, wherein he was in a maner setled. Yea, how can he obserue all dutifull points of a stedfast friend, as well in mutuall conuersation and communication of all things, as in helping his friend in all his affaires, if he haue many friends to looke vnto, who may all stand in neede of him at one and the same time? It is certaine that in seruing one he would be wanting to the other, and peraduenture to both, whilst he doubteth which to helpe first. But there is yet a further matter in it. Do we not take him for our enimie, who is enimie to our friend? It is most certainly so: as the wise man Chilon very fitly signified so much to one who boasted, that he had neuer a fo. Then hast thou neuer a friend, quoth Chilon, seeing it is He that hath ne­uer a fo, hath ne­uer a friend.impossible, by reason of the wickednes of men, that two persons should liue in the world without enimies. Where­upon Plutarke saith, If thou seekest for a swarme of friends thou considerest not that thou fallest into a wasps neast of enimies. Heereof it is that histories, when they set be­fore vs examples of true and excellent friendship make The best and most excellent friendship is be­tweene one cou­ple.mention onely of two persons: as of Ionathan and Dauid, whose friendship could not be hindered by the wrath of the father of the one, no not although he knew, that his friend should raigne ouer him, notwithstanding he were by inheritance to succeed next in the kingdome. So we read of one Achilles and Patroclus, of whom the one falsi­fied [Page 146] his oth, which was that he would neuer fight, to the end he might reuenge the death of the other. There was but one Orestes and Pylades, both of them calling them­selues by the name of Orestes who was condemned to die, thereby to saue the life of his companion. Neither was there any mo than one Ephenus and Eueritus, and one Da­mon and Pythias, two of which being condemned to die by Dionysius the tyrant of Siracusa, had their pardon granted them by reason of the constancie and stabilitie of the friendship that was between them and their companions, whereof they shewed this proofe. The two condemned persons besought Dionysius to licence them to go vnto their countrie, that they might take some order for their houshold affaires before they died. The tyrant scorning at this, asked them what pledges they would pawne for their returne. Whereupon the two other friends willingly offered themselues for pledges, and so six moneths space being granted, they were set at libertie. When the end of this time drew nie, many mocked these poore cautions: but they nothing astonished made answer, that they were certaine and sure their friends would not in any case faile of their promise. And indeede they arriued the last day that was granted vnto them. Whereat the tyrant wonde­ring, forgaue the condemned parties, and praied them to receiue him for a third man into their friendship. So great force had vertue, that it could pacifie choler and crueltie in his hart, whose vertue consisted in nothing else but in Pisistratus letter [...] his nephew.vice. We read of a letter written by Pisistratus, prince of the Athenians, seruing for a notable example of the force of friendship, which oftentimes is greater than all consan­guinitie. For hauing intelligence, that Thrasillus his ne­phew was of a conspiracie against him, he wrote vnto him in these words: Nephew Thrasillus, thou shouldst haue cal­led to remembrance, not that I brought thee vp in my house, that thou art come of my blood, that I haue com­municated my secrets with thee, that I haue giuen thee my daughter to wife with the halfe of my goods, but a­boue all things, that I loued thee as a friend. Thou art be­come [Page 147] a traitor towards me, which I would neuer haue suspected, considering that I neuer deserued any such thing at thy hands. And therefore I would gladly I had so much authoritie ouer my selfe, that as I can shake off this alliance, so I could also falsifie our friendship, which I can neither do, nor determine of, my fidelitie saued. For the consanguinitie that I haue with thee may be separated, as being within the veines: but the loue I beare thee can­not, seeing it is within my hart. A thousand other exam­ples of couples ioined in friendship are to be found in hi­histories. In the meane while we haue to note, that al­though we measure friendship heere by the number of two, yet our meaning is not to exclude others altogither. For we know, that true charitie extendeth it selfe vnto euery one, that we are bound to loue euen our enimies, and to do good to all, but yet amongst all we may choose one onely friend to loue, and to be loued againe of him in perfection. Neuertheles we must labour by a thousand good duties to get the good will of all men, and in what place soeuer we be to follow the wise counsell of Polybius giuen to Scipio Africanus, that he should neuer depart from the publike place of authoritie before he had gotten vnto himselfe some new friend and well willer. This belongeth to them especially that haue wealth at wil, and are in pub­like offices, and fauored of the mightier sort: and there­fore are so much the more bound thereunto, as also to take delight in doing good to manie, not sparing any of their substance. We haue famous examples heereof a­mongst the ancients. That great Romane captaine and Consul Titus Flaminius, who deliuered and freed all Grae­cia Titus Flami­nius.from bondage, and twise in battell ranged discomfi­ted Philip king of Macedonia, is exceedingly commended of historiographers, not onely bicause he was readie to pleasure euerie one, but also bicause he tooke such delight therein, that he would alwaies remaine well affected euen to those whom he had once pleasured, as if himselfe had receiued the benefit: insomuch that he was alwaies ready to do them more good. Wherby he shewed himselfe truly [Page 148] zealous of vertue, which is neuer set on work for the hope of any earthly recompence, seeing the price and reward of a vertuous deed ought onely to be the doing thereof. Therefore Cicero said very well, that no Commonwealth can either with too little, or too late recompence hir na­tiue countriman. Now to conclude our present discourse, we say, that friendship is so excellent a thing, that there is no comparison betweene it and any other worldly good: that it is vertue, which frameth and vniteth togither per­fect friendships, and that if they be once forsaken, they cannot longer continue. Therefore honestie (as Cicero saith) is to be placed aboue friendship and profit, and reli­gion, iustice, and fidelitie are to be preferred before the vniust requests of our friends, howsoeuer they might be profitable for this life, either to them or to our selues. We say, that whilest we labour to make all men our well-wil­lers by doing them good, according to the duty of a good nature, if we meete with one sure and certaine friend a­mongst them all, we haue gotten a great and incompara­ble Nothing better than to liue with a vertuous man.treasure: seeing there is nothing more fit for life, or more commodius for a good and happie life, than to liue with a vertuous man and our friend, whose fidelitie, inte­gritie, and constancie are ruled by charitie. Lastly we say, Three things necessarie in friendship.that three things are very requisite and necessarie for the foundation and assurance of this friendship: namely, ver­tue, as that which is honest: Conuersation, as pleasant and agreeable: Profit, as helpfull. Which is as much to say, as, that we must receiue a friend after we haue knowen and prooued him, that we must reioice in his companie, and vse him in our need, as we desire him to do the like by vs. So that he which can boast of such a friend is very happie.

Of Reprehension and Admonition. Chap. 14.

DIuine Plato writing a letter to Dionysius the tyrant of Syracusa in the behalfe of Heli­con the Mathematician, after many and [Page 149] great commendations spoken of him, addeth this, that he wrote these things of a man, that is, of a liuing creature, Man is mutable.by nature mutable and soone changed. The like also he spake of those that were well brought vp and instructed in Athens. I feare yet (quoth he) that being men, and the of­spring of other men they will make knowen the great in­firmitie and frailtie of mans life, which truly, being com­passed about, and as it were besieged with infinite mise­ries, is so easily troubled, that the wisest stand alwaies in need of instruction, and ought to be awakened and ad­monished of their dutie. Whereunto the free reprehensi­on, and sweete admonition of a friend doth not a little profit. Wherefore my counsell is, that we handle it pre­sently, without departing from the matter of our former discourse.

True friends (saith Socrates) must not through flatterie seeke to gaine the fauour of their friends, but re­prooue them rather, that for their benefit they may re­duce them to a better way.

To admonish and to be admonished (saith Se­neca) are proper to true friendship. And Cicero saith, that a man may despaire of his safetie, whose eares are closed vp against the truth, and cannot abide reprehension. Let vs therefore heare ARAM handle this subiect.

One of the greatest, most profitable and ne­cessarie fruits, which spring out of euery good and holie friendship, and are noted and reaped by the acceptable One of the grea­test fruits rea­ped in friend­ship.and long conuersation of a prudent & wise friend, is that free reprehension and sweet admonition, which ought to be mutuall betweene all true friends: seeing the fraile in­constancie of man is such, that euen the iustest man (as the scripture saith) sinneth seuen times a day. But man hauing pride and presumption naturally rooted in his soule, howsoeuer he seeth a mote in his brothers eie, yet he per­ceiueth not the great beame that closeth vp his owne eies. This maketh him bold (as it is the propertie of vice to be headstrong) to defend and maintaine, that he hath alwaies done well, and not easily to harken to his reasons [Page 150] that reprooueth him, were it not that the mightie and in­uiolable bond of friendship, as of a second-selfe did con­straine him to lend his eare to his friend through the opi­nion which he hath conceiued of him and his vertue. True it is, that if there were amongst vs such a reformati­on of life and maners, and that loue ioined with obe­dience A notable cu­stome of the La­cedemonians.might take place now, as it did long since amongst the Lacedemonians, (who obserued this custome inuiola­ble, to punish him that did not reprooue anothers fault committed in his presence, with the same punishment which was inflicted vpon the offender himselfe, & sharply to chastice him that resisted, or was angry at the repre­hension) we should not see so great winking at vices and imperfections, nor such impudent resisting and shameles contempt of all good admonition as raigneth now a dais amongst vs, who vnskilfully terme this friendship, not to correct one another, but rather to couer & to winke at all faults. But seeing our age is so greatly corrupted, we may easily know what a pretious and necessarie thing it is, to haue found a prudent and wise friend, who knoweth how to vse wholesome and sharpe reprehension, as a preserua­tiue medicine, that saueth the patients life, being mini­stred in conuenient time, and to purpose. Which thing if it be not wisely obserued herein (as in all other things) it greatly hurteth, and depriueth the admonition of profite and efficacie. Therefore a friend being opposite to a flat­terer, who studieth for nothing but to please, to do and to speake to his liking whom he flattereth (which is enough to ouerthrow friendship, whose strength is onely in ver­tue) A friend compa­red to a musitiō.ought to deal as a skilful musitian, who in the tuning of his instrument setteth vp som of his strings, and letteth downe others. So a prudent friend yeeldeth vnto some things, but refuseth and contrarieth others, changing his minde as honestie and profit require. He is not afraide sometime to make his friend sad with intent and purpose to profit him, not to breake friendship. Likewise he is not greatly to care although he see his friend angred, so that he be bettred, considering that anger may better be tol­lerated [Page 151] than vice. Agesilaus king of Sparta said, that he li­ked Agesilaus.well to be praised of such friends as would not spare him at all, but were ready to blame him also whensoeuer he gaue them occasiō so to do. To this effect Epictetus said, that as a woolfe in some sort resembled a dog, so a flatte­rer was like a friend: and therefore that we ought to be­ware, least in stead of good dogs for safegard, we receiue vnto vs most pernitious & hurtfull woolues. For it is bet­ter (as Antisthenes said) to stand at the curtesie of crowes than of flatterers, seeing the one deuoure dead carkasses, and the other liuing men. Now let vs consider of the meanes how to vse aptly and to purpose this so healthfull medicine in friendship, I meane reprehension and admo­nition. Sometimes it is necessarie (saith Cicero) for vs to re­buke How we must vse reprehen­sion.our friends, wherein we are to vse a more austere countenance and vehement speech: but too great seueri­tie and ouermuch sadnes ought to be far from vs. For al­though grauitie be a vertue, yet friendship is more famili­ar, free and pleasant. We must also take heed that it ap­peere not we be in choler, but rather that we com against our wils to do this dutie, as surgeons do to cut off and to burne, and that very rarely, when there is no way to finde or vse any other receit. Moreouer if one behold his friend in some great affliction, knowing it to be the nature of aduersitie to make men of troubled & vexed spirits, soone cholerike and vnwilling to heare, and at such a time to be offended at good and true speeches (euen as honie al­though it be sweet, yet breedeth greefe when it is applied to vlcers) I say a friend well aduised ought then to beware that he vse no sharp or biting words, which are apt to pro­uoke him to anger, that is pressed with aduersitie. And this did Pythagoras meane to teach vs learnedly by that enigmaticall precept or riddle, which forbiddeth vs to Stirre vp the fire with a sword. A man ought rather in such a case to minister some such sweet and gratious speech of comfort, as yeeldeth and giueth place a little to the iust greefe of his friend, and from whence he may draw some ease of his euill, whether it be in talking thereof togither [Page 152] with him, or otherwise in lamenting the same. And this must be done before any mention be made of a remedie, or any other conuenient matter of talking with him be sought after. In this sort for a man to comfort himselfe is no lesse difficult a matter (as Thales said) than it is for a phisition to cure himselfe. Aboue all things we must be verie circumspect when we see our friend lately angred by reason of some pregnant and notable iniurie or wrong re­ceiued from another. For then in steade of being impor­tunate with him presently to forgiue the iniurie, or of see­king to perswade him to thinke it a small fault, thereby endeuoring at the first dash to bring him to reason, we must intreat him gently to deferre the punishment, and after by little and little, and by degrees to pacifie and ap­pease him. For it is verie certain, that when wrath is much kindled and the hart inraged, a man cannot easily receiue comfort, nor so sodainly conceiue and vnderstand reason. And therefore Plutark amongst other things gaue this Time bringeth as many things to good order as reason doth.counsaile to the emperor Traian to be patient towards fu­rious folks, considering that time moderateth as manie things, as reason doth change. Notwithstanding when the question is of restraining a disordinate pleasure, of repres­sing choler or peeuishnes that passeth the bounds of all reason, of bridling insolencie, which is gone too farre out of square, of hindring some notable couetousnes, or of staying some foolish motion, or superfluous passion, then is the time wherein a prudent and good friend ought to be vehement and earnest, and to double the speech of his admonition: yea to frame himselfe so, as if the imperfec­tion proceeded from himselfe, & as though his own vtter vndoing lay thereupon. In such a case he is to follow that good Graecian captaine Phocion, who, when his friend would haue cast away himselfe, said that he would not suf­fer him, bicause he was made his friend for that purpose. Therefore whensoeuer any such occasion is offred, a man is not to stay vntill the fault be committed, that he may then giue his friend some good instruction. For then it would come to late, and no lesse vnfitly, than that Porters [Page 153] warning, who after he had hit Cato, bad him beware. What (answered Cato) wilt thou giue me yet another blowe? Moreouer we must take good heed that all reprehending of one friend by another be done (as we commonly saie) betweene two priuate wals, that is, secretly when the doore is shut: bicause the discouerie of any sinne or vice (euen as of som foule disease) is alwaies shamefull. The ex­ample of these two sages, Socrates and Plato, will fitly agree to this matter. Socrates being somwhat more earnest than his custome was with one of his familiar friends before a great companie, Plato could not containe himself but said vnto him: Had not this beene better spoken priuately apart? And had not your selfe (quoth Socrates) done bet­ter, if you had told me priuately of this which now you vt­ter? Whereupon we may further learne this lesson, that it is alwaies easie enough to reprooue another, but that al our reprehensions are blame woorthy, if we reape not this instruction thereby, to correct, or to auoide the like errors in our selues. Thus doth the selfe same Plato teach vs saying, that we must descend into our inward parts, & say euerie one with himselfe, Am not I such an one? Other­wise We must cor­rect in our selues those faults which we re­prehend in others.a man might truly reproch vs with that saying taken out of an olde Tragedie, Ech wounded wight doth seeke to salue the sores that others haue. But as we see our owne eies shine within the apples of our neighbours eies, so ought we in the life of other men to lay our owne before vs, and to purge them of those vices which we reprehend. For as Lysander made this answere to a Megarian, who thrust himselfe foreward to speake aloud for the liberty of Grae­cia in a generall assemblie of counsell, That speech my friend had need of a mightie citie: so may it be saide to euerie one that vseth freely to reprehend others, that his maners had need to be well reformed. Therefore Plato said that he corrected Speusippus by the example of his life. In like sort, Xenocrates casting his eie vpon Polemon, who in dissolute Sundry instruc­tions how to ad­monish wisely.apparell was entred into his schoole, changed and refor­med all by his onely lookes. This also will be a good and honest way to make our reprehension both profitable & [Page 154] well liked of, when we infold our selues in that fault, which we reprooue in others: as that wise man Socrates vsed to do, when he checked and taught yoong men, say­ing that himselfe was not deliuered from ignorance, but had need to be instructed with them in vertue, & to seeke out the knowledge of the truth. For when one accuseth himselfe as subiect to the same faults that his friend is, & protesteth that his meaning is to correct and reprooue him, as if he were himselfe, it causeth him that reprehen­deth to be loued and reuerenced, and procureth grea­ter credite to his sayings. Let vs further obserue this, that euerie reprehension betweene friend and friend ought to be pure, and voide of all priuate passions. Insomuch that if we perceiue our selues contemned, and after a sort de­spised, yet must we testifie our sincere and louing affecti­on in speaking freely in the behalfe of others that are like­wise despised, but not framing our talke in any sort for our owne defence. Euerie admonition thus grounded as I haue said, cannot but be profitable and well liked of our friend, as that which causeth the offender both to reue­rence him that gaue it, and to blush for shame, not daring once to lift vp his eies against it. But forasmuch as natu­rally we hate to be reprooued and blamed, as we learned in the beginning of this discourse, we must know that to cure such a pernitious inclination, nothing can profite vs so much as to beleeue, that the beginning of good life is Reprehension is the beginning of good life.to be blamed and baited at. For man, by nature inclined more to vice than to vertue, can neuer hate euill before he vnderstand what miserie it bringeth. So that when he sin­neth if his friend lay the infamie and shame of his offence before his eies, vnlesse he be altogither past shame, and fraught with impudencie, he must needs giue place to the truth, which is inuincible, and so with shame not to be dis­commended, he is induced to reforme his life according to the patterne of comlines and honestie. Therefore Plato said, that we are greatly beholding to them that tell vs of our faults, and shew vs what way we must keepe: bi­cause it is better for vs to amende by being corrected of [Page 155] another, than to vndoo our selues by foolish perseuerance. Moreouer as all true and perfect loue ought to be gene­rall, and to extend it selfe indifferently vnto all without exception of persons, so likewise euerie one according to his seuerall place ought to admonish and to correct those that do amisse as often as occasion is offred vnto them, & cheefely they that are neere to great men are bound to do it, but with discretion and great deliberation. Thus much did Solon signifie to one, who by way of admonishment Solons good ad­uice for coun­sailors to princes.told him, that princes were either not to be approched vnto, or else to be pleased: Nay contrariwife (said the wise man) either they are not to be come neere vnto, or else the truth is to be told them. We may obserue infinite examples amongst the ancients woorthy to be remem­bred, of the great freedome, which they vsed in reprehen­ding and shewing the faults not onely of their familiar friends, but generally of all others: and especially of their kings, princes and magistrates, who bicause they see and heare for the most part by other mens eies & eares, ought necessarily to haue such friends, counsailors and seruants about them, as will freely tell them the truth, as hereaf­ter we may discourse more at large. This caused Plutark to Philosophers ought to be con­uersant with princes.say, that a philosopher ought cheefely to keepe companie with princes and great lords, and that it was the point of a wise man, and of one that is wel affected to the common wealth to be endued with common loue, and to inquire after, or to accept & intertaine such a friendship, as might be commodious and beneficiall to many in particuler, & much more in generall to them all. And truely they that company with priuate men, and labor to instruct them, may well make them contented, milde and gratious in themselues, and profitable to them onely: but he that ta­keth away an euill qualitie from a lord and magistrate, or directeth his wil and intention, as it ought to be, plaieth the part of a philosopher in the behalfe of common com­moditie, and correcteth that mould and patterne accor­ding to which all the subiects are framed and gouerned. This kind of free admonition Solon vsed towards Croesus, [Page 156] Solons counsell giuen to Craesus. whom he perceiued to be blowne and puft vp with pride, through an opinion of earthly and vncertaine felicity, ad­monishing him to expect what the ende would be. The Gods (quoth he to him) haue giuen to vs the residue of the Graecians all things after a meane sort, and namely a base & populer wisedome, not roiall or magnificall: which as it giueth vs to vnderstand that the life of man is subiect to infinite changes, so it forbiddeth to trust or glorie in the goods of this world, or to make great account of any mans felicitie, that is yet in danger of alteration. For time daily bringeth many sundry accidents to man, wher­of he neuer thought before. But when the gods conti­nue the prosperous estate of a man vnto the ends of hisWhy Plato went into Sicilia to Dionysius. daies, then will we account him happie. The desire, which Plato had to profite many caused him to saile from Graecia into Sicilia, that by graue discourses & wise instructions he might stay and contain within the bounds of reason the yoong yeeres of Dionysius, prince of that countrie, who through vnbrideled libertie, and power not limited, waued hither and thither without restraint. After­ward when he began to be in loue with the beautie of learning, he left of by little and little his droonkennes, maskings, and whoordoms, wherein before he gloried, in­somuch that his court was wholy changed vpon a sudden, as if it had been inspired from heauen. But within a while after. Dionysius giuing eare to flatterers, banished Plato, to whom when he tooke his leaue of him, the tyrant said, I doubt not, Plato, but thou wilt speake ill of me when thou art in the Vniuersitie amongst thy companions & friends. Whereunto the philosopher smiling, and obseruing that freedome of speech, which he had alwaies vsed towards him, made this answer, I pray God, Sir, there may neuer be so great want of matter to speake of in the Vniuersitie, that we need to speake of thee. He was no sooner shipped from Sicilia but Dionysius returned to his former fashions, and called backe againe dancers, minstrels, baudes, and such like vermin, where of commonly there is want a­bout great personages, so that presently your might haue [Page 157] seene his court, yea all the rest of his people, ouerwhelmed in al delights and pleasures. Such great force hath a prince to alter and change at his pleasure the harts of his sub­iects, but yet alwaies rather to vice and follie than to ver­tue. And to go on with our matter of the free and bold admonition of great men, the selfe same Plato vsed it very fitly towards Dion, who had driuen Dionysius out of his iu­risdiction, and that at such time as the said Dion was in the greatest glorie of al his prosperitie. Amongst other thingsArrogancie dwelleth in the end with soli­tarines. he willed him to beware of arrogancie, as of hir that dwelt with solitarines: that is to say, which in the end was forsa­ken of all the world. The same kind of admonition Speusip­pus followed, writing to the same Dion, willing him not to persume or waxe proud of himselfe, bicause he heard wo­men and children vtter his praises and commendation,Notable coun­sell for princes. but to haue regard onely to this, that Sicilia might be a­dorned with religion and pietie towards God, with iustice and good lawes towards men, and that the Vniuersitie might alwaies be had in honor and estimation. O counsel full of Christian instruction, and woorthie to be daily set before the eies of Christian princes, who may also learne of Demetrius king of Macedonia to take in good part, toDemetrius. reape commoditie, and to reward those that reprehend and admonish them of their dutie. After he had taken the citie of the Athenians, who had rebelled against him, and stood in great need of victuals, he caused a generall assem­blie of the people to be made, wherein he declared, that he gaue them freely a great quantitie of corne. In which oration it fell out so, that he committed an incongruitie of speech, whereat one of the inhabitants suddenly stood vp, and pronounced the word aright as he should haue vt­tered it. For this correction (quoth Demetrius) I giue thee besides fiue thousand measures of wheat. The example of good Traian writing to his maister Plutarke, ought especi­ally to be imitated of great men. I aduertise thee (quoth he) that hence forward I will not vse thy seruice to anyTraians letter to Plutarke. other thing, than to counsell me what I ought to do, and to tel me of those faults, wherinto I may fall. For if Rome [Page 158] take me for a defender of hir Common-welth, I make ac­count of thee as of the beholder of my life. And therefore if at any time. I seeme vnto thee not well pleased when thou reprehendest me, I pray thee maister, not to take it in ill part. For at such a time my griefe shall not be for the admonition thou vsest towards me, but for the shame IHow Philoxe­nus corrected Dionysius tra­gedie. shall haue bicause I offended. Philoxenus the poet may also serue for a witnes of free correction, void of all flatterie in regard of great men. For when Dionysius prince of Syracu­sa sent vnto him a tragedie of his owne making, that he should read and correct it, he sent it backe againe vnto him all rased and blotted from the beginning to the end, bicause he found it in no respect worthie to be published. Neither doth antiquitie onely affoord vs such examples of bold reprehension by word of mouth, vsed by wise men in old time, but there hath been also in our ages woorthie examples of base and contemptible men, yet full of good learning. For profe heer of may serue that quip, which not long since a peasant gaue vnto an Archbishop of Cullen, who was well accompanied with armed men according to the custome of Almaigne. This countrie-fellow begin­ning to laugh, and being demanded by the prelate theThe free gird of a peasant giuen to an Archbi­shop. cause therof; I laugh (quoth he vnto him) at S. Peter, prince of prelates, bicause he liued and died in pouertie to leaue his successors rich. The Archbishop being touched there­with, and desirous to cleere himselfe, replied that He went with such a companie, as he was a Duke. Wherat the pea­sant laughing more than before said, I would gladly know (Sir) of you, where you thinke the Archbishop should be, if that Duke of whom you speake were in hell. Neither may we omit the answer which a poore Franciscan Frier made to Pope Sixtus the fourth, who from the same order being come to that great dignitie, shewed him his great wealth and riches, saying, Frier, I cannot say as S. Peter did, I haue The like giuen to Pope Sixtus the 4. by a Frier. neither gold nor siluer. No truly (answered the Franciscan) no more can you say as he said to the impotent and sicke of the palsie, Arise, and walke. Now concluding our present discourse we learne, that free reprehension and gentle ad­monition [Page 159] grounded vpon reason and truth, and applied fitly, are of such vertue and efficacie with men, but especi­ally with a friend, that nothing is more necessarie or healthfull in true and perfect friendship: and therefore ought to be ioined inseparably therewith, according to that saying of the wise man, that Open rubuke is better than Prou. 27.5. secret loue, and that The wounds made by a louer are faithfull, but the kisses of him that hateth, dangerous. In the meane time we must (as S. Paule saith) restore those that fall with theGal. 6. r. spirit of meeknes, considering our selues, and neuer be­traie the truth for feare of the mightier sort.

Of Curiositie and Noueltie. Chap. 15.

MAn hauing by nature imprinted in his soule an affected and earnest inclination to his soueraigne good, is drawen as it were by force to search it out in euerie thing, which he esteemeth faire and good in this world. And from hence proceed all those his affections which carrie him hither and thither, causing him to reioice in and to desire great­ly all varietie and noueltie. But the ignorance of things, and imperfection of reason, which abounde in him, bi­cause of his corruption, make him for the most part to la­bour and take delight in euill rather than in goodnes, if he be not by other means called to the knowledge of the truth: which ought to be the principal and most woorthy obiect of our minds, esteeming all other knowledge vaine and vnprofitable being compared to this, which is so great and diuine. And in this respect curiositie tending to vnderstanding, (albeit in many things it be verie hurtfull, especially being left vnto it selfe) is also verie profitable and necessary, when it is directed and guided by the grace of God to the best end. Wherefore I thinke my compani­ons, that it will not be vnprofitable, if in this matter we discourse of these two things, Curiositie and Noueltie, which seeme to proceed from one and the same fountain, [Page 160] and about which the vertue of prudence sheweth great and woorthy effects.

Curiositie indeed desireth in part to know and learne much, which cannot be condemned. Neuer­theles we must wisely beware that we imploy it not vpon euil and vile things, but rather testifie alwaies, that we are of a graue and contented nature, which is enemie to all noueltie, and to superfluous things that are without profite.

Noueltie causeth vs through error of iudge­ment to esteeme those things wherewith we are not ac­quainted, greater, and more to our liking, and so to buy them dearer than better things that are common and fa­miliar. It is the verie guide of the curious, causing them to contemne their owne climate, and to hazard what good thing soeuer they haue, to possesse that which belongeth to others. But let vs heare AMANA who will handle this matter more at large.

Amongst those learned precepts belonging to good life, which were written in the temple of Apollo in Graecia, this was in the second place. Nothing too much. Mediocritie must be vsed in all actions. Solon said, Nothing more than enough. Pittacus, Do all things by a mediocritie. These sayings are verie short and of one mat­ter, but yet comprehend all prudence necessarie for the gouerning of mans life, aswell for the preseruation of the tranquillitie of the soule, and of the spiritual gifts therof, as of all humane goods, called by the philosophers, the Goods of the bodie and of fortune. The ancients being desirous to make vs vnderstand this the better, propounded vnto vs euerie vertue betweene two vices, teaching vs thereby, that we cannot decline neuer so little either to the right hand or to the left, but we step aside from the right way of vertue, which is our onely & true good: and that al dif­ference The difference of good and bad consisteth in mediocritie.betweene good and bad consisteth in a certaine moderation and mediocrity, which Cicero calleth the best of all things. If men had from the beginning contained themselues within the limits of these diuine precepts, it is certaine they would not so lightly haue abandoned the [Page 161] simplicitie and first modestie of their nature, to feed their minds with a vaine curiositie and searching out of things supernaturall, and incomprehensible to the sence and vn­derstanding of man. Which things the more they thought to know, the greater occasion of doubting they found in them, so that for all their labour and vnderstanding they could neuer carrie away any true knowledge, or certaine resolution. And euen as that man, who not contenting himselfe with the abundant light of the sunne beames, but Against curiosi­tie in know­ledge.seeking with his eies to pearce through the brightnes therof euen vnto the midst of the circle of the body, must questionlesse become blind: so falleth it out for the most part to those, who go about too curiously to inquire after that which is not lawfull to be knowen. The ill successe of our age affoordeth vs too manie miserable testimonies, wherin at this day we see nothing but contrarieties of o­pinions and vncertainties, through their subtilties & bold curiosities, who haue sought to plucke (as a man would say) out of heauen the secrets hid from the angels: yea, which is worse, haue boasted that they haue attained vn­to the knowledge of them, filling our times with trouble and confusion vnder that false pretence. There are others also no lesse hurtful, who haue binne such curious Inquisi­tours of the causes of all naturall things, that through fri­uolous and vnprofitable questions they haue fallen into that impietie, as to seeke for another beginning of all things, than God. Whereupon this prouerbe, which is too true, arose, Of three Physitions one Atheist. This kinde of curiositie, is of all others most pernitious. But forasmuch as it is without the compasse of our Academie, we let it passe with this short mention thereof, and with this onely addition, that God commonly punisheth the pride of such men by those fruits, which we see them bring foorth, and by taking from them their vnderstanding in princi­pall and most necessarie matters, wherein notwithstan­ding they thinke themselues to be woonderfull and iolly fellowes aboue all others. As touching this point the ex­ample of Socrates is very memorable, and to be imitated, [Page 162] who being demanded what the world was, answered, that A notable say­ing of Socrates.since he had any iudgement he gaue himselfe to seeke out the true knowledge of himselfe, which yet he could neuer find. But so soone as he had attained thereunto, then he would seeke for other things that would do him no ser­uice or pleasure. Aristotle (as Iustin Martyr writeth) who for the excellencie of his skill in naturall philosophie was The death of Aristotle and Plinie through too much curi­ositie.called the god of the earth, burned with such a desire of curiositie in vnderstanding the causes of naturall things, that bicause he could not know and conceiue the cause and nature of Euripus, which is in Chalcis a citie of Eubaea, I meane of the flowing & ebbing of the sea, which turneth & compasseth about that place, nor giue a sufficient rea­son thereof, he died for very shame and greefe which he conceiued thereupon. Plinie also, who wrote the historie The burning of Aetna.of naturall philosophie, was choked with the flames and vapors of the mountaine Mongibel in Sicilia, whilest he sought to find out the cause of them, and from whence that great fire came, which spoiled the countrie round a­bout in the time of Titus the emperor: insomuch that se­uen or eight townes were burned, and many persons tra­uelling by land, and sailing on the sea were stifled with the ashes therof, caried about by the vehemency of the winds. But let vs leaue these curious spirits, and speake of two Two generall kinds of curio­sitie.other generall kinds of curiositie, which respect chiefly our morall philosophie, and from whence all corruption of good maners proceeded. The first kind concerneth our selues onely, and the other our brethren and coun­trimen. To speake therefore of the first, it bringeth foorth pernitious effects after diuers sorts and maners, but a­mongst vs Frenchmen they appeere principally in that Against the cu­riositie of seeing strange nations.burning desire, which inflameth vs to trauell into strange nations, and in our carking and caring for the nourish­ment, clothing, and decking of our bodies, and for the setting foorth and trimming vp of our houses with curi­ous and vnprofitable moueables, wherein we exceede all the superfluitie of other countries. When the ancients speake of the felicitie that accompanied the golden age, [Page 163] amongst the good conditions, and commendable ma­ners, which they noted in that holie and first simplici­tie, they neuer forgat this, that the men of that good time tilled and manured their grounds, and cared not what strangers did in farre countries. Moreouer, since the time that men made light account of their owne climate, through a curious and vnsatiable desire of ap­propriating vnto themselues the inheritance and labour of others, besides the crueltie, violence, and murders, which prepared a way to their miserable platformes, all corruption of good maners at home, and all bastard­like attire haue followed thereupon. We might heere note infinite testimonies of antiquitie, and especially of our ancient progenitors the Gaules, who were verie warlike, and liued within their bounds in al simplicitie of maners, and frugalitie of life. But our owne example, to our vnspeakeable shame and miserie, is so euident before our eyes, that I neede no better proofe of my saying than that experience which we feele by our owne perill. For One euident cause of the ruin of Fraunce.the ruine and destruction of this french monarchy pro­ceedeth of no other second cause (our iniquitie being the first) than of the mixture, which we haue made of stran­gers with our selues. Wherein we are not contented to seeke them out vnder their roofes, vnlesse we also draw them vnto vs, and lodge them vnder our roofes, yea preferre them before our owne countrimen and citizens in the offices and honorable places of this kingdome, a­gainst the law and right of euerie good and well establi­shed policie. Besides we adore and reuerence all their no­uelties and subtill inuentions, and that so ignorantly, or rather blockishly, that suffring them to sucke vs euen to the verie bowels, in steade of all our riches and spoiles, which they for their part haue drawne from vs, they haue left vs nothing but new maners and fashions of liuing in all dissolutenes and pleasure, except this one thing also, that we haue learned of them to dissemble, and withall to frame and build a treason verie subtillie. Such is the pro­uision wherewith our french youth is commonly furni­shed [Page 164] by their Italian voyages. To this purpose Gueuara, Chronicler to the emperor Charles the first, writeth that from forraine countries men commonly bring newes to prattle of, and strange customes to practise: and that few come out of Italie, that are not absolute and dissolute.Lycurgus for-bad traffick with strangers. Lycurgus by his lawes commanded the Lacedemonians not to go out of their kingdome, nor to conuerse with strangers, saying, that although by their trafficke with them they might be inriched, yet on the other side they would grow poore in regard of their owne vertues. Titus Liuius, Macrobius, Salustius and Tully cursed and bewailed the conquests and victories, which Rome had in Asia, say­ing that if the Romanes brought the Persians, & Medes vnder subiection by force, yet the selfe same Asians ouer­came the Romans with their vices and delights. This dothFiue vices brought out of Asia by the Ro­manes. Cicero testifie writing to Atticus, where he saith that these fiue vices, namely, to make glorious sepulchers, to weare rings of gold, to vse spice in meates, to alay wine with snow, and to carrie about with them perfumes and sweet smels, were sent to the Romanes for a present from the Asians, as a reuenge for the cities which they had taken from them, and for the bloude which they had drawne of them. And which was woorst of all, he saith, that these vices would alwaies remaine with them, but the country conquered, for a little time. Experience telleth vs, that no countrey is so poore, which is not sufficient and able, all superfluitie cut off, to nourish and maintaine those men that are bred in it with things necessarie for them. Wher­vpon a man may easily ghesse, that want of prudence, and ambitious desires first inuented the art of Nauigation & sailing into farre countries. Fabatus the consul in seauenty yeeres which he liued, departed not once from his village of Regio to go to Messana, which was but two miles offWhy Fabius would neuer go on the water. by water. And when one asked of him the cause why, The barke (quoth he) is foolish, for it alwaies stirreth vp and downe: the mariner is foolish, for he neuer abideth in one opinion: the water is foolish, for it neuer standeth stil: the winde is foolish, fo [...] it runneth continually. Now if we vse [Page 165] to go from a foole when we meete him vpon the land, what reason were it for me to hazard my life with foure fooles vpon the sea? But whatsoeuer my speech hath bin hetherto, my meaning is not to finde fault with the right vse of hospitalitie, which ought to be maintained & kept inuiolable in euerie well established common wealth. In this respect Fraunce hath beene commended aboue all nations for intertaining and receiuing all sorts of people: prouided alwaies that they be not preferred before our own children, and that they be contented to obey & liue according to the common lawes of the country. Neither do I reprehend that traffick and trade with strangers, which serueth for a bond of humaine societie, & whereby the commodities of one to another are communicated togither with common profite: prouided alwaies that su­perfluous and vnnecessarie things be left and forsaken. But ere we enter too farre in with them, it were good for vs not to vndertake such voyages to gather wit and expe­rience (as the most say) before we haue profited well in the knowledge of vertue, and are garded with good and commendable maners, which are able to resist all new & strange corruption: wherby otherwise the nature of man desirous of diuersitie and noueltie, suffreth it selfe easily to be ouercome, making marchandise amongst them of naughtines rather than of goodnes. As hitherto experi­ence sheweth vs, that from this fountaine hath proceeded the curiositie of supersluous apparell, of gold, of silke, ta­pistrie, pictures, vessels, perfumes, painting of faces, deli­casie of meate, and all prouocations of voluptuousnes, whooredome, gluttonie, and of other filthy dissolutenes, and infamous vices, too much knowne amongst vs, wher­of we haue heertofore made mention, and will heerafter continue the particular discourse of them. Nowe after we are well armed at all points with good doctrine and ver­tue, we may according to the example of Plato, of Apollo­nius Plato and Apol­lonius were great traueller [...]. Thyaneus, and of many other notable men, seeke after those that are best learned in strange countries, that we may profite and be instructed by them. Plato after he was [Page 166] well instructed by Socrates sought out the Mages and wise Men of Egypt, by whose means he saw the books of Moy­ses. Then he went into Italy to heare Architas Tarentinus, the most renowmed philosopher of that country. Apollo­nius, who matched in learning all the philosophers of his time, trauelled ouer three parts of the world to see and to conferre with all the skilfull men of his age: and being returned into his country, and inriched with woonderful knowledge, he distributed all his goods, whereof he had great abundance, amongst his brethren, & to the poore: and withdrawing himselfe into the fields, he liued with bread and water onely, that he might haue his minde free for the contemplation of heauenly things. Now let vs come to the other kinde of curiositie, which as we saide,Of curiositie in seeking to know other mens im­perfections. concerneth our brethren and countrimen. This is that which Plutark calleth a desire to know the wants and im­perfections of other men. It is commonly ioined with en­uie and euil speaking, and is by that excellent philosopher compared to adulterie, which may be called a curious in­quirie after another bodies pleasure. Moreouer curious folkes through an ouerweening incontinencie, seeke to violate and to discouer their neighbors greatest secrets, especially those which are blamewoorthy, that by publi­shing & blabbing them out, they may nourish the intem­perancie of their toongs. For as venemous serpents seeke after infected and stinking places: so curiositie delighteth in finding out euill things, but despiseth those that are good and commendable. If there be any one imperfecti­on in a stock or kindred, if any infamy, fault, error, or euil gouernment in a house, any quarelling, any thing to be misliked or loathed therein, it is the delight of curious folks to learne that throughly, that they may sport them­selues, and tell long stories of them, by that meanes vsing their memorie for a loathsome register of other mens vi­ces, and yet neither see or know any fault of their owne. This causeth them all their life time to be the disciples of ignorance & not of philosophy, which teacheth vs, not other mens faults, but our owne, as also the meanes how [Page 167] we may be deliuered from them. Diogenes beholding one of his schollers in a publike place talking very earnestly with a yoong man that was thought to be subiect to his pleasure, demanded what talke they had. To whom the disciple answered, that the other rehearsed vnto him a notable tricke of youth, which he had plaid the night before. Then Diogenes saide to them both, My will and commandement is, that ech of you haue fortie stripes with a whippe, within the Amphitheater, or playing place: Thou (quoth hee to his scholler) for giuing eare vnto him, and he for the follie committed, bi­cause a philosopher deserueth as much for harkening to follie recited, as doth the vagabond that rehearseth it. What punishment thinke you would this wise man haue iudged them worthie of, who harken and inquire so curi­ously after other mens faults and imperfections? And yet a man may truly say of the most of these men, that they will neuer looke vpon, or consider their owne liues, which is a very vnpleasant spectacle vnto them, nor yet returne and looke backe with reason, as with a light, vpon them­selues. But their soule being full of all sorts of euil, and fea­ring that which she feeleth within hir selfe, leapeth foorth and wandereth heere and there in searching other mens doings, thereby feeding and fatting hir owne ill nature, and vsing curiositie as an eie to looke vpon other men.The curious are more profitable to their enimies than to them­selues. Heerof it commeth, that a curious man is more profitable to his enimies than to himselfe, bicause he discouereth, manifesteth, and sheweth vnto them from what they are to beware, and what to correct: and yet in the mean while he seeth not the most part of that which is within himself, so greatly is he dazeled by beholding that which is with­out in other men. He openeth all euen to the very wals of strange houses, and pearceth like a wind into the midst of those things that are most secret. His mind is both vpon the pallaces of the rich, and cotages of the poore. He fer­retteth out euerie thing, and inquireth many times after the affaires of the greatest, which is the cause of his ouer­throw, when he busieth himself too far in them. This was [Page 168] wisely noted by Philippides, when Lysimachus the king asked Curiositie in princes affaires is perilous.him what part of his goods he would haue imparted vn­to him. What you please sir, quoth he, so it be no part of your secrets. Now if we desite to diuert and to quench the heate of this vicious passion of curiositie, which is too familiar amongst vs, and vnseemlie in a prudent and ver­tuous How we must cure curiositie.man, we must sometimes abstaine from inquiring after lawfull things, though otherwise not necessarie. In the exercise and practise of iustice, it is expedient some­time to leaue vntaken that which a man may lawfully take, thereby to accustome himselfe to abstaine more ea­sily from taking any thing vniustly. Likewise it is good for a man sometime to abstaine from his owne wife, that he may attaine to the vertue of temperancie, and so be neuer mooued to desire another mans wife. In like maner, if in stead of shewing our selues to be of the number of these diligent and curious inquirers after vnprofitable newes, we signifie rather to him that commeth to tell vs of some newes, that he should please vs better if he had some good and profitable, matter to speake, than should we thereby giue testimonie of a staied and setled nature despising cu­riositie. Examples a­gainst curio­sitie.This was noted in Alexander the great, who seeing a messenger running apace towards him with a smiling countenance, said vnto him (not shewing himselfe to bee mooued at all, or desirous to vnderstand what he would speake) what good newes canst thou bring me my friend, vnles thou didst come to tel me that Homer is risen again? And truly he had great reason to thinke that no more ex­cellencie could be added to his valiant acts and deeds, ex­cept it were to haue them consecrated to immortalitie, by Against lightnes of beleefe.the writings of some learned and notable wit. The exam­ple of Phocion deserueth well to be heere alledged against curious folks, who are commonly light of beliefe. For as soone as the Athenians receiued newes of Alexanders death, they purposed presently to alter their estate, and to shake off the yoke of the Macedonian alliance. But Phocion being of a contrarie opinion said vnto them, If this newes be true to day, it will be true also to morow. And therfore [Page 169] (my Lords Athenians) make no haste, but deliberate lei­surely, and looke safely to that which ye haue to do. It is certaine, that if we vse in this sort to shew our selues staied in such things, and in all other things of smal importance, wherein our naturall inclination would prouoke vs to be curious, as namely, to breake off good communication Faults wherein­to curious men commonly fall.begun vpon the receit of a letter, to forsake companie to run and meet a messenger onely to know what newes he bringeth, and a thousand such like sudden motions pro­ceeding of lightnes and curiositie, I say by auoiding such things we should prepare a way to the restraining of al cu­riositie in greater matters, which otherwise may procure blame. As for example, to open another bodies letter, to intrude our selues into the secret counsels of our neigh­bors, to seeke out their faults and imperfections, to in­quire busily after that, which may greeue our familiar friends, or to aske them of that, which they like not of, neither is grounded vpon any good cause or reason, least peraduenture the answer of some wise man should turne more to our shame, than be framed according to our de­sire. Thus dealt Demaratus with a curious & importunate Wittie answers made to curious questions.fellow that had oftentimes asked of him, who was the ho­nestest man in Sparta: He that resembleth thee lest, quoth he vnto him. The answer also of an Egyptian was not vn­fitly made to one that asked him what he caried there fol­ded. It is wrapped vp (quoth he) bicause thou shouldst not know what it is. Now by that which hath been hitherto discoursed, it appeereth sufficiently, that al kind of curio­sitie is hurtful, hateful, and greatly to be blamed in euerie one, if it be not bounded and limited by the reason of true prudence, which guideth and stirreth vs vp to seeke after good, honest, and profitable things, either in heauen, in earth, in the aire, or in the sea, according to the gift and capacitie of our vnderstanding and iudgement, which may be necessarie for vs to know, or may helpe vs to liue well and happily. For whatsoeuer is more, we ought to ac­count it vnprofitable and superfluous. Let vs learne then, not to know more than we ought, but vnto sobrietie, con­taining Rom. 12. 3. [Page 170] our spirits within the limits of mediocritie, sim­plicitie, and modestie. Let vs forsake all sophisticall curio­sitie, and worldlie wisedome, which is meere foolishnes before God, that we may imbrace a simple, popular, and Academicall kind of knowledge, which will teach vs to know our selues and our dutie, whereby we shall be led to that happy end, which we seeke for and desire. Let vs not admire any more the merchandise and outward shewes wherewith strangers feed the eies of curious folks, but let vs wonder at vertue onely: saying with the comicall poet, where he speaketh of those that couered their bed­steads with gold and siluer, what great follie is it to make sleepe so deere, which God hath freely giuen vnto vs? So to seeke for that of strangers with such great expences which we may haue at our owne hauen better & more cō ­modiously, were all one, as if we shuld leaue the substance, & run after the shadow, or that which is certain for an vn­certaintie. We may haue in France (if our blockishnes stay vs not) Vniuersities and schooles for all honest exercises meet for our nobilitie without strangers. And if we think that in some places amongst them, they haue better tea­chers than we haue, let vs first seeke amongst our selues for those instructions that are most necessarie, namely, for the knowledge of good letters, and institution of vertue, and then if we thinke good, we may heare their teachers and maisters, without infecting our behauiour with the corruption of their maners. Besides by the same studie we shal learne to shun al curious inquiry into other mens im­perfections, that we may diligently looke into our owne.

Of Nature and Education. Chap. 16.

SEeing that in the entrance of our former trea­tise, we began with that naturall instinct of man, which mooueth and disposeth him to desire and to seeke after his good, we may in continuing the same matter find more profitable instruction, by con­sidering his nature more narrowly, as also what commeth [Page 171] vnto him by good education, which, that I may so say, standeth him in stead of a second nature. To you therfore (my Companions) I leaue this matter to be intreated of.

The nature of man is like to a paire of bal­lance. For if it be not guided with knowledge and reason vnto the better part, of it selfe it is caried to the woorse. And although a man be well borne, yet if he haue not his iudgement fined, and the discoursing part of his mind purged with the reasons of philosophie, it will fall often into grosse faults, and such as beseem not a prudent man. For in those men that are not indued with vertue ruled by certaine knowledge, nature bringeth forth such fruits as naturally come from the ground without the manu­ring and helping-hand of man.

That which commonly causeth men to will euill rather than good, proceedeth chiefly of this, that they haue no knowledge or experience therof. And ther­fore Socrates said, that as bringing vp maketh dogs fit for hunting, so good instruction causeth men to become pro­fitable in the managing of a commonwealth. But it com­meth to thy course, ASER, to discourse vpon this matter.

This hath been alwaies a great question among the skilfull and diligent inquiters after the perfection of nature, whether learning or nature teacheth vs to know our selues. Iustice (saith Cicero) is naturally planted in vs from our birth, as also religion, pietie, grace, dutie, and Natural vertues according to the Philoso­phers, who had no knowledge of mans fall.truth. Whatsoeuer is according to nature (as the philoso­phers say) is certainly ordained and appointed, bicause nature is nothing else but order, or rather the effect of order. But disorder, like to Pindarus sand, cannot be com­prehended in any certaine number: neither can that which is against nature be defined, bicause it is infinite. When they speake generally of nature, they make two The diuision of nature.principall kinds: the one spirituall, intelligible, and the vnchangeable beginning of motion and rest, or rather the vertue, efficient, and preseruing cause of all things: the other, sinsible, mutable, and subiect to generation and corruption, respecting all things that haue life, and shall [Page 172] haue end. Aristotle saith, that nature in one respect is said to be the first & chiefe matter subiect of euery thing that hath being, namely, of those things which haue in them the beginning of their own moouing & mutation: and in another respect, it is called the form of any thing. But lea­uing the infinite disputations and curious inquirie made by the philosophers concerning this excellent matter, whereof we haue not heere vndertaken to intreat, we sayWhat nature is. with Iustin Martyr, that Nature (in which the steps of the diuinitie shine and are liuelie represented) is that spirit or diuine reason, which is the efficient cause of naturall works, and the preseruing cause of those things that haue being, through the onely power of the heauenlie word, which is the workmaister of nature, and of the whole world, and hath infused into euery thing a liuely vertue and strength, wherby it encreaseth and preserueth it selfe by a naturall facultie. Or to speake more briefly, Nature is the order and continuance of the works of God, obey­ing the deitie, and his words and commandements, and borrowing hir force and strength from thence, as from hir fountaine and originall. In this nature thus defined, which respecteth all things created, we haue heere to consider of and to handle particularly, according to our meaning at the first, the nature of man onely, which naturall philoso­phers call the instinct and inclination of euerie ones spi­rit.The propertie and light of nature. There is nothing more true, than that nature of hir selfe leadeth men in some sort to that which is decent and honest: neither is learning able to shew any thing, which is not to be found in nature, whether we go about to teach the end of man, which the philosophers call, the ac­tion of vertue, or whether we seeke out the causes and be­ginnings of other sciences. For other is no man so barba­rous or wicked in all the world, who is not touched with honestie, and who retaineth not somewhat of the light of nature. Which may be cleerely perceiued by this, that a vertuous action pleaseth him, so that he is euen constrai­ned to commend it. And if he might taste thereof neuer so little, not being fore-possessed with other disordinate [Page 173] desires, no doubt but he would become such a one, as might purchase and deserue praise and commendation. But here we must acknowledge the first corruption of ourThe corruption of nature. nature whereby it is inclined to pleasure, and to eschew labour, which are the welsprings of vices and of infinite euils. And if our nature should be suffered to runne with the bridle at libertie, whether soeuer it is driuen by carnal desires, hauing none of them cut off by wise admonitions and liuely perswasions, there is no beast so vntamed or sauage, that would not be milder than man. Whereupon it followeth that nature must of necessitie be tamed, and as it were mollified by the studie of good letters, & by the instruction of good philosophicall reasons, which as they serue for nourishment and food to our minds, so by them our maners and actions are framed and guided according to vertue and prudence, and we made able to learne how, by the compasse of reason, to attain to mediocritie, wher­in perfection consisteth, and to reiect excesse, which is al­waies dangerous. A good plaier on a lute or violl touch­eth no other stringes than those that are touched by him that is most vnskilfull. Notwithstanding being taught in the beginning, he knoweth afterward through vse what strings make that sound, which the earc iudgeth by the harmonie and agreement of sound to be delecta­ble, whereupon he is taken for his crafts-master. Euen so a perfect vertuous man vseth onely naturall gifts, but rea­son and practise bringeth them to their perfection. EueryThree things nece [...]arie for the perfection of [...]. good beginning commeth vnto vs by nature, the progres and growth by the precepts of reason, and the accom­plishment by vse and exercise. Nature without learning & good bringing vp is a blinde thing. Learning without na­ture wanteth much, and vse without the two former is vn­perfect. It is true (as Plato saith) that some may be found, that are of a strong and forceable nature, and therby in­dued with reasonable good sence and iudgement (which is in man as the rudder in a ship) so that they make shewe of great vertues. But those men are not without manie great vices also, if they want good education & learning: [Page 174] not vnlike to a good fat ground, which bringeth foorth many good and bad hearbes togither, if it be not well dressed. Now if this good nature be ill brought vp, with­out doubt it will spoile it selfe and become verie perniti­ous. Scipio and Catiline were both high minded and cou­ragious by nature, but forasmuch as the one was alwaies obedient to the lawes of his common-wealth, & vsed his vertue as reason required, he was accounted vertuous, & the other wicked and wretched for doing the contrarie. You aske of me (saith Socrates in Xenophon) whether cou­rage or greatnes of hart proceed of nature or of learning. For my part I think, that as we see some borne with stron­ger bodies than others are, so by nature we haue mindes more fit to sustaine perils & aduersities than others haue. And that this is so, we see many brought vp with the same maners, and instructed vnder like lawes, and yet some of them more hardie and bold than the rest. Notwithstan­ding there is no doubt but the goodnes of nature is hol­pen by learning and institution. It is certaine (saith Plu­tark) The difference between philo­sophers and the common people that there is in all men some light of good and right iudgement, but yet the difference between philosophers and the common sort of men is great: bicause philoso­phers haue their iudgement more staied and assured in dangers, whereas the vulgar sort haue not their harts for­tified and defended with such anticipations and resolute impressions aforehand. Albeit therefore many notable men (as Cicero saith) haue atchieued many braue and ver­tuous exploits being guided by their naturall iudgement onely, and by daily experience in affairs, yet infinite faults may be noted in them, especially in their behauiour and maner of life, which might haue been amended and cor­rected by the knowledge of letters. Moreouer the iudge­ment of man wauereth too easily to settle and resolue it selfe vpon any thing: yea it is driuen by a thousand occasi­ons from the ground of hir former discourses, if it be not built and laid vpon certaine knowledge & reason, which the studie of wisedome teacheth vs. And as for that pru­dence, which is gotten onely by vse, and by a mans owne [Page 175] experience, it is too long, dangerous and difficult, bicause it is not able to make vs wise but after our owne perill: & oftentimes whilst we seeke it, death maketh haste to pre­uent it, or else followeth it so neere, that we had neede of a second life to bestow about it. Thus we see that if thereThree things co [...]cur [...]e in perfect vertue. be any want in any one of these three, Nature, Reason and Vse, vertue also must needes faile and be vnperfect in that point. True it is, that a good naturall inclination deser­ueth more praise being without learning, than learning doth without it: bicause euen knowledge serueth ma­ny times for an occasion to the wicked, who abuse it maliciously, to further their vnpure purposes. Neuerthe­les, we can accuse nothing but their peruersnes, which by reason of their ignorance, would not haue staied it selfe from vttering such pernitious effects in them, and perad­uenture worse. For in what measure soeuer it be, yet (as Socrates said) they that haue been well brought vp and in­structed, are in some sort forced to moderate themselues. Besides, they that are not altogither well borne, yet beingThe defect of nature is hol­pen by good education. holpen by good training vp and exercise of vertue, they may after a sort repaire and recouer the defect of nature. Idlenes (saith Plutarke) annihilateth and corrupteth the goodnes of nature, but diligence in good education cor­recteth the naughtines thereof. And as we see, that drops of water falling vpon a hard stone make it hollow, and that iron and copper consume and weare only with hand­ling, and ground that is more vneeuen and stonie than it ought, yet being manured and dressed, beareth faire and goodlie fruit, and contrariwise good ground becommeth vnfruitfull, and waxeth worse and worse the more it is left vnlabored: euen so good maners and conditions are qualities, which in long processe of time are imprinted in the soule, and morall vertues are attained vnto throughThe weaknes of our naturall in­clination to goodnes. care, diligence, labor, and long exercise. Therefore although nature hath this propertie in al men, that it is in perpetu­all motion through a weake instinct, and that in some stronger, in others weaker, which causeth hir to aspire vn­to and to desire the excellencie of hir first perfection, [Page 176] whereof she knoweth hir selfe void, yet if she be not al­waies holpen and driuen towards the better part, she will soone suffer hir selfe to be caried to the worse. They are but little sparks (saith Cicero) which through vice and cor­rupt maners are so easily quenched, that the light of them A similitude.appeereth not. And as the heate buried in the veines of a flint, seemeth rather dead than aliue, if the sparkles be not drawen foorth by the steele: so this immortall portion of celestiall fire, being the fountaine and first motiue of all knowledge, remaineth without any profit or commenda­ble action, if it be not sharpened and set on worke. We are no sooner borne, and taken in hand to be brought vp, as Plato saith, but we follow after wickednes, as if we had suc­ked iniquitie togither with our nurses milke. Afterwards being comitted by our fathers to the hands of teachers, we so inwrap our minds with errors, that those weake seedes of vertue, which are in vs by nature, must needes giue place to vanitie, and to opinion. But if good wits find good bringing vp, then they grow alwaies vp from better to better. Whereupon in my opinion that old pro­uerbe was not spoken without reason, that education go­eth beyond nature. Which thing when Lycurgus was desi­rous to let the Lacedemonians vnderstand, he nourished two dogs of one & the same litter, vsing the one to hunt, Lvcurgus exam­ple of two dogs.and bringing vp the other in the kitchen. And when the people were gathered togither, he spake vnto them in this maner: It is a matter of great importance (O ye Lacede­monians) to ingender vertue in mens harts by education, custome, and discipline, as I will let ye see, and sensibly perceiue out of hand. Then he caused both the dogs to be brought, and casting off a hare on the one side, & setting a platter of broth on the other, he let loose his dogs, of which the one followed after the hare, & the other ran to the broth. Thus fareth it (quoth he) with men, who may be made more vertuous by good education, than by nature. Neither will it profit them at all to descend of Hercules race, if they practise not those works whereby in his life time he grew to be most famous in the world, and if they [Page 177] exercise not themselues all the daies of their life in honest and vertuous actions. Furthermore if we desire examples of this, that learning, institution and education auaile greatly to conforme and frame our harts and wils to ver­tue, yea to alter and make them better, Socrates confes­seth Socrates and Themistocles were by nature vicious, but by education ver­tuous.in Plato, that by nature he was inclined to vices, and yet philosophy made him as perfect and excellent a man as any was in the world. Themistocles in his youth (as himselfe confessed) for want of discipline was caried away by his desires like to a yoong vnbridled colt, vntil that by Miltiades example, who was then famous amongst the Grecians, he caused the viuacitie & quicknes of his spirit, and the ambition, which naturally was in him to attende vpon vertue. Besides, education and custome haue power to change not onely the naturall inclination of some par­ticuler men, but also of whole countries, as the histories of most nations in the world declare vnto vs: and name­ly of the Germaines, who in the time of Tacitus had nei­ther The Germaines much changed by institution.law, nor religion, nor knowledge, nor forme of com­monwealth, whereas now they giue place to no nation for good institution in all things. Let vs not then be dis­couraged or faint by knowing our naturall imperfecti­ons, seeing that through labor and diligence we may re­couer that which is wanting: but happie is that man, and singularly beloued of God, to whom both good birth and like bringing vp are granted together. It followeth now to discourse particulerly of the maner of good education and instruction of youth: but this will come in more fite­ly, when we shall intreat of Oeconomy. And yet seeing we are in the discourse of mans nature, I thinke it wil not be from the purpose, nor without profite, if (to make vs more seuere censurers of our owne faults) we note, that although our behauior be cheefely known by the effects, A mans naturall inclination may be espied in a small matter.as a tree by the fruit, yet many times a mans naturall in­clinatiō is better perceiued in a light matter, as in a word, in a pastime, or in some other free and priuate busines, wherein vertue or vice ingrauen in the soule may be soo­ner espied, than in greater actions and works done pub­likely: [Page 178] bicause in these matters shame or constraint com­monly cause men to vse dissimulation. Howbeit this also is true, that the more power and authoritie a man hath, when he may alleadge his owne will for all reason, the in­ward affection of his hart is then best discouered. For such an vnbrideled licence mooueth all, euen to the verie depth and bottome of his passions, and causeth all those secret vices, that are hidden in his soule to be fullie and Great men ought especially to learne vertue.euidently seene. Whereupon it followeth that great and noble men ought aboue all others to learne vertue, and to studie to liue well, especially seeing they haue all those requisite helps and commodities, through want of which most men are hindred from attaining thereunto. Let vs therefore learne by our present discourse to knowe, that the nature of all men, by reason of the corruption of sin, is so depraued, corrupted and vnperfect, that euen the best men amongst many imperfections carry about them some enuie, ielousy, emulation and contention against some or other, and rather against their verie friends. This did Demas a noble man and greatly conuersant in mat­ters of estate, declare vnto the councel in the citie of Chio, after a ciuill dissention wherin he had followed that part which ouercame. For he perswaded those of his side not to banish all their aduersaries out of the city, but to leaue some of them after they had taken from them all meanes of doing more harme: least (quoth he vnto them) we be­gin to quarrel with our friends, hauing no more enemies to contende withall. For this cause we must fortifie our selues with vnderstanding and knowledge through labor and studie of good letters, that we may restraine and re­presse so many pernitious motions mingled togither in our soules. Let vs know moreouer, that seeing our na­ture is assaulted and prouoked by a vehement inclinati­on to do any thing whatsoeuer, it is a very hard matter to withdrawe and keepe it backe by any force, no not by the strength or feare of any lawes, if in due conuenient time we frame not within it a habite of vertue, hauing first wi­shed to be well borne. But howsoeuer it be, let vs endeuor [Page 179] to be well borne through custome and exercise in vertue (which will be vnto vs as it were another nature) vsing the meanes of good education and instruction in wise­dome, whereby our soules shal be made conquerors ouer all hurtfull passions, and our minds moderate and staied, that in all our doings, sayings and thoughts we passe not the bounds of the dutie of a vertuous man.

Of Temperance. Chap. 17.

THe diuine excellencie of the order, of the equall & won­derful constācie of the parts of the world, aswell in the goodly and temperate mo­deration of the seasons of the yeere, as in the mutuall coniunctiō of the elements, obeying altogither with a perfect harmonie the grati­ous and soueraigne gouernment of their creator, was the cause that Pythagoras first called all the compasse of this vniuersal frame by this name of World, which without such The Greeke word [...] vsed by Pytha­goras, and tran­slated of the La­tins M [...]ndus, and of vs World, sig­nifieth a come­ly order.an excellent disposition would be but disorder & a world of confusion. For this word world, signifieth asmuch as Ornament, or a well disposed order of things. Nowe as a constant and temperate order is the foundation thereof, so the ground-worke and preseruation of mans happie life, for whom all things were made, is the vertue of tem­perance, which conteineth the desires and inclinations of the soule within the compasse of mediocritie, and mo­derateth all actions whatsoeuer. For this cause, hauing [Page 180] hitherto according to our iudgment sufficiently discour­sed of the first riuer of the fountaine of honestie, I thinke we ought to set downe here in the second place (although it be contrarie to the opinion of manie philosophers) this vertue of Temperance, saying with Socrates that she is the ground-worke and foundation of all vertues.

No vertue can be without tem­perance. As a man cannot be temperate if first he be not prudent, bicause euerie vertuous action proceedeth of knowledge: so no man can be strong and valiant, if he be not first temperate, bicause he that hath a noble and great courage without moderation, will attempt a thou­sand euils and mischeefes, and will soone grow to be rash and headie. Likewise iustice cannot be had without tem­perance, seeing it is the cheefe point of a iust man, to haue his soule free from perturbations. Which cannot be done except he be temperate, whose proper subiect the soule is.

Heroicall vertue (saith Plato) is made perfect by the mixture and ioyning together of Temperance and fortitude, which being separated will at length become vices. For a temperate man that is not couragious, easily waxeth to be a coward and faintharted: and a noble hart not temperate, becommeth rash and presumptuous. Let vs then heare ACHITOB discourse of this Temperance, so excellent and necessarie a vertue.

Agapetus a man of great skill, writing to the emperor Iustinian, amongst other things had this say­ing: The true marks and ornaments of a king.We say that thou art truly and rightly both emperor and king, so long as thou canst command and master thy desires and pleasures, and art beset and decked with the crowne of Temperance, and clothed with the purple robe of Iustice. For other principalities end by death, whereas this kingdome abideth for euer: yea others are manie times the cause of perdition to the soule, but this procu­reth a certaine and an assured safetie. When we haue con­sidered well of the woorthie effects and fruits of this ver­tue of temperance, no doubt but we will subscribe to this wise mans opinion, and to as many as haue written of the praises and roialties of that vertue. Temperance (saith [Page 181] thagoras) is that light, which driueth away round about What tempe­ranceis.hir the darknes and obscuritie of passions. She is (saith Socrates) the wholesomest vertue of all. For she preserueth both publikely and priuately humane societie, she lifteth vp the soule miserably throwen downe in vice, and resto­reth hir againe into hir place. Temperance (saith Plato) is a mutuall consent of the parts of the soule (from whence springeth continencie) causing all disordered and vnbri­deled desires to take reason for a rule and direction. Tem­perance (saith Cicero) is the mother of all dutie and hone­stie. It is the propertie of iustice not to violate the right of another man, and of Temperance, not so much as to of­fend him. In Temperance a man may behold modestie, with the priuation of euery perturbation in the soule, as also away how to frame al things according to that which is decent or seemely, which the Latins call Decorum, being What Decorum, or comelines i [...]a conueniencie meet for the excellencie of man, and that wherein his nature differeth from other liuing creatures. For as bodily beautie mooueth and reioiceth the eies, by reason of the goodly and seemely composition of all the members, wherin all the parts with a certaine grace agree togither: so this decencie, which is honestie and seemeli­nes, shining in mans life by his good order, constancie and moderation both in deed and word, mooueth and draw­eth the harts of those amongst whom we liue. This vertue The definition of temperance.then of temperance is a stedfast and moderate rule of rea­son ouer concupiscence, and ouer other vehement moti­ons of the mind. But she commandeth cheefly ouer those two perturbations of the soule, grounded vpon the opini­on of good, I meane, Vnbridled desire, and vnmeasurable ioie, whereof heertofore we made mention. Thus we see, that no man can find out any thing that is so excellent and What passions are ruled by temperance.wonderfull as temperance, the guide and gouernor of the soule, which bicause of hir exceeding great light cannot be hid in darknes: which compelleth vs to follow reason, bringeth peace to our minds, and mollifieth them as it were by concord and agreement. She serueth for a bridle to restraine all pleasures, and in the midst of them maketh [Page 182] man good and vertuous. She serueth for a knife to cut off all superfluous, vaine, and vnnecessarie desires as well of the soule as of the bodie: and is as it were a rule directing naturall and necessarie desires by fit choice of times, and by temperate vse of mediocritie. Wherefore we may say, that this vertue of temperance comprehendeth in it all the other vertues: that through hir a harmonie, concor­dance, and coniunction of them all is made: that she mi­nistreth vnto them all occasions of beginning, and being begun confirmeth them by a firme and stedfast safetie. Breefly, temperance (as Plato saith) is a generall surname of those vertues, whereby a man moderateth his owne af­fections, and frameth his gesture and behauiour in such sort, that no effeminate or loose maners, no clownish or vnciuil fashions are seene in him. O (saith Euripides) how is temperance to be esteemed, which is the cause of such great glorie and honor amongst men? This vertue is di­uided Fower parts of temperance.into fower principal parts, into Continencie, Clemen­cie, Modestie, and Order. Continencie is that part, whereby concupiscence and desire are gouerned by counsell and reason. Clemencie is that, whereby the minds of men, rashly caried away with the hatred of any one, and with desire to hurt him, are kept backe by gentlenes. Modestie is that, whereby honest shame and bashfulnes purchaseth good and due deserued renowne. Order is a disposition of all things in their conuenient place. All these vertues are vndoubtedly ioined with temperance, and consist as well in action, as in the discoursing of the mind. For by ioining a certaine mediocritie and order vnto those things that belong to this life, we preserue honestie and dutie. Euerie vertue (saith Iamblicus, a notable man) despiseth whatsoe­uer is fraile, mortall, and momentanie, but temperance more than the rest: bicause she contemneth, and through chastitie beateth downe all those delights and pleasures, whereby the soule (as Plato saith) is fastened vnto the bo­die as it were with a naile. Therefore if temperance roo­teth out whatsoeuer she findeth vnperfect and subiect to perturbations, how shal she not therewithall make vs per­fect? [Page 183] This is the meaning of that which the poets would giue vs to vnderstand vnder that fained fable of Bellero­phon, who being aided by modestie put to death that Chi­maera, and all other cruel and sauage monsters. But as long as the immoderate force of our affections raigneth in vs, it suffereth not men to be men, but draweth them to the il fauoured nature of beasts void of reason. Contrariwise, this holie moderation, whereby pleasures are contained within certaine bounds, preserueth families togither, and cities: and which is more, draweth vs in some sort neere to the diuine nature. Thus we see that she is the foundati­on and ornament of all good things. If we should ende­uor to rehearse heere al those excellent praises, which phi­losophers giue to this vertue of temperance, bicause of hir worthie effects and wholesome fruits, which she bringeth foorth in the soule, we were not able to performe it, al­though we should bestow this whole daies worke about it. But bicause in the sequele of our discourses, as well in the handling of vices as of vertues, we may consider fur­ther how necessary temperance is, and what profit it brin­geth to the whole life of man, we will content our selues to learne of Plato, that temperance is the piller of forti­tude, The commen­dation of tem­perance.the helmet and shield against luxuriousnes, the kee­per and guide of the eies, the preseruer of good will, the rasor of euill thoughts, the corrector of vntamed desires, an enimie to the disordered will of the soule: that it shun­neth naturall desires, hindereth dishonest actions, bree­deth continencie, mollifieth mens harts, and giueth rea­son for a rule in all things. Now let vs note out amongst the ancients, some examples of the force and greatnes of this vertue of temperance, which hath made many excel­lent Woonderfull examples of temperance. Scipio Africa­nus.men worthie of eternall renowme. Scipio Africanus ge­nerall of the Romanes, at the taking of the citie of Car­thage had a yoong damsell to his prisoner, of rare and ex­cellent beautie. And when he vnderstood of what great calling she came, and how hir parents not long before had betrothed hir to a great Lord of Spaine, he commanded that he should be sent for, and restored hir vnto him, with­out [Page 184] abusing hir in any respect, although he was in the flowre of his age, and had free and soueraigne authoritie. Moreouer, he gaue for a dowrie with hir the monie that was brought vnto him for hir ransome. An act no doubt of great continencie in a victorious captaine towards his captiue, whereof Aulus Gellius, ioining it with that whichAlexander. we read of Alexander the great, maketh this question, whe­ther of the twaine behaued himselfe more vertuously. For Alexander hauing vanquished in battell king Darius, and retaining as prisoner his wife, which excelled al the dames of Asia in beautie, and was withall but yong in yeeres, the victorious Monarke being but yong also, and hauing no superior aboue him to whom he was bound to giue an account of himselfe, had notwithstanding such great knowledge how to command himselfe, that albeit by his acquaintance and friends he was sufficiently certified of the excellent beautie of this Ladie, yet hee bare no ill thought towards hir, but sent to comfort hir, and caused hir to be intertained and attended on with no lesse honor and reuerence, than if she had been his owne sister. And to auoid all suspicion and occasion of euill, he would not see hir, nor suffer hir to be brought before him. The tempe­ranceCyrus. of Cyrus king of Persia is also very famous amongst the historiographers. For when one of his minions stirred him vp to go and see faire Panthaea, saying that hir rare beautie was well woorthie to be seene: that is the cause (answered this yong prince vnto him) why I will altogi­ther abstaine at this present from beholding hir at thy persuasion, least she hir selfe heerafter should induce me through the remembrance of hir perfection to go to hir, and so cause me in the meane time to let slip many af­fairesArchitas. of great importance. Architas was so temperate, that he would not so much as vtter one filthie word: and if he were driuen to declare it vpon some iust occasion, then he wrote it, shewing by this silence, how dishonest a thing it was to commit that, which being onely vttered ought toXenocrates. cause a man to blush. Xenocrates was indued with such a great gift of continencie, that Phryna a very faire and no­table [Page 185] courtisan laid a wager with certaine yoong men, that if she lay with him, she would cause him to breake his temperance. But Xenocrates, hauing granted hir the halfe of his bed, for example sake to those youths, was nothing more mooued for any thing she could do. Whereupon Phryna being verie angrie made answere in the morning to those that demanded the wager of hir, that she laie not with a man but with a blocke. Isaeus the philosopher be­ingIsaeus. asked of one that looked vpon a verie faire woman, whether she seemed not vnto him to be faire, made this answer. My friend, I am not diseased any more in my eies: and so would not behold hir at all. Caius Gracchus the Ro­maine,C. Gracchus. as long as he gouerned Sardinia, would neuer suf­fer a woman to set foote in his house, except it were to demand iustice. Antigonus king of Macedonia, hearingAntigonus. that his sonne was lodged in a house where there were three verie faire daughters, made an edict, that no cour­tier should lodge in any matrons house that had daugh­ters, if she were vnder fiftie yeeres of age. Pompeius wouldPompeius. neuer speak to the wife of Demetrius his freeman, bicause she was so faire, that he feared least he should be in loue with hir. In the number of these ancient, famous and ver­tuous men, that great captaine Francis Sforce duke of Mil­lanF. Sforce. deserueth to be placed, whose continencie was woon­derfull, euen when he was yet yoong, and generall of the Florentine armie, at the taking of Casanoua. For as cer­taine souldiers had taken a maide of an exccellent beau­tie, and at hir intreatie and earnest request had brought hir before him, Sforce asked the maide why she desired so earnestly to come before him. To this ende (quoth she) that thou mightest deliuer me from the souldiers, & that I might please thee. Sforce seeing hir to be verie faire, ac­cepted of hir, and at night caused hir to lie with him. But as he would haue drawne neer vnto hir, the maide cast hir selfe on both hir knees before him without the bed, and besought him to saue hir virginitie, and to restore hir to him vnto whome she was made sure. Whereupon Sforce willingly agreed, beholding the abundance of hir teares, [Page 186] which were testimonies of the chastitie of hir hart. Will we haue examples of this vertue of temperance in other circumstances of hir effects? Ambition truly is the most vehement and strongest passion of all those wherewith mens minds are troubled, and yet many notable and ver­tuous men haue so mastred it by the force of their tempe­rance, that oftentimes they accepted of offices and estats of supreame authoritie, as it were by compulsion & with greefe: yea some altogither contemned and willingly for­sookeThe tempe­rance of Pom­pey against ambition. them. Pompey receiuing letters of absolute autho­ritie from the senate to conduct the warre against the two kings Tygranes and Mithridates, cried out: O God, shall I neuer come to the ende of so many trauels? Shall enuie alwaies hold me in such sort as hir slaue, that newe and great charges daily laying hold vpon me, I cannot rid my selfe of these snares, to the end I may liue sweetly with my wife and children at my house in the countrey? Pittacus Pittacus. one of the Sages of Graecia, being constrained to take vp­on him the charge of an armie, accepted it with great greefe, saying before them all: O how hard a matter it isPedaretus. to be a good man! Pedaretus the Lacedemonian hauing escaped to be elected one of those three hundred sena­tors, which gouerned the estate of Sparta, returned from the assembly verie ioifull, saying, that it was an easie mat­ter to finde in that citie three hundred better and moreScipio. honest men than himselfe. What did Scipio, of whom we haue already spoken, after he had performed a thousand glorious facts for the greatnes of the Romaine empire? He forced the nature of ambition, which is alwaies cari­ed with a desire of new glorie, and changed the rest of his life into quietnes: and abandoning the affaires of estate,Torquatus & Fabritius. he went and dwelt in the countrey. Torquatus and Fabritius absented thēselues from Rome, the one bicause he would not haue the dictatorship, and the other the consulship. It is not long since Aimaeus duke of Sauoy willingly gaueAimaeus. ouer his duchy into his sons hands, & became an hermit: and after that being chosen pope, he gaue vp the seat wil­linglyAmurathes. to another. Amurathes, the second of that name, [Page 187] emperor of the Turks, after he had obtained infinite vic­tories, and vanquished the king of Hungarie, became a monke of the straightest sect amongst them. That great emperor Charles the fift, did he not resigne his empire in­toCharles 5. the hands of the princes electors, and withdrewe him­selfe into a monasterie? But what need we maruell at the knowledge of these examples, which shewe the effects of this vertue of temperance against strange passions arising in vs, proceeding of our nature corrupted with sinne, and ruling in vs through the ignorance of that which is good, when we may see, that temperance doth not onely serue for a good guide and schoolmaster to our passions and to our naturall and necessarie desires and pleasures, that are borne with man from the beginning to rule them with mediocritie and reason, but also compelleth them often­times to submit themselues, thereby triumphing ouer their necessitie, although (as Thales said) it be inuincible? And then how much more easie wil it be to restraine, yea, wholy to ouerthrow the foolish desires of vanitie? Soüs Soüs. a captaine of great renowne, and king of Lacedemonia, being besieged in a narrow straight, & very craggie place void of water, after he had endured the necessitie of thirst to the vttermost, he offred to the Clitorians his enemies, to restore vnto them al their land, which he had wonne of them, so that he and all his companie might drinke of a fountaine neere vnto them. Which being thus agreed vp­on betweene them, he led al his men thither, and said vn­to them, that if any one would abstaine from drinking, he would resigne his royaltie of Lacedemonia vnto him. But none would accept thereof, insomuch that all dranke ex­cept himselfe, who going last downe into the fountaine did nothing but refresh himselfe, and wet his mouth a lit­tle on the outside, in the presence of his enemies, not drinking one drop thereof. By meanes whereof he main­tained, that he was not bound at all vnto his promise, bi­cause all dranke not: and so he continued the warre to the great honor & aduantage of his country. Lysimachus, Lysimachus. one of Alexanders successours in the empire, had not so [Page 188] great power ouer the like passion. For being compelled by thirst, he diliuered himselfe and all his armie to the Getes his enemies. After he had drunke, being prisoner, O God (quoth he) how faint-harted am I, that for so short a pleasure haue depriued my selfe of so great a kingdome! Cato. Cato the yoonger, trauelling ouer the deserts of Lybia, en­dured verie sore thirst. And when a souldier offered him a little water in his morion, he threw it vpon the ground in presence of them all, to the end his armie might knowe, that he would be in no better estate than they. Truely a woorthy example for all captaines: for by so doing, that which would hardly haue quenched the thirst of one, re­strained Rodolphus.it in a whole armie. The emperor Rodolphus, who of base estate attained to this dignitie by his vertue, vpon the like occasion made an answere woorthy to be remem­bred. For when a full cup of beere was brought vnto him in the warre which he had against Octocarus king of Bohe­mia, at what time he was in a place where his whole army was greatly troubled with thirst, he would not receiue it, but said vnto the bearer thereof, that his thirst was for all his armie, and not onely for himselfe, & therfore that cup of beere was not sufficient to quench it. We read of Socra­tes Socrates.that whensoeuer he felt himselfe very thirsty, he would not drinke before he had spilt and cast away the first pit­cher of water, which he drew for himselfe out of the well, to this ende (as he said) that he might acquaint his sensu­all appetite to expect the conuenient time of reason. See­ing therefore by such examples and infinite others con­tained in histories we haue certaine and assured proofe of the force of temperance ouer naturall and necessa­rie passions, how credible is it, that she may haue farre greater power ouer those other passions that came from without vs, after we fell from our first creation? Let vs therefore conclude by our present discourse, that the ver­tue of temperance is verie necessarie and profitable for a happie life, as that which hath this propertie belonging vnto it, to be skilfull in chasing a mediocritie in pleasures and greefes, in keeping that which is honest & vertuous, [Page 189] and in shunning of vice, especially of carnall pleasures, al­though she serue also to moderate all the actions of our life. And if a prudent man auoideth dishonest things in publike places, a temperate man goeth farther, eschewing them in solitarie and obscure corners. If iustice suffereth no violence to be vsed, or wrong offered to any, tempe­rance further permitteth none to offend any: and there­fore is verie well called of the philosophers, the mother of all dutie and honestie.

Of Intemperance, and of Stupiditie or blockishnes. Chap. 18.

BEing instructed in the vertue of temperance, which, as well as hir fellow vertues, consisteth in mediocritie, we are now to consider of hir extremities and vices that are in excesse and in defect. In­temperance is cleane contrarie vnto it, which as Cicero saith, inflameth, prouoketh, and troubleth the tranquilli­tie of the spirit: but concerning the defect, I find no pro­per name giuen vnto it by the philosophers. But I leaue the handling of this matter vnto you my Companions.

Intemperance (saith Plato) was so called of the ancients, bicause that peruerse, cruell, great and variable beast Lust, exerciseth therein more power than it ought, Predominant passions in in­temperance.as also disordered ioy doth the like. Whereupon it com­meth, that intemperate men enioying the pleasure of their senses, imagine falsely that true felicitie accompani­eth them therein. But truly whosoeuer obeieth bodilie pleasures, serueth most cruell tyrants.

Nature (said Architas) hath giuen no plague more pernitious & hurtful than the pleasure of the body. For wheras God hath bestowed vpon man nothing more excellent than the soule and reason, there is none so great an enimie to this heauenlie gift as voluptuousnes: bicause where luxuriousnes and concupiscence raigne, there tem­perance can haue no place: yea, all vertues are banished [Page 190] out of their kingdome. But let vs heare ARAM discourse of these vices heere propounded vnto vs.

Some sinnes are punishments of other sinnes. I red in Plato not long since, that there were many sins, which ought rather to be called punishments of other sins going before, than sinnes. According to the course and sequele of his speech, if my memorie be good, I thinke his meaning is, that men suffering themselues to be ouertaken of vice in the beginning, as it were in sport, neuer take heed vnto themselues, vntill they be wholie a­bandoned and giuen ouer (as S. Paule saith) to their vile af­fections, Rom. 1.and pleasures of their harts, in all vncleannes and turbulent passions of ignominie and reproch. Insomuch that after they haue opened the gate to their concupis­cences, and to the desires of the flesh, of whooremongers, couetous persons, reuengers of their owne wrongs, belly gods, gluttons, and from other lesse imperfections, being notwithstanding foule and beastly, they become Sodo­mites, Church-robbers, parricides, Epicures, Atheists, and full of all execrable villanies, which are comprehended What intem­perance is.vnder this word of intemperance. Intemperance is very well defined of the philosophers to be an ouerflowing in voluptuousnes, forcing and compelling all reason in such sort, that no consideration of losse or hinderance is able to stay or keepe backe him that is through long custome infected with vice, from betaking himselfe of set purpose, and as a man would say, willingly and desperately, to the execution of all his desires and lusts, as he that placeth his sole and soueraigne good therein, seeking for no other contentation than in that thing, which bringeth to him and to his senses delight and pleasure. For this cause A­ristotle distinguisheth betweene intemperance and incon­tinencie The difference betweene an in­continent and an intemperate man.(albeit many take them indifferently one for an other) saying, that an incontinent man chooseth not, nei­ther consulteth when he offendeth, as one that knoweth full well that the euill he committeth is euill, and had re­solued with himselfe not to follow it, but being ouercome with perturbations, yeeldeth thereunto. Whereas the in­temperate man committeth euill of election and setled [Page 191] purpose to follow it, accounting it a good thing, & to be desired. And this commeth through a long custom & ha­bit of vice, which is the cause that he neuer repenteth him of the fact, but taketh pleasure therein: whereas on the contrarie side the repentance of an incontinent man fol­loweth hard at the heeles of his sinne and transgression. In this maner then proceedeth intemperance, vntill men are wholie addicted and giuen ouer to vice. This is the cause why the sensuall and vnreasonable part of the soule contendeth no more with reason, which then is as it were starke dead, and suffereth it selfe to be caried to vgly and vnnaturall vices, and to all fleshly desires: bicause the di­uine part of the soule is weakened in such sort, that she hath no more strength, nor feeling of hir essence, which is an enimie to vice. And thus accustoming hir selfe to fol­low nothing but the will of the bodie, she forsaketh God altogither, who seeing himselfe forsaken, leaueth hir to hir concupiscences, from whence is ingendred this exceeding luxuriousnes euen against nature, this mortall, venemous, and bloodie enuie, this furious and barbarous crueltie, this insatiable couetousnes, this bloud-thirstie ambition, and other incurable diseases of the soule, too wel knowen amongst vs, whereof the sequele of our discourses will af­foord a more ample knowledge vnto. Thus we see that in­temperance (as Cicero saith) is the mother of all the per­turbations in the soule, and causeth man (as Socrates said) to differ nothing from a beast: bicause he neuer thinketh vpon that which is best, but onely seeketh how to satisfie and content the vnbridled desires of pleasure and lust, ha­uing no more vse of reason than beasts haue. Intempe­rance (saith Eusebius) corrupteth the soule, and destroieth the bodie, bicause it constraineth a man, for loue of plea­sure, and desire to satisfie it, to do that which he knoweth well is dishonest and vile. And as the winds torment and A fit similitude.tosse that ship, which they haue seazed vpon now heere now there, and will not suffer it to be guided by hir mai­ster: so intemperance moouing and compelling the soule to disobey reason, suffereth hir not to enioy tranquillitie [Page 192] and rest, which is an assured hauen of harbour from all winds. Intemperance (saith Aristotle) is a vice that procee­deth from the coueting part of man, whereby we desire to enioy vnlawfull pleasures. It is hir propertie to choose the fruition of hurtfull and vile pleasures, supposing none to liue happily, but such as passe away their life in them.The compani­ons of intem­perance. This vice is vnseparably accompanied with the troubling of all Order, with impudencie, vnseemlines, luxuriousnes, sloth, negligence, and dissolutenes. In a word, intempe­rance remooueth and troubleth all tranquillitie of the mind, and leadeth men to all kind of wickednes, the end of one vice being the beginning of another: which Socra­tes called the punishment of sinne, that doth not cleanse but kill the malefactor. There is no kind of dissolutenes wherein the intemperate man plungeth not himselfe, no wickednes or crueltie, which he executeth not for the sa­tisfying of his vncleane desires and vnsatiable lusts, no feare or imminent danger, which can draw him backe. And further, he laboreth oftentimes to procure, that glo­rie and honor should be giuen to his most cursed and exe­crable misdemeanors, imagining and fansying with him­selfe dreames answerable and agreeable to that he most desireth. Wherein he resembleth mad men, who haue al­waies before their eies those Ideas and shapes, whichIntemperate men resemble mad folks. worke the apprehension of their furie, and hold them in the vision and inward view of that which most troubleth their diseased braine. But to make this vice of intempe­rance more odious vnto vs, and to moue vs more earnest­ly to flie those causes that nourish it, labouring to cut off all those branches and hurfull fruits, which it bringeth with it, as superfluitie, gluttony, ambition, pride, and other excesses in all kind of delight, wherof we will intreat more particularly heerafter, let vs call to mind examples of such pernitious effects, as it hath brought foorth in them that voluntarily submitted themselues vnder hir tyrannous gouernment. Although we should search throughout all ancient histories, yet hardly could we alledge a more eui­dentHeliogabalus. testimonie, than the life of Heliogabalus: bicause there [Page 193] is no kind of cursed mischiefe, of detestable lust, of iniu­stice, & of crueltie wherwith he was not defiled. Yea, he fel into such a furious frensie of vice, that seeking to become a woman, and to be maried to one of his minions, thin­king in that sexe better to satisfie his beastlines, he appa­relled himself after such a fashion, that he was neither man nor woman. And knowing it impossible for him by reason of his impietie and corrupt life, to escape a miserable end and violent death (which ought rather to haue been vnto him an occasiō of amendment) he was so bewitched with intemperance, that he prepared poisons ready at hand to poyson himself withall, if he perceiued himselfe pressed of his enimies. And to make his death luxurious according to his desire, he kept his poisons in vessels made of preci­ous stones. He prouided also silken halters to hang him­self withall, if he saw that more expedient for him, than to be poisoned: or if he should thinke it better to murder himselfe, he kept for that purpose kniues made of preci­ous mettals. Likewise he caused a high tower all gilded to be built, & all [...] his death as fittest occasion should be offred. In the meane while he gaue not ouer that exe­crable kind of life, which through Gods iust iudgement he ended, being depriued of all those means wherwith he desired to serue his owne turne in his death. For he was strangled by the souldiers of his gard, who trailed him inNero. that maner through all places of the citie of Rome. Nero, one of his predecessors, was little better than he. For he slew a Romane Consul called Atticus, that he might haue the free vse of his wife: and pleased himselfe so much in his crueltie, that he was the murderer of his own mother, brother, sister, & of two wiues which he had, named Octa­uia and Poppea. Likewise he put to death his schoolemaster Seneca, and many other good men. But his end dissem­bled not his life. For beyng hated of all and sought for toCommodus. be slayne, he killed himselfe. Commodus an other emperor, not finding wherwith to satisfie his intemperance in three hundred concubines, & three hundred buggerers, which he kept in his palace, committed incest with his owne si­sters. [Page 194] Caligula. Caligula also did the like, but the one of them wasProculus. slain by his wife, & the other by his concubine. Proculus a Romain emperor, was so much giuen to lust, that he brag­ged how in fifteene dayes he had gotten with child a hun­dred virgins of Sarmatia, which he had taken prisoners inChilpericus 1. the warre. Chilpericus the first, king of France, to the end he might the better enioy a whore called Fredegonda, whō afterwards he maried, compelled his first wife named An­deuora, to become a religious woman, and put to death two children which he had by her through the counsaile of his sayd concubine. Then hauing in his second mariage taken to wife Galsonda daughter to the king of Spaine, he caused her to be strangled, and maried Fredegonda, who perceiuing afterward that he noted in himselfe this loose­nesse of life, and offensiue kind of gouernment, caused him to be slain. A iust punishment suffred by God for hisXerxes. intemperance. Xerxes, monarch of the Persians, was so in­temperate and giuen to lust, that he propounded rewards for those that could inuent some new kind of pleasure. And therfore comming into [...] infinit num­ber of men to subdue it, he was ouercome and repulsed by a small number, as being an effeminate and fainthartedEpicurus. man. Epicurus a learned philosopher was so intemperate, that he placed the soueraigne Good and Felicitie in plea­sure.Sardanapalus. Sardanapalus monarch of Babylon, the first of the foure Empires, was so addicted to lust and intemperance, that he stirred not all day long from the company of wo­men, being apparelled as they were, and spinning pur­ple. Whereby he became so odious, that two of his lieute­nants iudging him vnworthy to command ouer Asia, and ouer so many good men as were vnder his Empire, raised his subiects against him, and ouercame him in battell. Wherupon dispairing of his safetie, he caused a great Ta­bernacle of wood to be set vp in a sure place within the cloister of his palace, and compassed it round about with great store of dry wood. Then he caused his wife and his concubines whom he loued best to enter into it, and all the wealth he had to be brought thither. This done, shut­ting [Page 195] himselfe within it, his Eunuches and seruants accor­ding to the othe which he had taken of them, put fire to the said frame, and so this miserable king of the Chalde­ans and Assyrians, with all that was with him, was sud­denly consumed with fire, and ended his monarchie, which his victorious lieutenants diuided betwixt them, the one taking himself for king of Babylon, the other of Medea. Antonius, one of Caesars successors in the Empire,Antonius. procured his own ruine through intemperance & loose­nes, and stirred vp against himselfe, the enuie and murmu­ring of the Romans for his retchlesnesse of feats of Arms in that warre ouer which he was generall against the Par­thians. For to the end he might quickly return to his con­cubine Cleopatra Queene of Egypt, he hazarded all in such sort, that without doing any thing worthy his first reputa­tion, he lost more than twentie thousand of his own men. Afterward, Octauius his companion in the Empire, beyng armed against him, that he might reuenge the iniurie which he had done him in forsaking his sister whom he had wedded, to liue in his vncleannes, gaue him battell: wherein Antonius seeing his friend Cleopatra flie, who had born him company in that warre, folowed her with three skore of his owne gallies, albeit the fight was yet equal, & the victorie doubtful. Thus he betraied those that fought for him, to follow her, who already had begun his destru­ction, to the end she might accomplish the same, as in deed it fel out after. For being besieged within Alexandria by the said Octauius, and without hope of safetie, he thrust himself through the body with his sword, wherof he died: and Cleopatra also procured her own death by the biting of the serpent Aspis. Boleslaus the second king of Polonia,Boleslaus 2. being giuen to all vncleannes and filthines, made no dout to take women by violence from their husbands. Where­upon the bishop of Cracouia often admonished him ther­of, and when, by reason of his obstinate perseuerance, he proceeded against him euen with excommunication, he was caried headlong with such fury, that he killed this ho­ly man. After that, his subiects comming against him, he [Page 196] was constrained to flie into Hungarie, where falling mad, Adrian.he slew himself. The emperor Adrian tooke such glory and pride in al execrable vices, that he commanded a Temple with a sumptuous tombe to be made for a naughtie man named Antinoüs, whō he had miserably abused in his life. Iohannes a Casa.In our time Iohannes a Casa Archbishop of Beneuento, and Legate in Venice, wrote a booke in praise of the abomi­nable vice of Sodomitrie. Sigismundus Malatesta, lord of a part of Romaignola a prouince of Italy, striued to haue carnal knowledge of his sonne Robert, who thrusting his poinado into his fathers bosom, reuenged that great wic­kednes. By these examples and infinit others whereof hi­stories are full, it appeereth sufficiently, that man burning with intemperance, careth not at what price, with what shame, hurt or hinderance, he may come to the execu­tion and practise of all such pleasure & delight, as he pro­poundeth to himselfe. As if he purpose to haue his fame continue for euer, he will not stick to do it, although it be by some notable wickednesse. And thus we read of him The Temple of Diana was burnt by Erostratus.that burnt the Temple of Diana, which was accounted the fift wonder of the world, & was two hundred & eight and twentie yeeres in building by the Amazones within the citie of Ephesus in Asia. The planks thereof were all of Cedar wood, and the doores and garnishing of the wals, of Cypres. This wretched caitife confessed, that he put fire to that sumptuous building for no other cause, than to leaue his fame and renowne behind him in the world: but commandement was giuen that none should fet down his name in writing. Neuerthelesse he is named Erostratus, by Solinus and Strabo: from whence came that prouerb, This is the renowne of Erostratus, vsed when any man seeketh to be famous by a wicked act, which we may also apply to all intemperate men. As touching the defect of Tempe­rance, wherof mention was made in the beginning of our present discourse, and which hath no proper name, but Or Stupiditie.vnproperly is called by some Stupiditie orsencelesnes, it is rarely found amongst men, who by nature are giuen to pleasure, and caried away with all kinds of desires & lusts. [Page 197] For where shal we find any so dul & blockish, that hath no feeling of pleasure, and that is not mooued with glory and honor? Such a man may be truly taken and accounted as one void of sence and feeling, & like to a blocke. Neither doth it belong to temperāce to be depriued of all desires, but to master them. For that man (as Cicero saith) that ne­uer had experience of pleasures and delights, neither hath any feeling of them, ought not to be called temperate, as he that hath done nothing which may testifie his conti­nencie and modestie. Thus ye see we haue no matter of­fred wherabout to bestow time in reproouing this vice of defect, frō which men are too carefull to keep themselues. But to come to the conclusiō of our discourse, we say with Aristotle, that concupiscences and desires change the bo­die, and make the soule outragious: that so many as are infected with such a pernicious and damnable vice as in­temperance is, are no mē, but monsters in nature, leading a life altogether like to that of brute beasts, which being destitute of all reason, know nothing better or more ho­nest than pleasure: & hauing no knowledge of the iustice of God, neither reuerencing the beautie of vertue, bestow al the courage, craft & force that nature hath giuen them, to satisfie and to accomplish their desires. So that if death brought with it an end of all sence and feeling, and an vt­ter abolishing of the soule, as well to men as to beasts, in­temperate folks should seeme to gaine much by enioying their desires and lusts during their life time, and to haue good cause to waxe old, and euen to melt in their foule & filthie pleasures. But seeing we know (for truely he that doubteth hereof, is very ignorant & most miserable) that sence and feeling remaine after death, and that the soule dieth not with the body, but that punishment, yea euer­lasting payne is prepared for the wicked, let vs be careful to do the will of our father which is in heauen, whilest we haue time, that in the triumphing day of his eternal sonne, we may not heare to our confusion, that sentence of his mouth, Depart from me ye workers of iniquitie. At which time, the iust shall shine as the sunne in the kingdome of Luke 13. 27. [Page 198] God, and the wicked shall be cast headlong into euerla­sting fire, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Of Sobrietie and Frugalitie. Chap. 19.

SOcrates vsed to dispute earnestly and graue­ly of the manner of liuing, as of a thing of great importance. For he said, that conti­nencie in meate and drinke, was as it were the foundati­on and beginning of skill. And truely the minde is much more prompt to comprehend all good reason, when the operations of the braine are not hindered by vapours, which the superfluitie of meates send vp thither. I am of opinion therefore, that we handle this vertue of sobriety, which dependeth of temperance, and is contained vnder the first part thereof, namely vnder continencie.

To liue well and frugally (saith Plato) is to liue temperately: and (as Epictetus saith) there is great difference betweene liuing well, and liuing sumptuously. For the one commeth of temperance, frugalitie, disci­pline, honestie, and moderation of the soule, contented with her owne riches: and the other of intemperance, lust, and contempt of all order and mediocritie. In the end, the one is followed with shame, and the other with true and lasting praise.

We can not well vse our spirite (saith Cicero) when we are stuffed with meate. Neither must we gratifie the belly and intrailes only, but also the honest ioy of the mind. For that which is contained in the other parts, pe­risheth: but the soule separated from the body, abideth for euer. Let vs then harken to AMANA, of whome we may vnderstand howe necessary sobrietie is for a happie life.

The cause of the long life of our Elders, and of the shortnes of ours. If we set before our eies the long and hap­py life of the Ancients, so long as they obserued sobrietie and frugalitie: out of doubt we will attribute one princi­pall cause of our so short life, and so full of infirmities, to [Page 199] the riot, superfluitie, and curiositie of diet, which at this day are seene amongst vs. The life of our first Fathers, was it not maintained a long time with fruits, milke, honie, and water? Who euer came neere their long and happie daies, since those times? What preparation of exquisite victuals did those six hundred thousand Israelites thinke to find, that came out of Egypt to go into a new land, wal­king fortie yeeres through the wildernes, drinking no­thing but water, and many times wanting that? After those first ages, the Grecians and Romanes loued sobri­etie, more than all other nations. And as the Hebrewes v­sed to eate but once a daye, which was at dinner, so the Grecians onely supped. For this cause we read that Plato, being demanded whether he had seene any new or strang thing in Sicilia, answered, that he had found a monster of nature, which did eate twice a day. This he spake of Dio­nysius Dionysius a monster, and why.the tyrant, who first brought vp that custome in his countrey. In the time of Iulius Caesar the Germaines, a strong and warlike people, liued onely of milke, cheese and flesh, not knowing what wheate and wine were, nor yet what it was to labour the ground, or to sowe. Yea how many millions of men are there at this day in the West re­gions and Ilands, who know not what all this superfluitie and daintines of fare meaneth, and yet liue long and heal­thie in all frugalitie, the greatest part of them vpon herbs and rootes, whereof they make cakes in steede of wheate, and others of raw flesh? Whereby it is easie to iudge, that sobrietie is the preseruation and maintenance of health, and of naturall strength and vigor, and so consequently of the life of man. But when we looke higher, and with The sobrietie of old time, and corruption of ours, compared togither.the eies of our mind marke the excellent glorie and im­mortall praise, deserued by so many Camilli, Scipiones, Fabri­ti [...], Metelli, Catones, and by a thousand other famous fami­lies, which executed so many woorthy acts by their owne vertue, and yet in the meane while kept such a simple and sober diet, that the most of them were contented with bread, herbs, and water, endured and tolerated cheereful­ly all iniuries of weather, went but homely araied, and al­togither [Page 200] contemned gold and siluer: out of question we will iudge those men very blind, and farre from the white of such glorie and honour, who imbrace nothing but dis­solutenes, superfluitie, lust, dronkennes, pride, and all such like imperfections, that beare sway amongst vs, who be­hold Vice mounted so high, that men must in a manner blush as much to speake of Vertue, or to be vertuous in a thousand companies, as in that happy time of the An­cients, they were ashamed of vice, or to be vitious. And truly I thinke that these men being past shame, care but little for the glorie that hath beene in many ages, seeing they liue for the body onely, after a brutish impietie, with­out all regard of the foule, or of the second life. What say Sobrietie pre­serueth health.I for the body? Nay rather they are the destroiers there­of, seeing it cannot be denied but that sobrietie is a great benefit, and helpe to preserue health and bodily strength, and to expell diseases, and is to be vsed as a good founda­tion to attaine to a happy old age. The experience heere­of is well knowne to euery one, although there were no o­ther proofe but this, that we see the simple sort of people, that labor and trauell to liue with bread and water, grow old in health, whereas our Princes and great Lords being delicately brought vp in idlenes, die yoong men, tormen­ted with infinite diseases, especially when they grow a lit­tle in yeeres. Further, let such dissolute men as make plea­sure the ende of their desire, know, that sobrietie leadeth those that follow her, to farre greater and more perfect There is more pleasure of the creatures in so­brietie, than in superfluitie.pleasures, than incontinencie and superfluitie doe. For these excessiue fellowes neuer expect hunger, or thirst, or any other pleasure of the bodye, but through intempe­rance preuent them, and so enioy scarce half the pleasure. But sober and temperate men, forbearing the fruition of their desire a long time, haue a farre more perfect taste of them, bicause (as Cicero saith) the pleasure of life consi­steth rather in the desire, than in the satietie thereof. And if mediocrity be not obserued, those things that are most acceptable and pleasant, become most vnpleasant. Do we not also see, that when the body is not ouercharged with [Page 201] meate and wine, it is better disposed, and more temperate for euery good action? And as for the spirite, for which we ought chiefly to liue, it is more ready and nimble to comprehend and conceiue what right, reason, and true honestie are. For (as Aristotle saith) sobrietie causeth men to iudge better and according to truth, of all things, and in that respect is very necessary for the attaining of Philo­sophye. Likewise sobrietie retaineth that in a wise mans thought, which a foole without discretion hath in his mouth. And therefore (saith Cares) we must striue by all The belly is an vnthankfull beast.meanes to restraine our belly, bicause that only is alwaies vnthankfull for the pleasures done vnto it, crauing conti­nually, and oftener than it needeth: so that whosoeuer is not able to command ouer it, wil daily heape vp mischiefe vpon mischiefe to himselfe. But frugalitie and sobrietie are the mistresses of good counsell, and the badges of cha­stitie. For this cause Titus Liuius commendeth more the barrennes and sterilitie of a countrey, than fertilitie and fruitfulnes, saying that men borne in a fat & fertile soile, are commonly do-littles, and cowards: but contrariwise, the barrennes of a countrey, maketh men sober of neces­sitie, and consequently carefull, vigilant, and giuen to la­bor: as the Athenians were, being situated in a very vn­fruitfull place. We make great account (saith Paulonius) of frugalitie, not bicause we esteeme the creatures them­selues vile, and of small value, but that by meanes thereof we may encrease the greatnes of our courage. And if the greatest & chiefest benefit that could come to man, were (said Solon) to haue no need of nourishment, it is very ma­nifest, that the next to that is to haue neede but of a little. But amongst so many good reasons of such excellent mē, the counsell of Epictetus is wel woorth the marking, where The counsell of Epictetus con­cerning eating.he saith: then when we would eate, we must consider that we haue two guests to entertain, the body and the soule, and that whatsoeuer shall be put into the body, departeth away quickly, but what good thing soeuer entreth into the soule, abideth for euer. To this effect Timotheus a Gre­cian captaine, hauing supped with Plato in the Academie [Page 202] at a sober and simple repast (for the greatest festiual dain­ties were oliues, cheese, apples, colewoorts, bread & wine) said, that they which sup with Plato, feele the benefit ther­of How wise men in old time fea­sted one ano­ther.the next day, yea a long time after. For these wise men met togither at bankets void of excesse, not to fill their bellies, but to prepare and dresse their minds, & to learne one of another by their goodly discourses of Philosophie, whereof a vertuous soule hath better taste, than the body of a well relished and delicate meale. Such were the feasts of Pythagoras, Socrates, Xenocrates, and of other Sages of Grecia, where the discussing of good and learned matters there handled, brought through the remembrance of them great pleasure, and no lesse liked commoditie, and that of long continuance to such as were present at them. And as for the pleasures of drinking and eating, they iud­ged the very remembrance thereof to be vnwoorthie and vnbeseeming men of honor, bicause it was to passe away Against vaine delights in feasts.as the smell of a perfume. Neither would they suffer that men should bring into their assemblies the vanitie of foo­lish delights, as of the sound of instruments, of enter­ludes, or of any other pastime, which a wise man ought rather to esteeme as a hinderance of delight, than any pleasure at all. For hauing within themselues sufficient matter of recreation and reioicing, through their learned discourses, it were meere follie to beg strange and friuo­lous delights from without them. And Plutark saith, that The bellie a fee­ding beast.the brutish part of the soule, depending of the feeding beast, and vncapeable of reason, is that which is pleased, brought to order, & satisfied by songs and sounds, which are sung and tuned vnto it: euen as with the whistling of lips or hands, or with the sound of a pipe, sheepeheards cause their sheepe to arise, or lie downe, bicause they vn­derstand not an articulate or distinct speech, that hath some pith in it. Therefore I commend Euripides, for repre­hending such as vse the harpe, so long as a feast lasteth: When musicke is most conueni­ent.for (quoth he) musicke ought rather to be sent for, when men are angrie, or mourne, than when they are feasting or making merry, thereby to make them giue more liber­tie [Page 203] to all pleasure, than before. I suppose the Egyptians The custome of the Egyptians at bankets.did better, who vsed in the midst of their bankets to bring in the Anatomie of a dead bodie dried, that the horror thereof might containe them in all modestie. For this cause the memorie of the Emperour Henrie the third, greatly recommendeth it selfe, who banished all pompe and vanitie from his wedding, and draue away the plaiers & iesters, causing a great number of poore folke to come in their place. The custom which the Lacedemonians ob­serued, The custome of the Lacedemo­nians.when they liued vnder Lycurgus lawes, is also wor­thie to be remembred: which was, that no torches or lights should be brought vnto them, when they departed from feastes at night, that it might be an occasion vnto them to feare drunkennes, and so to auoid this shame, that they onely could not find out their houses. Now in those happie times vines were planted and dressed, that wine might be drunke rather in time of sickenes, than of health: insomuch that it was not sold in Tauernes, but onely in Apothecaries shops. Those ancient Sages com­monly measured their drinking by that saying of Ana­charsis, The manner of drinking in old time.that the first draught which men drunke, ought to be for thirst, the second for nourishment: and as for the third, that it was of pleasure, and the fourth of madnes. Pythagoras being much more religious in this matter, and liuing onely of herbs, fruite, and water, said: that the vine brought foorth three grapes, whereof the first quencheth thirst, the second troubleth, and the third altogither dul­leth. He neuer dranke wine, no more did that great Ora­tor Demosthenes, nor many other famous men, of whome histories make mention. The kings of Egypt were forbid­den wine, which they neuer dranke, except on certaine daies, and then by measure. And truly it bringeth with it pernitious effects, aswell to the soule, as to the bodie. For from it proceedeth the chiefe and most common cause of bodilie diseases, and of the infirmities of the soule. But to continue the examples of loue, which the Ancients bare The sobrietie of Alexander.to the vertue of sobrietie, this was it that caused Alexan­der the Great to refuse those Cookes and Paisterers, which [Page 204] Ada Queene of Caria sent vnto him, & to send her word backe againe, that he had better than they were: name­ly, for his dinner, early rising, and walking a good while before day: and for his supper, a little dinner. Notwith­standing, in the ende the Persian delicacies and riches (which alwaies is the propertie of such goods) caused this vertuous monarke to change his commendable cu­stomeAgainst exces­siue drinking. of liuing, and to approoue and like of excesse in drinking: to which vice, that he might giue greater au­thoritie, he propounded six hundred crownes for a re­ward to him that dranke most, and called a great cup af­ter his owne name. Which cup, when he offered to Calli­sthenes one of his fauorits, he refused, saying: that he would not for drinking in Alexander, stand in need of Es­culapius. With which the King perceiuing him selfe tou­ched, was so incensed against him, that he caused him to be put in a cage with dogs, where he poisoned himselfe, being impatient of his captiuitie. Wherein we may note how ridiculous their blockishnes is, who for feare, not of such an entertainment as this wise man receiued, but of being taken and reputed as void of good fellowship, and vnciuill, cast themselues into the danger of a sore sicknes, rather than they will refuse to drinke carouse, when they are inuited thereunto. Hereby also those men shew their want of iudgement, and of conuenient matter to talke of, who cannot entertaine their friends without dronkennes and gluttonie. And the other, if they knew how to make denial fitly, and in good sort, besides the profit which they should receiue thereby, their companie would be moreCyrus. desired, than it will be for their dronkennes. Cyrus, Mo­narke of the Persians, from his childhood gane great te­stimonie, that he would one daye become a very sober man. For being demanded by Astyages his grandfather, why he would drinke no wine, he answered, for feare least they giue me poison. For (quoth he) I noted yesterday when you celebrated the daye of your natiuitie, that it could not be, but that some bodie had mingled poison a­mongst all that wine, which ye then dranke: bicause in [Page 205] the winding vp of the table, not one of all those that were present at the feast, was in his right mind. Afterward this vertuous Prince alwaies liued very frugally: for proofe whereof may serue his answer made one day to Artaba­zus, as he marched in warre, who asked of him what he would haue brought vnto him for his supper: Bread, (quoth he,) for I hope we shall finde some fountaine to furnish vs with drinke. Porus a noble king of India, liuedPorus. with water and bread onely. Phaotes also king of the samePhaotes. countrey, did the like: and the greatest feastes which he made, or suffered his Courtiers to make, was onely with a kind of venison. Alphonsus king of Arragon, and Cocilia,Alphousus. a very sober man, was demanded of certaine of his Prin­ces, why he dranke no wine: bicause (quoth he) wisdome is hindred through wine, and prudence darkned: which two things onely are able to make a king worthy of that name he beareth. Agesilaus king of Lacedemonia, hauingAgesilaus. beene alwaies brought vp in the discipline of Lycurgus, who had banished all riot and superfluitie from that citie, by the vtter defacing and abolishing of gold and siluer, became very woonderfull, by reason of his simplicity and plainnes, in feeding and clothing his bodie, and in beha­uing himselfe as the meanest of his subiects. He vsed to say (which he likewise put in vre) that he which comman­ded and ruled many, ought to surpasse them, not in dain­ties and delicacie, but in sustaining labor, and in nobilitie of hart. The benefit which (as he said) he reaped thereby, was libertie, whereof he assured himselfe, that he could neuer be depriued by any alteration and change of for­tune. And as he passed with his armie by the countrey of the Thasians, they sent him certaine refreshing of sloure, & of daintie cates, as comfits, and other daintie deuices made of paast: but he would take nothing saue onely the floure. And being vrged of others to receiue all, he said: Well, if ye thinke it good, diuide the rest amongst the I­lots, (who were their slaues) for it agreeth not with them that make profession of manlie fortitude and powers, to take such iuncates. For that which allureth and inticeth [Page 206] Good cheere keepeth ba [...]e [...] on men of a slauish nature, ought not to be acceptable to thē that are of a franke & free courage. But is there any thing now a daies, I pray you, that so much allureth and keepeth base minds in the seruice of great men, as the daintines of their table, And surely the Ancients did not vnfitly apply the name of Tyrant to a rich man, keeping a sumptuous table, as to one that compelleth men to follow & to obey him. Neuertheles, a courageous hart suffreth not it self to be takē with such baits: but let vs continue the examples [...]peius of sobrietic. Pompey the great, hauing all his life tyme lo­ued modestie and frugalitie, gaue yet a more certain testi­monie thereof, when, by reason of a lingring disease, he had lost his appetite to meate. His Physition appointing him to eate of a Blackbird, he was giuen to vnderstand by his serunats, that because they were out of season, it would be a hard matter to get any, except it were of Lucullus, who kept some all the yeere long, and would willingly giue him some. What (quoth he then) if Lucullus were not a daintie and nice glutton, could not Pompey liue? No, no, let me haue somthing made ready that may easile be got­ten.M. Cate. Marcus Cato after he had ouercome Spaine, and tri­umphed of notable victories, albeit he was now old and very rich, yet he would adde nothing to his ancient ma­ner of liuing, which was very austere, but dranke almost nothing but water, and for the most part did eat nothing but bread and biefe, laboring in the field in time of peaceEpaminondas. as much as the meanest of his seruants. Epaminondas the greatest captain & philosopher of his time, liued so thrif­tily and temperately, that being inuited by a friend of his to supper, and seeing great superfluitie and sumptuosnes, he returned very angry, saying, that he thought he had been requested to sacrifice, and to liue honestly together, and not to receiue reproch by being entertai­nedC. Fabritius. like a glutton. Caius Fabritius a notable Romain cap­taine, was found by the Samnite embassadors that came vnto him eating of reddish rosted in the ashes, which was all the dishes he had to his supper, and that in a very pooreScipio. house. Scipio Aemilius kept a very honourable table for his [Page 207] friends (for in his time riot had alredy begun to enter in­to Rome) but going aside himself, he would eate nothing but bread. Masinissa king of the Numidians, was of so greatMasinissa. sobrietie, that euen at ninetie yeeres of age he would eate but once a day, and then vpon homely meates without sauce. Mithridates king of Pontus, being very old, neuerMithridates. sate downe at the table to eate, and liued very frugallie. Hannibal fed vpon no other meat, than did the meanest ofHannibal. his souldiers. The reason why I stay longer in the exam­ples of this vertue of sobrietie, is to shew the beastlines of men in our age, to whom it seemeth an impossible, vayne and contemptible thing, to liue in such sparing and auste­ritie of life: saying, that there were none but certain foo­lish Philosophers (for that is the Epithite, which the igno­rant sort giue to vertuous men) & some simple Hermites, who liued after that maner. Therefore that they may vn­seele their eyes, let them behold here, how in all sorts and conditions of men, euen in the greatest, the vertue of tem­perance, frugalitie and sobrietie, did appeere and shine. The emperor Vespasianus one day in euery moneth vsed toVespasianus. eate nothing. The priests of Egypt, the sages of India and Persia, and Iupiters priests seruing false gods did neuer eate any flesh, nor drinke wine. Notable examples for those that haue the first places in the Church, who ought to be as a lampe in the midst thereof. Neither may they take example by Ethnikes and Pagans onely, but also by many holy men, who had in them the true loue and feare of God. Daniel and his companions neglecting the KingsDaniel. table, liued with pulse and water onely. S. Iohn Baptist pas­sedIohn Baptist. ouer the greatest part of his age in the desert, cating nothing but Locusts and wilde hony. S. Hierome maketh mention of one Paul an Hermite, who liued from sixteen yeeres vnto sixtie, of Dates onely: and from sixtie yeeres vnto the age of sixe skore and fiue yeeres (when he died) he was fed with a litle bread brought daily vnto him by a Crow. Maxentius bishop of Poytiers, liued alwayes withMaxentius. barly bread and water. But to the end we may reape pro­fit by all that hath been here spoken, let vs learne of Socra­tes, [Page 208] that the soule which hath gotten the habite of frugali­tie, and is contented with her estate, passeth away her dais in this world, as he that in the spring time taketh small & easie iournies in a pleasant and fruitful region, with great contentation of mind and litle labour. And let that nota­ble and diuine precept of Empedocles sound often in our eares,

Let vs adorne and decke our life with this good and rare vertue of sobrietie, which wil teach vs to renounce world­ly vanitie, and to content our selues (next vnto God) in vertue onely, and in heauenly riches. And although deli­cacie of fare be so common amongst vs Frenchmen, and maintained with such impudencie, that we permit amōgst vs, and studie kitchin Commentaries, as much as any good Science, so that it may seem a very difficult matter to take it away, and banish it from amongst vs, yet is it not altogether impossible, as many thinke. But let vs follow that ancient precept of Pythagoras, To chuse the best kinde of life, and no doubt but custome will by litle and litle make it easie & pleasant vnto vs. And if we be despised & rebu­ked of others, we may answer as Socrates did, who being Socrates feast.reprooued because he had made no greater preparation of meat in a feast wherunto he inuited many of his friēds, sayd, If they be vertuous, there is enough, and if they be not, there is too much. So let vs not seeke to please and to imitate the most part of men, but the best and smallest number: neither let vs looke vnto custome, but to that which is decent and honest. But if we perseuer in our dis­solutenes & superfluitie, as if we were Christians in name and sect onely, but Epicures in life, we are to feare that in the end need and necessitie will force vs to forsake it. And as it fell out to king Darius, who after he had liued a long Darius in his thirst, iudged puddle water to be good drinke.time in all abundance of delights, and neuer knew what hunger or thirst meant, as he fled from the battell gotten by Alexander was very thirstie: and after he had drunke puddle water proceeding from a riuer tainted with dead bodies, he burst foorth into this speech, that in all his life [Page 209] he neuer dranke better drinke: so likewise after we haue been tamed with miseries and calamities, we must con­fesse, but too late, and peraduenture (O dangerous down­fall) without hope of recouerie, that our estate is yet bet­ter (albeit most miserable) than our offences haue deser­ued, euen then when God for our dissolutions shall with­draw his blessing wholy from our grounds & possessions. This he hath already begun to performe in some mea­sure, Tokens of the wrath of Godby causing the ground to bring foorth vnto vs thi­stles and thornes, in steed of good graine and fruite, and by continuing amongst vs wars and hurly burlies, which are accompanied with pestiferous diseases, that he may o­uercharge those with the scourges of his iust vengeance, who will not humble themselues vnder the sweetnes of his word.

Of Superfluitie, Sumptuousnes, Gluttonie, and wallow­ing in delights. Chap. 20.

SEeing we haue summarily vnderstood the ex­cellencie and profit of the vertue of sobrietie, that it may yet better appeere by the contra­rie, and that we may be so much the more induced to de­sire it amongst vs, I thinke we shall do well to intreat of superfluitie, sumptuousnes, and gluttonie, whose fruits are The chiefest cause of destru­ction to Com­mon-wealths is excesse in de­lights.weltring in delights, which is the principall cause of de­struction (as Plato saith) to Kingdoms, Monarchies, and Common-wealths. Therefore I propound these vices to you my companions to discourse vpon.

Whatsoeuer is desired more than that which is necessarie for the life of man, is superfluitie, which cau­seth so many foolish and excessiue expences amongst vs, that, besides the ruine and decaie of many good houses, the destruction of the bodie, and, which is more to be fea­red, of the soule also, doth for the most ensue thereupon. Therefore Erasmus said very well, that nothing is more ab­iect and hurtfull, than to liue as a slaue to the pleasure of the mouth and bellie.

Those men (saith Plato) that are addi­cted to the seruice of their bellies, and care nothing for the foode of their minds, are like beasts, who neuer enioy true pleasures. Which thing also may be said of them that like fooles depend more of opinion than of reason. But it belongeth to thee ASER to handle this matter here ex­pounded, more at large.

Good things (said Lycurgus) are contrary and enemies to him that abuseth the gifts of nature: as if a va­liant man should loue rather to be a theefe, than a souldi­er: or a beautifull person an adulterer, rather than a ma­ried man. So is it with the goods of Fortune, as we terme them, the possession of which giueth occasion to those that are vnwoorthie of them, to commit many follies. A­mongst which we may note superfluitie for a verie perni­tious vice, hauing this propertie in it to draw the wils of men secretly, & to induce them to couet delights. Wher­unto after they haue once addicted themselues, they busie their mindes with nothing but to make prouision of fri­uolous, exquisite, and sumptuous things, taking smal care, yea forgetting easily those things that are profitable and necessarie, whereof afterwards they perceiue themselues Pleasure the end of superfluitie.to stand in great need. Now the end of all superfluities, wherein men plung themselues after diuers manners, is pleasure, which chiefly and for the most part they seeke in such a riotous and delicate life, as causeth the bodie with­out labor to enioy all his desires, lustes, and delights: or else in the fruition of worldlie glorie, wherein through vnprofitable and superfluous expences, they striue to ex­cell, or at leastwise to match those that are greater than themselues. Concerning the marke whereat they aime, there is nothing more hurtfull to man, than pleasure and delight, which (as Plato saith) serueth for a baite and al­lurement to draw him to commit wickednes, as hereafter we may discourse in more ample manner thereof, as also of that luxurious life, whose desire and contentation is in whoredome. And that I may begin to handle the other two general points, wherein they that are giuen to super­fluitie [Page 211] and costlines, seeke delight, namely the delicate life and curiositie of expences: let vs consider of the fruites that issue and proceed from them. First, when men suffer Of the delicate life.themselues to be ouertaken with the Epicures doctrine, and appeere so carefull to serue their bellie, nourishing it in excesse, daintines, gluttonie, and dronkennes, is it not from this headspring from whence diseases and euill dis­positions of the bodie proceed? We are sicke (saith Plu­tark) of those things wherewith we liue, neither is there a­ny The seed of dis­eases.proper and peculiar seed of diseases, but the corrupti­on of those things within vs, which we eate, and the faults and errors which we commit against them. Homer going about to prooue, that the gods die not, groundeth his ar­gument vpon this, bicause they eate not: as if he would teach vs, that drinking and eating do not only maintaine life, but are also the cause of death. For thereof diseases gather togither within our bodies, which proceed no lesse of being too full, than of being too emptie. And often­times a man hath more to do to consume and digest meat put into his bodie, than he had to get it. Phisitions (saith Of the shortnes of mans life. Seneca) cry out, that life is short, and art long: and com­plaint is made of nature, bicause she hath graunted to beasts to liue fiue or six ages, & appointed so short a time of life for men, who are borne for many great things. We haue no smal time, but we lose much time, and life is long enough, if it be well imploied. But when it passeth away through excesse and negligence, and no good is done therein, in the end through constraint of extreame neces­sitie, although we perceiue it not going, yet we feele it is gone. Moreouer a man may reckon greater store of griefs than pleasures, that come to him frō his nourishment: or to speake better, the pleasure of eating is but small, but the toile and trouble that men haue in prouiding it, is great. It were hard to repeate the shamefull paines and toilesome labors wherewith it filleth vs. Many a mans The soule of gluttons com-Pared to a mil­stone.soule (saith Solon) is ouerwhelmed, and as it were clothed with feare, least it should stand in need within the bodie, as it were in a mill, and turning alwaies about like a mil­stone, [Page 212] it seeketh after nourishment. Heereupon it remai­neth void and destitute of feeling, and desire of all honest things, and attendeth onely to the insatiable lustes of the flesh, which is neuer contented, bicause need and necessi­tie The custome of the Egyptians.are alwaies ioined with desire of superfluitie. The an­cient Egyptians vsed this custome to cleaue in sunder the bodie of a dead man, to shewe it to the sunne, and to cast the guts and intrailes into the riuer, and being thus clen­sed, to imbaulme the rest. And in very deede those inward parts are the pollution and defiling of our flesh, and are properly the veric Hell of our bodies. But, which is worse, is it not the stuffing and filling of the bellie that maketh the mind for the most part dull and vncapeable of any science or reason, whereby the diuine part of man is op­pressed and ouerwhelmed through the waight and force of that part, which is mortall? A wise soule is a cleare brightnes, said Heraclitus. O how hard a matter is it (saith Cato) to preach to the bellie, which hath no eares, and which will take no deniall, howsoeuer the case standeth: And as when we behold the sunne through thicke clouds and vndigested vapours, we see it not cleare, but with a pale and wannish light, and as it were plunged in the bot­tome of a cloud: so through a troubled and defiled bo­die, heauily loaden with food & strang meates, the bright­nes and clearnes of the soule must needes become pale, troubled, and dimmed, not hauing such forceable light, as to be able thereby to pearce through vnto the contem­plation of those things that are great, heauenlie, subtil, ex­quisite, and hard to discerne. I thought in my hart (saith the wise man) to withdrawe my flesh from wine, that I might bend my mind to wisedome, and eschew follie, vn­till Prouerb. 31. 4. 5.I knew what was profitable for the children of men. It is not for kings, it is not for kings to drinke wine, nor for princes strong drinke: least he drinke and forget the de­cree, and change the iudgement of all the children of af­fliction. Prou. 23. 29. [...]0.To whom is woe? To whom is sorow? To whom is strife? To whom is murmuring? To whom are wounds without cause? And to whome is the rednes of the eies? [Page 213] Euen to them that tarie long at the wine: to them that go and seeke mixt wine, which in the beginning is plea­sant, but in the end pricketh like a serpent, and poisoneth like a Cockatrice. And in another place, the wise man speaking of gluttonie, faith: that it drieth the bones, and that more die by it than by the sword. We see that beasts fatted vp languish through sloth and idlenes: neither do beasts faint through labor onely, but also by reason of the masse and heauie weight of their owne bodies. Fur­thermore, the vice of gluttonie and drunkennes is neuer alone, but draweth with it a thousand other excessiue and dissolute fashions. For (as Plato saith) it stirreth vp lust, griefe, anger, and loue in extremitie, and extinguisheth memorie, opinion, and vnderstanding. Brieflye, it maketh a man twise a childe. And in another place, the same Philosopher saith, that gluttonie fatteth the bodye, maketh the minde dull and vnapt, and which is worse, vndermineth reason. Wine hath as much force as fire. For as soone as it hath ouertaken any, it dispatcheth him. And as the North or Southwind tormenteth the Ly­bian sea, so, and much more doth wine vexe a man. For it discloseth the secrets of the soule, & troubleth the whole mind. A drunken gouernor and ruler of any thing what­soeuer, bringeth all to ruine & ouerthrow, whether it be a ship, or a wagon, or an armie, or any other thing commit­ted to his keping. We see by the goodly sentences of these Authors, how many discommodities & mischiefs come as wel to the body as to the soule, by this excessiue superflui­tie and curiositie of nourishment, whether it be in drin­king or eating. We see also that from this self same spring­head proceed those vnmeasurable and loose behauiours in all kind of delights, in carding and dicing, in dauncing, masking and mumming, in loue of maidens and adultery with wiues, the filthines whereof is so shameful, and disco­uereth it self so much, that I shall not greatly need to loose time in reproouing thereof. For it is most certaine, that all such inuentions are meerely heathenish, or rather diue­lish, when men commit such reprobate actions with pub­like [Page 214] Against masks & mummeries. libertie and licence. Especially we haue to note this well that concerneth masks and mummeries, so common amongst vs, and the cause of infinite offences, that foras­much as the face was appointed and ordeined of God to be seen openly, and the mouth to speake, we destroy the ordinance of God, as much as lieth in vs, and become contrary vnto him, when we take vnto vs a false face, and depriue our selues of speech. It may be sayd, that manie thinke no harme when they doe these things. But that which of it self is euil, cannot be excused, and no fashion of liuing taken vp and practised through the onely moti­on of our sensualitie (such are these delights & pleasures) can be maintained, neither hath it any good and lawfull defence. Now let vs consider some examples of those per­nitious effects which proceed from this Epicurian vice of intemperance. Esau fold his birth right through a glutto­nous The Israelites.desire. The self same cause mooued the Israelites to murmure many times against God. The drunkennesse of Lot. Lot caused him to commit incestwith his daughters. Alex­ander Alexander.the great darkned the glory of his valiant acts with this vice. For being ouertaken with wine, he slew Clitus one of the valiantest captains he had, to whom he was be­holding for his own life. Afterward, when he was come to himself, he would oftentimes haue murdered himself, and Dionysius.wept three days togither without meat and drink. Diony­sius the yonger, was somtime more than nine dayes togi­ther drunken: and in the ende he lost his estate. Cyrillus sonne in his drunkennes wickedly slew that holy man his father, and his mother also great with child. He hurt his two sisters, and defloured one of them. Ought not this to cause the haire of our head to stand vpright, as often as a­ny occasion is offred vnto vs, whereby we might fall into Lucullus.such inconueniences? Amongst the Romanes Lucullus, a man of great dignitie, and commended of Historiogra­phers for many braue exploits of warre which he did in Armenia, and for his bountie, iustice, and clemencie, is yet greatly blamed, because towards the end of his dais, omit­ting all intermedling with the gouernment of publike af­faires, [Page 215] he gaue himself to all kind of excessiue sumptuous­nes, & superfluous wasting of that great substance which he had. Whereof this only testimonie recited by Plutarke, shall serue for sufficient proofe. Cicero and Pompey meeting him one day in the citie, told him that they would sup with him on this conditiō, that he should prepare nothing for them but his owne ordinarie diet. At the least wise (quoth he vnto them) giue me leaue to bid my Steward make ready supper in my hall of Apollo: and by that he beguiled them. For his seruants vnderstood therby what cost he would haue bestowed thereupon: in so much that a supper of fiftie thousand drachmes of siluer, which a­mount to fiue thousand crownes, was prepared for them. This was so much the more wonderfull, bicause so great and sumptuous a feast was made ready in so short a time. But this was his ordinarie diet which he caused manie times to be prepared for himselfe alone. And as his men asked him on a day who should dine with him, seeing he commanded them to make readie such a great feast; Lu­cullus (quoth he) shall dine with Lucullus. This superfluous The sumptuous­nes of a Fran­ciscan Frier.pompe & magnificence, wil not be thought verie strange, if we compare it with that which not long since a simple Franciscan frier called Peter de Ruere made, after he had attained to the dignitie of a Cardinal through fauour of the Pope his kinsman. For within the space of two yeeres which he liued in Rome, he consumed in feasts and ban­quets the summe of two hundred thousand crownes, be­sides Philoxenus.his debts, which came to no lesse summe. Philoxenus the Poet wished that he had a necke like a Crane, to the end he might enioy greater pleasure in swalowing downe wine and meat: saying, that then he should longer feele the tast thereof. We read of the emperor Ʋitellius Spinter, Vitellius.that he was so much giuen to superfluitie and excesse, that at one supper he was serued with two thousand seuerall kinds of fishes, and with seuen thousand flying foules. But within a very litle while after he changed his estate, being executed publikely at Rome at the pursuite of Vespasianus, who was chosen emperor in his place. In our time Mule­asses Muleasses. [Page 216] king of Thunes, was so drowned in pleasure and de­light, that after he was banished from his kingdom bi­cause of his whoredom, in his returne out of Almaign, be­ing without hope that the emperor Charles the fift would helpe him at all, he spent one hundred crownes vpon a pe­cock dressed for him, as Paulus Iouius rehearseth: and that he might take the greater delight in musike, he couered his eyes. But the iudgement of God was such vpon him, that his owne children made him blind with a bar of hote iron. Concerning exāples of the miserie that followeth & accompanieth riot & delight in playing, dancing, & mum­ming, we see daily that a thousand quarrels, blasphemies, losse of goods & whoredoms proceed frō thence. And of­tentimes God suffreth the punishment therof to be noto­rious, euen by vnlooked for & strange means: as not long since it hapned to Lewes Archb. of Magdeburg, who dan­cing Lewes Arch­bishop.with gentlewomē vntil midnight, fell down so fierce­ly vpon the ground, that he brake his neck with one of the women which he led. Charles the 6. being clothed like a Charles 6.wild mā with certain of his familiar friends, & dancing by torchlight, was also in great peril of burning, if a gētlewo­man had not cast her cloke vpō his shoulders. And I think it wil not be from the matter, if we say that it is a shameful thing to suffer amongst vs, or to loose time that ought to be so precious vnto vs, in beholding & in hearing plaiers, Against plaiers.actors of Interludes and Comedies, who are as pernitious a plague in a common wealth as can be imagined. For nothing marreth more the behauior, simplicitie and na­tural goodnes of any people than this, bicause they soone receiue into their soules a liuely impression of that disso­lutenes and villanie which they see and heare, when it is ioyned with words, accents, gestures, motions & actions, wherewith players and iuglers, know how to inrich by all kind of artificiall sleights, the filthiest and most dishonest matters, which commonly they make choice of. And to speake freely in few wordes, we may truely say, that the Theater of players is a schoole of all vnchastnes, vnclean­nes, whoredom, craft, subtletie and wickednes. Now let [Page 217] vs speake of those that propound (as we said) vnto them­selves Against the cu­riositie of super fluous expences.the vainglory of outward shew among the best, and men of great calling, through friuolous, vnprofitable and superfluous expences, as in sumptuous and costly apparel, precious and rich moueables, goodly furniture and trap­ping of horses, great traine of seruing men, dogs, birds, & other vanities, gifts and presents sent to such as are vn­woorthie, thereby to obtaine the good will of them that are most wicked in authoritie, to the end to prepare a way vnto high callings, and to preferments vnto offices. Be­sides the wasting of their goods hereupon to their shame and confusion, which they should imploy vpon charita­ble works, they spend many times other mens goods, e­uen the substance of the poore, which they craftily get by vnlawfull meanes. This is that which at length (as Crates The beginning of ciuil warres.the Philosopher said very well) stirreth vp ciuill warres, seditions, and tyrannies within cities, to the end that such voluptuous men, and ambitious of vaine glorie, fishing in a troubled water, may haue wherewith to maintaine their foolish expences, and so come to the ende of their plat­formes. Heerof we haue many examples in the ciuil wars amongst the Romanes, as namely vnder Cinna, Carbo, Ma­rius, and Sylla. Likewise in the conspiracie of Catiline & his complices, who being of the chiefe families in Rome, and perceiuing themselues to be brought to the estate of bankrupts, as we commonly say, sought by all meanes to prosecute their first deliberation, which was alwaies to seeme great and mightie. Thus dealt Caesar in procuring to his countrey that ciuill warre, which he made against Pompey, after he had indebted himselfe in seuen hundred and fiftie thousand crownes, to get the fauor and good li­king How Heraclitus disswaded su­perfluitie.of the people. This is that which Heraclitus meant to teach his countreymen, when, after a sedition appeased and quieted, being asked what waie were best to be ta­ken, that the like should not fall out againe: he went vp into that place from whence orations were made to the people, & there in steed of speaking, began to eate a mor­sell of browne bread, and to drinke a glasse of water. [Page 218] Which being done, he came downe againe, and spake ne­uer a word. Heerby he would signifie, that vntill daintines of fare were banished the citie, and immoderate expences cut off, and sobrietie and modesty brought in their place, they should neuer be without sedition. If this counsell were euer requisite in a Monarchie, it is certainly most necessarie at this present for ours, wherein all kind of su­persluitie, riot, and weltring in pleasures, curiositie in ap­parell, tapistrie, and pictures, vessels, perfumes, and pain­ting of faces, aboundeth in greater measure than heerto­fore it did amongst the Persians, which was the cause of their finall subuersion, and of Alexanders greatnes, who subdued them. That which for the space of fiue hundred yeeres and more, maintained the Lacedemonian estate, being the chiefest in Grecia for glory and goodnes of go­uernment, Lycurgus bani­shed all strange wares from La­cedemonia.was the cutting off and abolishing of all super­fluitie in diet, apparel, moueables, and of all strang wares, which Lycurgus banished. Whereby also forraine mer­chants (the cause of corruption) banished themselues, as they that seeke not after others but for gaine, by selling their nouelties very deere vnto them. Neither did the Romane Commonwealth florish more at any time, than when those men that caried about them perfumes and sweetesmels, and those women that were found swilling like drunkards, were corrected with the same punishment. This caused Cato, being the Censurer of the election of Why Cato would not chuse Publius General of the warre.two captaines, that one of them might be sent as General of the Pannonian warre, to say with a loud voice, that he would dismisse Publius his Allie, bicause he neuer saw him returne wounded from the war, but had seene him walke vp and downe the citie of Rome perfumed. What would he haue said of our Courtiers, so finely curled, ruft, and perfumed? The Kings and Magistrats of those so happie times, were the principall obseruers of their owne lawes and edicts, reforming themselues before all others, and liuing so austerely, that their example constrained their subiects more to follow them, than all the punishments which they could haue deuised to propound vnto them. [Page 219] We haue a notable testimonie heereof in Agis king of Agis.Sparta, who in his returne from the warre wherein he had ouercome the Athenians, being desirous to sup priuate­ly with his wife, sent into the kitchen that was appointed for his band and company (for they liued all in common, being seuered into quarters) to haue his portion. But this was denied him, and the next morning for this fact he was fined by the Ephories, who were ioined in soue­raigne authoritie with the kings, for the maintenance of lawes and of iustice: in which sentence and iudgement of theirs, he willingly rested. But to returne to our matter, Against excesse in apparell.how ought we to blush for our riot and excesse in appa­rell, which we maintaine with such glorie? What follie is it to imploy the industrie of the soule, ordained for hea­uenlie things, in trimming, decking, and gilding hir eni­mie, hir prison, and if I may so speake, hir poison, the bodie? Excesse of apparell (saith Erasmus) is an argument of the incontinencie of the soule, and rather whetteth the eies of the beholders thereof to wicked desires, than to a­ny honest opinion and conceite. Decke not thy house (saith Epictetus) with tables and pictures, but paint it with temperance. For the one is to feede the eies vainely, but the other is an eternall ornament, and such a one as can neuer be defaced. If we make account of things of small importance, we despise those that are of great weight: but in not caring at all for little things, we make our selues woorthie of great admiration. That great Monarke Au­gustus Augustus. Caesar ware no other garments than such as his wife and daughters made, and those very modest. Agesilaus Agesilaus.king of Lacedemonia, neuer had but one kind of garment for winter and sommer. Epaminondas Generall Captaine Epaminondas.of the Thebanes, was contented with one onely gowne al the yeere long. Further, if we looke vnto their simplicitie and modestie in their traine and followers, truely it was woorthie of reuerence, being without pride, pompe, or superfluous magnificence. Scipio Africanus that great Cap­taine, going as delegate into Asia, to compound and end certaine contentions that were betweene the kings of [Page 220] Examples of moderate traine of seruing men. that countrey, was accompanied but with two of his friends, and with seuen slaues. Cato the elder, visiting the prouinces of his gouernment, tooke but three seruants with him. Nowe a daies we see, that the least accounted gentleman amongst vs, thinketh it a cracking of his cre­dite to ride so ill furnished. And yet the most part euen of the greatest, neuer make any great inquirie how their traine defray their charges. But howsoeuer they may say, that they know not of the excesse and riot committed vn­der their authoritie, and in their seruice, yet they are not thereby excused. For we ought carefully to beware, that no man abuse our name. Now, if princes and gouernours A good lesson for Princes and Magistrats to learne.of Commonwealths in steede of abridging superfluous charges, take delight therein themselues, from thence proceedeth the necessitie of charging and ouercharging their people with imposts and subsidies to maintaine their excesse, and in the end commeth the ouerthrow and subuersion both of the one and the other. But they ought rather both to abstaine from such vanities themselues, and also to seeke by all meanes to banish them from their subiects: and where their owne example and bodilie pu­nishments are not sufficient for this purpose, there ought Commendable imposts for Princes to lay vpon their sub­iects.they to lay great imposts vpon all such things as serue but to spill and corrupt their subiects. Such things are all ex­quisite dainties and prouocations of appetite, all sorts of toies and trifles, perfumes, cloth of gold and siluer, silkes, sypers, networks, lace, wouen works, & all works of gold, siluer, and inammell: all kind of superfluous apparel, with colours of skarlet, crimson, and such like, the forbidding whereof hitherto hath profited little. For the nature of men is such, that they find nothing more sweete and ac­ceptable, than that which is straightly forbidden them: so that the more superfluities are prohibited, the more they are desired, especially of foolish men, & of such as are vainely brought vp. Therefore it were good to raise the price of these things so high by meanes of imposts, that none but rich men and daintie folks may vse them. And such subsidies would asmuch set forward the glorie of [Page 221] God, the profite of the common wealth, the desire of good men, and reliefe of the poore, as many others now vsed are quite contrary hereunto. Then these speeches would no more be so common amongst vs, as now we heare them daily vttered by our Courtiers: We will (say they) keep company and be seen amongst the greatest, & be esteemed thereafter. If we spend not freely, men will make no account of vs. It is our honor and greatnes, and the way to procure glory and renowne to our houses and families. But I would gladly tell a great number of them, that they would be very much troubled to make answer to a law made by Amasis king of Egypt, and after establi­shed A good law to cut off the oc­casions of idle expences.in Athens by Solon, whereby it was enacted, that eue­ry one should yeerely make it appeere vnto his Prouost or Bailie how he liued, and if he approoued not his maner & trade of life to be iust and reasonable, he was condemned to die. If in like case these great spenders were to giue an account from whence they receiue wherewith to satisfie their pride and vanities, a man should find that their pur­chase (as we say) is far better vnto thē than their rents, & that they commit a thousand wrongs and detestable vices to make supply to their lauish expences. As for them that haue goods lawfully gotten, yet in spending of them wast­fully, they giue sufficient testimonie, that they care & seeke for nothing but a vaine and vanishing glory, which often­times, contrary to their expectation, is waited vpon with great infamie, and with the certaintie of perpetual punish­ment. And in the meane while they neglect that glorie which is eternall and always profitable, which they should enioy by well vsing, and not by mispending their goods, whereof they are but Gardians and Stewards, & must one day yeeld vp an account of them. O witlesse man (sayd one of the ancient Sages) what will the remembraunce of vaine glory profite thee, if thou art tormented and vexed where thou art, and praised where thou art not. This de­serueth a longer continuance of speech, but we may here­after discourse thereof more at large. In the meane tyme let vs note an other mischief, which commonly followeth [Page 222] Pouertie so­ [...]oweth super­fluous expences. superfluitie of expences, namely pouertie, whereinto ma­ny rich men fall before they be aware, and are then verie much grieued therewith, and not able to beare it. But the shame and reproch thereof is yet greater, because they fell into it by their own folly and misgouernment. Therefore to the end we walke not in such a slipperie way, which in the beginning is large and pleasant, but yet leadeth the trauailer vnto a down-fall frō which he can neuer escape, let vs leaue and forsake the discipline and life of Epicures, Our pallate must not be more sensible than our hart.and beware that our pallate and toong be not more sensi­ble than our hart. Let vs lead a life woorthy an honest A­cademie, and beseeming the doctrine of the ancient Sa­ges, that is, a simple, sober, and modest life, adorned with temperance and continence, knowing that diet and dec­king of the body ought (as Cicero saith) to be referred to health and strength, not to pleasure and delight, and that all outward excesse is a witnesse of the incontinencie of the soule. And for the perfection of all that lasting and ineuitable miserie which belongeth to them that are gi­uen to voluptuousnes and superfluitie, let vs heare that sentence of scripture, and feare least we be comprehen­ded vnder the iudgement thereof, Continuall miserie and Iames 5. 1. 5. mourning be vpon you that haue liued in pleasure on the earth, and in wantonnesse, and haue nourished your harts as in a day of slaughter.

Of Ambition. Chap. 21.

AS often as I remember the strāge tragedie of the Ro­mane Emperors, since the time that the Empire was mounted vp to the verie top & height of hir great­nes vntill hir declination, according to the vncer­taintie of all humane things, and how within the space of one hundred yeeres, wherein there were three skore and 73. Emperors of Rome within 100. yeeres.thirteene emperors, onely three of them died of sicknesse in their beds, & all the rest by violent death; I cannot suffi­ciently admire (considering the inconstancie and short continuance of so great a gouernment, which cannot but be well known to euery one) the folly of men, which com­monly affecteth them with an vnmeasurable desire to rule, whereby they are all their life time slaues to ambiti­on, which is one point of the vice of intemperance where­of we spake yesterday. And thus in my opinion we are to begin our days worke with the description of this perni­tious passion.

It is natural in man, the greater his stomack is, the more to labor to excel others, which is accompani­ed with an exceeding desire to rule: whereupon he is ea­sily driuen forward to do vniustly, if by wisdom he be not moderated.

Ambition and contention for honour (saith Cicero) are miserable. And many forget iustice, after they are fallen into a desire of glory, empires and honors. Go to then Achitob, let vs vnderstand of thee more at large what are the effects of this vice.

Eudoxus a Greeke Philosopher desired of the gods that he might behold the sunne very neere, to [Page 224] comprehend the forme, greatnes, and beautie therof, and afterwards be burnt of it, as the Poets report, that Phaeton was: such a hardie and bold passion to vndertake most The force of de­sire to enioy any pleasure.difficult & dangerous things, is the desire of enioying any pleasure whatsoeuer. This may chiefly be spoken of ambi­tion, which is the most vehement, strongest, & most disor­dred passiō of all those desires which so sore trouble mens minds, and fil them with an insatiable greedines of glory, Two kinds of ambition.and with an vnbrideled desire to rule. But to handle it more profitably, we will make two kinds of ambition, the one respecting priuate mē only that liue vnder the power and gouernment of heads, of estates and pollicies: the o­ther shal be of the heads themselues, of monarchs and go­uernors of peoples and kingdoms. In the meane time we What ambiti­on is.may thus generally define ambition, calling it an vnreaso­nable desire to enioy honors, estates, & great places. Fur­ther it is a vice of excesse, and contrary to modesty, which is a part of temperance. For that man (as Aristotle saith) is modest, who desireth honor as he ought, and so farre foorth as it becommeth him: but he that desireth it more than he ought, and by vnlawful means, is ambitious, and The effects of ambition.caried away with a perturbation of intemperance. Ambi­tion neuer suffreth those that haue once receiued hir as a guest, to enioy their present estate quietly, but maketh them always emptie of goods, and full of hope. It causeth them to contemne that, which they haue gotten by great paines and trauel, and which not long before they desired very earnestly, by reason of their new imaginations and conceites of greater matters, which they continually barke foorth, but neuer haue their minds satisfied & con­tented. And the more they growe and increase in power and authoritie, the rather are they induced and caried headlong by their affections to commit all kind of iniu­stice, and flatter themselues in furious and frantike acti­ons, that they may come to the end of their infinite plat­formes, and▪of that proud and tyrannicall glory, which, contrary to all dutie they seeke after. These imperfections happen vnto them, bicause from the beginning they stu­died [Page 225] to hoord, and heape vp externall, mortall and hurt­ful riches, before they had laid a good foundation of rea­son The cause of ambitious de­sires.through knowledge and learning, thereby to direct aright their purposes and doings, according to comelines and honestie. And therfore oftentimes they are deceiued and misse of their intent, and euen loose that which they might haue had, because they sought ouer boldly to laie hands on that which they could not so much as touch. So that we may wel say with Timon, that the elements & mat­ter of mischiefs, are ambition & auarice, which are found both together for the most part in the same persons. But to enter into a more particular consideration of the na­ture Enuie a note of an ambitious man.of euery ambitious mā, he hath commonly this pro­pertie, to enuie the glory of others: whereby he becom­meth odious, and stirreth vp against himself the enuy and ill will of euery one. Moreouer this his ielousie ouer ano­ther mans glory, is so much the more hurtfull vnto him in that he might, being set in high estate and authoritie, vse the helpe and company of such as are vertuous and noble minded in the execution of great matters, if in stead of ta­king them for his aduersaries in the pursuite of vertue, he fauored them, and drew them neere vnto himself. Where­by we may iudge, that there is none so pernitious a plague for the ouerthrow of vertue, as ambition, bicause it is ne­uer without contention for glory and honor, euen against the greatest friends, from whence in the end proceed the greatest enmities. Cicero also saith very well, that whatsoe­uer hath this qualitie, that many things of the same kind cannot be excellent, thereof ariseth for the most part such strife, that it is a very hard matter to obserue holy society. For equitie is not easilie kept inuiolable, when one desi­reth to be greater than all the rest. It commeth through Sedition a fruit of ambition.the fault of ambition (saith Aristotle) that many seditions arise in cities. For the mightier, not the vulgar sort, con­tend for honors and promotions. But if, as Plato writeth, there were a Common-wealth of good men, you should see as great strife for the auoiding of offices, as now men contend to command and rule. Also the honor of a good [Page 226] man (saith Plutark to Traian) consisteth not in that estate or office which he presently inioieth, but in his former de­serts; so that it is to the office wherunto men giue new ho­nor, as for the person he hath but a painful charge. Out of the sayings of these great Philosophers, we will draw this conclusion, that we must labor more to deserue estates & honors, than dare to procure them, and account that thing vnwoorthie and vnbeseeming vs, which is obtained by vnlawfull meanes. Now, as the ambitious man is intol­lerable in all his actions, so especially he bringeth himselfe in derision and reproch, through this burning desire of glorie and praise, which he looketh that others should yeeld vnto him, and wherein he taketh vnmeasurable de­light. Now, if he perceiueth that he cannot be commen­ded Ambitious men full of selfe-praise.for his doings that are vnworthie of honor, the thirst of glorie wherewith he pineth away, compelleth him to borow of himselfe by his owne commendation against all seemelines: which is neither more nor lesse, than if the bodie of a man in time of famine, not receiuing nourish­ment elsewhere, should take of it owne substance against nature. Further, if we should go about heere to make re­citall of those notable euils and mischiefs, which the am­bition of some particular men hath brought vpon Mo­narchies, cities, and Commonwealths, and generally vpon all those persons which were vnder their bloudie raigne, the whole life of one man would not suffice to describe them. But to touch this point briefly: we may note in all ancient histories, that the greatest plagues of flourishing Ciuill warres a fruite of ambiti­on.estates, and oftentimes their vtter subuersion, came from ciuill warres and dissentions stirred vp by ambitious men, desirous to command, and to be preferred before others. What did at any time procure the ruine of Grecia, flouri­shing in armes and sciences, so much as the ambition of those men who sought to bring the publike offices into their owne hands, as Leosthenes, Demosthenes, and many o­thers did, who were not afraid to kindle the fire of dome­sticall diuision, not caring what would be the issue of their damnable enterprises, so they might make waie for their [Page 227] deuised platformes? How many mischiefs did Alcibiades Alcibiades.procure to his countrey, being an enimie to peace, and giuen to all kind of nouelties and seditions? Who vsed to say, that a noble hart ought to labor but for one thing in this world, namely, to be great among his owne coun­treymen, and to purchase fame & renowne among stran­gers. Which had been well spoken, if he had added, by Iu­stice, and Ʋertue. Was it not from the same fountaine of ambition, that so hurtfull wars to both those Common-wealths of the Lacedemonians and Athenians, the one being maisters of the sea, and the other of the land, tooke their beginning, and thereby were both brought to ruine in the end? Was it not the same cause of ambition in cer­taine particular men, which procured the speedie returne of that good king Agesilaus, to redresse the ciuill dissenti­ons of Grecia, when he was in Asia continuing those goodlie victories, which he had against the Barbarians, for the comfort and libertie of many Grecian cities? O yee Grecians (said that wise Prince, being then verie so­rowfull) howe many more mischiefes doe yee procure to your selues, than were procured vnto you by the Barba­rians banded togither for your ouerthrow, seeing yee are A very fit admo­nition for France.so vnhappie as to staye with your owne hands that good speede, which conducted you to the top of felicitie, and to turne backe into your owne entrailes, those weapons which were so well guided against your enimies, by cal­ling backe the warre into your owne countrey, from whence it was so happily banished? The great and large scope of the Romane Empire ouer three partes of the Caesar & Pom­pey.world, could not satisfie the ambition of Caesar and Pom­pey, whilest the one could abide no equall, and the other no superior: insomuch, that they omitted and forgat no meanes to increase their greatnes, although it were with the charges of the Common-wealth. As we may read a­mong other things of Caesar, who, to ground & vnderprop his power well for continuance, gaue at one time to Pau­lus the Consul, nine hundred thousand crownes, for feare lest he should oppose himselfe against his enterprises: and [Page 228] to Curio the Tribune he gaue fifteene hundred thousand crownes, that he should take his part. After the death ofThe Triumui­rate. these two Princes, that great dominion could no better content the Triumuirate, namely, Octauius, Antonius, and Lepidus, who by force of armes ceased not to put their countrey to sword and fire, vntill the soueraigne authori­tie became resident in one alone. But why should we seeke among the Ancients, or amongst our neighbours for ex­amples of the pernitious effects of this vice, seing we haue so many at our owne gates? Who kindled that fire in France, which had taken hold of all the parts thereof, andThe ambition of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy. almost consumed it vtterly vnder the raigne of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy, who stroue togither for the gouernment of the kingdome? Were there not vpon the same occasion more than foure thousand men slaine in one daye within Paris, the most of them being men of name, at the instigation and procurement of the Duke of Burgundy, who had taken possession thereof? But alas the continuall and present remembrance of our late and vnspeakeable miseries, procured chiefly from the same fountaine of ambition, and knowne to women and chil­dren, staieth me from seeking farther for testimonies of this our present matter. Yea, I feare greatly, that we shall shortly see (I would to God I might be deceiued) the fi­nall and intire ruine of our Monarchie, which hath flou­rished as long as euer any did, and continued longer vn­uanquished of strangers. For we see hir owne children ba­thing their hands in hir bloud, and seeking to plucke outAmbitious men can be no good counsellers to Princes. hir hart and intrailes, and to cast them as a pray before hir enimies. O how would Princes chase farre from them all ambitious persons, if they were well instructed in ver­tue, and in the knowledge of those euils which such men procure! seeing it is impossible that any good counsell should proceed from them, but onely such as tendeth to the aduancement of their priuate greatnes. Now if ambi­tion be the mother of ciuill warres, is it not the same also of all other warres, which are daily bred betweene Kings & Princes, through the desire of increasing their bounds, [Page 229] of seazing vpon other mens territories, to the treading downe, oppression, and ruine of their poore subiects, and oftentimes of their owne estats? Is it not ambition which blindeth men so, that they are not content to be chiefe a­mong a million of others ouer whom they command, vn­les they be equal or superior to one or two of those whom they know to be greater than themselues? The desire of hauing more (saith Plutark) is a vice common to PrincesEffects of ambi­tion in great men. and great Lords, which, by reason of ambition and desire to rule, bringeth foorth in them oftentimes an vnsocia­ble, cruell, and beastly nature. And as Ennius saith, there is no faith or assured societie in kingdomes. For they, whose greedines neither sea, nor mountaines, nor inhabitable deserts can staie, and whose insatiable desire of hauing, cannot be limited with those bounds, which separate A­sia from Europe, how will they content themselues with their owne, and not seeke to vsurpe that which belongeth to another, especially when their confines and borders touch one another, and are ioined so neere togither, that nothing is betweene them? It is impossible. And in truth, how soeuer they dissemble, they purposely warre one with another, watching continually for meanes to surprize and ouerreach each other. But in outward shew they vse theseThe names of Peace and Warre abused much by Princes. two words of Peace and Warre, as a peece of monie, accor­ding as it shall make best for their purpose, not for duties sake, or vpon reason and iustice, but for their owne profite and aduantage, wickedly disguising in that manner the intermission and surceasing from the execution of their ill will and purpose, with the holie name of iustice and a­mitie. Princes therfore must not thinke it strange, if som­time priuate men (howbeit that doth not excuse them) find the like dealing profitable vnto them, according as it falleth out for their purpose. For in so doing, they do but imitate and follow them that are their maisters in all dis­loialtie, treason, and infidelitie, thinking that he bestirreth himselfe, who least of all obserueth that which equitie and iustice require. This did Dionides the pirat fitly giue Alex­ander the Great to vnderstand, when he asked of him why [Page 239] Dionides an­swer to Alex­ander. he troubled the whole sea, and robbed euery one. Know (quoth he to him) that thou and I are of one disposition and calling, except in this, that I am called a Pirate for skouring the seas with a few men, and thou a prince, bi­cause thou inuadest and spoilest euery where with great & mightie armies. But if thou wert Dionides and I Alexander, it may be I should be a better prince than thou a good pi­rate. With which free speech Alexander was so delighted, that in stead of a guiltie man brought before him to be punished, as was Dionides, he made him one of his great captains. But to continue our matter, if Right (say Ambi­tious men) may be violated, it is to be violated for a king­dom. O speech ful of all impietie, yea such as wil cause thē Examples of the fruits of ambi­tion. to buy the violating of so holy a thing very deerly, seeing they spare not him who calleth himself equitie & iustice it selfe. Further, if (as histories teach vs) some haue been so wretched & miserable, as to giue themselues to the Art of Necromancie, and to contract with the deuill, that they might come to soueraigne power and authoritie, what o­ther thing, how strange soeuer it be, will not they vnder­take that suffer themselues to be wholy caried away with this vice of ambition? It is ambitiō that setteth the sonne against the father, and imboldeneth him to seeke his de­struction of whom he holdeth his life. Henry the fift by force depriued his father from the Empire, & caused himFredericus. 3. to die miserably in prison. Fredericke the third, after he had raigned thirtie yeeres, was miserably strangled by Man­froy his bastard sonne, whom he had made prince of Ta­rentum. And after he had committed this Parricide, he poisoned his brother Conradus, lawfull inheritor to Frede­ricke, that he might make himselfe king of Naples. Antoni­nus & Geta, brothers & successors in the Empire to Seuerus their father, could not suffer one another to enioy so largeAntonius and Geta. Solyman. a Monarchie: for Antoninus slew his brother Geta with a dagger, that himself might rule alone. Solyman king of the Turkes, grandfather to him that now raigneth, when he heard the loud acclamations and shoutes for ioy which all his armie made to Sultan Mustapha his sonne, returning [Page 231] out of Persia, after he had caused him to be strangled in his outward chamber, and presently to be cast out dead before his whole armie, he made this speech to be publi­shed with a loud voice, that there was but one God in hea­uen, and one Sultan vpon earth. Within two dayes he put to death Sultan Soba, bicause he wept for his brother, and Sultan Mahomet his third sonne, bicause he fled for feare, leauing one onely aliue to auoid the inconueniencie of many Lordes. These are but of the smaller fruits of this wild plant of ambition, in respects of those that cause men to put innocents to death, that themselues may take surer footing to growe vp and encrease. And no doubt but for the most part, iust punishment for example to mē, folow­eth such an ambitious passion, whereof there are infinite examples both in the Greeke and Latin histories. Marcus Marcus Crassus iustly punished for his ambition. Crassus a Romane Consul, and the richest man in his time, not contenting himself with many goodly victories got­ten by him, but burning with an excessiue ambition and desire of new triumphes, and being iealous of Caesars glo­ry, obtained by his great feats of armes, presumed at the age of three score yeeres to vndertake the warre agaynst Arsaces king of the Parthians, contrary to the will of the Senate, feeding himselfe with vaine hope, which led him to a shameful death ioyned with publike losse and calami­tie. For being ouercome and his armie discomfited, he was miserably slaine with twentie thousand of his men, & tenne thousand taken prisoners. Marius hauing passedMarius. through al the degrees of honor, and been six times Con­sul, which neuer any Romane before was, not content with all this, would notwithstanding take vnto himselfe the charge of the warre against Mithridates, which fell to Sylla by lot, euen then when he was weakened with olde age, thinking with himselfe to get the Consulship the se­uenth time, and to continue that soueraigne authoritie in his owne person. But this was the cause of his vtter ouer­throw, & of that slaughter, wherby all Italy & Spaine were imbrued with bloud by Sylla, & the popular estate brought in the end to extreme tyrannie. Spurius Melius a Senator S. Melius. [Page 232] of Rome, was murthered for his ambition, and his house rased by Cincinnatus the Dictator, because he sought by meanes of a certain distribution of wheate, to make him­self M. Manlius.king of Rome. Marcus Manlius was also vpon the like occasion throwen downe headlong from the toppe of a rocke. Therefore it appeereth sufficiently vnto vs how pernitious this vice of ambition is in the soules of great men, and worthy of perpetuall blame. And although the matter be not of so great waight, when they that follow this vicious passion are but meane men and of small ac­count, yet we are to know, that all they depart farre from dutie and honestie, who, for the obtaining of glorie and renowne, shew themselues inflamed and desirous to excel others in all those things which they ought to haue com­mon How and wher­in we may seeke for honor.together for the mutuall aide and comfort of euery one. Onely we must seeke, without pride and enuie, after excellencie and preferment in that which is vertuous, and profitable for humain societie, contenting our selues not­withstanding with that, which we are able to performe, & so we shall neuer be blamed: but iustly may we be con­demned, if we vndertake that which is aboue our strēgth. Especially let our desires and passions giue place to the Cretes and Hermias.benefit of the Common-wealth, as heretofore Cretes and Hermias, two great men of Magnesia, delt one towards an other. Their citie being besieged by Mithridates, & them­selues hauing before been at great strife for honor & pre­heminence, Cretes offered Hermias to let him haue the charge of captaine generall, in the meane time he would depart the citie, or if he had rather depart, that he should leaue that office to him. This offer he made, lest if both of them should be together, their ielousie might breed some mischief to their countrey. Hermias seeing the honest of­fer of his companion, and knowing him to be more ex­pert in feats of war, willingly surrendred the authority of cōmanding vnto him. Now to end our present discourse, let vs learne to know their outragious folly, who for ima­ginarie honors, and those of so smal continuance, that the wise mā compareth them to smoke dispersed of the wind, [Page 233] desire nothing more than to run out the race of their days in continuall miseries and calamities, trauels and cares, depriuing themselues of all libertie, and which is worse, pawning their soules to an eternall and most miserable thraldome. Thus let vs detest ambition, which is an infi­nite euil and companion of pride, so much hated of God and men. Let vs consider a little that point of Philosophy which we find written by Traian to Plutarke. I enuie (sayd Traians letter to Plutarke.this good prince) Cincinnatus, Scipio Africanus, and Marcus Portius, more for their contempt of offices, than for the victories which they haue gotten: bicause a conqueror is for the most part in fortunes power, but the contempt and refusall of offices and honours consisteth onely in prudence. Let vs marke well the example of the emperor Flauius Vespasianus, who being admonished by his friends to beware of one Metius Pomposianus, (bicause Vespasianus.it was a common rumor that he should one day be empe­ror) was so farre from procuring him any harme or dis­pleasure, or from hating or enuying him, (as it is the pro­pertie of ambitious men, to feare aboue all things least their estate be touched, bicause they would raigne alone) that contrarywise he made him Consull the next yeere. Whereat his familiar friends wondring, and disswading him from it, My meaning is (quoth he to them) that he should one day remember this good turne. Let vs also propound to kings and princes that sentence of Titus the emperor, who making a feast one day with a cheerful countenance to the contentation of euery one, in the ende of the ban­quet strake himselfe on the brest at the table, and fetched a great sigh withall: Wherupon his fauorites demanding the cause why, I cannot (quoth he) keepe my selfe from sighing A notable say­ing of Titas. and complaining, when I call to mind that this great honor which I haue, dependeth vpon the will of fortune: that my estates and dig­nities are as it were in sequestration, and my life as it were laid in pawne & pledged vnto me. Let the saying of that good prince Another of Phi­lip king of Ma­cedonia. Philip king of Macedonia be well noted of great men, who on a day falling all along in that place where wrestling was exercised, and beholding the fashion of his body printed in the dust, Good Lord (quoth he) how little ground must we [Page 234] haue by nature, and yet we desire all the habitable world. Accor­ding to his example let vs all humble our selues in the ac­knowledgement of our imbecillitie and poore humain e­state, and let vs moderate our vnruly affections through the contempt of those things which worldly men desire and seeke after, iudging them an vnwoorthy reward for vertue. Let euery one of vs content himself with his estate and calling, so that it tendeth to the right end, namely, to his glory that gaue it vnto vs, and to the benefit and pro­fit of his creatures, and let all be done according to that measure of graces which he shall bestow vpon vs.

Of Ʋoluptuousnes and Lecherie. Chap. 22.

AMong those faults which men commit, be­ing led with desire and pleasure that is na­turally in them, we noted a little before, luxuriousnes and whoredome. But bicause we then reser­ued it to a more ample handling of Voluptuousnes, and of a lustfull life, which is the chiefe worke therof, & whose desire and contentation is in lecherie, to the end we may the better discouer that sugred poison, which lurketh vn­der these detestable vices, I am of opinion that we must begin to enter into this large field, so fruitfull for thornes and thistles, which to sicke eyes many tymes seeme faire blossoms of some goodly fruits: propounding to the sight of euery one, the nature and effects of the tyrannical pow­er of pleasure, a mortall enemie to the raigne of Vertue.

Pleasure (saith Plato) is the hooke of all euils, bicause men are taken thereby as fish by a hooke. For it Pleassure the hooke of all euil.quencheth the light of the soule, hindreth all good coun­sell, and through inticements turneth men aside from the way of vertue, throwing them downe headlong into the gulfe of confusion, which is luxuriousnes and whoredom, a most wicked & abominable vice aboue all others, wher­by all vertue is hurt and offended.

He that is giuen to pleasure (saith Cicero) [Page 235] iudgeth all things, not according to reason, but accor­ding to sence, esteeming that best, which most delighteth him: so that he easily suffreth himselfe to be kindled with the burning fire of luxuriousnes, which is hurtfull to eue­rie age, and extinguisheth old age. But let vs heare ARAM vpon this matter.

It is no new opinion, that many iudging ac­cording to their sensualitie, and being altogither igno­rant of the true nature and immortality of the soule, haue placed their soueraigne Good in pleasure, and in the enioy­ing of those things which most of all tickle the sences. A­ristippus Who they were that placed their chiefe Good in pleasure.and all the Cyrinaiks, Epicurus, Metrodorus, Chrysip­pus, and many others, who falsly tooke vnto themselues the name of Philosophers, laboured to prooue it by many arguments, cloking their wickednes with graue and loftie words, saying: that none could perfectly attaine to plea­sure, except he were vertuous and wise. But that which Ci­cero alleadgeth against them, is sufficient to discouer the maske of their impudencie, and to conuince them of ly­ing: namely, that we must not simply looke to mens say­ings, but consider whether they agree in their opinions. For how is it possible, that he which placeth his chiefe Good in the pleasure of the bodie, and in neuer-feeling griefe, should make account of, or imbrace vertue, which is an enimie to delights and pleasures, and commandeth vs rather to suffer a cruell and dolorous death, than to start aside against dutie? It is certaine, that he which pla­ceth his chiefe. Good in pleasure, hath no regard to do any thing but for his priuate profit. Whereby he declareth sufficiently, that he careth not at all for vertue, especially iustice, which commandeth nothing so much, as to leaue our owne particular pleasure and profit, and to imbrace, though with our perill & losse, the publike welfare. More­ouer, how could he be couragious, if he thought that grief were the extreamest and greatest euill, or temperate, sup­posing pleasure to be perfect felicitie? Besides, what can be more vnbeseeming man, appointed for all great and excellent things, than to take that for his chiefe Good, [Page 236] whereof brute beastes haue better part than we, and to leaue the care of that which is diuine and immortal in vs, to attend to that which is mortall and subiect to corrup­tion? But these erronious and false opinions, being con­trarie to themselues, are so absurd and full of blockish ig­norance, that we neede not here loose much time in con­futing them, and conuincing them of lies. Notwithstan­ding, it being so common a thing with men, to imbrace pleasure as the principall end of their actions, bicause na­turally they desire pleasure, and shun griefe: it will be ea­sie for vs to shew, that ignorance only guideth them, when being depriued of the knowledge of that Good which is to be wished for, and is pleasant and acceptable, they seeke after, through an euill choice, the greatest mischiefe of all, I meane pleasure, vnseparably followed of griefe, which men labour most of all to eschew. Let vs then see what What pleasure is.pleasure is, and what fruites she bringeth with hir. Vo­luptuousnes or pleasure (saith Cicero) is properly called that delight, which mooueth and tickleth our sences, which slideth and slippeth away, and for the most part leaueth behind it occasions rather of repentance, than of calling it again to remembrance. For many through wic­ked and vnnecessarie pleasure haue fallen intogreat dis­eases, receiued great losses, and suffred many reproches. It alwaies (saith Plato) bringeth damage and losse to man, ingendring in his mind sorow, sottishnes, forgetfulnes of prudence, and insolencie. Wheresoeuer sweete is (saith The fruits of pleasure. Antipho) there presently followeth sowre. For voluptu­ousnes neuer goeth alone, but is alwaies accompanied with sorow and griefe. Pleasure (saith Plutark) resolueth mens bodies, mollifieng them daily through delights, the continuall vse of which mortifieth their vigor, and dissol­ueth their strength, from whence abundance of diseases proceedeth, so that a man may see in youth the begin­nings of the weakenes of old age. Voluptuousnes is a cru­ell beast, making men hir slaues, and chaining them (as Sophocles saith) with diamond chaines. She is so much the [Page 237] more odious, by how much the more she hideth hir ve­nom, putting vpon hir the garment of good liking, be­traying vertue, and killing a man euen when she flattereth him. When pleasures come (saith Erasmus) they flatter vs with a disguised visage, and when they depart, they leaue vs full of sorow and sadnes. Which Xenophon very wittily The sundry profers which Vice and Ver­tue made to Hercules.deuised vnder the name of Hercules, saying: that as he went one day into the fields, in a certaine threefold high­way he met Vertue and Vice, both of them being in the shape and apparell of women. Vice being clothed in a stately, delicate, gorgeous and lasciuious gowne, with a smiling, painted, and coloured countenance, which did woonderfull allure by reason of the sweetnes and flouri­shing beautie that seemed to be in it, offred her selfe sud­denly vnto the said Hercules, saying: that if he would fol­low hir, she would cause him to lead his whole life in de­light and pleasure. But Vertue with a sorowfull, leane, and dismaied face, and clad with a long and plaine robe, with­out any decking of hir speech, vsed these words: If thou wilt come to me Hercules, thou shalt be indued, not with bodilie ornaments, nor with vading and vanishing beau­tie, but with certaine other riches which are more worth, and indure for euer. For whosoeuer beleeueth me, forsa­king that which seemeth faire, & cleauing to those things which outwardly appeere austere and hard, he receiueth in the end an eternall felicitie. Let vs vncloth voluptuous men (saith Plutark) and consider their doings. They are drunkards, whoremongers, sluggish in all waightie mat­ters, neglecting the benefit of the Common-wealth, of their parents and of their friends. But of all kind of vo­luptuousnes, Lecherie is most defiled, filthy, vile, and per­nitious, whereof especially we are now to discourse, being What whore­dome is.properly called of the Philosophers a furious passion, which corrupteth the sence of man, and a burning fire that consumeth him. All vnmeasurable pleasure, which men take by their fiue sences, is vile and dishonest: but the Grecians after a speciall manner called those men in­continent and immoderate, who exceeded in tasting and [Page 238] touching. And Hippocrates said, that he supposed copulati­on to be a part of that foule disease, which we call the Epi­lepsie The effects of immoderate co­pulation.or falling sicknes. And truly there is nothing more certaine, than that immoderate vse of the venereous act spoileth beautie, defileth the bodie, drieth it vp, and cau­seth it to stinke, maketh the face pale, wanne or yellow, weakneth the members and ioints, ingendreth Sciaticke goutes, collick passions, griefes of the stomacke, giddines of the head, or dimnes of sight, the leprosie and pocks. It Osey. 4. 11.shortneth life, taketh away the vnderstanding, darkeneth the memorie, and as the Prophet Osey saith, taketh away the hart. Moreouer, how odious all whoredome ought to be vnto vs, so that it be not so much as once named a­mongst vs, the onely curse that is laid vpon it of God, ought sufficiently to persuade vs, seeing thereby he con­demneth it both with temporall and with eternall death. But we haue besides, many goodlie sentences and nota­ble examples of Ethnicks and Pagans, and namely of the iust punishment, which for the most part followed this detestable vice hard at the heeles, and which ought to stir vs vp to hate it, and to flie from it with all our might, es­pecially when adulterie is ioined therwith, which is when The effects and end of concu­piscence.the sacred knot of mariage is violated and broken. Con­cupiscence (saith Aristotle) changeth mens bodies, and breedeth madnes in their soules. The end thereof is luxu­riousnes, from whence proceede a thousand wrongs, vio­lences, incests, murders, poisonings, and innumerable o­ther impieties. Is it not then a signe of great loosenes and basenes of mind, for a man to subiect himselfe to carnall concupiscences, which are disordered desires contrarie to reason, and whose office and practise is to chuse e­uill for good? Let vs heere giue eare to Socrates disputa­tion with Enthydemus, being very fit for our present mat­ter. Socrates dispu­tation against incontinencie.Tell me O Euthydemus, doest thou thinke that libertie is a good, great, and profitable possession, whether it be­longeth either to a man, or to a citie? Verie great. There­fore whosoeuer serueth the pleasures and vnbrideled de­sires of the bodie, so that for loue of them he cannot exe­cute [Page 239] that which he knoweth to be very good, Doest thou thinke that he is free? No. It may be thou iudgest it a thing woorthy a free man to be able to put in practise whatsoeuer he taketh to be good, and contrarywise, to be hindred from so doing, to be seruile and slauish. So it is. Thou beleeuest then that no incontinent men are free. Yea truly, and that iustly. Thinkest thou that incontinent men are hindred frō doing that which is honest, or com­pelled to commit vicious things? I thinke they are as much compelled to do the one, as hindered from practi­sing the other. But what maisters doest thou thinke them to be, who forbid well doing, and constraine men to em­brace euill? In good truth, very wicked. And doest thou not thinke that bondage of all others most troublesome, when one serueth most wicked and naughtie maisters? Yea. Then incontinent men are of all others most mise­rable, of what estate or condition soeuer they be. Besides, he that neuer thinketh vpon goodnes, but seeketh by all means to fulfill his vntamed desires of pleasure and lust, hath no more vse of reason, than beasts haue. This wise Philosopher teacheth vs sufficiently how hurtfull and per­nitious a thing it is to suffer the desires of the flesh to raigne in vs, considering that they draw vs vehemently to the practise of them, to our owne destruction: especially The fruits of whoredom.whoredom, which bringeth with it all kind of mischiefe, dissolueth and weakneth the body, and offendeth all the vertues and goods of the soule. Through hir it com­meth that men abase themselues so lowe, as to sub­mit both their bodies and soules to the inconstant will and vnrulie desire of a foolish woman. For we see some men so bewitched with a harlot, that if neede be, and she commaund it, they will hazard their honour and credit, and oftentimes make themselues an example to a whole country vpon an open scaffold. And then they labor to couer their folly with this goodly name of Loue, which is better termed of Euripides by the name of Furie & madnes in men. For true & good loue, which is the foun­tain of friēdship, is alwais grounded vpō vertue, & tendeth [Page 240] to that ende: but this slipperie and loose loue, is a desire founded vpon the opinion of a Good, which in deede is a most pernitious euil. And if adulterie follow vp̄ it (which The miserable effects of Adul­terie.according to Aristotle is a curious inquirie after another mans loue) the vice is two fold more detestable and wic­ked, bicause that he which committeth it, seeketh against all dutie of nature to take away another mans honor and reputatiō, spoileth him of that which he accounteth most precious, namely, of the loue and friendship of his wife, breaketh the peace of a house, causeth the wife to loose hir soule, who otherwise peraduenture would not haue yeel­ded, if he had not corrupted hir. In a word, it is the cause of infinite miseries & offences which we daily see come to passe. Amongthe Auncients this vice was so odious, that it was narowly sought out, and chasticed with very grie­uous punishments. In so much that Iulius Caesar caused one of his captains to be beheaded, bicause he had dishonou­red the mistresse of the house where he lodged, not stay­ing vntill one accused him, and without any complaint made vnto him by hir husband. There was a law among Zaleucus law a­gainst adulterie.the Locrians, established by Zaleucus, which condemned all those that were conuicted of this vice of adulterie, to haue their eyes puld out. This lawe was afterward so well kept, that his sonne being taken with the fact, and all the peo­ple intreating for him, Zaleucus would neuer suffer the punishment to be any thing lessened. And yet to satisfie their importunitie in some sort, he caused one of his own, and another of his sonnes eyes to be plucked out, chu­sing rather to beare halfe the punishment allotted for the offence, than that it should remaine vnpunished, & the law The law of lu­lia against ad­ulterers.violated. Augustus Caesar made the law Iulia, intituled of Adulteries, wherein is declared, how processe ought to proceed against those that are attainted of it, and how such as are conuicted thereof are to be punished, euen to permit the father to kill his daughter being taken in the fact with the adulterer. After that Fabius Fabritius was slain by his wife through trecherie, to the ende that she might haue greater libertie to commit adulterie, one of his yon­ger [Page 241] sons whē he came to age slew his mother with the ad­ulterer, & was absolued therof by the Senate. We read also The punish­ment of adul­terers vsed a­mong the Egyp­tians.that the lest punishment vsed by the Egyptians against ad­ulterers, was to cut off the womās nose, & the priuy parts of the man. Briefly, we shall find, that in all nations where honor and ciuilitie is neuer so little regarded, this vice of adulterie hath been grieuously punished, and greatly ha­ted of all noble minds. Herein the example of Alexander Alexander ha­ted adulterie.is woorthy to be remembred, who, when a woman was brought vnto him one euening, demanded of hir why she came so late: to whom she answered, that she stayed vntill hir husband was gone to bed. Which he no sooner heard, but he sent hir away, being very angry with his men, bi­cause they had almost caused him to commit adultery. He would not so much as touch his friends Concubine, al­though he loued hir: and he tooke on wonderfully with Cassander, bicause he would by force kisse a minstrels maid. So farre off was he from beyng willing to suffer his cour­tiers to force any wiues or daughters of his subiects, or to induce them to suborne any for him. But contrary wise, we see now adayes, that they are most esteemed of great Anthonie duke of Venice.men whose skill is greatest in corrupting of women. An­tonius Venereus duke of Venice may be vnto them an ex­ample worthy to be folowed, who caused his owne sonne to die in prison, bicause he had rauished a maid. But let vs Testimonies of Gods wrath a­gainst whore­dome.note a litle the eye witnesses of Gods wrath, who neuer, or very seldome suffreth whoredome to go without present payment meete for such peruerse wickednes. The reading of holy Scriptures doth furnish vs with notable examples, Numb. 25. 9. This sinne of Dauid was in numbring the people, as ap­peereth, 2. Sam. 24. 1.in the death of foure and twentie thousands Israelites for whoredome: in the punishment of the same sinne com­mitted by Dauid, with the death of more than threescore thousand men in Israel: in the punishment of the same sinne in Salomon vpon his sonne, who was depriued of ten 1. King▪ 12.parts of his kingdome: in the ouerthrow of the Cities of Gen. 19.Sodomah and Gomorrah, and in many other places. Whē Sathan seeketh for a readie way to cause men to fall, he commonly vseth whoredom. When Balaam taught Balaac [Page 242] that subtill practise to cause the Israelites to commit ido­latrie, it was by meanes of the faire women of his coun­trey, thereby to cause them to fall into the wrath and in­dignation of God. Concerning histories written by men, the number of examples of Gods wrath vpon whore­mongers is infinite, of which we will heere alleadge some, making mention of violent punishments, and of the de­priuation and subuersion of flourishing estates, which The danger that dependeth vp­on the loosenes of a Prince.haue proceeded from the same cause of whoredome. And truly it is more dangerous for a Prince in regard of his e­state, than any other vice, yea than crueltie it selfe. For crueltie maketh men fearefull, and striketh a terror in the subiects, but whoredome draweth with it hatred and con­tempt of the Prince: bicause euery one iudgeth an effe­minate man vnwoorthie to command a whole people. Tarquinius. Tarquinius king of Rome, for his loftines surnamed the proud, was depriued of his kingdome, bicause of the vio­lence which one of his sonnes offered to Lucretia, a Ro­mane Ladie. And although he gathered togither great forces, thinking thereby to reenter into his estate, yet he could neuer attaine therunto. Since which time the name of a king hath beene so odious among the Romanes, that they would neuer suffer any to beare that title amongst them, but from that time forward, changed the gouern­ment of a Monarchie into a Democraty or popular estate, abolishing all lawes appertaining to a king. In place of which they sent to the Athenians for Solons lawes, which afterward were obserued by the Romanes, and called the Appius Claudi­us.lawes of the twelue Tables. Appius Claudius, one of those ten that had all authoritie in the gouernment of the Ro­mane estate, bicause he would haue rauished Virginia, daughter to Virginius a Citizen of Rome, who slew hir to saue hir honor, was banished with all his companions in that office, and their manner of gouernment changed in­to the authoritie of Consuls. What was like to haue be­fallen Caesar.that mightie Caesar, after he had conquered France, Almaigne, England, Spaine, Italy, and Pompey himselfe, but a shamefull death, by reason of a foolish loue, which [Page 243] caused him to go into Alexandria in disguised apparell to enioy Cleopatra, where an Eunuch and a child had almost slaine him, if he had not cast himselfe from a high tower into the sea, and so saued himselfe by swimming to his Teundezillus.campe vnder the gallies of his enimies? Teundezillus king of Spaine was, for committing violent adulterie with a la­die of a noble house, depriued both of life and kingdom. Caracalla. Marcus Antonius Caracalla Emperour, being caried away with intemperate lust, maried his mother in law: and within a while after he lost both his empire and life. Chil­dericus Childericus.the first of that name, king of France, after he had raigned a long time, was driuen out of his kingdome for Iohn Earle of Arminack.his whoredome. Iohn, Countie of Arminack, maried one of his owne sisters, and being therefore excommunicated of the Church, was depriued of his estate and life by the Emperor Charlemaigne. Rodoaldus king of Lumbardy be­ing Rodoaldus.taken in adultery, was slain by the womans husband, Roderigo.whome he abused. Roderigo king of Spaine, was depriued of his kingdome and life by the Sarrasins, who were called in by an earle named Iulian, that he might be auenged of Galeatius Duke of Millan.his king, who had forced his daughter. Galeatius Maria Duke of Millan being at masse, was slaine by a Citizen, who stroke him into the stomack with a dagger, faining that he would haue spoken with him. The chiefe cause heerof was for a suspition which he had conceiued, that this Prince intertained his wife. In the time of Philip the Two brothers flaied aliue.faire, king of France, two knights that were brothers, na­med d'Aunoy, were flaied aliue for their whoredomes com­mitted with a Queene of Nauarre, and with the Coun­tesse of March, daughter to the Countie of Burgundie, which twaine also were condemned to perpetuall prison. Not long since, Peter Lewes Duke of Placentia, was mur­dred Peter Lewes.for his incests, and incredible whoredoms. Among other things, it is written of him, that he forced Cosmes Chers bishop of Valentia, whome he caused to be held by his men, and after poisoned him, least he should haue ac­cused him to the Emperour. Also not long ago, the cities Almendine and Delmedin.of Almendine & Delmedine, were cut off from the king­dome [Page 244] of Fez, and brought vnder obedience to the Portin­gales, bicause a yoong woman was taken away by force from hir husband, by the Gouernor of them, who was af­terwards Abusahid.slaine. Abusahid also king of Fez, was murdered with sixe of his children by his Secretarie, whose wife he had abused. This is set downe by Leon in the description of Africke. In our time, and euen amongst vs, too many such examples of the pernitious fruits of whoredom haue fallen out. Neuertheles, it beareth such sway in this deso­late The whoredom of Frenchmen.France, that they are accounted the gallantest men, who are the greatest pillers of whoredome. Yea, the grea­ter sort, that ought to be paterns of chastitie to others, are bold in the practise thereof, thinking to couer their shame, to cloke and disguise their whoredome with the maske of vertue, accounting it a point of glorie and ho­nor to be the chiefest and most expert in that schoole. But let vs know that this visard is but to make them alto­gither without excuse before him, from whom nothing can be hidden, and who abhorreth all maliciousnes and shameles impudencie, wherwith whoremongers set forth their face. And seeing that he, whose mercie is endles, sup­plieth the want and infirmitie of his creatures, this vice of whoredome is without all colour of excuse before him, bicause he hath giuen vs a holie and honourable remedie against it, which is mariage, permitted to euery one, but yet despised of all whoremongers, to their ruine and eter­nall confusion. And if they were not wholly blinded The scourges hat France [...]through continuance in vice, the scourges of ciuill warre, of heresie, of famine, and of rebellion, which Fraunce at this day suffereth, would be more than enough to vnseele their eies, that they might acknowledge the wrath of the Almightie, readie to destroy them both bodie and soule. Therefore let vs that are better instructed by our Acade­mie, learne of Socrates, that a wise man ought to passe by pleasures as by the Syrens, if he long to attaine to vertue, his most happie countrey and dwelling place. And for a Good counsell against whore­dome.good helpe heerunto, let vs take the counsell of Epictetus, saying: When thy spirite is drawne with some desire of pleasure, [Page 245] beware thou tumble not into some downefall: and meditate a litle, considering diligently, that after thou hast beene ouercome of plea­sure, there remaineth nothing but repentance, and thy hatred a­gainst thy selfe. Where as if thou abstainest, a stedfast and assured ioy possesseth thy hart, which wholy driueth away sorow. Thus let vs endeuor to decke our selues with puritie, chastitie, and vprightnes, hating in such sort voluptuousnes and leche­rie (the deere and costlie pleasure whereof passeth away as the winde, and leaueth behind it a shamefull remem­brance) that following the will of our law-maker, we shun all dissolutenes tending that way, whether it be immodest garments, vnchast gestures and countenances, or vile and filthie words, which may induce others to euill. Let vs re­member in good time what Archelaus, a Greek Philoso­pher said to a yoong man clothed with superfluous appa­rell, that it was all one in what part soeuer of his bodie he declared his vnchastnes, and that it was euermore to be condemned. But a­boue all things let that diuine sentence sound without ceasing in our eares, that no whoremonger hath any inheritance 1. Cor. 6. 9. Ephes. 5. 5. in the kingdome of Iesus Christ. And if, being naturally giuen to loue pleasure, and to feare griefe, we would delight our soule with a ioy that is both profitable and pleasant: let vs lift it vp in the meditation of those vnspeakeable and endles riches, which are promised vnto it in that happie immortalitie: and so we shall weaken and make fruitles that desire of worldlie pleasure, which is borne togither with vs.

Of glorie, praise, honor, and of pride. Chap. 23.

MEn hauing their eies couered with igno­rance, vse commonly to say, that he hath a great loftie and noble mind, who aspi­reth to honors, estats, riches, and other worldlie vanities. The iudgement of ignorant men touching noble­nes of mind.Albeit truly, if we narrowly looke vnto the end wherefore they direct their intents and actions that way, we shall see nothing els in them but a desire of vaine-glorie & praise, [Page 246] thereby to feede their pride and naturall passions, which are so pernitious in the soule, that if they be not ruled by temperance and mediocritie, and grounded vpon vertue, which is the fountain of honor, they will bring foorth ve­ry dangerous effects, cleane contrary to mens desires.

They (saith Seneca) that would make How we should make choice of a happy life.choice of a happy life, must not follow the fashion & ma­ner of life vsed by the multitude and greatest part of men, but such a one as is altogither contrary therunto. And this we shall do, if we despise the glory, honor, praise and pride of the world, and iudge nothing woorthy to be cared for of vs, but onely vertue, which is able to bring vs to the ful­nesse of true glory, and of euerlasting felicitie.

The glory (saith Pindarus) that a man taketh to see himselfe in honor and credite, maketh pains to seeme pleasant, and trauell tollerable. It is the propertie of a stone (saith Cicero) not to haue any feeling of the diffe­rence that is betweene praise and dispraise: but it belon­geth to a wise man not to be so mooued with all these things, as that they should cause him to draw backe from duetie. Let vs thā heare AMANA discourse more at large of the matter which is here propounded vnto vs.

The common down fall of the passions of the soule.Most certain it is, that commonly nothing affecteth a man more than the coueting of glory, of praise and of honor, whereof he is by nature desirous. But as all the passions and diseases of the soule are for the most part folowed with those inconueniences, which men pretend most of all to eschew, so oftentimes they that glaunce at honor, as if that were vertue it selfe, leauing behind them the path of that vertue from whence honor ought to pro­ceed, and which is able of it selfe to adorne & decke men, fall into the same reckoning that Ixion did, who (as the Poets say) had to do with a cloud, supposing it to haue been the goddesse luno, whereupon the Centaures were engendred. Euen so worldly men embracing vaine-glory onely, which is but a false shadow of true vertue, all their doings deserue so small commendation, that if they were well waied, they should rather be found worthy of blame [Page 247] and dishonor, than of that honour, which they so greatly seeke and aske after. For this cause the ancient Romanes built two Temples ioined together, the one being dedi­cated The Romanes built two Tem­ples, the one to Vertue, & the o­ther to Honor.to Vertue, and the other to Honor: but yet in such sort, that no man could enter into that of Honor, except first he passed through the other of Vertue. But seeing the way of vertue is so litle frequented at this day, no maruell (as Hesiodus saith) if so great a heape of wickednes be dis­persed through the world, that all shame and honor haue forsaken and abandoned the life of man. Now if an ho­nest man preferre the losse of his honor before his owne life, to the ende he be none of those that content them­selues with a deceitful Idea and platforme, in stead of the thing it self, let him learn aboue all things to know wher­in true glory and honor consist, and from whence he may deserue praise: which first is in Goodnes and Iustice: Se­condly, in guiding all humane actions prudently accor­ding to duetie, comelines, and honestie. These are the on­ly meanes to get durable and eternall honour, glory, and praise, which always folow vertue as the shadow doth the body, hauing this propertie to make men wise, iust, good and prudent, and to bring them to the best, excellentest, and most diuine habite that can be in men, which is the vprightnes of reason and iudgement, and to the perfecti­on (next after God) of the reasonable nature, which is such a disposition of the soule as consenteth and agreeth with it selfe. Therfore that goodnes and excellencie which pro­ceedeth of wisedome and good instruction is the first step The first step to Honor.to come to honor, bicause from that as from a liuely foun­tain floweth euery vertuous and praise-woorthie action, practised by a prudent man. For (as Cicero saith) no man can be prudent, but he must needs be good. Now this is cleane contrary to the common opinion of those that run so swiftly now adays after honor and reputation, who, be­ing ignorant of euery good cause and reason, and hauing corrupt and wicked conditions, imagine in their mindes, that so long as they do some act well liked of great men, Wherin world­lings place honor.and for which they may be noted out by them to be men [Page 248] of valure, making good penywoorths of their skin, and of their conscience also, whether it be in fight, or in the exe­cution of some other commandement of theirs, they shal haue cause to thinke themselues worthy of great honour, and to be preferred before other men. For they suppose that honor ought to be measured by that good wil and li­king which men conceiue of thē, although they thēselues be most wicked, and not by the triall of the worke whe­ther it be good or euil in it selfe. But I wonder at their fol­lie. For seeing they haue no goodnesse in them, how can they iudge what ought to be done or left vndone, accor­ding to equitie and iustice? And what honor wil they de­serue in all their actions, being guided onely with a desire of worldly glory, which (as Quintilian saith) is the chiefe & principal euil? Do not they also propound to themselues as a recompence of their paine and trauell, aduancement to high estates and dignities, that they may the better en­ioy worldly pleasures? Whereby they become slaues to mortall goods and riches all their life time, and depriue themselues of that precious libertie of the soul, for which a noble hart ought to fight & to suffer death. But a good man adorned with goodnes and iustice, propoundeth vn­to The White at which euerie good man ought to aime.himselfe a farre other end. For admiring nothing but vertue, he seeketh not to be honored but in obeying hir, in following hir steps, and in referring all his doings to the infallible rule thereof. He knoweth (as Seneca sayth) that glory is to be followed, not to be desired: that it is gotten by such a noble courage as measureth al things by conscience, not doing any thing for ostentation and va­nitie. The price and reward which he expecteth in this life for euery laudable action, is to haue done it: and yet he depriueth not himselfe of glory, which remayneth im­mortal vnto him among good men for his iust & vertuous deedes, neither careth he at all what the wicked or igno­rant sort think or speake of him. Hauing layd this ground and foundation of all his intents and purposes, he loo­keth not to the most beaten way, nor to the present state of things, that he might apply himselfe to the tyme, as [Page 249] though he feared that he should be left behind, but desi­reth rather to abide vnknown in his simplicitie, than with the hurt and detriment of his soule, to intrude himselfe a­mong the greatest. And if he vndertake, or execute any thing, he hath iustice and prudence alwaies for his guids: and then neither feare nor danger is able to driue him from his determinate purpose, which, how soeuer it falleth out, is alwaies no lesse woorthie of honor and praise, than their actions, who do nothing but for worldlie glorie, deserue blame and dispraise, which they feare most of all, and labor to auoid. True it is, that these men, who ambiti­ously seeke after vaine glorie and greatnes, may say vnto me, that things go farre otherwise than I speake of, and that their doings, who apply themselues to the pleasure and liking of the greater sort, without sparing their liues, are as much extolled, as the others that respect the vp­rightnes of causes, are set light by and contemned. But I answer them againe, that it is the dutie of a prudent man, The iudgement of the best, not of the most, is to be preferred al­waies.rather to feare the iudgement and opinion of a few wise men, than of an ignorant multitude. Neither ought he to leaue his conceiued purposes grounded vpon reason for the praise of men. For they that do otherwise, declare eui­dently, that they liue not but for the world, hauing no care of the principall and chiefe end of their being. Bion compared such men very fitly to vessels with two handles, which are easily caried by the eares whethersoeuer a man will. So these men being praised and much made of, vn­dertake all things boldly: yea, the burning heate of glory oftentimes carieth them so farre, that they praise & com­mend their owne doings to no purpose. Which is so vn­seemelie a thing (as Aristotle saith) that it is more blame­woorthie than lying, which commonly goeth with it, and is also a great argument of an inconstant mind. But as Plutark saith, the more reason a man hath gotten by Phi­losophie, the more he looseth of his pride and arrogancie, and they that haue nothing before their eies, whereunto they aspire, but vertue and dutie onely, vse the occasion, time, and sequele of their affaires, without caring for any [Page 250] other praise than that which proceedeth from the nature, iudgement and consent of all good men. It is true, that A good man may sometime praise himselfe.sometime it is tollerable in good men, yea necessarie for the benefit of others, to commend themselues in some sort, by speaking of themselues to their aduantage. As if laboring to be beleeued, we rendred a reason of our ver­tue and goodnes by our former effects, that so hauing meanes to continue our vertuous actions to the benefit of many, we may, as it were against their wils, worke their Themistocles did so.safetie, and compell those men to receiue a good turne, who shun all occasions thereof. This caused Themistocles to vse those speeches in the Councell of the Athenians, whome he perceiued to be wearie of him. O poore men (quoth he to them) why do ye oftentimes receiue benefits of the same parties? And another time he vsed these words. In rai­nie and stormie weather ye haue recourse to me, as to the shelter of a tree, but when faire weather returneth, ye snatch euery one a And Nestor. branch, as ye passe by. Homer bringeth in Nestor rehearsing his prowes and valiant acts, to incourage Patroclus & the other nine knights to vndertake the combat against He­ctor man to man. Moreouer, exhortation hauing the testi­monie of works readie at hand, and examples ioined with the pricke of emulation, are liuely, and woonderfully whetteth men on: yea they bring togither with courage and affection, hope of abilitie to attaine to the end of that The effects of pride.thing, which is perceiued not to be impossible. But in this case, as in euery other action, let vs aboue al eschew pride, hated of God and men, and the cause of the corruption and transgression of mans nature. Yea, it causeth that worke to become wicked, which of it self is good: so that humble submission is better than the proud boasting of our good deedes, which causeth a proud man oftentimes to fall into more detestable vices than he was in before. Now in requiring first and chieflie those praises that pro­ceede of bountie and iustice, my meaning is not that we should contemne, but rather search diligently after those that procure vnto vs immortall glorie by noble and cou­ragious acts, prouided alwaies that they passe not the [Page 251] bounds of equitie and iustice. For otherwise they cannot The works of fortitude must be grounded vpon equitie and iustice.but falsly be called works of fortitude and generositie, as heerafter in our discourses vpon these vertues we may vn­derstand more at large. Therefore it is the ielousie of glo­rie gotten by vertue, after the examples of our predeces­sors that liued well, which ought to pricke forward euery noble hart, to build for himselfe an eternall monument through heroicall deedes, when dutie and reason inuite vs thereunto. Thus did that good and valiant captaine Mattathias behaue himselfe, who, denying obedience to the tyrannicall edicts of Antiochus, after he had subiected and subuerted Ierusalem, and taking armes with his fiue sonnes, went into the fields out of a poore village where he dwelt, and called vnto him such as would follow him to recouer againe their liberty. And after many victories ob­tained by him, when he perceiued that he drew neere to death, he exhorted his sonnes to follow his iust and holie deliberatiō without feare of any danger. True it is (quoth Mattathias ex­hortation to his sonnes.he to them) that our bodies are mortall, and subiect to the same decree that others are, but the memorie of excel­lent deedes procureth to it selfe an immortalitie, where­unto I would haue you aspire in such sort, that ye thinke not much to die in behauing your selues valiantly. Thus it is lawfull for vs to be touched, and stirred vp with the ie­lousie of a good glorie, so that it be without enuying the How ielousie of glorie is tolle­rable.prosperitie and preferment of others, but onely so farre foorth as it may serue for a spur vnto vs to vndertake and to effect all vertuous and commendable things. As for example: Themistocles hearing of the great victorie that Themistocles. Miltiades had obtained in the plaine of Marathon, said: that that newes would let him take no rest: meaning thereby, that he should neuer be quiet, vntill by some o­ther act of vertue he had deserued as much praise, as did T. Flaminius.this excellent Captaine Miltiades. Titus Flaminius a Ro­mane Consul, who deliuered Grecia from bondage, and twice in battell ranged, ouerthrew Philip king of Ma­cedonia, shewed himselfe likewise touched greatly with a desire of glorie and honour, not to be blamed, but [Page 252] to be practised of all excellent and noble natures, by putting too his helping hande whensoeuer he coulde, with the first, yea, sometimes alone, to euery matter and exploit of importance. He kept company oftner and more gladly with those that stood in neede of his helpe, than with such as were able to aide him in well doing, ac­counting these men to be his competitors in the purcha­sing of honor and glory, & the others to be matter where­upon he might exercise his vertue. It was an argument of yong yeeres, which seemed to promise much, and to be borne to all great enterprises, when Iulius Caesar being yet very yong, and beholding the image of Alexander the Caesar wept at the sight of A­lexanders image.great at foure and twentie yeeres of age, fell to weeping, and said: Am not I miserable that haue done nothing woorthy of memorie, and yet this prince at these yeeres had executed so many notable things? Moreouer, we may obserue among the Ancients infinite woorthy exam­ples quite contrary one to another, in that many great & famous men haue altogether despised the honor of vaine­glory, which is neuer without presumption and pride: & contrary wise, others being led with pride and arrogancie, haue fowly abused their authoritie and greatnes, purcha­sing to themselues more blame and dishonor, than praise Cyrus.and honour. That great Cyrus Monarch of the Persians, was of so meeke and gentle a nature, and so little desirous of vainglory, that he would neuer prouoke his equals in age to any exercise wherin he perceiued himself the stron­ger, but those rather, who were better practised than him­selfe, to the end he might not displease them by bearing a­way the price from them, as also that he might reape this benefit to learne that which he could not do so well as o­thers. O right noble hart, giuing euident proofe of the contempt of base and vile things, to treasure vp those that are great and excellent! But now adayes where about do we striue most? namely, who can most cunningly strike with the sword, run at the ring, or ride and manage hor­ses. And I would to God we did no worse. But as for ex­celling others in vertue, these times require no such mat­ter. [Page 253] We read of an Indian, who being commanded by A­lexander A notable histo­rie of an Indian.the Great to shoote before him, bicause he had heard that he was very excellent in that art, would do no­thing. Wherupon the Monarch being incensed, condem­ned him to death, if he would not obey him. The Indian going to execution, told one of those that led him, that he had been in deede heeretofore a very good Archer, but bicause he had of long time intermitted that exercise, he feared that he had forgotten it: and therefore had rather die than loose the reputation, which he had once obtai­ned. To this fellow we may compare those of whome we haue alreadie spoken, who glorie in nothing but in this, that they are taken of the greater sort for valiant men, &, as they vse to say, for such as make profession, that they ca­rie about them a sharpe swoord for their seruice. These men had rather die in a naughtie quarrell, with the dan­ger of loosing their soule, than to fal from this their repu­tation, which they desire to carie with them. But let vs fol­low Examples of the contempt and desire of [...] glorie.our examples of the contempt of vaine-glorie, and of certaine others ledde away with an ouerweening pride. Pompey the Great, shewed a notable argument that he Pompeius.was not touched with vaine-glorie or pride, when, after he had vtterly vanquished Tigranes king of Pontus, and made him his prisoner, he chose rather to set him againe in his kingdome, and to make him an allie and confede­rate of the Romanes, than to reserue and lead him in ma­ner of a triumph into Rome, according as they vsed then to deale with enimies, and with their spoiles: saying like a vertuous Monarch, that he much more esteemed the glo­rie Tamberlane seueritie to­wards Baiazet the great Turke.of a whole age, than of one day. The Great Tamberlane being puffed vp exceedingly, bicause of a Peasants sonne he attained to so great a Monarchy, vsed farre greater and more barbarous seueritie towards Baiazet Emperour of the Turks, whome, after he had ouercome him, and made him his prisoner, he caused to be ledde about with him in a cage, wheresoeuer he went, feeding him onely with the crums that fell vnder his table: and whensoever he tooke horse, he vsed his bodie for an aduauntage. After [Page 254] Saphors to­wards Valeri­anus. the same maner Ʋalerianus the emperor was handled by Saphor king of Persia, by whom he was discomfited in a battell, which this Barbarian had wonne of him. He that Pope Alexan­ders towards Friderike.trode vpon the emperor Friderike Barbarossa his necke, and pusht him twise with his foote when he had him at his de­uotion, shewed himself more proud, cruell, and arrogant, in that he vsed for a pretence and cloke of his pride & wic­kednes, Psal. 91. 13.that text of Scripture, Thou shalt walke vpon the Li­on and Aspe, the yong Lion and the Dragon shalt thou tread vn­der foote, as if it had been spoken to him. That heathen mā Agathocles. Agathocles king of Sicilia, left behind him a farre more no­table example of the contempt of glory, that we should not be lift vp too much, nor forget our selues by reason of the greatnes of our estate. For being come to that estate by his vertue, bicause he was borne of a poore Potter, he caused himselfe to be serued ordinarilie at his table with earthen vessels, intermingled with his cups of gold, saying thus to those that came to see him, thereby to inflame them with a desire of weldoing: Behold what it is to perseuer in trauel & in taking of pains to become vertuous and courageous. Heretofore we made these pots of earth, and now we make these of gold. Further we must know, that when fortune (if it be lawful for vs vnder this word to vnderstand the ordināce of God) lifteth vp men of low degree vnto great and ho­nourable The honor of great men de­pendeth of their vertue, not of their dignitie.places through their valure and desert, and ex­alteth also many men that are vnwoorthy, letting vs see how proudly and wickedly these men behaue themselues in abusing their authoritie, and contrarywise how the o­ther sort vse it wel, she doth thereby so much the more ho­nor, and recommend vertue vnto vs, as the onely thing whereof all the greatnes, glory and honor of men depen­deth, and not of the dignitie wherin they are placed. Now how greatly hautinesse of mind is hated both of God and men, among infinite testimonies which we haue, that of Herodes. Herode Agrippa king of the Iewes, ought well to be mar­ked. For being gone vp into the pulpit appointed for O­rations, and reioycing bicause the people cried out to his praise, That it was the voice of God, and not of man, he was sud­denly [Page 255] stroken from heauen: so that when he perceiued himself to consume away with Vermine, he cried out to the people, saying: Behold how he dieth now with intollerable griefs, whō not long since ye called God. Dioclesianus the emperor Dioclesianus.was so puft vp with pride, that he called himselfe brother to the Sunne and Moone, and made an Edict whereby he would haue all men to kisse his feete, whereas his prede­cessors gaue their hands to the Nobilitie, and their knees to the simpler sort: but God suffered him to die a mad man. Moreouer we see daily, that proud men become o­dious to euery one, and are in the end contemned, yea, that oftentimes it costeth them their life. The punishment that Philip king of Macedonia laid vpon Menecratus the Menecratus finely punished for his pride by Philip.Physition was more gentle, yet pleasant, and woorth the noting. This fellow bicause he was excellent in his Arte, caused himselfe to be called Iupiter the Sauior. The good prince minding to correct him for his arrogancie, inuited him to a feast, and made a table to be prouided for him by himselfe, whereof at first he seemed to be very glad. But when he saw that in stead of meat they gaue him nothing but incense, he was greatly ashamed, and departed from the feast in great anger. Now for the conclusion of our discourse, we say with Solon, that to name a presumptuous Euery vain-glo­rious man is a foole.and glorious man in right termes, is to call him a foole, as contrarywise, curtesie and meekenes is the foundation of wisedom and of a quiet life. Whereunto that we may at­taine, let vs learne, that whosoeuer beholdeth with the eyes of his mind the estate of mans nature, and conside­reth the basenes of his condition, together with the short­nes of this present life, subiect to an infallible decree, and marketh also the foule pollutions that are ioyned with the flesh, he shall neuer fall in that headlong downfall of arrogancie and pride. And thus detesting all presumpti­on and loue of vanitie, let vs seeke for honor by the means of Vertue onely, which as Euripides saith, is alwayes either followed or preuented with glory and praise. And let vs not greatly care for the praises of men, but onely do those things that are woorthie of commendation. Let vs rather [Page 256] reioyce and glory that we excell and go beyond others in all good duties towards them, than in any other aduan­tage, either of worldly glory, or of our priuate profit. Last­ly let vs rather loue to abide always as it were vnknowen to the world, than by seruing vanities to turne aside from one onely iot of the duetie of goodnes and iustice, which by the grace of God may procure vs a perpetuall praise a­mong good men, & make vs acceptable before him, who euermore lifteth vp the humble, and beateth downe the proud.

Of Shame, Shamefastnesse, and of Dishonor. Chap. 24.

HItherto we haue briefly intreated of those principall points, which respect the vertue of Temperancie, and the vice of Intempe­rance, contrary vnto it. Neuerthelesse for the finishing of our dayes worke, I thinke we are to consider what shame and shamefastnes are, which, as the Philosophers say, are ioyned with this vertue of Temperance. For the more we loue glory and honor, the more we feare, and labor to es­chew shame & dishonor. Now seeing we haue been taught where to seek for true glory and honor, we shal receiue no Shame is the keeper of all vertues.lesse profit, if we learne wherein we ought to feare shame and dishonor.

There is (saith Cicero) a certain shame & bash­fulnes in Temperance, which is the gardian of all the ver­tues, & deserueth great commendation, being also a most goodly ornament to the whole life, as that which fashio­neth it according to the patern of decencie & honestie.

Two things (saith Plato) are very wel able to direct his life that is to liue vertuously, namelie, shame of dishonest things, & desire of those things that are good & vertuous. Let vs therfore heare ASER discourse more amplie of that which is here propounded vnto vs.

As we see that a good ground, although it be fat and fertill, bringeth foorth notwithstanding naughty and wild plants: so a good nature, although it be endued [Page 257] with many great perfections, is yet neuer without some shame. And this of it selfe seemeth to be a hurtful passion in the soule, albeit it may easily by the means of vertue be dressed and made profitable, if we cure it of all feare of How shame may be made profitable in a man.reproch, by doing that which is good, decent and honest; and contrarywise suffer it to augment, and to strengthen it self more and more, when occasion, either of doing ill, or of speaking, approouing, and counsailing any thing that is against the dutie of a good man, shal be offred. Ho­nest shame and shamefastnes (saith Quintilian) is the mo­ther of all good counsaile, the right Gardian of dutie, the mistresse of innocencie, well liked of hir neerest friends, in all places, & at all tymes courteously intertained of stran­gers, as that which hath a fauorable countenance. Honest shame, being (as Cicero saith) the moderator of concupis­cences, procureth vnto vs a stedfast and commendable authoritie amongst al men. Hesiodus calleth it the hostesse of iustice. Of this Socrates spake, when he sayd, that vertu­ous shame beseemed youth. I looke for small goodnes of a yong man (saith Seneca) except of such a one as blusheth after he hath offended. For he that blusheth (saith Me­nander) is not voyd of all good nature. Therefore shame­fastnes is to be nourished and much made of. For so long as it remaineth in any mans spirite, there is good hope to be conceiued of him. Many haue shrunke through feare of shame, with whom no reason or torment could in any sort preuaile. A wicked mā (saith Euripides) hath no shame in him. Shamefastnes (saith one of the Ancients) is sister to continencie, and companion of chastitie, yea by means of hir societie and fellowship, chastitie is in greater safetie. A fault is lessened through shame, as it is made greater by contention: and shame mollifieth the hart of a Iudge, but impudencie prouoketh him to anger. He that is tou­ched to the quicke through a sharpe reprehension for the reformation of his maners, and yet is nothing restrayned thereby, nor full of sweate and blushing for shame, which causeth heate to ascend into the face of euery one well borne, but remaineth inflexible and vnmooueable, smi­ling [Page 258] and iesting thereat, such a one I say, giueth a great argument of a very blockish and senceles nature, which is ashamed of nothing, by reason of his long custome and Sinne is naturall in man.confirmation in doing of euill. To sinne (saith Diodorus the Athenian) is a thing naturally ingrafted in men: nei­ther was there euer any law so rigorous, that could staie the course thereof, although new paines and punishments were dailye added to offences, to see if men might bee drawne from vice through feare of them. But some gather boldnes through pouertie; others because of their riches become insolent, ambitious, and couetous; and others haue other passions and occasions which mooue and in­duce them to do ill. Now to turne these aside, & to make them fruitles, there is no better way than deepely to im­print How we must a­uoid and re­presse sinne.in our soules the feare of perpetuall shame and infa­mie, which are the inseparable companions of all wicked­nes and corrupt dealings. And as often as we commit any fault through frailtie, we must togither with repentance imprint in our memorie a long remembrance thereof: yea we must lay it often before our eies, as also the shame and dishonor that might haue ensued thereof vnto vs, to this end, that afterward we may be the better kept backe, and more aduised in the like matters. Heerin let vs follow the example of wayfaring men, that haue stumbled a­gainst a stone, and of Pilots that haue brused their ships against a rocke, who, being mindfull of their mishap, are all their life time greatly afraid, not onely of those stones and rocks, which were the causes of their euils, but also of all such as resemble them. There was a prohibition (as A notable cu­stome among the Romanes. Aulus Gellius writeth) that no yoong Romane should dare to enter into a strumpets house, but with his face coue­red: and if it so fell out, that any man was so shameles as to come out of that place vncouered, he was as seuerely punished, as if he had committed some forced adulterie. And truly when one is ashamed that he hath offended, we are to hope well of his amendment. Now, as shame of e­uill, seruing for a bridle to vice, is commendable, so that shame wherein want of prudence and of wisedome bea­reth [Page 259] sway, is euil and very hurtfull, not onely to those that What kind of shame is very hurtfull.are touched therewith, but oftentimes procureth great euils to Comminalties and Common-wealths. Whereof those men haue too great experience that liue vnder such Gouernors, Magistrats, and Iudges, as of a foolish basenes and cowardlines of mind, either for feare to displease the greatest, or to be blamed and reprooued of an ignorant multitude, bow and bend to another mans becke against right and equitie, as though they were ashamed to do wel. Whereupon thinking to eschew a light and smal reproch, they fall into a perpetuall note of infamie and dishonor, not beeing able to declare more plainly the smalnes of their courage (which fitly resembleth a weake tempera­ture of the bodie, vnable to resist heate and cold) than in consenting to euill, bicause they dare not gainesay least they should be misliked. But Seneca saith, that he is no meete scholler of Philosophie, who cannot contemne a foolish shame. And this causeth farre greater mischiefes, when the soueraigne Princes of any estate are intangled therwith. Which may be verified of them, if through ouer great bountie and simplicity void of prudence, they who­ly giue ouer themselues to their pleasure that haue them as it were in possession, & dare not gainesay or deny them in any matter. For heer of it commeth, that flatterers, bro­kers, and such as are most wicked, carie away offices, char­ges, benefices, gifts, and wastfully consume the publike treasure: so that a man may behold an impunitie and li­bertie of vices, and of execrable offences, bicause a simple and bashfull king dare not deny a request. And thus vnder such a Prince publik welfare is turned into priuat wealth, and all the charges fall vpon the poore people. But not to stray farre from our purpose, hauing so neerely touched a matter worthie of a large discourse, I thinke we shall reape no small profit, if we call to mind heere certaine notable instructions, which Plutark giueth vs, to teach vs to repell How we must learne to resist all naughtie shame.farre from vs all foolish and dangerous shame: namely, that so soone as yeers of discretion worke in vs any know­ledge of goodnes, we should exercise our selues in those [Page 260] things, which of themselues are easie enough to practise, being without feare that any thing can (as the prouerbe saith) hang or take hold of our gowne. If at a feast (saith that great Philosopher) thou art inuited to drinke more than reason, or thy thirst requireth, be not ashamed to re­fuse to do it. If any babler or ignorant fellow seeke to stay and keepe thee by discoursing of vaine and redious mat­ters, be not afraid to rid thy selfe of him, and to tell him freely that another time thou maist come and visite him, not hauing at that time any leasure to keepe him compa­nie any longer. If thy friend, or any other man, commu­nicate with thee any act or purpose of his, wherein thou knowest somewhat, though neuer so little, that is to be re­prehended, tell him thereof hardly. If any man be impor­tunate with thee by requests & intreaties, neuer promise more than thou art able to performe, and blush not bi­cause thou canst not do all things, but rather blush to take vpon thee things that are aboue thy abilitie. If any man aske thee a question of any matter whatsoeuer, confesse freely that which thou knowest not, to the end thou maist receiue instruction. Now, if we exercise our selues in this sort, honestly to refuse, to depart, to breake off, to speake freely, and to submit our selues after a comelie manner, so that no man can lightly complaine of vs, or blame vs, but vpon very slender occasion, we shall be in a readie way to accustome our selues not to be ashamed in matters of greater waight, and such as are necessarie for the preser­uation of dutie. For otherwise, if we are afraid to put backe a glasse of wine, which some one of our acquain­tance in drinking doth offer vnto vs, howe will we resist the request of a Prince, which is as much as a comman­dement, or the importunate suite of a whole people, in an vniust and vnreasonable matter? If we are ashamed to be rid of a babler; if, as flatterers vse to do, we com­mende one contrarye to our opinion, whom we heare praised of many; or if wee feare to tell our friende of some small fault of his, howe will we set our selues cou­rageously against those slaunderers of the truth, and [Page 261] maintainers of lies, that are placed in authoritie? Or how shall we dare to reprooue notorious faults boldly, beyng committed in the administration of a magistrate, and in ciuill and politicall gouernment? This is that which Zeno Zeno.very well taught vs, when meeting with a familiar friend of his that walked heauily by himselfe, he asked him the cause thereof: I shun (said the other) a friend of mine, who requesteth me to beare fals witnesse for him. What (quoth Zeno) act thou so foolish, that seeing him voyd of shame and feare to request vniust and wicked things of thee, thou hast not the hart to deny him & to put him back vpon iust & reasonable considerati­ons? Agesilaus may be vnto vs a good Scholemaster in this Agesilaus.matter. For being requested by his father to giue sentēce against right, he was not ashamed to deny him graciously with this answer. You haue taught me (O Father) frō my youth to obey the lawes, and therefore I will now also obey you therein by iudging nothing against the lawes. Pericles being likewise re­quested Pericles.by a friend of his to sweare falsly for him, sayd, I am a friend to my friends vnto the aultars: as if he would haue sayd, so farre as I offend not God. The same reason was the cause that Xenophanes being called a Coward at a feast Xenophanes.bicause he would not play at dice, answered without feare of being accounted voyd of ciuilitie and good fellowship, I am in deed a coward and feareful in dishonest things. Now be­sides all those pernitious effects of foolish and naughtie shame that are already touched by vs, oftentimes it ma­keth the sences of a man so brutish through a long cu­stome, that he neglecteth the care of that which concer­neth Other perniti­ous effects of foolish shame.his safetie and priuate benefit, yea sometimes of his owne life. I will not here stand to speake of those that say they are ashamed to aske their due, or by way of iustice to pursue such as deuour the substance of their poore fami­lies, whereby they make it knowen, that they haue neither vertue, hart nor courage. To this agreeth fitly that which we read of one named Perseus, who being to lend monie Perseus.to a very friend of his, went with him to the common place of bargaining, calling to mind that precept of He­siodus, who saith:

His friend thinking this somewhat strang, said: what, so orderly by law? Yea quoth Perseus, that I may haue it a­gaine of thee friendly, and not be compelled to demand it againe by order of law. But what shall we say of so ma­ny great personages as are mentioned in histories, who vnder pretence of a foolish shame badly grounded vpon this conceit, that they would not distrust them whome they tooke for their friends, offered themselues euen to Dion.the slaughter? Dion endued with great perfections, and one that deliuered from tyrannie and freed from thral­dome the citie of Syracusa, although he was aduertised that Calippus whom he tooke for his Host and friend, wat­ched opportunitie to slaie him, yet he went to that place whether he had inuited him, saying: that he had rather loose his life, than be compelled to distrust his friends, and to keepe him­selfe asmuch from them as from his enimies. And in deed it fell Antipater.out so, that he was slaine there. The like befell Antipater, being bidden to supper by Demetrius. It seemeth also that I. Caesar. Iulius Caesar aswell as they, was in some sort the cause of his ownemishap, bicause hauing had many aduertisements, suspicions, and forewarnings of the miserable death that was intended against him, yet he neglected them all, as ap­peereth by that speech, which he vsed the euening before he was murdered, being at supper with Marcus Lepidus. For a controuersie arising amongst the guests about this What death Caesar thought best.proposition, What kind of death was best, euen that said this Monarch, which is least looked for. True it is which may be said, that destinie may possibly be better foreseene than a­uoided. But this were an euill conclusion thereupon, that we must let goe all care of keeping those Goods, which God giueth vs as a blessing proceeding from his grace. For it is the dutie of a good and sound iudgement to con­ferre that which is past, with the present time, to the end to foresee in some sort, and to determine of that which is to come, which is alwaies doubtfull and vncertaine vnto vs. Moreouer, to resume our former matter of honest [Page 263] shame and shamefastnes, which is the guide of our life to decencie and vertue, we may see amongst the an ients in­finite examples, how it hath been recommended and pre­cisely obserued, and what strength it hath had in right noble mindes. The Persians brought vp their youth in How the Persian youth was instructed.such sort, that they neither did nor spake any thing that was dishonest, putting him to death that stripped himself starke naked in the presence of another. Yea they iudged, euery vnciuill action how litle soeuer, committed before others, to be great wickednes. The Parthians would ne­uer suffer their wiues to come among their feastes, least wine should cause them to doe or to speake any dishonest thing in their presence. Hippocratides as he was walking, Hippocratides saying to a yong man that blu­shed.met with a yong man in a wicked mans company, & per­ceiuing that he began to blush, said thus vnto him. My sonne thou must goe with such as will not cause thee to blush: but be of good cheere, for thou maiest yet repent thee. Blind Eutichus was set without the aray of the battel Eutichus.by Leonidas, but being ashamed to leaue his fellowes in danger, he caused a slaue to lead him to the place where they fought, and there wonderfully doing his endeuor, he was slain. The Romans were so shamefast amongst them­selues, The shamefast­nes of the Ro­manes.that the father would not bathe himselfe with his sonne, nor the sonne in law with the father in law. They so greatly esteemed honest shame and bashfulnes, that when Philip king of Macedonia was accused before the Senate of many crimes, the shamefastnes of yong Demetrius his sonne, who blushed and held his peace, stood him in grea­ter stead than the shamelesse boldnes of the eloquentest Orator in the world could haue done. The sonne of Mar­cus Cato his sonne. Cato the Censor, beyng at that battell wherein Perses was discomfited, and fighting with a iaueline, his sword fell out of his scabberd, wherof he was so ashamed, that a­lighting on foote in the midst of his enemies, & doubling his courage and strength, he tooke it vp and mounted a­gaine, fighting on horsebacke as before. The sonne of Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, hauing abandoned and giuen Scaurus his sonne.ouer the keeping and defence of the countrey of Trenta [Page 264] committed to his charge, was so ashamed thereof, that not daring to returne againe to his father, he slew himself.Parmenides. Parmenides taught his Disciples, that nothing was terri­ble to a noble mind but dishonor, and that none but chil­dren and women, or at least, men hauing womens harts, are afraid of griefe. When speech was ministred at the banket of the seuen Sages, concerning that popular go­uernment which was happiest, wherein all haue equallCleobulus. authoritie, Cleobulus affirmed, that that citie seemed vnto him best guided by policie, wherein the Citizens stood inA notable histo­rie of the shamefastnes of the Milesian mai­dens. greater awe of dishonor than of the law. Plutark rehear­seth a very noteable historie of the force of honest shame­fastnes in the Milesian maidens, who were fallen into such frenzie and perturbation of spirite, that without any ap­parant cause to be seene, they were suddenly ouertaken with a longing to die, and with a furious desire to hang themselues. Which thing many of them had alreadie put in practise, so that neither reasons, nor teares of fathers and mothers, no comfort of friends, no threatnings, pol­licies, or deuices whatsoeuer, could preuaile with them, vntill such time that a wise Citizen by his aduice procu­red an edict to be made by the Councell, that if any heer­after hung hir selfe, she should be caried starke naked in the sight of all men, through the market place. This edict being made and ratified by the Councell, did not onely represse a little, but wholy staied the fury of these maidens that longed to die. Insomuch, that a simple imagination and conceit of shame and dishonor, which yet could not light vpon them before they were dead, did preuaile more with them than all other deuised meanes could do, yea, than death it selfe, or griefe, which are two of the horri­blest accidents which men commonly stand in feare of.Honest shame is alwaies com­mendable. To conclude therefore our present discourse, that honest shame and shamefastnes, are alwaies commen­dable and beseeming all persons that purpose to obserue modestie in their words, gestures, countenances, and acti­ons. We learne also that spirits well brought vp, are more easily wonne by shame, than by feare, according to that [Page 265] saying of Quintilian, that shamefastnes is the propertie of a free man, and feare of a bondman. Further, we learne that euery temperate man ought to be more ashamed of himselfe, when occasion of doing ill is offered, than of any other: that he must shun all euil, excessiue and pernitious shame, proceeding from the want of discretion, bicause it hin­dereth men from effecting all good, wholesome and ho­nest things, insomuch that of it selfe it is able to procure vnto vs losse, dishonor, and infamie.

Of Patience, and of Impatiencie: of Choler and Wrath. Chap. 29.

IF vertue consisteth in hard matters, if that which com­meth neerest to the diuine nature, and is most vneasie and least of all vsed of all men, better beseemeth a valiant and noble minded man, than any other thing whatsoeuer; no doubt but Rom. 15. 5. Exod. 34. 6.patience is the very same thing: whereof the Scripture teacheth vs, that God is the author, and that he putteth it in dailie practise among his creatures, deferring the full punishment of their faults by expecting their repentance. Further, this vertue so much resembleth Fortitude, wher­of we discoursed yesterday, that we may say with Cicero, that Fortitude is borne of hir, or els with hir, seeing there is nothing so great and burthensome, which she can not easilie sustaine and ouercome, euen the violentest & most common passions of mans nature, as impatiencie, choler, and anger, which commonly procure the vtter ruine of the soule. Therefore let vs (my Companions) begin our daies worke with the handling of the effects of this great vertue of Patience, and of the vices that are cleane contra­rie vnto it.

Patience a salue for all sores. Patience (saith Plautus) is a remedie for all griefes. Endure patiently, and blame not that which thou canst not auoid. For he that is able to suffer well, o­uercommeth. But this vertue is so rarely found among men, that moe will offer themselues to death, than abide griefe patiently. Neuertheles, it is the point of a wise man (saith Horace) to set a good face vpon that which must needes be done.

By patience (saith Cicero) we must seeke after that, which we cannot obtaine by fauour: and if we en­dure, all the inconuenience will turne to our profite. But learned men, whilest they resist not their perturbations, trouble and ouerturne with a suddain vehemencie those things which they had begun with a quiet spirit & mind, throwing down at one blow whatsoeuer they had builded with long labour. But of thee ACHITOB we shall vnder­stand the prayse and propertie of this vertue of Patience, with the contrary effects thereof, namelie, Impatiencie, Choler and Anger, and the meanes to shunne and auoid them.

Among all the ancients, the Stoike Phi­losophers were most zealous and precise obseruers of all points concerning this vertue of patience, which they grounded vpon the fatall cause of necessitie, requiring Of the Stoicall patience.such exactnes and perfection thereof in men, that they would haue a noble hart to be no otherwise touched with aduersitie than with prosperitie, nor with sorowful things than with ioyfull. For this cause Aristo said, that vertue onely was to be wished, and therefore that it was all one to be sicke or sound, poore or rich: briefly, that in all o­ther humane and necessary vses of nature, there was no more euil in one kind, than in another. Whereby it see­meth that these Philosophers delighted in painting out a picture of such patience, as neuer was, nor shal be among men, except first they should be vnclothed of all humaine nature, or become as blockish and sencelesse as a stone. For so long as man remaineth in this life, he cannot be void of affections and perturbations that draw the soule to care and to prouide for the body, which continually crieth out against her for feare of griefe and of wanting that which belongeth vnto it. But it is the dutie of a wise man to moderate all passions in such sort, that in the end reason remaine mistresse. Moreouer we say that vertue Vertue is nei­ther without af­fection nor sub­iect to affecti­ons.which is a habite of comelines and mediocritie in affecti­ons, ought neither to be without hir motions, nor yet too much subiect to passions. For the abolishing of desire ma­keth [Page 310] the soule without motion, & without ioy euen in ho­nest things: as on the other side ouer vehement motions thereof altogether trouble hir, and cause hir to be as it were beside hir selfe. Further, we seeke after the common practise of men, not for that perfection which they wish for, and whereunto they ought to aspire: and we desire that affection should shew it selfe no otherwise in vertue, than a little shadow of a hidden cloud, or a line in a pi­cture. Of true pati­ence.Therfore true patience which we ought to imbrace in all things, not as compelled and of necessity, but cheer­fully and as resting in our welfare, is a moderation & tole­rance of our euils, which, albeit we sigh vnder the heauie burthen of them, clothe vs in the meane while with a spi­rituall ioy, that striueth so well and mastreth in such sort the sence of nature which shunneth griefe, that in the end it worketh in vs an affection of pietie & godlinesse, ioyned with a free & cheerful mind, vnder the yoke & obedience of the iust & rightfull will of God, through a certain expe­ctation of things promised, and causeth vs to iudge impa­tiencie to be contumacie and rebellion to this diuine wil, The definition of patience.and sufficient of it selfe to make a man to be called wret­ched. Patience (saith Plato) is a habite that consisteth in sustaining stoutly all labours and griefes for the loue of honestie. The law saith, that it is a very good thing to keep the tranquillitie of our spirit as much as may be in aduer­sities, and not to complaine of that which is vncertaine: bicause men know not whither that which is light vpon them be good or euil for them, as also bicause sorow can not helpe that which is to come, but rather hindreth the curing of the euill: and lastly, bicause there is nothing in humane matters, wherof any great account is to be made. But if I must needs support them, my desire and labour is to do it nobly, honestly, and courageously. It skilleth not what we endure, but how we endure it. And then doth patience preuail most, when we know that whatsoeuer we haue done, was executed of vs for godlines sake. The con­flict The fruits of patience.of Patience (saith Euripides) is such, that the vanqui­shed is better than the vanquisher. And let vs not thinke [Page 312] that there is any calamitie which cannot be sustained by the nature of man armed with patience, which is an in­uincible tower. Patience (saith Cicero) is a voluntarie and long suffring of labours, calamities, trauels, and difficult matters, for the loue of honestie and of vertue. And when all things are ouerthrowen, and counsaile wil do no more good, there is but this one only remedy, to beare patient­ly whatsoeuer shall come vpon vs. Patience serueth vs for a meane to attaine to great matters, staying men from fainting in dangers and trauels. By patience whatsoeuer is disordred, may be brought againe to good order, as that wise emperor Marcus Aurelius would giue vs to vn­derstand, when he sayd that patience had no lesse holpen him in the gouernmēt of his estate than knowledge. Like­wise it is for the most part followed of curtesie and gentle­nes, which make him well liked of that is adorned there­with, and sooner draw good wil, the cause of mens obedi­ence, then force or violence doth. He that is slowe to an­ger (saith the wise man) is better than the mightie man, Prou. 16. 32.and he that ruleth his owne mind, is better than he that winneth a citie. True patience loueth the afflictions which she suffreth, causing him that possesseth hir to giue prayse to God in the midst of aduersities, and to submit himself to his iudgement when he is pressed with diseases: nei­ther can pouertie keep him backe from cōmending high­ly his bountie and goodnes. To be short, as a pearle shew­eth hir beautie euen in the midst of a puddle: so a patient man causeth his vertue to appeere in al aduersities. More­ouer this patience which we shew in aduersities, mooueth those to compassion and pitie that see vs suffer. Which thing as it greatly comforteth in affliction, so oftentimes it causeth others to reape inestimable benefite when they behold vs to suffer vniustly. For it serueth to awaken and to strengthen the weake in the knowledge of their duetie, that they suffer not themselues to be deceiued with the poisonfull sweetnes of worldly goods and commodities. In a word the vertue of patience is so necessarie for a good and happy life, that no part or action of mans life can be [Page 312] guided to their proper end without hir. And as she is a branch of Magnanimitie, Fortitude, and greatnes of cou­rage; so Impatiencie is a weakenes and imbecillitie of a Of impatiencie, choler, and wrath.base, vile, and contemptible nature, wherin choler, and in the end wrath, are easily ingendred, which are two very pernitious passions in the soule, and differ nothing from furie (as the elder Cato said) but onely in this, that they continue a lesse time, and this a longer. This is that which The definition of anger. Possidonius teacheth vs, saying: that Anger is nothing else but a short furie. Aristides called it the inflammation of blood, and an alteration of the hart. Cicero saith, that that which the Latines call Anger, is named of the Grecians desire of reuenge. And Solon being demanded to whome a man fraught with Anger, might be compared, answe­red: to him that maketh no account of losing his friends, and careth not although he procure enemies to himselfe. But besides the sayings of all these Sages, experience suffi­ciently sheweth vs, that Choler and Anger are enemies to all reason: and (as Plutark saith) are no lesse proud, pre­sumptuous, and vneasie to be guided by another, than a great and mightie tyrannie: Insomuch that a ship giuen ouer to the mercie of the windes and stormes, would soo­ner of it selfe receiue a Pilot from without, than a man ca­ried headlong with wrath and choler, would yeeld to the reason and admonition of another. For an angry man (like to those that burne themselues within their owne houses) filleth his soule in such sort with trouble, chafing, & noise, that he neither seeth nor heareth any thing that would profit him, vnles he make prouision long time be­fore to succour himselfe with reason through the studie of wisedome, whereby he may be able to ouerthrow his im­patiency and choler, which argue and accompanie for the Who are most giuen to impati­encie and cho­ler.most part a weake and effeminate hart. And that this is true, we see that women are commonly sooner driuen in­to choler than men: the sicke than the sound: the olde than the yoong: all vitious, gluttonous, iealous, vaine­glorious, and ambitious men, than those that vnfainedly hate vice. Whereby it is euident enough, that choler pro­ceedeth [Page 313] from the infirme and weake part of the soule, and not from the Generositie thereof. Neither doth it make against our saying, to alleadge the opinion of Aristotle, & of al the Peripateticks, who maintained that we ought to moderate the affections and passions of the soule: but o­therwise that they were necessarie to pricke men forward to vertue. Yea Aristotle said, that choler was as a whetstone to sharpen and set an edge vpon Fortitude and Generosi­tie. Aristotle con­trary in opinion to the Stoicks.The Academicks and Stoicks contend greatly against this opinion, and namely Cicero and Seneca, who say, that forasmuch as choler is a vice, it cannot be the cause of ver­tue, seeing they are two contrary thinges that haue no­thing common together. And considering that Fortitude proceedeth from an aduised consultation and election of reason, which perfecteth the worke, whereas choler hin­dreth and troubleth it in such sort, that an angrie man cannot deliberate, it is not possible that it should stand him in any steed in the performance of excellent actions. And this is an inuincible reason, bicause vertue commeth not of vice. Now, this being the end of all Philosophie for a man to know his vices, and the meanes how to deliuer himselfe from them, and seeing that the infamie and dis­commoditie which accompanie impatiencie and choler, cannot but be knowne vnto vs, yea are notwithstanding so common amongst vs, that the perfectest are infected therewith, let vs looke for some helpe and meane to cure How impatien­cie and choler may be cured.our selues thereof. First let vs know, that although men may be mooued to wrath and choler for diuers causes, yet vnto all of them, the opinion of being contemned and despised is commonly ioined. And therefore the true and soueraigne remedie for this, (that so we may auoid such a cold and slender occasion of entring into choler against our neighbours, altogither vnbeseeming the loue we owe them) will be to put from vs as much as may be, all suspi­tion of being despised and contemned, or of brauerie and boldnes, and to lay all the fault either vpon necessitie or negligence, vpon chance, vntowardnes, lacke of discreti­on, ignorance, or want of experience, which are often­times [Page 314] in them that offend vs. This will seeme very strict counsell, and hard to practise, yea hatefull to many of our Frenchmen, chiefly to those of the Nobilitie, who are so curious in the preseruation of their honour, with which title they would disguise the desire of worldly glory, wher­vnto What the wic­ked iudge of pa­tience.they shew themselues so much affectionated. But they testifie sufficiently, that they neuer knewe wherein true honor consisteth, which is no more separated from vertue, than the shadowe from the bodie: also that they know not what patience is, accounting it rather to be fainthartednes, and cowardlines, than a part and daugh­ter of the vertue of Fortitude and Generositie, yea iud­ging it a dishonor to a man that is contumeliously hand­led, not to render the like againe. But contrariwise we are to know, that to support and indure wrong & iniurie pa­tiently, and euen then when we haue most meanes to re­uenge our selues, is a note of a most absolute, noble, and excellent vertue. Yea, it beseemeth a Christian most of all, and such a one as hath those words of the Scripture well Leuit. 19. 18. Deut. 32. 35.engrauen in his hart, Thou shalt not auenge, nor be mindfull of wrong against the children of thy people, but shalt loue thy neigh­bour as thy selfe: I am the Lord, vengeance and recompence are mine. But I hope that heerafter we shall discourse of this subiect by itselfe, which deserueth to be handled more Whereof cho­ler is bred.largely. Following therefore our matter, we must vnder­stand, that choler is bred of a custome to be angrie for small things, and afterward becommeth easilie a fire of sudden wrath, a reuenging bitternes, and an vntractable sharpenes, making a man froward and furious, disliking e­uery thing. Wherefore a wise man ought presently to op­pose the iudgement of reason to euery little anger, and to suppresse it. This will helpe to make the soule firme and of power to resist and beate backe all fiercenes of choler in matters of greater weight and consequence. For he that nourisheth not his anger in the beginning, nor inflameth it himselfe, may easily auoid, or at least scat­ter A good way to remedie choler.it. Moreouer, this will be a great meane to ouercome our choler if we obeye it not, nor giue credite vnto it [Page 315] from the very first instant wherin it beginneth to appeere, imitating Socrates therein, who, whensoeuer he felt him­selfe somwhat more egerly mooued against any man than he ought (like to a wise Pilote that getteth himselfe vnder the Lee of some rocke) let fall his voyce gently, shewyng a smiling countenance and more curteous looke, thereby setting himselfe directly against his passion. Besides, it wil greatly helpe vs, if when we are mooued with anger, we stay our toong a certaine space, and delay a litle while our owne reuenge. For it is very certaine that a man promi­seth, speaketh and doth many things in his anger, which afterward he wisheth had neuer been in his thought. Vnto this fitly agreeth that counsaile which Athenodorus taking The counsaile that Athenodo­rus gaue to Au­gustus.his leaue, gaue to Augustus the emperor to stay the per­nitious effects of quicke and ready choler. This Philoso­pher minding to teach some remedy to be opposed at the very instant when this monarch should feele himselfe o­uertaken with anger, whereunto he easily suffred himselfe to be caried; willed him to rehearse the foure and twentie letters of the Greeke Alphabet before he did any thing in his anger. But knowing this that it is a speciall propertie of mans imbecillitie to be stirred vp to anger and to be troubled, let vs follow that commandement of the Scrip­ture, Not to sinne in our anger, neither to let the sunne go downe Eph. 4. 26. vpon our wrath, least we shew our selues to haue lesse vertue and curtesie, than the Ethnike Pythagorian Philosophers, who albeit they were neither of kinne, nor allied, yet kept this custome inuiolable, that if peraduenture they were entred A notable cu­stome of the Pythagorians. into some contention and choler one against another, before the sunne went downe they appointed a meeting where they imbraced and shooke hands one with another. Further we haue carefully to auoyd all occasions which we know might induce and Cotis brake his glasses to auoyd occasion of wrath.prouoke vs to choler. As Cotis king of Thracia wisely be­haued himselfe, when one brought him a present of many goodly vessels curiously made and wrought, but very brit­tle, and easie to breake, bicause they were of glasse. After he had well recompenced the gift, he brake them all for feare least through choler, whereunto he knew himselfe [Page 316] subiect, he should be mooued with wrath against any of his seruants that should breake them, and so punish him too seuerely. And of this matter we may also draw a goodMagistrates ought not to pu­nish any in their choler. instructiō for all those that are placed in authoritie aboue others, namely, that they beware least they correct or pu­nish any body in their choler, but only when they are void of all vehement passions, considering the fact in it selfe ad­uisedly, and with quiet and setled sences: knowing that as bodies seeme greater through a miste, so doe faults through choler, which for the most part carieth Princes headlong to commit execrable and cursed cruelties. A­mong many examples we may note that of the emperorAs Theodosius did. Theodosius, who being mooued with anger against those of Thessalonica for a commotion which they made, & for staying his lieutenant, sent his army thither, with commā ­dement that they should be vtterly rooted out: whereup­on fifteene thousand were slaine, neither women nor chil­dren being spared. Of which fault repenting him, but too late, he made a law afterward whereby he willed that the execution of his letters Patents and Commaundements should be held in suspence and deferred, thirtie days after signification and knowledge of them, namely, when any were to be punished more rigorously than of custome he vsed. Neither is it lesse dangerous in an estate that the ad­ministration of publike charges should be committed to such as suffer themselues to be ouer-ruled with wrath, see­ing there are not in a maner fewer matters which are to be winked at and dissembled, than to be punished & cor­rected. And although Magistrates haue authoritie & iust cause to punish vices, yet haue they no licence to shew thē ­selues to be passionated. But this being a matter of Poli­cie, let vs continue our morall instructions, and note that which we read of Plato, deseruing to be considered of here, who being very angry with a seruaunt of his for a great fault committed by him, and seeing Xenocrates to comePlato refused to correct his ser­uant in his an­ger. towards him, requested him if he were his friend to cor­rect that seruant of his, bicause at this present (quoth he) anger surmounteth my reason. Whereby this wise Philo­sopher [Page 317] declared sufficiently, that if the first motions are not at all in our power through the imperfection of our nature, yet at the lest reason may serue for a bridle to hin­der euery naughtie execution: teaching vs likewise, that we ought to vse and exercise our power and authoritie o­uer others without any extreme passion. Further, that we may haue such imperfections in greater hatred, we are to note that choler hath been the ouerthrow of many great men, as it was of the emperor Aurelianus, who was enduedAurelianus an­ger was the cause of his death. with notable vertues, but otherwise easilie mooued to an­ger, whose wrath was such, that their death with whom he was displeased, was the onely remedie to appease it. For being one day incensed against Mnesteus his Secretarie, he knowing his masters disposition, for the safegard of his life deuised to write (counterfaiting the emperors hand) in a litle scroule the names of the principall captaines of his army, putting himselfe in the number of those whom he had fully purposed to put to death, and bearing it vnto them, sayd, that he saw this bill fall out of the emperours sleeue. Whereat they being astonished, and giuing credit thereunto, resolued with themselues to preuent it, and so falling vpon him, slew him. Moreouer it is well known to euery one, that choler may greatly hurt health, whereof men are for the most part desirous enough. It was cause of the emperour Valentinians death, who through cryingValentinian in his anger brake a veine, and died thereof. out in his choler, brake a veine in his neck. From this vice proceedeth another detestable imperfection, which is swearing, a thing directly contrary to a wise mans life, and condemned by the lawe both of God and man: whereofAgainst the in­famous vice of swearing. we might easilie be cured by custome, if first we destroied Impatiencie and Choler, which prouoke blasphcmie. The Romanes obserued an auncient decree, which ex­presly commaunded, that when yong men would sweare by the name of some God, they should first go out of the house wherin they were. Which was a commēdable meanA notable de­cree of the Ro­manes. both to retain & keep them frō swearing lightly & vpō the suddain, & also that they might haue good laisure & space to bethink thēselues. This would be very profitable for vs [Page 318] towards the correction of this vice, the vnmeasurable li­cence whereof ought to be kept backe and chastised by some better meanes. Yea, it were very expedient and ne­cessarieS. Lewes his law against swearing to renew and put in practise that law of good king S. Lewes, that all blasphemers should be marked in the forehead with an hot iron, yea, punished with death, if they would not be corrected otherwise. Such contemners of the name ofCarilaüs. God ought to learne their lesson of Carilaüs the Ethnicke and Pagan, who being demanded why the images of the Gods in Lacedemonia were armed, to the end (quoth he) that men might feare to blaspheme the Gods, knowing that they are armed to take reuengement. Concluding therefore our present discourse, let vs learne to decke our liues so well with patience, (which is so profitable and necessary to sal­uation,1. Thes. 5. 14. and to a good and happie life) that we be patient towards all men in all things, to the end we may obey theHeb. 10. 36. will of God, and reape the fruite of his promises, as the end of patience is the expectation of things promised. And let vs know, that the learning and vertue of a man is knowne by patience, and that he is to be accounted to haue lesse learning and vertue, that hath lesse patience. Further, let vs learne that the office & dutie of a prudent and noble minded man is to winke at many things that befall him, to redresse other things, to hold his peace at some things, and to suffer much, so that he follow reason alwaies, and flie opinion. Lastly, we are to know, that he which endureth euill patiently, shall know also how after­ward he may easily beare prosperitie: and that euery chri­stian offereth an acceptable sacrifice to God, when he yeeldeth vnto him dailie thanks in the midst of infinite troubles and vexations: which benefit will worke in vs the vtter ouerthrow of all impatience, choler, and wrath, sworne enemies to all reason and vertue.

Of Meekenes, Clemeneie, Mildnes, Gentlenes, and Humanitie. Chap. 30.

A Philosopher in a great assemblie of people taking a lanterne and a candle lighted at midday, and going into an high place in all their sight, was demanded what he ment to do with all: I seeke (said he) for a man, but can see none, no not one. And tru­lyThis word Man is in Latin H [...] ­mo, frō whence is deriued hum [...] ­nitas, which sig­nifieth curte fie or gentlenes. it is a very rare and excellent thing to find one that in deed is a Man, which is as much to say, as courteous, or made of meekenes and gentlenes: for which cause Plato calleth him a ciuill creature, and sociable by nature. Now therefore let vs vnderstand of you my companions, what woorthy effects this vertue of meekenes bringeth foorth in man.

Mercie (said Plato,) ought no more to be taken a­way from the nature of man, than the altar out of the Temple. And euery noble hart ought to be so courteous and gratious, that he be reuerenced more than feared of his neighbors.

There is no nation so barbarous, which lo­ueth not meekenes, curtesie, beneuolence, and a thankfullNo nation voyd of curtesie. soule: and contrariwise, which hateth and contemneth not proud, wicked, cruell, and vngratefull persons. But it belongeth to thee ARAM to discourse of this matter vn­to vs.

Sinne hauing depriued man of the perfecti­on of graces, wherewith the image of God in him had in­riched and beautified him: namely, with perfect goodnes and holye righteousnes, there remained nothing in his soule but a weake desire to aspire to that soueraigne Good, of which she felt hir selfe spoiled. For further con­firmation whereof, this incomparable beautie of the visi­ble shape of the bodie was left vnto him, to the end that in this principall worke, as in a rich picture, he might find large matter to mooue him to contemplate and to ad­mire the excellencie and greatnes of his Creator, who is able to set him againe in his former glorie and brightnes. [Page 320] By means of this knowledge a man feeleth himselfe effe­ctually mooued and touched with the loue of his like, im­printed in euery nature, which desireth vsually to shew foorth the effects thereof to the profite of many, if it be Reasons to mooue vs to loue our neigh­bours.not wholy depraued and accursed. This loue ought to be so much the greater & more perfect in man, by how much the neerer he approcheth to the vnderstanding of the in­comprehensible secrets of the diuinitie. For what thing ought more to stirre vs vp, and to mooue vs with zeale to do good to our neighbours, than the consideration both of their creation after the image of God, whereunto we owe all honor, loue, & obedience, and also of their roesta­blishment into the same image by his pure grace & mer­cie: besides the contemplation of the excellent compo­sition and building of this frame of man? These things being well considered in our minds, whom shall we take for our enemie, for a stranger, as contemptible, vnwoor­thy, and of no account, seeing this brightnes and grace of God shineth in euery one, and especially in those whom the world despiseth? Moreouer, when we know by his word that Man is substituted of God in his place, that we should acknowledge towards him the inestimable bene­fits which we haue and daily receiue from the helpe and goodnesse of our common Father, who promiseth to ac­cept as done to himselfe, what good thing soeuer we pro­cure to his creatures, so that it be done with a gladsome and cheerfull countenance, and with a sweete and curte­ous kind of beneficence, void of arrogancie, contumelie, or reproch, shal any thing stay vs from exercising towards euery one all duties of humanitie? We read in Macrobius A Temple de­dicated to Mercie.that long sithence there was a Temple in Athens dedica­ted to Mercie, into which none was suffered to enter ex­cept he were beneficiall and helpfull, and then also with licence from the Senate. In so much that through a desire which the people had to haue accesse into it, they studied earnestly to exercise workes of pitie and pietie. Yea, the greatest reproch which an Athenian could vtter to his neighbor, was to hit him in the teeth, that he was neuer in [Page 321] the Academie of the Philosophers, nor in the Temple of Mercie, girding him by this only reproch with two shame­full things, the one of ignorance and want of prudence, the other of crueltie & inhumanitie. Now if among those of olde time the onely naturall seede of the loue of their like, which also is seen in beasts, was so strong and power­full, that it brought forth in them (notwithstanding they were destitute of the heauenly light) fruites woorthy of perpetuall memorie, as they that had nothing in greater estimation than to shew themselues meeke, gentle, curte­ous, helpfull and gratious towards others, euen towards their enemies. What ought they to do, that say they are all members of that one head, who recommendeth so ex­presly vnto them, meeknes, mildnes, gentlenes, grace, cle­mencie, mercy, good-will, compassion, and euery good af­fection towards their neighbor? All which things are cō ­prehended vnder this only sacred word of Charitie, which What Chari­tie is.is the indissoluble band of God with vs, whereby we are inflamed with the loue of him for that which we owe vnto him, and thereby also are induced to loue our neighbours for the loue of God. But let vs consider how the ancients hauing but the shadow of this perfect Charitie, praysed & esteemed this vertue of Meeknes, from which they knew how to draw so many good commodities for the profite and succour of euery one, that after we may note here cer­tain woorthy examples to stirre vs vp so much the more vnto our dutie. Meeknes (saith Plato) is a vertue that be­longeth The definition and effects of Meekenes.to the courageous part of the soule, whereby we are hardly mooued to anger. Hir office and dutie is to be able to support and endure patiently those crimes that are layd vpon hir, not to suffer hir selfe to be hastily caried to reuenge, nor to be too easily stirred to wrath, but to make him that possesseth hir, mild, gratious, and of a stay­ed and setled mind. Meeknes and gentlenes (as he sayth else-where) is that vertue whereby a man easily appeaseth the motions and instigations of the soule caused by cho­ler, and it standeth him in stead of a moderate temperāce of the spirit, decking him with mildnes & curtesie, which [Page 322] draweth vnto him the loue of strangers, and good seruice of his owne. Whereby it appeereth, that whosoeuer is mild and courteous to others, receiueth much more pro­fit and honor than those whome he honoreth. They are not to be credited (saith Cicero) who say that a man must vse crueltie towards his enemies, esteeming that to be an act proper to a noble and courageous man. For nothing is more commendable or woorthie a great and excellent man, than meekenes and clemencie. It seemeth also that liberalitie, beneficence, iustice, fidelitie, and many other good deedes, wherof many men taste, and which procure to a man greater good will of euery one, are proper to mildnes and meekenes, called by an ancient man the cha­racters of an holie soule, which neuer suffer innocencie to be oppressed, & as Chilo said, which lead noble harts slow­ly to the feasts of their friends, but speedily to the succou­ring of them in their calamities. This vertue of meekenes is truly most necessarie for a valiant man. For without it he should be in danger to commit some actions which might be iudged cruell. And seeing that a noble minded man commeth neere to the diuine nature, he must also re­semble it as much as may be in gentlenes and clemencie, which adorneth and honoreth those especially that are lift vp in dignitie, and haue power to correct others. True it is also, that they are deceiued that commend, and as it A medioeritie must be kept betweene mild­nes and crueltie.were adore the bounty of great men and Magistrats, who of a certain simplicity without prudence, shew themselues gratious, gentle, and courteous towards all men. Which is no lesse pernitious to an Estate, than is the seueritie and crueltie of others. For of this ouer-great lenitie, among many other inconueniences, an impunitie of the wicked is bred, and the sufferance of one fault quickly draweth on another. Therefore the mildnes of those that haue power and authoritie, ought to be accompanied with se­ueritie, their clemencie mingled with rigour, and their fa­cilitie with austeritie. This is that which Plato learnedly teacheth vs, saying: that the noble and strong man must be cou­rageous and gratious, that he may both chastice the wicked, and al­so [Page 323] pardon when time requireth. And as for those offences which may be healed, he must thinke that no man is wil­lingly vniust. Therefore Cicero saith, that it is the property of a noble minded man simply to punish those that are most in fault, & the authors of euill, but to saue the mul­titude. And thus the rigour of discipline directing meeke­nes, and meekenes decking rigour, the one will set foorth and commend the other: so that neither rigour shall be rigorous, nor gentlenes dissolute. By the learned senten­ces of these Philosophers, it is very euident, that the ver­tue of meekenes is not onely a part of Fortitude, which can not be perfect without it, but hath also some particu­lar coniunction with all the other vertues, yea is as it were the seede of them, and induceth men to practise all dutie towards their neighbours. But bicause the order of our discourses wil offer vs matter and occasion to intreat par­ticularly heereafter aswell of iustice, and of reuenge of wrongs and ininries which a man receiueth of his enemy, as also of other vertues heere briefly mentioned, we will now come to certaine notable examples of meekenes, gentlenes, mildnes, and goodnes of nature. The first that Philip a Prince of a good and mild nature.commeth to my remembrance is Philip king of Macedo­nia, who giueth place to none in the perfection of these gifts and graces. When it was told this good Prince, that one Nicanor did openly speake ill of his maiestie, his coun­sellors being of opinion that he was to be punished with death: I suppose (quoth he to them) that he is a good man. It were better to search whether the fault commeth not from vs. And after he vnderstood that the said Nicanor was a needy fel­low, and complained that the king neuer succoured him in his necessity, he sent him a rich present. Whereupon af­terward it was told Philip, that this Nicanor went vp and downe speaking much good of him. I see well (said he then to his Councellors) that I am a better Phisition for backbiting than you are, and that it is in my power to cause either good or euill Antigonus. to be spoken of me. The good disposition of Antigonus king of Macedonia, commeth in here not vnfitly vpon the like occasion. For hearing certaine souldiers speake ill of him [Page 324] hard by his tent, who thought not that the king could ouerheare them, he shewed himselfe, vttering these onelie words without farther hurting of them: Good Lord, could you not go further off to speake ill of me? And to say truth, such gifts and graces become a noble Prince very well: yea, he cannot more woorthily and more beseeming himselfe giue place to any wrongs, than to those that are done to Oh that Princes would consider this.his owne person. As contrariwise those men are vnwoor­thie their scepters, who cruelly reuenge their owne iniu­ries, & pardon such as are done to others, yea such faults as are directly against the honor of God. A Prince wel in­structed in vertue (saith Xenophon in his Cyropaedia) ought so to behaue himselfe towards his enemie, as to thinke & consider that at some time or other he may be his friend. Was there euer Monarch more feared of his enemies than Alexander. Alexander the Great, inuincible in all things he tooke in hand, insomuch that he would not onely force al humane powers, but also times & places themselues, and yet who hath left greater proofes of meekenes and curtesie than he? As he was on his voyage vndertaken for the conquest of the Indians, Taxiles a king of those countries came & desired him that they might not warre one against ano­ther. If thou (said this king vnto him) art lesse than I, receiue benefits, if greater, I will take them of thee. Alexander greatly admiring and commending the grauitie and courteous speech of this Indian, answered thus: At the least we must fight and contend for this: namely, whether of vs twaine shall be A commenda­ble combat. most beneficiall to his Companion: so loath was this noble Mo­narch to giue place to another in goodnes, mildnes, and courtesie. Heereof he gaue a great argument, after he had vanquished Porus a very valiant Prince, of whome deman­ding how he would be intertained of him, this king an­swered, Royally. Neither would he giue him any other answer, albeit Alexender vrged him thereunto. For he said that all was contained vnder that word. As in deede the Monarch shewed that he was nothing ignorant thereof. For he did not onely restore his kingdome vnto him, but inlarged it also, wherein he surmounted his victorie, and [Page 325] procured to himselfe as much renowne by his clemency, as by his valure. Had he euer any greater enemie than Darius vanquished and subdued by him? And yet when he saw himselfe letted from vsing towards him any boun­tie Bessus cruelly put to death for killing Darius.worthy his greatnes, bicause Bessus one of his captains had slaine him, he was so displeased therwith, that he cau­sed the murderer to be punished (albeit he was one of his familiar friēds) with a most cruel death, causing him to be torne asunder with two great trees bowed down by main strength one against another, vnto each of which a part of Bessus his body was fastened. Then the trees beyng suffe­red to returne backe again to their first nature, with their vehement force rent asunder the body of this poore and Iulius Caesar.miserable wretch. Iulius Caesar was of such a curteous dis­position, that hauing conquered Pompey and all his ene­mies, he wrote to his friends in Rome, that the greatest and most pleasant fruit which he gathered of his victory, consisted in sauing daily the liues of some of his country­men who had borne armes against him: as in truth he did so. And for a great proofe of his meekenes and gentlenes, that speech may serue, which he vttred when he vnder­stood that Cato retiring into the towne of Vtica after the losse of the battell had killed himselfe. O Cato (sayd this monarch beyng then very pensiue) I enuy thee this thy death, seeing thou hast enuied me the glory of sauing thy life. I neuer yet denied clemencie (sayd that good empe­ror M. Aurelius. Marcus Aurelius) to him that demaunded it of me, much lesse haue I euil intreated or offred dishonor to any that trusted in me. Neither can any victory be called a true and perfect victorie, but that which carieth with it some clemencie. To ouercome is a humane thing, but to pardon, is diuine. Hereof it is (said the same vertuous prince) that we esteeme the greatnesse of the immortall gods not so much for the punishment, as for the mercie which they vse. The clemencie and bountie of Dion the Dion.Syracusian is woorthy of perpetuall memory. For hauing brought to ruine the tyrannie of Dionysius the yonger, & recouered the libertie of his countrey, one of his greatest [Page 326] enemies named Heraclides, being a very pernitious felow, fell into his hands: whereupon all his friends gaue him counsail to put him to death. Vnto which Dion wisely an­swered, that other captains and heads of armies vsed com­monly to imploy most of their studie in the exercise of armes and of warre, but as for himselfe he had long since studied and learned in the schooles of the Vniuersitie to ouercome anger, enuy and euery euill affection and will: the proofe whereof consisted not onely in behauing him­selfe well towards his friends, and towards good men, but also in pardoning, and in the exercise of gentlenes and hu­manitie towards his enemies, so that he had rather excell Heraclides in bountie and curtesie, than in power & world­ly glory. And although (quoth he) mens lawes auouch it to be more iust to reuenge an iniurie receiued, than to of­fer All priuate re­uenge commeth of frailtie.it to another, yet nature teacheth vs, that both the one and the other proceed of the same imbecillitie: and how soeuer that man is hardly altered, who hath gotten an ha­bite of wickednesse, yet are there few men of so brutish & vntamed a nature, or so sauage in reclaiming, that their peruersnes cannot in the end be wel ouercome by benefi­cence, when they see that men returne good turnes againe and againe into their bosome. By these learned discour­ses it appeareth that Dion forgaue Heraclides, and bestow­ed Lycurgus.vpon him great benefits. Lycurgus the reformer of the Lacedemonian estate, by whose meanes that common-wealth so long tyme florished, doth yet passe all those be­fore alleadged through the goodnes and mildnes of his gentle nature. This graue and gratious personage hauing receiued such a blow with a staffe, that one of his eies was put out in a sedition stirred vp against him in the citie, bi­cause of the rigor of those lawes which he had established there, after the sedition was appeased, had the offender deliuered into his handes to punish him as he thought good. But he not hurting or displeasing him at all, kept him in his house, and instructed him in all vertue & good discipline, and within the yeeres ende, he brought him foorth into the publike assembly, being no lesse vertuous [Page 327] and well nurtured than before he was vicious: vsing these words vnto the people: Behold I restore him vnto you, beyng mild, gratious and fit to do you seruice, whom ye gaue to me proud, outragious and dissolute. O acte beseeming the soule of a chri­stian rather than of an Ethnike! which ought to make thē greatly ashamed, who for the least wrong receiued of ano­ther, would not stick to slay not one mā only, but a thou­sand, yea ten thousand rather than their worldly honour should be hurt or touched: which pretence of honour they vse verie often to colour their brutishnesse withall. Now leauing here the ancients, of whom we haue a milli­on of testimonies in the reading of histories, I thinke we shall do well to propound here vnto our princes beyng too much inclined to reuenge iniuries, the clemencie of king Lewes the 12. who succeeding Charles the 8. in the Lewes the 12.kingdom, would neuer reuenge himselfe of any outrage or iniurie done vnto him, euen than whē he was but duke of Orleance. In so much that beyng incited by some to punish one that was his great enemie during the life of his predecessor, he answered: That it would not beseeme a king of France to go about to reuenge iniuries offered to a duke of Orle­ance. Neither ought we to let passe in silence the goodnes and clemencie of that great king Frances, who goyng in person to chastice the rebellion of the Rochelers, forgaue them, and put not one to death, saying: That albeit he had no lesse occasion to reuenge this iniurie than the Emperor Charles, who punished very cruelly those of Gaunt, yet he had rather en­crease his prayses by preseruing than by destroying his subiects. After his example king Henry the 2. hauing giuen in Henry the 2.commission to the duke of Montmorencie Constable, to chastice the rebellion of the countrey of Guyen, and espe­cially the inhabitants of Burdeaux, afterward gaue out a generall absolution, and forgaue the racing of the Town­house, the paiment of two hundred thousand pounds, & the defraying of the charges of the armie wherein they were condemned. And truly as it belongeth to the sun to lighten the earth with his beames: so it appertaineth to the vertue of a prince to haue compassion vpon the mise­rable. [Page 328] Yea so many as stand in need of mercy, and beyng woorthy therof craue for it, ought to find harbour in the hauen of his excellencie. Now to come to the end of our present discourse, if by so many examples which we haue touched, and innumerable others, of which histories are plentifull, we may note amongst the famous, noble and courageous men of old tyme, such effects of meekenesse, gentlenes, bountie, mildnes, clemencie and humanitie to­wards their enemies, no doubt but they endeuored to do much more for their friends, brethren and countreymen, for whose safetie they feared not many times to die, as heretofore we haue seene examples thereof, and may see more hereafter. And how much lesse would they haue fai­led to succor them in all other duties and charitable offi­ces? So that if we be men and not monsters in nature, let vs learne what are the fruits not onely of true Christians, but also of true humanitie, and of nature not being who­ly depraued and corrupted: to the end that framing our maners, mild, gentle, and gratious, to the succor, benefite, and profite of euery one, and following the steps and tra­ces of the vertue of Fortitude and Magnanimitie, which is neuer churlish, idle or proud, we may liue a happy life di­rected to hir proper end, expecting our renewing in that life which is immortall and euerlasting.

Of Good and Ill hap. Chap. 31.

THere hath beene alwayes men of great humaine learning, but voyd of the sincere knowledge of the truth, that haue main­tained one of these two opinions: some, That all things were gouerned by nature: others, that they were ruled by fortune. They that acknowledge nature for the first cause of all things The Stoicks.did attribute vnto hir a constellation, which through the strength and efficacie of the starres gouerned the coun­saile The Epicures.and reason of men. The other sort acknowledging fortune, maintained that all things were done at aduen­ture [Page 329] and by chance. Now albeit there are too many at this day that follow this error, yet is it so absurd a thing, that in the writings of Ethnicks and Pagans, a thousand inuincible reasons are found of sufficient force to con­uince such opinions of meere lying and ouer-great sot­tishnes, and to constraine those that are most impudent and shameles to acknowledge an infinite almightie pow­er to be the creator of nature, and of all things moouing therein, and to dispose and order them with an eternall and euerlasting prouidence. True it is that I would not absolutely deny the maruellous effects which many haue noted in heauenlie bodies throughout nature: neuer­theles I hold this for certaine, that as all their vertue de­pendeth of one onely God, so he withdraweth from them his power when and as soone as it pleaseth him. Of this I inferre, that they greatly deceiue themselues, who thinke that the seeking out of the starres, and of their secret ver­tues diminisheth any thing from the greatnes and power of God: seeing that contrariwise his maiestie is much more famous and woonderful in doing such great things by his creatures, as if he did them himselfe without any meane. Nowe that which I haue touched heere my companions, is not to offer any occasion to discourse of the Mathematicks, or of any part thereof, which would be to depart out of those bounds which we appointed to our Academy. But seeing nothing is so common amongst vs as to vse, or rather to abuse these wordes of Good and Ill hap, by attributing vnto them some power and vertue o­uer our doings: insomuch that we commonly say there is nothing but good or ill lucke in this world, I thinke it wil not be without fruite to consider narowly what we ought to thinke of these words, and wherein we are to seeke and desire good hap, and wherein to feare and flie ill lucke. Now therefore let vs be instructed of you touching this matter.

Good hap consisteth in that contenta­tion which proceedeth from the perfection of the subiect therof, being adorned with a perfect habit and intire pos­session [Page 330] Wherein good and ill hap con­sist. of all kind of Goods, in the priuation whereof all ill hap consisteth. This cannot be verified of the passions and affections of men, nor of their worldly affaires, which are alwaies intermingled with diuers & sundry accidents, turning one while on this manner, by and by after an other, and carying the soule continually vp and downe Who is happie in Socrates iudgement.with these two perturbations, Desire and Griefe. Therefore if there be a happie man in this world (said Socrates) it is he that hath a pure and cleane soule, and a conscience defiled with nothing. For the mysteries of God may be seene and beheld of him onely.

A temperate and constant man that knoweth how to moderate feare, anger, excessiue ioy, and vnbride­led Who is happie.desire, is very happie, but he that placeth other vading Goods in his felicitie, shall neuer haue a quiet mind. Let vs then heare of AMANA, wherein we ought to iudge that happines or vnhappines consisteth.

The continuall alteration & sudden chang of one estate into another cleane contrary, which might alwaies be noted in the nature, disposition, and euents of mens actions, counsels & desires, gaue occasion to some of the ancient Philosophers to thinke the sicke more hap­pie than the sound: bicause (said they) sicke folks looke for health, whereas the healthie expect sicknes. For this The cause why Amasis forfooke his alliance with Policrates.very consideration it seemeth that Amasis, almost the last of those kings that raigned peaceably in Egypt, shoke off the alliance and league with Policrates king of Samos, who was so happie in worldlie respects, that do what he could, yet could he not know what sorow meant, but all things fel out vnto him better than he desired. For proofe wher­of may serue that which happened vnto him, after he had cast into the sea a ring of great value, which he loued ex­ceedingly. Now, although he did so of purpose, to the end he might taste of some sorow and griefe, yet he found it quickly againe in the bellie of a fish taken by Fishermen, and bought for his kitchen. Whereupon this wise Egypti­an iudged it a thing altogether impossible; but that some great miserie was to follow hard at the heeles of so great happines: and therefore he would not be partaker ther­of, [Page 331] as of necessitie he should haue beene, if he had conti­nued still that league which before was betwixt them. Neither was Amasis any thing deceiued in his opinion. For within a while after Policrates was depriued of his kingdome, and shamefully hanged, seruing for a common and notable example of the instabilitie and variablenes of mans estate, as also to shew that it is a very absurd thing to place happines in so vncertain felicity. And yet among infinit imperfections borne with man, this is common in An ordin arie imperfection in man.him to loose quickly the remembrance of a benefit recei­ued, but to retaine a long time the memorie of a calami­tie fallen vpon him. Which is the cause that he alwaies supposeth his mishaps to be without comparison greater than all the good hap that he can haue: so that he com­plaineth continually of his miseries and calamities, not remembring the innumerable benefits which are daily offred & presented vnto him from the grace and bounti­fulnes of God. Notwithstanding, if all men (as Socrates said) aswell rich as poore, brought their mishaps, and laid them in common together, and if they were in such sort diuided, that euery one might haue an equall portion, then should it be seene, that many, who thinke themselues ouercharged & oppressed, would with all their hartes take againe vnto them their fortune, and be contented with­all. Wouldest thou (said Democritus) auoid the griefe of thy mi­serie? Behold the life of the afflicted, and by the compari­son A meane to a­uoid the [...]re of our [...].thereof with thine thou shalt see that thou hast cause to thinke thy selfe very happie. He that will measure his bur­then (saith Martial) may well beare it. Now, with this com­mon complaint in men of their estate and condition, this custome also is ioined, to lay the cause of that which they suffer vpon cruell and intollerable destinie, accusing that, An other imper­fection.to excuse their owne fault. Wherefore we cannot more aptly compare them than to blind folks, who are angrie, and oftentimes call them blind that vnawares do meete and iustle them. But if we desire to cure our soules of so many miserable passions, which depriue vs of true rest & tranquillitie necessarie for a happie life, let vs be carefull [Page 332] to learne how to discerne true happines from mishap, that we may reioyce in that which is good, and as readily giue thanks to the author thereof, as naturally, through a false opinion which we haue of euill, we sustaine humaine mi­series and crosses vnpatiently. First then let vs heare the Notable opini­ons of good and ill hap.sundry and notable opinions of many ancient men tou­ching good and ill hap. If thou knowest all that ought to be knowen in all things (said Pythagoras) thou art happy. Let them be accounted very happy (said Homer) to whom fortune hath e­qually wayed the good with the euill. The greatest miserie of all (said Bias) is not to be able to beare miserie. That man is happie (said Dionysius the elder) that hath learned from his youth to be vnhappy. For he will beare the yoke better whereunto he hath been subiect and accustomed of long tyme. Demetrius, surnamed the Besieger, said, That he iudged none more vnhappy than he that neuer tasted of aduersitie: as if he would haue sayd, that it was a sure argument, that fortune iudged him to be so base & abiect, that he deserued not that she should busie hir selfe about him. That man (saith Cicero) is very happy, who thinketh that no humane mat­ters, how grieuous soeuer they may be, are intollerable, or ought to discourage him: iudging also nothing so excellent, wherby he should be mooued to reioyce in such sort, that his hart be puffed and lift vp thereby. Yea, he is very happy, who fitly and conueniently behaueth himself in all things necessary for him. Nothing is euil (saith Plu­tarke) that is necessarie. By which word Necessarie, both he and Cicero vnderstand whatsoeuer commeth to a wise man by fatall destinie: bicause he beareth it patiently, as that which cannot be auoyded, thereby increasing his vertue so much the more: and so Solon sayd that happines consi­sted in a good life and death. no euill can come to a good man. Solon drawing neerer to the truth of sincere happinesse, sayd, that it consisted in a good life and death: and that to iudge them happy that are aliue, considering the danger of so many alterations wherein they are, were all one, as if a man should before hand appoint the reward of the victorie for one that is yet fighting, not beyng sure that he should ouercome. Socrates spea­king The doctrine of Socrates and of the papists is all one touching the hope of e­ternall life.rather with a diuine than a humane spirite, sayd, that when we shall be deliuered from this body wherein our soule is in­closed as an Oyster in his shell, we may than be happy, but not soo­ner: and that felicitie cannot be obtained in this life, but that we [Page 333] must hope to enioy it perfectly in the other life, as well for our ver­tues, as by the grace and mercy of God. Not the rich (said Plato) but the wise and prudent auoyd miserie. They that thinke (sayth Aristotle) that externall goods are the cause of happines, deceiue themselues no lesse than if they supposed, that cunning playing on the harpe came from the instrument, and not from Arte: but we must seeke for it in the good and quiet estate of the soule. For as we say not that a body is perfect bicause it is richly arayed, but rather bicause it is well framed and healthfull: so a soule well instructed, is the cause that both hir selfe and the bodie wherein she is inclo­sed are happy: which cannot be verified of a man bicause he is rich in gold and siluer. When I consider all the aboue named wise opinions of these Ethnikes and Pagans, I cannot suffici­ently maruell at the ignorance and blockishnes of many The common opinion of men concerning happines and vnhappines.in our age touching Good and Ill hap, bicause they labor to make these words priuate, and to tie them to the suc­cesse of their affections in worldly matters: which if they fall out according to their desire and liking, behold pre­sently they are rauished with extreme ioy, boasting of thē ­selues, that they are most happy. But contrarywise, if they misse of their intents, by and by they dispaire, and thinke themselues the vnhappiest men in the world. Do we not also see that most men iudge them happy that possesse ri­ches, pleasure, delight, glory and honour, and those men miserable that want, especially if after they had aboun­dance, they loose it by some mishap, the cause wherof they commonly attribute either to good or ill lucke, which Whereat Apol­lonius maruel­led most.they say ruleth all humaine affaires? We read that Apollo­nius Thianaeus hauing trauelled ouer al Asia, Afrike and Eu­rope, sayd that of two things whereat he maruelled most in all the world: the first was, that he alwayes sawe the proud man commaund the humble, the quarellous the quiet, the tyrant the iust, the cruel the pitifull, the coward the hardie, the ignorant the skilfull, and the greatest thieues hang the innocent. But in the meane while who may doubt whether of these were the happiest? that the good were not rather than the wicked? if happines accor­ding to the ancients, & to the truth, be perfected in good [Page 334] Notable reasons to shew that no worldly thing can be called good, and that happines can­not be perfe­cted by any such thing. things, then it is certain, that whosoeuer enioieth al good things shall be perfectly happy. Now nothing can be cal­led good but that which is profitable, and contrary to e­uill: so that whatsoeuer may as so one be euill as good, ought not to be called good. Moreouer it must be the possession of some firme, stedfast and permanent Good that maketh a man happy. For nothing ought to wax old, to perish or decay of those things wherin a happy life con­sisteth, seeing he that feareth to loose them cannot be sayd to liue quietly. Therefore neither beautie, nor strength, and disposition of body, neither riches, glory, honour or pleasure can be truely called Goods, seeing oftentymes they are the cause of so many euils, waxe old, and vanish a­way many times as soone as a man hath receiued them, and lastly, worke in vs an vnsatiable desire of them. How many men are there to whom all these things haue been the occasion of euill? And how can we call that good, which being possessed, and that in abundance, cannot yet keep the owner thereof from being vnhappy and misera­ble? Wherfore we may say, that happines cannot be per­fected by the possession of humane and mortall things, neither vnhappines through the want of them: but that Wherein true happines con­sisteth.the true felicitie which we ought to desire in this world, consisteth in the goods of the soule, nourished in the hope of that vnspeakable & euerlasting happines, which is pro­mised and assured vnto it in the second life. And so we Who are vn­happy.say, that none are vnhappy but they, who by reason of their peruersnesse, feele in their conscience a doubting of the expectation of eternall promises: as also they that giue ouer themselues to vice, whose nature is to corrupt, destroy, and infect with the venom that is alwayes about it, all things whereof it taketh hold. As for the common miseries of mans life they cannot in any sort make him vnhappy, whose naturall disposition & maners beyng fra­med and decked with vertue, are able to giue & to impart to euery condition of his life, whether it be poore or rich, prosperous or aduerse, honourable or contempti­ble; happinesse, ioy, pleasure and contentation, which [Page 335] flowe in his soule aboundantly from that fountaine and liuelie spring which Philosophie hath discouered vnto him in the fertile field of Graces and Sciences, whereby he enioyeth true tranquillitie and rest of spirit, as much as a man may haue in this mortall life, moderating the perturbations of his soule, and commaunding ouer the vnpure affections of the flesh. And than as the shoe tur­neth with the fashion of the foote, and not contrary­wise, The happinesse of man com­meth from within him.so the inward disposition of a wise and moderate man causeth him to lead a life like vnto the same, that is, mild, peaceable and quiet, being neuer caried away with vnreasonable passions, bicause she neuer enioyeth or re­ioyceth immoderately in that which she hath, but vseth well that which is put into her hand, without feare or re­pining if it be taken away: following therein the saying of Democritus, that whosoeuer mindeth to liue alwayes happilie, must propound to himselfe and desire things possible, and be content with things present. Therefore seeing the fountaine of all felicitie and contentation in this life is within vs, let vs cure and cleanse diligently all perturbations which seeke to hinder the tranquillitie of our spirites, to the ende that externall things which come from without vs agaynst our will and expectation, may seeme vnto vs friendly and familiar after we know how to vse them wel. Plato compared our life to table-play, wherein both the Our life compa­red to table­play.dice must chance wel, & the plaier must vse that wel which the dice shal cast. Now of these two points the euent & lot of the Dice is not in our power: but to receiue mildly and moderatly that which falleth vnto vs, & to dispose euerie thing in that place where it may either profite most if it be good, or do least hurt if it be bad, that is in our power, & belongeth to our dutie if we be wise men. Fortune (saith Plutarke) may well cast me into sickenesse, take away my goods, bring me in disgrace with the people, but she can not make him wicked, a coward, slouthfull, base-min­ded or enuious, that is honest, [...]aliaunt, and noble­minded, nor take from him his setled and temperate disposition of Prudence, which maketh him to iudge, [Page 336] that no tedious, grieuous or troublesome thing can befall him. For being grounded, not vpon vanishing goods, but vpon Philosophicall sentences, & firme discourses of rea­son, he may say, I haue preuented thee fortune, I haue clo­sed vp all thy chances, and stopped the wayes of entrance in vpon me: and so led a ioyfull life as long as vertue, and that part which is proper to man are strongest. And if per­aduenture some great inconuenience happen vnto him against all hope, which humaine power is not able to o­uercome, than with ioy of spirite he considereth that the hauen of safetie is at hand, wherein he may saue himselfe by swimming out of the body as out of a Skiffe that lea­keth, departing boldly and without feare from the mise­ries of the world, that he may enioy absolute and perfectAlexander and Crates opposed one against an other.happines. Alexander the great hauing vnder his domi­nion more than halfe the world, when he heard the Philo­sopher Anaxarchus dispute and maintaine that there were innumerable worlds, he began to weepe, saying, Haue I not good cause to be sorowful and to mourne, if there be an infinite number of worlds, seeing as yet I haue not been able to make my selfe Lord of one? But Crates the Philosopher being brought vp in the schoole of wisdome, and hauing in stead of all wealth but an old cloke and a scrip, neuer wept in all his life, but was always seen mery, and passing ouer his dayes cheerfully. By which two kinds of life contrary one to an other, it appeereth sufficiently that it is within our selues, and not in outward things, wherein we must seeke for the foundation of a certaine ioy which is watered and flouri­sheth in strength by the remembrance of good and vertu­ous actions proceeding from the soule guided by rightAgamemnon. knowledge and reason. Homer bringeth in Agamemnon complaining greatly bicause he was to command so great a part of the world, as if he had an intollerable burthen vpon his shoulders. Whereas Diogenes when he was to be sold for a slaue, lying all along, mocked the Sergeant that cried him to sale, and would not rise vp when he com­manded him▪ but scoffingly said vnto him, If thou wart to sell a fish, wouldest thou make it arise? Cry this rather, that [Page 337] if any man want a maister, he should buy me: for I can serue his turne well. Wherby we may fitly note this, that all the hap­pines, rest, and contentation of man dependeth of vertue onely, and not of worldlie greatnes and glorie. For this reason the selfe same Diogenes beholding a stranger come from Lacedemonia, more curiously decked on a festiuall day than he was woont, said vnto him: What? Doth not an honest man thinke that euery day is festiuall vnto him? And tru­ly there is nothing that ought to mooue vs so much to shew all outward signes of ioy, or that breedeth such sere­nitie and calmenes against the tempestuous waues of hu­mane miseries and calamities, than to haue the soule pure and cleane from all wicked deedes, wils, and counsels, & the manners vndefiled, not troubled or infected with any vice. For then acknowledging the estate of mortall and corruptible things, we iudge them vnwoorthie the care of our soules, that we may wholy lift them vp to the con­templation of heauenlie and eternall things, wherein our happines and perfect felicitie consisteth. Heereby we learne, that in the second life onely we are to seeke for andWhere we must seeke for true happines. to expect the fruition of true happines, which can neuer increase or be diminished. For as no man can make a line straighter than that which is straight, and as nothing is more iust than that which is iust: so he that is happie can not be more happie. Otherwise vntill a man had gotten all that might be had, his desires would neuer be setled, & so no man should be called happie. But felicitie is perfect of it selfe. Cicero knew it well enough, when he said: that no man standing in feare of great things, could be happie: and in that respect no man liuing can be so, but to speake in deed of a happie life, that is it which is perfect and absolute. To the end therefore that we may reape some profit by our present discourse, let vs neuer thinke that any man may be called happie or vnhappie, bicause he is aduanced or disgraced, with honors, goods, and worldlie commodi­ties, or bicause he is partaker either of prosperitie or ad­uersitie throughout his whole life. But he onely ought toWho is happie in this world. be esteemed happie in this world, that knoweth in rest & [Page 338] quietnes of soule how to vse both estates, and neuer suf­fereth himselfe to be caried away or troubled with vn­cleane desires, but with all his hart seeketh for the posses­sion of a firme, stedfast, and abiding Good, being assured, as we said, that not one of those things wherein a happie life consisteth shall waxe old, perish, or fall to decay. To conclude, he is happie that sheweth in all the workes and actions of his life a patterne of honestie and vertue, being moderate in prosperitie, & constant in aduersitie. A man thus affected and disposed, will behaue himselfe without reproofe in the time present, will call to mind with ioy & pleasure the time past, and wil boldly and without distrust draw neere to the time to come, euen with a cheerefull & ioifull hope of better things, and with a stedfast expecta­tion of that vnspeakeable and endles happines, which is prepared for the elect.

Of Prosperitie and Aduersitie. Chap. 32.

BEing in our former discourse entred into the diuers and contrarie effects which the nature and condition of worldlie affaires draw with them, whereof euery one in his particular place may dai­lie haue good & sufficient testimonies: & seeing through the malice and corruption of our age, all things are at that point, as if they ment to lay more hard and difficult crosses vpon vs to sustaine, I thinke we shall not depart from our matter, if we seeke for some instruction where­by to gouerne our selues prudently in prosperitie and in aduersitie, considering the effects both of the one and the other, to the end we may auoid those that are most perni­tious, and retaine still with vs that constancie and woor­thines that is required in the vertue of Fortitude, whichA pretie com­parison. teacheth a man how he ought to behaue himselfe nobly in euery estate and condition of life. For as gold transfi­gured by the workeman, now into one fashion, and then into another, is transformed into sundrie kinds of orna­ments, [Page 339] and yet remaineth alwaies that which it is, with­out any alteration of substance: so it behooueth a wise & noble minded man to cōtinue alwaies the same in things that are contrarie and diuers, without any alteration and change of his constancie and vertue. But I leaue the dis­course of this matter to you my Companions.

As a man (saith Scipio) deliuereth ouer his hor­ses (which bicause they haue beene in many skirmishes, are become restie, furious, and vntractable) to the yeomen of his horses, to bringA similitude. them into good order againe: so men that are growne to be vnru­lie through prosperity, must be brought as it were to around circle, that they may consider of the inconstancie of worldlie things, and of the variablenes of wretched fortune.

In prosperitie (saith Euripides) be not lift vp too much, and in aduersitie hope the best alwaies. And as in a fireA similitude. (said Socrates) it is good to behold a cleare brightnes: so is a mo­derate soule in felicitie. But let vs heare ASER, who wil han­dle that which is heere propounded more at large.

As men prouide bulwarks and banks against a riuer that vseth to ouerflow: so he that desireth to liue happily, must fortifie himselfe with powerfull and conue­nient vertues, to resist the hurtfull assaults which the vn­looked for successe of humane affaires make vpon him continually, both in prosperitie and in aduersitie. ForCommon effects of the fraile na­ture of man. questionles nothing is hardlier kept within compas, than he that hath all things according to his harts desire: nei­ther is any thing so much cast downe, or sooner discoura­ged than the same man, when he is afflicted and misseth of his purpose. All mindes are not resolute and constant e­nough from slipping beside themselues, and beyond the limits of reason, neither in great prosperity, which puffeth and lifteth vp mens harts, especially theirs that are base by nature, nor yet in vnloked for aduersity, which through the heauie burthen thereof oftentimes astonisheth and a­mazeth them that are thought to be best setled and assu­red. But if we consider apart the pernitious effects which issue from these two contraries, when reason doth not guide and gouerne them, we shall find nothing but pride [Page 340] in the one, and faintnes of hart, basenes of mind, and of­tentimes Prosperity more hurtfull than ad­uersitie.despaire in the other. Notwithstanding we may well note this, that prosperitie hath alwaies beene the cause of farre greater euils to men than aduersitie, & that it is easier for a man to beare this patiently, than not to forget himselfe in the other. Whereof I thinke we may not vnfitly alledge for a reason that which Menander saith: that man of all other liuing creatures is aptest to fall suddenly downe from high to low, bicause he dareth vndertake the greatest matters, although he be weakest. Whereupon being as it were naturally subiect to falling, it is not so strange vnto him being better furnished for that, (seeing he is or ought to be prepared thereto long before) then when against his naturall disposition he ascendeth to some greatnes not hoped for. Now, whether it be for this reason, or bicause vice is his proper inheritance, the memorie of the time past aswell as of the present time, furnisheth vs with suffi­cient testimonies, seeing fewe are found that forgat not themselues in their prosperitie, whereas many haue beha­ued Plato was re­quested by the Cyrenians to giue them lawesthemselues wisely, and taken occasion to be better in their aduersitie. Which being vnderstood of Plato, when he was requested by the Cyrenians a people of Grecia, to write downe lawes for them, and to appoint them some good forme of gouernment for their Common-wealth: he answered, that it was a very hard matter to prescribe lawes to so rich, happie, and wealthie a people as they were. For commonly those cities which in short time come suddenly to great felicitie, grow to be insolent, ar­rogant, and vneasie to raunge in order: neither is there any thing for the most part prouder, than a poore man made rich: as contrariwise none are so readie to receiue counsell and direction, as he whom fortune hath ouerrun. He that is pressed greatly with aduersitie, is seldome puf­fed vp with pride, or vanquished of lust, or drowned in co­uetousnes, or ouertaken with gluttonie, or lift vp with de­sire and worldlie glorie: all which imperfections happen commonly to those vpon whome fortune too much faw­neth. That felicitie (saith Seneca) which hath not beene [Page 341] hurt, cannot indure one blow: but when it hath had a long and continuall combat with discommodities, and hath hardued it selfe by suffering and bearing iniuries, then doth it not suffer it selfe to be ouercome with any e­uill. Now one of the greatest benefits that a man may haue in this life, is, neither to be changed by aduersitie, nor lift vp with prosperity, but to be as a well rooted tree, which, although it be shaken with sundrie winds, yet can not be ouerthrowne by any of them. And truly it is very ridiculous that that which commeth to all worldly things by an ordinarie and naturall course, euen by the sequele of causes linked togither and depending one of another, changing the estate of mortall things, should haue power to alter or to make any mutation in reason and wisedom, which ought to abide stedfast in the mind of man. For this cause Plato said, that there was nothing but vertue could tame it, and that men furnished therewith behaued themselues constantly and courageously in both kinds of fortune. Vertue (saith Cicero) abideth calme and quiet in the greatest tempest, and although she be driuen into ex­ile, yet she stirreth not out of hir place and countrey, but shineth so alwaies of hir selfe, that she cannot be soiled with the spots of an other. This excellent Orator and Phi­losopher giueth vs also wholesome counsell to oppose a­gainst Good counsell for those that are in prospe­ritie.the dangerous effects that are to be feared in pro­speritie. When we are (saith he) in best estate, we must vse the counsell of our friends more than we do commonly, and as long as it continueth we are greatly to beware that we open not our eares to flatterers, who are the plague & destruction of the greater sort, bicause all their labor is to propound vnto vs occasions & meanes to enioy delights and pleasures, and to shew out selues to be proud and ar­rogant, during the time of our prosperitie: to the end we should put good men farre from vs, and reserue to them onely that authority wherein they are setled. Whereas on the contrarie side our true friends would lead vs backe to consider the inconstancie of humane things, to the ende that we abuse not our felicitie, but behaue our selues as a [Page 342] wise Pilote doth, who alwayes feareth a smiling calmnesse in the maine sea. Which consideration maketh a mā con­stant and resolute to beare and indure all sinister chaun­ces, and not so ready and easie to be deceiued, bicause he always feareth and distrusteth fortune. Let vs now come to examples of that which we haue here alleaged. As tou­ching the pernitious effects of ouer great prosperitie, they Alexander.may well be noted in Alexander the great, who although he was indued with notable and rare vertues, yet could not vse moderately the great good speed and happy suc­cesse of all his enterprises, but being conquered of the Persian delights, gaue himselfe ouer to commit many in­solencies, and then filled with prefumption and pride, Iulius Caesar.would haue been worshipped. Iulius Caesar being ascended into the highest degree of fauourable fortune that he could desire, and lending his eare ouer freely to flatterers, would be called and declared a king, (which name was most odious to the Romanes since the time that Tarquini­us was banished, as we mentioned before) and retained alwayes to himselfe the authoritie and power of a Dicta­tor, which before continued but a certaine time. He be­stowed the publike offices and places of honor vpon whō he thought good, whereof proceeded the ill will of his subiects, and in the end his destruction. The greatnesse of Pompey. Pompey was that which afterward ouerthrew him. For im­ploying his credite to fauour others vniustly, it fell out to him as to cities that suffer their enemies to enter euen in­to their strongest places, diminishing so much of their own forces, as they adde to others that wish them no good. Which thing Sylla the Dictator did very notably giue him to vnderstand, when he sawe that Pompey by his counte­nance and fauour had brought Lepidus a wicked man to the dignitie of Confulship. I see well (quoth Sylla to him) thou art very glad bicause thou hast preuailed in this suit; and sure thou hast great cause so to be. For it is a goodly matter, and the point of a noble man to be so gratious with the people, that through thy fauour Lepidus the wic­keddest man in the world hath caried away the Consul­ship [Page 343] before Catullus the honestest man in all the citie. But A wise foresight of Sylla.I aduise thee to beware of sleeping now, and to haue a vi­gilant eie to thy busines, bicause thou hast armed & made strong an aduersarie against thy selfe. Wherof Pompey had experience afterward in those warres which Lepidus rai­sed, against whome he was sent by the Senate, and in the end obtained the victorie. But the fauour he bare to Cae­sar, entring vpon the gouernment of publike affairs, came not to that passe. For he was afterward ouerthrowne by the same meanes wherewith he had strengthned Caesar a­gainst others. Out of which we may draw an excellent do­ctrine for all that are placed in authoritie, or that haue the eares of great men at commandement, that they ne­uer cause the wicked to be aduanced. For as the worme that is bred at the foote of a tree, groweth with it, and in the end destroieth it: so a wicked man aduanced by the fauour of one greater than himselfe, becommeth after­ward vnthankfull and treacherous vnto him. This moo­ued Archidamides the Lacedemonian to answer in this sort one that commended Charilaüs king of Sparta, bicause he shewed himselfe alike courteous to all. But how deserueth that man praise, who sheweth himselfe courteous towards the wicked? Now to returne to our speech touching the effects of prosperitie, not ruled by the reason of true pru­dence, what is more hatefull, or hath at any time beene more hurtfull to men than pride? Which (as Plato saith) dwelleth with solitarines, that is to say, is so hated, that in the end it is forsaken of all the world? And whereof is it bred sooner than of prosperitie? Which that wise man & excellent Romane captaine Paulus Aemilius knowing ful well, after the victorie gotten by him against Perses king of Macedonia, being desirous to admonish the men of warre that were in his armie, and to keepe them within the compasse of their dutie, he vsed these or the like spee­ches An excellent o­ration of P. Ae­milius to his souldiers.vnto them. Is there any man now my friends and compani­ons, that ought to waxe proud, and to glorie in the profperitie of his affaires, if he hath lucke to his liking, and not rather to feare the ficklenes of fortune, who euen at this present setteth before our eies [Page 344] such a notable example of the common frailtie of man, subiect to the ordinarie course of fatall destinie, which turneth about conti­nually? You see how in the moment of an houre we haue beaten downe and put vnder our feete the house of Alexander the Great, who was the mightiest and most redoubted Prince in the world. You see a King not long since followed and accompanied with so many thousands of fighting men brought to such miserie, that being prisoner he must receiue his meate and drinke at the hands of his enemies. Ought we to trust more to our good hap, and to thinke it more firme and assured? Truly no. And therefore let vs learne to humble our selues, and to restraine this foolish arrogancie & proud insolencie, wherewith our youth seemeth to be ouercome by reason of the victorie obtained by vs: and let vs expect to what end and M. Aurelius. issue fortune will guide the enuie of this present prosperitie. Mar­cus Aurelius after he had vanquished Popilion, Generall of the Parthians, spake thus vnto him: I tell thee of a truth that I stand in greater feare of fortune at this present, than I did before the battell. For she careth not so much to ouertake the conquered, as to subdue and vanquish the Conquerors. This selfe same con­sideration Philip king of Macedonia.caused Philip king of Macedonia, after he re­ceiued newes of three great and sundrie prosperities in one day, to vtter this speech: O fortune (said he) (holding vp his hands towards heauen) I pray thee send me for a counterbuffe some meane aduersitie. Likewise after he had ouercome in battell the Athenians at Cherronesus, and by this victorie obtained the Empire of Grecia, he commanded a little Page to cry vnto him thrice a daye, Philip remember that thou art a man: so greatly did he feare least through arro­gancie arising of his prosperitie, he should commit anie Archidamas.thing that did not beseeme him. The same thing did Ar­chidamas the sonne of Agesilaus very well and wisely teach him, to whome Philip after he was a Conqueror had writ­ten a very sharpe and rough letter: If thou measurest thy sha­dow (answered Archidamas) thou shalt find that it is not wax­en greater since thou didst ouercome. The prosperitie which Cy­rus Cyrus.Monarch of the Persians alwaies had in all his enter­prises, was the cause that trusting too much thereunto, he would not giue eare to the counsell of Craesus, when he dis­swaded [Page 345] him from that warre, which he purposed to vn­dertake against Tomyris Queene of the Scythians, (which fell out hardly for him) vsing these words: Knowe that all worldly things haue a certaine course, which doth not suffer them to end happily that haue alwaies had fortune prosperous, which he might well speake by experience in him selfe. But Cyrus hauing alreadie subdued all Asia, part of Grecia, the kingdome of Babylon, with infinite other places, and beholding his ar­mie to consist of sixe score thousand men, thought he could not be vanquished. Whereupon giuing battell to Tomyris, he lost his life, togither with the renowne of so many goodlie victories, (being now ouercome by a wo­man) his whole armie also being hewen in peeces. And truly as one puffe of wind causeth the goodliest fruites, The instabilitie of humane things.which beautifie the whole Orchard, to fall from the tree: so a little disgrace, a sudden mishap in one instant brin­geth to nothing, and pulleth downe the greatnes, wealth, and prosperitie of men. And when we thinke to lay a sure foundation of prosperitie, euen then is all changed, and the order of our conceits peruerted & turned into an vn­looked for disorder and confusion. Now let vs come to consider particularly of the effects of aduersitie. There are The common effects of ad­uersitie.few folks (if they be not destitute of all good iudgement) that are ignorant and vnderstand not what belongeth to their dutie, so long as prosperitie lasteth: but fewe there are, who in great ouerthwarts and shakings of fortune, haue harts sufficiently staied to practise and imitate that which they commend and make account of, or to flie from that which they mislike and reprehend. Nay rather they are caried away, and through custome of liuing at ease, togither with frailtie and faintnes of hart, they start aside, and alter their first discourses. This is that which Terence meaneth, where he saith, that when we are in good health, we giue a great deale better counsaile to the dis­eased, than we can take to our selues when we stande in neede thereof. Notwithstanding he that is beaten downe and humbled by affliction, easilie suffereth himselfe to bee directed, gladlie receiueth and harkeneth to the [Page 346] aduice of good men, and if there be any little seed of ver­tue in him, it encreaseth daily, whereas prosperitie would soone choke it. And if he hath profited well in the studie The fruits of the study of Philo­sophie.of wisdome, he doth as Bees do, which draw the best and driest hony out of time, although it be a very bitter herb. So out of most troublesome Accidents he knoweth how to reape benefit and commoditie, resoluing with himselfe and taking counsell according to the mishaps that light vpon him. He doubteth not of this, that it is the duetie of wise and vertuous men not onely to desire prosperitie in all things, but also to indure aduersitie with constancie & modestie. He knoweth that as the fruition of prosperitie is for the most part full of sweetnesse, when it is not abu­sed, so the constant suffring of aduersitie is always reple­nished and accompanied with great honour. And such a one may truely be called noble and courageous, yea, he sheweth himselfe a great deale better to be so in deed whē he yeeldeth not, nor fainteth in afflictions, than if he were in prosperitie, which puffing vp the harts of cowards and base minds, causeth them somtimes to seem courageous, when as they are lift vp by fortune into a high degree of honour and felicitie, whereas in truth there is no such Craesus.matter in them. Craesus King of the Lydians beyng throwen from his estate & made prisoner to Cyrus, shew­ed greater vertue and generositie of hart at that time, than he did all the while he enioied his great wealth, through which being puffed vp with pride, he would haue had Solon iudged him most happy. For being vpon a block ready to be burned, and both remembring and fitly ap­plying to himselfe those wise discourses which he heard Solon make vnto him concerning the small assurance that we haue in worldly felicitie, and how no man ought to be called happy before the houre of his death, he resolued with himselfe to die constantly and cheerfully. And cal­ling to mind this benefit which he receiued by the means of that wise man, whereupon he felt his soule filled with ioy, he repeated aloud three times the name of Solon, vsing no other words. Whereof Cyrus asking the cause, he vtte­red [Page 347] vnto him the selfe same discourses, which touched the hart of this monarch in such sort, that presently changing the ill will he bare to Craesus, he fully restored him to the fruition of his kingdom, and kept him neere vnto himself The Romanes were wise and constant in ad­uersitie.for one of his chiefe and principall counsailors. The Ro­manes (as Polibius saith) neuer obserued their lawes more straightly, neuer caused the discipline of warre to be kept more seuerely, and were neuer so well aduised & constant, as after the Carthaginians had obtained of them the third victorie at the battell of Cannas. And contrarywise, there were nothing but part-takings and factions in Carthage, lawes were neuer lesse esteemed, magistrates neuer lesse regarded, nor maners more corrupted than at that time. But within a little while after, they fell from the highest degree of their felicitie, into vtter ruine, and the Romanes restored their owne estate into greater glory than it was in before. Vertue is always like to the Date tree. For the The propertie of Vertue op­pressed.more she is oppressed and burthened, the higher she lif­teth vp hir selfe, and sheweth hir inuincible power and strength, ouer which fortune can nothing preuaile. And although aduersitie somewhat troubleth a vertuous man, yet is it not able to alter his noble courage, but remaining firme and constant, he knoweth how to take all things as exercises of his vertue, which, as an ancient man said, wi­thereth and looseth hir vigor without aduersitie. It is eui­dēt therfore that the effects of aduersitie are not so perni­tious to a mā, as those which prosperitie commonly brin­geth vnto him. For this latter is of a proud and presump­tuous nature, always enuied, and as commonly it is not freely admonished, so it giueth eare vnto and receiueth as litle: but the other is plaine and simple, folowed of com­passion, and ready to receiue counsell. Besides, it awaketh a Christian and stirreth him vp to humble himself before the maiestie of God, to cal vpon him, and to trust wholy to his onely grace and vertue. Now if some (as I haue sayd) are so faint harted, that they suffer themselues to be ouer­whelmed vnder the burthen of turmoiles and calamities, let vs attribute the cause thereof to ignorance, and want [Page 348] of good iudgement, which depriueth them of learned & sound cogitations and discourses that tend to a constant disposition, wherein the happines of this life consisteth. As for vs if we desire to approch neere to that perfection, which is required by the Sages, let vs propound to our selues their examples to folow, that we may be temperate and constant in euery estate and condition of life. We The wonderful constancie of Socrates.read of Socrates that one and the same countenance was noted in him all his life time, that it was neither sadder nor pleasanter for any thing that happened vnto him. He changed it not when he heard the sentence of his death pronounced, no not when he dranke the poison, folowing P. Rutilus.therein the contents of his condemnation, albeit he was then aboue three-skore yeeres of age. Publius Rutilus a Romane, being vniustly banished, neuer changed his coū ­tenance or behauiour, neither would put on any other gowne than that he vsed to weare, although it was the cu­stome of such as were banished, to alter the same. Neither would he leaue off the marks of a Senator, nor request the iudges to absolue him, but led the rest of his dayes with the same greatnes, grauitie and authoritie that he vsed before, not shewing himselfe any thing beaten down with Q. Metellus.sorow for the strange alteration of his first estate. Quintus Metellus surnamed Numidicus, bicause he had subdued that countrey of Numidia, being driuē into exile through a popular faction and sedition, went into Asia, where, as he beheld certaine players, he receiued letters from the Senate, whereby he was certified that the Senators & peo­ple with one common consent had called him backe a­gaine. Which good newes he bare with the like modestie that he did his banishment, not departing from the Thea­ter before the sportes were ended, nor shewing his letters to any of his friends that were round about him before he had assembled them togither in his lodging to delibe­rate Diogenes.of his returne to Rome. The same grauitie and con­stancie caused Diogenes when he heard one hit him in the teeth with his banishment from Pontus by the Synopians to make this answer: And I haue bounded them within the [Page 349] countrey of Pontus. We must account the whole scope of the firmament for the bonds of our countrey as long as we liue here. Neither ought any man within those limites to esteeme himselfe either banished, or a stranger: seeing God gouerneth all things by the same elements. There­fore Socrates tooke the whole world for his countrey. Socrates said, that he tooke not himselfe to be either an Athenian or a Graecian, but a worldling. And how shal we thinke that they who sustained so courageously their banishment from their countrey (which was so deere vn­to them that they preferred the benefite thereof before the safetie of their life) their depriuation & absence from their families, friends and goods, would not much more vertuously haue suffred all lesse aduersitie? Therefore to end our present discourse, let vs learn that nothing belon­ging to this present life hath neither more euill nor good in it, than according to the end which befalleth it, & that it is our dutie to keep our selues moderate, constant, and vpright, both in prosperitie and in aduersitie, which is the propertie of true magnanimitie and greatnes of courage. Let vs not lift vp our selues aboue measure for any tempo­rall felicitie, nor be too much discouraged bicause we are visited with aduersitie, but wisely expect what will be the end of both, which a good and vertuous man shal always find to be happy when he changeth his mortall estate for a life that is certain and euerlasting.

Of Riches. Chap. 33.

YEsterday we bestowed the better part of the day in discoursing of good and ill hap, of prosperitie and ad­uersitie, which with a swift pace following each other, seeme to change, to turne, and to ouer-turne inces­santly the dealings and de­sires of men. Now forasmuch as we made mention of the ignorant multitude which placeth happines & felicitie in the vading goods of the world, & affirmed to the contra­ry, that this felicitie was very miserable, bicause it maketh a man more insolent and arrogant, & giueth him greater occasion to bewaile, than to reioice in his fortune, I think we ought to consider more neerely of the nature of such goods as are no goods, beginning with Riches whereun­to men are slaues, more than to any other thing, albeit they procure them the greatest euils.

Riches (saith Epictetus) are not in the num­ber of goods. For they stirre vs vp to superfluitie, and pull vs backe from temperance. And therfore it is a very hard matter for a rich man to be temperate, or for a temperate man to be rich. As a man cannot vse a horse (saith Socra­tes) without a bridle, so he cannot vse Riches without reason.

It is almost impossible (said Diogenes) that vertue should dwell in a rich citie or house. For riches The fruits of ri­ches.bring with them pride to him that possesseth them, exces­siue desire in gathering them, couetousnes in keeping them, all filthines & dissolutenes in the enioying of them. But let vs heare ACHITOB, who will handle this matter more at large.

As children of three or fower yeeres of age haue no other care or thought, but how they may play and passe their time with the hauing of dailie foode according to their appetite, not considering or taking a­ny care for the meanes which they might haue, and which would be necessarie for the nourishing of their old age: so it seemeth to me that the men of our time behaue themselues, when through a more than childish igno­rance they labor without ceasing, to gather & to increase wealth, which will do them seruice but a little while, not caring in the meane time for certaine and immortall goods which wil nourish them for euer. And yet the soule created according to the image of God, cannot better preserue and shew foorth hir diuine nature in this mortal bodie, than by contemning all earthlie, humane, and va­ding things. But to the end we be not of the number of those that fill themselues with such passions, to purchase their owne destruction, let vs consider by the testimonies Of the nature, qualitie, and ef­fects of riches.of the ancient Sages, of the nature and qualitie of riches, and of the visible effects which they dailie bring foorth in those that serue & possesse them: next, we will behold some examples of these famous personages, that we may be induced thereby to contemne such pernitious goods. Men ought to make great account of riches (said Socrates) if they were ioined with true ioy, but they are wholy separated from it. For if rich men fall to vsing of them, they spoile themselues with o­uergreat pleasure, if they would keepe them, care gnaweth and con­sumeth them within, and if they desire to get them, they become wicked and vnhappie. It cannot be (saith Plato) that a man should be truly good, and very rich both togither, but he may well be happie and good at one time. And it is a verie miserable saying to affirme that a rich man is happy: yea it belongeth to children and fooles to say so, making them vnhappy that beleeue and approoue it. Slouth and slug gishnes grow of riches, and they that are addicted to heape them vp more and more, the greater account they make of them, the lesse they esteeme vertue. So that if riches and rich men are greatly set by in a Common-wealth, vertue and good men will be much lesse regarded: and yet great matters are brought to passe, [Page 352] and Common-wealths preserued by vertue, and not by riches. Ri­ches (saith Isocrates) serue not so much for the practise of hone­stie as of wickednes, seeing they draw the libertie of men to loose­nesse and idlenesse, and stirre vp yong men to voluptuousnes. Men (said Thales) are by nature borne to vertue, but riches draw them backe vnto them, hauing a thousand sortes of sorceries to allure them to vices, and through a false opinion of good to turne them from those things that are truly good. They suffer not him that hath them to be able to know any thing, but draw him to external goods. They are passing arrogant & most feareful. If they vse themselues, they are riotous, if they abstaine, miserable. They neuer content their Owners, nor leaue them void of sorow and care: but as they that are sicke of the dropsie, the more they drinke, become the thir­stier, so the more that men abound in wealth, the more they desire to haue. Riches of themselues breed flatterers, who helpe to vndoe rich men. They are the cause of infinite murders and hired slaugh­ters: they make couetous persons to contemne the goods of the soule, thinking to become happy without them. They prouoke them also to delicacies and to gluttony, whereby their bodies are subiect to diseases and infirmities. Briefly, riches greatly hurt both bodie and soule. They stirre vp domesticall sedition, and that among bre­thren. They make children worse in behauiour towards their fa­thers, and cause fathers to deale more hardly with their children. Through them it commeth that friends suspect each other: for a true friend is credited no more by reason of a flatterer. Besides, rich mē are angry with good men, saying, that they are arrogant bicause they will not flatter them: and in like maner they hate such as flat­ter them, thinking that they keepe about them onely to robbe them, and to diminish their wealth. These are the cuils, which may be said to be commonly in riches. But these also accompany them, being execrable diseases, namely, presumptiō, pride, arrogancie, vile and abiect cares, which are altogether Riches of them selue, are the good gifts of God, but the e­uils wrought for, or by thē, come frō the corrupt nature of man.earthly, naughtie desires, wicked pleasures, and an insati­able coueting. Besides, if they were not pernitious of thē ­selues, so many mischiefs would not take their beginning from them. For men commit a thousand murders for gaine. They robbe churches, fidelitie is lost and broken, friendship is violated, men betray their country, maidens [Page 353] are loosely giuen: brieflie, no euils are left vnexecuted through the desire of riches. They that giue them selues (said Bion) to gather riches, are verie ridiculous, seeing fortune giueth them, couetousnes keepeth them, and liberalitie casteth them away. Men must haue rich soules (saith Alexides) as for siluer it is no­thing but a shew and vaile of life. It is a naughtie thing (saith Eu­ripides) but common to all rich men, to liue wickedly. The cause thereof as I take it, is this, bicause they haue nothing but riches in their mind, which being blind, seele vp likewise the eies of their vn­derstanding. I pray God neuer to send me a wealthy life, which hath alwaies sorow and care for hir Companions: nor riches to gnaw my hart. Speake not to me of Pluto, that is to say, of riches: for I make The Poets fai­ned Pluto to be the God of ri­ches, appointing Hell for his kingdome. no great reckoning of that God, who is alwaies possessed of the most wicked vpon the earth. O riches, you are easie to beare, but infinite cares, miseries, and griefs keepe you companie. He (saith Demo­critus) that woondereth at such as haue great riches, and are estee­med of the ignorant multitude to be happie, will surely through a desire of hauing, commit and vndertake wicked things, and those oftentimes against the lawes. As drunkennes (saith Aristotle) begetteth rage and madnes: so ignorance ioined with power, bree­deth insolencie and furie. And to those whose minds are not well The euill dispo­sition of the mind is the true cause of the hurt that commeth by riches. disposed, neither riches, nor strength, nor beautie, can be iudged good, but the greater increase ariseth of them, the more harme they procure to him that possesseth them. Moreouer, do we not see that the most part of rich men, either vse not their riches, bicause they are couetous, or abuse them, bicause they are giuen ouer to their pleasures, and so they are all the ser­uants either of pleasures, or of trafficke and gaine, as long as they liue. But he that would be (as Plato saith) truly rich, ought to labor not so much to augment his wealth, as to diminish his desire of hauing, bicause he that appointeth no bounds to his de­sires, is alwaies poore and needie. For this cause the libertie of a wise mans soule, who knoweth the nature of externall goods belonging to this life, is neuer troubled with the care of them, being assured (as Plutark saith) that as it is not apparell which giueth heate to a man, but only staieth and keepeth in naturall heate that proceedeth from the man himselfe, by hindring it from dispersing in the aire: so no man liueth more happily or contentedly, bicause he is compassed [Page 354] From whence happines and contentation commeth. about with much wealth, if tranquillitie, ioy, and rest, proceed not from within his soule. Heape vp (saith the same Philosopher) store of gold, gather siluer togither, build faire galleries, fill a whole house full of slaues, and a whole towne with thy debtors: yet if thou doest not maister the passions of thy soule, if thou quenchest not thy vnsatiable desire, nor deliuerest thy soule of all feare and carking care, thou doest asmuch to procure thy quietnes, as if thou gauest wine to one that had an ague. Life of it selfe (saith Plato) is not ioyfull, vnles care be chased away, which causeth vs to waxe gray­headed, whilest we desire but meane store of riches. For the super­fluous desire of hauing, alwaies gnaweth our hart. Whereupon it commeth to passe, that oftentimes amongst men we see Great madnes in coueting mo­nie.pouertie to be better than riches, & death than life. And truly there is great madnes in the greedy coueting of mo­nie. For they that are touched with this maladie, follow after riches with such zeale, as if they supposed that when they had gotten them, no more euill should come neere them. And then also they set so light by those which they haue, that they burne with the desire of hauing more. How then shall we call that good, which hath no end or measure? Or that which being gotten, is the beginning of a further desire to haue more? A horse (saith Epictetus) is not said to be better, bicause he hath eaten more than another, or bicause he hath a gilt harnesse, but bicause he is stronger, swif­ter, and better made: for euery beast is accounted of according to his vertue. And shall a man be esteemed according to his riches, ancestors, and beautie? If any man thinke that his old age shall be borne more easilie by the meanes of riches, he deceiueth himselfe. For they may well cause him to enioy the hurtfull pleasures of the bodie, but cannot take from him sadnes, horror, and feare of death: nay rather they double his griefe, when he thinketh that he must leaue and forsake them. In this short discourse taken from ancient men, the vanitie of riches appeereth sufficiently vnto vs, as also the hurtfull effects that flow from them, if they be not ruled by the reason of true prudence. Heere­after we are to see how we may vse those riches wel, which God putteth into our hands, being iustly gotten by vs: which is a part of iustice, whereof we are to intreat. In the [Page 355] meane time, that we fasten not our harts to so friuolous and vaine a thing, let vs call to mind some examples of Examples of the contempt of ri­ches.wise and famous men, woorthie of immortall renowne, who haue altogither contemned, eschewed, and despised the couetous desire and hoording vp of riches, as the plague and vnauoidable ruine of the soule. We read of Marcus Curius a Romane Consul (the first of his time that M. Curius.receiued thrice the dignitie of triumphing for the nota­ble victories which he obtained in the honor of his coun­trey) that he made so small account of worldlie riches, that all his possession was but a little farme in the coun­trey soryly built, wherein he continued for the most part when publike affaires suffered him, labouring and tilling himselfe that little ground which he had there. And when certaine Embassadors vpon a day came to visite him, they found him in his chimney dressing of reddish for his sup­per. And when they presented him with a great summe of monie from their Comminaltie, he refused it, saying: that they which contented themselues with such an ordinarie as his was, had no need of it: and that he thought it farre more honorable to command them that had gold, than to haue it. Phocion the Athe­nian being visited with Embassadors from Alexander, they presented him with a hundred Talents (being in value three score thousand crownes) which this Monarch sent vnto him for a gift. Phocion demanding the cause why, see­ing Phocion.there were so many Athenians besides him, they an­swered: bicause their maister iudged him onely among all the rest to be a vertuous and good man. Then (quoth he) let him suffer me both to seeme and to be so in deede, and carie his present backe againe to him. Notwithstanding, he was nee­die, as may be prooued by the answer which he made to the Athenian Councell, who demanded a voluntarie con­tribution of euery one towards a sacrifice. And when there were no moe left to contribute but he, they were ve­rie importunate with him to giue somewhat. It were a shame for me (said he vnto them) to giue you monie, before I haue paied this man: and therewithall he shewed one vnto them that had lent him a certaine summe of monie. Phi­lopaemen [Page 356] Philopaemen. Generall of the Achaians, hauing procured a league of amitie betweene the citie of Sparta, & his owne, the Lacedemonians sent him a present of sixe score Ta­lents, which were woorth three score and twelue thou­sand crownes. But refusing it, he went purposely to Spar­ta, where he declared to the Councell, that they ought not to corrupt and win honest men, or their friends with monie, seeing in their need they might be assured of thē, and vse their vertue freely without cost: but that they were to buy and gaine with hired rewards, the wicked, & such as by their seditious orations in the Senate house v­sed to raise mutinies, and to set the citie on fire, to the end that their mouthes being stopped by gifts, they might procure lesse trouble to the gouernment of the Com­mon-wealth. A great Lord of Persia comming from his countrey to Athens, and perceiuing that he stood in greatCimon. neede of the aid and fauour of Cimon, who was one of the chiefe in the citie, he presented vnto him two cups that were both full, the one of Dariques of gold, the other of siluer Dariques. This wise Grecian beginning to smile, demanded of him whether of the twaine he had rather haue him to be, his friend, or his hireling? The Persian answered, that he had a great deale rather haue him his friend. Then (said Cimon) carie backe againe thy gold and sil­uer. For if I be thy friend, it will be alwaies at my commandement Anacreon. to vse as often as I shall neede. Anacreon hauing receiued of Polycrates fiue Talents for a gift, was so much troubled for the space of two nights with care how he might keepe them, and about what to imploy them best, that he caried them backe againe, saying: that they were not woorth the Xenocrates. paines, which he had alrcadie taken for them. Xenocrates refused thirtie thousand crownes of Alexander, sent vnto him for a present, saying: that he had no neede of them. What (quoth Alexander) hath he neuer a friend? For mine owne part, I am sure that all king Darius treasure will scarce suffice me to distri­bute Socrates among my friends. Socrates being sent for by king Arche­laüs to come vnto him, who promised him great riches, sent him word, that a measure of floure was sold in Athens [Page 357] for a Double, and that water cost nothing. And althoughFiue Doubles in France make a peny of our coine. it seemeth (quoth this Philosopher) that I haue not goods enough, yet I haue enough, seeyng I am con­tented therewith. What is necessarie (sayd Menander) for the vse of our life besides these two things, Bread and Water? Bias flying out of his citie which he foresawe would be besieged without hope of rescue, would not lode himselfe with his wealth as others did. And being demaunded the cause why, I cary (quoth he) all my goods with me: meaning the inuisible gifts & graces of his mind. Truly gold and siluer are nothing but dust, and precious stones but the grauell of the sea. And (as Pythagoras said) we ought to perswade our selues, that those riches are not ours which are not inclosed in our soule. According to which saying, Socrates when he saw that Alcibiades waxed arrogant bicause of the great quantitie of ground which he possessed, shewed him an vniuersall Map of the world, and asked him whether he knew which were his lands in the territorie of Athens. Whereunto when Alcibiades an­swered, that they were not described nor set downe there. How is it then (quoth this wise man) that thou braggest of that thing which is no part of the world? One meane which Lycurgus vsed, and which helped him much in theLycurgus abro­gated the vse of gold and siluer coine. reforming of the Lacedemonian estate, was the disanul­ling of all gold and siluer coine, & the appointing of iron money onely to be currant, a pound waight whereof was woorth but sixe pence. For by this meanes he banished from among them the desire of riches, which are no lesse cause of the ouerthrow of Common-wealths than of pri­uate men. This mooued Plato to say, that he would not haue the princes and gouernors of his Common-wealth, nor his menne of warre and souldiours, to deale at all with gold and siluer: but that they should haue allowed them out of the common treasurie whatsoeuer was neces­sary for them. For as long gownes hinder the body, so do much riches the soule. Therfore if we desire to liue happi­ly in tranquillitie and rest of soule, and with ioy of spirit, let vs learne after the example of so many great men to [Page 358] withdraw our affections wholy from the desire of world­ly riches, not taking delight & pleasure (as Diogenes said) in that which shall perish, and is not able to make a man better, but oftentimes woorse. Let vs further know thatLuke 16. 13. (according to the Scripture) no man can serue God and riches togither, but that all they which desire them gree­dily,1. Tim. 6. 9. fall into temptations and snares, and into many foo­lish and noisome lustes which drowne men in perdition, whereof we haue eye-witnesses daily before vs. This ap­peereth in that example which the self same word notethLuke 12. 16. vnto vs of the rich man that abounded in all things, so that he willed his soule to take hir ease, and to make good cheere, bicause she had so much goods layd vp for many yeeres: and yet the same night he was to pay tribute vnto nature, to his ouerthrow and confusion. Being therefore instructed by the spirite of wisedome, letWhat riches we ought to trea­sure vp. vs treasure vp in Iesus Christ the permanent Riches of wisedome, pietie, and iustice, which of themselues are sufficient through his grace to make vs liue with him for euer.

Of Pouertie. Chap. 34.

NOw that we haue seen the nature of riches with the most commō effects which flow from them, and seeing the chief & princi­pall cause that leadeth men so earnestly to desire them, isThe chief cause why riches are so earnestly de­sired. the feare of falling into pouertie, which through error of iudgement they account a very great euill, I am of opini­on, that we are to enter into a particular consideration thereof, to the end that such a false perswasion may neuer deceiue vs, nor cause vs to go astray out of the right pathe of Vertue.

Pouertie (said Diogenes) is a helpe to Philoso­phy, and is learned of it selfe. For that which Philosophie, seeketh to make vs know by words, pouertie perswadeth vs in the things themselues.

Rich men stand in need of many precepts, as, that they liue thriftily and soberly: that they exercise their bo­dies: that they delight not too much in the decking of them: and infinite others, which pouertie of hir selfe teacheth vs. But let vs heare ARAM discourse more at large of that which is here propounded vnto vs.

If we consider how our common mother the earth, being prodigall in giuing vnto vs all things neces­sarie for the life of man, hath notwithstanding cast all of vs naked out of hir bowels, and must receiue vs so agayne into hir wombe, I see no great reason we haue to cal some rich, and others poore, seeing the beginning, being, and end of the temporall life of all men are vnlike in nothing, but that some during this litle moment of life haue that in abundance and superfluitie, which others haue onely according to their necessitie. But this is much more ab­surd, and without all shew of reason, that they whom weAgainst those that think poore men lesse happy than the rich. call poore according to the opinion of men, should be ac­counted, yea commonly take themselues to be lesse happy than rich men, and as I may so say, bastard children & not legitimate, bicause they are not equally and alike parta­kers of their mothers goods, which are the wealth of the world, for the hauing whereof we heare so many com­plaints and murmurings. For first we see none, no not the neediest and poorest that is (except it be by some great & strange mishap) to be so vnprouided for, that with any la­bour and pains taking (which is the reward of sinne) he is able to get so much as is necessary for the maintenance of his life, namely, food and raiment, neither yet any that for want of these things, howsoeuer oftentimes he suffer and abide much, is constrained to giue vp the Ghost. But fur­ther, as touching the true, eternall, and incomparable goods of our common father, their part and portion is nothing lesse thā that of the richest. Yea many times they are rewarded and enriched aboue others, in that beyng withdrawen from the care & gouernment of many earth­ly things, they feele themselues so much the more raui­shed with speciall and heauenly grace (if they hinder it [Page 360] not) in the meditation and contemplation of celestiall things: from whence they may easily draw a great and an assured contentation in this life, through a certaine hope that they shall enioy them perfectly, bicause they are pre­paredA pretie com­parison. for them in that blessed immortalitie of the second life. For nothing is more certaine than this, that as the Sunne is a great deale better seene in cleare and cleane water, than in that which is troubled, or in a miry and dir­tie puddle: so the brightnes that commeth from God shineth more in minds not subiected to worldlie goods, than in them that are defiled and troubled with those earthlie affections which riches bring with them. This is that which Iesus Christ himselfe hath taught, speaking to him that demanded what he should do to haue eternallMatth. 19. 21. 23. life: If thouwilt be perfect (saith he) sell that which thou hast, and giue it to the poore, and thou shalt haue treasure in heauen: adding besides, that a rich man shall hardly enter into the king­dome of heauen. If a father diuiding his substance among his children, should leaue to one as to his eldest or best be­loued, the enioying of his principall mannor by inheri­tance, and to the rest their mothers goods, which are of much lesse value, and that only for terme of life, what fol­ly were it to iudge that these last were more preferred, andNo comparison between world­lie and heauen­lie treasures. had better portions than the other? And I pray you what comparison is there betweene the greatest worldlie and transitorie riches that can be, and the permanent trea­sures of heauen, seeing those cannot be compared but to a thing of nought, than which they are weaker, beeing moreouer accompanied with innumerable hurtfull euils, as we haue alreadie shewed? What happines and felicitie can wealth adde to rich men aboue the poorer sort, that these should be accounted miserable and wretched? Take away (saith Lactantius) insolencie and boasting from rich men, and there will be no difference betweene a poore man and a rich. And if he that made the condition both of the one & the other, and that prouideth nourishment for vnreasonable creatures, doth distribute vnto vs as much as he knoweth in his eternall prescience and foreknowledge to be need­full [Page 361] for vs, whereof shall we complaine, except, as inheri­tors, of that damnable vice of ingratitud from the first man, we forget so many benefits receiued, as also those that are dailie profered and promised vnto vs of his hea­uenlie goodnes and grace? In a feast (said Epictetus) we content our selues with that which is set before vs, thin­king it an impudent and vile part to aske any other thing of him that entertaineth vs. And how can we be so impu­dent and shameles in this world, as to aske those things of God, which he will not giue vs, and not content our selues with the vse of that which he hath liberally & freely bestowed vpon vs? But there is a further matter. For if we would consider the great, yea vnspeakable fruits whichThe fruits of po­uertie. pouertie bringeth with hir, & whereof she is able to make vs partakers in this life, without doubt she will be found to be a thousand times more happie than riches. Pouertie (saith Aristophanes) is the mistres of manners. Pouertie (said Archesilaus) seemeth to be sharpe, hard, & troublesome, but she is nurse to a good linage, as she that acquainteth hir selfe with fruga­litie and abstinence. In a word she is a schoole of vertue. Wealth is full of wickednes (saith Euripides) but pouertie is accompanied with wisedome, and all honest men are contented with necessarie things. And if they offer sacrifice to the Gods with a little incense in the paulme of their hand, they are for the most part sooner heard than they that kill many beastes for sacrifice. For (as Menander saith) the poore are vnder the protection of God, and it is better to possesse a little wealth with ioy, than a great deale with fadnes. To desire but a little (said Democritus) maketh pouertie equall with riches: and if thou desirest not many things, a little will seeme to thee to be very great. Pouertie (said Anaximenus) maketh the spirite more sharpe, and men more excellent in all things belonging to this life. For she is a very good mistres of knowledge and skill. The life of poore men (said Aristonymus) is like to a nauigation made alongst the shore of some sea: but the life of rich men to that which is in the maine sea. For the first sort may easily cast anchor, come a shore, and saue themselues, whereas the others cannot do so, bicause they are no more in their owne power, but in fortunes. Flie not from pouertie (said Hipsaeus) but from iniustice and wrong. [Page 362] For no man was euer punished bicause he was poore, but many bi­cause they were vniust. Neither is a mans life commended bicause he is rich, but bicause he is iust. Hunger (saith Plutark) neuer en­gendreth adult erie, nor want of monie, lust: so that pouertie is a short kind of temperance. If thou wert borne among the Persians (said Epictetus) thou wouldest not wish to dwell in Grecia, but to liue there in a happie estate. Art thou not then a very foole, bicause thou seekest not rather to liue happily in pouertie, seeing thou art borne therein, than to striue with so great labor for riches that thou maist liue? As it is better to lie downe in a very little bed with health, than in a great and large bed, being sicke: so is it a great deale better to liue in rest with a little wealth, than in trauell and care with aboundance. For neither pouertie procureth trouble, nor riches driueth away feare: but reason is that which causeth men neither to desire riches, nor to feare pouertie. If other things (saith Bion the wise) could speake aswell as we, and were licenced to dis­pute with vs, might not pouertie iustly say vnto vs after this man­ner? An excellent de­fence for pouer­tie. O man wherefore fightest thou against me? Why art thou be­come my enemie? Haue I robbed thee of any thing? Haue I beene the cause that thou hast receiued any iniurie, or haue I depriued thee of any good thing? Haue I taken from thee either Prudence, Iustice, or Fortitude? But thou fearest least necessarie things should faile thee▪ What? Are not the waies full of herbs and fruits, and the fountaines of water? Hast thou not as many beds as the earth is great, and as many couerlets and mattresses as there are leaues? Hast thou not a good Cooke by my meanes, that maketh good sauce for thee in hunger? And he that is a thirst, doth he not take very great pleasure in drinking? Doest thou thinke that a man shall die for hunger, bicause he hath no tart, or for thirst, if he haue not very delicate wine cooled with snow? All such things are but for delicacie and nicenes. Doest thou want a house, when there is so many goodly Churches in cities? What answer could be made to pouertie, if she should speake thus? Truly he that hath vertue possesseth all goods, bicause that alone maketh men happie: which may be spoken aswell of a poore man as of a rich. For they (sayd Thales) that thinke pouertie hindreth Philosophie, and that riches are a helpe vnto it, greatly deceiue themselues. For proofe that it is not so, how many moe haue withdrawne themselues [Page 363] from studie through riches, thā through pouertie? Do we not see that the poorest study Philosophy best, which the welthy bicause of their mony & many matters cānot do? For this cause Theognis said very well, that many mo haue perished through surfetting than through hunger. And to let you know that pouertie is more happy, & better estee­med of than riches, consider the example of Aristides sur­named the Iust, who being very poore, was chosen to leuie and to gather tribute before all the rich men in Athens. And Callias the richest man of all the Athenians, sought byExamples to shew that po­uertie was more esteemed of than riches. all means to haue his friendship, whereas the other made no great account of him. Epaminondas was not called half a God, nor Lycurgus a Sauiour bicause they abounded in wealth, and were slaues to their passions, but bicause they profited their countrey exceedingly, and were content with their pouertie. Therefore we may gather out of the sayings of so many great and vertuous men, an assured te­stimonie of the benefit and profit that commonly folow­eth the condition of poore men. And for inuincible proofes, haue we not the examples of the liues of infinite Sages and learned Philosophers, who willingly forsaking, & wholy contemning riches, went to the Academy, com­monly called the Schoole of Pouertie, there to enioy the treasures of wisdome and vertue? Yea, which is more, we find that pouertie hath been the only and principal cause of enriching many with this vnspeakable treasure, accor­ding to that saying of Aristotle, that calamitie is often­times the occasion of vertue. Zeno founder of the StoicallZeno. Academic, after he had possessed much wealth, and suffred many losses, had no more left but one ship of merchan­dise, which being cast away, he vttred this speech: thou do­est well Fortune to bring me to the studie of Philosophie, wherein he continued euer after. The exile & banishment of Dio­genes Diogenes. driuen from his countrey, was the cause and begin­ning of his studie of Philosophie. And if any man thinke it a difficult and strange matter that a poore man should be skilfull, seeing that whilest he studieth, he must haue wherewith to nourish his body, let vs see what Cleanthes Cleanthes. [Page 364] answered to Antigonus king of Macedonia, who asked him if he turned the milstone always: Yea sir (sayd he) I turne it yet about to get my liuing, but forsake not Philo­sophie for all that. How great and noble was the mind of that man, who after his labour wrote of the nature of god and of the heauens, with the same hand wherwith he tur­ned about the milstone? Others say, that he got his liuing by drawing water for a gardiner: about which he bestow­ed the night onely, that he might spend the day in hea­ring the Philosophers dispute. This man calleth to myMenedemus & Asclepiades. remembrance two other Philosophers, named Menede­mus and Asclepiades, who being accused before the Areo­pagites the chief iudges in Athens, as idle persons hauing no goods in possession, and being willed to declare how they liued, their answer was, that inquirie should be made of their Hoste who was a Baker. This man being called, said, that they bestowed the whole day in the study of let­ters, and the night in sifting and boulting his meale, for which he gaue each of them a peece of money whereof they liued. But what? These ancient Sages wanted but few things to liue withall, seeing the most of them contented themselues with bread and water, and many times withPythagoras kept a spare diet. herbes and fruites in stead of bread, and so Pythagoras al­ways liued. And yet they found so great contentation andPhiloxenus. felicitie in such a life, that one Philoxenus hauing as yet but tasted of the first fruits of this profession of study, and be­ing of that number which was sent by the Athenians to inhabite a new citie in Sicilia, wherein a good house with great commodities to liue at ease, fell to him for his part, and seeing that delicacie, pleasure and idlenes, without a­ny exercise of letters raigned in those quarters, he forsook all & returned to Athens, saying, by the gods these goods shall not destroy me, but I will rather destroy them. All these fruits which are noted to be in pouertie, gaue occa­sion to an ancient man to say, that it was a vertue of For­titude to sustaine pouertie patiently, but to desire it was the praise of wisedom. Now forasmuch as it will be very hard if not altogither impossible, notwithstanding all rea­son [Page 365] that can be alleaged to men, to dispossesse them of the hatred and feare of pouertie, which naturally they shun, let vs learne of the ancients who ought to account him­selfe poore, that we abuse no more this word Pouertie. Diogenes was vpon a time visited by Alexander, who saydWho ought to be esteemed poore. vnto him, I see well Diogenes that thou art poore, and hast need of many things, therfore aske of me what thou wilt, and I will giue it thee. Whereunto this excellent Philosopher despising such offers of goods whereof he stood not in need, answered: Whether of vs twaine Alexander, seemeth to thee to haue most need, and therfore poorest, either I that desire nothing but my pile Diogenes sup­posed Alexan­der to be poo­rer than himself. of wood and a litle bread, or thou, who being king of Macedonta do­est hazard thy selfe to so many dangers to inlarge thy kingdom, in so much, that the whole world will hardly suffice to bound thy ambi­tion, and to content thy couetousnes? The Monarch so greatly admired the magnanimitie of this man, that he vttered these wordes with a loud voyce, If I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. Marius a Consul of Rome distributing land among his countreymen, gaue to euery one fourteen Acres onely. And vnderstanding that some were not con­tented therewith but demanded more, I would to God (quoth he then) that no Roman would care for any more land than would suffice to nourish him. So goodly and commendable a matter was it esteemed of these wise men to be content with a litle, & with that which is sufficient, rather than to thinke those men onely rich that were fur­nished with store of wealth. And to say truth, seeing God alone simply and absolutely standeth not in need of any thing whatsoeuer, it may easily be presupposed, that the most excellent vertue of man, and that which commeth neerest to the diuine nature, consisteth in causing a man to stand in need of fewest things. This is that which So­crates sayd, That to desire nothing (meaning worldly things) is in some sort to resemble God. And how can we call him poore whose soule is inriched with so many great and rare perfections? Cicero writing to Atticus, sayd, That a friend was bound to wish but three things vnto his friend, name­ly, A friend is to wish 3 things to his friend. That he be healthie, that he be well accounted of, and that he be [Page 366] not needie. Now that all these things are found in a tempe­rate and noble minded man, we may learne by the effects of Sobrietie, whereof we haue heretofore discoursed, and by those of honor, which is neuer separated from vertue, no more than the shadow is from the body. And as for the necessarie vse of foode and raiment, it is not wanting to them that stand most in need thereof, as we haue alreadie touched it in our present speech: & so a vertuous mā can­not be called poore. But let vs yeeld a litle to the commō opinion of worldlings, that pouertie and want of earthly riches is odious and contemptible, yet that pouertie one­ly,What pouertie is odious. which proceedeth of slouth, idlenes, and ignorance, or otherwise of foolish expences, of riot and superfluitie may be said to be full of reproch and shame, and is to be shun­ned. For when pouertie is found in an honest, painfull, diligent, iust, valiant and wise man, it serueth for a great proofe of his magnanimitie and greatnes of courage, bi­cause he hath set his mind vpon great and high matters, and not vpon such small and vile things as the riches of the world are. Amongst many others of this number weAristides. may say, that Aristides was, being captaine and gouernor of the Athenian estate, as we haue alredy mentioned, who after many excellent & great offices which he bare to the good of his countrey, was so smally enriched therby, that being dead, all his goods would not suffice to bury him. He vsed to say that none ought to be ashamed of pouerty, but they that were poore against their wil: & that it was a rarer matter, & worthy of greater praise to sustain pouerty vertuously and with a noble mind, than to know how to vse riches well. And so pouertie is neuer accompanied with shame, except it be to them that fall into it through negligence, or misgouernment of those goods which God hath put into their hands, that they should be faithfull keepers and disposers thereof in charitable workes. This is that which Thucidides saith, that it is no shame for a man to confesse his pouertie, but very great to fal into it by his owne default. Therefore to reape profite by that which hath beene heere discoursed, let vs put off that old error [Page 367] which hath continued so long in mens braines, that po­uertie is such a great and troublesome euill, whereas it is rather the cause of infinite benefits: and let vs say with Pythagoras, that it is a great deale better to haue a quiet and setled minde, lying vpon the ground, than to haue much trouble in a golden bed. Moreouer, let vs knowe,Where the ful­nesse of riches is to be sought. that to possesse small store of earthlie goods, ought not to be called pouertie, bicause all fulnes of wealth aboundeth in the knowledge and assurance of the fatherlie grace and goodnes of the Author and Creator of all things, which he offereth liberally to all without accepting either of pompe or greatnes. And further, when as, continuing the care which it pleaseth him to take of vs, he giueth vs al­though in trauell and sweate, wherewith to feede and to cloth vs in all simplicitie and modestie, and that accor­ding to our necessitie, we should be vnthankfull and alto­gither vnwoorthie the assistance of his helpe and fauour, and of his eternall promises, if not contented, nor glorifi­eng him for our estate, we complained, or wondred at, & desired the calling of other men, offering thereby in will and affection our birthrights through a gluttonous de­sire, whereas we ought to preserue to our selues the pos­session of that heauenlie inheritance, wherein consisteth the perfection of all glorie, rest, and contentation.

Of Idlenes, Sloth, and Gaming. Chap. 35.

TWo things being the cause of all passions in men, namely, Griefe and Pleasure, theyGriefe & plea­sure the causes of all passions in men. alwayes desire the one, but flie from and feare the other. But the occasion of the greatest euil that befalleth them, is, bicause these desires and affections be­ing borne with them from the beginning, do also grow & encrease a long time before they can haue any iudgement framed in them through the right vnderstandyng of things. Whereupon as well by nature, which of it selfe is more inclined to euill than to good, as through a long [Page 368] continuing in vice they are easily drawen to follow the appetite and lust of their sensualitie, wherein they falsly iudge that pleasure consisteth, and thinke it painfull not to please it. Being thus guided by ignorance, and walking like blindmen, they haue experience for the most part of such an end as is cleane contrary to their purposes. As we may see in those men, who purposing with themselues to liue at their ease in ioy, rest, and pleasure, giue ouer all in­termedling in serious matters, and such as beseeme the excellencie of vertue, that they may liue in idlenes: wher­with being bewitched they are partakers of many false pleasures, which procure them a greater number of griefs and miseries, all which they thought to auoyd very well. And this we may the better vnderstand, if we discourse of Idlenes, the enemie of all vertue, and cleane contrary to Perseuerance, which is a branch of Fortitude. Therefore I propound the handling of this matter to you my Com­panions.

Although we haue not a singular excel­lencie of spirite, yet we must not suffer it to be idle, but constantly follow after that which we haue wisely hoped to obtaine. For (as Erasmus saith) that which is often done & reiterated, and continually in hand, is finished at last.

They that do nothing (saith Cicero) learne to do ill, & through idlenesse the body & minds of men lan­guish away: but by labour great things are obtained, yea trauail is a worke that continueth after death. Let vs then giue eare to AMANA, who will handle more at large for our instruction that which is here propounded vnto vs.

As we admire and honour them with very great commendation, in whom we may note as we think, some excellent and singular vertues, so we contemn them whom we iudge to haue neither vertue, courage, nor for­titude in them, and whom we see to be profitable neither to themselues nor to others, bicause they are not labori­ous, industrious, nor carefull, but remain idle and slouth­full. And to say truth, the maners, conditions, and natural disposition of such men, are wholy corrupted, their con­uersation [Page 369] is odious, vnprofitable, and to be auoided, see­ing Idlenes is the mother & nurse of all vice.that Idlenes is the mother and nurse of vice, which destroieth and marreth all. Therefore it was very well or­dained in the primitiue Church, that euery one should liue of his owne labor, that the idle and slothfull might not consume vnprofitably the goods of the earth. Which reason brought in that ancient Romane edict, mentioned by Cicero in his booke of Lawes, that no Romane should goe through the streets of the city, vnles he caried about him the badge of that trade whereby he liued. Insomuch that Marcus Aure­lius speaking of the diligence of the ancient Romanes, writeth: that all of them followed their labor and trauell so earnestly, that hauing necessarie occasion one daye to send a letter two or three daies iournie from the towne, he could not find one idle bodie in all the citie to carie it. That great Orator and Philosopher Cicero, minding to teach vs how we ought to hate Idlenes, as being against Idlenes is a­gainst nature.nature, sheweth that men are in deede borne to good works, whereof our soule may serue for a sufficient and in­uincible proofe, seeing it is neuer still, but in continuall motion & action. And for the same cause he greatly com­mendeth Scipio was ne­uer idle. Scipio, who vsed to say, that he was neuer lesse quiet than when he was quiet. Whereby he giueth vs to vnderstand, that when he was not busied with waightie affaires of the Common-wealth, yet, his owne priuate matters, and the searching after knowledge, were no lesse troublesome vnto him, so that euen then in his solitarines he tooke counsell with himselfe. It seemeth (saith this fa­ther of eloquence) that nature doth more require of a man such actions as tend to the profit of men, than she doth the perfect knowledge of all things: seeing this knowledge and contemplation of the workes of nature should seeme to be maimed & vnperfect, if no action fol­lowed it, whereas vertuous deedes are profitable to all men, for which end nature hath brought vs foorth, which sheweth sufficiently that they are better and more excel­lent. So that vnles the knowledge of things be ioined with that vertue, which preserueth humane societie, it will [Page 370] seeme to be dead and vnprofitable. Therefore Chrysippus the Philosopher said, that the life of those men that giue To what end we must studie Phi­losophie.themselues to idle studies, differed nothing from that of voluptuous men. So that we must not studie Philosophie by way of sport, but to the end we may profit both our selues and others. Now, if action must of necessitie be ioi­ned to studie and contemplation, to make a happie life, so that otherwise it is as it were dead and idle: what shall we say of that life that is void both of studie and action, but that it is more beast-like than humane? And how many millions of men are there in the world, who liue in this sort, and more in France than in any other nation? Yea, howe many are more idle and lesse carefull than brute beasts, neglecting the prouision euen of things necessarie for this present life? Amongst the obscure precepts which Pythagoras pre­cept against Idlenes. Pythagoras gaue to his Disciples, this was one: Take good heede that thou sit not vpon a bushell: meaning, that Idlenes and Sloth were especially to be eschewed. Likewise, when we shall enter into the consideration of those euils that is­sue from idlenes and sloth, no doubt but we will flie from them, as from the plague of our soules. They are greatly to be feared in a Common-wealth, bicause they open a gate to all iniustice, and kindle the fire of sedition, which setteth a floate all kind of impietie. Furthermore, they are the cause of the finding out of infinite false and perniti­ous inuentions, for the rele [...]uing of pouertie, which for the most part floweth from the same fountaine of idlenes. This mooued the wise and ancient kings of Egypt, to im­ploy Notable exam­ples of the re­dresse of Idle­nes.their idle people in digging of the earth, and in the drawing foorth & building of those Pyramides, the chiefe of which is by the Historiographers placed among the se­uen woonders of the world. It could not be perfectly fini­shed before the space of twentie yeeres, albeit that three hundred and three score thousand men wrought about it continually. The Captaines and Heades of the Romane armies fearing the dangerous effects of idlenes, no lesse in their host, than in their townes, caused their souldiors to trauell in making of trenches, when they were not vrged [Page 371] of their enemies, as Marius did alongest the riuer of Rhone. The Emperor Claudius enioying an assured peace, Claudius.caused the chanell Fucinus to be made, that Rome might haue the commoditie of good waters: about which work thirtie thousand men were daily imploied for the space of twelue yeeres. Adrianus seeing a generall peace within his Adrianus.Empire, continually vndertooke new and long iournies, one while into Fraunce, another while into Germanie, sometime into Asia, & into other strange countries, cau­sing his men of warre to march with him: saying, that he did for feare, least they being idle should be corrupted, & forget the discipline of warre, and so be the cause of no­uelties. Scipio Nasica.And it seemeth that this was the cause why a wise Romane councelled the Senate not to destroy Carthage, least the Romanes being in safetie by the vtter subuersi­on thereof (which onely at that time made head against them) should become idle. But now we may iustly say of them, that through a lazie and cowardlie idlenes, they haue lost the dignitie and vertue of their forefathers. The Ephoryes, who were Gouernors of the Lacedemonian e­state, The Ephoryes of Lacedemoniabeing mooued with the same reason with which the Romane Scipio Nasica was touched, after intelligence had of the taking & sacking of a great towne into which their men were entred, said: that the armie of their youth was lost. Whereupon they sent word to the Captaine of the armie, that he should not after the same manner destroy another towne, which he had besieged, writing these words vnto him: Take not away the pricke which stirreth forward the harts of our yoong men. Gelon king of Syra­cusa Gelon.led his people oftentimes into the fields, aswell to la­bor the ground, and to plant, as to fight, both that the earth might be better being well dressed, as also bicause he feared least his people should waxe woorse for want of trauell. So greatly did these ancient wise men feare the pernitious effects of idlenes and sloth, which bring to no­thing and corrupt the goodnes of nature, whereas dili­gence & exercise in good educatiō correcteth the naugh­tines thereof. For as close waters (saith Plutark) putrifie A similitude. [Page 372] quickly, bicause they are couered, shadowed, & standing: so they that busie not themselues, but remaine idle, albeit they haue some good thing in them, yet if they bring it not foorth, neither exercise those naturall faculties that were borne with them, they corrupt and destroy them vt­terly. And which is woorse, as concupiscence (saith Plato) and luxuriousnes are quenched with great, sharpe, and continuall labor, so are they kindled through idlenes. Aretchles and slothfull man can find out nothing that is easie. But there is nothing (saith Se­neca) whereunto continuall labor is not able to attaine, & through care and vigilancie men come to the end of most difficult matters. Fortune (saith a Poet) helpeth and fauoureth them that boldly set their hand to the worke, but giueth the repulse to fearefull and base-minded men. Let vs beleeue (said Pythagoras) that labori­ous and painefull things will sooner lead vs to vertue, than those Sweat is placed before vertue. that are nice and delicate. And (as Hesiodus saith) the Gods haue placed sweate before vertue: and the way that leadeth vnto hir is long, difficult, and craggie. A good Pilot seeing a tempest at hand, calleth vpon the Gods, that they would graunt him grace to escape it: but in the meane while he taketh the helme into his hand, he vaileth the foresaile, and brin­ging about the maine saile, laboureth to come out of the darke sea. Hesiodus commaundeth the Husbandman to make his vowes to Iupiter, and to Ceres, before he either ploweth or soweth, but he must do it with his hand vpon the plow taile. Plato writing his lawes, forbiddeth a man to fetch water at his neighbours house, before he hath digged and delued in his owne ground euen to the clay, and that it be perceiued that no water springeth there. In like sort, lawes must prouide for necessitie, and not fauour sloth and idlenes. By sloth we loose that which we haue alreadie well gotten, but by diligence we attaine to that which we haue not, and which may be necessarie for vs. I Prouerb. 24. 30. 31. passed (saith the wise man) by the field of the slothfull, and by the vineyard of the man destitute of vnderstanding: and lo it was all growne ouer with thornes, and nettles had couered the face there­of, and the stone wall thereof was broken downe. It is sloth and negligence that causeth a man through want of good vn­derstanding [Page 373] and iudgement not to care for the getting of that which is needfull for him, bicause he feareth least he should loose it. Whereupon this would follow (which is a very absurd thing) that nothing how deare and pre­cious soeuer it be ought to be sought for or desired, see­ing all things are subiect to chaunge, yea knowledge through great diseases, and other inconueniences may be lessened and lost. Idlenesse and slouth doe not hurtIdlenes decai­eth the health of the body. the soule onely, but impaire also the health of the bo­die. Yea that rest which a man taketh by negligence, is much more hurtfull vnto him, than painfull exercise. And they which thinke that health needeth necessarily a con­tinuall rest to preserue it well, vsing that goodly pretence bicause they would not be troubled with mo matters thā needs they must, especially with those which concerne publike commoditie, as also bicause they would not take paines in the studie of wisedome, they cannot be better compared than to such as will not vse their eies in behol­ding any thing, that they might keepe them the better, neither will speake at all to preserue their voyce well. Eue­ry kind of life hath both sicknesse and health, but a sound man cannot take a better course to preserue his health, than to imploy himselfe in the practise of many good and honest duties of humanitie. Yea, we must yet go farther, and say with Socrates, that diseased men ought not to be so carefull of their health, that they leaue the studie and ex­ercise of vertue, seeing we are to make but small account of death it selfe. And therefore Plutarke is very earnest a­gainst this Epicurian sentence, Hide thy life: which wasNo man ought to hide his life. set downe by Neocles brother to Epicurus, meaning there­by to perswade them that would liue happily, not to in­termeddle with any publike matter. But contrarywise (saith this Philosopher) it is dishonest to liue so that no man may know any thing. Art thou vicious? shew thy selfe to those that are able to admonish, to correct & to cure thee, that so thou mayst amend & repent. If in the knowledge of nature thou hast learned by songs to prayse God, his iustice, and heauenly prouidence: or in moral know­ledge to commend the law, humane societie, the gouernment of the [Page 374] common-wealth, and therein to respect honour, not profite, hide not this talent, but teach it others, and giue thy selfe an example vnto them of well doing, and of profiting euery one. O diuine counsail, proceeding out of the mouth of an Ethnike, as necessarie to be practised at this day, as we see it contemned of so many wise worldings, who say they haue the absolute and sound reformation of our estates of France in their head, but that as yet there is no time to speake of it. Thus some liue idlely and like to Recluses bicause they will take no paine, and others do worse in maintaining the corruptiō of the estate, and in cleauing wittingly to the destruction thereof. But let vs proceed to looke vpon the fruits of idlenes. It is of that fountaine whereof cursed ignorance drinketh and maintaineth hir selfe, and from thence flow all pleasures folowed with bitternes & griefe, which with­draw vs from all vertuous occupations, to imploy our selues about all kinds of trifles, that are neither good, ho­nest, nor profitable, but rather hurtfull and very perniti­ous.Of gaming, and of the effects thereof. Of which number we may note gaming, which is as common amongst vs, and as blame-worthie, as any other imperfection, seeing hir foundation is laid vpon lucre and couetousnes, or els vpon the losse of time. Those cursed effects which it bringeth forth daily, as quarels, murders, blasphemies, cogging, ouerthrow of houses and families, do sufficiently testifie vnto vs the infamous nature there­of. Likewise it hath bin so abhorred of the ancient Sages,Chilon refused to make a league with dicers. that Chilon being sent from Lacedemonia to Corinth, to intreat of a league between those two peoples, & finding the rulers playing at dice, returned back again, and would not speake of his commission, saying, that he would not staine the glory of the Spartanes with so great an ignomi­nie as to ioine thē in society with dice-plaiers. How many happy ages haue our forefathers passed ouer, & yet neuer heard word of so vnhappy an exercise? And some say thatThe occasion that mooued the Lydians to inuent games. the Lydiās were the first inuēters of games, but it was whē their countrey was brought into great necessitie of victu­als: to the end that by playing, they might find some help and meane to sustaine and to resist hunger the better, by [Page 375] spending euery other day in gaming without any meate. Which they continued for the space of twentie and eight yeeres, preseruing their country by that means from a ge­nerall famine through the great sparing of their prouisi­on. But now a daies we see, that men are so farre from re­compencing the fault of so vile an occupation by fasting, that contrary wise it is followed with all kind of dissolute­nes, gluttonie, riot and superfluitie. And this is seene too much in these new faculties of carelesse men, who haue taught vs this goodly prouerbe, That a man were better loose than be idle. But if they knew their inestimable losse, not of mony which they abuse, but of the richest and most preci­ous thing that may be spent, and which can neuer be re­couered, I meane of time, they would speake cleane con­trary, That to loose is worse than to be idle, bicause it is ioined with a naughtie action, which of necessitie turneth to the detriment of himselfe or of his neighbor, & often­times of both. Among many goodly and holy ordinan­ces, which Alphonsus sonne of Ferdinando king of Spaine,Alphonsus de­cree against play. caused those knights to obserue, which he made of the or­der of the band, (himself and all his children being of the same order) this was straightly kept, that no knight should presume to play for any money at cardes or dice, or giue his consent to any such play in his house, vpon paine of forfeiting his wages for one moneth, and himselfe to be forbidden another moneth and a halfe from entring into the kings palace. But bicause the nature of man is not a­ble to abide continuall labor, and occasion of businesse is not alwaies offred, it shall be lawfull for vs, according to the precept of Plato his Academie, to bestow our leasureHow we may recreate our selues. vpon some honest pastime and game of moderate plea­sure, that is not far separated from study or vertue, which will not be blame-worthie in vs, so we vse it as we do rest or sleepe, after we haue dispatched and ended graue & se­rious affaires according to the gift and facultie of our spi­rits. Moreouer let vs propound to our selues for example the liues of so many famous and graue men, who both in youth and age laboured to do good and to profit euery [Page 376] one, esteeming it great honor to end their daies in such a commendable exercise: according to that saying of Eras­mus: Of perseuerance That in vaine men follow that which is good, and striue to do well, if they stand still before the end of their daies. For that man looseth his time in running swiftly, who fainteth be­fore he come to the end of his race. Nothing will be vnpossi­ble to thee (saith the same author) so that thy hart faint not. Not to go forward in the way of the Lord, is all one with turning backeward: yea, it were better neuer to begin, than not to perseuer vnto the end. This also is that which Cicero teacheth vs, that it is not sufficient to know what ought to be done, but we must abide firme and stedfast in that wherin vpon aduised & good counsell we are once resolued. And though we are out of hope of attaining to perfection, yet we must striue to come vnto it. Many (saith he) that are weakened with dispaire, will not vndertake that thing which they feare they shall neuer be able to finish: but they that would obtaine great things, and such as are most to be desired, must try euery way. And if any man hath not this excellencie of spirite and greatnes of hart by nature, neither yet the knowledge of euery good discipline, let him take that course which he is able to attaine vnto. For it is great praise to him that followeth after the excellentest & best things, to staie in the second and third place, if he can doe no better. Those things are great, which are next to per­fection. It is our dutie therefore to abide firme and con­stant in that good and commendable kind of life, which we haue chosen from the beginning, so that the end ther­of be to liue well. And let vs shun idlenes in such sort, as to say with Cato, that this is one thing whereof we ought to repent vs most, if we know that we haue spent a whole day, wherin we haue neither done nor learned some goodAn excellent precept of Pho­cylides. thing. Phocylides minding to instruct vs in this matter, said that in the euening we ought not to sleep, before we haue thrice called to our remembrance whatsoeuer we haue done the same day, repenting vs of the euill, and reioicing in our well doing. Apelles the best painter that euer was, would not suffer one day to passe without drawing of [Page 377] some line, meaning thereby (as he said) to fight againstExamples a­gainst idlenes. idlenes, as with an arrow. Aeleas king of Scythia said, that he seemed to himself to differ nothing from his horsekee­per, when he was idle. Dionysius the elder being demanded if he were neuer idle, answered: God keepe me from that: for as a bowe (according to the common prouerbe) is marred and breaketh by being too much bent: so is the soule through too much idlenes. This is that which Ma­sinissa the Aphrican would learnedly teach vs, of whome Polybius writeth, that he died when he was foure score and ten yeeres of age, leauing behind him a sonne that was but foure yeeres old. A little before he died, after he had discomfited the Carthaginians in a maine battell, he was seene the next day eating of course browne bread, saying to some that maruelled thereat, that as iron is bright and shi­neth An excellent comparison. so long as it is vsed by the hand of man, whereas a house fal­leth into decay when no man dwelleth therein, (as Scphocles saith) so fareth it with this brightnes and glistering light of the soule, whereby we discourse, vnderstand, and remember. The same reason mooued Xerxes father to say to Darius, that in perillous times and dangerous affaires, he increased in wisedome. Likewise politicall knowledge, which is such aHow politicall knowledge must be preserued. prudence, setled mind, iustice, and experience, as knoweth full well how to make choice of, and to take sit oportuni­tie in all things that happen, cannot be maintained but by the practise and managing of affaires, by discoursing & iudging. Now to conclude our present treatise, seeing we know that we are borne to all vertuous actions, let vs flie from idlenes and sloth, the welsprings of all iniusticeThe fruits of idlenes. & pouertie, the stirrers vp of infinite passions in the soule, and the procurers of sundrie diseases in the bodie, euen to the vtter destruction of them. And let vs imbrace dili­gence, care, trauell, & studie, which are sure guides to leadThe end of our life. vs to that end for which we ought to liue, that is, in glori­fieng God to profit our selues in honest things, and also all those with whome we liue, wherein consisteth all the happines and contentation of the life of good men. And let vs not doubt but that all time otherwise spent, is lost [Page 378] time: knowing that all times in respect of themseluns are alike, but that which is imploied in vertue is good in re­gard of vs, and that which is vnprofitably wasted, and in vices is naught. Further, let vs learne neuer to giue ouer the effecting and finishing of that which we once know toMatth. 10. 22. belong to our dutie, seeing that without perseuerance neither he that fighteth can obtaine the victorie, neither the conqueror the garland, but he that continueth to the end shall be saued. Therefore let vs be carefull to make profit of that talent which is giuen vs to keepe, that we beMatth. 12. 36. not found euill and vnprofitable seruants before him, to whome we must yeeld an account euen of euery idle and vaine word.

Of an Enimie, of Iniurie, and of Reuenge. Chap. 36.

HAuing hitherto in three daies workes dis­coursed (according to our iudgement) of all the parts of the vertue of Fortitude, and of those commendable effects that issue from it, to the correcting of many vices & imperfections, which abound in mans nature, I thinke that to end this afternoone, we are yet to resume and to continue the speech already be­gun by vs (as also we then promised) of one principall point concerning true magnanimitie, and greatnes of courage, which respecteth our enimies, thereby to know more particularly both our dutie towards them, and also what good may come to vs from them, if we sustaine and beare courageously their iniuries, forsaking all desire and lust to reuenge.

A pretie compa­rison. As industrious Bees gather the driest & most pearcing honie of bitter time: so a wise and vertuous man (saith Xenophon) knoweth how to drawe profite and com­moditie from his enimies, vpon whome we must beware of reuenging our selues, least (as Theophrastus saith) we hurt our selues more than them.

It is the propertie (saith Cicero) of famous personages and noble harts to contemne iniuries offered vnto them [Page 379] by knowen wicked men, whose commendation of a man importeth some dishonestie in him. Now then ASER teach vs somwhat of this matter wherein we haue so great neede of instru­ction.

The Cynick Philosopher said, that if a man would be in safetie and partaker of happinesse, he must ofGood friends or sharp enimies are necessarily required to a happy life. necessitie haue good friends or sharpe enimies, that the first sort by good and wise admonitions, and these by no­table iniuries, might withdraw him from doing of euill. And truely if we consider the profite and commoditie which may come vnto vs from him that voluntarily with­out occasion giuen him (as it is our dutie not to offend a­ny) is become our enimie, by gouerning our selues ther­in with the reason of a true Academical prudence, besides that we shall shew foorth the effects of that title which we beare, and of the end of our being, we must be so farre off from hating an enimie, that we should rather thinke our selues beholding and bound vnto him for that great good which he procureth vnto vs. That this is so, is not this one propertie of vice to make vs more ashamed before our e­nimies when we haue committed a fault, than before ourWhy men are beholding to their enimies. friends? Do we not take our enimie for a spie and enuier of our life? If any imperfection raigne in vs, who wil more freely giue vs to vnderstand thereof than he that hateth vs, who will not be slacke to publish it euery where? For this reason Plutarke calleth an enimie a Schoole-master that costeth vs nothing, of whom we learne that which may greatly profite vs, and which we know not. To this effect he maketh mention in his Apophthegmes of an A­thenian captaine who complained to Aristo chief captain of the Lacedemonians, that his souldiers blazed abroad the maners of the Athenians. If the Athenians (said Ari­sto vnto him) did looke well to their doings; they should not neede to care what the Spartanes could say of them. These things being well considered by vs, if we haue eni­mies they will be a meane to make vs more fearefull and restrained from offending, and more earnest and diligent to order well our behauior, to direct our doings, and to [Page 380] How men be­haue thēselues now adays to­wards their enimies. correct our imperfections. But let vs marke a litle how the noble and courageous youths of the world behaue them­selues now adaies. The reproofes and iniuries of an eni­mie, may peraduenture be tolerated in some sort by the skilfuller sort of those that boast themselues to be so curi­ous obseruers and ready defenders of their honor, so that they be not vttred in their presence: bicause they say that they cannot be offended at that which is spoken of them in their absence, and that they which speake so, will not a­uouch that slander before their faces, which they raysed behind their backes. According to these weake reasons they would haue other men iudge of reproch and iniurie, either to credite or to discredite them according to their power, and not as the truth of the fact it selfe requireth: whereupon also they passe that ouer without profite and amendment of their life, which they knew was misliked in them. There are others, who vpon a bare report made vnto them, thinke themselues greatly misused & harmed by those that spake ill of them, so that presently they pur­pose to be auenged of them. But herein they agree al, that if any man voluntarily offereth iniurie to another, they would haue the sword presently to decide the controuer­sie. What say I, for an iniurie? Nay, for a yea or a nay, they forthwith thinke that the lie is giuen them, and that they are out-faced: so that nothing but the death of the one, or of both together, and oftentimes of their dearest and best friends is able (as they thinke) to repaire the preiu­dicate and supposed offence, and all for this vaine honour of the world. O detestable furie, not to be found in most cruel beasts, which spare the bloud of their sexe. It is not conuenient, that any time should be lost in reproouing the same, being of it self so odious, that it cannot so much as be once named but with shame, trembling and horror. For no man is so dull of vnderstanding, but he knoweth Murder for­bidden.that effusion of bloud is forbidden by God, and that out­rage being in no sort permitted, much lesse may a christian forget himselfe so farre as to kill another, except it be through necessitie in defending his owne body, or in the [Page 381] seruice of his prince and country in a iust warre. Amongst all the sententious sayings of Socrates the wise, & the won­derfull workes of Plato his scholer, I find none more di­uine, or woorthie of greater praise than that sentence so often repeated by them, That reuenge is not in any sort to be A notable sen­tence. vsed. It is not iust (said the same Socrates) to offend any, although he had offred vs wrong. For a good man neuer ought to do euil [...] yea, it is a great deale better to suffer, than to offer contumelie, to be slaine than to slay, bicause the one bringeth no detriment to man, who is the soule, but the other procureth the vtter ruine and de­struction therof. This will sound very ill in many mens eares. But if they will iudge without passion, and had eies to see, and eares to vnderstand the end of their being & calling, as also the reason of true prudence & generositie taught vs in the studie of Philosophie, no doubt but they would subscribe to the opiniō of these wise Philosophers, agree­ing very well with that which is taught vs by the spirite of God, who condemneth the murderer, and him that offe­reth Leuit. 24. 17.wrong and iniurie to another: but calleth himselfe Psal. 9. 9. 16.the defender of innocencie, and such a one as returneth a Matth. 5. 10.double reward and recompence to those that suffer for righteousnes and equitie. Who may therfore doubt but that it is farre better to receiue than to do euil, to be kil­led than to kill, seeing by the one the good houre of our perpetuall rest and felicitie is hastened forward, & by the other we are vtterly frustrated thereof, and throwen into a hell of eternall fire? So that if we endeuor to shew forth the effects of true magnanimitie and greatnesse of hart, there is no doubt but to beare and to endure with al mo­destie To suffer iniu­rie patiently, is a badge of a most absolute vertue.and patience the outrages and wrongs of our eni­mies, is the marke of that vertue which is most absolute and perfect. That it is so, doth it not appeere in this, that vertue consisteth in difficult things? And that vertue that commeth neerest to the diuine nature, which is hardest to be obtained, and least familiar with men, is it not more woorthie and beseeming a noble and valiant man, than all the rest? Vnto which may we attribute better this marke than to the vertue of patience, whereof we haue al­readie [Page 382] intreated? We see no man vpon earth of so base e­state, no woman so feeble and weake, no liuing creature so litle, but if they be striken, they will reuenge themselues very willingly as wel as they can. How greatly then ought this vertue to be accounted of, which forceth this natural lust of reuenge, bred in al liuing creatures, and how noble must the mind of that man needs be, which is able to ma­ster such a violent passion, so common to all men, thereby procuring to it selfe the name of a mild and gratious spi­rit, and readie to forgiue, which is proper and peculiar to the diuine nature? Therfore that great monarch Alexan­der said, That a man wronged had need of a more noble hart to for­giue his enimie, thā to be reuēged of him & to kil him. Behold the saying of as noble a prince as euer the earth bare: What can the Courtiers of these times say to the contrarie? It is a great vertue (saith Epictetus) not to hurt him of whom thou A commenda­ble kind of re­uenge. art misused. It is a very commendable thing to pardon him whom thou mightest hurt, and it is a praise-woorthie kind of reuenge to let them go in peace that are ouercome. Therefore Pittacus the Sage hauing one in his power that had dealt contumeli­ously with him, he suffered him to depart vnharmed, say­ing, That pardon was better than reuenge, the one being proper to the spirit of a man, the other of a cruel beast. But further, al­though it were onely in respect of our own benefit during our life, we ought to shunne all motions of iniurie, and all desire of reuenge: forasmuch as we cannot either deter­mine or execute the same, but with a thousand perturba­tions, which cause vs to want the rest and tranquillitie of our soules, wherein all our happinesse and felicitie consi­steth. Good counsaile of Seneca.And therfore Seneca saith, If he that wronged thee be weaker than thou, forgiue him: if he be mightier, spare thy selfe. For whosoeuer nourisheth his neighbors anger, whosoe­uer prouoketh & incenseth him more, when he seeth him vehement and importunate against him, he committeth two faults. First he hateth himselfe by procuring his owne trouble and griefe: Secondly, his brother, bicause he ma­keth We must do no­thing in choler.him sad, and vexeth him. Moreouer prudent men (as Theophrastus saith) ought to doe nothing in choler. [Page 383] For that vnreasonable part of the soule being mooued, foreseeth nothing wisely, but being driuen forward with a contentious desire, suffereth it selfe to be caried hi­ther and thither, as if it were drunken. Also we must take great heed, that we do not alwaies put in execution what­soeuer we haue a mind vnto, but onely that which mode­rate reason commandeth vs. Wherein we shal deserue the praise of true Magnanimity, if I say, we can command our selues and all vehemencie of choler, which driueth men forward to be auenged on their enimies, & is an act that sauoureth more of a vile and abiect hart, drawing neere to brutish fiercenes, than of a noble mind, which despiseth whatsoeuer is earthlie, mortall, and vading, that it may thinke of nothing but of heauen and immortalitie. This is that which the studie of our Philosophie teacheth vs: & euen as expert Phisitions knowe how to draw medicines apt for the preseruation of life out of serpents, poisons, & other deadly and venemous things: so we ought to draw An apt simill­tu le.from our enimies, not their life, which ought to be onely in the power of God and of his iustice, but profit & com­moditie by their backbitings, reproches, and iniuries. Which will easily be done, if we make small account of How a man may profit by the backbiting of his enimies.their intent, and consider narrowly the fact which they speake ill of, to the end that if we be guiltie of that which they condemn in vs, we may purge and correct our selues. And if so be they harme vs wrongfully, their impudencie will cause their reproches and iniuries to be turned back, and sent against themselues, togither with that shame and dammage, which they thought to procure vnto vs, wher­as we shall be no lesse honest and vertuous men than be­fore. So that the best reuenge and most honorable victo­rie, which we can carie away from our enimies, will be to The best kind of reueng.surpasse them in diligence, bountie, magnanimitie, good­turnes, and in all vertuous actions: whereby they wil soo­ner perceiue and confesse them selues vanquished & con­strained to stop their mouth, and to represse their toong, than by any other force, which we can oppose against them. Then may we say, that as he who enterprised to kill [Page 384] Prometheus the Thessalien gaue him so great a blowe with a sword vpon an apostume which put him in danger of death, that by lancing it he saued his life contrary to his meaning: so the iniurious speeches of our enimies vttred in wrath & of ill will to hurt vs, haue been the cause of cu­ring many euils in vs whereof we made no account, and of making vs much better than we were before. But bi­cause iniurie seemeth so hard and vneasie to be tolerated by the imbecillitie of mans nature, which is so soone of­fended, and by the hart of man being full of reuenge, let vs yet see whether we can find any remedie, if not to cure that which is incurable, at least wise to purge and to clense How many wayes a mā may receiue iniurie.the Accidents of this euil. Iniurie is offered either to the goods, to the honour or to the person of a man. As tou­ching the first and last, namely, the spoiling of our goods, and violence offred to our person, what other reuenge ei­ther by the lawe of God or of man can we haue, than to repulse force with force, I meane, when we are constrai­ned thereunto, or else by way of the prince his Iustice, which is open to euery one? If any haue robbed thee, must thou become a thiefe or satisfie thy selfe by thine owne strength? Much lesse oughtest thou to set thy selfe against him that is not faultie, as many do. If thou being the weaker art ouertaken, hurt and wronged, oughtest thou to vse new force, violence and murder to reuenge thy selfe, and to repaire thy iniurie receiued? The sword is in the hands of the king and of the magistrate that re­presenteth his person: and it belongeth to him onely to vse it against them that trouble publike tranquillitie and ciuil societie: to the end there should be no shew, that any other either would or durst meddle with the soueraign­tie, whose greatnesse and preseruation consisteth in the administration of iustice. Yea the lawes haue alwaies so abhorred violence and priuate force, that they haue re­stored Men must not take the law in­to their owne hands, although it be not rightly executed.thieues and robbers into those places which they vniustly possessed, if they had been driuen from them by violence. But some man will say, that these things ought in deed to be dulie considered of if Iustice were executed, [Page 385] and had not forsaken the earth to dwell in heauen. And how then canst thou execute it, seeing thou art not called to do, but to demand iustice? Tarie, and the iust Iudge wil returne double that which hath been vniustly taken from thee, which thou hast suffered, or which hath been denied thee, euen then when thou shalt haue greater neede than now that thy daies are so short: and then thou shalt liue for euer of that which thou hast reaped in this poore and miserable life. Concerning honor, the iniurie whereof we Of the offence done to honor.feare more than of the other, let vs know, that it cannot be hurt in a good man, bicause vertue, which is inuinci­ble, protecteth and defendeth it. But now a daies we fetch it not so farre off. For we will haue our honor tied to the vaine opinion of the world, which reiecteth and contem­neth those men as cowards and base-minded, that haue but once put vp the least iniurie offered by another: but honoreth as noble and courageous those that can lustilie kill their enimies. This is the cause why many, who would willingly forget an iniurie receiued, dare not do it for loue of their friends: as also bicause they see, that it would ra­ther be imputed vnto them as a tokē of a faint hart, than of a desire to followe reason. But let all these blood-suc­kers, enclined to reuenge & to murder, couer their beast­lie The excuse of quarrellers.crueltie aswell as they can, yet haue they no other rea­son to disguise it but this, that it is a vsuall kind of behaui­our now a daies amongest men, to the ende they may be welcomed, praised, and fauoured of Kinges, Princes, and great Lords, otherwise they must take a Coole, and shut vp themselues in some cloister. But they must needes affirme this withall, that they had rather vndoe and condemne themselues with the multitude, so they may haue worldlie honour, than be saued with the small number of honest men: except peraduenture they will say, that they knowe no other life but this, & that they liue onely for the world, without beleefe or hope of a second and eternall life. And albeit they confesse a second life with their mouth, yet their deeds declare sufficiently, that they are altogither ignorant of the nature and happines of the other life, and [Page 386] that they care not greatly to come vnto it. But let vs that Socrates void of reuenge.are better instructed imitate Socrates, who, being counsel­led to reueng a wrong receiued, made this answer: What? If a Mastie had bit me, or an Asse giuen me a blow, would you haue me serue writs vpon them? So let vs behaue our selues towards them that are froward & vitious, making a great deale lesse account of their iniuries, than of a blow that hurteth: which they cannot do at all to our honour. As for good men we shall neuer be hurt by them. Now, if we draw neere, although neuer so little, to the perfection We must not be mooued with mocks.of such a nature, much lesse ought we to be prouoked & stirred vp through any laughter or gibing, which cannot touch or offend any, but those that are troubled and cari­ed away with passions. Thus much did Socrates wisely giue one to vnderstand, who told him that certaine mocked him: I do not (quoth he) thinke that I am mocked. Heereup­on I remember a notable answer made by one Ptolemaeus Ptolemaeus.king of Egypt, who was counselled to punish a Gramma­rian. The king demanding of him by way of gibing, who was father to Peleus, he made this answer, that he desired first to knowe who was Lagus his father, noting thereby that the king was borne of base parentage. If it be vnseem­ly (quoth Ptolemaeus to his friends) for a king to be mocked, it is also as vndecent for him to mocke another. Now although it be our dutie to tread vnder foote all desire of reuenge, & to make no account of iniuries and mocks, yet is it law­full How a man may repulse a mockefor vs sometime, if we be disposed, and no greater of­fence arise thereof, to stop the mouths of such as are iniu­rious & impudent, with a little short replie: not in wrath or choler, but with a certaine meekenes and graue smi­ling, and somewhat nippingly, so that it passe not the Cato.bounds of modestie. Cato knew well how to behaue him­self after this sort, who being iniuriously dealt with all by one that had alwaies liued wickedly, said thus vnto him: I am not able to deale with thee in this manner by contending with iniuries. For thou hast throughly vsed thy selfe both to vtter repro­ches freely, and to suffer with ease when any man offereth thee wrong or iniurie. But as for me, I delight neither in hearing, nor in [Page 387] vttering them. Likewise Demosthenes answered another in Demosthenes.this sort: I will not enter into this combat with thee, wherein the vanquished is better than the vanquisher. Plato also being tou­ched Plato.with iniurious speeches, said: Go on to speake ill, seeing thou didst neuer learne to speake well. Lysander, Admirall of the Lysander.Lacedemonians, being reuiled with many bitter speeches, said to him that offered the iniurie: Spue out boldly my friend, spue out boldly and often, and spare not, to see if thou canst emptie thy soule of that euill and wickednes wherewith it is replenished. Shall we thinke now, that these famous men, making so small account of iniuries & wrongs, had any other bound than right and iustice onely in the hatred of the vices of The limits that are to be vsed in hating the wic­ked.wicked men, or that they would haue sought by any other way for the satisfieng of those wrongs, which they recei­ued? Let vs consider how Scaurus behaued himselfe to­wards Scaurus.his enimie Domitius, against whome he was to put vp a complaint by way of iustice. There was one of Domi­tius his seruants, who before iudgment was giuen of their processe, came to Scaurus, and said, that he would disclose vnto him a matter of great importance against his mai­ster, which vndoubtedly would cause him that was his ad­uerse partie to gaine his suit. But he not minding to heare him any further, tooke order that he should be straightly bound, and so sent him to his maister. The meanes which Agesilaus vsed to make his enimies his friends, in steede of reuenging himselfe vpon them, are woorthie of eternall How Agesilaus made his eni­mies his friendspraise, and ought to mooue vs greatly to correct our na­turall imperfections, so much inclined to reuenge. For when he could come to the knowledge of them without any further shew, he thrust them into publike offices and charges. And if it fell out so that they committed any of­fence wherby they were drawn into iudgement, he holpe them as much as he could, by that meanes winning the friendship of euery one. For although we commonly say, that as one and the same sunne softeneth the waxe, and hardeneth the clay: so good deeds win the harts of good men, but prouoke the wicked, yet there is no man of so peruerse a nature, whome a man cannot make his friend [Page 388] by plying him often with benefits, and when occasion is offered, by binding him with some notable good turne. Augustus.For this cause Augustus, after the conspiracie of Cinna was discouered, notwithstanding that he had him in his pow­er, being conuicted by his owne letter, yet he did not one­ly forgiue him, but taking him also by the hand, sware friendship with him, and bestowed vpon him great estates and dignities, wherein Cinna afterward serued him faith­fully. The Venetians.And it seemeth that for the same reason the Veneti­ans hauing taken the Duke of Mantua their deadly eni­mie, in steed of taking his estate from him, they made him their Generall captaine: so that euer after he abode their Pontinus.faithfull friend. Pontinus also an ancient captaine of the Samnites, said, that they were either freely to set at libertie the Romane armie, which was surprized in the straights of the moun­taine Apenninus, and so make them loyall friends through the bond of so great a good turne, or else to put them all to death, thereby to The prudence of Dionysius in punishing euill speakers. take from the enimie a great part of his strength. Neither may we heere let go in silence the discretion of Dionysius the el­der, king of Syracusa, in punishing an iniurie. Which ex­ample ought to cause all them to blush, who in furie and choler, after an iniurie receiued, or after some report ther­of, seeke presently for some cruell reuenge. This king be­ing told that two yoong men as they were drinking togi­ther, had spoken many outragious words of him, he inui­ted them both to supper. And perceiuing that one of them, after he had taken a little wine into his head, vtte­red and committed much follie, and that contrariwise the other was very staied, and drunke but a little, he punished this fellow as one that was malitious, and had been his e­nimy of set purpose, but forgaue the other, as being drun­ken, and mooued by the wine to speake ill of him. Con­cluding therefore our present discourse, let vs learne that it is the propertie of a great and noble mind to be mild, gratious, and readie to forgiue, and that it is a greater point of Magnanimitie to surmount the common nature of men by a woonderfull diuinitie of the soule, than to follow after that which beasts are able to do better than [Page 389] we. For many of them in this earthly generositie, where­of many men make so great account, excell & surpasse the best of them all. In all debates & controuersies with our enimies, let vs retaine (as Cicero counsaileth vs) grauitie & constancie, and chase awaye all choler: bicause no­thing that is done through perturbation can be done constantly, or be approoued of any. Let vs not be afraid Antisthene▪ counsaile.(said Antisthenes) to wish all the good in the world to our eni­mies, except valure, which may make them rash to venture vpon our life: and let vs giue ouer all will to procure them any hurt or displeasure, or any maner of reuenge. Let vs rather desire not to be spared of them in those things which are blame-woorthie in vs, that so we may be more readie to amend and correct them. Let vs Math. 5. 44. loue our enimies, blesse them that curse vs, do good to them that hate and persecute vs, ouercomming euill with good, and leauing Rom. 12. 19. all vengeance to him that hath reserued it to himselfe, who by his power directeth the nets, swords, hatchets, instruments and scour­ges of his wrath, all which are our enimies for the amendment of our life: and then shall we shew foorth those true effects of the vertue of Fortitude & Magnanimitie, which our hea­uenly Father requireth of vs.

Of Iustice. Chap. 37.

TRue Philosophie (saith Socra­tes) What true Phi­losophie is. is to know and to practise both priuately and publikely those things that are honest & iust. This is that Prudence which teacheth vs well and no­bly to gouerne both domestical and ciuill affaires, the name whereof is Temperance and Iustice. By which speech this wise Philosopher taught vs the straight and vnseparable coniunction and knot of the foure Morall vertues, being neuerthelesse distinguished by their proper and particular effects. Which hauing hi­therto offred vs matter wherein to reioice our spirites a­bout the three first riuers flowing out of the fountaine of Honestic, there remaineth now for vs to consider of the last of them, which although it be but one particular, yet in truth it is the very perfection of all dutie, and is called Iustice: the precepts whereof if we keepe diligently, we shall truly become images of God his essence, & be made according to his likenesse. Let vs then begin my compani­ons, to intreat of this great and heauenly vertue.

Iustice (saith Cicero) is the mistresse of all the The fruits and effects of Iusticeother vertues, and as it were their Queene. She is the ground­worke of euerlasting glory and renowme, and without hir nothing can be praise-woorthie. She putteth a difference between the good and the bad, which being taken away (saith Seneca) nothing fo­loweth but confusion. For to reward the wicked and not the good, to afflict the vertuous, and not to chastice the euill man, is to make a gallimaufrey of vice and vertue.

What Iustice is. What is Iustice but godlinesse (saith Lactantius) and what is godlinesse but the knowledge of God our Father? Not­withstanding in respect of vs, Iustice is commonly taken for an e­quall [Page 391] distribution of right and of lawes. But of thee (ACHI­TOB) we shall presently vnderstand the greatnesse and ri­ches of this precious vertue, and the vnspeakeable fruites which she distributeth liberally for the profit of all men.

No kingdome, common-wealth, or citie (saith Plato) can be either well ruled or instituted in the beginning, or Three things necessary in e­uery common-wealth. preserued and kept in a happie estate without diuine or humane Iu­stice, without the counsaile of the aged, or without the fauor of the heauenly wisdome. Now that is diuine iustice (as Lactantius saith) whereby we are ioyned to God by deuotion and good will: and humane Iustice knitteth vs vnto men by mercie and humanitie. Whereby we see that the founda­tion The ground of all Iustice.of all Iustice is grounded vpon that honor & seruice which we owe to God, whereupon we are induced to be dutifull to our neighbors according to charitie. Therfore we must aboue all things loue Iustice, and apply all our studie thereunto, seeing it is the first and principal point that concerneth the direction of a Christian mans life, yea mo are partakers of the fruit thereof, than of any other vertue. Iustice (saith Seneca) is the law of God, and the bond of humane societie. For auoiding therfore of confusion in this matter, we say with Plato, that Iustice obserued and kept The distinction of Iustice.towards God, taketh vnto it the name of pietie. But we will enter into the handling of that Iustice onely, which hath respect to our dealings with men, being by the same Plato called an equall distribution towards all the world, according to the deserts of euery one, and a sure founda­tion of cities and common-wealths. He saith also, that Iu­stice requireth vpright dealing throughout a mans calling and charge, and that nothing is more like to the greatnes of God, than a man perfectly iust. Aristotle calleth Iustice Whosoeuer hath Iustice perfectly, hath all the vertues.a generall vertue, bicause he that hath hir perfectly, may boast that he hath within him all the other vertues. For he could not know what were iust and vniust, nor make choice of the one and flie from the other, if he were not prudent, to which vertue that thing doth properly be­long. Neither could he exercise the precepts of Iustice, if by temperance he knew not how to moderate all his pas­sions [Page 392] and priuate affections, not suffering himselfe to be ouercome either with wine, gluttonie, lust, couetousnes, or with any other desires and motions, which hinder the vse of reason. Besides, he could not practise one principall & diuine point of iustice, which is to succour with all his might the afflicted and oppressed, and to prouide that no man be wronged, if it lie in his power, notwithstanding a­ny danger whereinto he may fall, although it be certaine losse of life, and of all earthlie and transitorie goods, I say he could not practise this, if through Fortitude and Ge­nerositie he contemne not death, the earth, and whatsoe­uer sauoreth of the world, that he may be (so farre foorth as his humane nature will suffer) a follower of the diuini­tie. Iustice (saith Cicero) is a constant and perpetuall will and desire to giue to euery one his right. She is the pro­per vertue of a noble minded man, bicause she is profita­ble to others, but to hir selfe fruitles, laborious, and peri­lous. Yea that man onely may be called iust, that profiteth as many as he can, but hurteth none, that is alwaies at a­greementThe praise of Iustice. within himselfe, and is a friend to God, to men, and to himselfe. Iustice (saith Diogenes) worketh great tranquillitie and perfect felicitie in our soules. For to be afraid of none, and not to blush at the sight of any mans person, bringeth with it great contentation, and is as it were the perfection of life, which is proper onely to a iust soule. Iustice (saith Hesiodus) is a chast and reuerent vir­gine, not violated or defiled, but lodged alwaies with shamefastnes, chastitie, and simplicitie. Pindarus calleth hir the Queene of all the world. Pythagoras teaching by his riddlelike precepts, how a man ought to beware of trans­gressing Iustice, saith: Go not beyond the ballance. If we pur­poseRespect of per­sons is not to be vsed in the pra­ctise of Iustice. (saith Plato) to exercise Iustice perfectly, we must make no differēce of men in regard either of their friend­ship, kindred, wealth, pouertie, or dignitie. This vertue (saith Cicero) requireth of vs the forsaking of our plea­sures and priuate commoditie, that we may procure the benefit of the Common-wealth, although it be to our pe­rill and losse. And those men command and gouerne very [Page 393] wel, who forbid vs to do any thing wherof we doubt whe­ther it be iust or vniust: bicause equity is so cleere of it self, that when we doubt of any thing, we may be assured that there is some iniustice in it. Aristotle and Cicero deuide Iu­sticeThe diuision of Iustice. The difference between Com­mutatiue and Distributiue Iustice. into these two partes, Distributiue and Commutatiue. Distributiue Iustice consisteth in giuing to euery one ac­cording to his desert, whether it be honor and dignitie, or punishment. Commutatiue Iustice is in keeping fidelitie and in causing it to be kept in promises and contracts, & in behauing our selues no otherwise to another, than we would be delt withall. Many parts and particular dueties are also attributed by the Philosophers to Iustice, as Libe­ralitie and sundry other, whereof we will particularly dis­course hereafter. But we must here learne, that the end ofThe end of Iustice. all Iustice tendeth to the preseruation of the common so­cietie of men. For the preseruation of the lawes (which are the Gardian and Tutor of good men, and a mortall e­nimie to the wicked) is so necessarie for euery estate and condition of life, that (as Cicero saith) the very Pirates,The necessitie of Iustice. thieues & robbers could not liue together without some part thereof. If we desire to know more of hir vnspeakea­ble fruits, let vs consider that which Paulus the Pythagori­an hath written, saying, Iustice among men ought in my opinion to be called the Mother and Nurse of all the other vertues. For without hir no man could be either temperate, valiant or prudent: the profite wherof will be very euident if we consider all hir effects. Diuers names agree to Iustice in diuers re­spects. For the prouidence of God is that Iustice which gouerneth the world, and hath the principalitie ouer it. In cities and townes Iu­stice is rightly called Equitie and Peace: in particular houses be­tweene the husband and the wife, Vnitie and Concord: in respect of seruants towards their masters, Good will: of masters towards their seruants, Humanitie and Gentlenesse: and in mens bodies Health and perfection of the members. Thus you see that Iu­stice is the beginning and perfection of all the vertues. By these short sayings of ancient and graue personages, the excellencie of this holy and sacred vertue Iustice appee­reth sufficiently vnto vs. Yea it is so earnestly commaun­ded by the spirit of God vnto Magistrates in these words [Page 394] Ierem. 21. 12. & 22. 3. of exercising Iudgement and Iustice, so often repeated, that whosoeuer infringeth and violateth it, can not auoid the curse and wrath of the Almightie, which will both light vpon their owne heads, and also worke the destruction of them that are committed to their charge. It belongeth toWhat Iustice and Iudgement are. Iustice, to receiue the innocent into protection and safe­gard, to maintaine, defend, sustaine, and deliuer them, and to Iudgement, to resist the boldnes of the wicked, to re­presse their violence, and to punish their offences: bicause Magistrats are therefore armed with the sword and with power, that publike peace should not be disturbed. This also is that which Solon meant to teach vs, when he said: that the greatnes and preseruation of all Common-wealths consi­sted in two things, in the reward of the good, & in the punishmēt of the wicked: which being taken away, the whole discipline of humane societie must needes be dissolued and come to nothing. For there are many that haue no great care to do wel, if they see not vertue recompenced with some ho­nor: although this beseemeth not a noble-minded man, who ought to do nothing but onely for the loue of ver­tue. And againe, the malice of the wicked cannot be bri­deled, if they see not vengeance and punishment prepared for offenders. All these aboue specified considerations did so greatly recommend Iustice to the men of old time, and caused them to esteeme so much of it, that whensoe­uer occasion was offered to maintaine and execute it, it was preferred before all things: insomuch that the father did not pardon his owne sonne. The Egyptians were theThe Egyptians were zealous of Iustice. How they pain­ted Iudges. ancientest Lawmakers, as Historiographers report, and were very carefull and diligent obseruers of Iustice. In their cities they painted Iudges without hands, and the President or chiefe Iustice with his eies blind-folded: to teach, that Iustice ought not to be either a briber, or re­specter of persons, that is, she must neither take any thing, nor iudge for any fauour. The kings of their countrey obserued this order, to cause Iudges when they were in­stalled by them in their offices, to sweare, that albēit they were commanded by them to iudge vniustly, yet they [Page 395] should not obey them. Since their time, the ancient Gre­ciansThe Grecians and Romans. and Romanes shewed themselues great, true, and zealous followers of this vertue of Iustice, and that to­wardes their greatest enimies. They iudged it a very no­ble act to accuse the wicked, so it were not vpon any pri­uate occasion or passion: they delighted greatly to see yoong men by way of Iustice to pursue transgressors, as grayhounds well flesht follow after wild beasts. This cau­sed Solon being demanded what citie seemed to him bestWhat citie is best gouer­ned. gouerned, to answer: that city wherein they that are not wron­ged, do as egerly follow after satisfaction in the behalfe of another man wronged, as if themselues had receiued the iniurie. For the truth is (quoth he) that they which violate and breake lawes, do not offend one man alone, but the whole Citie and Common-wealth: therefore euery one ought to de­sire and seeke after iust punishment. Moreouer, the seueri­tie which the Lacedemonians obserued in their iudge­ments, procured such a publike safety, that for a long time they vsed not to put either lockes to cofers, or barres to gates. Aristotle maketh mention of a certaine countrey, where the inhabitants were to assure the safetie of the waies, and to repay vnto passengers that losse, which they had receiued by theeues and robbers. Neither is it long since the like statute was obserued in many places of Ita­lie. But I stand greatly in doubt, that at this day it is ilfa­uoredly kept. O happie, yea an hundred times happy was the golden age of those famous men, full of heauenlie spi­rite, bicause vnder their gouernment Iustice was had in such honor and reuerence. But let vs rub vp the memorie heereof by some notable examples. If any thing causethExamples of the loue of Iustice. Magistrates to commit iniustice, it is chieflye the fauour which they beare, & the bond wherewith they are bound more to some than to others. Therefore Cleon the Lacede­monianCleon. minding to deale in publike affaires, gathered all his friends togither, and told them, that he renounced & discharged himself of all their friendship, bicause friend­ship many times caused men to yeeld, and to step aside from their good and right purposes in matters of iudge­ment. [Page 396] True it is that when we haue none but good men to our friends, who are mooued and possessed with the same zeale to vertue that we are, as before was mentio­ned, we shall neuer fall into these inconueniences. The ex­ample Aristides.of Aristides the Athenian his loue vnto Iustice, is woorthie of speciall remembrance. For calling into the law an enimie of his, after he had set downe his accusati­on, the Iudges were so mooued against the accused party, for the impietie of the fact in controuersie, that they would haue condemned him vnheard: so greatly did they trust to the honestie of the accuser, that he had set downe nothing but the very truth. But Aristides, who for his great and rare vertue had before deserued the surname of Iust, went with the accused partie and cast himselfe at the Iudges feete, beseeching them, that he might be heard, to iustifie and to defend himselfe, according as the lawes commanded. Further, one writeth of him, that when he was vpon a time Iudge betweene two parties that plea­ded before him, one of them said: my aduersarie hath done thee great wrong Aristides. But he foorthwith inter­rupting his talke, made this answer: My friend, declare on­ly whether he hath wronged thee. For I am heere to do thee right, and not my selfe: shewing thereby, that Iustice ought to be executed without any priuate passion, reuenge, or choler, I. Brutus.wherewithall many at this day are ouercome. Iunius Bru­tus Consul of Rome, condemned his two sonnes Titus & Tiberius to be beheaded, being conuicted for conspiring the reentrie of Tarquinius race vnto the kingdome of Rome, from whence they had been vanquished for wic­kednes and whoredome. Truely a notable example, and cleane contrarie to those that are fauourers and accep­ters Phocion.of persons. Phocion refused to helpe his sonne in law Charillus in iudgement, being accused for taking certaine monie vniustly, saying vnto him: that he had made him his Alexander. Allie in all iust and reasonable matters onely. Alexander the Great vsed this commendable custome as he sate in place of Iustice to heare criminall causes pleaded, that whilest the accuser declared his accusation, he stopped one of his [Page 397] eares with his hand, to the end he might keepe it pure & vpright, not admitting thereinto (as he gaue them to vn­derstand) any preiudicate or false impression, that so he might heare the accused partie speake in his own defence and iustification. Truely an example meete for kings and princes, that they should not lightly beleeue slaunderers, nor giue sentence of execution presently vpō their report and perswasion: bicause they ought not to take pleasure, or to glut themselues as it were, with some pleasant pa­stime, in the corrections and punishments of men, which is the propertie of a tyrant. Neither ought they, after the punishment is inflicted, to repent them thereof, which is a token of ignorance, and basenesse of mind: but Iustice must see execution done when reason and iudgement re­quire, and that without either griefe or pleasure. Augu­stus▪ Augustus. Caesar knowing that Asprenas a very familiar friend of his, was accused in iudgement, and fearing that if he went to the place where the matter was to be heard, he should offer wrong to Iustice, as also that if he went not, he should seeme to abandon his friend, as iudging him cul­pable: he asked counsail of the Senate, with whom he re­solued to be present at the iudgement of his friend, but to speake nothing, bicause in so doing he should neither do him wrong, nor violate iustice. Agesilaus king of Lace­demonia Agesilaus.deserued likewise great praise for this vertue, al­beit he were a very assured friend to his friend, and of a gentle nature, readie to imploy himselfe in the behalfe of all them that stood in need of him. Neuerthelesse, when a friend of his contended with him about a matter, which he desired to obtaine of this prince, saying, that he had made him a promise thereof: If the thing (quoth he) be iust, I haue promised it; but if it be vniust, I haue not pro­mised, but onely spoken it. He vsed also to say, that he e­steemed Prowes without Iustice is worth nothing.Iustice as chiefe of all the vertues, and that valure was of no valew if it were not ioined therwith, yea, would be needlesse if all men were iust. And when certaine men who were sent vnto him to conferre about some agree­ment, said one day vnto him, that the great King would [Page 398] haue it so: wherein (quoth he vnto them) is he greater than I, if he be not more iust? Whereby he iudged verie well, that the difference between a great and a little king The difference between a great and a little king.ought to be taken from iustice, as from a kingly measure and rule, according vnto which they ought to gouerne their subiects, seeing they were at the first established to do iustice, as Herodotus speaking of the Medes, and Cicero of the Romanes, make mentiō. This is that which a poore Phillip.old woman signified to Phillip king of Macedonia, when she came to him to haue hir complaint heard. To whom when the king made answer that he had no leasure at that time to heare hir, she cried with a loud and cleere voyce, Be not then king, Whereupon this meeke prince (by which name he said he had rather be called for a long time, than by the name of Lord for a little while) was so touched at the hart with the consideration of his dutie, that he retur­ned presently into his pallace, where, setting aside al other affaires, he gaue himselfe many daies to heare all their cō ­plaints and requests that would come before him, begin­ning first with the said poore woman. Another time be­ing ouertaken with sleepe, and not well hearing the iusti­fication and defence of one Machetas, he condemned him in a certaine summe. Whereupon the said partie cried out aloud, that he appealed to Phillip after he should be throughly awake. Which being noted by the said Prince, he would needes heare him againe: and afterward decla­red him not guiltie, paying notwithstanding with his own money that summe wherein he had before condemned him, that so he might keepe inuiolable the authoritie of Traianus.his sentence. The emperor Traian is iustly commended of Historiographers, bicause he alighted from his horse, as he was going to warre, only to heare the complaint which a poore woman was about to make vnto him. And truely nothing doth so properly belong vnto, or is so well besee­ming a prince of a good and gentle nature, as the practise and exercise of Iustice. Therefore when the Hebrews as­ked [...]. [...]am. 8. 5.a king of Samuel, they added this, To iudge vs like all na­tions. Yea these heads which had the soueraigntie ouer thē [Page 399] before were only in the nature of Iudges. It is Iustice on­ly, What causeth kingdoms to flourish.which through the grace of God causeth kingdoms & monarchies to flourish: as Archidamus did very well signi­fie to one, who asked of him what were those gouernours of the Lacedemonian common-wealth, by whose means it was maintained in such and so great glory as was then to be seen. They are (said he) the lawes first, and next the ma­gistrates obseruing the lawes. Moreouer the law must be the rule of Iustice, as Iustice is the end of the law. In some other place we shall vnderstand more at large by the grace of God, what the law is, and how we are to obey it, where also we will consider particularly of the duetie of magi­strates, and of their dignitie. In the mean time let vs mark well for our instruction the notable sayings and examples of ancient men here mentioned of vs, which do sufficient­ly testifie vnto vs how greatly they recommended the pre­seruation of this vertue of Iustice. Whereof if we beleeue (as the truth is) that God is the author, that he doth con­tinually God is the au­thor of Iustice.exercise the same amongst vs by visible testimo­nies, and that he will bring it to a full periode and perfe­ction at the appointed time, which is only known to him, let vs take good heed that we neither contemne nor vio­late it. Let such as are decked with diademes for the ad­ministration of Iustice, who neuertheles commit this du­tie to others vnder them, make choice of sufficient and a­ble men to beare so heauie a charge, I meane able, both What maner of men magistrates ought to be.for their learning, and also for their good example of life. Otherwise let them be sure, that this great Iudge will re­quire at their hands the wrong that is offred to innocēcy. One meane wherby the abuse of Iustice may be taken away.To meete with which inconuenience, & to take away the cause of so many abuses & naughtie dealings, which now a daies are knowen to such as are most ignorant, to the vtter ouerthrow of a million of poore families, I thinke that this is one of the best and surest means, not to leaue Iustice, which is so precious a thing, to the licence of any whosoeuer will take it vpon him, whereby it is set to open sale, as it were some merchandise of small account. Which dealing (that I may speake my mind freely) giueth occa­sion, [Page 400] The inconueni­ence that com­meth by setting offices to sale. Exod. 18. yea constraineth those men to take bribes, and to be couetous, who (according to the counsaile of Iethro gi­uen to Moses) ought to be farthest from it. For so long as the places of iudgement shall be vendible, and bestowed vpon him that offreth most, we shall alwayes see that for mony, such as are most ignorant, worst liuers & vnworthi­est will be the first & chiefest. Now what iustice can be ho­ped for of such men? For after they are once placed ther­in, the chiefest respect is to reape gaine, profit and aduan­tage, according to that valew & rate of money which they laid out vpon it. Did my office cost me so much? than it must be thus much worth vnto me. For if I had imployed my money else-where, I might haue had thus much of re­uenues and inheritance. Truly this saying full of impietie neuer caused them to blush that haue vttered it sundrie times, although it hath wrought the same effect in manyThe saving of Alexander and Lewes the 12. that haue heard it. The Emperor Alexander, and after him Lewes the 12. vsed this speech long since by way of pro­phecie, That buyers of Offices would sell by retaile as deare as they could that which they bought in grosse. And for this cause a wise Politician of our time hath written very learnedly, that they which set to sale estates, offices and benefices, sell withall the most sacred thing in the world, which is Iu­stice. They sell the common-wealth, they sell the bloud of the subiects, they sell the lawes: and taking away the re­ward of honor, of vertue, of knowledge, of godlinesse, of religion, they open a gate to thefts, to bribes, to couetous­nes, to iniustice, to ignorance, to impietie: in a word, toAgainst buyers of offices. all kind of vice and filthines. Neither do I doubt but that they which buy them are as greatly to be reprooued and blamed, as those that sell them: bicause they minister life and nourishment, as much as in them lieth, to this mon­strous Hydra of couetousnesse and lucre, which sucketh vp and deuoureth the substance of the poore. But they will say, if we lay not out our money hereupon, others wil do it that are as well prouided with coine, and yet perad­uenture are not so zealous of Iustice as we are. What? wilt thou doe euill for feare least another should do it before [Page 401] thee? Besides, if thou considerest thy selfe well, what lea­deth thee hereunto but ambition or couetousnes? And if peraduenture some one among an hundred is touched with a good desire to profite and to serue his countrey, what can he do alone amongst ten that are corrupted? But let this be spoken without offence to good men, who for the most part bewaile their estate and condition being in such company. And let not such buiers of offices thinke, that bicause of their bought estates they deserue any ho­nor, (if for other respects they are not worthie) which is the reward of vertue only: but rather let them know, that they deceiue themselues no lesse than those men did, who thought to flie with the golden wings of Euripides: ma­king that thing of the heauiest matter that could be, which ought to be most light. The Emperor Aurelianus was soAurelianus. fearfull of placing an vnworthie man in the seat of iudge­ment, that he neuer preferred any to the dignitie of a Se­nator, but with the consent of the whole Senate. But to end our speech, we will hold this, that nothing is more ne­cessarie to guide and to order the life of man to hir pro­per & happy end, than the vertue of Iustice: which being taken from amongst vs, all other vertues sequester them­selues far from vs, giuing place to the perturbations of our soules, which draw vs into ruine and confusion. AndA meane to pre­serue policies. when as the greater sort being well instructed in their du­tie, bestow the administration of Iustice vpon those men only that deserue it, opening that gate vnto them only for their vertue, then do they put in vre the first point requi­site for the preseruation of their estates, namely, the re­compensing of good men. This will cause euery one to seeke out the way that leadeth to vertue, whose propertie it is to bring men to honor. And frō this good beginning will proceed the other point no lesse necessary, being the intire ornament and preseruation of Iustice, namely, the punishment of the wicked: so that all things shalbe main­tained in good order, to the benefit, rest, profit and great­nes of this French monarchie.

Of Iniustice, and of Seueritie. Chap. 38.

A pretie com­parison. AS there is but one onely waye to hitte the white, and many to misse it, by shooting either higher or lower than is requisite: so fareth it with our actions, which cannot be good but af­ter one sort, but are euill many waies. This is that whichEuerie vertue is in the midst of two vices. we noted before in discoursing of three principal vertues, called Morall, which consist in the midst of two vices, namely: too little and too much. And this may also be noted in the fourth of those vertues, whereof we intreated euen now, whose defect and contrarie vice is Iniustice, and hir excesse and counterfet follower is Seueritie. Of which vi­ces, according to the order begun by vs, we are now to discourse. This matter therefore I leaue to you my Com­panions.

They make themselues guiltie of great Iniu­stice, who being appointed of God to persecute the wic­ked with the swoord drawne, will (forsooth) keepe their hands cleane from bloud, whereas the wicked in the meane while commit murder, and offer violence vncon­trouled. But it is no lesse crueltie to punish no offence, than not to forgiue any in whomsoeuer it be: the one be­ing an abuse of clemencie, the true ornament of a soue­raigne: and the other, to turne authoritie into tyrannie. Neuertheles Magistrats in the execution of Iustice ought to take great heed, least by ouer-great seueritie they hurt more than they heale.

As a Goldsmith can make what vessel he will, when the drosse is taken from the siluer: so when the froward man is taken away from the kings presence, hisHow the thrones of kings may be establi­shed in iustice. throne shal be established in Iustice. Notwithstanding the seate of a Iudge that is too seuere, seemeth to be a gibbet alreadie erected. But we shall vnderstand of thee ARAM, the nature and effects of these vices, Iniustice, and Seuerity.

None are so peruerse, nor giuen ouer so much to the desires and concupiscences of their flesh, that they can vtterly deface through obliuion the knowledge of [Page 403] good and euill, or the inward apprehension of some di­uineAll men haue some know­ledge of good and euill, and some inward sence of a diuine nature. nature, both which are ioined together in all men. Insomuch that by reason of that which vrgeth them within their soules, they are constrained to confesse them­selues culpable for their vniust deedes before the iudiciall throne of this Deitie. Therfore with what impudencie so­euer the wicked outwardly gloze their corrupt dealings, as if they gloried in them, yet seeing they haue, aswell by the testimonie of their conscience, as by proofe and expe­rience, this knowledge euen against their wils, that Iniu­stice is vnfruitful, barren, and vngrateful, bringing foorthThe fruits of In­iustice in the wicked. nothing woorthy of any account, after many great labors and trauels which it affoordeth them, the remembrance of their vnpure deedes abateth their courage, & maketh it full of trouble and confusion. So that although a cor­rupt and naughty man, during the sway of his vitious pas­sion, perswadeth himselfe, that by committing a wicked & execrable deed, he shal enioy some great and assured con­tentation, yet the heat, thirst, and fury of his passion being ouerpassed, nothing remaineth but vile and perilous per­turbations of Iniustice, nothing that is either profitable, necessarie, or delectable. Moreouer, this troubleth his mind, that through his dishonest desires he hath filled his life with shame, danger, distrust, & terror of the iust iudge­ment of God. For these causes the Philosophers speaking of Iniustice, said very well, that there was no vice whereof a man ought to be more ashamed than of that, bicause it is a malice and naughtines that hath no excuse. For see­ing men haue this inward sence and feeling, that their ve­ry thoughts do accuse or absolue them before God, they ought to make account thereof, as of a watchman that watcheth & prieth into them to discouer all those things which they would gladly hide if they could. This caused Cicero to say, that it is more against nature to spoile ano­ther man, and to see one man to increase his riches by the hurt of another, than either death, or pouertie, or griefe, or any losse of goods, belonging either to the bodie or to fortune. And if a good man neither may nor ought for [Page 404] Vertue is to be preferred be­fore all worldlie things. profit sake, to slander, deceiue, lie, or execute any such like thing: it is certaine, that there is nothing in this world of so great value, no treasure so pretious, which should mooue vs to forgo the brightnes and name of vertuous Iniustice is a ge­nerall vice.and iust. Now, as we learned before, that Iustice was a ge­nerall vertue, so Iniustice also comprehendeth all those vices whereinto men commonly fall. For this is Iniustice, not to giue to euery one that which belongeth vnto him. In respect of God it taketh the name of Impietie, in regard of men, of deniall of rights and lawes. Our discourse is of this latter, which bringeth foorth pernitious effects after di­uers manners, destroying all duties of honestie. But not to stay ouer-long in the kinds of Iniustice, we will note How many waies a man may be vniust.this, that we are so many waies guiltie of Iniustice, as we deny to our neighbours those duties which we owe vnto them, and which our vocation requireth of vs: as also when we seeke to inrich our selues by their hinderance, whether it be openly, or by sinister and suttle meanes a­gainst christian sinceritie, which ought to shine in all our dealings. Let vs see how the Ancients hated this vice, and spake of the pernitious effects thereof. No man (saith So­crates) ought to commit any vniust act, how small soeuer it be, for any treasure, wealth, or profit, which he may hope to reape thereby: bicause all the treasures of the earth are not to be compared to the least vertue of the soule. For this cause all men iointly ought to haue this one end and intent, that when they profit themselues, they should also be beneficiall to euery one. For if all men should haue respect but to their owne, their vnitie would soone be dissolued. And although it were so (said Cato) that Iniustice did procure no perill to him that doth practise it, yet would it to all others. Plato calleth it a corrupti­on of the soule, and a ciuill sedition which neuer looseth strength, no not in those that haue it onely within them­selues. For it causeth a wicked man to be at variance with­in himselfe. It vrgeth, troubleth, and turmoileth him con­tinually, vntill it haue plunged him in the gulfe of all vi­ces: whereupon afterward he easily ouerfloweth in all impietie, not caring for any thing but to satisfie his vn­brideled [Page 405] desires. And if it fall out that they who haue the sword in hand to correct Iniustice, do either authorize or practise it themselues, then is the gate of all miseries ope­ned vpon euery one, through the vnrulie licence of the wicked, who wallow in all kind of crueltie: from whence all disorder and confusion proceedeth, to the vtter ruine and finall subuersion of most florishing townes and cities, and in the end, of empires, kingdomes and monarchies. Thus doth Iniustice disanull the force of lawes, which are the foundation of euery estate: it is an enimie to good men, and the Gardian and Tutor of the wicked. Briefly, it bringeth foorth all effects contrarie to those which we mentioned to be the fruits of Iustice, and is the welspring of the other vices that hinder dutie. Is it not Iniustice that The effects of Iniustice.giueth authoritie to murders, robberies, violent dealings, & to other damnable vices, which at this day are vnpuni­shed, and are the cause that of many great, goodly, & wel­thy families, poore widowes only and orphanes quite vn­done, do remaine, crying for vengeance, and expecting it from aboue, for the wrong that is offered to their inno­cencie? How many such are set before our eies by histo­ries, which are the light of truth? But alas the vnhappines of our age is growne to greater measure. How many of the greater sort, I meane of the Gouernors & Magistrats of this desolate kingdome, may iustly challenge that praise, whereby Pericles, Captaine and Gouernor of the Pericles.Athenians, thought himselfe more honored, than by all his braue exploits done in his life time, either in warre, or in politike gouernment, wherein he was the chiefest of his time, and which his friends laid before his eies, being rea­die to die, thereby to assure him, and to cause him to re­ioice in a true immortalitie of glorie? O my friends (said he vnto them) Fortune hath had hir part in those exploits: but I make greater account of this, that I neuer caused any of my Coun­treymen A notable ex­ample for euery ciuil Magistrate to lament, or to weare a mourning gowne, which onely thing ought to be attributed to my vertue. O excellent and ho­norable praise, which euery good man ought to seeke af­ter, and to desire: namely, to be no cause of bringing sor­row [Page 406] and griefe to the common-wealth through any acte of Iniustice. Moreouer this vertuous Athenian died wil­lingly and without repining, taking delight in an accep­table remembrance of those good turnes, which he had done to his countreymen. But contrarywise it will be a very hard matter for others, who haue been the cause of many euils to their countrey, and for all those that delight in committing iniustice, not to die in great feare, horror, and trembling, tormented with remorse of conscience for Why the life of the wicked can­not be happy.their life past. The whole course whereof cannot be much more happy, seeing euery wicked act ingendring it owne torment from the very instant wherein it is committed, through the continuall remembrance thereof filleth the soule of the malefactor with shame and confusion, with freights and perturbations, with repinings and terrible disquietnes of spirit. This is that which Plutarke saith, That euery wicked man committing a trespasse, is the prisoner of Iustice as soone as he hath done it. This life is his prison, out of which he hath no meane to depart, or to flie, but is to receiue the execution of that sentence which is giuen against him by A comparison.the soueraigne Iudge. And if in the meane time he feast it out, send presents and gifts, yea if he solace himselfe with sundry sports, delights and pleasures, it is all one as if con­demned men that were prisoners should play at dice and cardes, and vse other pastime, with the halter ouer their heads wherwith they must be strangled. But there are ma­ny men that cannot be better compared than to litle chil­dren, who seeing men worth nothing, to dance and play vpon a Theater, apparelled with cloth of gold and siluer, A comparison.or with other rich garments, and crowned with precious ornaments, haue them in great estimation and admirati­on, and thinking them happy, vntill in the end they see them pearced through with great thrusts of a speare, or hewen in pieces with swords, or behold fire comming out The wrong con­ceit which men haue of the wic­ked that pro­sper.of those goodly precious robes of gold, which consumeth them. The selfe same thing is done by them, who when they see many wicked men, either placed in great autho­ritie and dignitie, or descending of good & famous hou­ses, [Page 407] they honor, admire, and esteem them the happiest men & most at ease in the world: neuer considering that they are chasticed & punished for their offēces, before they see thē either put to death, or else quite fallē from the height of their fortune. Now seeing it is a thing flatly confessed of those that haue any knowledge of our Philosophie, and prooued sufficiently by our former discourse, that nothing can be called honorable or profitable which proceedeth of iniustice, or of malice, that excuse, which men giuen o­uer to vice, do commonly alledge to cloke their impietie withall, namely, that Iniustice bringeth with it very ripe and readie fruit, and that the punishment if there be any, commeth very late, and long time after the delight taken by the offence, hath no more any shew of reason in it. For, as we haue alreadie learned, the punishment of any sin is equall with it both for age and time. Furthermore God The punishment of sinne is equall with it both for age and time.permitteth oftentimes his diuine iudgement to be pub­likely knowen and shewed vpon the vniust: yea he decla­reth himselfe so much the more openly, by how much the lesse men exercise Iustice and vpright dealind. And yet in respect of his maiestie, we must not look vnto time, which is alwaies one and the same to him, and not future or past: yea the whole continuance of mans life is as nothing vnto All things are present with God.him, and lesse than the present instant. But if according to our carnall sences, we desire examples of the greatnes and swiftnes of his wrath, iustly kindled ouer our heads for our execrable impieties, contrary to the nature of his gen­tlenesse and benignitie, which mooued him to waite for vs a long time, who can be ignorant of them in the vn­speakable affliction of this poore France, wherein it were very hard in mans iudgement to discerne, whether is most lamentable, either iniustice, or the miserie and calamitie, which by the vengeance of God followeth it, the horrible punishment whereof the fautors of iniquitie both haue & daily do feele vpon their heads? Those common-wealths (saith Cicero) which are readie to be ouerthrowen, & haue all things forlorne and desperate in them, fall into this A sure token of a desperate common-welth.miserable issue, that they whom the lawes condemne are [Page 408] restored, and iudgements giuen are reuoked and broken. And when such things come to passe, let none be igno­rant of this, that destruction is at hand, neither can any man iustly conceiue hope of safety. What other thing canThe miserable estate of France. I say of France (I would to God I were deceiued) seeing that all Iustice is turned topsie turuie therein, the wicked are placed in authoritie, & good men driuen away: suites in law are commenced against euery one more vpon kna­uerie than equitie, corruption than integritie, fauor than vprightnes? But to the end that the greater sort, and eue­ry particular man may open his eies and behold this ship­wracke that threatneth vs: let vs consider in our Ance­stors, through the reading of histories, the like causes of the ruine, alteration, and subuersion of many very flouri­shing Estates, proceeding from the raigne of Iniustice, which being the daughter of tyrannie (as Dionysius the el­der said) must needes be of the same nature: namely, that by vsurping an vniust and intollerable dominion, it must of necessitie fall speedily into a miserable and wretched end. We haue in all our former discourses alleadged sun­drie examples of vices, which (as we said euen now) take their beginning, or at least wise are inseparably ioined with Iniustice, and heerafter we will make mention of o­thers, when we handle certaine points, which properly de­pend of this selfe same originall. In the meane time weThe deniall of Iustice dange­rous. Phillip. will heere note that the deniall of Iustice hath procured to many their death or vndoing. Phillip the first, king of Macedonia, was slaine by Pausanias a meane Gentle-man, bicause he would not let him haue Iustice against Antipa­ter, Demetrius who had offered him wrong. Demetrius the besieger, hauing receiued many requests and supplications of his subiects, threw them all into the water, as he went ouer the bridge of a riuer: whereupon his subiects conceiued such hatred against him, that within a while after his army forsooke him, and yeelded themselues to Pyrrhus his eni­mie, who draue him out of his kingdome without battell.Henrie king of Sweathland. In our time, Henrie king of Sweathland, striking with a dagger a Gentle-man that asked Iustice of him, stirred vp [Page 409] the Nobilitie and people in such sort against him, that putting him into prison, where he is at this present, they elected his yoonger brother to be their king, who nowe raigneth. But for a more woonderfull matter, we might heere rehearse, how God, to shew vnto vs his detestation of Iniustice, hath sometimes suffered his iudgement to fal out in that very howre and time, which such as were vn­iustly condemned did assigne to their vniust Iudges. In the liues of the kings of Castile, we finde that Ferdinando theA notable histo­ric of the death of Ferdinando the 4. fourth of that name, putting two knights to death more through anger than iustly, one of them cried aloud in this sort: O vniust king, we cite thee to appeere within thirtie daies before the tribunall seate of Iesus Christ to receiue iudgement for thy Iniustice, seing there is no other Iudge in earth to whome we can appeale from thy vniust sen­tence. Vpon the last of which daies he died likewise. True it is, some man may say, that death is so naturall, and the hower thereof so vncertaine, although determined, that no other cause thereof ought to be supposed, but onely necessitie. But yet when it followeth so neerely some no­table wickednes committed, and some disquietnes and torment of mind is mingled therewith in the soule, as it commonly falleth out, we may take such a death for a te­stimonie and beginning of the Iustice of God, who will not suffer the vniust man to rule any longer, but exerci­seth his iudgements diuersly in due time and season, vp­on those that are not to giue an account of their doings to men like themselues. And as for such as are of meaner estate, and lower in degree, God suffreth also many times their punishment to be notorious, and that sometime by such as are not much better than themselues. Heereupon Apollonius that great Philosopher said, that in his peregri­nation ouer three parts of the world, he maruelled most at two thinges, whereof the first was, that he alwaies sawe the greater theeues hang the lesse, and oftentimes the in­nocent. And thus it fell out in the time of king Phillip theNotable Iniu­stice committed by a Prouost of Paris. long, wherein a Prouost of Paris, named Henrie Lapperell, caused a poore man that was prisoner in the Chastelet to [Page 410] be executed, by giuing him the name of a rich man, who being guiltie and condemned, was set at libertie by him. But his reward followed him hard at the heeles: being for the same accused, conuicted, hanged, and strangled. Not long after a President of the Parliament, named Hu­gues Hugues of Cre­cy. of Crecy, met with the same fortune, for a certaine corrupt iudgement giuen by him. Therefore let euery one of vs learne to flie from this pernitious vice of Iniustice: namely, from euery action repugnant to the dutie of chri­stian charitie, and destroying the bond of humane socie­tie, through the vtter spoiling of the riuers that flow from the fountaine of honestie. And let vs be afraid through such impietie to fal into the indignation and wrath of the Almightie, to whome onely (as to the author of Iustice, and to whome all time is as nothing) it belongeth to de­fine and to determine thereof, when, after what sort, and how farre it standeth with reason, all which things are vn­knowne to vs. If he deferre sometime the punishment of Iniustice, let vs know, that it is for their greater and more greeuous condemnation, who multiplie and heape vp daily vpon their heads iniquitie vpō iniquitie. And for an example, which great men ought to follow, and not suffer Iniustice to be practised according to euery mans fancie, or vnder any other pretence whatsoeuer, we wil propound vnto them the fact of a Pagan king, who shall rise vp inArtaxerxes. iudgement against them, if they do otherwise. The Prince I meane is Artaxerxes, surnamed Longhand, and king of the Persians, who being requested by a Chamberlaine of his whome he greatly fauoured, to do some vniust thing, & hauing by his diligence found out, that he vndertooke this suit for another, who had promised him thirty thou­sand Crownes, called of them Dariques, he commanded his Treasurer to bring the like summe vnto him, and then said vnto his Chamberlaine, Take this mony which I giue thee. For in giuing it vnto thee, I shall be neuer the poo­rer, whereas if I had done that which thou requiredst ofAlexander Se­uerus. me, I should haue beene more vniust. Alexander Seuerus the Emperour handeled after another fashion, yea more [Page 411] iustly, a seruant of his, who vsed like a horse-leech of the court to sucke their bloud that had to deale with his ma­ster, by thrusting himselfe forward, and profering his means to fulfill their request for a good reward, by reason of the fauour which he bare him: which turned to the great dishonor of his imperiall maiestie, bicause a Prince ought not to make greater account of any thing, than of the grace and fauor of his gifts and benefites. This mo­narch caused him to be tied to a post and choked with smoke, making this proclamation by sound of trumpet,The punish­ment of one who sold his masters fauor▪ That they which sell smoke, should so perish with smoke. Now to enter into the last point of that matter which is here pro­pounded vnto vs, we must diligently note, that as it is the dutie of all Magistrates, and of such as haue authoritie ouer others to chastice & to punish euery malefactor, so likewise they must beware lest vnder pretēce of exercising Iustice they fall into another kind of Iniustice through o­uer-much rigor, which is as hurtfull or rather more than that vice whereof we discoursed euen now, namely, into Seueritie, which causeth them to be misliked for crueltie,Of Seueritie. and belongeth rather to a beastly and sauage nature, than to the nature of man. For clemencie and compassiō neuer ought to be separated from a good & iust sentence, which is to hold smal faults excused, or but lightly to punish thē, prouided alwayes that Iustice be not violated. Clemencie Clemencie pre­serueth a prince his throne. Prou. 20. 28. (saith the wise man) is the true preseruation of the roial throne. And therefore one of the ancients said, that it was ill to be subiect to a prince vnder whom nothing was tolerated, but worse when all things were left at randon. We may al­leage here for an example of ouer-great seueritie, the fact of Manlius Torquatus a Consull of Rome, who caused hisM. Torquatus▪ sonnes head to be cut off, bicause he fought agaynst his enimie bodie to bodie, contrary to the Edicts, and out of his ranke, albeit he came away victor. The act of Ausidius Ausidius. the Romane was more cruel & barbarous than iust, when he slew his sonne for withdrawing himselfe to take part with Catiline: vttring this speech vnto him: I did not, wretch as thou art, beget thee for Catiline, but for thy countrey. Such [Page 412] murders and cruelties deface all the commendation of Iustice, whose waies ought to be ordinary and vsuall, ru­ling rigor with gentlenes, as the rigor of discipline ought to moderate gentlenes, that the one may be commended by the other. Seneca rehearseth a crueller fact than any of the former, committed by Piso the Proconsul, who seeyng a souldior returne alone to the campe, condemned him toMost cruell se­ucritie of Piso. withstanding he affirmed that his fellow came after him. At the very instant of the execution his companion came, whereupon the captaine that had charge to see the con­demned partie executed, returned to the Proconsul with both the souldiors. But Piso being offended therwith, put them all three to death: the first, bicause he was condem­ned: the second, bicause he was the cause of the condem­nation: and the captaine, bicause he obeied not: so that he put three to death for the innocencie of one man, abu­sing his authoritie and power in most cruell maner, what soeuer rigor was vsed in those times in the ordinaunce of warlike discipline. Now to take from vs all taste of suchAugustus Caesar. barbarousnesse, let vs cal to mind an act of Augustus Caesar worthie of eternall praise, who would not condemne one that was accused of seeking his death, bicause the argu­ments and proofes were insufficient, but left him to the iudgement of God. Let vs learne therfore for the conclu­sion of our discourse to hate all kind of Iniustice in such sort, that euery one of vs seeke to profit his neighbour, ra­ting at an high price (as Euripi▪ saith) the violating of right, which is holy and sacred. And thus through the good or­der of magistrates, and reformation of euery one by him­selfe, the wicked shall haue no means to rob, to spoile by force, to take bribes, and to deceiue others, when brea­kers of iust lawes shall be punished. Then will the effect of those two sentences take place which are taken out of the holy scriptures, and written in a table in the great cham­ber of the palace belonging to the head citie of this king­dome, and which ought to be well engrauen in the harts of all Iudges: the first sentence is conteined in these [Page 413] words, Execute iudgement and righteousnesse: or otherwise I Ier. 22. 3. 5. haue sworne by my selfe (saith the Lord) that this house shall be waste. The other sentence is this: O ye Iudges, take heed what 2. Chr. 19. 6. ye do: for ye execute not the iudgements of man, but of the Lord: Matth. 7. 2. and with what iudgement ye iudge, ye shalbe iudged. For truely the crowne of praise and immortall glory is kept and pre­pared for them that walke in truth and righteousnes, but shame and dishonor, with eternall fire for those that per­seuer in vnrighteousnes.

Of Fidelitie, Forswearing, and of Treason. Chap. 39.

SVch is the corruption of our age, wherin im­pietie and malice are come in place of anci­ent innocencie, that vertue seemeth very vn­fit to be receiued and imploied in affaires, seeing the gateOf the corrup­tion of our age. is quite shut vp against hit. So that a man might aptly say, that whosoeuer should thinke to bring backe agayne, a­midst the peruerse liues and corrupt maners of this pre­sent time, the vprightnesse and integritie of ancient beha­uior, he did as much as if he offered fruites out of season,When vertue seemeth to be out of season. which being faire in sight, were notwithstanding vnfit to be vsed. Neuerthelesse we must not doubt to bring hir in sight, and to maintaine hir with all our power, who know­eth how to cause hir enimie Vice both to reuerence and feare hir, and in the end also to triumph ouer him, mauger all the power and vnder-propping, which he receiueth from the wicked. In the middest therfore of so many tre­cheries and treasons, wherof men glory now adaies, let vs not be afraid to paint them out in their colors, therby gi­uing honor to Fidelitie, which is a part of Iustice, or ra­ther Iustice it selfe: which I leaue to you my companions to make plaine vnto vs.

It is impietie to violate faith. For God who is truth, detesteth all lying: and is a terrible reuen­ger of the contempt of his name. To loue or to hate openly [Page 414] (saith Cicero) doth better beseeme a noble hart, than for a man to hide and to dissemble his will and affection.

Guile and fraud (saith Seneca) are meete weapons for a cowardly and base-minded man. Therefore we must take good heed (as Pittacus said) That fame speake not euill of vs to them vnto whom we haue given our faith. But it belongeth to thee AMANA to handle this matter.

Amongst the famous and great persona­gesWhat Faith and Fidelitie is. of olde time, no vertue was more commended, or straightlier kept and obserued than Faith and Fidelitie, which they affirmed to be the foundation of Iustice, the indissoluble bond of friendship, and the sure supporter of humane societie. Of this Faith we mind now to speake, not touching at all that religious and sacred faith, concer­ning the holy mysteries of true pietie, which is a singular gift of God his spirit, and peculiar to those that appertain to his eternall election. This therfore which respecteth the mutuall conuersation and promises of men, hath been al­ways kept vnuiolable of honorable men, & ought to be so amongst vs: bicause he that giueth his faith, layeth to pawne whatsoeuer is most precious & diuine in his soule.Of the violating of faith. So that if he forget himselfe somuch as to breake and vi­olate the same, he committeth manifest impietie, shewing that he careth not to offend God by abusing his name toLeuit. 19. 12. Deut. 5. 11. colour his lying. It were a great deale better neuer to take God to witnes, than to forsweare him in mockerie: see­ingMatth. 5. 34. the Scripture so often forbiddeth vs to take his name in vaine, to sweare falsly by it, or in any sort to defile the same. It is true that this question hath alwaies beene, and is at this daye more than euer in controuersie: namely, whether a man is bound to performe that which he hathWhether a for­ced promise is to be kept. promised and sworne to by compulsion, or no? And this sentence is receiued & approoued of many, that nothing but our Will bindeth vs to performe those things, which necessitie forceth vs to promise. But to speake according to truth, and without any particular passion, we say, that true and perfect magnanimitie suffereth vs not to pro­mise any thing, and to pawne our faith thereunto, except [Page 415] we were willing to performe it: bicause no vertuous andA wise man must neuer promise any thing a­gainst dutie. wise man ought to forget himselfe so farre, as to do or to promise any thing contrary to his dutie for any necessity, no not for death it selfe. Neither is there any thing wher­by a foole is sooner discerned from a wise man, than by promises: forasmuch as an vndiscreete man lightly pro­miseth whatsoeuer you will, and oftentimes more than is required of him: but a man of good iudgement weigh­eth his speech with sence and reason, before he gage it to any bodie, and hauing once giuen his word, he reuoketh it not, what losse or dammage soeuer may insue thereof, as he that esteemeth a great deale more of the honour of truth and fidelitic, than of his owne life, being touchedPsal. 15. 4. with vntruth and periurie. And if it were lawfull for euery one to alleadge necessitie or constraint, thereby to cloake the breach of faith, to whome might a man trust in any matter? Who doubteth but that all agreements made betweene men, whether in time of warre or of peace, or in any particular affaires betweene partie and partie, are grounded vpon a benefit, which euery one supposeth to be necessarie and profitable for himselfe, and so conse­quently that they ought not to be kept? Who doubteth but that the breach of them may easily be coloured with the like necessitie, and so vnder this goodly pretence of false right and equitie should be allowed? But what? May we be iudges for our selues, and in our owne cause? First our aduerse parties to whom we are bound must be cal­led, and must agree with vs of Iudges to determine of our promises, whether they were lawfull or vnlawfull, forced and necessary or no: according to the law, which relea­seth a man of his promise if it be vniust or vnreasonable, or if it be too burthensome vnto him, or if he were cir­cumuented by deceit, fraud, error, force, iust feare, or grie­uous hurt. But when we are both iudge and partie, and in stead of iustice seeke after force and violence, it is soone seene, that all shew of excusing the breach of faith giuen, is onely grounded vpon malice and subtiltie. This did Ly­sander Lysander a for­sworne and de­ceitfull man. admiral of the Lacedemonians vsually practise, who [Page 416] made no reckoning of Iustice but when it was profitable, accounting onely profit to be honestie, and saying, that children must be deceiued with the play of cock-all, and men with othes. Which kind of dealing argueth a man to be in truth worse in behauior towards God, than towards his enimies: bicause he that beguileth his enimie through the means of fidelitie sworne vnto him, doth sufficientlie testifie, that he feareth him, and dares not discouer vnto him that which lieth hid in his hart: and yet in the mean time he hath no reuerence or feare of the diuine maiestie from which nothing is hid, but vseth that for a couering We must keep promise with our enimie.and maske of his wickednes. We must (saith Cicero) keepe that promise vnuiolable, which we haue made to our enimie, albeit the mishaps of warre haue constrained vs to yeeld vnto it. How much lesse therfore ought we to breake our faith giuen to Of the neglect of fidelitie com­meth a custom of lying.our friends, and to those of whom we neuer receiued any thing but profite and pleasure? Through this neglect of faith we fill our soules with lying, nourishing and deligh­ting them therein, and separating them far from the truth (the fountaine of all goodnes) to lie vnto our neighbors, to deceiue and beguile them in those things, which we are able to performe, thereby destroying the bond of hu­mane societie, yea of nature it selfe, which bindeth vs both to will and to procure their good. This is that which E­penetus the Lacedemonian would teach vs, when he sayd, that liers were the cause of all the sinnes and crimes in the world. And therfore Plutarke also saith, That to lie is a ser­uile vice woorthy to be hated of all, and not to be pardoned in any, no not in slaues themselues. All they (saith Cicero) that speake one thing, and meane another, ought to be taken for faithlesse, wicked and malicious men: whereas a good man will neither faine nor dis­semble in any sort, either to buy better cheape or to sell deerer. It is not the point of a plaine, open and sincere man, or of him that is iust and vertuous, to conceale from the buyer the It is wickednes to conceale the fault of that which a man selleth.fault of that thing which he selleth, but rather of a malici­ous, deceitfull, crafty, suttle, and wicked man. And if this be a vice and sinne, not to declare the fault of that thing which is sold, how shall they be termed, who vse a thou­sand [Page 417] wordes and lies to set foorth their merchandice? Whereas good men haue always been very scrupulous & precise in keeping the truth from all kind of pollution, as that which ought to be as wel in the hart as in the mouth, in the works as in the words of euery honest man. But if Lying in a prince is most odious.lying procure blame and dishonor to al men, it doth much more to kings and princes. For seeing they are placed in such authoritie, that they may doe what pleaseth them, what need they to lie? If Machiauell and his followers, fauorers of tyrannie, had well waighed that which we read in infinite places of scripture, that God will ouerthrowe dissemblers and liers, with all their lies & subtilties, hard­ly could they commend dissimulations, deceits, treche­ries, and such like pranks, wherewith they seeke to poison the noble minds of good princes, to cause thē to degene­rate both from their natural disposition, & from the steps of such vertuous men as haue gone before them. And to this purpose I remember a decision of right concerning princes, which deserueth to be grauen in letters of gold within their lodgings & palaces: namely, That if the prince go against his promise, it ought to be reckoned amongst the cases that fall out by chance, neither may any man suppose the contrary. For the obligation is double: the one in respect of natu­rall equitie, which wil haue couenants and promises kept: The promise of a prince is tied with a double bond.the other in regard of the Prince his faith, which he must obserue inuiolable, although he receiue losse thereby, bi­cause he is the formall Warrantie vnto all his subiects, of that fidelitie which is amongst themselues: so that no fault is more detestable in a Prince than periurie. For if he that is debter and pledge for iustice be disloiall, there is no more trust to be giuen to him in all his othes: but if he be vpright, his bare word ought to be vnto him for a Of the word & faith of a princelawe, and his faith for an Oracle. God himselfe (saith the master of the sentences) is bound by his promise. Gather togither (saith he) all the nations of the earth, that they may iudge betweene me and my people, if there be any thing which I ought to haue done, and haue not perfor­med it. What is he then that will call in question, whether [Page 418] a Prince is bound to that which he hath sworne to and promised, seeing all soueraigne power is no lesse bound to the lawes of God and of nature, than the simplest that is subiect thereunto? If faith ought not to be kept with e­nimies, it is not to be giuen vnto them: and if it be lawful to capitulate with them, it is as necessarie to keepe pro­mise. Yea we may further adde, that periurie is not to be reuenged or called in question, after that peace and agree­ment togither is made: otherwise there would neuer be any assurance of peace, or end of periurie. From the selfe same fountaine of the profanation of faith, and custome in lying (it being the propertie of vice to ingender ano­ther vice for a punishment of it selfe) proceedeth that per­nitious Of Treason.plague of kingdomes and Common-wealths, I meane Treason, hated of God and men, wherewith periu­red persons being bewitched, feare not to betray them­selues, so they may betray others also, and their countrey. Whereupon they become odious to euery one, euen to those who vsed them to serue their owne turnes in disloy­all and wicked actions, and in the end they receiue the re­ward due to their execrable impieties. For this is the common affection that men beare towards such people, so to seeke them out (which notwithstanding is not the propertie of a noble hart) when they stande in feare of them, as they that want gall, or the poison of some vene­mous beasts: afterward to giue them ouer and to reiect bicause of their wickednes. If a man be called slothfull, he may become diligent: if talkatiue, hold his peace: if a glutton, temperate himselfe: if an adulterer, abstaine: if furious, dissemble: if ambitious, stay himselfe: if a sinner, amend: but he that is once called a traitor, there is no water to washe him cleane, nor meane to excuse himselfe. Notable exam­ples.Nowe, let vs come to the examples of the Ancients, and know what zeale they bare to fidelitie and hatred, to per­iurie and treason, as also what recompence commonly followed and accompanied such things, and with what reward noble-minded men did requite those that were A. Regulus.disloiall and traiterous. Attilius Regulus, a Romane of [Page 419] great credite, being taken prisoner in the Carthaginian warre, and sent to Rome vpon his faith to intreat about a peace and the exchange of captiues, so soone as he arri­ued, gaue cleane contrarie aduice in the Senate: shewing that it was not for the profit of the Common-wealth to make such an agreement. Afterward, hauing resolued with himselfe to keepe faith with the enimie, he returned to Carthage, where he was put to death very cruelly. For his eie-lids being cut off, & himselfe bound to an engine, he died with the force of waking. Demaratus king of Spar­ta, Demaratus.being in Persia with the king, against whome a great man of Persia had rebelled, was the meanes of their re­conciliation. Afterward this barbarian king hauing his said Vassaile in his power, would haue beene reuenged of him, thinking to put him to death. But the vertuous La­cedemonian turned him from it, declaring vnto him, that it would redound to his great shame, not to know how to punish him for his rebellion when he was his enimie, and now to put him to death being his seruant and friend. A reason truly well woorthie to be marked, but very slen­derly put in vre at this day. Augustus hauing made procla­mation Augustus.by sound of trumpet, that he would giue 25000. Crownes to him that should take Crocotas ringleader of the theeues in Spaine, he offered himselfe to the Emperor, and required the summe promised by him, which he cau­sed to be paid him, & pardoned him withall, to the end no man should thinke that he would take his life from him, thereby to frustrate him of the promised recompence: as also bicause he would haue publike faith and safetie kept to euery one that came according to order of Iustice: al­though in truth he might haue proceeded and giuen out processe against him. Cato the elder being in warre against Cato.the Spaniards, was in great danger by reason of the mul­titude of enimies, who sought to inclose him round a­bout. And not being then in possibilitie to be succored of any but of the Celtiberians, who demanded of him 200. Talents (which are 120000. Crownes) in hand for their wages, the Councell tolde him, that it was not by anie [Page 420] meanes to be gotten presently, but yet promised to fur­nish them with such a summe, and that within any time which they would appoint: otherwise that it was more expedient not to meddle with them. But this wise and wel aduised captaine vsed this occasion to very good purpose, by resoluing with himselfe and with his souldiers, either to ouercome their enimies, or else to die, (after they had agreed with the Celtiberians) that the Romane glorie should not be stained by the falshood of their promises. For (quoth he to his souldiers) if we get the battell, we will pay them, not of our owne, but at the charges of our enimies: but if we loose the victorie, none will be left aliue either to pay, or to de­mand any paiment. There was no talke among the Councell of these noble Romanes, how they might deceiue their e­nimies, or those whose seruice they were vrged to vse, but they determined rather to die, than to be wanting in their promise. Likewise we may note, that as their enter­prizesPeriurie and faithles persons haue alwaies had ill successe. thus grounded had good successe, so periurie and violating of right were through the vengeance of God pursued for the most part with vnhappie effects, contrarie to the platformes and desires of periured and faithles men: or at leastwife that themselues were speedily puni­shedTissaphernes. for their wickednes. And therefore when Tissaphernes, Lieutenāt to the king of Persia had broken a truce, which he had made with the Grecians, they gaue him thankes by his owne Herald, bicause he had placed the Gods, in whose name the truce was sworne, on their side. And in deede he smally prospered after that in his enterprizes.Cleomenes. Cleomenes king of Lacedemonia, hauing taken a truce for seuen daies with the Argians, assaulted them the third night after, knowing that they were in a sound sleepe, and discomfited them: which he did vnder this craftie subtle­tie, bicause (forsooth) in the foresaid truce mention was made of the day onely, and not of the night. Whereupon the Grecians noted this as a iust iudgement of his periu­rie and breach of faith, in that he was miraculously fru­strated of his principall intent, which was, by the meanes of that ouerthrow to haue suddenly taken the citie of Ar­gos. [Page 421] For the women being full of wrath and iust griefe for the losse of their husbands, by the cowardly treacherie of this Lacedemonian, tooke those weapons that were in the said towne, and droue him from the wals, not without great murder and losse of the greatest part of his armie. Whereupon within a while after he became furious, and taking a knife he ript his bodie in smiling manner, and so died. Caracalla the Emperor, trauelling with his armie to­wardesCaracalla. the Parthians, vnder pretence of marying the daughter of Artabanus their king, who came for the same purpose to meete him, he set vpon him contrary to his faith, and put him to flight, with an incredible murder of his men. But within a little after being come downe from his horse to make water, he was slaine of his owne men: which was noted as a iust punishment sent from God for his vnfaithfulnes. The Corinthians saw before their eiesThe Corinthi­ans. their cities raced to the ground, bicause they had offered violence to the Romane Embassadors, contrarie to the lawe of nations. The Emperour Iustinian receiued infiniteIustinianus the Emperor. losses and dammages for breaking his faith with the Bar­barians, and for violating the peace which he had made with the Bulgarians. Which thing procured him so great hatred of his owne subiects, by reason of the vnluckie ex­ploits of warre which followed after, that being returned to Constantinople, Leontius vsurped the kingdome vpon him, sending him into banishment after he had cut off his nosethrils. Rastrix Duke of Cleaueland, hauing falsifiedRastrix Duke of Cleaueland. his faith with Lewes king of Germanye, was put to the woorst and vanquished: and being prisouer, his eies were put out for a marke of his faithles dealing. But what need we search in antiquitie for testimonies of the fruits which commonly proceede from the breach of faith, seeing ex­amples are daily before our eies to our cost? What do we behold at this day but a doubling, yea a heape of all mise­ries,The cause of the present miserie of France. bicause faith, which is so pretious & exquisite a thing that it admitteth no comparison, hath so often beene va­lued at so small a price? The historie heereof is but too common, and the truth too apparant (to the great hurt [Page 422] of euery one) to stand vpon the proofe thereof, whereas it ought rather to be buried from all memory, if it were possible, as well to deface all spots of infamie, for which we are blamed of nations farthest of, as to take away the distrust that one hath of an other, which is so great a­mongst vs, that it hath been one principall cause of kind­ling the fire of diuision so often in this desolate kingdom. But to leaue such a pitifull matter subiect, let vs considerExamples of the entertainment which the an­cients gaue to traitors. Lasthenes. what honor and entertainment men in old time gaue to traitors, who are now adaies so welcome to the greatest. Lasthenes hauing holpen Phillip king of Macedonia to be­come master of the citie of Olynthum whereof he was an inhabitant, and complaining to the king, that certain cal­led him traitor, he receiued this only answer: that the Ma­cedonians were naturally rude and grosse, calling a spade a spade, and all things els by their proper name. WhenRymetalces. Caesar Augustus heard Rymetalces king of Thracia (who had forsaken Antonius to ioyne with him) boast of his fact, the monarch drinking to others, said with a loud voyce: I loue treason well, but I loue not traitors. And in truth what man of any good iudgement will trust him? He that betraieth his prince, his benefactor, his citie, his countrey, his kins­folks and friends into their hands to whom he is nothing so much bound, how may not he betray them also ano­therAgis. time? This did Agis, sonne of Archidamas king of Sparta very well signifie to the Ephories, who had com­manded him to take the yong men of the citie with him, and to go to the countrey of one whom they would make knowen vnto him, who had promised to guide and bring them within the castel of his citie. What (quoth he vnto them) is it a reasonable matter to commit the safetie andPausanias. life of so many valiant yong men to one that betraieth his countrey? Pausanias, captaine of the Lacedemonians ha­uing receiued 500. talents of gold of king Xerxes, promi­sed to betray the citie of Sparta vnto him. But his enter­prise being discouered, Agesilaus his father pursued him into a temple where he thought to haue saued himselfe, and causing the gates thereof to be walled vp, suffred him [Page 423] to die there of hunger: and afterward his mother cast his bodie to the dogs, and would not burie it. The like befell to Cassius Brutus, who would haue sold Rome: his father handling him after the same sort. Darius king of Persia, caused the head of his sonne Ariobarzanes to be cut off, bi­causeAriobarzanes. he sought to betraie his armie to Alexander. Brutus did the like to his children, who had conspired against their countrey, that king Tarquinius might reenter into Rome. Mahomet hauing taken Constantinople through the cowardlines and treason of Iohn Iustinian of Genua,Iustinian a Ge­n [...]an cause of the taking of Constantinople. after he had made him king according to promise, he cut off his head within three daies. A meete recompence for such a wretch, who was the cause of so great a plague to Christendome, whereby the Emperor Constantius, the Pa­triarke, and all the Christians were slaine. The Empresse with hir daughters, and with the noblest damsels she had, were led before Mahomet, and after a thousand vilanies offered vnto them, their bodies were cut in peeces. True it is that Histories are diuers touching this fact of Iustini­an. For some say, that perceiuing himselfe to be hurt in fight, he fled: whereupon most of the men of warre were discouraged: and that after he had saued himselfe in the Ile of Chios, he died, either of his wound, or for griefe & sorow, bicause he was the chiefe cause of so great a mis­chiefe to Christendome. Neither may we passe ouer in si­lence the heroicall fact of Sultan Solyman the last that di­ed,A famous and heroicall fact of Sultan Solyman. but propound it to Princes as a paterne of the hatred and punishment of periurie and treason. For sending a Bascha of his into Valona to passe into Italy both by sea and land, this Generall landed at the hauen of Castro, where at the inhabitants being astonished, yeelded them­selues vnto him vnder his othe and fidelitie, whereby he promised that they should depart, their liues saned, with bag & baggage. Neuerthelesse this Barbarian slew them all, except those whome he saw were fit to serue for slaues. But after his returne to Constantinople, the great Seigni­or being aduertised of his disloialtie, caused him to be strangled, & sent backe all his prisoners with their goods [Page 424] into Italy. Truly an act woorthie such a Prince, who, if he had beene endued with the true knowledge of God and of his Church, deserued the first place amongst the great ones of his time. Now to end our discourse, let vs learne to know the excellency of faith, which is such a thing, that whosoeuer laieth it in pawne, bindeth his safetie, his ho­nor, and his soule to him, vnto whome he giueth it, and committeth manifest impietie against God, whē he brea­keth and violateth the same: vnles he had vowed it for the performance of some wicked deede, with which both diuine and humane law dispense. Let vs know also, that it is the beginning and foundation of a great and notableCato commen­ded for his truth vertue to be giuen to truth, that it was of such credite a­mongst the Ancients, that in Cato his time, when any man rehearsed a strange thing and hard to be beleeued, this prouerbe went of him, (bicause he was knowne through­out the whole course of his life to be a louer of truth) This is not credible, although Cato himselfe should speake it. And thus by the examples of so many famous men, let vs in such sort be stirred to hate lying, whereof Satan is the fatherEphes. 4. 25. Luk. 10. 37. and author, that following the counsell of S. Paule, we speake the truth euery one to his neighbour, who is euery one that needeth our helpe, and let all faining and dissi­mulation be banished from vs, and all roundnes and in­tegritie of hart and manners appeere in all our actions: let vs hate periurie and treason, periured and traiterous persons, knowing that faith being taken away, the whole foundation of Iustice is ouerthrowne, al bonds of friend­ship broken, and all humane societie confounded.

Of Ingratitude. Chap. 40.

AS the remembrance of an euil is kept a long time, bicause that which offendeth is veryThe memorie of euill things is fruitfull, but of good things barren. hardly forgotten: so we commonly see, that the memorie of benefits receiued is as suddenly vanished & lost, as the fruite of the good turne is perceiued. Which [Page 425] thing doth so ill beseeme a man well brought vp and in­structed in vertue, that there is no kind of Iniustice, which he ought more to eschew. And therefore my Compani­ons, I thinke that according to the order of our discourse, we are nowe to speake of the vice of Ingratitude, that knowing the ignominie therof, and the pernitious effects which flowe from it, we may beware of spotting our life therewithall.

An vngratefull person can not be of a noble mind, nor yet iust. And therefore (as Sophocles said) a man is to remember him often of whome he hath receiued curtesie and pleasure. For one good turne begetteth ano­ther, and euery gentle hart easily pardoneth all iniuries, except vnthankfulnes, which it hardly forgetteth.

Ingratitude maketh men impudent, so that they dare ioine togither to hurt those that haue been their friends, and them to whom they are bound both by blood and nature. Let vs then heare ASER discourse more amply of this pernitious vice.

If man had not shewed himselfe vnthankfull for the vnspeakeable benefits which he had receiued ofIngratitude the cause of the sin and death of man. his Creator, by eating of the fruite of the tree of life at the perswasion of Satan, contrarie to his expresse commande­ment to whome he owed all obedience, it is certaine that neither sinne nor death, neither through them any kind of miserie and calamitie should haue had any power ouer him. But as by his Ingratitude he neglected his obedience to his Lord and Creator, so it seemeth also that his pu­nishment was according to the manner of his offence. For his owne members, which before were in subiection to the will of his spirite, rebelled against it, and that with such force, that they led him often captiue into the bon­dage of sinne. Now although we are necessarily and iustly made inheritors of the same curse both of sinne & death, yet how become we so dull of vnderstanding, as to desire with cheerefulnes of hart, and without constraint, to suc­ceede him in the cause therof, I meane Ingratitude, which we ought to hate in greater measure, and to slie from it [Page 426] more than from death it self, by reason of the euils whichNo mans life void of Ingrati­tude. it hath brought vpon vs? Notwithstanding, if we looke narrowly into the iustest mans life that is, it will be a hard matter, yea altogither vnpossible, to find it purged and exempted of this detestable vice, aswell towards God as towards his neighbours. But this is farre woorse, to be­hold the greatest part of men to nourish and feede their soules with Ingratitude, as if they tooke singular delight therein, by accustoming their mindes to keepe very dili­gently the memorie of the aduersities and iniuries which they suffer, and to let the remembrance of those graces and benefits which they receiue, slip away incontinently, euen as soone as the pleasure of them is past. Whereas du­tie bindeth all persons to esteeme as a great benefit, all fa­uour, how little soeuer it be, which the heauens or mer impart vnto them, and to preserue it in perpetuall memo­rie, as in a most safe Treasurie, wherein they may keepe & lay vp those good things which they receiue. But contra­riwise, vnthankefull men suffer the remembrance of their greatest felicities to slide away suddenly: which is the cause that they are alwaies void of happines, of rest, and tranquillitie, and full of vnquietnes & vncertaine desires, which is an argument of the imperfection of their reason, and of their ignorance of that which is good. This is thatThe life of the ignorance is vn­thankfull. which Seneca saith, that the life of the ignorant is vn­thankful, wauering, & vnstaied in things present, through the desire of things to come. And as it is the propertie of an ignorant man to be alwaies troublesome to himselfe, so from Ingratitude and the forgetfulnes of our prosperi­tie, proceede cares & melancholie passions to no purpose, which consume men, & pull on age vpon them more than yeeres. For it is vnthankfulnes that causeth vs to be neuer contented with our present estate, but to complaine and murmure, in steede of giuing praise (as it becommeth vs) to him that sendeth vs far better things than we deserue. Vpon the least touch of affliction, the Ingratitude for a million of graces receiued before, causeth vs to cry out that we neuer had any thing but mishap: whereas rather [Page 427] we ought to take aduersitie for a blessing and testimonie of the loue of God towards vs, being assured that by Iu­sticeGod disposeth all thi [...]gs by Iustice. rightly ordeined, he dispenseth pouertie and riches, health & sicknes, honor and contempt, according as he seeth it expedient for euery one of vs. Yea, it is necessarie, by reason of the intemperancie of our flesh, which is redie to cast off the yoke of the Lord when he handleth vs ouer­gently, that he should reiue vs in hard with the bridle, and keep vs within the compasse of some discipline, least we wholy giue ouer that seruice & obedience which we owe vnto him. But to vexe our selues vpon euery occasion, and as often as things fal out contrary to our inconstant & re­bellious will, which for the most part is ignorant of that which belongeth vnto it, is that which Pythagoras sayd, To eat our hart, or to offend & wound our soule and spirit, by consuming them with cares & griefs: as also not to know that one cause which most of all troubleth this miserable life, is the suddain entrance of sorowes and irksomnes in­to the hart, which afterward will not depart out of it but by litle and litle. These are melancholy passions voyd of reason, which (as Plato saith) proceed from naughty fumes and bitter vapors gathered togither within vs, and which ascend and mingle themselues amidst the passages of the soule. Euen as our strange and vnwoonted dreams testifie & signifie, that there is within vs repletion of grosse & glu­ish humors, & perturbations of the vital spirits: so are those euil vapors which darken our senses, & dim the eies of ourThe vapors wherwith the eyes of the mind are dim­med. soule: namely, ignorance, rebellion, arrogancie, murmu­ring, vnsatiable desires & other inward corruptions which ingratitude stirreth vp and nourisheth, and which hinder vs from acknowledging the benefits that God bestoweth vpon vs, either towards him by thanksgiuing, or towards his creatures by good deeds, which he accepteth as done to himself. For only God needeth nothing, neither asketh any thing for himself, but only willeth vs not to be vnthāk­ful for that which it pleaseth him to giue vs. And through this self same fountain of the corruptions of our soule we are bewitched with vnthankful forgetfulnes of those good [Page 428] turns which we receiue from our like: yea vpon the least dislike of them, which either with, or without reason we forge in our braines, we say, that neuer any did vs good. The vassaile, for the least deniall or hard countenaunce which he receiueth of his lord, forgetteth all the good turnes, furtherances and fauours, which before that time he had done vnto him. The sonne complaineth of the fa­ther, the brother of the brother, the friend of the friend, the seruant of the master. Alas we see but too many such vngrateful wretches in France, who euē betray & sel daily them, of whom they hold all their aduancement & great­nes. And if vnthankfulnes be familiar with the meaner sort, let vs not thinke that it is farther off from those ofOf the ingrati­tude of great men. higher calling. For vpon euery light occasion, especially if a man frame not himselfe to that vice which they haue in greatest recommendation, they easily forget all the ser­uice that hath been done vnto them by reason of some new-come guest, who will shew himselfe a seruiceable mi­nister of their pleasures. This commeth to passe soonest, when they grow vp and increase in calling and greatnes, bicause commonly as they mount vp in calling (not be­ing well instructed in vertue) they waxe worse and worse in behauior. But let them boldly take this for an infalli­ble rule, that an vnthankfull prince cannot long retaine a good man in his seruice. For the hope of reward (saith Plutarke) is one of the elements and grounds of vertue, and of that honor, bountie and humanitie, wherwith the prince recompenceth vertuous men, thereby prouokingReward and ho­nor nourisheth vertue & Artes. and alluring them to seeke the welfare of his estate. This also is that which procureth the proceedings of Artes and Sciences, and that which bringeth foorth notable wits: as contrarywise, all these things languish that are extin­guished by litle and litle through the ingratitude and co­uetousnes of those that rule. The ancients said not with­outImpudencie & Ingratitude are companions. cause, that impudencie was the companion of ingra­titude. For if no beast (as they say) is so shamelesse as anThe description of impudencie. impudent, who is he that may be said to haue lesse shame, than an vnthankful body? Impudencie (saith Theophrastus) [Page 429] is a contempt of glory, wrought in a man through the desire of vile and filthie gayne: and that man is impudent that boroweth some thing of him whome he purposeth to deceiue. Are not these the proper effects of the vice of Ingratitude, which seeketh nothing else but to drawe away the commo­ditie and profite of euery one, being vnwilling to doe good to any, or to requite a pleasure receiued, neither ca­ring for true glory and immortall honor, which followeth euery vertuous action grounded vpon dutie and honesty? And truly it is a very hard matter for them to be answera­ble to their honor, who seeke their owne profit as much as may be. For we must know that in equitie and reason there is a difference betweene duetie, and that which we commonly call profit: yea they are distinct things, and se­paratedDutie and profit are two distinct things. one frō the other, as honestie is from such earthly commoditie. This latter maketh men voyd of feare to breake a sunder and to dissolue whatsoeuer was ordeined and ioyned togither both by the law of God and man, so that they may gaine thereby. But the other cleane con­trary, causeth them to imploy liberally their goods, tra­uell, industrie, and whatsoeuer else is in their power, that they may profit euery one, and that without hope of any recompence: albeit they that receiue good turnes are bound to returne againe the like to their benefactors ac­cording to their abilitie, and to acknowledge their kind­nes. For this cause amongst the lawes of Draco established among the Athenians, there was a commandement, that if any man had receiued a benefit of his neighbor, and it were prooued against him long time after, that he had been vnthankfull for it, & had ill acknowledged the goodA law against vnthankful persons. turne receiued, I say, that such a one should be put to death. And although no histories are able to shew vnto vs any kings or princes, which surmounted, yea, which matched Alexander the great in munificence and libera­litie, or Iulius Caesar in pardoning iniuries, yet we read of them, that when they had knowledge of an vngratefull person, Alexander neuer gaue vnto him, nor Caesar euer forgaue him: so greatly haue vertuous men alwayes ha­ted [Page 430] The Storke a gracefull bird. ingratitude. It is reported of the Storke, that as often as she hath yong, she casteth one out of the neast for the hire of the house, and reward of him that lodged hir. O barbarous ingratitude, to behold him that hath been lod­ged, serued, and brought vp in a house, and that with the sweate and labor of another, to seeke and to endeuor the spoil of all that is therin, euen to the honor, & oftentimes the life of his host! Is it not the same vice of vnthankful­nes that soweth dissentions and quarels between the chil­drenThe fruits of ingratitude. & the father, between brethren, kinffolks & friends, and all for want of acknowledging one towards another, that bond of nature wherewith we ought to be tied, and that secondary supply of good turns, which knit vs vnse­parably, and make vs daily beholding vnto them, if we consider exactly the nature of our estate, which cannot stand without the succor and aide of many, how great so euer we be? But what? We see by experience that which one of the Ancients said, That all humane things growe to be old, and come to the end of their time, except Ingratitude. For the greater the encrease of mortall men is, the more doth vnthank­fulnesse Examples a­gainst ingra­titude. Pyrrhus. augment. And yet we may note many examples in histories against this vice, which ought to awaken vs in our dutie. Pyrrhus is exceedingly commended by Histo­riographers, bicause he was gentle, and familiar with his friendes, ready to pardon them when they had angred him, and very earnest and forward in requiting & recom­pencing those good turnes which he had receiued. Which caused him to be grieued aboue measure for the death of a friend of his: not (as he said) bicause he saw that befall him which is common and necessarily incident to the na­ture of man, but bicause he had lost all means of acknow­ledging vnto him those benefits which he had receiued: whereupon he reprooued and blamed himselfe for delay­ing and deferring it ouer-long. For truly money lent may well be restored to his heires that did lend it: but it go­eth to the hart of a man that is of a good, noble, and ex­cellent nature, if he cannot make the selfe same man that benefited him, to feele the recompence of those pleasures [Page 431] which he receiued. This caused the ancients not onely to feare the note of ingratitude towards their friends, but also to contend with their enimies which of them should do most good, and shew greatest curtesie to his compani­on, as the same Pyrrhus did behaue himselfe towards the Romanes, who had giuen him intelligence of a treason that was in hand against him. For he to acknowledge this good turne, sent backe vnto them a great number of pri­soners taken in warre, which were then in his custodie, and would not let them pay any raunsome. But the Ro­manes, being vnwilling that he should excell them in a­ny kind of beneficence, as also bicause they would not giue occasion that any should thinke they meant to re­ceiue occasion that any should thinke they meant to re­ceiue a reward for not consenting vnto a wicked act, sent him as many prisoners of his for a counter-change. Cir­cerius Circerius. who had been secretarie to the great Scipio, when he perceiued that he was a competitor, and ioint-suter for the Pretorship with the sonne of the same Scipio, he feared so greatly least he should be noted with ingrati­tude towards his sonne, vnto whom he was so greatly bound, and of whom he had receiued his aduancement, that putting off the white garment which they vsed to weare that sued for offices, he became a sollicitor for Sci­pio, and procured him that honourable estate wherewith himselfe might haue been furnished, preferring immortal renowne before that, as one that would not shew himselfe vnthankful towards them vnto whom he was beholding. We read of a barbarous Turke, by countrey an Arabian,A notable histo­rie of an Arabi­an Turke. and Admiral of the Infidels in their warre against Baldu in king of Ierusalem, who not willing to suffer himself to be ouercome in beneficence, much lesse to beare the name of an vnthankfull body towards the said prince, who had once set him & his wife at libertie when they were his pri­soners, went by night vnto him into a towne whither he was retired after the losse of a bartell, & declared vnto him the purpose of his companions: wherupon he led him out of the town, and conducted him vntil he had brought him out of all danger. Moreouer as concerning that which we [Page 432] haue alreadie touched, that great men ought to haue spe­ciall regard to this, that they be not vnthankfull, but re­ward liberally men of desert, forasmuch as this point be­longeth principally to the vertue of liberalitie, which sub­iect is sufficient for a seuerall discourse, we wil content our selues without any further addition, with the propoun­dingBaiazet. of a notable example of Baiazet, emperour of the Turkes touching this matter. This man being aduertised at the taking of the town of Modona from the Venetians of the valure of a yong Ianitsarie of the age of 22. yeeres, who was the first that mounted vpon the wall, wherupon 30000. Ianitsaries mo being mooued therewith were im­boldned to doe the like, gaue him presently an office of Sangeat, which is one of the greatest & richest estates next to the Baschas, and is valued at 10000. duckats in yeere­ly reuenues. Now if we desire to follow to the vttermost of our power, the noble courage of these famous perso­nages, that so we may not fall into the shamefull vice of ingratitude, this will helpe vs greatly, if we alwais esteeme the benefit which we receiue of another, greater than itA mean to keep vs from ingra­titude. is: and contrarywise, repute that lesse than it is, which we giue. For thereby we shall feele our selues vrged, and as it were bound voluntarily to continue to doe good to our like, and so preserue the bond of humane so­cietie inuiolable. Neither let vs (as proud and vain-glori­ous men do, who vaunt that they stand in need of none) disdain to receiue a pleasure of our friends, although they be of lesse calling than we, when they desire our friend­ship. For if it be an honest thing to do good to all, it can­not be dishonest to receiue likewise of all, bicause a recei­uer is as needefull as a giuer for the accomplishing of aAnother meane for the same. good turne. Furthermore, this will be another great oc­casion of preseruing the common & mutuall bond, wher­by we stand bound one to another, and of banishing all ingratitude from amongst men, if we obserue this pointArtaxerxes thankfully ac­cepted a litle water. alwais, to requite double if we can that good turne which we receiue of another. Artaxerxes king of Persia disdai­ned not the water which a poore handycraftsman, as he [Page 433] saw him passe by, brought from a riuer in his hands and gaue him, but receiued it with a smiling and cheerefull countenance, measuring the grace of the gift, not accor­ding to the value of the present, but according to his good will that offered it. He thought it no lesse an acte of magnanimitie and kinglie bountie to take small presents in good part, and to receiue them with a good counte­nance, than to giue greater. Againe, we are to know, that a good man must neuer giue ouer to do good to all, not­withstanding any pretence of Ingratitude wherwith they may be noted, whome he hath alreadie bound vnto him. For (as Plato saith) that is true vertue, which setteth it selfVertue is a suffi­cient recom­pence to it selfe. on worke, in respect of no other end than of it selfe: yea vertue is a very sufficient recompence vnto it selfe. So al­though a man haue occasion to be grieued at an vnthank­full person, yet he hath no libertie to repent him of the good turne which he hath done him. Yea the vnwoorthi­er he is that receiueth a benefit, the more is he to be com­mended from whome it commeth. And we may assure our selues that that thing onely is giuen, which is giuen without any respect. For if there be hope of recompence, the benefactor deserueth not at all the name of a liberall man, but of one that giueth out to vsurie. Therefore Cicero misliketh the rehearsing of duties done one to another, saying: that those men are odious which vpbraid the good turnes they haue done, the remembrance of which the re­ceiuer ought to retaine, and the giuer must passe them o­uer in silence: seeing the greatest contentation, which an excellent and noble-minded man can take in his glorious deedes and actions, is to see himselfe adorned with that vertue which is profitable to others, but to it selfe is fruit­les, painfull, and perillous. To the ende therefore that we may reape profit by all that hath beene heere discoursed, seeing we knowe by ouer-many experiences vnto what mischiefe Ingratitude hath made vs subiect, let vs awakenThe sleepe of the spirite is woorse than death. our spirits out of the deepe sleepe of ignorance, which hath so long time possessed them, considering that (as Py­thagoras said) the sleepe of the spirite is worse than death. [Page 434] Therefore let vs watch in spirite, that both with hart and voice we may sing and set foorth the vnspeakeable bene­fits that are daily offered vnto vs by the goodnes of God, whereof we shall be made partakers through his grace, if our frowardnes be no let vnto vs. Let our ioy, contentati­on and pleasure be in them that destroy and driue farre from vs all irkesomnes, and sad melancholie, and let vs take singular delight in profiting one another by good turnes and benefits: yea let vs shewe that we haue such noble minds, that no Ingratitude can turne vs aside from the desire of doing good to all. Lastly, let vs recompence double, & reward withoutreckoning those good turnes, which we receiue of others, rather fearing least we should be ouercome in beneficence, than in worldly reputation and glorie.

Of Liberalitie, and of the vse of riches. Chap. 41.

DIuine Plato handling good and euill things, saith: That Prudence, Temperance, Forti­tude, & Iustice, are good things, and that their contraries are e­uill, namely: want of Prudence, Intemperance, Cowardlines, and Iniustice. As for the goods of Fortune, and of the bodie, as riches, glorie, friends, & ho­nor, beautie, health, strength, and dexteritie, he calleth them meane or indifferent things, which of themselues [Page 435] are neither good nor bad, but become either the one or the other, as they are vsed with prudence, or abused by imprudence and want of discretion. Nowe seeing we en­tred yesterday into those points that depend of Iustice, I thin ke the sequele of our matter requireth of vs the hand­lingWhat Liberali­tie is. of Liberalitie, which is nothing else but an excellent vse of those meanes which God putteth into our handes for the succouring of many: which vertue (as Cicero saith) is altogither ioined to Iustice, and ought to be guided by moderation and reason. Nowe my Companions, I leaue the discourse of this matter to you.

The vnstable riches of earthly treasure (as Agapetus wrote to Iustinianus) imitate the course of theRiches [...] the waters. floating waters. They abound for a little while to such as thinke they haue them, and suddenly they returne backe againe and go to others: but the treasure of Liberalitie and largesse, onely abideth still with him that possesseth it.

The habite of Liberalitie is a garment that neuer waxeth old, and charitie towards the poore is an incorruptible ornament. Diligence is sufficient to make a man rich when meanes are offered, but nobility of mind is requisite in the bestowing of great riches vpon com­mendable things. To this purpose Plato saith, that a nig­gard sometime is not wicked, but neuer good. Now then ACHITOB, instruct vs sufficiently in this goodly matter.

Seeing Liberalitie is a vertue betweene these two vices, Couetousnes, and Prodigalitie, and seeing the iudgement of reason ought to be the director and mai­ster of giuing, and of free Liberalitie, that it be not abused in delights, or fauour of the wicked, but vsed with a pru­dent and ripe deliberation; Where, When, and Asmuch as ought to be, I am of opinion that we may not vnfitly ap­propriate the effects of this vertue of Liberalitie, to the good vse of Riches, which of themselues are not able to make a man better or more happy, as we were before suf­ficiently taught: but if they be ioined with the know­ledge of true honestie, and perfect goodnes, they offer How riches may be well vsed. [Page 436] meanes vnto him whereby he may the better execute his good and honest inclinations, to the profite and reliefe of all them that stand in neede. Heereupon we must bestow onely whatsoeuer we haue more than necessarie: first vp­on them that are of our blood and kindred, then vpon all indifferently that want our helpe. And this is such an excellent and commendable deede, that Aristotle and allAristotles opini­on concerning a happie life de­stitute of bodilie and outward goods. the Peripatecians maintained this opinion, that a happie life which consisteth in the perfect vse of vertue, could not be in all respects absolute, if it wanted the assistance of bo­dilie and externall goods, which are as instruments to further a man in the good and vertuous execution of his honest desires. But we shewed heeretofore by good rea­son, and according to the opinion of the Academicks and Stoicks, that vertue onely is sufficient of it selfe to make a man liue happily, and that his vertue cannot be either more honored, or disgraced through the abundant ha­uing or not hauing of the goods of fortune, and of the bodie, seeing all other things receiue their glorie from vertue, and are not able to adde any thereunto. And ther­foreA poore man may be liberall. a poore vertuous man is not kept from any perfect vse of vertue, no not of Liberalitie, which consisteth not in wasting much wealth, but in succouring the afflicted wil­lingly, and in helping euery one according to abilitie. For this cause the poore womans mite was esteemed of God for a greater gift, than were all the presents of the rich, bicause they gaue of their abundance, and she of that litle which she had. In this manner then euery good man may iustly deserue the name of liberall, neither may any man excuse himselfe for not practising liberalitie according to his abilitie. But chiefly rich and mightie men are bound thereunto by that commandement giuen vnto them inLuke 16. 9. the scripture, to make them friends with the riches of ini­quity. They must take good heede that they passe not the bounds of this vertue of Liberalitie, but strictly obserue those three points alreadie touched by me, namely: that they be liberall, Where, When, and Asmuch as is requisite. For when Princes bestow estates, offices, or monie, vpon [Page 437] vnwoorthie persons, they giue where, and more than theyHow princes passe the limites of liberalitie. ought. And if in time of warre, or calamities of their peo­ple, they giue to flatterers, dancers, and ministers of their pleasures, and consume much vpon feasts, playes, Turneis, and Masks, they spend when and where they ought not, de­seruing therby the name of prodigall men, and louers of riot and superfluitie, howsoeuer flattering courtiers labor to disguise such wastfull spendings with the name of lar­gesse and liberalitie. But such superfluous expences bring foorth effects contrary to the vertue and dutie of a king, causing princes to leuie extraordinarie taxes and tributes vpon no iust necessitie, which is wholy to ouerthrow the vse of liberalitie. And this is done also by men of mea­nerWhen the infe­rior sort passe the bounds of liberalitie. calling, when in their actions and expences they pro­pound to themselues an other ende than good workes grounded vpon the loue of their neighbors according to charitie. Cicero giueth vs a very good precept against the opinion of many in our time, who giue out in speech, that they are borne to do great things, namely, to practise li­beralitie, and being poore of worldly goods, seeke to in­rich themselues by vnlawfull and vniust meanes, that they may bring to passe their loftie desires: thinking after­wards through good-deeds and great liberalitie to make amends for that fault which they haue committed. But (as that father of Philosophie saith) our goods and patri­monie must be iustly gotten, not by dishonest and hateful gaine: secondly, we must profite as many as we can, so that they be worthie thereof. Moreouer a man may and ought to increase it by reason, diligence, and sparing, but to maintaine liberalitie rather than to minister vnto lust, voluptuousnes, or heaping vp of treasures. And yet now a daies these are the principall occasions for which riches are desired, which as they increase, so we will haue our traine augmented, and our table to be answerable there­unto. Then although ouer-great abundance remaine, yet we exercise very coldly the true works of liberalitie, which are to succor the needie. But this is to be farre separated from the commendable end, and good vse of riches, wher­of [Page 438] all that we haue ouer and aboue our necessitie ought toAbout what we are to bestow the ouerplus of our wealth. be imploied in the seruice of the common-wealth, in re­lieuing the poore, diseased, afflicted, and prisoners, in pro­curing the good bringing vp of youth, and generally in exercising all other deeds of pietie: accounting it great gaine to helpe the poore, seeing God is the rewarder ther­of. Amongst the ancient Romanes there was a law keptA notable law amongst the Romanes. inuiolably, That no man should presume to make a publike feast, except before he had prouided for all the poore of his quarter. And they accounted it a great shame and offence to the com­mon-wealth to see any man beg in the streets. Therefore Plato said, that where there are beggers in a towne, there are also thieues & church-robbers. Now if we that beare the name of Christians, and acknowledge the poore to be members of Iesus Christ, are not ashamed to banquet and feast, when as in the meane time the needy crie at our gates, and almost die of hunger, doe we not thinke that these Heathen men shall rise in iudgement before that great and iust Iudge, to accuse and condemne vs as thieues and church-robbers, and chieflie them that maintaine their delights and pleasure with the goods of the poore, towards whom the liberall distribution of our owne wealth especially ought to be extended both by the lawe of God and man? We must feede the poore, and not kill them: but to denie them nourishment, or toHow Epami­nondas com­pelled a rich man to be li­berall. driue them from vs, is to kill them. For this cause Epami­nondas captaine generall of the Thebanes, hauing know­ledge of a very rich man that had no care of the poore in the towne, sent a poore needie fellow vnto him, and com­manded him vnder great penaltie to giue presently with­out faile 600. crownes to that poore man. The citizen hearing this commandement, came vnto him to know the occasion and cause thereof: It is (quoth Epaminondas) bicause this man being honest is poore, and thou which hast rob­bed greatly the common-wealth, art rich: compelling him thereu­pon to be liberall in despite of his teeth. So carefull were the an­cients to helpe them that had need, and to shew thēselues enimies vnto them that made no account of the poore. [Page 437] But if we should diligently search all histories and deeds of famous men, yet could we not find a more notable ex­ample,Cimō a notable paterne of the true vse of riches. or worthy to be folowed than that of Cimon the A­thenian, who hauing gottē great wealth honorably, both for himself and his country, by the taking and ouerthrow of many Barbarians and townes belonging vnto them, knew neuerthelesse how to bestow it liberally with grea­ter glory and honor, by relieuing all his poore countrey­men to whom his house was as an hospitall wherein they were all nourished and fed at an ordinarie that was com­mon to so many as would come thither, which was furni­shed, not with daintie and delicate fare, thereby to occasi­on rich folks to seeke it out, but with many common sorts of victuals in all plentie and abundance, and that for a great number of persons. This he did chiefly, as he sayd, to the end that poore honest men might haue the more leasure to imploy themselues about the affaires & seruice of the common-wealth, and not be diuerted from that through trauell and care to get their liuing by the exer­cise of handicrafts. Besides, he caused all the inclosures, hedges and ditches of his lands and inheritance to be ta­ken away, that strangers which passed by, and his owne countreymen that wanted, might take of the fruits that were there according to their necessitie. Now if this ver­tue of liberalitie be praise-woorthie in all persons that vse it well according to their abilitie, it is most of all necessa­rie, honorable and profitable for kings and princes, headsLiberalitie most necessarie for princes and great men. and captains of armies, gouernours of estates and com­mon-wealths, as that which procureth vnto them, more than any other thing, the good will of euery one, wherein the chiefe strength and stay of their greatnesse consisteth. But withall they haue great need of prudence and iustice, especially soueraigne princes, to distribute liberally and according to harmonicall proportion their giftes, graces, and good turnes, whether they be estates, offices, benefi­ces, knighthoods, exemptions, freedoms, and other re­compences due as rewards to their subiects, according as euery one deserueth. It belongeth principally to them to [Page 440] The lawes of liberalitie. keep religiously and from point to point the lawes of li­beralitie, marking well to whom they giue, how much is giuen, at what time, in what place, to what end, and their owne abilitie that giue. Moreouer a soueraigne must looke that recompence go before gift, by rewarding first those that haue deserued, before he giue to thē that haue deserued nothing: and aboue all things he must measure his largesse at the foote of his power. But when the iust rewards of subiects and honest men are distributed a­mongst the vicious, strangers, and vnwoorthy persons, this is that which oftentimes setteth florishing estates onA common mis­chief which fo­loweth the greater sort. fire. There is neuer any want of flatterers and of impu­dent crauers about kings, whose onely drift is to sup vp the bloud, gnaw the bones, and sucke the marow of prin­ces and their subiects, to satisfie their foolish & vnprofita­ble expences, which are such and so great, that a man is well at ease to giue them any thing, they are alwais so nee­die and monylesse, and sticke not to say that they neuer receiue good of their masters. In the meane while, they that haue best deserued of the common-wealth, are com­monly remooued furthest from their maiesties: which commeth to passe both by the ignorance of the greater sort, who make but a bad choice of seruants worthy their fauour, as also bicause the honor & credite of good men forbiddeth them by flattery and begging to seek after the rewards of vertue, which should be offred vnto them. But not to wander farre from our matter subiect, let vs now consider of some notable examples of the Ancients con­cerning this wherof we haue here discoursed. It was by hisThe liberalitie of Alexander, magnificall and incomparable liberalitie, that Alexander the great made a way for his noble plat-formes, whereby he became monarch of three parts of the world, distribu­tingTo the Mace­donians, liberally all his demains amongst the Macedonians, as before we mentioned. But what a notable testimonie of this his liberalitie did he giue a fresh, when during theTo all debtors in his armie, warre he caused this to be published in his armie, that all they that were indebted vpon any occasion whatsoeuer, should bring their creditors vnto him, and he would dis­charge [Page 441] all their debts? Which thing he likewise perfor­med. Moreouer, who will not admire the liberality which all his life time he exercised towards the learned men of his time? We read that he gaue at one time to his maisterTo Aristotle. Aristotle, 800. Talents, which amount to 480000. crownes, as a reward for his paines, trauels, and expences which he had beene at in describing the nature and propertie of li­uingTo Anaxarchus. creatures. He sent to Anaxarchus the Philosopher 50. Talents, which are 30000. Crownes, but he refused them, saying: that he knewe not what to doe with so great a summe. What (said Alexander then) hath he no friendes to pleasure, seeing all king Darius wealth will not suffice me to distri­bute To Perillus. amongst mine owne? Perillus besought him to giue him some monie towards the mariage of his daughters, wher­vpon he gaue to him also 50 Talents. And when he told him that it was too much by halfe, he replied thus: If half be enough for thee to take, yet is it not enough for me to giue. Like­wiseTo an Egyptian. he gaue to a poore Egyptian asking his almes, a rich and populous citie, & when the other all astonished sup­posed that he mocked him: Take (quoth he to him) that which I giue thee: for if thou art Biace that demandest, I am A­lexander Caesar a liberall Prince. that giueth. The first Monarch of the Caesars, is he not also exceedingly praised of Historiographers for the liberallest Prince of his time, and for such a one as shewed in deede, that he loued not riches in warre, that afterward he might at his pleasure liue in delight, or abuse them a­bout his owne pleasures, but that they were the common price and reward of vertue, which he laid vp to recom­pence valiant and honest men withall? Of which reward he said he would haue no part, but only distribute it to e­ueryAntonius a magnificall Prince, but vo­luptuous. one according to his desert. Antonius one of his suc­cessours, sought to imitate him in this bountifull libera­litie. For proofe heereof may serue that commandement, which he gaue to his Treasorer to double the halfe of 2500. Crownes, which he had giuen to one of his fauo­rits, whereas his Treasorer that brought him the saide summe, when he beheld it, thought that he should haue diminished the gift. But he stained this vertue with a per­petuall [Page 442] blot and infamie, which caused his destruction, in that he applied it to the seruice and maintenance of his delights and pleasures, and abused it in the fauor and be­halfe of the wicked, which is al one in great men as if theyArchelaus gaue not to the vn­woorthy. themselues were authors of vice and iniquitie. Archelaus king of Macedonia, may serue vnto them for a notable example, whereby they may learne to keepe themselues in their estates from such a pernitious euill. This king be­ing requested by a Minion of his Court to giue him a cup of gold wherein he dranke, deliuered it to his Page, com­manding him to beare and giue the same to Euripides, who was there present, and then said to the other: As for thee, thou art woorthie to aske, and to be denied also: but Eu­ripides How Antigonus denied one that was importu­nate. is woorthie of gifts, although he aske not. Antigo­nus the elder being importunately desired by one that was good for nothing, and that counterfaited the Cynick Philosopher, to giue him a drachma, which might be in value about foure pence halfepenie, made answer: that it was no meete gift for a king. And when the other replied, that he should then giue him a Talent, he answered: it isTitus a good & liberall Prince. no present for a Cynick. Titus the emperor was so greatly in loue with liberalitie all his life time, that remembring one euening with himselfe, that he had giuen nothing the same day, he cried out: O my friends we haue lost this day. He vsed to blesse those daies wherein the poore came vnto him, or when he sought after them to do them good,A notable pre­cept of Phocyli­des. putting in practise that precept of Phocylides, which saith: Sleepe not at night before thou hast thrice called to mind thy works that day, and repent thee of the euill, but reioice in that which was well done. For this great good nature Titus was loued whi­lest he liued, and bewailed after his death, and vpon his Tombe was written this Epitaph: The delights of mankind Ptolemaeus the Thebane. are ended. Ptolemaeus the Thebane, Captaine ouer a great armie, had so acquainted himselfe not to denye any that stood in neede of his liberalitie, that when a poore souldi­or demanded his almes of him, he hauing at that present nothing to bestow vpon him, gaue him his shooes, saying: My friend, make thy profit of this, seeing I haue no better thing to [Page 443] giue thee. For I had rather go bare-foote, than see thee suffer so much. Denys the elder, entring into his sonnes lodging, andDenys the elder beholding there great store of rich iewels of gold and sil­uer, and of incredible treasure, said vnto him: My sonne, I did not giue thee these riches to vse in this sort, but to impart of them vnto thy friends. For thou must know, that no man in all the world is so rich as he that is liberall, who with his liberalitie preser­ [...]eth his friends, and mollifieth his enimies. This is that which Cyrus by experience shewed vnto Croesus, and how smallyCyrus. those gifts which he had bestowed vpon woorthy persons had impouerished him. For sending to euery one of them to succour him with monie, they sent him altogither as much as they had receiued by gift from him, bestowing moreouer great rewards vpon the bearer of his message. So that the wealth which proceedeth from liberalitie is vnconsumeable, as that which is gotten by giuing, and byPertinax. scattering abroad is gathered togither. Pertinax, who suc­ceeded Commodus in the Empire, surpassed all the Empe­rors that euer were for exceeding liberalitie, which he v­sed to the benefite and profite of all his subiects. For first he gaue freely all the waste and desolate ground in Italy, and in other his prouinces, to them that could and would till them, and to the labourers thereof he gaue freedome and exemption from al taxes and subsidies for ten yeeres, with perpetuall assurance that they should not be trou­bled in their possession. He forbad also that his name should be set in any castell or place within his dominion, saying: that his lands were not proper to him onely, but common to all the people of Rome. He abolished all customs, tributes, and toles laid vpon the hauens of riuers, at the entries in­to townes, waies and passages, which he called inuentions of tyrannie to get monie, & placed all such things in their ancient liberties. Which actions beseemed rather a father of the countrie, than a lord and maister: and there are few Princes that vse to doe so, but many to whome their owne will seemeth to be a most iust law. But contrariwise let them know, that they ought to be subiect to the eter­nall law, namely, to right, reason, truth, and iustice, which [Page 444] are the proper will of God onely, whose people they must rule with right and equitie, by comforting them through beneficence, and continuall good turnes. Let vs learne then by our present discourse to decke our selues with this vertue of Liberalitie, euery one according to those meanes that are giuen vnto him from aboue, and are iust­ly gotten by him: taking good heede, that we abuse it not in any kind of voluptuousnes or vice, neither yet vp­on the wicked, as though we purposed to nourish and maintaine their impieties. For this is vtterly to destroye Iustice, and consequently the bond and preseruatiue of humane societie. But if we, being well instructed by the Matth. 25.spirite of wisedome, feede the hungrie, giue drinke to the thirsty, lodge them that want harbour, and clothe the na­ked, sowing in this manner by the works of pietie that ta­lent which is committed to our keeping, we shall reape abundantly in heauen the permanent riches & treasures of eternall life.

Of Couetousnes, and of Prodigalitie. Chap. 42.

IF that diuiue rule of Cicero were aswell written in our hart, as he desired to haue it setled in his sonne, that onely that thing is to be iudged profitable No wicked thing ought to be iudged pro­fitable. which is not wicked, and that nothing of that nature should seeme profitable, we should not behold amongst vs so many cur­sed acts, as are daily committed through the vnbrideled desire of the goods of this world. For that which most of all troubleth men, is when they thinke that the sin which they purpose to practise is but small in respect of the gaine, thereby craftily separating profite from honestie, and so suffering themselues to be ouercome of couetous­nes, which is the defect of liberalitie, whereof we discour­sed euen now, whose excesse also is Prodigalitie, of which two vices we are now to intreat.

Every one that coueteth treasures (said Anacharsis, one of the wise men of Graecia) is hardly capable of good coū ­sell [Page 445] and instruction. For the couetous man commonly murmureth at that which God permitteth and nature doth, so that he will soo­ner take vpon him to correct God, than to amend his life.

It is a hard matter (said Socrates) for a man to bri­dle his desire, but he that addeth riches therunto, is mad. For coue­tousnes neither for shame of the world, nor feare of death, will not represse or moderate it self. But it belongeth to thee ARAM, to instruct vs in that which is here propounded.

Since the greedie desire of heaping vp gold and siluer entred in amongst men, with the possession of riches, couetousnesse folowed, and with the vse of them pleasures and delights: whereupon they began to saile in a dangerous sea of all vices, which hath so ouerflowen in Couetousnes hath ouer­flowen all.this age of ours, that there are very few towers how high so euer seated, but it hath gone vp a great deale aboue them. For this cause I see no reason why men should e­steeme so much, or iudge it such a happy thing to haue much goodly land, many great houses, and huge summes of readie money, seeing all this doth not teach them, not to be caried away with passions for riches, and seeing the possession of them in that maner procureth not a conten­tation void of the desire of them, but rather inflameth vs to desire them more through an insatiable couetousnes, which is such a pouerty of the soul, that no worldly goods can remedie the same. For it is the nature of this vice to make a man poore all his life time, that he may find him self rich only at his death. Moreouer it is a desire that hath this thing proper and peculiar to it selfe, to resist and to refuse to be satisfied, whereas all other desires helpe for­ward the same, and seeke to content those that serue thē. Couetousnesse (saith Aristotle) is a vice of the soule, whereby a Couetousnes will neuer be satisfied. man desireth to haue from all partes without reason, and vniustly with-holdeth that which belongeth to another. It is sparing and skantie in giuing, but excessiue in receiuing. The Poet Lucretius calleth it a blind desire of goods. And it mightily hinde­reth the light of the soule, causing the couetous man to be neuer contented, but the more he hath, the more to de­sire and wish for. The medicine which he seeketh, namely, [Page 446] gold and siluer, encreaseth his disease, as water doth the Conetousnes like to a dropsie.dropsie: and the obtaining thereof is alwaies vnto him the beginning of the desire of hauing. He is a Tantalus in hell, who between water and meat dieth of hunger. Now it is very sure, that to such as are wise and of sound iudge­ment, nature hath limited certaine bounds of wealth, which are traced out vpon a certaine Center, and vpon the circumference of their necessitie. But couetousnesse working cleane contrary effects in the spirit of fooles, ca­rieth away the naturall desire of necessarie things, to a disordinate appetite of such things as are full of danger, rare, and hard to be gotten. And which is worse, com­pelling the auaritious to procure them with great payne and trauell, it forbiddeth him to enioy them, and stir­ring vp his desire, depriueth him of the pleasure. Strato­nicus Stratonicus de­rided the super­fluitie of the Rhodians.mocked in olde ryme the superfluitie of the Rhodi­ans, saying, that they builded as if they were immor­tall, and rushed into the kitchin as if they had but a little while to liue. But couetous men scrape togither like great and mightie men, and spend like mechanicall and handy-craftesmen. They indure labour in procuryng, Couetous men compared to Mules.but want the pleasure of enioying. They are like Mules that carie great burthens of golde and siluer on their backes, and yet eate but hay. They enioy neyther rest nor libertie which are most precious, and most desired of a wise man: but liue alwayes in disquietnesse, being seruauntes and slaues to their richesse. Their greatest The miserable life of coue­tous men.miserie is, that to encrease and keepe their wealth, they care neither for equitie or iustice: they contemne all lawes both diuine and humane, and all threatnings and punishmentes annexed vnto them: they liue without friendship and charitie, and lay holde of nothyng but gayne. When they are placed in authoritie and power aboue others, they condemne the innocent, iustifie the guiltie, and finde alwayes some cleanly cloke and colour of taking, and of excusing (as they thinke) their corrup­tion and briberie, making no difference betweene duetie and profite. Wherfore we may well say in a word, That co­uetousnes [Page 447] is the roote of all euill. For what mischiefs are not 1. Tim. 6. 10.procured through this vice? From whence proceed qua­rels, The fruits of couetousnes.strifes, suites, hatred and enuie, theftes, pollings, sackings, warres, murders, and poisonings, but from hence? God is forgotten, our neighbour hated, and ma­ny times the sonne forgiueth not his father, neither the brother his brother, nor the subiect his Lord, for the de­sire of gaine. In a worde, there is no kind of crueltie that couetousnesse putteth not in practise. It causeth hired and wilfull murders (O execrable impietie) to be well thought of amongst vs. It causeth men to breake their faith giuen, to violate all friendship, to betray their coun­trey. It causeth subiectes to rebell against their princes, gouernours and magistrates, when, not able to beare their insatiable desires, nor their exactions and intolle­rable subsidies, they breake foorth into publike and o­pen sedition, which troubleth common tranquillitie, whereupon the bodie politike is changed, or for the most part vtterly ouerthrowen. Moreouer, the excesse of the vertue of liberalitie, which is prodigalitie, may be ioy­ned to couetousnesse, and than there is no kind of vice but raigneth with all licence in that soule that hath these two guestes lodged togither. And bicause it is a thing that may seeme hard to conceiue, how two vices so disa­greeing by nature, may be found to agree in the same subiect, we will soone beleeue it, if we say with the an­cients, How prodigali­tie and coue­tousnes may in some sort be linked togither in one subiect.that it is the point of couetousnesse to gripe, and to take, Where and When it ought not: and that this dealing is put in practise necessarilie vpon one of these two occasions, eyther of niggardlinesse and spa­ring, or for prodigalitie, as they do that vniustly seeke for meanes to satisfie their fond desires, and their vn­profitable and superfluous expences. The common opinion is, that they who put to no vse the richesse which they gette so couetously, are more miserable than those that abuse them after they haue obtayned them by ill meanes: bicause manye maye reape pro­fite by these, but of the other none, no not their [Page 448] Couetous men compared to hogs. onely heires receiue more benefit than they do of hogs, which is after their death. But it falleth not out so alto­gither with kings and princes, whose couetousnes ioined with prodigalitie is more hurtfull to their subiects than that which is ioined with sparing. For this latter, althogh it maketh them commit much iniustice, and polling of their people to fil their treasuries, yet when any need hap­neth to the common-wealth, either of forraine warre, or of any other calamitie, a good ground-work is laid in the bottome of their cofers for to redresse the same. But the other maintained with the like iniustice, leaueth nothing behind for prodigall princes, wherewith to helpe them­selues in time of necessitie. Whereupon oftentimes pro­ceedeth the finall subuersion of their estate, weakened by exactions, to the ouerthrow and vndoing of many who would haue been the sinewes of their strength: and all to inrich a few who then will stand them in small stead, or els bicause they wasted it vpon riot and superfluities, wherby the warlike vertues both of themselues and of their sub­iects become degenerate & bastardlike. Of this we note, that after a prince groweth to be prodigall and desirous of superfluitie and foolish expences, no riches he hath will euer suffice him: so that to satisfie his spending, he must needs become couetous and vniust. The like happeneth many times to the meaner sort, and to men of all estates, that they are couetous and prodigal both togither, name­ly, when they gather wealth by vnlawfull meanes, & spare to spend it in the workes of pietie, that they may sowe it plentifully vpon delights and pleasures. But the humor ofCouetous men compared to rats and cundit pipes. niggardlines and neernesse is most common in couetous men, whom Plutarke compareth to rats and mice that are in gold mines, which eate the golden oare, and yet nothing can be gotten from them but after their death. Likewise he compareth them to pipes through which wa­ter being conueied into a cesterne nothing remaineth for them. So couetous men heape vp treasures to leaue them to their heires, that they also may afterward leaue them to their heires as their predecessors did: and so neither the [Page 449] one nor the other reape any good or benefit by them, vn­till in the end either some Tyrant take all away by vio­lence from that hold-fast, or els some one that is the worst of the race succeedeth, spending all dissolutely vpon plea­sures. This caused Diogenes, iesting at couetous men, to sayIt is better to be the sheepe than the sonne of a couetous man. that he had rather be their sheepe than their sonne, bi­cause they are very carefull to giue their cattell meete pa­sture, but in steede of feeding their youth with conueni­ent and profitable nourishment, through good and vertu­ous education, they marre, spill, & corrupt them, by graf­ting couetousnes in the soules of their children, as if they ment to build within them a strong fort wherein to keepe their succession safely. Whereas contrariwise they should learne of Cicero, that the glory of vertue, and of praiswor­thie and honorable deeds, is the greatest riches which fa­thers can leaue to their children, and more excellent than any other patrimonie whatsoeuer. Socrates called a yoong man brought vp in ignorance, and rich withall, a golden slaue. And that seruant answered not vnfitly, when, being demanded what his maister did, (who was a couetous man, and one that hauing great quantitie of good wine, sold it to others, and sought for sowre wine in Tauernes for his owne drinking) he said: Albeit he hath great store of good, yet he seeketh for euill. But let vs now consider of some notable examples, shewing foorth the pernitiousExamples of the fruites of coue­tousnes and of prodigalitie. Muleasses. effects, which, as we said, proceed from these two vices, Co­uetousnes, and Prodigalitie. Muleasses king of Thunes, had his eies put out by his sonne, that he might seaze vpon his treasures. Priamus king of Troy, fearing the taking of his citie, sent Polydorus his yoongest sonne to his sonne in law Polymestor, with a great quantitie of gold and siluer: butPolymester. he being desirous to possesse the same, slew the child his brother in law, for which afterward he receiued his deser­ued hire. For Queene Hecuba comming vnto him, and ta­king him aside into a chamber, not shewing countenance of any discontentment, with the helpe of hir women put out his eies. The Emperor Caligula was so much touchedCaligula. with couetousnes, that there was no kind of lucre, or [Page 450] meane to get monie by, how vnlawfull and wicked soeuer it were, which he sought not out: insomuch that he laid a tribute vpon vrine, and sold his sisters gownes, whome he had violated and sent into banishment. And yet in one yeere of his [...]aigne he spent prodigally 67. Millions of gold, which Tiberius his predecessor had gathered togi­ther.Nero. Nero vsing great crueltie, polling, exaction, and con­fiscation towards his subiects, gaue to the ministers of his tyrannie in those fifteene yeeres wherein he raigned, the value of 55. Millions of Crownes. He caused a very stately gilt pallace to be built, which tooke in compasse a great part of Rome, but it was ouerthrown after his death, that the memorie of such a cruell tyrant might be rooted outAgainst the su­perfluitie of sumptuous buil­dings. of the earth. A notable example for such as thinke to get a vaine glorie by buildings that are more stately than ne­cessarie, and yet leaue behind them a notorious marke of their tyrannie, and a perpetuall testimonie to posteritie, that they haue raised their houses with the blood of their subiects. Henrie the seuenth Emperour, a Prince indewedAn Italian Monke. with most excellent vertues, was poisoned with an Host, which an Italian Monke corrupted with monie caused him to take. But what neede we seeke for such examples of ancient men to know the fruites of couetousnes, when as the vnhappines of our age daily affoordeth vs new be­fore our eies, wherein we heare nothing almost spoken of, but poisonings and murders hired with monie, and all committed to this ende, that the authors of them may haue their goods whome they kill, for the satisfieng ofA cruell murder of a Gentlewo­man and of hir houshold. their insatiable couetousnes? Amongst many other, who hath not heard of the cruell wilfull murder of a Gentle­woman of a good house, and of hir men and maides, by hir owne brethren in law, done a few daies past? A cruel­tie exceeding that of the Cannibals, who yet spare dome­sticall blood. But God the iust Iudge would not that such an execrable wickednes should be long concealed & vn­punished. For when it could not be found out by any in­quirie of man, one of the murderers touched with the hand of God, and taken with an extreame sickenes, being [Page 451] as it were mad, and as Cain was in times past, disclosed his sinne of himselfe, the hainousnes whereof so troubled him, that he said he could hope for no mercie. Afterward recouering his health, he was taken vpon his owne con­fession, and being conuicted of the fact, accused all the au­thors thereof, of whome some are executed, and the rest expect no better euent. That couetousnes causeth sub­iects to rebell against their couetous Princes, and that of­tentimes to their ouerthrowe: we haue an example in Mauritius the Emperour, who was depriued of the Em­pire,Mauritius de­priued of the Empire for his couctousnes. and had his head cut off, besides the death of his fiue children, & of his wife, by reason of the ill will of his peo­ple and men of warre, which he had purchased, who could beare no longer his couetousnes, whereby he was moo­ued to winke at spoiles and murders, and to keepe backe the pay of his souldiors. In the time of S. Lewes the king, the people of fiue cities & fiue villages of high Almaigne, which at this day we call Switserland, raised such a greatThe Nobilitie of Switserland destroied for the same cause. tumult & sedition, that they put to the edge of the sword all their Princes, Lords, and Noble-men, the chiefe cause therof was their couetousnes, which made them oppresse their subiects with vniust exactions. The niggardlye spa­ring of king Lewes the eleuenth, mooued strangers greatlyLewes 11. to contemne him, and was in part the cause of the rebelli­on of his subiects. For hauing put away in a maner all the Gentlemen of his houshold, he vsed his Tailor alwaies for his Herald of Armes, his Barber for Embassador, and his Phisition for his Chancellour: and in derision of other kings, he ware a greasie hat of the coursest wooll. We find in the chamber of accounts a bill of his expences, where­in is set downe 20. souse for two newe sleeues to his olde dublet, and an other clause of 15. deniers for grease to grease his bootes. And yet he increased the charges of his people three millions more than his predecessour had done, and alienated a great part of his Demaine. Sparing may well be vsed, (which at this daye is more necessarye than euer) and yet the maiestie of a king nothing dimini­shed, neither the dignitie of his house, and without the a­basing [Page 452] of his greatnes. Likewise those men, who after they haue hoorded much treasure, are so besotted and blinded with a couetous loue of their wealth, that they will not vpon any necessitie imploy it, can no more auoidCalipha. their destruction, than the other before mentioned. This doth the historie of Calipha king of Persia, teach vs, who hauing filled a Tower with gold, siluer, iewels, and preti­ous stones, and being in warre against Allan, king of the Tartarians, was so ill succoured of his owne people, bi­cause he would not giue them their pay, that he was taken in his towne, and by Allan committed prisoner in the said Tower, with these words: If thou hadst not kept this trea­sure so couetously, but distributed it amongst thy souldi­ors, thou mightest haue preserued thy selfe, and thy citie. Now therefore enioy it at thy ease, and eate and drinke thereof, seeing thou hast loued it so much. And so he suf­fered him to die there of hunger, in the midst of his riches.How Dionysius punished a co­uetous wretch. The punishment which Dionysius the elder, king of Syra­cusa, laied vpon a rich couetous subiect of his, was more gentle, but woorthie to be well noted, being full of instru­ction. For being aduertised that he had hid great store of treasure in the ground, he commanded him vpon paine of life to bring it vnto him: which he did, although not all of it, but retained part, which he tooke with him, & went to dwell in another citie, where he bestowed his monie vpon inheritance. When Dionysius vnderstood thereof, he sent for him, and restored all his gold and siluer, saying vnto him▪ forasmuch as thou knowest now how to vse ri­ches, not making that vnprofitable, which was appointed for the vse of man, take that, which before thou wast vn­woorthie to enioy. And to speake the truth, there is no reason wherewith the couetousnes of such men may be coloured. For if they say, that they spend not bicause they care not for spending, it is a point of great follie in them to labour to gather more wealth than they want. But if they desire to spend, and yet dare not for niggardlines do so, nor enioy the fruite of their labour, they are a great deale more miserable. Whereby it appeereth vnto vs what [Page 453] a goodly and commendable thing it is to be content and satisfied with a little, which freeth vs from the desire of vnnecessarie things. Now if we are to take those things for superfluous, which we will not vse, we ought, for the reasons already set down, to make no lesse accoūt of those which we would abuse in riot and superfluitie. The coue­tousnes of Darius, king of the Persians, was beguiled and laughed to scorne through the subtile inuention of Nito­cris Queene of Babylon (some attribute it to Semiramis) How Darius his couerousnesse was beguiled. who, being desirous to welcome hir successors that were touched with auarice, which she abhorred aboue al things caused a high sepulcher to be erected ouer those gates of the citie through which there was most passage, with these words ingrauen therein: If any king of Babylon that shal come after me find want in his treasurie, let him open this tombe and take as much as he will. Otherwise let him not open it, for it will not be best for him. After many ages were past, and none of the kings of Babylon had touched the said sepulcher, Da­rius conquering the kingdom caused the coffin to be ope­ned, thinking to find there that which was promised. Ne­uerthelesse he found nothing there but a dead body, with this writing: If thou wert not insatiable and very couetous, thou wouldest not haue opened the tombe of the dead. Moreouer, that couetousnes oftentimes blindeth men so farre, as that it causeth them to take away their owne life without feare of condemning their soules, many examples thereof are left in memorie: of whom some through griefe for some great losse of goods, others to leaue their children rich, haue voluntarily procured their own death. Cassius Licinius C. Licinius strangled him­selfe to leaue his goods to his children. was of this number, who being accused, attainted, & con­uicted of many thefts and briberies, and beholding Cicero President at that time, about to put on the purple gowne to pronounce sentence of confiscation of goods, and of banishment, he sent word to Cicero that he was dead du­ring the processe and before condemnation: and present­ly in the field he smothered himself with a napkin, hauing no other meaning therein but to saue his goods for his children. For then the lawes concerning the punishment [Page 454] of such as had robbed the common-wealth, or of such as being preuented slew themselues, were not made: so that they that were accused might saue their liues by forsaking their goods, yea by paying so much only as their accusers demanded. But there are some of a cleane contrary dis­position to Licinius, who being readie to giue vp the ghost, would gladly cary their wealth with them, as we read ofHermocrates bequeathed his goods to him­selfe. Hermocrates, who by his wil made himself heire of his own goods. Athenaeus maketh mention of another, who at the houre of his death deuoured many pieces of his gold, and sewed the rest in his coate, commanding that they should be all buried with him. Valerius Maximus telleth of one, who being besieged within the town of Cassilina by Han­nibal, preferred the hope of gaine before his owne life. ForA ratte sold for 200. pence. he chose rather to sell a ratte which he had taken, for 200. Romane pence, than to satisfie his hunger, whereof he di­ed quickly after: and the buier being the wiser man, saued his life by that deare meate. Crassus Consul of Rome is likewise noted by Historiographers to be extreme coue­tous, which caused him to swimme between two factionsCouetousnes caused Crassus to play on both sides. diuided for Caesar and Pompey, seruing his owne turne by them both, and chaunging many times from one side to another in the administration of the common-wealth. He shewed himselfe neither a constant friend, nor a dan­gerous enemy, but soone forsooke both amitie and enmi­tie, when he saw it would be profitable to him, wherof the encrease of his substance gaue great proofe. For when he first began to entermeddle in affaires, his riches amoun­ted but to 300. talents, which according to our money came to about 180000. crownes: but after when he pur­posed to go from Rome to warre with the Parthians, he would needes know how much all his wealth came to. And first he offred to Hercules the tenth of all his goods: secondly, he made a publike feast for all the people of Rome of a thousand tables: and thirdly, he gaue to eue­ryWonderfull riches. citizen as much wheate as would finde him three mo­neths. Notwithstanding all this, he found that he was worth 7100. talents, which amounted to foure millions, [Page 455] two hundred and three-score thousand crownes. He vsed to say, that he accounted no man rich, except he were a­ble of his owne charges to hire and maintaine an armie: bicause, as no man can set downe a readie reckoning of the expences of warre, as king Archidamas sayd, so the riches that is to sustaine it, may not be limited. But in the ende his couetousnesse and ambition, which com­monly are not farre separated one from another, led him to a violent death, as we declared else-where. Now as Cras­sus was blamed for couetousnesse, so Pompey was as muchPompey abhor­red couetous­nes. commended and well thought of, bicause he abhorred & contemned it. Whereof he gaue good proofe, as also of great piety at the taking of the city of Ierusalem from the Iewes. For when he entred into the Temple, & beheld the great riches thereof, the table of gold, the golden candle­sticke, a great number of vessels of gold, with great abun­dance of good & exquisite spice for smels, & knew more­ouer that there was in the treasurie about two thousand talents of sacred siluer, yet he would not touch it in any wise, nor suffer any thing to be taken from it. We that say we are christians, follow a farre off the pierie of these hea­then men, whē as both great and small watch for nothing more than how to intrappe the goods of the Church to make them serue our delights and pleasures. Moreouer we see that this cursed plant of couetousnes groweth as much in the house of prayer, as in the courts of kings and princes. The corruption also that hath folowed the same, is knowen sufficiently in those men, who to satisfie their vnsatiable desires call themselues protectors of this Hydra Ignorance, to the destruction and perdition of their own soules, and of ten thousand mo for whom they are to an­swer. Iouian Pontanus rehearseth a pleasant history of a car­dinallThe great coue­tousnes of a car­dinall. named Angelot, who was well punished for his co­uetousnes. This cardinal vsed when his horse-keepers had in the euening giuen oates to his horses, to come downe all alone without light by a trap doore into the stable, & so steale their oates and cary it into his garner wherof he kept the key himselfe. He continued his goings and com­mings [Page 456] so often, that one of his horse-keepers not know­ing who was this thiefe, hid himselfe in the stable, and ta­king him at the deed doing, (being ignorant who it was) bestowed so many blowes on him with a pitchforke, that he left him halfe dead, so that he was faine to be caried by foure men into his chamber. Iohn Maria Duke of Millan,The cruel pu­nishment of a couetous cu­rate. chasticed very iustly, but ouer-seuerely, the couetousnesse of a Curate, who denied the seruice of his office in the bu­rying of a dead body, bicause his widow had not where­with to pay him the charges of the buriall. For the Duke himselfe going to the funerals of the dead, caused the priest to be taken and bound to the corse, and so cast them both into one pit. A crueltie no lesse detestable than the vice of those wretches that sell the gifts of God, and make merchandise of that, which they ought to giue freely to the people. Now to end our matter, we maintaine this,1. Tim. 6. 10. that couetousnes and vnlawful desire of riches, is the root of all euill, miserie and calamitie. Moreouer it is more to be misliked in great men when it followeth riot and pro­digalitie, than if it be ioyned with niggardlines, as wel for the reasons before touched, as also bicause niggardly and couetous princes vse more carefully in their estates and dignities to prouide such men as are prudent and staied, for the preseruation of their subiects, knowing that their owne ruine dependeth of their vndoing. Which thing vo­luptuousWhat magi­strates are best liked of coue­tous princes. princes neglect, bicause they dreame of nothing but of their pleasures, and so prouide none but such as will serue their humor therein, and flatterers, or else such as will giue them most money wherewith to maintaine their delights. And let vs further know, that all coue­tous men go astray from the right way of truth, and in­fold themselues in many griefs and miseries, and become odious to euery one. Besides, not being content with their daily bread, when contrarywise their desire is infinit, they euidently mocke God as often as they make that petition: bicause they labour to conceale and to dissem­ble before him that knoweth all things, their couetous & greedie affection, whereas true prayer ought to declare [Page 457] and to open the inward meaning of the hart. Let vs ther­fore1. Tim. 6. 6. Matth. 6. 19. that are better instructed learne, that godlines with contentation is great gaine: and let vs not wearye our selues in the heaping vp of treasure, which the rust and moath may consume and eate, and the theefe steale, butWe must re­nounce vniust riches. let vs renounce riches and the world, ouer which Satan beareth rule, least in that terrible day he accuse vs before the great Iudge, and conuince vs of taking some thing of his, and then the Iudge being vpright and iust, deliuer vs into his hands to throw vs into darknes, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth for euermore.

Of Enuie, Hatred, and Backbiting. Chap. 43.

THe mind of man, which of it owne nature is created sociable, gratious, and ready to helpe euery one, yea, which by the force of charitie working togither with it, feeleth it selfe as it were constrained to mourne with those that weepe, and to re­ioice with them that laugh, is able to shew nothing moreNothing more vnwoorthie the spirite of man than enuie. vnwoorthy it selfe, than to be ouercome of enuie, which is a wild plant in the soule, bringing foorth cleane contrary effects to that good wil which we owe to our neighbor, & comprehending in it all iniustice generally, & all wicked­nes of men: as we may see if you think good (my compa­niōs) to search more narowly into the nature of this vice.

Enuie proceedeth of a naughtie disposi­tion, and prouoketh light braines (as Pindarus saith) to reioice in beholding the aduersitie of some, and to be vex­edThe nature of Enuie. at the happie successe of others: causing men also to delight in backbiting honest men, especially such as are praised. But take heede (saith Pittacus) least, seeking to a­uoid enuie, thou becommest miserable.

Hatred and Ill­wil are the com­panions of En­uie. Glorye and vertue (saith Virgil) are alwaies en­uied: which vice is commonlye accompanied with Hatred and Ill-will, whereby men are driuen forward to detract and slan­der others. But hee that keepeth his mouth (sayth the wise man,) keepeth his soule. Let vs then heare AMANA, [Page 458] who will instruct vs more at large in this which is heere propounded vnto vs.

That wicked and suttle enimie of man­kind, not being able to abide the glorie whereunto God had called men, of which he depriued himselfe throughWhat execrable ruits enuie hath broughtf oorth. his pride, was driuen with enuie to tempt our first pa­rents: whose ingratitude conceiuing sinne in the soule of man, the first fruite brought foorth by this cursed plant, seemeth likewise to haue beene enuie, with which Adams eldest sonne being mooued, slew his onely brother. Oh cursed and furious enuie, oh fruitfull branch of execrable euils, seeing by thee man was first beguiled, and induced afterward to admit murder into his hart, and to water the earth, being yet virgine-like, with his brothers blood: whereby he began his chiefe worke vpon innocencie, to the end that wicked men might from father to son haue this prerogatiue to oppresse the good! Is there any vice then amongst vs which we ought to hate and flie from more than from enuie, which hauing nothing of hir first euill nature diminished, leadeth men to most vniust and detestable actions? Neuertheles, to what passion are we more inclined, or do we nourish more willingly than this? Let euery one enter into himselfe, and vndoubtedly he shall find there a thousand enuies, which are neuer with­out hatred and rancor, grafted in the secretest place of his soule. True it is, that enuy according to the subiects which it meeteth withall, bringeth foorth more pernitious ef­fects in some, and lesse hurtfull in others. But how soeuer it be, this passion is alwaies blame-woorthie, and ought to be eschewed of euery good and vertuous man, whose de­sire is, not to wander out of the path of dutie and hone­stie.What Enuie is. We say therefore that Enuie is a griefe arising of ano­ther mans prosperitie, and that malignitie is commonlyMalignitie is defined of some to be the effect of that malice which one man beareth to ano­ther. ioined with it, whether it be the fountaine therof, as some say, or one part thereof, as others will haue it. This malig­nitie is a delight & pleasure takē in another mans harme, although we receiue no profit thereby: and it seemeth to be accidentall, that is, procured by hatred or ill will, ari­sing [Page 459] of some euill affection that one man beareth to ano­ther. For this cause Plutark distinguisheth hatred from en­uie, saying: that hatred is bred in our harts through an i­maginationThe difference betweene ha­tred and enuie. and conceit which we haue, that he whome we hate behaueth himselfe wickedly, either towards all men generally, or particularly towards vs: but that men enuie onely those whome they know to be in prosperitie. And so it seemeth, that enuie is indefinite and not limi­ted, much like to sore eies, that are offēded at euery cleer­nes and light, but that hatred is limited, being alwaies grounded and staied vpon some certaine obiects in re­gard of it selfe. Moreouer, no man hath iust cause to enuie another mans prosperitie. For he doth no man wrong, bicause he is happie: whereas on the contrarie side many are iustly hated for their vices and impieties, and oughtTo hate the wic­ked is a proper­tie of a good man. to be shunned of good men: which hatred of the wicked is a propertie that belongeth to good men. But the hatred that is borne towards good men, is a passion not much separated from enuie. And thus may these two passions, resembling two plants, be said to be nourished, preserued, & increased by the selfe same meanes, albeit they succeed one another. The same Plutark being desirous to teach vs,Enuie compa­red to sorcerie. how we ought to abhorre enuie, calleth it sorcerie: bi­cause through the poison thereof, it doth not onely fill the enuious bodie with a naughtie and hurtfull dispositi­on, but the infection disperseth it selfe also through the eies, euen vpon them that behold it, so that they are tou­ched therewith, as it were by some poisonfull influence. Likewise he compareth it to the flies called Cantharides.To Cantharides For as they alight especially vpon the fairest wheate, and most blowne roses: so enuie commonly setteth it selfe a­gainst the honestest men, and such as haue most glorie & vertue. Power, honor, strength, riches, are but brands toThe firebrands of enuie. kindle the fire thereof. Therefore Thucidides saith, that a wise man desireth to be enuied, to the ende he may doe great things. Bias said, that enuie and an old house often­times light vpon a man, and neuer knocke at his gates.Enuie most of al hurtfull to the enuious person. But if enuie be hurtful to others, it is much more noisome [Page 460] to him that possesseth it, tormenting him within continu­ally with a thousand turbulent passions, which shorten his daies, diminisheth powers of his bodie, and are a great deale more pernitious to his soule. For it will not suffer him to taste or conceiue any good speech, or sound instru­ction, from whomsoeuer it commeth: but causeth him to reiect and speake against it, as if he were iealous and enui­ous of his owne good. The occasion whereof is the ill will which naturally he beareth against all them that deserue more than himselfe, whereupon he striueth rather to blame, or to wrest in ill part whatsoeuer was well meant, than to reape any profite thereby. And if he heare a man commend other mens deuices, or any of his owne doings contrary to his mind, he thinketh that he hath so many blowes giuen him with a cudgell. Thus we see, that enuie wishing well to none, doth no lesse torment and hurt his soule that is infected therewith. And to speake in a word, it comprehendeth the generall iniustice, which is all kind of wickednes, and destroieth all duties of humanitie, cau­sing men to hurt those whom they ought to loue and suc­cour. Of this wild plant of enuie, backbiting is a branch, which delighteth and feedeth it selfe with slandering and lying, whereupon good men commonly receiue great plagues, when they ouer-lightly giue credite to backbi­ters.Of backbiting. Therfore Diogenes the Cynick being demanded whatWhat biting of beasts is most dangerous. biting of beasts was most dangerous, answered: of furious and wild beasts, the backbiters; and of tame beasts, the flatterers. To the same purpose Themistocles the Thebane said, that it was the greatest griefe in the world, to see the honor of a good man in the mercie of a venemous toong, and wronged with slanderous speeches. For seeing good fame and credite is more preti­ous than any treasure, a man hath no lesse iniurie offeredWhen backbi­ting hurteth most. him when his good name is taken away, than when he is spoiled of his substance. But backbiting and slandering do then bring foorth most pernitious effects, when Prin­ces are ready to heare slanderers, of whome they them­selues are in the end corrupted. For the enuious & back­biting person doth as a naughtie painter did, who hauing [Page 461] ilfauoredly painted certaine cocks, commanded his boy to driue the naturall cocks farre from his picture: so he laboureth as much as may be to withdraw good men frō those whom he would gouerne. But bicause he cannot do it openly, fearing their vertue whom he hateth from his hart, he will seeme to welcome, to honour, and to admire them, and yet vnder hand, and behind their backs he will cast abroad and sow his slanders. And if so be that his pri­uie and secret reports, which pricke behind, do not pre­sently bring forth the end of his intent, yet he keepeth in memorie that which Medius vttred long since, who was as it were the master and captaine of the whole flock of flat­terers, banded togither about Alexander against all the honest men in the court. This fellow taught, that theyA pestilent pre­cept of Medius giuen to back­biters. should not spare to nippe boldly and to bite with store of slanders. For (quoth he) although he that is bitten should be cured of the wound, yet the skarre at the least will still remaine. And by such skars of lies and falf accusations, or rather to giue them a better name with Plutark, by such fi­stuloes & cankers Alexander being gnawen, vniustly put to death Callisthenes, Parmenion, and Philotas, giuing him­selfe ouer to the wil and possession of three of foure flatte­rers, of whom he was clothed, decked, set foorth and ado­red as it were a barbarian image. Such is the force & effi­cacie of lying ioyned with flattery ouer that soule, which hath no sound iudgement of reason to discern truth from falsehood, or a good nature from a malicious. True it is, that this comfort cannot be taken away from good men,The comfort which cannot be taken away from good men. namely, to be perswaded that the sleights of backbiters and slanderers are able to preuaile but litle against the in­uincible tower of sacred vertue, & of an assured hope well grounded, which, whatsoeuer commeth to passe, triumph alwaies, and victoriously hold enuy and backbiting vnder their feete. And although these vices by reason of their force cause them to suffer sometimes, yet patience kee­peth them from being ouercome, so that they neuer sinke downe vnder aduersities, but euen then lay handes vpon the hauen of their deliueraunce. So that if princes would [Page 462] Good counsell for princes a­gainst flatterers. not fall into those inconueniences, nor be deceiued as this great Macedonian monarch was, they must, vpon the reports of backbiters, throughly and with reason waigh all things, and not suffer themselues to be perswaded by slanderers, but discerne their words with a sound iudge­ment. Further let vs note, that they which lend their earesWe must not lend our eares to slanderers. to their lies and detractions, are no lesse to be blamed and reprehended, than the slaunderers themselues, bicause they are both touched with the same imperfection, I meane, of taking delight in the euill report of another. And as the slanderer hurteth by accusing those that are not present, so doth he that suffereth himselfe to be per­swaded before he hath learned the truth of things. More­ouer, they that accustome themselues to heare willinglyWho delight most in reading of fables. reports and lies, commonly also take more pleasure in reading and learning fables and dreames, faults and vices noted in peoples and nations, than in true narrations and goodly sentences made & written with good iudgement and diligent studie, or in perusing the honors, heroicall facts, and commendations giuen to vertuous and famous men, which doth touch and grieue them no lesse than it doth the enuious and backbiter: whereas they ought to accept of those things as of spurres to driue them for­ward vnto vertue. Therefore whosoeuer considereth well all those pernitious effects that are procured through backbiting, he shall know that it is a great point of mode­stie, and most necessarie for him that hath profited well in Morall Philosophie, not to suffer any man to be blamed and euill spoken of in his presence, although he were hisA subtill pra­ctise of enuious men. capitall enimie. We see also that this crafty & subtill kind of wickednes is vsually practised of backbiters and enui­ous persons, when they perceiue that they cannot cause themselues to be accounted as honest mē as they are whō they purpose to slander, then they labour to prooue that these men are not so honest, as some others whom they commēd & preferre, seeking by that means to couer their hatred & il-will, and to get credit to their slander by that praise, which they giue indirectly to others. They spare not [Page 466] the dead many times, neither is there any let in them why through their enuy they drawe them not out of that rest wherin they are, which is detestable impietie. Now seeing we know what euil proceedeth from these wild & naughty plants of enuy, hatred & backbiting, & that naturally, as inheritors of the vice & sin of our first parents, we cary in our harts, I know not what enuy, ielousie & emulation a­gainst some one or other, let vs beware that we norish not such vicious passions, but weaken their force, & make thē A meane to re­sist enuy and hatred. altogither vnable to cause vs to depart from dutie: let vs accustome our selues not to enuy the prosperitie of our e­nimies, neither to backbite them in any sort. And if it be possible, let vs not be sparing in giuing vnto them their praise & honor, whensoeuer they do any thing that deser­ueth iustly to be commended: bicause that also bringeth greater praise to him that giueth it. For thē if it fall out so that he reproueth somwhat in his enimy, his accusatiō ca­rieth more credite and force with it, as that which procee­dethEquitie and Iu­stice are the on­ly bounds of a good mans hatred. not from the hatred of his person, but from a dislike of his doings, therby declaring that equitie & iustice only are the bounds of his hatred. Besides we shal reape a grea­ter benefite than is hitherto rehearsed. For when we ac­custome our selues to praise our enimies for well doing, and are not grieued when any prosperitie befalleth them, we shall vtterly driue from vs the vice of enuy and iealou­sie ouer the good successe of our friends & acquaintance, when they attain to honor. Whereas on the contrary side if we acquaint our selues and take delight in enuying the welfare of our enimies, we shall do the like many times to our friends: as we see experience thereof in many at this day, who are so touched with this vice, that they reioice at the euil which happeneth to their wel-willers, and to such as are the occasion of their good & preferment. But if we be desirous to discharge our duetie towards our neigh­bours for whose profite we are borne, let vs seeke to pra­ctise that sentence of Cicero, that an honest man & good citizen neuer ought to be moued with hatred or enuy vpō supposed crimes, no not towards his enimy, wishing to die rather thā to offend against [Page 464] Iustice, which is an vtter enimie to that vice. This also will be a good helpe and meane to keepe vs from backbiting, ifWhat scoffing is, and how it is to be auoided. we eschew al kind of scoffing, which (as Theophrastus saith) is nothing else but a close and coloured reproofe of some fault, which by little and little inureth him that mocketh to back bite another openly and vntruly. This great im­perfection of gibing is very familiar amongst vs, although it be as vnseemely for an honorable personage as some o­ther more infamous vice. But to the end we may haue better occasion to keepe vs from it, let vs know that ma­nyA scoffe is many times woorse ta­ken than any other iniurious speech. times a man is more mooued with a gibing gird, than with an iniurie: bicause this latter proceedeth common­ly from the vehemencie of sudden choler, euen against his will that vttereth it, but the other is more taken to hart, as that which seemeth to come from a setled wil and purpose to offer wrong, and from a voluntarie malitious­nes without any necessitie. If we be disposed to be merie,How mirth is commendable. as sometimes opportunitie, place, and persons inuite vs thereunto, let it be done with a good grace, and without offence to any. Now although enuie and backbiting, by reason of their pernitious effects, are so odious to all ho­norable and vertuous personages, yet no other reuenge is to be sought or desired, than that punishment which fol­loweth and groweth with the vice it selfe, which neuer suf­fereth him that is touched therewith, to enioy any rest in his soule, as we haue already learned. Neither is there any great care to be had for the matter, seeing enuious per­sons and backbiters are no waies able to bite the deserts of good men. But if we would haue their punishmentA notable way how to be re­uenged vpon the enuious. augmented and doubled, there is no better way, than to studie so much the more to do well, as we see them labor more earnestly to enuie and to condemne our dealings. For as the Sunne being directly ouer the top of any thing whatsoeuer, if it leaue any shadow at all, yet is it but short and little, bicause the light thereof is dispersed round a­bout the same: so the excellencie of vertue, glorie, & ho­nor, in the end constraineth the venemous toong to drinke and to swallow downe hir owne poison, not daring [Page 465] to bring it againe in sight, whereby enuie and blame are as it were wholy extinguished, and vnable to hurt good men any more. This reason caused Phillip king of Macedo­nia to make this answere to certaine, who told him, that the Graecians spake ill of him behind his backe, notwith­standing he did them much good, and therefore willed him to chastice them: What would they do then (quothPhillip tooke occasion through back­biting to do better. this noble and gentle Prince) if we should doe them any harme? But they make me become a better man. For I striue dailie both in my wordes and deedes to prooue them lyars. And another time, as his friendes coun­selled him to put to death, or to banish a Gentleman of Macedonia, who continued in slandering him, he would not doe either of both, saying: that it was no sufficient cause to condemne him to death: and as for banishing him, he sayd: that it was a great deale better if he stirred not out of Macedonia, where all men knewe that he ly­ed, than if he went amongst strangers to speake ill of him, who bicause they knewe him not well, might per­aduenture admit his slander as true. Whereby this ver­tuous Prince at one tyme shewed foorth the effectes of three excellent vertues: first, of Clemencie, in that hee would not put him to death, of whome he had receiued great iniurie: then of Magnanimitie, in contemning iniu­rie: and lastly, of woonderfull Prudence, in that he did not banish him. And in deede he was of such a gentle na­ture, that he would neuer punish them that gaue him an euill report, but rather tooke away the occasion there­of, as heeretofore we haue in part mentioned it. And for a greater testimonie of the goodnes of this Monarch, the answere he made to them that counselled him to de­stroy the citie of Athens, deserueth well to be heere set downe. I doe all thinges (quoth he to them) for glorie, how then should I destroy Athens, which by reason of learning, is the Theater of glorie? The example of Demetrius Phale­rius, Athens the The­ater of glorie. a Prince of immortall renowne, serueth fitly to teach vs what small account we are to make of the dealings of enuious men, so farre ought we to be from caring either [Page 466] for their dooings or sayings. When word was brought to this Prince, that the Athenians, mooued with enuie a­gainst him, had broken downe those three hundred ima­ges, which were before erected in their streete of Ariopa­gus to his honour, and thereupon was prouoked by his Councel to be reuenged of them, he said: The Athenians may well throw downe my images, but they are not able to abase my vertues, for whose sake my images were heeretofore erected for a publike spectacle. And truely those actes of Princes, which, being done in their lifeThe best monu­ment for a Prince. time, are woorthie of memorie, may serue them for an euerlasting monument, and not Images & Tombs made with mens hands, which length of time, besides a thou­sand other accidents may bring to pouder. Neither are they depriued of the same glorie that liue vnder the go­uernment of great men, when, according to their places and callings, they direct their actions to the benefite and safetie of the Common-wealth. For whensoeuer enuie laboureth to hurt them with supposed crimes, their in­nocencieInnocencie is a tower of brasse against slande­rers. (as Horace▪ saith) will be vnto them in place of an inexpugnable tower of brasse: so that being assured of that, they neede not stand in any feare of the cruell teeth of slanderers. Therefore Socrates being reprooued by Hermogenes, bicause he did not once dreame of defen­ding himselfe when he was accused, made this answere: I haue dreamed of that all my life time, by striuing to liue well. To conclude then our present discourse, let vs learne to vncloath our hartes of all enuie and hatred, which procure so many turbulent and hurtfull passions in the soule, and ouerthrowe all that charitie and loue, which we ought to beare towards euery one. Let vs feare1. Iohn 3. 15. this sentence pronounced by the holie spirite, that whoso­euer hateth his brother is a man slayer. And if we see that vice and imperfections raigne in our like, let vs hate their euill manners, and loue the welfare of their soules, by ende­uouring to bring them backe againe into the path way of vertue, vntill we see that all hope of remedie is taken a­way by reason of their long setled habite and continu­ance [Page 467] in vice: for then we are to shunne altogither the hurtfull conuersation of such forlorne men. Let vs take heede that wee please not our selues in detracting and backbiting, or in speaking rashly of any without aduise­ment taken of whome, to whome, and what we speake. Let vs not be giuen to lying, or to harken to slanderers, but following the counsell of the Scripture, let vs laye a­side1. Pet. 2. 1. 2. all malitiousnes, and all guile, and dissimulation, and enuie, and all euill speaking, and as newe borne babes desire the milke of vnderstanding, which we may as it were boast that we haue in the true and right knowledge of Iustice, which is to render to God that which is due to him, according to pietie, and to our neighbours what­soeuer belongeth to them, according to the dutie of cha­ritie,1. Cor. 13. 4. which is gentle, not easily prouoked to anger, nor enuious, nor reioycing in iniquitie, but alwaies in the truth.

Of Fortune. Chap. 44.

IF I bee not deceiued (my Companions) wee haue hitherto sufficientlye discoursed of the foure Morall vertues, being riuers that flowe from the fountaine of dutie and honestie, as also of all the partes that belong vnto them, and of their contra­rie vices. Therefore from hence foorth we are to make choice of some other matter, and to applie that which we might haue learned in the discourses of our Morall Philosophie, vnto Estates, charges, and conditions of life, whereunto euerie one of vs may be called during this life: yea, let vs assaie to giue aduice and councell to superiours, according to the measure of our iudge­ment. But bicause, as I thinke, the entrie to so high a matter, requireth some leasure to thinke vppon it, I am of opinion, that we were best to deferre this point vntill the next dayes worke: and in the meane tyme, for the spendinge of the reste of this after-noone, [Page 468] looke out some matter subiect, apt, and fit to recreate our spirites withall: which, bicause naturally they de­light in varietie and diuersitie of thinges, cannot haue a more conuenient matter, than to make sport with the di­uers and sundrie effects of Fortune, which, according toFortune is con­stant in hir in­constancie. the saying of the Ancients, is very constant in hir incon­stancie. Further, let vs consider howe we may vse this word of Fortune, which is so common amongst vs, and not abuse it.

To him (saith Cicero) whose hope, reason, and cogitation dependeth of Fortune, nothing can be so certaine or assured vnto him, that he may perswade himselfe it will abide by him, no not one day. But he is most happie that is of himselfe sufficient in euery respect, and that placeth the hope of all his affaires in himselfe, in regard of men.

I am she (sayth Vertue, speaking in Man­tuan) that surmounteth Fortune, and the scourge that punisheth sinnes. Vice and Vertue (sayth Plutark) haue no maisters to rule ouer them: and they are very blind, who, calling Fortune blinde, suffer themselues to be guided and ledde by hir. But we must learne of thee (ASER) what we are to thinke of this counterfet God­desse.

If we are perswaded, that he who is Iustice it selfe, and the essentiall truth, maketh Princes contempti­blePsal. 107. 40. 41. (as it is said in the Scripture) and causeth them to erre in desert places out of the way, raising vp the poore out of miserie, and making him families like a flocke of sheepe, there is no doubt but that Fortune being an Epi­curian worde, rather than an Heathenish, is nothing elseWhat Fortune is. but a fayned deuice of mans spirite, and an imaginati­on without truth: vpon which (as Plutarke sayth) a man can not settle his iudgement, nor yet comprehend it by the discourse of reason. So that we must confesse, that all things are guided & gouerned by the prouidence of God,God ordereth casuall things necessarily. who knoweth and ordereth casuall thinges necessarily. Which albeit we easily cōfesse with the mouth, as also that [Page 469] prosperitie and aduersitie depend onely of the will of God, yet we may daily note in many of vs, effects cleane contrarie to the worde, in that, when we deliberate a­bout our affayres, we presently cast our eie vpon humaneHumane meanes are but second causes. meanes, to come to the ende of them, although they are but second causes, casting behind our backes that helpe, which is from aboue. And when we want the blessing of God, through his anger and iust indignation, (which we care not to appease) and so for the most part stumble vp­on the cleane contrarie of all our platformes and goodly enterprises; then we accuse, not our ignorance and in­gratitude towardes his Maiestie, but the vnfortunate mi­shap and chance of humane thinges, which through the common error of men, we attribute to Fortune. Nowe,Acts. 17. 28. Rom. 11. 33. knowing that we liue, and mooue, and haue our being in God onely, that his mysteries are great and woonderfull, and such, that if we should go about to sound the bottom of them, it were all one as if we sought to pearce the hea­uens, after the manner of the Giants, set foorth vnto vs by the Poets: that our way is not in our power, and thatIer. 10. 23. Exod. 21. 13. Deut. 19. 4. 5. Prou. 16. 33. of our selues we cannot direct our steps: that it is the Lorde that offereth a man into his handes, who vnwit­tingly killeth him with the heade of his Axe slipt from the helue: that lots cast at aduenture, fall out according to his iudgement, and that generally all things are done by the ordinance of God, I say, knowing all these things, yet bicause the order, reason, ende, and necessitie of those thinges which are so strange, vncertaine, and mu­table in the world, are for the most part hidden in the counsell of God, and cannot be comprehended by theHow we may vse these words of Fortune and Chance. opinion and reach of man, we may well call them ca­suall and chancing, in respect of our selues. The like we may both conceiue of all future euents, holding them in suspence, bicause they may fall out either of the one or the other side, (and yet being resolued of this, that no­thing shall come to passe which God hath not ordained) and also note them out by this worde Fortune, not attri­buting thereunto any power ouer the inconstancie and [Page 470] continuall alteration of humane things: especially see­ing they are so changeable, that it would be a verye hard matter (speaking after the manner of men) to compre­hend them vnder a more proper and fit word. The defini­tion also, which the Ancients gaue of Fortune, is very a­greeable to the effect of the thing signified, and of that wherof we haue daily experience: namely, that there is no other final end of chang & alteration in man, than that ofThe opinions of ancient Philoso­phers touching Fortune. his being. Plato saith, that Fortune is an accidentall cause, & a consequence in those things which proceed from the counsell of man. Aristotle saith, that Fortune is a casuall & accidental cause in things, which, being purposely done for some certaine end, haue no apparant cause of their fal­ling out otherwise: so that a man may well say, that such a thing came to him by Fortune, which falleth out besides his thought, when he vndertaketh any worke with deli­beration. Epicurus said, that Fortune was such a cause, as a­greed neither to persons, times, or manners. Theophrastus speaking of Fortune, saith, that she looketh not whereat she shooteth, that oftentimes she delighteth in taking a­way that, which is gotten with very great paine, but espe­cially in ouerturning those felicities, which, as men think, are best staied and assured. Iuuenal saith, that when it plea­seth hir, she maketh a Consul of a Rhetoritian: & likewise cleane contrary, hauing this propertie in hir to reioice greatly in the varietie of chances, & to deride all the deui­ces of men, oftener lifting vp into the place of soueraigne authoritie such as are vnwoorthy thereof, than those thatThe Romanes gaue great ho­nor to Fortune. deserue the same. Amongst the Ancients, the Romanes honoured Fortune more than all the rest, esteeming of hir (saith Pindarus) as of the patron, nurse, & vpholder of the citie of Rome. They builded for hir many sumptuous Temples, wherein she was adored vnder sundry names, & honorable titles for a Goddesse of singular power: inso­much that they thought themselues more beholding to hir for the greatnes & prosperity of their Empire, than to vertue. Sylla hauing attained to the soueraigne authoritie of a Monarch, and of Dictator, yeelded himselfe & all his [Page 471] actions to the fauor of Fortune, saying, that he reputedSylla surnamed himselfe Happie. himselfe to be Fortunes child, and thereupon tooke vnto him the surname of Happie. Which opinion seemeth to haue preuailed greatly with him, in causing him, after he had committed infinite proscriptions, murders, & cruel­ties, voluntarily & without feare to giue ouer the Dicta­torship, to lead the rest of his yeeres in all assurance & qui­etnes, & as a priuate man to passe & repasse through all I­taly without any gard, euen in the midst of them whome he had so much offended. We read also, that when Mithri­dates king of Pontus wrote vnto him concerning the war, which he had vndertaken against him, saying, that he maruelled how Sylla durst buckle with his great fortune, especially knowing that she had not deceiued him at any time, whereas she neuer knew Sylla Consul, he returned this answer. For this selfe same reason thou shalt now see, how Fortune doing hir dutie, will take hir leaue of thee to come to mee. Iulius Caesar gaue a certaine argumentI. Caesar. of the assurance he had in Fortune, when, entring vpon the sea in a little Fregate in a very tempestuous weather, and the Pilot making some doubt of waighing vp the Anchor, he sayde thus vnto him: Be not afrayde my friende, for thou cariest Caesar and his Fortune. Augu­stus Augustus. his successour sending his Nephew to the warre, wi­shed that he might be as valiant as Scipio, as well belo­ued as Pompey, and as fortunate as himselfe: attributing to Fortune, as a principall worke, the honour of ma­king him so great as he was. To this purpose also it is re­ported, that great acquaintance and familiaritie grow­ing betweene Augustus and Antonius his Companion in the Empire, they often passed away the time togither with sundrie sortes of plaies and pastimes, wherein An­tonius alwayes went away vanquished. Whereupon one of his familiar friendes well seene in the arte of Diuina­tion,A true foresight of a Soothsayer. tooke occasion many tymes to vtter his mind vn­to him in these or the like speeches. Sir, what do you so neere this yoong man? Separate your selfe farre from him. Your fame is greater than his, you are elder than [Page 472] he, you command moe men than he, you are better exer­cised in feates of Armes, you haue greater experience: but your familiar spirite feareth his, and your fortune, which of it selfe is great, flattereth his, and if you sequester not your selfe farre from him, she will forsake you and goe to him. Thus we see what great estimation the Romanes had of Fortune, yea they stood in so great awe of hir pow­er,P. Aemilius. that Paulus Aemilius that great Captaine sayd, that a­mongst humane things, he neuer feared any one of them, but amongst diuine things he alwaies stoode in great feare of Fortune, as of hir in whome there was small trust to be placed, bicause of hir inconstancie and mutable varietie, whereby she neuer vseth to gratifie men so libe­rally, or to bestow such absolute prosperitie vpon them, but that some enuie is mingled withall. Oh deceitfull Fortune (said Demetrius) thou art easily found, but hard­ly auoyded! They that haue laboured most in paintingThe description of Fortune. out this fained Goddesse, say, that she hath a swift pace, a loftie mind, and a hawtie hope. They giue hir light wings, a globe vnder hir feete, and in hir hand a horne of abun­dance, full of all such heauenlie and earthlie things as are exquisite and pretious, which she poureth foorth liberal­ly, when and where she pleaseth. Some put a wheele into hir hands, which she turneth about continually, whereby that part which is aboue is presently turned downeward:What is meant by Fortunes wheele. therby giuing vs to vnderstand, that from hir highest pre­ferment she throweth downe in one instant such as are most happy, into the gulfe of miserie. In a word, we may well compare hir to a glasse, which, the brighter it is, the sooner it is broken & dasht in peeces. Histories, the trea­surieExamples of the contrary effects of Fortune. of antiquitie, set before our eies innumerable exam­ples of common and contrary effects, which are wrought by this inconstant Fortune, and those oftentimes practi­sed vpon the same persons, whome of smal she hath made very great, and after taken them downe lower, yea made them more miserable (if I may so speake) than they wereHannibal. at their beginning. Hannibal, that renowmed Captaine of the Carthaginians, that redouted enimy of the Romanes, [Page 473] after notable victories obtained sundry times against thē, was in the ende vtterly ouerthrowen and compelled to flie hither and thither, and to haue recourse to forraine princes, into whose armes he cast himselfe for the safetie of his person: and after long wandring, being old & spent,Flaminius or [...] ­tion against Hannibal. he setled himselfe with the king of Bithynia. But Titus Fla­minius whom the Romanes had sent embassador to that king, required to haue him, that he might put him to death. For (quoth he) as long as he liueth he will be a fire for the Romane empire, which wanteth but some one or other to kindle it. When he was in the vigor and strength of his age, neither his hand nor his body had procured so great damage to the Romanes, as his good vnderstanding and sufficiencie in the arte of warre had done, being ioi­ned with the hatred he bare them. Which is nothing di­minished through old age, neither yet through the alte­ration of his estate and fortune: bicause the nature and qualitie of maners continueth alwaies. Hannibal being ad­uertised of this request of Titus, stieped poison in a cup of drinke which he had kept a long time against an extremi­tie. But before he dranke thereof, he vttred these wordes. Go to, let vs deliuer the people of Rome from this greatWhat speech Hannibal vsed before he poi­soned himselfe. care, seeing it lieth so heauy vpon them, and the time see­meth vnto them ouer-long to stay for the naturall death of this poore old man, whom they hate so extremely. And yet Titus shall not obtaine a victory greatly honorable, or woorthy the praise of the ancient Romanes, who, euen then when Pyrrhus their enimy warred against them, and had wonne battels of them, sent him word to beware of poison that was prepared for him. Thus did this great & vertuous captaine finish his daies, being vtterly ouer­throwen, and trode vnder foote by fortune, which for a time had placed him in the highest degree of honor that could be. Eumenes a Thracian, one of Alexanders lieute­nants,Eumenes. and one that after Alexanders death had great wars and made his partie good against Antigonus king of Ma­cedonia, came to that greatnesse and authoritie from a poore Potters sonne: & afterwards being ouercome and [Page 474] taken prisoner, he died of hunger. But such preferments of fortune will not seeme very strange vnto vs, if we con­siderPertinax. how Pertinax came to the Empire, ascending from a simple souldier to the degree of a captaine, and after­ward of Gouernour of Rome, being borne of a poore countrywoman. And hauing raigned only two moneths,Aurelianus. he was slaine by the souldiers of his gard. Aurelianus fromProbus. the same place obtained the selfe same dignitie. Probus Maximianus. was the sonne of a gardiner, and Maximianus of a black­smith.Iustinus. Iustinus, for his vertue surnamed the Great, from a hogheard in Thracia, attained to the empire. Wil you haue a worthy exāple agreeable to that saying of Iuuenal whichGregory 7. we alleaged euen now? Gregory the 7. from a poore monke was lift vp to the dignitie of chief bishop of Rome: & Hen­ry Henry 4. the 4. emperor, was brought to that extreme miserie by wars, that he asked the said Gregory forgiuenes, & cast him selfe down at his feete. And yet before this miserable mo­narch could speake with him, he stood 3. days fasting and barefoote at the popes palace gate, as a poore suppliant waiting whē he might haue entrance & accesse to his ho­lynes.Lewes the Meeke. Lewes the Meeke, emperour, & king of France, was constrained to giue ouer his estate, & to shut himself vp in a monasterie, through the conspiracie of his own childrē.Valerianus. Valerianus had a harder chaunge of his estate, ending his days whilest he was prisoner in the hands of Sapor king of the Parthians, who vsed the throte of this miserable em­peror whensoeuer he mounted vpō his horse. But was not that a wonderful effect of fortune, which hapned not long since in Munster, principal towne in the country of West­phalia▪ Iohn of Leiden. wherin a sillie botcher of Holland, being retired as a poore banished man from his country, called Iohn of Lei­den, was proclaimed king, was serued & obeied of all the people a long time, euen vntil the taking & subuersion of the said town after he had born out the siege for the spaceMahomet. of 3. yeeres. Mahomet the first of that name, of a very smal and abiect place, being enriched by marying his mistres, and seruing his own turne very fitly with a mutinie raised by the Sarrasins against Heracleus the emperor, made him­self [Page 475] their captain, tooke Damascus, spoiled Egypt, & final­ly subdued Arabia, discomfited the Persians, and became both a monarch & a prophet. Wil you see a most wōderful effect of fortune? Look vpon the procedings of that great Tamburlane, who being a pesants son & keping cattel, cor­ruptedTamburlane. 500. sheepheards his companions. These men sel­ling their cattel, betook them to armes, robbed the mer­chants of that country, & watched the high ways. Which when the king of Persia vnderstood of, he sent a captaine with a 1000. horse to discomfit them. But Tamburlane delt so with him, that ioining both togither they wrought ma­ny incredible feates of armes. And when ciuil warre grew betwixt the king and his brother, Tamburlane entred into the brothers pay, who obtained the victory by his means, & therupon made him his lieutenant general. But he not long after spoiled the new king, weakened & subdued the whole kingdom of Persia. And when he saw himselfe cap­tain of an army of 400000. horsmen, & 600000. footmē, he made warre with Baiazet emperor of the Turkes, ouer­cameBaiazet. him in battel, and tooke him prisoner. He obtained also a great victorie against the Souldan of Egypt, and the king of Arabia. This good successe (which is most to be maruelled at and very rare) accompanied him always vn­till his death, in so much that he ended his days amongst his children, as a peaceable gouernour of innumerable countries. From him descended the great Sophy who raig­neth at this day, and is greatly feared and redoubted of the Turke. But that miserable Baiazet who had conque­red before so many peoples, and subdued innumerable cities, ended his dayes in an iron cage, wherein being pri­soner, and ouercome with griefe to see his wife shamefully handled, in waiting at Tamburlanes table with hir gowne cut downe to hir Nauell, so that hir secrete partes were seene, this vnfortunate Turke beate his head so often agaynst the Cage, that he ended his lyfe. But what neede we drawe out this discourse further to shewe the straunge dealinges, and maruellous chaunges of for­tune in the particular estates and conditions of men, [Page 476] which are to be seene daily amongst vs, seeing the soue­raignOf the foure so­ueraigne Em­pires. Empires of Babylon, of Persia, of Graecia, and of Rome, which in mans iudgement seemed immutable and inexpugnable, are fallen from all their glittering shew and greatnes, into vtter ruine and subuersion, so that of the last of them, which surpassed the rest in power, there re­maineth onely a commandement limited and restrained within the confines of Almaigne, which then was not the tenth part of the rich prouinces subiect to this Empire? Is there any cause then why we should be astonished, if li­tle kingdoms, common-wealths and other ciuill gouern­ments end, when they are come to the vtmost, & ful point of their greatnes? And much lesse if it fal out so with mē, who by nature are subiect to change, and of themselues desire and seeke for nothing else but alteration. Being as­sured therefore, that there is such vncertaintie in all hu­mane things, let vs wisely prepare our selues, and applyWe must pre­pare our selues for all euents. our will to all euents, whose causes are altogither incom­prehensible in respect of our vnderstandings, and quite out of our power. For he that is able to say, I haue pre­uented thee O fortune, I haue stopped all thy passages, and closed vp all thy wayes of entrance, that man putteth not all his assurance in barres or locked gates, nor yet in high walles, but staieth himselfe vpon Phylosophicall sen­tences and discourses of reason, whereof all they are ca­pable that imploy their wils, trauell and studie thereup­on. Neither may we doubt of them or distrust our selues, but rather admire and greatly esteeme of them, beyng rauished with an affectionate spirite. He that taketh least care for to morow (saith Epicurus) commeth thereuntoWho taketh greatest ioy in outward goods. with greatest ioy. And (as Plutarke saith) riches, glory, authoritie and credite, reioyce them most, that stande least in feare of their contraries. For when a man seeketh after any of them with an ouer-burning desire, whereby also too great a feare of loosing them is imprinted in him, the pleasure which he hath by enioying the same, is verie weake and vnstable, much like to a flame blowen vp and downe with the winde. But as for the power of fortune [Page 477] (saith the same Philosopher) it bringeth downe those men that of their owne nature are cowards, fearefull and of small courage. Neither must we attribute cowardlines toOf the power of fortune. misfortune, nor valure and prudence to fortune, who is not able to make a man great without vertue. For what good will weapons doe a man without experience, riches without liberalitie, victorie without bountie and clemen­cie, fighting without valure and boldnesse: briefly all for­tunes goods without knowledge how to vse them well? Let vs learne also that it is too great blockishnesse to at­tribute the cause of the change of monarchies, common­wealths, estates, of battels lost, and generally of all casu­all mishaps, both generall and particular, to certaine se­cond causes: one while accusing the ambition of some, the ignorance or negligence of others, the small courage, want of money, of men, or of munitions. But we mustWhether we must looke in the change and successe of things. looke higher, and turne towardes him who vseth such meanes in the execution of his wonderfull counsell, when he mindeth to chastise and to punish men for their offen­ces. Example hereof we haue in those great monarchies of Babylon, of Persia, and of Graecia, whose markes are no more to be seene, than the pathe of a ship in the water, or way of a bird flying in the aire. And yet they were o­uerthrowen and vanquished by such as had a thousand times lesse humane force and chiefe sinewes of warre, as treasure, men, munition and other furniture, than their monarches and emperours had, who abounded euery way. But God purposed to punish their pride and ini­quitie. Let vs therefore stand in awe, not of the goddesse fortune, which is but the dreame of man, and cannot (as Cicero saith) greatly hurt him, that iudgeth hope groun­ded vpon vertue more firme, than that which is built vp­on hir forces, but let vs feare him who directeth and dis­poseth in wisdome all things created to their proper end,The proper end of all things. which is the glorie of his name, and saluation of his e­lect: albeit the order which he obserueth, the cause, rea­son, and necessitie of them, are for the most part hid in his secret counsell, and cannot be comprehended by the [Page 478] sense of man. And yet not so hid, but that we ought pru­dently to consider of those means which he offreth vnto vs for our vse, after we haue endeuoured to mitigate and to appease his wrath and anger through the amendment of our life, and haue called for aide and helpe of him in all our enterprises grounded by reason vpon dutie.

Of Mariage. Chap. 45.

IT is greate perfection (as Seneca writeth) for a man to take in hand and desire toA wise man is not desirous of many things. obtain but one only thing. But no man is one and the same, except a wise man: all other men are of diuers formes. Who knoweth not with how great disquietnes the mind of man is set on fire, with what lightnes it is ca­ried hither & thither, and with what ambition and desire it is stirred vp to take holde of many sundry thinges atDistinctions of callings ap­pointed from the beginning. Gen. 4. 2. once? Notwithstanding we must diligently marke, how the heauenly wisdome hath made a distinction of estates and kindes of life amongst men from the beginning, ap­pointing that of Adams two first children, the one should be a husbandman, the other a sheepheard. Since that, theEuery one must abide in his cal­ling. 1. Cor. 7. 20. selfe same prouidence hath alwayes commaunded, that euery one of vs should looke vnto his calling in all the a­ctions of his life, accounting therof as of a station assigned [Page 479] vnto vs by his maiestie, and as of a perpetuall rule where­by we must direct the ende of our intents, and following the will of God, striue to continue such men to the ende of our dayes, as we once purposed with our selues to be. For we may assure our selues, that there is no worke so small and contemptible, which doth not shine and ap­peere precious before the heauenly throne, if we do it inAll things done in faith are pre­tious in Gods sight. faith according to our calling, and giue glory to the Eter­nall for our whole condition and state of life. Nowe we know that after God had created man by his almightie power and vnspeakable goodnesse, to make him partaker of his glory, and to rule ouer the earth, the sea, and all things contained in them, he gaue him presently the wo­man for a faithfull companion, and sweete solace to his life, and for the preseruation of his kinde, instituting andGen. 2. 24. sanctifying mariage from that tyme forward. Therefore I thinke my companions, that we ought to handle this first, bicause it is the first calling of man, most common, and most honorable: to the end that we may, as we sayd yesterday, begin to apply the actions and practise of the vertues, of which we haue hitherto intreated, to estates and conditions of life, whereunto eche of vs may be cal­led.

If we could (saith Plato) behold with bo­dily eyes the beautie that honestie hath in hir, we wouldHonestie is al­ways beautiful. be farre in loue with hir: but she is to be seen onely with the eyes of the minde. And truely with the same eyes we may behold it in mariage, if we consider narowly the ho­nestie of the coupled life, when it is in euery respect abso­lute, than the holy bond whereof, the earth hath nothing more beautifull or honest.

Mariage is ho­norable among all. Heb. 13. 4. Prou. 18. 22. Mariage (as the scripture saith) is honorable among all, and the bed vndefiled. He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing, and receiueth fauour of the Lord. Therefore of thee (ACHITOB) we desire to vnderstand more at large what thou hast learned concerning this matter discussed with so many contrary opinions both old and new.

Nature hauing brought vs foorth toMan borne to liue in societie. liue in societie, and not alone, like to brute beasts, it must needes be (saith Aristotle) that he which liueth solitari­ly,The definition of societie. is either a very beast, or more than a man. Now a socie­tie is an assemblie and agreement of many in one, seeking after some good thing that is profitable, pleasant, and ho­nest, atleast that seemeth to be so: or else labouring toThe end of so­cietie. flie from and to eschew some euill. Euery societie respec­teth the maintenance and preseruation of Monarchies, Kingdomes, and Common-wealths. But bicause no one whole and generall thing can be knowne (as the Philoso­phers say) except the parts thereof be first knowne, it a­greeth very fitly with the cause of our meeting togither, and is also very necessarie for vs, to learne what the socie­tie of wedlocke is, which being the seminarie and preser­uationThe definition of wedlocke. of all societies, is nothing else but a communion of life betweene the husband and the wife, extending it selfe to all the parts that belong to their house, of whichThe author and antiquitie of mariage. we are to consider heereafter. The originall and antiqui­tie of this societie, called Mariage, is especially woorthie of memorie, bicause God himselfe was the author there­of.The end therof. For he had no sooner created the first man, but he pur­posed to giue him a wife, for a faithful companion, a com­fortresse of his life, and a helpe like vnto himselfe. Which he performed, as soone as he thought vpon it: forasmuch as with him to will, is to be able, and to do: as likewise toAnother end. be able and to do, is to will. Furthermore, he instituted this diuine mysterie for the generall increase of mankind, and lawfull propagation of nature, euen in the time of in­nocencie before man had sinned, sanctifieng it at the same time with his blessing. Vnto which necessitie of mari­age, man had made himselfe a great deale more subiect through the curse of sinne, which hath giuen place in hisThe necessitie and third end of mariage. soule to the concupiscences of the flesh. Whereby it ap­peereth that we haue need of this remedy in two respects, namely: in regard of the end and condition of our first nature, as also by reason of sin, which came in afterward, except in those to whome God hath granted the speciall [Page 481] grace and gift of continencie, which is as rare a thing asContinencie a rare gift. any other whatsoeuer. Notwithstanding there hath al­wais been a thousand contrary opinions as touching this matter, namely, whether mariage is to be desired & sought after, or rather to be hated and eschewed, neither part wanting reasons, oftentimes more glorious in shew than forceable to conclude for the defence of their saying. A­mong the Philosophers, Pythagoras the first of them, wasThe varietie of opinions tou­ching mariage. one of the greatest enimies of mariage, as may be proued by that which is written of him. For being requested to be at the mariage of a friend of his, he excused himselfe, say­ing:Pythagoras opi­nion of mariage. that he was neuer desirous to go to such a feast, or to be at such a funerall: iudging that it was all one for a man to marrie a wife, and to wed a coffin, and to put himself into a tomb, or to take a sheet for the beginning of his burial. Many o­ther Philosophers were of his opinion, yea they said, that nature appointing a contrary to euery liuing creature, hath also giuen to man (to whom all other things are sub­iect) the woman for his contrary, whose malice is a sworn enimie to the reason of man. Secundus was of this sect, whoSecundus opi­nion of a wife. being demanded what a wife was, the contrary (quoth he) of a husband. Moreouer they said, that a womans nature was such, that although she had continued 30. yeeres with hir husband, yet he should daily find in hir new fansies, and sundry sorts of behauior: so that nature seemed a stepmo­ther to men rather than to beasts, bicause these know and shun their contraries, but man is naturally led to loue and to seek after his enimie. His miserie therfore is very great in that so weake flesh is able to force a hart that is at liber­tie, causing a man oftentimes to procure to himselfe that which doth him hurt, and to make great account of that which he contēneth, as experience sheweth the same in re­gard of womē. Thales one of the Sages of Graecia, mindingThales iudge­ment of mari­age. to shew that it was not good for a man to marry, whē one asked him why he maried not being in the flower of his age, said, that it was not yet time. Afterward, being grow­en to further age, and demaunded the same question, he answered, that the time was past. Marius the Roman as­ked [Page 482] Metellus would not giue away himself to a wife Metellus, being a mā also of great credit, why he would not take his daughter to wife, seeing she was beautifull in body, staied in countenance, eloquent in speech, noble by race, rich in dowrie, happy in good name, & adorned with vertues? To whom he replied, That he knew all this to be true, yet (quoth he) I had rather be mine own than hirs. They that folow this opinion now touched, & abhorre mariage, al­leage cōmonly these or the like reasons: that although the name of husband be sweet and honorable, yet whosoeuerReasons against mariage. wil wel consider of it, shal find it ful of great and intollera­ble burthens: & that the time is yet to come, wherin ma­ny thorns are not found amidst the roses of mariage, and wherein great store of haile falleth not togither with that sweet raine. Who is able (say they) patiently to abide the charges of mariage, the care of children, the want which is sometimes in the house, the imperfections of seruants, but especially the insolencie and arrogancie of Wiues, and the yoke of so vnperfect a sexe? Who is able fully to sa­tisfie,Women com­pared to ships. either their fleshly lust, or their insatiable pompe? Doth not the olde prouerbe say, that women and shippes are neuer so well rigged, but that still there remaineth something to be amended? Whereupon I would con­clude willingly, that if a maried man neuer loath his e­state, yet he tireth himselfe at the least. Riches breede care, pouertie griefe, sayling terrifieth, eating hindreth, walking wearieth. All these troubles are (we see) disper­sed or diuided amongst many, but maried men haue them altogither. For if we marke a maried man, we shall seldom see him, but either pensiue or sadde, or wearie, or hin­dered, and sometime amazed or afrayd of that which may befall him, or may peraduenture be committed by his wife. Concerning good aduise and choice for the ob­tainingHow hard a matter it is to marry well. of a good mariage. If thou takest a poore wife, she will be contemned, and thy selfe lesse esteemed: if thou takest hir rich, she wil looke to commaund thee, and of a free man to make thee a slaue. So that whē thou thin­kest to take an equall companion to wife, thou shalt wed an intollerable mistres, I know not whether I should say, [Page 483] a she deuil. If thou mariest a faire woman, thou puttest thy selfe in great danger, lest thy round head become forked, which would be a fearefull metamorphosis and alterati­on, if it were visible and apparant. Euery castle is hard to keep, how wel soeuer it be watched, when it is assaulted by many: and his victory is in a desperate case, who being a­lone, is compelled to fight against many. What shall I say more? Wealth maketh a woman proud, beautie suspe­cted, and hardnes of fauor lothsom. Is there any thing (as Plutarke saith) more light than the toong of an vnbrideled woman? more nipping than hir iniuries? more rash than hir boldnes? more execrable than hir naughtie dispositi­on?An vnruly wo­man is full of all euil. more dangerous than hir fury? These euil speakers of women further inrich their sayings with a thousand histo­ries & examples, as testimonies of the infinite miseries & inconueniences which haue been procured by them First they alleage the deceiuing of the first man by his wife, wherupon sin & death, and through them all miseries en­tred into the world. Samson betraied by Dali [...]a, Salomon be­cameExamples of mi­serable euents procured by women. brutish through his concubines, Achab rooted out through Iesabel, Marcus Antonius slue himself for the loue of Cleopatra, the destruction of Troy bicause of Helena, the Pandora of Hesiodus, the pitifull death of Hercules by Deïa­nira, and many other miserable euents procured chiefly by womē, & plentifully declared in histories. Neither do theyTwo good days in mariage. forget the saying of Hipponactus, That of one mariage only two good dayes are to be hoped for, namely, the mariage day, and the day of the wiues deth. They say that the wedding day (according to Alexandreïdes speech) is the beginning of many euils: that in no estate fortune sheweth hir self more in constant, & lesse faithful in performing hir promise thā in mariage, as Polyhistor saith: bicause there is not one to be found, wherin there is not some deceit, or some occasion of com­plaint giuen to the man. They say as Philemon said, That a wife is a necessary and perpetual euil to hir husband: that (as Di­philus sayd) nothing is hardlier found in all the world than a good wife. Wherunto that old prouerbe agreeth, that a good wife, a good mule, and a good goate, are three naughtie Three euil beasts. [Page 484] beasts. The answer also made by a noble Romane, is not forgotten of these scuere Censorers of women, to whom when some of his acquaintance and friends said, that he had great cause to hold himself happie and contented, bi­cause he had a wife that was faire, rich, and come of noble parentage, he shewed them his foote, saying: My friends you see that my shoe is very new, faire and well made, but none of you Alphonsus opi­nion of a per­fect mariage. can tell whereabout it pincheth me. Likewise the saying of Al­phonsus king of Arragon is alleaged by them that blame mariage, namely, that if a mā would see a perfect and wel agree­ing mariage, the husband must be deafe, and the wife blind, that he may not heare his wiues brawling, nor she see hir husbands faults. He that trusteth to a woman (said Hesiodus) is as safe as he that hangeth by the leaues of a tree in the ende of Autumne when the leaues begin to fall. I remember yet three things which I haue heard vttered in contempt of mariage: the saying of a mery conceited man, the deed of another, and the answer of a good fellow that was in talkThree mery conceits. of a certaine mariage. They haue reason (quoth the first) who say, that when a yong man is to be maried, he must be arrested. For truly I thinke we should flie vp to heauen, if this arrest kept vs not backe. The second hearing this preached, that whosoeuer will be saued, must beare his crosse, ran to his wife & laid hir vpon his necke. Thirdly, when one said to a good fellow that he should tary vntill his sonne were wise before he maried him. Be not decei­ued my friend (quoth he to him) for if he once grow to be wise he wil neuer marry. These & such like reasons are cō ­monlyNotable rea­sons in the de­fence of mari­age. alleaged by them that mislike mariage. But now marke what we say to the contrary. First we haue to con­sider the beginning and antiquitie of mariage, the place where it was instituted, and who was the Author thereof, and that in the time of innocencie, of which things we haue alreadie spoken. Moreouer we must remember,Christ honored a wedding with his presence, and with a miracle. that the heauenly worde honoured with his presence, and set foorth a wedding feast with a miracle, euen with the first which he wrought in this world. Can any thing then be found more holie, than that which the holy [Page 485] of holies, the father and creator of all things hath esta­blished, honored and consecrated with his presence? But what greater equitie can we vse thā to leaue to our succes­sors that which we hold of our predecessors? By wedlocke copulation we came into the world, and by the same we must leaue others behind vs, to continue that propagatiō which hath endured frō our ancestors vnto vs. Can there be any greater want of consideration than to seeke to flie from that, as prophane which God hath taken for holy? as euill, which he hath reputed good? As detestable, which he esteemeth holy? Is there any greater inhumani­tie, than to reiect the fountain of humanitie? Is there any greater ingratitude thā to deny to those that are to come, that which we hold of thē that are past? When God crea­ted woman, not of the slime of the earth, as he did mā, butWherfore the woman was created of the rib of man. of his bone, did he not shew thereby that he should haue nothing faster cleauing, neerer ioyning, or surer glued to him than his wife, especially when he added these words, that it was not good for man to be alone, as though he had sayd,Gen. 2 18. that his life would be miserable, irksom & vnpleasant, if he had not giuen him a wife for a faithful companion? How dare we say, that we know better what is meet for vs, than he that made vs, & knew all our life before we came out of the bowels of our mother? then he that honoured the bond of matrimonie so far as to say, that a man shal leaue his father & mother, and cleaue to his wife? Is there any thing more holy than that honor which we owe to them that haue begotten vs? And yet the fidelitie of wedlock is preferred before fatherly and motherly honour, that itThe great pre­heminence of mariage. should be kept & preserued euen to the last gaspe of life. Further we see how the spirit of God speaking by his pro­phetPsal. 45. honoreth mariage so far, as to vse it for a similitude and representation of that holy & sacred vnitie, which he hath with his church. What could any mā say more to ex­toll the dignitie therof? That which God hath begun, on­ly death endeth: what God hath conioined, death only se­parateth: what God hath made sure, man cannot shake: what he hath established, man cannot abolish. Oh what & [Page 486] Mariage euer vsed and recei­ued of all nati­ons. how great is the dignitie, preheminence, & prerogatiue of mariage? Again, do we not see how it hath been continu­ed throughout all ages past vntill this present, receiued & approued of all nations, both Hebrews, Greeks, Latins & Barbarians, so that there is no nation vnder the cope of heauen, how barbarous soeuer it be, & far from ciuilitie, which sheweth not great ioy & delight at wedding feasts? Besides, who shal defend common-welths without armor and weapons, and who shal weare armour if men be wan­ting? If that be not supplied by generation which through death necessarily endeth, how can the linage and race of mankind endure? The lawes of the Romans (who were the patern of vertue to all nations) with rigor punished such as would not marry, forbidding thē all publike dignities, & depriuing them of those which they had obtained. AndThe Romans had lawes in fa­uor of mariage. to inuite them the rather to marry, they appointed priui­ledges for thē that had children, so that he was most bene­fited and preferred to publike honors that had most chil­dren. Whē Augustus Caesar was Censor, inquirie was made by his authoritie of a Roman knight that had broken the law and would not marry, wherupon he should haue been punished, but that he prooued that he had been father ofAugustus his care to represse the vncleannes of his subiects. 3. children. The same Augustus being come to the empire, & desirous to correct the detestable vnclennes of his sub­iects, & to compel them to contract matrimony, leuied an impost by way of a fine, vpon their legacies & windfals cō ­ming by the death of others that did not marry after 25. yeeres of age, or that had no children. Wherby he greatly chastised whoredoms, adulteries & sodomitrie: & furni­shed Rome with good citizens which then was greatly de­stitute of them by reason of ciuil warres. What is the cause Why the dow­ries of women haue alwais had great priui­ledges. (saith Vlpianus the lawyer) that womens dowries had such great priuiledges? It was for no other reason, then bicause of the profit that commeth to al common-wealths by mariages. He that had 3. childrē amongst the Romans could not be cōpelled to cary a message, or publike embassage: he that had 5. was exempted frō personal charge: & he that had 13. from al charge. And in our time in the common-welth [Page 487] of Florence (as Raphael Volaterani [...] reherseth in his Philo­logie)The priuiledges of them that had children. Euery▪citizen that is father of 5. children either males or females, is exempted, freed, & discharged of all publike taxe, loane, & subsidie. If nothing be more blessed, nor happines more to be desi­red than immortalitie, line all propagation maketh vs immortal through the continuing of kind. Wherupon we may inferre by way of conclusion, that no greater happines can come to man & wife in this world, than to leaue issue as a testimo­ny to posteritie, that once they were in the world, & haue left behind them a token of their life. It was enacted by Lycurgus lawes, that no citizen preferring the estate of continen­cie before that of mariage, should be at publike playes: which at that time was a note of great ignominie. We account not him a good gar­diner that painfully dresseth those fruitfull trees which he hath in his garden or orchard, if he haue no care to plant and graft new, A comparison between a good gardiner and a citizen. therby to substitute others in their place, which by succession of time waxe old & die. And how shal we take him for a good citizen, and such a one as zealously seeketh the good of the common-welth, that [...]ontenteth himselfe with those citizens that are aliue, and negle­cteth the ing endring of new in good and lawfull matrimonie, wher­by to supply the want of such as daily decay? Further, if I should go about to reherse here the happines, pleasure & conten­tatiō which mā & wife liuing holily togither, & according to the duty of their vocation, do mutually receiue one of another, who doubteth that a whole day would not suffice me? What greater solace in the whole world can be found than for a man to liue with hir vnto whom he is coupled,The happines, pleasure and contentation in mariage. not by good wil only, but also by a mutuall cōmunication of bodies? If we take great delight to conferre with our friends & familiar acquaintance about our secret affaires, shall we not receiue greater ioy without cōparison to dis­close our thoughts to hir vnto whom we speake as safely as to our selues, who is also partaker as wel of our aduer­sity as prosperity, and accounteth our weale or woe to be hir owne? We are ioined to our friends by good will and liking onely, but to our wife we are conioined and linked by soueraigne charitie, by bodily commixtion, by sacred confederacy, & by an inseparable felowship & society in al [Page 488] The neere con­iunction of ma­ried couples. weathers. If the man abound in tēporal goods, the wife wil keep them faithfully for him, and encrease them by hir in­dustrie and labor If he be poore & persecuted by fortune, she will comfort him. If through feare, sicknes, or any o­ther mishap he be constrained to shut vp himselfe in his house, his wife will take away that irkesomnes from him, which otherwise would seaze vpon him being solitarie. If he go abroad, he is glad that he hath left that partie in his house which he most trusteth. In youth she is a sweete and amiable companion, & in old age a very conuenient com­forterMariage en­creaseth friends and kinsfolks. and solace. Moreouer, by mariage a man encreaseth his friends, allies, kinsfolks & neighbours, which is a very great benefit and inuincible strength. Brethren & sisters, nephews & nieces are doubled. Peace is many times pro­cured between monarchs & princes by mariages, and infi­nit quarels & dissentions appeased. But what vnspeakable pleasure doth euery father take to see his liuely picture ingrauen in the face of his children, and that so neere the quick, as neither Lysippus, Mentor, Polycletus, Phidias, Praxite­les, Zeuxis, Apelles, nor Parrhasius had euer the skil to graue or paint so wel? Againe, what ioy receiueth he by hoping, that when his children shall waxe great, they will be the staffe of his age, the stay of his weakenes, the pillar of his house, and that ouerliuing him according to the course of nature, they shall close vp his eies, and cause such funerals & ceremonies to be done for him as are requisite in that case? For the conclusion therefore of this present matterMotiues to ma­riage. we say, that no man can iustly blame mariage, vnto which all lawes both diuine and humane exhort vs, nature pro­uoketh vs, honestie draweth vs, infinite commodities in­uite vs, all nations shew vs the way thither, and lastly, ne­cessitie of continuing our kind constraineth vs. And brief­ly to answere the grounds alleaged to the contrary, they may be ouerthrowen by one onely dictinction, which is, that most of them that dispraised mariage were heathens, and blinded in their vain wisedom, or to speake better, in their folly, wanting then that knowledge of the truth, which God of his grace hath since reuealed vnto vs. [Page 489] And no maruell if they erred in dispraising Mariage, see­ing they could neuer attaine to the knowledge of the true and soueraigne good of man, as we haue handled already. But yet it can neuer be found that Socrates, Plato, and suchThe best Philo­sophers praised and vsed mari­age. as were most excellent amōg the Philosophers, blamed it, but rather honoured & commended it, the most of them also being maried, as namely, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Sene­ca, Plutarke, and others. As for their strongest reason that mislike mariage, namely, the deceiuing of men by wo­men, the fault ought to be imputed rather to the men, than to the women, bicause men, according to the perfe­ction of their sexe, ought to be wiser than women, who are by nature more changeable by will, and more fraile in counsell, although all are not so. So that if there be any imperfection, it ought not to be obiected to them by way of reproch, but rather to nature than to them. And they that vpbraid them therewith, shew that they wander out of the path of reason, are destitute of all good sence, and are vnworthie that women should haue conceiued them, brought them into the world, giuen them sucke, and nou­rished them.

Of a house and familie, and of the kinds of mariage: of certaine ancient customes obserued in mari­age. Chap. 46.

IN the beginning of my present speech of mari­age, I noted this, that the communion of the husband and wife extendeth it selfe vnto all the parts that depend of their house. Therefore I suppose (my Companions) that for the sequele and vnderstan­ding of that matter which we haue propounded to our selues to intreate of, I meane Oeconomie or gouernment of a familie, we must seeke after a more ample and large declaration of a house, which consisteth not in many stones, and long peeces of timber ioined togither withA house consi­steth in liuing stones. great cunning, but in stones that haue life, and are parta­kers [Page 490] of reason, tending to the benefite and profite of the house, as to their end. Also if you thinke it good, and our howre giue vs leasure, we may enter into the considerati­on of the sundry sorts of mariages, and of certaine anci­ent customes obserued therein, which I touched not in my discourse, bicause I would not be ouer-long.

First, it is necessarye (saith Aristotle) to ioine those togither, which can not be the one without the o­ther,What assēblies are most neces­sarie for the in­stitution of a familie. as the male and female for generation. Next, he that is able to execute the commandements of his maister by the strength of his bodie, is a subiect and slaue by nature. And of these two assemblies a house or familie is first in­stituted.

The definition of a house. A familie or house is an assemblye framed by nature, to communicate daily togither: and they are called of the Grecians [...], such as liue of the same pro­uision, or [...], such as vse the same Chimney. But we shall vnderstād of thee ARAM the whole discourse of that which is heere propounded vnto vs.

When I consider of the excellencie & great­nes of Plato his skil, who was greatly admired of the Gre­cians, as he that for vertue & honesty of life, for eloquencePlato establi­shed a commu­nitie of al things in his Common-wealth. of speech, & perswasion by true and learned Philosophie, went far beyond all other Philosophers, I cannot suffici­ently wonder, how, amidst so many good lawes & profita­ble statuts for a common-wealth, which we haue receiued from him, he imagined to establish therein the communi­tie of goods, wiues, & children, amongst his Citizens, not suffring them to haue any thing proper & peculiar: to the end (as he said) to banish from his citie these two words, Thine & Mine, which in his opinion were the cause of all e­uils & desolations that befall Common-wealths. The Ni­cholaitesThe Nicholaites reuiued Platoes communitie. reuiued the same error in the primitiue Church, & many others haue labored by friuolous reasons to de­fend & maintaine it, chiefly to roote out (as they say) vt­terly frō within the soule, those humane affections, which commōly cary men rather towards their wiues, children, & goods, than to other things. Which affections so long [Page 491] as they beare sway amongst the Citizens, cause them of­tentimes to turne aside from their duty towards the com­mon-wealth, whereby it is made weaker, & of lesse conti­nuance. Now among many grounds confuting this error,The confutati­on of this error. (which being receiued, would fil all with disorder & con­fusion, to the ouerthrow of humane societie) this is most certain & cannot be impugned, that forasmuch as the law­ful distributiō of goods, & maner of mariages, are the or­dinance of God (as it is manifest) & seeing the ordinance of God may not be altered by any counsell of man, it fol­loweth, that aswell the diuision of goods, as of wiues and children, are immutable, and consequently, that the com­munitie of goods, wiues, & children, is a thing flatly gain­saying the institution of God, & therfore to be reproued. Moreouer, if goods were common, an infinite multitude of do-litles, of idle & negligent persons, borne (as Horace saith) onely to deuoure & to consume the benefits of the earth, being vnwilling to labor, & resembling waspes that eate the honie of the Bees, would feede and cloath them­selues with their goods, who get their liuing with great sweate of their bodies, & vexation of their minds. Which is against the expresse commandement of God, who will haue vs eate our bread in the sweat of our face. But what greater shame & offēce, vtterly defacing all honesty of life, can there be amongst men, than the community of wiues, whereby all fornications & adulteries would be maintai­ned by authority? This sheweth plainly, that we are not to loose time in confuting such an opinion of theirs, who seeke to take away from amongst men all marks of a Cō ­mon-wealth. For there would not be any publike thing, if nothing were priuate, nor cōmon, if nothing were peculi­ar. Yea Plato afterward did wisely leaue that opiniō, & qui­etly renounced his first Cōmon-wealth, to giue place to a second. And the Heralds of Gods word condēned this er­ror, when it was raised vp in the Apostles time by an arch­heretik called Nicholas of Antioch, who maintained this o­piniō, that goods, wiues, & childrē, ought to be cōmon a­mōg christians, & for example to others, cōmunicated his [Page 492] wife to whosoeuer would, albeit she was yoong and very beautifull. Thus following the order established of God, and continued alwaies through so many ages, vntill ourThe definition of a house. time, and hauing seene the first institution of mariage, we must also containe it within the house, which is a societie and communion of life betweene the husband and the wife, the maister and the seruant, for daily profit. Hesiodus putteth the Oxe in steede of the seruant, so farre foorth (faith Aristotle) as the Oxe being fit to labour, is to poore men in the place of a slaue. This house thus described is simple, but when children are contained therein, it is ab­soluteThe diuision thereof. and compleate. Therefore a house that is perfect and accomplished, may be diuided, according to the say­ing of Philosophers, into these foure parts: into Matrimo­niall, Parentall, Lordly or Maisterlie, and Possessorie part. The Matrimoniall part comprehēdeth the husband & the wife: the Parentall containeth the father, mother, & chil­dren: the Lordlie hath vnder it the maister, men-seruants, and maid-seruants: the Possessorie part includeth within it mooueables, immooueables, and chattels. Now to fol­low our matter already begun, and to discourse of things in order, we haue heere to handle and to obserue diligent­ly this first part of a house, called the coniugall or wed­locke part, and the sequele of our discourses shall instruct vs in the other parts. He that hath tasted of learning, and [...]oure kinds of mariage. beene well instructed in the studie of wisedome, shall find that there are foure kinds of coniunctions and mariages, namely, the mariage of honour, the mariage of loue, theThe mariage of honor is of three sorts. mariage of labour, and the mariage of griefe. The mari­age of honour is diuided into the highest, middlemost, and lowest degree. The highest is that supernaturall ma­riage, whereby God and mans nature meete togither, e­uen by a mysterie, which ouerpasseth the vnderstanding of all humane capacitie. We saw the effect and truth ther­of in the incarnation and natiuitie of the eternall sonne of God. The middlemost mariage of honour is, when God and the soule meete, and are ioined togither by grace and glorie. The lowest degree of the mariage of ho­nour [Page 493] is when God and the Church are coupled togither, and are made one mysticall bodie. These three sortes of mariages are supernaturall, and appointed of God after an vnspeakeable manner: but the cause of our assemblie requireth not that we should speake any more of them. Now to come to the other kinds of coniunctions, which2. The mariage of loue. respect onely the estate of mankind: the mariage of loue, is that which is betweene an honest man and a vertuous woman, linked togither by God for the preseruation of the linage of man. It may be called a charitable coniun­ction, vnitie, and societie of them that are good, being made by grace, peace, & concord. Of this mariage spake that wise lewe, saying: that three things among others,Ecclus. 25. 1. were approoued of God and men, the concord of brethren, the loue of our neighbour, and the husband and wife that agree well togither. And to say truth, it is one of the greatest benefits, yea one of the rarest felicities in the world, when a mari­age is well and duly kept, when both the husband & wife feare God, and keepe their promise one to another: ac­cordingEcclus. 26. 1. to that saying of the wise man: Blessed is the man that hath a vertuous wife: the wife also being no lesse happy that hath a good husband. The other kind of mariage,The mariage of labour. namely of labour, is that which is commonly practised in our daies, wherein many, yea almost all, marie for coue­tousnes, not for the vertue, chastity, or good report, whichPlautus would haue a man chuse his wife by the eares, not by the fingers. they heare of women and maidens. Plautus the comicall Poet said, that in mariage a man must take his wife by the eares, and not by the fingers: that is to say, for hir good report, not for hir dowrie, which is told with hands. Ly­curgus being desirous that his Citizens should put the same in practise, established a law, which forbad all giuingLycurgus for­bad all dowries. of dowries with maidens in mariage, to the end that euery maide should labour to endow hir selfe with vertue: for loue wherof, and not of riches, they should be demanded in mariage. The same reason mooued Themistocles, whenThemistocles. two men required his daughter in mariage, to preferre the honest man before the wealthie: saying, that he had rather haue a man to his sonne in lawe without goods, [Page 494] Olympias. than goods without a man. We read that Olympias the mother of Alexander, hearing of one that had maried a very faire woman, but scarce chast, being rauished with bir loue, said, that he was a braineles man, otherwise heWe must not marie by the lust of our eies, nor by the re­port of our fin­gers. would not haue maried by heare-say, nor by the lust of his eies. We may say asmuch of them that marie by the report of their fingers, counting vpon them howe much their wiues bring to them by mariage, not considering before whether they bee so qualified, that they may liue with them. But let vs know, that euery mariage made through couetousnes, especially where there is inequalitie of ri­ches, as namely, when the husband is poore, and the wife rich, will be alwaies riotous, and very hardly will there beMenander. any peace betweene them. Which thing Menander desi­rous to teach vs, said, that when a poore man marieth a rich wife, he giueth himselfe in mariage to the woman which he weddeth, and not the woman to him. And the Satyricall Poet saith, that nothing is more intollerablePittacus answer to a yoong man that asked his aduice in mari­age. than a rich wife. This caused a yoong man to go to Pitta­cus, one of the Sages of Grecia, and to aske his counsell, saying: I haue two wiues offered me, the one is equall to me in goods and parentage, the other goeth farre beyond me, which of them shal I take? Marke (said this wise man) where children are readie to play at fence, go to them, and they will counsell thee. He did so, and as he drew neere, they began to set themselues one against another to skir­mish. And when they saw this yoong man comming, who exceeded them in strength and bignes, and supposed that he would make one amongst them, they said aloud, let e­ueryEuery one must marie his equal. Martia. one go to his match. Whereby he learned what he was to doe concerning his mariage. Martia, a noble wi­dow, being demanded why she maried not againe, seeing she was rich, and as yet in the floure of hir youth, made this answer. I can find none (said she) that loueth not my goods Venda Queene of Ruscia. more than my person. The same reason moued Venda Queene of Ruscia to throw hir selfe into the water, thereby to re­uenge hir selfe of them that made warre with hir, to haue hir in mariage, seeing they could not win hir by gentle­nes. [Page 495] For she knew well, that they desired hir for hit king­dome, and not of any good wil they bare vnto hir: as it is the custome of Princes to respect onely their alliance and profite, marying often-times by substitutes and proxiesAgainst mariage by substitutes and proxies. Elizabeth Q of England. those whome they neuer saw but by picture. But I finde that Elizabeth that wise Queene of England, was of a bet­ter iudgement, when she wrote to Henrie Prince, and since king of Sweathland, who demanded hir in mariage, that he was the onelie Prince in the world, whome she ought to loue most, bicause he required hir when she was a prisoner: but she was resolued neuer to marie any man before she had seene him. The like answere she sent to the Archduke of Austria, which was in part the cause why neither of them would come vnto hir, fearing belike, that if they were not well liked, they should be sent backe againe into their coun­trie. Of this that hath beene hitherto discoursed, togi­ther with the experience which is daily seene, we may in­fer, that mariages made through couetousnes, are in deed mariages of labor. And of this number may those be rec­koned,Of mariages made onely for beautie. wherein bodilie beautie, and other outward gra­ces, are only regarded. For it seldome falleth out, but that the spirite of dissention troubleth all in those houses, and that all loue and liking vanisheth togither with age, which causeth the liuely hue of colour to wither away. Likewise amongst these mariages of labour, we place those where­in there is disparitie of age, & especially of maners. Ther­foreOf the disparitie of age and ma­ners betweene maried couples. Dionysius the elder said to his mother, who being very old, would needes marie a yoong man, that it was in her power to violate the lawes of Syracusa, but not the lawe of nature. Aristotle sayth, that men and women ought to marie togither in such an age, that both of them should leaue of to beget and to conceiue children at the same tyme. According to this rule the husband must beAt what age men and wo­men ought to marrie. twentie yeeres, or there abouts, elder than his wife: bi­cause naturally women conceiue and beate children vntil fiftie yeeres, and men may beget children vntil 70. Lycur­gus also forbad that any man should marie before he were [...]7▪ yeeres old, & a woman before 17. Whereof this reason [Page 496] may rather be rendred, that the wife may more easily ac­quaint hir self with hir husbands manners, he being then of ripe iudgement, and she comming into his power from hir tender yeeres. For (as the same Aristotle saith) diuer­sitie of manners and callings hindereth friendship and true loue. But bicause of the shortnes of mans daies, IWhy a man ought to haue ten yeeres moe than his wife. thinke it were good for him to marie at thirtie yeeres of age, taking a wife of twentie yeeres old, to the ende that hir age may not be too much vnlike his: that so liuing according to the common course of nature, they may leaue their children prouided at the same yeeres, and such as might be well able to liue without them. A maiden al­so of that age is able to iudge a great deale better what is meete for hir, and what dutie she oweth to hir husband, and of his commandements, than if she were yoonger. Now, seeing we are about this matter, I thinke I shall notOf the mariage of widowes. digresse from the same, if I speake of the mariage of wi­dowes. It is certaine that those women that haue already learned the disposition of their former husbands, are of­ten-times very hardly altered. Whereupon some alleadge the example of Timotheus, the best plaier on the flute of his time, who, when he tooke a scholler, vsed to demand of him whether he had made any entrance in that plaie:Timotheus. Which if he had, he tooke a greater reward by halfe than he did of them that knew nothing: saying, that his paines were greater in taking away from his schollers that which was naught and vnskilfull, than in teaching that which was good to such as vnderstood nothing at all thereof.Chilons opinion of second mari­ages. Chilon one of the wise men of Grecia, said, that he accoun­ted him a very foole, who hauing saued himselfe from a perilous shipwracke by painful swimming, would returne to sea againe, as though a tempest had not power ouer all barks. Platoes Androgyna teacheth, that second mariages can neuer be fitly made. Concerning this matter, we can1. Cor. 7. 39. haue no better counsell than that of S. Paule, whether I referre the solution of this matter. But experience dailyThe discommo­dities of second mariage. teacheth vs what infinite miseries, quarrels, suites, and o­uerthrow of houses, proceed from such mariages, through [Page 497] the donations and profits which those yoong men craue that marie widowes, who forgetting all naturall dutie, doubt not to inrich strangers with the goods of their owne children. Valeria of Rome may serue for a notableValeria. example to women, who said, that hir husband died for others, but liued to hir for euer. S. Hierome rehearseth a historie quite contrarie to this heere spoken of, auou­ching that he saw at Rome a woman that had beene ma­riedOf a woman that had beene maried to 22. husbands. to 22. husbands, who afterward marying one that had had 20. wiues, died in his life time. Whereupon the Romanes crowned him with Lawrell, in token of victo­rie, and caused him to carie a branch of Palme in his hand at his wiues funerall. He maketh mention also of another widowe, who of almes brought vp a little childThe notorious loosenes of a widow. and abused it at the age of ten yeeres, by whome she be­came great with child, contrarie to the order of nature, God so permitting it, to discouer the vile filthines of that woman. Second mariages were a great deale more honourable for such widowes. The fourth kinde of ma­riage remaineth yet, which wee called the mariage ofOf the mariage of griefe. griefe, which is nothing else but the assemblie and con­iunction of the wicked and reprobate, of whome that common prouerbe is spoken, that it is better one house be troubled with them than twayne. Their life can not but be full of wretchednes and miserie, the griefe whereof will abide by them for euer. But to returne to our first speech of the mariage of loue, which is holie and lawfull, gui­ded by good reason, and according to the ordinance of God, mortall men beholding the holines and necessitie of this mysterie, haue inriched and set foorth the same with all kind of ioy and delight, with the assemblie of kinsfolkes, and calling togither of friendes and guests,Commendable ornaments of mariages. with bankets, feastes, ornaments, iewels, Tragedies, Comedies, and such like pastimes, vttering ioy, and not to be misliked: so that all dissolutenes and ouer-great superfluitie be set aside, and honestie and comelines ob­serued. But especially the wedding songs, vsed by theWedding songs vsed in old time. Ancients both Greekes and Latines, and made to beau­tifie [Page 498] and enrich their weddings, are woorthie of eternallDiuers customs vsed at the ce­lebration of mariages. praise. Moreouer, they had amongst them infinite and sundrie customes kept at the knitting vp and celebration of mariages, some being good, others bad, of which we will heere alleadge certaine, bicause we may finde in­struction in them. The Assyrians had certaine Magistrats called Triumairs, and Presidents of weddings, approo­ued and graue men, whose office was once a yeere in e­uerie Towne and Village to bring all the yoong maidens that were to be maried, into one publike place, and to cause them to be proclaimed one after another, begin­ningThe Assyrians custome. with the fairest, who were giuen to them that offe­red most, and bad last. With this monie that came by them, they maried those that were hard-fauoured, as good cheape as they could: and otherwise than after this sort, it was not lawfull for any bodie to contract matri­monie. Wherein they shewed a maruellous care in pro­uidingThe custome of the Grecians. equally for all their daughters. The ancient Gre­cians had a custome to burne before the dore of the new maried wife, the Axletree of that chariot wherein she was brought to hir husbands house: giuing hir to vn­derstand thereby, that she was to dwell there with him, whether she were willing or no, and neuer to depart from thence. Lycurgus would not haue the husband and wife to lye togither in the beginning of their mariage, nor to see one another, but by stealth and secretly: to the ende (sayde he) that amitie and loue might be the better preserued betweene them, that they might be healthie, and that their children which shoulde come of them,The customes of the Romanes. might be stronger. The Romanes passed all other nati­ons in pompe, ceremonies, and comlines of mariage. They obserued this inuiolably, that their maidens and widowes should not be constrained to marrie. On the wedding daie they vsed that fashion, which at this daie is verie common. The newe maried wife was richly appa­relled, with hir haire hanging about hir shoulders, and hir head crowned with a garland of flowers. The mother of the Bride went before hir daughter, bearing a cofer of [Page 499] trinkets, iewels, rings, and other little ornaments be­longing to women. The maidens that came of wealthie houses, had a chariot prepared for them, drawne with two white horses, to declare the puritie of bodie, and inno­cencie of mind, which the yoong woman ought to haue. The newe maried wife was led from hir fathers house to hir husbands house, alongst the broadest streetes in the citie, to note thereby, that a wife ought alwaies to passe by the greatest way, and not be found at any time in sus­pected and secret places, whereupon some suspition of e­uill may arise. When she was come to the entrie of hir husbands house, before she went ouer the threashold of the dore, he tooke hir with both his armes by the wings, and lift hir aloft in such sort, that he stroke hir head and the dore post togither, and so set hir within the dore be­fore euer hir feete touched the ground. This was done, that the maried wife should remember through the griefe of the blow, not to go often foorth out of hir husbands house, if she would haue the report and name of an honest woman. Hir garments, behauiour, gesture and gate, were correspondent to all modestie, honestie, & shamefastnes. She ware a iewell hanging by a riben about hir necke, to signifie, that she was bound, and put in subiection to hirThe Romane brides vsed to present fire and water to their husbands. husband. She presented also to hir husband water in one hand, and fire in the other. Which some interprete thus, that as the communication of mans life consisteth chief­ly in the vse of these two elements, of fire & water, so there cannot be any fellowship more familiar or neerer linked togither, than that of the husband and the wife. Now, bi­cause fire and water signifie communication, others haue thus vnderstood it, that as fire and water are cleane con­traries aswell in the first as in the second qualities, so are man and wife, the one being hot and dry, of the nature of fire, and the other cold and moist, of the nature of water: which contrarieties being ioined togither, make a harmo­nie & temperature of loue. Againe, some would haue the dissentions, murmurings, & complaints, that are often in mariages signified therby: wherin laughter is not without [Page 500] weeping, nor rest without labor, nor sweete without sow­er, according to the nature of all earthly things, in which we cannot taste honie without gall, nor sugar without A­loes. Many other ceremonies were vsed of the Ancients, which for breuity sake, as also bicause there is smal instru­ction in them, I omit for this present. Therefore to con­cludeWhat is signifi­ed by the name of a house. our discourse, we learne that the name of a house doth not onely signifie the wals and roofe of a building, but that it ought to be taken for a familie gathered togi­ther to communicate one with another in all necessities. We learne also that in euery mariage we ought to haue re­gard to the ordinance and institution of God, and to those politike lawes vnder which we liue, to the ende we trouble not common tranquillitie: that we must auoide all disparitie of goods, of houses, of age, and especially of nature and manners. Let vs not suffer our selues to be ca­ried away with any foolish passion, but looke chiefly to this, that vnder a gratious & honest behauiour may shine foorth cleare and euident steps of an vpright and sincere soule, void of dissimulation: saying with the Wise man,Prou. 31. 30. Fauour is deceitfull, and beautie is vanitie, but a woman that fea­reth the Lord, she shall be praised. We must also rid our wed­ding assemblies of all dissolutenes, of all kind of allure­ments to voluptuousnes and nicenes, that they may ra­ther seeme to be schooles of honour and chastitie, than of intemperancie and loosenes. If we lay such foundati­ons in mariages, no doubt but God will blesse them, and make them happie and prosperous, to the glorie of his name, and to the quietnes and contentation of vs all.

Of the particular dutie of a husband towards his wife. Chap. 47.

AS Phisitions stand more in feare of feauers engendred of hid causes gathered togither by little and little of a long time, than of those which proceed of very apparant causes: so the smal [Page 501] iarres and daily quarrelings of maried folkes, being vn­knowneSmal iarres must be auoided in a house [...] to strangers, and drawing by litle and little to an incurable hardnes, do more separate them one from ano­ther, than any other cause whatsoeuer. Therefore it is ne­cessary that all the rootes of such naughty sprigs should be cut off, and all occasions eschewed, which might pro­uoke one another to the least and lightest anger that may be. The industrie of the man ought to aime especially at this, being called to the honorable estate of Head of a fa­milie, looking diligently that he performe such dutie to­wards hir, who is so straightly linked vnto him, that such dissentions neuer take their beginning through his de­fault. Let vs then (my Companions) take occasion of this subiect to be better instructed in the dutie of a husband towards his wife.

Prou. 5. 18. 19. 20. 21. Reioice (sayth the Wise man) with the wife of thy youth. Let hir be as the louing Hinde, and pleasant Roe: let hir breastes satisfie thee at all times, and delight in hirEuery man must content him­selfe with his owne wife. loue continually. For why shouldest thou delight in a strange wo­man, or imbrace the bosome of a stranger? For the waies of man are before the eyes of the Lorde, and he pondereth all his pathes.

Ephes. 5. 25. 26. How husbands ought to loue, their wiues. Husbands (sayth S. Paule) loue your wiues, euen as Christ loued the Church, and gaue himselfe for it. So ought men to loue their wiues as their owne bodies: he that loueth his wife, loueth himselfe. But it belongeth to thee (AMANA) to handle vs this point at large.

Gorgias an excellent Orator, commen­ded of Cicero in many places, exhorted the Graecians long since to peace and concord, by an oration of woonder­full arte. Which when he had ended, one Melanthus stoode vp before all the companie that was present, and sayd: My Lordes, behold Gorgias, who by his eloquent oration exhorteth vs that are in number infinite to con­cord, and yet he cannot playe the Oratour so well as to cause his wife and hir chamber-maide to liue quietly with him in his house, wherein there are but they three. For ye shall daily see them at strife and continuall dissention. [Page 502] Therefore, my Lordes, I thinke it great rashnes in him to exhort vs to concord, when he cannot haue it him­selfe in his priuate house. And truly, besides the vn­speakeable torment that is ioined with such riots, iang­lings, and controuersies in a house, it is a shamefull of­fence when they are knowne to strangers. The AncientsLar the hou­shold God of the Heathen. had a priuate and houshold God, whome they called the God Lar, which we may translate into our language, the God of the Harth. He was had in such veneration, that if any man withdrewe himselfe to the harth and house of his deadlie enimie, his enimie durst not offer him anie violence as long as he was there, the harth being vnto him a sanctuarie and place of immunitie. For so we readThemistocles saued by flying to the harth of his enimie. of Themistocles, that being banished from Athens, and pursued by some that would haue layed violent handes vpon him, he fled to the Harth of his deadlie enimie, who for that cause durst not strike him, nor offer him a­ny iniurie. This Harth was dedicated and consecrated to the Goddesse Vesta, and was placed where the chiefe fire of the house was made. Nowe I pray you, if it were prohibited, and accounted an vniust thing for a man to quarrell, to iniurie, or to offer violence, euen to his vt­ter enimie, beeing fled to his Harth, howe infamous an acte (thinke you) and vnwoorthie the nature of man, did these men iudge it to be, to offer any violence to them that were of the same Harth, but chiefly to the wife, whoWhat place the wife hath next to the man. is a principall person belonging to the bed, table, Harth, yea to the whole house of the husband, and is called by the lawe, a companion both of the diuine and humane house? At this daie we commonly obserue this, not to offend in any sort those that come to see vs: and if we haue any occasion of quarrelling, it shall not be shewed as long as they are in our house, if we haue any care not to be accounted vnciuill, and void of discretion. And how shall we not vse the same reason towards them that are vnto vs a second selfe, with whome we are to liue and die? Let vs then haue regard to those principall points that are to be desired for the establishment and continuance [Page 503] of loue, vpon which euerie holie mariage ought first toLoue the first foundation of euery holy ma­riage. be grounded, as we haue already said. Secondly, it must be grounded vpon the conformitie and agreement of good and honest conditions: and lastly, it must hold & depend of prudence, which breedeth a continuall, liuely, and mu­tuall affection of one towards another, the true testimo­nie whereof is a reuerent behauiour of each to other. It is a Maxime and principle granted by wise men, that noThe best must command. man is woorthie and meete to command, vnles he be bet­ter than they ouer whome he commandeth. Therefore it seemeth that nature commonly giueth more vigour, strength, authoritie, grauitie, and prudence, in deedes and wordes to men than to women. The effects of which gra­ces he cannot better shew foorth, than by gouerning him­selfeThe husband must command ouer his wise as ouer a free per­son. with reason, and according to duty towards his wife: first, in louing hir, then in gouerning hir gratiously, as be­ing a free person, as Aristotle saith, perswading hir more by reason than authoritie. He must not offer hir any in­iurie, either in deede or worde, but honour and make much of hir. For the husband that honoureth his wife, honoureth himselfe. The Lawyer saith, that maried wo­men are and ought to be set foorth with the beames of their husbands, and that the husband ought to giue ex­ample to others to honour his wife: whereby also he shall prouoke his wife to honour him. But on the other side, by offring hir wrong, he shall incense hir, and giue hir occa­sion to reply vpon him with bitter speeches, which in the end will prouoke him to wrath, and to behaue himselfeThe fruits of hard dealing with ones wife. woorse towards his wife, thereby constraining hir, as it falleth out often-times, to inuent some mischiefe against him and his honor. There are a thousand examples heer­of in good authors, and experience affoordeth too many proofes of the same. We reade of Clytemnestra the wifeClytemnestra. of Agamemnon, that, to reuenge an iniurie receiued from hir husband, she committed adulterie, and afterward consented to his death. It is true that this is but a simple reuenge of women, and such a one as lighteth vpon them selues. But what? This sexe is fraile, spitefull, and gi­uen [Page 504] to reuenge: and therefore men are to vse the grea­ter prudence in the gouerning and managing of them. The prouerbe is, that a man is bitten of his dog, by pro­uoking him ouer-much, and that an Eele is often-timesA husband must neuer beate his wife. lost, when it is strained ouer-hard. Therefore let a wise husband knowe this, that he must neuer deale iniurious­ly with his wife, especially before others: and that he must abstaine most of all from laying violent hands vpon hir. If the Ancients would haue their slaues corrected, rather with wordes than blowes, much more ought theMarcus Aureli­us precept to husbands. wife to be so dealt withall, whome God calleth a helpe like to vs. To this effect Marcus Aurelius sayd, that a wise husband and one that mindeth to liue peaceably with his wife, ought aboue all things to obserue this rule, namely: to admonish hir often, to reprehend hir seldome, but Iupiter. neuer to lay hands vpon hir. Homer bringeth in Iupiter reproo­uing his wife, and threatning hir when she is rebellious, but neuer maketh him goe farther. We read in the life ofCato. Cato, of whome it was giuen out that he was a sworne e­nimie to women, that he neuer strake his wife, accounting that sacriledge: and yet he knewe well howe to vse the place and dignitie of a husband, which keepeth his wife in obedience. But aboue all that hath beene hitherto spo­ken,A husband must especially auoid adulterie. a husband must obserue this as an inuiolable lawe, that he abstaine from touching any other woman but his owne, aswell in respect of the feare of God, who exclu­deth all whoremongers & adulterers from his heauenlie mansion, as also bicause his wife should haue no know­ledge or suspition thereof. For otherwise he will cast him­selfe into a more dangerous Labyrinth, than was that of king Porsenna or of Dedalus: yea, he shall hardly haue a good countenance of his wife at any time, except she dis­semble the matter, that she may the better be renenged of him, either by rendring like for like, thinking that she hath iust occasion to breake hir faith made to hir hus­band, seeing he hath broken his to hir, or else by some other meane vpon his person. Of this suspition which the wife hath of hir husbands incontinencie, or the husband [Page 505] of the wiues, is bred a great passion, or to speake better,What iealousie is. fury and rage, which we call iealousie. Chrysippus calleth it a disease of the minde, proceeding from a feare which a man hath, that that thing is communicated to another, which he would not haue common but priuate to him­selfe. Or otherwise we may say, that iealousie is bred of that loue, which will not suffer a partner in the thing be­loued. Some write (saith Plutarke) that Cats are troubled with the smell of perfumes and sweet sauours, in so much that they waxe mad withall. Likewise if it should so fal out that a woman should be offended and haue hir braine troubled with the perfumes of hir husband, he were of a very strange nature if he would not abstaine from it, but for the enioying of a little pleasure would suffer hir to fall into so great an inconuenience. Now seeing it is so that such accidents come vpō them, not when their husbands are perfumed, but when they giue ouer themselues to theWhoredom is great iniustice. loue of harlots, it is great iniustice in them to grieue, of­fend and trouble their wiues in such hainous sort. At least wise they should behaue themselues as they do that draw neere to Bees, who abstaine frō touching euen their owne wiues. For it is reported of Bees, that they hate and make warre more against them than against others, bicause they haue such false harts, as to lie neere their wiues, being de­filed and polluted with the company of any other womē. The wilde bore (saith one of the Poets) pursued of dogs, the Lionesse bitten with hunger, the Tyger robbed of hir yong ones, or the Viper whose taile is troad vpon, are not more terrible than a woman that is offēded: but nothing wil sooner cast hir into a phrensie & fury, than ielousy. A­riadna buried aliue Zenon Isauricus the emperour, that sheThe cruel re­uenge of Ari­adna. might be reuenged on him. He that taketh to himselfe those pleasures which he forbiddeth his wife, doth as much as if he commanded hir to fight against enimies, to whom he had alreadie yeelded himself. And if vice, whore­dom, curiositie, superfluitie, choler and other imperfecti­ons raigne among men, how should they driue them away from women? So a husband must correct himselfe first, [Page 506] and after vse learned instructions towards his wife. Let him (as Bees do) gather togither and cary to his wife, so much of his studies as may serue for hir profit. For seeingWomen are ca­pable of Philo­sophie. women (as Plato saith) haue a soule as well as we, and as quicke a spirite, yea oftentimes a more excellent spirite than we, we must not think them vncapable of the good­ly reasons of Philosophie, wherein many of them haue gone beyond many Philosophers. Knowledge and skill wil keepe a woman from other vnmeete exercises, and be­ing rauished with hir husbands braue discourses, she will contemne the losse of time in vnprofitable matters. She will neuer fall into that daunger which oftentimes befal­leth women, who conceiue and bring foorth by them­selues strange counsels, and extrauagant passions, when they receiue not from else-where the seedes of good spee­ches, and when their husbands impart not vnto them a­ny sound doctrine. The same (as fables faine) preuailed more than the Northerne winde. For the more the wind laboured to get away a mans gowne, and to that ende blew more violently, the harder did he girde vp and re­straineA tale of the sunne and the wind. his garment. But when the Sunne waxed hote af­ter the winde, the man feeling himselfe heated, cast off his gowne, and afterward burning with heate, he put off his coate and all. So if husbands go about to order their wiues with their bare authoritie and by force, they will striue against it, and be offended: but contrarywife, be­ingWomen must be led more by reason and gen­tlenes, than by force. admonished with reason they yeeld of themselues and take it patiently. The fooles of this world commonly gird and mocke that man, who peraduenture seemeth to be led a litle too much by his lawfull wife & loyall spouse, vsing more gentlenesse and curtesie towards hir, than ri­gor and commaunding: and yet you shall see themselues so strangely bewitched by some strumpet, that they feare not to hazard their life and honour in hir seruice. But it beseemeth a man a great deale better to be well liking, gentle and acceptable to an honest and vertuous wife, than to abase himselfe to a common harlot. And those men deceiue themselues, who, hauing maried rich wiues [Page 507] and of noble houses, studie not to make them more ho­nestThe best way to bring an vnruly wife into good order is to make hir more honest. and better qualified, but to pull them downe, per­swading themselues that they will come to better order when they haue abased & brought them lowe. Whereas e­uery one ought to maintain the dignitie of his wife as he would do the iust height of a horse, and be skilful both in the one and the other to vse the bridle well as it become­meth him. Besides, a husband is not to rule his wife as a lord or master doth his slaue, but as the soule doth a wise mans bodie, through a mutuall loue and ioint affection, whereby he is bound vnto hir. And as the soule may well be carefull ouer the body, although it become not a slaue to the pleasures & inordinate affections thereof: so a wise husband will behaue himselfe by pleasing and gratifiyng his wife in honest things, and by shewing that he loueth honor and vertue aboue all things. This will be a mean to make hir as wise, vertuous and honest, as otherwise: if him­selfe be giuen to voluptuousnesse, he shall cause hir to like of curtisans conditions, and to become slipperie and las­ciuious. No man (saith Cleobulus) ought to chide or toNo man must chide or fawne vpon his wife before others. fawne vpō his wife before others: for the one is the point of a foole, the other of a mad man. Socrates practised one of these points very well, when Xantippa his wife reuiling and chiding him, in the ende being caried headlong with wrath, ouerthrew table and all. Whereupon Euthyde­mus whom he had brought home to suppe with him, rose vp to depart. But Socrates not shewing himselfe greatlySocrates pati­ence in sustai­ning the infir­mities of his wife. mooued or angry with his wife, staied him, and sayde: What? do you not remember my friend, that as we were at dinner with you the other day, a henne lept vpon the table and did as much to vs, and yet we were not angrie therefore? Solon ordained that the husband should goe see his wife thrise a moneth at the least, not for pleasure, but to yeeld vnto hir, as it were by obligation, the pled­ges and gages of friendship through honor, grace and loi­altie, which ought to increase daily. And as cities at sundry times renew these alliaunces, which they haue one with another: so this lawe-maker would haue the alliaunce [Page 508] of mariage, that I may so speake, renued by the speechesHusbands must be carefull in looking to their families. vsed at such greetings and visitations. We see daily what miseries and offences light vpon houses, when the head of the familie hath no care to rule and guide it: whereupon also the women thinke that they are despised and smally beloued. And in truth they haue occasion giuen them so to thinke, when their husbands seldome keep them com­pany. The Pilote that giueth ouer his ship to the mercy of the waues, declareth euidently that he careth not for loo­sing that which is in it. A wife without hir husband is ex­posed to many ambushes and assaultes that are hardly su­stained.Women maried their seruants in the absence of their husbands. To this purpose I remember a notable historie written in the chronicles of Russia, namely, that the inha­bitants of Nouogradum, which at this day is the chiefe & principall seate of that countrey, being gone into Graecia to besiege the towne of Corsun, where they continued for the space of seuen yeeres, their wiues in the meane while wearied with their long abode there, maried their ser­uants. The husbands afterward returning conquerours, found their slaues in the field, who gaue them battell, and had the better of them. Neuertheles in the end the slaues were vanquished, and the most part of the women moued with indignation for that ouerthrow, hung themselues. Now as touching that other point mentioned by thatMen must not dally with their wiues in the pre­sence of others. wise man Cleobulus, namely, that a mā must not dally with his wife in the presence of others, Cato depriued a Senator of Rome from the Senatoriall dignitie, bicause he kissed his wife in his daughters presence. This was somwhat too extreme. But howsoeuer it be, as Plato admonisheth men growen in yeeres to shew themselues shamefast before the yonger sort, to the end that they also should learne to be­haue themselues reuerently and warily, so surely this pre­cept is especially to be kept betweene man and wife, that they may be an example of honor and chastitie vnto all.What houshold affaires are to be diuided be­tween the man and the wife. Likewise the man must diuide the offices and affaires of the house with his wife, giuing hir authoritie ouer all things in his absence: and in his presence also ouer hous­hold matters, & such things as are more proper & agree­able [Page 509] to that sexe: causing hir to be feared, reuerenced, and obeied of the children, men-seruants and maid-seruants, as himselfe. But as if one take two sounds that agree well, the base is always more heard: so in a well ruled and or­dered house, all things are done by the consent of both parties, but yet so, that it is alwaies apparant, that things are done by the direction, counsell, and inuention of the husband. For a familie will suffer but one head, one masterThere must be but one head in a familie. & one lord: otherwise if there were many heads, the com­mandements would be contrary, and the familie in con­tinuall trouble. Now the foundation of all dueties here mentioned by vs of the husband towards the wife, and of all others which daily communication may require, is that true and vnfained loue that ought to be the vnsepa­rable bond of euery good mariage. We haue handledLoue the band of mariage. heretofore the great effects of friendship: which if they be required among common friends, no doubt but they are much more between those, whom God, nature, the lawes, and loue, haue so straightly ioined togither. Also let hus­bandes know, that they ought to reuerence their wines more than any other person: and perceiuing them to be wise and vertuous, (as they may make them if they be not altogither forlorne and corrupted) let them neuer seemea hu band must not distrust his wife. to distrust them in any respect. The Romanes when they returned from a voiage, or from a farre countrey, or onely out of the countrey into the citie, if their wiues were at home, they sent word before to giue them intelligence of their comming, to the end they should not conceiue this opinion, that they meant to deale craftily or maliciously with them. Forasmuch therfore as loue and friendship is the fountain of euery good dutie of the husband towards his wife, and that which as it were stealeth away, and ma­keth the will of his half-partner to be wholy his owne, let vs consider for the conclusion of our speech, of some no­tableExamples of the loue of hus­bands towards their wiues. examples of great loue in the behalfe of men, to the end we may be drawen on to loue and to honor them that are in the same place towards vs that the church is to­wards God: which he so loued, that he sent his only sonne [Page 510] T. Gracchus. to die for the redemption thereof. Tiberius Gracchus, a no­ble man of Rome, finding two serpents in the chamber wherein he slept, inquired for the meaning thereof by sooth-saying, wherunto he gaue absolute credite. Answer was made him, that if he slue the male first, he should die before his wife, but if the female, his wife before him. As soone as he vnderstood therof he slue the male, and within a litle while after he died. Whereupon Historiographers doubt whether his wife Cornelia were more happy in fin­ding a husband that loued hir so well, than miserable in loosing him. Baptista Fregosa maketh mention of a Nea­politane,The great loue of a Neapoli­ [...]ane towards his wife. whose wife being taken on the sea coast by the Moores, he presently cast himself after hir into the sea, and following their foist besought thē to take him also. Which they did, so that both of them were brought before the king of Thunis to whom the vessail belonged: who hea­ring the discourse of the fact, and being moued with com­passion ouer such perfect friendship, deliuered them both.Orpheus. Orpheus (as the Poets write) loued his wife so entirely, that she dying on the wedding day, he kept his loue inuiolable and would neuer set it vpon any other. Ninus king of the Assyrians, falling in loue with Semiramis the wife of Menon a vassaile of his, besought him to let him haue hir to wife, in recompence wherof he offred him his daughter in ma­riage.Menon. But Menon bare such great loue towards hir, that he would not yeeld therunto. Wherupon the king being mooued with wrath, and threatning to plucke out his eies and to take hir away by force, as he did in deed, Menon forPeriander. very griefe & sorow hung himselfe. Periander king of Co­rinth loued his wife so tenderly, that after she was dead, he caused hir to be laid by him certaine daies. Marcus Lepi­dus M. Lepidus. being driuen into banishment, heard that his wife was maried to another, whereupon he died for sorow. WhenP. Numidius. word was brought to Plautius Numidius a Romane Sena­tor, that his wife, whom he loued as himselfe, was dead: heSylanus. thrust himself into the bosome with a dagger, whereof he died. Sylanus a Romane slue himselfe after his wife, whom he singularly loued, was taken from him, and giuen to [Page 511] Nero the Emperor. Dominicus Catalusius prince of LesbosDominicus Ca­tahusius. loued his wife so wel, that although she grew very leprous, yet he neuer depriued hir therefore of his boord or bed. We read of a great lord of Spaine, called Roderigo Sarmi­ento, Roderigo Sar­miento. that through griefe which he receiued for the losse of his wife, he slept for a yeeres space in his clothes, did neuer eate vpon a table cloth, nor sate him downe in any chaire, but afflicted himselfe diuersly. Therefore let vs learne by our present discourse to loue our wiues perfect­ly, yeelding due beneuolence vnto them and behauing our selues discretly towards thē, without offending them, or going beyond the boundes of our duetie. And as na­ture mingleth vs togither by our bodies, to the ende that taking part of the one and part of the other, and puttingAll things must be common be­tween the hus­band and the wife. all togither, she may make that which commeth thereof common to both, and that in such sort, that neither par­tie can discerne or distinguish that which is proper to it selfe from that which belongeth to the other: so let vs haue all things common togither, euen our will, affecti­on and authoritie. Neuerthelesse this must be done in such sort, that as in one cup, although there be as much or more water than wine, yet we call it wine, so in the au­thoritie of the wife the husbands name must be written, as he that directeth the same. But in the meane while let these wordes Mine and Thine be banished far from them, vnlesse it be in this respect, that, according to the opini­on of the Phisitians, as blowes giuen on the left side are felt on the right, so the wife must through compassion feele the harmes of hir husband, and the husband much more those of his wife: to the ende that as knots haue their strēgth by interlacing the ends one within another, so the societie of mariage is preserued and strengthened when both parties affoord a mutuall affection of good will, being assured, that both togither shall be made heires of grace and life.

Of the dutie of a Wife towards hir Husband. Chap. 48.

NAture hauing honored woman with aThe naturall gifts of women. gracious alluring of the eyes, with a sweete speech, with a beautifull coun­tenance and modest behauior, hath giuen hir great means to win the good liking and loue of hir husband, if she be honest and shamefast: as likewise she may easily deceiue man by offring him pleasure, if she be wickedly minded. This did Olympias wife to king Phillip, know full well, when she tooke the Thessalonian woman by the hand whom hir husband loued so well, and by whom (as they said) he was charmed and bewitched. But the Queene seeing hir so faire, and of so good a grace, and as hir speech declared, a woman of a good house and well brought vp: Away (quoth she) with all slander, for I see wel that your charms are in your selfe. And let vs not thinke that the power of a lawfull wedded wife is lesse, if, by taking all things vnto hir, hir wealth, hir nobilitie, hir charmes, and the whole web of Venus, she studie by meeknes, good behauiour and vertue to obtaine hir husbands loue. Goe to then, let vs see if we can giue the wife some instructions touching this matter how she may keep hir self within the limites of hir dutie towards hir husband.

Eph. 5. 23. 24. Wiues must be subiect to their husbands. As the Church is in subiection to Christ, euen so (saith the Scripture) let the wiues be to their husbands in euery thing. For the husband is the wiues head, euen as Christ is the head of the Church.

Wiues must be modest, wise, chaste, kee­pers at home, louers of their husbands, and subiect vnto them. But it belongeth to thee ASER to be now vnto them in stead of a schoole-master.

When kings and princes honor Philosophers and learned men, it is certaine that they honor thēselues: but philosophers that court it, and become seruants to ri­ches, are not thereby honoured. We may say as much of [Page 513] wiues. For whē they submit themselues to their husbands,It is an honor to a woman to o­bey hir husband they are praised: but if they will become mistresses ouer them, it beseemeth them as ill, as it doth such as yeeld to that subiection: and both of them reape more shame thā honor thereby. Therefore those women that make choice of effeminate husbands, & delight in commanding them, are like to such as had rather guide the blind, than follow the wise and cleare-sighted. So that if a wife loue, esteeme, and honor hir husband, I thinke that all honest dutie will flow from thence, to their common contentation & com­fort, & to the benefit, quietnes, and honour of the whole familie: I meane, if she loue him as hir self, and esteem and honour him, as hir neerest lord. A wise woman ought to thinke that hir husbands maners are the lawes of hir life, which (if they be good) she is wholy to folow: but if they be bad, she must patiently beare with them. For as a loo­king glasse serueth to no purpose, although it be gilt andA wife compa­red to a looking glasse. decked with precious stones, if it doth not liuely repre­sent his face that looketh into it: so a woman is not to be liked albeit she haue store of goods, if hir life be not there­after, and hir behauior & conditions be not conformable to hir husbands. If a looking glasse represent a sadde and mourning countenance to one that is ioyful and mery, or contrarywise a smiling face to him that is sorowfull, it is a false glasse and worth nothing. So is she a bad wife and vn­reasonable, which frowneth when hir husband is desirous to be mery with hir, & to take some honest recreation: or contrarywise, which laugheth and sporteth hir selfe when she seeth him full of busines and greatly troubled. For the one is a token of hir froward disposition: & the other, that she despiseth the affections of hir husband. And as lines and superficiall partes, as the Geometricians say, mooueNotable simili­tudes. not of themselues, but as the bodies mooue wherein they are: so a wife must haue no proper and peculiar passion or affection to hir self, but must be partaker of the pastimes, affaires, thoughts & laughters of hir husband. The farther the Moone is from the Sun, the cleerer it is, and shineth so much the more: and contrarywise, it hath lesse light, & is [Page 514] Euil wiues re­sembled to the moone. obscuved the more, as it commeth neerer therunto: so e­uil women deale with their husbands when they loue not their presence. For in their absence you shall see them as iocund and frolick as may be, but when they are with their husbands and at home, then are they sorowful & pensiue. Moreouer, a wife must not trust too much either to hir wealth, or to the nobilitie of hir race, or to hir beautie, but to that which setteth neerest hir husbands hart, that is, to hir behauior, maners and conuersation, taking order thatAn ouerthwar­ting wife ma­keth hir selfe odious. these things be not hard, troublesom, or irksom to hir hus­band euery day, but such as please him and agree with his conditions. For the troublesome conuersation of a wife that alwais iarreth, in the end maketh euen hir honest be­hauior odious, as hir ouer-great pinching & niggardlines causeth hir sparing & good huswiferie to become hateful. As this custom was obserued amongst the Persians, that when their enimies came rushing vpon thē with great cla­mors, they receiued them with silence, & contrarywise, if they were set vpon with silence, they made head againstHow a wife must deale with hir cholerike husband. them with opē mouth: so discreet womē hold their peace when their husbands cry out with choler, & contrarywise if they vtter not a word, they labor to appease and pacifie them with their comfortable speeches. A wise womā that loueth hir husband as becōmeth hir, somtime tollerateth & dissembleth an euil intreatie, trusting so much to hir cō ­stancie & vertue, that by continuing in hir dutie she is able to bring him back again to his. She must gouerne hir selfeA woman must not disclose hir husbands im­perfections to any body. so discreetly, that neither hir neighbours, nor other of hir familiar friends be made acquainted in any sort with hir complaints & grieuances. For by discouering them, either she shal make hir self a laughing stock to others, or els giue occasion to the enimies of hir honor, to prouoke & solli­cit hir to naughtines. And if any one knowing the imper­fections of hir husband, vnder this pretence of seeing hir hardly delt withal, perswade hir to decline frō hir duty, she must answer him after the example of king Phillip, who be­ing wronged by the Graecians intreated them curteously, what then would my husband do vnto me, if I begin to [Page 515] hate him, & to offer him iniury? If she perceiue that any womā of hir acquaintance laboreth by hir talke either to sow or to increase some domestical dissentiō, she may wise­ly say with hir self: In what case would this woman that seketh to make me iealous, desire rather to see me, thā maliciously to play the ill huswife with my husband, & to forsake my house & mariage bed, whereupon it may be she would gladly take my place? Thus a dis­creet woman wil giue smal eare, & much lesse giue place to the light speeches & fained promises of such disturbers of domestical peace. Neither will she admit & nourish those vain & sottish opinions, which commonly busie the minds of such womē as are ruled & gouerned onely by passions, but containing hir desires through reason within a cōue­nient compasse, the confidence which she hath in hir hus­bands vertue wil breed perfect ease to hir soule, by taking frō hir all doubting & occasion of complaining. Now vpō this discourse we giue this note by the way, that whē anyMaried couples must not make two beds for a­ny iarre be­tween them. displeasure falleth out betweene maried folks, they must haue a special regard then that they make not two beds. For by this mean their anger will indune the lesser while. Also they must shun al occasions of quarelling in bed. For as a great bellied woman redy to lie down, & euen feeling the pangs of hir trauell, said to those that willed hir to lie down vpon the bed, How can the bed cure me of this euil which When is the best time and place to pacifie strife between man and wife. came vnto me vpon the bed: so those quarels, iniuries, wrath, & choler that are bred within the bed, can hardly be ap­peased & healed at any other time or place. But to cōtinue our matter of the duty of a wife, she must neuer suffer any to enter into hir husbands house without his expres com­mandement or licēce. For euery honest wife ought to fear that which is cōmonly spoken of the losenes of women, & labor as much as may be to cōuince those slanderers of ly­ing, who know no other song than to speak of their incō ­tinencie.A woman must be free from all suspicion of in­continencie. Caesar said, That a womā must not only be free frō that fault, but also frō al suspicion therof, which was the cause why he put away his own wife. And seing it is the duty of an honest womā She must not loue to gad a­broad or to be seene. to take vpon hir the care & ouerfight of houshold affaires, she must keep at home, and not loue to gad abroad, or be [Page 516] desirous of meetings, but so farre foorth as hir husband would haue hir do so. The greatest vertue of a woman (said Euboïdes) is not to be known but of hir husband: and hirShe must be mo­dest in hir attire. praise (said Argeus) in a strange mouth is nothing else but a secret blame. A wife ought to be modest in hir garmēts and ornaments of hir body, and not vse such sumptuous apparel as the law or custom of the countrey permitteth:The true orna­ments of a wo­man. bicause neither rich works of gold, nor precious attire, nor bodily beautie make not a woman so praise-woorthy as hir modestie doth, which consisteth in deeds, words, coū ­tenance & apparel. That is an ornament (said the Philoso­pher Crates) that adorneth, & that thing adorneth a wo­man, which marketh hir more honourable. And this is not done by iewels of gold, emeralds, precious stones, or pur­ple garments, but by euery thing that causeth hir to be ac­counted honest, wise, humble & chaste. Those womē that curiously prick vp themselues, & inrich their bodies with ornaments ful of pompe, make men more dissolute & in­clined to loosenes, especially when they make great win­dow-works before their dugs, & giue licence to their eyes to wander & gaze about. Wheras contrarywise a wise wo­mā through hir honest behauior, togither with hir lowly & setled look, leadeth so many as cast their eies vpō hir to continencie and chastitie. But a discouered dug, a nakedCertain tokens of an adulterous hart. brest, frisled locks, paintings, perfumes, & especially a rou­ling eie, & a lasciuious & vnchast look, are the fore-rūners of adultery. He that wil not credit me, let him read Tibul­lus, Propertius, & Ouid, who are of the same opinion. It may well be sayd of such women, whose number is too greatShamefastnes is the best dowrie of a woman. amongst vs, that they haue lost all shame: albeit the best dowrie, the best inheritaunce and most precious iewell which a woman can haue, is to be shamefast. Yea the for­tresse and defence that nature hath giuen to a woman for the preseruation of hir reputation, chastitie, and ho­nour, is shame, whereof whensoeuer she maketh no ac­count, she is vndone for euer. Socrates vsed to coun­sell those young men that behelde them-selues in loo­kyng glasses, if they were harde fauoured to correct [Page 517] their deformitie with vertue, by making themselues ver­tuous: and if they were faire, not to blot their beautie with vice. In like maner it were very good, that when the maried wife holdeth hir looking glasse in hir hand, sheAn excellent vse of looking glasses. would speake thus to hir selfe if she be foule: what then should become of me if I were also wicked? And if she be faire, how shall this be accounted of, if I continue honest and wise? For if a hard fauoured woman be loued for hir good behauiour and honest conditions, it is greater ho­nour vnto hir than if it were for beautie. Moreouer a wo­man must haue a speciall care to be silent, and to speakeA woman must be silent and secret. as seldome as she may, vnlesse it be to hir husband, or at his bidding: reseruing household wantes and affaires se­cret to hir selfe, and not publish them abroad. Thus do­ing, if any euill, any reproch or dishonour come to the house through any of them that are within it, the fault will be hir husbands and not hirs. Likewise a woman that respecteth hir honour, ought to be ashamed to vtter anyA woman must auoid silthie speeches and iestes. dishonest speeches, floutes & iests, and no lesse ashamed to giue eare vnto them. For if she once giue hir self to gibing, they that laughed at some litle word of hirs, wil afterward mock the author therof: seeing the honor of womē is such a nice & charie thing, that it is not lawful for thē so much as to thinke, much lesse to speake of many things, which men may freely both talke of & put in practise. Therfore those dames that mind to preserue their grauitie, must be silent not only in vnlawful, but euen in necessary matters, vnles it be very requisite that they should speake of them. To be short, that woman that is borne to vertue, and pur­posethA short summe of the ductie of a wife. to performe hir dutie towards hir husband, must please him in all honest things, and in such as draw nee­rest to his inclination, she must loue him intirely, and e­steeme of him aboue all others, she must be patient and know how to winke at, and to beare with many things done by him, she must be prudent to gouerne hir house, skilful in huswifrie to preserue hir goods, careful to bring vp hir children, faire-spoken and curteous to hir neigh­bors, plētiful in honorable works, a friend to honest com­pany, [Page 518] A woman must be desirous of knowledge. and a very great enimie to the lightnesse of youth. Moreouer she must bestow as much time as she can steale from domesticall affaires, in the studie of notable sayings, and of the morall sentences of auncient Sages and good men. And it were a seemely and honorable thing to heare a woman speake to hir husband in this sort: Husband, you are my teacher, my gouernour and master in Philosophie, and in the knowledge of most excellent and heauenly sci­ences. For by such honest occupations, women are with­drawen and turned aside from other vnworthy exercises,Exercises vn­seemly for wo­men. whereunto we see them so apt and inclined now a daies, which maketh them very offensiue, as plaies, dancing, mas­king, hunting, and discharging of harquebuzes, with such other dealings very vnmeete for their sexe. Whereas if in lieu of all these things a wife would embrace the loue of knowledge, so far foorth as hir wit and leasure require, & as hir husband shall like of, she should be partaker not on­ly of the floures and songs, but also of the fruits, which the Muses bring foorth and bestow vpon them that loue letters and Philosophie: which will greatly helpe hir to­wards the leading of a happy life with hir husband. Now considering that loue is alwayes the wel-spring of euery good dutie, especially between those that are linked togi­therWhat great loue the law of nations requi­reth in a wife to­wards hir hus­band. by mariage, (which ought to be so great in regard of the wife, that the ciuill law and law of nations, will haue a woman folow hir husband, although he haue neither fire nor place to resort vnto, or be banished and driuen from place to place) let vs here call to remembrance some no­table examples of the great loue that hath been in vertu­ous women towards their husbandes, as well when theyExamples of the great loue of women towards their husbands. Hipsicrates. were aliue, as after their death, by refusing to ouer-liue them. Queene Hipsicrates the wife of king Mithridates cō ­meth first to mind, who bare such loue towards hir hus­band, that polling hir selfe for his sake (although she was yong and very faire) she acquainted hir selfe with the wea­ring of armour, and rode with him to the war. And when he was ouercome by Pompey, she accompanied him in his flight through all Asia, whereby she mollified the griefe [Page 519] and sorow which he receiued by his losse. Triara, wife toTriara. Lucius Vitellus brother to the emperour Vitellus, seeyng hir husband in a daungerous battell, thrust hir selfe a­mongst the souldiours to beare him company, and to helpe him both in death and life, and fought as well as the valiauntest amongst them. When king Admetus his wife sawe hir husband very sicke, and heard the answere of the oracle, which was, That he could not recouer except one of his best friendes died for him, she slew hir selfe. When the wife of Ferdinando Gonçales a prince of Italy, kneweThe wife of Ferdinando Goncales. that hir husband was prisoner, and in daunger of death, she went to visite him, and putting on his apparell, a­bode in his place, whilest he beyng clothed in hir gar­mentes saued him-selfe. Zenobia Queene of Armenia,Zenobia. seeing hir husband Radamisus flie from a battell, and not beyng able to follow him bicause she was great with childe, besought him to kill hir. Which when he thought to haue done, she was striken downe with the blowe of a sworde: but being taken of the enimie and through­ly healed, Tyridates the king, who had vanquished hir husband, maried hir afterward for the great loue that was in hir. The princesse Panthea loued hir husbandPanthea. Abradatus so well, that when he died in Cyrus campe, she slue hir selfe vpon his bodie. Artemisia Queene ofArtemisia. Caria, for the great loue she bare to hir husband that was dead, dranke all the ashes of his bodie, meanyng thereby to be his sepulchre. When Iulia the wife of Pom­pey Iulia. sawe a gowne of hir husbandes all bloodie wherewith he had offered some sacrifice, she imagined that he was slayne, and so died presently after. When Porcia the wifePorcia. of Brutus heard of hir husbandes death, and perceiued that hir kinsfolkes tooke away all meanes of killing hir self, she drew hote burning coles out of the fire, and threw them into hir mouth, which she closed so fast, that shee was choked thereby. Sulpitia beyng carefully restrai­nedSulpitia. by hir mother Iulia from seeking hir husband Len­tulus in Sicilia, whither hee was banished, shee went thither beyng apparelled like a slaue, banishing hir selfe [Page 520] voluntarily rather than she would forsake hir husband.Octauia. Octauia sister to Augustus, and wife to Antonius, notwith­standing the iniurie that hir husband offered vnto hir in preferring before hir a Queene that was nothing so yong or faire as she, bare such great loue towards him, that set­ting aside al intreatie of hir brother, she would neuer leaue hir husbands house, but stil brought vp his children by his first mariage as carefully as if they had been hir owne. Moreouer she sought by all means to reconcile those two emperors, saying, that it was an vnworthy thing, that two so mightie princes, the one for the euil intreatie of his si­ster, the other bicause he was bewitched by a wicked wo­man, should warre one against another. As this vertuous princes had taken hir iourney as far as Athens, where she ment to take shipping, & to seeke out hir husband being then in war with the Parthians, bringing with hir souldi­ers, mony, furniture, & other munitions, he sent hir word that she should passe no farther, but stay for him at Rome. This she performed, and sent him all the aboue named things, not seeming at all to be offended with him. Wher­as he in the mean while skorned hir, sporting himself with Cleopatra in the sight and knowledge of all men, and after­ward delt worse with hir when the warre was begunne between him and Augustus. For he sent a commandement to Octauia at Rome to go out of his house, which she pre­sently obeied, albeit she would not therefore forsake any of hir husbands children, but wept and bewailed hir mis­hap which had brought hir to be a principal cause of thatAria. ciuill warre. Aria, the wife of Cecinna, followed in a little boate vnto Rome hir husband, who was taken prisoner bicause he had borne armes against the emperour Clau­dius. Being there condemned to die, she would haue borne him companie, but that hir sonne in lawe and hir daughter stayed hir. When she sawe that, she strake hir head so hard agaynst the wall, that she fell downe a­mazed: and beyng come to hir selfe agayne, sayde vnto them: You see that you can not hinder me from dy­ing cruelly, if ye stay mee from a more gentle death. [Page 521] They being astonished at the fact, and at hir words, suffe­red hir to do what she would: who then ran to the place where hir husband was, and slewe hir selfe first, after she had spoken thus courageously vnto him. I am not, Cecin­na, sorie for that which is done, but bicause the race of thy life must end. When Seneca was condemned to die by Ne­ro, The manner of Seneca his death. Paulina. and had libertie to chuse what kind of death he would, he caused his veines to be opened in a bath. His wife Pau­lina of hir owne accord did the like to hir self in the same bath, mingling togither their blood for a greater vnion and coronation of their long and perfect loue. Whereof Nero being aduertised, presently commanded that hir veines should be stopt, constraining hir thereby to liue a little longer in continuall griefe. Hipparchia, a very faireHipparchia. & rich woman, was so farre in loue with the Philosopher Crates, who was hard-fauoured and poore, that she maried him against all hir kinsfolks minde, and followed him throughout all the countrie, being poorely apparelled & barefoote, after the Cynick fashion. Pisca seeing hir hus­bandPisca. pine away daily through a great and strange discase, which he had concealed from hir of long time, hauing at the length knowledge thereof, and perceiuing it to be in­curable, she was mooued with pitie for the euill which he suffered, whom she loued better than hir selfe: and there­vpon counselled him with great courage to asswage his griefe by death, and the better to stirre him vp thereunto, she offered to beare him companie. Whereunto hir hus­band agreeing, they imbraced each other, and cast them­selues headlong into the sea from the top of a rocke. The king of Persia taking prisoner the wife of Pandoërus, whomPandoërus wife. he had vanquished and slaine, would haue maried hir. But she slew hir selfe after she had vttered these words: God forbid, that to be a Queene, I should euer wed him that hath beene the murderer of my deere husband Pandoë­rus. Camma, a Greekish woman, of the countrie of Ga­latia,Camma. bare such loue to hir husband, euen after his death, that to be reuenged of a great Lorde called Synorix, who had put hir husband to death, that he might marrie hir, [Page 522] she gently denied him at the first when he became a suter vnto hir, but after, in processe of time, she consented ther­vnto. When they were come to the Temple of Diana to solemnize the mariage, before the aultar she powred forth a little of that drinke, which she had prepared in a cup, and drinking part thereof, she gaue the residue to Synorix to drinke. The liquor was made of water, honie, and poi­son, mingled togither. When she saw that he had drunke all, she fetched a great and loud grone, and vsing reue­rence towards the Goddesse, sayd vnto hir: I call thee to witnes, that I haue not ouer-liued Sinatus my husband, for any other intent than to see this daie: neither haue I enioyed any good or pleasure in all this time, wherein I haue since liued, but only in hope, that one daie I should be able to reuenge his death, which being nowe perfour­med by me, I goe cheerefully and with ioy vnto my hus­band. But as for thee most wicked man (quoth she to Synorix) take order now, that thy friends and kinsfolkes, in steede of a wedding bed, prepare a buriall for thee. And so within a little while after, both of them ended theirMacrina. daies. Macrina, the wife of Torquatus, loued hir hus­band so feruently, and was so sorowfull for his absence, that for one yeeres space, wherein he was gone vpon a voyage, she neuer went out of hir house, nor looked out of hir windowe. We read that many women of Lacede­monia, when their husbands were condemned to die for conspiring against their countrie, came one euening clo­thed in blacke to the prison, vnder colour to take their finall farewell of them: and changing their apparell, they couered their husbands with their vailes, who went out and left their wiues in their place, which sustaining the punishment due to others, were beheaded, contrarie to humanitie, not without great patience shewed on their behalfe. Histories are plentifull in shewing the great loue of women towards their husbands. Yea, I will not be a­fraidMen are inferi­or to women in perfecton of loue. to speake it, men are farre inferior vnto them in per­fection of loue. Wherefore we will conclude that it is easier for them to be dutifull to their husbands, whome, [Page 523] as we haue alreadie sayd, if they loue, esteeme, and ho­nour, no doubt but they are the chiefe cause of all peace and concord in their families, and of the prosperous successe of their houshold affaires, to the quietnes and contentation of their happie life, and to the immortall praise and honour of their good name.

Of the dutie of the Head of a familie in other parts of the house, namely, in the Parentall, Maisterlie, and Possessorie part. Chap. 49.

IT is not without great shew of reason which many Phi­losophers maintaine, thatThe definition of Oeconomie and of Policie. the Oeconomicall science, that is to say, the art of ru­ling a house well, is one of the chiefest partes of poli­cie, which is the art of skil­full gouerning a great mul­titude of men. The reason is, bicause a Towne or Ci­tie is nothing else but an assemblie of manie families and houses togither, which will be verie harde for one onelie man to order well and iustlie, if he knowe not howe to set that order in his familie, which is necessa­rie, and to guide it with sound reason and true prudence. Moreouer, when families are well gouerned, no doubt but it goeth well with the Common-wealth, as we see, [Page 524] that the whole bodie is in good helth, when euery seueral member doth his dutie. Nowe that we haue considered particularly of that which concerneth the first and prin­cipall part of a house, and of the mutuall dutie of the hus­band and wife, I thinke (my Companions) we are to be­ginne this daies worke with instructing our selues in that which the head of a familie ought to keepe and obserue in other parts of his house, mētioned before by vs, name­ly,Euery head of a familie must prouide for his houshold. 1. Tim. 5. 8. his children, seruants, and possessions, seeing we are taught by the Apostle, that he which prouideth not for his owne, and namely for them of his houshold, denieth the faith, and is woorse than an Infidell.

Euery house must be ruled by the eldest, as by a king, who by nature commandeth ouer euery part of the house, and they obey him for the good preseruati­on thereof.

Euery man by right (saith Homer) hath rule ouer his wife and children, and he is not woorthy to haue any, that wanteth sufficient vertue and prudence to go­uerne them well. Go to then (ACHITOB) let vs learne of thee what belongeth to the parts of a house now men­tioned by vs.

Anacharsis, one of the wise men of Gre­cia, said, that a house is not to be called good, bicause it is well built, and of good stuffe, but men must iudge thereof by that which is within, & which belongeth to the house,What maketh a house to be cal­led good. as namely, by the children, wife, & seruants: with whome, being wise and well qualified, if the father of a familie communicateth, and imparteth of that which he hath, whether it be in the bottome of a caue, or vnder the shade of a bough, he may be said to dwell in a good and happie house. Therefore it is no small happines and felicitie for them that are called to the gouernment of a familie, when they see it wise and well nurtured in euery part. But as nerues and sinewes, being the instruments of sence and motion, proceede and are deriued from the head, which by them infuseth into all parts of the bodie, the Animal spirite, without which the bodie could not exercise any [Page 525] naturall function of sence and moouing: so the parts of a house commonly receiue the habite of manners and con­ditionsAll good order in a house pro­ceedeth from the head of the familie. from the father of a family, as from the head ther­of: but then especially, when he is prudent and wise, and imploieth his care, diligence, and industrie thereupon. Therefore a good housholder must beginne the right go­uernmentWhere a housholder must begin to rule his house well. of his house at himself, by letting his houshold see, that he is prudent, chast, sober, peaceable, but chiefly religious and godly: as also by bringing foorth plentifull fruits of his dutie towards those that are vnder his charge. For as the anger and threatnings of the head of a familie astonisheth his children and seruants, so his good workes harteneth them on to do well. Now, bicause there is vari­etie of houses, whose difference is commonly taken from the goods and abilitie of men, which abound to some, and are wanting to others, I will propound heere, as my purpose and meaning was before, a meane house, in all pointes perfect, and as we vse to say, neither poore nor rich, from which notwithstanding both great and small may draw instruction for their gouernment. We haue al­readie seene, that a house is diuided into foure partes, whereof the coniugall or wedlocke part hath beene al­readie handled by vs. Now we must consider of the other three, I meane of the Parentall, Maisterlie, and Possessorie parts. And I thinke it will be best to follow that order which is most vsuall in the perfection and progresse ofThe progresse of a familie be­fore it come to perfection. mariage, and in the accomplishment of a house, which, both before and after the consummation of mariage, is first compounded of the goods and wealth of men: next of men-seruants and maid-seruants: and lastly, it is made absolute and perfect by those children which God sen­deth. The Possessorie part then is that which we call mooueable goods, immooueables, and such goods asWhat a hou­sholder must first looke vnto. mooue of themselues. This part of a house (as Aristotle saith) belongeth so to Oeconomie, that it should go be­fore it, and serue it, to the end that victuals, and other ne­cessarie goods, might not be wanting in the house: wher­in otherwise (saith the same Philosopher) a man can not [Page 526] liue, much lesse liue well. For as in arts that haue their li­mits determined, it is necessary that conuenient and pro­per instruments be had to finish their woorke: so must itGoods are in­struments ten­ding to the maintenance of life. be in Oeconomie, in which goods are instruments ser­uing to maintaine life: and to possesse goods, is nothing else but to haue a multitude of instruments seruing thatTwo sorts of goods. action wherein life consisteth. We may diuide all these goods into two principall kindes: namely, into those that come from the father to the son by succession, which we call Patrimonie, and those that are gotten by industrie and labor. It is the dutie of the father of a familie to pre­serue that for his, which his predecessors left him, to haueWhat interest a father of a fami­lie hath in his goods. the vse thereof onely as they had, and to vse them well, as a faithful gardian and disposer of those goods which God giueth for the succour & profit of his creatures. Yea, from that day wherin he taketh a wife, & much more when he hath children, he must thinke that he is no more Lord of his goods, but onely a Tutor: & that if they should be wa­sted or lost through his negligence, he were no lesse faulty than he that should steale them. Secondly, he must en­crease his patrimonie by trauel, care, & good husbandry: he must get goods for his familie, by iust & ciuill meanes, obseruing decencie and honestie in all things. After the first functions of a holy & christian dutie, which are to go before, & to be ioined inseparably to al the actions of life,Two sorts of getting goods. as else-where we haue handled, & shal see more heerafter: we find two sorts of getting, the one natural, the other ar­tificiall. The naturall way consisteth in pasturing, or fee­ding of cattell, in tillage, in hunting & fishing, vnto which we may say, that an honest praie and bootie, agreeable to nature, is ioined, if it be practised in iust and lawfull wars. Heerunto also is referred the vent and sale of his increase, that those things which are sold, and whereof we haue a­bundance, may procure vs from else-where such other things as we want. The artificiall kind of getting, consi­steth in workes, artes, handicrafts, trafficke, and mar­chandize,The end of arts, sciences, and trafficke. exercised for gaine. The end of which kind of getting ought to be aswell publike profite as priuate: [Page 527] Therefore whatsoeuer is grounded vpon domestical pro­fite onely in this second sort of acquisition, is to be auoi­ded and misliked. For whereas it was first brought in of necessitie to helpe men to liue, this were craftily to turne it to another ende, and to applie it onely to one priuate mans gaine, not without the oppressing and detriment of our neighbour, for whose benefite a man must labour no lesse than for his owne. Amongst filthie gaines, V­surieBiting vsurie a detestable gain. is most to be misliked and most detestable, which the Hebrewes call biting, and which doth not onelye gnaw the debtor to the bones, but also sucketh out all the blood and marrow from the bones, engendring monie of monie, contrarie to nature, and to that intent for which monie was first brought in: namely, that exchange mightWhy monie was first inuented and vsed. be made of such things as are vneasie to be transported, and that the commoditie of trafficke might be continu­ed for publike profite. Nowe a daies there is no trade so common, as that of vsurie: although it be altogither re­prooued by the lawes of God & men. And surely we haue a goodlie cloake to couer the shame thereof, I meane the name ofThe question of interest hath waightie rea­sons on both sides. interest, or profite of monie, when as it hath beene alwaies vnpleasant in the sight of God, who for­biddeth all kinde of vsurie whatsoeuer it be, and there­fore it ought not to haue any place amongst men that liue vprightly. There was a lawe amongst the ancientAn ancient law against vsurie. Grecians and Romanes, which forbadde all vsurie sur­mounting one pennie for a hundred by the yeere, and they called it Vnciarie Vsurie. If any Vsurer tooke greater profite, hee was condemned to restore foure­fold: bicause (as Cato sayth) they iudged, that a Vsu­rer was a more wicked and vile man than a theefe, who was condemned but in double as much. Againe, this lawe was since that brought to a halfe-penie a yeere a­mong the Romanes, and not longe after, Vsurie wasThe law Genu­tia forbad all v­surie. cleane taken awaie by the lawe Genutia, bicause of v­suall seditions which arose through the contempt of lawes concerning Vsurie. Whereupon, we may note, that what moderation soeuer is appoynted in Vsurie, if [Page 528] men be suffered to take neuer so little, they will ascend to the highest degree of all. Therefore we must conformeExod. 22. 25. Deut. 23. 19. our selues to the law of God, which taketh away all liber­tie heerein so plainly from vs, that it cannot be called into question. Concerning arts exercised for gaine, although there are some of them very vile and contemptible, yet those also after a sort respect publike profite. But those arts wherein there is more prudence, or no small com­moditie, as Phisicke, Architecture, and other points of knowledge in liberall arts and sciences, are honest and seemely for them that exercise them according to their e­state. Now in all these diuers sorts of getting, and in ma­nyThe praise of husbandrie. others about which men are but too diligent, husban­drie is very commendable, yea, nothing is more fruitfull, nothing more pleasant, nothing more woorthie and be­seeming a free man, and nothing more agreeable to na­ture. We will note therfore touching this part of a house, called Possessorie, that it belongeth to the dutie of the fa­ther of a familie to attend diligently to his house, careful­ly to prouide for his familie whatsoeuer is needfull & ne­cessarie for it, and to preserue for the same that which is already gotten, onely by well vsing the possession therof.What good hus­bandrie is. This is that which is signified by the Greeke worde [...], or good husbandrie: which is as much to say, as in­dustrie in getting goods, and discreete gouernment in spending them to good purpose. And truly he that hath no care ouer his goods and houshold, will be easily per­swaded to liue vniustly, and to take that which belongeth to another. For sloth and vnwillingnes to do any thing, is the beginning and wel-spring of all iniustice. And so, whi­lest a good father of a family laboreth to profit euery one, he must also be carefull for himselfe and his. Let vs nowOf the Maister­lie part of a house. come to the second part of a house, called the Maisterlie part, which comprehendeth vnder it men-seruants and maid-seruants. If prudence and reason are most necessary in all parts of house-keeping, their effects are well woorth the nothing, and to be desired in this part, of which we will now intreate. For power and authoritie are of themselues [Page 529] too surlie and imperious in him that knoweth not how to represse them wisely: yea, they are easily turned into intollerable arrogancie, if the bridle of reason restraine them not. Therfore seeing we liue in a free countrie, wher­in the ancient absolute power of life & death ouer slaues hath no place, they, to whome God hath granted this fa­uourInstructions touching the dutie of a mai­ster towards his seruants. to excell, and to goe before others, whether it be in gifts of nature, or in graces of the soule, or otherwise in the goods of Fortune, they, I say, must in no wise contemn those that seeme to haue beene forgotten and stripped of all these good things. Besides, a father of a familie must consider, that he ruleth not slaues, but free persons. Ther­fore he must vse their seruice, although not franckly for nothing, yet as that which commeth from a willing and free mind, not dealing roughly with them vpon euery oc­casion, but rather handling them gently, as the creatures of God made after his image: seeing the poorest man isThe poore and rich are both created to one end. created for the selfe same principall ende that the migh­tiest and richest is. Aristotle granteth this, that although a Maister is not bound in anie respect to his Vassaile, so farre foorth as he is a Vassaile, yet, bicause slaues are men, he is of opinion, that all lawes of humanitie ought to be kept with them. What then ought we to doe to such as submit themselues freely vnto vs, to whome also we are vnited and linked by christian charitie, as to bre­thren and inheritours of the same goods and promises? And yet we see that maisters fall into bitter anger, crieAgainst rigorous maisters. out, offer outrage, vse violence, and lay handes of their seruants vpon small or no occasion at all, as if they were vnreasonable creatures, yea handling them woorse than they doe their brute beastes. That this is true, we see not one of them but he hath great care that his horses be well fed, dailie looked vnto, harnessed and decked. Besides, he taketh great heede that they be not tyred, nor ouer-laboured: but as for their seruants, they nei­ther spare nor comfort them one whit, nor haue any re­spect to their ease and rest. For mine owne part, I thinke that such maisters deserue rather to be seazed vpon, as [Page 530] mad men, than admonished as sociable persons, I wishTwo properties requisite in a maister. therefore, that euery maister of a house had these two properties in him: namely, that with all clemencie and meekenes he would vse the seruice & obedience of them that are vnder him, by considering of them with reason, and by looking rather to the good affection and desert of his seruant, than to the great and profitable seruice, which he draweth from him. The other point is, that the maister vsing the sweate and seruice of his, should not seeme to be displeased, teastie, or hard to content, but rather alwaies shewe foorth a gentle kinde of fauour and curtesie, or at least a seuere familiaritie, seasoned with a cheerefull and merrie countenance. Whosoeuer shewe themselues to be such men, besides the glorie which they shall obtaine by being taken generally for gentle and cur­teous men, their houshold seruants will loue them the more, and will reuerence them as their fathers, not stan­ding in such awe and feare of them, as men commonly doe of intollerable tyrants. Moreouer, as this assembly of a maister and of seruants tendeth, as euery other soci­etie also, vnto some good end, the maister hauing regard to that which concerneth him and his house, and his ser­uantsSeruants must not be defrau­ded of their pay. to the hope of profite and commoditie; order must be taken, that they, which haue with all carefulnes dis­charged their dutie, and yeelded that fidelitie and dili­gence that is requisite to their superiour, be not defrau­ded of the price, reward, hire, and desert of their trauels. For if we thinke it great villanie to rob another man, let vs esteeme it nothing lesse to keepe backe the fruite of life, and to defraud the labours, perils, watchings, and excessiue cares of our seruants, in not recompencing them. Therefore concerning this part of a house, called the Maisterlie part, we will note this, that as the Ancients made their slaues free, thereby to drawe from them vo­luntarie and vnconstrained seruice, and to deliuer them­selues of that feare and distrust, which they alwaies had of their slaues, accounting that prouerbe true: As many enimies as slaues: so ought we to bring vp and to nourish [Page 531] our hired and mercenary seruants, which serue vs in these daies with a free and liberall kind of loue, by dealing gra­tiously with them, by perswading them with reason, and by rewarding them liberally: and this will induce them to serue, honour, and esteeme vs, as if our weale and woe were wholy common with them. The last part of the house remaineth nowe to be intreated of, which is theOf the Parentall part of a house. perfection thereof, and is called the Parentall part, com­prehending vnder it, the Father and Mother, or one of them, with the children. The head of a familie (saith A­ristotle) commandeth ouer wife and children, but ouer both, as free persons, and yet not after one and the sameThe difference betweene com­manding ouer a wife and ouer children. manner of commanding, but ouer the wife, according to gouernment vsed in a popular state, and ouer the chil­dren, royally or Prince-like. This commandement ouer children, is called royall, bicause he that begetteth, com­mandethThe word Fa­ther is a kingl [...] and sacred title by loue, and by the prerogatiue of age, which is a kind of kinglie commanding. Therefore Homer calleth Iupiter the father of Men and of the Gods, that is king of all. For a king must excell by nature, and must be of the same kind, as it is with the aged in respect of the yoonger sort, and with him that begetteth, in regard of his child, ouer whome he ought to be as carefull, as a king is ouer his subiectes. Vnto this part of the house a Father of a familie must haue a carefull eye, bicause heereuppon chiefly dependeth the honour and quietnes of his house, and the discharge of his dutie towardes God and his countrie: namely, by making his children honest and of good conditions. As the desire and pricke of na­ture (sayth Dion) driueth vs forward to beget children: so is it a testimonie of true loue and charitie, to bring them vppe, and to intreate them after a free manner, and to instruct them well. Therefore a Father of a fa­milie shall satisfie his dutie concerning this parte of a house, by the good education and instruction of his children, and by exercising them in vertue. For man­ners and conditions are qualities imprinted in vs by longe tracte of tyme, and vertues are gotten by cu­stome [Page 532] care, and diligence. Heereafter we are to consider more amply and particularly of the instruction of youth, and therefore at this time we will content our selues with the giuing of certaine generall precepts, woorthie to be diligently obserued of euery good father of a familie to­wards his children. For in vaine (sayth Plato) doth he hope for a haruest, that hath beene negligent in sowing. I say, he must be passing carefull, and imploie all possibleYouth is the seede-corne of the Common-wealth. labour, that his children and youth may be well instruc­ted, bicause they are the seede-corne of the citie: inso­much that carefull heed is to be had euen of their words, gestures, sportes, and other actions, that nothing may leade them vnto vice. For otherwise if no reckoning be made of this age, a man shall labour no lesse in vaine to prescribe good lawes for them afterward, than the Phi­sition doth that ministreth plentie of medicines to a dis­eased partie that keepeth no diet at all. The best giftesThe giftes of na­ture are soone corrupted. of nature, if they be not well trimmed and looked vn­to, become naught at the first, and afterward passing euill. Therefore a father of a familie ought not to be more carefull of anie thing than of the bringing vp of his chil­dren, according to whose good or euill education, the whole house will be gouerned. This first institution of their life from the first age, is called discipline, which by little and little leadeth the spirite of the childe to the loue of vertue, euen of that vertue, whereby, beeing come to mans estate, he knoweth both howe to com­mand, and howe to obeie, and to followe after nothing but that which the lawe commandeth and affirmeth to be good. The vices of children are swordes which passe through the hartes of their Fathers, who are for the moste parte the cause of them through their negligence in correcting them, and ouer-great libertie which they graunt to this age that needeth a staye and bridle, yea spurres, whereby to bee broken and made tractable, as men vse to deale with yoonge Coltes. Therefore PLATO sayde, that it is not in our owne power to cause our children to bee borne suche as wee woulde [Page 433] haue them, but yet that it lieth in vs to make them good. Whereunto this will be a good meane, if from their yongA father must be loued, feared, & reuerenced of his children. yeeres we imprint in their harts a loue, feare, & reuerence of vs. For if these thinges concurre not togither in the childes hart, he will neuer yeeld due obedience to his fa­ther. Pythagoras said, that a prudent father was better to be liked than a cholerike, bicause prudence serueth to procure loue and good will in those that ought to obey: whereas choler maketh them odious that command, and causeth their admonitions to profite but little. For this cause Aristotle requireth perfection of Morall vertue in a father of a familie, saying: that his office is a kind of buil­ding,The office of a father resemb­led to building. & that reason is as it were the builder, by whome he guideth & bringeth that Oeconomical worke to his per­fection. And in deede the Ancients tooke great paines in teaching their children themselues, not suffering them to be farre from their presence during their youth: bicause they iudged (and that vpon good reason) that son-like re­spect & loue were good pricks to driue them forward toA child will learne better of his father than of any other. the studie of vertue. And no doubt but if a skilfull father would execute this dutie of instructing his child in know­ledge and learning, he would conceiue and take it a great deale better of him than of any other. Therefore Marcus Portius Cato would needs beschoole-maister to his owneM. Cato. children, which institution did greatly auaile them, not so much bicause he was Cato, as bicause he was their fa­ther,I. Caesar. whose vertue they imitated. Iulius Caesar adopted his nephew Octauian, & brought him vp himselfe. Which did him so much good, that being come to the empire, he wasAugustus. called Augustus for his goodnes. He also performed as much afterward to his nephews Lucius & Caius, whome in like maner he had adopted. Noah, Lot, Iacob, and all the fa­thers,Noah, Lot, Iacob, &c. God comman­deth fathers to instruct their children. instructed their children themselues: and God com­manded the Israelites in the wildernes to teach their chil­dren the lawe, which themselues had receiued from their fathers. To this purpose an ancient man said, that it was the greatest sloth that could be, for a man to be negligent towards his children, & to teach them nothing. Great [Page 534] heede therefore must be taken, that they be not left to the gouernment of their owne fantasie, considering thatProu. 23. 13. 14. & 13. 24. Correction ne­cessarie for chil­dren. Ecclus. 30. 8. 9. 11. 12. youth is very tender to resist vice, and of it selfe vncapable of counsell. With-hold not (saith the Wise man) correction from the child: for in smiting with the rod, thou shalt deliuer his soule from hell. He that spareth his rod, hateth his sonne, but he that loueth him▪ chasteneth him betime. As an vntamed horse be­commeth fierce: so a child suffred to do what he list, wax­eth rebellious. If thou bring vp thy son delicately, he shall make thee afraid: & if thou play with him, he shall bring thee to heauines. Giue him no libertie in his youth, and winke not at his follie. Bow downe his necke while he is yoong, and beate him on the sides while he is a child, least he waxe stubborn, & be disobedient vnto thee, & so bring sorowe to thine hart. And yet I would not that fathers should be ouer-sharpe & hard to their children, not bea­ringSeueritie must be mingled with elemencie in the correcting of children. with any fault in them. But as Phisitions mingling & steeping their bitter drugs with some sweete iuice, haue found the meanes to make a passage for profite through the middest of pleasure: so must fathers intermingle the sharpnes of their reprehensions & corrections with the fa­cilitie of elemencie, & somtime let loose a little the bridle to the desires of their children, so that they wander not far from that which becommeth them. Againe, they must by & by let downe the button, & hold them hard in with the bridle, but yet supporting gently and patiently their faults committed through youth, & not of malice. And if it be so that they cannot but be angry, at the least let their anger be presently appeased. For it is better that a father should be quickly angry (although that be an imperfecti­on) so that he be soone pacified, than slowe to anger, and hardly brought to forgiue. But if a father be so seuere that he wil forget nothing, & be neuer reconciled, it is a great argument, that he hateth his children. And then he ma­keth himselfe vnwoorthy of so excellent & diuine a name, shewing foorth effects cleane contrary therunto: wheras parents commonly loue their children too much, & vse towards them rather too much lenitie, than iust seueritie. [Page 535] Oh how the father (saith Seneca, speaking of one that thrust his son out of his house) cutteth off his lims with great griefe, how many sighes he fetcheth in cutting them off, & how earnestly he wisheth to haue thē againe in their place? Moreouer, fathers must haue a special care, that they commit no fault, nor o­mit any thing appertaining to their dutie, to the end theyThe fathers life must be a mir­rour of vertue to the child. may be liuely examples to their children, that looking in­to their life, as into a cleare glasse, they may abstaine after their example frō speking any thing that bringeth shame. Againe we know, that all those fathers which lead an euill life, leaue not to themselues any courage so much as to re­prooue their slaues onely, so far off are they, that they can frankly chide their children. And, which is woorst of al, by their naughty life they are vnto them in steed of maisters & counsellors of il-doing. For where old men are shame­les, there it must needs be, that yoong men become impu­dent & graceles. Fathers therfore must striue to do what­soeuer their dutie requireth, that their children may waxe wise and well qualified. This we may comprehend in fewe words: namely, if they bring them vp wel in their infancy, & let them haue due correction in their youth. Which twoWhen fathers may be iustly charged with their childrens faults. 1. Sam. 3. 13. things being neglected of fathers, the faults of their chil­dren are for the most part iustly imputed vnto them. Hely the Priest was not punished for any sin which himselfe had committed, but bicause he winked at the sins of his chil­dren. We read in the storie of the Heluetians or Switzers, of the The storie of a father appoin­ted to execute his owne child. iudgement of a tyrant condemned to death, where order was taken that the execution thereof should be done by the father, who was the cause of his euill education: that he might come to his death by the author of his life, and that the father might in some sort be pu­nished for his negligence vsed towards his child. Moreouer, they that haue many children, must be passing careful to bring them vp in mutuall friendship, causing them to giue each to other that honor and duty, vnto which nature bindeth them, and sharpely chastising those that in any respect of­fend therin. The Ephoryes of Lacedemonia long since cō ­dēnedA father must bring vp his children in mu­tuall loue. a notable citizen in a very great sum, when they vn­derstood that he suffred two of his childrē to quarel togi­ther. [Page 536] The best meane, which I find to auoid so great an e­uill, is to loue and intreat them all alike, and to accustom them to giue honour, dutie, and obedience one to ano­ther according to their degrees of age. They must remoue from them al partialities, and not suffer them to haue any thing seueral or diuided one from another, that as it were in one hart and will all things may be common amongst them. Example heerof was that good father of a familieAelius Tubero. Aelius Tubero, who had sixteene children of his owne bo­die, all of them maried, and dwelling all in one house with their children, and liuing with him in all peace and concord. For the conclusion therefore of our present dis­course, we learne, that a father of a familie must begin the gouernment of his house with himselfe, and become an example to his of all honestie & vertue. That he must not neglect the care of prouiding goods, & necessarie meanes for the maintenance of his familie, remembring alwaies that in nothing he go beyond the bounds of that seemeli­nes and decencie, which dutie hath limited & prescribed vnto him. That he ought to loue & to intreat his seruants curteously, putting away threatnings (as it is said in theEph. 6. 9. Scripture) and knowing that both their and his maister is in heauen, with whom there is no respect of persons. And for the last point, that it belongeth to his dutie to bring vp his children in the holie instruction and information of the Lord, not prouoking them to wrath, that God may be glorified, and he their father may reioice in the pre­sence of his friends, and that his countrie generally may receiue benefit, profit, and commoditie.

Of the dutie of children towards their parents: of the mutuall loue that ought to be among brethren: of the dutie of seruants towards their maisters. Chap. 50.

VPon a day when one said in the hearing of Theopompus king of Sparta, that the estate of that citie was preserued in such flourishing [Page 537] maner, bicause the kings knew how to command wel, the prince replied▪ that it was not so much for that cause, as bi­cause the citizens knew how to obey well. And to speake the truth, to obey wel (as also the vertue of commanding)Obed great▪ is a great vertue, and proceedeth from a nature, which be­ing noble of it selfe, is holpen by good education. There­fore Aristotle said, that it was necessarie that he which o­beieth should be vertuous as wel as he that commandeth. Now seeing we haue intreated of the dutie of a father and head of a familie, exercising his office vpon all the parts of his house, let vs now consider of the dutie and obedience that is requisite in seruaunts and children, and of the mu­tuall and reciprocall amitie which ought to be betweene brethren, desirous to preserue the bond of Oeconomical societie in a happie estate.

Col. 3. Eph. 6. 2. Children (saith the Scripture) obey your parents in all things: for that is well pleasing vnto the Lord Honor thy father and mother (which is the first commaundement with pro­mise) Obedience to parents com­manded of God that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest liue long on earth.

Ecclus. 3. 4. 5. Who so honoreth his father, his sinnes shall be for­giuen him, and he shall abstaine from them, and shall haue his daily desires. And he that honoureth his mother, is like one that gathe­reth treasure.1. Pet. 2. 18. And you seruaunts be subiect to your masters withObedience to masters cōman­ded of God. all feare, not onely to the good and curteous, but also to the froward. Let vs then heare ARAM discourse more at large of that which is here propounded vnto vs.

Nature (saith Plutark) and the law which pre­serueth nature, haue giuen the first place of reuerence andReuerence to parents placed next to the ho­nor due to God. honor after God, vnto the father and mother: and men can not do any seruice more acceptable to God, than graci­ously and louingly to pay to their parents that begot thē, and to them that brought them vp, the vsurie of new and olde graces which they haue lent them: as contrarywise, there is no signe of an Atheist more certaine, than for aA token of an Atheist. man to set light by, and to offend his parents. The father is the true image of the great and soueraigne God, the v­niuersallA father is the image of God. father of all things, as Proclus the Academike [Page 538] said. Yea the child holdeth his life of the father next after God, and whatsoeuer else he hath in this world. Therfore a man is forbidden to hurt others, but it is accounted great impietie and sacriledge for a man not to shew him­selfe ready to doe and to speake all things, I will not say, whereby they can receiue no displeasure, but wherby they may not receiue pleasure. And in deed one of the greatest good turnes that we can do to those of whom we are des­cended, is not to make them sad. Which cannot possibly be done, if God the leader and guide to all knowledge disposeth not the mind to all honest things. The children of Ecclus. 3. 1. 2. &c. wisdome are the Church of the righteous, and their ofspring is obe­dience and loue. Children, heare the iudgement of your father, and do thereafter, that you may be safe. For the Lord will haue the fa­ther honored of the children, and hath confirmed the authoritie of the mother ouer the children. He that honoureth his father shall haue ioy of his owne children, and when he maketh his prayer he shall be heard. He that honoureth his father shall haue a long life, and he that is obedient to the Lord, shall comfort his mother. He that feareth the Lord, honoreth his parents, and doth seruice vnto his parents, as vnto Lordes. Honor thy father and mother in deeds and in word, and in all patience, that thou mayest haue the blessing of God, and that his blessing may abide with thee in the ende. For the blessing of the father establisheth the houses of the children, & the mothers curse rooteth out the foundations. Helpe thy father in his age, and grieue him not as long as he liueth. And if his vnder­standing faile, haue patience with him, and despise him not when thou art in thy full strength. For the good intreatie of thy father shall not be forgotten, but it shall be a fortresse for thee against sinnes. In the day of trouble thou shalt he remembred, thy sinnes also shall melt away, as the ice in faire weather. He that for saketh his father shall come to shame, and he that angreth his mother is cursed of God. By these holy speeches we see how we oughtThe fist com­mandement on­ly hath a speciall promise annex ed vnto it. Eph. 6. 2. to loue, honor, reuerence, and feare our parents. This is comprehended vnder the first commandement of the se­cond table, and this only of all the ten articles of the De­calogue beareth his reward with him: albeit no recom­pence is due to him that is bound to do any thing, namely [Page 539] by so strȧight a bond as this, wherof all lawes both diuine and humane are full, and the law of nature also doth plen­tifully instruct vs therein, as it hath been diligently ob­serued of very Infidels, Ethnikes, and Pagans. Amongst the Lacedemonians this custome tooke place, that the younger sort rose vp from their seates before the aged. Whereof when one asked the cause of Teleucrus, It is (quoth hee) to the ende that in dooing this honour to whom it belongeth not, they should learne to yeeld grea­ter honour to their parents. The arrogancie of a childe was the cause, that one of the Ephories published the law of Testaments, whereby it was permitted to euery oneThe law of Te­staments to keep children in a [...]e. from that time forward to appoint whom he would his heire. This lawe serued well to make children obedient and seruiceable to their parents, and to cause them to be afraid of displeasing them. Among the Romanes the child was not admitted to plead his fathers will after his death by way of action, but onely by way of request, v­singChildren might not the out their liue [...]es by way of action but of request. very humble, honourable, and reuerent speech of his dead father, and leauing the whole matter to the discreti­on and religion of the Iudges. Contend not with thy fa­ther (said Pittacus the wise) although thou hast iust cause of complaint. And therefore Teleucrus aunswered aptly to one, who complained vnto him, that his father al­wayes spake ill of him: If (quoth he) there were no cause to speake ill of thee he would not do it. So that it belon­geth to the duetie of a childe to beleeue that his father hath alwayes right, and that age and experience hath in­dued him with greater knowledge of that which is good, than they haue that are of yoonger yeeres. Philelphus said, that although we could not possibly render the like good turnes to our parents, nor satisfie those obligati­ons by which we stand bound vnto them, yet we must doe the best we can vnto them: we must intreate them curteously and louingly, and not go farre from them: we must harken vnto their instructions, and be obedientThe dutie of children to­wards their parents. to their commaundementes: wee must not gaine-say their deliberations and wils, no more than the will of [Page 540] God, whether it be that we are to depart from them, or to tary still, or to enter into some calling agreeable to the will of God: we must not stand in contention with them whē they are angry, but suffer and beare patiently, if they threaten or correct vs. And if they be offended with vs when we thinke there is no cause why, yet we must not lay vs down to rest before we haue by all kind of honest sub­missionsHumilitie to­wards parents most commen­dable. appeased them. Humilitie is always commenda­ble, but especially towards our parents. The more we a­base our selues before them, the more we encrease in glo­ry and honor before God and men. This is very badly put in vre at this day, when the sonne doth not onely not ho­nor his father, but euen dishonoreth him, and is ashamed of him. He is so farre from louing him, that he rather ha­tethThe description of a disobedi­ent childe. him, so farre from fearing him, that contrarywise he mocketh and contemneth him: and in stead of seruing and obeying him, he riseth vp and conspireth against him. If he be angry, he laboureth to anger him more: brieflie, scarce any dutie of a child towards his father is seene now a daies. And if some point therof be found in any towards his father, yet is it cleane put out in regard of the mother: as if he that commanded vs to honour our father did notThe mother is no lesse to be honoured than the father. presently say, and thy mother, vnto whō in truth we owe no lesse honor, respect, and obedience, than to our father, as well in regard of the commaundement of God, as of the vnspeakable paines and trauell which she suffered in bea­ring and bringing vs into the world, in giuing vs sucke, & in nourishing vs. But alas, what shall we say of those that spoile their parents of their goods, houses and commodi­ties, and desire nothing more than their death, that they may freely enioy, euen that which oftentimes their pa­rents haue purchased for them? O execrable impietie! It is vnwoorthy to be once thought vpon amongst vs, & the iudgement of God doth of it selfe sufficiently appeere vp­on such cursed children. Whose behauiour that it may be more odious vnto vs, let vs learn of Pittacus, that our chil­dren will be such towards vs as we haue been towards our parents. But let vs be more afraid to prouoke our fathers [Page 541] in such sort through our default vnto wrath, that in stead of blessing vs, they fall to curse vs. For (as Plato saith) there is no prayer which God heareth more willingly than that of the father for the children. And therfore special regardThe blessings and cursings of parents towards their children is of great waight. is to be had vnto the cursings and blessings, which fathers lay vpon their childrē. Which was the cause (as the scrip­ture teacheth vs) that children in old time were so iealous one of another, who should [...]ary away the fathers bles­sing, and that they stoode in greater feare of their curse, than of death it selfe. Torquatus the yonger being bani­shedTorquatus. from his fathers house, slue himselfe for grief there­of. And to alleage another example out of the writings of auncient men, of the loue which they bare to their fa­thers, that of Antigonus the second sonne of Demetrius, is most woorthy to be noted. For when his father beyng prisoner sent him worde by one of his acquaintaunce to giue no credite, nor to make account of any letters from him, if it so fell out that Seleucus, whose prisoner he was, should compell him thereunto, and therefore that he should not deliuer vp any of those townes which he held, Antigonus contrarywise wrote to Seleucus, that he wouldAn example of great loue in a child towards his father. yeeld vp vnto him all the landes he had vnder his obedi­ence, and would also himselfe become his pledge, if he would deliuer his father. We may not here passe ouer with silence the rare example of daughter-like pietie, with which all the painters in the world haue set foorth their science, I meane of the daughter that gaue sucke to hirAn other of a daughter to­wards hir fa­ther. father who was condemned to die of that auncient and vsuall punishment of famine, which neuer suffereth a sound man to passe the seuenth day. The iailour espying this acte of pietie gaue notice thereof to the magistrates, which beyng knowen to the people, the daughter obtai­ned pardon for hir fathers life. Moreouer, seeyng we must labour to obey and to please our parentes in all things, it is certaine that no action, gift or disposition inChildren can not please their parents better than to loue one another. vs is more acceptable, or contenteth them better than to see good-will, and an assured and certaine friendship among brethren. Which may easily be knowen by these [Page 542] contrary signes. For if parents are offended when their children offer wrong to a seruant whom they loue, and if hartie old men are grieued when no account is made of a dog or horse bred in their house, and are vexed whē they see their children mocke & despise those pastimes, stories, and other such like things which they somtime loued, is it likely that they could patiently abide to see their children whom they loue best of all, to hate one another, to be al­ways quarelling one with another, to speake ill one of an other, and in all their enterprises & actions to be diuided, and set one against another, and to seeke to supplant and defeat each other? I think no man will affirme it. There­fore contrarywise we may iudge, that those brethrē which loue and cherish one another, which ioine togither in one bond of self-same wils, studies & affections, that which na­ture had disioined & separated in bodies, & lastly, which haue all their talke, exercises, playes & pastimes common amongst them, they I say vndoubtedly giue occasion to their parents of a sweete and happy contentation in their old-age for this brotherly loue & friendship. For no father (saith Plutarke) euer loued learning, honour or siluer so much as he did his children. And therefore they neuer took so great pleasure to see their children good orators, rich, or placed in great offices and dignities, as to see the loue one another. To this purpose one rehearseth that A­pollonida Apollonida. mother to king Eumenes and to three other of his brethren, accounted hir selfe happy as she said, and gaue great thanks to God, not for hir riches or principalitie, but bicause she saw hir three yonger sons, as it were a gard to their elder brother, who liued freely and most safelie in the middest of them with their swordes by their sides, and their iauelins in their handes. Contrarywise, whenXerxes. king Xerxes perceiued, that his sonne Ochus lay in waite for his brethren to put them to death, he died for dis­pleasure thereof. Therefore Euripides sayd, that warres betweene brethren are grieuous, but most of all to theirHe that hateth his brother, ha­teth his parents. parents: bicause he that hateth his brother and cannot abide to looke vpon him, must needes also be offended [Page 543] with him that begate him, and hir that bare him. Where­as good children that loue one another for the loue of their parents, are so much the more prouoked to loue and honour them, saying and thinking alwayes with themselues, that they are bound vnto them for manie causes, but chiefly in regard of their brethren, who are vnto them as precious, pleasaunt and gracious an inhe­ritaunce as any they could receiue from them. This ment Homer to teache vs when he brought in Telemachus rec­koningTelemachus. this amongst his calamities, that Iupiter had en­ded the race of his father in him, and had not giuen him a brother. Let vs not then doubt, but that this is a cer­taine demonstration to the parents that their childe lo­ueth them, when he loueth his brethren. And this also serueth for as great an example and instruction to his children to loue one an other, as any can be. There­fore let vs vtterly banish awaye all hatred of our bre­thren, which is both condemned by God who com­mendeth aboue all things concord vnto vs, and also a naughtie nurse for the olde age of fathers and mothers, and a worse for the yong yeeres of children. And seeing we are about this matter of brotherly loue, so precious and excellent, whereunto now adayes men haue so small regard, I thinke we ought to insist and stand longer vpon it, and alleage some precepts and examples of auncient men, whereby to confirme vs in it more and more. First, nature hath bred from our birth in regard of vs the be­ginningThe beginning of brotherly loue is in our natiuitie. and occasion of this amitie, and hath taken a­way from our iudgement all former motions to procure loue. Therefore we must beware that we seeke not too exactly after the faults and imperfections one of another, but couer & beare with them, bicause they are of our own blood: knowing that no mans life can be sincere & clean frō all vice, so that we were better to support the domesti­cal imperfectiōs of our brethrē, thā to make trial of those that are in strangers. That brother (saith Plutark) that war­reth with his brother, & seeketh to procure a stranger to friend, seemeth to me to cut off voluntarily a mēber of his [Page 544] The benefite that commeth to brethren by hauing common friends. owne flesh belonging to him, that he may apply and fasten to that place one taken from another mans body. We note also, that nothing more preserueth the loue of bre­thren, than to haue the same common friends. For seueral familiaritie, conuersation & company keeping turneth a­side & alienateth them one from another, bicause thereby they acquaint themselues with diuers natures, and take pleasure in things that are contrary. But there is a further matter in it. For as tinne doth soder & ioine togither bro­ken copper, by touching both ends of the broken pieces, bicause it agreeth as well with the one as with the other: so a common friend serueth to confirm, to preserue, to en­crease & to reunite their mutual friendship and good-wil, when vpon light occasion somtimes it is as it were in dan­ger of breaking. Which is so much the more to be feared,Enmitie be­tween brethren is prodigious & vnnaturall. as it is certain, that all enmitie breedeth within our soules a thousand passions that torment vs, but especially that enmitie which a man beareth towards his brother, as that which is most prodigious and against nature. And as bo­dies that were once ioined togither, if the glew or bande waxe loose, may be reioined and glewed againe; but if a naturall bodie breake or rent asunder, it is hard to find a­ny soder that is able to reunite and knit them well togi­ther againe: so those mutual friendships, which we con­tractIt is a hard mat­ter to reconcile brethren once fallen at vari­ance. voluntarily with such as are not of kinne or allied vn­to vs, if peraduenture they fall asunder sometimes, may easily be vndertaken againe, but when brethren are once estranged and fallen from that loue whereby nature doth necessarily linke them one with another, they are hardly reconciled againe togither. And if they be friendes a­gaine, yet it is alwayes with some distrust and suspicion. Questionles it is impossible but that affaires should breed in these times wherein we liue many occasions of dissen­tion and debate betweene brethren, namely, for goodsHow brethren must behaue themselues in the partition of lands & goods. and successions, as this worde of Parting importeth, and bringeth with it diuision, euery one being desirous to haue his owne. But herein also they must suffer their matters to fight by themselues, without adding any head­strong [Page 545] passion, couetousnesse, or choler, which are as a hooke that taketh hold of them, and seeketh to set them togither by the eares. They must, as it were in a balance, consider iointly togither on which side right and equitie declineth, and as soone as they can possible, let them re­mit the iudgement and deciding of their controuersies to the arbitrement of some good men. Yea, a good brother ought rather to reioyce and to boast that he hath ouer­come and gone beyond his brother, in gracious behauior, in curtesie, in voluntarily giuing of place, & in euery good dutie towards him, than in the diuision of some goods. Now let vs consider of some notable examples amongst the ancients, of great brotherly loue. Although we had searched all histories, yet could we not finde a more me­morable act, or woorthier to be set foorth at this day, and to be rather followed, especially of the greater sort, whoExamples of brotherly loue. quarell for their possessions and reuenues, than that which fell out betweene the children of Darius monarch of the Persians. Ariamenes the eldest, and Xerxes the younger, being in great strife togither for the succession of the em­pire, the eldest alleaged his birth-right, the yonger, that he was the sonne of Atossa, daughter to Cyrus the great, and that he was borne since his father was crowned king, and so next inheritour of the kingdome now that Cambi­ses was dead. Each of them had great confederates, and many Persian lordes were diuided into factious about this matter. But Ariamenes came out of Media, not inAriamenes. armes to make warre, although hee had greate meanes thereunto, but onely with his ordinarie traine, as one that purposed to pursue his right by way of iustice. Xerxes Xerxes. before his brothers comming, exercised in Persia all du­ties belonging to a king: but as soone as his brother was arriued, he willingly put off his kingly diademe and hat, and went out to meete him and to imbrace him. After that he sent presents vnto him, with commaundement giuen to those that bare them, to say vnto him in this maner: Xerxes thy brother honoreth thee now with these presents, but if by the sentence and iudgement of the [Page 546] princes and lordes of Persia he be declared king, his will is that thou shouldest bee the second person in Persia after him. Ariamenes returned this aunswere: I receyue my brothers giftes with all my harte, and thinke that the kingdome of Persia belongeth to me: but as concerning my brethren, I will giue them that dignitie and honour that is due vnto them next to my selfe, and to Xerxes first of all. Nowe after that by their common consent Artabanus their vncle had de­cided and brought to an ende their controuersie, and adiudged the kingdome to Xerxes; Ariamenes present­ly arose from his seate and went to doe homage to his brother, and takyng him by the right hande, ledde him to his royall and kingly throne. From that tyme forward he was always the greatest next vnto him, and shewed him-selfe so well affected towards his right, that in the Salamine battell by Sea he died, fighting vali­auntlieAntiochus. in his seruice. Antiochus surnamed the Holie, makyng warre with his Elder brother for his part in the kingdome of Macedonia, declared euen in his ambi­tion, that all brotherly loue was not quite extingui­shed and cleane put out in him. For in the hottest tyme of their warre, when his brother Seleucus had lost the battell with great destruction of his men, and was sup­posed to haue been dead bicause no newes was heard of him: Antiochus put off his purple robe, and clothed him-selfe in blacke, and shuttyng vp his pallace royall, mourned and lamented verie much for his brother. But beyng afterward aduertised that hee was safe and sound, and preparing an other armie, hee went in open shewe from his lodging, and sacrificed to the gods by way of thankes-giuing, commaunding the Townes that were vnder his iurisdiction to offer the lyke sacrifices, and to weare Hattes of flowers in token of publiqueAthenodorus. ioye. Athenodorus the Graecian hauyng a brother el­der than him-selfe, called Zeno, who beyng conuicted of a certayne crime, had lost all his goodes by confis­cation, parted agayne with him all his owne goodes, [Page 547] and gaue vnto him the iust halfe. When the king of Lydia demaunded of Pittacus whether hee had anyePittacus. goodes, yea (quoth hee) twise so much more than I woulde I had, beyng heire to my brother that is dead. The loue of that Persian woman, of whome Plutarke Great loue of a Persian woman towards hit brother. maketh mention, was verie great, who beeyng asked why shee had rather saue the lyfe of hir brother than of hir owne sonne: bicause (quoth she) I may well haue mo children, but not more brethren, seeyng my Father and Mother are bothe deade. Howe much more then ought we to preferre our brethren before all other our friendes and acquaintaunce. For many may bee got­ten of this kinde, and others if these fayle: but it is no more possible to get a newe brother, than to get an hande agayne that is cutte off, or an eye that is plucked out. Agrippa, brother in lawe to the Empe­rourAgrippa. Augustus, vsed to saye, that hee was greatlie be­holding to that sentence of Salust, Small thinges en­crease by concorde, but perish through discorde: bi­cause it procured vnto him all his wealth, by seekyng to liue in peace and friendship with his brother, and with euerie one. This is that which Scilurus leauyngScilurus left 80. sonnes behind him. behind him foure-score male-children, meant to teach them, and how they should bee inuincible beyng ioy­ned and vnited togither, by offering to each of them a bundle of dartes to breake, which when they could not doe, he brake them one after another before their eyes. I woulde further enlarge this discourse with ex­amples of the loue of brethren, shinyng greatly in ages past, were it not that we must here speake some-what of the ductie and obedience of seruauntes towards their masters, according to that order which was propoun­ded vnto vs. This wee will brieflie comprehend into foure generall poyntes. The first is, that they musteThe dutie of ser­uants compre­hended in soure points. be prest and alwayes readie to put in execution their masters will and commaundement, and to doe their businesse most diligently, not beyng slouthfull, slacke and negligent, nor doyng any thing grutchingly. The [Page 548] second point is, that they must be faithfull vnto them, not beguiling nor defrauding them of any thing, nor affirming that before their faces to flatter them, which they will vnsay behind their backes. The third thing is, that they must seeke their masters profite and commodi­tie more than their owne, and take good heede that no harme, losse, or trouble come vnto them. And if any goe about to procure any such thing, they must vnder­take the defence thereof diligently, euen to the hazar­ding of their liues if neede bee. The last point which good seruauntes are to keepe, is to vse a double silence: the first, that they replie not againe to their masters commaundementes, although sometymes they suppose that they know better what is to be done than they that commaund them. The second, that they reueale not to others their masters secretes, nor sowe them out of his house. To be short, we cannot giue them better instru­ction than that of Saint Paule, saying: Seruauntes be obe­dient Col. 3. 22. 23. 24. vnto them that are your masters according to the fleshe in all things, not with eye-seruice as men-pleasers, but in singlenes of hart, fearing GOD. And whatsoeuer ye doe, doe it harti­lie, as to the Lorde, and not vnto men, knowyng that of the Lord yee shall receiue the reward of the inheritaunce: for yee serue the Lorde Christ. And else-where he exhorteth them a­gaine,Tit. 2. 9. 10. to be subiect to their masters, and to please them in all thinges not aunswering agayne, neyther pickers, but that they shewe all good faithfulnesse, that they may adorne the doctrine of GOD our Sauiour in all thinges. Nowe for examples to allExamples of the loue of seruants towards their masters. seruauntes that are desirous to effect their dutie towards their masters, we will propound two, the one olde, the other of late yeeres, which giue sufficient testimonie of a sonne-like rather than of a seruile affection. Antoni­us beyng ouercome of Augustus, and dispairing of hisEros the seruant of Antonius. safetie, vrged the promise of Eros his seruant in whom he trusted, bicause he had giuen his faith long before that hee would kill him when he required the same at his hands. But the seruaunt drawyng his sword, and holding it out as though hee would haue killed him, turned [Page 549] his face on the one side, and thrust it into himselfe cleane through his bodie. Maurice duke of Saxonie beyng inThe seruant of Mauritius duke of Saxonie. Hungarie against the Turke, and walking out of the campe onely with his seruaunt, was set vpon by certaine Turkes, and his horse being slaine, he was throwen to the ground. But his seruaunt cast himselfe vpon him, co­uered and defended him with his bodie, sustained and kept backe the enimies vntil certaine horsemen came and saued the Prince, but died himselfe not long after beyng wounded on euery side. Therefore to ende our present discourse, let vs learne, that it is a great and commenda­ble vertue, and beseeming euery good and gentle nature, to know how to obey well, and to giue honour and ser­uice to those that occupie the degree of fathers, lordes, and masters ouer vs: as also to loue our brethren with an indissoluble loue, to reuerence one an other, the younger honouring the elder, and the elder yeelding all dueties of sincere loue to the younger. Let vs not be lesse afrayd of the curse repeated so often in the Scripture a­gainst disobedient children, than the auncients were of that lawe which condemned them to be stoned to death when they would not obey the voyce of their Parents, nor harken vnto them when they instructed them: but let vs much more feare that punishment, which will conti­nue for euer, where there will be weepyng and gnashing of teeth.

Of the education and instruction of Children. Chap. 51.

WHen we intreated of the duetie of a father of a familie towards his chil­dren, we sayd, that the chief marke whereat he ought to aime, was to make them honest and good of condition, which was to be performed by instru­ction and good bringing vp in the knowledge and exer­cise of vertue. Now bicause the chiefe foundation of a [Page 550] The chief foun­dation of a hap­py life. happy life, is good instruction begun in youth, so that if the infancie of any bee well brought vp (as Plato saith) the rest of his life cannot but be good, we ought as I thinke (my Companions) to take this matter a­gaine in hand to follow and handle it more at large, to the ende to prouoke Fathers and all such as haue au­thoritie ouer the younger sort, to bee carefull and dili­gent in the well ordering of the seede of youth, which is the spring and roote of all prosperitie both publike and priuate.

A father of a fa­milie must be most carefull to bring vp his youth. We must not (saith Plato) be more care­full of any thing whatsoeuer, than of the good education of children. For if vpon their good bringing vp they be­come moderate and stayed men, they will easily discerne euerie thing that is good. And if good wits haue like e­ducation, they will growe from better to better euerie day.

The beginning, middle, and ending of a hap­pie life (saith Plutarke) consisteth in good education and bringing vp. But it belongeth to thee AMANA to in­struct vs in this so excellent a matter.

As a man cannot reape good wheate if heA fit compa­rison. hath not sowen good seede, nor gather good fruit of his trees, if he had no care at the beginning to dresse them well, nor to graft them with good sciences afterward: so the corruption of mans nature, which of it selfe is more enclined to euill than to good, hindreth vertue from ta­king sure footing and roote in the soules of men, if they be not from their very youth well and diligentlyThe spring of corruptions in common-welths instructed, stirred vp, and pricked forward to that which is honest and decent. And truely that common-wealth is most miserable, wherein this tillage of infancie is neg­lected. For from this fountaine proceede rebellions, se­ditions, open murders, contempt of lawes and comman­deme [...]ts of princes, pollings, briberies, heresies, and A­theisme. Therefore nothing was more esteemed from time to time among the auncients, than the institution of youth, which Plato calleth Discipline, whereby children [Page 551] are led to this reason, not to follow any thing but that which the lawe commaundeth and alloweth for good. The monarchie of the Persians, the common-wealth of the Lacedemonians, and since, that also of the RomansLawes that con­strained fathers to see to their children instru­cted. had certaine lawes compelling fathers to prouide that their children might be instructed, not suffering them to be cast away and corrupted to the detriment of the com­mon-wealth. Amongst other lawes there was one cal­led Falcidia, whereby it was enacted, that the child shouldThe law Falcidia be admonished for the first offence, chastised for the se­cond, and for the third hanged, and his father banished, as if he had been partaker in the fault, for want of good education and instruction of his sonne. Heretofore we heard many testimonies of the care and trauell which fa­mous and woorthie men tooke to instruct their children themselues. Traian the emperour, and after him Adri­an A woorthy act of Traian and Adrian. at their owne costes and charges caused fiue thousand noble mens children of Rome to be brought vp in lear­ning, vertue and feates of armes. Our auncient kings, knowyng how necessarie this education of youth was, builded long agoe and caused to bee framed so many goodly Colledges as we see in the Vniuersities of France: yea, the monasteries were partly founded to this ende. But how carefull are we at this day to imitate those aun­cients in this earnestnesse of good bringing vp of chil­dren in the studie of sciences and good discipline? Haue we not very good occasion to say with Crates the Philoso­pher, that it is most necessarie that one should ascend vp into the highest place of this kingdome, and cry a­loude: Oh ye men, whither doe ye throwe your seluesCrates procla­mation most ne­cessary for these times. headlong in taking all the paynes that may be to heape vp goodes and treasures that perish, and in the meane while make no reckoning of your children, but suf­fer them to continue long, and to grow old in ignorance which destroyeth them both body and soule, and turneth to the confusion and ouerthrow of your country? For it isEuil education corrupteth a good nature. most certaine, that a good nature ill brought vp, waxeth very pernitious, and that the mindes and hartes of men [Page 552] Euil education corrupteth a good nature. that are corruptly instructed, become most wicked. Doe you thinke (saith Plato) that execrable villanies and hor­rible vices proceede rather of a naughtie nature, than of a noble nature corrupted with euill education? In like maner a good nature well tilled will attaine to the toppe of vertue, but if it be negligently looked vnto, it will be nothing but vice. But let vs see what goodly instructi­ons the auncients haue giuen concerning this matter.Of the excel­lent education of children re­quired by Plato. The same Plato was so carefull, and searched out so ex­actly the good education of children, as that which is as precious and necessarie a thing as any can be in the life of man, that hee taketh them euen from their mo­thers wombe, yea before they are begotten. First, hee willeth that the husband and wife that are desirous of children should keepe them-selues from drunkennesse, and from entring into the bedde when they are chole­rike and full of trouble, bicause that many times is the cause of vices in children. Next he requireth that greatWomen with child must walk much. bellied women should giue themselues to walking, and beware of liuing either too delicately, or too sparingly: that they should haue quiet mindes, with many other things, which he alleageth to that purpose. He saith al­so, that children being in their mothers wombe, receiue good and ill, as the fruites of the earth doe. After they are borne, he carefully recommendeth their education. Wee will not here stande vpon many pointes to be ob­seruedEuery mother ought to nurse hir own child. therein, as namelie vpon the choice of Nurses, whereof fewe are ignoraunt, seeing it belongeth to the true and naturall office of euerie mother to nourish that with hir teate, which she hath brought into the world, ex­cept there be some great and lawfull impediment. But let vs go on with the sayings of Plato. He chargeth nurses toOf the bringing vp of infants. lead their children oftentimes on their feete vntil they be 3. yeeres old, bicause this moouing is very profitable for them. He forbiddeth much crying in children, bicause it breedeth in them a habite and custome of sadnesse. FromFrom 3. yeeres. 3. yeeres to six, he would haue them moderately corrected when they commit a fault, & forbidden aboue all things [Page 553] to accustome them from that time forward vnto dainti­nes, or to ouer-great seueritie, saying, that delicatenes maketh them froward, hard to please, cholerike, & soone mooued: and that seueritie maketh them hard-harted, cruell, abiect, base-minded, very blocks and fooles, andFrom six yeeres. haters of men. At sixe yeeres of age he would haue them put apart from the daughters, and begin to learne to ride a horse, to shoote, to practise all kind of feates of Armes, both with the right hand and with the left: to put in vre all other exercises of moderate labor, that they may waxe strong, and be acquainted with labour, and therefore to vse such laborious pastimes. But he expresly forbiddeth to change euery day for new, this age being very apt ther­vnto: saying, that nothing is more pernitious than to ac­quaint youth to despise antiquitie. But aboue all things, he commandeth that children should be so brought vp, that they be not constrained to any thing whatsoeuerYouth must be taught as it were in sport, and not by compulsion. they shall take in hand, but as it were in sport, that so eue­ry ones nature may be knowne. Neither would he haue them beaten without great discretion, bicause it is not seemely that a free man should learne liberall sciences by seruitude and compulsion. And in truth no science for­ced vpon a man, will continue stedfast with him. Moreo­uer,A commenda­ble end of Mu­sicke. he would haue them apply themselues to Musicke, both to sing hymnes and songs to the praise of God, to laud and magnifie him, and to hope for all good successe from him, as also to recreate their spirits. He greatly mis­liketh in them slouth and too much sleepe, saying, that much sound sleepe is good neither for the bodie nor for the soule: that it is nothing profitable for him that desi­reth to bring any good thing to passe, bicause as long as a man sleepeth, he doth nothing more than if he liued not. Therefore whosoeuer desireth to liue, and to come to knowledge, let him watch as much as he may, hauing re­gard notwithstanding to his health, which is contented with a little, when a man is once acquainted therewith. Now, bicause a child (as he saith) is more vnruly than a sauage beast, he would neuer haue him left without a wise [Page 554] Great care is to be taken in the choice of schole-maisters. and vertuous maister. It is no lesse necessarie (saith he) to consider what teachers a man hath, than what parents. For as children doe in a manner carie away the spirits of their forefathers: so the vices of teachers are deriued vn­to their schollers. Therefore let such be chosen as teach vs their vertue by their workes, and not such as onely vtterFrom the tenth yeere. and speake many goodly words studied out of it. At ten yeeres, this diuine Philosopher would haue children to learne letters vntill fifteene. But bicause we are to learne languages that differ from ours, it were good to beginne sooner, and to end a little after. I thinke it were very pro­fitable for youth to begin at the aboue named age of sixe yeeres, to teach him his moother toong perfectly, that he may read, pronounce, and write it well. After, at eight yeeres, to teach him the rudiments of the Latine toong, and to let him follow that vntil it be as familiar vnto him,From the foure­teenth yeere. or little lesse, than his natural speech. At fourteene yeeres, the same Plato would haue children learne Arithmetike, saying, that it is very necessary both for a souldior, and for a Philosopher: next, Geometrie, and that part of Astro­nomie that is necessarie for Cosinographie, which he would haue likewise learned. He commandeth also thatHunting ani­mage of warre. youth should practise hunting, bicause it is as it were an image of warre, and an exercise that maketh men apt to sustaine all labour and trauell. This institution of youth is surely woorthie of that diuine spirite of Plato, and that partie were very vnhappie, and of a froward and cor­rupt nature, who being thus diligently brought vp, would not growe to be a vertuous and good man. He puttethOf the educati­on of daughters. small difference betweene the education and bringing vp of daughters, and that of sonnes, not depriuing women from publike administrations & charges, but onely that he would haue them imploied about such things as re­quire least labour, and not to beginne to meddle with publike affaires, before they be fortie yeeres of age. HeReasons why women may in­termeddle with publike affaires. alleadgeth these reasons, bicause often-times many wo­men haue beene more excellent than all the men of their countrie, and such are dailie to be seene. And seeing they [Page 555] haue a soule aswell as we, as quicke a spirite, and often-times more quicke than we, (whereof those women are witnesses, who hauing giuen thēselues wholy to any thing whatsoeuer, were not inferiour, but rather went beyond many men) it were great follie in men, seeing God hath created man and woman with the like spirite, to cut off as it were the one halfe of their strength, and to helpe themselues but with a part thereof. Nowe, albeit these reasons are of great waight, yet sure it is that men and women, both by diuine and humane policie, haue theirAgainst igno­rance in women distinct and seuerall offices. It is very true, that I like not the opinion of many, who say, that women ought to knowe nothing, but to spinne and sowe: which saying commeth neere to that of the Emperour, who would not haue a woman to haue more witte than is needefull for hir to discerne hir husbandes shirt from his doublet. Such opinions are fit for ignorant persons, and proceede from a darke braine. For it cannot but be very seemelyWomen must be able to giue a reason of their being. and profitable for a woman to be able to render a reason of hir being, aswell by the knowledge of the holie Scrip­tures, as by the precepts of good life, which we haue from the Ancients. This ought parents to teach their daugh­ters, that they may be withdrawne from all other foolish loue, through the loue of vertue, and be desirous of all honestie and chastitie: as also, that when they are moo­thers in good and holie mariage, they may be a princi­pall cause of the good bringing vp of their children. Yea histories reckon vp vnto vs a great many, that haueExample of learned women. beene in steede of Schoole-maisters in excellent scien­ces. Aretia taught hir sonne Aristippus Philosophie.Aretia. Zenobia Queene of the Palmyrians, being very well lear­nedZenobia. in the Greeke, Latine, and Aegyptian toongs, taught them to hir two sonnes, and wrote an Epitomie of theCornelia. Easterne Histories. Cornelia taught the Gracchyes hir two sonnes, the Latine eloquence. But let vs followe our discourse of the generall instruction of children.Of the instituti­on of youth ac­cording to Ari­stotle. Aristotle seemeth vnto mee to bee a good teacher and Maister, where hee sayeth, that there are two ages, in [Page 556] which it is necessarie to diuide the institution of those disciplines, which we would haue our children learne: namely, from seuen yeeres vntill foureteene, which he cal­leth the age of pubertie: and againe from this age vntillTwo things to be respected in the institution of youth. the one & twentieth yeere. He saith, that in the institution of youth, two things must be looked vnto: the one, wher­in children are to be instructed, the other, how they ought to be instructed. For all men are not agreed of this, what things children are to learne, neither yet is it decided, or resolued vpon, to what end their institution ought to be directed, whether to profite, or to manners, or to vnder­standing and contemplation, which proceedeth from the variable opinions of men, who place their end in diuersThe end of all studies. things. But how soeuer it is, we must, as we said before, re­ferre all our studies to the glorie of God, and to the ser­uice of our neighbours, in liuing well according to those charges and vocations whereunto we may be called. We haue already seene the diuision of sciences and arts, and spoken of those that are most necessarie for a happie life.Aristotle ap­pointed that children should learne foure things. Of Grammer. Aristotle following the custome then vsed in Grecia, ap­pointed that children should learne foure things, Gram­mer, bodilie exercise, Musicke, and painting: for certaine commodities meete for the life of a man. Grammer is the entire to all sciences, whereby we learne to speake exact­ly,The commodi­tie thereof. also to read and to write. And this is necessarie for all estates of life, whether publike or priuate, in peace or in warre, in a quiet life, or in multitude of busines, for mar­chandice, for the guiding of a house, for the obtaining of knowledge, for the continuance and perpetuitie of the memorie of man. Briefly, as nature is the cause of our be­ing, so the knowledge of letters, which Grammar tea­cheth vs, worketh in vs the knowledge how to liue well. For this cause Charondas the law-maker, as Diodorus the Sicilian writeth, preferred Grammer before all other sci­ences, as that which is most necessarie for mans life, ap­pointingA notable law for the common instruction of children. that all the children of his citie should learne their letters at the charges of the common-wealth, which was to maintaine publike maisters to teach both poore [Page 557] and rich. Truly this law ought to be put in practise in all the townes of this kingdome, to resist that pernitious Hy­dra of ignorance, which the richer sort defend, making no account of knowledge, to the treading downe and op­pression of the poore, who would gladly haue the meanes whereby they might be instructed. The Gymnastical partOf Gymnastick, or bodilie exer­cise. was that arte, which, as the Ancients affirmed, did serue for health and strength, preparing the bodies of children by honest and moderate exercises, as fencing, shooting, throwing of a stone, riding, wrastling, running, leaping, swimming, and such like. These according to Aristotles o­pinion, are to be moderately practiced by children, vntill they be foureteene yeeres old, exercising them lightly, & not with forced labors, that their growth be not hindred thereby. This age being past, after they haue bestowed three yeeres in other Morall disciplines, and followed their studies in deeper sciences, vntill the one and twenti­eth yeere, then may they be exercised with more sharpeThe end of Mu­sicke. and hard labors of the body. They must also be taught Musicke, for the solacing and recreation of their mindes after trauels: and painting, that they may the better con­siderThe vse of pain­ning. of the beautie of the bodie, and vnderstand the sym­metry and apt composition of all things, to the ende that they may be the better aduised either in buying or selling them. Let them also knowe howe to drawe platformes of publike and priuate buildings, to set foorth countries, townes, and castels, their height, breadth, and length for the warre: liuing creatures of all sortes, with their parts, herbs, trees, rootes, leaues, flowres, fruits for medicine, & for the knowledge of simples. In this institution of chil­dren, Aristotle had respect to that which was conuenient, & drew neerest to the forme of a happie Commonwealth established by him, and to that which was necessary for the preseruation and maintenance thereof. Nowe, let vs apply to our vse that which we may learne both of him, and of the rest of the Ancients, for the framing of yoong men to honesty and vertue: leauing to the libertie of Fa­thers to make choice of those arts and sciences wherein [Page 558] they purpose to bring vp their children, hauing regard to that whereunto nature maketh them most apt and plia­ble. We shall take a good way in the institution of youth,Fower things to be vsed in the institution of youth. Instruction, which consisteth in six precepts. 1. The first pre­cept. The first thing that youth must learne, is to wor­ship God. if we obserue and vse these fower things, Instruction, Ad­monition, Promise, Praises, and Threatnings. We will com­prehend all Instruction vnder sixe precepts. The first shall be to shewe vnto children, that they must worship God, and honour him chiefly and aboue all things, referring all their thoughts and deedes to the glorie of his name: that it is he that hath created and preserueth all things, that he suffereth no wickednes to passe vnpunished, nor good worke vnrewarded, but giueth eternall happines to good men, and euerlasting paine and punishment to them thatWe can do no­thing without the grace of God. are euill. Let them knowe that without his grace and fa­uour they can doe nothing, no not so much as liue one moment: and therefore that they must continually and before euery worke call vpon him, and beware that they offend him not by neglecting his commandemēts, which2. The second precept. for this cause they must diligently learne. The second in­structionYouth must not glorie in transi­toric goods. which I finde most necessarie for youth, is to teach them not to glorie in earthlie and worldlie goods, but to learne rather to despise them, and to transport the loue of the bodie and of carnall goods, which it de­sireth, to the loue of the soule and of eternal goods, whichNor in bodilie beautie. properly belong vnto them. They must not make great account of the beautie of the bodie, which hauing inclo­sed within it the soule that is defiled with vice and sinne, is nothing else but a pretious and proud sepulcher, vnder which is contained a stinking and putrified carrion. They must not put their hope and confidence in riches, but be perswaded that they are rich and happie, if they be wise, learned, and vertuous. And whilest their vnderstanding is good and in vigour, and themselues haue time, they must put all their strength to the obtaining of that whichThe fruits of true knowledge and vertue. will be profitable vnto them in their olde age: namely of knowledge and vertue, which will procure vnto them, honour, safetie, praise, happines, rest, and tranquilli­tie in their life time, and will in the ende guide them to [Page 559] eternall life, to be made coheires of the kingdome of heauen with Iesus Christ. Thirdly, they must be taught3. The third pre­cept. to eschewe and flie from all such thinges which they see are hurtfull to others, and learne to be wise by their dan­gers and perils. Nowe, that which marreth and hurtethThe common diseases of youth. others, is disobedience, lying, pride, infidelitie, naugh­tines, hazarding games, whoredome, drunkennes, pro­digalitie, idlenes, and euill companie. Against the con­tagion of which vices, no better preseruatiue can be had, than to ingraue modestie in their hartes, by the rule andModestie is the best remedie for them. measure whereof they may easily be directed to behaue themselues vertuously. For this cause Plutarke sayth ve­ry elegantly, that the foolish opinion and presumption, which yoong men commonly conceiue of themselues, ought rather to be emptied, than the ayre wherewith bottles and Kiddes skinnes are puffed vp when any good thing is to be put into them. Otherwise, being full of the winde of ouer-weening, they receiue none of that good instruction which men thinke to powre into them. For the fourth precept of their instruction, we will set4 The fourth precept hath fower branches. downe these fower thinges, which will stande them in great steede towards the attayning of a happie life. Let 1 them not be delicate or superfluous in anye thinge: Let them 2 bridle their toong, and not be full of wordes, nor vtter filthie and dishonest talke at anie tyme, but be gratious and curteous in spea­king to all men, saluting euery one gladly, and willingly giuing place in those things wherein the truth is not hurt. Let them 3 maister their choler by cutting off impatience as much as may be, which is a singular vertue. Lastly, let them haue pure hands, 4 seeing manie great men by taking monie vniustly, haue stilled all that honour which they had gathered togither all the former time of their life. Fiftly, the examples of good and bad men,5. The fift pre­cept. are to be laid before their eies through the reading and vnderstanding of histories, that they may knowe that vertuous men haue beene well rewarded, and the vi­tious receiued an euill and miserable ende. For this cause we reade that the olde men of Rome vsed at feastes to singe the famous actes of their Ancestours before [Page 560] 6 The sixt pre­cept. their youth. For the sixt and last precept, we say, that it is needfull for youth to be vsed to labour and wearisomnes, to keep them from idlenes, and from falling into any dis­honest pleasure. We haue seene what exercises and pa­stimes are meete for them, according to the opinion of the Ancients: and at this daye we knowe howe to make choice of them, as shall be meetest for the nobilitie. Now, to speake briefly of the other three generall precepts gi­uenOf admonition. by vs for the institution of youth: Admonition is very necessarie for that age. For although youth be well borne and brought vp, yet hath it such actiue and vehement pro­uocations, that it is easily brought to stumble. Wherfore yoong men must be often admonished of their dutie, and spoken vnto of honestie, and of vertuous men, bicause words mooue their minds. The steps of their honest pre­decessors are to be laid before their eies, to induce themOf promises. Youth is to be drawne on with the promises of eternall life. to follow their paths. And aboue all things, the promise of that life, which is eternally happie for those that perse­uere in vprightnes and iustice, is to be propounded vnto them. O man well affected (saith Horace) go ioifully whi­ther thy vertue leadeth thee, and thou shalt reape great rewards for thy deserts. O ye yoong men (saith Plautus) walke on in that way wherein vertue will direct you, and ye shall be very well recompenced. For he that hath ver­tue, hath all thinges necessarie for him, and wanteth no­thing. These are the promises which ought to be beaten into the harts of children: adding further to them that are very yoong a promise to giue them what they will, so that they learne well that which is taught them. Last ofOf praises and threatnings. all, praises and threatnings must be added, by commen­ding children when we see them profit in vertue and ho­nestie, to encourage them to go forward, and to do bet­ter & better. Glorie (saith Ouid) giueth no small strength to the mind, and the desire and loue of praise, causeth the hart to be resolute and readye to vndertake all things. Quintilian would haue yong men praised, when they pro­fitte, and are willing to learne, as likewise they are to be threatned, if they be slothfull and negligent in the obtai­ning [Page 561] of vertue and honestie, and wil neither heare nor vn­derstand, nor yet put in practise those good admonitions that are giuen them. And if they amend not with threat­nings, they must haue good discipline and correction vsed towards them, and be chasticed with discretion. To this purpose Plutark saith, that the hope of reward, and feareHope and feare are the founda­tion of vertue. of punishment, are as it were the two elements and foun­dation of vertue. For hope maketh yoong men prompt and readie to vndertake all good and commendable things, & feare maketh them slowe in presuming to com­mit such things as are vile and full of reproch. So that if we practice diligently these precepts in the education & instruction of our children: there is no doubt, but as seales and signets doe easily make a print in soft waxe, so we may quickly cast in the mindes of little children, as it were in a mould, whatsoeuer we would haue them learne for the leading of a good and happie life, to the glorie of God, the profit of their neighbours, and discharge of our consciences which are bound thereunto.

Of the diuision of the ages of man, and of the offices and duties that are to be obserued in them. Chap. 52.

AMongst the most common and notorious faults, which fathers now a daies commit in the education and bringing vp of their chil­dren, this deserueth great blame and reprehension, that in their first age they vsually prouide teachers for them, sending them to Colledges, where they are kept in awe, when they cannot commit any greater euill than that which commeth from the yoong yeeres of their infancie, not very hurtfull to any, being light faults, and soone a­mended: but when the vehemencie of adolescencie be­ginnethAdolescencie is the age be­tweene 14. & 28 to tickle them with foule and infamous desires, and when they haue greatest neede of a bridle, then they let loose the raines, and withdraw them from the subiecti­on [Page 562] of their guides, giuing them libertie to make choice of their estate of life, when their perturbations are most vio­lent, & in danger to bring foorth most peruitious effects. Whereas on the contrary side then ought they most dili­gently to looke vnto them, and to set a most careful watch ouer them, that their first discipline and instruction may be framed in vertue, and in the perfection of a most hap­pie life. For this cause (my Companions) I thinke that by continuing our former discourse (seeing all men enioye not commonly this benefite of the forenamed education & instruction, from their infancie vnto the end) we ought to search out some way whereby to amend the first faults, by handling the diuision of the ages of man, according to the ancient writers, and by setting downe a briefe instru­ction of that which is most necessarily required, and to be obserued in euery of them, especially in adolescencie, for the obtaining of true felicitie through good behauiour and instructions, which are the meanes thereof.

It is true (as Plato saith) that vertue must be learned from the first infancie. Yea, there is no part of our age, which ought to be imploied in any other studie. But adolescencie especially must not onely inquire and seeke after the decrees of honesty & vertue, but also haue them already imprinted and ingrauen in his hart.

As no man euer saw a Bee become a Bee­tle through age: so no part of our life ought to leaue the first election grounded vpon vertue, if the ende thereof be to liue well. But let vs heare ASER discourse of this pre­sent matter.

It cannot be denied, that place and time are a great helpe to honestie and vertue: insomuch, that if we consider not of them the knowledge and practise of that which belongeth to our dutie, cannot greatly profit vs.Place and time are to be consi­dered in all things. For all things are to be applied in time & place, and some thinges are decent and lawfull vpon one occasion, which would be very vnseemely in another. The prouerbe saith, that the way to handle a sound man is diuers from the guiding of him, to whome the diet is inioined. Euen so, although vertue & [Page 563] honesty are alwaies requisite in a man, bicause it is the on­ly ornament of his life: yet in diuers ages diuersity of ho­nest behauior is required, & the selfe same things are not decent in them, but some kind of behauiour is proper toAll kind of be­hauior not con­uenient in all a­ges. the age of childhood, some to youth, and another to old age, bicause as nature altereth with age, so it behooueth that maners should chang. Now, among them that haue most diligently obserued the secrets of mans nature, there hath beene two sundry opinions concerning the diuision of the ages of man. Some haue made 7. parts, adding de­crepiteOf the diuision of the ages of man. or bed red-age after old age: & they would groūd their principal reason of this diuision vpon this, that theThe number of seuen accoun­ted a perfect number. number of 7. is an vniuersall & absolute number. So we reckon 7. planets, whose motion worketh all generations & corruptions in the earth. By a stronger reason therfore this number of seuen wil be applied to the continuance of time. Moreouer, the growth of men according to age, in­creaseth at the seuenth number. For teeth are bred in the seuenth moneth, & in the seuenth yeere they change & al­ter. Besides, in the same yeere doubled, that is in the four­teenth yeere, man receiueth abilitie of seede, that is to say, of engendring. True it is, that the number of six worketh alteration in females. Yet the number of 7. in other things worketh augmentation, or else the rest and quietnes of men, and sheweth the difference or iudgement of disea­ses. The whole time of the creation of the world is com­prehended therein, & likewise the rest and ceasing of the worke-maister thereof. All the ancient writers haue also noted, that the number of 63. which is the multiplication of seuen by nine, carieth with it commonly the end of old men: bicause that in the whole course of our life we liue vnder one onely climate, which is either from seuen, orOf the climacte­ricall yeere of 63. from nine yeeres, except in the yeere of 63. wherein two terminations or climates ende, that is to say, nine seuen times seuen, or seuen nine times nine: and therefore this yeere is called climactericall, wherein we may note out of histories the death of many great men, and the change of estates and kingdomes. As touching the other diuision [Page 564] The whole age of man diuided into six parts. Of Infaucie. of the age of man into sixe parts onely, of which opinion Isidorus is, we will now enter into the particular handling thereof. The parts are these: Infancie, Childhood, Youth, Adolescencie, Virilitie, & old age. Infancie is the first age of man, beginning after his natiuitie: & it is so called, bi­cause at that time he hath no vse of speech, and thereforeOf Childhood. cannot then learne manners and vertue, hauing no sence or vnderstanding to comprehend them. Childhood is, when children beginne to speake; albeit as yet they haue not the full vse of reason: in which estate a man may say they are vntill the age of seuen yeeres, during which time fathers and mothers ought to nourish and bring them vp in the feare of God, & reuerence of their parents, & frame them gently vnto all good maners, as we haue already de­clared. This age is called of the Latines Pueritia, as it were pure and neate fromHe meaneth not common & naturall infirmi­ties, but maliti­ous offences. sinne: forasmuch as children haue then no vse of discretion, so that iudgement cannot be at­tributed to their works, wherby they may be called good or euill. Youth is reckoned from seuen yeeres of age vntill foureteene, at which time children ought to be deliuered vnto skilfull and honest maisters & teachers, to be instru­cted.Two things re­quisite in a Schoolemaister, skill, and bone­stie of life. Then must parents looke well whether those two things are in them, to whose direction they commit the keeping of such a pretious pledge: least that befall them, which Hyperides an Orator of Grecia said to one who told him that he had sent a slaue with his son to gouerne him, you haue (quoth he) done very wel: for in steede of one slaue, you shall receiue twaine. Therefore it is very necessarie that such maisters should be chosen for them, as are learned and ofThe benefit that commeth by good Schoole­maisters. good life & conuersation, that, as good Gardiners sticke downe certain props hard by yong plants to keepe them vpright: so wise teachers may plant good instructions & precepts about yoong men, that their maners may be ac­cording to vertue. Let fathers beware least being mooued with couetousnes, they make choice of maisters vnworthy their charge, that they may pay the lesse stipēd, seking for good cheape ignorance: seeing that (as Plato saith) as chil­drē beare away as it were the minds of their progenitors, [Page 564] so the vices of the Schole-maisters flow vpon their schol­lers. At this age of youth the children of Rome did hangeA strang custom vsed by the children of Rome. in the Temple a little coller or iewell which they ware a­bout their necks, during the time of their infancie, decla­ring therby that they renounced all childishnes, and that they were to chang their maners for the time to come. In token wherof one gaue them a white robe, and a purple coate, to teach them by the white colour to shunne vices, which made the soule blacke, and by the purple, to striue to make their life glister and shine with good manners and vertue. And it seemeth that the Latines called thisThe reason o [...] this word Iuuen­tus. age Iuuentus, bicause of the aide and helpe which men promised to themselues through the vertuous inclinati­on that appeered in yoong children. We saw before suffi­ciently what is further required of this age, in regard of their instruction. Adolescencie is the fourth age of man, beginning at the foureteenth yeere, and continuing vntilOf adolescencie the 28. and it is deriued of this verbe Adolesco, which sig­nifieth to growe. For then doe men growe in bodie, in strength, and reason, in vice, and vertue. And at that age the nature of a man is knowne, and whereunto he ben­deth his minde, which before could not be discerned by reason of the ignorance of his age. This is that which Cice­ro saith, that the studies vnto which we addict our selues in the time of our adolescencie, like to herbes and fruites that are come to their fashion, declare what vertue there will be in time of ripenes, and what manner of haruest wil follow. Therefore yoong men (saith this Father of elo­quence) must make choice of one certaine kind of life, whereunto they are to giue themselues all their life time without any manner of contradiction, and being con­stant therein, they must draw all their actions to that one­ly end, as an arrow is drawne towards a white. But foras­muchThe fruits of a­dolescencie be­ing left to it self. as in the corruption of our time we see poore fruits of this age when it is left to it selfe, we may well say, that in this season of adolescencie, children haue greatest neede to be gouerned, ruled, and kept in great awe. For the in­clination to pleasures, and the eschewing of labour, which [Page 566] are naturall in man, commonly begin then to assault him with such violence, that if yoong men be not well follow­ed, they quickly turne to vice, hate those that giue them good instruction, become presumptuous, and ready to leaue that which before they loued: and taking no care for the time to come, like beasts seeke for nothing but to satisfie their lustfull desires. For this cause that good Em­perourAurelius exhor­tation to his sonnes gouer­nours. Marcus Aurelius said to those vnto whome he re­commended his son after his death. Beware that he bathe not himselfe in slipperie pleasures and desires, seeing it is a hard matter to moderate and to stay the burning affec­tions of a yoong man, especially when he seeth in his own hand a licence not limited, which offereth vnto him all kind of contentation. And truly this vnbrideled licence of not being in subiection to any, which yoong men de­sire and seeke after so earnestly, and for want of right vn­derstanding, falsly call and imagine it to be libertie, brin­geth them in bondage to seuerer and sharper maisters, than were those teachers & Schoole-maisters which theyConcupiscence raigneth most in Adolescencie. had in their infancie: namely, to their lusts and disordred desires, which are then as it were vnchained and let loose. But he which knoweth, that to follow God, and to obey right reason, are reciprocall and necessarily following ech other, must thinke that to leaue his infancie & first youth, and to enter into the ranke of men, is no freedome from subiection, but only a chang of commandement: bicause our life in lieu of a hired maister, who gouerned vs before,Who are to be accounted free. hath then a heauenly guide, that is, reason, to whome they onely that obey, are to be reputed & taken for free men. For after they haue learned to will that which they ought, they liue as they will, whereas the freedome of the will in disordred actions and affections is small, feeble, & weake, and mingled with much repentance. These are those good reasons, which ought to sound often in the eares of yoong men, and be supplied by little & litle through the study of good letters, & Morall Philosophie of ancient men, vntill they haue wholy in possession that place of maners, which is soonest mooued, and most easily led, & are lodged ther­in [Page 567] by knowledge and iudgement, which will be as a gardKnowledge and iudgement are the gard of ado­lescencie. to preserue and defend that age from corruption. Vnto which things the Ancients looked very diligently, both to represse boldnes, which commonly is the companion of adolescencie, and also to chastice their faults seuerely.Catoes sonne banished for breaking an earthen pot. And Cinnaes sonne for gathering fruite with­out leaue. We read that one of Cato his sons of the age of 15. yeeres, was banished for breaking a pot of earth in a maids hand that went for water: so was Cinna his sonne, bicause he en­tred into a garden, and gathered fruite without leaue. Therefore if a yoong man be well guided with reason, he will chuse & propound to himselfe that kind of life, which he purposeth to keepe vntill death, and begin some com­mendable life that is had in recommendation among ver­tuous men. The ancient Romanes minding to make de­clarationHow the Ro­manes taught their yoong men to forsake the follies of their first age. heereof, when their children were come to that age, they brought them to the common market place clo­thed with a mans gowne, and caused them to scatter nuts heere and there, & after that to forsake all play: signifieng therby, that they must leaue the follies of their first age, to imbrace more graue and serious matters. It belongeth to their duty (saith Cicero) to honor their Elders, & to markeThe dutie of yoong men. who are the honestest men, & of best report, that by their coūsel they may learn to liue according to vertue & good maners, & haue honor alwaies before their eies. And as in calme weather whē a man is vpon the sea, he must prouide such things as are necessary against a storme: so in time of adolescencie, men must furnish themselues with tempe­rance, sobriety, & continency, laying vp store of prouision in due time, wherby to sustaine old age the better. This is that which Plato saith, that a moderate youth maketh anA moderate youth maketh a happie old age easie olde age: but that which is immoderate maketh it greeuous & irkesom. The defect of our strength (saith Cicero) commeth rather of the vices of our youth, than of olde age. Now, bicause youth is at this day more than euer, giuen ouer to all kind of dissolutenes, so that their greatest glorie consi­steth in going one beyond an other in vice, let vs here pro­pound to those that wil make their profit therof, some ex­āples drawen from the ancients, of rare vertue that shined [Page 568] Examples of vertuous young men. in yong men. Ioseph, Daniel, Salomon, deserue the first place, who being very yoong men, executed deeds of woonder­full prudence. The holie Scriptures affoord vs a sufficient number of testimonies, but we haue some also amongst the Heathens and Pagans, that ought to stirre vp youthAlexander a pa­terne of vertue in his youth. vnto vertue. That great Monarch Alexander in his youth despised all kind of pleasure and delight, eschewed wo­men, contemned monie, and all plaies and pastimes that were vnprofitable, and to no good vse, louing nothing but vertue and glorie gotten thereby. This was the cause why, being demanded whether he would not be present at the feast of the Olympian games, to try if he could win the price of running, seeing he was well made, and woon­derfull light of foote, he answered. yes, if they were kings that ran. Whensoeuer he heard newes that his father had taken any famous Towne, or wonne some great battell, he shewed no token of ioye, but saide to his equals in yeeres: My Father, Sirs, will take all, and leaue no goodlie and great matter for me to doe, and to conquere with you. Among other his commendable giftes of nature, which men admired in him at that age, he was greatly praised for a good horse-man, which he shewed full wellBucephalus A­lexanders horse. when Bucephalus the horse was brought to his father, and was to be sold for thirteene Talents, that is in value 7800. crownes: which the yeomen of the kings horse perceiued to be so skittish and wild, that they durst not vndertake to breake him. But Alexander mounted on him, and handled him so cunningly, that all those that were present, cried out by way of admiration: and Phillip kissing him, said: Oh my sonne, thou must seeke out a kingdome that is meete for thee, for Macedonia is not able to containe thee. This horse alwaies serued Alexander after that, and died in a battell against the Barbarians, when he was thir­tiePompey. yeeres olde. Pompey from his very youth shewed in his countenance (as Historiographers write) a pleasant mild­nes, ioined with a manlie grauitie, and in his conditions and behauiour, a reuerent excellencie of kinglie maie­stie. When he was yet verie yoong, he committed an [Page 569] act of a wise and aduised captaine, being in the Romane armie whereof Strabo his father was captaine against Cin­na. For when the souldiers began to rebel and to conspire the death of their captaine, Pompey discouered the same, and tooke order for his fathers safetie. After, perceiuing that the souldiers trussed vp bag and baggage to go yeeld themselues to Cinna, he thrust himselfe into the middest of them, beseeching them most humbly with teares in his eies, not to deale so grosely with their captain. In the end when he saw that they persisted in their opinion, he threw himselfe prostrate all along ouerthwart the gate of the campe, saying vnto thē, that if they were so desirous to de­part, both they and their horses should go ouer his body. Whereupon they were so ashamed, that chaunging their mindes, euery one betooke him againe to his quarter, and reconciled themselues vnto their generall. The prudence of Papyrius deserueth to be alleaged here, who accordingPapyrius. to the custome of the young gentlemen of Rome, was brought into the Senate, after he had put on the gowne wouen about with purple which they vsed to giue to yong men, to the end to frame them by litle and litle to the ma­naging of affaires. In his returne from the Senate, which was longer in breaking vp than vsually they were woont to do, his mother asked him the cause thereof. And after many threatnings and compulsions, Papyrius not willing to reueale the secret of the councell, as it had been expres­ly forbidden him, bethought himselfe of a subtill lie, say­ing, that the Senators were in great contention whether it were more expedient to agree that one man should haue two wiues, or one woman two husbands: which (quoth he) shalbe determined to morow. His mother beleeuing it, told the same to the Romane ladies hir companions, who met all the next day at the entrie of the Senate, besee­ching the iudges to giue a fauourable sentence for them. The matter being knowen, procured great laughter, and made the prudence of this yong man to be greatly estee­med. But let vs speak of the other two ages of man. MansOf [...] ma [...]s estate. estate beginneth when a man is euen now ripe and setled, [Page 570] and groweth no more in body. This onely age is most apt and fit to attaine to vertue and honestie. For then is rea­son strong and power-full in him, then is his iudgement sound, & his bodily vigor of force and strength to labour and trauel. Of the name of this age, I mean of this Latine word Vir, did vertue first take hir name, which in Latine is Virtus: bicause this worde Vir, signifieth him that is in the age of virilitie, or mans estate, as if you would say, apt to be a minister and practitioner of vertue. It is true that Isi­dorus confoundeth Youth, (which he placeth after Adoles­cencie) and virilitie togither; saying, that this word vir is a word of sexe and not of age. But herein he agreeth with vs, that the perfection of mans strength beginneth at 29. yeeres, where we said that adolescencie ended. In this strength a man continueth vntil 50. yeeres, and then be­ginneth to grow weake, and to decline continually vntillThe dutie of a man at the per­fection of his age. death. The whole age of virilitie ought to be full of hone­stie and vertue, & to bring foorth the effects of prudence, temperance, fortitude and iustice, whereof we haue dis­coursed at large. And if any man before he came to this age, had not that education and instructiō which was ne­cessary for him (whereof we haue alreadie discoursed) by reason of his fathers negligēce, or through the licentious­nes of adolescencie, then especially is he to take the bri­dle between his teeth in good earnest, bicause yet there is good time & season, yea oportunitie of great fruit, to pro­fit in learning and vertue, so that he cannot alleage thisClitomachus. excuse, that he was not instructed in youth. Clitomachus of Carthage, when he was aboue 40. yeeres of age, came to Athens to learne vnder Carneades, with whom he profited so well, that after his death he succeeded in his place and taught others. Lucius being at Rome, and meeting withM. Aurelius. the emperor Marcus Aurelius in the streete with one man after him, demanded of him whether he went. It becom­meth euen an old man (quoth he) to learne. I am goyng (said he) to Sextus the Philosopher, to learne that which I know not. Than Lucius lifting vp his hands towards hea­uen, cried out, O good God, I see an emperour euen gray-headed [Page 571] carying his booke as if he were a child to heare a lecture and to be instructed thereby: and yet most kings of the earth will not vouch­safe to looke vpon a booke at eighteene yeeres of age. Solon hadSolon learned to the hower of his death. this sentence commonly in his mouth, that he waxed old as he learned. The same day and houre that he died, be­ing aboue 80. yeeres olde, and hearing some of his friends disputing of a certain point of Philosophy, he lift vp him­self vpon his bed after his maner as wel as he could. And being asked why he did so, To the end (quoth he) that when I haue learned that whereof you dispute, I might end my dayes: & so in deed he did. For the disputation was no sooner en­ded but he died. Socrates learned musick when he was ve­ry olde.Socrates lear­ned musick be­ing old. T. Varro, and M. Cato learned Greeke when they were old. Iulianus. Alphonsus. Terentius Varro, and Marcus Portius Cato learned Greek when they were old. Iulianus the great lawyer vsed to say whē he was very old, that although he had one foot in the graue, yet he was desirous to learne. Alphonsus king of Arragon, when he was 50. yeeres old, learned the Latin toong, and translated Titus Liuius out of Latine into Spa­nish. The sixt and last age of man is called Old-age, which according to Marcus Varro, and other authors, beginneth at 50. yeeres, bicause at this age the naturall power and strength of man beginneth to decline and fade away. Isi­dorus Of old-age. calleth this time Grauitie, which he maketh to last vn­till 70. yeeres, and termeth the ouer-plus of age beyond that, old-age. But as neither the diuision of ages here set downe, nor the termes wherein we haue enclosed them, could agree to the ages of our first fathers, either in the first or second age, wherin they liued commonly as manie yeeres as we do moneths, so considering the shortnesse of our days, which the Psalmist limiteth within 80. yeeres atPsal. 90. 10. the most, I think we are to folow the opiniō of Varro, who calleth old-age whatsoeuer is aboue 50. yeeres. In which age prudence is a very meet & necessary ornament, whichPrudence is the ornament of old age. those ancient men might attain vnto through long vse of life, through knowledge, and through experience. Ther­fore it is their office to succour and helpe the yonger sort, their friendes, and the common-wealth by their pru­dence and counsell. For this cause Romulus the first [Page 572] founder of the citie of Rome, chose an hundred of the el­dest in the citie, by whose counsell he willed that it shouldWhat Senate is, and frō whence it came. be gouerned. And of these old men called in Latin Senes, came that word Senatus, which is as much to say, as an as­sembly or gathering togither of olde men, whom we now call counsailors or Senators. And albeit that men now a dayes greatly abuse those charges, yet surely they pro­perly belong to olde men, to whome it appertaineth to gouerne townes, to administer iustice, and to be a paterne and example of honestie to the younger sort. For then haue they no time to take their ease, but (as Cicero saith) they must encrease the exercises of the soule, as they di­minish the labours of the bodie. Let them remember that saying of the Lacedemonian, who being asked why he suf­fredWhat vse is to be made of a white beard. his beard to grow so long: to the end (quoth he) that by looking vpon my white haire, I should be put in mind not to do any act vnbeseeming this hoarie whitenesse. In this age that sentence of Plato ought especially to be wellEpaminondas salutation vsed to men accor­ding to their ages. thought vpon, That yong men die very soone, but that olde men cannot liue long. To which effect Epaminondas sayd, that vntil 30. yeeres it may be thus said to men, Ye are welcome: for vntill that time they seeme still to be comming into the world. From 30. vntill 50. yeeres, they must be saluted in this maner, Ye are in a good hower, bicause they are then to know what the world is. And from 50. to the end a man must say vnto them, Go in a good hower, bicause then they go faire and softly, taking their leaue of the world. Olde ageCato. (said Cato to an olde man that liued ill) hath sufficient de­formities of it self, do not thou adde such as proceed fromWhat breedeth authoritie in a man. vice. For it is not grisled haire, nor a wrinckled visage that bringeth authoritie, but a life that is honestly led and gui­ded according to the best end of our being whereunto e­uery age is to be referred. To such olde men (saith Sopho­cles) Sophocles. as haue their soules nourished with heauenly light,To whom old age is not grie­uous. old age is not grieuous, and in such the desire of contem­plation and knowledge encreaseth as much as the plea­sures of their bodie decrease. Therfore when we haue pas­sed ouer the greatest part of our days to the profite of ma­ny, [Page 543] if than through weaknes of extreme age we are con­strained to leaue the managing of publike affaires, it will be very great honour, comfort and contentation of mind vnto vs, to run the rest of our race quietly and peaceably in the studie of letters, wherein delight is ioyned with ho­nest contemplation.

Of Policie, and of sundry sortes of Gouernments. Chap. 53.

IF we are able to discern be­tween the bodie & the soul, between this present tran­sitorie life and the life to come, which is eternall, we will not thinke it strange,The soule is not subiect to mans iurisdiction. that one part of mans buil­ding should be created to remaine free for euer, and to be exempted frō the yoke of humane power, acknow­ledging onely the spiritual iurisdiction, and the other part to be in seruitude, and to receiue commaundement from those humane and ciuill offices, which are to be kept a­mongst men. In the kingdome of God (saith Paul) there is nei­ther Gal. 3. 18. Iew nor Graecian, neither bond nor free, neither Barbarian nor Scythian, but Iesus Christ is all in all. Stand fast in the libertie Col. 3. 11. wherewith you are made free. And by and by after he addeth: Onely vse not your libertie as an occasion to the flesh, but by loue Gal. 5. 1. 13. [Page 574] serue one another. And else-where he saith, Let euery soule be Rom. 13. 1. 2. All power is of God. subiect to the higher powers: for there is no power but of God. Whosoeuer therfore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God. Wherby it appeereth that they which thinke that the maintenance of ciuil policies are the worke of man only, are greatly deceiued. For we must of necessitie beleeue,The beginning and preseruati­on of policies is from God. that it proceedeth from the counsel of God, and from his eternall prouidence, without which neither the round frame of the world, nor cities & townes could in any sort abide stedfast: & so that it is very necessary for their pre­seruation, that certain lawes should be appointed, accor­ding vnto which men may liue honestly & iustly one with another. As there are then two chief regiments & gouern­ments in man, of which one respecteth the soule, and ac­knowledgeth no temporal king or master, but holdeth of one only Iesus Christ according to the ministerie of his word, & the other is to ordaine a ciuil iustice only, and to reforme outward maners, wherunto the body during this life is wholy subiect, rescruing the first estate of man in his freedom according to the diuine rule of pietie, we are di­ligently to looke to this second estate of subiection & ser­uitude, which is most necessary for the maintenance of common peace & tranquillitie amongst men. Now foras­much (my companions) as we haue hitherto according to our weak iudgement noted the moral vertues of the soul, for the better framing of mens actions to that which is decent & honest in this life, and folowing the same order haue also giuen rules & instructions for the gouernment of a family, we are now to enter into this large field of hu­mane policie, & to consider of the parts that belong vnto it, referring the chiefe scope of the handling of this mat­ter, which otherwise would be infinite, to the ruling & pre­seruing of our French monarchie, for the instruction of al estates that are therein. And first we wil see what ciuil po­licie is, and intreat briefly of the diuers kinds of gouern­ments amōg the ancients, that we may so much the better attaine to the knowledge of that vnder which we liue.

To command and to obey (saith Aristotle) [Page 575] are not only necessary but also profitable: yea some thingsOf comman­ding and obey­ing. are borne to obey, and others to command, whose com­mon end is publike benefit & ciuil iustice, which are pre­serued by a wel established policie, and right gouernment according to the lawes of nature.

Policie is the bond of all so­cietie. Euery ciuil societie must be kept in order by some policie, which is a necessary helpe to cause a man to walke in his vocation. But as the elements cannot be in­termingled one with another, except it be by an vnequall proportion and temperature: so I thinke that ciuil poli­cies cannot wel be preserued but by a certaine inequalitie which is to be seene in all countries by diuers sorts of Go­uernments. But let vs heare ACHITOB discourse to this effect.

There is shew of commanding and obeying in all things, In all things compounded of matter and forme, commanding & obeying are so naturall, that there is some shew therof euen in things without life: as we see in that harmonie which consisteth in voyce, & in sounds,As in harmonie. wherein the contra-tenor seemeth to command ouer the base. This whole inferiour world obeyeth the superiour,The superior part of the world ruleth the inferior. and is gouerned thereby, through a certain vertue accom­panied with light and heate, called of many Philosophers the spirit of the world, or as Plato saith, the soule of the world, which descending from the celestiall nature, and intermingling it selfe throughout the whole masse of this great body, penetrateth, quickneth, nourisheth and mo­derateth all chaungeable things vnder the Moone. TheThe Sunne is king and the Moone Queene among the starres. The Moone ru­leth ouer all moistures. chiefe minister and disposer of this vertue is the Sunne, whom we acknowledge as king among the starres, light­ning the vniuersall frame with his beames. The Moone is as it were the Queene, ruling ouer all moistures, and among other maruails, shewing hir manifest power ouer the flowyng and ebbing of the Ocean seas. We see a­mong the Elements that the Fire and Aire throughThe Fire and Aire chiefe a­mong the ele­ments. their first qualities are Actiue, and that the water and earth are Passiue, as beeyng more materiall. Amongst all kinds of birdes the Eagle is president, amongst beasts the Lion. In fresh and salte waters the mightiest fishes The Eagle, Lion [Page 576] whale and pike ouer their kinds rule, as the Whale in the sea, and the Pike in pooles. Man ruleth ouer all liuing creatures, and in man compounded of body, soule, and vnderstanding, the soule commaun­deth ouer the body, and the vnderstanding ouer the de­sire. We haue also seene by proceeding from one particu­lar man to a familie made of many persons, how the head commandeth diuersly ouer the partes of his house. Euen so it is necessary, that euery ciuill societie, which is made one of many families tending to a generall good, should be kept in by some policie consisting in commanding and obeying. In many places of the world there are countries where the cities are not inclosed, where there is no vse of learning, and where there are no kinges. Other people there are that dwell in no houses, that vse no money, that liue with rawe flesh: in a worde, that seeme to holdNo people with­out all policie. more of the nature of beasts than of men. And yet there are none that haue no kind of policie established amongst them, or that vse no lawes or customes, whereunto they willingly submit themselues. Neither are they without some apprehension and reuerence of the diuine nature, v­singDiuine iustice & humane policie always linked togither. prayers & sacrifices, although damnable: so straight­ly are these two things, diuine Iustice and humane Policie ioi­ned togither, that the one cannot in any sort remaine a­mongst men without the other. Therefore Plutarke saith, that a citie will sooner stand without a foundation, than ciuil policie can be framed and established without any re­ligion and opinion of God, or without the preseruation thereof after it is once receiued. Moreouer, the first agree­ment of people forsaking their barbarous and rusticall life, to ioine in ciuil societie, was to this ende, that they might haue a place of religion to keepe them togither.Religion is the foundation of all estates. Religion surely is the foundation of all common-wealths, of the execution of lawes, of the obedience of subiects to­wards their magistrates, of their feare towards princes, of mutual loue among themselues, and of iustice towards others. Lycurgus reformed the estate of the Lacademoni­ans, Numa Pompilius of the Romanes, Solon of the Atheni­ans, and Deucalion of all the Graecians generally, by ma­king [Page 577] them deuout and affectionate towardes the gods inThe auncie [...] law makers e­stablished then ordinance, through the means of reli­gion. prayers, othes, oracles, and prophesies, through the means of feare and hope of the diuine nature, which they imprinted in them. Polybius gouernour and lieutenant to Scipio Africanus, and taken for the wisest Politician in his time, saith, That the Romans had neuer any greater meansReligion the greatest means of inlarging the Roman empire than religion, to extend the borders of their empire, and the glory of their famous acts ouer all the earth. Desiring therfore that religion, the truth, and the law of God, all which are one, and published by the mouth of God, may continue and dwel amongst vs, let vs see what Policie is, wherunto it ought chiefly to tend, and what sundry sorts there are of establishing it, by the contrary kindes of go­uernment vsed among the auncients. Policie is a worde deriued of this Greeke word [...], which signifieth theWhat Policie is, and from whence the word is deriued. regiment of a citie or common-wealth: and that which the Graecians call Political gouernment, the Latines call the gouerment of a common-wealth, or of a ciuil societie. This word Policie hath been taken in many significations amongst the auncients: sometime it signified a Burgesie, that is to say, the participation and enioying of the rightsThe diuers sig­nifications of this word Policy and priuiledges of a towne: sometime the maner of life vsed by some politicall person: as when one commen­deth the policie of Pericles, or of Bias, that is, their kind of gouernment: sometime also when they would note some woorthy deed in the gouernment of the common-wealth, they sayd, That man hath wrought an act of policie this day. But the chiefe signification of this worde, and that which aunswereth to our present discourse, is the order and estate whereby one or many townes are gouerned, and publike af­faires well managed and administred. But before we beginne to speak of the diuers sortes of Policies, that is to say, of gouernments of townes, of which all Common-wealthes and Monarchies are compounded, let vs speake a word of the end of policy, and of that marke whereat it ought espe­cially to aime. As all Cities and ciuill societies are ap­pointed for the obtaining of some Good, so all policie re­spectethOf the end of policie. the same, and tendeth to no other thing, than [Page 578] to vnite and frame vs to the companie of men so long as we liue amongst them: to conforme our maners to a ci­uill iustice, to set vs at agreement one with another, and to maintaine and preserue common peace and tranquil­litie, by procuring that euery one may haue his owne. It is the cause that men to communicate togither without fraud or hurt, that the insolencie of the wicked is brideled and punished: briefly, that not onely all duties of huma­nitie are vsed amongst men, but also that some publique forme of religion appeereth, and that blasphemies against the diuine nature, and other offences which trouble com­mon quietnesse are not openly broched. For although itCiuil ordinance ought to main­taine the wor­ship of God. falleth not within the compasse of mans power, as we said, to prescribe and appoint by their authoritie any regiment and gouernment ouer soules, yet euery one is not to bee suffred to forge at his pleasure lawes concerning religion, and the maner of seruing God. But ciuil ordinance must carefully prouide, that the true seruice of God be not pub­likely violated and polluted through an vncontrouled li­bertie, especially considering that the conseruation of e­uery well ordered policie dependeth thereupon. But we shal vnderstand this matter more at large hereafter in theEuery estate cō ­sisteth of 3. parts, of the ma­gistrate, the law, and the people. particular handling of the parts of an estate, which we wil diuide into 3. principal and general heads, folowing ther­in the ancient Politikes, namely, into the Magistrate, the Law, and the people. Now to goe on with that which was propounded vnto vs, let vs speake of those kindes of go­uernments which were amongst the ancients. The ordi­nance of a citie, or order amongst magistrates, especially amongst them that had the soueraigne rule ouer all, was called of the ancients, Common-welth, or as some others wil haue it Weale-publike, which in hir kind of gouernment was namedWhen com­mon-wealths are right, and when corrupt. according to the qualitie of the chiefe rulers ther­of. And those common-wealths that tended to common benefit were said to be right, & simply iust: but if they re­spected the profit of the superiors only, they were said to be corrupt, & were called transgressions of right commō-wealths, these being the cause of as much euil to the whole [Page 579] body of the city, as the others are of Good. For as the good or euill of an house dependeth of the father of the fami­lie, the safetie or losse of a ship, of the Pilote or master, theThe good or e­uil estate of cō ­mon wealths dependeth of the magistrates next vnder God. good or ill successe of an army, of the generall thereof: so the happines or vnhappines of townes and peoples de­pendeth of the magistrates, and yet so that God ruleth o­uer all. Common-wealths then are either good or bad,The diuision of common-welths in generall. right or corrupted. That is a good common-welth, wher­in the gouernours seeke the publike profit of the citizens, & the benefit of the whole ciuil societie. It is called right and iust, bicause it hath such an end, and seeketh after the same, taking no counsell about any thing, but only about the preseruation of iustice. A corrupt common-wealth is that which repugneth and is directly contrary to that which is good and iust, & chiefly to the end therof. For it seeketh only the increase of priuate commoditie, hauing no care of publike profit. There are 3. kinds of good com­mon-wealths,The subdiuision of them. and 3. of bad, whose gouernment alwayes consisteth in the superiors of the estate, taking their appel­lation and name of them, as hath been said. The first kind of good common-wealths is a Monarchie, which takethOf a monarchie. place whē the soueraigntie is in one alone. This respecting publike profit onely, and preferring common benefit al­ways before hir own priuate and particular commoditie, taketh vpō hir the name of a kingdom, or of kingly pow­er. But if she looke vnto his particular benefit that ruleth, seeking to raign by an absolute wil without any obserua­tiō of iust laws, then she hath the name of tirānie, which isOf a tirannie. the first bad kind of cōmon-welth. Now forasmuch as we liue in this kingdō, vnder this first kind of cōmon-welth, called a kingly monarchie, we wil dilate this matter, & cō ­sider thereof at large in a seueral treatise, that we may the better know the excellencie of it, when it is wel & iustly or­dained. The second kind of a right & good commō-welth is of a Greek word called an Aristocratie, which in our lā ­guageOf an Aristocra­tie, and what it signifieth. we may interprete, the power of the best mē, whō we cal in latine optimates, bicause they are accounted for the best & most vertuous men. This forme of gouernment taketh [Page 580] place when a few tried and approoued men for maners and learning haue the soueraigntie iointly togither, and make lawes for the rest of the people, whither it be ge­nerally or particularly, directing their thoughtes to no other marke than to publique vtilitie and profite. This was seene most excellently among the Lacedemonians,The Lacedemo­nian estate was an excellent pa­terne of this go­uernment. whose common-wealth surpassed all others of hir time, as well for hir policie and establishment, whereof there was neuer the like, and wherein she continued about 500. yeeres, as also for the glorie of hir warlike actes, where­by she helde the empire of Graecia a long tyme, vnder the lawes of that happy Aristocraticall gouernment, which Lycurgus established there. This man seeyng their estate to incline one while to tirannie, when the kings had too much power, and an other while to popular confusion, when the common people beganne to vsurpe too greatWhy the Senate of Lacedemo­nia was first in­stituted. authoritie, deuised with him-selfe to giue them a coun­terpoize, that should be healthfull for the whole bodie of the Common-wealth, by establishing there a Senate, which was as a strong barre, holding both the extremities in equall balaunce, and giuing firme and stedfast foo­ting to their estate. For the 28. Senators making the bo­die of the Senate, sometimes tooke part with the two kings who were depriued of all soueraigntie, so far foorthWhat power the kings of La­demonia had. as was thought needfull to resist the rashnesse of the peo­ple: and contrarywise, sometimes they strengthened the peoples side against the kings, who had then but the voyces of two Senatoures in the councell, thereby to keepe them from vsurping any tyrannicall power. True it is that their estate was not purely Aristocraticall, vntill one hundred yeeres after the first establishment thereof by Lycurgus, bicause hee had left the confir­mation and abrogation of the aduice and decrees ofThe policie of Polydorus and Theopompus to get the power out of the peo­ples hands. the Senate in the peoples power. But Polydorus and Theopompus beyng kinges, and seeyng how hard a mat­ter it was to assemble all the people togither, and how they ouerthrew many tymes the sacred decrees of the Senate, holpe them-selues with an oracle from Apollo, [Page 581] whereby it was signified that the Senate of thirtie should from thence-forth haue all power in matters of estate, in so much that of Senators they became soueraigne lordes. And to content the people, they appointed fiue EphoriesWhy the Epho­ries were ap­pointed in La­cedemoni [...]. who were chosen out of the people, as Tribunes to keepe away tiranny. That policie then is truely Aristocraticall, wherin vertue only is respected in the distribution of ma­gistracies, and the benefit of the subiects is chiefly consi­dered in the gouernment thereof. Oligarchie is oppositeOf an Oligarch [...] and contrary to this, and is the second kinde of a corrup­ted common-wealth. This is when a few noble or riche men occupie the authoritie and administration of the common-wealth, reiecting the poorer and baser sort, and aiming at nothing but at their owne priuate and particu­lar profite, without all care of publique commoditie. These men alwayes vse to take part with their like in no­bilitie or riches, to the treading downe and oppression of the meaner sort of people. Moreouer, they rule all mat­ters according to their affections, and through ambiti­on and couetousnes take them into their own hands, vntilHow an Oligar­chie is changed into a tirannie, with examples thereof. some one that is mightiest amongst them, find the means to rule absolutely, and to change the Oligarchie into a ti­ranny. Aristotle affirmeth that all the auncient gouern­ments in Sicilia were Oligarchies, among which that of the Leontines was translated into the tirannie of Pane­cus, that of Gela into the tirannie of Cleander, that of Rhe­gium into the tirannie of Anaxilas, and so of many others. The third kind of a good and right common-wealth is of a Greeke worde called Timocratie, which we may callOf a Timocraty. The power of meane or indifferent wealth. This kinde of go­nernment was after a peculiar sort called of the Aunci­ents by the name of Common-wealth: bicause this policie tended most of all to publique profite, and was guided by lawes, andHis meaning is, that it is ruled by some lawes taken from ccb of these. compounded of an Oligarchie and a Demo­cratie, which are two extremes, and of themselues vicious and corrupt. For of their mediocrities this forme of com­mon-wealth was instituted after 3. sortes. First, by taking the lawes and institutions of both: secondly, by holding [Page 528] the mediocritie of things commanded by them: thirdly, by following the constitutions, partly of the one, & part­ly of the other. Aristotle speaketh of this kind of Com­mon-wealth when he saith, That ciuill societie consisting of meane persons is very good, and that those cities are wel gouerned wherein there are many of the middle sort, who haue more power than both the other parties, or at least than any one of them. For where as many are passing rich, or extreme poore, there followeth either an extreme Democratie, or an intollerable Oligarchie, or els through their excesse, a tirannie. Nowe the last kind of corrupt common-wealth remaineth to be seene, which is calledOf a Demo­cratie. Democratie, where free and poore men being the grea­ter number, are lordes of the estate. There were fiueFiue kinds ther­of, according to Aristotle in his 4. booke of Po­liti. ca. 4. sortes of them: the first, where the gouernment was e­qually communicated to all: the second, where regard was had to wealth, although it was but small: the third, where all the citizens were partakers of the gouernment vnder the ruling of the lawe: the fourth, where euery one might attaine to the magistracie, so that hee were a citi­zen, and the lawe ruled: the fift, where other things beyng equall, the multitude commanded and not the lawe: and then the people onely gouerned, accordyng to their fansie by decrees and prouisoes, which they gaue out daily, oppressing the vertuous, riche and noble, that they might liue in all libertie. This kinde is not to bee called a Common-wealth, seeing the lawes beare no sway, but beyng aunswerable to a tirannie, it is passing ill, andAthens a De­mocratical estate. vnwoorthie to bee numbred among Common-wealths. Plato and Xenophon wrote, that the Democratie of Athens was such a one, where the people was giuen ouer to all licentiousnesse without either feare of Magistrates, or obseruation of lawes. Nowe of the three kindes of good Common-wealthes mentioned by vs, Aristotle, Polybi­us, Dionysius Halicarnassaeus and Cicero, compound an o­ther, that is partaker of all three: saying, that euery kindOf a mixt kinde of common-wealth. of Common-wealth established simplie, and alone by it selfe, soone degenerateth into the next vice, if it be not [Page 583] moderated and kept backe by the rest. Therefore they say that a Common-wealth erected with a right gouerne­ment to continue long, must haue the vertues and pro­perties of the other Common-wealths, ioyned togither in hir, to the ende that nothing growe out of proportion which may cause hir to degenerate into hir next euill, and so consequently ouerthrow hir. Likewise many auncientExamples here­of. and late Politikes haue maintayned, that the Common-wealths of the Lacedemonians, Carthaginians, Romans and others that are famous, as that of the Venitians, were compound and mildlie intermingled with the royall, Ari­stocraticall, and popular power. But this subiect deser­ueth well a seuerall discourse, which beyng needlesse for the vnderstanding of the matter here propounded vnto vs, we will not stay any longer in the curious searching out of sundry other kindes of estates and policies, which the ancients haue drawen out of these alreadie described. We will note therefore for the conclusion of our speech that the reason why so many kindes of Common-wealths are mentioned by the auncients is this, bicause euery citie is compounded of many partes, the diuersitie of which, according as they were in greater number and power, caused them to varie the names of gouernments. But toThe perfectest distinction of common-wealths. auoyd confusion and obscuritie, we may say, that if the soueraigntie consisteth in one onely prince, the estate is Monarchicall: if all the people haue interest in it, the e­state is popular: and if onely the least parte of them haue the chiefe power, the estate is Aristocraticall. ButThere is diffe­rence between the estate and the gouernment of a common-wealth. if their forme of gouernment be contrary to their na­ture, they take an other qualitie but chaunge not their essence. Moreouer we say, that the preseruation of eue­rie publique societie dependeth of the policie well ordei­ned, without which there can be nothing but disorder & confusion among men. We say, that policie is the order of a citie in the offices of magistracie, namely, in the chiefe of all, in whose gouernment the whole Common-wealth consisteth: which if it be in the peoples handes, is calledExamples of the popular estate. Popular, as in the Cantons of Switzerland, and leagues [Page 584] of the Grisons, in many free townes in Germanie, and in old time was in Athens: if in the hands of certaine per­sons, as of the gentlemen of Venice, and of some familiesOf the Aristo­craticall, in Genes, it is called Aristocraticall: if it dependeth of the wil of one alone, it is called a Monarchie, as in France,Of the Monar­chicall. Spaine, Portingale, England, Scotland, Sweathland, Polo­nia. Further we say, that the diuersitie of gouernment a­mong cities and peoples, dependeth of their end: if they tend to a good ende, which is to publique benefite, they are good and iust: but if to an ill ende, namely, to the particular profite of such as commaund, they are euill and vniust.

Of the soueraigne Magistrate, and of his authoritie and office. Chap. 54.

What right is. WE commonly say that that thing is rightly done, which is done accor­ding to the order and institution ofThe foundation of euery estate is the soueraign­tie therof. policie. Neither is right any other thing amongst vs, than the order of that estate vnder which we liue, the soue­raigntie wherof is the sure foundation, vnion and bond of all the particulars in one perfect body of a commō-welth. And when iudgements are exercised by the magistrates, when the wil of iustice is declared by the exposition of the lawes & of right, and when we direct our actions vnder iu­stice, thē is the order of ciuil societie duly obserued. Here­uponEuery estate cō ­sisteth of 3. parts in our last discourse we said, that the estate of a com­mon-wealth was compounded of 3. general partes, of the magistrate, of the law, and of the people. Thus followyng our purpose, let vs intreat particularly of these parts, wher­of euery common-welth consisteth: & first let vs consider of the chief magistrate, and of his authoritie and office.

All ciuil superioritie is a holy and lawful voca­tion before God. And as iustice is the end of the law, andThe magistrate is the image of God. the law a worke of the magistrate, so also the magistrate is the image of God, who ruleth and gouerneth all, accor­ding [Page 585] to which mould and paterne he must fashion himselfe through the meanes of vertue.

As in a man that is well disposed both in bodie and soule according to nature not corrupted, the soule ruleth and commandeth with reason, being the bet­ter part, and the body with the affections thereof serue & obey, as the woorse part: so is it in euery humane assem­blie. It belongeth to the wisest to rule, and to such as areThe wisest must rule. lesse aduised to obey. Therefore the Magistrate must aboue all things labour, that he be not vnwoorthie of that per­son which he sustaineth. But let vs heare ARAM discourse of this matter which is heere propounded vnto vs.

God being carefull of all things, euen of the very least, and comprehending in himselfe the beginning, end, and midst of them, according to his good pleasure, and making all in all by his onely spirite, respecting the common good of this whole frame, and preseruation ofWhy God di­stributeth his gifts diuersly to diuers men. humane societie, hath from time to time distributed to sundry persons distinct and different graces, that in exer­cising diuers estats, charges, administrations, offices, han­dicrafts, and occupations, they might through mutuall succour, and interchangable helpe preserue and maintain themselues. This is that which we see in cities amongst ci­uill companies, which is asmuch to say, as a multitude of men vnlike in qualities & conditions, as rich, poore, free, bond, noble, vile, skilfull, ignorant, artificers, labourers: some obeying, others commanding, and all communica­ting togither in one place their arts, handicrafts, occupa­tions, & exercises, to this end, that they may liue the bet­ter, and more commodiously. They obey also the same Magistrates, lawes, and soueraigne councell, which Plato calleth the Anchor, head and soule of the citie: which na­turally tendeth to some order and rule of dominion, as that which tooke beginning and increase from personsA well gouerned familie resem­bleth the kingly regiment. acquainted with a gouernment that resembleth the roy­all regiment, as appeereth in euery well ordered familie, and hath already beene touched of vs. The first soueraign gouernment was established either by the violence of the [Page 586] mightiest, as Thucidides, Caesar, Plutarke, and others write: and the holy historie testifieth the same vnto vs, and put­teth this opinion out of doubt, where it is sayd, that Nim­rod Gen. 10. 10. Chams nephewe, was the first that brought men intoOf the originall of kingdoms. subiection by force and violence, establishing his princi­palitie in the kingdome of Assyria: Or if any will beleeue Demosthenes, Aristotle, and Cicero, the first soueraigntie was instituted vpon their will and good liking, who for their owne commoditie, rest, & securitie, submitted themselues to such as excelled most in vertue in those times, whichCicero his opi­nion therein. they called heroicall. Who knoweth not (saith Cicero) in his oration for Sestius, that the nature of men was some­time such, that not hauing natural equitie as yet written, they wandred vp and downe being dispersed in the fields, and had nothing but that which they could catch & keep forceably by murders and wounds? Wherefore some ex­celling in vertue and counsell, & knowing the docilitie & vnderstāding of man, gathered the dispersed togither in­to one place, & brought them from that rudenes wherein they were, vnto iustice & gentlenes. Then they established those things that belonged to common profit, which we call publike, & appointed assemblies, afterward called ci­ties, & walled about their buildings ioined togither, which we cal townes, hauing first found out both diuine and hu­mane equitie. At the same time the authoritie of Magi­strats tooke place, who were instituted by the consent of the people, for that excellent heroicall vertue, which they saw in those first Rectors and Ordainers of ciuill societie, to whome was committed the iurisdiction of lawes, or re­ceiued customes, and the disposition of written equitie to rule and gouerne their people thereafter. But not to staye long about the diuersitie of those opiniōs, which we haue heere alleadged for the establishment of the soueraigntie, this is out of question, that the foundation of euery com­mon-wealth dependeth thereupon, & that it is the abso­luteWhat soue­raigntie is. & perpetual power of the Common-wealth, & is not limited either in power, or charge, or for a certaine time. This soueraigntie is in him or them that are chiefe of the [Page 587] Estate: & a little king is asmuch a soueraigne, as the grea­testA little king as­much a Soue­raigne as the greatest Mo­narch. Monarch of the earth. For a great kingdome (saith Cassiodorus) is nothing else but a great Common-wealth, vnder the keeping of one chief soueraigne. But before we intreate more amply of his authoritie and office, it be­hoouethOf the name of Magistrate. vs to render a reason of the name of Magistrate, which is heere giuen vnto him. This word Magistrate, hath beene taken of the Ancients in diuers significations: and Plato maketh seuenteene sortes of them, calling some ne­cessary Magistrats, others honourable. Aristotle said, that they ought chiefly to be called Magistrats, that haue pow­er to take counsell, to iudge, and to command, but especi­ally to command. And this doth the Greeke word [...] & [...], sufficiently declare, as if he would say, Commanders: and the Latine word Magistratus, being a word of com­manding, signifieth to maister, and to exercise dominion. Also the Dictator, who had the greatest power to com­mand,The Dictator of Rome was cal­led Magister po­puli. was called of the Ancients, Magister populi. There­fore albeit the name of Magistrate hath been heeretofore, and is yet giuen to all that haue publike and ordinarie charge in the Estate, yet we will as it were abuse this name a little, by transferring it to the Soueraigne of all, of whome all Magistrats, lawes, and ordinances of the Com­mon-wealthThe calling of Magistrates prooued to be lawfull. depend. Now, let vs see whether this vocati­on of the Magistrate be lawfull and approoued of God. We haue not onelye infinite testimonies in the Scrip­ture, that the estate of Magistrates is acceptable before God, but which is more, it is adorned with honourable titles, that the dignitie therof might be singularly recom­mended vnto vs. When we see that all men placed in au­thoritiePsal. 82. 6. are called Gods, we must not esteeme this title to be of smal importance, seeing it appeereth therby, that they are authorized by him, and represent his maiestie in the ruling & gouerning of vs. If the Scripture (as that hea­uenlyIohn. 10 35. word saith) called them Gods, vnto whom the word of God was giuen, what is that else but that they haue charge & cōmission from God to serue him in their office, & (as Moses & Iosaphat said to their Iudges, whom they ap­pointed 2. Chron. 19. 6. [Page 588] ouer euery citie of Iudah) to exercise iustice, not in the name of men, but in the name of God? By me (saithProu. 8. 15. 16. the wisedome of God) kings raigne, and princes decree iustice. By me princes rule, and the nobles, and all the iud­ges of the earth. Moreouer we see, that many holye men haue obtained kingdomes, as Dauid, Iosias, Ezechias: some gouernments and great estates vnder kings, as Ioseph, and Daniel: others the guiding of a free people, as Moses, Io­sua, and the Iudges, whose calling and estate was accepta­ble to God, as he hath declared by his spirite. WhereforeThe calling of the Magistrate is most holie. no man ought to doubt of this, that ciuill superioritie is not onely a holie and lawfull calling before God, but also the holiest and most honourable of all other, whereunto all the people is subiect, aswell by the establishment of the right of the estate, as by the holie and heauenly ordinance of God. And if the Magistrate be perswaded (as it is cer­taine, that many Estates haue had that foundation) that the cause of his first institution, and voluntarie subiection whereunto the people submitted themselues for their cō ­mon benefit, was that excellencie of vertue, which appee­red in some aboue the rest, ought he not to thinke him­selfe vnwoorthy of so honourable a title, if he want the cause of the beginning thereof? But further, if the Magi­strateHe is the mini­ster of Gods iu­stice. know that he is appointed the minister of Gods iu­stice, vnto what great integritie, prudence, clemencie, mo­deration, and innocencie, ought he to conforme & frameGood counsell for Magistrats. himselfe? With what confidence dare he suffer any ini­quitie to haue entrance into his seate, which he vnder­standeth to be the throne of the liuing God? With what boldnes will he pronounce any vniust sentence out of his mouth, which he knoweth is appointed to be an instru­ment of the truth of God? With what conscience will he subscribe to, or seale any euill statute with his hand, which he knoweth is ordained to write the decrees of God? To be short, if the Magistrate call to mind, that as God hath placed the Sunne and Moone in the heauens as a token of his diuinitie, so is he also appointed in earth for the like representation and light, will he not thinke that he is to [Page 589] imploy and bestow all his care and studie, that he may re­present vnto men in all his dooings, as it were an image of the prouidence, defence, goodnes, clemencie, and iu­stice of God? It is certaine that the Magistrate is the sameThe Magistrate compared to the hart of a li­uing creature. thing in the Common-wealth, which the hart is in the bo­dy of a liuing creature. If the hart be sound and pure, it gi­ueth life vnto the whole body, bicause it is the fountaine of the bloud, and of the spirits: but being corrupted, it bringeth death and destruction to all the members. So fa­reth it with the Magistrate, who is the soule of the people, their glasse, and the white whereat all his subiects aime. If he liue vnder right, reason, truth and Iustice, which are the proper wil of God onely, he is not vnlike to a line or rule,And to a Car­penters rule. which being first right it selfe, afterward correcteth all o­ther crooked things that are applied vnto it. For nothing is more natural, than that subiects should conforme them selues to the manners, deedes, and words of their prince. The wise Hebrew, Plato, Cicero, and Titus Liuius, haue left this Maxime vnto posteritie as an infallible rule of Estate. And Theodoricus king of the Gothes, writing to the Senat of Rome, goeth yet further, vsing these words, as Cassiodo­rus rehearseth them: That the course of nature would sooner faile, than the people would leaue off to be like their Princes. But further, as the hart in the bodies of liuing creatures is last corrupted, insomuch that the last relicks of life seeme to abide therein: so it is meete, that, if any disease corrupt the people, the soueraigne Magistrate should continue pure and sound vnto the end from all that pollution. If there be any euill in the soule, it proceedeth from the wic­kednes of the body, being subiect to peruerse affections: and looke what good thing soeuer is in the body, it slow­eth from the soule, as from the fountaine thereof. Now as it would be against nature, if the euils of the body should come from the soule, & the good gifts of the body should be corrupted by the vices of the spirite: so would it be ve­ry absurd, that corrupt manners, euill lawes, vice, and vn­godlines, should proceede from the Magistrate vnto the people, seeing (as Plato saith) he holdeth the same place [Page 590] The Magistrate is in the Com­mon wealth that which rea­son is in the soule. in the Common-wealth, that reason doth in the soule, which guideth the other parts by wisedome. And foras­much as the whole Common-wealth representeth but one certaine bodye compounded of diuers members, whereof the Magistrate is the Head and most excellent of all, he must also vse such equitie, that he profit euery one of them, and beware that he be not contagious to the whole publike body through his euil example. The peopleThe example of the Magistrate is the best way to teach the people. (saith Seneca) giue more credite to their eies, than to their eares: that is to say, they beleeue that which they see, soo­ner than that which they heare. And to instruct the peo­ple by precepts, is a long and difficult way: but to teach them by examples is very short, and of greater efficacie. Therefore the Magistrate must be more carefull of that which he doth, than of that which he speaketh. And that which he prescribeth his subiects for a rule, as it were by law, must be confirmed of him by works and deedes. For as he is chiefly bound to follow the lawes of God and na­ture, so he must make all those lawes and statuts, which he establisheth in his estate, according to that paterne. AndWhereunto the Prince is bound aswell as his subiect. therfore one of the Ancients said very wel, that the prince togither with his subiects, had one and the same God to serue, one law to keepe, and one death to feare. We will then briefly comprehend the dutie of the Magistrate inThe dutie of the Magistrate con­sisteth in three things. these three things, in ruling, in teaching, and in iudging his people: which duties are so neerely knit and ioined togither, that the one cannot be well exercised without the other, and he that faithfully dischargeth one, fulfillethThe art Royall, Philosophicall, and Politicall is all one. them all. For this cause Plato saith, that the arte and sci­ence of the King, of the Philosopher, and of the Politici­an, is one and the same, bicause they consist all three in knowing how to rule, to teach, and to iudge well. He saith also, that the only way to procure true quietnes and most happie felicitie in Common-wealths, is when by some di­uine prouidence the soueraigne authoritie of Magistra­cie meeteth with the will of a wise Philosopher in one per­son, that vertue may be superior, and vice suppressed. And if such a gouernour ouer people is to be accounted very [Page 591] happy, they are no lesse happie, that may heare the excel­lent discourses, & good instructions which proceed from his mouth. Besides, when they see vertue after a liuely sort imprinted in a visible paterne, & that the Magistrates life is such an example, they become wise of their own accord. Then is force, constraint, or threatning, needeles to bring them to their dutie, as they that conforme themselues to an'vpright & good life in friendship, charitie, & concord,Who is most woorthie of so­ueraigne autho­ritie. one with another. So that we may boldly say, that he is by nature most worthie of soueraigne authority, who is able by his vertue to imprint in mens harts the like dispositi­on & affection to liue wel & vertuously. But forasmuch asWhy there are so few vertuous Princes. few vertuous men are found, & soueraigne Magistrats are not commonly chosen out of that smal number, but come to that authoritie for the most part by succession: it is no maruell if there be but fewe such Magistrates, as we haue here described: nay, it is rather greatly to be wondered at, if any one amonge a great many become very excellent. Notwithstanding, as their soueraign is nothing lesse ouer their subiects, who owe fidelitie & obedience vnto them: so are they alwaies bound to do their dutie and office to­wardsWherin the du­tie of the chiefe Magistrate con­sisteth. them, which consisteth in ministring iustice, coun­sel, comfort, aide, and protection. Moreouer, bicause inso­lencie and rebellious wickednes is alwaies to be found in some corrupt persons, who neither by teaching, nor by example of good life will be brought to vertue, but perse­uer in committing a thousand impious & vniust actions,Why the sword is put into the Magistrates hand. for the punishment of such, the sword is put into the Ma­gistrates hand, both by the law of God & man, that as the minister of God he should serue his wrath, & take venge­ance of them that do euil. This is that which is so expresly cōmanded to Magistrats in infinit places of the scripture,Ier. 22. 3. vnder these words: Do iudgement & iustice: Iustice in deli­ueringWhat is meant by this precept. Do Iudgement and Iustice. him that is oppressed by force, from the hand of the oppressor, in not grieuing strangers, widowes, and or­phanes, in offering no iniurie to any, in shedding no in­nocent blood, and in dealing vprightly with euery one: and Iudgement in resisting the boldnes of the wicked, [Page 592] in repressing their impudencie and violence, and in puni­shingProu. 16. 12. & 20. 8. 26. their faults. It is an abhomination to kings (saith the wise man) to commit wickednes: for the throne is stablished by iustice. A king that sitteth in the throne of iudgement, chaseth away all euill with his cies. A wise king scattereth-the wicked, and causeth the wheele to turne ouer them. Take the drosse from the siluer, and Prou. 25. 4. 5. there shall proceede a vessell for the finer. Take away the wicked from the king, and his throne shall be stablished in righteousnes. As­well he that iustifieth the wicked, as he that condemneth the iust, is an abhomination vnto God. The people and nations curse him that He that suffreth euill, is culpable aswell as he that committeth it. saith to the wicked, thou art iust. Yea, an offence is to be impu­ted asmuch or more to him that suffereth it to be done, when he may & is bound to stay it, than to him that com­mitteth the same. And if it be a point of true iustice in Ma­gistrates to persecute the wicked with drawne sword, let not them that will needes (forsooth) abstaine from all se­ueritie, and keepe their hands pure from blood, whilest the swords of the wicked are drawne out to commit mur­der and violence: I say, let them not doubt but they them selues shall be iudged guiltie of great iniustice before theSeueritie and clemencie are to be linked to­gither in a Ma­gistrate. diuine Maiestie. It is true, that gentlenes and clemencie most of all beseeme a great and excellent man, and is one principall vertue necessary for a Magistrate. Notwithstan­ding it must so be ruled, that for the benefite of the Com­mon-wealth, seueritie and rigor be ioined therewith: bi­cause it is vnpossible to rule & gouerne a multitude with­out this. And yet it is not the part either of a wise Phisiti­on, or of a good gouernor of an Estate, to set hand to the iron, except in great necessitie, when there is no other re­medie. For if they do otherwise, as there is want of discre­tion in both, so most of all in the Magistrate, bicause iniu­stice also is ioined with crueltie. So that it is necessarie both in clemencie and rigor to keepe some honest meane by right reason, and prudence, to the end that the incon­ueniences of both may be eschewed. This is that which I­socrates, speaking of the manner of raigning wel, teacheth, when he sayth, that a man must be seuere in searching out of faults, and mercifull in imposing punishments that are [Page 593] lesse than the faults, gouerning men more by clemencieCiuilitie and grauitie must be ioined both togither in a Magistrate. and prudence, than by rigor and crueltie. And seeing it falleth out so, that an ouer-seuere Magistrate becommeth odious, and that he is contemned & despised who is too gratious, a wise man must be both ciuill and graue; graui­tie being comely in commanding, and ciuilitie necessarie for him that conuerseth with men. For the conclusion therefore of our discourse, we learne, that both by the e­stablishment of euery estate and policie, and by a holie & heauenly decree, we are subiect to the soueraigne Magi­strate, who is lawfully ordained to rule, to teach, and to iudge vs in all things that respect this present life, and the preseruation of ciuill societie. We learne, that seeing he isThe dutie of the Magistrate. the image of God vpon earth, he must conforme himselfe asmuch as he is able to the perfection of all goodnes and iustice, that he may bring on them that are committed to his charge to godlines and vertue by his example: & that it is his dutie to honor the good, and to punish the euill, declaring thereby that he is the protector and preseruer of publike tranquillitie, honestie, innocencie, and mode­stie, and appointed to maintaine the common safetie and peace of all men.

Of the Law. Chap. 55.

AS wee note in the vniuersall frame of theAl motions con­tained vnder one, and all cau­ses vnder the first. world, that many vnlike motions are con­tained within one heauenly motion, which is alwaies like to it selfe, & all causes by the first cause: and as in euery liuing creature many sundry members distinct in office, are comprised & brought into vnion and agree­ment by the soule & hart: so in euery Common-wealth compounded of many differing parts, necessary for the e­stablishment thereof, the law is the blood that giueth ver­tueThe law is the blood and bond of the Com­mon-wealth. and life vnto it, the bond that reduceth all the parts therof to vnitie, and the firme preseruer of ciuill societie. Therefore seeing (my Companions) we haue discoursed of the first part of euery ciuil estate & gouernment, which [Page 594] is the chief Magistrate: let vs consider now of the second, no lesse necessary therein, which is the law, whereby he is ioined and vnited to the rest of the publike body for the maintenance and preseruation thereof.

The law is the spirite and soule of the common­wealth. The lawe is in the citie, as the spirite is in the body. For as the body without the spirite vndoubted­ly perisheth: in like maner euery citie & Commonwealth that hath no law, falleth into ruine and perdition. There­fore Cicero calleth lawes the soules of Common-wealths.

As the soule guideth the body, and indueth it with abilitie to work: so the law is the direction & main­tenance of euery Estate. By the lawe is the Magistrate o­beied, and the subiects kept in peace and quietnes. But let vs heare AMANA handle this matter.

All creatures are sociable by nature. We see that naturally all liuing creatures, whether earthie, watry, aërie, or flying, tame, or wild, seeke after the companies and assemblies of their kinds, to liue with them, as Sheepe by flocks: Kine, Oxen, Harts, and Hindes, feeding by herds: Horses, Asses, & Mules by com­panies: Choughs, Stares, Cranes, & other birds by flights: Fishes both in fresh and salt waters following one another in sholes: Bees dwelling in hiues: Pigeons in doouehou­ses: Ants in little hollow places. No maruell therefore if men, singularly adorned with an immortal soule, with rea­son,The preroga­tiues of men a­boue other cre­atures. & speech, and by these prerogatiues more communi­cable than other creatures, as borne to honour God, to loue one another, to liue togither in a ciuill policie with lawes, Magistrats, & iudgements, hauing proper to them­selues onely the knowledge of good & euill, of honestie & dishonestie, of iustice & iniustice, knowing the beginnings & causes of things, their proceedings, antecedents, & con­sequents, their similitudes & cōtrarieties, no maruel I say, if they liue more commodiously & happily togither, & do that by right & equity, which other liuing creatures do only by a natural instinct: seeing also they may be assured (as Cicero saith) that nothing here below is more acceptable to god the gouernor of all the world, than the cōgregations & assemblies of mē linked togither by right & equity, which we cal cities. Now we are [Page 595] to note, that all those which obey the same lawes & Magi­strats,What a citie is. make iointly togither but one city, which (as Aristo­tle saith) is euery cōpany assembled togither for some be­nefit.The diuers ends of the three good Common­wealths. If a city be assēbled in monarch-wise, it is to be defē ­ded against strāgers, & to liue peaceably among thēselues according to law: if Aristocratically vnder certaine chiefe lords, it is to be respected according to their riches, nobi­lity, & vertue: if in a popular cōmunity, it is to enioy liber­ty & equality: & the better that the city is guided by poli­cy, the greater benefit they hope for therby. Therefore as the Venetians make but one city, liuing vnder an Aristocra­ticall gouernment: the Bernians an other, liuing vnder a Democraty, whether they liue within or without the wals, or far frō the chief towne: so all the natural subiects of this Monarchy, acknowledging one king for their soueraigne lord, & obeying his commandemēts, & the decrees of his coūcel, represent one city & political cōmunion, cōpoun­ded of many villages, townes, & prouinces, Prouostships, Bailiweeks, Senshalships, gouernments, Parliaments, Bar­ronies, Counties, Marquesies, Dukedoms, Cures, Bishop­riks, Archbishopriks, being in & of it self sufficiently furni­shed with all necessary & honest things, for the leading of a good & vertuous life, & obeying the statuts, lawes, & or­dinancesA king must line vnder a law, al­beit he be not subiect to the lawe. established therin, according to which the Magi­strat ought to rule & to gouern his subiects, shewing ther­by, that albeit he be not subiect to the law, yet he wil (as it becommeth him) liue & gouerne himselfe vnder the law. Therfore the Magistrate is very wel called by some, a liuing lawe, & the law a mute Magistrate. Moreouer, the marke of aThe marke of a soueraigne. soueraign Prince, of which depēdeth whatsoeuer he doth by his imperial authority, is the power to prescribe lawes vnto all in general, & to euery one in particular: & not to receiue any but of God, who is the Iudge of Princes (saith Marcus Aurelius) as Princes are the iudges of their subiects: yeaWisd. 6. 3. it is God (saith the wise mā) that wil proceed with rigor against How far Princes are subiect to lawes. thē for the contēpt of his law. So that they which say generally, that princes are no more subiect to laws, thā to their own couenāts, if they except not the laws of god & of nature, & [Page 596] those iust couenants and bargaines that are made withWherein the absolute power of Princes con­sisteth. them, they are iniurious to God. And as for their power to abrogate such lawes by their absolute authoritie, it is no more permitted vnto them than the other: seeing the power of a soueraign is only ouer the ciuill or positiue lawes. But that we may haue some certaine vnderstan­ding of the matter heere propounded vnto vs to intreate of, we must first see what the lawe is, into howe many kindes it is diuided, whereunto it ought to tend, theThe definition of the law. profite of it, and howe we must obey it. The lawe is a singular reason imprinted in nature, commanding those things that are to be done, and forbidding the contrary.The diuision of it. We haue both the lawe of nature, and the lawe written.What the law of nature is. The lawe of nature is a sence and feeling, which euerie one hath in himselfe, and in his conscience, whereby he discerneth betweene good and euill, asmuch as sufficeth to take from him the cloake of ignorance, in that he isThe diuision of the written law. The diuision of the law of God. reprooued euen by his owne witnesse. The written lawe is double, diuine, and ciuill. The diuine lawe is diuided into three partes, that is, into Manners, Cere­monies,Of the Morall law. and Iudgements. That of Manners was called of the ancient writers the Morall lawe, beeing the true and eternall rule of Iustice, appointed for all men, in what countrie or tyme soeuer they liue, if they will di­rect their life according to the will of God. And as for the Ceremonies and Iudgements, although they haue some relation to Maners, yet bicause both of them might be altered and abolished without the corruption or dimi­nution of good manners, the Ancients did not compre­hend those two parts vnder the word Morall, but attribu­ted this name particularly to the first part of the lawe, of which the sincere integritie of Maners dependeth, which neither may nor ought in any sort to be altered or chan­ged, and whereunto the end of all other lawes is to be re­ferred, in honouring God by a pure faith, and by god­lines,Of the Ceremo­niall law. and in being ioined vnto our neighbour by true loue. The Ceremonial lawe was a Pedagogie of the Iewes, that is to say, a doctrine of infancie giuen to that [Page 597] people to exercise them vnder the obedience to God, vn­till the manifestation of those things which were then fi­guredOf the Iudiciall law. in shadowes. The Iudiciall law giuen vnto them for policie, taught them certaine rules of iustice and equitie, wherby they might liue peaceably togither without hur­ting one another. Now, as the exercise of ceremonies ap­pertained to the doctrine of pietie, which is the first part of the Morall law (bicause it nourished the Iewish Church in the reuerence of God) and yet was distinct from true pietie: in like maner, albeit their Iudiciall law tended to no other ende than to the preseruation of the selfe same charitie that is commanded in the Morall law, yet it had a distinct propertie, which was not expresly declared in the commandement of charitie. As therefore the ceremonies were abrogated, and true religion and pietie, I meane Christian, substituted in place of the Iudaicll law: so the Iudiciarie lawes were cancelled & abolished, without vio­lating in any sort the dutie of charitie. So that all nationsOf ciuill or po­sitiue lawes. haue libertie to make for themselues such lawes as they shall thinke expedient for them, called of vs ciuill lawes, which must be squared according to the eternall rule of charitie, and differing onely in forme, they must all haue one end, commanding alwaies honest & vertuous things, and contrariwise forbidding those that are dishonest andThe diuision of ciuill lawes. vitious. Nowe of these ciuill lawes, there are two chiefe kindes amongst vs: The first consisteth in lawes that are ratified & established, vpon which euery Monarchie and publike gouernment is first grounded, and hath his be­ginning, which ought not in any wise to be infringed orWhat ciuill lawes may not be changed. changed: such are those which we call the lawes of the French-men: namely the Salicke law, established by Pha­ramond, The Salick law immutable. who was the first that tooke vpon him the name of king ouer them. Such lawes also are annexed and vnited to the crowne, and therefore the Prince cannot so abro­gate them, but that his successor may disanull whatsoeuer he hath done in preiudice of them: much lesse are subiects permitted to attempt any such matter. Yea all those that go about it, seeke nothing but to mooue sedition in the e­state, [Page 598] What ciuill lawes may be changed. and to cause subiects to reuolt from their supe­riours. As for the other ciuill lawes, as constitutions, ordinaunces, edicts, and customes, which haue beene made and receiued according to the condition and cir­cumstaunce of times and places, they are in the pow­er of the soueraigne Prince, to change and to correct them as occasion shall serue. And yet in the general and particular customes of this Realme, none haueA Prince may deny the re­quest of his three Estates, hauing reason and iustice on his side. beene commonly chaunged, but after the lawefull as­semblie of the three generall Estates of France, or else of the particular Estates of euery Prouince: not as if the king were necessarily bound to stand to their aduice, or might not do contrary to that which they demand, if naturall reason and iustice stand with his will. And then whatsoeuer it pleaseth him to like or dislike, to com­mand or forbid, is held for a law, an edict, and decree, and euery subiect is bound to obey it. But to speake general­ly of the lawes of an Estate, the changing and gain-say­ing of them is a very pernitious plague in euery Com­mon-wealth.The change of lawes in a well setled Estate is dangerous. This ancient rule and Maxime of wise Po­liticks, is well woorth the marking: That nothing is to be changed in the lawes of a Common-wealth which hath a long time preserued it selfe in good estate, what apparant profite soeuer a man may pretend. And for this cause in the popular go­uernment of the Romanes vnder Publius Philo the Dicta­tor, that Athenian edict was receiued, and past by force of lawe, whereby it was not lawfull for any to present a request to the people, without the aduice of the Senate. But there was a farre more strict and seuere decree amongest the Lo­crians. For it was to this effect (as Demosthenes rehear­sethA seuere decree of the Locrians against such as would bring in new lawes. it) that euery Citizen that was desirous to bring in a newe lawe, should come and declare it publikely before the people with a halter about his necke, to the end that if his newe lawe was not thought meete to be receiued, and very profitable for the Common-wealth, he might presently be strangled, as a woorthie reward for his rash­nes. In euery societie (sayth Aristotle) that is well in­stituted and ordained by lawes, great care is to be taken [Page 599] that no part of the lawe, although neuer so little, be di­minished or changed: yea, most heede is to be had of that which is done by little and little. For if resistance be not then made, it falleth out in the Common-wealth,Mischiefs in a commonwealth must be resisted in the beginning as in the diseased bodie of a man, wherein the disease, if speedie remedie be not vsed in the beginning thereof, increaseth by little and little, and that which might ea­sily haue beene cured, through negligence is made in­curable. Men neuer beginne (sayed Paulus Aemilius the Romane Consul) to alter and chang the estate of a Com­mon-wealth, by making their first entrance with some notorious resisting of the lawes. And therefore we must thinke that the preseruation of the principall founda­tions of a politike Estate is left at randon, when men neglect the care of keeping diligentlye the constituti­ons thereof, howe light, or of small importance soe­uerThe law is the foundation of ciuill societies. they seeme to be. For seeing the lawe is the sure foundation of euery ciuill societie, if that fayle, it must needes be, that the whole politicall building will fall to ruine. Therefore Bias the wise sayd, that the EstateBias. of that Common-wealth is happie, wherein all the in­habitants feare the lawe as a seuere Tyrant. For then whatsoeuer it requireth, is vndoubtedly perfourmed. After the lawe is once established and approoued (saith Isidorus) we must not iudge of it, but iudge accordingWe must not iudge of the law but according to the law. vnto it. That is the beste policie (sayde Chilon one of the Sages of Graecia) where the people hearken more to the lawes, than to the Oratours. This also was the cause that Pausanias the Lacedemonian made this aun­swere to one who demaunded of him, why it was not lawefull in their countrie to alter any of their aunci­ent lawes. The reason is (quoth he) bicause the lawesWhy the Lace­demonian lawes might not be changed. must bee Mistresses ouer men, and not men Maysters ouer the lawes. Moreouer, the antiquitie and profite of lawes are so euident, that it is needeles to make a­ny long discourse thereof heere. Moses was the firstThe ancient law-makers. lawe-maker of the Hebrewes; Mercurius Trismegistus of the Egyptians; Phoroneus the Kinge, of the Graeci­ans: [Page 600] Solon of the Athenians: Lycurgus of the Lacedemo­nians: Anacharsis of the Scythians: Numa Pompilius of the Romanes. Ten notable men were chosen by the Se­nate and people of Rome, to translate and to expound the lawes of the twelue tables. We haue already declared how Pharamond made ours. The greatest and best part of the lawes of Germanie was established by Charles the great, Emperour and king of France. And so all regions haue had diuers lawmakers, according to the conditionNo law before the law of God. and circumstance of time, place, and countrie. True it is, that before the publishing of the law of God, there was no law-maker of whome we haue any knowledge: and surely not so much as one word of a law is to be found in all the works of Homer, or Orpheus, or of any before Mo­ses. But Princes iudged and commanded all thinges by their soueraigne power, which kind of gouernment be­ing more tyrannicall than kingly, could not be of any continuance or assurance, bicause there was no bond to knit the great with the small, and so consequently no a­greement.The necessitie and profit of a law. Besides, this is out of doubt, that all the sub­iects of an Estate stand in neede of a law, as of a light to guide them in the darkenes of humane actions: especi­ally it is necessarie for the terrifieng of the wicked, who might pretend some true cause of their ignorance, or some probable colour of their wickednes, or at least some shew why they should escape the punishment, which is notThe vpright and equall distribu­tion of the law maketh a good gouernment. imprinted in our hartes, as things forbidden by nature. Neuertheles it is not the law that maketh a right gouern­ment, but vpright iustice, and the equal distribution ther­of, which ought to be surer ingrauen in the mindes of good kings and princes, than in tables of stone. And it is to small purpose to multiply Edicts and Decrees, if they be not seuerely obserued: yea the first signe that a manTo dispence with good sta­tuts, and daily to make new, is a token of the decay of a com­mon-wealth. may haue of the losse of an estate, is when there appeereth an vnbrideled licence and a facilitie in dispensing with good statuts, and when new decrees are daily consulted of. And if the estate be already troubled, the heaping vp of lawes vpon lawes is no lesse dangerous for it, than a [Page 601] multitude of medicines in a weake stomacke, whereas contrarywise, new introductions and abuses are then e­specially to be taken away, and things brought backe a­gaine to their first and ancient forme. Histories teach vs, that when edicts and decrees were most of all multiplied, then did tiranny gather greatest strength. As it fell out vnder the tyrant Caligula, who published decrees of al sortsExamples ther­of in Caligula, & in Claudius. both good and bad, and those written in so small a letter, that men could not read them, to the end that he might thereby snare those that were ignoraunt. His successour Claudius made twentie edicts in one day, and yet tirannie was neuer so cruell, nor men more wicked than at that time. Therefore let the lawes and good ordinances of anHow lawes may be kept inuiola­ble. estate be inuiolable, straightly kept, not subiect to dispen­sation, not fauourable to great men, but common and e­quall to all, and then shall the bond of ciuill societie bee surely tied. Now where as I said, that all nations haue li­bertie to prescribe and frame ciuill lawes for themselues, my meaning was not to approoue certaine barbarous & beastly lawes receiued of some people: as those lawes which alowed theeues a certain reward, which permitted the company of men and women indifferently, and innu­merable others more dishonest, which are not onely voyd of all iustice, but euen of all humanitie. But these two things must be kept inuiolably in all lawes, namely, The Two things re­quired in the keeping of eue­ry law. ordinance of the law, & the equitie of it, vpon the reason wher­of the ordinance is grouuded. Equitie is alwayes one and the same to all people, bicause it is naturall. Therefore allEquitie is al­wayes one and the same to all people. the lawes in the world, of what matter soeuer they are, must meete in the same equitie. Concerning the ordi­nance of the law, bicause it is ioyned with circumstances, no inconueniēce letteth but that it may de diuers among sundry nations, prouided alwayes that they all tend a-like to the same marke of equitie. Now seeyng the diuine law which we call morall, is nothing else but a testimonie of the law of nature, and of the conscience that is imprinted in all mens hartes, no doubt but this equitie whereof we now speake, is wholy declared and comprehended there­in. [Page 602] The equitie of the morall law ought to be the end and rule of all other lawes. Therefore it is meete that this equitie onely should be the white, rule and end of all lawes. For (as S. Augustine saith in his booke of the citie of God) euery law that bea­reth not the image of the diuine lawe, is a vaine censure. And iustice is the end of euery law wel established, which is the cause why S. Paul so greatly extolleth the vigor of the lawe, calling it the bond of perfection. Those lawes then which are squared out by this heauenly rule, which tend to this ende, and are limited out by this measure, ought to be receiued and followed cheerfully, albeit they differ from the Mosaicall law, or otherwise one from ano­ther. For many haue denied (& some amongst vs are yet of that opinion) that no Common-wealth can be well & iustlyTheir opinion confuted, who would tie all na­tions to the po­licie of Moses. instituted and ordained, if leauing the policie of Moses, it be gouerned by the common lawes of other na­tions: which is so absurd a thing, and would be the cause of so great confusion in the policies of the world, that there needeth no great store of arguments to prooue it vaine and friuolous. Moreouer, by that distinction of the law which we haue already set downe in our discourse, it appeereth sufficiently, that the opinion of these doters is grounded vpon a meere ignoraunce of the will of God. The lawe of God forbiddeth stealing and diuers painesTheft punished diuersly in diuers nations. and punishments are appointed for the same in the poli­cie of the Iewes, according to the kind, time, and place of the theft. The ancientest lawes of other nations punished theeues by causing thē to restore double that which they had stolne. Those lawes which folowed made a distinction betweene open and secret theft: others vsed banishment,How false wit­nes was puni­shed among the Iewes. and some death. The lawe of God forbiddeth false wit­nes-bearing, which was punished amongst the Iewes with the same punishment that the partie falsely accused should haue incurred, if he had been found guiltie. In some o­ther countries there was no punishment for it but publike ignominie and shame: and in some also the gibbet. Brief­lie, all the lawes in the world with one common consent, how different soeuer they be, tend to one and the same ende, pronouncing sentence of condemnation against [Page 603] those crimes that are condemned by the eternall lawe of God: onely they agree not in equalitie of punishment, which is neither necessarie nor expedient. There is some suche countrey that woulde speedily become desolate through murders and robberies, if it did not exercise hor­rible & grieuous punishments vpon the offenders in those crimes. There falleth out some such time as requireth in­crease of punishments. Some such natiō there is that stan­deth in need of some grieuous correction to be appoin­ted for some special vice, wherunto otherwise it would be more giuē than other nations. He that should be offended at this diuersitie, which is most meete to maintain the ob­seruation of the law of God, would he not be thought to haue a malicious mind, and to enuy publike benefite and quietnes? For the conclusion of our present speech, let vs learne, that ciuil lawes and ordinances depend only of theCiuil ordinan­ces depend only of the soueraign ruler. soueraigne ruler, & that he may change them according to the occurrence and benefit of state affaires. Let vs learn that all lawes must be referred to the infallible rule of theThe end wher­unto all lawes are to be refer­red. iustice and will of God, and to the common profit of ciuil societie: that he which commaundeth vs to obey magi­strates not only for feare of punishment, but also for con­science sake, requireth of vs such obedience to their lawes and ordinances: so that he is accursed that infringeth or contemneth them. Therfore we must voluntarily submit our selues vnto them, so that their general end be to set an order and policie amongst vs, and not dispute of their rea­son and cause, as long as their iurisdiction extendeth not to our soules to lay vpon them a new rule of iustice.

Of the People, and of their obedience due to the Magistrate, and to the Law. Chap. 56.

WE haue hitherto seene, that the pre­seruation of policies dependeth of the obseruation of the law, that the soue­raigne [Page 604] magistrate ruleth thereby, and vseth it as a bond to reduce to vnitie and agreement all the citizens of one Common-wealth, being vnlike in calling, and liuing vn­der his dominion: at which marke euery good politike gouernor ought chiefly to aime. Now (my companions) we are to intreat of this third part of a citie, which ma­keth the politike body perfect and absolute, namely, of the people, and of that obedience which they ought to yeeld to the magistrate and to the law.

The whole Common-wealth fareth well orThe magistrate is the head, the law the soule, and the people the body of the common-welth. ill, as all hir parts, euen to the least, are ruled, and containe themselues within the compasse of their duetie. For all of them togither make but one body, whereof the magi­strate is the head, and the lawe the soule that giueth life vnto it. Wherefore it is needefull that these should com­maund, and the other obey.

Whatsoeuer profiteth the whole, profi­teth the part, and that which is commodious to the part, is also commodious to the whole: and so contrarywise. Wherefore to obey well, which is necessarily required of the people, is greatly auaileable to the whole political bo­die. Now let vs heare ASER handle this matter vnto vs more at large.

In euery discipline the beginning is common­ly taken from the least partes thereof. Grammer taketh his beginning from letters, which are the least things inThe Nowne and Verbe are no parts of Logike, but of Gram­mer. it: Logike, from the two least partes thereof, namely, the Nowne and the Verbe. Geometrie from the point: A­rithmetick from Vnitie: Musick from the Minnem and Sembrief, which are likewise the least parts therof. There­fore hauing seene that Policie is the order and life of the citie, and that the citie is a multitude of citizens, before we speak of the whole bodie of them, we must (as I think) intreat first of a citizen, who, although he differ accordingThe definition of a citizen in a popular state. to the diuersitie of common-wealths, yet to take him pro­perly, may be said to be euery one that hath right to iudge in his citie, & hath a deliberatiue voyce in the generall or common councell thereof. This definition of a citizen [Page 605] cannot fitly be applied to all citizens of all Common-wealths, but only to those that are ruled popularly, wher­in they are all equall, and gouerne themselues by assem­blies, in which euery one hath libertie to speake his ad­uise.Other definiti­ons of a citizen. Some define a citizen to be he, whose parents are ci­tizens: or els, to be a free subiect holding of the soueraign­tie of an other: wherin they adde this word Free, to di­stinguish him from slaues and strangers. But generally we may say, that whosoeuer may beare offices or magistracie,A general defi­nition of a citi­zen. in what forme of gouernment so euer, is reputed & taken for a citizen: and such are all the naturall Frenchmen in this monarchie, amongst whom there is not one, how base soeuer he be that may not be made noble by vertue, or that may not by skill and integritie of life attaine to the greatest estates of iustice, of treasurie, and of other pub­like charges. This is not seen in all common-wealths. For in the Seignorie of Venice it seemeth that none are truelyOf the state of Venice. citizens, but the lordes and nobles, who onely enioy the office of magistracie, and may enter into the great coun­cell after they haue attained the age of fiue and twentie yeeres. As for the people they intermeddle not with any matter of gouernment, this only excepted, that they may be Secretaries and Chancellors, as Contarenus reporteth. The citie of Rome hauing many times sundry gouern­ments,Of the ancient estate in Rome. the appellation of a citizen was likewise diuers therein. For as long as the first kings rules, the common people were altogither excluded from publike honors & offices. But after when the regall power was changed in­to the gouernment of a certaine number of men, chosen by suffrages and common voyces, the people were admit­ted to magistracies, and to the managing of affairs, being present at the publike assemblie had in Mars his field, which was distributed by tribes, wardes, companies, and centuries, to deliberate of the common estate, to create magistrates, and to decree new lawes: where he was re­puted for a citizen in deed, that was a free man, that had both house and tribe, and possibilitie to attaine to honor, enioying besides many other priuiledges and preroga­tiues. [Page 606] But when the soueraigntie came into the emperors hands, those assemblies continued onely vnder Iulius and Octautus, and after were abrogated by Tyberius and tran­slated to the Senate, and to the absolute power of the prince, taking away al authoritie frō the people in publike matters. Now to returne to our former assertion, we say,Who are truly citizens. that all they are citizens to whom the gate that leadeth to the gouernment of the citie lieth open, I mean the whole company of them that liue vnder the same lawes and so­ueraigne magistrates. Such are all the subiects and natu­rall vassals of our king, of whom the people and the nobi­litieThe diuision of the whole peo­ple into three orders or estates are the two orders or estates, and of them is the e­state of the church compounded, which maketh one part of the common-wealth of France. This self-same distincti­on of citizens is obserued almost throughout all Europe.The diuision of citizens in Ve­nice and Flo­rence. But besides this general diuisiō, there are some more spe­cial in many common-welths, as at Venice, into the Gentle­men, Burgesses, & Common people: at Florence before it was brought in subiectiō to a Prince, there were the greater sort, the middle sort, & the vulgar or common sort of people. And our ancient Gaules had the Druides, the Horsemen, & the inferior In Egypt and a­mong the anci­ent Gaules. people. In Egypt were the Priests, the Souldiors, & the Artifi­cers. And although Plato labored to make all the citizens of his common-welth equal in rights & prerogatiues, yet he diuided them into three estates, into Gardes, Souldiers, These gardes were the Senate and councell for state affaires, consisting of 400. Burgesses. and Labourers. Whereupon we must necessarilie inferre this conclusion, that there neuer was, nor can be Com­mon-wealth, wherein the citizens were equall in all rights and prerogatiues, but that some had more or lesse than others, and yet so, that wise Politikes haue carefully pro­uided, that the meanest should haue no cause to com­plaineOf the agree­ment that is to be kept be­tween the e­states of a com­mon-wealth. of their estate. Moreouer, the conueniencie and proportionable agreement of our French estates, hath been the cause why this kingdome (vntill this our infor­tunate age) hath continued & prospered so long amongst other kingdoms both of auncient and late times, namely, when Goodes, Honours, and publike charges were ordinari­ly distributed, according to the condition of euery estate, [Page 607] and their rightes and priuiledges preserued: especially when it was carefully prouided, that one estate should not grow too great aboue the other, I meane, that the nobili­tie should not keep the people too much vnder, and bring them to a desperate estate: and that the people through their traffike, offices of iudgements, and receipts for the prince which they exercised, and benefices which they en­ioyed, should not excessiuely enrich themselues, to the pre­iudice of the nobilitie, nor get into their hands the lands of the nobles, who being impouerished, could not sustain the charges of warre, nor serue the king in his armies. ButOne cause of the [...]serie of France at this present. the neglect of this foresight, & the great inequalitie of ri­ches among the estates (that one part which was woont to be poorest, being now become richer than both the other two) is the cause of great wounds in the body of this mo­narchie. The poore people being oppressed by both the o­ther estates, is fallen vnder the burthen like to Aesops asse. And the horse that would cary nothing, I mean the nobi­litie & clergie are constrained, some to beare their tenths & extraordinary subsidies, & others to [...]ell their liuing to go to war at their own charges. But these things deserue a long discourse by it self, & may hereafter be touched more fitly thā at this time. Let vs then generally consider of our proposition, namely, of the duty of al those subiects whichThe office and dutie of sub­iects. liue vnder one estate and policy. First it is necessary that they should haue the estate of the magistrate in great esti­mation, acknowledging it to be a commissiō & charge gi­uen by God, & therfore they must honor & reuerēce him, as one that representeth vnto them the heauenly empire ouer al creatures. For as God hath placed the Sun in the heauēs as an image of his diuine nature, which lightneth, heateth, quickneth, & norisheth al things created for mās vse, either in heauē or earth: so the soueraign magistrate isThe soueraign magistrate com­pared to the Sunne. the like representatiō & light in a city or kingdō, especially so long as the feare of God, & obseruatiō of iustice are im­printed in his hart. Some are obediēt enough to their ma­gistrates, & would not but that there should be some supe­rior vnto whom they might be subiect, bicause they know [Page 608] Against them that thinke the magistrate to be a necessarie euil. it to be expedient for common benefit: yet they haue no other opinion of a magistrate, but that he is a necessary e­uil for mankind. But when we know, that we are commā ­ded to honor the king, to feare God and the king, which we finde often in the scripture, we must vnderstand thatProu. 24. 21. What is ment by honouring the King. this word to honour, comprehendeth vnder it a good opinion and estimation, which we must haue of the soueraigne ma­gistrate: and that the ioining of the king with God, must cause vs to attribute great dignitie and reuerence vnto him, in respect of that power which is giuen him from his maiestie. Likewise when it is said, that we must be subiectRom. 13. 5. to the higher powers, not bicause of wrath onely, but also for consci­ence Subiects must o­bey their prince for the feare of God. sake, it is to honour them with an excellent title, and to binde vs to obey them for the feare of God, and as we wil obey his ordinance, bicause their power dependeth of him. Of this honour and reuerence it followeth, that we must submit our selues vnto them in all obedience, whe­ther it be in yeelding to their ordinances or hestes, in the paiment of impostes and subsidies, or in receiuing such publike charges, as it shall please them to commit vnto vs.Of the seruice due to the prince. Briefly, euery subiect is bound to serue his prince with goods and life, which is the personall seruice of a naturall subiect, not as a hireling that serues at will, whereas theRom. 13. 1. 2. other seruice is necessarie. Leteuery soule (saith S. Paul) be subiect to the higher powers. For whosoeuer resisteth the power, re­sisteth Tit. 3. 1. the ordinance of God. He writeth also to Titus in this maner. Put them in remembraunce that they be subiect to the principalities and powers, and that they be obedient and ready to e­uery 1. Pet. 2. 13. 14. good worke. Submit your selues (saith S. Peter) vnto all ma­ner ordinance of man for the Lordes sake, whether it be vnto the king, as vnto the superiour, or vnto gouernours, as vnto them that are sent of him for the punishment of euil doers, and for the prayse of thē that do well. Moreouer, to the end that subiects should testifie, that they obey not dissemblingly, but of a free and willing mind, S. Paul addeth, that they must by prayers to God recommend their preseruation and prosperitie vn­der1. Tim. 2. 1. 2. whom they liue. I exhort (saith he) that first of all suppli­cations, prayers, intercessions, and giuing of thanks be made for all [Page 609] men, for kings, and for all that are in authoritie, that we may lead a quiet and a peaceable life in all godlines and honestie. Neither let any man deceiue himself herein. For seeing no mā can re­sist magistrates without resisting God, howsoeuer some may think, that a weak & powerles magistrate may be cō ­temned without punishment, yet God is strong & mighty to reuenge the contempt of his ordinance. Besides, vnderPriuate men must not busie themselues in publike affairs. this obedience is contained that moderatiō which al pri­uate persons ought to obserue in publike affairs, namely, that they must not of their own motiō intermeddle in the gouernment or reformation of them, nor take vpon them rashly any part of the magistrates office, nor to attempt a­ny publike thing. If there be any fault in the common po­licie that needeth amendment, they must not therfore stir at al therin, nor take to thēselues authoritie to redres it, or once to put too their helping hands, which in that respect are as it were bound behind thē. But they are to shew it to the superior, who only hath his hand vnbound to dispose & order publike matters, & if he then command them to deal therin, they may put it in executiō, as being furnished with publike authoritie. For as we vse to call the counsai­lorsThe counsailors of a prince are his eies & eares: and his officers are his hands. of a prince, his eies & eares, bicause they must be vigi­lant for him, so we may also cal those mē his hands, whom he hath appointed to execute such things as are to be don. And to these we owe honor & obedience, seeing the force of the laws consisteth in their cōmandement. These are the magistrates & officers established by the soueraigne, & ar­med with power to cōpel the subiects to obey his laws, or els to punish thē. Wherby we see two kinds of cōmandingTwo kinds of publike power. with publike power, the one in chief, which is absolute, in­definite & aboue the laws, aboue magistrates and priuate men: the other is lawful, subiect to the lawes & to the so­ueraigne, which power properly belongeth to them that haue extraordinary power to command, as long as their commission lasteth. The soueraign prince acknowledgethThe difference between the prince, the ma­gistrate, and the priuate man. (after God) none greater thā himself: the magistrate hol­deth his power (after God) of the soueraign prince, and is always subiect to him & to his laws. Priuate men acknow­ledge [Page 610] after God (who must alwaies be first) their soue­raign prince, his lawes & his magistrates, euery one in his place of iurisdiction. They are bound to obey them, euenHow farre sub­iects are bound to obey their prince and his lawes. then (which is repeated in many laws) when they cōmand any thing cōtrary to publike profit, or against ciuil iustice, so that it be not against the law of God & of nature. Now forasmuch as when we intreated of the soueraigne magi­strate, we described him such a one as he ought to be, an­sweringThe titles of a good magistrate truly to his title, that is to say, a father of the coū ­trey which he gouerneth, a sheepheard of his people, the gardian of peace, protector of iustice, & preseruer of inno­cencie, that man might wel be iudged to be beside himselfThe behauiour of euil princes. that would reprehend such a gouernment. But bicause it commonly falleth out, that most princes wander far out of the right way, & that some hauing no care to do their duty, sleep in their delights & pleasures, others fixing their harts vpon coueto [...]snes, set to sale all lawes, priuiledges, rights & iudgemēts: some spoil the poore people by ouer­charging them with impostes & exactions to furnish their prodigalitie & vnmeasurable dissolutenes: others exercise open robberies, in sacking of houses, violating of virgins & maried women, in murdring innocents, or suffring such violence to be done vnder thē by the ministers & baudes of their pleasures: some also oppres the nobility, euen the princes of their bloud, to shew fauour to base persons, and those strangers, despising woorthy mē that are their natu­ral subiects & vassals: I say considering these things, it will be very hard, yea altogither impossible, to perswade a great many, that such are to be acknowledged for princes and true superiors, & that we must of necessitie obey thē so far as we may without offending our consciēces confecratedTirants are na­turally hated. to God onely. For this affection is rooted in the harts of men, to hate & detest tirants no lesse than they loue & re­uerence iust kings. So that whē amongst such lothsom vi­ces, so far estranged not only frō the duty of a magistrate, but also from all humanity, they see in their soueraign no forme of the image of God, which ought to shine in him, no shew of a minister giuen from aboue for the prayse of [Page 611] good men, and execution of vengeance vpon the wicked, they are easily driuen forward to hate & to contemn him, and finally, to rebell against him. But if we direct our sight to the word of God, it will lead vs a great deale farther. For it wil make vs obedient, not onely to the rule of those princes which execute their office according to iustice, but to them also that do nothing lesse than their dutie. It telleth vs, that whatsoeuer they are, they haue their autho­ritie from God only: the good, as mirrors of his goodnes; the bad, as scourges of his wrath to punish the iniquitie ofWe must obey and reuerence vniust princes a▪ well as iust. the people: but both the one and the other, authorized from him with the same dignitie and maiestie in regard of their subiects. Therfore in respect of obedience and reue­rence, we owe as much to the vniust, as to the iust prince. Which thing bicause it is so hardly beleeued amongst mē, & lesse practised now than euer, I wil insist a litle longer in the proofe of my saying by testimonies of the scripture, than we haue vsed to do in our other discourses. First, I de­sire euery one diligently to consider and marke the proui­dence of God, & that special working wherby he vseth to distribute kingdoms, & to establish such kings as he thinks good, wherof mention is oftē made in the scripture. As it is written in Daniel: He changeth the times & seasons: he ta­keth Dan. 1. 21. & 4. 14. away kings: he setteth vp kings, that liuing men may know, that the most high hath power ouer the kingdom of men, and giueth it to whomsoeuer he wil, & appointeth ouer it the most abiect among mē. It is wel known what maner of king Nebuchadnezzer was,Nebuchadnez­zer. euē he that took Ierusalē, namely, a great thief, & a robber. Notwithstanding God affirmeth by the prophet Ezechiel, Eze. 29. 18. 19. That he gaue him the lād of Egypt for the reward of his work▪ & for the wages of his army wherwith he had serued him, in spotling and sacking Tyrus▪ And Daniel said vnto him: O king thou art a king of Dan. 2. 37. kings; for the god of heauē hath giuē thee a kingdom power, strēgth, & glory. Whē we heare that he was appointed king by god, we must withal cal to mind the heauēly ordināce, which cō ­mandeth vs▪ to feat & honor the king, & then we wil not doubt to yeeld to a wicked tyrant that honour which God hath thought him meet for. Whē Samuel declared to the people of [Page 612] Israel what they should suffer of their kings, not onely ac­cording to the rights and priuiledges of his maiestie, but by tyrannical customs and fashions, namely, that they would 1. Sam. 3. take their sonnes and daughters to serue him, their lands, vines and gardens, to giue them to their seruants, contrary to the commande­ment of the law of God: yet he inioined them all obedience, leauing them no lawful occasion to resist their king. I haue Iere. 27. 5. &c. (saith the Lord in Ieremy) made the earth, the man, & the beast that are vpon the ground, by my great power, & by my out-stretched arme, & haue giuen it vnto whom it pleased me. But now I haue gi­uen al these lands into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar the king of A tyrant called the seruant of God. Babel my seruant, & the beasts of the fields haue I also giuen him to serue him. And all nations shal serue him, and his sonne, and his sonnes sonne vntil the very time of his land come also. And the na­tion and kingdom which will not serue the same Nebuchadnezzar king of Babel, & that wil not put their necke vnder the yoke of the king of Babel, the same nation wil I visite, (saith the Lord) with the sword, famine, & pestilence. Wherfore serue the king of Babel and liue. We know by these words with what great obedience God would haue this peruerse & cruel tyrant to be hono­red, only for this reason, bicause he was lift vp by his hand vnto that roial maiestie. Now if we are bound to beleeue as much of al the kings of the earth, these foolish & sediti­ous thoughts should neuer come into our mindes, that a king must be handled according as he deserueth, & that it standeth not with reason, that we should accoūt our selues his subiects, who for his part behaueth not himselfe to­wards vs as a king. There is in the same prophet a cōman­demēt of god to his people to desire the prosperitie of Ba­bylon, wherin they were held captiues, & to pray for it, bi­cause Ier. 29. 7. in the peace therof they should haue peace. Behold how the Israelits were commanded to pray for his prosperity, who had spoiled thē of their goods & possessions, caried thē in­to exile, & brought thē into miserable bōdage: so far off is it, that they were permitted to rebel against him. Although Dauid already elected king by the wil of God, & anointed1. Sam. 24. 7. & 26. 9. 10. with holy oile, was vniustly pursued of Saul, yet he said, The lord keep me from doing that thing to my master the lords anointed, [Page 613] to lay my hand vpon him. For who can lay his hand on the Lordes Dauid would not lay viosent hands vpon Sauls person. annointed and be guiltles? As the Lord liueth, either the Lord shal smite him, or his day shall come to die, or he shall descend into bat­tel, and perish. The Lord keepe me from laying my hand vpon the Lords annointed. This word is directed to vs all, & it ought to teach vs not to sift out the life of our soueraign prince, but to content our selues with this knowledge, that by the wil of God he is established & set in an estate, that is ful of an inuiolable maiestie. Moreouer, we read in Iosephus, that the holiest men that euer were among the Hebrewes, cal­led Essaei, that is to say, true practisers of the lawe of God,These Essaei or Esseni, were a su­perstitious sect among the Iewes, that pre­tended to lead a most perfect kind of life. maintained this, that soueraigne princes, whatsoeuer they were, ought to be inuiolable to their subiectes, as they that were sacred and sent of God. Neither is there any thing more vsuall in all the holy scriptures than the pro­hibition to kill or to seeke the life or honour, not onely of the prince, but also of inferiour magistrates, although (saith the scripture) they be wicked. And it is said in Exo­dus, Exod. 22. 28. Thou shalt not raile vpon the iudges, neither speake euill of the ruler of thy people. Now, if he that doth so is guiltie of trea­son, both against the diuine and humane maiestie, what punishment is sufficient for him that seeketh after their life? According to mens lawes, not onely that subiect is guiltie of high treason that hath killed his soueraigne prince, but he also that attempted it, that gaue counsell, that consented to it, that thought it. Yea, he that was ne­uer preuented nor taken in the maner, in this point of the soueraigne the law accounteth him as condemned alrea­die: and iudgeth him culpable of death that thought once in times past to haue seazed vpon the life of his prince, notwithstanding any repentance that folowed. And truly there was a gentleman of Normandie, who confessed to a Franciscan frier, that he once minded to haue killed kingA gentleman iudged to die, bicause he once thought to haue killed his prince Francis the first, but repented him of that euill thought. The frier gaue him absolution, but yet afterward told the king thereof, who sent the gentleman to the parliament of Paris there to be tried, where he was by common con­sent condemned to die, and after executed. Amongst the [Page 614] A s [...]u [...]r [...] law a­gainst treason. Macedonians there was a law that condemned to death fiue of their next kinsfolks that were conuicted of con­spiracie against their prince. We see then the straight ob­ligation wherby we are bound vnto our princes both by diuine and humane right. Wherfore if it so fall out that we are cruelly vexed by a prince voyd of humanitie, or els polled and burthened with exactions by one that is coue­tous or prodigall: or despised and ill defended by a care­lesse prince, yea afflicted for true pietie by a sacrilegious and vnbeleeuing soueraigne, or otherwise most vniustly and cruelly intreated, first let vs call to mind our offen­cesHow we must behaue our selues vnder a tyrant. committed against God, which vndoubtedly he cor­recteth by such scourges. Secondly, let vs thinke thus with our selues, that it belongeth not to vs to remedie such e­uils, being permitted onely to call vpon God for helpe, in whose hands are the harts of kings, and alterations ofPsal. 82. 1. & 2. 12. kingdoms. It is God, who (as Dauid saith) sitteth among the gods, that shal iudge them: at whose onely looke all those kings and iudges of the earth, shall fall and be con­founded, who haue not kissed his sonne Iesus Christ, but haue decreed vniust lawes, to oppresse the poore in iudge­ment, and to scatter the lawfull right of the weake, thatEsay 10. 1. they may praie vpon the widowes, and poll the orphans. Thus let all people learne, that it is their duetie aboue all things to beware of contemning or violating the autho­ritie of their superiours, which ought to be full of maie­stie vnto them, seeing it is confirmed by God with so ma­ny sentences and testimonies, yea although it be in the hands of most vnwoorthy persons, who by their wicked­nes make it odious (as much as in them lieth) and con­temptible. Moreouer, they must learne that they must o­bey their lawes and ordinances, and take nothing in hand that is against the priuiledges and marks of soueraigntie. Then shall we be most happy, if we consecrate our soules to God only, and dedicate our bodies, liues and goods, to the seruice of our prince.

Of a Monarchie, or a Regall power. Chap. 57.

WHen we began yesterday to intreat of the sundry kinds of estates and gouernments that haue been in force a­mongst men, and of the ex­cellencie or deformitie of them, we reserued to a fur­ther consideration the mo­narchie or kingly power, vnder which we liue in France. This forme of regiment by the common consent of the woorthiest philosophers and most excellent men, hath been always taken for the best, happiest, and most assured common-wealth of all others,The lawes of nature lead vs to a monarchie. as that wherein all the lawes of nature guide vs: whether we looke to this little world, which hath but one bodie, and ouer al the members one only head, of which the wil, motion and sense depend; or whether we take this great world, which hath but one soueraigne God; whether we cast vp our eyes to heauen, we shall see but one sunne, or looke but vpon these sociable creatures belowe, we see that they cannot abide the rule of many amongst them. But I leaue to you (my Companions) the discourse of this matter.

Among all creatures, both with and with­out life, we alwais find one that hath the preheminence a­boue the rest of his kind. Among al reasonable creatures,In euery kind of thing one excel­leth. Man: among beasts, the Lion is taken for chiefe: among [Page 616] birds, the Eagle: among graine, wheate: among drinks, wine: among spices, baulme: among all mettals, gold: among al the elements, the fire. By which natural demon­strations we may iudge, that the kingly and monarchicall gouernment draweth neerest to nature of all others.

The principalitie of one alone is more con­formable,A monarchie most signifi­cantly repre­senteth the di­uine regiment. and more significant to represent the diuine & ineffable principalitie of God, who alone ruleth al things, than the power of many ouer a politicall body. Notwith­standing there hath been many notable men that haue iudged a monarchie, not to be the best forme of gouern­ment that may be among men. But it is your duetie (A­CHITOB) to handle vs this matter.

This controuersie hath always been ve­ry great among those that haue intreated of the formes of policies and gouernments of estates, namely, whether it be more agreeable to nature, and more profitable for mankind to liue vnder the rule of one alone, than of ma­ny, neither side wanting arguments to prooue their opi­nion. Now although it be but a vaine occupation for pri­uate men, who haue no authoritie to ordain publike mat­ters, to dispute which is the best estate of policie: and a greater point of rashnesse to determine therof simply, see­ing the chiefest thing consisteth in circumstances, yet to content curious mindes, and to make them more willing to beare that yoke vnto which both diuine & humane na­ture and equitie hath subiected them, I purpose here to waigh their strongest reasons that haue misliked a monar­chy, to the end that by contrary concluding arguments, which maintaine & defend it, both they and we may be so much the more stirred vp, to range our selues willingly vn­der the happy & lawful rule of our king, considering the a­greement & participation which it hath, with al the good policies that can be named, as also the happines & certain benefit that commeth to vs, as well in respect of this our priuate life, as of the cōmon prosperitie of the whole pub­like body, vnto which we owe our selues. First, we wil note that a monarchie, a kingdome, or royall power; signifie [Page 617] one and the same thing: namely, one kind of Common-wealth,What a Mo­narchie or king­ly power is. wherein the absolute soueraigntie consisteth in one onely Prince, who may not be commanded by any, but may command all. If there be two Princes of equall power in one estate, neither the one nor the other is soue­raigne. But a man may well say, that both togither haue the soueraignty of the Estate, which is comprehended vn­der this word Oligarchye, and is properly called a Duar­chy,Of a Duarchy, that is, of the rule of two. which may continue so long as those two Princes a­gree, otherwise it must needes be that the one will ouer­throw the other. Therefore to auoid discord, the Empe­rours diuided the Estate into two parts, the one taking himselfe for Emperour of the East, the other of the West:The diuision of the Empire. and yet the edicts and ordinances were published by the common consent of both Princes, to serue both their em­pires. But as soone as they fell in debate, both the Em­pires were in deede diuided, both for power, for lawes, and for estate. He therefore may be called a Monarch, that of himselfe alone hath power to prescribe lawes to all in generall, and to euery one in particular. And vnder this power are comprehended all the other rights and marks of soueraigntie, which the Lawyers call regall rights, and handle them seuerally, which neuertheles we may com­prehend vnder eight soueraigne marks: namely, to make8. Marks of so­ueraigntie. and to abrogate a lawe: to proclaime warre, or to make peace: to take knowledge in the last appeale of the iudg­ments of all Magistrates: to appoint or to disappoint the greatest officers: to charge or to discharge the subiects of taxes and subsidies: to grant tollerations and dispensati­ons against the rigour of lawes: to inhaunce or to pull downe the title, value, and constant rate of monie: to cause subiects and liege people to sweare, that they will be faithfull without exception, to him vnto whome the oath is due. Now, to enter into that matter, which we purpo­sed especially to handle: namely, whether a Monarchie be more profitable, than any other forme of estate: manyTheir reasons who mislike a Monarchie. haue maintained that it is a dangerous thing to liue vn­der the rule of one onely king or prince, bicause it is a ve­ry [Page 618] hard matter to find one perfect in all points, as euery King or Prince must of necessity be, if he will deserue that name: according to that which Cyrus Monarch of theWhat excellen­cie is required in him that ru­leth others. Persians sayd: That it belonged to none to command, if he were not better than all those ouer whome he commanded. Moreo­uer, although it were possible to finde one of that per­fection which is required, yet were it a thing alwaies to be greatly feared, that by reason of humane frailtie, and of the great licence that kings haue to execute their wils, he would change both condition and nature, and of a King become a Tyrant, of which there are infinite exam­ples set downe in histories. Yea it is certaine, and gran­ted by the greatest part of them that haue written of state matters, that euery kind of Common-wealth that is e­stablished simply, and alone by it selfe, quickly degene­rateth into the next vice, if it be not moderated and held backe by the rest: As a kingdome is soone changed into a tyrannie, an Aristocraty into an Oligarchy, and so of the other. But this danger is greater in a Monarchy, (as they say that mislike it) than vnder the rule of many, bi­cause it is vnlikely, that all of them should be wicked, and if any one be so, the good men may bridle him. And so they conclude, that it is not so dangerous a matter to liue vnder the gouernment of many, as of one, who may more easily corrupt his nature, being a Monarch, than many can doe that are elected in an Aristocraty, as the Areopagiticall Lordes in Athens, the Ephoryes in Lace­demonia, and the Senate in Rome. After the death of Cambyses, Monarch of the Persians, when the chiefe LordsThe Persian Councell held for the establi­shing of their Estate. of the kingdome had slaine that Magus, who vnder the name of Smerdis had vsurped the rule of the Estate, they deliberated of the affaires, and helde a generall Coun­cell, wherein (as Herodotus writeth) many very woorthieOtanes oration. and memorable speeches were vttered. Otanes mooued this, that the affaires might be gouerned in common by the Persians, speaking vnto them in this manner. I am not of opinion, that one of vs from hence forward should be sole Monarch ouer all, bicause it is neither pleasant nor [Page 619] good to haue it so. For ye know to what insolencie Cam­byses was growne, ye haue also throughly seene the bold­nes of the Magus: and ye may thinke with your selues how perilous a thing it is to haue a Monarchy, which may do what it list, not being subiect to correction. The best man in the world placed in this estate, will soone be cari­ed away with his woonted thoughts. Insolencie posses­seth him, bicause of present prosperitie, and hatred is soone bred in such a man. Now hauing these two vices, he aboundeth in all iniquitie, and committeth great in­iustice, one while through insolency, another while of ha­tred. Although a Tyrant, hauing abundance of all goodThe effects of a Tyrant. things, should be farre from enuy, yet the contrary falleth out in him towards his subiects. For he hateth good men that liue and prosper well, he delighteth in the wicked, and gladly heareth euill reports of other men. And which becommeth him very il, if you admire and praise him mo­derately, he is angry that you do it not excessiuely: & yet if you doe so, he will mislike it, thinking that you flatter him. Besides, which is woorst of all, he changeth the lawes and customs of the countrie, forceth women, killeth good men, not taking knowledge of their cause. Thus did this Persian Lord conclude, that a Monarchy was to be left, & a Democraty to be chosen. Megabyses, one of his compa­nions,Megabyses ora­tion for an Ari­stocraty. liked well the abolishing of a Monarchy, but per­swaded the Oligarchical gouernmēt, saying, that nothing was more ignorant, or more insolent, than an vnprofita­ble multitude. Therefore it was in no wise tollerable, that eschewing the insolencie of a Tyrant, they should fall into the handes of an vnbrideled and disordered people. Ma­ny others haue noted great dangers and discommoditiesThe dangers of a Monarchy. in a Monarchy, especially in the change of the Monarch, whether it be from ill to good, or from good to better. For we commonly see at the changing of Princes, new de­uices, newe lawes, newe officers, newe friends, newe forme of liuing: bicause Princes ordinarilye take delight in changing, and in remoouing almost all things, that men might speake of them: which manye tymes bringeth [Page 620] great discommodities to their subiects. But if this were not so, and the Prince as wise as hart could wish, yet the al­liances and leagues made by a mans predecessor, end with him: which is the cause that the alliances ending, the neighbours betake them to armes, and the strongest as­saulteth the weakest, or else prescribeth him lawes. For many maintaine, that the successours of Princes are not bound to the treaties and obligations of their predeces­sors, if they be not their heires. An other inconuenience to be feared in a Monarchie, is the danger of falling into ciuill warre, through the diuision of those that aspire to the crowne, and namely, if there be right of election, which oftentimes draweth after it the ruine of the estate. But put the case there were no strife for the Monarchie, yet if the Monarch be a childe, there will be diuision for the gouernment of him, betweene the moother and theA child Prince is a token of Gods wrath. Princes, or betwixt the Princes themselues. Also when God purposeth to be reuenged vpon nations, he threat­neth to giue them children for Princes. And although the child hath a Tutor, by the appointment of the predeces­sor, or by custome, yet is there danger of making himselfe soueraigne Lord, of which thing histories set downe many examples before our eies. If a yoong Prince freed from Tutors, come to the crowne, his gouernment is no lesse to be feared. For being then set at libertie when his lusts are most violent, you shall see nothing in his Court but foo­leries, maskings, and loose behauiour. If he be warly, he will hazard his subiects, his estate, and his person, to make triall of his valure. Briefly, a craftie and wicked Monarch will establish a tyrannie: a cruell man will make a slaugh­ter-house of the Common-wealth: a whore-maister will make it a stewes: a couetous wretch will pull off both haire and skin from his subiects: a prodigall Prince will sucke the blood and marrow, to glut a dozen of horse­leaches about his person: a foolish and ignorant Prince will do woorse, falling easily into the most of these vices, for want of iudgement to knowe and to make choice of counsell, necessary for the gouernment of his estate. These [Page 621] are the chiefe reasons of them that mislike a Monarchie. Now we will alleadge the other reasons in the defence of it, and begin with Darius his declaration vpon the spee­chesDarius oration for a Monarchy. of his companions, rehearsed by vs in the generall Councell of the Persians: bicause it is well woorthy to be remembred, according vnto which the Monarchie was concluded of in the Councell. In my iudgement (said he to the assemblie) Megabyses said well concerning the mul­titude, but ill in that which belongeth to an Oligarchy. For although there be three kinds of Policies, a Demo­craty, an Oligarchy, and a Monarchy, and all good, yet I say this last is farre better than the other, bicause there is nothing so good as the gouernment of one vertuous man alone, who iudging thereafter, gouerneth his people without reprehension. I will not speake of the councels which he taketh in like manner against his enimies and ill-willers. But in an Oligarchy, where many busie themAgainst an Oli­garchy. selues with publike affaires, great enmities arise betweene them, from whence proceede seditions, and from sediti­ons murders, and by murders some one attaineth to a Monarchye. Whereby you may easily knowe how much better a Monarchy is. As touching the people, it is impos­sible but that where they rule, there should be much wic­kednes, which increasing in the euill gouernours of the Common-wealth, breedeth not hatred betweene them, but great friendship. For they that are euill affected to­wards the Common-wealth, hide one anothers counsell, vntill some one man being set ouer the people, cause them to giue ouer. Then is that man admired, and therewithall made a Monarch: whereby also it is euident, that a Mo­narchy is best. Wherefore my aduice is, that, seeing we haue beene set at libertie by one onely man, we should maintaine that Estate: otherwise we shall disanull the lawes of our countrie, that are already well established, which will not turne to the best for vs. Dionysius Halicar­nassaeus in his antiquities of Rome, affirmeth that the like speech was vsed before Romulus, when he first established the gouernment in Rome: where Amulius concluded for [Page 622] A Monarchy concluded vpon in the Councell of the Persians, of Romulus, and of Augustus. the Monarchy, as Darius did among the Persians. The same question was deliberated of by Augustus amongst his friends, bicause he desired nothing more than to liue in rest, and to giue ouer the Estate: but it was then conclu­ded, that a Monarchy was best for the Common-wealth, and the cuent prooued the same. For before the Romans could not liue ten yeeres without ciuill warre or sedition: whereas Augustus preserued them almost 50▪ yeeres in per­fect peace, which continued also long time after his death. Demosthenes in his first Olynthiacke oration, sheweth the Athenians what aduantage a Monarch hath in the delibe­ration and execution of great enterprises, speaking in this manner. It is greatly auaileable for the speedie and com­modious execution of warlike exploits, when one man a­lone hath the ouer-sight of all enterprises, both secret and open, & withall is Captaine, Lord, & Treasurer, & alwaiesThe commodi­ties of a Monar­chy. present at the affaires. But who can deny, that it is not a great deale better for great and mighty nations to be go­uerned Monarchically, to the end that they may maintain themselues in vnity at home, & abroad in reputation? Es­pecially those nations where there are Princes, Dukes, Marquesses, Earles, Barons, & other gentlemen, who pos­sesse in the highest, lowest, & midle sort of iustice; Villages, Boroughs, Townes, Castles, with vassals holding and rely­ing of them by fealtic and homage: as namely in France, Spaine, and other countries, wherin the Monarch by ab­solute power, and force when need is, holdeth in the grea­ter sort with the lesse, staying the insolencie of the one, & releeuing others from oppression. Otherwise, if they were diuided into many heads, disagreeing among themselues, and acknowledging no soueraigne Lord, who doubteth but that they would be continually troubled with ciuill warres, set vpon by strangers, and spoiled of all sides? Italy prooueth this sufficiently vnto vs, which commanded the greatest part of the world, when it was vnited in on [...] ▪ but being now diuided into many Potentats and Seignories, after vnspeakeable calamities of ciuill wars, which it hath suffered a long time, it is yet without doubt exposed for a [Page 623] praie to all the neighbours, if they were not staied with o­therItaly a praie to all h [...]r neigh­bours, and [...]y. warres. If we consider the antiquitie of the royal go­uernment, & how it hath been practised of all nations al­most, either wholy, or in part, to their great honor & feli­citie, we shall be constrained to prefer it before all others, & to account all those happy that liue vnder a Monarchy. As men liued in old time (saith Aristotle) vnder Kings, so they Of the antiqui­tie of a king­dome. thought that the gods had a king. All nations (saith Cicero) obey­ed kings in old time, which kind of rule was at the first bestowed vp­on most inst men. And it hath greatly profited our common­wealth, that from the beginning therof it hath been ruled by a kingly gouernment. The first name of Empire and rule, knowne in the earth (saith Salust) was the royall Estate: but then men liued without couetousnes, euery one being content with his own. From the beginning (as Trogus Pompeius writeth) of coun­tries and nations, the gouernment was in the hands of kings, who were not lift vp to that high degree of maies [...]ie by popular ambiti­on▪ but for their modestie, which was knowne & approoued of good men. Then the people were not kept in awe by any lawes, but the pleasure & will of Princes stood for all lawes. They were more giuen to keepe the frontiers of their Empire, than to inlarge them. Kingdomes were bounded by his countrie that raigned therein. Ninus king of the Assyri­ans,Ninus was the first that exten­ded the limits of his kingdom. whome the Scripture calleth Nimrod, (that is a rebell) and a mightie hunter, was the first that changed the anci­ent custome of the nations, through greedie desire of ru­ling, and that beganne to warre vpon his neighbours. For finding that the people knew not as yet how to resist, he subdued them al, from his kingdome to the end of Ly­bia. Almost all the ancient nations of greatest renowne li­uedWhat Estates were ruled Mo­na [...]chically. vnder the royall gouernment, as the Scythians, Ethi­opians, Indians, Assyrians, Medes, Egyptians, Bactrians, Armenians, Macedonians, Iewes, and Romanes, after they were wearie of other gouernements. Those also that are moste famous at this daie, liue after the same sort, as the Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, Polo­nians, Danes, Moscouites, Tartares, Turkes, Abissines, Moores, Agiamesques, Zagathians, Cathains. Yea the [Page 624] sauage people newly discouered, are in a manner all vn­der kings. And they that liue in other kinds of Common-wealths, as the Venetians, do retaine an outward shewe ofThe Dukedome of Venice is e­lectiue. a king, whome they call a Duke, who is electiue, and to continue his estate as long as he liueth. In other places they haue Gonfalonners, as at Lucques; the like whereof they were woont to haue at Florence, and at Sienna. In some places they haue Aduoyers, or Bourg-maisters, as in the Cantons of Switzerland, and in the free townes ofWhat this word Emperour im­porteth. Germany, which acknowledge an Emperour. Vpon which name we will note by the way, that it importeth no more than the name of a king, although amongst the Lawyers and others, there haue beene infinite questions as tou­ching the authoritie and preheminence of both: namely, that the Emperours haue vsurped ouer other kings vntill this present, albeit the power and maiestie of the Empire is greatly diminished, so that nothing else remaineth in a manner but the name and shadow of it within Germany.Vpon what oc­casion the name of Emperour was first giuen to a Monarch. As for this title of Emperor, which the Romane Monarks tooke to themselues, & before vsed to call their Generals in warre by that name, it was vpon this occasion taken vp. After they had depriued Tarquine of the kingdome of Rome, by reason of his pride and insolencie, this name of king became so odious amongst the Romanes, that it was forbidden to be vsed, by an edict and solemn oath. Wher­vpon when their popular Estate was changed into a Mo­narchie, they would not call their Monarch by the name of King, by reason of their ancient oath, but called him Emperour, as Appian writeth. But to continue the dis­course of our principall matter, and to answer briefly toThe reasons al­leadged against a Monarchie answered. the reasons alleadged against a Monarchye, we haue first to note, that the most part of the dangers mentioned do cease, where the Monarchy goeth by succession, as it doth in ours. For there is no cause of feare in regard of any that might aspire to the Crowne, or of the treaties and allian­ces, which are not broken by the Prince his death, but re­nued and confirmed by his successor and heire, vnles be­fore they were greatly preiudiciall to the Estate. That new [Page 625] Princes seeke after nouelties, it may be said of some: but it is much more vsuall in Aristocraticall and Popular E­states. For Magistrates that are renued so often, would be very sorowfull that their yeere should run out before they had done something that might cause men to speake ei­ther good or euill of them. As for the troubles about the gouernment of a yoong king, peraduenture it falleth not out once in a hundreth yeeres: whereas if a Gonfalonner of Genes be chosen but onely for two yeeres, & the Com­mon-wealth will be all on fire. To put into the ballance the cruelties and robberies of a tyrant, whereby to coun­terpeaze many good Princes, there is no shew of reason in so dooing. For we know well enough, that a peaceable A­ristocratie wisely guided, if it may be so, is better than a cruell tyrannie. But the chiefe matter subiect of our dis­course, is to knowe whether it be not better to haue oneOne iust Princ: better than ma­ny good Lords▪ and many Ty­rants woorse than one. iust and perfect king, than many good Lords: and by the contrary argument, whether the tyrannie of 50. tyrants is not more perillous, than of one only tyrant. Now, if many Maisters, Pilots, how wise soeuer they are, hinder one ano­ther, when euery one desireth to hold the Rudder: then surely many Lords wil do the like, when they seeke al togi­ther to gouerne the Common-wealth, albeit they are wise and vertuous. And truly no Aristocratical or Popular E­stateMonarchies haue continu▪longest. can be named, that hath lasted aboue 600. yeeres to­gither, and few haue endured so long: but many Monar­chies haue continued 1000. and 1200. yeeres in the same estate. Moreouer, they are agreeable to the vpright lawes of nature, which (as we haue before discoursed) do al lead vs to a Monarchy. But there is more to be considered of in our French kingdome, which ought to mooue all French harts very much to desire the preseruation therof, and to thinke themselues happy, that they may liue vnder it: I meane that which we touched in the beginning of our speech: namely, the agreement & participation, which it hath with all good policies. Many Politicks haue giuenThe opinion of many Politicks touching a mixt estate of a Com­mon wealth. this out, that no Common-wealth instituted to continue long, ought to be simple or of one only kind: but that the [Page 626] vertues & properties of the other Estates must meete to­gither in it, to the end that nothing grow out of propor­tion, which might cause it to degenerate to the next euill, and so consequently ouerthrow it. This was first obseruedThe Lacede­monian estate mingled. by Lycurgus, who in ordaining the Lacedemonian Com­mon-wealth, mingled the Senate with the Kings, & after the Ephories were established aboue the Kings, insomuch that they were mingled and weighed so equally togither, that a man could not wel discerne vnder what kind of go­uernmentThe Carthagi­nian Common-wealth was mixt. it was erected. The Carthaginian cōmonwealth also, most florishing for a long time, was so instituted in the beginning thereof. It had kings, the Aristocratical power of Senators, & the common people, who had their prehe­minenceThe Romane e­state mingled. in things belonging vnto them. The Romane Common-wealth, during the time of hir greatest glorie, had these 3. parts so equally & proportionably tempered, that a man could not tell, whether it were altogither Ari­stocratical, or Democratical, or Monarchicall. In looking to the power of the Consuls, a man would haue iudged it Monarchical & Roial: to the Senators, Aristocratical: toThe estate of Venice com­pounded. the Tribunes & common sort, Democratical. The Veneti­ans in their Cōmonwealth represent al these estates. Their great Councel hauing soueraign power, wherof the Senat & the authority of al their Magistrats dependeth, doth re­present the Popular estate. The Duke, who is President as long as he liueth, representeth the roial power, bicause he especially retaineth the grauity & dignity therof. And the Colledge of ten men, with the Colledge of ancients, com­monly called Sages, representeth the Aristocraty, as Conta­renus What agree­mēt the French Monarchy hath with euery good policie. writeth. As for our French Monarchy, it may wel be said also to be partaker of all 3. in regard of the gouern­ment therof, albeit in truth the estate therof is a simple & pure Monarchy. For the king is the Monarch, beloued, o­beied, & reuerenced: who although he haue all power & soueraigne authority to cōmand, & to do what he will, yet this great & soueraigne liberty seemeth in some sort to be ruled & limited by good lawes & ordinances: and by the multitude & great authority of Officers, & Counsellors, [Page 627] who are aswell neere his person, as in sundry places of his kingdom. The 12. Peeres, the secret & priuy councels, the Parliament & great Councel, the Chambers of accounts, the Treasorers, & Generals of charges resemble in some sort the Aristocraty. The States yeerely helde in the Pro­uinces, the Mairalties of townes, Shreeualties, Consulships Capitolats, & Church-wardens, are as it were the forme of a Democraty, as Siessel declareth more at large. Moreo­uer the general Estates of the Realme, which are woont to be gathered togither to deliberate (the king being Presi­dent) of all matters concerning the Estate, doe they not sufficiently testifie the happie order therof, drawing neere to the gouernment of a good Oeconomist, when the king (as Aristotle saith) commandeth in his kingdome, as a good father of a familie ruleth ouer his children, with loue, and according to right and iustice? Wherefore al­though all the authoritie of Officers, Counsellors, Parlia­ments, and Estates, dependeth (as riuers of a fountaine) of the onely power of their king and Prince, yet of his fa­therly and royall goodnes he granteth them such autho­ritie, that hardly could he do any thing that were very vi­olent, or too preiudiciall to his subiects. And if some such actions may be noted, they come rather through the fault of his Counsellors, than from his Maiesty. Thus let vs con­clude with Plato, that the royall gouernment and authori­ty ought to be preferred before all others policies, as that which draweth neerest to the diuinitie. But it must haue a Senate of good men ioined vnto it, after the forme of an Aristocratie, as our kings haue alwaies vsed to haue, of their natural benignitie, which maketh them inclinable to all exercises of vertue, pietie, and iustice.

Of diuers kinds of Monarchies, and of a Tyran­ny. Chap. 58.

Why men are diueisly affected vnto diuers formes of go­uernments. THe varietie of manners, and inclinations to diuers things, which is (we see) particular­ly in euery one from his birth, and general­ly [Page 628] throughout all nations of the world, disposeth without doubt the people as they growe in age and iudgement, and according to their bringing vp, to like one kind ofThe praise of the French na­tion for their loue to a Mo­narchy. gouernment rather than another. But Frenchmen haue euen to these last times, caried away the praise of a more naturall and constant disposition, loue, obedience, and fi­delitie towards the maiestie of a king, than other nations euer shewed to their forme of estate and gouernment. For amongst them all, there is not one nation to be found, that hath so constantly continued in their lawes and an­cient customes without any alteration and change, as this flourishing Monarchie, which hath also gone beyond them all in goodnes and mildnes of gouernment, as we may see better (my Companions) if we compare with it those sundry sorts of Monarchies, which haue been here­tofore, and doe at this day flourish, of which many come as neere to a tyrannie, as ours is farre distant from it. And to make a tyrannie appeere more odious, we will consi­der the pernitious and miserable estate thereof.

The difference betweene the rule of a king, and of a tyrant. As it properly belongeth to a royall estate to gouerne and to rule subiects, not according to the sensu­all appetite, and disordered will of the Prince, but by ma­turitie of counsell, and by obseruation of lawes and of iu­stice: so it agreeth with a tyrant to raigne by his absolute will, without all regard either of lawes, or of the precepts of iustice.

A tyrant (saith Seneca) differeth from a king in effect, not in name. The one seeketh his owne pro­fite onely, and the other, the profite of the Common-wealth. Now let vs heare ARAM, who will teach vs to dis­cerne them well by their works.

Amongst all the Monarchies that euer were, or are at this daye among men, most of the ancient au­thorsFiue kinds of Monarchies. and great Politicks haue noted out fiue sundric sortes, of which I purpose heere to discourse particular­ly with briefe examples, that the excellencie of ours may the better appeere ouer others, especially ouer those that decline much vnto tyrannye, whose shame [Page 629] and infamie I will heere display. The first and most anci­entHow the first Monarchy came vp. kind of Monarchy was that, which was voluntarily offered by the people for some heroicall vertue appeering in those men whom they iudged worthie to gouerne them iustly and vprightly. And when they continued in this sort to declare themselues benefactors of the multitude, in ga­thering them togither, in giuing vnto them territories, and in distributing lands among them, in finding out of arts, in making of warre, and in the administration of iu­stice vnto them, their authoritie and power did lawfully descend to their successors, who had soueraigne power in time of warre, and were chiefe in certain solemn cere­monies of their sacrifices. Herodotus, Demosthenes, Ari­stotle, Cicero, and many others, make mention of this kind of Monarchy. After the floud, when the number of men increased, Noah perswaded his children, and o­thers of his posteritie, to disperse themselues in diuers countries, to till the ground, and to build townes, and to this ende he assigned to euery one his Prouince by lot. Nimrod the sonne of Cush, whose grandfather Noah was, a­bodeGen. 10. 8. of the raigne of Nimrod. with his men in the land of the Chaldeans, and was their first king, and the first king of Babylon. He wasNimrod was the first king that warred vpon his neighbours. the first that beganne to extend his bounds by force vp­on his neighbours, sending whole companies of people into many and diuers countries, to laye the foundations of other kingdomes, as histories doe giue vs certaine knowledge thereof. This is the cause why many establish the first Monarchy in Assyria vnder him. We read also in good authors, that the first and ancient kings of Egypt kept themselues a long time in this heroical vertue, whichOf the happie raigne of the king▪ of Egypt. had procured vnto them their dignitie. They liued not disorderedly, as those doe, who bicause of their domini­on, iudge their owne will to be a iust lawe for them, but they followed the constitutions of lawes, aswell in the gathering of their duties and tributes, as in their man­ner of life. They vsed the seruice of Noble mens and ofThey vsed the seruice onely of Noble mens children, [...]nd they wel learned Princes children onely, who were of the age of twentie yeeres, and were instructed in all sciences. The reason [Page 630] whereof was, that the king being pricked forward with the sight of thē that were about him, might beware how he committed any thing woorthie of reproch. And tru­ly there is nothing that corrupteth Princes so much as vi­tious seruants, who seeke to please their sensuall desires and affections. When the king arose in the morning, he was bound first to take and receiue all the letters and re­quests that were brought vnto him, that answering neces­sarie matters first, all his affaires might be guided by or­der and reason. Then he went to the Temple to offer sa­crifice to the gods, where the Prelate and chiefe Priest, af­terThe Priests of Egypt vsed to praise their Princes in the Temple before the people. the sacrifice and praiers were ended, rehearsed with a loud voice in the presence of the people, what vertues were in the king, what reuerence and religion towardes the gods was in him, and what clemencie and humanitie towards men. Moreouer, he told that he was continent, iust, noble-minded, true, liberall, one that brideled his desires, and punished malefactors with a more mild and light punishment than the greatnes of their sinne and of­fence required, rewarding also his subiects with graces & gifts that were greater than their deserts. This done, he exhorted the king to a happie life agreeable to the gods, and likewise to good manners, by following after honor and vertue, and therewithall propounded vnto him cer­taine examples of the excellent deedes of ancient kings,The diet of the ancient kings of Egypt. thereby to prouoke him the rather therunto. These kings liued with simple meates, as with veale & birds for all di­shes: they kept very exactly all the lawes and ordinances of their countrie in euery point of their life, which was no lesse directed euen in the least things, than the simplest of their subiects. And truly so long as the kings of Egypt were such zealous obseruers of their lawes, and of iustice, & raigned peaceably among their subiects, they brought many strang nations into their subiection, & gathered to­gither infinite riches, whereby they adorned their coun­trie with great buildings and sumptuous works, and dec­kedOf the second kind of Monar­chy. their townes with many gifts and benefits. The Bar­barian kingdomes were the second kinde of Monarchy: [Page 631] namely, the ancient Monarchies of the Assyrians, Medes, and Persians, whose Princes vsurped Lordlie rule ouer their goods and persons, and gouerned their subiects as a father of a familie doth his slaues. Which kind of gouern­ment sauoureth more of a tyrannie, than of a kingdome: besides, it is directly against the law of nature, which kee­peth euery one in his libertie, and in the possession of his owne goods. Notwithstanding when by the law of Arms, and of iust warre, a Prince is made Lord ouer any people, they properly belong to him that conquereth, and they that are ouercome, are made his slaues by the ancientThe difference betweene a Lord-like Mo­narchy and a tyranny. consent of all nations: and this maketh the difference betweene the Lord-like Monarchy, and a tyrannic, which abuseth free subiects as slaues. Of this second kinde of Monarchy was the kingdome of Persia (as Plato writeth) vnder Cambyses, Xerxes, and other kings, vntill the last Da­rius. For vsurping more absolute authoritie to rule, thanMarks of a ty­rannicall go­uernment. was conuenient, they began to contemne their Vassals, and to account of them as of slaues: and putting no more confidence in them, they intertained into their seruice mercenarie souldiors and strangers, whereby they made their owne subiects vnfit for warre, and so in the end lost their estate, when it seemed to haue attained to the top of worldlie prosperitie. Such is the estate of the Turke at thisOf the estate of the Turke. day, wherein he is sole Lord, commanding ouer his sub­iects in rigorous manner, aswell ouer the Musulmans, as Christians, and Iewes. He vseth in his principall affaires, which concerne peace and warre, and matters of gouern­ment, the seruice of runnagate slaues, whom he placeth in authoritie, changeth or deposeth as he thinks good, with­out peril and enuie: yea he strangleth them vpon the least suspition or dislike conceiued of them, not sparing his owne children and others of his blood, if they anger him. So did Sultan Solyman deale with Hibrahim Bascha, who wasThe death of Hibrahim Bas­cha. almost of equall authoritie with him: insomuch that he was there called the Seignour, king of the Ianitzaries, the Bascha, and king of the men of Armes. Neuertheles in one night, wherin he made him stay & sup with him, & lie in his [Page 632] owne chamber, he caused him to be slaine, and his bodie to be cast into the sea. The morrow after he seazed vpon his goods, as confiscate, and caried them away: and yet no man euer knewe the cause of his death, except it were this, that he was growne too great, and consequently sus­pected of his maister, who was a Tyrant, rather than aThe Turke dis­poseth of all Lordships at his pleasure. King. Likewise he keepeth in his hands all the Lordships of his kingdome, which he distributeth to men of warre, who are charged to maintaine a certaine number of men of Armes, and of horses, according to the rate of their re­uenew: and when it pleaseth him he taketh them away againe. Neither is there any man in all the countries vn­der his obedience, that possesseth Townes, Castles, and Villages, or dwelleth in strong houses, or that dare build higher than one storie, or than a Dooue-house. The greatOf the Estate of Moscouia. Knes, or Duke of Moscouia, exceedeth for seueritie and rigour of commanding, all the Monarchs in the world, hauing obtained such authoritie ouer his subiects both Ecclesiasticall and secular, that he may dispose of their goods and liues at his pleasure, so that none dare gaine­say him in any thing. They confesse publikely, that the will of their prince is the will of God, and that whatsoe­uerOf the king of Ethiopia. he doth, is done by the will of God. The king of Ethi­opia is also a Lordlike Monarch, hauing (as Paulus Iouius affirmeth) 50. kings no lesse subiect vnto him than slaues.The king of E­thiopia whip­ped his Lords like slaues. And Frauncis Aluarez writeth, that he hath seene the great Chancellour of that countrie scourged starke na­ked with other Lords, as the very slaues of the prince, wherein they thinke themselues greatly honoured. TheOf the kingdom of Peru. Emperour Charles the fift, hauing brought vnder his obe­dience the kingdome of Peru, made himselfe soueraigne Lord thereof in regard of goods, which the subiects haue not, but as they farme them, or for terme of life at theOf the third kind of Monar­chy. most. The third kind of Monarchy, whereof the Ancients made mention, was that of Lacedemonia, wherein the king had not absolute power, but in time of warre out of the countrie, and a certaine preheminence ouer the sacri­fices. We made mention of their gouernment before. The [Page 633] first kings in Rome were sacrificers also, and afterward, the emperors called themselues Pontifices, that is, chiefe bi­shops: and those of Constantinople were consecrated, asWhat kings took vpon them soueraigntie in religion. our kings of Frāce are. In like maner the Caliphaes of the Sarasins were kings and chiefe bishops in their religion: the one in Bagdet, the other in Cayre. The king of Cale­cuth is chiefe of his religion, and for this cause goeth be­fore the other kings of India in dignitie, and is called Sa­mory, that is to say, God on earth. The Pope commandeth ouer the temporalties of the church, called S. Peters patri­monie, as king: and is reast of the latin christian churches, as head of the religion, I meane in those places, & of those persons, where he is so taken and acknowledged. The king of England certaine yeeres past tooke vpon him the title of king and supreme gouernor of the Church. The fourthOf the 4. kind of monarchie which is electiue kind of monarchie is electiue, not hereditarie: in some places for terme of life, as the empire of Almaigne, the kingdom of Polonia, of Bohemia, and of Hungaria: in o­ther places for a certaine time, as was the Dictatorship at Rome. These estates are not commonly so sure and dura­ble as those that are hereditarie, bicause of the practises & forestalling of voyces, which are for the most part vsed, wherupon seditions arise, to the great detriment of those kingdomes. For the prince being dead, the estate remai­nethThe dangerous state of an ele­ctiue kingdom when the prince is dead. in a pure Anarchie, without king, without lord, with­out gouernment, & in danger of ruine, like to a ship with­out a Pilote, which is ready to be cast away with the first wind that bloweth. Also a gate is set open to theeues and murderers, who kill and slay at their pleasure vpon hope of impunitie: as it is commonly to be seene (as histories rehearse) after the death of the kings of Thunes, of theExamples ther­of in the king­doms of Thu­ [...]es, of Eg [...]pt. The great dis­order in Rome vp [...]n the death of the Pope. Souldans of Egypt, and of the Popes of Rome: where the seat being vacant, the first thing that is commonly done, is the breaking open of prisons, the killing of iailers, the let­ting out of guiltie persons, and the reuenging of iniuries by all possible meanes: and this continueth vntil the col­ledge of cardinals haue agreed vpon a successor. And in deed, in the yeere 1522. two were executed, against whom [Page 634] it was prooued, that at sundry tumults mooued at this election, they had slaine an hundreth and sixteene men.In the empire of Germanie. As touching the Empire of Almaigne, their histories are full of impouerishmentes fallen vpon them through the election of their Emperours, as well by ciuill warres, as by murders and poisonings. So that within three hun­drethIn the Pope­dome. and three-score yeeres since the Empire fell vn­der the election of seuen princes, eight or nine Empe­rours haue been slaine or poisoned, besides those that haue been shamefully thrust out of their imperiall seate. Ecclesiasticall persones also haue not wanted ciuill warres about their elections, wherein no such prouision could be made, but that two and twentie Popes were cut off,All electiue princes are ei­ther taken in­definitely, or out of certaine estates. and many thrust out of their seate: as may be seen in the Registers of the Vatican. Nowe we must note further, that among the electiue estates, euery election is either of such persones as the Electours like of, as in Germanie they doe not onely chuse for emperoures the princes of Almaigne out of diuers families, but sometime straun­gers haue been chosen, as Alphonsus king of Spaine, and Richard Duke of Cornewall, and brother to king Henry the third: or else it is out of certaine inferiour estates, asThe Souldans of Cayre chosen out of the Mam­melucks. the Pope out of the Colledge of Cardinals, and not long since the Souldan of Cayre out of the Mammeluckes: vnto which degree of honour none could ascend, except before he had been a slaue and a runnagate Christian: so that afterward he commaunded absolutely in Egypt and Soria. This estate hauing continued about three hun­dreth yeeres, was not long since quite ouerthrowen by Sultan Selym king of the Turkes, who tooke the last Souldane, and caused him to bee caried vpon an oldeThe great ma­stership of Mal­ta electiue, and that also of Prussia. Cammell all a-long Cayre, and then to be hanged vpon one of the gates of that Citie. The great master of Malta is chosen by the chiefe Priors of his religion: as that al­so of Prussia was before the agreement made with the king of Polonia, by which composition his estate wasOf the fift kind of Monarchie turned into a Duchie, subiect to the crowne of Poland, and of electiue made hereditarie. The fift kinde of Mo­narchie [Page 635] is hereditarie, and is properly called royall andwhich is here­ditarie. lawfull: whether the king come to the estate by right of succession, as Thucidides writeth of the auncient kings: or whether the kingdome be giuen by vertue of the lawe, without regard had to daughters, or to males descen­dingThe Salick law excludeth daughters and their sonnes. of them, as it is in this kingdome, by the Salicke lawe: or whether it bee giuen as a meere gift, as the kingdomes of Naples and Sicill were giuen to Charles of Fraunce, and since giuen agayne to Lewes of France, first Duke of Aniow: whether it bee left by will, as the kinges of Thunis, Fez, and Marocke vsed to doe, and as it was practised also by Henry the eight, king of Eng­land,Kingdoms left by will. who left his kingdome to his sonne Edward, ap­pointing Mary after him, and after hir Elizabeth, or by what other meanes so euer the Prince becommeth lord of the estate, his monarchie is alwayes royall and law­full, if he in like maner bee obedient to the lawes of na­ture, as he desireth that his subiectes should bee towards him, leauyng to euery one his naturall libertie and pro­prietie of his goodes, and looking to the profite and commoditie of the Common-wealth. This kingly go­uernment Aristotle compareth to Oeconomie. For al­though a father of a familie gouerne his house after his pleasure, yet he respecteth the commoditie of his fami­lie. Vnder this happie fourme of gouernement, beyngOf the happy gouernment of the estate of France. the best of all, wee may boast that wee liue in Fraunce, through the goodnesse of our kinges, who neyther or­daine, nor put any thing in execution, but by mature deliberation and counsaile, which they take with the princes of their bloud, and with other notable and graue persones whome they call neere vnto them, as though their soueraigne power were ruled and mo­derated. For first the king commaundeth nothing that taketh effect, if it bee not signed by his Secretaries, and sealed with his great seale: that is to saye, seeneThe Chancellor of France must approoue all matters before they can passe. and approoued by the Chauncellour, who is a seuere Controuler of all matters that passe. All the kinges letters must alwayes of necessitie bee approoued by [Page 636] the iudges to whom they are directed, and examined not only whether they were obtained by priuie insinuation or fraudulent dealing, but also whether they be lawful or vn­lawfull. Yea in criminall matters, the re-inabling of such as before were not capable of offices or dignities, writs of repeale from banishment, pardons & remissions, are skan­ned with such rigor by them, that the procurers of such letters are compelled to deliuer them bare-headed and kneeling, and to offer themselues prisoners, of what estate soeuer they be: in so much that oftentimes men are con­demned and executed with their pardons about them. As for the giftes and expences of the king, whether they beOfficers in France sworne to let nothing passe that is hurtfull to the realme, not­withstanding the king his cō ­mandement. ordinarie or extraordinarie, the chamber of accounts ex­amineth them narowly, and many times cutteth off such as haue no good ground: by reason that the officers are sworne to let nothing passe to the detriment of the realm, notwithstanding any letters of commandement whatsoe­uer. Among other things the king may not alienate his crowne reuenues, without some cause knowen to the sayd officers of accounts, and to the parliaments. And which is more, publike treaties with neighbour states, edicts and decrees haue no authoritie before they are published in the high courts. By which moderation his power is not lessened, but made surer, more durable, and lesse burthen­some to his subiects, being wholy separated from tiranny, which is hated of God and men, as we may haue further knowledge by discoursing thereof particularly. So that o­uer and besides those fiue kindes of monarchies mentio­ned of vs, tiranny may be put for the sixt, which we may call that, wherein the monarch treading vnder foote the lawes of nature, abuseth the libertie of free subiects, as if they were slaues, and other mens goods as his owne. A­mongOf a tiranny, & of the name of a tirant. the auncients the name of tyrant was honourable, and signified nothing else (being a Greeke worde) but a prince that had gotten the gouernment of the estate with out the consent of his subiects, and of a companion had made himselfe a master, whether he were a wise and iust prince, or cruel and vniust. And in deed most of them be­came [Page 637] wicked to make sure their estate, life & goods, know­ing that they were fallen into many mens hatred, bicause they had inuaded the soueraigntie. In this respect therfore was this dominion & rule called tyrannical, bicause it go­uerned in lord-like maner without right ouer free men, compelled and forced to obey. But generally we may call that a tirannie, when the prince accounteth all his will as a iust law, and hath no care either of pietie, iustice, or faith, but doth all things for his owne priuate profite, reuenge, or pleasure. And as a good king conformeth himselfe toThe difference between a good king and a tyrant. the lawes of God and nature, so a tyrant treadeth them vnder foote: the one striueth to enriche his subiects, the other to destroy them: the one taketh reuenge of pub­like iniuries, and pardoneth his owne, the other cruel­ly reuengeth iniuries done to himselfe, and forgiueth those that are offered to others: the one spareth the ho­nour of chaste women, the other triumpheth in their shame: the one taketh pleasure to be freely admonished, and wisely reprooued when he hath done amisse, the o­ther misliketh nothing so much, as a graue, free, and ver­tuous man: the one maketh great account of the loue of his people, the other of their feare: the one is neuer in feare but for his subiects, the other standeth in awe of none more than of them: the one burtheneth his as lit­tle as may be, and then vpon publike necessitie, the o­ther suppeth vp their bloud, gnaweth their bones, and sucketh the marrow of his subiectes to satisfie his desires: the one giueth estates and offices to meete with briberie and oppression of the people, the other selleth them as deare as may bee, and careth not for the oppression of his subiectes: the one in time of warre hath no recourse but to his subiects, the other warreth against none but them: the one hath no garde or garrison but of his owne people, the other none but of straungers: the one re­ioyceth in assured rest, the other languisheth in perpetu­all feare: the one is honoured in his life tyme, and lon­ged for after his death, the other is defamed in his lyfe, and rent in pieces after his death. Examples hereof are [Page 638] Diogenes gir­deth Dionysius. in euery mans sight. And therefore Diogenes the Sino­pian meeting one day in the citie of Corinth with Dio­nysius the younger, tyraunt of Syracusa, who was then brought into the estate of a priuate man, banished from his countrey, and fallen from his dignitie, spake thus vnto him: Truely Dionysius thou art nowe in an estate vnwoorthie of thee. The tyraunt standing still withall, made him this answere: I like thee well Diogenes, bi­cause thou hast compassion of my miserable fortune. What? (replied the Philosopher) doest thou thinke that I pitie thee? I am rather grieued to see such a slaue as thou, who deseruest to growe olde and to die in that cursed estate of a tyraunt, as thy father did, to take thy pleasure in suche safetie, and to passe away thy tyme freely amongst vs without feare. And to say truth, ti­rannie is suche a miserable condition, that euen they that practise it and glorie therein, are constrained ma­nie tymes to confesse with their owne mouth, that noOf the misera­ble condition of tyrants. kinde of life is so wretched as theirs. This selfe tyrant Dionysius, when hee was in the greatest glorye of his e­state, declared as much to Democles, one of his familiar friendes, who had sayd that he was most happie. Wilt thou (quoth Dionysius to him) enjoy my felicitie but for one day onely? Whereunto when Democles agreed,Democles was quickly wearie of the estate of Dionysius. hee caused him to be serued at the table as himselfe was woont to be, with all the magnificence that could be de­uised, hanging in the meane while a sworde right ouer his head, which was tied to the roofe aloft onely by one haire of a horse taile. When Democles perceiued that, he was well contented to make a short dinner, and to passe away the rest of the day in his former estate. Loe, (quoth the tyraunt then vnto him) how happie our life is, whichA tyrant cannot long continue. with all our armed garde hangeth but by a little threed. Moreouer, the raigne of tyraunts beyng without mea­sure and reason, and guided onely by violence cannot be of any long continuaunce. This is that which Thales the wise man sayde, that there was nothing so straunge or rare, as an olde tyrant. And albeit they liue miserablie [Page 639] in perpetuall distrust of euery one, yea, of their neerest kindred, yet their ende is more wretched. For thereTyrants haue commonly an euil end. were fewe of them that died not a cruell and extraordi­narie death, most of them being slayne and murdered: and others persecuted with straunge griefes, died like mad and desperate men, through the remembraunce of their corrupt life, and of the cruelties which they had committed. In auncient time tyrannie was so detesta­ble,Examples of the extraordinarie deaths of ty­rants. that euen scholers and women sought to winne the reward of honour by killing tyraunts: as Aristotle the Logitian did, who slew a tyraunt of Sycionia, and as Thebe, who killed hir husband Alexander, tyrannt of the Phereans. Thirtie tyraunts were slayne in one day in the Citie of Athens, by Theramenes, Thrasibulus, and Archippus, who had but three-score and tenne men to execute that enterprise. Leander tyraunt of Cyrena, was taken aliue, and being sewed into a leather bagge, was cast into the sea. Aristodemus tyraunt of Cumes, tooke Xenocrita by force, beyng a wealthie citizens daughter whome he had banished, and keeping hir with him as his wife, shee stirred vp Thymoteles and others to reco­uer the libertie of their countrey, who beyng safelie let into the tyrants chamber by hir, slew Aristodemus. Besids, the auncientes had appoynted great rewardes and re­compencesRewards ap­pointed for murderers of tyrants. for the murderers of tyrauntes: namelie, titles of Nobilitie, of Prowesse, of Chiualrie, images, and honourable titles: to bee shorte, the goodes of the tyrauntes were giuen vnto them, as to the true deliuerers of their Countrey. Nowe albeit wee sayde, that this worde tyraunt was taken amongst them for him that made him-selfe soueraigne Prince of his owne authoritie, with-out election, or right of succession, or lotte, or iust warre, or speciall callyng of GOD, yet wee must not inferre this consequent, that there­fore it is lawfull to kill euerie Prince that exercisethIt is not lawfull for any to kill his Prince, al­though a tyrant. tyrannie. For it belongeth in no wise eyther to anye particular subiect, or to all in generall, to seeke the honour or lyfe of the Prince, that is absolutely and [Page 640] lawfully soueraigne, as we haue alreadie discoursed. Now to conclude our present speech, we may see how farre the establishment of this French Monarchie is from any in­clination, and from all things that may seeme to giue a­ny entraunce, life and preseruation to a tirannie: nay it is cleane contrary thereunto, and goeth beyond all mo­narchies that euer were or are amongst the sundrie nati­ons of men, for goodnesse and mildenesse of gouerne­ment: which ought wonderfully to stirre vp Frenchmen to perseuere in loue, obedience, and fidelitie towardes their king, for which straungers haue alwayes praysed them.

Of the Education of a Prince in good maners and conditions. Chap. 59.

THe effect of custome is wonderfull, yea it is so power-full, that it passeth nature, e­speciallyCustome goeth beyond nature in that which is euil. in vice and dissolutenes. Where­in if men be once plunged, it is a very hard matter, espe­cially if they be young, to drawe them out of it. But fur­ther when they know that they haue in their handes an vnbrideled licence, and a soueraigne authoritie to enioy their lustes and desires at their pleasure, a man may then saie, that all hope of amendment is vtterly perished in them, and that it is altogether impossible to gaine any thing of them by counsell, instruction or reason. There­fore it is very certaine, that the principall hope and ex­pectation of a Prince (after request made to God, that by nature he may bee of a good and teach-able disposi­tion) ought to bee grounded alwayes in his educationThe chiefe hope of a prince de­pendeth (next to God) of his institution. and first institution, which beyng either good or badde, will bring foorth like effectes, to the great good or hurt of his subiectes. Nowe then (my Companions) let vs discourse of that which we thinke ought to be obserued in the right instruction of a Prince in all kinde of good maners, and commendable conditions, as well for his [Page 641] owne profit, as for the common vtilitie of all those ouer whom he is to command.

Men are commonly carefull to streng­then with rampires the bankes of riuers, which receine into them great quantitie of waters. But it is needefullA notable com­parison. that more diligence be vsed in preseruing and fortifying the minde of a young prince with strong reasons, graue sentences, and most learned preceptes of wisedome, a­gainst the greatnesse of his fortune, the great aboun­daunce of wealth, riote, delightes, and flatterie, dis­guised with fidelitie and libertie, which, lyke to a migh­tie streame, fall from some rocke to ouer-whelme and to drowne the weake seedes of Vertue naturallie in a Prince.

Why great care is to be had in the instituti­on of a prince. Men must bee so much the more carefull in the dressing and tillage of that spirite and soule, which they know ought to bee vigilant, wise, prudent, and iust for the benefite of many. Such a one is the king or ma­gistrate, or any other man that is to deale in gouerne­ment, and in publike affaires. For to fill that soule with vertue and goodnesse, is to profite an infinite number by the meaues of one. Now let vs heare AMANA discourse vpon this matter.

All kingdomes vnder which men doe liue at this day, are eyther hereditarie, or giuen by electi­on.The kingdom of France goeth only from male to male. Some that are hereditarie goe by succession from male to male onely, as this kingdome of Fraunce. And this did the French-men wisely ordaine in the beginning of their Monarchie by the Salicke lawe, by which pro­uidence and fore-sight, they haue continued in the same kind of gouernement almost one thousand and two hun­dreth yeeres, so that the crowne neuer went out of their nation, neither hath the roiall linage chaunged oftener than thrise in so long continuaunce: which thing neuer happened to any other Monarchie or Seignorie to any mans knowledge. In other kingdomes, when males are wanting daughters succeede, as in Spaine, England, and Scotland. Moreouer in hereditarie kingdomes, where [Page 642] males succeede, in some places that honour is alwayes re­serued for the eldest, who giueth an honest pension to his younger brethren, as it is in Fraunce: or if no regard be had to birth-right, either he is preferred that is fittest to gouerne, or he that is most warlike, and in greatest fa­uourThe barbarous crueltie of Se­lim. with the souldiours, as in Turkie, Selim the first of that name, beyng the third and youngest sonne of Baia­zet the second, vsurped the Empire by the aide of the Ia­nitzaries vpon his father, whome he caused to be poiso­ned, and slew Achmat and Corcuth his two elder bro­thers, with all his nephewes, and others of Ottomans race, saying that nothing was pleasaunter than to rule when all feare of kindred was taken away. In some places they kill not their brethren and kindred, but shut them vp in someThe custome of electing of a king in Ethio­pia. most sure and safe place of custodie, as they vse or are ac­customed to doe in Ethiopia, where hee that must beare rule, is kept alone, the rest are sent to a very high and strong mountaine, called the mountaine of the Israelites; from whence none of the male kinde may euer come foorth, except Prester Iohn die without heire of his bodie to succeede him in the crowne: for then he that is next vnto it, and knowen to be woorthiest and fittest, is taken foorth. By this meanes that great kingdome hath conti­nued very long without ciuill warre or murder, and ne­uerThe custome of succession in Calecuth. wanted of-spring of the royall race. In Calecuth, when the king dieth, although hee haue male children, or ne­phewes by his brother, yet none of them succeed in the kingdom, but his sisters sonne: and if they faile, the next of the bloud royal commeth to the crowne. They ground this vpon a foolish and fond superstition which they haue in causing the Queene to bee defloured by some young priest called Bramin, in whose custodie she remaineth e­uer after, so long as the King is abroade. Whereuppon they presume, and peraduenture not without good cause, that the children which descend or are borne of that La­die, hold more of the priest than of the prince. Concer­ning kingdomes that goe by election, we haue spoken of them alreadie. Now bicause it is a very harde matter to [Page 643] change him that is once chosen in such a kingdome, grea­ter consideration must be had in making the election, lest the ouer-sight of one hower procure a perpetuall repen­taunce. But where the prince is by nature and not by e­lection, men must labour by carefull industrie and dili­gence to bring him vp, and to instruct him well by reple­nishing his mind with sound opinions from his infancie, and by casting vpon his new ground seedes of vertue and honestie, which by little and little may growe and waxe ripe with age, and hauing once taken roote, may abide stedfast and firme to his liues ende. For there is no timeWhen a prince may best be corrected. better and fitter to frame and to correct a prince in, than when he knowes not that he is a prince. For if he learne to obey from his infancie, when hee commeth to the de­gree of commaunding, he applieth and behaueth him­selfe a great deale better with his subiectes, than they that from their youth haue been alwayes free and exempted from subiection. For by such education or bringing vp, a Prince addeth to his royall greatnesse, and to those fashi­ons which great men haue by nature, curtesie and gentle behauiour, which cannot but bee very acceptable to his people, and containe them more willingly in their duetie of obedience. Therefore the prince in his yong and ten­der yeeres must bee diligently imployed, not onely in with-drawing him from dishonest things, but also in cau­sing him to taste of vertue, and to haue some preceptes thereof ingrauen in his brayne, vntill in the ende he vn­derstand all that belongeth to his duetie, and whatsoeuer else may helpe him forward to leade a good and happie life. If wise fathers with great care bring vp, and instruct their children, who shall succeed them but in the gouern­ment of some litle house in the countrey, how much grea­ter care and labor ought to be taken in teaching him well & wisely, who is to succeed in the Empire ouer much peo­ple, and whose life ought to be the discipline of their ma­ners & conditiōs? For this cause a good & prudent prince must take pains in causing his children to be brought vp, that he remember he hath begotten them for the Com­mon-wealth, [Page 644] The best token of remembrāce that a Prince can leaue be­hind him. not to serue his priuate affections. Let him knowe, that although he erect a great number of i­mages, builde sumptuous houses, establish good and holesome Ordinaunces, yet hee cannot leaue a more excellent marke of his, than a sonne, who degenerating in nothing, representeth the goodnesse of his father by vertuous actions. For he dieth not that leaueth behinde him a liuely image of himselfe. And truely it is the per­fection of an excellent prince to rule in such sorte, as if hee would striue, that his like for goodnesse and iusticeHow a prince ought to liue himselfe, and to bring vp his children. coulde not succeed him, and so to bring vp his children, as if hee desired that they shoulde surmount him in ver­tue. To this ende therefore let him make choice of all his subiectes, yea from what place so euer, and gather together vertuous and sincere men, vncorrupted, graue, and such as are learned not onely through preceptes, but also through the experience of manye thinges, to whome their age breedeth reuerence, their good lyfe authoritie, and their mildenesse and gentle behauiourWhat teachers a yong prince must haue. loue, and good-will: that the tender spirite of the yong prince, offended with the rough dealyng of his tea­chers, may not beginne to hate vertue before he know it, nor yet corrupted through their ouer-great gentle­nesse, degenerate and starte aside where it ought not. Wherefore Seneca sayde, that a Prince his teacher must haue these two properties, Hee must know how to chide with­out Two properties requisite in him that teacheth a prince. shaming of him, and howe to prayse hym without flatterie. Moreouer, great care must bee had in making choice of all such persones, whether they are men, women, chil­dren, or seruauntes, as come neere about him, eyther to gouerne, or to serue him, or to keepe him compa­nie. For seeing the most part of mens mindes incline to euill, and no childe is so happily borne, but hee mayWhat maner of persons must be about the prince. bee corrupted through wicked education, what may a man looke for but verie great euils from that Prince, who, of what nature and spirite soeuer he be, presently after he is out of his cradle, is stuffed with foolish and false opinions, nourished among fonde women, brought vp [Page 645] in the middest of lasciuious maidens, of lost children, vile and abiect flatterers, of iuglers and plaiers, of drunkards, of dice-plaiers and inuenters of pleasures? briefly, in the midst of such caitifes, amongst whom he heareth and lear­neth nothing but pleasure, delight, pride, arrogancie, co­uetousnesse, choler and tirannie, and so departing from this schoole, takes vnto him the scepter and gouernment of his Empire? Now he that is elected and chosen to vn­dertakeThe duty of him that is chosen to bring vp the prince. such a great and difficult charge, as is the educa­tion and instruction of the prince, must bring with him a will woorthie the same, considering with himselfe, not how many benefices and bishoprikes he may get into his hands, but how he may deliuer vp a vertuous prince vnto his countrey, which putteth all hir trust and confidence in him. Let him know that they do good to all the people,To make a good prince is to do good to all his people. who make them good mē whom the people cannot want: as contrarywise, they that marre and corrupt princes and kings, ought to be an abomination to all men, and puni­shed no lesse than they that put poison, not into a cup, but into a common fountaine, of which they see euery bodie drinke. First then he that hath taken this charge vpō him, must narowly note whereunto the nature of the prince is inclined, seeing it may be knowen by some signes euen in his yong yeeres: as whether he be not giuen to anger, toThe inclination of a yong prince must first be knowen. ambition, to desire of renowne, to riot, to play, to coue­tousnes, to reuenge, to war, or to tiranny. After, when he knoweth to what vice he is enclined, he must fortifie his mind against the same with good opinions and with holie resolutions, and labor to change his hart, which is yet ten­der, into a habite that is contrary to his nature. And when he perceiueth that his tender nature inclineth to honest and commendable things, or to such vices as will easilie change into vertues in princes well brought vp, as to am­bition and prodigalitie, he must pricke him forward, and helpe his good nature by diligent trauel. Neither must he vse precepts onely to withdraw the prince from dishonestHow a yong prince must be taught. things, & to procure in him a longing desire to doe those things that are vertuous, but he must labor to imprint and [Page 646] to roote them in his memory by diuers formes, now by sentences, another while by fables, after by comparisons, then by examples, or by some notable sayings, ingrauen in rings, and painted in tables. Briefly, if there be any o­ther thing wherein this age taketh pleasure, let that be a meane to worke in him a taste of vertue. Aboue al things speciall regard is to be had, what opinions are ingrauen in the prince his braine. For the whole order of his life pro­ceedeth from that fountaine. And therfore he must labor immediately to imprint in his mind holy and good opini­ons, which may serue for a counter-poison against the cō ­mon errors of the ignorant people: but chiefly to instruct him throughly in gods truth, & in that which concerneth his saluation. He must perswade him, that whatsoeuer isDeu. 17. 18. 19 The law of God belongeth to the prince. taught in the law of God, belongeth to none so much as to the prince, and that as he is to raign by him, so likewise it belongeth to his office to raigne according to his will, that he may enioy prosperitie in this world, and eternall felicitie in the blessed life to come. Let him be taught to loue vertue as the only good, and to hate vice as the one­ly euil: let him know that the one is folowed no lesse with shame and dishonor, than the other with glory and ho­nor, especially in a prince, in whom if vertue take place, as it were in a high watch-tower, it shineth so cleerely, that the brightnes thereof remaineth long after his death. As for all worldly pompe, antiquitie of petigree, images and riches, they are but meere vanitie and folly, not woorthie to be cared for, or to be admired by a vertuous prince. Let him be perswaded that dignitie, greatnes and maiestie are not to be sought after by the helpe of fortune, or by hu­mane means, but by wisdome, integritie of life & maners, and by vertuous and noble deeds. Plato saith not withoutWhen a Com­mon-wealth is happy. cause, that a Common-wealth will neuer be happie vntill princes play the Philosophers, or Philosophers take the rudder of the Empire in hand. Now his meaning is not to cal him a Philosopher, that is learned in Logike, in natu­rall Philosophie, and in the Mathematicks, but him, who with an vntamed hart despiseth the vaine shadowes of [Page 647] things, and followeth after true goods. A philosopher andThe agreement between a Phi­losopher and a Christian. a Christian differ but in name: and a prince wel instructed in piety, is truly both the one and the other. Therefore he ought to learne nothing sooner (next to the law of God) than the morall philosophie of the auncients, which tea­cheth all vertue. Is there any thing more foolish than to e­steeme highly of a prince if he vaute well, if he play well at tennise, if he be stoute and strong: briefly, if he be cun­ning in some things, which peraduenture a peasant would doe better than he, and in the meane while he is puffed vp with pride, he polleth his people, and sporteth him­selfe in all kind of dissolutenesse and pleasure? What ho­nor is it for a prince to go farre beyond the common sort in precious stones, gold, purple, traine of seruants, and in other ornaments of the body, and in euery thing that is falsly called good, and in the meane while to be farre inferior in the true goods of the soule to many of his peo­ple, and those of lowest calling? These opinions, as holy and inuiolable lawes, must bee ingrauen in the hart of a young prince, and must bee, as it were the first lines that are to be drawen in the voide table of his soule, namely, that he must striue that none excell him in the goods of the soule, in wisdome, magnanimitie, temperance and iu­stice.Wherin a prince ought to excell others. Frugalitie, modestie, and sobrietie in other men may be attributed either to pouertie or to niggardlines, but in a prince they cannot but be a note of tēperance, I meane, when he vseth goods modestly, who hath as much as he will. Ancient men called that prudence miserable, which was gottē by the experience of things, bicause it is bought with publike losse & calamity. But such kind of experience ought to be farthest off from a Prince, bicause the longer it is a learning, the greater cause is it of many euils vnto al his people. If Scipio Africanus had reason to say, that this speech, I had not thought it, did not beseem a wise man, how much more vnseemely is it for a Prince, who cannot vt­ter the same without his great harme, and greater to the Common-wealth? For as in a voiage the fault of a com­mon Mariner (saide Agapetus) doth but little hurte, [Page 648] The fault of a Prince is much more hurtfull than that of a priuate man. whereas the slip of a Pilot bringeth shipwracke: so in mo­narchies the offence of a priuate man is more hurtfull to himselfe than to the Common-wealth, but if the prince begin to faile, he hurteth euery one. This is the cause why the mind of a prince must especially be instructed with good resolutions & sentences, to the end he may be skil­fullA prince ought to be skilfull by reason and not by vse. by reason and not by vse. For then the counsel of aged men will supply that experience of things which is wan­ting in him. He must be giuen to vnderstand, that his life is in the face of all the world, that he can do nothing that will be hid, and therfore if he be good, it must needs turne to the great benefit of many; if wicked, to their hurt like­wise: bicause the prince is always the very portrature af­ter which subiects conforme themselues. He must know that the greater honour is giuen vnto him, the more he is to striue that he may be woorthie of it, looking more to his owne doyngs and actions, than to the prayses that men giue him, which he must beleeue and receiue, accor­dingHow a prince is to receiue the praises that are giuen him. as he behaueth himselfe. For if hee rule well, they are due vnto him; if ill, he is honoured and praised, either through constraint, or of flatterie: or els it is to shew him vnder hand what he ought to bee. Let him know that as God hath placed the Sunne and the Moone in the hea­uens for a resemblaunce of his diuinitie: so a prince is the like representation and light in a kingdome, as long as he hath the feare of GOD, and the obseruation of iustice imprinted in him. For these two things make their life diuine and celestiall, that are placed in high degree of power and authoritie: as contrarywise, the contempt of pietie and iustice, maketh it beast-like and sauage. As God the giuer of all things standeth not in neede of any mans seruice to receiue a good turne of him: so it is the dutie of a worthie prince, who representeth the figure of the eter­nallGood precepts for princes set out by compa­risons. king, to profite euery one with-out respect of his owne commoditie and glory. As God is not touched with any affections or passions, but ruleth and gouer­neth all thinges perfectly by his prouidence: so after his example a prince laying aside the perturbations [Page 649] of his soule must follow reason onely in all his dooings. As there is nothing more common than the sunne, which imparteth of hir light to all the celestiall bodies: so a Prince must be alwaies readye to profite the Common-wealth, and haue within him the light of wisedome, to the end that if others loose their brightnes, yet he may neuer be ouertaken with darknes. As the Sunne when it is high­est in the Zodiacke mooueth slowest: so the higher that a Prince is lift vp in greatnes and authoritie, the more gen­tle and gratious he ought to be, keeping himselfe from dooing any thing that beseemeth not a Prince. Therefore let him thinke, that nothing is more vile and abiect, than for him that is called a king and Prince of free men, to become a slaue to riot, choler, couetousnes, ambition, & other vices of like qualitie, which are most vile and cruell maisters. He must be so affected towards his subiects, as a good father of a familie is towards those of his houshold: bicause a kingdome is nothing els but a great familie, andA kingdome is but a great fa­milie. a king the father of a great many. For although he passe them in greatnes and authoritie, yet he is of one and the same kind with them, a man commanding men, and free ouer those that are free, not ouer beasts or slaues, as Ari­stotle saith very well. And if he would haue that excellent title, which we giue to God the Prince of all men, calling him Our father, he must procure it not by threatnings and feare, but by good deedes, by meekenes and humanitie, which will stand him in steede of a sure Gard to preserue his estate. For the loue and loialtie of his subiects willThe safetie of Monarchies de­pendeth of the loue and loialtie of subiects. greatly encrease thereby, of which the assurance of Mo­narchies dependeth. When the nobilitie and common-people vse to feare, not him, but for his sake that com­mandeth them, then he seeth with many eies, heareth with many eares, and perceiueth a farre off whatsoeuer is done. Let the Prince haue this saying of Plutarke alwaies engrauen in his soule: That nothing heere below pleaseth God more, or draweth neerer to his diuine nature, than to rule well in all iustice and equitie, which is the chiefest charge of his vo­cation, and that vnto which he is straightly bound in re­spect [Page 650] The mutuall du­ties of the Prince and his subiects. of his subiects. For as the subiect oweth obedience, aide, and reuerence to his Lord: so the Prince oweth iu­stice, defence, and protection, to his subiects. When a Prince sheweth himselfe vpright, indifferent, and true of his word to all, it is the greatest felicitie that can happen to a Common-wealth, and that which crowneth the Mo­narchWhat praise a Prince is to seek after. thereof with greater glorie and honour. And tru­ly a Prince ought to be more carefull to obtaine that praise and reputation which proceedeth of goodnes and vertue, than that which commeth of strength and pow­er. For as the diuine nature, vnto which kings must en­deuour to conforme their woorks and actions, excelleth all other essences and natures chiefly in three things, that is, in immortalitie, power, and goodnes: so a Prince must striue to excell his subiects, not so much in the im­mortalitie of his name, or in power, as in goodnes, which vertue is certainly much more venerable, and drawethThe whole world is immor­tall in respect of substance, but not of qualities. neerest to the diuinitie. For to be incorruptible and im­mortall, the fower Elements, and the whole frame are indued with that qualitie, as naturall Philosophers main­taine. And as for strength and power, earthquakes, lightnings, tempestuous whirlewinds, flouds and inun­dations of waters, are full of force and might: but no­thing is partaker of iustice, vprightnes, and equitie, ex­cept it be diuine, and that by the meanes of reason and vnderstanding. So that (as the same Plutark saith) we on­ly are capeable of that Good of vertue that commeth from God. To be short, let the Prince be diligently taught whilest he is yoong, and labour to knowe how he may a­dorne his name with works answerable to those excellent Epithits and titles, wherewith Iulius Pollux, who was go­uernour to the Emperour Commodus in his yoong yeeres,Excellent titles of a good Prince. setteth foorth a good king. He calleth him Father, gentle, acceptable, mercifull, prudent, iust, curteouus, noble-minded, free, a contemner of monie, not subiect to passions, but commanding o­uer himselfe, one that ouercommeth pleasures, and vseth reason, quicke of iudgement, sharpe, prouident, good in counselling, iust, so­ber, godly, and full of good religion, carefull ouer the welfare of [Page 651] men, constant, firme, no deceiuer, minding great things, decked with authoritie, industrious, a quicke dispatcher of affaires, carefull ouer those whome he commandeth, a Sauiour, ready to do good, slow to reuenge, alwaies one and the same without turning aside, inclining greatly to iustice, easie to haue accesse vnto, curteous in speech gen­tle to them that haue to deale with him, plaine, a louer of vertuous and valiant men, who neuertheles are not desirous of warre, a louer of peace, a peace-maker, a precise obseruer thereof, borne to correct the manners of people, skilfull in discharging the dutie of a king and Prince, hauing knowledge to make good lawes, borne to profit euery one, and of a diuine forme. A Prince of noble birth shall feele himselfe greatly prouoked to desire and seeke after these excellent gifts and graces, through the consideration of examples propounded vnto him, concerning the liues &Examples of former ages must be pro­pounded to Princes. deeds of so many famous and woorthy men, as are at this day after innumerable ages reuiued againe by meanes of histories. And it cannot be but he will be greatly pricked forward to conforme himselfe vnto them, thereby to giue like occasion to good wits, to write, singe, and publish his praises. What Prince will not burne with a iealous desire of vertue, when he heareth that the onely fame thereof in the person of Scipio Africanus allured and rauished theeuesScipio Africa­nus. and robbers with such an admiration, that when they vn­derstood that he was in a house far from any towne, they did beset it round, and as he stood in his defence to driue them away, they threw downe their weapons, assuring him, that they came thither onely to see and to reuerence him, as in deed they did? What prince will not be posses­sed with ioy, when he heareth, that Menander king of theMenander. Bactrians was so beloued of his subiects for his iustice and vertue, that after his death the cities were in great contention, which of them should haue the honor of his buriall, for the appeasing of ẇhich strife, order was taken that each of them should make a tombe? Who wil not be mooued with loue towards the goodnes of Traian Empe­rourTraian. of the Romanes, when he heareth his Panegyri­call Oration, wherein Plinie, after he had extolled him to heauen, concludeth thus: That the greatest happines, [Page 652] which could come to the Empire, was, that the Gods tooke example by the life of Traian? Who will not desire the honour thatAgesilaus. king Agesilaus receiued, when he was fined by the Epho­ryes, bicause he had stolne away the harts, and wonne the loue of all his Citizens to himselfe alone? Who will notAristides. wish to haue the surname of Aristides the iust, as diuine and royall a title as euer king could obtaine, rather than as many vse to be called Conquerours, Besiegers, Thunderers? Briefly, vnto these examples oppose the reprehension and marke of perpetuall infamie, which histories set vpon euill Princes, and it cannot be but that a Prince well brought vp, and exercised in the loue and studie of vertue, will be very desirous to shew foorth the fruits and effects thereof, especially if he be well instructed in the feare of God, and knowledge of his dutie, whereof he shall haue perfect vn­derstanding in the law of God, which he is commandedDeut. 17. 19. by the soueraigne king of all to haue with him, to read in it all the daies of his life, and to obey it, to the end he may raigne happily in earth, and finally in heauen.

Of the office and dutie of a King. Chap. 60.

AVgustus Caesar hearing some rehearse, that A­lexander the great, after he had finished most of his conquests at two and thirtie yeeres of age, said, that he tooke great care to know what he should do afterward: I woonder (said this wise Monarch) at the It is as hard a matter to go­uerne well, as to get an Empire. speech of that great Prince, whereby it seemeth he thought that there was lesse to do in well ordering, ruling, and preseruing a great Empire once entirely gotten, than in conquering the same. And surely to speake truth, there is nothing more difficult than to raigne well. Moreouer, it is better for a Prince to gouerne prudently, and to rule according to his estate, than to inuade & possesse another mans countrie: name­ly, if he consider, that God, being so gratious vnto him asWhy Princes are placed in their thrones. to bring innumerable persons vnder his obedience, hath chiefly established him to keepe them in the knowledge [Page 653] and obseruation of true religion, to rule them by good lawes, to defend them by armes, and in all things to be so carefull of their good, that they may esteeme of him, as of their father and sheepeheard. Now seeing we haue sum­marily intreated of the education and institution of a prince vnder the charge of a teacher and gouernour, let vs in this place (my Companions) consider of his office and dutie, when he raigneth with full authoritie ouer his sub­subiects.

The good will of the people dependeth of the integritie of religion. Forasmuch as integritie of religion, and the good will of the people are two principall pillers vpon which the safetie of euery Estate standeth, the king ought to procure the first, being therefore appointed by God o­uer so many millions of men: and the second without doubt dependeth of the former, which is the onely diffe­rence betweene a king and a tyrant, who ruleth by con­straint.

In a king is seene the ordinance of God, who is the author and preseruer of policies, and of good order. Therefore his feare and reason, must neuer depart out of his mind, to the end that seruing God, he may pro­fite all those that liue vnder his dominion. But from thee ASER we looke for the discourse of this matter.

The seuen Sages of Grecia being inuited to a feast by Periander prince of Corinth, were requested by him to enter into the discourse of the estate of great men.The sayings of the seuen wise men of Grecia touching the e­state of Princes. Solon speaking first, said: That a soueraigne king or prince can­not any way procure greater glorie to himselfe than by making a popular Estate of his Monarchy: that is to say, by communi­cating his soueraigne authoritie with his subiects. Bias speaking next, said: By submitting himselfe first of all to the lawes of his countrie. Thalcs: I account that Lord happie that at­taineth to old age, and dieth a naturall death. Anacharsis: If he be the onely wise man. Cleobulus: If he trust none of those that are about him. Pittacus: If he be able to preuatle so much, that his subiects feare, not him, but for him. Chilon: A Prince must not set his mind vpon any transitorie or mortall thing, but vpon that which is eternall and immortall. Periander concluding vpon these o­pinions, [Page 654] said, that all these sentences seemed to him to dis­swade a man of good iudgement, from desiring at any time to command ouer others. The Emperour Traian wri­tingTraians letter to the Senate, tou­ching the care­full estate of Princes. to the Senate of Rome, among other things, vsed these very words: I freely confesse vnto you, that since I began to taste of the trauels and cares which this Imperiall Estate brin­geth with it, I haue repented me a thousand times that I tooke it vpon me. For if there be great honor in hauing an Empire, there is also very great paine and trauell in gouerning the same. But ouer To what false surmises a Prince is subiect. and besides, to what enuie is he exposed, and to how many mislikings is he subiect that hath others to gouerne? If he be iust, he is called cruell: if pitifull, he is despised: if liberall, he is thought to be pro­digall: if he laie vp monie, he is taken for couetous: if he be ad­dicted to peace, he is supposed to be a coward: if he be courage­ous, he is iudged ambitious: if graue, they will call him proud: if affable and courteous, he is termed simple: if solitarie, an hypocrite: and if he be merrie, they will say he is dissolute. After many other speeches, this good Emperour concluded, that although he willingly accepted of his estate at the first, yet he was very sorowful afterward that he had so great a charge: bicause the sea and the Empire were two pleasant things to looke vpon, but perilous to tast. Who is fittest to tule. Diuine Plato wrote also, that none was fit to gouerne an Empire, and to be a Prince, but he that commeth vnto it through constraint, and against his will. For whosoeuer desireth the charge of a Prince, it must needes be, that he is either a foole, not knowing how dangerous and full of care the charge of a King is: or if he be a wicked man, that he mindeth nothing but how he may raigne to satis­fie his pleasure and priuate profite, to the great hurt of the Common-wealth: or else if he be ignorant, that he considereth not how heauie the burthen is which he ta­keth vpon him. Therefore a wise Prince will not thinke himselfe the happier, bicause he succeedeth in a greater Empire and kingdome, but remember rather, that he lai­eth so much the more care and paine vpon his shoulders, and that he beginneth then to haue lesse leasure, lesse rest and happines in passing away his time. In other persons, a fault is pardoned in youth, and growing old, they are suf­fered [Page 655] to take their ease. But he that is Head of a Common-wealth, bicause he is to trauell for all, must be neyther yoong nor old. For he can-not commit a fault how small soeuer it be, without the hurt of many men, nor yet rest from his dutie, but it will turne to the miserie of his sub­iects. This caused the Philosophers to say, that a Prince ought not to dedicate the Common-wealth to himselfe, but to addict himself to the Common-wealth, and for the profit thereof alwaies to be diligent, vertuous, and wise, & so to gouerne his Empire, that he may be able easily to giue a reason of his charge. And bicause no man asketh anThe Prince must giue account to none but to God. account of him in this life, he ought to be so much the more stirred vp to demand a straighter reckoning of him­selfe, being assured that the time wil come, and that spee­dily, wherein he must yeeld it vp before him, with whome there is no respect of Princes, except in this, that they shal haue the Iudge more rigorous against them, that haue a­bused greater power and authority. To begin therfore to handle the duty and office of a Prince: first, he must haueThe first and principall dutie of a Prince is to haue the law of God before his eies. Psal. 119. the lawe of God continually before his eies: he must en­graue it in his soule, and meditate vpon the wordes and ordinances thereof, all the dayes of his life, desiring of God to graunt him the spirite of vnderstanding to con­ceiue them well, and according to that diuine rule to di­rect all his intents and actions to the glorie of that great, eternall, and Almightye Kinge of Kinges: aswell for the saluation of his owne soule, which he ought to preferre before the rule of the whole worlde: as for the good of those that are committed to his charge to gouerne, teach and iudge them. For it is moste certaine, that of the knowledge of the truth in the Prince his hart, all good order of his Estate dependeth: and that his pietie is ofThe pietie of the prince is of great force with his subiects to stirre them vp to their dutie. great force to awaken his subiects in their dutie: name­ly, when they see him followe and cleaue to true re­ligion without faining and dissimulation. Therefore he must carefully prouide, that false doctrines, heresies, blasphemies agaynst the name of GOD and his truth, with other offences in matters of religion, be not open­ly [Page 656] broached & sowne amongst the people, but that some publike forme of Christian religion may alwaies be seene in his kingdome, which is the sure foundation of euery well established Monarchy. But heerein that which I said before, is diligently to be noted: namely, that the Prince through wisedome craued before at the hands of God,The Prince must be sure that the religion he maintaineth is the iust will of God. must be well assured of his diuine, iust, and eternall will, and according to that, take order that true pietie may not be publikely violated and polluted by an vncorrec­ted libertie. Next, we will briefly comprehend all those points, which ancient men both Philosophers and ChristiansThe duties of a Prince compre­hended in three points. haue required in an absolute and perfect Prince, in three principall duties and actions: that is, in ruling, iud­ging and in defending. He must rule by good lawes, and by good example; iudge by wisedome, prouidence, and iustice; and defend by prowes, care, and vigilancie. These duties, that excellent greek Orator and Philosopher Iso­crates seemeth to haue couertly contained in these words,Isocrates argu­ment, whoreby he prooueth the good raigne of a Prince. which he wrote to Nicocles the Prince: This may prooue vn­to thee that thou hast raigned well, if thou seēst that the people, which is subiect vnto thee, encrease in modestie and wealth vnder thy gouernment. For good lawes, iustice, and good example of life, make subiects better, and prudence ioined with fortitude and prow­es, richer. Now that a good Prince (I call him good and iust that imploieth all his power to be such a one, being ready to spend his bloud and life for his people) may attaine to these excellent qualities, his loue, and affection to­wardsA Prince must loue his subiects. his subiects, is very necessarie, as that which is able to preserue the indissoluble bond of mutuall good will betweene them & him, which is one of the surest meanesHe must begin reformation at himselfe. to maintaine great Estates and Monarchies. Next, he is to begin the good ordering of his Estate at himselfe, and re­forme first of all, all disorder in his owne life and maners, & correct those things that are most secrete in his court: knowing that from thence forward he must liue as it were in an open Theater, where he is seene on euery side, so that his life will be a discipline and instruction of good or ill liuing vnto others. Therefore let him striue to excell [Page 657] those whom he ruleth, & to surmount them as far in ver­tues, as he surpasseth them in riches & honor. Amongst al those that followe him, he must alwaies haue the wisestHe must haue the wisest next his person. next his person, & cal others from al parts neere vnto him, not refusing or contemning any man of skill & reputati­on. He must often heare them, learne of them, & being a Iudge amongst such as are lesse skilfull, striue to go beyōd the best learned through diligence and studye. By which kind of exercises he shal knowe how to gouerne the estate of his kingdom vprightly, & cannot but do such things as are praise-woorthy. And forasmuch as common tranquil­lity & publike quietnes is one principal end of ciuil socie­tie,The first dutie of a king to­wards his sub­iects. the first duty of a good king towards his subiects, is to maintaine them in peace & concord. For it is vnpossible that a Common-wealth should flourish in religion, iustice, charitie, integrity of life: briefly, in all things necessary for the preseruation therof, if the subiects enjoy not an excee­ding great & assured peace. Let the Prince then without intermission, seeke after the safest meanes to keepe his kingdome in quietnes & rest: let him deliuer his subiects from calamitie: let him be careful of al things which mayGood precepts for a Prince. be profitable & commodious vnto them, & let him com­mand them with mildnes, & teach them obedience by the vprightnes of his commandements. Let him not suffer his people to be ouer insolent, nor yet to be troden vnder foote and oppressed: but let him take order, that such as are most honest may be preferred to honors & offices, & that the rest may not any way be wronged. He must alter those ciuill lawes and customs of liuing, which being ill e­stablished, are preiudiciall to his subiects, and ordaine allWhat manner of lawes are to be established in a Common­wealth. iust and profitable lawes, agreeing with themselues, and such as breeding but fewe suites among his people, may briefly iudge and decide them according to right and e­quitie. In this point a good Prince must vse great care and diligence that iustice may be well administred, to the pre­seruation of euery mans right, and to the punishment of the wicked. This is that which the spirite of God so often commandeth: namely, to execute iudgement and righteous­nes, Ierem. 22. 3. [Page 658] to deliuer the oppressed from the hands of the oppressor, not to vexe the stranger, the fatherles, nor the widow, to doe no violence, nor shed innocent blood. And these selfe same things must he cause to be obserued by them that are appointed to exer­cise iustice in his name. Which bicause it was neglected by many kings, they lost both life and kingdome, as wePhilip lost his life bicause he delaied iustice. read of Phillip king of Macedonia, a very mild Prince, and of an excellent nature, who was neuertheles slaine by Pausanias, bicause he delaied a long time to let him haue right and iustice, concerning an iniurie which an otherDemetrius threw the sup­plications of his subiects into a water. had offered him. Demetrius also lost his kingdome, bi­cause he could not abide to heare his subiects, but espe­cially for this matter. One day when many supplications were presented vnto him, he put them into the plaites of his cloake, and passing ouer a bridge he threwe them all into the water, and would not once vouchsafe to read them: whereupon the people being filled with indignati­on, rebelled against him. On the other side, a good Prince ought freely, and at all howers of the day, to heare the complaints of his subiects, and to prouide thereafter, as one that is truly zealous of iustice, clemencie, and good­nes, which are rather diuine than humane qualities, and most proper to him that will conforme himselfe asmuch as may be (as it becommeth him) to that heauenlye ver­tue, which is alwaies iust and mercifull, and (as Plutarke saith) ruleth all things without compulsion, mollifieng the necessitie of obeying by admonition and perswasion of reason. Nothing is more conuenient for a Soueraigne than gentlenes, for a Prince than clemencie, for a King than mercie: and yet seueritie and rigour of iustice are no lesse necessarie ornaments, for the discharge of his dutie,A prince must execute iustice vpon the trans­gressours of the law of God and of nature. and the good of his subiects. Therfore in that which con­cerneth diuine and naturall right, & the punishment esta­blished for the transgression therof, he must alwaies vse iu­stice, and beware least his facilitie in granting fauor & dis­pensations, make him a promoter of euill, which (as Sene­ca saith) if he leaue vnpunished, is transferred vnto his po­steritie. But when the Prince onely is offended through [Page 659] some light contempt, or excusable breach of his Edicts, it cannot but be commendable in him to vse pardon & pi­tie.When it is com­mendable in him to shew mercie. These are those strong and mighty chaines, which (as Dion said to Dionysius the king of Syracusa) will preserue his kingdom in a happy, flourishing and peaceable estate, I meane goodnes and iustice. For force, feare, & the mul­titude of his gard, assure not the estate of a Prince so well, as the good wil, affection, fauour, and loue of his subiects, which he may obtaine by goodnes and iustice. They one­lyHow a Prince may preserue his kingdome a great while without danger. (said Marcus Aurelius instructing his sonne) are to hold a kingdom long time without danger, who by good behauiour and iust dealing imprint in the harts of their subiects, not a feare of their power, but a mutuall loue of their vertue. For those subiects are to bee suspected that serue through constraint and extremitie, not they that obey being mooued with reason and gentlenes. These holie precepts were so well put in practice by thisMarcus Aure­lius stood not in feare of his subiects. good Emperour Marcus Aurelius, that all his subiects had very easie accesse vnto him: insomuch that albeit he were a great Monarch, yet he neuer had any gard, no not so much as a Porter to his Pallace. Likewise king Numa putNuma refused the gard of three hundred archers which Romulus had. from him those three hundred Archers, which Romulus vsed to haue for his gard: saying, that he would not di­strust that people which put their trust in him, nor com­mand ouer that people that distrusted him. To this pur­pose, when Plato sawe the aboue-named Dionysius com­passedPlato his speech to Dionysius concerning his gard. about with many souldiours of his Gard, he sayd vnto him, What? Hast thou committed so many euils, that thou standest in neede of such a Gard of armed fel­lowes? Nowe it is most certaine, that the obedience of the subiect springeth and proceedeth from the loue of his Lord, as also that the loue of the Lord increaseth through the obedience of the subiect. But bicause the wickednes of men is so great at this day, that they which striue to be very gratious, are contemned and despised, it is very ne­cessary that the Prince should shew foorth a certaine kind of grauitie and seueritie, and according to the times, pla­ces,Grauitie and se­ueritie requisite in a prince. persons, and occasions that are offred, cause his pow­er [Page 670] and the maiestie of his commandements to be percei­ued,A principle in state matters. being alwaies the stronger: bicause in matter of E­state a man may holde this for an vndoubted principle, that he is maister of the estate, who is maister of the for­ces. Thus the gentlenes of the Prince accompanied with seueritie, his bountie mingled with rigor, and his facilitieThe effects of harmonicall iu­stice. with austeritie will be the meanes that his vertue shall at­taine to a harmonical iustice, which distributeth vprightly that which appertaineth to euery one: reward to whome reward, & punishment to whome punishment belongeth. From these duties & offices of a good Prince towards his subiects, already mentioned, proceedeth the fatherly care which he hath of their prosperitie in the preseruation & encrease of their cōmodities & riches, so far off is he from all headlong desire to inuade & spoile them. He conside­rethWhat authority a Prince hath o­uer his subiects goods. wisely, that although he hath authoritie & power o­uer the goods of his subiects, yet not in such sort as he hath ouer his owne demaine, or as if the proprietie therof belonged to him, but only to this end to demand aide & succor for the good & profit of the Common-wealth. Ho­mer bringing in Achilles offring great iniuries to Agamem­non, against whome he was sore incensed, saith that he cal­led him Deuourer of the people: and contrariwise, when he would in other places praise the king, he termeth him Sheepheard of the people. And truly they are vnworthy of the title of Prince, that lending their eares to such as inuent new subsidies, impose them daily on their subiects: & ha­uing against all humanitie spoiled them of their goods & riches, consume them miserably vpon pleasures, or cruel­ly in warre, when they might aswel suffer their poore sub­iects to liue in peace. When Marcus Antonius was in Asia, he doubled the taxe, and laid a second charge vpon them, that he might haue wherewith to furnish his immoderateHebreas free­dome of speech in reproouing Antonius. expences. The Estates of the Countrie sent Hebreas to shewe him howe the case stoode with them, who v­sing a maruellous freedome of speech, spake vnto him in this manner. If thou wilt haue power to laye vp­pon vs two taxes in one yeere, thou must also haue [Page 671] power to giue vs two Summers and two Autumns, two Haruests and two Vintages. Further, he added this; Asia hath paied thee 200000. Talents (that was six score millions of gold) if all this summe came not into thy co­fers, call them to account that haue receiued it. But if thou hast receiued it, and yet hast nothing left, we are cast away and vndone. These words ought to be well noted of a prudent Prince, that he may throughly consider with himselfe, and keepe a register of all that is leauied of the poore people in his name, least some few about him fat themselues with the oppression and ouerthrow of many, as it commonly falleth out: and let him be so carefull of the blood and substance of that bodie wherof he is head, that he profit all the members equally. Ezechiel crieth out against such Princes as deuoure the substaunce of their Vassals by loanes and taxes. Apollonius saith, that the goldSome gold more vile and base than iron. which is taken from subiects by tyrannie, is more vile than iron, bicause it is wet with the teares of their poore subiects. Artaxerxes said, that it was a great deale more seemelier for the Maiestie of a king to giue, than to take by polling, and to cloath than to vncloath; the one belon­ging to theeues, and not to Princes and Kings, vnles they will falsifie staine their name. King Darius sent for all the gouernors of the Prouinces vnder his subiection, andDarius dimini­shed his tributs. enquired of them among other things, whether the taxes and tributes were not too excessiue: whereunto when they made answere that they thought them moderate, he presently commanded that they should raise but the one halfe thereof: esteeming the loue of his subiects a richer treasure, than all the heapes of gold, which he might haue gathered. We may not heere forget to propound to kings the example of that good king S. Lewes the ninth of thatLewes the 9. was the first that raised a taxe in France. name, who was the first that raised a taxe in his kingdom, but it was onely by way of a necessarie subside during the warre, not vsing it as an ordinarie receite. Directing his speech to Philip his eldest sonne, and successor, he vttered these words in his Testament, which is yet to be found in the treasorie of France, and is registred in the Chamber [Page 672] His exhortation to his eldest sonne. of accounts. Be deuout in the seruice of God, haue a piti­full and charitable hart towards the poore, and comfort them with thy good decdes. Obserue the good lawes of thy kingdom: take no taxes nor beneuolences of thy sub­iects, vnles vrgent necessitie, & euident commoditie force thee vnto it, and then vpon a iust cause, and not vsually: if thou doest otherwise, thou shalt not be accounted a king, but a tyrant, &c. I leaue the rest of the clauses in his Testa­ment. Moreouer, liberalitie wel vsed, as we haue els-where handled the same, is a very comely ornament for a Prince.Liberalitie ne­cessarie in a Prince. Socrates said, that it was the dutie of a good king to be be­neficiall to his friends, and of his enemies to make good friends, to which purpose nothing will helpe him more than liberalitie. Neither must he be only liberal, but mag­nifical also and sumptuous, prouided alwaies that of mag­nifical, he become not prodigal, which would soone make him an exactor, and in the end a tyrant. But a soueraigne Prince must especially haue an eie to this, that the rewards of vertue due to woorthy men be preferred before all his gifts and good turnes, and that he recompence such as haue deserued any thing, before he giue to them that haue deserued nothing. For an vngratefull Prince will hardly retaine an honourable and vertuous man anyThe difference betweene a re­ward and a be­nefit. A king must be as good as his word. long time in his seruice. Neither is the estimation of a re­ward, and of a good-turne all one: bicause a reward is giuen for desert, and a benefite by grace. Besides, a Prince must be alwaies true, and as good as his promise, that men may giue greater credite to his bare word, than to another mans oath. For it ought to bee as an Oracle, which looseth his dignitie, when men haue conceiued such an euill opinion of him, that he may not be beleeued vnles he sweare. And if he pawne his faith at any time, he must account it sacred and inuiolable: bicause faith is the foundation and staie of iustice, vpon which the estate of great men is grounded▪ as we discoursed else-where.The saying of Theopompus. That saying of Theopompus King of Sparta, is also to be well noted by the Prince. When a friende of his asked him how a king might keepe his kingdome in safetie, he [Page 673] answered: By granting libertie to his friends freely to tell him the truth. He must take their aduice in doubfull mat­ters, that he may gouern his estate more assuredly, waigh­ing and iudging of their opinions with great prudence. Neither must he thinke them his best seruants that praiseA Prince must discerne wiselie betweene faith­full seruants and flatterers. all his sayings and dooings, but those that with modestie reprooue his faults: he must discerne wisely betweene them that cunningly flatter him, and those that loue and serue him faithfully, that wicked men may not be in grea­ter credite with him than good men. For this cause al­so he must carefully enquire after his houshold seruants and familiar friends, that he may knowe them well: bi­cause all other men will take him to be such a one as they are with whome he conuerseth ordinarily. Osiris King of Egypt had for his Armes a Scepter with an eye in the toppe of it: noting thereby the wisedome that ought toWisedome ne­cessarie in a King. be in a king: namely, that it belongeth not to one that wandereth out of his way to direct others, that seeth not, to guide, that knoweth nothing, to teach, and that will not obeye reason, to command. Likewise in all his acti­ons he must vse reason as a heauenlie guide, hauing cha­sed away the perturbations of his soule, and esteeme it a greater and more royall matter to command himselfe, than others. He must thinke that it is the true and pro­per office of a king not to submit him-selfe to his plea­sures,Temperance requisite in a Prince. but to containe his owne affections rather than his subiects. Further, he must vse to take pleasure in those exercises, which may procure him honour, and causeWhat maner of exercises a Prince must vse. him to appeere better to the worlde. He must not seeke for reputation in vile things, which men of base estate and naughtie behauior commonly practise, but follow af­ter vertue onely, wherein wicked persons haue no part. Let him remember alwaies that he is a King, and there­fore that he must striue to doe nothing vnwoorthie so high a dignitie, but continue his memorie by valiant and noble acts. This is that wherein one of the wise Interpre­ters knew wel how to instruct K. Ptolemy, who demanded of him how he might behaue himselfe, that neither idle­nes [Page 674] nor pleasures might distract him. It is (said he) in thine owne power, as long as thou commandest ouer a great kingdome, and hast so many great affaires to ma­nage continually, which will not suffer thee to distract thy mind vpon other matters. If priuate men, borne to ver­tue, are willing many times to die, that they may purchase honour: much more ought kinges to doe those thinges which will procure them honour, feare, and estimation e­uery where, during their life, & also through their bright­nesA Prince must be skilfull in warre, and yet loue peace. shine a great while after their death. Moreouer, a prince must be warlike, and skilfull in warfare, prouiding carefully all things necessarie for warre, and yet he must loue peace, and vsurpe nothing that belongeth to ano­ther man contrary to right, nor enter into warre, but to repell violence in extreame necessitie. Aboue all thingsA Prince must carefully auoid ciuill dissention. he must feare ciuill dissentions, as most pernitious to his Estate, and take aduice prudently concerning the meanes wherby all occasions of their entrance may be taken from his people. Heerein learning will helpe him well, and the knowledge of histories, which set before his eies the ad­uentures that haue befallen both small and great, and cal to his remembrance the times past, whereby he may bet­ter prouide for the time to come. Vnto which if he adde the counsell of wise men, as we haue already touched, he shall knowe more perfectly whatsoeuer concerneth the good of his estate. But aboue all he must knowe howe toWhat Counsel­lors a Prince must chuse. make choice of men, and not thinke them wise that dis­pute curiously of small things, but those that speake very aptly of great matters. Neither let him account those men best, and worthiest of credite, that haue gotten most authoritie, but trie and indge them by their profitable works: namely, if he see that they giue him wise and free counsell, according as occasions concurre, and affaires re­quire: and then let him alwaies with speed execute those things, which by their counsell he findeth good and ne­cessary. For the conclusion therefore of our present dis­course,The summe of the dutie of a Prince. we will comprehend the office and dutie of a good Prince in fewe words: namely, if he serue God in sinceri­tie [Page 675] and puritie of hart, if he inquire diligently after the truth of his word, and cause his subiects to liue thereaf­ter: if he prouide for their profit, redresse their miseries, and ease them of oppression, exaction and polling. If he be pliable to heare the requests & complaints of the lest, indifferent and moderate in answering them, ready to di­stribute right to euery one, by propounding reward for vertue and punishment for vice. If he be prudent in his enterprises, bold in his exploits, modest in prosperitie, cō ­stant in aduersitie, stedfast in word, wise in counsail: brief­ly, if he gouerne in such sort, and raigne so well, that all his subiects may haue what to imitate, and straungers to commend.

Of a Councell, and Counsailors of estate. Chap. 61.

DIoclesian the Emperor said, That the condition of Princes was miserable and dangerous, A common mi­sery incident [...] the estate of princes. bicause they were commonly deceiued by them whome they trusted most, being themselues almost alwayes shut vp in their pallaces, and vnderstanding no more of their affaires, thā their ministers would declare vnto them, who consult many times tog [...] ­ther how they may disguise the truth of their estate. For this [Page 676] Counsellors are the eies & eares of a Prince. cause although it be necessarie for a prince to haue many eyes and eares, for which intent we say that his counsel­lors serue, yet he must looke himselfe as much as he can e­uen to the depth of his affaires. And truly it belongeth to the dombe, blind and deafe, to speake, see and heare no­thing, but by the mouth, eies, and eares of other men. But in those things wherein the prince is constrained to relie vpon an other mans report, he must vse great pru­dence to discerne flatterers and disguisers of matters, whoWhat counsel­lors are to be v­sed by Princes. are not touched but only with their priuate profite, from those that are mooued with the zeale of publike bene­fite, and of his seruice, and vse these men in matters of counsell, which is most necessarie for the sound preser­uation of al estates. And in deede there was neuer any e­state but vsed counsell and counsellors in the establishing and gouernment thereof, as we may vnderstand more of you my companions, if you thinke good to discourse of this matter.

Counsell is the anchor of the citie. Counsell (sayd Socrates) is a sacred thing, and as Plato calleth it, the anchor of the whole city, wher­by it is fastned and stayed, as a shippe in the water. Yea, all the great and goodly exploites of armes and lawes, are no­thing else but the execution of a wise councell.

The excellencie of counsell. Counsell (saith the same Plato) hath the self­same place in a common-wealth that the soule and head hath in liuing creatures. For the vnderstanding is infu­sed into the soule, and sight and hearing are placed in the head: so that the vnderstanding being ioined to these two goodly senses, and reduced into one, preserueth eue­ry thing. But of thee (ACHITOB.) we expect a whole dis­course vpon this matter.

All common-wealths consist chiefly of two things. All Common-wealths consist chieflie of two things, of counsell & of iudgement, according to the disposition of which, the affaires of the estate are well or ill handled. Therefore to enter into this matter here pro­pounded, and to leaue iudgements to be considered of hereafter, we must first know that the ordinarie Councell of an estate, which the Ancients commonlie called a Se­nate, [Page 677] is the lawfull assemblie of counsellors of estate, toWhat a councel is. giue aduise to them that haue soueraigne power in euery Common-wealth. When we say a lawfull assemblie, it is to be vnderstood of that power which is giuen vnto them by the soueraigne to meete togither in time and place ap­poynted. And where as we call them counsellors of e­state, it is to distinguish them from other counsellors and officers, who are often called to giue aduise to Princes, euery one according to his vocation and qualitie, and yet are neyther counsellors of estate, nor ordinarie coun­sellours. Of this councell all the rest of the publike go­uernmentThe profit of a councell. dependeth, and by this all the partes of the Common-wealth are tied, vnited, and knitte togither, through that direction of religion, iustice, warre, trea­sures, lawes, magistrates and maners which proceedeth from it. Therefore the Senate is very well called by Cice­ro, A councell or Senate is the soule of the common-welth. the soule, reason, and vnderstanding of a Common-wealth: whereby he meaneth, that it can no more bee maintained without a councell, than a bodie with-out a soule, or a man without reason. The Hebrewes likewiseThe Hebrewes compared it to a foundation. called the councell a foundation where-upon all goodly and commendable actions are built, and without which all enterprises are ouerthrowen. Now forasmuch as there hath been, and are at this day among sundry nations, sundry sortes of gouernments and policies, so there is no lesse difference in the establishment of a councell in them, as also many alterations in the institution and power thereof. And namely, among the auncient Graecians, beside the seuerall councell of euery Common-wealth, there was the sacred councell of the Amphictions, so cal­led, bicause it was instituted by Amphiction the sonne ofThe councell of the Amphicti­ons. Deucalion. This councell was as it were the generall as­semblie of the estates of all Graecia, and was helde twise a yeere, in Spring time, and in Autumne, at Delphos in the Temple of Apollo, for the commoditie of the seate thereof, beyng as it were in the middest of all Graecia. The authoritie thereof was so great, that whatsoeuer was concluded vpon there, the Graecians obserued and kept it [Page 678] inuiolable, whether it were in matters concerning religi­on and pietie towards their gods, or peace and vnitie a­mong themselues. The Lacedemonians and Messenians met togither certaine dayes in the yeere at the temple of Diana vpon the borders of Laconia, and there after sacri­fice, consulted of their waightiest affaires. And yet both they and the rest of Graecia had certaine general councels concerning the gouernment of their estate, besides thoseThe Senate of the Lacedemo­nians. that were particular, which they vsed daily. The Senate of thirtie counsailors established by Lycurgus when he refor­med the Lacedemonian estate, obtained the soueraigntie not long after, and of Senators became absolute lordes.The Senate of the Athenians. Solon ordained amongst the Athenians, besides the Senate of 400. which was changeable euery yeere, a priuie & per­petual councell of the Areopagites, compounded of three score of the wisest, and of such as were blameles, who had the managing of those affaires that were most secret. Ro­mulus The Senate of the Romanes. the first founder of Rome, compounded the Senate of 100. of the notablest citizens: and hauing receiued the Sabines into his protection, he doubled the number of Senators, which afterward Brutus encreased with an otherThe power of the Consuls of Rome. hundred. As long as the happy popular gouernement of the Romanes lasted, the Consuls, albeit in dignitie they represented a royall person, yet they had no other power but to lead the armies, to assemble the Senate, to receiue the letters of captains, and of their allies, and to present them to the Senate, to heare embassadors before the peo­ple, or before the Senate, to assemble the great estates, and to aske the people aduise concerning the creation of offi­cers,The power of the Senate of Rome. or publishing of lawes. But the Senate disposed the reuenues of the Empire, and the common expences: ap­pointed lieutenants to all gouernors of prouinces, deter­mined of the triumphs, ordered religion, receiued and li­cenced embassadors of kings and nations, and tooke or­der for such as were sent to them. The punishment of all offences committed throughout Italy, which deserued publike execution, as treason, conspiracie, poysoning, wil­full murder, belonged to the Senate. If any priuate person [Page 679] or any citie stood in need of some speciall fauour, or of re­prehension, or of succour and protection, the Senate had all the charge thereof. It was forbidden vnder paine of high treason to present any request to the people without aduise taken of the Senate. Neuerthelesse, the soueraign­tie always belonged to the people, who might confirmeThe power of the people of Rome. or infringe the decrees of the Senate. Since that time ac­cording to the sundry alterations of their estate and go­uernment, the councell varied in forme. Augustus esta­blished a particular councell of the wisest Senators, & those but few in number: and after that another strict councell of Mecaenas and Agrippa, with whom he decided the chie­fest matters. In Turkie the councell is kept foure daies inOf the councel of the Turke. a week by the Bassaes wheresoeuer the prince soiourneth. If it be in time of peace at Constantinople, or in some o­ther towne within his dominion: if in warre, it is kept within his pauilion. In this councell called Diuan, where audience is open to euery one, they consult of embassages and of answers to be made vnto them, of matters of e­state, and of soueraigntie, of the meanes how to prouide for decaied prouinces, of murders and condemnations. The suppliant, complainant or suter speaketh without an aduocate, and is forced to answer presently to the obiecti­on of his aduersarie if he be present, or to prooue his say­ings by witnesses: and foorthwith the definitiue sentence is giuen, which may not be reuoked. When the councell hath continued 7. or 8. houres, the Bassa Visir maketh true relation to the prince of all that hath been handled: if he lie it is present death. For the prince oftentimes listeneth at a window, called daungerous, right against the Diuan, which is made in such sort, that he may heare and see, and not be perceiued: and although he were neuer there, yet they thinke that he is alwayes there. After he hath heard the discourse and aduise of his councell, he seldome gain­saieth, but confirmeth or moderateth the same. These things being thus ordered, they are written and registred by officers appointed thereunto. Concerning his treasure the Bassaes meddle not there-with, but two generall trea­surers [Page 680] are ouer-seers and chiefe dealers therein, the one being of Romania, the other of Anatolia. Two Cade lis­quers haue the administration of all iustice, who sit with the Bassaes in the Diuan: neither doth any other sit there but the twelue Bellerbeis, the Prince his children beyng Presidents in their fathers absence. The Muphtie is chief of the religion, and looketh vnto matters of conscience.Of the councell of the Veneti­ans. At Venice the generall assemblie of Lordes and gentle­men is called the great councell, which hath the soue­raigne power of the estate, and of which the Senate and the authoritie of all their magistrates dependeth. Besides this great councell and Senate compounded of three­skore persons, there are foure other councels, that is, the councell of Sages for sea matters, the councell of Sages for land matters, the councell of tenne, and the councell of seuen, where the Duke maketh the seuenth, and this is called the Seignorie. If there arise any hard matter a­mong the Sages, it is referred to the councell of tenne, and if they be diuided, the councell of seuen is ioyned to the councel of tenne. But if the matter be of great waight, the Senate is called, and sometime also (albeit rarely) the great councell of all the Venetian Gentlemen, in whichOf the councel of Rhagusium. the last resolution is made. At Rhagusium they create a President from moneth to moneth, who dwelleth in the pallace, and hath twelue counsailors, which assembly is called the little▪councell. There is also an other councell called the councell de Pregadie, into which a hundreth ofOf the councel of Genes. the ancientest citizens may enter. Next, there is the great councell, at which all the nobilitie aboue twentie yeeres of age are present. At Genes the whole common-wealth is gouerned by them that are borne of eight and twentie families: neither is any man called to beare any office whatsoeuer, vnlesse he be of this assemblie, which they call an Aggregation. Out of this are taken foure hun­dreth, which make the great councell, that hath all the power and authoritie of the estate, and is chosen from yeere to yeere. They create the Duke and the eight go­uernours of the Common-wealth, who are renued from [Page 681] two yeeres to two yeeres. In Switzerland there are twoThe councel of Switzerland. councels in euery Canton, a little one and a great one. But if any great matter fall out, that is common to all the leagues, they hold their generall councell, called a Iourney, or a Diet. The like is vsed in Almaigne, whereThe councel of Germanie. the Emperour can ordaine nothing that concerneth the common benefite of Germanie, or the authoritie and preseruation of the Empire, without the counsell and consent of all the estates, especially of the seuen Electors. Hee may not of him-selfe vnder-take any warre at his pleasure, neither leuie tributes, nor rayse souldioures of that nation, nor call in any forraine souldioures. They haue also a councell established at Spira, which is called the Imperiall chamber beyng as it were a Parliament of Almaignes for the administration of iustice among them.The assemblie of estates in Po­lonia. In Polonia there is an assemblie of estates euery yeere, e­speciallie for these two causes: the one, to administer iu­stice in soueraigntie, vnto which are brought appeales from all the iudges of the countrey: the other, to pro­uide for the defence and safetie of the Countrey against their next enimies, namelie, the Tartares, who make often incursions vppon them. None is receyued for a Senatour amongst them, if hee bee no Palatine, Bi­shop, Gouernour of some Forte, or other Captaine, or hath not beene Embassadour. In Spayne there are se­uenOf the councel of Spaine. councels, besides the priuie councell, which are al­wayes neere the King in seuerall Chambers vnder one roofe, that the king may be the better infourmed of all affaires. Their names are these, the councell of Spayne, ofSeuen seuerall councels in Spaine. the Indies, of Italie, of the lowe Countreys, of Warre, of the Order of Saint Iohn, and of the Inquisition. In the Realme of Englande there is a priuie Councell,Of the councell of England. which neuer exceeded the number of twentie persones. The first establishment thereof was but of fifteene: al­though it appeareth by the conclusion of a peace made betweene Lewes the ninth, and Henry king of England, that seuenteene of the priuie Councell sware vnto it, namelie, one Archbishop Chauncellour, one Bishop, [Page 682] six earles, and six other lordes, besides the high Treasurer, and the two magistrates, whom they call the chiefe iusti­ces of England. Frō three yeeres to three yeeres they hold a parliament, where all the estates are called togither to deliberate about the affaires of the kingdom. But enough of strangers. Let vs now come to the establishment and in­stitution of the councell in this French Monarchie, where we shal see that it is not inferior (if it go not beyond them) in excellencie and good order to all that are alreadie setOf the secret councell of France. downe, or that euer were. First we know, that the king hath all soueraigntie by right of the estate, as heretofore we haue discoursed. The first councell neere about him is the strict or secret councell, called the councell of state af­faires, which is commonly held in the morning after his maiestie is vp. None haue entrance into this, but a fewe whom the king iudgeth wisest, of greatest experience, and most trustie to his maiestie, with whome he communica­teth his waightiest affaires as they fall out, and determi­neth with them of such principall matters as were delibe­rated of before in the priuie councell, and in the councell of the treasurie, if they be such as deserue to bee brought thither. In the secret councell the letters of princes, of embassadors, of gouernors and captains are opened: re­solutions and matters agreed vpon are commended to the Secretaries of the estate: gifts & rewards granted with the rolles and records thereof, letters and commaunde­mentsOf the priuie councell of France. signed with the kings hand. The priuie councell is compounded of diuers great personages called thereunto by his maiestie, either for the nobilitie of their bloud and greatnes of their house, or for their woorthines, wisedom, knowledge and experience, who haue places and delibe­ratiue voyces in the councell as long as it pleaseth him. Sometime the king sitteth among them when any great matter is in question: in his absence the first prince of the bloud is President. The Constable and Chancellour, two chiefe officers of the crowne, haue great authoritie there­in, the one being principall of warre, the other of iustice: They sit on each side in equall degree, being alwayes one [Page 683] right before another. This councel is held either for mat­tersWhat matters are handled therein. belonging to the treasurie, or for other things con­cerning state-affaires of the kingdom, and then none en­ter therein but the Secretaries of the estate, the Treasurer of the priuie treasure, the Ouer-seers of the treasures, ap­pointed to take knowledge of the leuying and laying out of money, and the Secretaries belonging to the same: or else it is held for parties, that is, for the affaires of iustice depending of the soueraigntie. Then the maisters of the Requests seruing in their turns enter therin, who bring in requests, informations, suites called thither by Iniunctiōs, and other waightie matters which the king hath reserued to his owne knowledge, or such as cannot be decided else where. Somtimes also the parties themselues are heard, or else they speake by Aduocates. This is greatly to be com­mendedA commenda­ble custome v­sed in the pri­uie councell of France. therein, that euery one that hath entrie into the councell (although peraduenture he hath neither delibe­ratiue voyce, nor place) may bring in any mans request, & aduertise the councell of that which is profitable for the Common-wealth, that order may be taken for the same. And many times their counsell is first demaunded, then the aduice of the counsellours of estate, so that the grea­test lordes giue their opinion last, to the end that freedom of speech may not be taken away by the authoritie of the princes, especially of factious and ambitious men, who neuer suffer any contradictions but against their wils. By this means also they that haue consulting voyces onely, prepare the way and make it easie for them that haue de­liberatiue voyces to conclude of matters, and many times furnish the councell with good and forceable reasons; and if they erre at any time, they are brought backe a­gaine by the residue without ielousie. This priuie councel deliberateth & finally determineth (vnder the soueraigne will of the king) of the complaints of priuate men in mat­ters concerning the estate, of the suites of towns and pro­uinces, iudgeth of the appeales made from Parliaments, considereth vpon extraordinary dayes of the decrees of Parliaments, concerning their order & discipline how it is [Page 684] kept: dealeth with the transporting of wheate & of wines: also with all marchandises either brought in or caried out of the realme, and with the impostes laid vpon them: ta­keth order for the currant and finenesse of money: hath regard to the demaines of the crowne, to lones and taxes, and other reuenues of the king, and to the chief customs, prolonging their yeeres, abating the rentes of Farmers, or discharging thē altogither, taking knowledge of their cause and of former informations, ioyning therewith the aduise of the Treasurers, & of the Generals of those char­ges. All matters whatsoeuer being agreed vpon & appoin­ted to take effect, must be signed by one Secretarie at the least, and somtimes also by one of the masters of Requests before it be sealed by the Chauncellor, who ouerlooketh and examineth narrowly all matters concluded vpon: which maketh his authoritie very great, & somtimes odi­ous.Of the great councell. The great councell, which at the first institution ther­of was seldom imploied but about state-affairs, was made an ordinarie court of 17. counsellors by Charles the 8. and Lewes the 12. made it vp 20. besides the Chancellour, who was President of that court: but vnder king Francis ano­ther President was appointed. This coūcell had the know­ledge of extraordinarie causes by way of commission sent from the priuie councell, and ordinarily of appellations made from the Marshal of the kings house. The court ofOf the court of Parliament. Parliament was the Senate of France in old time, and ere­cted by Lewes the yong according to the truest opinion, to giue aduise to the king: in which twelue Peeres were e­stablished, so that the name of the court of Peeres remai­neth with it to this day. But Phillip the faire made it an or­dinarie court, and granted vnto it iurisdiction and seat at Paris, but tooke from it the knowledge of state-affaires. For, as we haue alreadie declared, there are no counsel­lors of estate amongst all the magistrates of Fraunce, but those that are ordinarie of the priuie councel. But besides the councels specified by vs, Princes haue alwayes had aOf the strict councell. strict councel of two or three of the dearest and trustiest a­bout them, wherin the resolution of the aduises and deli­berations [Page 685] of other councels is had, yea many times of the greatest affaires of the estate, before others haue delibe­rated of them. Neuertheles, this auncient custome of cal­ling the general estates of the realme togither when they saw it necessarie, hath been always obserued by kings and princes. Our first progenitours the Gaules, before either Romanes or kings ruled ouer them, assembled togither out of Aquitane, out of the prouince of Narbone, of Ly­ons, and of other quarters, about the number of three­skore nations, to take aduise and counsell of their gene­rall affaires. Since that tyme our ancient kings of France haue vsed oftentimes to hold the estates, which is the as­semblie of all their subiects, or of their deputies. For toWhat it is to hold the estates. hold the estates is nothing else, but when the king com­municateth his greatest affaires with his subiects, taketh aduise and counsell of them, heareth their complaintes and griefes, and prouideth for them according to rea­son. This was called in olde time the holding of a Parlia­ment, which name it retaineth yet in England and Scot­land. But at this day the name of Parliament belongethThe name of parliament be­longeth to pri­uate courtes in France. onely to priuate and particular courtes of Audience, con­sisting of a certaine number of Iudges established by the king in sundry of his Prouinces, and the publike and ge­nerall courtes of Audience haue taken the name of e­states. The estates were assembled for diuers causes, accor­ding as matters were offred: either to demaund succour and money of the people, or to take order for iustice, andCauses of the assemblie of estates. for men of warre: or for the reuenues of the children of Fraunce, or to prouide for the gouernement of the king­dome, or for other matters. The kinges sate amongst them, and were Presidentes, except at one assemblie, wherein was debated the noblest cause that euer was, namelie, to whome the kingdome of Fraunce belonged after the death of Charles the faire, whether to his cosin Phillip de Valois, or to Edward king of England his brother in lawe. King Phillip was not President, not beyng at that time king, and besides a partie. No doubt but the people receiue great benefit by this assemblie of estates. [Page 686] For this good commeth vnto them, that they may drawe neere to the kings person, to make their complaints vnto him, to present him their requests, and to obtaine reme­die and necessary prouision for redresse. Whereby we may easily iudge, that many, who haue written of the duetie of magistrates and such like treatises, are greatly deceiued inThe assembly of estates is not a­boue the prince. maintaining this, That the estates of the people are aboue the prince: which laieth open a gappe to the rebellions of sub­iects against their soueraign, so that this opinion can haue no reason or good ground to leane vpon. For if this were true, the commō-wealth would not be a kingdom or mo­narchy, but a pure Aristocratie, as we haue declared here­tofore. Yea, what shew of reason is there to maintaine this error, seeing euery one in particular, & al in general bowe their knees before the king, vse humbly requests & suppli­cations, which his maiestie receiueth or reiecteth, as it see­meth best vnto him? But in this case we except a king that is captiue, beside himself, or in his infancie. For that which is thē decreed by the estates, is authorized as from the so­ueraign power of the prince. Moreouer we may see what great good commeth to the king by the assemblie of his estates, in the first speech, which master Michael de l' Hospi­tal Chauncellor of France made at the last assemblie of e­states at Orleans. Where he confuteth at large their opini­on that say, that the king after a sort diminisheth his pow­er by taking aduise and counsell of his subiects, seeing he is not bound so to doe: as also that he maketh himselfe too familiar with them, which breedeth contempt, and abaseth his roiall dignitie. But we may aunswere themTheopompus answer to his wife. as Theopompus king of Sparta did his wife, who obiected this vnto him by way of reproch, that by bringing in the Ephories, and minglyng their gouernement with his, he would leaue his authoritie and power lesse to his children than hee receiued it from his predecessours▪ Nay (said this Prince vnto hir) I will leaue it greater, bi­cause it shall be more assured. The Emperour Aurelius sayd as much to his mother, bicause hee freely heard e­uery one. Besides, as we see that in any great perill of [Page 687] sea, or fire kindled to the daunger of publike profite, noAn excellent comparison. mans seruice or succour is reiected, how base soeuer his calling is: so it cannot but be profitable for the Estate, when it is threatned with ruine, and the affaires therof are of greatest importance, to receiue the counsell of all that haue interest therein, laying the opinions in the balance, rather than the persons from whom they come. And here­by the soueraigne maiestie and prudence of a Prince is knowen, when he hath both power and skill to waigh and to iudge of their aduice that giue him counsel, and to con­clude with the soundest, not the greatest side. But to go forward with that which remaineth, let so many as haue this honour to be ordinarie counsellors to Princes, re­member the saying of Solon the wise, That they are not cal­led The dutie and qualities of counsellors of estate. thither to please, and to speake to their liking, but to vtter the truth, and to giue them good counsell for common safetie: that they must bring with them for an assured and certaine foundation of their conference about state-affaires, a good intent mooued with reason and iudgement to profite him, not with passions, or desires of vain-glory, of couetousnesse, of emulation, of any other imperfecti­on that leadeth them to their priuate profite: that they must at the entrie of the councell chamber, vnclothe themselues of fauour to­wardes some, of hatred towardes others, and of ambition in them­selues, and aime at no other marke, than at the honour of God, and safetie of the Common-wealth. To this ende they must necessarilie be furnished with wisedome, iustice and loyal­tie.Three things necessarie in a counsellor of estate. As for skill and knowledge, although it be requisite in counsellors of estate, namely, the knowledge of the lawes, of histories, and of the estate of Common-wealths, yet sound iudgement, integritie and prudence are much more necessarie. Aboue all things they must hold no­thingCounsellors may not be Pensioners to forrain princes. of other Princes and Seignories, that may binde them to their seruice. And yet now a dayes to receiue a pension of them is so common a matter (but very perni­tious in any estate) that it is growen to a custome. A­gesilaus Example hereof in Agesilaus. would not so much as receiue a letter, which the king of Persia wrote vnto him, but sayd to his messenger, that if the king were friend to the Lacedemonians, he [Page 688] need not write particularly to him, bicause he would also remaine his friend: but if he were their enimie, neyther letter nor any thing else, should make him for his part o­therwise affected. To bee short, let counsellors of estate learne of Plutarch, that it is necessarie for them to be free from all passions and affections, bicause in giuing of coun­sell the mind hath most force towards that wherunto theCounsellors must not through feare shrinke from their dutie. will is most enclined. As for feare, danger, or threatnings, they must neuer stay them from doyng their duetie, but let them constantly propound and maintaine that which they iudge to be good and profitable for the Common-wealth. We read that the Thasiens making warre with great vehemencie against the Athenians, published a de­cree, that whosoeuer counselled or spake at any time of concluding a peace between them, should die the death.Examples hereof. Within a while after one of the citizens considering what great hurt his countrey receiued by that warre, came one day into the assembly of the people with a halter about his necke, and cried with a loud voyce, that he was come thither to deliuer the Common-wealth by his death, that they should put him to death when they would, and that for his part he gaue them counsell to abrogate that law, and to make peace: which was done, and he pardoned.Considius an­swer to Caesar. Considius a Romane Senatour would neuer be from the Senate, no not when Caesar ruled all by violence, and did what pleased him, and when none of the other Senatours came any more through feare of his force. And when Caesar asked him how he durst be there alone to stand a­gainst him: bicause (quoth he) my age taketh all feare from me. For hauing from hence forward such a short time to liue in, I am not greatly carefull to saue my life. If kings did correct all those that giue them ill counsell,Solyman han­ged a wicked counsellor. as Solyman did one of his Bassaes, who was his kinsman, they would not so readily consent to the passions of great men. This Infidell caused him to be hanged, bicause he counselled him to put a Gentleman to death vniustly (which he had done) that he might enioy his wife more casilie. Now for the conclusion of our discourse, we will [Page 689] here set downe the aunswer of one of the Hebrew inter­preters to king Ptolemie, who asked him, To whome a Prince should trust, or commit himselfe. To those (sayd this wise man) that loue him so entirely, that they cannot be drawen from him neither through feare, gifts or gayne: bicause he that aspireth to riches, is naturally a traitour. Let vs learne that a counsell wel instituted and compoun­ded of good men is a most necessarie point in the esta­blishment and preseruation of euery estate: and as theGood counsell better than ma­ny hands. olde Prouerbe saith, Good councell is better than manie hands. Let vs learne, that all those that are called there­unto, ought to aime at nothing but at publike profite, of which the happinesse and greatnesse of the Prince de­pendeth, who must not contemne the counsell and ser­uice of the least when they can profite the Common-wealth, but heare them willingly, and satisfie their iust requests.