Of Man. Chap. 1.

VVHen I direct my flight now and then (my companions) euen vnto the heauens, and with the wings of contemplation behold their wonderfull greatnesse, their terrible [Page 5] motions, being contrary and without ceasing, the liuely brightnesse, rare beauty, and incom­parable force of the Sunne and Moone, their vnchangeable course, one while cause of light, and by and by after of darknesse, the infinite number of goodly stars, and of so many other celestiall signes: and from this excellent and constant order of all these things, as one raui­shed and amazed, when I withdraw my spirit lower into the elementary 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 sundry and most beautifull plants, and kindes of earthie and waterie creatures, as there are graines of sand on the sea bankes: and when I delight my selfe in the varietie of minerals and pretious stones, considering the forme, qualitie, and vertue of each of these things: briefly, when I admire the diuersity of [...]mes and seasons, the continuall spring of fountaines, the certaine course of riuers, and generally, so many wonderfull workes vnder the cope of heauen, I cannot mauell y­nough at the excellencie of Man, for whom all these things were created, and are main­tained and preserued in their beeing 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 eye can behold, or the eare heare, were created for the benefite, profit and vse of man, and that hee was made excellent aboue all things to rule ouer them: yea the Heb. 1. very Angels are sent to minister for their sakes, which shall receiue the inheritance of saluation.

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

Truely ye haue reason (companions) to begin our happy assembly with that knowledge, which we ought to haue of our selues, as being the store-house of all wisedome, To know our selues is true wisedome, and beginning of saluation: whereof wee may haue an assured testimonie from that father of Philosophie Socrates, who beholding the first precept written at Delphos in the temple of Apollo, which was so renowned throughout Graecia, namely Know thy selfe, was forthwith driuē 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. Whereupon contemning that way which all the Philosophers of his time went, who busied themselues about nothing, but onely in finding out the causes of naturall things, and in disputing curiously of them, he gaue himselfe wholly to the knowledge of himselfe, I meane of his soule, which hee maintained to be in­deed Man, and by disputation to intreat of the soueraigne good thereof, and of vertue. By The soule is truly man which meanes the gate of wisedome was opened vnto him, wherein he profited in such sort, that according to 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 Socrates was called the fa­ther of Philo­sophle. 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 hee had done some notable act, worthy of himselfe, said: I haue sought my selfe. Which beginning truely is very necessarie for man, as being a guide to leade him to the true knowledge of God, which is a heauenly gift of God, and peculiar to his. And this is learnedly taught vs by the same Socrates, where he saith, That the duty of a wise man is to seeke out the reasons of things, that in the ende he may finde that diuine reason whereby they were made: and hauing found it, may worship and Socrates said that the knowledge of God & of our selves must be ioyned together. Wherein the duety of man consisteth. Ignorance of our selues, the cause of much evill. serue it, that afterward he may enioy it, and reape profit thereby. Moreouer he addeth, That the perfect knowledge of ones selfe, which consisteth in the soule, is in such sort ioyned 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 surnamed the Diuine, 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 labor in those things, which may be most beneficiall to all men. Ignorance of a mans selfe (saith 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 vneuen way, or vpon a dangerous and slippery mountaine: and [Page 6] lastly, of forsaking the light to walke in darkenesse. Now if we account it a shamefull thing to be ignorant of those things which belong to the life of man, surely the 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 withall, not staying in those curious definitions which the Philosophers haue made. Man is a creature made of God after his owne image, iust, holy, good and right by nature, and compounded of soule and body. I say of What man is. Gen. 1. Col 3. soule, which was inspired of God with spirit and life, and of a perfect naturall body, framed of the earth by the same power of God. In this sort man had his being of the eternall work-ma­ster of the whole world, of whom he was created by his incomprehensible goodnesse, to bee made partaker of his immortalitie and permanent felicity, for this onely end to set foorth the The end of mans being. glory of his Creator, and to speake and do those things that are agreeable vnto him, through the acknowledgement of his benefits. From which end man being fallen of his owne free will through ingratitude and disobedience, was bereaued of all those ornaments, which he had re­ceiued before of God, and in steade of righteousnesse and holinesse, all iniquity, filthines and vncleanenes entred into him: whereby he was made the slaue of sinne and of death, from whence all those miseries had their beginning, wherwith 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 trauels, and violent vn­towardnes. Of which corruption the ancient Philosophers had great and assured knowledge, but the first and true cause thereof, which was sinne, and the voluntary fall of man, with his restoring vnto grace by the vnspeakeable goodnes and mercy 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 earnestnesse of study, by discoursing and considering in the reasonable part of their soule, of those things which offered themselues to their minde. But for asmuch as they were not wholy ouer whelmed in euery part of reason, and yet had no knowledge of the hea­uenly word Iesus Christ, they vttered many things contrary one to another: and in the midst of their great and wonderful skill (according to that saying of the Scripture, Who hideth his se­crets from the prudent, and reuealeth 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 trulie, the reason of man, naturally in­graffed There is a double reason in man. in his heart, which so far foorth as he is man, and according to his abilitie and manner of life he imitateth and followeth, is diuers from that which by special grace from aboue com­meth to the elect, accompanieth them, and helpeth them in all their actions. This is full of faith, and of vndeceiueable assurance of eternall promises: the other, weake, troubled and wonderfully hindred, wherein a man can neuer haue any certaine resolution. This is that which caused Aristotle, who was Platoes Disciple, and Prince of the Peripaterike Schoole to say, that the more knowledge a man hath, the greater occasion of doubting was offered. Neither can we 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 Heraclitus wept continu­ally. weeping, howsoeuer he alleadgeth wisely, that it was for the compassion hee had of mans na­ture, both for that the life of men consisteth in nothing but in miseries, as also because all the labors wherein they exercised themselues, seemed vnto him to be worthie of great commise­ration and pitty: namely, seeing that they being far wide of iustice, did yet through too gree­die desire make themselues slaues vnto all couetousnes and vaine-glory. This also was an ar­gument of inconstancie and wauering in Democritus, who neuer came abroad amongst men, hut he laughed vnmeasurably at all their works and deeds. Howbeit herein he said truly, that the life of man was vanitie and folly, and that all their lusts and desires were fond, and worthy The iudge­ment of Phi­losophers concerning the nature of man. P [...]ndarus 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, & in the certaine knowledge of himselfe: which thing these Philosophers so earnestly laboured to attaine vnto, as we shall see anon, after wee haue learned what other ancient men haue thought of the nature and state of man. What o­ther thing (saith P [...]ndarus) is man, than the shadow of a dreame in ones sleepe? Whereby he sheweth the vanity o [...] man by an excellent manner of speaking, very significantlie vttering his Homer. meaning. For what thing is lesse than a dreame yea than the shadow of a dreame? Homor ha­uing compared mortall 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 drawe T [...]mon. [Page 7] breath, there is not one more miserable than man. Timon the Athenian detesting much more than all these the imbecilitie of mans nature, vsed and emploied all his skill to perswade his countriment to abridge & shorten the course of their so miserable life, and to hasten their end, by hanging thēselues vpon gibbets, which he had caused to set vp in great number, in a field that he bought for the same purpose, vnto whose perswasions many gaue place. Plinie rehear­sing Plinie. the great miseries wherwith man cometh into this world, & the manifold labors wherin he liveth, said, that it were good for a man not to be borne at all, or else so soone as he is borne, The custome of the Scy­thians. to die. It was a custome amongst the Scythians, to weepe at the birth of their Children, & to reioyce, and make a solemne feast at the death of their parents. Now as the opinions of these philosophers nere named by us (who being destitute of the light of God, & of true relig [...]ō had no other foundation but their own humane & weake discourses,) are to be reiected for inclo­sing all mankind in such vile & abiect estate, so on the other side we must take heede, that we enter not into that presumptious opinion of many others, who endeuor to leade man to the consideration of his dignitie and excellencie, as beeing endued with infinite graces. For they perswade 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 onely study of phi­losophy, he may of himselfe, following his own nature become maister of al euill passions and perturbations, & attaine to a rare & supreme kind of vertue, which is void of those affections: that being thus exempted and freed from all vice: hee may leade a most happy and perfect life. This did the Stoick philosophers with one consent maintaine and teach, saying: Whoso­euer receiued their doctrine, if in the morning he were very wicked, in the euening he should The presumptuous opini­on of the Stoicks. become a very good man: and if he laide himselfe downe to sleepe being ignorant, vicious, and poore, the next morning he should arise wise, vertuous, rich, happy and [...]ust, Zeno, Seneca, Diogenes, Chrysippus, and infinite moe, otherwise indued with most fruitful doctrine, as we shal understand hereafter, were of this opinion. In so much that Chrysippus said, that Dion the chie­est 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 well, from himselfe. Thus whilest they granted to manspower 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 contrary opinions (as the perfect­ion and goodnes of all things consisteth in mediocritie) and continuing to speake of man as we haue already begun, doesaie, that the knowledge of himselfe is very necessary for him, and that hauing perfectly attained thereunto, he hath cause both to be humbled greatly, as also to glory and reioyce. First to humble himselfe through the sence and feeling of his vanitie, per [...]ersenes and corruption, in which respect he ought to hate and be displeased with him­selfe, The end of the knowledg of our selues. because he beholdeth his destruction and condemnation ingrauen in his conscience. Secondly: he is to glory in the knowledge of God, which inseparably followeth the other, after he hath learned this, that in the mercy of Cod he may recover that which is wanting in himselfe, hauing once bene made and fashioned of God, who is altogether pure, wise, true, good, and almightie, to the end he might be partaker of his glorie. For the obtaining hereof, he had giuen vnto him from the beginning (as trustie guides) godlinesse, holinesse, and reli­gion: godlines, to the end he might know thereby, that he had God for his father: holinesse, to yeeld vnto him continuall glory and praise: and religion, to keepe him in continuall me­ditation of his grace and benefits, and to serue him for an indissoluble bond to knit him to his Creator, whothreatned him with death, if hee did the contrarie. But our first father The wilfull fall of man. through ingratitude and disobedience, forsaking thoseheauenly 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 happy & innocent, through his offence and peruersenes of his sinne, he began from that time forward to liue a mortall life, so that his body and soule became subiect to infinite miseries and damnable infirmities, which drawe vpon them the condemnation of eternall death. Notwithstanding God, whose goodnesse and mercy are endlesse, reestablished and assured the succession of his im­mortall in heritance vnto those, whom it pleased him by grace to make dead to sin, and aliue to himselfe, through the satisfaction of his wrath made by the innocencie of his eternall The restoring of man. Sonne, purging them in his blood, and opening vnto them by him the gates of heauen, after hee hath renewed them in righteousnesse, holinesse and innocencie, that they may follow after godlinesse and religion. And knowing that man so fraile and weake, [Page 8] 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 furious and continuall passions, which are mingled together in his soule, being ioyned 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 in the spirit of man a little sparke of light, which driueth him to naturall loue of the truth, and to a desire to en­quire after it, yea which pricketh & prouoketh him not to sleepe altogether in his vices. This weake instinct being awaked, stirred vp, holpen, and disposed by the pure grace, vertue and Al men natu­rally have some loue & liking of the truth. power of the author of al goodnes, draweth and mooueth a Christian, regenerated by the ho­ly Ghost (after knowledge of himselfe, and hatred of that which is in him) to seeke after and to couet with a speciall heartie desire, that goodnesse and righteousnes whereof he is void, & that glorious libertie of which he depriued himselfe. Furthermore, the same heauenly grace blessing this holy desire of the man regenerate, causeth him to draw out of the doctrine Effects of Christian re­generation. of holy 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 anie damnable execution. Hee teacheth him also to receiee the infirmities of his flesh, as fatherly chastisements for his sinne, and as necessary meanes to exercise him, and to keepe him in awe. And lastly, for the upshot and perfection of all happinesse and felicitie in this world, he instructeth him how he may leade a quiet and peaceable life in beholding the wonderfull workes of the diuinitie, which he is to adore and honour, and in the amendment and correction of his manners 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 pro­fite of many: and at length attaine to the perfection of a wise man, by ioyning together 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 The perfecti­on of a wise mans life. Philosophers, may serve for our instruction and pricking forward: as also the examples (which are livelie reasons) of the lives of so many notable men, as histories, the mother of an­tiquitie, doe as it were represent alive before our eies. And this in my iudgement is suffi­cient generally to understand of Man, seeing we are hereafter to discourse more particularly of both his principall parts, the body and soule.

Of the Body and Soule. Chap. 2.

THe body and soule are so knit and conioyned together, that nothing can separate them but death the destroier of al, which through sinne, and for the iust punish­ment The wonder­ful coniunctiō of the body and soule. thereof entred into the world. And this is no sooner done, but that whatso, ever we see of man, uanisheth from before our eies: the earthie part returning into the masse of of earth from whence it came, according to the saying of Aristotle, that all things are resolued into those things whereof they are compounded: likewise, that which is spirituall and invisible goeth into an eternall immortalitie, from whence the beeing thereof proceeded.

Truly this knitting together, and coniunction of the body and soule is a most wō ­derfull thing in nature, yea, as many of the Philosophers say, against nature: seeing the soule which is light, is contained within the body being heavie: that which is of celestiall fire, with­in that which is cold and earthy, that which is invisible, within that which is palpable: that which is immortal, within that which is mortall. But what? Where is the sence of man, which is able to comprehendthe reason of the doings of that great Maister-builder of the vniuersal frame? Yea there is more. For during this coniunction, as all things that mooue within this generall globe are maintained by agreeing discords: euen so of necessitie there must be Al things are preserved by agreeing discords. such a harmonie betweene the bodie and the soule, that by the helpe of the one, the other subsisteth and abideth, and that through their contituall striuing sometimes the one, and thē the other be in the end obeied.

Thou tellest us here of a wonderfull strange thing, that, that which is spirituall & immortall sometime obeyeth that which is mortall, and made of a corruptible lumpe. But I vnderstand thee well. This proceeds of the imperfection and imbecility of our nature. For (as Socrates said) if we were perfect Philosophers, we would neuer agree with ourselves, but re­sist continually. Now following this matter, make us to understand more particularly (ARAM) what the body and soule are, what properties they have, and what is the excellencie both of the one and the other

With a good will, my companions, and first I will begin at the definition of a bodie. A bodie (as the Philosophers say, speaking generally of all things that haue bodies) is The definiti­on of a bodie. that which may bee diuided and measured after three sorts, in length, in breadth, and in depth. Or according to others, a bodie is a masse or lumpe, which, as much as lieth in it, re­sisteth touching, and occupyeth a place. A body (saith Plato) is that which being in his pro­per place is neither heauie nor light, but being in a strange place first inclineth somewhat, then is driuen and carried forward, either with heauinesse or lightnesse. Hereupon, both hee and other Philosophers discourse learnedly and profoundly of the particular nature of all bodies, of the earth, of the fire, of the aire, of the water, and of all other both simple and com­pound bodies, and of their contrarie motions. But seeing all those discourses are at this pre­sent without the compasse of our Academie, let vs simply with more profit, and that ac­cording to the Scripture, define the bodie, which wee haue vndertaken to handle. Wee say Gen. 6. Rom. 8. Gal. 5. The workes of the fles [...]. then, that the bodie is flesh, that euery affection of the flesh is deadly, and that the workes thereof are vncleannesse, pride, fornication, enmitie, debate, wrath, contention, enuie, mur­der, gluttony and such like: and therefore that the bodie is made of mortall matter, of as small continuance as a vessell of earth, sinning without ceasing, and endeauouring that that which is shut vp within it, should please it. Notwithstanding we ought not to neglect and contemne the wonderfull frame of this heauenly plant, as Plato calleth it, saying, that the roote thereof is in the head drawing towards heauen, seeing, as in a little world, we may behold therein the excellencie of the wonderfull workes of God, and that in so great measure, that the wisest and Man is a little world. most eloquent men could neuer set them forth sufficiently. And if we cal to mind how by his Almighty power he framed him at the first of a piece of earth, we shall not need to stand long Gen. 2. here to enquire & search out, how he could be ingendred & fashioned in his mothers wombe, how he receiued nourishmēt & life; & lastly, how he came into the light. As for example, how Of the con­ception and fashioning of man. the 6. first daies after his conception, he is nothing but milke: the 9. following, blood: 12. daies after, flesh: and how in the 18 next ensuing, he is fashioned, at what time the fruite beginneth to liue, and to haue sence, which is the 45. day after he was conceiued. These are secrets of na­ture, which may seeme as incomprehensible, and beyond the capacitie of man, as his first crea­tion. For what greater maruell can there be, than that of a little drop of mans seede there should be ingendred bones, sinewes, veines, arteries, similar and instrumentall parts, skin and flesh, and that all these should be framed in that kinde, figure and similitude, which we daily see in men, who are all created after that manner? What neede we then to make an anato­mie of all the chiefest parts of the bodie of man, when as the consideration of the least of them, which peraduenture may bee found too bee most necessarie, will suffice to rauish vs with admiration? What super fluous thing can be noted in the bodie? What small parcell is there, which the noblest part may want conueniently, and which is not partaker of euery e­uill Of the excel­lencie of the bodie, and of all the parts thereof. disposition thereof? What thing is there in the whole nature thereof, which doth not sa­tisfie that dutie verie profitably, whereunto it is borne and appointed, which mooueth not of it selfe, which either doth, suffereth or disposeth of it selfe otherwise than is most expedient and meete for it owne benefit, and for the rest of the frame of man? The progresse and growth thereof from day to day, from houre to houre, and that of all the parts together of this prin­cipall worke at one instant, euen frow the first houre of his being, vntill his whole perfection, are they not more heauenly than humane things? What is more wonderfull vnder the cope of heauen, than the coniunction and subiection of the natural sences vnto the body, I meane, of the sight, smelling, hearing, taste, and touching, whereby (saith Plato) the common sence which is as it were a generall receptacle, conceiueth all outward things? What an excellent property in man is it, to voide from him a profitable superfluitie of his nourishment, from whence the cause of the preseruation of mankind proceedeth? The articulate and distinct voice, proper to him onely, is it not worthy of great maruell? What greater secret of nature Great secrets of nature. could rauish the minde of man more with admiration than amongst the infinite multitude of men in the world, to consider the varietie of their gestures, and diuersitie of their countenan­ces, that hauing all but one & the same forme, yet not one almost resembleth another? And when in so great varietie, two are found resembling in all points one another, as we reade of some, euen of sundry nations, who haue beene taken indifferently one for the other, is it not a stranger matter? How maruellous is it, that all men hauing a tongue wherewith they speake and sing, yet wee seldome see that the speaking and singing of one resembleth the speech and tune of another? whereupon it commeth to passe, that friends and fa­miliars oftentimes acknowledge and vnderstand one another by their speech and voice [Page 10] before they see each other. Who will not admire this great secret in the hand of man, that a hundred thousand writers may write the samething, with the same inke & like pen, and that with three and twenty letters, which have each his owne figure and shape, and yet the wri­tings The diuersity of mens voi­ces and wri­tings. shall not resemble one another so, but every writing may be knowne by his hand that wrote it? Briefely, what is there in the whole body of man, that is not full of rare beauty? This is sufficient for the matter in hand; now let us come to the soule which is much more noble, and infused into the body by God the Creator, without any vertue of the generative The soule is infused not traduced. seede, when as the parts of the body are already framed and fashioned. This alone can leade us to the knowledge of God and of ourselves, or rather as Socrates said, wee shall never vnder­stand perfectly what the soule is, except we first know God, and behold it in him, as in a true glasse, who onely can represent it unto us. Let us then see what the soule is, according to the sayings of the ancient Philosophers. Thales Milesius, one of the sages of Graecia, who flourished in Athens in the time of Achab king of Iuda, was the first that defined the soule, The definiti­on of the soule Pythagoras was the first that was c [...]l­l [...]d a Philoso­phe [...]. a [...]firming it to be a nature alwaies mooving itselfe. Pythagoras (the light of his time, and the first that tooke unto himselfe the name of a Philosopher, because all those, who before him were addicted to the contemplation of the divinity, and of the secrets of nature, caused themselves to be called by the name of Mages and wisemen, which he would not haue spo­ken of himselfe, saying that this divine and lofty title of Wise, was proper to God onely, and that it far passed all humane abilitie) I say this excellent man Pythagoras affirmed, that the soule was a number mooving itselfe. Plato saith, that it is a spirituall substance mooving it sel [...] by harmonicall number. Aristotle saith, that the soule is the continuall act or mooving of a naturall and instrumental bodie, and may have life. Or else, according to others, it is the light of the substance, and in perpetuall motion. They divide it likewise diversly, and make many parts thereof. The soule (as Pythagoras said) is compounded of understanding, The diuision of the soule. knowledge, opinion and sense, from which things all knowledge and Arts proceede, and of which man is called reasonable, that is, apt to discourse by reason. Plato saith, that there are three vertues in the soule belonging to knowledge & understanding, which for this cause are Plato maketh sixe parts of the soole. called cognitive or knowing vertues: namely, reason, understanding and phantasie. Vnto which three others are answerable appertaining to appetite: namely Will, whose office is to desire that which understanding and reason propound unto it: Choler or Anger, which fol­loweth that, which reason and phantasie offer vnto it: and Concupiscence, which apprehen­deth whatsoeuer phantasie and sence obiect vnto it. Aristotle maketh another distinction of Aristotle, di­uideth it into two parts. the soule, saying that one part of it is voide of reason in itselfe, and yet may bee guided by reason that the other part is of it selfe partaker of reason. And in another place this Philosopher saith, that there are three things from whence humane actions proceede, namely sence, vnderstanding and appetite. Many others both ancient and late writers make Foure parts of the soule. foure parts of the soule: Vnderstanding, reason, anger, and desire. The vnderstanding lif­teth the soule vp to heauen to the contemplation of diuine and intellectuall things. Rea­son guideth the soule by prudence in all her functions. Anger is ruled and moderated by the vertue of magnanimitie: and desire is gouerned by temperance. Of these a very har­monicall iustice is framed, which giueth to euery part of the soule that which belongeth vnto it. But the most sensible, common and true opinion, which the wisest amongst the Philoso­phers The best di­uision of the soule. had of the soule, is that which diuideth it into two parts onely, vnder which all the rest are comprised: the one being spirituall and intelligible, weere the discourse of reason is: the o­ther brutish, which is the sensuall will, of itselfe wandring and disordered, where all motions contrary to reason, and all euill desires haue their dwelling. Amongst all the philosophicall discourses of the soule, written by these great personages, this error is very great, when they attribute such a strength & power to reason (which they say is resident in the soule as a lampe to guide the vnderstanding, and as a queene to moderate the will) as that by it alone a man may well and and iustly gouerne himselfe. Now although we know that this reason of man is is of itselfe, wholy depraued & corrupted, yet we may say well ynough, that the soule, which spirit & life, canot be diuided, being imortal: because whatsoeuer is diuided, dissolueth & par­teth asunder, & whatsoeuer is dissolued, perisheth. Neuertheles it may be said to be cōpunded & made subiect (during the coniunction therof with the body) to these two principall parts, of Vnderstanding and Will. The vnderstanding serueth to conceiue & cōprehend al things pro­pounded The soule cannot be di­uided [...] to two parts. vnto vs and to discerne & iudge what we ought either to approue & allow or what refuse & reiect. The will is that which executeth & bringeth to effect, whatsoeuer the vnder­standing iudgeth to be good, & cōtrariwise flieth frō that which it reproueth & condēneth. [Page 11] And herein we agree with the Philosophers, that the understanding, under which we com­prehend the sence, is as the governor and captaine of the soule, and that the will dependeth of it. But withall we saie, that both the one and the other are so corrupted and altered from Both parts of the soule are corrupted. their nature, (the understanding being obscured and dimmed with the clouds of darknes, by reason of the first mans sin descended upon al his posteritie through here detarie and natu­rall filthinesse, and the will in such sort corrupted by this disobedience, and so weakened and made feeble to all goodnes) that if there be none other guide comming from above to teach the understanding, and to direct and leade the will, I meane regeneration by the spirit of God, both of them cannot but do evill, drawing the soule with them to vtter ruine and per­dition, by causing her to consent to the law of hir members, which are the bodie and flesh, Rom. 7. 23. ful of ignorance, of obscure darknesse, of frowardnesse, miserie, calamitie, ignominie, shame, death, and condemnation. Notwithstanding, if in the corruptible, heavie, and grosse lumpe of the body, within which the soule is contained, we found matter of praise and of the con­templation of heavenly things, what shall we say of that which is immortall, which in a mo­ment in hit discourses and cogitations, goeth through the whole heaven, compasseth the The proper­ties of the soule. earth about, saileth all ouer the sea, without which the body mooveth not at all, and all the beautie thereof turneth suddenly into putrefaction? This onely can make a man happy both in this and in the other life, by reason of the treasures of wisedome, the understanding wher­of is proper unto it: yea this is the onelie instrument whereby a man may behold the diuine nature. This is invisible, and cannot be perceived by any naturall sence: this is contem­plative and active at one and the same time: this beholdeth uniuersall things, and practiseth particulars, understanding the one, and feeling the other. This hath for the actions and o­perations The actions of the soule. of hit essence and nature, Will, Iudgement, Sense, Conceiving, Thought, Spirit, Imaginnation, Memorie, Vnderstanding and Reason: and for hit incomparable beauty, shee hath Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude and iustice, without which the excellent order of all The beautie of the soule. humane things would be changed into disorder and confusion. This is that moreover, which being illuminated with wisedome, bringeth forth the fruits of love, ioy, peace, long-suffering, gentlenes, goodnes, faith, meeknes, temperancy. Briefly, to conclude our present speech, wee Gal. 5. 22. 23. may well say that the soule is so great and divine a thing, that it is a very hard matter to com­prehend it by reason, but altogether incomprehensible by the outward sence: and that all mans felicitie, as well present as to come, dependeth of the soule, when, being regenerated (as hath beene said) and made free and voide of all wicked perturbations (as neere as the nature of man can approch to perfection) her humane contentation and delight is onely in vertue, The true de­light of the sence. and in the hope and certaine expectation of a more sound and perfect vertue, by the renuing and changing of this mortall life into that which is immortall and most blessed: as S. Paul exhorteth vs hereunto, saying: Let vs reioyce in the Lord: both because our names are writ­ten in heauen (as Christ saith) and that our modesty, meeknes and goodnes may be knowne Phil. 4. 4. Luk. 10. 20. to all men. Moreouer let vs learne that in the wonderfull composition, coniunction and dis­position of the soule & body, there is matter wherby to draw man greatly to the consideratiō ▪ of the chiefe end, for which he was first placed in the world, namely, to glorifie his Creator in godlines, holinesse and religion. He ought therefore both to serue him with all the parts of How a man ought to vse both body and soule. his body, not abusing them in any sort, but keeping them pure and cleane, to be made mem­bers of the glorious body of his eternall Sonne in the resurrection, and also to praise and glo­rifie him with all the gifts and graces of his soule, not defiling it with vncleanenesse and vice, that she may, by the same diuine grace, returne vnto the full fruition of that most happy es­sence and nature from whence she had her being. In the meane while let vs learne, that as the body vseth many instruments whereof it is compounded, and which are proper vnto it, so the soule, being much more noble, excellent and diuine, ought to vse the body and all the parts thereof: and that the soule is the organ and instrument of God whereby hee worketh in vs and lifteth vs vp to the contemplation of his diuine nature.

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

ONe of the ancient Philosophers vsed to say, that no liuing creature was worse to man than man himselfe, because, albeit he hath dominion ouer all things, yet Nothing worse to man than man himselfe. he cannot rule himselfe, nor his desires. Experience causeth vs both too much to know the truth of this saying. For who can doubt in any sort hereof, seeing blessed S. Paul himselfe confesseth, that he did not the good things which he would, but the euill which he Rom. 7. 18. 19 [Page 12] would not, and that in his flesh there dwelt no goodnes? So undoubtedly we have both bo­die and soule compassed about with so many pernicious passions, that it is very hard, yea There is no good thing in the flesh of man. altogether impossible, that what good thing soever is in us should not faint and sinke under their heavie weight without a speciall and divine grace.

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

The change which this divine Philosopher meant (if I be not deceived) hath re­lation principally to the conditions of the soule, which, being filled with infinite perturbati­ons, fastened in the midst of it with the naile of pleasure and griefe, is carried away with in­constancie and uncertaintie into a streame of troublesome passions, which if they be not cut Pleasure and griefe the cause of pas­sions. off and maistered by reason, draw a man into utter destruction. But give us to understand (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 evils, which the desire of pleasure and feare of griefe, ingraven in the most secret parts of our soule by our first corruption, bring to man, this is the greatest and most pernicious, that they make sensible things more evident and plaine unto him than things intelligible, and constraine the understanding to iudge more by passion than by reason. For using, through the sense of pleasure or travell, to attend the erronious un­certaintie, and mutable nature of the bodie, as to that which is subsisting and subject to sight, he remaineth blinde, and loseth all knowledge of that which truly is and subsisteth, namely, of the light of the soule, which is divine and immortall. Moreover, applying himselfe wholly to the sensuall and unreasonable will, which is that part of the soule that proceedeth of the corruption thereof, he laboureth with all his might to quench and choke that weake instinct of the soule, which aspireth unto the true Good, from whence she perceiveth hir selfe to have fallen. And this he doth with such force and power, that if God strengthen not the soule, and reason the divine guide, accompanie hir not, without doubt she yeeldeth to such mightie ene­mies: and then (as we haue said) staying himselfe wholly in things subject to sight, he appea­reth too carefull and curious in seeking to decke that, which belongeth to the bodie: but as for the soule (whereof all humane felicitie dependeth) because she is invisible, and not seene of him, it is the least of his cares to furnish hir with that which she seeketh & desireth, and which Man is more carefull of his body than of his soule. is necessary for hir. Whereupon in the end it commeth to passe that the least overthwarts and discommodities of his flesh seeme very grievous and burdensome to a man, but as for the in­curable diseases, which overwhelme his soule, he doth not so much as feele them. Now to the end we may understand more particularly that which is here propounded unto us, wee 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 necessary passions thereof, albeit we will intreate of the passions of the soule, as of our chiefe matter subiect. Con­cerning the maladies and evill dispositions of the bodie, one Hippocrates, one Galene, 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 belong to the cause of our assembly, I will content my selfe to speake these few words by the way, that we ought to take everie bodily infirmitie as a fatherly cha­stisment The end, cause, and re­medy of bo­dily diseases. of our sins, and as a necessary meane to awaken us, to warne us of our dutie, and to keepe us in awe. Besides, one principall cause of all bodily diseases, proceedeth ordinarily from vices, which are the proper inheritance of man, and with which wee defile ourselves continually. Therefore if we heale our soules, we may cure ourselves of the most of them: and as for others, which come by defect of nature, or by some other hidden cause, we have the counsell and helpe of Physitions, whom willingly and diligently we seeke after. There are besides these, certaine naturall and necessary passions in the body, properly belonging Naturall passions. unto it, even from the first creation thereof, which are not to bee condemned, neither can be taken away, but with the abolishing of mans nature: as the desire of drinking, eating, slee­ping, and such like, which onely by the direction of reason are to be freed from all superfluity. [Page 13] But it standeth otherwise with the diseases and passions of the soule, deriued from our first corruption, and driuen forward by sin, being plentifull and rich, which without comparison are farre more dangerous than those of the bodie, more hard to be perceiued and knowne, more headstrong and vneasie to cure, and which is worse, man is very slothfull in seeking out a remedy for them. And for the most part thinking that he hath found some remedy, through want of skill and 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 feuer. But first wee will generally define this word, Passion, according to the opinion of those philosophers, who were The definiti­on of passion. endued with greatest light. Passion is euery naturall and actuall motion in the soule. This mo­tion is of two sorts: the one weake, good and holy, aspiring and reioycing in that which is truely good: the other very strong, euill and pernicious, couering 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 proceede 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 to the truth, we may comprehend and diuide them all into two principall kinds. The first kinde shall be that which we beleeue by faith: the other according The diuision of passions. to our opinions and affections. Vnder the first wee comprehend that which euery one be­leeueth, thinketh, and desireth, concerning diuine and heauenly things, as of true righte­ousnesse, of the immortalitie of the second life, and of the iudgement to come. Vnder o­pinions and affections is comprehended whatsoeuer respecteth and concerneth earthly things, this life, manners, gouernment of a houshold, of a common-wealth, and generally all 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 the diuine nature imprinted in All men haue naturally a desire of hap­pinesse. euery soule, which after a sort mooueth man to aspire vnto, and to desire the true and soue­raigne good, and which, being more powerfull, and of greater efficacie in some than in others, causeth the better sort to delight also in the same good. Neuerthelesse it is proper to euery mans vnderstanding, not to hold a steadfast and sure way in seeking out the truth, but No man by nature can find out the right way that leadeth to happinesse. The word of God sheweth vs the right way to happi­nesse. to wander aside into diuers errors (as a blinde man that walketh in darkenesse) 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 end we be not of this number, we ought to hold fast to the infallible rule of the holy Scriptures: which gift we are to aske, hope, waite, 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 kinde of our passions, proper­ly called perturbations according to the philosophers, from whence all the euils and miseries Of the per­turbations of the soule. of mankind proceede, and whereof wee minde chiefely to speake, they are but affections and inclinations, which come from our will, corrupted by the prouocations and allurements of the flesh, and which wholly resist the diuine nature of the reasonable part of the soule, faste­ning it to the bodie (as Plato saith) with the naile of pleasure. Which passions the minde of man commonly beholdeth cleerely enough, when it applieth it selfe thereunto, if it bee not altogether peruerted and depraued: yea by the grace and helpe of God, the minde 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 it. And although the passion bee The scope of our passions. contrarie to reason, and haue (for her 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, master and compell all passions in such sort, that they shall take no effect, and also bring to passe, that whatsoeuer is rashly desired, shall bee 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 wholly 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 philosophers doe learnedly teach vs. Which thing as it The ancient heathen may arise vp in iudgement a­gainst many Christians in these daies. ought to cause many at this day to bee ashamed, who vaunt themselues of the name of Christians, so it condemneth them in a fault not to bee excused before the iust iudge­ment of God, because those men, being destitute of the perfect knowledge of God, which they say they haue, farre excelled and surpassed them in the brideling, ouercomming and [Page 14] killing of so many pestiferous passions as compasse the soule about, as we may handle else­where, and see examples thereof worthy of eternall remembrance, when wee shall discourse particularly of vertues and vices. In the meane while we may learne of Cicero (the father of latine eloquence, whose skill in ioyning philosophy with the art of Rhetorike, was excellent, and who in my iudgement handleth this our present matter more profitably than any other of the ancient) that all the aboue named euill passions are perturbations, which if they be not mastered by reason, depriue man of the soueraigne good of the soule, which consisteth in the tranquillity thereof. Moreouer he saith, that through ignorance and basenes of minde, they proceed onely of the opinion of good or euill, either present or to come, which we imagine The originall nature, and ef­fects of per­turbations. 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 carried away with a vehe­ment desire or couering 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 and sinnes All perturba­tions are con­tained vnder these foure heads, Desire Ioy, Feare, Griefe. 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 burdensome, and so to seeke after and to desire another. But as fearefull men, (saith Plutarke that excellent Philosopher, and schoolemaster to that good Traian) and they that are at sea, subiect to casting, thinking they shall be better in one place than in another, goe from the sterne to the stem, then to the bot­tome An excellent comparison. of the shippe, afterward to the highest part, from thence goe into the skiph, and in the end returne into the shippe, without any amendment of their euill, because they carry alwaies about with them both feare and griefe: so the alteration of life, and of worldly conditions and estates into others, doth not purge, but rather increase the perturbations and diseases of the soule, if first the cause of them, I meane ignorance of things, and the imperfection of rea­son, be not taken out of it. These are the mischiefs, which trouble both rich and poore: these are the miseries, which waite vpon great and small, bond and free, yong and old. Thus is the spirit of sicke persons vexed, and that continually. One while the wife is troublesome, the Phi­sition The cause of the diseases of the soule. vnskilfull, the bed vneasie, the friend that visiteth importunate, he which visiteth not proud: but being once healed, they finde that whatsoeuer was yrksome vnto them before, now pleaseth them. But that which health doth to the diseased body, the same thing reason Reason is the medicine of the soule. 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 body, because the most hurt­full passions of the body, are first ingendred of those in the soule. For the body 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 mightily all corporall passions and is no­thing at all, or very little made partaker of their euill dispositions: whereas on the other side the body is constrained to all 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 body hinder not the soule from effecting all good and 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 very few of them, that were corrupted and defiled in soule. And therfore Democritus said very well, that it was much more conuenient and meete for a man to haue care of his soule, than of his body: For if the soule be perfect, she correcteth the naughti­nes A sonnd soule correcteth the naughti­nes of the body▪ of the body, whereas the strength and 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 bee perceiued and knowne, and consequently more vneasie to be cured, who doth not easily feele it, being grieued but in the least part of his body? yea what griefe doth not of it selfe suf­ficiently appeare, either by some inflammation, or by the colour of the visage, or by some o­ther outward shew? But how many do we see, whose soules are extremely sicke, spoiled and corrupted with vice, and yet being depriued of all feeling, they thinke themselues to bee the soundest men in the world? And that they are headstrong and vneasie to be cured, we may know by this, that the body is in the end so far forth obedient, that if reason be vrged vpon it, The p [...]ssions of the soule are head­strong and h [...]d to be cured. she forceth euen the naturall passions of hunger, thirst and sleepe, and findeth out besides a thousand remedies to helpe your selfe. But whē the passions of the soule haue once bin groun­ded and rooted within it, without resistance they haue such pearcing pricks, that oftentimes [Page 15] they presse and 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 body, as wee 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, hee encreaseth his euill, and falleth into those inconueniences, which he desired most of all to eschew. Example The Passions of men com­monly bring foorth effects contrarie to their purposes hereof we haue in those, who being led onely with a desire of glory and honour, obtaine no­thing by their doings, if we consider them well, but shame and dishonour. The like may bee said of all the other diseases of the soule, which commonly are accompanied and followed with effects contrarie to their ends and desires. What remaineth then, seeing we perceiue the dangers to be great, which follow all 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 a diuine guide, and wisedome inspired from aboue) so strong and powerfull, Reason, is wisedome in­spired from heauen. that it may, be able by the grace of God, to resist all the assaults of vnbridled desires, and the froward affections of this flesh? But behold yet a better 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 labour by good and sound reasons to ouerthrow and confound these false and erronious opinions, perswading our selues that A remedy a­gainst passiōs. whatsoeuer wee imagine to be good or euill in the world (which is the cause that our minds are depriued of their rest and quietnesse) is indeed neither good nor euill, and so consequent­ly, that it ought not in any sort to breede 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 proceede from all the passions of the soule. Wee will here by the way note their force, hauing learned out of Histories, that they haue often­times set vpon the hearts of men in such violent manner, that some through desire, some for ioy: these by feare, others by griefe haue ended their liues. Diagoras the Rhodian, and Chilon, hearing Examples of death by ouer great ioy. Herennus di­ed for feare. that their children had wonne the prize at the games of Olympus, felt such a motion in them of the spleene, that they were stifled with laughter. Herennus the Sicilian, as he was led priso­ner, for being a copartner in the conspiracy of Caius Gracchus, was so astonished, and oppressed with the feare of his iudgement to come, that hee fell downe starke dead at the entry of the prison. Plautius the Numidian looking vpon his dead wife tooke it so to heart, that casting Plautius through griefe. The effects of desire. 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 carrieth away the minds of men, or that commeth neerer to their destruction, than this foolish passion in dange­reth their life. Galeace of Mantua saying oftentimes to a damsell of Pauia whom hee courted and made loue to, that he would suffer a thousand deaths for her seruice, if it were possible, was in iest commaunded by her to cast himselfe into the riuer: which hee presently perfor­med, and was drowned. But we shall 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 hee will not graunt vertue to bee a good of the soule. There is none so impudent whose conscience would not compell him to confesse the same. And yet no man is carried away with too great a desire of vertue, neither doth any reioyce therein too excessiuely, after hee hath obtained it. Likewise there is none Vertue is al­waies without excessiue pas­sion. that feareth so vehemently, least he cannot obtaine her, 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 become vertuous, except he be very desirous to be so indeed: & none can haue this desire, except rea­son, guided with heauenly light, & doing her duty in him, had wrought the same: but reason thus qualified must needs be an enemy to al perturbatiōs. Thus we see that no man, through feare of not being vertuous, is ouertaken with perturbatiōs. The like may bee said of sorrow. For albeit a man be grieued because he is not vertuous, yet his minde is not excessiuely dis­quieted, seing this desire is neuer in him, but when reason cōmandeth according to her diuine nature, by causing vs to know ourselues. Wherby we clearly perceiue that perturbatiōs neuer arise in vs for that which is the true good of the soule, but onely for that which fooles do falsly call good, & that which the Philosophers call the goods of the body & of fortune. But these The nature of worldly goods. being naturally subiect to corruption, & as we haue already said, inseparably accōpanied with vehement desire, vnbridled ioy, feare and griefe, (as we shall see more at large when we handle [Page 16] them hereafter) are vnworthy to be cared for by the immortall soule, neither may or ought they to be called goods because they are possessed, much lesse euills, when they are wanting. If we bee thus perswaded, wee shall bee masters ouer all perturbations, not esteeming that which is mortall and fraile, worthy to bee 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 to dis­cerne good from euill, will 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 may be taken away. And thus shall we be taught to de­sire and do that, which wee ought, and euery contrary inclination shall be weakened, not ta­king effects, and the soule shall fulfill her duty, in commanding absolutely, ouer all the pro­uocations of the flesh, and in quenching them so soone as they do appeare. For as they that haue healthfull bodies (saith Epictetus) easily endure 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. A wise soule gouerneth the affections What it is to liue happily. 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 lusts & disordered affections, and lastly, not suffering our selues (being drunken withsugred poison) to bee ouercome and bound vnder the yoke of pleasure. This shall we learne by the study of Philosophie, which is a certaine remedy, 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 Olympian games, where many carried with glory and ambition pre­sented themselues at those exercises, that they might beare away the crowne and prize: others led with couetousnesse, came thither to trafficke, selling and buying merchandise: and a third sort of men, more praise worthy and noble, came thither also, who sought not after vaine glory, or couetousnesse, but carefully marked whatsoeuer was done in that assembly, that they might reape profit and commodity thereby. So men comming into the world, as into a faire or mart, some giue themselues to ambition and vaine-glory, others The cōmon drift of men. to couetousnes, and to heape vp treasure: But they that are of a more diuine nature, seque­string themselues from worldly affaires, meditate vpon heauenly things, and thereupon fasten the scope of their intents, desires and wils. Diuine Plato, ioyning action with contemplation in a happy and perfect life, saith, that next to the glory of God we must haue regard to do that which is profitable for the Common-wealth. Which excellent opinions of these two Philo­sophers, What men ought chiefe to leuell at. The worke of Philosophy. are comprehended vnder this onely word of practising philosophy, and that arte which giueth vs the precepts thereof, is called Philosophy, whose worke and effect (as Seneca Ner [...]es schoole-master said very well) is to finde out, and to know the truth both of diuine and humane things. Iustice, piety, religion, yea the whole company of vertues neuer depart from her. She teacheth vs to adore and serue God, and to loue man.

Surely Philosophy is the mother and continuall spring of all good knowledge. For she teacheth vs to know good and euill: she prouoketh vs by the vprightnes of reason to flye this thing, and to do that, causing vs to liue as wise and prudent men, ioyfull and contented in euery estate, wherupon ariseth the sound rest of the spirit. Moreouer, the excellency of this knowledge (as Plato saith) is so great, that it is but one and the same thing to be a king, a go­uernour of a Common-wealth and a Philosopher: because the royall, ciuill, and Philosophi­call arts are compounded of the same matter, namely, of iustice and prudence.

Philosophie cannot sufficiently be praised, seeing that whosoeuer obeieth her may passe his daies without tediousnesse. For the true scope thereof is to seeke to glorifie The proper end and scope of Philoso­phie. God in his wonderfull workes, and to teach a man how to liue well, and to helpe his neigh­bour. Which perfection cannot be attained vnto without a speciall and heauenly grace, and that after the knowledge of the fountaine from whence all goodnesse commeth. And this hath beene the cause, as I thinke, why so many great Philosophers, knowing certainly where­in the true and perfect felicity of man liuing in this world consisteth, namely, in the tranquil­litie why the Phi­losophers could neuer attaine to the soueraigne good in this life. of the soule, and labouring continually to roote out, or at least to weaken all the perturba­tions thereof, by the vprightnes of reason, and to engraffe vertue therein, yet could neuer perfectly enioy this soueraigne good, which they so much desired, because they were igno­rant of the fountaine from whence it proceeded, which is, the grace and mercie of our God [Page 17] in his beloued Sonne. And albeit their life was maruellously quiet, and voide of many vices, yet it standeth vs in hand (if we be Christians indeed) to leade, without comparison, a more happy, contented, and excellent life, and to exercise philosophy 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 hearken then what hee will say.

That which presently offereth it selfe to be handled, requireth truly a farre better spirit than mine. Notwithstanding, that I seeme not to shun those lists, into which we entred willingly, I purpose according to my weake iudgement, to tell you first what Philosophy is, what good commeth vnto vs by it, the meanes to learne it, and to profite thereby, how a man may know he hath it, and how he must shew sorth the fruits thereof: and lastly, how we ought to contemne al things that we may obtaine it, after the example of some ancient Sages, whom we will alleadge. Philosophy is a loue or desire of wisedome. Or otherwise, it is a profession, The definiti­on of Philo­sophie. study, 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 Philosophy, which bee­ing diuided as well by him, as by other ancient Philosophers into diuers and sundry arts and sciences, we may distinguish into two generall parts onely: into the Contemplatiue part, and into the Morall, which somecall Actiue. We will make two kinds of the Contemplatiue, Diuine, and The diuision of Philoso­phie. Naturall. As touching the diuine part, it is that highest and most vnchangeable knowledge, whereunto we must wholly refer the end of our beeing, and the scope of all our purposes, studies, and actions, namely, to be able to know and to glorifie the Creator and preseruer of the Of diuine Philosophie. 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 endea­uour not to be ignorant, no not of any point 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 heauen­ly How we must behaue our selues in sear­ching out the secrets of God. mysteries, they ought to desire the vnderstanding of them so farre forth 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 honour 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 Phi­losophy consisteth chiefly in the Mathematicks, which are diuided into many parts and parti­cular Of naturall Philosophie. sciences, of which the most of them seeme to many not greatly necessarie, as that which intreateth of the nature of the heauens, of the sunne, of the moone, of their motions, mea­sures, and of the naturall causes of all things. Which oftentimes serueth rather to content the curiositie of hawtie spirits, than to make them better, insomuch that 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 doe prooue vnto vs. Neuerthelesse, there are some parts of the Mathematicks necessarie to bee knowne, for the great profit that may come vnto vs by them, as Physicke, Arithmetike, Geometrie, and others. But the subiect of our Academie will not suffer vs to handle all these sciences at this present. I will say thus much onely by the way, that wee ought so to rule and direct the profession of naturall philosophie, that we vse it not before we haue beene well and sufficiently instructed in the feare and knowledge of God, and of all things that concerne a good and happie life, and that vaine glorie should not bee the end of that A rule to be kept in natu­rall Philoso­phy. studie, but that it should rauish vs more and more in the contemplation of the workes of that great maister-builder of the whole frame, to the end to glorifie him in greater measure. And yet wee must aboue all things beware, that wee fall not into that curse of the Prophet, which hee denounceth against those, who being destitute of Gods grace by reason of their sinnes, giue themselues to sooth-saying, and to seeke after sorcerers, magi­tians, and calculators of natiuities, which things wee see are too common amongst vs: in­somuch Against sor­cereis, magi­tians, and birthgazers. that hee 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 infidels and Atheists, and referre our euents and issues (which albeit wee knew before, yet could wee not assure our selues [Page 18] that we should auoide 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 thinke Socrates the The issue of all things is to be referred to the proui­dence of God. Of morall philosophie. wife man meant to speake, when hesaid, that Philosophie consisteth not in learning many things, or in medling with many arts, but in the perfect knowledge of iustice, prudence, and all other morall vertues. He addeth further, that this philosophie worketh two things in our minde, the one in purging it as well of perturbations, as offalse opinions, and the other, in causing it to returne into the right way by reasons and exhortations drawne from earthly and sensible formes to such as are spirituall, which are inclosed within our soules, that by them wee may be led to God, the Idea and patterne of all good. This is that morall Philosophie, which God is the Idea of all good. we haue vndertaken to handle in all our discourses, & which is so necessarie for the life of man. For as the vntamed horse by reason of his ouergreat wildnes is not profitable for any thing: so he that is drawne away by his affections (which philosophy onely can moderate) is vn­profitable and vnworthy of all company, and of all gouernment either publike or priuate. It is philosophy that teacheth vs the doctrine of 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 leade a life agreeable to doctrine: shew­ing The benefite that com­meth by phi­losophie. vnto vs what true honesty is, what perfect beautie, and what in truth and in deede is profi­table. Sheerepresseth all euill passions and perturbations of the soule, appeaseth the vnsatiable desires thereof, deliuereth it from all feare, and from all earthly carefulnesse, filling it with tranquilitie, constancie, assurance, magnanimitie, and sufficiencie. Shee purgeth pride, pre­sumption, ambition, choler, reuenge, couetousnesse, iniustice, and in a word, shee 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 manners and behauiour of a man according to the patterne 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, superiours, and lawes: and taught how much we ought to loue & honor one another, our wiues, our children, our brethren, yea all those that are not of our blood. Shee it is (saith Ci­cero) that containeth the discipline of vertue, of dutie, and of good life: shee is also the art and mistresse of life. Briefly, by philosophie we are taught that perfection, which concerneth al the actions and dealings of men, euen from those who are placed in the gouernment of monar­chies, Philosophie is the art of life. kingdomes, common-wealths, cities, and nations, vnto the least that liueth vnder them. For shee teacheth the one sort how to command well, and the other to obey well, & to main­taine themselues vpright in euery estate and condition of life, in the alteration either of pros­peritie or of aduersitie, yea euen to shew themselues constant in contrarie things, by shunning pleasure and sustaining griefe, by despising glorie and enduring contempt. And to this effect, one of the wise Hebrew interpreters, being demanded by Ptolemie Philadelphus 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 contemne all vanities What it is to play the phi­losopher. 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 how we may learne it, that wee may Where and how Philoso­phie is lear­ned. 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 ioyned 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. Moreouer, it is so well and perfectly taught vs in the word of God, that nothing more may be added or desired. Neuerthelesse the doctrine True Philo­sophie is to be found in the word of God. ioyned with examples, which we may draw out of histories, and from the liues of wise men, by things that haue beene done in deede, is of great force and efficacie in the soule to draw and moue it with delight to seeke to resemble them. For when a man, naturally desirous of glo­rie and immortalitie, shall see, that philosophers and vertuous men, who were so much com­mended and renowned, are as it were reuiued againe in these daies, after so many ages past, he will bethereby awakened and pricked forward by this ielousie of glorie, which by nature is in him, to desire and bring to passe all great matters worthie to beeremembred, to the end hee may deserue the like praise and commendation. Therefore wee shall reape no small profite hereby, yea it will be vnto vs as an entrie to a happie and holy life, and as a guide to sacred contemplations, if we earnestly imbrace and exercise our selues in the reading and studie of good authors, who teach vs the precepts of good life: to whome (as Alexander [Page 19] the Great said, speaking of his master Aristotle) we find ourselues no lesse bound and behold­ing, How much wee owe to good authors if we throughly taste their doctrine, than to our owne fathers (without offence vnto thē be it spoken) of whom we haue onely our life and beeing, But because the excellencie and highues of this part of Philosophie, called Morall (which is for the correction of life and man­ners) is such and so great, that the sound and perfect knowledge thereof is very hard, and see­ing that good beginning in al great matters are alwaies the difficultest part of them, we must lay a good ground of our enterprise, if we meane to attaine therunto, and then ascend vpward from one degree to another. The chiefest and most necessary foundation must be a perpetual and feruent loue of the truth, and of eternall things, ioyned with the separation of lies, and of founpation of al Philosophy The chiefe the desire of temporall things far from vs, Secondly, these particulars ere (as Plato saith) verie necessary for vs: a liuely and sharpe wit, a nature apt to contemplation, likewise graue, prompt hardie to execute, and prouident of publike commoditie. But aboue al things the knowledge Necessary points for a Philosopher. of the true God is in finitely necessary for him that will be a Philosopher, because that, as all things without the inioying 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 friuilous 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 instrncted (God willing) by the sequele of our discourses. Thirdly, We must learne al­waies. we must continue without ceasing the studie of this morall knowledge, as Cicero the father of eloquence doth familiarly teach vs, saying, that in our studies we are to vse some intermission onely for the recreation both of body and minde in all honest sort, but we must neuer leaue and forsake them altogether, Neither ought these intermissions to be of any long continu­ance, because vice alwaies wateheth to ouerrun vs so soone as we let our selues loose vnto idlenes, to the end to stir vs vp through the inticements of the flesh, to follow our naturall imperfections. Much lesse ought we, through presumption of our selues, and confidence in Against pre­sumption and selfe liking. our owne vertue and sufficiencie, altogether to forsake the profession of this studie, as they doe, who thinke themselues such great doctors, that nothing may be added to their know­ledge. Of these men we may truly saie, 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 yong or olde (as Socrates said) we shal alwaies finde what to learne, and be occasioned to diminish all vaine opinion of our selues, seeing this is one of the most notable effects ther­of, to purge all pride and presumption. For as those vessels (saith Plutarke) wherein we put li­quor, A fit compa­rison. do let out the voide aire according to the measure of that which goeth in: so when the soule fiilleth it selfe with certaine and true goods, vanity 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 arrogancie he loseth. Wee 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 Antisthenes an example of great loue to knowledge he was verie 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 twise a day aboue three miles on foot to heare Socrates. 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 Plato through Egypt, and after into Italie, to heare and conferre with the best hest learned of those countries, and to learne 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 Ethnikes (ex­cept Socrates) euer came neere vnto his diuine knowledge of eternall things. We see then how we must be the disciples of Philosophie all our life time. Now as there is nothing, wherein a master builder reioiceth so much, after he hath laide a good foundation of some great worke, as to see the progresse and proceeding thereof: so after we haue laide ou [...] first happy resoluti­on (as is said) of attaining to the knowledge of Philosophie, and haue tasted of the first prin­ciples of hir wholsome fruites, it will turne to our great contentation, and occasion of procee­ding, when we see and perceiue that we profit and amend by this study. This will appeare How we may know whether we profit in Philosophie. vnto vs by the cpnsideration of our present workes and actions, being compared with the former, and by the diminishing and quallifying of our wicked passions and naturall inclina­tions, which the profession of this science will vndoubtedly worke in vs. For [...] we take it for a good signe when a disease remooueth into some parts of least account: so w [...]en our vices are changed into more meeke and soft passions, it putteth vs in hope that wee shall whol­ly A good way to ouercome great faults. deface them afterward. Thē right and perfect way hereunto is to enter deepely into our [Page 20] selues, and to make a perfect and sound knowledge of our naturall, hurtfull, and most vehement inclinations by comparing one with another. Next, as a good and expert Phisi­ttion before he dealeth with dangerous diseases, beginneth 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 and abstaine from vnlawfull things. After we haue thus reformed our selues, we shall wholly forsake small imperfections (which will be easie for vs to doe) and make no more reckoning of little offences, as those which we shall auoid altogether. From thence we shal come to consider and to discouer better the nature and cause of our greater and more hurtfull passions, together with their vglinesse and deformitie. Then labouring to diminish their force by eschewing prudently the causes of them, and by cutting off one branch now, and then another, we shal in the end wonder 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 Whē we may be called Phi­losophers. humane frailtie aided by God, can (as I said before) attaine to perfection. Then may we truly call our selues Philosophers, when by our owne example we may make it knowne, that the life of man at all times, in all places, in all passions, and generally in all affaires receiueth the vse of Philosophie. Now after we haue well profited through so great diligence and watchful­nes, through such industrie of minde and continuall study, I meane after we are become bet­ter than we were before, by reason of the tranquilitie of our soules purged from perturbations, The perfecti­on of philo­sophy. we must be carefull that this our commoditie redound also to others, as the commandement of God and naturall dutie binde vs thereunto. Then (I say) we shall haue attained 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 itselfe, being ioyned with a happie expectation of heauen. But let vs note further for the last point of our discourse, (whereof I haue already briefely spoken) that one of the surest means, which we can take to come to a true knowledge The cōtempt of worldly goods neces­sary in a Phi­losopher. 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, vaineglory, worldly wealth, and other earthly goods, forasmuch as the desire of getting, keep­ing and increasing them is that which carrieth vs away most, & which hindereth euery other good and vertuous inclination. Therefore let vs freely forsake all such things, let vs with­draw our mindes from all by thoughts, and despise al earthly discommodities: yea let vs pati­ently sustaine al griefe, that we may yeeld our selues wholy to the study of philosophie, which is the cause of so many good things. Crates the The ban forsooke his patrimonie of eight ta­lents Crates. (which according to the common computation amounteth to foure thousand, eight hundred crownes) that beeing deliuered from the care of house keeping, and of guiding his Notable exā ­ples of loue to philosophy goods, he might follow the studie of Philosophy with great libertie. Anaxagoras for the same cause suffered his lands to lie wast, and after long study 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 Anaxagoras was the ornament of his minde, if he had giuen himselfe to gaine and to gather goods. Demo­critus Abderita, being very rich (as may be gathered by the feast which his father made to Democritus that innumerable armie of Xerxes who came into Graecia, which consisted, as Herodotus wri­teth, of more than two millians of fighting men gaue all his patrimonie to his countrey, reseruing to himselfe but a little summe of mony to liue withall, that he might haue the more leasure to study Philosophie, for which cause he went to dwel at Athens, Euclide, of the Euclide. towne of Megara, being very desirous to heare Socrates dwelling at Athens, betweene which two cities the warre was so cruell, that no Citizen of the one cittie durst be seene in the other, without ineuitable danger of death if he were knowne, had notwithstanding so great loue to wisedome, that although he were an Ethnike, and doubted of a second life, yet hee preferred the desire of knowledge before the care of his life, and being apparelled 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 Philosophy only teacheth vs to know our chiefe good breake of the day. Now to conclude our present treatise, wee will hold this, that onely phi­losophie can giue vs certaine knowledge, and teach vs how we may enioy in this life our onely and soueraigne good, which is the rest and tranquility of our soules. Yea shee is vnto vs in steade of a guide to lead vs to the eternall fruition of our supreme and euer-abiding [Page 21] good, which is promised, and purchased by the blood of the immaculate Lambe in that se­cond and most happy life. And, as Plato said, speaking by the mouth of Socrates, that they onely shall attaine to the kingdome of heauen with God, who end their daies in this life pur­ged by Philosophy, so shall it be by the vnspeakable loue of this eternall wisedome, that wee shall bee purged, cleansed, and saued. Yea through the expectation of this blessed felicitie wee may a great deale more perfectly than did all those great and ancient Philosophers, leade a contented, ioy full and quiet life, voide of all perturbations and feare, forasmuch 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 Philosophy) of the chiefe point of his iustice, namely of the beginning of all things and of their end, which the word of God teacheth vs together with the truth of that permanent happinesse of the soule, whereof they had but a shadow in their life. Hereof our Lord Iesus Christ himselfe hath left good and sure pledges in the depth of our hearts, saying that he gaue and left his peace with vs, his The true cause of ioy and tranquil­litie in a Chri­stian soule. peace (I say) in our soules, and not with the world. Therefore it appeareth sufficiently, that nothing is so much to be desired, whether wee regard profite to our selues, or seruice to the whole body and societie of our brethren and countrimen, as the study of Philosophy, 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, which is as much to What this word Philo­sopher mea­neth. say, as a louer of wisedome, there were three principall sects that contended together by general rules, but especially about the soue­raigne good and felicity of man: namely, the Academikes, the There were three chiefe sects of Phi­losophers. Peripatetiks, and the Stoiks. The best of them all, and they which came nearest to the knowledge of the truth were the Academiks, whose first authors were Socrates and Plato, who, as we heard yesterday, alwaies taught, that our true good consisteth in the tranquilitie of the soule, voide of all perturbations, and in stead of them adorned and enriched with all vertue, which is the proper substance and matter of Philosophie, and therefore called the onely permanent good of the soule.

I cannot but greatly commend this paradox of the Stoiks, that There is no good but vertue, nor euill but vice, which is the contrary 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 only is free and happy, yea although he were in Phalaris bull: and that The vicious man onely is a bond­man Who are hap­py, and who vnhappie. and vnhappy, albeit he had the riches of Craesus, the empire of Cyrus, and the glory of Alex­ander. For great callings are nothing where the minde is not content, and where the heart pricked with desire troubleth the tranquillitie of the soule.

Riches (saith Pythagoras) are no sure pillars, and glory is lesse certaine. Likewise beauty, and the disposition of the body, magistracies and honors are all of no force: but Pru­dence, Worldly goods are of no force. Magnanimitie and Iustice, are anchors of greatest stay, which cannot bee 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 toies 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 beene great amongst the learned, so that as well their diuers opinions, as their arguments, would stay vs here with too long a discourse, especially seeing they are vnnecessary for vs, who seeke only to be instructed in the truth. Now that we may attaine hereunto, and to the perfect vnder­standing of that matter, which is here propounded vnto vs, we will here set downe this Maxime, or principle, confessed of all the greatest and most ancient Philosophers, and agree­able to that truth, which is taught vs in the holy Scriptures, that, There are two sorts of goods, the one which is the last and, the other is the meanes to attaine thereunto. The first is the soueraigne, su­preame, Two sorts of goods. most perfect, and eternall good, which we respect and hope for in the immortalitie of the second life, when we shall enioy that true and absolute felicitie, which neither eye hath [Page 22] euer seene, nor eare heard, neither hath entred at any time into the heart of man. That which we call the meanes whereby we come to the first, is vertue onely, wherof we are now to speak and which is the proper effect of our regeneration by the Spirit of God dwelling in vs. First Vertue is the effect of regeneration. then let vs consider what vertue is, also the diuision, fountaine, incomparable excellencie, and inuincible force thereof, with those wonderfull effects which it worketh in him that posses­seth her: Wherein also we will see some notable examples of ancient men. Vertue (as the Philosophers say) is a disposition and power of the reasonable part of the soule, which bring­eth The definiti­on of vertue. into order and decencie the vnreasonable part, by causing it to propound a conuenient end to it owne affections and passions, wherby the soule abideth in a comely and decent ha­bite, executing that which ought to be done, according to reason. But to speake more briefely Vertue is a proportion and vprightnesse of life in al points agreeable to reason. The diuision thereof is altogether like to that of Philosophie. For they are so linked together, that it is all one to be vertuous, and to be a Philosopher, the one beeing the matter and substance of the other. Vertue therefore is diuided into Contemplatiue and into Morall. The eternall Wisdome by the operation of his spirit guideth and lifteth vp the contemplatiue vertue to her proper end, which is that happy and immutable knowledge, that concerneth the maiestie of God. This did Socrates call Religion, and the greatest vertue: saying further: that the contempt ther­of brought vpon men a cursed ignorance, and that no man ought to perswade himselfe, that Socrates cal­led religion. the greatest vertue. he could finde among the race of men any greater vertue than religion and piety towards God: whose honour is the foundatiō of euery good work, which if it be ouerthrown, the other parts are as soone dispersed as the pieces of a ruinous building. Yea religiō is not only the head of iustice and vertue, but also as it were the soule to giue vigor and strength vnto it. From this supreme science floweth prudence, which is a worke thereof, appointed to gouerne, rule, and The dutie of prudence. moderate by the meanes of morall vertue, the passions and affections of the vnreasonable part of the soule in all mediocritie, by cutting of all excesse and defect of those passions, and by moderating them betweene too little and too much, thereby to keepe men from erring. As for example, she holdeth a man within the limits of prowes and valure, lest he should cast away himselfe through rashnes of cowardlinesse: she causeth him wisely to vse liberalitie, be­cause he should not be spoiled by couetousnes, or fall into prodigality. 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. Whereby it appeareth sufficiently vnto vs, that the foundation 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 The foundation & spring of all vertue. care, study, 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 manner, of that excellent reason and wisedome, wherewith the eternall wisedome enricheth vs, that wee might know good and euill, prudence is ingendred, which is most necessary for the gouernment of earth­ly things (whereof we will intreate hereafter) and whereby man is enriched with morall ver­tue, as with an infallible rule of all his workes and actions, to the end that fullie enioying humane felicity, which consisteth in good manners, qualities and conditions of the soule, he may bring foorth the fruites and effects thereof to the profit of many. We say then, that all Wherein hu­mane happi­nes consisteth vertue consisteth in mediocrity, as vice doth in excesse, or in defect: in regard whereof he is in the midst, albeit in respect of her selfe. I meane of her perfect and absolute excellencie, she is extreme, and standeth not in neede 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 hee which heartily embraceth one part of it, is desirous of them al, 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 wherin she is, she bringeth foorth diuers effects, conforming her selfe in some sort to the manners, conditions, and naturall inclinations of those which possesse her. Hereof it commeth, that The gifts and graces of god are diuers in men. some are more apt & constant in some one vertue than others are, (for all cannot do al things) and that one practiseth it after one fashion, and another otherwise. Now it followeth, that I handle hereafter distinctly and in order, the plurality of vertues, with their severall proper­ties. But in the meane while, to speake generally of this pretious and inestimable riches, I [Page 23] meane of vertue, and of the great, worthy and wonderfull effects, which she bringeth forth in men, first, she is the only, proper and true good of the soule, that cannot by any accident The excellency & proper­ty of vertue. be violently taken and carried away. She alone maketh her possessor happie, causing him to finde euery kinde of life that is sweet, pleasant, and acceptable, contained in her. Vertue alone is the onely matter of rest and tranquilitie in the mind, being by reason purged of feare, of trouble, of worldly desire and ioy. Of his liuely fountaine spake Democritus, when he saide that ioy was ingendred in mens hearts, of the mediocrity of pleasure, and of a moderate and temperate harmonie of life. Vertue (said Thales) is the profitablest thing in the world, be­cause it maketh all other things profitable, by causing men to vse them well. Ye we may say further, that all other gifts and riches, remaine vnprofitable and hurtfull, without the orna­ment Euery thing is made profi­table through vertue. of vertue, Cicero prooueth by many goodly 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 happy, if he haue grace to know it, that he neede 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 euill, which necessi­ty of nature, or rather the ordinance of God bringeth vpon him. And where miseries are dou­bled, there vertue sheweth her effects most wonderfully, giuing vs thereby to vnderstand, that she consisteth in such things as are most rare and difficult. For which cause her strength 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 her enemies she shineth most gloriously. Only ver­tue Vertue com­pared to a tree. appeareth wonderfull to the minde, that is cloathed therewith, and keepeth it from co­uering that which others commonly worship, namely, great callings, riches, pleasures and glory. She despiseth the praise & flatterie of men, whereunto so many others make themselues, and remaineth alwaies free in her selfe, and free to euery one, without any other hope of re­ward, than to be accepted of God, and to effect things meete to be rewarded eternally in the The reward of vertue in the life to come is of the free mer­cy of God. next life by the liberalitie of God. If we compare worldly goods with vertue (calling that good which vsurpeth that name, and is subiect to corruption) first, as touching those which the Philosophers call the goods of fortune, and namely nobility, whereon at this day men stay so much, what is it but a good of our ancestors? Riches are easily lost: and as for the glo­ry of the greatest, yea of all principalitie, it is no lesse vncertaine. Concerning the goods of the body, beauty, and comelines is but a flower of small continuance: health which is so pre­cious, Comparison of worldly goods with vertue. soone changeth: strength is lost by infinite inconueniences. All bodily pleasure is vn­perfect, and followed of perturbations. But vertue is that onely diuine and immortall quality in vs, which (as Hesiodus saith) is a stable and sure possession both to the liuing and to the dead: ouer which, neither fortune, slander, sicknes, old age nor aduersity haue any power: and Nothing hath power ouer vertue. as for length of time, which diminisheth all things, it alwaies addeth somewhat to vertue, and encreaseth it. Al the other goods aboue rehearsed, are from without a man, working oftētimes destruction to their possessors, and commonly comming to those that are least worthy of them. Onely vertue is the proper inheritance of the soule, worketh the happines thereof, and maketh a man alwaies worthie of true glory and praise, causing him to be honoured, and e­steemed euen of his enemies. In a word, it cannot (as Cicero saith) be vttered how much ver­tue Vertue can­not be valued surmounteth al other things in glory and excellencie. And if all other goods of men (saith Socrates) were laid by themselues, 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, and vertue into the o­ther, this would ascend vp to heauen, and the other would touch the earth. Moreouer, he wrot foure and fiftie bookes or dialogues, which did all intreate of vertue, out of which men may Why Plato in his workes bringeth in Socrates speaking. reape infinite profite, especially out of those that intreate of a common-wealth, or of lawes. In these bookes that he might not seeme vngratefull toward his master Socrates, who would ne­uer write any thing, he bringeth him in rehearsing that, which at other times hee had heard him speake. Stilpo the Philosopher, being in his citie of Megara when it was taken and spoiled by Demetrius king of Macedonia, who fauouring him, asked if he had lost any thing that was his, made this answere: No sir, (quoth he) for warre cannot spoile vertue. And indeed this is the riches wherewith we ought to furnish our selues, which can swim with vs in a shipwrack, and which caused Socrates to answere thus to one, who asked him what his opinion was of Wherin the happines and greatnes of a king consist­eth. the great king, whether he did not thinke him very happie. I cannot tell (quoth he) how he is prouided of knowledge and vertue. Who may iustly doubt whether vertue alone is able to make a man happy, seeing it doth not onely make him wise, prudent, iust and good, both in [Page 24] his doings and sayings, but also commonly procureth vnto him honour, glory and authori­ty? It was through her 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 What it was that procured to Alexander the surname of Great. sumptuous magnificence, by his hardinesse and constancie in fight, by his continency in af­fections, by his bounty and clemency in victorie, and by all other vertues, wherein he surpas­sed all that liued in his time. Yea the fame and renowne of his vertues procured a greater number of cities, countries and men to submit themselues willingly vnto him without any blowe-striking than did the power of his army. Wherein this sentence of Socrates is found true, that whole troupes of souldiers, and heapes of riches, are constrained of tentimes to obey vertue. What said Darius, Monarch of the Persians, when he vnderstood both what continency Alexander his enemie had vsed towards his wife, who being exceeding beautifull was taken prisoner by him, and what humanity hee shewed afterward in her funerals when she was dead? The Per­sians (quoth he) neede not to be discouraged, neither thinke themselues cowards and effe­minate because they were vanquished of such an aduersarie. Neither do I demand any victo­ry of the gods, but to surmount Alexander in bountifulnesse. And if it be so that I must fall, I beseech them to suffer none but him to sit in the royall throne and seate of Cyrus. Will wee haue testimonies of the inuincible force of vertue, and of her powerfull and praise-worthy effects in most sinister and vntoward matters? Histories declare vnto vs, that amongst all the vertuous acts, which procured praise and renowne to the men of old time, those were the notablest and most commended, which they shewed forth at such time as fortune seemed to haue wholly beaten them downe. Pelopidas, generall Captaine of the Thebans, who deli­uered Examples of the force and effects of ver­tue in aduersi­tie. Pelopidas. them from the bondage of the Lacedemonians, 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, than 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 constancy he recomforted the inhabitants of the towne, that came to visite him, exhorting them to bee of good courage, seeing the houre was come, wherein the tyrant should bee at once punished, for his wickednesse. And one day hee sent him word, that hee was destitute of all iudgement and reason, in that hee vexed his poore citizens, and caused them to dye in torments who neuer offended him, and in the meane time suffered him to liue in rest, of whom hee could not bee ignorant, that escaping his hands hee would be reuenged of him. The tyrant maruelling at his great courage, asked why he made such great haste to dye. To this end (quoth hee) that thou beeing yet more hated of God and men than thou art, mightest the sooner bee destroyed. Philocles, one of the most famous Philocles. Athenian captaines of his time (who caused this law to be made, that the right thumbe of all prisoners taken in war from that time forward should bee cut off, that they might not han­dle a pike any more, but yet might serue to row with an oare) being taken prisoner with three thousand Athenians in one battell, which Lysander admirall of the Lacedemonians obtained against him, and all of them being condemned to dye, was demanded of Lysander what paine hee iudged himselfe worthy of for counselling his countrey men to so wicked and cruell a thing. To whom he made this onely answer with an vnmoueable vertue, Accuse not those who haue no iudge to heare and know their cause. But seeing the gods haue shewed thee this fauour to be a conqueror, deale thou with vs as we would haue done with thee, if we had ouercome thee. Which being said, he went to wash and bathe 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 A most con­stant death. Anaxarchus. of true constancy to his fellow citizens. Anaxarchus the Philosopher, being taken prisoner by the commandement of Nero, that he might know of him, who were the authors of a conspi­racy that was made against his estate, and being led towards him for the same cause, he bit his tongue in sunder with his teeth, and did spit in his face, knowing well that otherwise the ty­rant would haue compelled him by all sorts of tortures and torments to reueale and disclose them. Zeno missing his purpose, which was to haue killed the tyrant Demylus, did as much to A wonderfull magnanimity him. But what is more terrible then death? Notwithstanding when did vertue better shew her greatnes and power, then when death laboured most to ouerthrow her, as being resolued of that saying of Cicero, that all wise men dye willingly, and without care, but that the vnwise & ignorant are at their wits end for feare of death? If many who haue not knowne the true and perrect immortality of the soule, & some onely led with a desire of praise and worldly glory, A wise man dieth willing­ly. 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 [Page 25] certainely an euerlasting life? Phocion, after he had beene chosen generall Captaine of the Athenians foure and forty times, and done infinite seruices to the common-wealth, being at length through certaine partakings and diuisions ouercome with the weakest side which he had maintained, & being condemned to drinke poison, was demanded before he dranke. whether he had no more to say. Whereupon speaking to his sonne, he said, I commaund thee to beare the Athenians no rancour and malice for my death. And a little before this speech, beholding one of those that were condemned to dye with him, to vexe himselfe through impatiencie; What meanest thou poore man (quoth hee to him) doest thou not thinke thy selfe happy that thou mayst die with Phocion? The feare & apprehension of death The feare of death doth not astonish the vertuous Callicratides. doth astonish, as we commonly say, the stoutest, but not the most vertuous. For they know (as Plautus saith) that he dyeth not, who for vertues sake is put to death. Callicratides, General of the Lacedemonians, being ready to giue battell to his enemies, the soothsayer, after sacri­fice done to the gods, said vnto him, that the intrals of the sacrifices promised victorie to the army, but death to the captaine. Whereunto he answered as one without all feare; although he beleeued it as an oracle from heauen, Spart a consisteth not in one man. For when I shall be dead my country shall be nothing lessened, but if I recule and draw backe, the reputati [...]n thereof will be diminished. Whereupon substituting in his place Cleander, as successor in his office, he gaue battel, wherin it hapned him as the soothsayer had told him. If we desire infinit such ex­amples, histories are full of them, euen of those who loued rather to kill themselues (which a Christian neuer ought to doe, but onely to suffer death patiently, if it bee offered vnto him) than to commit any thing vnworthy their vertue. Themistocles being vniustly banished from Themistocles loue to his Country. Athens, retired to the king of Persia, whose great fauour and benefits receiued, caused him to say to his children, We had been vndone, if we had not been vndone: as also to promise, that hee would imploy himselfe in his seruice. Not withstanding when he saw the warre begun againe betweene this King and the Athenians, wherein he was offered a great charge, hee chose ra­ther to hasten his death by a poyson which hee tooke, than to seeme to be pricked or prouo­ked with malice against his vngratefull country men, lest thereby he should obscure and blot the glory of so many goodly exploits, triumphes and victories which hee had obtained. Now if death cannot stop the course of vertue, how much lesse can any other weaker accidents doe it? Old age, which diminisheth and consumeth all the strength of the body, could not weaken Age hath no power ouer vertue. Agesilaus. the great vertue of Agesilaus king of Lacedemonia, who being fourescore yeares of age, and seeing the glory of his country brought to nothing by that victory, which the Thebanes had obtained against him, withdrew 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, hee might deserue (whereof he assured himselfe) to haue succour of him for his owne country affayres. Enuy (saith Thucidides) is hard to be ouercome, and followeth great estates and potentates. Honor, glory and riches, are but firebrands to kindle it. Notwithstanding the excellency of vertue often times triumpheth ouer it, so that the enuious are constrained to speake well of vertuous men. We see then clearely, and haue better experience thereof in our selues, if we be decked with vertue, that shee is of an inuincible force, and that all things are tamed by her. For who can doubt that through her, great Empires, Monarchies, common-wealths, estates and Cities haue much more flourished, than through force and might of armes? The sequele of our discourses shall furnish vs with examples hereof. Now to conclude our present matter, Vertue cau­seth King­domes to flourish. knowing that vertue deserueth so great prayse in regard of her fruits, and of her wonderfull great effects, we say, that she is the onely good both for honesty, profit and pleasure, between which there is such a coniunction, that they cannot be separated 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, deceipt and mischiefe. If then, trouble, losse, hazard or danger are to bee found in the practise and exercise of this holy and sacred vertue (as euen the greatest worldly happines is counterpoysed with euill and dif­ficulty) Verity is the onely honest, profitable and pleasant good ought we not to despise all such things, yea death it selfe for that happy recompence, which is assured vnto vs, not onely of immortal glory and prayse (which the men of old time promised to themselues) but also of life euerlasting, where of the most of them were ignorant? Let vs not bee like to a little childe (for hee that is a childe in mind differeth nothing from a child in age) who feeing a trifle wherewith hee playeth, taken out of his hand, casteth away for anger that which hee holdeth in his other hand, although it bee some dainty thing, and good to eate, But let vs with feruent zeale, and burning af­fection, alwayes embrace this so precious and chaste beauty, I meane vertue, which a­lone filleth the life of man with true, sound, and perfect contentation. Let all thinges [Page 26] come behind vertue, after the example of so many excellent and auncient personages, who ought to make vs blush for shame, when we consider, that the care of earthly goods hath the first place amongst vs. Anacharsis a Barbarian, being led with the onely loue of vertue, left the kingdome of Sythia to his yonger brother, and went into Graecia, where he profited so Anacharsis forsooke a kingdome that he might the better ob­taine vertue. Three things necessarie for the obtaining of vertue. well with Solon, that he deserued to be placed in the number of the seauen Sages. Now if three things (after we haue asked them of him who onely can, and will giue them vnto vs) meete together in vs, namely, Nature, Reason, and Vse, 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 meete with a good and well disposed nature, that is able to endure labour, and that is tilled by reason with the precepts of Philosophy, whereby it is made firme, migh­ty, and fruitfull, then vse and exercise will bring forth the fruits thereof, as well for our owne. as for the common profit of men.

Of Vice. Chap. 6.

AS he that is ignorant of goodnes cannot loue it, or boast (except it be falsly, that The know­ledge of goodnes must go before the loue of it. he seeketh after it, and if he should finde 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. Yee shall haue very few, but will say, that they are enemies to euill, and that they labour to driue it as farre from them as they can. But what? As they neuer knew what goodnesse meant, so they know as little of the contrary. 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 altogether contrary vnto it, is Vice is the onely euill the soule. the onely euill thereof, and the fountaine of all the miseries of man, as well earthly as eternall. Which, that we may more surely auoid, and marke better the excellency and beauty of ver­tue, by the loathsomnes and deformity of vice (because contraries set one by another, as blacke neere 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 philosophers say) but vice, if wee take that for What we ought to call euill. euill which is offensiue. Neither doth any thing offend and make a man worse, but that which endamageth his soule. And in this manner vice onely and sin 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 forceable vigor of the soule, so vice Vertue is the health, and vice the sick­nes of the soule. is the sicknesse and imbecillity thereof, which hauing gotten a habite, maketh a man vicious and corrupt. For it is certaine that if men had sufficient force and constancy to resist vice (which we haue by inheritance) they would follow after vertue. But being ouercome by the loosenesse of their sensuality they are led captiues, as it were in a triumph, vnder the yoake of sin. Let vs then harken to ARAM, who I thinke, will not forget to paint out vnto vs this perni­tious Hydra with all her colours, that she may be so much the more odious vnto vs.

I haue alwaies learned of wise men, that this saying of an auncient man is most true. That there is an hundred times more paine in doing euill, than in well doing: and that vice hath the same effect in the soule, which the dropsie hath in the bodie. For both of them Vice like a dropsie. 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, whereas he might passe through felicitie in this life, into that life which is eternall and most happie. One chiefe occasion hereof, as I thinke, may be attributed to the ignorance of euill. For what wicked man is so dull of vnderstanding, that if he knew certainely what vice were, would not with all his might separate himselfe as far from it, as for the time he drew neere vnto it? By a stronger reason it followeth, that he which truely knoweth it, before it be growne to a habite within him, will shun it more diligently: because we begin then to hate vices (as Plutarke sa­ith) when by reason we vnderstand what shame and harme commeth of them. Therefore it When we be­gin to hate vice. must needes bee very profitable for vs to vtter herein that which we haue learned by the study of Philosophie, and that briefly for this present, hoping hereafter to intreate more par­ticularly of the principall parts of vice. First wee 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 selues against the priuie [Page 27] watchings and snares of such a dangerous and mighty enemy. Vice is an inequality and iar­ring of manners, proceeding from mans naturall inclination to pleasures and naughty desires. This inclination not being reined with the bit of reason, guided by the Spirit of grace, nor The desiniti­tiou of vice. 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 vnhappy, yea more wilde and sauage than any brute beast. Chrysippus a Stoicke Philosopher, called vice the proper essence of vnhappinesse. And surely it is a very perfect workemaster of wretchednes, disposing and framing men to all kind of mischiefe and mise­ry. For after it hath once taken holde of the soule, it will neuer forsake it vntill it hath wholy bruised, ouerwhelmed, and destroyed it, filling it daily with perturbations and new passions, with voluptuousnesse, rancor, enimities, reuenge, murders, anguish, feare, fruitlesse The effects of vice. repentance, ambition, couetousnesse, 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 infinite and endlesse race. And therefore the aboue named Chrysippus said not without reason, that to auoide so dangerous an enemie, and one that ought to be so odious vnto vs, it were better for vs to cast our selues headlong into the Vice is of an endlesse stocke. sea, than to suffer it to reigne ouer vs. Plato also writeth, that it is farre 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 Although we are to hate vice with a perfect ha­tred, yet wee must not kill our selues to be rid of it. to be called a true shadow of death, I meane of eternall death, which followeth the wicked euen at the heeles. Bias one of the Sages said, That no man might iustly be tearmed a captiue, although he were loden with irons, except also he were compassed about with vices. More­ouer, we see that neither sword nor fire doth carry 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 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 altogether: in­somuch The vitious man onely is a captiue. that one would haue either iudged them to be senselesse, or else thinke that in seeing them he did not see them. But vice alwaies discouereth it selfe, and euery where appeareth Nothing more hurtfull than vice. shamefull, in famous, and hurtfull. Thales called vice the hurtfullest thing in the world, because that where it is, it marreth and destroieth all. Moreouer, it maketh those things, which o­therwise seeme honourable and magnificall, loathsome and vnpleasant, when it is ming­led Vice ioyned with authori­tie is more hurtfull. with them: yea it appeareth so much the more infamous, as the nobilitie and autho­ritie whereunto it is ioyned is greater, because 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 bee turned presently into murther, loue into adulterie, couetousnesse into confiscation, and so in other passions. But as the vices of the greater sort are more daungerous, so no doubt, shame and dishonour are likewise doubled vpon them, because they are better seene and noted, whereby they become more odious and contemptible to euery one. Besides, theyr rewardlyeth at their gate in great measure, which will not belong from them. For to whom more is giuen, of him more shall bee required. And I pray you what greater cause of shame and blushing can man haue, who being borne to commaund men of A good lesson for great men all estates and conditions, doth himselfe obey such vile and abiect things, as are sensuality, ignorance, concupiscence, and other like passions wrought by vice, which being without reason, are made to obey, and to be ruled by reason? Neyther are we more to be excused than the greater sort, when wee follow after such things, because we are but of meane and small calling. For euery one is borne to commaund himselfe, whereunto our chiefe study and labour ought to tend. We haue further to note diligently, that vice is not onely hurtfull to him that is infected there with, but also that it vseth him as a minister and instrument to cor­rupt and spoyle others. For you shall neuer see any wicked man, that laboureth not to make others like himselfe: which if he cannot doe, yet he will so thinke of them, and seeke to perswade all others, that they are such, or rather worse than himselfe. Whereby it is easie ynough to iudge, that this is that which vndoeth and destroyeth Communalties & Com­mon-wealths, The property of the wicked. Townes and Cities, when the Gouernours and Magistrates of them are mi­nisters of vices. The change of Monarches, Estates and Kingdomes proceeded alwaies of vice. Roboam through want of prudence, Sardanapalus through intemperancy & luxuriousnes, the last French king of the race of Clouis through retchlesnes, Perses of Macedonia through The alterati­on of king­domes com­meth of vice. rashnes, with infinit others, whose exāples we shal see hereafter, lost their kingdoms through vices. But that we may yet haue greater occasion to hate this horrible monster of nature, let vs [Page 28] that vice chastiseth it selfe, Which is not done onely by mans law, out of which the migh­tier sort (as Anacharsis sayd) escape as great flyes that breake through the Spiders web, the punishment also of which may oftentimes be auoyded for a time, but euen the paine follow­eth Offences are neuer without paine. the offence so neare, that it is equall vnto it both for age and time. For from that very in­stant, wherein wickednesse is committed; she frameth for, and of her selfe her owne torment, and beginneth to suffer the paine of her mischieuous deed, 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 disquietnesse, euen to his very dreames, so that all his life time hee is destitute of all tranquility, and rest of spirit, wherein onely humane felicity consisteth. And therefore one of the Hebrew Interpreters well and truely answered King Ptolomie, who asked him how he might be in rest when hee dreamed: Let piety (quoth this Wiseman vnto him) be the scope of all thy sayings and doings. For by applying all thy discourses and workes to excel­lent thinges, whether thou sleepest or wakest, thou shalt haue quiet rest in regard of thy selfe. How a man may haue continuall quietnesse. Truely 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 sayth) there is no­thing that maketh a man so fearefull, as the remembrance of his life passed in shame. Yea presently after the offence (sayth Iustin Martyr) the conscience of a wicked man is vnto him in stead of an accuser, a witnesse, a iudge, and a hangman. This is that, which the Scrip­ture The force of conscience in the wicked. Leuit. 26. 36. teacheth vs i [...] Leuiticus, saying, That the wicked shall tremble at the fall of the leafe of a tree, and that they shall be as if their life hung by a thread. We ought to be perswaded that this violence of mans conscience commeth from God, who causeth his enemies to feele his iudgement and fury in such sort, that they cannot abide it, but are constrained to condemne themselues. And if our heart condemne vs, God is greater than our heart. Now although the Word should wholy fayle in this, yet we haue the testimony of nature imprinted with such characters in our hearts, that it did euen compell the ancient Poets to finde out and faigne Furies, as reuengers of our sinnes, which are nothing else but the torments of euill conscien­ces. This is that worme whereof Esay speaketh, which dyeth not, but gnaweth and deuou­reth them without ceasing. Caligula, a most cruell Emperour, neuer had secure and quiet Esay 66. 24. rest, but being terrified and in feare, awoke often, as one that was vexed and carried head­long with wonderfull passions. Nero, after he had killed his mother, confessed that whilest Examples of tormented consciences in the [...]ked. he slept, he was troubled by her, and tormented with Furies, that burned him with flaming torches. Let vs not then suppose that, although a wicked act may be hidden, and kept close from men, therfore the torment is the lesse, (which a Wise man neuer thinketh of, knowing that hee ought to bee in more reuerence of himselfe than of others) but rather more grie­uous A wise man is ashamed to offend before himselfe. within vs, not for the onely 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, and knoweth how to take vengeance of their iniquity in due time. And if he defer the punishment, it serueth but to aggrauate their condemnation so much the more vpon their heads, and to make the punishment more horrible, whereof wee ought to stand in greater feare than of any bodily paine, because the dolor thereof abideth for euer. He that would goe about to repeate here seuerally all those vices wherewith men Why God defeiteth his vengeance vpon the [...]. may bee infected, and wherein wee see them commonly wallow, should find their number very great, yea infinite. But (as Democritus sayde) let vs onely lay open that which is with­in vs, and we shall finde there a heape 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. Hereafter we may discourse more particularly of the greater part of them, and of their proper and peculiar effects, with that iust punishment, vvhich commonly follow­ed them. In the meane time we may learn 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 headlong; but it is a very difficult matter, yea vn­possible to withdraw himselfe againe. And (as a wise Romane said) most horrible & execrable offences through vse and custome are made small faults, & are commonly practised. For it is the property of vice to be headstrong and contentious, seeking to defend it selfe by reasons, Custome in sinn [...] is dangerous. which although they be altogether vaine and friuolous, yet of great weight in regard of the weake flesh of man, which easily suffereth it selfe to bee bound vnder the yoke of sinne. Therefore we are to take good heed, that we suffer not our selues to bee surprised by so dan­gerous an enemy, nor giue him any accesse or entrance into vs. I meane that he should not [Page 29] dwell in vs (for orherwise we know that perfect righteousnes is in God onely) but rather let vs exercise all those things rhat are contrary to vice, accustoming our selues in such sort to maister our common and small imperfections (which are but too abundant in the iustest How we shold fortifie our selues against vice. men) that they take no effect, howsoeuer of themselues they may seeme excusable. By this meanes we shallabour euermore to make choise of the best in all indifferent things: which will stand vs in stead of a sure rampire against the tyrannicall reigne of this enemy to vertue. We reade of Pythagoras, that he accustomed himselfe to abstaine from crueltie and iniustice euen towards brute beasts, by requesting fowlers, after they had taken birds to let them flie againe. And when hee came amongst fisher-men hee bought their draughts, and after The humani­ty of Pytha­goras euen towards brute beasts. 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, an neuer suffer such speeches, as these to passe from vs: What good will this doe if that bee wanting? Now I will deale in this manner, another time I will doe better. O how slippery are such waies, how easily doth vice glide away like a streame vnder such pretences? For as a wedge maketh but a small clift in the beginning, yet afterward the rift being greater, sundreth all in peeces: so the sufferance of vnlawfull things how small soeuer it be, leadeth men by little and little to an vnmeasurable licenciousnes, Moreouer, who can assure himselfe of tomorrow, An excellent comparison teaching vs not to suffer any vnlawful thing. yea of a quarter of an houre? The oracle of Apollo answered those of Cyrrha, that if they would liue in peace among themselues, they should make continual warre with their neigh­bours strangers. So, that we may passe the course of our short daies in peace, rest and tran­quilitie of spirit, and that we fall not into the cruell pawe of this aduersary to all goodnes, we must daily fight against him, and neuer giue eare to his heralds and ambassadors of peace which are pleasures, neglect of duty, and such other baits, which he presenteth to vs, to de­ceiue and beguile vs withall. It is most certaine, that vice putteth on a vizard, and goeth dis­guised and couered with goodly shewes that belong onely to vertue, and chalengeth falsely We must ne­uer harken to the heralds of vice. vnto it selfe those goods, which indeede and in truth man ought to desire: And beeing thus cloathed with the helpe of corruptible pleasures that lightly passe away, it yoketh base minded men, whose care is onely set vpon the desire of earthly things which it setteth be­fore their eies as their felicity, impudently imputing to vertue all those euils that are in it How vice de­ceiueth men. selfe, But they haue sufficiently profited in Philosophy through the knowledge of that which is good, and of such things as are truly faire and beautifull, neuer hearken to such hurtfull allurements, but rather do as the serpent doth, that stoppeth her eares with her taile, to the The prudēce of the serpēt end she may not heare the charmes and sorceries of the inchanter. But if through the neg­lect of all good admonition, wee giue place amongst vs neuer so little to the baites of vice, they may easily in the end (as thornes and thistles growing neare to good seede, doe oftentimes choke it) darken al that good instinct of nature that shal be in vs, Diogenes the Cy­nike, Why Dioge­nes asked his almes of images. walking one day through that street in Athens, wherein there were many images of such ancient men, as had best deserued of the Common-wealth, 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 farre command our selues, as to shunne all vaine and vnprofitable businesse, wherein this age delighteth, and which serue but for allurements and baits to nicenesse and pleasure, let vs not bee ashamed not to follow them, but rather let vs say, that we learne to contemne that which is contemptible, and to make choise (according to that ancient precept of Pythagoras) of the best kinde 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, beeing inseparably accompanied with a thousand miseries, and with vnspeakable and exceeding mischiefes, which draw man into vt­ter ruine and eternall perdition, may bee truly called the onely euill of the soule, as that which of it selfe is able and sufficient to make him vnhappy, who receiueth it for a ghest. And as such a hurtfull thing, we ought to hate and flie from it, by the meanes of vertue that is con­trary vnto it, labouring by all meanes to haue our soules pure and cleane from all wicked deeds, wils, and counsels, and our manners vndefiled, not being troubled or infected with any euill perturbation, wherewith vice alwaies aboundeth and is rich.

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

IT is a vsuall speech in the mouthes of men altogether ignorant of the beautie and profite of Sciences, That the studie of Letters is a bottomlesse gulfe, and so long [Page 30] and vneasie a iourney, that they which thinke to finish it, oftentimes stay in the midway, and many beeing come to the end thereof finde their minds so confused with their profound and curi­ous The speeches of [...]no [...]nt m [...]n touching the study of sciences. skill, that in stead of tranquilitie of soule, which they thought to finde, they haue increa­sed 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 others aside from following them. For this cause many fathers set not their children to learning, or else because they finde this way of preferment too long and costly, and haue other more short and profitable meanes now a­daies whereby to enrich them. But both the one and the other are greatly to be condemned, Why many fathers set not their children to school [...]. because wee are to spare no labour and trauell, that we may get the treasures of the soule indu­ed with reason, which are sciences, wherein all humane felicitie consisteth, and which ne­uer breed vexation of spirit. But all wits are not fit and apt to comprehend and conceiue them. Neither doth the corruption of our nature better appeare, than in this, that wee loue rather to enrich our selues and our children with wicked and perishing goods, than with true, certaine and immortall goods, the happie knowledge whereof sciences and arts doe bring vnto vs. Now hauing through the grace of God receiued this benefite by your liberalitie (most honourable fathers) as to haue beene instructed in the best and most necessary points of knowledge, we thought it would not be tedious vnto you to heare vs discourse, that we might stirre vp the memories of our studies, and that the beauty and commoditie of sciences might worke in our affections a liking and desire to continue and to finish them.

Man (saith Aristotle) was created to vnderstand and to do. For it is necessary Man is crea­ted to vnder­stand & to do that instruction goe 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 bee 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 necessary 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 body, so is doctrine the safegard of the soule. But we are to vnderstand more amply of thee (AMANA) what is the greatnesse & beauty of sciences.

Whatsoeuer is profitable, not only for a house and familie, for a city and nation, but generally for all mankinde, may well be accounted deare, pretious and wonderfull, and as so excellent a thing, ought to be bought with all that a man hath: especially if it be the true substance of all happinesse and felicitie, and the efficient cause of prudence, which is an ex­cellent guide for mens actions to make them worthy of an immortalitie. What can one desire more than profite, pleasure and honour, 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 blinde, and bringeth no light to the soule, but receiueth her brightnesse from the soule when it is framed according to vertue. Great and proud armies may by notable victories procure to themselues renowne and glory, but blame worthy: a title of honour, but forced and vniust, if their enterprises are not grounded vpon e­quitie and iustice. The merchant sailing on large and terrible seas, may reape profit by his trafficke, but bought with the perill of his life, and hazard of his certaine patrimony. Neither can this be done, except he haue first laide a good ground of his voyage 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 elsewhere, what certaine ioy, true honour or great profite may a man challenge to himselfe, and not rather looke for a sudden change of them into a worse estate than they were in before, through the inconstancie and vncer­taintie of mans nature? Where then shall wee seeke for these great and rare properties, to finde that which of it selfe will be vnto vs profitable, pleasant, and honourable altogether, and that not for an instant, but for euer? Truly in science or knowledge, which first is able to mollifie mans nature, beeing before sauage and wilde, and to make it capable of reason: se­condly, The benefits which come by knowledge frameth and setleth his iudgement, that hee may passe the course of his daies in all tranquilitie of minde to the perfite of many: lastly, causeth him to die in honour, with cer­taine assurance of eternall life and happinesse. It is knowledge that maketh man prudent, The proper worke of the sp [...] of man (for doctrine bringeth forth prudence) and worketh vnspeakable pleasure in his soule. For the searching out of the truth is the proper worke and perfection of the spirit, neither [Page] doth any delight come neare to that which a man taketh in learning. It is science which gui­deth mens iudgements, whereby their chiefest deliberations and counsels are executed, as well in feates of warre, as in the establishment and preseruation of lawes, kingdomes, monar­chies, commonwealths, cities and peoples: likewise in the regiment and gouernment of all worldly affaires, either generall or particular, which are wel or ill guided, according as he that manageth or gouerneth them is instructed. To this purpose Seneca said, that they, who bee­ing It is long ere men without knowledge become good magistrates. destitute of knowledge, did learne onely by experience to gouerne 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 gouernours of the people: As contrariwise, they that should come thereunto being guarded with the precepts of know­ledge, (so they carried a good mind) would quickly and without paine become worthy of their charge. O wisedome (saith Cicero) the guide of our life, the onely cause of vertue, and enemy to vice, what should, not we onely, but euen all the life of men be without thee? Thou The praise of Wisedome hast builded townes: thou hast gathered together dispersed and wandring men, that they might liue in a society of life, and in common friendship. Thou compelledst them to come together, first by keeping all in a house and by marriage: then by the common vse of words & speech. Thou hast beene the inventresse of lawes, and the mistres of manners 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. Truly one day well and iustly spent according to thy ho­ly precepts, is to be preferred before an immortality of time consumed in wickednesse and vice. With what riches shal we furnish our selues rather than with thine, which hast liberally giuen vs the meanes to obtaine tranquility 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 quality 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 as much as if he should vndertake to saile in the middest of the sea without a rudder, or walke through vnknowne places without a guide. Now the ancients knowing the great­nesse and difficultie of knowledge, and that it cannot be obtained (as it falleth out in al great matters) without great paine and trauell; that their labour might become profitable vnto vs, they, I say, who had spent their life with sweating, in seeking out the secrets of nature, and were desirous to ease mans study, who otherwise is inclined from his youth to pleasure and rest, haue diuided science for vs into diuers parts. Which they did to this ende, that step by steppe, according to the nicenesse of our spirits (euen as our bodies are first nourished with milke, and then with stronger meates) we might finde therein apt and conceiueable foode, and in the end be made partakers of the secrets of perfect wisedome, euery one according to his capacity and neede expecting the full vnderstanding thereof in the immortalitie of that second and most happy life. First then all arts and sciences handled by reason. were diuided into three principal kindes: into Philosophie, Rhetorike and Mathematike. Afterwards, each The diuision of sciences. of these sciences was diuided into three other parts and kindes, Philosophie into Morall, Lo­gicall, and Physicall or Naturall. Rhetorike, into Demonstratiue, Deliberatiue and Iudiciall. Mathematike, into Arithmetike, Musike, and Geometrie. Since that, for greater facilitie, and that it might be more easie to learne, all humane philosophie hath bene reduced into art, as we haue it at this day, from whence the name of liberall arts came, because they are worthy Grammer Rhetoricke. and beseeming a freeman. Their names are these, Grammer which is the entrance and begin­ning of all knowledge: Rhetorike, which is the art of fine speaking, and of perswading: Dia­lectike or Logike, which is to learne the truth of all things by disputation: Phisicke, which Logike Physicke. is the study of naturall things: Metaphysike, which is of supernaturall things: Ma­thematike, which hath many members, whereof Arithmetike is the first, which is the science of numbers, and the foundation of all the other parts of Mathemetike, with­out Metaphysike Mathematik and the parts [...] thereof as Arithmetike. which science of Arithmetike, Plato denied that any man could beeither a Philoso­pher or a captaine generall. Next to that is Geometrie that is to say, the art of measuring the ground, very necessary likewise for a captaine, and for many other martiall affaires. Then followeth Cosmography and Geographie, to know the situation of the whole world, euen from the tower of the highest heauen, called the first Moouer, vnto the center of Geometrie. the earth, and likewise of the diuers regions thereof, with their particular temperatures. After Cosmogra­phy. Geography. that is Astronomie, the science that teacheth vs to know the course of the stars 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 curiosity of men inuented these names, Astronomie [Page 32] of Saturne Mars, and others, attributing natures vnto them according to their imaginations and also 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 Astronomie, wherewith so many good wits are deceiued, and of which so many abuses haue their begin­ning. Next, Musicke is set downe also for a member of the Mathematiks, as beeing a science drawne from numbers, because that by them harmonicall proportion was found. Lastly, fol­loweth Mathematiks. [...]. Poetry, which is attributed to Musicke. In this short discourse the wonderfull great­nesse of science appeareth sufficiently, as also how hard, yea vnpossible it is, to attaine to the perfection thereof through the sound knowledge of all the parts thereof. Wherefore we are first to seeke after those that are most necessary, 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 Those scien­ [...]s [...] first to [...] tha [...] are most necessarie. things we must shun that idlenes rechlesnes which is in many, who by reason of the difficul­ty, 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 successors from trying the issue and euent of all sorts of noble enterprises. And the wonderfull knowledge of Plato could not keepe Aristotle from handling Philosophy as he thought good. He that distrusteth his wit and the inuention thereof, sheweth himselfe too vngratefull. For it seemeth he will condemne nature the mother of all things, as though shee had put her all gifts and graces in some men, and euer after purposed to be idle and barren, hauing no more strength to bring forth any thing worthy comendatiō. We must not therefore in this sort be discouraged in the searching out of euery 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 wee haue already discoursed: that wee may frame our manners according to vertue, and leade and direct our soules to the ende, which we desire, euen to liue well and happily. So let vs practise that diuine saying of Plato speaking by the mouth of Socrates, that More vertue & and pietie is required of a Philosopher than knowledge: and that all science, which is to be requi­red What kind of knowledge is especially re­quired in a Philosopher. in him, is, that aboue all things he worship and reuerence God the onely true master of wisedome, and author of whatsoeuer may bee knowne: and that hee endeauour to separate his soule from his body, as much as may bee, by contemning pleasures, ambition, vaine­glory, and riches, that so he may lay hold of the treasures of immortall life. This wee may learne by reading bookes and writings, which are the instruments of wisedome, and are left vnto vs by learned men for a rule and for instruction. By the study hereof wee shall attaine to that knowledge of the true and perfect good of man, which consisteth in vertue and veri­ty, the onely nourishment, rest and tranquilitie of the minde. But will we know further what profit we may receiue by the doctrine of auncient men? Let vs onely reade that which Ana­charsis wrote to Croesus king of Lidia. Know (quoth he to him) that in the studies of Graecia Anacharsis letter to [...]iae [...]us tou­ching the stu­dies of Grae­cia. we learne, not to commaund, 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 honoured, but to labour to be vertuous. Lastly, wee learne to dispise that which others loue, and to loue that which others dispise, that is pouerty. Behold the faire fruits of science, and of the study of these ancient Sages, to which no treasures of world­ly riches are in any sort comparable, and which we ought to desire aboue all things. Moreo­uer, The praise and profit of historie. by this study of letters, we shall be taught to search out diligently the vnderstanding of histories, which are the treasure of things past, the patterne of those that are to come, the pi­cture of mans life, the touch stone of our doing, the worke-master of our honour, and as Cicero calleth them, the witnesse of times, the light of truth, the life of memory, the mistresse of life, and the messenger of antiquity. Histories cause vs to behold that without danger, which so many millions of men haue tryed with the losse of their liues, honour 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 toppe of all felicity and glory. Now if we thinke to learne by our owne experience these excellent instructions which wee may draw out of histories, in steade of so rare treasures we shall know but fewe things, and those with losse and perill amongst a thousand aduersities, from which the vnderstanding of that which is past, saueth and deliue­reth vs. Prudenee gotten by experience is too perillous, and so long a comming, that very often a man dieth before he haue obtained it, so that he had neede of a second life to imploy about it. But we must hasten it forward by the searching out of things, which haue come to [Page 33] passe both before and since our time, in the study both of Philosophy, which is rich and plen­tifull in worthy examples, and also of histories, which are a singular gift of God, whereby he would haue his wonderfull workes continued in the memory of men. For this cause Zeno, be­ing How a man may become happy. Wherein kings ought most to exer­cise them­selues. demanded how a man might become happy, answered, if he drew neere vnto and haun­ted the dead: meaning thereby, if he read histories, and endeauoured to learne their good in­structions that haue gone before vs. Ptolomie also asking one of the wise interpreters, where­in a king ought to exercise himselfe: In the knowledge (quoth hee) of things which haue beene done, and in reading bookes of things which daily offer themselues, or which are fit for present affaires, and lastly, in searching out whatsoeuer is written for the preseruation of kingdomes and correction of manners. And truely they that are exercised in the vnderstan­ding of histories, although they bee but yong, yet in knowledge of worldly matters they be­come like to the aged and gray-headed: as contrariwise they that are ignorant of things done and past before their being, remaine alwaies children, & euen within their owne coun­trey where they were borne, they are in the same estate in respect of knowledge that forerun­ners are. If we yet desire more testimonies from amongst the ancients, of the honour, loue, zeale, and ardent affection, which they bare towards the study of good letters, and how the chiefe glory of all their heroicall and noble acts doth of duty belong to science, wee reade of Philip king of Macedonia, that when Alexander was borne to him, hee gaue thanks to God, The saying of Philip at the birth of Alexander. not so much because he had this sonne, as because he was borne in the time of so wise a Phi­losopher as Aristotle was, whom he made his schoolemaster. Of him Alexander learned ma­ny goodly sciences, as well in Philosophie as in Physikes, and namely, those Acroamaticall sciences, that is, speculatiue, and such as could not bee learned but by hearing a teacher. Of which Sciences this great Monarch was iealous, and taken with so greedy a desire, that hea­ring how Aristotle had published certaine bookes, he wrote a letter vnto him in this manner: Alexander sendeth greeting to Aristotle. Thou hast not done well to publish these bookes of Alexanders letter to Ari­stotle. speculatiue sciences: forasmuch as wee 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, appeareth His loue to learning. sufficiently by the exceeding liberality and gifts, wherewith hee honoured the masters and teachers thereof, (as wee may somewhat touch it hereafter) as also in that he alwaies carried Homers [...]liads about him, which vsually he laid vnder his pillow, naming it the nourishment and preseruer of warlike vertue. Caesar in the midst of his campe had his Commentaries in his Iulius Caesar. bosome, and that time which he spared from fighting, hee bestowed in reading and writing, holding a launce in his left hand, and a pen in the right. We see in these two mighty and sa­cred Princes, and in infinite other great personages both Greekes and Romane, the won­derfull effects of knowledge, which conducted them to the toppe of all honour, felicitie, and prosperity. Xenophon, the disciple of Socrates serueth for another witnesse, who being gui­ded Xenophon. by an vnspeakeable prudence & prouidence gotten in the study of Philosophy, brought an armie of a thousand footemen out of Persia into Greece, going ouer the foords of fiftie ri­uers, and through the midst of an hundred thousand enemies pursuing him, and yet his array 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 the painter, how hee tooke such Nicias. great delight in his workes, that oftentimes he inquired of his seruants whether he had dined or no. Archimedes drawing his Geometricall figures vpon a table, was as it were by force Archimedes. drawne away of his seruants, that he might annoint himselfe with oyle (according to their custome) before he did eate: and during the time of his annointing, he would trace new fi­gures vpon his body. Socrates was seene standing a whole Summers day for the space of foure and twenty houres continually in contemplation and discoursing in his minde: which was Socrates con­clusion drawn out of 24. howres con­templation. Charles 4. Robert king of Sicilia. when he drew this conclusion out of his thoughts, that There was but one onely God, and that the soule was immortall. The Emperor Charles the fourth going on a day to a Colledge in Praga, to heare the disputations of vertue that were there, remained aboue foure houres on foote in hearing them. And when his courtiers, to whom he was wearisome, 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 kingdomes or his learning, he would chuse rather to be depri­ued of them than of knowledge. What greater testimony of loue towards Science can one [Page 34] desire than that of Ptolomie Philadelphus, that vertuous king of Egypt, who with incredi­ble charges gathered together into his librarie fiue hundred thousand bookes, and purposely caused seuenty and two of the most learned and religious men of Iudea to come and trāslate the holy Bible out of Hebrw into Greeke? And surely we should bee too vngratefull tow­ards our Princes, if amongst so many famous men we should leaue no place for that great Em­perour and king Charlemaine, who was skilfull in the Greeke and Latine tongues, and who Charlemaine in fauour of those toungs, and of the louers of knowledge, errected the vniuersity at Paris, and that at Pauia, according to the patterne of those places of learning which were at A­thens. Francis the first, a Prince of most famous memorie, so loued and fauoured letters, and the professors of them, that he deserued the name of the restorer of sciences and good arts, Francis. 1. sparing neither care nor meanes to assemble together bookes and volumes of sundry sortes, and of all languages for the beautifying of his so renowned a librarie, which was a worthie monument of such a magnificall Monarke: whose praise-worthy qualities we see reuiued in our king, treading in the selfe same steps. Now to conclude our present discourse, wee learne hereby to despise all earthly goods for the obtayning of knowledge, which of itselfe is truly profitable, delectable and honorable altogether and whereby we are taught how to liue and die well and happily. And because that arts and sciences consist of many parts, let vs apply our mindes to the study and contemplation of those which together with delight doe 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 an affection and zeale to follow them, and cause al arts and sciences teaching other things to be esteemed base, mechanicall, and vnbeseeming good wits. This did Antisthenes giue one to vnderstande, who greatly commended Ismenius for an excellent player on the flute: It is true (quoth he to him) but otherwise he is good for no­thing, For else had he not bene so good a minstrell, So, euery one applying himselfe to some Antisthenes saying tou­ching a flute­ [...]la [...]er. base and vaine art, produceth for witnesse against himselfe that labour, which he hath bestowed about vnprofitable matters, to prooue that he had bene idle and slothfull in learning ho­nest and profitable things. And for the last fruite and vse of our speech, wee see here 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 iudged to The modesty of Socrates touching his owne skill. 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 bene 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 study, the assurance and knowledge of verity and vertue.

Of the Spirit, and of Memorie. Chap. 8.

HAuing now discoursed of the greatnes, beautie, and profit of knowledge. I think that if we were to wish for two helps very necessary for the attaining vnto it, those ought to bee a spirite or minde ready to conceiue, and memorie: firme to retaine: without which two things we shal profit ourselues little, and much lesse a great many.

Those two things, which thou propoundest vnto vs would seeme wonderfull if they were together. For we commonly see, that they who haue a ready and quicke wit, for the Quicke w [...]ts commonly want memo­ry. 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 property of comprehen­ding (and yet speake not of the soule) is vndoubtfully worthy of great consideration. For e­uen when we speake of a young infant we say by and by, that his spirit or wit will grow with his body, and of a crooked old fire, we say that his spirit waxe old with him, which in many we see oftentimes becometh altogither dull and vnfit for the ordering and gouernement of affaires. Now that which waxeth old draweth to an end, as the Scripture itselfe teacheth vs, Psal. 102. 26. concerning times and seasons, which waxe 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 wee shall learne what the spirit is in the soule,

As the workes of the diuine power are altogether incomprehensible to the out­ward sence of man, and very hard to be comprehended by reason guided and conducted by gracefrom aboue, so we are not to thinke 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 workes of nature, that are visible and subiect to sight. Now if a man cannot know himselfe, It is very hard for a man to 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 spirit? Who am I, saide Socrates? Am I a subiect, compounded of soule and body? Or rather a soule, Socrates opi­nion concer­ning man. 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 doe, and all the other parts of the body but instruments of this power? Or if there be no proper sub­stance at all of the soule by itselfe, but that it is onely a temperature and complexion of the body so framed, that it hath power to vnderstand and to liue; am I not a sauage beast, more crafty, bold and furious then euer was the serpent Typhon? Or else, am I a meeker and sim­pler The soule is truly man. creature, partaker of a better estate, and voide of pride? Al the excellentest Philosophers that euer were, handled this selfe same matter as well as Socrates, with incredible trauell and paine, that they may attaine to this knowledge of the noblest part in them, which is the soule and spirit, taking indifferently the one for the other, But first of all this wise Socrates spake Socrates an­swer touching his buriall. excellently of the dignity and immortality of the soule, saying, that in truth the soule is man, and not this mortall masse and Inmpe of the body, which of itselfe is no more than a simple and base instrument is in regard of the most cunning work-man of any art of science, And for this cause gining vp the ghost amongst his disciples; and being asked by Clito where hee would be buried: As for Socrates (quoth he to him) take thou no thought or care. For thou canst not stay him, whose tombe hath beene from all time ready for him. But concerning that which he leaueth here below, it is not worthy to be cared for by him, The greatest thing Periander. (said Periander) that may be said to be contained in a little place, is the soule in a mans body. Empedocles. Of the gene­ration of the soule. Empedocles speaking of the generation of the soule saith, that neither blood, nor the vitall spi­rit congealed haue giuen vnto vs the substance of the soule, and the beginning of life. The body onely is compounded earthly and mortal, But the generation of the soule is heauenly. being 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 shee re­turne, and be receiued into her immortall habitation, after she hath changed her present life, which is vnto her but as a vaine illusion of some dreame; in respect of a true, certaine and permanent life. Surely, these philosophicall speculations are not vaine and friuolous, but very necessary to leade vs to that happy end of our being, which we seeke for. For if we be well in­structed concerning the great and honourable place and condition, which the soule enioy­eth aboue the body, as well in her immortall generation, as in her contemplation and action, as also that of her happines dependeth (as before wee handled it) the felicitie of the whole frame of man, wil we not apply all our principall care, study, and diligence in prouiding such things for her as she desireth, and which are meete and healthful for her? But we haue further (thankes be giuen to the authour of all good) a second and more perfect vnderstanding of the soule, than had all these notable heathen men, both in respect of the blessed immortality and also of the cause thereof. We know also that so long as she is detained in this mortall pri­son The soule is diuided into the spirit and the flesh. of the body, and that we are become new creatures by the grace of God, she is diuided in­to these two parts, the spirit and the flesh, betweene which there is a perpetuall combat. Yea the flesh continually offereth to the spirit a thousand temptations, to delight it withall. For the body and flesh consisting of mortall and corruptible matter, are but a lumpe of sinne, and full of wicked desires, whereas the spirit of itselfe vertuous and good, and of animmortall es­sence, is of it owne nature enemy to vice and iniquitie: so that being ruled and guided by the Spirit of God, it loueth and desireth eternall happines, and reioyceth in iustice, purity, and The spirit of the godly both by crea­tion & rege­neration is e­nemy to vice. holines. And yet the soule is not so freed from the slauery of sinne, but that there remaineth in her many steps of the earthly man, so that she alwaies carrieth about with her the relikes of the flesh, whereby her libertie is so much diminished. This is that fight whereof the true chil­dren of God haue daily 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 immortality, by The fight be­tweene the spirit and the flesh. the flesh they are carried astray into the way of death: by the spirit they think to liue iustly, by [Page 36] flesh they are stirred forward to iniquitie: by the spirit they contemne the world, by the flesh they desire worldly things. But in the end the grace of God causeth the spirit to remaine superior, so that his children walke not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit. Whereas if we be left of God to our owne corrupt and peruerse nature, we haue not sufficient Rom. [...]. 7. What we are being left to our selues. strength to resist the temptations of this wicked flesh, but in stead of commanding it, we obey it with shame and confusion. And then accustoming our selues to sin, and to consent to the desires of the flesh, the diuine part of the soule is so weakned, that she hath no more strength or feeling of her essence, which is enemy to vice, but hauing forsaken God, he forsaketh her, and giueth her ouer into the power of carnall desires. So that by this long dwelling in sinne, being as it were altogether dead, she taketh no more counsell of reason, but followeth after detestable vices, and such as are against nature. But on the contrarie side beeing guided by the grace of God, after we haue laboured by fasting, watching and prayer, to resist the vnpure desires of the flesh, all the concupiscences thereof, will at length be so tamed and forced, that the soule shal execute her 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 soueraigne good: that with a singular desire of heart, and with all our affe­ction we study 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 body, and in despising pleasure, ambition, vaine glory, and riches, that we may offer an acceptable present, by yeelding vnto him the soule, which he hath giuen vs. Which thing cannot be done (saith Plato) but by keeping it, as much as may be, purged and cleansed from earthly spots, that shee may be knowne and acknowledged aboue amongst her companions, considering that 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 speciall difference betwixt them, although vndoubtedly the one is taken indifferently for the other, without any absur­dity, The diffe­rence be­tweene the soule and the spirit. yea they are one and the same thing. The difference may be made in this sort, if wee say, that the soule is common to all things that haue life, as we vse to say, that all beasts are anima­ted, and haue sensible soules: but that the spirit 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 eye is to the bo­dy. Socrates also putting a difference betweene the soule and the spirit, said, that as euery sediti­ous man is to be banished out of a well gouerned citie, so a spirit inclined 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 principall part of the soule, wherein the Mind, the Vnderstanding, and the Memory are contained, which are most necessarie for the direction of all good and vertuous actions, and which stand in neede of preseruation, nourishing and exer­cise, The three parts of the spi [...]it. & therefore they are said (not without reason) to increase and decrease in the mind of man The mind is as a white paper, wherein as a man groweth in age and iudgement, hee writeth his cogitations & thoughts, which the studie of letters and learning do affoord him. Vnder­standing is framed by the knowledge of reason, and lastly memorie followeth and preserueth Of Memorie. it, being the mother of the Muses, and the treasurie of knowledge. Plutarke 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, wherof we haue many examples among the ancient. We reade of Mithridates king of Pontus, who was a great enemie to the Mithridates. Romans, that he had vnder his dominion two and twenty nations, speaking diuers languges­all which he learned, and answered their ambassadors in their owne tongues. 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 countrey-men by their proper names. The Emperor Frederike the 11, spake the Greeke, Latine, Hebrew, Arabian, Frederike. Morisko, Almagine, Italian and French tongue. In our time there was an interpreter of Sultan Solymanus, named Genusby, borne in Corfou, endued with the richest memory that euer was. Genusby. For he spake perfectly, the Greeke tongue, both vulgar and learned, the Turkish, Arabian, Moorish, Tartarian, Persian, Armenian, Hebrew, Russe, Hungarian, Sclauonian, Italian, Spa­nish, Almaigne, Latine and French. It is recorded of Publius Crassus, that at one instant hee heard fiue sundry languages spoken, and answered each of them in the same tongue. Wherby P C [...]s [...]s. we see that he was endued with an excellent and quicke spirit, apt to conceiue, and with a firme memory, able to retaine them altogether: and this may be seene in many. But the perfe­ction [Page 37] of these two great gifts of nature, is a good & sound iudgement, proceeding from pon­dering, From whence iudgement proceedeth. and from a firme discourse of reason lightened by the Spirit of God, and by the same Spirit purged from error, illusion, and all vaine opinions, which are vsuall in man, and hinder him from iudging aright of the truth. But to continue our speech of the wonderfull effects of memorie so much esteemed of Plato, that he writeth, that wee should leaue off to bee men, and become like to the gods, if our memory could retaine and keepe so much as the eyes can reade and see. We must not here forget to make mention of Iulius Caesar, that great Monarch, Iulius Caesar. of whom Historiographers report, that at one time hee caused his Secretaries to write vnto foure seuerall persons of sundrie matters, and that oftentimes he would indight a letter to one of his Secretaries, reade in a booke, and heare another speake all at one time. Seneca rehearsed two thousand sundry names, hauing onely heard them pronounced before, beginning at the Seneca. last and continuing to the first. By these examples, we see the greatnes of memory, wherby we may easily iudge how profitable it is for the inriching of the minde with all things necessary to the gouernment of mans estate. Yea it is vnto vs a helpe requisite vnto saluation, as that whereby we keepe in remembrance the gifts & graces which we daily receiue from the good­nes A good vse of memorie. and fauour of God, to this end that we should not be vngratefull, but yeeld vnto him glo­ry and praise without ceasing. Now because one of you (my companions) touched this, that they which haue a ready and quicke wit, commonly want memory, and that they which hardly learne, retaine and keepe better that which they haue learned, I will giue you this rea­son with Plutarke, that hardnesse of beleefe seemeth to bee the cause why men comprehend Reasons why quick [...]st wits haue woorst memories, & contrariwise 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 folkes, sicke 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 [...]et slippe away. Some others (as Iustine Martyr saith) haue rendred this reason of the quicknesse or slownesse of mans wit, saying, that it commeth of the good or immoderate mixture and temperature of the elements, of which our bodies are compounded and framed, and of the symmetry and proportion of the organicall or instrumentall parts ioyned together in him. And surely these seeme to giue vs the true reason thereof. For we see many, who in their beginning and first age shew that they haue prompt and sharpe wit, but when they come to old age are changed, and become slow and dull 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 quicke­nesse or slownes of spirit, as the difference of yeares doth affoord them. Besides, do we not per­ceiue, that they which haue the head ouer great and ill fauoured, whom wee commonly call great blockheads (because there is not an equall symmetrie and moderate proportion be­tweene that and the other parts of the body) are naturally vnapt to conceiue, and to bring forth any sensible and witty thing? But the resolution of all this speech shall bee, that all gifts of the Spirit are from aboue, and that amongst all sorts of men, there are some found, that are prompt and witty to comprehēd great and diuine things, by a specially grace and fa­uour, which God hath bestowed vpon them. Some by the gift of the holy Ghost haue wise­dome, 1. Cor. 12. others knowledge and vnderstanding of things, and all giuen to euery one for the pro­fiting both of himselfe and of his neighbour. Knowing therefore by this present discourse, ac­cording to the weakenesse 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 happinesse, rest and felicity, 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 study, to adorne and decke it with righteousnesse and holinesse, according to the holy desire thereof, wherein consisteth life and peace. And let vs beware that we seeke not to feede it with strange meates, which may make it sorrowfull, & with which our flesh aboundeth to her death and destruction. But mortifying 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 Rom. 8. 1. wearisomnes and tediousnes which troubleth the tranquillity and rest therof, proceedeth 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 spirit in rest and quietnesse, is to nourish and exercise it in the study of wisedome, where it learneth reason, which of it selfe can cure it of all sorrow, [Page 38] anguish and griefe, through wise discoursing, and worke in it a like inclination and constant behauiour in euery alteratiō of life, causing man to liue happily throughout the whole course of his life, not without the hope and certaine expectation of a blessed immortality.

Of Dutie and Honestie. Chap. 9.

ALthough all things were created of diuers natures and properties, and many of cleane contraries, yet by an incomprehensible wise­dome the were appointed to refer themselues to one onely certaine and common end, namely, to shew foorth the infinite power and greatnes of their work-master, sufficient in the least of his workes with admiration to rauish man, to whom he hath made allthings subiect. But as in him alone the treasures of his heauenly graces The end of the creation of all things. haue been without comparison more liberally vnfolded, and that in all fulnesse and bounty, as well in regard of the goods and commodities of this life, which he draweth from heauē, 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 vnspeakeable happines and eternall felicity, which by the speciall grace of God is purchased & assured to him onely in the immortality of the second life; so also hath God from the beginning vntill this present and for euer, reserued to himselfe a particular homage, and that not for a time or What ho­mage we owe to God. for certaine yeares of his life, but to continue without intermission from time to time, namly loue testified by obedience, which we may comprehend vnder this onely word of Duty, cal­fall by the Philosophers, the welspring of all vertuous & laudable actions, and the foundatiō of honesty. Therefore I propound this matter to you (companions) to be discoursed vpon.

The duty of a good man consisteth in his good behauiour towards the chiefe & only end of his being compounded of these two things, the glory of his creator, and the loue Which is the [...] end of our being. of his neighbour. But the last vndoubtedly dependeth of the first. For without the feare of God, men will neuer preserue equity and loue amongst themselues: as contrariwise the hono­ring of his maiesty teacheth them to liue vprightly one with another.

We ought not to assure or fortifie our selues with any other bulwarke, than to do, to counsell & to vtter all good and honest things, according to duty, wherunto we are called by nature, not onely for ourselues, but also for the benefit and profit of many. Therefore of thee (ACHITOB) we shall vnderstande more at large, what Duty and Honesty is,

No treatise in Philosophy (saith Cicero) is so necessarie as that of Office and Du­ty: for asmuch 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 thereof. For therein consisteth all hones­ty of life, and, if it be neglected, all infamie. And albeit most part of the ancient Philosophers comprehended Duty and Honesty 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 Philosophy 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 honesty and comelinesse. In which distinction we see neuerthelesse such a coniuncti­on of these three things, Vertue, Duty, and Honesty, that the one is the end of the other, What duty is the perfection thereof consisting in all three together. Dutie then is that, which bindeth the soule, cheerefully and willingly without force or constraint to giue to euery one that which belongeth vnto him: honour, to whom honour: reuerence, to whom reuerence, tribute: to whom tribute, and succour, to whom succour belongeth. This duty is diuided into two ge­neral [...] kind [...]s: the one is that which appertaineth to the perfect and soueraigne good: the The [...]sion o [...] [...]u [...]y. other [...]rneth the preseruation and safety of the common societie of men, and consist­eth in mo [...]ll procepts according to which the behauiour of all sorts of life may be squared. Wha [...] [...] God and [...]. As touching the first, no doubt but all men are beholding and bound vnto God, both for their beeing and preseruation thereof, as also for that abundance of goods necessarie for this life, which he powreth foorth most liberally, both on the good and on the bad. More­ouer. Christians are furthertied and bound vnto him for the certaine hope of their saluation [Page 39] in his eternall Sonne. For all which things he asketh nothing of vs but loue and good-will, testified by honour, reuerence, and seruice, according to his holy ordinance, euery one after the measure of giftes and graces, which hee hath from aboue: knowing that more is to bee required of him to whom more is giuen. This obedience being grounded vpon that role of perfect righteousnesse, which is giuen vnto vs in the law of God, is the mother and pre­seruer of all vertues, yea the beginning and roote of all goodnesse. The other part of duty, Obedience to Gods law is the mother of all vertues. What our du­ty towards our neigh­bor is. which respecteth our neighbour, and whereof wee are chiefly to intreat in this our Acade­my, is nothing but charitie and loue of our like, as of our selues, which is greatly recommen­ded vnto vs in the Scripture, as being very requisite vnto saluation. This is that duty, where­by we are bound not to do any things against publike laws, equity, 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 necessity and constraint. Wee are not onely borne (saith Cicero) for our selues, but our countrey, parents, and friends both will and ought to reape some commodity by our birth. For whatsoeuer is vpon earth was created for men, and they for themselues, that one might aide and helpe another. So that if wee will follow Man created for man. nature, wee must imploy our goods, trauell, and industrie, and whatsoeuer else is in our power, in the behalfe of common commodity, and in the preseruation of humane society: yea, that man liueth most happily, who as little as may bee, liueth to himselfe. And on the other side, no man liueth more disorderly, than he that liueth to himselfe, and thinketh on nothing but his owne profit. This is that duty, which requireth that for the safety of our pa­rents, friends and countrie, wee should offer our selues to all perils, not respecting our owne profit or commodity. Neither ought we to esteeme any thing iust and profitable, except ho­nestie: which are so linked together, (as the philosophers say) that they can no more bee Profit must not be separa­ted from ho­nestie. separated than whitenes and cold from snow, and heate and light from fire. So that if any man bee perswaded, that the rule of honesty and profite is not one and the same, hee will neuer be without fraud or wickednesse. For thinking thus with himselfe, this indeed is ho­nest, but that is profitable for me, he will not feare to breake and rent asunder all equity 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 lye for his owne commodity. 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 honesty, is nothing else but the bright­nesse of that perfect and chiefe good that appeareth in those things, which may bee knowne by the eies, eares, and minde, whereby it is caused to returne towards the Idea and patterne of goodnesse. Whereby this excellent man meaneth no other thing than to giue vs to vnderstand that whatsoeuer goodnesse 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 workes: yea it is he that maketh vs to goe forward according to our dutie, which consisteth in 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 bee found out. For Two things requisite in euery good worke. these two things may agree or disagree one from another, as wee 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 ende oftentimes propounded had. So that it is from this liuely and euerflowing fountaine, which is the cause of all good, from whence we are to looke for the perfect knowledge of our duty, and the ends and meanes whereby to execute it, to the glory of God, and to the good and pro­fite of our like. And from this generall vertue, and fountaine of honesty and duty, foure ri­uers Foure riuers issue out of the fountaine of dutie. 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: Tomperance, the mistris of modesty, chastity, sobriety and vigilancy, and of all order and me­diocrity in all things: Fortitude, which maketh a man constant pat [...]ent, couragious, hardy, and readie to enterprise high, great, profitable, and holy things: and Iustice, which is the bond and presetuation of humane society by giuing to euery one that which belongeth vn­to him, by keeping faith in things promised, by succouring gladly the afflicted, and by hel­ping euery one according as ability serueth. Which vertues are the t [...]ne and certain goods [Page 40] of the soule, whereby all actions are directed according to duty, as we shall speake particular­ly thereof hereafter. In the meane while let vs enter into the examples of the ancients, and see how exactly and inuiolably they obserued all points of duty, choosing rather to sacrifice their liues, than to infringe and breake any of them, much more contemuing all other wea­ker occasions, wherewith lewde and base minded people suffer themselues to be easily cor­rupted. And first, touching the first point of duty naturally imprinted in the soules of the grea­test Examples of the zeale of the ancients in the seruice of their gods. infidels, which is to acknowledge some diuinitie, with what zeale (although inconside­rate and rash) did the auncient heathens and pagans precisely obserue their paganisme, euen to the sacrificing and cheerefull offering vp of their owne children to their gods, as we reade of the Carthagenians? What say I, their children? yea oftentimes themselues, whereof Cala­nus an Indian Gymnosophist serueth for a witnesse, who seeing himselfe old, after he had of­fered Calanus. sacrifice to the gods, bad Alexander the Great farewel, 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 countrey) vpon a little pile of wood, which he had prepared for that purpose, hee 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 greatnesse of heart, and magnanimity of courage. Who will not admire the strict obseruation of the ancient religion of the Egyptians, Graeci­ans, and Romanes mooued with a desire of yeelding the duty of their being to the honour of a diuine nature? But for shortnessesake, and not to wander farre from the subiect of our assemblie, I passe it ouer with silence. Here I will onely alleadge one notable example of the Iews, who were more zealous professors of their law, than euer were any people. Caius a Romā The zeale of the Iewes to their law. Emperor, sent Petronius into Syria with commandement to make warre with the lewes, if they would not receiue his image into their temple. Which when they refused to doe, Petro­nius said vnto them, that then belike they would fight against Caesar, not weighing his wealth, or their owne weakenesse and vnability. We will not fight (quoth they) but had rather dye than turne from the lawes of our God. And forthwith casting themselues on the ground, and offering their throates, they said, that they were ready 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 groundes. Which caused Petronius to deferre the execution of his charge, and to send the declaration of these things vnto Caesar, whose death rid the Iewes out of dāger. Now we are to consider with what burning affection the ancients imbraced comōn benefite and safety, seeking to profit all men, according to the true dutie of a good man, but e­specially their countrey, in whose seruice they thought it great happinesse to lose their liues. Of the loue which a man oweth to his countrey. For truely besides the sweete affection, which nature hath imprinted in our hearts towards our countrey, and the conformity of humours, which commonly is found in our bodies with that heauen and aire where we haue our first breathing, which seemeth to be a mutuall and naturall obligation, the reason of all humane right, and the religion of diuine equity, be­sides the dutie of conscience, binde all persons to serue the publike wealth of their coun­trey, to the vttermost of their power: and that so much the rather, because that vnder it, the life, honour, and goods of euery particular man are comprehended. This reason cau­sed Cato of Vtica, a Consul and noble Romane, to answer one of his friends, who was Cato of Vtica come to giue him thankes for defending him in iudgement from a false accusation, that he was to thanke the Common-wealth, for whose loue onely hee did speake, 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 Pompey, by whom he saw Metellus set on worke to In what case a good man may sue for an o [...]h [...]. sue and seeke for the same office, for the assurance of his affaires and strengthning 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 great authority, as a strong medicine, in time conuenient, and vpon necessarie causes, and either ouercome, or dye honourably in the defence of common liberty. So likewise he opposed himselfe as much as he could, against all nouelties & alterati­on of affaires betweene Caesar and Pompey. And when the selfesame Pompey, beeing desi­rous to winne 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 beeing netled) that carried backe the message, that he should returne to Pompey and tell him, that Cato was not to bee taken by the meanes of women. Which was not because hee would haue him esteeme greatly of his friendship, which hee should alwaies finde in him to be more sure and certaine [Page 41] than any alliance by marriage, so that hee onely sought after and did things honest and iust, but at this time he would not giue hostages at Pompeies pleasure against the Common wealth. Afterward the affaires of Rome being brought to such necessity through corrupti­on of money, and by vnlawfull and forceable meanes in procuring publike places of au­thority, many Senators being of opinion, that Pompey was to be chosen sole and onely Con­sull: Cato also was of the same mind saying, that men ought to choose a lesse euill to meete with, and to redresse greater mischiefes: 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 & constraint establish one. And it may bee (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 approued and ratified, Pompey sent to seeke Cato, and hauing heartily thanked him for that honour, which he had done him, requested him to be a daily assistant and Counsellour vnto him in his office. To whom this graue man made answere, that he did neuer oppose himselfe heretofore against him for any ill will hee bore him, neyther gaue this last counsell for any good he meant towards him, but all for the good and profite of the Common wealth. And as touching his priuate and particular affaires, he sayd, he would giue him the best counsell he could, whensoeuer he asked his aduise: but for publike matters, he would alwayes speake what he thought were best, although hee neuer asked him any thing. Thus did Cato behaue himselfe all his life time as a good Citizen, and as an vpright and iust man, free in speaking for the truth, and altogether voide 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 bee ordained and established concerning a law put vp by one of the Tri­bunes against all right and equity, 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 promise. Then Metellus departing from the assembly, said, that it was too easie a Metellus. matter to doe ill, as also a common thing to doe well where no danger is, but to doe well when perill is certaine and sure, that was the proper duty of an honourable and vertuous man. For this cause beeing banished, and making light account of the matter, hee vsed these or the like speeches: When things shall bee amended, the people repenting them of their er­ror, will call mee backe againe: but if the affaires continue still in the same state, wherein they now are, it will be best for a man to keepe himselfe afar off. Lycurgus after his lawes were giuen to the Lacedaemonians, fained that he had something else whereof to take counsell with Apollo concerning their estate, and therefore at his departure from Lacedaemon to goe Lycurgus. to Delphos, he caused his citizens to sweare and promise, that they would keepe his lawes in­uiolable vntill his returne, either dead or aliue. This done hee went to the Isle of Candie, die, where hee remained in perpetuall and voluntary banishment, and commanded that af­ter his death, the ashes of his body being burnt, should be cast into the winde, that by this meanes the Lacedemonians might neuer bee absolued of their oath, but that his countrie might alwayes receyue the fruit of his labors, for desire whereof hee had freely forsaken it altogether. Marcus Otho the Emperour hath left behind him a more wonderfull example of the great loue he bare towards his Country, for the benefite whereof he dyed willingly, Marcus Otho For after hee had lost a bartell against Vitellius and Cecinna, fighting for the Empire, he was solicited by the rest of his army, which was yet of great strength, to trie fortune one again, & to vse them and their persons as long as they had one drop of bloud, and life in their bo­dies. And at the same time a simple souldier hauing a sword in his hand, spake thus vnto him: The coura­gious mind of a Souldier. Know, O Caesar, that all my companions are determined to die thus for thy sake, and there­withall he slue himselfe before him. Then Otho casting his eyes all about, spake vnto them in this sort: I account this day more happy to me (Companions) than that other wherein yee did choose and pronounce me your Emperour, beholding you so well affected in my be­halfe, and receyuing such honor from you with so great a demonstration of friendship. And if I haue been worthy to hold the Empire of Rome by your election. I must now shew it, in not sparing my life for the good and safety of my Countrey, I know very well that the Victorie is not yet wholly mine enemies: and I haue receyued newes of such and such Forces (which hee named particularly vnto them) that are readie to ioyne with vs. The Senate is on our side, and the Wiues and children of our ene­mies A notable example a­gainst ciuill warre. are in our hands. But what? This war is not against a Hannibal or a Pyrrhus, or against the Cymbrians, that wee should fight for the possession of Italie, but it is against [Page 42] the Romans themselues: so that in this war both the conquerour and conquered shall of­fend and hurt their Country, because, 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 profite 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 done, he tooke order for the Se­nators and others of his army to retire and saue themselues: and sayde to a Nephew of his whom hee had adopted, I commaund thee my sonne, as the last admonition which I can giue thee, not to forget altogether, nor yet to print it too much in thy memory, that thou hast had an vnckle, who was Emperour, Then laying him downe to rest, the next morning very earely he tooke his sword, & turning the point thereof with both his hands against his stomacke, he fell vpon the toppe of it, without shewing any other token or feeling of griefe, and so dyed, being onely seuen and thirty yeares of age. Codrus king of Athens did no lesse Codrus. for his Country. For hauing vnderstood that the Oracle had promised and assured the victo­ry to the Thracians, who were enemies to the Athenians, if they saued their King aliue, he went into their Campe disguised like a handycrafts man, and slue one of their men, whereu­pon he was presently slaine of others, not being knowne what he was. And thus were the Thracians depriued of the hope of victory, which before they accounted certaine, and in a manner gotten of the Athenians. Marcus Curtius a knight of Rome, who being Consull wan M. Curtius. a notable battell against the Cymbrians, threw himselfe headlong into a deepe gulfe, which was made in the middest of Rome by an earth-quake, and which had greatly dammaged the City. The reason mouing him so to do, was because the Sooth-sayers had giuen out, that the gods would not be pacified and appeased towards the City before the gulfe had swallowed a man aliue. Curtius being desirous to procure the benefite 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 shall we thinke that these, and so many others as histories set before our eyes, who haue freely offered their liues for the safety of ma­ny, and chose rather to vndertake any danger, than to turn aside in any thing from that which they knew to be the duty of a good man, how (I say) shall we think that they would haue fain­ted or yeelded through the inticements of honor, grace, fauor, and riches, whereby the great­nesse 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 duty, which respect euery particular ac­tion, and fearing lest I haue beene somewhat too long in the examples already alledged, wee will conclude our present matter with this generall instruction, that vnto what estate, qua­lity or condition soeuer men are called, they ought to propound to themselues in all their actions, Duty & Honesty, searching for them in the holy Scriptures, and in the precepts of good Duty and honesty are to be pro­pounded in al our actions. life conformable thereunto, which are left vnto vs by the ancient Sages and wise Philoso­phers, to this end, that being well instructed in true piety, we may first of all giue honour and glory to God, and then be beneficiall, helpefull, and profitable to his creatures. These graces we may, by the direction and blessing of God, draw out of those foure riuers which proceede and flow from this generall vertue and fountaine of Honesty, of which we are to discourse par­ticularly hereafter, namely, of Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Iustice, which are those mo­rall vertues whereby all good and vertuous actions are brought to pase.

Of Prudence. Chap. 10.

THere is one onely wise, soueraigne Creator of all things, the Almighty, strong and terrible, who sitteth vpon his throne, from whom commeth all wisedome, E [...]des. 1. 18 which alwaies hath beene, and is for euer with him, and which he hath pow­red out vpon all his works, and vpon al flesh according to his liberality, and giueth her abun­dantly to them that loue him. Shee teacheth the doctrine of God, and causeth vs to choose his workes. Shee decketh vs with prudence, iustice, and courage, giuing vs the knowledge of the time past, and iudgement of that which is to come. The multitude of those which are endued with these gifts and graces, are the guard 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 Duty.

Wisedome raineth downe knowledge, and wise vnderstanding, and bringeth to [...]cles. 1. 23 [Page 43] honour those that possesse her. Of her therfore we are to seake for true prudence, a necessary guide to all our actions; but we must hate the prudence of the flesh, which is folly before God, and maketh all the thoughts of the wise of this world to become vaine & 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 the earthly Pru­dence, which is full of darkenes! when he saith, that Prudence is the generall vertue, the princesse What pru­dence is. and guide of moral vertues, and that wherein the knowledge of our soueraigne good, and of the end of our being consisteth, as also the choise of those waies whereby we may come vnto it. But let vs heare ARAM discourse more largely of the great, worthy, and wonderfull effects of this rich vertue.

All the life of men expressing a worthy end of their beeing, consisteth in con­templation and action. For knowing that the thoughts of all mortall men are vnstable, and their inuentions vncertaine, because the body and the affections thereof oppresse the soule, and cast downe the spirit loden with care, they lift vp their hearts towards the bright­nes of the eternall Light, who of his meere grace prepareth their soules, lightneth 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 society. Therefore it is from knowledge and reason The effects of the vertue of prudence. gotten in the study of wisedome by the grace of God, from whence the vertue of Prudence proceedeth, which is that rule of all the actions of man, whereby through good and sage aduice he decerneth and chooseth good from bad, that which is profitable from the contra­ry, to the end he may shun the one and the practise the other. This is that which Aristole saith, that the office of prudence consisteth in skil to consult and to choose, to the end to ex­ecute that which vertue commandeth, namely, Honesty and decency, and that for noe other respect than for the loue thereof. And therefore wise men haue put a difference betweene Science, and Prudence, saying, that Science is a dead knowledge of things, which of itselfe can­not change the will in such sort, that it may imbrace and follow the knowne good, or auoide The differēce betweene sci­ence & pru­dence. the euill. which is euident in wicked men indued with knowledge. But Prudence is a beame proceeding from that true sunne, which doth not onely illuminate and lighten the vnder­standing, but also warmeth, and kindleth affection. This vertue (saith Bias one of the Sages of Graecia) is amongst the rest of the vertues, as the sight is amongst the fiue senses of mans body: thereby giuing vs to vnderstand, that as the eie, of all the other sences is most beauti­full, Prudence compared to the sight. subtill, and piercing, so the vertue of Prudence by her quicke and cleare light directeth and conducteth all vertues in their good and commendable operations. It is by her that man is alwaies cloathed with a mild and setled disposition, whereof he standeth no lesse in neede, than a ship floating on the sea doth of the presence of a pilot, that he may prudently vnder­take, and 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 of Prudence, namely, Memory, Vnderstanding, and Prouidence: which Prudence hath three eies. 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 the times, weigheth the dangers, and knoweth the occasions: & then, yeelding now and then to the times, but alwaies to necessity, so it be not against duty, 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 forsee things to come. A prudent man (saith Demosthenes) accounteth it a point of folly to say when a thing is come to passe. Who would haue thought it could haue beene? Now Prudence is apparant in him that possesseth her, first by The praise worthy effects of prudence. the rule and gouernment of his person, whether it be in things within him, as in his manners and conditions, or in outward things concerning his body, as in sobriety or diet, comely en­tainement: good hous-keeping, commendable vse of his substance and riches. Of which per­fections and other praise worthy effects that flow from prudence vnder the name of sundry vertues, we are to intreate particularly hereafter, as also how a prudent man being adorned with them may first become a good Oeconomist, that is, a gouernour and father of a fami­ly, and after attaine to that great vertue of politicall knowledge, which is the art of skilfull gouerning and ruling a multitude of men. And then although he doubt not, but that it is an [Page 44] act of Prudence to know what is good and profitable for the Common-wealth, yet that he may know how to execute that office with a perfect and absolute vertue, he seeketh for all occasions to profite the same, and vnto what place of authority soeuer he be called, he al­waies sheweth foorth dutiful 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 innocency, 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 prosperity. And as one not ignorant of the vncertainty of wordly things, he abideth constant in all changes, and like to himselfe, knowing how to choose the lesse euill in all inconueniences, as the bet­ter. He sheweth himselfe valiant in all things. He is maister of his pleasures, and knoweth how to command himselfe He can reape profit by most sinister accidents, yea by his greatest ene­mies, 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 fruite, hauing in them aber­taine power to correct and mooue 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 referre all his actions, both priuate and publike, to the best end, which is, to serue God, and to profit his neighbour. This did Socrates teach very well, saying, that all the desires and inclinations of our soule guided by prudence, tend to happines. Wherein we may note the indissoluble coniunction of all the morall vertues, of which no one can be had perfectly, but The coniun­ction of all the vertues, with her companions, albeit each of them haue her particular and proper duty. But prudence is especially necessary in them all, as it will yet better appeare in the further handling therof, albeit the effects hereunder mentioned of this first vertue being narrrowly considered, may giue vs sufficient proofe thereof. Now to incite and stirre 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 minde certaine examples of the ancients, thereby to marke what wonderfull fruits this vertue of Prudence hath brought foorth in them, If wee consider all the heroicall facts of the worthiest Captaines and Generals of armies that euer were, wee 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 al vertues, prudence was most prince like, and that prowesse was practised by meanes thereof. And indeed he being richly endued therewith vndertooke Of the pru­dence of Alexander the conquest of the Persian Empire, yea of all the world, when he had but thirty thousand footemen, and foure thousand horsmen, with money and victuals to furnish them onely for thirtie daies. But what? The means whereunto he trusted was Prudence, followed of patience Valure and Temperancie, wherewith the study of philosophy had furnished him for his voi­age. In this iourney he did not only in two battailes, ouerthrow Darius Monarch of the Persi­ans, who had aboue twelue hundred thousād men, but also brought vnder subiectiō 15. sundry nations, and tooke fiue thousand cities and townes, and laboured to put in reall execution and practise that forme of gouernment of estate, which was so greatly esteemed of Zeno the Stoicke Philosopher, and tended in effect to this end, that all men generally might liue to­gether, not being diuided by townes, peoples and nations, nor separated by particular lawes, rights and customes, but that wee 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 Monarch giue out that he was sent from heauen to be a common re­former, gouernor, and reconciler of the whole world, so that he imployed all his might to re­duce and bring to ciuility 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 hee constrained by force of armes, so that he caused them all to drinke, as ye would say, in the same cup of loue and friendship, by intermingling their liues, manners, marriages, and fashions of li­uing. I see commanded that all men liuing should account the whole habitable earth for their countrey, 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. Moreouer he willed, that the Graecian and Barbarian should no more bee distinguished by their garments, but that [Page 45] the Graecian should be knowne and discerned by vertue, and the Barbarian by vice, accoun­ting all vertuous men Graecians, and all vitious men Barbarians. Therefore Plutarke sayde very well, that they who were tamed and brought vnder his yoke were a great deale more happy than those that escaped his power, because these men had none to cause them to leaue off from liuing miserably, and the other were compelled by the Conquerour 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, they taught men of good vnder­standings, namely such as were Graecians as well as themselues, & that without great paine and trauell: but this Monarch sustaining infinit labour, and cheerefully shedding his bloud, did change into a better estate, and reformed the rude manners of innumerable sauage peo­ple, euen of such as were brutish by nature. Now let vs speake of Caesar the first Romane Em­peror. Was it not prudence especially that prepared the way for him to so mighty an Empire, Of the proui­dence of Iu­lius Caesar. first, by reconciling together Crassus and Pompey, two of the greatest Romane Senators, by whose fauour he obtained afterwards the dignity of Consulship? When he was placed there­in, being desirous to win the good wil of the people, & knowing that he was already wel vn­derpropped of the Senators, he preferred many lawes in their behalfe. Besides, he was very sumptuous and popular, if euer any Romane was, not sparing any cost vpon plaies, turneies, feasts, largesses, and other baites to curry fauor with the meaner sort of the people, & to gaine the honour and credit of a man that is gracious and charitable towards the poore. And when he was sent to take vpon him the gouernment of the Gaules, he warred there ten yeares, be­ing guided by an vnspeakable prudence, that was accompanied with diligence and forecast: so that by vsing all occasions wisely and to purpose, he subdued there three hundred sundry nations, tooke eighteene hundred townes, and in many battels discomfited three millions of men. The Commentaries which he wrote himselfe, declare sufficiently that his own vertue wrought more exploites than all his army. Of this also he gaue proofe enough in the begin­ning of the ciuil war between him & Pompey, wherein he vsed such diligence, that comming out of France, he made himselfe master of all Italy in threescore daies, without any effusion of bloud, & droue away his enemie. And Cicero, who (as some say) conspired his death, in an Epi­stle calleth him a monster of prudence, and of incredible diligence. Was it not prudence, whereby he noted two faults in Pompey, which after were cause of his ouerthrow? The first in an incounter of their armies, wherein Caesar being at that time the weaker had the worst. And Caesar noted two faults in Pompey. when hee perceiued that his enemy pursued him not, but retired to his Campe, he sayde: The victorie this day was in the power of our enemies, but their captaine could not perceiue it. The other fault which hee noted was at the battell of Pharsalia, where Pompey was quite ouerthrowne, because he charged his souldiers being ranged in battle, to stand still in their places, and so to attend their enemies. Then Caesar said, that in so doing, Pompey tooke from his souldiers the vehemency and violence of giuing the onset, which is as a spur vnto them in their race, besides the heate of courage which this speedy running forward worketh in them. We see then how necessary this vertue of prudence is in the feates of war, which caused Agesilaus king of Lacedomonia, after great losses sustained by the violence of Agesilaus. Epaminondas, the generall captaine of the Thebanes, to say to his men, that they should not greatly care for the multitude of their enemies, but bend all their force against Epaminondas onely, because none but wise and prudent men were valiant, and the onely cause of victory. And therefore if they could beate him downe, they should vndoubtedly haue the rest at The losse of a captaine is commonly cause of the ruine of an Army. their deuotion. As indeede it came to passe in that battell which they fought together, wher­in the Lacedomonians halfe discomfited, one of those that fled being pursued by Epaminon­das, turned backe and slue him: whereupon the rest tooke such courage, and the Thebans were so dismaied, that the victory remained with Agesilaus. Now if in warfare prudence bea­reth such a stroke, who doubteth but that in ciuill and politike gouernment she is as ne­cessary or rather more? Diuine Plato in his booke of a common wealth saith, that if a man would do notable acts worthy of perfect praise in the administration of the commonwealth. 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 contrary parts and facti­ons, Solon being very prudent and wise, would not ioyne himselfe to any of them, but The prudence of Solon. kept himselfe indifferent to all, practising and speaking whatsoeuer he could deuise to ioine [Page 46] and reconcile them together againe, Wherein he behaued himselfe so well, that being cho­sen by them all for the onely pacifyer and reformer of theyr estate, hee placed it in greater glory than euer it was in before, by his prudent and wise lawes which were receyued as in­uiolable, The prudence of Lycurgus, the reformer and law maker of the Lacedemonians, was The pru­dence of Ly­curgus. the cause of the maintenance of theyr estate aboue fiue hundred yeares, so that it was the chiefest in all Grecia, both for excellencie of gouernement, from whence they fell not vn­till such time as they wholly neglected those goodly ordinances and lawes which hee left them. A prudent man alwayes giueth good counsell, and vttereth the same freely, being also a good and willing helpe to innocency. Phocion speaking his mind one day in the coun­sell chamber of the Athenians, against the enterprising of a certaine warre, and seeing that Phocian. his aduise so greatly displeased them, that they would not giue him leaue to vtter his minde, he spake freely vnto them in this manner: Yee may peraduenture (O Athenians) force me to doe that which ought not to bee done, but yee cannot constraine me to speake any thing contrary to my opinion that ought not to be spoken or counselled. Demosthenes knowing the innocency of a poore woman drawne into iudgement with danger of being ouerthrown, The prudence of Demosthe­nes in defen­ding the in­nocency of a poor woman. saued her by his great prudence. For two strangers hauing giuen her a good summe of mo­ney to keepe, with this condition, that shee should not restore it to the one except the other were also present, within a while after one of them came very sorrowfull, fayning that his companion was dead, and bringing some counterfeit token thereof with him. Whereupon he so perswaded this poore woman, who meant simply and plainely, that she restored the money to him. Afterwards the other came, and demaunding the money also, brought this woman before a iudge, who being without hope of escaping, Demosthenes aaswered for her, that she offered to giue him the money, so that he brought his fellow, because, as himselfe confessed, she ought not to giue it to the one without the other, The profite which a pru­dent man draweth from his enemies is in this, that he knoweth and taketh them for spyes, for enuiers at his life, and ioynt labourers with him for honour and glory: whereupon hee is the more carefull that his doings may be blamelesse. And to this purpose Diogenes an­swered How a pru­dent man may reape benefite by his enemies, and by mis­hap. wisely to one, who demaunded how he might be auenged on his enemie: By ma­king thy selfe (quoth he) a vertuous and good man. Most sinister accidents likewise turn to the profite of a prudent man. For being long time before prepared for all euents, the worst that happen confirme him further in the knowledge of the vncertainety of humane things, and lift him vp so much the more to the contemplation of heauenly things, that he may desire nothing but the blessed immortality 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 An [...]agoras. of Prudence maketh it also to be greatly admired. Marcus Cato, when he saw that Pom­pey ioyned himselfe in league with Caesar, tolde him, that he did put Caesars yoake vpon his owne necke, which then he perceyued not, but that shortly it would weigh heauy vpon him, and then should hee finde himselfe taken and tyed. A prudent man is not amazed The prudent foresight of M. Cato. through feare either of blame or of false accusation, but alwayes goeth with his head vp­right, trusling to his innocency, and to his owne vertue. Scipio Africanus being accused of many things by the Tribunes of the people, answered nothing to the crimes layde against him, but onely say de thus: In such a day as this is, sirs, I ouercame both Carthage and Hanniball, and therefore I am now going to the Capitoll to sacrifice to Iupiser the best and greatest God, and to giue him thanks for the victory. In the meane while if any man The prudence of Scipio in answering to an vniust ac­cusation. long to proceede against me in iudgement, let him doe it. After he had so sayd, 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 manner to triumph againe. Emilius Scaurus being also accused of a certaine crime by Uarius, made this onely answere: O ye Romanes, Varius affirmeth this Emilius Scaurus. crime laide against me to be true, aad Scaurus denyeth it: whom will ye rather beleeue? By this wise and couragious answere he made the accusation of none effect, because his hone­sty was well knowne to euery one. The conuersation, assemblies, laughters, quips and pa­shmes of prudent men, are neuer without some profite. Plato in his booke intituled Conuiui [...] um, that is a feast, discourseth of the last end of mens actions, and of the soueraigne and chiefe good of man but yet in very familiar speeches, by certain examples, and pleasant ficti­ons, The sports of prudent m [...]n. and deuises fit for the time and place, and not with serious and graue words, as he v­seth to doe in his other writings. Moreouer, learned deuises are the sports & delights of wise men, who account all other pastimes vaine and vnbeseeming them, and as hinderances and [Page 47] lets rather of their pleasure, than occasions of any recreation. Notwithstanding, wisely ap­plying themselues to places and persons, they can in their serious discourses intermingle some honest pastimes, but yet not altogether without profite. As Plato in his foresayd feast inter­laceth certaine comicall speeches of loue, howbeit all the rest of the supper there was no­thing but wise discourses of Philosophy. A Lacedemonian being asked of a certaine matter Pleasant say­ings full of doctrine. by an other, answered cleane contrary to the truth. And when the other tolde him that he lyed. Behold (quoth he againe) what a foole thou art to aske me that) which thou knowest well ynough. Diogenes in a great assembly of people purposely going backeward, and see­ing that euery one laughed at him, asked them aloud if they were not ashamed to mocke him for going backeward 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, hee sayd vnto him; If thou diddest 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 liberty. What profitable doctrine may a man draw out of these Philosophicall disports and iests? Further, a prudent man neuer beleeueth any thing ouerlightly, but layeth aside all reputation and credite of him that spea­keth, A prudent man doth euer lightly belieue any thing. and examineth the speech by it selfe: so farre is hee from giuing credite to an ignorant or naughty fellow. Neyther will he be dazled with fine and eloquent speech, but (as Zeno sayd) considereth whether his speech bee tempered with sense and reason, that so hee may iudge soundly of the truth, and take order thereafter. O what number of examples to this purpose might be alledged of that great harme that hath followed the credulity and light beleefe of Magistrates, Gouernours and heads of Monarchies and Nations? Alas, our poore France hath but too great experience thereof to her confusion and destruction. But this mat­ter may offer it selfe hereafter to be more amply handled, as also other effects of Prudence, which I haue briefly touched. In the meane while wee will conclude, that Prudence is an excellent gift 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 doe nothing that is excellent and prayse-worthy.

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

NO man (sayth diuine Plato) can be hurt or deceyued but by himselfe. Which proposition at the first sight may seeme somwhat absurd. But if, being well in­structed How none can be hurt but by him­selfe. in Philosophy, wee will follow the opinion of the ancient Sages, that Whatsoeuer wee see of the body subiect to sight, is not man, but that the soule onely, which is invisible and immortall, is that which truely ought to be called man, and that whereby wee liue, and for which wee ought to liue, It is out of doubt, that none can hurt our soules but ourselues. The kniues wherwith we hurt our soules are eyther want of prudence of malice, which are as per­nicions 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 hee thinketh to of­fend another. As then in our former discourse we haue seen the laudable effects of Vertue and Prudence, so let vs now consider, my companions, the dangerous fruites of these two vices, which are altogether contrary vnto it.

If the blind leade the blinde both will fall into the pit: and he that know­eth his Masters will, and doth it not, shall be much more chastised than the ignorant. So that both want of prudence and malice are two plagues in the soule greatly to be feared: and ther­fore Bias sayth, Be neyther simple nor subtill.

Herillus the Chalcedonian affirmed, that science was the soueraigne 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 with vertuous deedes, it ought rather to bee called the chiefest euill: forasmuch as hee that sinneth through ignorance, is more excusa­ble than the malitious, who sinneth wittingly. And for defence of my saying, besides the Vertuous actions are to be ioyned with know­ledge. authority of the Scripture, I haue Plato, who sayth, that science without the knowledge and practise of that which is good, is very pernitious. But let vs hearken to AMANA, who wil discourse vnto vs more at large of these two vices, want of discretion, and malice or subtilty.

All vertue being in the midst of two vices, the one of them is cleane con­trary [Page 48] vnto it, and the other being more dangerous, seeketh to couer it selfe with her 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 deceite and subtletie, and that vnder the name of prudence. First then let vs consider of want of prudence or vnskilfulnesse, & of the effects thereof in the soule. Vnskilfulnes procee­ding or rather being the same thing that ignorance is, causeth a man (as Aristotle saith) to What want of prudence is. iudge euill 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 eft vndone, so vnskilfulnes is the ignorance of those selfe same things, and is alwaies followed of incontinency, of want of ciuility, and of forgetfulnes. Briefly want of prudence is so contagious and pestilent a a thing in the minde 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 truely wheresoe­uer it is, there neither God can be truely honoured and serued, nor vice auoided, nor any action, either publike or priuate can be orderly, and according to duty executed. For as a weake and diseased sight cannot behold the light of the Sunne, so an vnskilfull soule cannot know the truth. Vnskilfulnesse causeth a man to fall into seuerity, when he thinkes to ex­ercise iustice. If he would be liberall, he becommeth prodigall. If he thinketh to auoide su­perfluitie, The perniti­ous. effects of ig­norance. he falleth into couetousnesse. 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, foorthwith he iudgeth that there is none at all: and thus guided by ignorance, all his desires and inclinations tend to wretchednesse and miserie. Moreouer, Plato saith, that ignorance taketh away the sight of the minde from those that are tainted therewith, as blindnesse taketh away the sight of corporall eies from those that are tainted therewith, as blindnesse taketh away the sight of corporall eies from those that lacke their sight, And further he testifieth, that the ignorant minde 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 renowne 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 body, it were more profita­ble neither to see, heare, or helpe themselues any way with their body. In like manner it were better for him that knoweth not how to vse 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 freeman. The speech of this wise philosopher expoundeth it selfe sufficiently, as tending to none other end than to giue vs to vnderstand, that it is better not to be, yea neuer to haue beene 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 drunkennesse engen­dreth rage and madnesse, so (saith Aristotle) ignorance ioyned with power begetteth insolencie and fury. And it is all one (as Plato saith) to place an ignorant man in authority, as to lay a great burden vpon the shoulders of a man halfe dead 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 manner nothing differing from the brute beasts. This caused the ancients All ignorant men are euil. to vse this saying: 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 mischiefes doe wee not see to come of ignorance? If a man be of a meane or base estate, it maketh him good The effects of ignorance both in rich and poore. for nothing, fearefull, superstitious, vnprofitable, needy, vnciuill, slothfull, and vnfit to e­uery good thing. If hee bee mighty and rich, besides that he may fall into the said miseries through the same imperfection, hee will so much the sooner become arrogant, cruell, rash, talkatiue, couetous, vnconstant, giuen to voluptuousnesse, and vniust. In a word, the more meanes hee 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 vnworthy to intermed­dle at all either in politicall or oeconomicall gouernment. If an ignorant man possesse any great benefite or felicity, he can neuer know so much, before he hath lost it againe. Moreo­uer, this mischiefe followeth him, that he can neuer make his profite of any good counsell, because of the presumption of his owne opinion, which he alwayes thinketh better then a­ny other: yea hee supposeth that nothing can bee well done, except he put to his helping [Page 49] hand. For (as Menander saith) nothing is so rash as ignorance. And the more that an ig­norant man is lift vp vnto some execellencie of dignity or riches, the more vnsufferable hee 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, hee presumeth oftentimes to vndertake things against all reason and equitie. And contrariwise, if fortune change, hee abaseth himselfe out of measure, shewing nothing but abiection of mind, inconstancie and impatiency, and that with so great trouble and disquietnesse of spirit, that oftentimes hee is wholly besides himselfe. Now these are but small fruites of ignorance, namely, to make a man importunate: to cause him to stay another that hath great affaires, saying that he hath many Common effects of ig­norance. things to communicate vnto him, when in truth they will doe 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 company: to request him to walke that hath already gone a great way: when he seeth a thing sould 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 ready to doe that which a man would not haue him to doe, and yet dare not well deny it him: to wonder 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 bin in the ages past, and doe liue yet among vs, whose life being ignorant of euery good cause and reason is not much vnlike, and in 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 spring of all errors. the midst of their soules, because they had no true knowledge of the end of their beeing, nor of his will by whom they liue? From thence it cometh, that the best aduised among them ex­ercise base handicrafts, not being desirous to learne further: that some leade a seruile & 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 maintain their liues by vnlawfull meanes: that all through a blockish ignorance depriue themselues of all present and eternall felicity. Now albeit these poore men, who haue no great meanes to execute their wic­ked desires, may after a sort seeme tollerable and excusable to mans iudgement, because their ignorance doth not greatly hurt any but themselues, yet it falleth out far worse with those that haue wealth at will, and authority to command others, who not knowing how to vse their goods well by vertuous deedes, abuse them to all vice, dissolutenes, and pleasure: wher­by for the most part they cast themselues headlong into infidelity and Atheisme, because they neuer had true vnderstanding of the perfect diuinity, nor yet considered the perfection of his works both in heauen and earth. O pitifull calamity 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 The reasons which moo­ued the hea­then to be­leeue that there was a diuinitie. of the stars, nor in the seasons of the yeare, 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 yearely fruits, and for a thou­sand other good considerations, beleeued & worshipped one supreme eternall essence, which gouerneth all things: and shall they that carry the name of Christians, to whom the vnspeak­able treasures of the heauens haue bin opened and offered with innumerable graces, shall they, I say, doubt, yea impudently deny 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, because they are hurtfull to many. Yea often­times it hath come to passe, that one onely fault of such a man hath bin the losse and destru­ction of an infinite number of men. Nicias the general Captaine of the Athenians, through the Nicias feared an eclipse of the moone. feare which he had conceiued of the darknes of an Eclipse of the moone, and not knowing the cause thereof, staied so long vntill his enemies had inclosed him round about: whereupon hee was taken aliue of them, and put to death, besides the losse of 40000. Athenians that were ta­ken and slaine. Who doubteth but that ignorance draue Caligula and Domitian into such pride Caligula and Domitian. and cruelty, that whilest they sought to be worshipped in stead of the true God, they were the cause of the death and destruction of more then a hundred thousand men? In the time of O­tho the first, there fell a stone from heauen, which astonished all Germany, and turned them Otho the first. from prosecuting an enterprise of great weight and importance for the benefit of their coun­trey. If they had knowne it to bee a naturall thing, and such as had come to passe long [Page 50] before, as Aristotle affirmeth, they had not bin so fearefull, nor receiued that dammage to the detriment of the Common-wealth, which came to them afterward. That speech of Anaxa­goras a Greek Philosopher, agreeable hereunto, is worthy to be remembred, when hee saide, Anaxagoras, saying against the superstiti­ous feare of celeshall signes. that a man ought to driue out of himselfe, and to treade 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 amazed feare, because they want that certaine knowledge that Philosophy 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 yeare. They suffered their wise maisters of the pallace to take knowledge of, and to order and to rule all things, who depriuing them as vn worthy, of alauthority, took 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, contrary to Torquatus that refused the Consulship because of his diseased eies, altogether blind as they are deafe, dumbe, and destitute of all naturall light, of prudence and experience to guide themselues, are not contented to manage the sailes & tacklings, but desire to haue the rudder of the Cōmō ­wealth in their hands. And it is greatly to be feared, that such vnskilfull and ambitious men will in the end shew themselues both in wil & practise to beimatators of one Cleander an out Cleander a [...]tor to Commodus his Lord. landish slaue, who being preferred by Commodus the Emperor to goodly offices and great pla­ces of honour, as to be great Master of his men of war, and his chiefe Chamberilane, conspired not withstanding against his Lord, seeking to attaine to the imperiall dignity by seditious, which hee stirred vppe in Rome betweene the people and the soldiers. But through good order taken, his enterprise tooke no effect, except the losse of his own head, and destru­ction of his house. Although oftētimes it falleth out cleane contrary through the iust punish­ment of God, for the ignorance and impiety as well of the monarchs themselues, as of their people. Now if fortune turne her selfe about, and set her selfe neuer so little against an ignorant person, he is straight way ouercome with a thousand perturbations, and vrged with despaire, as being onely 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 great conquests, but not in his vnspeakeable vertues, was ouercome in battle by Paulus Emilius, chiefecaptaine of the Romans, and was led towards him. Emilius as soone as he The b [...]se mind of perses being ouer­come of Emilius. 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 wholy bea­ten downe through faintnes and basenes of mind, cast himselfe at his feete vpon the ground with his face downward, 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 ignorāt 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 heretofore, because of thy base minde within thee, which hath made thee an vnworthy aduersary of the Romanes? And truly a man cannot iustly bee called through the benefite of fortune, but by knowing how to vse her wel & wisely both in prospe­rity and aduersity. As for an ignorant and base minded man, the higher that fortune lifteth him vp in great estate where he shall be viewed of many, so much the more she discouereth, descrieth, & dishonoureth him. For great calling, & riches are no more able to lift vp the hart of a base minded fellow, than pouerty can abate and lessē the great courage of a noble heart. I could here alledge many moe examples of the pernicious effects that are (as wee haue said) wroght in the soule by ignorance, but hereafter they wil come in more fitly, when we shal dis­course particularly of vices. Onely I say here with Plato, that arrogant ignorance hath now more than euer seazed vpon the minds of men, and filled them with euills, as beeing the root and spring of them: that it peruerteth all things, and causeth him that possesseth her to taste to the end of a most bitter fruite. Now to come to malice and craft, which is the ex­cesse of prudence, it is that which leadeth a man through wilfull ignorance, to oppose What [...] & [...] himselfe against that which he knoweth to be dutifull and honest, causing him vnder the counterfeit name of prudence to seeke to deceiue those that will beleeue him. This vice is [Page 51] the chiefe cause of ambition and couetousnes, which most mē serue in these daies: but aboue all things it is an enemie to iustice, causing all their actions to tend to the ouerthrow therof. 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 all credite of goodnesse. 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 and wicked, but also the deliberation ther­of although it take no effect, yea the onely thought thereof is vile and detestable: so farre is it, that any couering or cloake can excuse a fault committed of malice. Also he saith, that in deliberating all hope of concealing and hiding the fact must be taken away, for as much as Vertuous mē seek after ho­nest, not secret things. vertuous men ought to seeke after honest, not secret things. Moreouer it is the property 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 craft abused the simplicity of our first mother to the ouerthrow of all mankinde. Amongst many we may note here the ex­ample of Nero a most cruell Emperor, who being instructed from his youth by that wise man Satan the fa­ther of ma­lice & subtil­tie. Seneca his schoole-master, in the beginning of his Empire counterfeited 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 any mans death. Notwithstanding within a while after he disclosed his dete­stable impiety & cruelty, by putting to death his mother, his tutor, and a great number of ho­nest The malice of Nero [...]. 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 half the city was cleane consumed: Afterward, to the end he might haue some co­lour to persecute the Christians, he laid to their charge the kindling of the fire, and so put a great number of them to death. Tyberius also in the beginning of his reigne behaued himselfe Tyberius. 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 cruelty and filthy pleasures. True it is that one may attribute the cause of such sodaine alteration of humors to the soueraigne authority and power of commanding, which commonly hath this property to make him that seemed good to become wicked: the humble to be arrogant: the pitiful, 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 write, that Tyberius could behaue himselfe cunningly in that sort. Now that we may profit by this discourse, let vs learne to be prudent and simple as the Scripture spea­keth, eschewing all shameles and damnable malice and deceite, all want of prudence and ig­norance, which procure the losse of soule and bodie, whereof a man may accuse none but him­selfe. Mat. 10. 16. For ignorance (saith Menander) is a voluntary mischiefe. And although the knowledge of good and euill is most necessary of all others, yet it is 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 wee must not be ashamed to learne, least happely we be hit in the teeth to our confusion with that sai­ing of Diogines to a young man whom he espied in a tauerne, who being ashamed to be seene there, speedily step further into the same. The more thou runnest in (quoth this wise man to him) the further thou art in 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: We must not deny or hide our igno­rance. not vnlike to poore men, who beeing desirous to seeme rich, in the end finde them­selues poorer than before, by reason of their vaine & foolish expences. But the ignorant man that searcheth for wisedome and inquireth after her, shall be in some sort esteemed wise, and that iniquity ought to be taken for an argument of his wit and prudence: as contrariwise he that taketh himselfe for a wise man and presumeth too much of his skill, falleth often into shame and dishonour, being reprooued of many. Therfore let vs daily accuse our selues of too much ignorance, knowing that euen the sharpest sighted do see but through a cloud & mist, I meane the instrument of our body, from which we shall not be deliuered vntill we haue put off this mortall to be clothed with that which is immortall in the enioying of the blessed life. So that it will be alwaies necessary for vs during this life, to learne and to profit in the know­ledge of the truth, which is an enemy to ignorance.

Of speech and speaking. Chap. 12.

HAuing spent all this day in discoursing of prudence, and of those vices that are contrary vnto it, I thinke that to finish this daies worke, wee shall doe well to take in hand againe, and to follow that which was too briefely hand­led concerning 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 heart 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 therfore wee ought to account it sacriledge to pollute and defile so holy a thing with filthy and vile talke. A good man alwaies draweth good things out of the treasure of his heart, and a Math. 12. 35. wicked man euill things. Therefore I greatly commend that saying of Plutarke: That speech is as it were the nourishment of the soule, which is corrupted, and becommeth odious through the wicked­nesse of men.

Hee that hath knowledge (saith the wise man) spareth his words: euen Prou. 17. 27, 28. a foole, when hee holdeth his peace is counted wise, and hee that stoppeth his lippes pru­dent. If any man long after life, and to see good daies, let him refraine his tongue from 1. P [...]t. 3. 10. euill, and his lips that they speake no guile. For euery one shall eate of the fruite of his mouth to saluation, or to condemnation. But wee 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: A double rea­son of speech. the one internall, or of the minde, called the diuine guide: the other vttered in speech, which is the messenger of the conceites and thoughts of man. The end 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 and of conten­tation in his owne vertue, it healeth him of euery rebellious passion that disobei [...]th reason, of all contention betweene will and will, and of the contrariety of discourses. O rare excel­lencie, which floweth from wisedome into the soules of blessed men! The end of the other reason, or vttered speech, is friendship towards others, which causeth vs to speake and teach whatsoeuer is fruitefull and profitable for euery one, and carrieth with it great force to per­swade. Of this speech we purpose heere to intreate, as of that which occupieth no small place, but euen very great amongst the secrets of nature, and which ought to rauish vs into an ad­miration of his workes who is author thereof. The Philosophers, diligent searchers out the reason of all things, say that speech is made by aire beaten and framed with articulate and di­stinct sound. But howsoeuer it is framed, the reason thereof is harde to bee comprehended of How speech is framed. humane sence. And wee ought to bee so much the more desirous to know for what cause it was giuen vs, and to feare least wee make it vnprofitable or wickedly imploy so great, won­derfull, and diuine a thing. Democritus saide that words were the shadow of workes. Themisto­cles Words are the shadow of works. compared speech to a rich cloth of tapestrie, figured and setfoorth with stories, because 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 behold as it werein a temple, the goodly similitudes and images of the soule. Vertue (saith Plutarke) hath no instrument so gracious or familiar as speech, which being followed of workes, is of great efficacie and force, and wonderfully pricketh forward those that heare vs, causing them to giue credite to oursayings, and working in them a desire to resemble vs. Aschines said very 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 his doctrine and speech. Moreouer, a wise man ought to take euery word he speaketh for a voluntary and particular law, laide vpon himselfe, seeing that Philosophie is a profession of serious, graue, and weighty matters, and not a play or prittle prattle, vnconstantly vttered to obtaine honor onely. Whereby we see that all talke ought to haue reason for a foundation, and the loue of our neighbour for a marke to aime at. This is that which Agabetus would teach vs, when he saith, That the tongue is a slipperieinstru­ment, The founda­tion and [...]ope of all speech. and bringeth great danger to those that neglect it: but if we direct it with a religious vnder­standing, [Page 53] it will sing vs a song tuned with all the concords of a true harmonie of vertue. Plutarke saith, that speech ought to bee like gold, which is then of greatest price of value, when it hath least drosse in it: so a few words ought to comprehend great store of substan­tiall matter and instruction. Such was the speech of the auncient Graecians, as the senten­ces vttered by them doe testifie: namely, Know thy selfe, Nothing too much, Nothing more than enough, and other short speeches full of great and profitable doctrine. Whereupon Of Laconical speech. this prouerbe arose, Laconicall sayings, that is, short and sententious, which resemble streames running through a narrow straight, where the water is so pressed together, that one cannot see through it. And so truely it was very harde without skill and great labour to comprehend the depth of the sence and vnderstanding of their wordes, which were full of sententious grauity. And when they were to answer any thing propounded on a suddaine, auoiding all superfluous speech, their answers were very witty and well contriued, their wordes very significant and short, hauing in them both grace and grauity ioyned together. As when Philip king of Macedonia wrote vnto them, that if hee entred within Laconia, hee would ouerthrow them topsie turuie: they wrote backe vnto him onely this word, If. And another time, as Demetrius one of his successors, beeing angry with the am­bassadour which they sent vnto him, asked if hee came alone from the Lacedaemonians to him, the ambassadour made this onely answer, One to one. Pittacus vsed to say, that a drye and A pretie say­ing of Pitta­cus. thirstie eare must bee washed with a sentence that is good to drinke, and 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, wee are not to neglect, if it may be, the ioyning of graue doctrine with sweete gracious and eloquent speech, mingled with some pleasure, grace, and delight, but voide of all dissolutenesse. For (as Euripides saith) that is the goodliest assemblie in the world, where the Graces and Muses meete together. Right and reason are Of graue and eloquent speech. inuincible, beeing well vttered, because the soule is therby induced easily to beleeue the good reasons shee heareth, through the delight that is ioyned with them. Examples also being vt­tered fitlie, and with a good grace, profite no lesse than the other, because with the force of perswading, which is in the nature of the example, there is ioyned the vertue of delighting. But we must carefullie auoyde all subtiltie of speech, all proude, superfluous, and vnprofitable talke, lest that bee iustly obiected vnto vs, which Phocion replyed to Leosthenes who labou­red to perswade the Athenians to warre by an eloquent and verie loftie oration. Thy words, (quoth hee to him) young man and my friend, may fitly bee compared to Cyprestrees. For they are great and tall, but beare no fruit worth any thing. Or else that may be obiected vn­to vs which Aristotle answered to a great pleader of causes, who at euery sentence he rehear­sed, asked him, if that were not a strange thing. Not that, (replyed he) but this is a greater Against pra­ting pleaders. maruaile, that any man hauing two legges can abide thy babling. And to another, who af­ter a long discourse said vnto him, I haue troubled thy head Philosopher: Not a whit (an­swered he) for I thought not vpon it. Such bablers, whom Plato verie aptlie calleth theeues of time, are compared by Plutarke to emptie vessels, which giue a greater sound thā they that are full. So hee that is poore in respect of the goods of the soule, hath alwayes some fonde speech in his mouth. But wee must aboue all things shunne this vice of intemperancie of the tongue, which Bias calleth the best and worst thing that was. It serueth vs to profit & The tongue is the best and worst thing that i [...]. instruct others, and by the same also wee 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 al the bodie, and setteth on a flaming fire the whole world, if it bee not extinguished and re­pressed. It seemeth that nature would teach vs by fortifying the tongue better than any o­ther part of the bodie, and by setting before it the bulwarke of the teeth, that if it will not obey reason, which being within ought to serue in stead of a bridle, to stay it from preuen­ting the thought, we might restraine, and chastice the impudencie thereof with bloudie bi­ting. And because we haue two eares and two eyes, it ought to serue vs for instruction, that wee must heare and see much more than wee speake. Doe we not also see, that sight & hea­ring goe before speaking, and that of necessitie, an infant must first vnderstand before hee can be 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 Isocrates ap­pointed two times of spea­king. we may put in practise without blame in this maner. As touching the first point, it is lawfull and seemelie for vs to speake, when we stand in need of anything; secondly, when our speech shal profit any; also to delight & recreate one another with pleasant deuises, void of dissolute­nesse, to mollifie and to ease the trauell of our affaires, or else to relish our rest the better, [Page 54] and to induce vs thereby to giue glory to God. All speech not grounded vpon one of these three causes were better restrained than vttered, Moreouer wee ought to obserue inviolably the 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 Appelles [...] to a persian lord. Lord, who comming into his shoppe to see him, intermingled some talke of the art of painting, So long (quoth Apelles to him (as thou were silent, thou seemedst to be some man of great account-by reason of thy chaines, car quenets of gold and purple gowne: but now there is not the least of these boies that grindeoker, who doth not mocke thee, hearing thee speake that which thou knowest not. By which saying wee may note, that great men ought to weigh well, and to consider of that which they speake in publike places, and to vse graue How great me [...] [...] to speak [...] and sententious words of another phrase than that of the vulgar sort, or else to holde their peace if they haue not this gift of speaking: Or at the least they are ro speake but little, seeing the very words, gesture and countenance of a prince, are oftentimes taken for Lawes, Ora­cles, and decrees. Tyberius also brought vp this custome of speaking to the Prince by writing, and of his answer by the same, to the end 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 atableo his owne for all men to behold, & had hid himselfe behind it, that he might heare what could be reprehended, a shoemaker espied a fault in the fashion of the latchet, which Apelles afterward corrected. And hauing the next morning hung it out againe to bee viewed, this shoemaker 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 shoemaker ought not to iudge of Apelles spech to a shoe­maker. greater matters than of the shoe. This is the meaning of that common prouerbe, to goe about to teach Minerua: which is so into lerable a thing in men of honour, and so pernitious in the simpler sort that are light of beliefe, that for this cause Alexander the Great gaue money to Che­r [...]llus an ignorant poet, to hold this peace and to leaue writing. And seeing we are en­tred Alexander gaue [...]on [...] to a poet to hold his peace. into this matter, we must know that wee ought to bee much more staied and aduised in writing any thing, than in bare speaking: because a rash and and inconsiderate word may be corrected presently, and that which is once set downe in writing can no more be denied, or amended but with infamy. As therefore a man had neede of a ready and quicke wit to bee a­ble Nothing [...] to bee [...] o [...]. to speake well: so great wisedome is very necessary to write well, yea the same rules and precepts that belong to speaking, agree also to writing. Besides, writing is called of many, a dumbe speech, which ought to be short and full of instruction. Caesar in a letter which he sent to Rome from the Persian battaile, wrote but these three words, Veni, vidi, vici, that is to say, I came, sawe, and ouer came. Octauian writing to his nephew Caius Drusus, said thus: For as much as Notable and [...] letters of an [...] en [...] men. thou art now in Illiria remember that thou descendest of Caesars, that the Senate hath sent thee, that thou art yong, my nephew, and a Citizen of Rome. Plato writing to Dyonisius the younger, 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 enemies, 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 is subdued, Syria, Ascalonia and Arabia are confederates, and Palestina is vanquished. Wee see then the manner of writing vsed by the auncients, for which breuity they were as much esteemed, as the great discoursers of these times after iust occasion of cor­rection. But to returne againe into the path way of speaking, we haue in Cicero a notable in­struction for this matter. Let our speech (saith he) be sweete and pleasant, not head-strong: A good pre­cept for speaking. and when wee discourse, let vs not be so long that wee 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 se­verity, but if he speake of delectable things, a pleasant and gracious behauiour. Aboue all things we must take heede, that our speech discouer not some vice to be in our maners, which commonly falleth out when wee speake euill of a man in his absence, either to mooue laugh­ter, or to his shame and reproach. We must also remember, if our speech vpon some occasion coming between intermit the first discourse, that it return again in coueniēt time. But that is as things fal out. For al take not pleasure in the same things, nor at all times, & as we haue be­gun vpo some occasiō, so we must end by some means. Now because in euery actiō of our life the perturbatiō of the soule are to be eschewed, we must be careful that our speech bee voide thereof: namely, that it bee without choler, without extreame affections, also without care­lesnesse, and other such like imperfection. Especially we must striue to make it knowne, that [Page 55] we loue and reuerence those with whom we speake. Further, we must know that silence in due time and place, is profound wisedome, a sober and modest thing, and full of deepe se­crets. The prayse of silence. This caused Archidamus, when hee saw that Hecatus the Orator was blamed for not speaking one word at a bauquet, to answere for him, that they which know how to speake well, know also the time of silence. Hyperides likewise beeing at a feast amongst a great as­sembly, very full of noyse and pleasure, and being asked why hee spake nothing, answe­red Hyperides. thus: It is no time now to discourse of those thinges for which I am fitte: and as for those thins, which the time now requireth, I am vnfitte. Bias being mocked of a bab­ler, because hee spake nothing all a Supper while, answered him thus: How is it possible that a foole should hold 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 wee tell the King our master concerning you, Master Zeno? Nothing else (quoth he) but that you saw an olde man, who knew well how to hold his peace at the table. And truely no speech vttered did euer so much good, as many kept in, haue profited: and that which is restrained may be spoken at any time; but a word giuen out can no more bee called backe againe. For wordes (as the Poet sayth) haue wings, and are presently dispersed euery where: and many repent that they haue spo­ken, but neuer that they held their peace. How many examples do histories set before our eies of men, who through the intemperancie of their tongues, haue throwne themselues head­long into infinit calamities, and of mightie Cities and great Estates destroyed & ouerthrown Examples of mischiefes caused by the intemperancy of the tongue. through the disclosing of some secret? The City of Athens was taken and destroyed by Syl­la the Romane dictatour, who by his spies was admonished of the pratling of certaine olde men in a Barbers shop, where they talked of a certaine place of the towne that was weakest, and worst defended. The ouermuch talke of one only man was the cause that Rome was not deliuered from the tyranny of Nero. For seeing one of the prisoners that was taken by the tyrant to be dismayed because hee should be put to death, he willed him to pray to God that he might escape but vntil the morrow onely, and then he should haue cause of reioycing. Whereupon the Prisoner thinking with himselfe, that it were better for him to choose a cer­tainety than to expect an vncertainetie, and to prefer a safe way to saue his life, before a iust, disclosed this speech to Nero, who knew well how to remedie the conspiracie. The Gentle­man of Normandie who in his confession, told a Franciscan Fryer, that he was once minded to haue killed Francis the first, may well be placed amongst these ouermuch speakers. For the King being aduertised hereof by the Franciscan Frier, sent the poor penitentiarie to the court of Parliament, where he receiued sentence of death. Those that are noblie & royally brought vp (sayth Plutarke) learne first to hold their peace, and then to speake. Therefore Antigo­nus the Great being demaunded by his sonne, at what houre the Campe should dislodge: Art thou afraid (quoth he to him) that thou alone shalt not heare the trumpet? He trusted not him with a secret matter, to whom the succession of the Empire was to come: teaching him thereby to bee more close and secret in such matters. Euerie particular man likewise ought to be no lesse aduised in vsing great discretion, when the question is of vttering any thing which a man would haue concealed. For hee (saith Plato) to whom one discloseth a secret, getteth the others libertie. Now in this laudable silence which we commend here, we haue Of concea­ling a secrer. this to marke well, that when the question is of speaking a truth, or of profiting another, we ought not to doubt in anie case, what pretence soeuer there be, to speake, vtter, maintain, & freelie to giue counsel in that thing, which concerneth the duty of a good man, or the charge whereunto we are called. The Sages and vertuous men heretofore haue alwayes shewed themselues to be such in their free counsels and wise declarations, as hereafter we may handle more largely. In the meane time wee may haue here Demaratus for an example of this com­mendable Examples of the commen­dable freedom of speech. liberty of speech, who comming from Corinth into Macedonia, when Philip was at variance with his wife and with his sonne, was demaunded by the King, whether the Graecians did agree well among themselues: Truely sir, (quoth he to him) it becommeth you well to enquire after the concord of the Athenians and Peloponesians, and in the meane while to suffer your owne house to be full of diuision and domesticall discord. Diogenes also being gone to the Campe of the same Philip, at the same time that hee returned from making warre against the Graecians, and being led before him, the King asked him if he were not a Spie. Yes truely, answered the Philosopher, I am a Spie, and come hither to espie thy im­pudencie and folly, who not constrained by any, doest set downe as it were on a dycing boord in the hazard of one houre, both thy kingdom and life. Demosthenes being demanded [Page 56] of the tyrant Epemetes, why hee wept so bitterlie for the death of a Philosopher, a compani­on of his, seeing it was a strange matter to see wise men weepe, yea altogether vnbeseeming their profession. Know (said he to him) that I weepe not for the death of this Philosopher, but because thou art a liue. For I tell thee that in the Academies we are more sorrowfull for the life of the wicked, than for the death of good men. Let vs learne then by our present discourse, that talk being the messenger of thought discloseth our maners a great deale more than the lines and draughts of our face doe. And as that tree whose roote is drie can haue no greene leaues: so from a vitious and corrupted soule, nothing but vile and filthie spee­ches can proceede, which a wise man ought wholie to shunne, because to make small ac­count of euill words, leadeth a man by little and little to dishonest deeds. Let all vain speech also bee banished from vs, and let vs take great heed, that we neuer speake, either in sport or earnest any one word that is not true, knowing that to be true in word, is the beginning & foundation of a notable vertue. Moreouer, let vs know, that truth is not onely betrayed of those that speake falsely, and maintaine a lye, but also of those that dare not confesse and defend it publikely. Let vs know that aboue all things we must dedicate our voice & speech to sing the prayses of God, remembring the saying of that holy man Gordius, who, as he was The constan­cie of Gordi­us. led to the place of punishment was exhorted by some to leaue his opinion, and to saue his life. To whom he answered, That the tongue ought to vtter nothing that is iniurious to the Creator thereof. Lastly, let vs know that we must referre euery word to the glory of his name, and the profite of our neighbours.

Of Friendship, and of a Friend, Chap. 13.

MAn being a reasonable Creature, born for ciuill societie to obserue lawes and iustice, and to exercise in the world all duties of gentle­nesse and goodnesse, the fayrest and most fruitfull seede that God hath infused and sowne in his soule, and that draweth him to this end, is loue and charitie towards his like. But as euerie action of mans life standeth in need to be guided by the vertue of prudence, Prudence re­quisite in a friend. 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, it wee beginne this dayes worke with the handling of friendship, and of the true and perfect dutie of a friend.

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

Perfect friendship (sayth Aristotle) is to loue our friend more for his benefite than for our owne: and therefore a friend is alwayes profitable and necessarie. But hee is greatly deceyued (sayth Homer) that seeketh for a friend in the Court, and proueth him at a feast. But let vs heare ACHRITOB discourse hereupon.

Rare things are commonly most esteemed amongst men, and the more precious they are of their owne nature, so much the more are they had in request. This wee Nothing more rare or excellent than a friend. may verie aptly apply to a friend, seeing there is nothing so rare as one that is vnfained and stedfast, neyther 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 her, and most necessarie for man. But because the wickednesse of men is so great in these dayes, that nothing is so sacred and holy which is not violated, corrupted and brought to confusion: no maruell if men impudent­lie abuse this name of a friend (so much reuerenced in olde time) that some take it to them­selues being altogether vnworthie 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 falselie vaunt themselues to be. But that wee bee not deceyued with the great number [Page 57] which is not alwaies the surest marke, let vs briefely consider what friendship is, what fruits spring from her, who may rightly challenge this titie of a friend, what manner of one wee 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 true friendship cannot be framed but by the helpe and grace of God, who draweth like to the loue of his like: that euery perfect friendship is to bee linked The principal [...] and end of all true friendship. with the bond of charitie, and ought to be referred to God, as to our souereigne good and chiefest friend: and therefore that true friendship cannot bee setled betweene the wicked, who being at discorde within themselues, can haue no concord and agreement one with an­other. Moreouer, there is to be found in friendship whatsoeuer men thinke worthie to bee desired, as honesty, glory, tranquillitie of minde, and pleasure: and consequently a happy life, which cannot be amongst the wicked. Friendship is a communion of a perpetuall will, the end whereof is fellowship of life, and it is framed by the perfect habite of a long continued What friend­ship is. loue, Whereby we may perceiue, that there is a difference betwixt loue and friendship: because loue is a desire of the thing loued, and a beginning of friendship, but friendship is an invete­rate The diffe­rence betwixt friendship and loue. and ancient loue, wherein is more pleasure than desire. To loue (saith Cicero) is nothing else but to be desirous to profite 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 wholly to be forsaken, or wholly to be trusted. What shall I hide from my friend (saith Homer) or what letteth why I may not thinke my selfe alone when I am with him? Whereby it appeareth vnto vs, that a friend is a second selfe, and that whosoeuer would take vpon him this title in regard of another, he must trans­forme himselfe into his nature whom he purposeth to loue, and that with a steadfast and set­led minde to continue so for euer. Hereupon one of the ancients speaking of him that loueth perfectly, saith, that he liueth in another mans body. Friends therefore ought of necessitie to haue a coniunction and conformitie of manners, of desires, of passions, of speech, of stu­dies, What things are requisite in friendship. of pleasures, of inclinations, of intermissions, if they minde 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, because it is altogether vnpossible for a man to fashi­on himselfe to all patterns, and to apply himselfe to all natures, so diuerse in euery one: espe­cially considering that he shall very hardly finde 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 be our friend, we must enter further into the knowledge of him, by sounding out the depth of his heart, that we may be certaine and sure of his good disposition. For to see out­wardly a resemblance of our manners and conditions another, is not sufficient to prooue them such indeede without dissimulation, vnlesse they be 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 curry fauour with any man to deceiue him, they disguise themselues, and for a while apply themselues to all his humours. This is practised chiefely by flatterers towards great men, who will counterfeit rather than they will not immitate 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 wherefore. And namely, we The common practise of flatterers. reade that Alexander the Great, and Alphonsus king of Arragon, hauing each of them some­what a wrye necke, this by nature, the other through custome, the flatterers and courtiers helde their necks on the one side, to counterfeit their imperfection. To the end therefore that the sugred poison of such fained friends deceiue vs not, wee must make choise of an honest, prudent and wise man for our friend, whose fidelity (as Cicero saith) integrity, constancy and What manner of man we must choose for our friend. liberality are approoued of euery one, and whom wee shall perceiue to bee led and possessed with the same zeale to vertue that our selues are, to the end 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 burre that taketh hold of vs, we cast it farre from vs, but contrariwise seeke [Page 58] 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 beloued, but to forsake, yea to reiect such as are vnworthy, and vicious, sensuall and disordered, although they fawne vpon vs: be­cause their conuersation marreth and corrupteth euery good nature. Therefore Bias said ve­ry well, that a wise man receiueth not euery one vnto his friendship. Hauing thus chosen him whom we desire to intertaine for our friend, and 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 we can assure our selues or boast that we haue a true friend, we must prooue his stedfastnesse and constancie, and not trust to offers and promises, whereof men are very prodigall now adaies. But this is cleane contrarie to the dutie of a true friend, whose propertie is to be sparing in speech, and prodigall in deeds, because great proffers are meete to be vsed towards strangers, and good deedes towards true friends. Now to prooue a friend, wee must not stay vntill neede and necessitie vrge vs, least such triall be not onely vnprofitable and without fruite, but also very How we must prooue a friend. hurtfull and dangerous vnto vs, because at such a time as necessarily requireth friends, wee make triall of him, who in truth is no such man. But we rather to gouerne our selues with prudence and foresight, as we vse to doe in the receipt of gold and siluer. For before we haue need to imploy it we consider whether it be currant, that wee may bee sure it will serue the turne when necessitie requireth. To this purpose Theophrastes said, that we ought to prooue strangers to loue them, and not loue them to prooue them. Therefore albeit the true and and right triall of a friend is in aduersitie, as of fine gold in a furnace, 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 goe forward with a sound zeale and ready af­fection, we are assured of him against another time. But if hee stagger, and doe it coldly, or turne away his face and refuse it, besides that we haue no hurt or hinderance, wee shall also gaine much by withdrawing such a friend gently, and by little and little from our table, and from our prosperitie: alwaies wisely obseruing that this friendship be simply forsaken, and How we must shake off a false friend. no enmity vndertaken. For it is not good or seemely to quarrell with him, with whom wee haue liued familiarly. Moreouer, we must note here, that triall is to be made in an honest, not in a wicked matter. For we must not doe, as we reade that Alcibiades did, who, being de­sirous to know whether he had so many friends as he thought he had, called them vpon a day How Al [...] bia­des tried his friends. one after another into a darke place and shewed vnto them an image of a dead body, saying, that it was a man whom he had killed, and requesting them to helpe to carrie it away. But amongst them all he found none except Callias that would harken thereunto. This kinde of proouing a friend maketh vs vnworthy of such a name, and occasioneth euery good man to withdraw himselfe from our friendship. If we doe all things (saith Cicero) both good and bad for our friends, such friendship may more truly be called a conspiracie of euill men, then 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 humane accident betide vs, into which the best men commonly fall. After we are sure that we haue a friend, (which truely is very great riches) there is nothing that we ought to desire more than The meanes to keepe a friend. to preserue and keepe him. And first the mutuall opinion, which ought to be in euery 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 hearts, to draw them vnto it selfe, and to preserue their friendship. Next, the coniunction of manners and wils keepeth backe all riot and contentions, when as the will and minde 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 inviolably, not to require our friend to doe 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 hony out of flowers, and hur­teth not the fruit. Aboue all things we must hold this for a generall, which wee haue already touched, that true and perfect friendship ought to be free, as charity is, from whence she hath her beginning: I meane, that it ought to exercise it selfe not for hire or recompence, but onely Frien [...]p m [...]st be free. [Page 59] 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 flie not but towards those places where there is something to feede vpon: euen so they commonly visite not mens houses except it be for profite, neither reuerence a friend longer than they see him in prosperitie, or may reape some commoditie by him. But we must shunne such parasites, who are but saluting and table friends. Moreouer, wee must reioyce and delight in the companie and conuersation of our friend, as in that wherein the sweetest and most pleasant fruite of friendship consisteth. And for want of this benefite, friends must often communicate toge­ther 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 minde contented. Besides, we must haue our vertues, spirits, prosperitie, yea acquaintance, and all common together, and nothing secret or hidden. Lastly, we must yeeld to our friend all duties and seruice of sincere friendship, and that in all honest and profitable things accor­ding to right and iustice, which are the bounds and limits of an holy 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 succour and sweete consolation, which is as soueraigne and fit a remedie as can be applied vnto him, especially when good doctrine is ioyned with our speech, Hereof Phalereus confessed very well that he had good experience when he was banished from his kingdome, saying, that his Phalereus. meeting with Crates the wise man had taken from him all care and thought of his miserie. And if friendship can greatly diminish the griefe that commeth by aduersitie, no doubt but it can adde as much grace and pleasure to prosperitie. We may effect all dutie whatsoeuer wee owe to our friend, by succouring him with foure things: namely, with our person, with our goods, with comfort, and with counsell. Which we may also comprehend vnder these two How many waies we owe dutie to our friend. duties, of relieuing the necessitie of our friend, and of comforting him in his tribulation. Now because, what perfectiō 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 bee voide and free of all vice. And therefore we must gently support and beare with all wants and discommodities of our friend, and oftentimes frame our selues to many passions, so they How we must beare with the imperfe­ctions of our friend. be not directly contrary to vertue, but such as proceede from the imbecillitie and frailtie of nature common with vs. Neuerthelesse against such imperfections we must in time conue­nient and to purpose, vse free and gentle admonitions, which are so necessary in friendship, and worthy of such consideration, that in my opinion wee shall doe well to make a seuerall discourse thereof. Now if it come to passe, that some displeasure or iarre happen betweene vs, then is the time wherein we ought most of all to studie & labour how we may do some profi­table or honorable thing to our friend: & not harken to slanderous tongues, which watch for some small & light occasion to powre out the poison of discord, thereby to rent and breake a­sunder our good & sure friendship. To such parasites, & scrap-gatherers at free-cost feasts, who seeke for nothing but their own gaine by the disagreemēt of others, we must neuer giue eare, but driue them as far from vs, as they thinke to come neere vs. And to the end we may bee the better affected and disposed hereunto, we must often call to remembrance, what benefit and happinesse cometh to such men as are linked together by true and vnfained friendship: as namely, in those affaires at which cannot be present our selues, the fidelity 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 society. For we cannot doe all things our selues, and therefore friendships are ioyned together, that by mutuall duties one may profit another. Now consi­dering that all the aboue named things are both necessary, and also very hard and difficult to be obserued & kept in true friendship, a man may easily iudge that this so excellent Sym­pathie and fellow feeling of two friends is very rare, and not easily found: and by a more Against the pluralitie of friends. forcible reason it followeth, that it is altogether impossible that many such friends should be linked together. So that whosoeuer goeth about any such matter can neuer attaine to a cer­taine and durable friendship. For it must needs follow, that he which beginneth new friend­ship cannot but diminish and waxe faint in affection in regard of his former friendship, wher­in he was in a manner 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 [Page 60] one and the same time? It is certaine that in seruing one hee would be wanting to the o­ther, and peraduenture to both, whilest he doubteth which to helpe first. But there is yet a further matter in it. Doe wee not take him for our enemy, who is enemie to our friend? It is most certainely so: as the wise man Chilon very fitly signified so much to one who boa­sted, that hee had neuer a foe. Then hast thou neuer a friend, quoth Chilon, seeing it is impossible, by reason of the wickednesse of men, that two persons should liue in the world He that hath neuer a foe hath neuer a friend. without enemies. Whereupon Plutarke saith, If thou seekest for a swarme of friends, thou considerest not that thou fallest into a waspes neast of enemies. Hereof it is that histories, when they set before vs examples of true and excellent friendship, make mention onely of two persons: as of Ionathan and Dauid, whose friendship could not be hindred by the The best and most excellēt friendship is betweene one couple. wrath of the father of the one, no not although he knew, that his friend should reigne 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 his oath, 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 dy, thereby to saue the life of his companion. Neither was there any moe then one Ephenus and Eueritus, and one Damon and Pythias, two of which being condemned to die by Dyonisius the tyrant of Syracusa, had their pardon granted them by reason of the constancy and stability of the friendship that was betweene 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 sixe moneths space being granted, they were set at liberty. When the end of this time drew ny, many moc­ked these poore caitifes: but they nothing astonished made answer, that they were certaine and sure their friendes would not in any case faile of their promise. And indeede they arri­ued the last day that was granted vnto them. Whereat the tyrant woondering, forgaue the condemned parties, and praied them to receiue him for a third man vnto their friendship. So great force had vertue, that it could pacifie choler and cruelty in his heart, whose ver­tue consisted in nothing els but in vice. We reade of a letter written by Pisistratus, a Prince of the Athenians, seruing for a notable example of the force of friendship, which oftentimes is greater than all consanguinity. For hauing intelligence that Thrasillus his nephew was of a conspiracy against him, he wrote vnto him in these words: Nephew Thrasillus, thou shouldest Pisistratus letter to his ne­phew. 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 a traitor towards mee, 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 authority 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 fidelity saued. For the con­sanguinitie that I haue with thee may bee separated, as being within the veines: but the loue I beare thee cannot, seeing it is within my heart. A thousand other examples of couples ioy­ned in friendship are to be foūd in histories. In the mean while we haue to note, that although we measure friendship here by the number of two, yet our meaning is not to exclude others altogether. For we know, that true charity extendeth it selfe vnto euery one, that wee are bound to loue euen our enemies, and to doe good to all, but yet amongst all wee may choose one onely friend to loue, and to be loued againe of him in perfection. Neuerthelesse, 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 counsel of Polybius giuē 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 will, 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 many, not sparing any of their substance. We haue famous examples hereof amongst the ancients. That great Romane captaine and Consul Titus Flaminius, who deliuered and freed all Graecia from bondage, and Thus Flami­nius. and wise in battle ranged discomfited P [...]lilip king of Macedonia, is exceedingly commended of historiographers, not onely because hee was ready to pleasure euery one, but also be­cause hee tooke such delight therein, that hee would alwaies remaine well affected euen [Page 61] to more whom he had once pleasured, as if himselfe had receiued the benefite: insomuch that he was alwaies ready to doe them more good. Whereby he shewed himselfe truly zea­lous of vertue which is neuer set on worke 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 common-wealth can either with too little, or too late recompence her 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 together perfect friendships, and that if it be once for­saken, they cannot longer continue. Therefore honesty (as Cicero saith) is to be placed aboue friendship and profite: and religion, iustice, and fidelitie are to be prefereed 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 wel 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, wee haue gotten a great and incomparable treasure: seeing there is no­thing more fit for life, or more commodious for a good and happy life, than to liue with a Nothing bet­ter than to liue with a vertuous man. Three things necessarie in friendship. vertuous man and our friend, whose fidelitie, integritie, and constancie are ruled by charitie. Lastly we say, that three things are very requisite and necessarie for the foundation and assu­rance of his 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 knowne and prooued him, that we must reioyce in his company, and vse him in our need, as wee desire him to doe the like by vs. So that he which can boast of such a friend is very happy.

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 great commendations spoken of him, addeth this, that he wrote these things of a man, that is, of a liuing Man [...] mu­table. creature, 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 beeing men, and the of-spring of other men, they will make knowne the great infirmity 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 flattery seeke to gaine the fauour of their friends, but reprooue them rather, that for their benefite they may reduce them to a better way.

To admonish and to bee 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 One of the greatest fruits reaped in friendship. euery good and holy friendship, and are noted and reaped by the acceptacle and long con­uersation of a prudent and wise friend, is that free reprehension and sweete admonition, which ought to be mutual between al true friends: seeing the fraile incōstancy 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 hee seeth a mote in his bro­thers eye, yet he perceiueth not the great beame that closeth vp his owne eyes. This maketh him bold (as it is the propertie of vice to bee headstrong) to defend and maintaine, that, hee hath alwaies done well, and not easily to hearken to his reasons that reprooueth him were it not that the mightie and inviolable bond of friendship, as of a second-selfe did constraine him to lend his eare to his friend through the opinion which hee hath conceiued of him and his vertue. True it is, that if there were amongst vs such a reformation of life and man­ners, and that loue ioyned with obedience might take place now, as it did long since a­mongst A notable cu­stome of the Lacedemoni­ans. the Lacedaemonians, (who obserued this custome inviolable, to punish him that did not reprooue anothers fault committed in his presence, with the same punishment which [Page 62] was inflicted vpon the offender himselfe, and sharpely to chastise him that resisted, or was angry at the reprehension) we should not see so great winking at vices and imperfections, no [...] such impudent resisting and shamelesse contempt of all good admonition, as reigneth now adaies amongst vs, who vnskilfully terme this friendship, not to correct one another, but rather to couer and winke at all faults. But seeing our age is so greatly corrupted, we may easily know what a pretious and necessary 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 efficacy. 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 ynough to ouerthrow friendship, whose strength is onely in vertue) ought to deale as a skilfull musitian, who in the tuneing of his instrument setteth vp some of his strings, and letteth downe others. So a prudent friend yeeldeth vnto some things, but refuseth and contrarieth others, changing his mind as honestie and profit require. A friend cō ­pared to a musition. He is not afraid sometime to make his friend sadde with intent and purpose to profite him, not to breake friendship. Likewise he is not greatly to care although he see his friend angred, so that he be bettered considering that anger may better be tollerated than vice. Agesilaus Agesilaus. king of Sparta said, that he liked 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 occasion so to do, To this ef­fect Epictetus said, that as a woolfe in some sort resembled a dogge, so a flatterer was like a friend: and therefore that we ought to beware, least in stead of good dogs for a safegard, wee receiue vnto vs most pernitious and hurtfull woolues. For it is bettee (as Antisthenes said) to stand at the curtesie of crowes then 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 How we must vse reprehen­sion. necessary (saith Cicero) for vs to rebuke our friends, wherein wee are to vse a more austere countenance and vehement speech: but to great seuerity and ouermuch sadnes ought to bee far from vs. For although grauity be a vertue, yet friendship is more familiar, free and pleasant. We must also take heed that it appeare not we be in choler, but rather that we come against our wils to doe this duty, 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 aduersity to make men of troubled and vex­ed spirits, soone cholericke and vnwilling to heare, and at such a time to be offended a good and true speeches (euen as hony although it bee sweete, yet breedeth griefe when it is applyed to vlcers) I say a friend well aduised ought then to beware that hee vse no sharpe or biting words, which are apt to prouoke him to anger, that is pressed with aduersity. 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 sweete and gracious speeceh of comfort, as yeeldeth and giueth place a little to the iust griefe of his friend, and from whence hee may draw some ease of his euill, whether it be in talking thereof together with him, or otherwise in lamenting the same. And this must be done before any mention be made of a remedy, 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 wee must be very circumspect when wee see our friend lately angred by reason of some pregnant and notable iniurie or wrong receiued from another. For then in stead of heing importunate with him presently to forgiue the iniury, or of seeking to perswade him to thinke it a small fault, thereby endeauoring at the first dash to bring him to reason, wee must intreate him gently to deferre the punishment, and after by little and little, and by degrees to pacific and ap­pease him. For it is very certaine, that when wrath is much kindled, and the heart inraged, a man cannot easily receiue comfort, nor so su [...]denly conceiue and vnderstand reason. And therefore Plutark amongst other things gaue this counsell to the Emperor Traian, to be pati­ent towards furious folkes, considering that time moderateth as many things as reason doth change. Notwithstanding when the question is of restraining a disordinate pleasure, of Time b [...] ­eth as many things to good order as reason doth. repressing choler and peeuishnesse that passeth the bounds of all reason, of brideling inso­lency which is gone too farre out of square, of hindering some notable couetousnesse, or of staying some foolish motion or superfluous passion, then is the time wherein a prudent [Page 63] and good friend ought to bee vehement and earnest, and to double the speech of his admo­nition: yea to frame himselfe so, as if the imperfection proceeded from himselfe, and as though his owne vtter vndoing lay thereupon. In such a case he is to follow that good Grae­cian captaine Phociou, who, when his friend would haue cast away himselfe, saide, that hee would not suffer him, because he was made his friend for that purpose. Therfore when­soeuer any such occasion is offered, a man is not to stay vntil the fault be committed, that he may then giue his friend some good instruction. For then it would come too late and no lesse vnfitly, than that Porters warning, who after he had hit Cato, bad him beware. What (answered Cato) wilt thou giue me yet another blow? Moreouer, we must take good heede, that all reprehending of one friend by another be done (as we commonly say) between two priuate wals, that is, secretly when the dore is shut: because the discouery of any sinne or vice (euen as of some foule disease) is alwaies shamefull. The example of these two Sages, Socrates and Plato, wil fitly agree to this matter. Socrates being somewhat more earnest than his cu­stome was with one of his familiar friends before a great company, Plato could not containe himselfe, 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 lessen, that it is alwaies easie enough to re­prooue another, but that all 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 selfe­same Plato teach vs, saying, that we must descend into our inward parts, and say euery one with himselfe. Am not I such a one? Otherwise a man might truely reproch vs with that saying taken out of an old Tragedic, 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 We must cor­rect in our selues those faults which we reprehend in others. of other men to lay our owne before vs, and to purge them of those vices which wee re­prehende. For as Lysander made this answere to Megarian, who thrust himselfe forward to speake alowd for the libertie of Graecia in a generall assemblie of counsell, That speech my friend had neede of a mightie citie, so may it be said to euery one that vseth freely to reprehende others, that his manners 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, Sundry instructions how to admonish wisely. who in dissolute 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 and 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 young men: saying, that him­selfe was not deliuered from ignorance, but had neede to be instructed with them in vertue, and to seeke out the knowledge of the truth. For when one accuseth himselfe as a subiect to the same faults that his friend is, and protesteth that his meaning is to correct and reprooue him, as if hee 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 euery 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. Euery admonition thus grounded as I haue said, cannot but be profitable and well liked of our friende, 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 for asmuch as naturally we hate to be reprooued and bla­med, as we learned in the beginning of this discourse, wee must know that to cure such a per­nitious inclination, nothing can profit vs so much as to beleeue, that the beginning of good life is to be blamed & baited at. For man, by nature inclined more to vice than to vertue, can neuer hate euill before he vnderstand what misery it bringeth. So that when he sinneth, if his Reprehension is the begin­ning of good life. friend lay the infamie and shame of his offence before his eies: vnlesse he be altogether past shame, and fraught with impudency, he must needes 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 comelinesse and honesty. Therefore Plato saide, that wee are greatly beholding to them that tell vs of our faults, and shew vs what way we must keepe: because it is better for vs to amende by beeing corrected of another, then to vndoe 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 person, so likewise euery one according to his seuerall place, ought to admonish and to correct those that doe amisse as [Page 64] often as occasion is offered vnto them, and chiefely they that are neere to great men are bound to doeit, but with discretion and great deliberation. Thus much did Solon signifie to one, who by way of admonishment told him, that princes were either not to bee approched vnto, or else to be pleased: Nay contrariwise (said the wise man) either they are not to become Solons good aduice for counsellers to princes. neere vnto, or els the truth is to be told them. We may obserue infinite examples amongst the auncients 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 because they see and heare for the most part by other mens eies and eares, ought necessarily to haue such friendes, coun­sellers and seruants about them, as will freely tel them the truth, as hereafter we may discourse more at large. This caused Plutarke to say, that a Philosopher ought chiefely to keepe com­pany Philosophers ought [...]o be conuersant with princes. with princes and great lords, and that it was the point of a wise man, and of one that is well affected to the common-wealth, to be endued with common loue, and to inquire after, or to accept & entertaine such a friendship, as might be commodious and beneficiall to ma­ny in particular and much more in generall to them all. And truely they that company with priuate men, and labor to instruct them, may wel make them contented, mild and gracious in themselues, & profitable to them onely: but he that taketh away an euill quality from a Lord and magistrate: or directeth his will and intention, as it ought to be, plaieth the part of a Phi­losopher in the behalfe of common commodity, 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, whom he perceiued to be blowen and puft vp with pride, through an opinion of earthly and vncertaine felicity, admonishing him to expect what the end Solons coun­sell giuen to Croesus. 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 and popular wisedome, not royall 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 glory in the grounds of this world, or to make great account of any mans felicity that is yet in danger of alteration. For time daily bringeth many sundry accidents to many hereof hee neuer thought before. But when the gods continue the prosperous e­state of man vnto the end of his daies, then will we account him happy. The desire which Plato had to profite many caused him to saile from Graecia into Sicilia, that by graue discour­ses and wise instructions he might stay and containe within the bounds of reason the young Why Plato went into Sicilia to Di­onysius. yeares of Dyonisius, prince of that countrey, who through vnbridled liberty, and power not limited, waued hither and thither without restraint. Afterward when hee began to bee in loue with the beauty of learning, hee left off by little and little his drunkennesse, mas­kings, and whoredomes, wherein before he gloried, insomuch that his court was wholy chan­ged vpon a sudden, as if it had bene inspired from heauen. But within a while after, Diony­sius giuing eare to flattterers, 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 and friends. Whereupon the Philosopher smiling, and obseruing that freedome of speech, which hee had alwaies vsed towards him, made this answer, I pray God, Sir, there may neuer bee so great want of matter to speake of in the Vniuersitie, that we neede to speake of thee. He was no sooner shipped from Sicilia, but Dionysius returned to his former fashions, and called backe againe dancers, minstrils, bauds, and such like vermine, whereof commonly there is no want about great personages; so that presently you might haue seene his court, yea all the rest of his people, ouer whelmed in all delights and pleasures. Such great force hath a prince to altar and change at his pleasure the hearts of his subiects, but yet rather alwaies to vice and folly than to vertue. And to goe on with our matters 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 glory of all his prosperity. Amongst other things he willed him to beware of ar­rogancy, as of her that dwelt with solitarines: that is to say, which in the end was forsaken of Arrogancie dwelleth in the end with solitarines [...]. all the world. The same kinde of admonition Spensippus followed, writing to the same Di­on, willing him not to presume to waxe proud of himselfe, because he heard women and chil­dren vtter his praises and commendation, but to haue regard onely to this, that Sicilia might [...]e adorned with religion and piety towards God, with iustice and good lawes to­wards Notable coun [...]l [...] for p [...]n [...]es. men and that the Vniuersitie might alwaies be had in honor and estimation. O coun­sell full of Christian instruction, and worthy to be daily set before the eies of Christian prin­ces, who may also learne of Demetrius king of Macedonia to take in good part, to reape Demetrius. [Page 65] 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 neede of victuals, he caused a generall assembly 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 suddainely 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 Traians letter to Plutarke. writing to his master Plutarke, ought especially to be imitated of great men. I aduertise thee (quoth he) that hence forward I will not vse thy seruice to any other thing, than to counsell me what I ought to doe, and to tell me of those faults, whereunto I may fall. For if Rome take me for a defender of her Common-wealth, 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 master 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 I shall haue because I offended. Philoxenus the poet may also serue for a witnesse of free correction, voide of all flatterie in regard of great men. For when Dionysius prince of Syracusa sent vnto him a How Philox­enus corre­cted Dionysi­us tragedie. tragedie of his owne making that he should reade and correct it, he sent it backe againe vnto him all rased and blotted from the beginning to the end, because hee found it in no respect worthy to be published. Neither doth antiquity onely affoord vs such examples of bold re­prehension by word of mouth, vsed by wise men in old time, but there hath beene also in our ages worthy examples of base and contemptible men, yet full of good learning. For proofe hereof 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 the cause ther­of; I laugh (quoth he vnto him) at Saint Peter, prince of prelates, because he liued and died in pouertie to leaue his successors rich. The Archbishop beeing touched therewith, and desi­rous The free gird of a peasant giuen to an Archbishop. to cleare himselfe, replied that he went with such a companie, as he was a Duke. Where­at the peasant laughing more then 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 The like gi­uen to Pope Sixtus the 4. by a Frier. from the same order being come to that great dignitie, shewed him his great wealth and ri­ches, saying, Frier, I cannot say as Saint Peter did, I haue 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 grounded vpon reason and truth, and applied fitlie, 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 ioyned inseparably therewith, ac­cording to that saying of the wise man, that Open rebuke is better than secret loue, and that The wounds made by a louer are faithfull, but the kisses of him that hateth, dangerous. In the meane time Prou. 27. 5. we must (as Saint Paul saith) restore those that fall with the spirit of meekenesse, considering ourselues, and neuer betray the truth for feare of the mightier sort. Gal. 6. 1.

Of Curiositie and Noueltie. Chap. 15.

MAn hauing by nature imprinted in his soule an affected and earnest inclination to his soueraigne good, is drawne as it were by force to search it out in euery thing, which he esteemeth faire good in this world. And from hence proceede all those his affections which carrie him hither and thither, causing him to reioyce in and desire greatly all varietie and noueltie. But the ignorance of things, and imperfection of reason, which a­bound in him, because of his corruption, doe make him for the most part to labour and take delight in euill rather than in goodnesse, if he be not by other meanes called to the know­ledge of the truth: which ought to be the principall and most worthy obiect of our mindes, esteeming all other knowledge vaine and vnprofitable, beeing compared to this which is so great and diuine. And in this respect curiositie tending to vnderstanding, (albeit in many things it be very hartfull, especially beeing left vnto it selfe) is also very profitable and necessary, when it is directed and guided by the grace of God to best end. Wherefore I thinke my companions, that it will not bee vnprofitable, if in this matter wee discourse of [Page 66] these two things, Curiositie and Noueltie, which seeme to proceede from one and the same fountaine, and about which the vertue of prudence sheweth great and worthy effects.

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

Noueltie causeth vs through errour 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 very guide of the curious, causing them to contemne their owneclimate, 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, Solon said, No­thing more than ynough: Pittacus, Doe all things by a mediocritie. These sayings are very short and Mediocritie must be vsed in all actions. of one matter, but yet comprehend all prudence necessary for the gouerning of mans life, as well for the preseruation of the tranquillity of the soule, and of the spirituall gifts thereof, as of all humane goods, called by the Philosophers, the Goods of the body and of fortune. The An­cients being desirous to make vs vnderstand this the better, propounded vnto vs euery 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 The diste­rence of good and bad con­sisteth in me­diocrity. onely and true good: and that all difference betweene good and bad consisteth in a cer­taine moderation and mediocritie, 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 simplicite and first modestie of their nature, to feede 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 seeking with his eies to pearce through the brightnesse thereof euen vn­to the midst of the circle of the body, must questionlesse become blinde: so falleth it out for Against curi­osity in know­ledge. the most part to those, who goe about too curiously to inquire after that which is not lawfull to be knowne. The ill successe of our age affoordeth vs too many miserable testimonies, wherein at this day we see nothing but contrarieties of opinions and vncertainties, through their subtilties and 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 hurtfull, who haue beene such curious Inquisi­tors of the causes of all naturall things, that through friuolous and vnprofitable questions they haue fallen into that impiety, 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 Academy, 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 bee wonderfull and iolly fellowes aboue all others. As touching this point the example of Socrates is very memora­ble, and to bee imitated, who being demanded what the world was, answered, that since he A notable saving of Socrates. had any iudgement he gaue himselfe to seeke out the true knowledge of himselfe, which yet he could neuer finde. But so soone as he had attained thereunto, then he would seeke for o­ther things that would doe him no seruice or pleasure. Aristotle (as Iustin Martyr writeth) who for the excellencie of his skill in naturall Philosophie was called the god of the earth, The death of Aristotle and Plinie tho­rough too much curio­sitie. burned with such a desire of curiosity in vnderstanding the causes of naturall things, that because hee could not know and conceiue the cause and nature of Euripus, which is in Chal­cis a city of Euboea, I meane of the flowing and ebbing of the se [...], which turneth and com­passeth about that place, nor giue a sufficient reason therof, he died for very shame and griefe which he conceiued therupon, Plinie also who wrote the historie of natural Philosophie, was [Page 67] choked with the flames and vapors of the mountaine Mongibel in Sicilia, whilest he sought to finde out the cause of them, and from whence that great fire came, which spoiled the coun­trie The burning of Aetna. round about in the time of Titus the Emperour: insomuch that seuen or eight townes were burned, and many persons trauelling by land, and sayling on the sea were stifled with the ashes thereof, carried about by the vehemencie of the winds. But let vs leaue these curi­ous spirits, and speake of two other generall kinds of curiositie, which respect chiefly our mo­rall Two generall kinds of curi­ositie. Philosophie, and from whence all corruption of good manners proceeded. The first kinde concerneth our selues onely, and the other our brethren and countrimen. To speake therefore of the first, it bringeth forth pernitious effects after diuers sorts and manners, but a­mongst vs Frenchmen they appeare principally in that burning desire, which in flameth vs Against the curiositie of seeing strange nations. to trauell into strange nations, and in our carking and caring for the nourishment, clothing, and decking of our bodies, and for the setting forth and trimming vp of our houses with cu­rious and vnprofitable mooueables, wherein we exceede all the super fluitie of other coun­tries. When the ancients speake of the felicitie that accompanied the golden age, amongst the good conditions, and commendable manners, which they noted in that holy 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, thorough a curious and vnsatiable desire of appropriating vnto themselues the inheritance and labour of others, besides the crueltie, vio­lence, and murthers, which prepared a way to their miserable platformes, all corruption of good manners at home, and all bastard-like attire haue followed thereupon. We might here note infinite testimonies of antiquitie, and especially of our ancient progenitors the Gaules, who were very warlike and liued within their bounds in all simplicity of manners, and fruga­litie of life. But our owne example, to our vnspeakable shame and miserie, is so euident be­fore our eies, that I neede no better proofe, of my saying than that experience which wee feele by our owne perill. For the ruine and destruction of this French monarchie proceedeth One euident cause of the ruine of France. of no other second cause (our iniquitie being the first) than of the mixture, which wee haue made of strangers with our selues. Wherein wee are not contented to seeke them out vn­der their roofes, vnlesse wee 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 euery good and well established poli­cie. Besides we adore and reuerence all their nouelties and subtill inuentions, and that so ig­norantly, or rather blockishly, that suffering them to sucke vs euen to the very bowels, in stead of all our riches and spoyles, which they for their part haue drawne from vs, they haue left vs nothing but new manners and fashions of liuing in all dissolutenesse and pleasure, ex­cept this one thing also, that we haue learned of them to dissemble, and with all to frame and build a treason very subtilly. Such is the prouision wherewith our French youth is com­monly furnished by their Italian voyages. To this purpose Guevara, Chronicler to the Em­perour Charles the first, writeth, that from forren countries men commonly bring newes to prattle of, and strange customes to practise: and that few come out of Italy, that are not ab­solute and dissolute. Lycurgus by his lawes commanded the Lacedaemonians not to goe out Lycurgus for­bad or afficke with stran­gers. 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 Tullie cursed and bewailed the conquests and victories, which Rome had in Asia, saying, that if the Romanes brought the Persians, and Medes vnder subiection by force, yet the selfe same Asians ouercame the Ro­manes with their vices and delights. This doth Cicero testifie writing to Atticus, where hee saith that the fiue vices, namely, to make glorious sepulchers, to weare rings of gold, to vse Fiue vices brought out of Asia by the Romanes. spice in meates, to alay wine with snow, and to carrie about with them perfumes and sweete smels, were sent to the Romans for a present from the Asians, as a reuenge for the cities which they had taken from them, and for the blood which they had drawne of them. And which was woorst of all, he saith, that these vices would alwaies remaine with them, but the countrie conquered, for a little time. Experience telleth vs, that no countrie is so poore, which is not sufficient and able, all super fluitie cut off, to nourish and maintaine those men that are bred in it with things necessary for them. Whereupon a man may easily ghesse, that want of prudence, and ambitious desires, first inuented the art of Nauigation and sailing into Why Fabius would neuer goe on the water. farre countries. Fabius the Consull in the seuenty yeares which he liued, departed not once from his village of Regio to go to Messana, which was but two miles off by water. And when [Page 68] 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 still: the winde is foolish, for it runneth continually. Now if we vse 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 beene hitherto, my meaning is not to finde fault with the right vse of hospitality, which ought to be maintained, and kept inuiolable in euery well established common wealth. In this respect France hath beene com­mended aboue all nations for intertaining and receiuing all sorts of people: prouided al­waies that they be not preferred before our owne children, and that they be contented to o­bey and liue according to the common lawes of the countrey. Neither doe I reprehend that trafficke and trade with strangers, which serueth for a bond of humane society, and whereby the commodities of one to another are communicated together with common profit: pro­uided alwaies that superfluous and vnnecessary things be left and forsaken. But ere wee 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 guarded with good and commendable manners, which are able to resist all newe and strange corruption: whereby otherwise the nature of man desirous of diuersity and nouelty, suffereth it selfe easily to be ouercome, making merchandise amongst them of naughtines ra­ther than of goodnes. As hitherto experience sheweth vs, that from this Fountaine hath pro­ceeded the curiosity of superfluous apparell, of golde, of silke, tapestry, pictures, vessels, per­fumes, painting of faces, delicacie of meate, and all prouocations of voluptuousnesse, whore­dome, gluttony, and of other filthy dissolutenesse, and infamous vices, too much knowne amongst vs, whereof we haue heretofore made mention, and will hereafter continue the par­ticular discourse of them. Now after we are armed well at all points with good doctrine and vertue, we may according to the example of Plato, of Apollonius Thyaneus, and of many other Plato and A­pollomus were great traucllers. notable men, seeke, after those that are best learned in strange countries, that we may profit and be instructed by them. Plato after he was well instructed by Socrates sought out the Ma­ges and wise men of Egypt, by whose meanes he saw the bookes of Moses. Then he went in­to Italy to heare Archit as Tarentinus, the most renowned Philosopher of that countrey. 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 beeing returned in­to his countrie, and inriched with wonderfull knowledge, he distributed all his goods, where­of he had great abundance, amongst his brethren, and to the poore: and withdrawing him­selfe into the fields, he liued with bread and water onely, that hee might haue his minde free for the contemplation of heauenly things. Now let vs come to the other kinde of curiositie, Of curiosiue in seeking to know other mens imper­fections. which as we said, concerneth our brethren and countrimen. This is that which Plutarke cal­leth a desire to know the wants and imperfections of other men. It is commonly ioyned with enuie and euill speaking, and is by that excellent Philosopher compared to adulterie which may be called a curious inquirie after another bodies pleasure. Moreouer curious folks through an ouerweening in continencie, seeke to violate and to discouer their neighbours greatest secrets, especially those which are blame worthie, that by publishing and blabbing them out, they may nourish the intemperancie of their tongues. 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 bee any one imperfection in a stocke or kindred, if any infamy, fault, error, or euill gouernment in a house, any quarrelling, anything to be misliked or loathed therein, it is the delight of curious folkes to learne that throughly, that they may sport themselues, and tell long stories of them, by that meanes vsing their memorie for aloathsome 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, and not of Philosophie, which teacheth vs, not other mens faults, but our owne, as also the meanes how we may be deliuered from them. Diogenes beholding one of his schollers in a publike place talking very earnestly with a young 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 plaied the night before. Then Diogenes said to them both, My will and commandement is, that each of you haue forty stripes with a whip, within the Amphitheater, or playing place: Thou (quoth he to his scholler) for giuing earevnto him, and he for the folly committed, because Philoso­pher deserueth as much for hearkening to folly recited, as doth the vagabond that rehearseth [Page 69] it. What punishment thinke you would this wise man haue iudged them worthy of, who hearken and inquire so curiously after other mens faules, and imperfections? And yet a man may truely 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 beeing full of all sorts of euill, and fearing that which sheefeeleth within herselfe, leapeth forth and wandereth heere and there in searching other mens doings, thereby feeding and [...]atting her owne ill nature, and vsing curiosity as an eye to looke vpon other men. Hereof it commeth, that a curious man is more profitable to his enemies than to himselfe, because he discouereth, manifesteth, and The curious are more pro­fitable to their enemies than to themselues. sheweth vnto them from what they are to beware, and what to correct: and yet in the meane while he seeth not the most part of that which is within himselfe, so greatly is he dazeled by beholding that which is without in other men. Hee openeth all euen to the very walles of strange houses, and pearceth like a winde into the midst of those things that are most secret. His minde is both vpon the pallaces of the rich, and cottages of the poore. He ferretteth out euery thing, and inquireth many times after the affaires of the greatest, which is the cause of his ouerthrow, when he busieth himselfe too far in them. This was wisely noted by Philippi­des, when Lysimachus the king asked 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 desire to Curiosity in princes af­faires is peri­lous. How we must cure curiosity. diuert and to quench the heate of this vicious passion of curiosity, which is too familiar a­mongst vs, and vnseemely in a prudent and vertuous man, we must sometimes abstaine from inquiring after lawfull things, though otherwise not necessary. 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 temperancy, and so be neuer mooued to desire another mans wife. In like manner, if in stead of shewing ourselues to bee of the number of these diligent and curious inquirers after vnprofitable newes, wee signifie rather to him that commeth to tell vs of some newes, that hee should please vs better if hee had some good and profitable matter to speake, then should we thereby giue testimony of a staied and setled nature despising curiosity. 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 Examples a­gainst curiosi­ty. vnderstand what he would speake) what good newes canst thou bring me my friend, vnles thou didst come to tell me that Homer is risen againe? And truely hee had great reason to thinke that no more excellency could be added to his valiant acts and deeds, except it were to haue them consecrated to immortality, by the writings of some learned and notable wit. The example of Phocian deserueth well to be heere alleadged against curious folks, who are commonly light of beleefe. For as soone as the Athenians receiued ne [...]es of Alexanders death, Against light­nes of beleefe they purposed presently to alter their estate, and to shake off the yoke of the Macedonian alliance. But Phocion being of a contrary opinion said vnto them, if this newes be true to day, it will be true also tomorrow. And therefore (my Lords Athenians) make no haste, but deli­berate leisurely, and looke safely to that which ye haue to doe. It is certaine, that if we vse in this sort to shew ourselues staied in such things, and in all other things of small importance, wherein our naturall inclinations would prouoke vs to be curious, as namely, to breake off good communication begun, vpon the receit of a letter; to forsake company to runne and meete a messenger, onely to know what newes he bringeth, and a thousand such like sudden Faults where­into curious men com­monly fall. motions proceeding of lightnes and curiositie, I say by auoiding such things we should pre­pare a way to the restraining of all curiosity in greater matters, which otherwise may procure blame. As for example, to open another bodies letter, to intrude ourselues into the secret counfels of our neighbours, to seeke out their faults and imperfections, to inquire busily after that which may grieue 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 and importunate fellow that had oftentimes asked of him, who was the honestest man in Sparta: He that resembleth thee least, quoth he vnto him. The an­swer also of an Egyptian was not vnfitly made to one that asked him what he carried there Witty answers made to curi­ous questions folded: It is wrapped vp (quoth he) because thou shouldest not know what it is. Now by that which hath hitherto beene discoursed, it appeareth sufficiently, that all kind of curiosity is hurtfull, hatefull, and greatly to be blamed in euery one, if it be not bounded and limited [Page 70] by the reason of true prudence, which guideth and stirreth vs vp to seeke after good, honest, & profitable things, either in heauen, in earth, in the aire, or in the sea, according to the gift & capacity of our vnderstanding and iudgement, which may be necessary 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 then we ought, but vnto sobriety, containing our spirits within the limits of mediocrity, simplicitie, and modesty. Let Rom. 1 [...]. 3. vs forsake all sophisticall curiosity, and worldly wisedome, which is meere foolishnesse before God, that we may imbrace a simple, popular, and Accademicall kinde of knowledge, which will teach vs to know our selues and our dutie, whereby we shall be led to that happie end, which we seeke for and desire. Let vs not admire any more the merchandise and outward shewes wherewith strangers feede the eyes of curious folks, but let vs wonder at vertue onely: saying with the comicall poet, where he speaketh of those that couered their bed-steads with gold and siluer, what great folly is it to make sleepe so deare, which God hath freely giuen vnto vs? So to seeke for that of strangers with such great expences, which wee may haue at our owne hauen better and more commodiously, were all one, as if we should leaue the sub­stance, and runne after the shadow, or that which is certaine for an vncertaintie. Wee may haue in France (if our blockishnes stay vs not) Vniuersities and Schooles of all honest exer­cises meete for our nobilitie, without strangers. And if we thinke 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 necessary, namely, for the knowledge of good letters, and institu­tion of vertue; and then if we thinke good, we may heare their teachers and masters, with­out infecting our behauiour with the corruption of their manners. Besides, by the same stu­die we shall learne to shun all curious inquirie into other mens imperfections, that we may diligently looke into our owne.

Of Nature and Education. Chap. 16.

SFeing that in the entrance of our former treatise, we began with that naturall instinct which mooueth and disposeth him to desire and to seeke after his good; we may in continuing the same matter finde more profitable instruction, by considering his nature more narrowly, as also what commeth vnto him by good education, which, that I may so say, standeth him in stead of a second nature. To you therefore (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 carried to the worse. And although a man be well borne, yet if he haue not his iudgement fined, and the discoursing part of his minde purged with the reasons of Philosophy, it will fall often into grosse faults, and such as beseeme not a prudent man. For in those men that are not endued 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 thereof. And therefore Socra­tes said, that as bringing vp maketh dogs fit for hunting, so good instruction causeth men to become profitable in the managing of a common-wealth. But it commeth to thy course, ASER, to discourse vpon this matter.

This hath beene alwaies a great question among the skilfull and diligent inqui­ters after the perfection of nature. Whether learning or nature teach vs to know our selues. Iustice (saith Cicero) is naturally planted in vs from our birth, as also religion, piety, grace, du­tie, Naturall ver­tues accor­ding to the Philosophers, who had no knowledge of mans fall. The diuision of nature. and truth. Whatsoeuer is according to nature (as the Philosophers say) is certainely or­dained and appointed, because 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, because it is infinite. When they speake ge­nerally of nature, they make two principall kindes: the one spirituall, intelligible, and vn­changeable beginning of motion and rest, or rather the vertue, efficient, and preseruing cause of al things: the other, sensible, mutable, and subiect to generation and corruption, respecting all things that haue life, and shall haue end. Aristotle saith, that nature in one respect is said to be the first and chiefe matter and subiect of euery thing that hath being, namely, of those thinges which haue in them the beginning of their owne moouing and mutation: and in [Page 71] another respect, it is called the forme of any thing. But leauing the infinite disputations and curious inquirie made by the philosophers concerning this excellent matter, whereof we haue not here vndertaken to intreat, we say with Iustin Martyr, that Nature (in which the What nature is. steps of the diuinity shine and are liuely represented) is that Spirit or diuine reason, which is the efficient cause of naturall workes, and the preseruing cause of those things that haue bee­ing, through the onely power of the heauenly Word, which is the workemaster of nature, and of the whole world, and hath infused into euery thing a liuely vertue and strength, whereby it increaseth and preserueth it selfe by a naturall facultie. Or to speake more briefly, Nature is the order and continuance of the workes of God, obeying the Deitie, & his words and commandements, and borrowing her force and strength from thence, as from her foun­taine and originall. In this nature thus defined, which respecteth all things created, we haue here 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 euery ones spirit. There is nothing more true, than that nature of her self leadeth men in some sort to that which is decent and honest: neither is learning able to shew any thing, which is not The property and light of nature. to be found in nature, whether we goe 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 there is no man so barbarous or wicked in all the world, who is not touched with honesty, and who retaineth not somewhat of the light of nature. Which may be cleare­ly 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 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 our nature, whereby it is inclined to pleasure, and to eschew labour, which are the wel-springs of The corrupti­on of nature. vices, and of infinite euils. And if our nature should be suffered to runne with the bridle at liberty, whither soeuer it is driuen by carnall 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 necessity be tamed, and as it were mollified by the studie of good letters, and by the instruction of good Philosophicall reasons, which as they serue for nourishment and food to our mindes, so by them our man­ners and actions are framed and guided according to vertue and prudence, & we made able to learne how, by the compasse of reason, to attaine to mediocrity, wherein perfection consi­steth, and to reiect excesse, which is alwaies dangerous. A good plaier on a [...]ute or viall tou­cheth no other strings than those that are touched by him that is most vnskilfull. Notwith­standing being taught in the beginning, hee knoweth afterward through vse what strings make that sound, which the eare iudgeth by the harmonie and agreement of sounds to bee 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. Euery good beginning commeth vnto vs by nature, the progresse and growth by the precepts of reason, Three things necessarie for the perfection of man. and the accomplishment by vse and exercise. Nature without learning and good bringing vp is a blind 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 thereby indued with reasonable good sence and iudgement (which is in man as the rudder in a ship) so that they make shew of great vertues. But those men are not without many great vices also, if they want education and learning: not vnlike to a good fat ground, which bringeth forth many good and bad hearbs together, if it be not well dres­sed. Now if this good nature be ill brought vp, without doubt it will spoile it selfe and be­come very 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, and vsed his vertue as reason required, hee was accounted vertuous, and the other wicked and wretched for doing the contrary. You aske of me (saith Socrates in Xenophon) whether courage or greatnesse of heart proceede of nature or of learning. For my part I thinke, that as we see some borne with stronger bodies than others are, so by nature wee haue minds more fit to sustaine perils and aduersities than others haue. And that this is so, wee see many brought The diffe­rence be­tweene Phi­losophers and the common people. vp with the same manners, and instructed vnder like lawes, and yet some of them more hardy and bold then the rest. Notwithstanding there is no doubt but the goodnesse of nature is holpen by learning and instruction. It is certaine (saith Plutarke) that there is in all men some light of good and right iudgement, but yet the difference betweene Philosophers and the [Page 72] common sort of men is great: because Philosophers haue their iudgement more stayed and assured in dangers, whereas the vulgar sort haue not their hearts 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 affaires, yet infinite faults may be noted in them, especially in their behauiour and manner of life, which might haue beene 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 her former discourses, if it be not built and laid vpon certaine knowledge and reason, which the study of wisedome teacheth vs. And as for that prudence, which is got­ten onely by vse, and by a mans owne experience, it is too long, dangerous, and difficult, be­cause it is not able to make vs wise but after our owne perill: and oftentimes whilest we seeke it, death maketh hast 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 there 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 Three things cōcure in perfect vertue. doth without it: because euen knowledge serueth many times for an occasion to the wicked, who abuse it malitiously, to further their vnpure purposes. Neuertheles, we can accuse nothing but there peruersenesse, which by reason of their ignorance, would not haue staied it selfe from vttering such pernitious effect in them, and peraduenture worse. For in what mea­sure soeuer it be yet (as Socrates said) they that haue beene well brought vp and instructed, are in some sort forced to moderate themselues. Besides, they that are not altogether well borne, yet beeing holpen by good training vp and exercise of vertue, they after a sort repaire and recouer the defect of nature. Idlenesse (saith Plutarke) annihilateth and corrupteth the goodnesse of nature, but diligence in good education, correcteth the naughtines thereof. The defect of natur [...] is hol­pen by good education. And as we see, that drops of water falling vpon a hard stone maketh it hollow, and that iron and copper consume and weare onely with handling, and ground that is more vneuen and stonie than it ought, yet being manured and dressed, beareth faire and goodly fruit; and con­trariwise, good ground becommeth vnfruitful, and woorse and woorse, the more it is left vn­laboured: euen so good manners and conditions are qualities, which in long processe of time are imprinted in the soule, and morall vertues are attained vnto through care, diligence, la­bour, and long exercise. Therefore although nature hath this property in all men, that it is in perpetuall motion through a weake instinct, and that in some stronger, in others weaker, The weaknes of our natural inclination to goodnes. which causeth her to aspire vnto and to desire the excellency of her first perfection, whereof she knoweth herselfe voide, yet if she bee not alwaies holpen and driuen towards the better part, she will sooner suffer herselfe to be carried to the woorse. They are but little sparks (saith Cicero) which through vice and corrupt manners are so easily quenched, that the light of thē appeareth not. And as the heat buried in the veines of a flint, seemeth rather dead then aliue, if the sparkles be not drawne 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 A similitude action, if it be not sharpened and set on worke. We are noe sooner borne, and ta­ken in hand to be brought vp, as Plato saith, but we follow after wickednesse as if wee had sucked iniquity together with our nurses milke. Afterwards being committed by our fathers to the hands of teachers, we so inwrap our mindes with errors that those weake seedes of ver­tue, which are in vs by nature, must needes giue place to vanity, and to opinion. But if good wits finde 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 Lacaedomonians vnderstand, hee nourished two dogs of one and the same liter, vsing the one to hunt, & bringing vp the other Lycurgus example of two dogs. in the kitchin. And when the people were gathered together, he spake vnto them in this man­ner: It is a matter of great importance (O ye Lacaedomonians) to engender vertue in mens hearts by education, custome, and discipline, as I will let you 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, and setting a platter of broth on the other, and he let loose his dogs, of which the one follow­ed after the bare, and 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 workes whereby in his life time hee grew to be most famous in the world, and if they exercise not themselues all the daies of their [Page 73] the world, and if they 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 hearts and wils to vertue, yea to altar and make them better. Socrates confesseth in Plato, that by nature he was inclined to vices, and Socrates and Themistocles were by na­ture vicious, but by educa­tion vertuous. yet Philosophie 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 carried away by his desires like to a young vnbridled colt, vntill that by Miltiades example, who was then famous a­mongst the Graecians, he caused the viuacicie and quicknesse of his spirit, and the ambition which naturally was in him, to attend vpon vertue. Besides, education and custome haue power to change not onely the naturall inclination of some particular 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 law, nor religion, nor know­ledge, The Ger­maines much changed by institution. nor forme of common wealth, whereas now they giue place to no nation for good institution in all things. Let vs not then bee discouraged or faint by knowing our naturall imperfections, seeing that through labour and diligence wee may recouer that which is wanting: but happy is that man, and singularly beloued of God, to whom good birth and like bringing vp are granted together. It followeth now to discourse particularly of the manner of good education and instruction of youth: but this will come in more fitly, when we shall intreat of Oeconomie. And yet seeing we are in the discourse of mans nature, I thinke it will not be from the purpose, nor without profit, (if to make vs more seuere censu­rers of our owne faults) we note, that although our behauiour be chiefly knowne by the ef­fects, as a tree by the fruit, yet many times a mans naturall inclination is better perceiued in A mans natu­rall inclinatiō may be espied in a smal mat­ter. a light matter, as in a word, in a pastime, or in some other free and priuate busines, wherin ver­tue or vice ingrauen in the soule may bee sooner espied, than in greater actions and workes done publikely: because in these matters shame or constraint commonly cause men to vse dissimulation. How beit this also is true, that the more power and authority a man hath, when he may alleadge his owne will for all reason, the inward affection of his heart is then best discouered. For such an vnbrideledlicence mooueth all, euen to the very depth and bot­tome of his passions, and causeth all those secret vices, that are hidden in his soule to be fully and euidently seene. Whereupon it followeth that great and noble men ought aboue all o­thers Great men ought especi­ally to learne vertue. to learne vertue, and to study to liue well, especially seeing they haue all those requisite helpes and commodities, through want of which most men are hindered from attaining thereunto. Let vs therefore learne by our present discourse to know, that the nature of al men by reason of the corruption of sinne, is so depraued, corrupted, and vnperfect, that euen the best men, amongst many imperfections carry about them some enuy, iealousie, emulation and contention, against some or other, and rather against their very friends. This did Demas a noble man and greatly conuersant in matters of estate, declare vnto the councell in the ci­ty of Chio, after a ciuill dissention wherein hee 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 dooing more harme: least (quoth he vnto them) we begin to quarrell with our friends, hauing no more enemies to contend withall. For this cause we must fortifie our selues with vnderstanding and knowledge through labor and study of good letters, that we may restraine and represse so many motions ming­led together in our soules. Let vs know moreouer, that seeing our nature is assaulted & prouoked by a vehement inclination to do any thing whatsoeuer, it is a very hard matter to with­draw 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 habit of vertue, hauing first wished to be wel borne. But how soeuer it be, let vs indeauor to be well borne through custome and exercise in ver­tue (which will bee vnto vs as it were another nature) vsing the meanes of good education and instruction in wisedome, whereby our soules shall be made conquerors ouer all hurtfull passions, and our mindes moderate and staied, that in all our doings, sayings and thoughts wee passe not the bounds of the duty of a vertuous man.

Of Temperance. Chap. 17.

THE diuine excellencie of the order, of the equall and won­derfull constancy of the parts of the world, as well in the goodly and temperate moderation of the seasons of the yeare, as in the mutuall coniunction of the elements, obey­ing altogether with a perfect harmony the gracious and so­ueraigne gouernment of their Creator, was the cause that Pythagoras first called al the compasse of this vniuersall frame by this name of World, which without such an excellent dis­position The Greeke word [...] vsed by Py­thagoras, and translated by the Latines Mundus, and of vs World, signifieth a comely order. would bee but disorder and a world of confusion. For this word World signifieth as much as Ornament, or a well disposed order of things. Now as a constant and temperate or­der is the foundation thereof, so the ground-worke and preseruation of mans happy 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 mediocrity, and moderateth all actions whatsoeuer. For this cause, hauing hitherto according to our iudgement sufficiently dis­coursed of the liuer of the fountaine of honesty, I thinke we ought to set downe here in the second place (although it be contrary to the opinion of many Philosophers, this vertue of Temperance, saying with Socrates, that she is the ground-worke & foundation of all vertues.

As a man cannot be temperate if first he be not prudent, because euery ver­tuous No vertue can be with­out tempe­rance. action proceedeth of knowledge: so no man can bee strong and valiant, if he be not first temperate, because he that hath a notable and great courage without moderation, will attempt a thousand euils and mischiefes, and will soone grow to be rash and heady. Like­wise iustice cannot be had without Temperance, seeing it is the chiefe 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 lengsh become vices. For a temperate man that is not couragious, easily waxeth to be a coward and faint-harted: and a noble heart not temperate, becommeth rash and presumptuous. Let vs then heare A­CHITOB discourse of this Temperance, so excellent and necessary a vertue.

Agapetus a man of great skill, writing to the Emperour Iustinian, amongst other things had this saying: We say that thou art truly and rightly both Emperour and The true markes and ornaments of a king. 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 many times the cause of perdition to the soule, but this procureth a certaine and an assured safety. When wee haue considered well of the worthy effects and fruits of this vertue of Temperance, no doubt but wee will subscribe to this wise mans opinion, and to as many as haue written of the praises and roialties of that vertue. Temperance (saith Pythagoras) is that light, which driueth away round about her the darkenesse and obscuritie of passions. Shee is What tempe­rance is. (saith Socrates) the wholesomest vertue of all. For she preserueth both publikely and priuately humane society, she lifteth vp the soule miserably throwne downe in vice, and restoreth her againe into her place. Temperance (saith Plato) is a mutuall content 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 ho­nesty. It is the property 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 modesty, with the priuation of euery perturbation in the soule, as also a way how to frame all things accor­ding to that which is decent or seemely, which the Latines call Decorum, being a conuenien­cie meete for the excellencie of man, and that wherein his nature differeth from other li­uing What Deco­rum o [...] come­l [...]nesse is. creatures. For as bodily beauty mooueth and reioyceth the eyes, by reason of the goodly and seemely composition of all the members wherein all the parts with a certaine grace agree together: so this decency, which is honesty and seemelinesse, shining in mans life by his good order, constancie and moderation both indeede and word, mooueth and [Page 75] draweth the hearts of those amongst whom wee liue. This vertue then of Temperance is a The definiti­on of temperance. fledfast and moderate rule of reason ouer concupiscence, and ouer other vehement moti­ons of the minde. But she commaundeth chiefly ouer those two perturbations of the soule, grounded vpon the opinion of good, I meane, Vnbrideled desire, and vnmeasurable ioy, where­of What passi­ons are ruled by tempo­rance. heretofore we made mention. Thus we see, that no man can finde out any thing that is so excellent and woonderfull as temperance, the guide and gouernor of the soule, which be­cause of hir exceeding great light cannot be hid in darknesse: which compelleth vs to follow reason, bringeth peace to our mindes, 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 man good and vertuous, She serueth for a knife to cut off all superfluous, vaine, and vnnecessary desires as well of the soule as of the body: and is as it were a rule directing naturall and neces­sary desires by fit choice of times, and by temperate vse of mediocrity. Wherefore we may say, that this vertue of temperance comprehendeth in it all the other vertues: that through hir a harmony, 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 stead­fast safety. Briefly, 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 some sort, that no effeminate or loose matters, no clownish or vnciuill fashions are seene in him. O saith (Euripides) how is temperance to be esteemed, which is the cause of such great glory & honour amongst men. This vertue is diuided into sower principall parts, into Continen­cie, Clemencie, Modesty, and Order. Continency is that part, whereby concupiscence and Foure parts of tempo­rance. desire are gouerned by counsell and reason. Clemency, is that, whereby the mindes of men, rashly carried away with the hatred of any one, and with desire to hurt him, are kept backe by gentlenesse. Modesty is that, whereby honest shame and bashfulnes purchaseth good and due deserued renowne. Order is a disposition of all things in their conuenient place. Al these vertues are vndoubtedly ioyned with temperance, and consist as well in action, as in the dis­coursing of the mind. For by ioining a certaine mediocrity and order vnto those things that belong vnto this life, we preserue honesty and duty. Euery vertue (saith Iamblicus, a notable man) despiseth whatsoeuer is fraile, mortall, and momentany, but temperance more then the rest: because she contemneth, and through chastity beateth downe all those delights & plea­sures, whereby the soule (as Plato saith) is fastened vnto the body as it were with a naile. Ther­fore if temperance rooteth out whatsoeuer shee findeth vnperfect and subiect to perturbati­ons, how shall she not therewithall make vs perfect? This is the meaning of that which the Poets would giue vs to vnderstand vnder that fained fable of Bellerophron, who being aided by modesty put to death, that Chimaera, and all other cruell and sauage monsters. But as long as the immoderate force of our affections reigneth in vs, it suffereth not men to be men, but draweth them to the ill fauored nature of beasts voide of reason, Contrariwise, this holy mo­deration, whereby pleasures are contained within certaine bounds, preserueth families toge­ther, and citties: 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 endeauour to rehearse here all those excellent praises, which Philosophers giue to this vertue of temperance, because of hir woorthy 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 because in the sequele of our discourses, as well in the handling of vices as of vertues, we may consider furthermore 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 pillar of fortitude, the helmet and shield against luxuriousnes, the keeper & guide of the eies, the pre­seruer The com­mendation of temperance. of good will, the razor of euill thoughts, the corrector of vntamed desires, an enemy to the disordered will of the soule: that it shunneth naturall desires, hindreth dishonest actiōs, breedeth continency, mollifieth mens hearts, and giueth reason for a rule in all things. Now let vs note out amongst the ancients, some examples of the force and greatnesse of this ver­tue of Temperance, which hath made many excellent men woorthy of eternall renowne, Scipio, Affricanus, Generall of the Romanes, at the taking of the city of Cartharge had a yong Wonderfull examples of temperance Scipio. Afri­canus. damsell to this 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 abusing hir in any respect, although he was in the flower of his age, and had free and so­ueraigne authority. Moreouer, he gaue for a dowrie with her the money that was brought [Page 76] vnto him for her ransome. An act no doubt of great continency in a victorious captaine to­wards his captiue, whereof Aulus Gellius, ioyning it with that which we reade 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, Alexander. which excelled all the dames of Asia in beautie, and was withall but yong in yeares, the vi­ctorious monarch being but yong also, and hauing no superiour aboue him to whom hee was bound to giue an account of himselfe, had not withstanding such great knowledge how to command himselfe, that albeit by his acquaintance and friends he was sufficiently certifi­ed of the excellent beautie of this Lady, yet he bare no ill thought towards her, but sent to comfort her, and caused her to be entertained and attended on with no lesse honour and re­uerence, than if she had beene his owne sister. And to auoide all suspition and occasion of euill, he would not see her, nor suffer her to be brought before him. The temperance of Cy­rus king of Persia is also very famous amongst the historiographers. For when one of his mi­nions Cyrus. stirred him vp to goe and see faire Panthaea, saying that her rare beauty was well worthy to be seene: That is the cause (answered this yong Prince vnto him) why I will altogether abstaine at this present from beholding her at thy perswasion, least she her selfe hereafter should induce me through the remembrance of her perfection to goe to her, and to cause me in the meane time to let slip many affaires of great importance. Architas was so temperate, Architas. that he would not so much as vtter one filthy 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 to cause a man to blush. Xenocrates, was endu­ed with such a great gift of contenencie, that Phryna a very faire and notable curtisan laid a Xenocrates. wager with certaine yong men, that if shee lay with him, she would cause him to breake his temperance. But Xenocrates, hauing granted her the halfe of his bed, for examples sake to those youths, was nothing more mooued for any thing that she could doe. Whereupon Phry­na being very angry made answer in the morning to those that demanded the wager of her, That she lay not with a man but with a blocke. Isaeus the Philosopher beeing asked of one I [...]au [...]. that looked vpon a very faire woman, whether shee 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 her at all. Caius Gracchus the Romaine, 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, C. Gracchus. Antigonus. hearing that his sonne was lodged in a house where there were three very faire daughters, made an edict, that no Courtier should lodge in any matrons house that had daughters, if she were vnder fiftie yeares of age. Pompeius would neuer speake to the wife of Demetrius his freeman, because shee was so faire, that he feared least he should bee in loue with her. In the number of these ancient, famous and vertuous men, that great captaine Francis Sforce duke Pompeius. P. Sforce. of Millan deserueth to be placed, whose continencie, was wonderfull, euen when he was yet yong, and Generall of the Florentine armie, at the taking of Casanoua. For as certaine souldi­ers had taken a maide of an excellent beauty, and at her intreaty and earnest request had brought her before him, Sforce asked the maide why shee desired so earnestly to come before him. To this end (quoth she) that thou mightest deliuer me from the souldiers, and that I might please thee. Sforce seeing her to be very faire, accepted of her, and at night caused her to lie with him. But as hee would haue drawne neere vnto her, the maide cast her selfe on both her knees before him without the bed, and besought him to saue her virginity, and to restore her to him vnto whom shee was made sure. Whereunto Sforce willingly agreed, be­holding the abundance of her teares, which were testimonies of the chastitie of her heart. Will we haue examples of this vertue of temperance in other circumstances of her effects? Ambition truly is the most vehement and strongest passion of all those wherewith mens mindes are troubled, and yet many notable and vertuous men haue so mastered it by the force of their temperance, that oftentimes they accepted of offices and estates of supreame authority, as it were by compulsion and with griefe: yea some altogether contemned and willingly forsooke them. Pompey receiuing letters of absolute authoritie from the Senate to conduct the warre against the two kings Tigranes and Mithridates cried out: O God, shall The tempe­rance of Pompey a­gainst ambi­tion. I neuer come to the end of so many trauels? Shall enuie alwaies hold me in such sort as her slaue, that new and great charges daily laying holde vpon me, I cannot ridde my selfe of these snares, to the end I may liue sweetely with my wife and children at my house in the countrey? Pittacus one of the Sages of Graecia, beeing constrained to take vpon him the charge of an army, accepted it with great griefe, saying before them all: O how Pittacus. [Page 77] hard a matter it is to bee a good man: Pedaretus the Lacedemonian hauing escaped to bee Pedaretus. elected one of those three hundreth Senators, which gouerned the estate of Sparta, returned from the assembly very ioyfull, saying, That it was an easie matter to finde in the citie three hundreth better and more honest men than himselfe. What did Scipio; of whom we haue al­ready Scipio. spoken, after he had performed a thousand glorious facts for the greatnesse of the Ro­mane Empire? He forced the nature of ambition, which is alwaies carried with a desire of new glory, and changed the rest of his life into quietnesse: an abandoning the affaires of estate, he went and dwelt in the countrey. Torquatus and Fabritius absented themselues from Rome, the one because he would not haue the dictatorship, and the other the consulship. It is Torquatus & Fabritius. Aimaeus. not long since Aimaeus duke of Sauoy willingly gaue ouer his duchy into his sons hands, and became an hermit: and after that being chosen Pope, he gaue vp the seate willingly to ano­ther. Amurathes, the second of that name, Emperor of the Turkes, after he had obtained infi­nite victories, and vanquished the king of Hungarie, became a monke of the straightest sect Amurathes. amongst them. The great Emperor Charles the fift, did he not resigne his Empire into the Charles the fift. hands of the princes electors, and withdrew himselfe into a monastery? But what neede we maruell at the knowledge of these examples, which shew 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 only serue for a good guide and schoolemaster to our passions, and to our naturall and necessary desires and pleasures that are borne with man from the beginning, to rule them with mediocrity & reason, but also compelleth them oftentimes to submit themselues, therby triumphing ouer their necessity, although (as Thales said) it be inuisible? And then how much more easie will it be to restraine, yea, wholy to ouerthrow the foolish desires of vanitie? Sous a Captaine of great renowne, and king of Lacedemonia, beeing besieged in a Sous. narrow straite, and very craggie place voide of water, after he had endured the necessity of thirst to the vttermost, he offered to the Clitorians his enemies, to restore vnto them all their land, which he had wonne of them, so that he and all his company might drinke of a foun­taine neere vnto them. Which being thus agreed vpon betweene them, he led all his men thither, and said vnto them, that if any one would abstaine from drinking, he would resigne his royalty 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 out side, 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, because all dranke not: and so he continued the warre to the great honour and aduantage of his countrey. Lysimachus, one of Alexanders successors in the Empire, had not so great power ouer the like passions. For being compelled by thirst, hee deliuered himselfe Lysimachus. and all his army to the Getes his enemies. After he had drunke, being prisoner, O God (quoth hee) how faint-hearted am I, that for so short a pleasure haue depriued my selfe of so great a kingdome! Cato the yonger, trauelling ouer the deserts of Lybia, endured very sore thirst. And when a souldier offered him a little water in his motion, he threw it vpon the ground in Cato. the presence of them all, to the end his army might know, that he would be in no better estate than they. Truely a worthy example for all Captaines: for by so doing, that which would hardly haue quenched the thirst of one, restrained it in a whole army. The Emperor Rodolphus, who of base estate attained to this dignity by his vertue, vpon the like occasion made an an­swer Rodolphus. worthy to be remembred. For when a full cup of beere was brought vnto him in the war which he had against Octocarius 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 army, and not onely for himselfe, and therefore that cup of beere was not sufficient to quench it. We reade of Socrates that whensoeuer he felt himselfe Socrates. very thirstie, 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 end (as he said) that hee 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 necessary passions, how credible is it, that she may haue far 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 very necessary and profitable for a happy life, as that which hath this propertie belon­ging vnto it, to be skilfull in chusing a mediocritie in pleasures and griefes, in keeping that [Page 78] which is honest and vertuous, and in shunning of vice, especially of carnall pleasures, although shee 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 solitary 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 very well called of the Phi­losophers, the mother of all dutie and honesty.

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

BEing instructed in the vertue of temperance, which, as well as her fellow ver­tues, consisteth in mediocritie, we are now to consider of her extremities and vices that are in excesse and in defect. Intemperance is cleane contrary 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 my companions.

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

Nature (said Architas) hath giuen no plague more pernitious and hurtfull than the pleasure of the body. For whereas God hath bestowed vpon man nothing more excellent than the soule and reason, there is none so great an enemie to this heauenly gift as voluptuousnesse: because where luxuriousnesse and concupiscence reigne, there tempe­rance can haue no place: yea, all vertues are banished out of their kingdome. But let vs heare ARAM discourse of these vices here propounded vnto vs.

I reade in Plato not long since, that there were many sinnes, which ought ra­ther Some sinnes are punish­ments of o­ther sinnes. to be called punishments of other sinnes going before, that sinnes. According to the course and sequele of his speech, if my memory 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 heede vnto themselues, vntill they be wholly abandoned and giuen ouer (as Saint Paul saith) to their vile affections, and pleasures of their hearts, in all vncleannesse and turbulent passi­ons Rom. 1. 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 soule & beastly, they become Sodomits, Church-robbers, parricides, Epicures, Atheists, and full of all execrable villanies, which are comprehended vnder this word of in­temperance. Intemperance is very well defined of the Philosophers to be an ouerflowing in voluptuousnesse, forcing and compelling all reason in such sort, that no consideration of losse What intem­perance is. 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 hee 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 & pleasure. For this cause Aristotle distinguisheth betweene intem­perance The diffe­rence be­tweene an in­continent and an intempe­rate man. and incontinencie (albeit many take them indifferently one for another) 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 beeing ouercome with perturbations, yeeldeth thereunto. Whereas the in­temperate man committeth euill of election and setled purpose to follow it, accounting it a good thing, and to be desired; and this commeth through a long custome and habite of vice, which is the cause that he neuer repenteth him of the fact, but taketh pleasure therein: whereas on the contrary side the repentance of an incontinent man followeth hard at the heeles of his sinne and transgression. In this manner then proceedeth Intemperance, vntill men are wholly 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 carried to vgly and vnnaturall vices, and to all fleshly desires: because the diuine part of the soule is weakened in such sort, that she hath no more strength, nor feeling of her essence, which is an enemy to vice. And thus accustoming her selfe to [Page 79] follow nothing but the will of the body, she forsaketh God altogether, who seeing himselfe forsaken, leaueth her to her concupisciences, from whence is engendred this exceeding lux­uriousnes euen against nature, this mortall, venemous and bloody enuy, this furious & bar­barous cruelty, this insatiable couetousnes, this blood thirsty ambition, and other incurable diseases of the soule, too well knowne amongst vs, whereof the sequele of our discourses will affoord a more ample knowledge vnto vs. 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: because he neuer thinketh vpon that which is best, but onely see­keth how to satisfie and content the vnbrideled desires of pleasure and lust, hauing no more vse of reason than beasts haue. Intemperance (saith Eusebius) corrupteth the soule, and destroi­eth A fit simili­tude. the body, because 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 windes torment and tosse that shippe which they haue seazed vpon, now here now there, and will not suffer it to be guided by her maister: so Intemperance moouing and compelling the soule to disobey reason, suf­fereth her not to enioy tranquility and rest, which is an assured hauen of harbour from all windes. Intemperance (saith Aristotle) is a vice that proceedeth from the couering part of man, whereby we desire to enioy vnlawfull pleasures. It is her property to choose the fruiti­on of hurtfull and vile pleasures, supposing none to liue happilie, but such as passe away their life in them. This vice is vnseperably accompanied with the troubling of all Order, with The cōpani­ons of Intemperance. impudencie, vnseemelines, luxuriousnes, sloth negligence, and dissolutenes. In a word, In­temperance remooueth and troubleth all tranquility of the mind, and leadeth men to all kind of wickednesse, the end of one vice being the beginning of another: which Socrates cal­led the punishment of sinne, that doth not cleanse but kill the male factor. 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 laboureth oftentimes to procure, that glorie and honour should be giuen to his most cursed and execrable misde­meanors, imagining and fancying 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, which worke the apprehension of their furie, and hold them in the vi­sion Intemperate men resēble mad folkes. and inward view of that which most troubleth their diseased braine. But to make this vice of Intemperance more odious vnto vs, and to mooue vs more earnestly to fly those causes that nourish it, labouring to cut off all those branches and hurtfull fruites, which it bringeth with it, as superfluitie, gluttony, ambition, pride, and other excesses in all kinde of delight, whereof we wil intreate more particularly hereafter, let vs cal to minde examples of such pernitious effects, as it hath brought foorth in them that voluntarily submitted them­selues vnder her tyrannous gouernment. Although we should search throughout all ancient histories, yet hardly could we alledge a more euident testimonie, than the life of Heliogabolus: because there is no kinde of cursed mischiefe, of detstable lust, of iniustice and of crueltie Heliogebalus. wherewith he was not defiled. Yea, he fell into such a furious frensie of vice, that see­king to become a woman, and to be married to one of his minions, thinking in that sexe better to satisfie his beastlinesse, he appareled himselfe after such a fashion, that he was ney­ther 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 binne vnto him an occasion of amendment) he was so be witched with intemperance, that he prepared poysons ready at hand to poyson himselfe withall, if he perceiued himselfe pressed of his ene­mies. And to make his death luxurious according to his desire, he kept his poysons in vessels made of precious stones. He prouided also silken halters to hang himselfe withall, if hee saw that more expedient for him, than to be poysoned: 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, and al to choose his death as fittest occasion should be offered. In the mean while he gaue not ouer that execrable kinde of life, which through Gods iust iudge­ment he ended, being depriued of all those meanes wherewith hee desired to serue his owne turne in his death. For he was strangled by the souldiers of his guard, who trailed him in that manner through all places of the cittie of Rome. Nero, one of his predecessors, was little Nero. better then 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 cruelty, that he was the murderer of his own mother, brother, sister, and of two wiues which he had, named Octauia and Poppea. Like­wise [Page 90] he put to death his Schoolemaster Seneca, and many other good men. But his end dis­sembled not his life. For being hated of all and sought for to be slaine, hee killed himselfe. Commodus an other Emperor, not finding wherewith to satisfie his intemperancy in three Commodus. hundred concubines, and three hundred buggerers, which he kept in his palace committed incest with his owne sisters. Caligula also did the like, but the one of them was slaine by his Caligula. Proculus. wife, and the other by his concubine. Proculus a Romane Emperor, was so much giuen to lust, that he bragged how in fifteene daies he had gotten with child a hundred virgins of Sarma­tia, which he had taken prisoners in the war. Chilpericus the first, king of France, to the end Chilpericus 1. he might the better enioy a whore called Fredegonda, whom afterwards he married, compel­led his first wife named A [...]deuora, to become a religious woman, and put to death two chil­dren which he had by her, through the counsell of his said concubine. Then hauing in his second marriage taken to wife Galsonda daughter to the king of Spaine, he caused her to bee strangled, and married Fredegonda, who perceiuing afterward that he noted in himselfe this loosenes of life, and offensiue kind of gouernment, caused him to be slaine. A iust punish­ment suffered by God for his intemperance. Xerxes monarch of the Persians, was so intem­perate and giuen to lust, that he propounded rewards for those that could inuent some new Xerxes. kind of pleasure. And therefore comming into Graecia with an infinite number of men to subdue it, he was ouercome and repulsed by a small number, as being an effeminate and faint­hearted man. Epicurus a learned Philosopher was so intemperate, that he placed the soue­raigne Good and Felicity in pleasure. Sardanapalus monarch of Babylon, the first of the foure Epicurus. Sardanapalus. 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. Wherby he became so odious, that two of his Lieuetenants 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. Whereupon despairing of his safety, he caused a great Tabernacle of wood to be set vp in a sure place within the cloister of his pallace, and compassed it round about with great store of drye 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 himselfe within it, his Eunuches and seruants according to the oath 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 monarchy, which his victorious lieuetenants deuided betwixt them, the one taking himselfe for king of Babi­lon, the other of Media. Antonius one of Caesars successors in the Empire, procured his owne Antonius. ruine through intemperance and loosenesse, and stirred vp against himselfe, the enuie and murmuring of the Romanes for his retchlesnesse in feats of armes in that warre ouer which he was Generall against the Parthians. For to the end hee might quickely returne to his concubine Cleopatra Queene of Egypt, hee hazarded all in such sort, that without do­ing any thing worthy his first reputation, he lost more than twenty thousand of his owne men. Afterward Octauius his companion in the Empire, being armed against him, that hee might reuenge the iniury 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 flye, who had borne him company in that warre, followed her with three-score of his owne gallies, albeit the fight was yet equall, and the victory doubtfull. Thus he betrayed those that fought for him, to follow her, who already had begun his destruction, to the end she might accomplish the same, as indeed it fell out after. For being besieged within Alexandria by the said Octauuis, and without hope of safety, he thrust himselfe through the body with his sword, whereof he died: and Cleopatra also procured her owne death by the biting of the serpent Boleslaus. 2. Aspis. Boleslaus the second, king of Polonia, being giuen to all vncleanenes and filthinesse, made no doubt to take women by violence from their husbands. Whereupon the Bishop of Craconia often admonished him thereof, and when, by reason of his obstinate perseuerance, he proceeded against him euen with excommunication, he was carried headlong with such fury, that he killed this holy man. After that his subiects comming against him, he was con­strained to flie into Hungary, where falling mad, he slew himselfe. The Emperor Adrian tooke Adrian. such glory and pride in all execrable vices, that he commanded a temple with a sumptuous tombe to be made for a naughty man named Antinoüs, whom he had miserably abused in his Iohannes a Casa. life. In our time Iohannes a Casa Archbishop of Beneuento, and Legate in Venice, wrote a booke in praise of the abominable vice of Sodomitry. Sigismundus Malatesta, Lord of a part of Romaignola a prouince of Italy, striued to haue carnall knowledge of his sonne Robert, [Page 81] who thrusting his poinado into his fathers bosome, reuenged that great wickednes. By these examples and infinite others, whereof histories are full, it appeareth 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 and delight, as he propoun­deth to himselfe. As if he purpose to haue his fame continue for euer, he will not sticke to do it, although it be by some notable wickednes. And thus we reade of him that burnt the Tem­ple of Diana, which was accounted the fifth wonder of the world, and was two hundred and The Temple of Diana was burnt by Ero­stratus. eight and twenty yeares in building by the Amazons within the city of Ephesus in Asia. The plankes thereof were all of Cedar wood, and the doores and garnishing of the walles 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 set downe his name in writing. Neuertheles he is named Ero­stratus, by Solinus and S [...]rabo: from whence came that prouerbe, 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, whereof mention was made in the beginning of our present discourse, and which hath no proper name, but vnproperly is called by some Stupidity or sencelesnes, it is rarely found amongst men, who by nature are giuen to pleasure, and carried away with all kinds of desires and lusts. For where shall we find Of Stupidity. any so dull and blockish, that hath no feeling of pleasure, and that is not mooued with glory and honour? Such a man may be truely taken and accounted as one voide of sence and fee­ling, and like to a blocke. Neither doth it belong to Temperance 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 continency and modesty. Thus ye see we haue no mat­ter offered whereabout to bestow time in reproouing this vice of defect, from which men are too carefull to keepe themselues. But to come to the conclusion of our discourse, we say with Aristotle, that concupiscences and desires change the body, and make the soule outragious: that so many as are infected with such a pernitious and damnable vice as Intemperance is, are no men, 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: and hauing no knowledge of the iustice of God, neither reuerencing the beauty of vertue, bestow all the courage, craft and force that nature hath giuen them, to satisfie & to accomplish their desires. So that if death brought with it an end of all sense and feeling, and an vtter abolishing of the soule, as well to men as to beasts, intemperate folkes 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 and filthy pleasures. But seeing we know (for truely he that doubteth hereof, is very ignorant and most miserable) that sence and feeling remaine after death, and that the soule dieth not with the body, but that punishment, yea euerlasting paine is prepared for the wicked, let vs be carefull to doe the will of our Father which is in heauen, whilest we haue time, that in the triumphing day of his eternall Sonne, we may not beare to our confusi­on, that sentence of his mouth, Depart from me ye workers of iniquity. At which time, the iust shall shine as the Sun in the kingdome of God, and the wicked shall be cast headlong into euerla­sting fire, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Luke 13. 27.

Of Sobrietie and Frugality. 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 continency 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 superfluity 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 continency.

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, Frugality, discipline, honesty, moderation of the soule, con­tented with her owne riches: and the other of intemperance, lust, and contempt of all order & mediocrity. In the end, the one is followed with shame, and the other with true & lasting praise

We cannot well vse our spirit (saith Cicero) when we are stuffed with meate. Nei­ther must we gratifie the belly and intrals onely, 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 whom we may vnderstand how necessary sobriety is for a happy life.

If we set before our eyes the long and happy life of the Ancients, so long as they obserued sobriety and frugality: out of doubt we will attribute one principall cause of The cause of the long life of our Elders, and of the shortnes of ours. our so short life, and so full of infirmities, to the riot, superfluity, and curiosity 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, hony, and water? Who euer came neere their long and happy daies, since those times? What preparation of exquisite victuals did those sixe hundred thousand Israe­lites thinke to finde, that came out of Egypt to goe into a newe land, walking forty yeares through the wildernes, drinking nothing but water, and many times wanting that? After those first ages, the Graecians and Romanes loued sobriety, more than all other nations. And as the Hebrewes vsed to eate but once a day, which was at dinner, so the Graecians onely sup­ped. For this cause we reade that Plato, being demanded whether he had seene any new or strange thing in Sicilia, answered, that he had found a monster of nature, which did eate twice a day. This he spake of Dionysius the tyrant, who first brought vp that custome in his coun­trey. Dionysius a monster, and why. In the time of Iulius Caesar the Germaines, a strong and warlike people, liued onely of milke, cheese and flesh, not knowing what Wheate or 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 superfluity and daintinesse of fare meaneth, and yet liue long and healthy in all frugality, the greatest part of them vpon hearbes and rootes, whereof they make cakes in stead of wheate, and others of raw flesh? Whereby it is easie to iudge, that Sobriety is the preseruation and maintenance of health, and of naturall strength and vigour, and so consequently of the life of man. But when we looke higher, and with the eyes of our mind marke the excellent glory and immortall praise, deserued by so ma­ny Camilli, Scipiones, Fabritij, Metelli, Catones, and by a thousand other famous families, The sobriety of old time, and corrupti­on of ours compared to­gether. which executed so many worthy 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, hearbes, and water, endured and tollerated cheerefully all iniuries of weather, went but homely arraied, and altogether contemned gold and siluer: out of question we will iudge those men very blinde, and far from the white of such glory and honour, who imbrace nothing but dissolutenes, su­per fluity, lust, drunkennes, 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 vicious. And truely I thinke that these men being past shame, care but little for the glory that hath beene in many ages, seeing they liue for the body only, after a brutish impiety, without all regard of the soule, or of the second life. What say I for the body? Nay rather they are the destroyers thereof, seeing it cannot be [...] denied but that sobriety is a great benefite and helpe to preserue health and bodily strength, and to Sobrietie pre­serueth health expell diseases, and it is to be vsed as a good foundation to attaine to a happy old age. The experience hereof is well knowne to euery one, although there were no other proofe but this, that we see the simple sort of people that labour and trauell, to liue with bread and water, grow olde in health; whereas our Princes and great Lords being delicately brought vp in idlenesse, dye yong men, tormented with infinite diseases, especially when they grow a little in yeares. Further, let such dissolute men as make pleasure the end of their desire, know, that Sobriety leadeth those that follow her, to far greater and more perfect pleasures, than inconti­nencie and superfluity doe. For these excessiue fellowes neuer expect hunger, or thirst, or any other pleasure of the body, but through intemperance preuent them, and so enioy scarce halfe the pleasure. But sober and temperate men, forbearing the fruition of their desire a long time, haue a far more perfect taste of them, because (as Cicero saith) the pleasure of life consisteth There is more pleasure of the crea­ture in sob [...]i­etie, than in superfluitie. rather in the desire, than in the saciety thereof. And if mediocrity bee not obserued, those things that are most acceptable and pleasant, become most vnpleasant. Doe we not also see that when the body is not ouercharged with meate and wine, it is better disposed, and more temperate for euery good action? And as for the spirit for which we ought chiefely to liue, it is more ready and nimble to comprehend and conceiue what right, reason, and true hone­sty are. For (as Aristotle saith) sobriety causeth men to iudge better and according to the truth, [Page 83] of althings, & in that respect is very necessary for the attaining of Philosophy. Likwise sobrie­ty tetaineth that in a wise mans thought, which a foole without discretion hath in his mouth. And therefore (saith Ca [...]es) we must striue by all meanes to restraine our belly, because The belly is an vnthank­full beast. that onely is alwaies vnthankfull for the pleasures done vnto it, crauing continually, and oftener, than it needeth: so that whosoeuer is not able to commaund ouer it, will daily heape vp mischiefe vpon mischiefe to himselfe. But frugolity and sobriety are the mistresses of good counsell, and the badges of chastity. For this cause Titus Liuius commendeth more the barrennesse and sterility of a countrey. Than fertility and fruitfulnesse, saying that men borne in a fatte and fertile soile, are commonly do littles, and cowards: but contrariwise, the barrennes of a countrey, maketh men sober of necessity, and consequent­ly carefull, vigilant, and giuen too to labour. As the Athenians were, being situated in a ve­ry vnfruitfull place. We make great account (saith Paulonius) of frugality, not because wee 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 and chiefest benefite that could come to man, were (said Solon) to haue no neede of nourishment, it is very manifest, that the next to that is to haue need but of a little. But amongst so many good reasons of such excellent men, the counsell of Epictetus is well woorth the marking, where he saith: then when we would eate, we must consider that we haue two guests to entertaine, the body and The counsell of Epictetus concerning eating. 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 Academy at a sober and simple repast (for the grea­test festiuall dainties were oliues, cheese, apples, coleworts, bread and wine) saide that they which sup with Plato, feele the benefit thereof the next day, yea a long time after. For these How wise men in old time feasted one another. wise men met together at banquets voide of excesse, not to fill their bellies, but to prepare & dresse their mindes, and to learne one of another by their goodly discourses of Philosophy, 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 Graecia, where the discussing of good & 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 vnwoorthy and vnbeseeming men of honour, because it was to passe away as the smell of a perfume. Neither would they suffer that men should bring into their assemblies the vanity of foolish delights, as of the sound of instru­ments, Against vain­delights in feasts. 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 reioycing, through their learned discourses, itt were meere fol­ly to beg strange and friuolous delights from without them. And Plutarke saith, that the bruitish part of the soule, depending of the feeding beast, and vncapable of reason, is that which is pleased, brought to order, and satisfied by songs and sounds, which are sung and tu­ned The belly a feeding beast. vnto it: euen as wirh the whistling of lips or hands, or with the sound of a pipe shepheards cause their sheepe to arise, or ly downe, because 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 t for (quoth he) musicke ought rather to besent for, when men are angry, or mourne, than when they are feasting or making merry, thereby to When musick is most con­uenient. make them giue more libertie to all pleasure, than before. I suppose the Egyptians did bet­ter, who vsed in the middest of their banquets to bring in the Anatomy of a dead body dri­ed, that the horror thereof might containe them in all modestie. For this cause the memory The custome of the Egyp­tians at ban­quets. of the Emperor Henry the third, greatly commendeth it selfe, who banished all pompe and vanitie from his wedding, and draue away the plaiers, and iosters, causing a great number of poore folke to come in their place. The custome which the Lacedomonians obserued, when they liued vnder Lycurgus lawes, is also woorthie to be remembred: which was, that no tor­ches or lights should be brought vnto them, when they departed from feasts at night, that it might be an occasion vnto them to feare drunkennesse, and so to auoide this shame, that The custome of the Lace­demonians. they onelie could not finde out their houses. Now in those happy times vines were planted and dressed, that wine might be drunke rather in time of sickenesse, than of health: insomuch that it was not sold in Tauernes, but onely Apothecaries shops. Those ancient Sages com­monly measured their drinking by that saying of Anacharsis, that the first draught which The manner of drinking in old time. men drunke? ought to bee for thirst, the second for nourishment: and as for the [Page 84] third, that it was of pleasure, and the fourth of madnesse. Pithagoras being much more religi­ous in this matter, and liuing onely of hearbes, fruite, and water, said: that the vine brought forth three grapes, whereof the first quencheth thirst, the second troubleth, and the third altogether dulleth. He neuer dranke wine, no more did that great Orato Demosthenes, nor any other famous men, of whom histories make mention. The kings of Egypt were forbidden wine, which they neuer dranke, except on certaine daies, and then by measure. And truely it bringeth with it pernitious effects, aswel to the soule, as to the body. For from it proceedeth the chiefe and most common cause of bodily diseases, and of the infirmities of the soule. But to continue the examples of loue which the Ancients bare to the vertue of sobriety, this was it that caused Alexander the Great to refuse those cookes and Paisterers which Ada Queene of Caria sent vnto him, and to send her word backe againe, that he had better than they were: The sobrietic of Alexander. namely, for his dinner, early rising, and walking a good while before day: and for his supper, a little dinner. Notwithstanding, in the end the Persian delicacies and riches (which alwaies is the propertie of such goods) caused this vertuous Monarch to change his commendable custome of liuing, and to approoue and like of excesse in drinking: to which vice, that hee Against excessiue drinking. might giue greater authority, he propounded sixe 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 Calisthenes one of his fauourits, he refused, saying: that he would not for drinking in Alexan­der, stand in need of Esculapius. With which the king perceiuing himselfe 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 captiuity. Wherein we may note how ridiculous their blockish­nesse is, who for feare, not of such an entertainment as this wise man receiued, but of beeing taken and reputed as voide of good fellowship and vnciuill, cast themselues into the danger of a sore sicknesse, rather than they will refuse to drinke a carouse, when they are inuited ther­unto. Hereby also those men shew their want of iudgement, and of conuenient matter to talke of, who cannot entertaine their friends without drunkennes and gluttony. And the o­ther if they knew how to make deniall fitly, and in good sort, besides the profit which they should receiue thereby, their company would be more desired, than it will be for their drun­kennesse. Cyrus, Monarch of the Persians, from his childhood gaue great testimony, that he would one day become a very sober man. For being demanded by Astyages his grandfather, Cyrus. 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 day of your natiuity, that it could not be, but that some body had mingled poyson amongst all that wine, which yee then dranke: because in the winding vp of the table, not one of those that were present at the feast, was in his right minde. Afterward, this vertuous Prince alwaies liued very frugally: for proofe whereof may serue his answer made one day to Artabazus, as he marched in war, who asked him what he would haue brought vnto him for his supper: Bread, (quoth he,) for I hope wee shall finde some fountaine to furnish vs with drinke. Porus a noble king of India, liued with water and bread onely. Phaotes also king of the same countrey, did the like: and the greatest feastes Porus. Phaotes. Alphonsus. which he made, or suffered his courtiers to make, was onely with a kind of venison. Alphonsus king of Arragon, and Sicilia, a very soberman, was demanded of certaine of his Princes, why he dranke no wine: because (quoth he) wisedome 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 Lacedaemonia hauing alwaies beene brought vp in the discipline of Lycur­gus, Agesilaus. who had banished allryot and super fluitie from that citie, by the vtter defacing and abo­lishing of gold and siluer, became very wonderfull, by reason of his simplicity and plainnesse, in feeding and clothing his body, and in behauing himselfe as the meanest of his subiects. He vsed to say (which he likewise put in vre) that hee which commanded and ruled many, ought to surpasse them, not in dainties and delicacie, but in sustaining labour, and in nobility of heart. The benefit which (as he said) he reaped thereby, was liberty, whereof he assured himselfe, that he could neuer be depriued by any alteration and change of fortune. And as he passed with his army by the countrey of the Thasians, they sent him certaine refreshing of floure, and of dainty cates, as comfites, and other dainty 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 manly fortitude and prowes, to take such iuncates. For that which allureth and inticeth men of slauish nature, ought not to bee acceptable to them that are of a franke and free courage. But is there any thing now adaies I pray [Page 85] thing now adaies I pray you, that so much allureth and keepeth base mindes in the seruice Good cheere keepeth base minds in sub­iection. of great men, as the dainties 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 and to obey him. Neuerthelesse, a couragious heart suffereth not it selfe to bee taken with such baites: but let vs continue the examples of Sobriety. Pompey the Great, hauing all his life time loued modesty and frugality, gaue yet a more certaine testimony thereof, when, Pompeius. by reason of a lingering disease hee had lost his appetite to meate. His Physition appointing him to eate of a Blackbird, he was giuen to vnderstand by his seruants, 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 yeare long, and would willingly giue him some. What (quoth he then) if Lucullus were not a dainty and nice glutton, could not Pompey liue? No, no, let mee haue something made ready that may easily be gotten. 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 M. Cato. ancient manner of liuing, which was very austere, but dranke almost nothing but water, and for the most part did eate nothing but bread and beefe, labouring in the field in time of peace as much as the meanest of his sernants. Epaminondas the greatest Captaine and Philosopher Epaminondas. of his time, liued so thriftily and temperately, that beeing inuited by a friend of his to supper, and seeing great superfluity & sumptuousnes, he returned very angry, saying, that he thought he had beene requested to sacrifice, and to liue honestly together, and not to receiue iniurie and reproch by being entertained like a glutton. Caius Fabritius a noble Romane Captaine, was found by the Samnite Embassadors that came vnto him, eating of raddish rosted in the C. Fabritius. ashes, which was all the dishes he had to his supper, and that in a very poore house. Scipio Ae­milius kept a very honourable table for his friends (for in his time riot had already begun to Scipio. enter into Rome) but going aside himselfe, hee would eate nothing but bread. Masinissa king of the Numidians, was of so great sobriety, that euen at ninety yeares of age hee would Masinissa. eate but once a day, and then vpon homely meates without sauce. Mithridates king of Pontus being very old, neuer sate downe at the table to eate, and liued very frugally. Hannibal fed vp­on Mithridates. Hannibal, no other meate, than did the meanest of his souldiers. The reason why I stay longer in the examples of this vertue of sobriety, is to shew the beastlines of men in our age, to whom it fee­meth an impossible, vaine and contemptible thing, to liue in such sparing and austerity of life: saying, that there were none but certaine foolish Philosophers, (for that is the Epithite, which the ignorant sort giue to vertuous men) and some simple Hermites, who liued after that manner. Therefore that they may vnseale their eies, let them behold here, how in all sorts and conditions of men, euen in the greatest, the vertue of temperance, frugality and sobriety, did appeare and shine. The Emperour Vespasianus one day in euery moneth vsed to eate no­thing. The Priests of Egypt, the Sages of India and Persia, and Iupiters priests, seruing false Vespasianus. 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 examples by Ethnickes 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 kings table, liued with pulse and water onely. S. Iohn Baptist passed ouer the great part of his age in the desart, eating Daniel. Iohn Baptist. nothing but locusts and wild hony. S. Hierome maketh mention of one Paul an Hermit, who liued from sixteene yeares vnto sixty, of dates onely: and from sixty yeares vnto the age of sixe score and fiue yeares (when he died) he was fed with a little bread brought daily vnto him by a crow. Maxentius bishop of Poytiers, liued alwaies with barely bread and water. But to the end we may reape profit by all that hath bene here spoken, let vs learne of Socrates, that the Maxentius. soule which hath gotten the habite of frugality, and is contented with her estate, passeth a­way her daies in this world, as he that in the Spring time taketh small and easie iournies in a pleasant and fruitfull region, with great contentation of minde and little 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 sobriety, which will teach vs to renounce worldly vanity, and to content our selues (next vnto God) in vertue onely, and in heauenly riches. And although delicacy of fare bee so common amongst vs Frenchmen, and maintained with such impudency, that wee permit amongst vs, and study kitchin Com­mentaries, as much as any good science, so that it may seeme a very difficulte matter to take it away, and banish it from amongst vs, yet it is not altogether impossible as many thinke. But let vs follow that ancient precept of Pythagoras; To choose the best kinde of life, [Page 86] and no doubt but custome will by little and little make it easie and pleasant vnto vs. And if we be despised and rebuked of others, we may answer as Socrates did, who being reprooued because he had made no greater preparation of meate in a feast whereunto he inuited many Socrates feast of his friends, said, If they be vertuous, there is ynough, 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 perseuere in our dissolutnesse and 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 necessity will force vs to forsake it. And as it fell out to king Darius, who after he had liued a long time in all abun­dance of delights, and neuer knew what hunger or thirst meant, as hee fled from the battell Darius in his thirst, iudged puddle water to be good drinke. gotten by Alexander was very thirstie: and after hee had drunke puddle water proceeding from a riuer tainted with dead bodies, he burst forth into this speech, That in all his life hee neuer dranke better drinke: so likewise after we haue beene 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 dissolutenesse shall withdraw his blessing wholly from our grounds and possessions. This he hath already begun to performe in some measure, by Tokens of the wrath of God. causing the ground to bring foorth vnto vs thistles and thornes, in stead of good graine and fruit, & by continuing amongst vs warres 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 sweetnesse of his word.

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

SEeing we haue summarily vnderstood the excellencie and profite of the vertue of sobrietie, that it may yet better appeare by the contrary, and that we may bee so much the more induced to desire it amongst vs, I thinke we shall doe well to in­treate The chiefest cause of de­struction to Common­wealths is ex­cesse in de­lights. of superfluitie, sumptuousnesse, and gluttony, whose fruits are weltring in delights, which is the principall cause of destruction (as Plato saith) to kingdomes, monarchies, and common-wealths. Therefore I propound these vices to you my cōpanions to discourse vpon.

Whatsoeuer is desired more than that which is necessary for the life of man, is superfluitie, which causeth so many foolish and excessiue expences amongst vs, that, besides the ruine and decay of many good houses, the destruction of the body, and, which is more to be feared, of the soule also, doth for the most part insue thereupon. Therefore Erasmus said verie well, that nothing is more abiect and hurtfull, than to liue as a slaue to the pleasure of the mouth and belly.

Those men (saith Plato) that are addicted to the seruice of their bellies, and care nothing for the food of their minds, are like beasts, who neuer enioy true pleasures. Which thing also may be said of them that like fools 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 bee a theefe, than a souldier: or a beautifull person an adulterer, rather than a married man. So is it with the goods of fortune, as we tearme them, the possession of which giueth occasion to those that are vnworthie of them, to commit many follies. Amongst which we may note superfluitie for a very perni­tious vice, hauing this propertie in it to draw the wils of men secretly, and to induce them to couet delights. Whereunto after they haue once addicted themselues, they busie their minds with nothing, but to make prouision of friuolous, exquisite, and sumptuous things, ta­king small care, yea forgetting easily those things that are profitable and necessarie, whereof afterwards they perceiue themselues to stand in great neede. Now the end of all superflui­ties, wherein men plunge themselues after diuers manners, is pleasure, which chiefely and for the most part they seeke in such a riotous and delicate life, as causeth the body without la­bour to enioy all his desires, lusts, and delights: or else in the fruition of worldly glorie, Pleasure the end of super­fluitie. wherein through vnprofitable and superfluous expences, they striue to excell, or at least wise 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 & allurement to draw him to commit wickednes, as hereafter we may discourse in [Page 87] 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 two other generall points, wherein they that are giuen to superfluitie and costlinesse, seeke delight, namely, the delicate life and curiositie of expences: let vs consider of the fruits that issue and proceede from them. First, when men suffer themselues to be ouertaken with the Epicures doctrine, and appeare so carefull to serue their belly, nourishing it in excesse, daintine [...]e, gluttony, and drunkennes, Of the deli­cate life. is it not from this head-spring from whence diseases and euill dispositions of the body pro­ceede? We are sicke (saith Plutarke) of those things wherewith we liue, neither is there any proper and peculiar seede of diseases, but the corruption of those things within vs, which we The seede of diseases. eate, and the faults and errours which wee commit against them. Homer going about to prooue, that the gods die not, groundeth his argument vpon this, because they eate not: as if he would teach vs, that drinking and eating doe not onely maintaine life, but are also the cause of death. For thereof diseases gather together within our bodies, which pro­ceede no lesse of being too full, than of beeing too emptie. And oftentimes a man hath more to doe to consume and digest meate put into his body, than he had to get it. Physi­tians (saith Seneca) crye out, that life is short, and arte long, and complaint is made of nature, because she hath granted to beasts to liue fiue or sixe ages, and appointed so short a time of Of the short­nes of mans life. life for men, who are borne for many great things. We haue no small time, but we lose much time, and life is long enough, if it be well imployed. But when it passeth away through ex­cesse and negligence, and no good is done therein, in the end through constraint of extreme necessity, although we perceiue it not going, yet wee feele it is gone. Moreouer a man may reckon greater store of griefes than pleasures, that come to him from 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 toilsome labours wherewith it filleth vs. Many a mans soule (saith Solon) is ouerwhelmed, and as it were clo­thed with feare, least it should stand in neede within the body, as it were in a mill, and turning The soule of glottons compared to a milstone. alwaies about like a milstone, it seeketh after nourishment. Hereupon it remaineth void and destitute of feeling, and desire of all honest things, and attendeth onely to the insatiable lusts of the flesh, which is neuer contented, because neede and necessity are alwaies ioyned with desire of superfluity. The ancient Egyptians vsed this custome, to cleaue in sunder the body The custome of the Egyp­tians. of a dead man, to shew it to the Sunne, and to cast the guts and intrailes into the riuer, and being thus cleansed to embaulme the rest. And in very deede those inward parts are the pollution and defiling of our flesh, and are properly the very Hell of our bodies. But, which is worse, is it not the stuffing and filling of the belly that maketh the mind for the most part dull and vncapable of any science or reason, whereby the diuine part of man is oppressed and ouerwhelmed through the weight and force of that part, which is mortall? A wise soule is a cleare brightnesse, said Heraclitus. O how hard a matter is it (saith Cato) to preach to the belly, which hath no eares, and which will take no deniall, howsoeuer the case standeth! And as when we behold the Sun through thicke clouds and vndigested vapors, we see it not cleare, but with a pale and wannish light, and as it were plunged in the the bottome of a cloud: so through a troubled and defiled body, heauily loaden with foode and strange meats, the brightnesse and clearenesse of the soule must needs 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, heauenly, subtill, exquisite, and hard to discerne. I thought in my heart (saith the wise man) to withdraw my flesh from wine, that I might bend my minde to wisedome, and eschew folly, vntill 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: Prou. 31. 4, 5. least hee drinke and forget the decree, and change the iudgement of all the children of affli­ction. To whom is woe? To whom is sorrow? To whom is strife? To whom is murmuring? Pro. 23. 29, 30 To whom are wounds without cause? And to whom is rednesse of the eyes? Euen to them that tarry long at the wine: to them that goe and seeke mixt wine, which in the beginning is pleasant, but in the ende pricketh like a Serpent, and poisoneth like a Cockatrice. And in another place, the wise man speaking of gluttony, saith, that it drieth the bones, and that more dye by it than by the sword. Wee see that beastes fatted vp languish through sloth and idlenesse: neither doe beastes faint through labour onely, but also by reason of the masse and heauy weight of their owne bodies. Furthermore, the vice of gluttony and drunkennesse 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 extremity, and [Page 88] extinguisheth memory, opinion, and vnderstanding. Briefely, it maketh a man twise a childe. And in another place, the same Philosopher saith, that gluttonie fatteth the body, maketh the minde dull and vnapt, and which is woorse, 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 South winde tormenteth the Lybian sea, so, and much more doth wine vexe a man. For it discloseth the secrets of the soule, and troubleth the whole minde. A drunken gouernour and ruler of any thing whatsoeuer, bringeth all to ruine and ouerthrow, whether it be a shippe or a wagon, or an army, or any other thing committed to his keeping. We see by the goodly sentences of these Authors, how many discommodities and mischiefes come as well to the body as to the soule, by this excessiue super fluitie and cariosity of nourishment, whether it be in drinking or eating. We see also that from this selfe same spring-head pro­ceede those vnmeasurable and loose behauiours in all kinde of delights, in carding and di [...]ing, in dancing, marking and mumming, in loue of maidens, and adultery with wiues, the filthi­nesse whereof is so shamefull, and discouereth it selfe so much, that I shall not greatly neede Against maskes and mummeries. to loose time in reproouing thereof. For it is most certaine, that all such innentions are meerely heathenish, or rather diuellish, when men commit such reprobate actions with pub­like libertie and licence. Especially we haue to note this well that concerneth maskes and mummeries, so common amongst vs, and the cause of infinite offences, that forasmuch as the face was appointed and ordained of God to be seene openly, and the mouth to speake, we destroy the ordinance of God, as much as lieth in vs, and become contrary vnto him, when wee take vnto vs a false face, and depriue our selues of speech. It may bee said, that many thinke no harme when they doe these things. But that which of it selfe is euill, can­not bee excused, and no fashion of liuing taken vp and practised through the onely motion of our sensuality (such are these delights and pleasures) can bee maintained, neither hath it any good and lawfull defence. Now let vs consider some examples of those pernitious effects which proceede from this Epicurian vice of intemperance. Esau sold his birthright through a gluttonous desire. The selfe same cause mooued the Israelites to murmure many The Israelites Lot. Alexander. times against God. The drunkennesse of Lot caused him to commit incest with his daugh­ters. Alexander the Great darkened the glory of his valiant acts with this vice. For being ouertaken with wine, he slew Clitus one of the valiantest captaines hee had, to whom he was beholding for his owne life. Afterward, when hee was come to himselfe, hee would oftentimes haue murdered himselfe, and wept three dayes together without meate and drink. Dionysius the yonger, was sometime more than nine daies together drunken: and in the Dionysius. ende hee lost his estate. Cyrillus sonne in his drunkennes wickedly slue 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 occasion is offered vnto vs, whereby we might fall into such inconueniences? Amongst the Romanes Lucullus, Lucullus. a man of great dignity, and commended of Historiographers for many braue exploits of war which hee did in Armenia, and for his bounty, iustice, and clemency, is yet greatly blamed, because towards the end of his daies, omitting all intermedling with the gouernment of pub­like affaires, he gaue himselfe to all kinde of excessiue sumptuousnes, and superfluous wasting of that great substance which he had. Whereof this onely testimonie recited by Plutarke, shall serue for sufficient proofe. Cicero and Pompey meeting him one day in the city, tolde him that they would sup with him on this condition, that he should prepare nothing for them but his owne ordinary diet. At the least wise (quoth hee to them) giue mee leaue to bidde my Steward make ready supper in my hall of Apollo: and by that hee beguiled them. For his seruants vnderstood thereby what cost hee would haue bestowed thereupon: insomuch that a supper of fifty thousand drachmes of siluer, which doe amount to fiue thousand crownes, was prepared for them. This was so much the more wonderfull, because so great and sumptuous a feast was made ready in so short a time. But this was his ordina­ry dyet which hee caused many times to bee prepared for himselfe alone. And as his men asked him on a day who should dine with him, seeing he commanded them to make ready such a great feast: Lucullus (quoth hee) shall dine with Lucullus. This superfluous pompe and magnificence will not be thought very strange, if we compare it with that which not long since a simple Franciscan Frier called Peter de R [...]ere made, after he had attained to the The sumptu­ousnesse of a Fanciscan Frier. Philoxenus. dignity of a Cardinall through fauour of the Pope his kinsman. For within the space of two yeares which he liued in Rome, he consumed in feastes and bankets the summe of two hun­dred thousand crownes, besides his debts, which came to no lesse sum. Philoxenus the Poet [Page 89] wished he had a necke like a Crane, to the end he might enioy greater pleasure in swalowing downe wine and meate: saying that then he should longer feele the taste thereof. We reade of the Emperor Uitellius Spi [...]ter, that he was so much giuen to superfluitie and excesse, that Vitellius. at one supper he was serued with two thousand seuerall kindes of fishes, and with seuen thou­sand flying foules. But within a very little while after he changed his estate, being executed publikely at Rome at the pursuit of Vespasianus, who was chosen Emperor in his place. In our time Muleasses king of Thunes, was so drowned in pleasure and delight, that after hee had banished from his kingdome because of his whoredome, in his returne out of Almaigne, be­ing Muleasses. without hope that the Emperor Charles the fift would helpe him at all, he spent one hun­dred crownes vpon a peacocke dressed for him, as Paulus Iouius rehearseth: and that hee might take the greater delight in musicke, he couered his eyes. But the iudgement of God was such vpon him, that his owne children made him blinde with a bar of hot iron. Concer­ning examples of the misery that followeth and accompanieth riot and delight in playing, dancing, and mumming, we see daily that a thousand quarrels, blasphemies, losse of goods and whoredomes proceede from thence. And oftentimes God suffereth the punishment there­of to be notorious, euen by vnlooked for and strange meanes: as not long since it happened to Lewes Archbishop of Magdeburg, who dancing with gentlewomen vntill midnight, fell Lewes Arch­bishop. downe so fiercely vpon the ground, that he brake his necke with one of the women which he led. Charles the sixt being clothed like a wild man with certaine of his familiar friends, and dancing by torch light, was also in great perill of burning, if a gentlewoman had not cast her Charles the sixt cloake vpon his shoulders. And I thinke it will not be from the matter, if wee say that it is a shamefull thing to suffer amongst vs, or to lose time that ought to be so pretious vnto vs, in beholding and hearing players, actors of Interludes and Comedies, who are as pernitious a plague in a Common wealth as can be imagined. For nothing marreth more the behauiour, Against plai­ers. simplicity and naturall goodnes of any people than this, because they soone receiue into their soules a liuely impression of that dissolutenesse and villany which they see and heare, when it is ioyned with words accents, gestures, motions, and 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 choise of. And to speake freely in few words, we may truly say, that the Theater of plaiers is a schoole of all vnchastnes, vncleannes, whordome, craft, subtilty and wickednes. Now let vs speake of those that propound (as wee said) vnto themselues the vaine glory of outward shew amongst the best, and men of great calling, through friuolous, Against the curiosity of superfluous expences. vnprofitable and superfluous expences, as in sumptuous and costly apparell, pretious and rich mooueables, goodly furniture and trapping of horses, great traine of seruing men, dogs, birds, and other vanities, gifts and presents sent to such as are vnworthy, therby to obtaine the good will of them that are most wicked in authority, 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 workes, they spend many times other mens goods, euen the substance of the poore, which they craftily get by vnlawful meanes. This is that which at length (as Crates the Philosopher said very well) stirreth vp ci­uill warres, seditions, and tyrannies within cities, to the end that such voluptuous men, and The begin­ning of ciuill warres. ambitious of vaine glory, fishing in a troubled water, may haue wherewith to maintaine their foolish expences, and so come to the end of their platformes. Hereof we haue many examples in the ciuill warres amongst the Romanes, as namely vnder Ci [...]na, Carbo, Marius, and Sylla. Likewise in the conspiracy of Catiline and his complices, who beeing of the chiefe families in Rome, and perceiuing themselues to be brought to the estate of bank rupts, as we commonly say sought by all meanes to prosecute their first deliberation, which was alwaies to seeme great and mighty. Thus dealt Caesar in procuring to his country that ciuill warre, which hee made against Pompey, after hee had indebted himselfe in seuen hundred and fifty thousand crownes, to get the fauour and good liking of the people. This is that which Heraclitus meant to teach his countrimen, when, after a sedition appeased and quieted, being asked what way were best How Heraclitus disswaded superfluity. 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, and there in stead of speaking, began to eate a morsell of browne bread, and to drinke a glasse of water. Which beeing done, hee came downe a­gaine, and spake neuer a word. Hereby hee would signifie, that vntill daintinesse of fare were banished the cittie, and immoderate expences cut off, and sobriety and modesty brought in their place, they should neuer be without sedition. If this counsell were euer requisite in a Monarchy, it is certainely most necessary at this present for ours wherein [Page 90] all kind of superfluity, riot, and weltring in pleasures, curiosity in apparell, tapestrie, and pictures, vessels, perfumes, and painting of faces, aboundeth in greater measure than heretofore it did amongst the Persians, which was the cause of their finall subuersion, and of Alexanders greatnesse, who subdued them. That which for the space of fiue hundred yeares and more, maintained the Lacedomonian estate, being the chiefest in Graecia for glo­ry and goodnesse of gouernment, was the cuttting off and abolishing of all superfluity in di­et, apparell, mooueables, and of all strange wares, which Lycurgus banished. Whereby also forren merchants (the cause of corruption) banished themselues as they that seeke not after Lycurgus ba­nished all strange wares from Lacede­monia. others but for gaine, by selling their nouelties very deere vnto them. Neither did the Ro­mane Common-wealth flourish more at any time, than when those men that carried about them perfumes and sweetesmelles, and those women that were found swilling like drun­kards, were corrected with the same punishment. This caused Cato, beeing the Censurer of the election of two captaines, that one of them might be sent as Generall of the Panonian Why Cato would not chuse Publius Generall of the war. warre, to say with a loud voice, that he would dismisse Publius his Ally, because he neuer saw him returne wounded from the war, but had seene him walke vp & downe the city of Rome perfumed. What would he haue said of our Courtiers, so finely curled, ruft, and perfumed? The Kings and Magistrates 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. We haue a notable testimony here­of in Agis king of Sparta, who in his returne from the warre wherein hee had ouercome the Agis. Athenians, being desirous to sup priuately with his wife, sent into the kitchin that was ap­pointed for his band and company (for they liued all in common, beeing 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 ioyned in soueraigne authority with the kings, for the main­tenance of lawes, and of iustice: in which sentence and iudgement of theirs, he willingly re­sted. Against ex­cesse in appa­rell. But to returne to our matter, how ought we to blush for our riot and excesse in appa­rell, which we maintaine with such glory? What folly is it to imploy the industrie of the soule ordained for heauenly things, in trimming, decking, and guilding hir enemie, hir prison, and if I may so speake, hir poison, the body? Excesse of apparell (saith Erasmus) is an argument of the incontinency 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 feed 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 weights: but in not caring at all for little things, we make our selues worthy of great admiration. That great mo­narke Augustus Caesar ware no other garments than such as his wife and daughters made, Augustus. and these very modest. Agesilaus king of Lacedemonia, neuer had but one kinde of garment for winter and summer. Epaminondas Generall captaine of the Thebans, was contented with Agesilaus. one onely gowne all the yeare long. Further, if we looke vnto their simplicity and modestie in their traine and followers, truly it was worthy of reuerence, beeing without pride, pompe, Epamihondas. or super fluous magnificence. Scipio. Africanus that great captaine, going as delegate into Asia, to compound and end certaine contentions that were betweene the kings of that countrey, Examples of moderate traine of Ser­uing men. 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, Now adaies wee 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 anie great inquiry how their traine defray their charges. But howsoeuer they may say, that they know not of the excesse and riot committed vnder their authority, & in their seruice, yet they are not therby A good les­son for Prin­ces and Ma­gistrates to learne. excused. For we ought carefully to beware, that no man abuse our name. Now, if Princes and gouernors of Common wealths, insteade of abridging superfluous charges, take delight therein themselues, from thence proceedeth the necessity of charging and ouercharging their people with imposts and subsides to maintaine their excesse, and in the ende commeth the ouerthrow and subuersion both of the one and the other. But they ought Commenda­ble imposts for Princes to lay vpon their subiects. rather both to abstaine from such vanities themselues, and also to seeke by all meanes to banish them from their subiects, and where there owne example and bodily punishments are not sufficient for this purpose, there ought they to lay great imposts vpon all such things as serue but to spill and corrupt their subiects. Such things are all exquisite dainties & prouoca­tions [Page 91] of Appetite, all sorts of toies and trifles, perfumes, cloth of gold and siluer, silkes, sipers, net-workes, lace, wouen workes, and all workes of gold, siluer, and inammell: all kinde of superfluous apparell, with colours of scarlet, crimson, and such like, the forbidding whereof hitherto hath profited little. For the nature of men is such, that they finde 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, and of such as are vainely brought vppe. Therefore it were good to raise the price of these things so high by meanes of imposts, that none but rich men and daintie folkes may vse them. And such subsidies would as much set forwarde the glory of God, the profite of the common-wealth, the desire of good men, and re­liefe of the poore, as many others now adaies vsed are quite contrary hereunto. Then these speeches would no more be so common against vs, as now we heare them daily vttered by our Courtiers: We will (say they) keepe company and bee seene amongst the greatest, and bee esteemed thereafter. If we spend not freely, men will make no account of vs. It is our honour and greatnesse, 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 in Athens by Solon, whereby it was enacted, that euery one should yearely make it appeare vnto his A good law to cut of the oc­casions of idle expences. Prouost or Baily how he liued, and if hee approoued not his manner and trade of life to bee 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 finde that their purchase (as we say) is farre better vnto them than their rents, and 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 them wastfully, they giue sufficient testimony, that they care and seeke for nothing but a vaine and vanishing glo­rie, which oftentimes, contrarie to their expectation, is waited vpon with great infamie, and with the certaintie of perpetuall punishment. And in the meane while they neglect that glory which is eternall and alwaies profitable, which they should enioy by well vsing, and not by mispending their goods, whereof they are but gardeans and stewards, and must one day yeeld vp an account of them. O witlesse man (said one of the ancient Sages, what will the remembrance 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 time let vs note another mis­chiefe, which commonly followeth superfluitie of expences, namely pouertie, whereinto ma­ny rich men fall before they be aware, and are then very much grieued therewith, and not able Pouerty fol­loweth super­fluous expen­ces. to beare it. But the shame and reproch thereof is yet greater, because they fell into it by their owne 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 traueller vnto a down-fall from which he can neuer escape, let vs leaue and forsake the discipline and life of Epicures, and beware that our pallate and tongue be no more sensible than our heart. Let vs leade a life worthy an honest Academie, and beseeming the doctrine of the ancient Sages, that is, a sim­ple, Our pallate must not bee more sensible than our hart. sober and modest life, adorned with temperance and continency, 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 misery which belongeth to them that are giuen to voluptuousnesse and superfluitie, let vs heare that sentence of Scripture, and feare least we be comprehended vnder the iudgement thereof, Continuall misery and mourning be vpon you that haue liued in pleasure on the earth, and in wantonnesse, and haue nourished your hearts as Iames 5. 1. 5. in a day of slaughter.

Of Ambition. Chap. 21.

AS often as I remember the strange tragedie of the Romane Emperours since the time that the Empire was mounted vp to the very top and height of her greatnesse vntill her decli­nation, according to the vncertaintie of all humane things, 73. Emperors of Rome [...] 100. yea [...]es. and how within the space of one hundred yeares, wherein there were threescore and thirteene Emperours, onely three of them died of sicknesse in their beds, and all the rest by vi­olent death; I cannot sufficiently admire (considering the in­constancy and short continuance of so great a gouernment, which cannot but bee well knowne 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 daies worke with the description of this pernitious passion.

It is naturall in man, the greater his stomacke is, the more to labour to ex­cell others, which is accompanied with an exceeding desire to rule: whereupon he is easily driuen forward to doe vniustly, if by wisedome 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 honours. Goe 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 comprehend the forme, greatnesse, and beautie thereof, and after­wards be burnt of it, as the Poets report, that Phaeton was: such a hardie and hold passion to vndertake most difficult and dangerous things, is the desire of enioying any pleasure whatsoeuer. This may chiefly be spoken of ambition, which is the most vehement, strongest, The force of desire to en­ioy any plea­sure. and most disordered passion of all those desires which so sore trouble mens minds, and fill them with an insatiable greedinesse of glorie, and with an vnbrideled desire to rule. But to handle it more profitably, we will make two kinds of ambition, the one respecting priuate men only that liue vnder the power and gouernment of heads, of estates and pollicies: the other shall be of the heads themselues, of monarchs and gouernours of peoples and king­domes. Two kinds of ambition. In the meane time we may thus generally define ambition, calling it an vnreasona­ble desire to enioy honours, estates, and 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, What ambi­tion is. who desireth honour as hee ought, and so farre forth as it becommeth him: but he that de­sireth it more than he ought, and by vnlawfull meanes, is ambitious and carried away with a perturbation of intemperance. Ambition neuer suffereth those that haue once receiued her as a guest, to enioy their present estate quietly, but maketh them alwaies emptie of good, and full of hope. It causeth them to contemne that which they haue gotten by great paines and trauell, and which not long before they desired very earnestly, by reason of their new ima­ginations The effects of ambition. and conceits of greater matters, which they continually barke foorth, but neuer haue their mindes satisfied and contented. And the more they grow and increase in power and authoritie, the rather are they induced and carried headlong by their affections to com­mit all kinde of iniustice, and flatter themselues in furious and frantike actions, that they may come to the end of their infinite platformes, and of that proude and tyrannicall glo­rie, which, contrary to all dutie, they seeke after. These imperfections happen vnto them, The cause of ambitio [...]s de­sires. because from the beginning they studied to hoord, and heape vp externall, mor­tall and hurtfull riches, before they had laide a good foundation of reason through know­ledge and learning, thereby to direct aright their purposes and doings, according to comlinesse and honestie. And therefore oftentimes they are deceiued and misse of their intent, and euen loose that which they might haue had, because they sought ouer boldly to lay hands on that which they could not so much as touch. So that wee may well saie with Timon, that the elements and matters of mischiefes, are ambition and auarice, which are [Page 93] found both together for the most part in the same persons. But to enter into a more particu­lar consideration of the nature of euery ambitious man, he hath commonly this property, to enuie the glory of others▪ whereby he becommeth odious, and stirreth vp against him­selfe Enuy a no [...]e of an ambiti­ous man. the enuy and ill will of euery one. Moreouer, this his iealousie ouer another mans glory, is so much the more hurtfull vnto him in that he might, being set in high estate and authori­ty, 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 fa­uoured them, and drew them nere vnto himselfe. Whereby we may iudge, that there is none so pernitious a plague for the ouerthrowe of vertue, as ambition, because it is neuer without contention for glory and honour, euen against the greatest friends, from whence in the end proceede the greatest enmities. Cicero also saith very well, that whatsoeuer hath this quality, that many things of the same kinde cannot be excellent, thereof ariseth for the most part such strife, that it is a very hard matter to obserue holy Societie. For equitie is not easily kept inuiolable, when one desireth to bee greater then all the rest. It commeth through the fault of ambition (saith Aristotle) that many seditions arise in cities. For the mightier, not Sedition a fruit of ambi­tion. the vulgar sort, contend for honours 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 commaund and rule. Also the honour of a good man (saith Plutarke to Traian) consisteth not in that estate or office which he presently enioyeth, but in his former deserts; so that it is to the office whereunto men giue new honor, as for the person hee hath but a painefull charge. Out of the sayings of these great Philosophers we will draw this con­clusion, that we must labor more to deserue estates and honours, than dare to procure them, and account that thing vnworthy and vnbeseeming vs, which is obtained by vnlawfull meanes. Now as the ambitio [...]s man is intollerable in all his actions, so especially he brin­geth Ambitious men full of selfe-praise. himselfe in derision and reproch, through his burning desire of glory and praise, which he looketh that others should yield vnto him, and wherein he taketh vnmeasurable delight. Now, if hee perceiueth that he cannot be commended for his doings that are vnworthy of honor, the thirst of glory wherewith he pineth away, compelleth him to borrow of himselfe by his owne commendation against all seemlines: which is neither more nor lesse, than if the body of a man in time of famine, not receiuing nourishment else where, should take of it own substance against nature. Further, if we should go about here to make recitall of those nota­ble euils and mischiefes, which the ambition of some particular men hath brought vpon Mo­narchies, cities, and common wealths, and generally vpon all those persons which were vn­der their bloody reigne, 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 estates, and oftentimes their vtter subuersion, came from ciuill warres and dissen­tious stirred vp by ambitious men, desirous to command, and to be preferred before others. What did at any time procure the ruine of Graecia, flourishing in armes and sciences, so much as the ambition of those men who sought to bring the publike offices into their owne hands, Ciuil warres a fruite of ambition. as Leostenes, Demosthenes, and many others did who were not affraid to kindle the fire of do­mesticall diuision, not caring what would be the issue of their damnable enterprises, so they might make way for their deuised platforms? How many mischiefes did Alcibi [...]des procure to his country, being an enemy to peace, and giuen to al kinde of nouelties & seditions? Who Alcibiades. vsed to say, that a noble heart ought to labour but for one thing in this world, namely, to bee great among his owne countrimen, and to purchase fame and renowne among strangers. Which had beene well spoken, if he had added, by Iustice, and Vertue. Was it not from the same fountaine of ambition, that so hurtfull warres to both those common wealths of the Lacede­monians and Athenians, the one being masters of the sea, & 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 certain particular men, which procured the speedy returne of that good king Agesilaus, to redresse the ciuill dissentions of Graecia, when he was in Asia continuing those goodly victories, which he had against the Barbarians, for the comfort and libertie of many Graecian cities? O ye Graecians (said that wise Prince, being very sorrowfull) how ma­ny more mischiefes do ye procure to your selues, than were procured vnto you by the Barba­rians banded together for your ouerthrow, seeing yee are so vnhappie as to stay with your A very [...]it ad­monition for France. owne hands that good speede, which conducted you to the top of felicitie, & to turne backe into your owne intrailes, those weapons which were so well guided against your enemies, by calling backe the war into your owne country, from whence it was so happily banished? The [Page 94] great and large scope of the Romane Empire ouer three parts of the world, could not satisfie Caesar and Pompey. 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 encrease their greatnesse, al­though it were with the charges of the Common wealth. As wee may reade among other things of Caesar, who, to ground and vnderprop his power well for countinuance, gaue at one time to Paulus the Consull, nine hundred thousand crownes, for feare least he should oppose himselfe against his enterprises: and to Curio the Tribune he gaue fifteene hundred-thou­sand crownes, that he should take his part. After the death of these two Princes, that great do­minion could no better content the Triumuirate, namely, Octauius, Antonius, and Lepidus, who by force of armes ceassed not to put their country to sword & fire, vntill the soueraigne The Trium­uirate. authoritie became resident in one alone. But why should we seeke among the ancients, or amongst our neighbors for examples of the pernitious effects of this vice, seeing we haue so many at our owne gates? Who kindled that fire in France, which had taken hold of all the parts thereof, and almost consumed it vtterly vnder the reigne of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy, who stroue together for the gouernment of the kingdome. Were there not vpon The ambiti­on of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgandy. the same occasion more than foure thousand men slaine in one day within Paris, the most of them being men of name, at the instigation and procurement of the Duke of Burgundie who had taken possession thereof? But alar, the continuall and present remembrance of our late and vnspeakeable miseries, procured chiefly from the same fountaine of ambition, & known 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 entire ruine of our Monarchie, which hath flourished as long as euer, any did, and continued longer vnuanquished of strangers. For we see her owne children bathing their hands in her blood, and seeking to plucke out her heart and intrailes, and to cast them as a prey before her enemies. O how would Princes chase far 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 proceede from them, but on­ly Ambitious men can be no good counsellers to Princes. such as tendeth to the aduancement of their priuate greatnesse. Now if ambition be the mother of ciuill wars, is it not the same also of all other wars, which are daily breed betweene Kings and Princes, through the desire of increasing their bounds, of seazing vpon other mens territories, to the treading downe, oppression, and ruine of their poore subiects, and oftentimes of their owne estates? Is it not ambition which blindeth men so, that they are not content to be chiefe among a milion of others ouer whom they command, vnlesse 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 Plutarke) is a vice common to Princes and great Lords, which by reason of ambition and desire to rule, bringeth foorth in them oftentimes an vnsociable, cruell, and Effects of ambition in great men. beastly nature. And as Ennius saith, there is no faith or assured society in kingdomes. For they, whose greedines neither sea, nor mountaines, nor vnhabitable deserts can staie, and whose vnsatiable 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 ioyned so neere together, that nothing is betweene them? It is impossible. And in truth, howsoeuer they dissemble, they purposely war one with another, watching continual­ly for meanes to surprize and ouerreach each other. But in outward shew they vse these two words of Peace, and War, as a peece of mony, according as it shall make best for their purpose, The names of Peace and War abused much by Princes. not for duties sake, or vpon reason and iustice, but for their owne profit and aduantage, wic­kedly disguising in that maner the intermission and surceasing from the execution of their ill will and purpose, with the holy name of iustice & amity. Princes therefore must not think it strange, if sometime 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 disloialty, treason, and infidelity, thinking that he bestirreth himselfe, who least of all obserueth that which equity and iustice require. This did Dionides the Pirat fitly giue Alexander the Great to vnderstand, when he Dionides an­swere to Alexander. asked of him why he troubled the whole sea, and robbed euery one. Know (quoth he to him) that thou and I are both of one disposition and calling, except in this, that I am called a pi­rat for scouring the seas with a few men, and thou a Prince, because thou inuadest and spoi­lest euery where with great and mighty armes. But if thou wert Dionides, and I Alexander, it may be I should be a better Prince than thou a good pirat. With which free speech Alexan­der [Page 95] was so delighted, that in stead of a guilty man brought before him to be punished, as was Dionides, he made him one of his great captaines. But to continue our matter, if Right (say ambitious men) may be violated, it is to be violated for a kingdome. O speech full of impiety, yea such as will cause them to bury the violating of so holy a thing very dearely, seeing they spare not him who calleth himselfe equity and iustice it selfe. Further, if (as histories teach vs) some haue beene so wretched and miserable, as to giue themselues to the Examples of the fruits of ambition. art of Necromancy, and to contract with the diuell, that they might come to soueraigne power and authority, what other thing, how strange soeuer it be, will not they vndertake that suffer themselues to be wholly carried away with this vice of ambition? It is ambition that setteth the son against the father, & imboldeneth him to seeke his destruction of whom he holdeth his life. Henry the fift by force depriued his father from the Empire, and caused him to die miserably in prison. Fredericke the third, after he had raigned thirty yeares, was Fredericus 3. miserably strangled by Manfroy his bastard son, whom he had made Prince of Tarentum. And after he had committed this paricide, he poisoned his brother Co [...]adus lawfull inheri­tor to Fredericke, that he might make himselfe king of Naples. Antoninus and Geta, brothers & Antonius and Geta. Solymon. successors in the Empire to Seuerus their father, could not suffer one another to enioy so large a Monarchie: for Antoninus slue his brother Geta with a dagger, that himselfe might rule alone, Solyman king of the Turkes, grandfather to him that now reigneth, when he heard the lowd acclamations and shouts for ioy which all his army made to Sultan Mustapha his sonne returning out of Persia, after he had caused them 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 lowd voice, that there was but one God in heauen, & one Sultan vpon earth. With­in two daies he put to death Sultan Soba, because he wept for his brother, and Sultan Maho­met his third son, because he fled for feare, leauing one only aliue to auoid the inconueniency of many Lords. These are but of the smaller fruits of this wild plant of ambition, in respect of those that cause men to put innocents to death, that themselues may take surer footing to growe vp and increase. And no doubt but for thee most part, iust punishment for example to men, followeth such an ambitious passion, whereof there are infinite examples both in the Greeke and Latin histories. Marcus Crassus a Romane Consul, & the richest man in his time, Marcus Cras­sus iustly pu­nished for his ambition. not contenting himselfe with many goodly victories gotten by him, but burning with an ex­cessiue ambition and desire of new triumphs, and being iealous of Caesars glory obtained by his great seats of arms, presumed at the age of 60. yeares to vndertake the war against Ar­saces king of the Parthiās, contrary to the will of the Senate, feeding himselfe with vain hope, which led him to a shamefull death ioyned with publike losse and calamity. For being ouer­come and his army discomfited, he was miserably slaine with twenty thousand of his men, & ten thousand taken prisoners, Marius hauing passed through all the degrees of honor, & bin sixe times Consul, which neuer any Roman before was, not content with al this, would not­withstanding Marius. take vnto himselfe the charge of the war against Mithridates, which fell to Syl­la by lot, euen then when he was weakened with old age, thinking with himselfe to get the Consulship the seuenth time, and to continue that soueraigne authority in his owne person. But this was the cause of his vtter ouerthrow, and of that slaughter, whereby all Italy and Spaine were imbrued with blood by Sylla, and the popular estate brought in the end to ex­treame tyranny. Spurius Melius a Senator of Rome, was murdered for his ambition, and his house razed by Cincinnatus the Dictator, because he sought by meanes of a certaine distributi­on S. Melius. of wheat, to make himselfe king of Rome. Marcus Manlius was also vpon the like occasion throwne downe headlong from the top of a rocke. Therefore it appeareth sufficiently vnto M. Manlius. vs how pernicious 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 weight, 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 duty and honesty, who, for the obtaining of glory and renowne, shew them­selues inflamed and desirous to excell others in all those things which they ought to haue common together for the mutual aide & comfort of euery one. Onely we must seeke, without pride and enuy, after excellency and preferment in that which is vertuous, and profitable for How and wherein [...]e may seeke for honour. humane society, contenting our selues notwithstanding with that, which we are able to per­forme, and so we shall neuer be blamed: but iustly may we be condemned, if we vndertake that which is aboue our strength. Especially let our desires and passions giue place to the be­nefit of the Common-wealth, as heretofore Cretes and Hermias, two great men of Magnesia, dealt one towards another. Their citie beeing besieged by Mithridates, and themselues Cretes and ermias. H [Page 96] hauing before beene at great strife for honour and 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 hee made, least if both of them should be togither, their iealousie might breed some mischiefe to their country. Hermias seeing the honest offer of his companion, and knowing him to bee more expert in feats of warre, willingly surrendred the authoritie of commanding vnto him. Now to end our present discourse, let vs learne to know their outragious folly, who for ima­ginary honours, and those of so small continuance, that the wise man compareth them to smoke dispersed of the winde, desire nothing more than to run out of the race of their daies 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 euill and companion of pride, so much hated of God and men. Let vs consider a little that point of Philosophie which we finde written by Traian to Plutarke, Ienuie (said this good prince) Cincinnatus, Scipio Africanus, and Marcus Por­tius, Traians let­ter to Plu­tarke. more for their contempt of offices than for the victories which they haue gotten, because 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 Emperour Plauius Vespasianus, who being ad­monished Vispasianus. by his friends to beware of one Metius Pomposi [...]nus, (because it was a common ru­mour that he should one day be Emperour) was so farre from procuring him any harme or displeasure, or from hating or enuying him. (as it is the property of ambitious men, to feare aboue all things least their estate be touched, because they would reigne alone) that contrari­wise he made him Consull the next yeare. Whereat his familiar friends wondering and dis­swading him from it, My meaning is (quoth hee to them) that he should one day remember this good turne. Let vs also propound to kings and princes that sentence of Titus the Emperour, who making a feast one day with a cheerefull countenance to the contentation of euery one, in the end of the banket strake himselfe on the brest at the table, and fetched a great sigh withall: whereupon his fauorites demanding the cause why, I cannot (quoth he) keepe my selfe from sighing and complaining, when I call to minde that this great honour which I haue, dependeth vpon A notable saying of Titus. Another of Philip king of Macedo­nia. the will of Fortune: that my estates and dignities are as it were insequestration, and my life as it were laid in pawne and pledged vnto me. Let the saying of that good prince 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 haue by nature, and yet we desire all the habitable world. According to his example let vs all humble our selues to the acknowledgement of our imbecillitie and poore humane estate, and let vs moderate our vnruly affections through the contempt of those things which worldly men desire and seeke after, iudging them an vnworthy reward for ver­tue. Let euery one of vs content himselfe 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 benefite and profite of his creatures, and let all bee done according to that measure of graces, which hee shall bestow vpon vs.

Of Voluptuousnesse and Lecherie. Chap. 22.

AMong those faults which men commit, beeing led with desire and pleasure that is naturally in them, we noted a little before, luxuriousnesse and whoore­dome. But because we then reserued it to a more ample handling of Voluptu­ousnesse, and of a lustfull life, which is the chiefe worke thereof, and whose desire and conten­tation is in lechery, to the end we may the better discouer that sugred poyson, 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 eies many times seeme faire blossomes of some goodly fruits: propounding to the sight of euery one, the nature and effect of the ty­rannicall power of pleasure, a mortall enemy to the reigne of Vertue.

Pleasure (saith Plato) is the hooke of all euils, because men are taken thereby as Pleasure the hooke of all euill. a fish by a hooke. For it quencheth the light of the soule, hindereth all good counsell, and through inticements turneth men aside from the way of vertue, throwing them down head­long into the gulfe of confusion, which is luxuriousnesse and whooredome, a most wicked and abominable vice aboue all others, whereby all vertue is hurt and offended.

Hee that is giuen to pleasure (saith Cicero) iudgeth all things, not according [Page 97] to reason, but according to sense, esteeming that best, which most delighteth him: so that he easily suffereth himselfe to be kindled with the burning fire of luxuriousnesse, which is hurt­full to euery age, and extinguisheth olde age. But let vs heare ARAM vpon this matter.

It is no new opinion, that many iudging according to their sensuality and being altogether ignorant of the true nature and immortality of the soule, haue placed their soue­raigne Good in pleasure, & in the inioying of those things which most of all tickle the senses. Aristippus and all the Cyrinaiks, Epic [...]us, Metrodorus, Chrysippus, and many others, who falsly Who they were that pla­ced their chiefe Good in pleasure. tooke vnto themselues the name of Phylosophers, labored to prooue it by many arguments, cloaking their wickednesse with graue and lofty 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 body, and in neuer feeling griefe, should make account of to imbrace vertue, which is an enemy to delights and pleasures, & commandeth [...]s rather to suffer a cruel & dolorous death, than to start aside against duty, It is certaine, that he which placeth his chiefe Good in pleasure hath noregard to do any thing but for his priuate profite. Wherby he declareth sufficiently, that he careth not at al for vertue, especially iustice, which cōmandeth nothing so much, as to leaue our own particular pleasure & profit, and to imbrace, though with our peril and losse, the publike welfare. Moreouer, how could he be couragious, if he thought that griefe were the extreamest and greatest euill; or temperate supposing pleasure to be perfect felicitie? Besides what can be more vnseeming man, appointed for all great excellent things, then to take that for his chiefe Good, whereof bruite beasts haue better part than we, and to leaue the care of that which is diuine and immortall in vs, to attend to that which is mortall and subiect to corruption? But these erronious & false opinions, being contrary to themselues, are so absurd and full of blockish ignorance, that we neede not heere lose much time in confuting them, & conuincing them of lies. Notwithstanding, it being so common a thing with men, to imbrace pleasure as the principall end of their actions, because naturally they desire pleasure, and shun griefe: will it be easie for vs to shew, that ignorance onely 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 choise, the greatest mischiefe of all. I meane pleasure vnseparably followed of griefe, which men labour most of all to eschue. Let vs then see what pleasure is, and what fruites shee bringeth with her. Voluptuousnesse or pleasure (saith Cicero) is properly called that delight, which mooueth and tickleth our senses, What pleasure is. which slideth and slippeth away, and for the most part leaueth behinde it occasions ra­ther of repentance, than of calling, it againe to remembrance. For many through wicked and vnnecessary pleasure haue fallen into great diseases, receiued great losses, and suf­fered many reproaches. It alwaies (saith Plato) bringeth dammage and losse to man, in­gendring in his minde sorrow, sottishnesse, forgetfullnesse of prudence, and insolency. The fruits of pleasure. Wheresoeuer sweete is (saith Anchipho) there presently followeth sowre. For voluptuous­nesse neuer goeth alone, but is alwaies accompanied with sorrow and griefe. Pleasure (saith Plutarke) resolueth mens bodies, mollifying 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 beginning of the weakenesse of old age. Voluptuousnes is a cruel beast, making men her slaues, and chaining them (as Sophocles saith) with diamond chaines. She is so much the more odious, by howe much the more she hideth hir venome, putting vpon hir the garment of good liking, betray­ing vertue, and killeth a man euen when she flattereth him. When pleasure come (saith E­rasmus) they flatter vs with a disguised visage & whē they depart, they leaue vs full of sorrow and sadnes. Which Xenophon very wittily deuised vnder the name of Hercules, saying, that as he went one a day into the fields, in a certaine threefold high way he met Vertue and Vice, The sundrie proffers which Vice and Vertue made to Hercules. both of them being in the shape and apparell of women. Vice being cloathed in a stately, de­licate gorgious and lasciuious gown, with a smiling, painted, & coloured countenance, which did wonderfully allure by reason of the sweetnes & flourishing beauty that seemed to be in it, offered hir selfe suddenly vnto the said Hercules saying: that if he would follow hir, she would cause him to leade his whole life in delight & pleasure. But Vertue with a sorrowfull, leane, & dismaide face, & clad with a long and plaine robe, without any decking of her speech, vsed these words: If thou wilt come to me Hercules, thou shalt be indued not with bodily ornamēts [Page 98] nor with fading and vanishing beauty, but with certaine other riches which are more worth and endure for euer. For whosoeuer beleeueth me, forsaking that which seemeth faire, and cleauing to those things which outwardly appeare austere and hard, he receiueth in the end an eternall felicity. Let vs vnclothe voluptuous men (saith Plutarke) and consider their do­ings. They are drunkards, whooremongers, fluggish in all weighty matters, neglecting the be­nefit of the Common-wealth, of their parents and of their friends. But of all kind of volup­tuousnesse, lechery is most defiled, filtby, vile, and pernitious, whereof especially we are now to discourse, beeing properly called of the Philosophers a furious passion, which corrupteth What whoor­dome is. 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 Graecians after a speciall manner called those men incontinent and immoderate, who exceeded in tasting and touching. And Hippocrates said, that he supposed copulation to bee a part of that foule disease, which wee call the Epilepsie or falling sicknesse. And truely there is nothing more certaine, than that immo­derate vse of the venerous act spoileth beauty, defileth the body, drieth it vp, and causeth it to sti [...]ke, maketh the face pale, wa [...] or yellow, weakeneth the members and ioints, ingendreth The effects of immoderate copulation. Sci [...]ticke goutes, collicke passions, griefes of the stomacke, giddines of the head, or dimnesse of sight, the l [...]prosie and pocks. It shorteneth life, taketh away the vnderstanding, darkeneth the memory and as the Prophet Osey saith, taketh away the heart. Moreouer, how odious all whooredome ought to bee vnto vs, so that it bee not so much as once named amongst Osey 4. 11. vs, the onely curse that is laid vpon it of God, ought sufficiently to perswade vs, seeing there­by hee condemneth it both with temporall and with eternall death. But wee haue besides, many goodly sentences and notable examples of Ethniks 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 flye from it with all our might, especially when adultery is ioyned therewith, which is when the sacred knot of marriage is violated and bro­ken. Concupiscence (saith Aristotle) changeth mens bodies, and breedeth madnesse in their soules. The ende thereof is luxuriousnesse, from whence proceede a thousand wrongs, The effects and end of concupisence violences, incests, murders, poysonings, and innumerable other impieties. Is it not then a signe of great loosenesse and basenesse of minde, for a man to subiect himselfe to carnall concupisences, which are disordered desires contrary to reason, and whose office and pra­ctise is to choose euill for good? Let vs here giue eare to Socrates disputation with Euthydemus, being very fit for our present matter. Tell me O Euthydemus, doest thou thinke that liberty is a good, great, and profitable possession, whether it belongeth either to a man, or to a citty? Socrates dis­putation a­gainst incon­tinency. Very great. Therfore whosoeuer serueth the pleasures and vnbrideled desires of the body, so that for loue of them he cannot execute that which he knoweth to be very good; doest thou thinke that hee is free? No. It may bee thou iudgest it a thing worthy a free man to bee able to put in practise whatsoeuer hee taketh to bee good, and contrariwise, to bee 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 from doing that which is honest, or compelled to commit vicious things? I thinke they are as much compelled to doe the one, as hindred from practising the other. But what masters doest thou thinke them to bee, who forbid well doing, and constraine men to imbrace euill? In good truth, very wicked. And doest thou not thinke that bondage of all others is most troublesome, when one serueth most wicked and naughty masters? Yea. Then incontinent men are of all others most miserable, of what estate or condition soeuer they be. Besides, hee that neuer thinketh vpon goodnesse, but seeketh by all meanes 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 reigne in vs, considering that they draw vs vehemently to the practise of them, to our owne destruction: especially whoredome, which bringeth with it all kind of mischiefe, dissol­ueth and weakeneth the body, and offendeth all the vertues and goods of the soule. Through The fruits of whoredome. her it commeth that men abase themselues so low, as to submit both their bodies and soules to the inconstant will and vnruly desire of a foolish woman. For we see some men so bewitched with a harlot, that if neede bee, and shee command it, they will hazard their honour and credit, and oftentimes make themselues an example to a whole countrey vpon an open scaffold. And then they labour to couer their folly with this goodly name of Loue, which is better tearmed Euripides by the name of Fury and madnesse in men. For true and good loue, which is the fountaine of friendship, is alwaies grounded vpon vertue, and [Page 99] tendeth to that end: but this slipperie and loose loue, is a desire founded vpon a the opinion of a Good, which indeede is a most pernitious euill. And if adulterie follow vpon it (which ac­cording to Aristotle is a curious inquirie after another mans loue) the vice is twofold more detestable and wicked, because that hee which committeth it, seeketh against all dutie of na­ture to take away another mans honour and reputation, spoileth him of that which hee ac­counteth The misera­ble effects of adulterie. most precious, namely, of the loue and friendship of his wife, breaketh the peace of a house, causeth the wife to lose her soule, who otherwise peraduenture would not haue yeel­ded, if he had not corrupted her. In a word, it is the cause of infinite miseries and offences which we daily see come to passe. Among the ancients this vice was so odious, that it was narrowly sought out, and chastised with very grieuous punishments. Insomuch that Iulius Caesar caused one of his Captaines to be beheaded, because he had dishonoured the mistresse of the house where he lodged, not staying vntil one accused him, and without any complaint made vnto him by her husband. There was a law among the Locrians, established by Zaleucus, which condemned all those that were conuicted of this vice of adulterie, to haue their eies Zaleucus law against adul­terie. pulled out. This law 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 owne, and another of his sonnes eies to be plucked out, choosing rather to beare halfe the punish­ment allotted for the offence, than that it should remaine vnpunished, and the law violated. Augustus Caesar made the law Iulia, intituled of Adulteries, wherein is declared, how processe ought to proceede against those that are attainted of it, and how such as are conuicted there­of The law of Iulia against adulterers. are to be punished, euen to permit the father to kill his daughter beeing taken in the fact with the adulterer. After that Fabius Fabritius was slaine by his wife through trecherie, to the end that she might haue greater liberty to commit adulterie, one of his yonger sonnes when he came to age slew his mother with the adulterer, & was absolued therof by the Senate. We read also that the least punishment vsed by the Egyptians against adulterers, was to cut off The punish­ment of adul­te e [...]s vsed a­mong the Egyptians. Alexander hated adulte­rie. the womans nose, and the priuie parts of the man. Briefely, we shall finde, that in all nations where honour and ciuilitie is neuer so little regarded, this vice of adulterie hath beene grie­uously punished, and greatly hated of all noble mindes. Herein the example of Alexander is worthy to be remembred, who, when a woman was brought vnto him one euening, deman­ded of her why she came so late: to whom she answered, that she staied vntill her husband was gone to bed. Which he no sooner heard, but he sent her away, being very angrie with his men, because they had almost caused him to commit adulterie. He would not so much as touch his friends Concubine, although he loued her: and he tooke on wonderfully with Cassander, because he would by force kisse a minstrels maide. So farre off was he from beeing willing to suffer his courtiers to force any wiues or daughters of his subiects, or to induce them to suborne any for him. But contrariwise we see now adaies, that they are most estee­med of great men whose skill is greater in corrupting of women. Antonius Venereus Duke of Venice may be vnto them an example worthie to be followed, who caused his owne sonne Antony Duke of Venice. Testimonies of Gods wrath against whor­dome. to die in prison, because he had rauished a maid. But let vs note a litle the eie witnesses of Gods wrath, who neuer, or very seldome suffereth whoordome to goe without present paiment meet for such peruerse wickednesse. The reading of holy Scriptures doth furnish vs with no­table examples, in the death of foure and twentie thousand Israelites for whoordome: in the punishment of the same sin committed by Dauid, with the death of more than threescore Numb. 25. 9. This sinne of Dauid was in numbring the people, as ap­peareth. 2. Sam. 24. 1. 1. King. 12. Gen. 19. thousand men in Israel: in the punishment of the same sinne in Salomon vpon his sonne, who was depriued of ten parts of his kingdome: in the ouerthrow of the cities of Sodomah and Gomorrah, and in many other places. When Satan seeketh for a readie way to cause men to fall, he commonly vseth whoordome. When Balaam taught Balaac that subtill practise to cause the Israelites to commit adolatrie, it was by meanes of the faire women of his countrie, 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 whoormongers is infinite, of which we will here alledge some, making mention of violent punishments, and of the depri­uation and subuersion of flourishing estates, which haue proceeded from the same cause of whoordome. And truely it is more dangerous for a prince in regard of his estate, than a­ny The danger that depen­deth vpon the loosenesse of a Prince. Tarquinius. other vice, yea than crueltie it selfe. For crueltie maketh men fearefull, and striketh a ter­ror in the subiects, but whoordome draweth with it hatred and contempt of the prince: be­cause euery one iudgeth an effeminate man vnworthie to command a whole people. Tar­quinius king of Rome, for his loftinesse surnamed the Proud, was depriued of his kingdome, [Page 100] because of the violence which one of his sonnes offered to Lucretia, a Romane Lady. And al­though he gathered together great forces, thinking thereby to re-enter into his estate, yet he could neuer attaine thereunto. 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 Democracie or po­pular estate, abolishing all lawes appertaining to a king. In place of which they sent to the Athenians for Solons lawes, which afterwards were obserued by the Romanes, and called the lawes of the twelue tables. Appius Claudius, one of those ten that had all authoritie in the go­uernment Appius Clau­dius. of the Romane estate, because he would haue rauished Virginia, daughter to Virgini­us a Citizen of Rome, who slue her to saue her honour, 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 that mighty Caesar, after he had conquered France Almaigne, Caesar. England, Spaine, Italy, and Pompey himselfe, but a shamefull death, by reason of a foolish loue, which caused him to goe into Alexandria in disguised apparell to enioy Cleopatra, where an Eunuch and a childe 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 campe vnder the gallies of his enemies? Teundezillus king of Spaine was, for committing violent adulterie with a Lady of a noble house, depriued both of life and kingdome. Marcus Antonius Caracalla Emperour, being car­ried Teundezillus. Caracalla. away with intemperate lust, married his mother in law: and within a while after he lost both his Empire and life. Childericus the first of that name, king of France, after he had reig­ned a long time, was driuen out of his kingdome for his whoordome. Iohn, Countie of Armi­nacke, Childericus. Ioh. Earle of Arminack. Rodoaldus. Roderigo. married 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 taken in adulterie, was slaine by the womans husband, whom hee abused. Roderigo king of Spaine, was depriued of his kingdome and life by the Sarasins, who were called in by an Earle named Iulian, that hee might bee auenged of his king, who had forced his daugh­ter. Geleatus Maria Duke of Millan being at Masse, was slaine by a citizen, who strooke him into the stomacke with a dagger, faining that hee would haue spoken with him. The Galeat. Duke of Millian. chiefe cause hereof was for a suspition which he had conceiued, that this Prince entertained his wife. In the time of Philip the faire, king of France, two knights that were brothers, na­med Two brothers flaied aliue. [...]' Aunoy, were flaied aliue for their whoordomes committed with a Queene of Na­uarre, and with the Countesse of March, daughter to the Countie of Burgundy, which twaine also were condemned to perpetuall prison. Not long since, Peter Lewes Duke of Pla­centia, was murdered for his incest, and incredible whoordoms. Among other things, it is Peter Lewes. written of him, that he forced Cosmes Cheri Bishop of Valentia, whom he caused to bee held by his men, and after poisoned him, least he should haue accused him to the Emperour. Also not long ago, the cities of Almendine and Delmedine, were cut off from the kingdome of F [...]z, and brought vnder obedience to the Portingales, because a yong woman was taken a­way Almendine & Delmedine. Abusahid. by force from her husband, by the Gouernour of them, who was afterwards slaine. Abu­sahid also king of F [...]z, was murdred with sixe of his children by his Secretarie, whose wife hee 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 whoordome haue fallen out. Neuerthelesse, it beareth such sway in this desolate France, that they are accounted the gal­lantest The whoor­dom of Frenchmen. men, who are the greatest pillars of whoordome. Yea, the greater sort, that ought to be patterns of chastitie to others, are bolde in the practise therof, thinking to couer their shame, to cloke & disguise their whoordome with the maske of vertue, accounting it a point of glo­ry and honour to be the chiefest and most expert in that schoole. But let vs know that this vi­zard is but to make them altogether without excuse before him, from whom nothing can be bidden, and who abhorreth all maliciousnes and shameles impudency, wherewith whoor­mongers set forth their face. And seeing that he, whose mercie is endlesse, supplieth the want and infirmitie of his creatures, this vice of whoordome is without all colour of excuse before him, because he hath giuen vs a holy and honourable remedie against it, which is marriage, permitted to euery one, but yet despised of all whoormongers, to their ruine and eternall The scourges that [...] endu [...]eth. confusion. And if they were not wholly blinded through continuance in vice, the scourges of ciuill warre, of heresie, of famine, and of rebellion which France at this day suffereth, would be more than ynough to vnseale their eyes, that they might acknowledge the wrath of the Almightie, ready to destroy them both body and soule. Therefore let vs that are better instructed by our Academic, learne of Socrates, that a wise man ought to passe by [Page 101] pleasures as by the Syrens, if he long to attaine to vertue, his most happy countrey and dwel­ling place. And for a good helpe hereunto, let vs take the counsell of Ep [...]ctetus, saying; When thy spirit is drawne with some desire of pleasure, beware thou tumble not into some downefall: and me­ditate Good coun­sell against whoordome. a little, considering diligently, that after thou hast beene ouercome of pleasure there remaineth no­thing but repentance, and thy hatred against thyselfe. Whereas if thou abstainest, a steadfast and assured ioy possesseth thy heart, which wholly driueth away sorrow. Thus let vs endeauour to decke our selues with puritie, chastitie, and vprightnesse, hating in such sort voluptuousnesse and leche­ry (the deere and costly pleasure whereof passeth away as the winde, and leaueth behind it a shamefull remembrance) that following the will of our law-maker, we sh [...]n all dissolutenesse tending that way, whether it be immodest garments, vnchast gestures and countenances, or vile and filthy words, which may induce others to euill. Let vs remember in good time what Archelaus, a great Philosopher said to a yong man clothed with superfluous apparell, that it was all one in what part soeuer of his body he declared his vnchastnesse, and that it was euermore to bee condemned. But aboue all things let that diuine sentence sound without ceasing in our eares, that no whooremonger hath any inheritance in the kingdome of Iesus Christ. And if, being naturally 1. Cor. 9. 9. Ephes. 5. 5. 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 endlesse riches, which are promised vnto it in that happie immortalitie: and so wee shall weaken and make fruitlesse that desire of worldly pleasure, which is borne together with vs.

Of Glory, praise, honour, and of pride. Chap. 23.

MEn hauing their eies couered with ignorance, vse commonly to say, that hee hath a great loftie and noble minde, who aspireth to honours, estates, riches, The iudge­ment of igno­rant men touching no­blenes of minde. and other worldly vanities. Albeit truly, if we narrowly looke vnto the end wherefore they direct their intents and actions that way, we shall see nothing else in them but a desire of vaine-glory and praise, thereby to feede their pride and natural 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 fountaine of honour, they will bring forth very dange­rous effects, cleane contrary to mens desires.

They (saith Seneca) that would make choise of a happy life, must not fol­low the fashion and manner of life vsed by the multitude and greatest part of men, but such a How wee should make choise of a happy life. one as is altogether contrary thereunto. And this we shall doe, if we despise the glorie, ho­nour, praise and pride of the world, and iudge nothing worthy 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 honour and cre­dite, maketh paines to seeme pleasant, and trauell tollerable. It is the property 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 duty. Let vs then heare AMANA discourse more at large of the matter which is here propounded vnto vs.

Most certaine it is, that commonly nothing affecteth a man more than the The com­mon downe­fal of the pas­sions of the soule. coueting of glory, of praise, and of honour, whereof he is by nature desirous. But as all the passions and diseases of the soule are for the most part followed with those inconueniences, which men pretend most of all to eschue, so oftentimes they that glance at honour, as if that were vertue it selfe, leauing behind them the path of that vertue from whence honour ought to proceede, and which is able of it selfe to adorne and decke men, fall into the same recko­ning that Ixion did, who (as the Poets say) had to doe with a cloude, supposing it to haue bin the goddesse Iuno, whereupon the Centaures were engendred. Euen so worldly men im­bracing vaine-glory onely, which is but a false shadow of true vertue, all their doings deserue so small commendation, that if they were well weighed, they should rather be found worthy of blame and dishonour, than of that honour, which they so greatly seeke and aske after. For this cause the ancient Romanes built two Temples ioyned together, the one being dedica­ted The Romans built two Temples, the one to Ver­tue, and the other to Ho­nor. to Vertue, and the other to Honour: but yet in such sort, that no man could enter into that of Honour, except first he passed through the other of Vertue. But seeing the way of Vertue is so litle frequented at this day, no maruel (as Hesiodus saith) if so great a heape of wic­kednesse be dispersed through the world, that all shame & honor haue forsaken & abandoned [Page 102] the life of man. Now if an honest man prefer the losse of his honour before his owne life, to the end hee bee none of those that content themselues with a deceitfull Idea and platforme, in stead of the thing it selfe, let him learne aboue all things to know wherein 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 duty, comelinesse and ho­nestie. These are the onely meanes to get durable and eternall honor, glorie, and praise, which alwaies follow vertue as the shadow doth the body, hauing this property to make men wise, iust, prudent, and to bring them to the best, excellentest, and most diuine habite that can bee 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. Therefore that goodnesse and excellencie which proceedeth of wisedome and good instruction, is the first steppe to come to honoor, because from that as The first step to Honor. from a liuely fountaine floweth euery vertuous and praise-worthie 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 contrarie to the common opinion of those that run so swiftly now adaies 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 doe some act well liked of great men, and for which they may be noted out by them to bee men of valure, making good peny-worths of their skin, and of their conscience also, whether it bee in fight, or in the execution of some other commaundement of theirs, they shall haue cause to thinke Wherein worldlings place honor. themselues worthie of great honour, and to bee preferred before other men. For they sup­pose that honour ought to bee measured by that good will and liking which men conceiue of them, although they themselues be most wicked, and not by the triall of the work whe­ther it be good or euill in it selfe. But I wonder at their follie. For seeing they haue no good­nes in them, how can they iudge what ought to be done or left vndone, according to equity and iustice? And what honour will they deserue in all their actions, being guided onely with a desire of worldlie glorie, which (as Quintilian saith) is the chiefe and principall euill? 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 enioie worldlie pleasures? Whereby they become slaues to mortall goods and riches all their life time, and depriue themselues of that precious liberty of the soule, for which a noble heart ought to fight and to suffer death. But a good man adorned with goodnesse and iustice, propoundeth vnto himselfe a far other end. For admiring nothing but vertue, hee seeketh not to bee honoured but in obeying her, in following her steps, and in referring all his doings to the infallible rule thereof. He know­eth (as Seneca saith) that glory is to bee followed, not to bee desired: that it is gotten by such a noble courage as measureth all 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 glorie, which remaineth immortall vnto him among good men for his iust and vertuous deedes, neither careth hee at all what The White at which e­uery good man ought to aime. the wicked or ignorant sort thinke or speak of him. Hauing laid 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 applie himselfe to the time, as though he feared that hee should be left behinde, but desireth rather to abide vnknowne 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 guides: and then neither feare nor danger is able to driue him from his determinate purpose, which howsoeuer it falleth out, is alwaies no lesse worthy of honour and praise, than their actions, who doe nothing but for worldly glorie, deserue blame and dispraise, which they feare most of all, and labour to auoide. True it is, that these men, who ambitiously seeke after vaine-glory and greatnes, may say vn­to mee, that things goe far 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 duty of a prudent man, rather to feare the iudgement and opinion of a few wise men, than of an ignorant multitude. Neither ought hee to leaue The iudge­ments of the best, [...]o [...] of the most, [...] to be prefer­red alwaies. his conceiued purposes grounded vpon reason, for the praise of men. For they that doe otherwise, declare euidently, that they liue not but for the world, hauing no care of the principall and chiefe ende of their beeing. Bion compared such men very fitly to vessels with two handles, which are easily carried by the cares whithersoeuer a man will. So these [Page 103] men being praised and much made of, vndertake all things boldly: yea the burning heate of glory oftentimes carrieth them so farre, that they praise and commend their owne doings to no purpose. Which is so vnseemely a thing (as Aristotle saith) that it is more blame worthy than lying, which commonly goeth with it, and is also a great argument of an inconstant minde. But as Plutarke saith, the more reason a man hath gotten by Phylosophie, the more he looseth of his pride and arrogancy, and they that haue nothing before their [...]i [...]s, where­unto they aspire, but vertue and duty onely, vse the occasion, time, and sequele of their af­faires, without caring for any other praise than that which proceeded from the nature, iudg­ment and consent of all good men. It is true, that sometime it is collerable in good men, A good man may somtime praise him­selfe. yea necessarie for the benefite of others, to commend themselues in some sort, by speaking of themselues to their aduantage. As if labouring to be beleeued, wee rendred a reason of our vertue and goodnesse by our former effects, that so hauing meanes to continue our vertuous actions to the benefite of many, we may, as it were against their wils, worke their safetie, and compell those men to receiue a good turne, who shun all occasions thereby. This caused The­mistocles to vse those speeches in the Councell of the Athenians, whom he perceiued to bee Themisto­cles did so. wearie of him: O poore men (quoth he to them) why doe 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 branch, as ye passe by. Homer bringeth in Nestor rehearsing his prowes and valiant acts, to incourage Patroclu, and the other nine knights to vndertake the combate against Hector man to man. Moreouer, ex­hortation And Nestor hauing the testimonie of workes ready at hand, and examples ioyned with the pricke of emulation, are liuely, and wonderfully whetteth men on: yea they bring together with courage and affection, hope of ability to attaine to the end of that thing, which is per­ceiued not to be impossible. But in this case, as in euery other action, let vs aboue all eschue 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 selfe is good: so that hum­ble submission is better than the proud boasting of our good deeds, which causeth a proud The effects of pride. man oftentimes to fall into more detestable vices than he was in before. Now in requiring first and chiefly 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 bounds of equitie and iustice. For otherwise they cannot but falsly be called works of fortitude and generosity, The worke of fortitude must bee grounded vpon equitie and iustice. as hereafter in our discourses vpon these vertues we may vnderstand more at large. Therfore it is the iealousie of glorie gotten by vertue, after the examples of our predecessors that liued well, which ought to pricke forward euery noble heart to build for himselfe an eternall mo­nument through heroicall deeds, 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 hee 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 hee perceiued that he drew neere to death, hee exhorted his sonnes to follow his iust and holy deliberation without feare of any danger. True it is (quoth he to them) that our bodies are mortall, and subiect to the same decree that others Mattathias exhortation to his sonnes. are, but the memory of excellent deeds 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 glory, so that it be without enuying the prosperitie and preferment of others, but onely so far How iealou­sie of glory is tollerable. Themistocles. forth 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 Miltiades had ob­tained in the plaine of Marathron, said: that that newes would let him take no rest: mea­ning therby, that he should neuer be quiet, vntill by some other act of vertue he had deserued as much praise, as did this excellent Captaine Miltiades. Titus Flaminius a Romane Consul, who deliuered Graecia from bondage, and twise in battell ranged, ouerthrew Philip king of T. Flaminius. Macedonia, shewed himselfe likewise greatly touched with a desire of glory and honour, not to be blamed, but to be practised of all excellent and noble natures, by putting to his helping hand whensoeuer hee could, with the first, yea, sometimes alone, to euery matter and ex­ploit of importance. Hee 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 dooing, accounting [Page 104] these men to be his competitors in the purchasing of honor and glory, and the others to be matter whereupon he might exercise his vertue. It was an argument of yoong yeares which seemed to promise much, and to be borne to all great enterprises, when Iulius Caesar being yet very yoong, and beholding the image of Alexander the Great at foure and twenty yeares Caesar wept at the sight of Alexanders image. of age, fell to weeping, and said: Am not I miserable that haue done nothing worthy of me­mory, and yet this prince at these yeares had executed so many notable things? Moreouer, we may obserue among the Ancients infinite worthy examples quite contrary one to ano­ther, in that many great and famous men haue altogether despised the honor of vaine-glory, which is neuer without presumption & pride: and contrariwise, others being led with pride and arrogancy, haue fwolie abused their authority and greatnes, purchasing to themselues Cyrus. more blame and dishonor, than praise and honour. That great Cyrus Monarch of the Persi­ans, was of so meeke and gentle a nature, and so little desirous of vaine glory, that he would neuer prouoke his equals in age to any exercise wherein he perceiued himselfe the stronges, 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 benefite, to learne that which he could not do so well as others. O right noble heart, giuing euident proofe of the contempt of base and vile things, to treasure vp those that are great and excel­lent! But now a daies where about do we striue most? namely, who can most cunningly strike with the sword, runne 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. We reade of an Indian, who being commanded by Alexander the Great to shoote before him, because he Anotable story of an Indian. had heard that he was very excellent in that art, would doe nothing. Whereupon 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 bene indeed heretofore a very good Archer, but because he had of long time intermitted that exercise, he feared that he had forgetten it: and therefore had rather die then lose the reputation, which he had once obtained. To this fellow we may compare those of whom we haue already spoken, who glo­ry in nothing but in this, that they are taken of the greater sort for valiant men, and, as they vse to say, for such as make profession, that they carry about them a sharpe sword for their ser­uice. These men had rather die in a naughty quarrell, with the danger of loosing their soule, than to fall from this their reputation, which they desire to carry with them. But let vs fol­low our examples of the contempt of vaine glory, and of certaine others led away with an ouer weening pride. Pompey the Great, shewed a notable argument that he was not touched Examples of the contempt and desire of vaine glory Pompeius. with vaine glory or pride, when, after he had vtterly vanquished Tygranes 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 enemies, and with their spoiles: saying like a vertuous Monarch, that he much more esteemed the glory of a whole age, than of one day. The Great Tamberlane being puffed vp exceedingly, because of a Peasants sonne he attained to so great a Monarchie, vsed farre greater and more barbarous seuerity towards Tamberlanes seruerity [...] to­wards Baiazet the great Turke. Baiazet Emperor of the Turkes, whom, after he had ouercome him, and made him his pri­soner, he caused to be led about with him in a cage, wheresoeuer he went, feeding him onely with the crummes that fell vnder his table: and whensoeuer he tooke horse, he vsed his body for an aduantage. After the same manner Valerianus the Emperor was handled by Saphor king of Persia, by whom he was discomfited in battle, which this Barbarian had woon of him. He Saphors to­wards Vale­tianus. that trod vpon the Emperor Fredericke Barbarssa his necke, and pusht him twice with his foot when he had him at his deuotion, shewed himselfe more proud, cruel, and arrogant, in that he vsed for a pretence and cloke of his pride and wickednes, that text of Scripture. Thou shalt walk Pope Alexan­ders towards fredericke. Psal. 91. 13 vpon the Lion and A [...]pe, the young Lion and the Dragan shalt thou treade vnder foote, as if it had bin spoken to him. That heathen man Agathocles king of Sicilia, left behind him a far more excel­lent example of the contempt of glory, that wee 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, because he was borne of a poore Porter, he caused himselfe to be serued ordinarily at his ta­ble Agathocles. with earthen vessels, intermingled with his cups of gold, saying thus to those that came The honor of great m [...]n dependeth of their vertue, not of their dignitie. to see him, thereby to inflame them with a desire of well doing: Behold what it is to perseuere in trauell and in taking of paines to become vertuous and couragious. Heretofore we made these pots of earth, and now we make these of gold. Further we must know, that when fortune (if it be lawfull for vs vnder this word to vnderstand the ordinance of God) lifteth vp men of low degree vnto great [Page 105] and honourable places through their valure and desert, and exalteth also many men that are vnworthy, letting vs see how proudly and wickedly these men behaue themselues in abusing their authority, and contrariwise how the other sort vse it well, she doth thereby so much the more honor, and recommend vertue vnto vs, as the onely thing whereof al [...] the great­nes, glory, and honor of them dependeth, and not of the dignity wherein they are placed. Now how greatly haughtines of mind is hated both of God and men, among infinite testimonies which we haue, that of Herod Agrippa king of the Iewes, ought well to be marked. For being Herodes. gone vp into the pulpit appointed for Orations, and reioycing because the people cried out to his praise, That it was the voice of God & not of man, he was suddenly strooken from heauen, so that when he perceiued himselfe to consume away with Vermine, he cried out to the peo­ple, saying: Behold how he dieth now with intollerable griefes, whom not long since ye called God. Dio­clesianus the Emperor was so puft vp with pride, that he called himselfe brother to the Sunne Dioclesianus and Moone, and made an edict, whereby he would haue all men to kisse his feete, whereas his predecessors gaue their hands to the Nobility, 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 laide vpon Menacratus the Physicion was Menecratus finely punish­ed for his prid by Philip. more gentle, yet pleasant, and woorth the noting. This fellow because he was excellent in his art, caused himselfe to be called Iupiter the Sauior. The good prince minding to correct him for his arrogancy, inuited him to a feast, and made a table to be prouided for him by him selfe, whereof at first he seemed to be very glad. But when he saw that in stead of meate 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 vaine­glorious man is a foole. and glorious man in right termes, is to call him a foole, as contrariwise, curtesie and meekenes is the foundation of wisedome and of a quiet life. Whereunnnto that we may at­taine, let vs learne, that whosoeuer beholdeth with the eies of his minde 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 head-long downefall of arrogancie and pride. And thus detesting all presumption and loue of vanitie, let vs seeke for honour by the meanes of vertue onely, which as Euripides saith, is alwaies either followed or preuented with glory and praise. And let vs not greatlie care for the praises of men, but onely do those things that are worthy of commendation. Let vs rather 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 profite. Lastly, let vs rather loue to abide alwaies as it were vnknowne to the the world, than by seruing vanities to turne aside from one onely iot of the duty of goodnes and iustice, which by the grace of God may procure vs a perpetuall praise among good men, and make vs acceptable before him, who euermore lifteth vp the humble, and beateth downe the proud.

Of Shame, Shamefastnes, and of Dishonour. Chap. 24.

HItherto wee haue briefly intreated of those principall points, which respect the vertue of Temperance, and the vice of Intemperance, contrary vnto it. Neuertheles for the finishing of our daies worke, I think we are to consider what shame and shamefastnes are, which, as ths Philosophers say, are ioy­ned with this vertue of Temperance. For the more we loue glory & honor, the more we feare and labour to eschue shame and dishonor. Now seeing we haue bin taught where to seeke for true glory and honor, we shall receiue no lesse profit, if we learne wherein we ought to feare shame and dishonour. Shame is the keeper of all vertues.

There is (saith Cicero) a certaine shame and bashfulnes in Temperance, which is the guardian of all the vertues, and deserueth great commendation, being also a most good­ly ornament to the whole life, as that which fashioneth it according to the patterne o [...] de­cencie and honesty.

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

As we see that a good ground, although it be far and fertill, bringeth foorth not­withstanding naughtie and wild plants: so a good nature, although it be indued with many great perfections, is yet neuer without some shame.

And this of it selfe seemeth to be a hurtfull passion in the soule, albeit it may easily by the How shame may be [...]de profitable in a man. meanes of vertue be dressed and made profitable, if we cure it of all feare of reproch, by do­ing that which is good, decent and honest; and contrariwise suffer it to augment, and to strengthen it selfe more and more, when occasion, either of doing ill, or of speaking, approo­uing, and counselling any thing that is against the duty of a good man, shall be offered. Ho­nest shame and shamefastnes (saith Quintillian) is the mother of all good counsell, the right guardian of duty, the mistresse of innocency, well liked of her nearest friends in all places, and at all times, curteously entertained of strangers, as that which hath a fauorable countenance. Honest shame, being (as Cicero saith) the moderator of concupiscences, procureth vnto vs a steadfast and commendable authority amongst all men. Hesiodus calleth it the hostesse of iustice. Of this Socrates spake, when he said, 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 voide of all good nature. Therefore shamefastnes is to be nourished and much made of. For so long as it remaineth in any mans spirit thereis 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 man (saith Euripides) hath no shame in him. Shamefastnes (saith one of the ancients) is sister to continency, & com­panion of chastity, yea by meanes of her society and fellowship, chastity is in greater safety. A fault is lessened through shame, as it is made greater by contention: & shame mollifieth the heart of a iudge, but impudency prouoketh him to anger. He that is touched to the quicke through a sharpe reprehension for the reformation of his maners, & yet is nothing restrained thereby, nor full of sweat and blushing for shame, which cannot heate to ascend into the face of euery one well borne, but remaineth inflexible & vnmooueable, smiling & 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 conformation in doing of euill. To sinne (saith Diodorus the Athenian) is a thing naturally ingrafted in men: neither was there euer Sin is natural in man. any law so rigorous, that could stay the course therof, although new paines and punishments were daily added to offences, to see if men be drawne from vice through feare of them. But some gather boldnesse through pouerty; others because of their riches become insolent, am­bitious, and couetous, and others haue other passion and occasions which mooue and induce them to do ill. Now to turne these aside, and to make them fruitles, there is no better way than deepely to imprint in our soules the feare of a perpetuall shame and infamy, which are the inse­parable How we must auoid and [...]e­pres [...]e sinne. companions of all wickednes and corrupt dealings. And as often as we commit any fault through frailtie, we must together with repentance imprint in our memory a long re­membrance thereof: yea we must lay it often before our eies, as also the shame and dishonor that might haue insued thereof vnto vs; to this end, that afterward wee may be the better kept backe, and more aduised in the like matters. Herein let vs follow the example of way­faring men, that haue stumbled against a stone, and of Pilots that haue brused their shippes against a rock, who being mindfull of their mishap, are all their life time greatly afraid, not only of those stones & rockes, which were the causes of their euils, but also of all such as re­semble them. There was approhibitiō (as Aulus Gellius writeth) that no yong Roman 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 hee had committed some forced adulterie. And truly when one is ashamed that he hath of­fended, A notable cu­stome among the Romans. 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 wisdome beareth sway, is euill and very hurtfull, not only to those that are touched therewith, but oftentimes pro­cureth great euils to Communalties and Common-wealthes. Whereof those men haue too great experience that liue vnder such Gouernours, Magistrates, and Iudges, as of a foolish basenes and cowardlines of minde, either for feare to displease the greatest, or to be blamed What kinde of shame is very hurtfull. and reprooued of an ignorant multitude, bowe and bend to another mans becke against right and equitie, as though they were ashamed to doe well. Whereupon thinking to eschue a light and small, reproach, they fall into a perpetuall note of infamy and dishonour, not beeing able to declare more plainely the smalnesse of their courage (which fitly resembleth a weake temperature of the body, vnable to resist heate and cold) than in consenting [Page 107] to euill, because they dare not gaine say 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 bounty and simplicitie voide of prudence, they wholy giue ouer themselues to their pleasure that haue them as it were in pos­session, and dare not gaine say or deny them in any matter. For hereof it commeth, that flat­terers, brokers, and such as are most wicked, carry away offices, charges, benefices, gifts, and wastfully consume the publike treasure: so that a man may behold an impunitie and liberty of vices, and of execrable offences, because a simple and bashfull king dare not denie a re­quest. And thus vnder such a Prince publike welfare is turned into priuate wealth, and all the charges fall vpon the poore people. But not to stray farre from our purpose, hauing so neerely touched a matter worthy of a large discourse, I thinke we shall reape no small profit, if we call to mind here certaine notable instructions, which Plutarke giueth vs, to teach vs to repell far from vs all foolish and dangerous shame: namely, that so soone as yeares of discreti­on worke in vs any knowledge of goodnesse, we should exercise our selues in those things, which of themselues are easie ynough to practise, beeing without feare that any thing can (as the prouerbe saith) hang or take hold of our gowne. If at a feast (saith that great Philo­pher) How we must learne to re­sist all naugh­ty shame. 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 tedious matters, be not afraid to rid thy selfe of him, and to tell him freely that another time thou mayest come and visite him, not hauing at that time any leisure to keepe him company 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 and intreaties, neuer promise more than thou art able to performe, and blush not because thou canst not doe all things, but rather blush to take vpon thee things that are aboue thy ability. If any man aske thee a question of any matter whatsoeuer, confesse freely that which thou knowest not, to the ende thou maiest receiue instruction. Now, if we exercise our selues in this fort, honestly to refuse, to depart, to breake off, to speake freely, and to submit our selues after a comely manner, so that no man can lightly complaine of vs, or blame vs, but vpon very slender occasion; we shall be in a ready way to accustome our selues not to be ashamed in matters of greater weight, and such as are necessarie for the preseruation of dutie. For otherwise, if we are afraid to put back a glasse of wine, which some one of our acquaintance in drinking doth offer vnto vs, how 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 doe, we commend one contrary to our opinion, whom we heare praised of many: or if we feare to tell our friend of some small fault of his, how will wee set our selues couragiously against those slanderers of the truth, and maintainers of lies, that are placed in authority? Or how shall we dare to re­prooue notorious faults boldly, being committed in the administration of a magistrate, and in ciuill and voliticall gouernment? This is that which Zeno very well taught vs, when mee­ting with a familiar friend of his that walked heauily by himselfe, hee asked him the cause Zeno. thereof: I shun (said the other) a friend of mine, who requesteth me to beare false witnes for him. What (quoth Zeno) art thou so foolish, that seeing him voide of shame and feare to request vn­iust and wicked things of thee, thou hast not the heart to deny him, and to put him backe vpon iust and rea­sonable consideration! Agesilaus: may be vnto vs a good Scholemaster in this matter. For beeing Agesilaus. requested by his father to giue sentence against right, he was not ashamed to deny him gra­ciously with this answer: You haue tought mee (O Father) from my youth to obey the lawes, and there­fore I will now also obey you therein, by iudging nothing against the lawes. Pericles beeing likewise Pericles. requested by a friend of his to sweare falsly for him, said, I am a friend to my friends vnto the altars: as if he wold haue said, so far as I offēd not God. The same reasō was the cause that Xenophanes being called a coward at a feast because he would not play at dice, answered without feare of Xenophanes. being accounted voide of ciuility, and good fellowship, I am indeede a cowarde and fearefull in dishonest things. Now besides all those pernitious effects of foolish and naughty shame that are Other perni­tious effects of foolish shame. 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 his safety and priuate benefit, yea, sometimes of his owne life. I will not here stand to speake of those which, say they are a­shamed to aske their due, or by way of iustice to pursue such as deuoure the substance of their [Page 108] poore families, whereby they make it knowne, that they haue neither vertue, heart, nor cou­rage. To this agreeth fitly that which we reade of one named Perseus, who being to lende money to a very friend of his, went with him to the common place of bargaining, calling to Perseus. minde that precept of Hesiodus, who saith:

His friend thinking this somewhat strange, 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 whom they tooke for their friends, offered themselues euen to the slaugh­ter? Dion indued with great perfections, and one that deliuered from tyranny and freed Dion. from thraldome the citie of Syracusa, although he was aduertised that Caplippus whom hee tooke for his Host and friend, watched opportunity to slay him, yet hee went to that place whither he had inuited him, saying: that he had rather lose his life, than be compelled to distrust his friends, and to keepe himselfe as much from them as from his enemies. And indeed it fell out so, that he was slaiue there. The like befell Antipater, being bidden to supper by Demetrius. It seemeth Antipater. 1. Caesar. also that Iulius Caesar as well as they, was in some sort the cause of his owne mishap, because hauing had many aduertisements, suspitions, and forewarnings of the miserable death that was intended against him, yet he neglected them all, as appeareth by that speech, which hee vsed the euening before he was murdered, being at supper with Marcus Lepidus. For a con­trouersie arising amongst the ghests about this proposition, What kinde 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 What death Caesar thought best. 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 confer 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 shame and shamefastnesse, which is the guide of our life to de­cency and vertue, we may see amongst the Ancients infinite examples, how it hath beene re­commended and precisely obserued, and what strength it hath had in right noble mindes. The Persians brought vp their youth in such sort, that they neither did nor spake any thing that was dishonest, putting him to death that stripped himselfe starke naked in the presence How the Per­sian youth was instructed of another. Yea they iudged euery vnciuill action how little soeuer, committed before others, to be great wickednesse. The Parthians would neuer suffer their wiues to come among their feasts, least wine should cause them to doe or to speake any dishonest thing in their presence. Hippocratides as he was walking, met with a yong man in a wicked mans companie, and per­ceiuing that he began to blush, said thus vnto him: My sonne, thou must goe with such as Hippocratides saying to a yong man that blushed. Eutichus. will not cause thee to blush: but be of good cheere, for thou maiest yet repent thee. Blinde Eutichus was set without the array of the battell by Leonidas, but being ashamed to leaue his fellowes in danger, he caused a slaue to leade him to the place where they fought, and there wonderfully doing his endeauour, he was slaine. The Romanes were so shamefast amongst themselues, that the father would not bathe himselfe with his sonne, nor the sonne in law The shame­fastnesse of the Romans. with the father in law. They so greatly esteemed honest shame and bashfulnesse, that when Philip king of Macedonia was accused before the Senate of many crimes, the shamefastnesse of yong Demetrius his sonne, who blushed and held his peace, stood him in greater stead than the shamelesse boldnesse of the eloquentest Orator in the world could haue done. The sonne of Marcus Cato the Censor, beeing at the battell wherein Perses was discomfited, and fighting with [...] iauelin, his sword fell out of his scabberd, whereof hee was so ashamed, Cato his son. that alighting on foot in the midst of his enemies, and doubling his courage and strength, hee tooke it vp and mounted againe, fighting on horsebacke as before. The sonne of Mar­cus Aemilius Sc [...]rus, hauing abandoned and giuen ouer the keeping and defence of the countrey of Trenta committed to his charge, was so ashamed thereof, that not daring Scaurus his sonne. Parmenides. to returne againe to his father, he slew himselfe. Parmenides taught his Disciples, that nothing was terrible to a noble minde but dishonor, and that none but children and women, or at lest, men hauing womens hearts, 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 equall authoritie, Cleobulus affirmed, that that citie seemed vnto him best guided by policie, Cleobulus. [Page 109] wherein the Citizens stood in greater awe of dishonour than of the law Plutarke rehearseth a very notable historie of the force of honest shamefastnes in the Milesian maidens, who were fallen into such frenzie and perturbation of spirit, that without any apparant cause to bee A notable hi­storie of the shamefastnes of the Milesi­an maidens. seene, they were suddenly ouertaken with a longing to die, and with a furious desire to hang themselues. Which thing many of them had already put in practise, so that neither reasons, nor teares of fathers and mothers, no comfort of friends, no threatnings, policies, 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 hereafter hung herselfe, shee should be carried starke naked in the sight of all men, through the market place. This edict bee­ing made and ratified by the Councell, did not only represse a little, but wholly staied the furie 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 doe, yea, than death it selfe, or griefe, which are two of the horriblest accidents which men commonly stand in feare of. To conclude therefore our present discourse, we learne that honest shame and shamefastnes, are alwaies commendable and beseeming all persons that purpose to obserue modesty in Honest shame is alwaies commenda­ble. their words, gestures, countenances, and actions. We learne also that spirits well brought vp, are more easily woon by shame than by feare, according to that 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 we must shun all euill, excessiue and pernitious shame, proceeding from the want of discretion, because it hindreth men from effecting all good, wholsome and honest things, insomuch that of it selfe it is able to procure vnto vs losse, dishonor, and infamie.

Of Fortitude. Chap. 25.

MAN endued with reason, and seeking to imitate as much as li­eth in him, the Author of his beeing, (who albeit simply and ab­solutely he standeth not in need of any thing whatsoeuer, yet doth wonderfull workes without ceasing, for the benefit of his creatures) feeleth himselfe touched to the quicke in his soule, with a desire to profite all those among whom hee liueth, by all high, great, laudable, and laborious meanes, not fearing any peril, nor forcing any paine. Moreouer, meditating and weighing the dignitie of the immortalitie of the soule, he careth not earthly & mortal goods, nor standeth in feare of the contrary: and whether it be for the hauing or not hauing of them, his minde Fortitude is the third ri­uer of Hone­stie. is nothing at all the lesse quiet, neither doth he thinke that any good vpon earth can bee ta­ken from him. All which great and rare excellencies flow into him from the third riuer of the fountaine of Honesty, whereof we are now to speake: namely, of the vertue of Fortitude, which (as Cocero saith) cannot be forced by any force.

This vertue (saith Seneca) is very great, being able to resist and to fight against extreme miseries. Which is the property of Fortitude, that guideth a noble nature through hard and difficult things, that he may attaine to the end of his iust deuices.

Fortitude is the cause that neither for feare nor danger we turne aside from the way of vertue add iustice. And as Plato saith, it lifteth vp our minds to attend to that which is most excellent, laudable, best, and most profitable. Therefore let vs heare ACHITOB dis­course of the wonderfull effects of this great and worthy vertue.

Whatsoeuer is done manfully, and with a great courage, appeareth verie decent, and beseeming a man. But the perfection of euery worke consisteth in this, that it be done by a staied and constant reason, which teacheth vs, that there is nothing after God, but Wherein the perfection of euery worke consisteth. honestie, which we are to admire, to make account of, and to desire: and that we ought not in any sort to shrink & yeeld vnto perturbations, or to any other humane accidents whatsoeuer. [Page 110] Which opinions being well imprinted in our mindes, pricke vs forward to enterprise those things that are most excellent, difficult, and fullest of labors and perils. For being free from all earthly care, and voide of feare or sorrow, we contemne euen death it selfe, and are in such sort prepared against all griefes, that our contentation lieth herein, that the greatest and most ex­ceeding paines will not continue long, that the lest will vanish away of themselues, and that we shall be masters of the middle sort. This is that which the Philosophers by infinite learned writings required to be in the vertue of Fortitude, with which the force and strength of the Fortitude is a Good of the soule, not of the body. body hath nothing common, as that which is a Good that belongeth to the body. But this is an immortall Good of the soule, consisting in the power and direction of the spirit, beeing fortified and confirmed through the studie of Philosophie, and causing man of his owne ac­cord to make choice of, and to perfect all honest things for their owne sakes. Fortitude, then (as Cicero saith) is that part of honesty, which is knowne by the excellency, greatnesse, and dignitie of the heart, which after aduised counsell and good consideration, causeth man to vndertake without feare, all perillous matters, and constantly to endure all kind of trauell. For constancy and dignity are neuer far from Fortitude in greatest distresses: because it adorneth him that possesseth her with the contempt of griefe and of death causing him to esteeme no­thing vntollerable that can happen to man, neither any thing euill that is necessarie. And so it is the preseruation of a firme and setled iudgement in things that seeme terrible and full of danger, seeing it is the knowledge of that which a man ought to endure. Plato also calleth it the knowledge of all good and euill: as though hee would say, that nothing can come to a valiant and noble minded man, against his expectation, although it may be contrarie to his will, because hee is setled and prepared to vndergoe all euents, as if hee had certainely fore­seene them. Aristotle saith, that Fortitude is a mediocrity betweene fearing and enterprizing. Moreouer, it maketh a man fit for all occasions of dangers and trauels, and holdeth him be­tweene these two extremities of cowardlinesse and rashnesse, which vices are very hurtfull to a happy and commendable life. The same Philosopher saith, that whosoeuer will bee strong and valiant, must be free from all feare of death, constant in aduersities, voide of feare in perils, The proper­ties that are required in a valiant man. choosing rather to die honestly, than to saue himselfe villanously. He must endeuor to build noble enterprises, hauing for his companions hardinesse, greatnesse of hart, good confidence and hope, besides, industry & patience. Then he commeth to set downe many kindes of Forti­tude Cicero agreeing wel with him, saith that Magnificence, Confidence, Patience and Perseuerance are the parts of Fortitude. Magnificēce sheweth it selfe in doing great and excellent things: Confi­dence The part of Fortitude. in this, that a valiant man conceiueth good hope of the euent of them: Patience in a vo­luntary and continuall suffering for the loue of honesty and vertue: and Perseuerance in a per­petuall constancie, and in a firme and steadfast abiding in his purposes and resolutions vn­dertaken with good consideration following reason. Moreouer, Fortitude (as the Stoicks said very well) is a vertue that fighteth for equity and iustice. And therefore neither they that suffer for vniust matters, nor they that fight for their priuate commodities, not being led Fortitude fighteth for iustice onely. only with zeale of publike benefit, can boast (except falsly) that they are decked with this per­cious vertue. For these latter sort of men are rather to be called cruel barbarous, mercenaries, and hired hangmen, destroying all humanity: and others impudent, shamelesse, and desperate yea so much more worthy of blame, as guilty of wilfull madnes, in that they shew themselues constant in doing euil. But those men are valiant & of great courage, who thinke that no acti­ons whatsoeuer, no time or season ought to be voide of iustice, who deliuer the oppressed, and those that are wronged, who build all their deuises vpon vertuous workes. They (saith Aristotle) are voide of generosity, who fight either for feare of reprehension, or by con­straint, or beeing stirred vp with other mens speech, or of choler, or through ignorance of dangers. And this was Platoes meaning, when hee said that all strong and valiant men hardy, but not all hardy men valiant: because hardinesse commeth to men either by art, anger, or policy: but Fortitude is ingendred in the soule by nature and holy education. All hardy men are not valiant. And therefore this vertue standeth not in neede either of choler, rancor, ambition, pride, or of any other euill passion, whereby to bring to passe braue and glorious effects, but is rather an vtter enemie vnto them, because it proceedeth from a mature and ripe con­sideration and election of reason, which causeth a man boldly to put in execution whatsoeuer hee knoweth to belong to duty and honesty, according to that place where­unto hee is called. And this also is the cause that hee neuer taketh any thing in hand rashly, what pretence soeuer it hath, neither is hee kept backe by any feare in those mat­ters which offer him good occasion of putting to his hand, what hazard or imminent dan­ger [Page 111] soeuer seemeth to threaten him. But (according to that sentence of Socrates, that the har­dest things ought to be taken in hand and executed with greater constancy and valure of heart) after hee hath well and prudently grounded his enterprise vpon a certaine knowledge, and firme dis­course of reason, neither reproches, nor praises, neither promises nor threatnings, or torments, neither pleasures nor griefes, are able to cause him to breake off, or in any sort to alter and change his resolution, which remaineth alwaies praise-worthy, and is neuer subiect to repen­tance, howsoeuer the matter falleth out: because we are not to iudge of enterprises by the The resoluti­on of a vali­ant man is al­waies com­mendable and vnchangeable euents, which are altogether out of our power, but by the ground-worke and foundation whereupon they were built. And further, when the greatest dangers are, then is the time wherein a valiant man being nothing at all abashed, most of all sheweth his strength and prowes, neuer taking himselfe to be ouercome as long as his vertue is free & at liberty to giue him new supply of meanes to set forward againe his matters; otherwise in a desperate case. Briefely, to speake in a word, Fortitude is the cause, that neither for feare, nor danger we turne aside from the path-way of vertue and iustice, neither yet repent vs of well doing for any torment. And thus it belongeth properly to this vertue, to command chiefely ouer these two perturbations grounded vpon the opinion of euill, namely, Feare and Griefe: as before wee saw that Temperance exerciseth her power ouer vnbrideled Desire and Excessiue ioy. Further­more, because they that naturally haue greater stomacks, and more excellent spirits, are desi­rous and greedy of honours, power, and glory, and seeing that an excessiue desire to rule and to excell others, commonly groweth with the greatnesse of the heart, it is necessary that this vnruly affection should be moderated by the contempt of such things as are common to all men by nature. And this also is a propertie belonging to this vertue of Fortitude, which de­siring Fortitude contemneth mor­tall things. the greatest and best things, despiseth those that are base and abiect, aspiring to celestial and eternall things, shunneth humane and mortall things, and iudgeth honours, riches, and worldly goods, an vnworthy recompence for his valiant acts. Which is the cause, that who­soeuer hath this vertue of Fortitude perfectly (if so great happinesse could be among mortall weights) he remaineth free from all perturbations of the soule to enioy a blessed tranquil­litie, which together with constancy, procureth vnto him dignity and reputation. For this cause Cicero teacheth vs, that they which giue themselues to the gouernment of affaires, ought (at least as much as Philosophers) to make light account of temporall goods, from whence proceedeth all the rest of our mindes: yea, they ought to striue to that ende with greater care and labour than Philosophers doe, because it is easier for a Philosopher so to do, Magistrates ought to make lesse ac­count of worldly goods than Philosophers. his life being lesse subiect to Fortune, and standing in lesse need of worldly Goods, than doth that of Politicks. And if any mishap befall them, it toucheth the Philosopher a great deale lesse. But whether it bee in warre, or in ruling a common-wealth, or in the gouernment of an house, there are alwaies meanes enough to exercise the workes of Fortitude: and many times this vertue is most necessary in things that seeme to bee of smalleth account. Besides, that ho­nestie which wee seeke after is perfected by the forces of the soule, of which euery one hath great neede, not by those of the body. I will not say, that the firme knitting together of the members, and the good disposition of nature to sustaine manfully the iniuries of weather, & Of bodily force. all kinde of paine and trauell without sicknesse, is not a good helpe towards the execution of noble enterprises: onely I say, that it is not so necessarie, but that many being troubled with a thousand ill dispositions in their persons, especially such as were placed in offices of cap­taines and conductors of armies, haue executed infinite great and glorious exploits, sur­mounting all weakenesse of their bodies, through the magnanimity of their heart. Yea, oftentimes they haue as it were constrained their bodies to change their nature, that they might bee made fit to execute whatsoeuer their wise spirit iudged to belong to duty. Was there euer any captaine among the Romans greater than Iulius Caesar? Yet was he of a weake and tender complexion, subiect to great head aches, and visited sometimes with the falling Iulius Caesar was sickly. sicknesse. But in stead of vsing the weakenesse of his body for a cloake to liue nicely and deli­cately, he tooke the labours of warre for a fit medicine to cure the vntowardnes of his body, fighting against his disease with continuall labor and exercise, liuing soberly, and lying for the most part in the open aire, which made him to be so much the more admired and loued of his souldiers. As it may appeare by that which is reported of him, that being oneday by reason of a great storme and tempest greatly vrged with want of lodging in a plaine, where there was but one little cottage belonging to a Peasant, which had but one chamber, hee com­maunded that Oppius, one of his Captaines, who was ill at ease should bee lodged there: for himselfe he lay abroad with the rest, saying: that the most honourable places were to be [Page 112] appointed for the greatest, and the most necessarie for such as were most diseased. What shall we say of those, who being impotent in some part of their members, did notwithstanding not diminish in any sort, but augment the glory of their doings? Marcus Sergius, a Romane captaine, hauing lost his right hand in a battell, practised so well with the left hand, that af­terward Marcus Ser­gius lacked his right hand. in an army he challenged foure of his enemies, one after another, and ouercame them: such force hath a good heart, that it can doe more in one onely little member, than a man well made and fashioned in all points, that hath but a cowardly heart. Wee might here alledge infinite examples, whereof histories are full, of all those effects, which wee said were brought forth by the vertue of Fortitude in noble mindes: but wee will content our selues to touch certaine Generals that were of notable and politicke prowesse and valure, and con­stant in their resolutions; as well for shortnesse sake, as also because hereafter we shall haue further occasion to bring others in sight, when we handle more at large the parts and bran­ches that proceede from this happie stalke of Fortitude. Fabius the Greatest commeth first to my remembrance, to prooue that the resolution of a couragious heart grounded vpon know­ledge Fabius the Greatest. and the discourse of reason, is firme and immutable. This Captaine of the Romane ar­my being sent into the field to resist the furie and violence of Hannibal, who being Captain [...] of the Carthaginians, was entred into Italie with great force, determined for the publike wel­fare and necessity to delay and prolong the warre, and not to hazard a battell but with great aduantage. Whereupon certaine told him, that his owne men called him Hannibals schoole­master, and that hee was iested at with many other opprobrious speeches, as one that had small valure and courage in him, and therefore they counselled him to fight, to the end hee might not incurre any more such reprehensions and obloquies. I should be (quoth hee a­gaine to them) a greater coward than now I am thought to be, if I should forsake my delibe­ration necessarie for the common welfare and safetie, for feare of their girding speeches and bolts of mockerie, and obey those (to the ruine of my country) whom I ought to command. And indeed after ward he gaue great tokens of his vnspeakeable valure, being sent with three hundred men only to encounter with the said Hannibal; and seeing that he must of necessitie fight for the safetie of the Common-wealth, after all his men were slaine, and himselfe hurt to death, he rushed against Hannibal with so great violence and force of courage, that he tooke from him the diademe or frontlet, which he had about his head, & died with that about him. Pompey, who by the renowne of his high enterprises, got to himselfe the surname of Great, Pompey the Great. being ready to saile by sea, and to passe into Italy, whither he was to carrie a certaine quanti­tie of wheate to meete with a famine, according to the commission giuen him of the Senate, there arose a very great tempest, in so much that the marriners made great doubt to weigh vp their anchors. But his resolution beeing well made before, and grounded vpon the dutie of a noble heart, hee tooke shipping first of all, and caused the failes to bee spred in the winde, saying with a loud and cleare voice, It is necessarie that I goe, but not necessarie that I liue. Caius Marius, who was sixe times Consull, beeing in warre against the Allies of the C. Marius. Romanes that were reuolted, inclosed himselfe one day with trenches, and suffered a thou­sand iniuries and vaunting speeches, both of his enemies and of his owne men, but yet cared nothing at all for them, nor went from his deliberation, which was, that he would not fight at that time. And when Publius Silla, one of the chiefe captaines of the enemie cried vnto him, saying: If thou art such a great captaine, Marius, as men report of thee, come out of thy campe to battell: Nay, doe thou (quoth hee againe vnto him) if thou art a great captaine, compell me to come out to battell in despite of my teeth. Afterward this Marius shewed himselfe to be one of the most valiant and couragious men of his time, as well in the discom­fiture of the said enemies, as in two other battels which he wan against the barbarous Cim­brians and Flemings, who were entred into Italy to inhabite there: in one of which battels about an hundred thousand fighting men were slaine in the field. Agis king of Lacedaemo­nia, Agis. beeing resolued to fight, his Counsellers told him, that there was no reason so to doe, be­cause his enemies were ten against one. It must need [...] be (quoth this couragious Prince) that hee which will command many must fight also against many. Wee are ynough to put naughtie men to flight. The Lacedaemonians vse not to aske what number there is of the enemies, but onely where they are. The answer which Dienicus made to one that told the Councell of Grecia, that the multitude of the Barbarians was so great, that their arrowes couered the Sun, cometh neere Dienicus. to the couragious saying of king Agis. For concluding with their opinion who perswaded to fight, Dienicus made this answer: Thou tellest vs very good newes. For if the multitude of the Me­des is such, that they are able to hide the Sunne, they will offer vs the meanes how to fight [Page 113] in the shadow, and not in the heate of the Sunne. We may not here passe ouer with silence the testimony of inuincible Fortitude, which alwaies findeth meanes to effect her glorious purposes, giuen by Themistocles, when hee saw the sundrie opinions of the chieftaines of the Themistocles. Graecian armie vnder the leading of Eurihiades the Lacedaemonian, touching the place where they should fight with Xerxes fleete: The greatest part determined to forsake Salamis, where they were at that time, and to retire to Peloponensus, fearing the great force of their ene­mies, who were about twelue hundred vessels, whereas they themselues had but three hun­dred. But Themistocles sent Sicinus his childrens schoolemaster secretly in a Sciffe towards the Persians, aduertising them of the resolution which the Graecians had taken to flie, faining (as he made Xerxes beleeue) that hee fauoured their side. Vpon this watch-word Xerxes sent part of his armie to the other side of Salamis. Whereupon the Graecians considering that they were enuironed, resolued and setled themselues as men constrained to fight; and indeed the victorie remained on their side, to the confusion and ouerthrow of their enemies, who departed out of Grecia: which otherwise would haue beene greatly shaken, had not Themi­stocles vsed this notable stratageme, thereby to stay the shamefull flight of his countrimen. It was this vertue of Fortitude, which caused Damindas the Lacedaemonian to make this an­swer Damindas. to one who told him, that the Lacedaemonians were in danger to suffer much mischiefe, if they agreed not with Philip, who was armed against the Graecians. O my friend (quoth he) that art halfe a woman, what euill can he cause vs to suffer, seeing wee make no account of death it selfe? Dercyllides being sent from Sparta towards king Pyrrhus, to know wherefore Dercyllides. he marched with his army vpon their borders, and vnderstanding of him, that he comman­ded them to receiue againe their king Cleonymus, whom they had banished, or hee would let them know, that they were not more valiant than others already subdued by him, made this answer: if thou art a God we feare thee not, because we haue not offended thee: but if thou art a man, thou art no better than we. The answer which certaine Polonian Embassadours made to Alexander the Great, who threatned their countrey, sheweth also the excellencie of their courage. We are afraid (quoth they to him) but of one onely thing, namely, least the skie A notable an­swer of cer­taine Poloni­ans. Anaxarchus. Socrates. should fall vpon vs. Thunder (as Plato saith) terrifieth children, and threatnings fooles. Anax­archus being likewise threatned by the same Monarch that he should be hanged: Threaten this (quoth he) to thy Courtiers, who feare death: for my part, I care not whether I rot in the ground, or a­boue the ground. Socrates also answered thus to one that asked him, whether he were not asha­med to commit any thing that would procure his death: My friend, thou doest not well to thinke that a vertuous man ought to make any account either of danger, or of death, or to consider any other thing in all his actions, than this; whether they are iust or vniust, good or bad. If wee desire to see farther what effects Fortitude bringeth forth in the greatest and most sinister dangers, Marcus Crassus M. Crassus. shall serue vs for sufficient proofe. When he was threescore yeares of age, albeit he had recei­ued the foile in a battell against the Persians, wherein the greatest part of his armie was de­stroied, and his sonne being Captaine of a thousand men, was slaine, whose death seemed more to astonish the rest of his men, than any other danger, yet hee shewed himselfe in this mishap more vertuous than euer before, and went through all his bands crying aloud in this manner: It is I alone my friends, whom the sorrow and griefe of this losse ought to touch. But the great­nes A notable o­ration. of the fortune, and glory of Rome remaineth whole and inuincible, as long as you stand on your feete. Notwithstanding, if ye haue any compassion of me, seeing me lose so valiant and vertuous a sonne, I pray you shew the same by changing it into wrath against your enemies, to take vengeance of their cruelty, and be not abashed for any mishap befallen vs: for great things are not gotten without losse. Patience in trauels, and constancy in aduersities haue brought the Romane Empire to that greatnesse of power wherein it is now placed. With such speeches he fought vnto the death. Will we haue other examples of wonderfull prowesse and courage? Iudas Macchabeus, after many victories obtained by him against the Lieute­nants Iudas Maccha­beus. of Antiochus, and against those of Demetrius, was set vpon and assailed with two and twenty thousand men, (others say two and thirtie thousand hauing himselfe but eight hun­dred, or a thousand with him. And being counselled to retire into some place of safety, God forbid (quoth he) that the Sunne should see me turne my backe towards mine enemies. I hadrather die, than staine the glory which I haue gotten by vertue, with an ignominious and shamefull flight. In this resolute perswasion hee greatly weakened his enemies, and yet died more through wearisomnesse, than of blowes or wounds which hee had receiued in fight. Leonides king of Sparta, hauing with him but three hundred naturall Lacedaemonians, fought and put to flight at the straight of Thermopylis three hundred thousand Persians: but he and all his [Page 114] died of the wounds which they receiued in that fight. Lucius Dentatus a Romane, was en­dued L. Dentatus. with such Fortitude and Generosity, that one writeth of him, that he was in sixe score battels and skirmishes, and eight times came away Conqueror from fighting hand to hand: that he had receiued of his captaines by way of reward, and in token of his valure, eighteene launces, twenty b [...]rds of horses, foure score and three bracelets, and sixe and thirty crownes: and hastly, that by his meanes nine Emperours triumphed in Rome. Eumenus a Macedoni­an Captaine, hauing beene put to the woorst by Antig [...]nus, retired into a strong hold, where Eumenus. being besieged, and brought to parly through necessitie of victuals and munition, it was sig­nified vnto him from his enemie, that reason would hee should come and speake with him vnder his faith and promise without hostages, seeing he was both greater and stronger. But Eumenus made him this answer, That hee would neuer thinke any man greater than himselfe, as long as hee had his sword in his owne power. And therefore demanding of him no woorse con­ditions, than as one that thought himselfe to bee his equall, he salied forth vpon his enemies with such valure and courage, that hee saued himselfe out of their hands, and afterward great­ly troubled Antig [...]nus. Aristomenes the Messenian, being taken by the Lacedaemonians, and Aristomenes. and deliuered fast bound to two souldiers to be kept, he drew neere to a fire, and burned a sunder his bands with a little of his flesh: afterward comming suddenly vpon his keepers, he slue them both, and saued himselfe. Lys [...]machus being cast to a Lyon by Alexander, because Lys [...]machus. he gaue to Calisthenes the prisoner that poyson wherewith hee killed himselfe, fought with him, and stretching foorth his arme and hand all armed into his throate, he tooke hold of his tongue and strangled him. Whereupon the Monarch euer after greatly esteemed and honoured him. By this small number out of infinite examples, which I could here mention, we see the great and wonderfull effects of this vertue of Fortitude, which are no lesse in eue­ry part thereof touched in our discourse, as hereafter I hope we shall declare at large. Where­fore we may well say, that this vertue is very necessary to liue well and happily, and to leade vs to the ende of our being, which is, to refer both our life and death to the onely exercise of dutie and honesty: that by it wee enioy the true rest of the soule, which is nothing else (as Cicero saith) than a peaceable, sweete, and acceptable constancie, which vndoubtedly alwaies followeth Fortitude, being crowned with these two inestimable rewards, the contempt of griefe, and of death, whereby we forsake that which is mortall, that we may imbrace heauen­ly things in the hope and certaine expectation of that happy immortalitie.

Of Timorousnesse, Feare, and Cowardlinesse, and of Rashnesse. Chap 26.

VVE may call to remembrance that saying of Plato before mentioned, that a temperate man, not endued with the vertue of Fortitude, falleth easily into cowardlinesse and basenesse of minde, which is the defect of that vertue, which euen now we described: and likewise, that a strong and valiant man without the direction of Prudence and Temperance, is easily carried away with temerity and boldnesse, which is the excesse of the same vertue. Which two vices are so hurtfull in the soule, that he which is infected with them, holdeth much more of the nature of a beast, than of that essence wherein he was created. Let vs then consider what these imperfections are through the hor­ror of that infamie which followeth them, we may bee more zealous to follow that which is decent and honest.

We must take good heed (saith Cicero) least through feare of perill, wee commit any thing that may iustly argue vs to bee [...]imerous and fearefull. But withall we must beware that wee offer not our selues vnto dangers without cause, than which nothing is more foolish and blame worthy.

It is not seemely for a man (saith Plato) to commit any cowardly act to auoide perill. T [...]merity also setteth forth it selfe with courage, and contempt of dangers, but vnadui­sedly and to no purpose. But let vs heare ARAM, who will handle this matter more at large.

Albeit there is no greater disgrace than to bee iustly reproched with cowardly and faint heart, especially for youth to bee called effeminate, yet is that feare good, which turneth vs away from dishonest things, and maketh man staied and well aduised. This is the cause why the Ancients speaking of feare, made it twofold, the one good and Two kinds of feare. [Page 115] necessary, the other euill and hurtfull. The first, which they grounded vpon a good discourse of reason and iudgement, was so esteemed and honoured of them, that in the city of Sparta, A temple de­dicated to feare. which for armes and arts flourished most among the Graecians, there was a temple dedica­ted and consecrated to this feare: which, as they affirmed, better maintained and preserued the estate of Common-wealths, than any other thing whatsoeuer, because thereby man was led to stand more in awe of blame, reproch, and dishonour, than of death or griefe. Which thing maketh him both apter and readier to vndertake and to execute all vertuous and lau­dable matters, whensoeuer good and iust occasion shall bee offered; and also more staied a­gainst euery rash and vniust enterprise that might procure dammage to the common wealth. And this was the occasion of that Prouerbe, Feare alwayes accompanieth shame. Another reason alledged by these wisemen, why they honored in such sort this fained goddesse, was, because to doubt and feare nothing was more hurtfull to common wealths, than their very neighbor enemies, the feare of whom was their saftie and assurance. The other naughty and pernicious feare standeth of two kindes. The first being destitute of all good reason and assured iudge­ment, is that which we call Cowardlines and Pusilanimitie, alwaies followed of these two per­turbations of the soule, Feare and Sadnes; and is the defect of the vertue of Fortitude, which we purpose chiefly to handle at this present. The Grecians called it by these two words [...] The feare of neighbour e­nemies is the safety of a Common­wealth. Two sorts of pernitious feare. and [...], the one signifying Trouble, the other a Band; as if they would haue said, that it held the soule bound, and wholy troubled. They affirmed also, that this feare was as it were a giddines and alienation of the minde from the right sense, making the soule idle and dead, voide of euery good exploit or effect whatsoeuer. The last kinde of feare is that which worketh in the wicked a feare of paine and punishment appointed for offences, whereby they are as it were with a bridle kept backe and restrained from presuming to commit their vil­lanies and damnable purposes. Now as the first kinde of feare said to bee good and necessary, is a great token of a commendable and vertuous nature, as that which for good cause is groun­ded vpon the feare of reproach and infamy, and vpon a desire to effect whatsoeuer belongeth to duty: so the one of these two last kindes testifyeth a vile, contemptible, and abiect nature; and the other a wicked and corrupt disposition. Plutarke speaking of this good feare, calleth Of the good feare. it one of the Elements and grounds of vertue, saying, that it is chiefly requisite & necessarie for those that haue authority ouer others, who ought to feare rather to practise euill, than to receiue punishment for the same, because the first is the cause of the latter, not onely to them­selues, but to so many as wallow in wickednesse, which is neuer without recompence. Ther­fore a prudent and well aduised man ought to haue this feare alwaies before his eies, I meane this childlike feare, which is vnseparably ioyned with the true loue we owe to our common It is ioyned with the true loue of God. Father, and is the beginning of all wisedome, whereby we are induced to honour him. And looke how much the more the ancient Pagans were kept in awe by this good feare, so much the more shall our condemnation be doubled, if we despise it. The duty also of this profitable feare is, to haue an eie vnto the good and safety of our country, and to cause vs faithfully to It causeth vs to respect the good of our countrey. discharge euery charge committed vnto vs, to the end we incure not perpetuall shame and infamy among all good men. It causeth vs to feare onely the dishonor of an vnaduised coun­sell or action, and to account it very seemely and honourable to be blamed and euill spoken of for well doing, which Alexander the Great said did well become a king. This good feare made Phocion who for his desert and valure was chosen Generall for the Athenians fiue and forty times, to say, that he would neuer counsell, but hinder to the vttermost of his power that enterprise of warre, which they would haue concluded against Alexander. For (said he) although the Athenians would cast away themselues, I will not suffer them to do so, because I haue for that intent and purpose taken vpon me the charge of a Captaine. And when De­mosthenes, who perswaded this war, said vnto him, The people will kill thee, if they enter into a fury. Phocion replied, Nay they will kil thee, if they be wel intheir wits. Antigonus the second, king of Macedonia, declared what benefite cometh of this good feare necessary for the fore­sight Antigonus. of a wise and experienced captaine in war, when retiring once from before his enemies who came to assaile him, and being told by certaine that he fled, hee answered, It is cleane contrary. For I looke backe to that profit which is behind me. As touching the opinion of the Ancients already mentioned, that to stand in feare of nothing is more hurtfull to Com­mon wealthes than forraine enemies: it is that which Scipio Nasica a Roman senator Scipio. Nasicai meant to signifie, when vpon the hearing of some, who saide that Rome was in safety, if Carthage were laide wast: he replyed, that it was far otherwise. For (said he) we are in greater danger now than euer, because we stand no more in awe of any whereb [...] he wisely inferred, [Page 116] that too great and vnlooked for prosperity of cities is commonly the cause of raising ciuill wars in them and secret diuisions, or else of bringing into them so great idlenes, that by it a gate is opened to all vices, as in truth it fell out with the Romanes. For they being in the top The effects of [...] great pro­speritie in cō ­mon wealths. of their felicity and greatnes, by reason of the destruction as well of the Carthaginians by Scipio the yoonger, as of the Macedonians vnder Perseus and Autiochus, the people began to abuse their authority, preferring vnto estates and places of honor, not the best and iustest ci­tizens, but such as flattered them most in their vices and dissolutenesse, and wan their hearts with prodigall and super fluou [...] feasts and distributions, to whom they sold their publike voi­ces. Whereupon in the end, those ciuill warres arose, which was the cause of their final ouer­throw, and of the alteration of their popular estate into a tyranny, afterwards called a Monar­chie. But this discourse being the matter of another subiect, let vs come to the defect of the vertue of Fortitude, which is a feare voide of reason and assurance, and argueth a faint and Of that feare which is the defect of Fortitude. cowardly heart, causing a man through want of sense and vnderstanding to account this the surest way, to doubt all thing [...], and to distrust euery one. Of this feare one of the ancient said, Feare taketh away memory and all good effects from euery art, and industry. Yea sometimes some haue bene found so faint hearted, that as soone as this feare seazed vpon them, they gaue vp the ghost; not being oppresed with any other euil or violence. It is in this passion that Feare and Griefe fully practise their power, being grounded vpon a false opinion of euill, & sworne enemies to all rest and tranquillity, gnawing and consuing life as iust doth steele or yron. Neither is this feare without an vntruly desire and immoderate ioy in things that are world­ly, base, and contemptible; whereupon the soule is continually carried hither and thither, with pernitious and immoderate passions, which depriue her of the excellency of her im­mortalitie, to attend to the mortall & corruptible affections of the flesh, Alexander spake of such as are possessed with this feare, when he said, that no place is so strong by nature & situ­ation, which feareful men iudge safe ynough. Therefore the Satyricall Poet said very wel, That Fortitude alwaies maketh timorous menlittle. For although they be born big of stature, yet the smal Timorous men are al­waies little. courage of their hearts makes them so much the more contemptible, bringing forth worse & more dangerous effects, & making them vnworthy of al intermedling with matters of estate, or policie, or of warre. In this number, among many whom histories mention, we may here reckon Claudius the first of Caesars, who was so faint hearted, base minded, and blockish, that Claudius. Caesar. his mother said often of him, that Nature had begun, but not finished him. And truly a heartlesse fellow, or one of little heart, is nothing else but a body without a soule. The memory of such men (of whom we see but too many examples among vs) ought to be buried in obliuion, and during their life time they should remaine vnknowne as well for their owne honor, as for the good of the common societie of men, to which they could not but be offen siue and hurtfull. For the most part they are not onely afraid of men, of the hazards of wars, of troubles and The feare of saint-hearts. seditions, of the dangers of long voyages, of the losse of their goods, of diseases, of dolors, yea, of the least discommodities and aduersities that can befall men: the euent of all which, cau­seth them vsually to forget all reason and duty, but they are also frighted with dreames, they tremble at sights and visions, they credite false abusing spirits, and with a forlorne feare they stand in a we of the celestiall signes. Briefly vpon the least occasions that may be, and such as are vnwoorthy the care of a prudent and valiant minde, they fall oftentimes into such vexa­tion of spirit, that they lose it altogether, and become mad and inraged: insomuch, that ma­ny haue hastened for ward with their owne hands, the end of their so miserable daies. As we reade of Mydas king of Phrygia, who being troubled and vexed with certaine dreames, Mydas. grew to be desperate, and died voluntarily by drinking the blood of a bull. Aristodimus also, king of the Messenians, being in warre against his subiects, it happened that the dogs howled like woolues, which came to passe by reason of a certaine herbe called Dogs teeth, growing about his altar at home. Whereupon vnderstanding by the Soothsayers that it was an euill Cassius. signe, he was strooken with such a feare and conceite thereof, that he slue himselfe, Cassius the captaine had a better heart when he answered a Chaldean Astrologian, who counselled him not to fight with the Parthians vntill the Moone had passed Scorpio; I feare not (quoth he) Scorpions, but Archers. This he spake because the Romane army had bin put to the worst before in the plaine of Chaldea by the Parthian archers. Neuertheles that which we spake of Base minds stand in great fear [...] of death and griefe. Mydas and Aristodemus is seldome followed, yea is rately found among cowardes, and base minded fellowes, who commonly flie from temporall death as much as may be, as also from griefe, which they feare in such sort, that contemning all vertue and iustice, they labour for nothing more, than to preserue their liues together with their carnall commdities, for the [Page 117] obtaining of which they seeme to liue cleane without all care of their soule, as if her portion were in this world, & should end together with the bodie. The effects of this feare of death are sufficiently felt of euery one in particular, the number of thē being very smal, who would not willingly make (as we say) a sluce to their consciences, that they might be deliuered ther­of. Let vs then confesse our selues to be feareful and faint hearted, and not boast of Fortitude and generositie of heart, which will not suffer vs to staud in feare, no not of certaine death in an holy and honest cause: so farre is it from fearing and forsaking duty through doubt of an vncertaine death. That which Spero [...] rehearseth in his dialogues of a gentleman of Padua, sufficiently sheweth what maruellous force is in the apprehension and conceite of death, which extendeth it selfe not onely vpon the spirits of men, but also changeth the nature of their bodies, who want constancie to beare and sustaine a small and light griefe for the enioy­ing of eternall goods. This yong gentleman beeing put in prison vpon some accusation, it was told him, that of a certaintie his head should be cut off the day following. Which newes A strange al­teration of a Gentlemans haire in one night. altered him in such sort, that in one onely night he was all white and graie-headed, whereof before there was no shew or appearance, and so he liued long time after. Besides, experience daily ministreth vnto vs sufficient proofe of the mischiefes which proceede of want of cou­rage and faint-heartednesse, especially in matters of estate, gouernment, and publike offices, wherein a fearefull and soft man, for euery reproch, dislike, or euill opinion of the world, yea of such as are most ignorant, and much more for the least dangers of his person, and for feare and threatnings of the greater sort, yeeldeth easily against all dutie, and suffereth himselfe to be drawne to the errour of the wicked and common sort. As for the middle and lesser sort, wherefore serue they being voide of reason and assurance? Homer saith, That king Agamemnon dispensed with a rich coward for going to warre personally, for a Mare which he gaue him. Wherein Agamemnon dispensed with a rich coward. truly he had great reason, because a fearefull man hurteth much and profiteth little, not onely in warre, but euen in euery good and vertuous action. This caused that great captaine Paulus Aemilius to say, that magnanimity and courage were for the most part reuerenced in euery enemie of theirs, but that cowardlinesse, although it had good successe, yet was it alwaies and of all men despised. I might here mention sundrie vices, which ordinarily grow and are nou­rished What vices proceed of cowardlines. of cowardlinesse and pusillanimitie, as namely, cruelty, treason, breach of promise, im­patience, idlenesse, sloath, couetousnesse, enuie, backbiting, and all iniustice; were it not that I hope these quele of our discourses will offer vs matter and occasion to handle these vices particularly, our houre not affoording vs time and leasure to enter vpon so many things to­gether. There remaineth yet a word to bee spoken of that feare which I said did accompa­ny the froward and wicked many times, being called by the Poet a seruile feare, which tho­rough the onely horror of punishment holdeth them backe from practising their wicked Of seruile feare. purposes. Of them spake Pythagoras when hee said, that hee which careth not for doing of euill in any other respect, but onely because he would not be punished, is very wicked. Now although such feare is accursed, and to be condemned in all, yet is it necessary for the preser­uation of humane society. For otherwise, all things would runne to confusion through the shamelesse malice of the wicked, of whom the earth is full. And it is a great deale better, that through such feare they should be restrained from their wicked desires and wils, than that they should without all feare a bandon themselues to put them in execution: albeit they are no way excusable before God, who requireth to be serued with heart and spirit. Neuertheles, such feare doth not alwaies stay them from putting their malice in effect, but the more they are restrained, so much the more are they inflamed and kindled with a desire to satisfie their corrupt will, which in the end is constrained to burst foorth, and euidently to shew that mis­chiefe which they kept secret a long time. But if the common sort (saith Seneca) be staied by lawes from committing euill, the Philosopher contrariwise hath reason for all lawes, doing good not because the law commandeth it, and abstaining from euill not because it forbid­deth it, but because he knoweth the one to be honest, and the other vile and wicked. Hauing now seene that vice which is cleane contrary to Fortitude, and knowing that euery vertue hath a counterfeit follower thereof, no doubt but Rashnesse is that vice which falsly shrow­deth it selfe vnder the title of Fortitude and valure. For this vertue easily ouerthroweth it selfe Of Rashnesse and of the effects thereof. if it be not vnderpropped with good counsell, and the greater abilitie it supposeth to haue in it selfe, the sooner it turneth aside to wickednesse, if prudence gouerne it not. This is that which Isocrates saith, that Fortitude ioyned with Prudence is auaileable, but otherwise it pro­cureth more euill than good to the possessors thereof. If Fortitude (saith Lactantius) without necessarie constraint, or for a dishonest matter hazardeth her selfe into dangers, shee [Page 118] changeth into rashnes. He that doth any thing at al aduentures (saith Aristotle) not cōsidreing how well he doth it, ought to be called vertuous: but only if he put it in executiō, after know­ledge, consultation & election. Therefore as it is a noble act to make such account of vertue, Who is a ver­tuous man. as for the loue thereof, not to feare the losse of life otherwise very deere: so is it a point of rash­nes and folly to contemnelife vpon a small & light occasion. Rashnes then is that which cau­seth a man with ioy of heart, and for a vaine and friuolous matter, to cast himselfe into certain and vndoubted dangers, & to desire earnestly to fall into them, to vndertake all things vnad­uisedly, and vnconstrained to expect those perils which he knoweth will fall vpon him. The elder Cato hearing certaine men, to commend one openly who desperately hazarded him­selfe, Cato. & was bold without discretiō in perils of war, said vnto them. That there was great differēce between much esteeming of vertue; & little weighing of life, as if he would haue said, That it is a cō ­mendable thing to desire life to be vertuous. And truly to liue and die are not of themselues good, but to do both of them rightly and in a good matter. So that to shun death, if it pro­ceede not from a faint heart, is not to be reprehended. But Rashnes is especially to be con­demned in Captaines and Heads of Armies, as that which procureth great dammage to kingdomes and Monarchies, and to so many as march vnder their conduct. This is that which Iphicrates an Athenian Captaine would haue vs learne, who compared in an army the Scouts lightly armed to the hands: the Horsemen to the feete: the battle of foote men to the Iphicrates comparison of an army to mans body. stomacke and breast: and the Captaine to the head of a mans body. For (said he) the Cap­taine that hazardeth himselfe too much, and throweth himselfe into danger without cause, is not retchlesse of his owne life only, but also of all those whose safety dependeth vpon him: and contrariwise, in taking care for the safegard of his owne person, he careth therewithall for all those that are vnder him. Isadas the Lacedemonian seeing Epaminondas with the The­ban army at hand against the Spartans, ready to force and take their Citie, vnclothed himselfe starke naked, putting off his shirt and all, and taking a Partisane in one hand, and a sword in The rashnes of Isadas. the other, he went with might & maine against his enemies, where he shewed great prowesse and valure. For which behauiour although he had a Crowne giuen him by the Seignorie ac­cording to the custome that was among them, yet he was fined, because he hazarded his life so rashly. Wee see daily among vs but too many examples of great mischiefes which befall men through their rashnes, led with ambition and desire of vaine glory. Therfore to conlude, and to draw some profite out of our present discourse, we say, that we ought to feare the in­curring of blame and dishonor for filthy and vnhonest matters, and for euill deeds, and are to shun all feare proceeding of want of courage, of pusillanimitie, and of a depraued and corrupt nature: This last, as proper and peculiar to the wicked, and the other, as that which maketh a man vnapt to all good and commendable things. And as it is an act of Prudence and Forti­tude to prouide for a tempest and for stormes to come, (when the ship is still in the Hauen) and yet not to bee afraid in the middest of stormes: so is it a point of rashnesse for a man to throw himself wittingly into an euident danger, which might be auoided without any breach of vertue and iustice. Therefore Plato saith, that timorous and rash men feare and enterprise vnaduisedly, whatsoeuer they take in hand, but that noble minds do all things with prudēce. This also is that which Seneca saith: Thou mayest be valiant if thou cast not thy selfe into perils, nor desirest to fall into them as timorous men doe: neither abhorrest or standest in feare of them, as beeing ti­morous. How a man may be vali­ant. But following the sage aduice of Cicero, before we enterprise any thing, we must not onely consider whether it be honest and commendable, but also whether there bee any like meanes to execute it, that neither through cowardlines we giue it ouer, not through greedy desire and presumption, wee purchase to our selues the reputation of rash men: obseruing moreouer in euery matter of importance this Maxime of estate, that before wee beginne any thing wee must diligently prepare and fore see whatsoeuer is necessary thereunto.

Of Magnanimitie and Generositie. Chap. 27.

VVHen that saying of Aristotle cometh to my remembrance, that Fortitude is a mediocrity in fearing and enterprising, but that Magnanimitie consisteth in great things, I am somewhat troubled in the vnderstanding of this sen­tence: because it seemeth he would put a differencee betweene Fortitude an Magnanimity, as if this latter had more excellency and perfection in it than the other. For this cause my com­panions hauing intreated this morning of the vertue of Fortitude, I propound now vnto you to discourse vnto vs what Magnanimity is.

Among mortall and perishing things, there is nothing (as the Philoso­phers say) that ought to trouble the Magnanimity of a noble hart. But I find that they pro­pound vnto vs in this word such a wisedome, as cannot be in him that remaineth all his life time subiect to affections and perturbations. For this they would not haue in true Magnani­mity, which notwithstanding is well able to bring foorth infinite woonderfull effects out of a noble minde, causing it to be neuer vnprouided of a good resolution to be put in execution according to the ouerthwarts that happen vnto him.

The property of a noble spirit (saith Cicero) is not to bee turned aside through ingratitude from the desire of dooing good to all men, euen to his enemies, as also to leaue carking for that which is mortall, that hee may embrace celestiall things. But wee shall vn­derstand more at large of thee AMANA, how these maruellous effects are workes of true Magnanimity.

Although the vertue of Fortitude be neuer perfected without Magnanimity What Magna­nimity is. (which is as much to say, as Generositie or noblenesse of heart) as that which vndoubtedly is comprehended vnder the first part of Fortitude, which Cicero calleth Magnificence, or a doo­ing of great and excellent things, yet notwithstanding it seemeth that this word Magnanimi­tie carrieth with it some greater & more particular Emphasis, and that a man may say, that the wonderfull effects thereof appeare principally in three points, whereof I purpose here to Magnanimity consisteth in three things. discourse. The first concerning extreame and desperate matters, as when a man is past all hope of sauing his life, wherein perfect Magnanimity alwaies knoweth how to finde out a conuenient remedie and wise consolation, not suffering himselfe to bee vexed therewith. The second respecteth duty towards enemies, against whom generositie will in no wise suffer a man to practise or consent to any wickednes, vnder what pretence soeuer it be, not for any aduantage which may be reaped therby. The third causeth a noble minded man to contemne and to account that thing vnworthy the care of his soule which others woonder at, and la­bour by all meanes to attaine, namely, strength, health, beauty, which the Philosopers call the goods of the body: and riches, honour and glory, which, they say, are the goods of Fortune: The goods of the body and of Fortune. and likewise not to stand in feare of their contraries. Amongst the woorthy and famous men of olde time, whose names and glorious facts crowned with an immortall Lawrell, are in­graued in the temple of Memory, we finde no praise woorthy of greater admiration, or that ought to awaken and stirre vs vp better in Christian duty, than the effects of this vertue of Magnanimity, vpon these three occasions presently touched. Whereof one effect is, that wee yeeld not against reason, nor passe the limits of duty by fainting vnder that heauy burden of The first effect of mag­nanimity. extreame distresses, which the horror of death bringeth with it: but that euen in the midst of greatest agony which seemeth intollerable in mans iudgement, wee shew such grauity and woorthines, that wee depart not in any sort from the peace and quietnes of our soules, but with constancy and cheerefulnes of spirit, meditate vpon the ioy of that hauen of saluation, which we behold with the eies of our soule, whereinto through a happy death at hand, wee shall shortly be receiued. Another effect is, that wee accomplish (so farre as our frailty can ap­proch to perfection) the commandement of the diuine will, by louing our neighbours as our The second effect. selues, and by abstaining, euen in regard of our greatest enemies, from dooing, procuring or consenting, yea by hindering that no treachery or treason should bee wrought them, nor any other thing vnbeseeming that naturall loue, which ought to be in euery one towards his like; and further, by procuring them all the good and profit that may bee. The third effect of this great vertue, no lesse wonderfull than the rest, is in that a noble minded man so long as The third effect. he liueth, wholy withdraweth his affection from worldly and corruptible things through a steadfast and constant reason, and lifteth it vp to the meditation and holy desire of heauenly and eternall things. The remedie which these great personages destitute of the right know­ledge of the truth, most commonly vsed when their affaires were past all hope of mans helpe, The common remedy of the Ancients in desperate cases. was death, which they chose rather to bring vpon themselues by their own hands, than to fal into the mercy of their enemies, wherby they supposed that they committed a noble act, wor­thy the greatnes of their inuincible courage. And if peraduenture they were surprised, and forced in such sort by their enemies, that they were compelled to become their prisoners, they neuer desired them to saue their liues, saying, that it beseemed not a noble heart; and that in so doing they should submit both heart and body to him, who before had but the body in his power, Cato the yonger being brought to such extremity in the town of Vtica, that by the ad­uice of all those that were with him, he was to send Embassadors to Caesar the Conqueror, to practise an agreement after submission to his mercy, yeelding thereunto in the behalfe of Cato of Vtica [Page 120] others, but forbad that any mention should bee made of himselfe. It belongeth (quoth he) to those that are ouercome, to make request, and to such as haue done amisse, to craue pardon. As for mee I will account my selfe inuincible so long as in right and iustice I shall be mightier then Caesar. He it is that is now taken and ouercome, because that which hitherto he denied to take in hand against the Common­wealth, is at this present sufficiently testified against him, and discouered. Neitther will I be beholding or bound to a tyrant for an vniust matter. For it is a point of iniustice in him to vsurpe the power of sauing their liues (like a Lord) ouer whom hee hath no right to command. After many other speeches of Philosophy vsed by him, and standing much vpon that Stoicall opinion, That onely a wise and good man is free, and that all wicked men are bond-men and slaues, he went alone into his chamber, The opinion of the Stoicks and slue himselfe with his sword. Sylla the Dictator hauing condemned to death all the in­habitants of Perouza, and pardoning none but his Host, hee also would needes die, saying: that he would not hold his life of the murtherer of his countrey, Brutus, after the battell lost Brutus. against Augustus Caesar, was counselled by certaine of his friends to flie: I must flie indeed (said he) but with hands, not with feete. And taking them all by the hand, he vttered these words with a very good and cheerefull countenance: I feele my heart greatly contented, because none of my friends haue for saken me in this businesse: neither complaine I of fortune at all, but onely so farre forth as toucheth my countrey. For I esteeme my selfe happier than they that haue vanquished, as long as I leaue behinde me a glorie of vertue for hazarding all liberally, to free from bondage my brethren and countri­men. Which praise our conquering enemies neither by might nor money can obtaine, and leaue to poste­ritie: but men will alwaies say of them, that being vniust and wicked, they haue ouerthrowne good men to vsurpe a tyrannous rule and dominion, that belongeth not vnto them. After he had thus spoken, hee tooke his sword, and falling vpon the point thereof, gaue vp the Ghost. Cassius also his compa­nion, caused his owne head to be cut off by one of his slaues, whom hee had made free, and kept with him long time before for such a necessity. The historie which we reade of the Nu­mantines, commeth in fitly for this matter which we haadle here. For after they had sustai­ned A notable hi­storie of the Numantines. the siege of the Romanes fourteene yeares together, and were in the end inclosed by Scipio with a great ditch of two and fortie foote in depth, and thirtie in bredth, which com­passed the citie round about, the Consul summoned them to commit themselues to the cle­mencie of the Romans, and to trust to their promise, seeing all meanes of sallying foorth to fight, and of recouering any victuals were taken from them. To whom they made this onely answer, that forasmuch as they had liued for the space of 338. yeares in freedome, they would not die slaues in any sort. Whereupon, such as were most valiant, assembled together and slue those that were most growne in yeares, with women and children. Then they tooke all the riches of the citie, and of the temples, and brought it into the midst of a great hall, and set­ting fire to all quarters of the citie, each of them tooke the speediest poyson they could finde: so that the temples, houses, and riches, and people of Numantia ended all in one day, leauing to Scipio, neither riches to spoyle, neither man or woman to triumph withall. For during the whole time wherein their citie was besieged, not one Numantine yeelded himselfe prisoner to any Romane, but slue himselfe rather than hee would yeeld. Which Magnanimitie caused Scipio to bewaile the desolation of such a people, in these wordes: O happie Numantia, which the gods had decreed should once end, but neuer bee vanquished. Now albeit these examples and infinite other like to these, are set foorth vnto vs by Historio­graphers, as testimonies of an excellent Magnanimitie, whereby they would teach vs both to bee neuer discouraged for the most tedious trauels and irkesome miseries of mans life; and also to stand so little in awe of death, that for feare thereof, much lesse for any o­ther torment or griefe, wee neuer commit any thing vnseeming a noble heart: yet not­withstanding, No man ought to ha­sten forward the end of his daies. no man that feareth God, and is willing to obey him, ought to forget him­selfe so much, as to hasten forward the end of his daies for any occasion whatsoeuer. This did Socrates know very well when he said, that wee must not suffer our soule to depart from the Centinell wherein shee is placed in this body, without the leaue of her Captaine: and that so weightie a matter as death, ought not (as Plato saith) to bee in mans power. But if it bee offered vnto vs by the will of God, then with a Magnanimous heart voide of all starting aside in any thing against dutie, wee must set free this passage, beeing stai­ed and assuredly grounded vpon that consolation, which neuer forsaketh a good consci­ence, not onely through the expectation of a naked and simple humane glory, which Alcibiades constancie and courage in death. most of the Heathen propounded to themselues, but of that life which abideth for euer: following therein the constancy of Alcibiades, a great Captaine of Grecia, who hearing the sentence of his condemnation to death pronounced, said: It is I that leaue the Athenians [Page 121] condemned to die, and not they mee. For I g [...] to seeke the gods where I shall bee immortall, but they shall remaine still amongst men, who are all subiect to death. Socrates also hauing a capitall ac­cusation laide against him wrongfully, directeth his speech to the Iudges, and saide vnto Socrates speech at his arraignment. them, that his accusers by their false depositions might well cause him to die, but hurt him they could not: adding further, that he would neuer leaue his profession of Philosophie for feare of death. I am perswaded (quoth he in Plato) that this my opinion is very good, namely, that euery one ought to abide constantly in that place and trade of l [...]fe, which either he hath chosen himselfe, or is appointed him by his superior: that hee must account that for the best, and hazard himselfe therein to all dangers, without feare either of death or of any other thing whatsoeuer. And therefore I should erre greatly, If I should now for feare of death forsake that rancke wherein God hath placed wee, and would haue he remainein, as I alwaies beleeued and thought [...] namely, that I should liue a student in Philosophie, correcting mine owne and other mens vices. Now, if I should doe otherwise, I might iustly bee accused for calling my selfe a wise man, not beeing so indeede: seeing to feare death, is to thinke that to bee, which is not. But neither I, nor any other man, ought to d [...]e all that wee may in iudgement or in What it is to feare death. war, to the end to auoide death. For it is very certaine, that he who would in time of battle cast downe his armour and flie away, might by that meane auoide death, (and the like is to be vnderstood in all dangers and perils) if hee were not afraid of infamie. But consider (O countreymen) that it is no very hard mat­ter to auoide death, but farre more difficult to eschue wickednesse and the shame therof, which are a great deale swifter of foote than that is. O speech worthy of eternall praise, and such a one as instructeth a Christian notably in a great and noble resolution: namely to runne the race of his short dayes in that vocation, whereunto God hath called him, and that in the middest of tortures, torments, and all agonies of death. From which, whilest wee expect a happie passage, wee ought to be no more destitute of an apt remedie in all those things, which according to the world are most irksome and desperate, but sustaine them with like constancy and woorthi­nesse, not departing from the tranquilitie and rest of our soules, which is a more noble act, than to hasten forward the end of our daies, that we may be deliuered of them. But howso­euer it bee, let vs alwaies preferre a vertuous and honest death, before any kinde of life, be it neuer so pleasant. And seeing that one and the same passage is prepared as well for the co­ward as the couragious, (it beeing decreed, that all men must once die) the louers of vertue shall doe well to reape to themselues some honor of common necessity, and to depart out of this life with such a comfort. Now to come to the second commendable effect of this vertue Examples of the second effect of mag­nanimity. Fabritius. of Magnanimity, whereof Heroicall men were so prodigall heretofore for the benefite and safety of their enemies, wee can bring no better testimony than the courteous fact of Fabritius the Romane Consul towards Pyrrhus, who made warre against him, and whose Phi­sition wrot vnto him, that he offered himselfe to murder his maister by poyson, and so to end their strife without danger. But Fabritius sent the letter vnto him, and signified withall, that hee had made a bad choise of friends, as well as of enemies, because he made warre with vpright and good men, and trusted such as were disloiall and wicked: whereof hee thought good to let him vnderstand, not so much to gratifie him, as least the accident of his death should procure blame to the Romanes, as if they had sought or consented to ende the warre by meanes of treason, not beeing able to obtaine their purpose by their vertue. Camillus a Camillus. Romane Dictactor, is no lesse to be commended for that which he did during the siege of the Citie of the Fallerians. For hee that was schoole master of the chiefest mens children among them, being gone out of the Citie, vnder colour to haue his youth to walke, and to exercise themselues along the walles, deliuered them into the hands of the Romane Captaine, saying vnto him, that he might bee well assured the Citizens would yeeld themselues to his deuoti­on, for the safety and liberty of that which was deerest vnto them. But Camillus knowing this to bee too vile and wicked a practise, saide to those that were with him, That although men vsed great outrage and violence in war, yet among good men certaine lawes and points of equity were to be obserued. For victory was not so much to bee desired, as that it should be gotten and kept by such cursed and damnable meanes, but a Generall ought to warre, tru­sting to his owne vertue, and not to the wickednesse of others. Then stripping the saide A good les­son for a Generall to learne. schoole master, and binding his hands behinde him, hee deliuered him naked into the hands of his schollers, and gaue to each of them a bundle of roddes, that so they might carry him backe againe into the citie. For which noble act the citizens yeelded themselues to the Ro­manes, saying: that in preferring iustice before victorie, they had taught them to choose ra­ther to submitte themselues vnto them, than to retaine still their libertie: confessing withall, that they were ouercome more by their vertue, than vanquished by their force and power. [Page 122] So great power hath Magnanimitie, that it doth not onely aduance Princes to the high­est degree of honor, but also abateth the heart of the puissant and warlike enemie, and oftentimes procureth victorie without battell. Truly we may draw an excellent doctrine out of these examples, which make all those without excuse, that spare nothing to at­taine to the end of their intents and deuices, making no difficulty, at the destruction of in­nocents, but exercising all kinde of crueltie, so they may ouerthrow their enemies by what meanes soeuer: vsing commonly that saying of Lysander, Admirall of the Lacedae­monians, That if the Lions skinne will not suffice, the Foxe his skinne also is to bee sewed on. But let vs resolutely hold this, that treason neuer findeth place in a noble heart, no more than the Treason and crueltie neuer finde place in a noble heart. bodie of a Foxe is found in a Lions bodie. Further, it is notoriously knowne, that the Ancients striued to procure all good and profite to their enemies, vsing clemencie and hu­manity towards them, when they had greater occasion and meanes to bee reuenged of them. Hereof wee may alleadge good examples, when wee discourse hereafter particular­ly of those vertues that are proper to a noble minded man, who ought to hate crueltie no lesse than treason. Wee are therefore to looke vnto the last effect, and sound proofe of Magnanimity and Generositie here propounded by vs, which wee said, consisted in the Of the third effect of Mag­nanimitie. contempt of earthly and humane good [...]. Wherein truely resteth the very perfection of a Christian, who lifteth vp his desires to his last and soueraigne Good in heauen. Now, be­cause there are but few that loue not themselues too much in those things that concerne the commodities of this life, and fewer that seeke not after glorie and honour, as a recom­pence of their excellent deeds, and that desire not riches earnestly to satisfie their pleasure; in these three point also a noble minded man causeth his vertue to appeare more wonder­full, because hee doth not iudge them to be a worthy reward for the same, but rather alto­gether vnworthie the care of his soule, for which principally hee desireth to liue. This is that which Cicero saith that it is not seemely that hee should yeeld to couetousnesse and con­cupiscence, who could not bee subdued by feare, or that hee should bee ouercome by plea­sure, who hath resisted griefe: but rather that these things ought to bee shunned by all possible meanes, together with the desire of money, seeing there is nothing more vile and abiect than to loue riches nor more noble than to despise them. This also is that which Plato saith, that it belongeth to the dutie of a noble heart not onely to surmount feare, but also to moderate his desires and concupiscences, especially when he hath libertie to vse them, whether it bee in the pleasure of the bodie, or in the ambitious desire of vaine-glorie, ho­nour and power. In this sort then, hee that hath a right noble and woorthy minde, will no more weigh greatnesse among men and estimation of the common sort, than hee doth griefe and pouertie, but depending wholly vpon the will of God, and contenting himselfe with his workes wrought in him, hee will not that any good thing vpon earth can bee ta­ken from him. And because he aspireth to those things that are best, highest, and most diffi­cult, hee abideth free from all earthly care and griefe, as beeing long before prepared for all dolours, through the contempt of death, which bringeth an end to the greatest and most excessiue pangs, serueth him for an entrance into eternall rest. Wee haue already alledged many examples of ancient men, fit for this matter which now we speake of, and the sequele of one treatises will furnish vs with mo when we shall come to intreate of riches and worldly wealth, whereof we are to speake more at large. But here we will propound Aristides onely Aristides. to be imitated, who was a worthy man among the Athenians, whose opinion was, that a good citizen ought to be alwaies prepared alike to offer his bodie and minde vnto the seruice of the commonwealth, without hope or expectation of any hire & mercenary reward either of money, honour, or glory. And so with an vnspeakable grauity and constancie, hee kept himselfe alwaies vpright in the seruice of his countrey, in such sort that no honour done vnto him could cause him either to bee puffed vp in heart, or to bee more earnest in imploying himselfe: (as it is the manner of some to doe seruice according as they are recompenced) neither could any repulse or deniall which hee suffered, abate his courage or trouble him, or yet diminish and lessen his affection and desire to profit his common-wealth. Whereas now adaies wee see that the most part of men with vs vpon a small discontentment, labour to make publike profite to serue their desires and passions, in stead of giuing themselues to the good and benefit of their country. Now concluding our present discourse, we learne that Magnanimitie [...] inuincible. true and perfect Magnanimity and Generosity is in inuincible and inexpugnable, because vp­on this consideration, that death is the common end of mans life, & that happy passage to life euerlasting, she despiseth it altogether, & makes lesse account therof than of bondage & vice; [Page 123] sustaining also with a great and vnappalled heart, most cruell torments, not being mooued thereby to doe any thing that may seeme to proceede of the common weakenesse, and frail­tie of mans nature. Further we learne that this vertue maketh him that possesseth her, good, gentle, and curteous, euen towards his greatest enemies, against whom it suffereth him not to vse any couin or malice, but keepeth him alwaies within the limits of equitie and iustice: causing him further to make choice of and to finish all honest matters of his owne will, and for their loue, not caring at all for mortall and corruptible things, that he may wholly appre­hend and take hold of those things that are diuine and eternall

Of Hope. Chap. 28.

COnsidering that the perfection of a wise mans life consisteth in the pra­ctise Wherein the perfection of a wise mans life consisteth of great and excellent things, hee that is borne to vertue feeleth himselfe touched to the quicke with desire to bring them to passe. But the instabilitie and small assurance which hee knoweth to be in that which dependeth vpon the doubtfull euent of euery high enterprise, oftentimes cooleth his vertuous intents, if a certaine confidence and good hope did not make easie vnto him the meanes of attaining thereunto. Likewise, when hee feeleth the sharpe pricking that proceedeth from the o­uerthwarts and miseries of man, which sequester themselues very little from his life, hee is soone daunted with sorrow and care, if hee haue not this hope that comforteth him with expectation of speedie redresse. Of you therefore (my companions) wee shall vnderstand the excellency of this Good that belongeth to the soule and is so necessarie for a happy life, I meane Hope, which dependeth of the vertue of fortitude, whereof wee haue discoursed all this day.

Learned men (saith Bias) differ from the ignorant sort in the goodnesse of hope, which truly is very profitable, sweete and acceptable to a prudent man. But euill hope lea­deth carnall men, as a nauty guide, vnto sinne.

As good hope serueth to increase strength in a man, so rash hope often­times beguideth men. But it belongeth to thee ASER to handle this matter.

Alexander the Great beeing by the States of all Graecia chosen generall Cap­taine to passe into Asia, and to make warre with the Persians, before hee tooke shippe hee Alexander re­serued hope onely for himselfe. inquired after the estate of all his friends to know what meanesthey had to follow him. Then hee distributed and gaue to one lands, to another a village, to this man the custome of some hauen, to another the profite of some borough towne, bestowing in this manner the most part of his demeanes and reuenewes, And when Perdicas one of his Lieuetenants demanded of him what hee reserued for himselfe: hee answered Hope. So great confidence had this noble Monarch, not in the strength of his weapons, or multitude of good war­riors desirous of glorie and honour, but in his owne vertue, beeing content and satis­fied with a little, in his incontinencie, beneficence, contempt of death, magnani­mitie, Properties requisite in a Generall. curtesie, gracious entertainment, beeing easie to bee spoken with, hauing a free disposition by nature, without dissimulation, constant in his counsels, readie and quicke in his executions, willing to bee the first in glorie, and alwaies resolute to doe that which dutie commaunded. From this Hope thus surely grounded, hee neuer shrunke, vntill the last gaspe of his life: which caused him to make this answere to Parmenio, who counselled him to accept of the offers which Darius made vnto him for peace: namely, sixe thousand talents, beeing in value sixe Millions of golde, and the halfe of his king­dome, with a daughter of his in marriage; If I were Parmenio, I would accept of his pro­fers. Besides, hee sent word to Darius, that the earth could not beare two Sunnes, nor Asia two kings. Neither was hee deceiued of his good hope, which led him to such a perfection of worldly glory and felicitie, that he was the first and last that euer approched neere vnto it. This Hope was that foundation whereupon so many great and excellent Heathen men and Pagans built their high and noble interprises. For proofe hereof may bee alleadged that definition which Cicero giueth of Confidence, being the second part of Hope, affirming it to be that vertue, whereby the spirit of man putteth great trust in weightie and honest mat­ters, hauing a certaine and sure hope of himselfe. And elswhere he saith that he shall neither The definiti­on of confi­dence. reioyce, nor be troubled out of measure, that trusteth in himselfe. But we know that this Hope [Page 124] is weake and vncertaine, if it bee not setled and grounded vpon a sure expectation of the helpe and grace of God, without which wee can neuer prosper. Now this is out of doubt, Our hope must bee grounded vp­on the grace of God. Of vaine hope. that wee cannot hope and waite for that grace, vnlesse our counsels and enterprises, haue reason for their guide, and right and equitie for their bounds. For (as an ancient man saith) that man hopeth in vaine that feareth not God, and they onely are filled with good hope, whose consciences are cleane and pure. So that all they that are led with sundry euill passi­ons, either of ambition, of vaine-glorie, or of any other vnbrideled desire, can neuer haue that happie and good hope, which neuer deceiueth men. And indeede they misse often­times of their intent, yea, are depriued of that which was their owne and certaine, because they are desirous to get vniustly another mans right, beeing also vncertaine. The selfe same thing falleth out to those that trust and stay in such sort vpon their owne strength, vertue and constancie, that fearing in no respect (as they say) the greatest calamities that can come to man, assure themselues in their prosperitie to bee inuincible in their resolutions, and pre­sume that nothing is able to pull them downe, or to cause them to change their opinion: and yet so soone as the winde of aduersity bloweth, they are the first that are throwne to the ground, and soonest shew foorth the inconstancy and imbecillity of mans nature left to it Who are soo­nest throwne downe with acuersitie. Wenclaus. selfe. As contrariwise, they to whom God giueth eies to acknowledge themselues, are then humbled, so that they reuerence the ordinance of God, who derideth all the enterprises of men. The practise hereof was well knowne to Wencelaus king of Hungary, beeing driuen out of his kingdome, and forsaken of his owne, who oftentimes vsed to say, The hope I had in men hindered me from putting my trust in God: but now that all my confidence is in him, I assure my selfe that he will helpe me by his diuine goodnesse. As indeed it fell out so vnto him, beeing reesta­blished againe in all his estates and dignities. But to the end we confound not together that which The diuision of hope. is simply diuine, with that which is humane, I thinke we ought to make a double hope, the first, true, certaine, and vnfallible, which concerneth holy and sacred mysteries: the other doubtfull respecting earthly things onely. As touching the first, we know things to come by the assurance thereof, as well as if they were already done. Wee are taught in the holy Scripture what is the vndoubted certaintie of this hope, which through faith ought Of the true and insallible hope. to bee so imprinted in our hearts, that by the strength, power, and vertue thereof, wee should runne the race of our short daies in all ioy, happinesse and peaceable tranquillitie of our minds, expecting without doubting the perfect and absolute enioying of those goods that are immortall, vnutterable and endlesse in the second and eternall life. Without this hope grounded vpon the free goodnesse of the Almighty, let vs assuredly perswade our selues, that mans estate is more miserable than that of brute beasts, seeing this is, the one­ly way of his saluation. The other hope which concerneth this present life onely in all such Of earthly hope. things as we propound to our selues for the benefit and contentation therof, hath such need to be ruled, guided, and referred to the happie end of the first excellent and heauenly hope that otherwise it cannot but be doubtfull, inconstant, and rash, what humane reason soeuer wee can alleadge to perswade the possibility of attaining to the end of our pretended deui­ces, which in one moment may be quite ouerthrowne, the occasions whereof beeing for the most part secret and hid from vs. Moreouer the imperfection of whatsoeuer men com­monly most esteeme vpon earth is so great, that together with their continuall vncertaintie, the perturbations which hinder the tranquillitie of the soule, redouble and abound so much the more, as the enioying of these earthly commodities increase and augment, leauing in man a continuall desire to multiplie them, and a feare to lose them. As touching this hope therefore of humane things which wee wish might alwaies prosper with vs, wee may well hope what wee will, but withall wee must prepare and settle our selues to support constant­ly whatsocuer falleth out, that that which commeth vnto vs against our expectation: and that wee neuer vse such repinings as these, vnbeseeming a wise man, I would neuer haue thought it: I looked for another matter: I would neuer haue supposed that such a thing could haue Speeches vn­beseeming a wise man. The [...]ru [...]te of hope. happened. In the meane while wee must not omitte to Hope the best alwaies in our crosses and calamities, because nothing lenifieth so much the sharpnesse of present aduersities as the hope of future benefit, the certaine expectation where of as it were stealeth away our labours, and causeth all feare of perill to vanish away. This is that which Apollodorus saith, that we must neuer be discouraged for aduersities, but alwaies hope for better things. The calamities of mortall men (saith Euripides) in the end leaue of themselues: and as the winds do not alwaies blow vehemently, so happie men are not euer fortunate. The one flieth from the other: but he is a good man, who is alwaies full of good hope, Pindarus calleth it the nurse of olde age. [Page 125] Thales said, that nothing in all the world was more common than Hope, because it abideth with them also that haue no other goods. The Elpisticke Philosophers affirmed, that no­thing better maintained and preserued the life of man, than Hope. And truely without hope, which easeth the burthen of mans miseries, the world were not able to sustaine life. Our life would be in­supportable without hope. For it greatly helpeth man to liue contentedly and happily, if, as wee said, it haue respect to the best ende, vnto which all our desires and inclinations ought to bee referred, and ought to bee gouerned thereby according to reason and iustice. Otherwise it is certaine that a man can neuer peaceably and to his contentation, enioy his present estate and con­dition, but alwaies some new hope of better things to come, will cause him to neglect that whereof hee is assured, and to runne after an vncertainty, vntill in the ende beeing of­ten deceiued and missing of his purposes and enterprises, hee bee ouerthrowne quite through his great hope. Therefore Plato writeth, that Fortune is more contrary to that man whom shee suffereth not to enioy that which hee hath, than to him whom shee denieth to graunt that which he demandeth of her. This gaue occasion to Cineas (a very wiseman, and so excel­lent Cineas talke with Pyrrhus concerning his great hope. an Orator, that one writeth of him, that hee brought more townes in subiection to his master Pyrrhus by his tongue, than himselfe did by his valure) when he saw that although this king might enioy a happy peace and quietnesse, if hee would bee contented to reigne peaceably ouer his subiects: yet hee burned with desire to vndertake warre against Italy; to enter into talke with him, and to aske of him this question. If Sir, the gods shew vs this fa­uour that wee should remaine Conquerors in this warre, what good would the victorie doe vs? Wee might afterward (answered Pyrrhus) easily subdue the Graecian and Barbarian cities bordering vpon that countrey. Well, when this is done, (replied Cineas) what shall we doe afterward? Sicilia (answered Pyrrhus) will of it selfe yeelde vnto vs. Shall Sicilia then (quoth Cineas) ende our warre? What will stay vs after (quoth this Monarch) from passing into Afrike and to Carthage, and from the recouerie of the kingdome of Macedonia with ease, that so wee may command all Graecie without contradiction? Whereunto Cineas replyed, When all is in our power, what shall wee doe in the ende? Pyrrhus beginning to smile, said, Wee will rest vs at our ease, my friend, liuing in all pleasure, and as merrily as may be. Then Cineas hauing brought him to that point which hee desired, said vnto him: And what Sir, letteth vs from rest at this present, and from liuing in ioy and pleasure, seeing wee haue all things requisite and necessary, without seeking it with so much effusion of mans bloud, be­sides infinite hazards and dangers, and that in such places where it is vncertaine whether we shall finde it: These wise speeches sooner offended Pyrrhus than caused him to change his minde. And although this Prince could not doubt at all what happinesse and great felicity he for sooke, yet was it vnpossible to take the hope of that which he desired out of his minde. Wherefore Antigonus king of Macedonia compared him very fitly to a Dice plaier, to whom Pyrrhus com­pared to a Dice-plaier. the Dice speake faire by giuing vnto him good chances, but yet so that hee cannot cast the same againe to serue his turne. For he lost that by hope, which he had gotten indeed, desiring so earnestly that which he had not, that he forgat to make that sure which was already in his possession. And indeed it fell out very vnhappily with him in the ende. For after hee had fought prosperously a certaine time, hee was discomfited by the Romans, and being after be­siedged, was slaine with a tile which a woman let fall vpon his head. Was there euer Monarch who ought rather to haue contented and delighted himselfe peaceably in the enioying of his vnspeakeable prosperities than Iulius Caesar? And yet not beeing satisfied with the Romane Caesar was led continually with new hope. Empire, which he had obtained by so many trauels and innumerable dangers, hee made pre­paration (whilest the conspirators sought his death) to goe himselfe in person to warre against the Parthians. So that as long as he liued, the hope of that which was to come, caused him to contemne the glory gotten by his former deeds, and to depriue himselfe of that commenda­tion, which he should haue no lesse deserued in preseruing himselfe, and in the good gouern­ment of his great estate, than he did in conquering the same: whereof hee reaped no other benefit, but onely a vaine name and glorie of small continuance in his life time, which pro­cured him the enuie and hatred of his countriemen, so that hee was murdered with three and twentie blowes of the sword on his body, after hee had ouerliued Pompey (who was vanquished by him) foure yeares onely, or little more. Histories are full of sun­drie such alterations, which commonly follow them that are not content with their e­state: from whence wise men and of good iudgement may draw this instruction, to limitte their thoughts and desires. For as Diodorus the Athenian said, these two things Two things hurtfull to men. are very hurtfull to men, Hope and Loue, of which the one leadeth, and the other [Page 126] accompanieth them; the one seeketh out the meanes to execute their thoughts, and the other perswadeth them with good successe. And although these two things are not seene with the eye, yet are they mightier then visible punishments. Hereof came that old pro­uerbe, that proud men fat themselues with vaine hope, which by little and little choaketh them, as a naughty fat doth mans bodie. And if wee bee willing to keepe our selues from so dangerous a downefall, let vs cure our soules of all hurtfull hope, and let reason and dutie (as wee haue already said) leade and limit all our affections and enterprises, considering wisely their begin­ning, namely, that we ground them vpon right & equity onely, knowing that they ought not to be iudged of by the euent and end of them, which oftentimes seeme to fauour vniust We must not iudge of en­terprises by the euents. counsels and doings. And this offereth some colour and occasion to the wicked to prose­cute their dealings, hauing no care of violating right and iustice. But howsoeuer it bee, a miserable end bringeth them an ouer late repentance. Neither let vs perswade our selues, that the issue of our imaginations and enterprises, although they be well grounded, shall certain­ly fall out according to our meaning; (for this is that hope, which greatly hurteth, and most of all troubleth them) but let vs know, that as in all things which grow, there is alwaies some corruption mingled in them) it being necessarie that all mortall seedes should presently bee partakers of the cause of death) so from the same fountaine ill happe floweth vnto vs in Ill hap is more com­mon than good. great measure, yea sooner and more abundantly than good successe. Which thing Homer willing to giue vs to vnderstand, fained that there were two vessels at the entrie of the great Olympus, the one being full of hony, the other of gall, of which two mingled together Iupiter causeth all men to drinke. And Plutarke saith, that men can neuer purely and simply enioy the case of any great prosperitie, but whether it be fortune, or the enuy of destitute, or else the naturall necessitie of earthly things, there case is alwaies intermingled in their life time, with euill among the good; yea in the like mishap, that which is worse surmoun­teth the better. All these things beeing considered of vs, they will make vs more aduised and staied in all our counsels and aduices, and in such sort affected and prepared with true prudence, fortitude and magnanimitie, that whatsoeuer hapneth vnto vs, wee shall not bee troubled or farther mooued, but receiue it, as hauing long before expected and looked for it. This doth Seneca very learnedly teach vs, saying: that wee ought not to be astonished or maruell at vnlooked for chances that light vpon vs, but prepare and conforme our hearts Seneca adui­seth vs to pre­pare our selues to all euents. to all euents that may come vnto vs, premeditating and thinking aforehand, that wee are borne to suffer, and that nothing commeth to passe, which ought not to be. Destinie (saith he) leadeth those that are consenting, and draweth gainsayers by force. Neither ought wee, through doubt of that which is to come, to neglect good, heroicall, and farre remooued hopes of excellent things, hauing thus grounded them as wee haue said. For wise and famous per­sonages desirous of honour and glorie, were alwaies of opinion, that they ought to bee entertained and kept in a sound and setled resolution of the minde, because of the varie­tie of accidents, which daily happen contrary to the common opinions of men: wherein experience teacheth vs, that according to the direction of a good spirit, and the good successe that followeth and accompanieth it, whatsoeuer concerneth the managing of What the au­thor vnder­standeth by the word Fortune. worldly affaires, is changed, and turneth about with the moouing of fortune, if be it law­full for vs vnder this Heathen word to vnderstand the ordinance of God. Therefore to end our present discourse, wee will note this, that first wee are to defend our selues by the grace of God, with that happie and certaine hope which can neuer deceiue or confound any, be­ing a certaine guide to keepe vs in this long and tedious pilgrimage from going astray out of the way of saluation. Secondly from this, the prop, stay, and comfort of mans life against all miseries and calamities will flow and issue. Thirdly and lastly, wee shall bee stirred vp to all great and noble workes, for the good and common profit of euery one, referring the euents of them to the wonderfull counsell of the prouidence of God, and receiuing them a [...] iust, good and profitable.

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

IF vertue consisteth in hard matters, if that which commeth nearest to the diuine nature, and is most vneasie and least of all vsed of all men, better beseeming a valiant and noble minded man, than any other thing whatsoeuer; no doubt but patience is the very same thing: whereof the Scripture teacheth vs, that God is the author, and that he putteth it in Rom. 15. 5. Exod. 34. 9. daily practise among his creatures, deferring the full punish­ment of their faults by expecting their repentance. Further this vertue so much resembleth fortitude, whereof we discoursed yesterday that we may say with Cicero, that Fortitude is borne of her, or else with her, seeing there is nothing so great and burthen some, which shee cannot easily sustaine and ouercome, euen the violentest and most common passions of mans nature, as impatiencie, choler & 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 (saith Plautus) is a remedie for all griefes. Endure patiently, and Patience a salue for all sores. blame not that which thou canst not auoide. 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. Neuerthelesse, it is the point of a wise man (saith Horace) to set a good face vpon that which must needs 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 suddaine vehemen­cie those things which they had begun with a quiet spirit and minde, throwing downe at one blow whatsoeuer they had builded with long labour. But of thee ACHITOB wee shall vnderstand the praise and propertie of this vertue of Patience, with the contrary effects thereof, namely, Impatience, Choler and Anger, and the meanes to shun and auoide 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 Of the Stoi­call Patience. the fatall cause of necessitie, requiring such exactnesse and perfection thereof in men, that they would haue a noble heart to be no otherwise touched with aduersitie than with pros­peritie, nor with sorrow full 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: briefely, that in al other humane and necessary vses of nature, there was no more euill in one kinde, than in another. Whereby it seemeth that these Philosophers delighted in painting out a picture of such patience, as neuer was, nor shall bee among men, except first they should be vnclothed of all humane nature, or become as blockish and sencelesse as a stone. For so long as man remaineth in this life, hee cannot be voide of affections and perturbations, that draw the soule to care and to prouide for the bodie, 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 wee say that vertue, which is a habite of comelinesse and mediocritie in affections, Vertue is nei­ther without affection, nor subiect to af­fections. ought neither to be without her motions, nor yet too much subiect to passions. For the abo­lishing of desire maketh the soule without motion, and without ioy euen in honest things: as on the otherside ouer vehement motions thereof altogether trouble her, and cause her to be as it were beside her 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 wee 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. Therefore true patience which wee ought to imbrace in all things, not as compelled and of necessitie, but cheerefully and as restoring in our welfare, Of true pa­tience. is a moderation and tolerance of our euils, which, albeit we sigh vnder the heauy burthen [Page 218] of them, cloth 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 piety and godlinesse, ioyned with a free and cheerefull mind, vnder the yoke and obedience of the iust and rightfull will of God, through a certaine expectation of things pro­mised, and causeth vs to iudge impatiency to be contumacie and rebellion to this diuine will, 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 The definitiō of patience. law saith, that it is a very good thing to keepe the tranquility of our spirit as much as may be in aduersities, and not to complaine of that which is vncertaine: because men know not whether that which is light vpon them be good or euill for them, as also because sorrow can not helpe that which is to come, but rather hindereth the curing of the euill: and lastly, be­cause there is nothing in humane matters, whereof 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 couragiously. It skilleth not what we endure, but how we endure it. And then doth patience preuaile most, when we know that whatsoeuer we haue done, was executed of vs for godlinesse sake. The conflict of Patience (saith Euripides) is such, that the vanquished is better than the vanquish­er. The fruits of patience. And let vs not thinke that there is any calamity, 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 suffering of labours, calamities, trauels, and difficult matters, for the loue of honesty and of vertue. And when all things are ouerthrowne, and counsaile will doe no more good, there is but this one onely 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 disordered, may be brought againe to good order, as that wise Emperor, Marcus Aurelius would giue vs to vnderstand, when hee said, That patience had no lesse holpen him in the gouernment of his estate than knowledge Likewise it is for the most part followed of courtesie and gentlenesse, which make him well liked of that is adorned therewith, and sooner draweth good will, the cause of mans obe­dience, then force or violence doth. He that is slow to anger (saith the wise, is better than the Prou. 16. 32. mighty man, and he that ruleth his owne minde, is better than he that winneth a citie. True patience loueth the afflictions which she suffereth, causing him that possesseth her to giue praise to God in the midst of aduersities, and to submit himselfe to his iudgement when he is pressed with diseases: neither can pouertie keepe him backe from commending highly his bounty and goodnes. To be short, as a pearle sheweth her beautie euen in the midst of a pud­dle: so a patient man causeth his vertue to appeare in all aduersiites. Moreouer this patience which we shew in aduersities, mooueth those to compassion and pittie that see vs suffer Which thing as it greatly comforteth in affliction, so oftentimes it causeth others to reape in­estimable benefit, when they behold vs to suffer vniustly. For it serueth to awaken and to strengthen the weake in the knowledge of their duty, that they suffer not themselues to bee deceiued with the poysonfull sweetnesse 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 guided to their proper end without her. And as she is a branch of Magnanimity, Forti­tude, and greatnes of courage: so Impatience is a weakenes and imbecility of a base, vise, and Of impatien­cy, choler, & wrath. contemptible nature, wherein choler, and in the end wrath, are easily ingendred: which are two very pernitious passions in the soule, and differ nothing from fury (as the elder Cato said) but onely in this, that they continue a lesser time, and this a longer. This is that which Possi­donius teacheth vs, sayings that anger is nothing else but a short fury. Aristides called it the inflammation of blood, and an alteration of the heart. Cicero saith, that that which the La­tines The definiti­on of anger. call Anger, is named of the Graecians desire of reuenge. And Solon being demanded to whom a man fraught with Anger, might be compared, answered: To him that maketh no account of loosing his friends, and careth not atlhough 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 Plutarke saith) are no lesse proude, presumptuous, and vneasie to be guided by another, than a great and mighty tyranny: insomuch that a ship giuen ouer to the mercy of the winds & stormes, would sooner of it selfe receiue a Pilot from without, than a man carried 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, chasing, and noyse, that he neither see­eth nor heareth any thing that would profite him, vnlesse he make prouision long time be­fore [Page 129] to suecour himselfe with reason through the studie of wisedome, whereby he may be a­ble to ouerthrow his impatiencie and choler, which argue and accompany for the most part a weake and effeminate heart. And that this is true, we see that women are commonly soo­ner Who are most giuen to im­patiencie and choler. driuen into choler then men▪ the sicke then the sound: the old than the yoong: all vici­ous, gluttonous, iealous, vaine-glorious, and ambitious men, than those that vnfainedly hate vice. Whereby it is euident enough, that choler proceedeth from the infirme and weake part of the soule, and not from the Generosity thereof. Neither doth it make against our saying, to alleadge the opinion of Aristotle, and of all the Peripateticks, who maintained that wee ought to moderate these affections and passions of the soule: but otherwise that they were necessarie to pricke men forward to vertue. Yea Aristotle saide, that choler was as a whetstone Aristotle con­trary in opini­on. to sharpen and set an edge vpon Fortitude, and Generositie. The Accademicks, and Stoicks contend greatly against this opinion, and namely Cicero and Seneca, who said, that for as much as choler is a vice, it cannot be the cause of vertue, seeing they are two contrary things that haue nothing common together. And considering that Fortitude proceedeth from an aduised consultation and election of reason, which perfecteth the worke, whereas choler hin­dereth and troubleth it in such sort, that an angrie man cannot deliberate, it is not possible that it should stand him in any stead in the performance of excellent actions. And this is an in­vincible reason, because vertue commeth not of vice. Now, this being the ende 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 discommodity which accompany impaciency 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 our selues thereof. First let vs know, that although men may be mooued to wrath and choler for diuerse causes, yet How impati­ency and cho­ler may be cu­red. vnto all of them, the opinion of being contemned and despised is commonly ioyned. And therfore the true and soueraigne remedy for this, (that so we may auoide such a cold and slen­der occasion of entring into choler against our neighbors, altogether vnbeseeming the loue we owe them) will be to put from vs as much as may bee, all suspition of being despised and contemned, or of brauerie and boldnesse, and to lay all the fault either vpon necessitie or negligence, vpon chance, vntowardnesse, lacke of discretion, ignorance, or want of experience which are oftentimes 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, whereunto they shew themselues so much affectionated. But they testifie suffi­ciently, that they neuer knew wherein true honour consisteth, which is no more separated from vertue then the shadow from the body: also that they know not what patience is, accoun­ting it rather to be faint-heartednesse and cowardlinesse, than a part and daughter of the vertue What the wicked iudge of patience. of Fortitude and Generosity, ye iudging it a dishonour to a man that is contumeliouslie handled, not to render the like again. But contrariwise we are to know, that to support & en­dure wrong and 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 engrauen in his heart; Thou shalt not auenge, nor be mindefull 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 hereafter Leuit. 19. 18. Deut. 32. 35. we shall discourse of this subiect by it selfe, which deserueth to be handled more largely. Fol­lowing therefore our matter, we must vnderstand, that choler is bred of a custome to bee an­gry Wherof cho­ler is bred. for small things, & afterward becommeth easily afire of sudden wrath, a reuenging bit­ternesse, and an vntractable sharpenesse, 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 easiely a­voide, or at least scatter it. Moreouer this will be a great meane to ouercome our choler if wee obey it not, nor giue credite vnto it from the very first instant wherein it beginneth to ap­peare, A good way to remedie choler. imitating Socrates therein, who, whensoeuer he felt himselfe somewhat more eagerlie mooued against any man than he ought (like to a wise Pilot that getteth himselfe vnder the Lee of some rock) let fall his voice gently, shewing a smiling countenance and more curteous looke, thereby setting himselfe directly against his passion. Besides, it will greatly helpe vs, if when wee are mooued with anger, wee stay our tongue a certaine space, and delay a little [Page 130] 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 beene in his thought. Vn­to this fitly agreeth that counsaile which Athenodorus taking his leaue, gaue to Augustus the The coun­saile that A­thenodorus gaue to Au­gustus. Emperor to stay the pernitious effects of quicke & readie choler. This Philosopher minding to teach some remedy to be opposed at the very instant when this monarch should feele him selfe ouertaken with anger, whereunto he easily suffered himselfe to be carried; willed him to rehearse the foure and twenty letters of the Greeke alphabet before he did any thing in his an­ger. But knowing, this that it is a special property of mans imbecillity to be stirred vp to an­ger and to bee troubled, let vs follow that commandement of the Scripture. Not to sin in our anger, neither to let the Sunne goe downe vpon our wrath, least wee shew our selues to haue lesse Eph 4. 26. vertue and curtesie than the Ethnike Pythagorian Philosophers, who albeit they were nei­ther kin nor allied, yet kept this custome inuiolable, that if peraduenture they were entred into A notable cu­stome of the Pythagorian [...] br [...]ke his glasses to auoid o [...] ­ons of wrath. some contention and choler one against another, before the Sunne went downe, they appointed a mee­ting where they imbraced and shooke hands o [...]e with another. Further wee haue carefully to a­uoide all occasions which wee know might induce and prouoke vs to anger. As Cotis king of Thracia wisely behaued himselfe, when one brought him a present of many goodly ves­sels curiously made and wrought, but verie brittle, and easie to breake, because they were of glasse. After hee had well recompenced the gift, he brake them all for feare, least through choler, whereunto he knew himselfe subiect, he should bee 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 good instruction for all those that are placed in authority aboue others, Magistrates ought not to punish any in their choler. namely, that they beware least they correct or punish any body in their choler, but onelie 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 carrieth Princes headlong to commit execra­ble and cursed cruelties. Among many examples we may note that of the Emperor Theodo­sius, who being mooued with anger against those of Thessalonica for a cōmotion which they made, and for slaying his lieutenant, sent his armie thither, with commandement that they As Theodo­sius did. should bee 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 hee willed that the execution of his letters Patents and commandements should bee held in suspence and deferred, thirtie daies 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 bee commit­ted to such as suffer themselues to be ouer ruled with wrath, seeing there are not in a man­ner fewer matters which are to be winked at and dissembled, than to bee punished and cor­rected. And although Magistrates haue authority and iust cause to punish vices, yet haue they no licence to shew themselues to be passionated. But this being a matter of Policie, let vs con­tinue our morall instructions, & note that which we reade of Plato, deseruing to be considered Plato refused to correct his seruant in his anger. of here, who being very angry with a seruant of his for a great fault committed by him, and seeing Xenocrates to come towards him requested him if he were his friend, to correct that seruant of his, because at this present (quoth hee) anger surmounteth my reason. Whereby this wise Philosopher declared sufficiently, that if the first motions are not at all in our pow­er through the imperfection of our nature, yet at the least, reason may serue for a bridle to hinder euery naughty execution: teaching vs likewise, that we ought to vse and exercise our power and authoritie ouer others without any extreme passion. Further that wee may haue such imperfections in greater hatred, we are to note that choler hath beene the ouerthrow of many great men, as it was of the Emperour Aurelianus who was endued with notable ver­tues, but otherwise easily mooued to anger, whose wrath was such, that their death with Aurelianus anger was the cause of his death. whom he was displeased, was the onely remidy to appease it. For being one day incensed a­gainst M [...]esteus his Secretary, hee knowing his masters disposition, for the safegard of his life deuised to write (counterfeiting the Emperours hand) in a little scroule the names of the principall captaines of his army, putting himselfe in the number of those whom hee had ful­ly purposed to put to death, and bearing it vnto them, said, that he saw this bill fall out of the Emperors sl [...]eue. Whereat they beeing astonished, and giuing credite thereunto, resolued Valentinian [...] [...] & died ther­of with themselues to prouent it, and so falling vpon him, slue 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 crying out in his [Page 121] his choler, brake a veine in his necke. From this vice proceedeth another detestable imper­fection, Valentinian in his anger brake a veine and died ther­of. which is swearing, a thing directly contrary to a wise mans life, and condemned by the law both of God and man: whereof we might easily be cured by custome, if first we de­stroied Impatiencie and Choler, which prouoke blasphemie. The Romanes obserued an an­cient decree, which expresly commanded, that when yong men would sweare by the name Against the infamous vice of swearing. A notable de­cree of the Romanes. of some god, they should first goe out of the house wherein they were. Which was a commen­dable meane both to retaine and keepe them from swearing lightly and vpon the suddaine, also that they might haue good leisure and space to bethinke themselues. This would bee very profitable for vs towards the correcting of this vice, the vnmeasurable licence whereof ought to be kept backe and chastised by some better meanes. Yea, it were very expedient and necessary to renew and put in practise that law of good king S. Lewes, that all blasphemers should S. Lewes his law against swearing. Charilaus. be marked in the forehead with an hot yron, yea, punished with death, if they would not bee corre­cted otherwise. Such contemners of the name of God ought to learne their lesson of Chari­laus the Ethnick 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, and to a good and happie life) that we be patient towards all men in all things, to the end we may obey the 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 man is knowne 1. Thes. 5. 14. Heb. 10. 36. by patience, and that he is to bee accounted to haue lesse learning and vertue, that hath lesse patience. Further, let vs learne that the office and duty 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 flye opinion. Lastly, wee are to know, that he which endureth euill patiently, shall know also how afterward he may easily beare prosperity, and that euery christian offereth an acceptable sacrifice to God, when hee yeeldeth vnto him daily thankes in the midst of infinite troubles and vexations: which be­nefit will worke in vs the vtter ouerthrow of all impatiencie, choler and wrath, sworne ene­mies to all reason and vertue.

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

A Philosopher in a great assemblie of people, taking a lanterne & a candle lighted at midday, and going into an high place in all their sight, was demanded what he meant to doe withall: I seeke (said he) for a man but can see none, no not one. And truely it is a This word Man is in La­tin Hom [...] from whence is de­riued Humani­tatis, which signifieth curtesie or gentlenes. very rare and excellent thing to finde one that indeede is a Man, which is as much to say, as curteous, 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 worthy effects this vertue of meekenes bringeth forth in man.

Mercie (saith Plato) ought no more to bee taken away frrom the nature of man, than the altar out of the Temple. And euery noble heart ought to be so curteous and gracious, that he be reuerenced more than feared of his neighbours.

There is no nation so barbarous, which loueth not meekenesse, curtesie, be­neuolence, and a thankefull soule: and contrariwise, which hateth and contemneth not proud, No nation voide of cur­tesie. 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 enriched and beautified him (namely, with perfect goodnes and holy righteousnes,) there remained nothing in his soule but a weake desire to aspire to that soueraigne Good, of which she felt her selfe spoiled. For further confirmation whereof, this incomparable beauty of the visible shape of the body was left vnto him, to the end that in his principall worke, as in a rich picture, he might finde large matter to mooue him to contem­plate and to admire the excellency and greatnes of his Creator, who is able to set him againe in his former glory & brightnes. By means of this knowledge a man feeleth himselfe effectu­ally mooued & touched with the loue of his like, imprinted in euery nature, which desireth vsually to shew foorth the effects thereof to the profit of many, if it be not wholy depraued and accursed. This loue ought to be so much the greater and more perfect in man, by how [Page 132] much the neerer he approcheth to the vnderstanding of the incomprehensible secrets of the Reasons to mooue vs to loue our neighbours. diuinity. 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 honour, loue, and obedience, and also of their reestablishment into the same image by his pure grace and 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, vnworthy, 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 wee should acknowledge towards him the inestimable benefites 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 cheerefull countenance, and with asweere and curte­ous kinde of beneficence, voide of arrogancy, and contumely, or reproch; shall any thing stay vs from exercising towards euery one all duties of humanity? We reade in Macrobius, A Temple dedicated to Mercy. that long sithence there was a Temple in Athens dedicated to Mercy, into which none was suffered to enter except he were beneficiall and helpefull, and then also with licence from the Senate. Insomuch 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 neighbour, was to hit him in the teeth, that hee was neuer in the Academie of the Philosophers, nor in the Temple of Mercy, girding him by this onely re­proch with two shamefull things, the one of ignorance and want of prudence, the other of cruelty and inhumanity. Now if among those of old time the only naturall seed of the loue of theirlike, which also is seene in beasts, was so strong and powerfull that it brought foorth in them (notwithstanding they were destitute of the heauenly light) fruits worthy of perpetual memory, as they that had nothing in greater estimation than to shew themselues meeke, gentle, courteous, 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 meekenes, mildnes, gentlenesse, grace, clemency, mercy, good will, compas­sion, and euery good affection towards their neighbor? All which things are comprehended vnder this onely sacred word of Charity, which 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 What Cha­rity is. also are induced to loue our neighbors for the loue of God. But let vs consider how the An­cients hauing but the shadow of this perfect Charity, praised and esteemed this vertue of Meeknesse, from which they knew how to drawe so many good commodities for the profit and succour of euery one, that after we may note here certaine woorthy examples to The definitiō & effects of meekenesse. stirre vs vp so much the more vnto our duty. Meeknesse (saith Plato) is a vertue that belon­geth to the couragious part of the soule, whereby we are hardly mooued to anger. Her office and duty is to be able to support and endure patiently those crimes that are laid vpon her, not to suffer her selfe to be hastily carried to reuenge, nor to be too easily stirred to wrath, but to make him that possesseth her, mild, gracious, and of a staied and setled minde. Meekenesse and gentlenes (as he saith 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 steade of a mode­rate temperance of the spirit, decking him with mildnes & courtesie, which draweth vnto him the loue of strangers, and good seruice of his owne. Whereby it appeareth, that whosoeuer is milde and curteous to others, receiueth much more profit and honor than those whom he honoreth. They are not to be credited (saith Cicero) who say that a man must vse cruelty to­wards his enemies, esteeming that to be an act proper to a noble and couragious man. For nothing is more commendable or worthy a great and excellent man, than meeknesse and cle­mency. It seemeth also that liberality, beneficence, iustice, fidelity, and many other good deeds, whereof many men taste, and which procure to a man greater good will of euery one, are proper to mildnes and meekenes, called by an auncient man the characters of an holy soule, which neuer suffer innocency to be oppressed, and as Chilo saide, which leade noble hearts slowly to the feasts of their friends, but speedily to the succouring of them in their ca­lamities. This vertue of meekenes is truly most necessary for a valiant man. For without it be 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 resemble it as much as may be in gentlenes and clemency which adorneth and honoureth those especially that are lift [Page 133] vp in dignitie, and haue power to correct others. True it is also, that they are deceiued that commend, and as it were adore the bounty of great men and Magistrates, who of a certaine simplicitie without prudence, shew themselues gracious gentle, and curteous A mediocrity must be kept betweene mildnes and crueltie. towards all men. Which is no lesse pernitious to an Estate, than is the seuerity and cru­eltie of others. For of this ouer great lenity, among many other inconueniences, an impunitie of the wicked is bred, and the sufferance of one fault quickly draweth on ano­ther. Therefore the mildnesse of those that haue power and authoritie, ought to be accom­panied with seueritie, their clemency mingled with rigour, and their facilitie with austeri­tie. This is that which Plato learnedly teacheth vs, saying: That the noble and strong man must bee couragious and gracious, that hee may both chastise the wicked, and also pardon when time re­quireth. And as for those offences which may bee healed, hee 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, and the authors of euill, but to saue the multi­tude. And thus the rigour of discipline directing meekenesse, and meekenesse directing rigour, the one will set foorth and commend the other: so that neither rigour shall bee ri­gorous, nor gentlenesse dissolute. By the learned sentences of these Philosophers, it is very euident, that the vertue of meekenesse is not onely a part of Fortitude, which cannot bee 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 because the order of our discourses will offer vs matter and occasion to intreat particularly hereafter aswell of iustice, and of reuenge of wrongs and iniuries which a man receiueth of his enemie, as also of other vertues here briefly mentioned, we will now come to certaine notable examples of meekenesse, gentlenesse, mildenesse, and goodnesse of na­ture. The first that commeth to my remembrance is Philip king of Macedonia, who giueth Philip a prince of a good and milde nature. place to none in the perfection of these gifts and graces. When it was tolde this good Prince, that one Nicanor did openly speake ill of his maiesty, his counsellers being of opinion that hee was to be punished with death: I suppose (quoth he to them) that hee is a good man. It were better to search whether the fault commeth not from vs. And after hee vnderstood that the said Nicanor was a needie fellow, and complained that the king neuer succored him in his neces­sity, hee 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 hee then to his counsellors) that I am a better Physition for backbiting than you are, and that it is in my power to cause either good or euill 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 hard Antigonus. by his tent, who thought not that the king could ouer-heare them, he shewed himselfe, vtte­ring these onely words without farther hurting them: Good Lord could you not goe 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 worthily and more beseeming himselfe giue place to any wrongs, than to those that are done to his owne person. As contrariwise those men are vnworthy their scepters, who cruelly reuenge their owne iniuries, and pardon such as are done to others, yea such faults as are directly against the honour of God. A prince well instructed in vertue Oh that Prin­ces would consider this. (saith Xenophon in his Cyropaedia) ought so to behaue himselfe towards his enemie, as to thinke and consider that at some time or other hee may bee his friend. Was there euer Mo­narch more feared of his enemies than Alexander the Great, inuincible in all things hee tooke in hand, insomuch that hee would not onely force all humane powers, but also times Alexander. and places themselues, and yet who hath left greater proofes of meekenesse and curtesie than hee? As he was on his voyage vndertaken for the conquest of the Indians, Taxiles a king of those countries came and 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 curteous speech of this Indian, answered thus: At the least wee must fight and contend for this: namely, whether of vt twaine shall be most beneficiall to his Companion: so loath was this noble Monarch to giue place A commen­dable combat. to another in goodnesse, mildnesse, and curtesie. Hereof he gaue a great argument, after hee had vanquished Porus (a very valiant Prince) of whom demanding, how he would bee enter­tained of him, this king answered, Royally. Neither would he giue him any other answer, al­beit Alexander vrged him thereunto. For he said that all was contained vnder that word. As indeed 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 134] procured to himselfe as much renowne by his clemency, as by his valure. Had hee euer any greater enemie than Darius vanquished and subdued by him? And yet when he saw himselfe letted from vsing towards him any bounty woorthie his greatnesse. because Bessus one of his captaines had slaine him, hee was so displeased therewith, that he caused the Bessus cruelly put to death for killing Darius. murderer to bee punished (albeit he was one of his familiar friends) with a most cruell death, causing him to bee torne asunder with two great trees bowed downe by maine strength one against another, vnto each of which a part of Bessus his body was fastened. Then the trees being suffered to returne backe againe to their first nature, with their vehement force rent asunder the body of this poore and miserable wretch. Iulius Caesar was of such a courte­ous disposition, that hauing conquered Pompey and all his enemies, he wrote to his friendes Iulius Caesar. in Rome, that the greatest and most pleasant fruit which he gathered of his victory, consi­steth in sauing daily the liues of some of his countrey men 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 vttered when he vnderstood that Cato retiring into the towne of Vtica after the losse of the battell had killed himselfe. O Cato (said this monarch, being 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 (said that good Emperor Marcus Aurelius) to him that demanded of mee, much lesse haue I euill entreated or offered dishonor to anie that trusted in me. Neither can [...] Aurelius. anie victorie be called a true and perfect victorie, but that which carrieth 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 greatnes of the immortall gods not so much for the punishment, as for the mercy which they vse. The clemencie and bountie of Dion the Syra­cusian is worthy of perpetuall memorie. For hauing brought to ruine the tyranny of Diony­sius Dion. the yonger, and recouered the liberty of his countrey, one of his greatest enemies na­med Heraclides, beeing a very pernitious fellow, fell into his hands: whereupon all his friends gaue him counsell to put him to death. Vnto which Dion wisely answered, that other cap­taines and heades of armies vsed commonly to imploy most of their studie in the exer­cise of armes and of warre, but as for himselfe hee had long since studied and learned in the schooles of the Vniuersitie to ouercome anger, enuie, 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 gentlenesse and hu­manitie towardes his enemies, so that hee had rather excell Heraclides in bountie and cour­tesie, than in power and worldly glorie. And although (quoth hee) mens lawes auouch it Al priuate re­uenge cometh of frailue. to bee more iust, to reuenge an iniurie receiued, than to offer it vnto another, yet nature teacheth vs, that both the one and the other proceede of the same imbecillitie: and how­soeuer that man is hardly altered, who hath gotten an habite of wickednesse, yet are there few men of so brutish and vntamed a nature, or so sauage in reclaiming that their peruerse­nesse cannot in the end be well 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 vpon him great benefits. Lycurgus the reformer of the Lacedaemonian estate, by whose meanes that common-wealth so long-time flou­rished, Lycurgus. doth yet passe all those before alleadged through the goodnesse and mildnesse of his gentle nature. This graue and gracious personage hauing receiued such a blow with a staffe, that one of his eyes was put out in a sedition stirred vp against him in the citie, be­cause of the rigour of those lawes which hee had established there, after the sedition was appeased, had the offender deliuered into his hands to punish him as hee thought good. But hee not hurting or displeasing him at all, kept him in his house, and instructed him in all vertue and good discipline, and within the yeares end hee brought him foorth into the publike assembly, beeing no lesse vertuous and well nurtured than before hee was vicious: vsing these words vnto the people: Behold I restore him vnto you, beeing milde gracious and fit to doe you seruice whom ye gaue to mee proud, outragious and dissolute. O act beseeming the soule of a Christian rather than of an Ethinike! which ought to make them greatly ashamed, who for the least wrong receiued of another, would not sticke to slaie not one man onely, but a thousand, yea tenne thousand rather than their worldly honour should bee hurt or touched: which pretence of honour they vse very often to colour their brutishnesse with­all. Now leauing here the auncients of whome wee haue a million of testimonies in the reading of histories, I thinke we shall doe well to propound here vnto our Princes being too much inclined to reuenge iniuries, the clemency of king Lewes the 12. who succeeding Lewes the 12 [Page 135] Charles the eight in the kingdome, would neuer reuenge himselfe of any outrage or iniurie done vnto him, euen then when he was but Duke of Orleance. In so much that being incited by some to punish one that was his great enemie during the life of his predecessor, he answe­red: That is would not beseeme a king of France to goe about to reuenge iniuries offered to a Duke of Orleance. Neither ought we to let passe in silence the goodnesse and elemencie of that great king Francis, who going in person to chastise 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 Emperour Charles, who punished very cruelly those of Ga [...], yet he had rather increase his praises by pre­seruing than by destroying his subiects. After his example king Henry the 2. hauing giuen in Henrie the 2. commission to the Duke of Montmorencie Constable to chastise 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 Town-house, the paiment of two hundred thousand pounds, and the defraying of the charges of the armie wherein they were condemned. And truly as it belongeth to the Sunne to lighten the earth with his beames: so it appertaineth to the vertue of a prince to haue compassion vpon the miserable. Yea so many, as stand in neede of mercy, and beeing worthy thereof craue for it, ought to finde harbour in the hauen of his excellency. 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, wee may note amongst the famous, noble and couragious men of olde time, such effects of meek­nesse, gentlenesse, bountie, mildnesse, clemency and humanitie towardes their ene­mies, no doubt but they endeuored to doe much more for their friends, brethren and countrimen, for whose safety they feared not many times to die, as heretofore wee haue seene examples thereof, and may see more hereafter. And how much lesse would they haue failed to succour them in all other duties and charitable offices? So that if wee 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 beeing wholly depraued and corrupted: to the end that framing our manners, milde, gentle, and gracious, to the succour, bene­fite, and profite of euery one, and following the steppes and traces of the vertue of Fortitude and Magnanimitie, which is neuer churlish, idle or proude; wee may liue a happy life di­rectly to her proper end, expecting our renewing in that life which is immortall and euer­lasting.

Of Good and Ill hap. Chap. 31.

THere hath beene alwaies men of great humane learning, but voide 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 did attribute The Stoicks. vnto her a constellation, which through the strength and efficacie of the starres gouerned the counsell & reason of men. The other sort acknowledging fortune, maintained that all things were done at aduenture and by chance. Now albeit there are too many at this day that follow The Epicures this error, yet is it so absurd a thing, that in the writings of Ethniks and Pagans, a thousand inuincible reasons are found of sufficient force to conuince such opinions of meerelying and ouer great sottishnesse, and to constraine those that are most impudent and shamelesse to ac­knowledge an infinite almighty 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 heauenly bodies throughout nature: neuerthelesse I hold this for certaine, that as all their vertue dependeth of one only God, so hee 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 greatnesse and power of God: seeing that contrariwise his maiestie is much more famous and wonderfull in doing such great things by his creatures, as if hee did them himselfe with­out any meane. Now that which I haue touched here, 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 [Page 136] amongst vs to vse, or rather to abuse these words of Good and ill hap, by attributing vnto them some power and vertue ouer our doings: insomuch that wee commonly say there is nothing but good or ill lucke in this world, I thinke it will not be without fruit to consider narrowly that we ought to thinke of these words, and wherein we are to seeke and desire good hap, & wherein to feare and fly 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 thereof, being adorned with a perfect habite and entire possession of all kind of Good, in the priuation whereof all ill hap consisteth. This cannot be verified of Wherin good and ill hap consist. the passions and affections of men, nor of their worldly affaires, which are alwaies intermin­gled with diuerse and sundry accidents, turning one while on this manner, by and by after another, and carrying the soule continually vp and downe with these two perturbations, De­sire and Griefe. Therefore if there be a happy man in the world (said Socrates) it is he that hath a pure and cleane soule, and a conscience defiled with no thing. For the mysteries of God may be seene and beheld of him onely. Who is happy in Socrates iudgement.

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

The continuall alteration and sudden change of one estate into another cleane contrary, which might alwaies be noted in the nature, disposition, and euents of mens actions, counsels and desires, gaue occasion to some of the ancient Philosophers to thinke the sicke more happy than the sound: because (said they) sicke folkes looke for health, where as the healthy expect sicknes. For this very consideration it seemeth that Amasis, almost the The cause why Amasis forsook his alliance with Polycrates. last of those kings that reigned peaceablie in Egypt, shooke off all the alliance and league with Polycrates king of Samos, who was so happy in worldly respects, that do what he could, yet could be not know what sorrow meant, but all things fell out vnto him better than hee desired. For proofe whereof 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 tast of some sorrow and griefe, yet he found it quickly againe in the bel­ly of a fish taken by Fisher men, and bought for his kitchen. Whereupon this wise Egyptian iudged it a thing altogether impossible, but that some great misery was to follow hard at the heeles of so great happines: and therefore he would not be partaker thereof, 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 Polycrates was depriued of his kingdome, and shamefully hanged, seruing for a common and notable ex­ample of the instability and variablenesse of mans estate, as also to shew that it is a very ab­surd An ordinarie imperfection in man. thing to place happines in so vncertaine felicity. And yet among infinite imperfections borne with man, this is common in him, to loose quickly the remembrance of a benefit re­ceiued, but to retaine a long time the memory of a calamitie fallen vpon him. Which is the cause that he alwaies supposeth his mishaps to bee without comparison greater than all the good happe that he can haue: so that he complaineth continually of his miseries and calami­ties, not remembring the innumerable benefits which are daily offered and presented vn­to him from the grace and bountifulnesse of God. Notwithstanding, if all men (as Socartes said) as well as rich as poore, brought their mishaps, and laid them in comming 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 and oppressed, would with all their hearts take againe vnto them their fortune, and be contented withall. Wouldest thou (said De­mocritus) auoide the griefe of thy miserie? Behold the life of the afflicted, and by the comparison A meanes to auoid the griefe of our misery. thereof with thine thou shalt see that thou hast cause to thinke thy selfe very happy. Hee that will measure his burthen (saith Martiall) may well heare it. Now, with this common complaint in men of their estate and condition, this custome also is ioyned to lay the cause of that which they suffer vpon cruell and intolerable destity, accusing that to accuse their owne fault. Another im­perfection. [Page 137] Wherefore we cannot more aptly compare them than to blinde folks, who are angry, and oftentimes call them blinde that vnawares doe meete and iustle them. But if wee desire to cure our soules of so many miserable passions, which depriue vs of true rest and tranquilitie necessary for a happie life, let vs be carefull to learne how to discerne true happinesse from mishap, that we may reioyce in that which is good, and as readily giue thankes to the Au­thor therof, as naturally, through a false opinion which we haue of euill, we sustaine humane miseries and crosses vnpatiently. First then let vs heare the sundry and notable opinions of many ancient men touching good and ill hap. If thou knowest all that ought to be knowne in all things (said Pythagoras) thou art happy. Let them be accounted very happy (said Homer) to whom For­tune Notable opi­nions of good & ill hap. hath equally weighed the good with the euill. The greatest miserie of all (said Bias) is, not to be able to beare misery. That man is happie (said Dyonisius the elder) that hath learned from his youth to bee vnhappy. For he will beare the yoke better wherunto he hath beene subiect and accustomed of long time. Demetrius, surnamed the Besieger, said, that he iudged none more vnhappie than he th [...]t neuer ta­sted of aduersity; as if he would haue said that it was a sure argument, that Fortune iudged him to bee so base and abiect, that he deserued not that she should busie her 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, whereby hee should bee mooued to reioyce in such sort, that his heart bee puffed and lift vp thereby. Yea, hee is very happy, who fitly and conueniently behaueth himselfe in al things necessary for him. Nothing is euill (saith Plutarke) that is necessary. By which word, Necessary, both he and Cicero vnderstand whatsoeuer commeth to a wise man by Solon said that happines consisted in a good life and death. fatall destiny: because he beareth it patiently, as that which cannot bee auoided, thereby in­creasing his vertue so much the more, and so no euill can come to a good man. Solon drawing neerer to the truth of sincere happines, said, that it consisted in 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 beeing sure that hee should ouerrome. Socrates speaking rather with a diuine than a humane spirit, saide, that when we shall be deliuered from this body wherein our soule is inclosed as an oister in his shel, we may The doctrine of Socrates & of the papists is all one touching the hope of life and death. then be happy, but not sooner: and that felicity cannot be obtained in this life, but that we 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 auoide misery. They that thinke (saith Aristotle) that eternall goods are the cause of happinesse, deceiue themselues no lesse than if they supposed, that cunning playing on the harpe came from the instrument, and not from art: 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 because it is richly arraied, but rather because it is wel framed and healthfull: so a soule well instructed, is the cause that both hir selfe and the body wherein shee The cōmon opinion of men concer­ning happines & vnhappines is inclosed, are happy: which cannot bee verefied of a man because hee 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 in our age touching Good and ill hap, because they labour 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 themselues, that they are most happy. But contrariwise, if they misse of their intents, by and by they despaire, and thinke themselues the vnhappiest men in the world. Doe 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 abundance, they lose it by some mishap, the cause wher­of they commonly attribute either to good or ill lucke, which they say ruleth all humane af­faires? We reade that Apollonius Thianaeus hauing trauelled ouer all Asia, Africke and Europe, Wherat Apol­lonius mar­uelleth most. said that of two things wherat he maruelled most in all the world, the first was, that he alwaies faw the proud man command the humble, the quarrellous the quiet, the tyrant the iust, the cruell the pittifull, the coward the hardie, the ignorant the skilful, & the greatest theeues 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, and to the truth, be perfected in good things, then it is certaine, that whosoeuer enioyeth al good Notable rea­sons to shew that no worldly thing can be called good and that hap­pines cannot be perfected by any such thing. things shall be perfectly happie. Now nothing can be called good but that which is profita­ble, and contrary to euill: so that whatsoeuer may as soone be euill as good, ought not to be called good. Moreouer, it must be the possession of some firme, stedfast, & permanent Good that maketh a man happie. For nothing ought to waxe old, to perish or decay of those things wherin a happie life consisteth, seeing he that feareth to lose them cannot be said to liue qui­etly. Therefore neither beauty, nor strength, and disposition of body, neither riches, glorie, [Page 138] honor or pleasure can be truly called Goods, seeing oftentimes they are the cause of so many euils, waxe old, and vanish away many times as soon 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 men haue bene the occasion of euill? And how can we call that good which being possessed, and that in abundance, cannot yet keepe the owner thereof from being vnhappy and miserable? Wherefore we may say, that happines cannot be perfected by the possession of humane and Wherein true happines con­sisteth. mortall things, neither vnhappinesse through the want of them, but that the true felicity which we ought to desire in this world, consisteth in the goodnes of the soule, nourished in the hope of that vnspeakeable and euerlasting happines, which is promised and assured vn­to it in the second life. And so we say, that none are vnhappy but they, who by reason of their Who are vn­happie. peruersenes, feele 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 venome that is alwaies about it, all things whereof it taketh hold. As for the common mise­ries of mans life, they cannot in any sort make him vnhappie, whose naturall disposition and manners being framed and decked with vertue, are able to giue and to impart to euery condition of his life, whether it be poore or rich, prosperous or aduerse, honorable or con­temptible; happines, ioy, pleasure and contentation, which flowe in his soule abundantly from that fountaine and liuely spring which Philosophie hath discouered vnto him in the fertile field of Graces and Sciences, whereby he enioyeth true tranquility and rest of spi­rit, as much as a man may haue in this mortal life, moderating the perturbations of his soule, and commanding ouer the vnpure affections of the flesh. And then as the shoo turneth with The happines of man com­meth from within him. the fashion of the foote, and not contrary wise, so the inward disposition of a wife and mo­derate man causeth him toleade a life like vnto the same, that is, milde, peaceable and quiet, beeing neuer carried away with vnreasonable passions, because she neuer enioyeth or reioiceth 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 in the saying of Demo­critus, that whoseeuer mindeth to line alwaies happily, must propound to himselfe and desire things possi­ble, and bee content with things present. Therefore seeing the fountaine of all felicity and con­tentation in this life is within vs, let vs cure and cleanse diligently all perturbations which seeke to hinder the tranquility of ourspirits, to the end that externall things which come from without vs against our will and expectation, may seeme vnto vs friendly and familiar after wee know how to vse them well. Plato compared our life to table play, wherein both the dice must chance well, and the plaier must vse that well which the dice shall cast. Our [...] is compared to table-play. Now of these two points the euent and lotte of the Dice is not in our power, but to receiue mildly and moderately that which falleth vnto vs, and to dispose euery thing in that place where it may either profit most if it be good, or doe least hurt if it be bad, that is in our pow­er, and belongeth to our duty if we be wise men. Fortune (saith Plutarke) may well cast mee into sicknes, take away my goods, bring me in disgrace with the people: but shee cannot make him wicked, a coward, slothfull, base minded or enuious, that is honest, valiant, and no­ble minded; nor take from him his setled and temperate disposition of prudence, which maketh him to iudge, that no tedious, grieuous or troublesome thing can befall him. For being grounded, not vpon vanishing goods, but vpon philosophicall sententes, and firme dis­courses of reason, he may say, I haue preuēted thee fortune, I haue closed vp al thy chances, & stopped the waies of entrance in vpō me: & 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 humane power is not able to ouercome, then with ioy of spirit hee considereth that the hauen of safety is at hand, wherein hee may saue himselfe by swimming out of the body as out of a Skiffe that leadeth, departing boldly and without feare from the miseries of the world, that he may enioy absolute and perfect happines. Alexander the Great, hauing vnder his dominion more than halfe the world, when he heard the Philo­sopher Anaxarchus dispute and maintain that there was innumerable worlds, he began to weep saying, Haue I not good cause to be sorrowfull and to mourne, if there be an infinite number of worlds, see­ing as yet I haue not bin able to make myselfe Lord of one? But Crates the Philosopher being brought vp in the schoole of wisedome, and hauing in stead of all wealth but an old cloke and a scrip, Alexander & Crates oppo­sed one against ano­ther. neuer wept in all his life, but was alwaies seene merry, and passing ouer his daies cheerfully. By which two kinds of life contrary one to another, it appeareth sufficiently that it is within ourselues, 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 [Page 139] actions proceeding from the soule guided by right knowledge and reason. Homer bringeth in Agamemnon complaining greatly because hee was to commaund so great a part of the world, as if he had an intollerable burthen vpon his shoulders. Whereas Diogenes when hee Agamemnon. 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 were to sell a fish, wouldest thou make it arise? Crie this rather, that if any man w [...]nt a master, he should buie me: for I can serue his turne well. Whereby we may fitly note this, that all the happinesse, rest, and contentation of man dependeth of vertue onely, and not of worldly greatnesse 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 wont, 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 sereuitie and calmenes against the tempestuous waues of humane miseries and calamities, than to haue the soule pure and cleane from all wicked deeds, wils, and counsels, and the manners vndefi­led, not troubled or infected with any vice. For then acknowledging the estate of mortall and corruptible things, we iudge them vnworthy the care of our soules, that we may wholly lift them vp to the contemplation of heauenly & eternall things, wherein our happinesse and perfect felicitie consisteth. Hereby we learne, that in the second life only we are to seeke for and to expect the fruition of true happinesse, 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 Where we must seeke for true happines. than that which is iust: so he that is happie can not be more happy. Otherwise vntill a man had gotten all that might be had, his desires would neuer be setled, and so no man should bee called happie. But felicitie is perfect of it selfe. Cicero knew it well enough, when hee said: That no man standeth in feare of great things, could be happie: and in that respect no man liuing can be so, but to speake in deede of a happie life, that is it which is perfect and absolute. To the end therefore that we may reape some profite by our present discourse, let vs neuer thinke that any man may be called happie or vnhappie, because he is aduanced or disgraced, with honours, goods, and worldly commodities, or because he is partaker either of prosperitie or aduersitie, throughout his whole life. But he onely ought to bee esteemed happy in this Who is happy in this world. world, that knoweth in rest and quietnesse of soule how to vse both estates, and neuer suffe­reth himselfe to be carried away or troubled with vncleane desires, but with all his heart see­keth for the possession of a firme, stedfast, and abiding Good, beeing assured, as we said, that not one of those things wherein a happie life consisteth shall waxe olde, perish, or fall to de­cay. To conclude, he is happy that sheweth in all his workes and actions of this life a paterne of honesty and vertue, beeing moderate in prosperitie, and constant in aduersitie. A man thus affected and disposed, will behaue himselfe without reproofe in the time present, will call to minde with ioy and pleasure the time past, and will boldly and without distrust draw neere to the time to come, euen with a cheerefull and ioy full hope of better things, and with a sted­fast expectation of that vnspeakeable and endlesse happines, which is prepared for the elect.

Of Prosperitie and Aduersitie. Chap. 32.

BEing in our former discourse entred into the diuers and contrary effects which the nature and condition of worldly affaires draw with them, whereof euery one in his particular place may daily haue good and sufficient testimonies: and seeing through the malice and corruption of our age, all things are at that point, as if they meant 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 ourselues prudently in prosperitie and in aduersitie, considering the effects of both of the one and the other, to the end we may auoide those that are most pernitious, and retaine still with vs that constancie and worthinesse that is required in the vertue of Fortitude, which teacheth a man how hee ought to behaue himselfe nobly in euery estate and condition of life. For as gold transfigu­red A pretie com­parison. by the workeman, now into one fashion, and then into another, is transformed into sun­drie kindes of ornaments, and yet remaineth alwaies that which it is, without any alteration of substance: so it behooueth a wise and noble minded man to continue 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 because they haue beene in many ski [...]ishes, are bec [...]me resty, furious, and vntractable) to the yomen of his horses, to bring them into A similitude. good order againe: so men that are growne to be vnruly through prosperity, must be brought as it were to a round circle, that they may consider of the inconstancy of worldly things, and of the variablenesse of wrete bed fortune.

In prosperity (saith Euripides) bee not left vp too much, and in aduersitie hope the best alwaies. And as in a fire (said Socrates) it is good to behold a cleare brightnesse: so is a mode­rate A similitude. soule in felicitie. But let vs heare ASER: who will handle that which here is 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 Common ef­fects of the fraile nature of man. resist the hurtfull assaults which the vnlooked for successe of humane affaires make vpon him continually, both in prosperity and in aduersity. For questionlesse nothing is hardlier kept within compasse, than hee that hath all things according to his hearts desire: neither is any thing so much cast downe, or sooner discouraged than the same man, when hee is afflicted and misseth of his purpose. All minds 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 hearts, especially theirs that are base by nature; nor yet in vnlooked for aduersitie, which through the heauy 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 finde nothing but pride in the one, and faintnes of heart, basenes of minde, & often­times Prosperitie more hurtfull than aduersity despaire in the other. Notwithstanding we may well note this, that prosperity hath al­waies bin the cause of far greater euils to men than aduersity, and 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, because hee 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 bee prepared therto long before) than when against his naturall disposition hee ascendeth to some greatnesse not hoped for. Now, whether it be for this reason, or because vice is his proper inheritance, the memorie of the time past aswell as of the present time, furnisheth vs with sufficient testimonies, seeing few are found that forgat not not themselues in their prosperity, whereas many haue beha­ued themselues wisely, and taken occasion to bee better in their aduersitie. Which beeing Plato was re­quested by the Cyrenians to giue them law. vnderstood of Plato, when hee 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, happy, and wealthie a people as they were. For commonly those cities which in short time come sud­denly to great felicity, grow to be insolent, arrogant, and vneasie to range in order: neither is there any thing for the most part prouder, than a poore man made rich: as contrariwise none are so ready to receiue counsell and direction, as he whom fortune hath ouerrunne. He that is pressed greatly with aduersity, is seldome puffed vp with pride, or vanquished of lust, or drowned in couetousnesse, or ouertaken with giuttonie, or lift vp with desire and worldly glory: all which imperfections happen commonly to those vpon whom fortune too much fawneth. That felicitie (saith Seneca) which hath not beene hurt, cannot endure one blow: but when it hath had a long and continuall combate with discommodities, and hath harde­ned it selfe by suffering and bearing iniuries, then doth it not suffer it selfe to be ouercome of any euill. Now one of the greatest benefits that a man may haue in this life, is, neither to bee changed by aduersitie, nor lift vp with prosperitie: but to bee as a well rooted tree, which, al­though it bee shaken with sundry windes, yet cannot bee ouerthrowne by any of them. And truely it is very ridiculous that that which commeth to all worldly things by an ordinary and naturall course, euen by the sequele of causes linked together and depending one of another, changing the estate of mortall things should haue power to alter or to make any mutation in reason and wisedome, which ought to abide stedfast in the minde 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 couragiously in both kindes of fortune. Vertue (saith Cicero abideth calme and quiet in the greatest tempest, and although she be driuen into exile, yet shee stirreth not out of her place and countrey, but shineth so alwaies of her selfe, that she [Page 141] cannot bee soiled with the spots of another. This excellent Orator and Philosopher giueth vs also wholsome counsell to oppose against the dangerous effects that are to bee feared in prosperitie. When we are (saith he) in best estate we must vse the counsell of our friends more Good coun­sell for those that are in prosperitie. than we doe commonly, and as long as it continueth we are greatly to beware that wee open not our eares to flatterers, who are the plague and destruction of the greater sort, because all their labor is to propound vnto vs occasions and meanes to enioy delights and pleasures, and to shew our selues to be proud and arrogant, during the time of our prosperity: to the ende wee should put good men farre from vs, and reserue to them onely that authority wherein they are setled. Whereas on the contrary side our true friends would leade vs backe to con­sider the inconstancie of humane things, to the ende that wee abuse not our felicitie, but be­haue our selues as a wise Pilot doth, who alwaies feareth a smiling calmnes in the maine sea. Which consideration maketh a man constance and resolute to beare and endure all sinister chances, and not so ready and easie to be deceiued, because hee alwaies feareth and distrusteth fortune. Let vs now come to examples of that which we haue here alleadged. As touching the pernitious effects of ouer great prosperitie, they may well bee noted in Alexander the Alexander. Great, who although hee was endued with notable and rare vertues, yet could not vse mode­rately the great good speed and happie successe of all his enterprises, but being conquered of the Persian delights, gaue himselfe ouer to commit many insolencies, and then filled with presumption and pride, would haue beene worshipped. Iulius Caesar being ascended in to the Iulius Caesar. 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 Romans since the time that Tarquinias was banished, as we mentioned before) and retained alwaies to himselfe the authority and power of a Dictator, which before continued but a certaine time. He bestowed the publike offices and places of honour vpon whom he thought good, where­of proceeded the ill will of his subiects, and in the ende his destruction. The greatnesse of Pompey was that which afterward ouerthrew him. For imploying his credite to fauour others Pompey. 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 owne 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 saw that Pompey by his countenance and fauour had brought Lepidus a wicked man to the dignity of Consulship. I see well (quoth Sylla to him) thou art very glad because thou hast preuailed in this suite: and sure thou hast great cause so to bee. For it is a goodly matter, and the point of a noble man to be so gracious with the people, that through thy fauour Lepidus the wickedest man in the world hath carried away the Consulship before Catullus the honest­est man in all the citie. But I aduise thee to beware of sleeping now, and to haue a vigilant A wise fore­sight of Sylla. eye to thy busines, because thou hast armed and made strong an aduersarie against thy selfe. Wherof Pompey had experience afterward in those warres which Lepidus raised, against whom 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 affaires, came not to that passe. For he was after­ward ouerthrowne by the same meanes wherewith he had strengthened Caesar against others. Out of which we may draw an excellent doctrine for all that are placed in authority, or that haue the cares of great men at commandement, that they neuer cause the wicked to bee ad­uanced. For as the worme that is bred at the foote of a tree, groweth with it, and in the ende destroieth it: so a wicked man aduanced by the fauour of one greater than himselfe, becom­meth afterward vnthankefull and trecherous vnto him. This mooued Archdamides the La­cedaemonian to answer in this sort one that commended Charilaus king of Sparta, because hee shewed himselfe alike curteous to all: But how deserueth that man praise, who sheweth himselfe curteous 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 so­litarinesse, that is to say, is so hated, that in the ende it is forsaken of all the world? And where­of it is bred sooner than of prosperity? Which that wise man and excellent Romane captaine Paulus Aemelius knowing full well, after the victory gotten by him against Perses king of Ma­cedonia, being desirous to admonish the men of war that were in his army, and to keepe them within the compasse of their duty, he vsed these or the like speeches vnto them: Is there any man now my friends and companions, that ought to waxe proud, and to glory in the posteritie of his af­faires, if hee hath lucke too his liking and not rather to feare the sicklenes of fortune, who euen at this An excellent oraaion of P. Aemelius to his souldiers. present setteth before our eyes such a notable example of the common frailty of man, subiect to the ordinary [Page 140] [...] [Page 141] [...] [Page 142] course of fatall destinie, which turneth about continually: You see how in a moment of an houre wee 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 thousand fighting men brought to such miserie, that beeing prisoner hee must receiue his meate and drinke at the hands of his enemies. Ought wee to trust more to our good happe, and to thinke it more firme and assured? Truely no. And therefore let vs learne to humble our selues, and to restraine this foolish arro­gancy and proud insolencie, wherewith our youth seemeth to be ouercome by reason of the victory obtained by vs: and let vs expect to what ende and issue fortune will guide the enuy of this present prosperitie. Marcus Aurelius after hee had vanquished Popilion, Generall of the Parthians, spake thus M. Aurelius 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 shee careth not so much to ouertake the conquered, as to subdue and vanquish the Conquerors. This selfe same consideration caused Philip king of Macedonia, after he receiued newes of three great and sundry prosperities in one day, to vtter this speech: O fortune (said Philip king of Macedonia hee) (holding vp his hands towards heauen) I pray thee send mee for a counterbuffe some meane aduersity. Likewise after hee had ouercome in battell the Athenians at Cherronensus, and by this victorie obtained the Empire of Graecia, hee commanded a little Page to crye vnto him thrise a day, Philip, remember that thou art a man: so greatly did hee feare least through arro­gancy arising of his prosperity, hee should commit any thing that did not beseeme him. The same thing did Archidamas the sonne of Agesilaus very well and wisely teach him, to whom Archidamas. Philip after hee was a Conquer or had written a very sharpe and rough letter: If thou measurest thy shaddow (answered Archidamas) thou shalt finde that it is not waxen greater since thou didst ouer­come. The prosperity which Cyrus Monarch of the Persians alwaies had in all his enterprises, was the cause of that trusting too much thereunto, hee would not giue eare to the counsell [...]. of Croesus, when hee diswaded him from that warre, which hee purposed to vndertake against Tomyris Queene of the Scythians, (which fell out hardly for him) vsing these wordes: Know that all worldly things haue a certaine course, which doth not suffer them to ende happily that haue al­waies had fortune prosperous, which hee might well speake by experience in himselfe. But Cyrus hauing already subdued all Asia, part of Graecia, the kingdome of Babylon, with infinite other pla­ces, and beholding his army to consist of sixe score thousand men, thought hee could not bee vanquished. Whereupon giuing battell to Tomyris, he lost his life, together with the renowne of so many goodly victories (being now ouercome by a woman) his whole army also being hewen in peeces. And truely as one puffe of winde causeth the goodliest fruits, 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 greatnesse, wealth, and prosperity of men. The instabili­ty of humane things. And when wee thinke to lay a sure foundation of prosperity, euen then is all changed, and the order of our conceits peruerted and turned into an vnlooked for disorder and confusion. Now let vs come to consider particularly of the effects of aduersitie. There are few folks (if they The common effects of ad­ [...]sity bee not destitute of all good iudgement) that are ignorant and vnderstand not what belon­geth to their duty, so long as prosperity lasteth: but few there are, who in great ouerthwarts and shakings of fortune, haue hearts sufficiently staied to practise and imitate that which they commend and make account of, or to flye from that which they mislike and reprehend. Nay rather they are carried away, and through custome of liuing at ease, together with frailty and faintnesse of heart, they start aside, and alter their first discourses. This is that which Terence meaneth, where hee saith, That when wee are in good health, wee giue a great deale better counsell to the diseased, than wee can take to our selues when wee stand in neede thereof. Notwithstanding hee that is beaten downe and humbled by affliction, easily suffereth him­selfe to bee directed, gladly receiueth and harkeneth to the aduice of good men, and if there bee any little seede of vertue in him, it increaseth daily, whereas prosperity would soone choake it. And if hee hath profited well in the studie of of wisedome, hee doth as Bees doe, The fruits of the studie of Philosophie. which draw the best and driest honie out of Time, although it bee a very bitter herbe. So out of most troublesome accidents hee knoweth how to reape benefit and commodity, re­soluing with himselfe and taking counsell according to the mishaps that light vpon him. He doubteth not of this, that it is the duty of wise and vertuous men not onely to desire prosperi­ty in all things, but also to endure aduersity with constancy and modesty. Hee knoweth that as the fruition of prosperity is for the most part full of sweetnesse, when it is not abused, so the constant suffering of aduersity is alwaies replenished and accompanied with great honour; and such a one may truely bee called noble and couragious, yea, he sheweth himselfe a great deale better to bee so in deede when hee yeeldeth not, nor fainteth in afflictions, than if hee [Page 143] were in prosperity, which puffing vp the hearts of cowards and base mindes, causeth them sometimes to seeme couragioous, when as they are lift vp by fortune into a high degree of honour and felicity, whereas in truth there is no such matter in them. Croesus king of the Lydians being throwne from his estate and made prisoner to Cyrus, shewed greater vertue & Croesus. generositie of hart at that time, than he did al the while he enioyed his great wealth, through which being puffed vp with pride, he would haue had Solon iudged him most happy. For bee­ing vpon a blocke ready to be burued, and both remembring and fitly applying to himselfe those wise discourses which hee heard Solon make vnto him concerning the small assurance that we haue in worldly felicity, and how no man ought to be called happy before the hower of his death, he resolued with himselfe to die constantly and cheerfully. And calling to mind this benefit which hereceiued by the meanes 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. Wher­of Cyrus asking the cause, he vttered vnto him the selfe same discourses, which touched the heart of this Monarch in such sort, that presently changing the ill will he bare to Croesus, he fully restored him to the fruition of his kingdome, and kept him neare vnto himselfe for one of his chiefe and principall counsellors. The Romanes (as Polybius saith) neuer obserued their lawes more straightly, neuer caused the discipline of warre to be kept more seuerely, & The Romans were wise & constant in aduersitie. were neuer so well aduised and constant, as after the Carthaginians had obtained of them the third victory at the battle of Cannas. And contrariwise, there were nothing but parta­keings and factions in Carthage, lawes were neuer lesse esteemed, magistrates neuer lesse re­garded, nor manners more corrupted than at that time. But within a little while after, they fel from the highest degree of their felicity, into vtter ruine, and the Romanes restored their owne estate into greater glory than it was in before. Vertue is alwaies like to the Date tree: The property of vertue oppressed. For the more she is oppressed and burthened, the higher she lifteth vp her selfe, and sheweth her inuincible power, and strength, ouer which fortune can nothing preuaile. And although aduersitie somewhat troubleth a vertuous man, yet is it not able to altar 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 loseth her vigor without aduersitie. It is euident therefore that the effects of aduersitie are not so perditious to a man, as those which prosperity commonly bringeth vnto him. For this latter is of a proud and presumptuous na­ture, alwaies enuied; and as commonly it is not freely admonished so it giueth eare vnto and receiueth as little: but the other is plaine and simple, followed of compassion, and ready to receiue counsell. Besides, it awaketh a Christian, and stirreth him vp to humble himselfe be­fore the maiesty of God, to call vpon him, and to trust wholy on his only grace and vertue. Now if some (as I haue said) are so fainthearted, that they suffer themselues to be ouerwhel­med vnder the burthen of turmoiles and calamities, let vs attribute the causes thereof to ig­norance, and want of good iudgement, which depriueth them of learned and sound cogirati­ons and discouries 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 Sa, ges, let vs propound to our selues their examples to follow, that we may be temperate and constant in euery estate and condition of life. Wee reade of Socrates that one and the same countenance was noted in him all his life time, that it was neither sadder nor pleasanter for The wonder­full constancy of Socrates. any thing that hapned vnto him. He changed it not when he heard the sentence of his death pronounced, no not when he dranke the poison, following therein the contents of his con­demnation, albeit then he was aboue threescore yeares of age. Publius Rutilus a Romane, be­ing vniustly banished, neuer changed his countenance or behauiour, neither would put one P. Rutilus. any other gowne than that he vsed to weare, although it was the custome of such as were ba­nished, to altar 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 daies with the same greatnesse, grauity and au­thority that he vsed before, not shewing himelfe any thing beaten downe with sorrow for the strange alteration of his first estate. Quintus Metellus surnamed Numidicus, because hee had subdued that countrey of Numidia, being driuen into exile through a popular faction and se­dition, went into Asia, where as he beheld certaine plaiers, he receiued letters from the Se­nate, Q-Metellus. whereby he was certified that the Senators and people with one common consent had called him backe againe. Which good newes he bare with the like modesty that he did his banishment, not departing from the Theater before the sports were ended, nor shewing his letters to any of his friends that were round about him before he had assembled them toge­ther in his lodging to deliberate of his returne to Rome. The same grauity and constancy cau­sed [Page 144] 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 countrey of Pontus. Diogenes. Wee must account the whole scope of the firmament for the bounds of our countrey as long as wee liue here. Neither ought any man within those limits to esteeme himselfe either bani­shed, or a stranger: seeing God gouerneth all things by the same elements. Therefore Socra­tes said, that hee tooke not himselfe to bee either an Athenian or a Graecian, but a worlding. And how shall wee thinke that they who sustained so couragiously their banishment from Socrates tooke the whole world for his countrey. their countrey, (which was so deare vnto them, that they preferred the benefit thereof be­fore the safety of their life) their depriuation and absence from their families, friends and goods, would not much more vertuously haue suffered all lesse aduersities? Therefore to end our present discourse, let vs learne that nothing belonging to this present life hath nei­ther more euill nor good in it, than according to the ende which befalleth it, and that it is our duty to keepe our selues moderate, constant, and vpright, both in prosperity and in aduersitie, which is the propertie of true magnanimitie and greatnesse of courage. Let vs not lift vp our selues aboue measure for any temporall felicitie, nor bee too much discouraged because wee are visited with aduersity, but wisely expect what will bee the end of both, which a good and vertuous man shall alwaies find to bee happy when hee changeth his mortall estate for a life that is certaine and euerlasting.

Of Riches. Chap. 37.

YEsterday wee bestowed the better part of the day in discoursing of good and ill hap, of prosperity and aduersity, which with a swift pace following each other, seeme to change, to turne, and to ouer­turne incessantly the dealings and desires of men. Now for asmuch as wee made mention of the ignorant multitude which placeth happinesse and felicitie in the fading goods of the world, and affir­med to the contrarie, that this felicity was very miserable, because it maketh a man more insolent and arrogant, and giueth him greater occasion to bewaile, than to reioyce in his fortune; I thinke wee 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 stir vs vp to superfluity, and pull vs backe from temperance. And therefore 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 hee cannot vse Riches without reason.

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

As children of three or foure yeares of age haue no more care or thought, but how they may play and passe away their time with the hauing of daily foode according to their appetite, not considering or taking any care for the meanes which they might haue, and which would bee necessary for the nourishment of their olde age: so it seemeth to me that the men of our time behaue themselues, when through a more than childish ignorance they labour without ceasing togather and to increase wealth, which will doe them seruice but a little while, not caring in the meane time for certaine and immortall goods which will nourish them for euer. And yet the soule created according to the image of God, cannot better preserue and shew forth her diuine nature in this mortall body, than by contemning all earthly, humane, and fading 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 [Page 145] testimonies of the auncient Sages, of the nature and quality of riches, and of the visible ef­fects which they daily bring foorth in those that serue and possesse them: next, we wil behold some examples of these famous personages, that we may bee induced thereby to contemne Of the nature quality, and effects of riches. such pernicious goods. Men ought to make great account of riches (said Socrates) if they were ioyned with true ioy, but they are wholy separated from it. For if rich men fall to vsing of them, they spoile them­selues with ouer great pleasure; if they would keepe them, care gnaweth and consumeth them within; and if they desire to get them, they become wicked and vnhappy. It cannot be (saith Plato) that a man should be truly good, and very rich both together, but he may well be happy and good at one time. And it is a very 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 sluggishnes grow of riches, and they that are addicted to heape them vp more and more, the greater account they make of them, they lesse 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 greater matters are brought to passe, and Common wealths preserued by vertue, and not by riches. Riches (saith Isocrates) serue not so much for the practise of honesty as of wicked­nesse seeing they draw the liberty of men to loosenesse and idlenesse, and stirre vp yong men to voluptuous­nesse. Men (said Thales) are by nature borne to vertue, but riches draw them backe vnto them, hauing a thousand sorts 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 externall goods. They are passing arrogant and most fearefull. If they vse themselues, they are rio­tous, if they abstaine, miserable. They neuer content their owners, nor leaue them voide of sorrow 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 happie without them. They prouoke them also to de­licacies and to gluttony, whereby their bodies are subiect to diseases and infirmities. Briefely, riches great­ly hurt both body and soule. They stirre vp domesticall sedition, and that among brethren. They make children woorse 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 friende is credi­ted no more by reason of a flatterer: Besides, rich men are angry with good men, saying, that they are arrogant: because they will not flatter them, and in like manner they hate such as flatter them, thinking that they keepe about them onely torob them and to diminish their wealth. These are the euils, which may be saide to bee commonly in riches. But these also accompany them, beeing execrable diseases, namely, presumption, pride, arrogancy, vile and abiect cares, which are altogether earthly, naughty desires, wicked pleasures, and an insatiable coueting. Besides, if Riches of themselues are the good gifts of God, but the euils wrought for or by them come from the corrupt nature of man they were not pernicious of themselues, so many mischiefes would not take their beginning from them. For men commit a thousand murders for gaine. They rob Churches, fidelitie is lost and broken, friendship is violated, men betray their countrey, maidens are loosely giuen: briefly, no euils are left vnexecuted through the desire of riches. They that giue themselues (said Bian) to gather riches, are very ridiculous, seeing Fortune giueth them, couetousnes keepeth them, and liberality casteth them away. Men must haue rich soules, (saith Alexides) as for siluer it is nothing but a shew and veile of life. It is a naughty thing (saith Euripides) but common to all rich men, to liue wicked­ly. The cause thereof as I take it, is this, because they haue nothing but riches in their minde, which bee­ing blinde, seale vp likewise the eies of their vnderstanding. I pray God neuer sende mee a wealthie life, which hath alwaies sorrow and care for her companions, nor riches to gnaw my heart. Speake not to mee of Pluto, that is to say of riches, for I make no reckoning of that God, who is alwayes possessed of The Poets fained Pluto to be the God of riches, appointing hell for his kingdome. the most wicked vpon the earth. O riches, you are easie to beare, but infinite cares, miseries, and griefes keepe you companie. Hee (saith, Democritus) that woondereth at such as haue great riches and are esteemed of the ignorant multitude to bee happy, 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 ioyned with power, breedeth insolencie and furie. And to those whose minds are not well disposed, neither riches, nor strength, nor beauty, can bee iudged good but the greater in­crease ariseth of them, the more harme they may procure to him that possesseth them. Morouer, do wee The euil dis­position of the mind is the true cause of the hurt that commeth by riches. not see that the most part of rich men, either vse not their riches, because they are couetous, or abuse them, because 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 bee (as Plato saith) truly rich, ought to labour not so much to augment his wealth, or to diminish his desire of hauing, because he that appointeth no bounds to his desires, is alwaies poore and needy. For this cause the liberty of a wise mans soule, who knoweth nature of externall goods belonging to this life, is neuer troubled [Page 146] with the care of them, beeing assured (as Plutarke saith) that as it is not apparell which giueth heate to a man, but onely staieth and keepeth in naturall heate that proceedeth from the man himselfe, by hinde­ring it from dispersing in the aire: so no man liueth more happily or contentedly, because he is compassed about with much wealth, if tranquility, ioy, and rest, proceede not from within his soule. Heape vp (saith From whence happines and contentation cometh. the same Philosopher) store of gold, gather siluer together, builde faire galleries, fill a whole house ful of slaues, and a whole towne with thy debtors: yet if thou doest not master the passions of thy soule, if thou quenchest not thy vnsatiable desire, nor deliuerest thy soule of all feare and carking care, thou doest as much to procure thy quietnesse, as if thou gauest wine to one that had an ague. Life of itselfe (saith Pla­to) is not ioyfull, vnlesse care bee chased away, which causeth vs to waxe gray headed, whilest wee desire but meane store of riches. For the supersluous desire of hauing, alwayes gnaweth our heart. Whereupon it commeth to passe, that oftentimes amongst men we see pouerty to be better than riches, Great mad­nes in coue­ting m [...]ony. and death than life. And truely there is great madnesse 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 wee call that good, which hath no end or measure? Or that which be? ing gotten, is the beginning of a further desire to haue more? A horse (saith Epictetus) is not said to bee better, because hee hath eaten more then another, or because he hath a gilt harnesse, but because hee is stronger, swifier, 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 beauty? If any thinke that his old age shall bee borne more easily by the meanes of riches, hee deceiueth himselfe. For they may well cause him to enioy the hurtfull pleasures of the body, but cannot take from him sadnesse, horrour, and feare of death: nay rather double hisgriefe, when he thinketh that hee must leaue and forsake them. In this short discourse taken from ancient men, the vanity of riches appeareth sufficiently vnto vs, as also the hurt­full effects that flow from them, if they be not ruled by the reason of true prudence. Herafter wee are to see how wee may vse those riches well, which God putteth into our hands, beeing iustly gotten by vs: which is a part of iustice, whereof we are to entreate. In the meane time, that wee fasten not our hearts to so friuolous and vaine a thing, let vs call to minde some ex­amples Examples of the contempt of Riches. of wise and famous men, worthy of immortall renowne, who haue altogether con­temned, eschued, and despised the couetous desire and hoording vp of riches, as the plague and vnauoideable ruine of the soule. Wee reade of Marcus Curius a Romane Consul, (the first of his time that receiued thrice the dignity of triumphing for the notable victories which he M [...] Curius. had obtained in the honor of his countrey) that he made so small account of worldly riches, that all his possession was but a little farme in the countrey sorily built, wherein he continu­ed for the most part when publike affaires suffered him, himselfe labouring and tilling that little grounde which hee had there. And when certaine Embassadors vpon a day came to visit him, they found him in his chimney dressing of radish for his supper. And when they presented him with a great summe of monie from their Comonalty, he refused it, saying: that they which contented themselues with such an ordinarie as his was, had no neede of it: and that hee thought it far more honourable to commaund them that had gold, than to haue it. Phocion the Phocion. Athenian being visited with Embassadors from Alexander, they presented him with a hun­dred talents (being in value threescore thousand crownes) which this Monarch sent vnto him for a gift. Ph [...]c [...]on demanding the cause why, seeing there were so many Athenians besides him, they answered. Because their maister iudged him only among al the rest to be a vertuous and good man. Then (quoth he) let him suffer me both to seeme and to be so indeed, and carry his pre­sent backe againe to him. Notwithstanding hee was needie, as may bee prooued by the answere which he made to the Athenian Councel, who demanded a voluntary contribution of euery one towards a sacrifice, And when there were no more left to contribute but [...]e, they were very importunate with him to giue some what. It were a shame for me (said he vnto me) to giue you mony, before I haue payed this man, & therewithall hee shewed one vnto them that had lent him acertaine sum of money. Philopaemen Generall of the Achaians, hauing procured a league of amity betweene the City of Sparta, and his owne, the Lacedemonians sent him a present Philopaemen. of sixescore Talents, which were worth threescore & 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 mony, seeing in their need they might bee assured of them, and vse their vertue freely without cost: but that they were to buy & gaine with hired rewarde, the wicked, and 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 beeing stop­ped [Page 147] by giftes, they might procure lesse trouble to the gouernment of the Common­wealth. A great Lord of Persia comming from his countrey to Athens, and perceiuing that hee stoode in great neede of his aide and fauour of Cimon, who was one of the chiefe in the city, he presented vnto him two cuppes that were both full, the one of Dariques of golde, Cimon. the other of siluer Dariques. This wise Graecian beginning to smile, demaunded 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 c [...]ry back again thy gold and siluer. For if I bee thy friend, it will bee alwaies at my commaundement to vse as often as I shall neede. Anacreon hauing receiued of Polycrates fiue talents for a gift, was so much troubled Anacreos. for the space of two nights with care how he might keepe them, and about what to imploy them best, that he carried them backe againe, saying: That they bee not woorth the paines which he had already taken for them. Xenocrates refused thirty thousand crownes of Alexander, sent vn­to him for a present, saying: That hee had no neede of them. What (quoth Alexander) hath hee Xenocrates. neuer a friend? For mine owne part, I am sure that all king Darius treasure will scarce suffice mee to distribute among my friends. Socrates beeing sent for by king Archelaus to come vnto him, who promised him great riches, sent him word, that a measure of flower was sould in A­thens Socrates. for a Double, and that water cost nothing. And although it seemeth (quoth this Phi­losopher) that I haue not goods enough, yet I haue enough, seeing I am contented therwith. What is necessary (said Menander) for the vse of our life besides these two things, Bread and Water? Bias flying out of his city which be fore saw would bee besieged without hope of re­scue, Fiue Doubles in France make [...] peny of our coine. would not lode himselfe with his wealth as others did. And being demaunded the cause why, I carrie (quoth hee) all my goods with mee: meaning the inuisible gifts and graces of his mind. Truely 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 Al cibiades waxed arrogant because of the great quantity of ground, which he possessed, shewed him an vniuersal Map of the world, and asked him whether he knew which were his landes in the territory 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 Lycurgus abrogated the v [...]e of gold & sil­uer coine. much in the reforming of the Lacedemonian estate, was the disanulling of all gold, and sil­uer coine, and the appointing of iron monie onely to be currant, a pound weight whereof was woorth but six [...] 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 moued Plato to say, that he would not haue the Princes and gouernors of his Common wealth, nor his men of war and soldiers, to deale at all with gold & 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. Therefore if we desire to liue hap­pily in tranquility and rest of soule, and with ioy of spirit, let vs learne after the example of so many great men to withdraw our affections wholy from the desire of worldly riches, not ta­king delight and 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 that (according to the Scripture) no man can serue God and riches together, but that all they which desire them greedily, fall Luk. 16. 13. into temptations and snares, and into many foolish and noisome lusts which drowne men in 1. Tim. 6. 9. perdition, whereof wee haue eye-witnesses daily before vs. This appeareth in that example which the selfe same word noteth vnto vs of the rich man that abounded in al things, so that he willed his soule to take her ease, and to make good cheere, because she had so much goods Luk. 12. 16. laid vp for many yeares: and yet the same night he was to pay tribute vnto nature, to his ouer­throw and confusion. Being therefore instructed by the Spirit of wisedome, let vs treasure vp What riches we ought to treasure vp. in Iesus Christ the permanent Riches of wisedome, piety, and iustice, which of themselues are sufficient through his grace to make vs liue with him for euer.

Of Pouerty. Chap. 34.

NOw that we haue seene the nature of Riches with the most common ef­fects which flowe from them, and seeing the chiefe and principall cause that leadeth men so earnestly to desire them, is the feare of falling into [Page 148] pouerty, 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 goe astray out of the right path of Vertue. The chiefe cause why ri­ches are so earnestly de­sired.

Pouerty (said Diogines) is a helpe to Philosophie, and is learned of it selfe. For that which Philosophie seeketh to make vs know by words, pouerty 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 pouerty of her 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 prodig all in giuing vnto vs all things necessary for the life of man, hath notwithstanding cast all of vs naked out of her bowels, and must receiue vs so againe into her wombe, I see no great rea­son wee haue to call some rich, and others poore; seeing the beginning, being, and ende of the temporall life of all men are vnlike in nothing, but that some during this little 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 wee call poore according to the opinion of men, should be accounted, yea commonly take them­selues Against those that thinke poore men lesse happy than the rich. to be lesse happy than rich men, and as I may so say, bastard children and not legiti­mate, because 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 and strange mishap) to be so vnprouided for, but with any labour and paines taking (which is the reward of sinne) hee is able to get so much as is necessary for the maintenance of his life, namely, foode 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 than that of the richest. Yea many times they are rewarded and enriched aboue others, in the beeing withdrawne from the care and gouernment of many earthly things, they feele themselues so much the more rauished with speciall and heauenly grace (if they hinder it not) in the meditation & contemplation of celestiallthing: from whence they may easily draw a great and an assured contentation in this life, through a certaine hope that they A prety com­parison. shall enioy them perfectly, because they are prepared for them, in that blessed immortality of the secondlife. For nothing is more certaine than this, that as the Sun is a great deale better seen in cleare and cleane water, than in that which is troubled, or in a myrie and dirty puddle: so the brightnesse that commeth from God shineth more in mindes not subiected to worldly goods, than in them that are defiled and troubled with those earthly affections which ri­ches bring with them. This is that which Iesus Christ himselfe hath taught, speaking to him that demaunded what he should do to haue eternall life: If thou wilt be perfect (saith hee) sell that which thou hast, and giue it to the poore, and thou shalt haue treasure in heauen: adding besides, Mat. 19. 21. 23 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 his eldest or best beloued, the enioying of his principall manner by inheritance, and to 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, and had better portions than the other? And I pray you what comparison is there betweene the greatest worldly and transitorie riches that can be, and the permanent treasures No comparison betweene worldly and heauenly treasures. of heauen, seeing those cannot be compared but to a thing of nought, than which they are weaker, being moreouer accompanied with inumerable hurtfull euils, as wee haue already shewed? What happinesse and felicity can wealth adde to rich men aboue the poorer sort; that these should bee 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 and the other, and that prouideth nourishment for vnreasonable creatures, doth distribute vnto vs as much as hee knoweth in his eternall praescience and foreknowledge to be needfull for vs, whereof shall we complaine, except, as inheritors of that damnable vice of ingratitude from the first man, we forget so many bene­fits receiued, as also those that are daily proffered and promised vnto vs of his heaaenly 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 [Page 149] vs. And how can we be so impudent and shamelesse 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 and freely bestowed vnto vs? But there is a further matter. For if we would consi­der the great, yea the vnspeakeable fruits which pouertie bringeth with her, and whereof shee The fruits of pouerty. is able to make vs partakers in this life, without doubt she will bee found to bee a thousand times more happy than riches. Pouerty (saith Aristophanes) is the mistres of manners. Pouerty (said Archesilaus) seemeth to be sharpe, hard, and troublesome, but shee is nurse to a good linage, as shee that ac­quainteth her selfe with frugality and abstinence. In a word, she is a schoole of vertue. Wealth is full of wic­kednesse, (saith Euripides) but pouerty is accompanied with wisedome, and all honest men are contented with necessary things. And if they offer sacrifice to the gods with a little incense in the palme of their hand, they are for the most part sooner heard than thny that kill many beasts 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 sadnes. To desire but a little (said Democritus) maketh pouerty equall with riches: & if thou desirest not many things, a little will seeme to thee to be very great. Pouertie (said Anaximenus) ma­keth the spirit more sharpe, & 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 Aristonimus) is like to a nauigation made along 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 ashore, and saue themselues, whereas the others cannot do so, because they are no more in their owne power, but in Fortunes. Fly not from pouerty (said Hipsaeus) but from iniustice and wrong. For no man was euer punished because he was poore, but many because they were vniust. Neither is a mans life commended because he is rich, but because he is iust. Hunger (saith Plutarke) neuer engendreth adulte­tery, nor want of money, lust: so that pouerty is a short kind of temperance. If thou wert borne among the Persians (said Epictetus) thou wouldest not wish to dwell in Graecia, but to liue there in happy estate. Art thou not then a very foole, because thou seekest not rather to liue happily in pouerty, seeing thou art borne therein, than to striue with so great labour for riches that thou maiest 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 abundance. For neither pouerty procureth trouble, nor riches driueth away feare: but reason is that which causeth men neither to desire riches, nor to feare pouerty. If other things (saith Bion the wise) could speake aswell as we, and were licenced to dispute with vs, might not pouerty iustly say vnto vs after this manner? O man wherefore fightest thou against mee? Why art thou become mine enemy? 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 necessary things should faile thee. What? Are not the An excellent defence for pouertie. waies full of herbes 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 means, that maketh good sauce for thee in hunger? And hee that is a thirst, doth hee not take very great pleasure in drinking? Doest thou thinke that a man shall dye for hunger, because hee hath noe tart, or for thirst, if hee haue not very delicate wine cooled with snow? All such things are but for deli­cacie and nicenesse. Doest thou want a house, when there are so many goodly Churches in citties? What answer could bee made to pouerty, if shee should speake thus? Truely hee that hath vertue possesseth all goods, because that alone maketh men happy: which may bee spoken aswell of a poore man as of a rich. For they (said Thales) that thinke pouerty 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 from study through riches, than through pouerty? Doe wee not see that the poorest study Philosophy best, which the wealthie because of their money and many matters, cannot doe? For this cause Theogius said very well, that many more haue pe­rished through surfetting than through hunger. And to let you know that pouertie is more happie, and better esteemed of than riches, consider the examples of Aristides surnamed the Iust, who beeing very poore, was chosen to leuie and to gather tribute before all the rich men Examples to shew that po­uertie was more estee­med of than riches. in Athens. And Callias the richest man of all the Athenians, sought by all meanes to haue his friendship, wheras the other made no great account of him. Epaminondas was not called halfe a God, nor Lycurgus a Sauiour, because they abounded in wealth and were slaues to their pas­sions, but because they profited their countrey exceedingly, and were content with their po­uerty. Therefore wee may gather out of the sayings of so many great and vertuous men, an assured testimonie of the benefite and profite that commonly followeth the condition of poore men. And for inuincible proofes, haue wee not the examples of the liues of infinite Sages and learned Philosophers, who willingly forsaking, and wholly contemning riches, went to the Academie, commonly called the Schoole of Pouertie, there to enioy the [Page 150] treasures of wisedome and vertue? Yea, which is more, wee finde that pouertie hath beene the onely and principall cause of enriching many with this vnspeakeable treasure, according to that saying of Aristotle, that calamity is oftentimes the occasion of vertue. Zeno the foun­der Zeno. of the Stoicail Academie, after he had possessed much wealth, and suffered many losses, had no more left but one ship of merchandise, which being cast away, hee vttered this speech: Thou doest well Fortune to bring mee to the studie of Philosophie, wherein hee continued euer af­ter. The exile and banishment of Diogenes driuen from his countrey, was the cause and be­ginning Diogenes. 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 answered to Antigonus king of Macedonia, who Cleanthes. asked him if hee turned the milstone alwaies: Yea sir (said hee) I turne it yet about to get my liuing, but forsake not Philosophy for all that. How great and noble was the minde of that man, who after his labour wrote of the nature of God and of the heauens, with the same hand wherewith hee turned about the milstone? Others say, that he got his liuing by drawing wa­ter for a gardiner: about which hee bestowed the night onely, that hee might spend the day in hearing the Philosophers dispute. This man calleth to my remembrance two other Philosophers, named Menendemus and Asclepiades, who beeing accused before the Areopa­gites the chiefe iudges of Athens, as idle persons hauing no goods in possession, and beeing Menendemus & Asclepiades, willed to declare how they liued, their answer was, that inquiry should be made of their Host who was a Baker. This man beeing called, said, that they bestowed the whole day in the stu­die 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 with herbes and fruites in stead of bread, and so Pythagoras alwaies liued. And yet they found so great contentation and felicity in such a life, that one Philoxenus hauing as yet but tasted of the first fruits of his profession of study, and being of that number which was Pythagoras kept [...] d [...]t. Philoxenus. sent by the Athenians to inhabite a new city 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 idle­nesse, without any exercise of letters reigned in those quarters, hee forsooke all and returned to Athens, saying, by the gods these goods shall not destroy me, but I will rather destroy them Al these fruits which are noted to be in pouerty, gaue occasion to an ancient man to say, that it was a vertue of Fortitude to sustaine pouerty patiently, but to desire it was the praise of wisedome. Now forasmuch as it will bee very hard if not altogether vnpossible, notwithstan­ding all reason that can be alleadged to men, to dispossesse them of the hatred and feare of pouerty, which naturally they shun, let vs learne of the Ancients, who ought to account him­selfe poore, that we abuse no more this word Pouerty. Diogenes was vpon a time visited by A­lexander, who said vnto him, I see well Diogenes that thou art poore, and hast need of many things, ther­fore Who ou [...]t to be estee­med poore. aske of mee what thou wilt, and I will giue it thee. Whereupon this excellent Philosopher de­spising such offers of goods whereof he stood not in neede, answered: Whether of vs twaine Alexander seemeth to thee to haue most neede, and therefore poorest, either I that desire nothing but my Diogenes sup [...]d A­lexander to be poore: than himselfe. pile of wood and a little bread, or thou who beeing king of Macedonia, doest hazard thy selfe to so many dangers to inlarge thy kingdome, insomuch, that the whole world will hardly suffice to bound thy ambition, and to content thy couetousnesse? The Monarch so greatly admired the magnanimity of this man, that hee vttered these words with a loude voice, If I were not Alexander, I would bee Diogenes. Marius a Consul of Rome distributing land among his countri-men gaue to euery one four­teene acres onely. And vnderstanding that some were not contented therewith but demaun­ded more, I would to God (quoth hee then) that no Romane 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 bee content with a little, and 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 neede of any thing whatsoeuer, it may easily be presupposed, that the most excellent vertue of man, and that which commeth nea­rest to the diuine nature, consisteth in causing a man to stand in neede of fewest things. This is that which Socrates said, That to desire nothing (meaning worldly things) is in some sort to resemble God. And how can wee call him poore, whose soule is inriched with many great and rare perfections? Cicero writing to Atticus said, That a friend was bound to wish but three things vnto his friend, namely, That hee bee healthy, that hee bee well accounted of, and that hee bee not needy A friend is to [...]. Now that all these things are found in a temperate and noble minded man, wee may learne [Page 151] by the effects of Sobriety, whereof wee haue heretofore discoursed, and by those of honour, which is neuer separated from vertue, no more than the shadow is from the body. And as for the necessary vse of foode and raiment, it is not wanting to them that stand most in neede thereof, as we haue already touched it in our present speech: and so a vertuous man cannot be called poore. But let vs yeeld a little to the common opinion of worldlings, that pouerty and want of earthly riches is odious and contemptible, yet that pouerty onely which proceedeth What pouer­ty is odious. of sloth, Idlenes, & ignorance, or otherwise of foolish expences, of riot and superfluitie, may be said to be ful of reproch & shame, & is to be shunned. For whē pouerty is found in an honest, painefull, diligent, iust, valiant & wise man, it serueth for a great proofe of his magnanimitie & greatnesse of courage, because hee hath set his minde vnto 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 we may say, that Aristides was, beeing captaine and gouernour of the Athenian e­state, as wee haue already mentioned, who after many excellent and great offices which hee bare to the good of his countrey, was so smally enriched thereby, that beeing dead, all his Aristides. 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 will: and that it was a rarer matter, and worthy of greater praise, to sustaine pouerty vertuously and with a noble minde, than to know how to vse riches well. And so pouerty is neuer accompanied with shame, except it bee to them that fall into it through negligence or misgouernment of those goods which God hath put into their hands, that they should bee faithfull keepers and disposers thereof in charitable workes. This is that which Thucydides saith, that it is no shame for a man to confesse his po­uerty, but very great to fall into it by his owne default. Therefore to reape profit by that which hath beene here discoursed, let vs put off that old errour which hath continued so long in mens braines, that pouerty 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 know, that to possesse small store of earthly goods, ought not to bee called pouerty, because all fulnesse of wealth aboundeth in the knowledge and assurance of the fa­therly grace and goodnesse of the author and creator of all things, which he offereth liberally Where the fulnes of riches is to be sought to all without accepting either of pompe or greatnesse. And further, when as, continuing the care which it pleaseth him to take of vs, he giueth vs although in trauaile & sweate, wher­with to feede and to clothe vs in all simplicity and modesty, and that according to our neces­sity, wee should bee vnthankefull and altogether vnworthy the asistance of his helpe and fa­uour and of his eternall promises, if not not contented, nor glorifying him for our estate, wee complained, or wondred at, and desired the calling of other men offering thereby in will and affection our birthrights through a gluttonous desire, whereas wee ought to preserue to our selues the possession of that heauenly inheritance, wherein consisteth the perfection of all glory, rest, and contentation.

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

TWo things being the cause of all passions in men, namely, Griefe and Pleasure, they alwaies desire the one, but flie from and feare the other. But the occasi­on of the greatest euill that befalleth them is, because these desires and affecti­ons being borne with them from the beginning, doe also grow and encrease Griefe & pleasure the cau­ses of all pas­sions in men along time before they can haue any iudgement framed in them through the right vnder­standing of things. Whereupon as well by nature, which of it selfe is more inclined to euill than to good, as through a long continuing in vice, they are easily drawne to follow the ap­petite and lust of their sensuality, wherein they fas [...]ly iudge that pleasure consisteth, and thinke it painefull not to please it. Being thus guided by ignorance, and walking like blinde men, they haue experence for the most part of such an ende 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 excellency of vertue, that they may liue in idlenesse: wherewith being bewitched they are partakers of many false pleasures, which procure them a greater number of griefes and miseries, all which they thought to auoid very well. And this we may the better vnderstand, if we discourse of I­dlenesse, 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 spirit, 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 and reiterated, and continually in hand, is finished at last.

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

As wee admire and honour them with verie great commendation, in whom wee may note as we thinke, some excellent and singular vertues, so wee contemne them whom wee iudge to haue neither vertue, courage, nor fortitude in them, and whom wee see to bee profitable neither to themselues nor to others, because they are not laborious, in­dustrious, nor carefull, but remaine idle and slothfull. And to say truth, the manners, condi­tions, and naturall disposition of such men, are wholy corrupted, their conuersation is odious, vnprofitable, and to bee auoided, seeing that Idlenesse is the mother and nurse of vice, which destroieth and marreth all. Therefore it was very well ordained in the primitiue Church, that Idlenes is the [...] and nur [...] of [...] vice. euery one should liue of his owne labour, that the Idle and slothfull might not consume vn­profitablie the goods of the earth. Which reason brought in that auncient Romane edict, mentioned by Cicero in his booke of Lawes, That no Romane should goe through the streetes of the cittie, vnlesse hee carried about him the badge of that trade, whereby hee liued. Insomuch that Mar­cus Aurelius speaking of the diligence of the auncient Romanes, writeth: That all of them followed their labour and trauell so earnestly, that hauing necessary occasion one day to send a letter two or three daies iourney from the towne, hee could not finde one idle body in all the cittie to carrie it. The great Orator and Philosopher Cicero, minding to teach vs how we ought to hate Idlenesse, as being against nature, sheweth that men are in deed borne to good wooke, whereof our soule may serue for a sufficient and inuincible proofe, seeing it is neuer Idlenes is a­gainst nature. still, but in continuall motion and action. And for the same cause hee greatly commendeth Scipio, who vsed to say, that hee was neuer lesse quiet than when hee was quiet. Whereby hee Scipio was neuer [...]dle. giueth vs to vnderstand, that when hee was not busied with weightie 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 solitarinesse hee 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 shee doth the perfect knowledge of all things: seeing this knowledge and contemplation of the workes of nature should seeme to be maimed and vnperfect, if no action followed it; whereas vertuous deedes are profitable to all men, for which ende nature hath brought vs forth, which sheweth sufficiently that they are better and more excellent. So that vnlesse the knowledge of things bee ioyned with that vertue, which preserueth humane societie, it will seeme to bee dead and vnprofitable. Therefore Chrysippus the Philosopher said, that the life of those men that giue themselues to idle studies, differed nothing from that of voluptuous men. So that wee must not studie Philosophy by way of sport, but to the ende wee may profit both ourselues and others. Now, if action must of neces­sity bee ioined to studie and contemplation, to make a happie life, so that otherwise it is as To what end we must study Philosophie. it were dead and idle: what shall we say of that life that is voide 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, how ma­ny are more idle and lesse carefull than bruite beasts, neglecting the prouision euen of things necessarie for this present life? Amongst the obscure precepts which Pythagoras gaue to his Disciples, this was one: Take good heede that thou sitte not vpon a bushell: meaning, that Idlenesse and Sloth were especially to be eschewed. Likewise, when wee shall enter into the considerati­on Pythagoras [...] a­gainst Idlenes on of those euils that issue from Idlenesse and Sloth, no doubt but wee will flie from them, as from the plague, of our soules. They are greatly to bee feared in a Common-wealth, because they open a gate to all iniustice, and kindle the fire of sedition, which setteth afloate all kinde of impietie. Furthermore, they are the cause of the finding out of infinite false and perniti­ous inuentions, for the releeuing of pouertie, which for the most part floweth from the same fountaine of Idlenesse. This mooued the wise and auncient kings of Egypt, to im­ploy their Idle people in digging of the earth, and in the drawing foorth and building [...]. of those Pyramides, the chiefe of which is by the Historiographers placed among the seuen wonders o [...] the world It could not bee perfectly finished before the space of twenty yeares, albeit that three hundred and threescore thousand men wrought about it continually. [Page 153] The Captaines and Heads of the Romane armies fearing the dangerous effects of idlenesse, no lesse in their host, than in their townes, caused their souldiers to trauell in making of tren­ches, when they were not vrged of their enemies, as Marius did alongst the riuer of Rhone. The Emperour Claudius enioying an assured peace, caused the chanell Fucinus to be made, Claudius. that Rome might haue the commoditie of good waters: about which worke thirtie thou­sand men were daily imployed for the space of twelue yeares. Adrianus seeing a generall peace within his Empire, continually vndertooke new and long iournies, one while into France an­other Adrianus. while into Germanie, sometimes into Asia, and into other strange countries, causing his men of warre to march with him: saying, that hee did it for feare, least they beeing idle should be corrupted, and forget the discipline of warre, and so be the cause of nouelties. And it seemeth that this was the cause why a wise Romane counselled the Senate not to destroy Carthage, least the Romanes beeing in safety 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 cowardlinesse, they haue lost the dignitie and vertue of their forefa­thers. The Ephories, who were Gouernors of the Lacedemonian estate, beeing mooued The Ephories of Lacede­monia. Scipio Nasica. with the same reason with which the Romane Scipio Nasica was touched, after intelligence had of the taking and 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 hee should not after the same manner destroy another towne, which hee had besieged, writing these words vnto him: Take not away the pricke which stirreth forward the hearts of our yong men. Gelon king of Syracusa led his people oftentimes into the fields, aswell to labour the ground, and to plant, as to fight, both that the earth might be better, being well Gelon. dressed, as also because he feared least his people should waxe woorse for want of trauell. So greatly did these ancient wise men feare the pernitious effects of idlenesse and sloth, which bring to nothing and corrupt the goodnesse of nature, whereas diligence and exercise in good education correcteth the naughtinesse thereof. For as close waters (saith Plutarke) pu­trifie quickly, because they are couered, shadowed, and standing: so they that busie not them­selues, A similitude 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 luxuriousnesse are quenched with great, sharpe, and continuall labour, so are they kindled through idlenesse. Aretchlesse and slothfull man can finde out nothing that is easie. But there is nothing (saith Seneca) whereunto continuall labour is not able to attaine, and 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 work, but giueth the repulse to fearefull and base minded men. Let vs beleeue (said Pythagoras) that laborious and painefull things will sooner leade vs to vertue, than those that are nice and delicate. And (as Hesiodus saith) the Gods haue placed sweat before vertue: and the way that leadeth vnto her long, difficult, and craggie. A Sweat is pla­ced before vertue. good Pilot seeing a tempest at hand, calleth vpon the gods, that they would grant him grace to escape it: but in the mean while he taketh the helme into his hand, he veileth the foresaile, and bringing about the maine saile, laboureth to come out of the dark sea. Hesiodus comman­deth the husbandman to make his vowes to Iupiter and to Ceres, before the either ploweth or soweth, but he must doe 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 claie, and that it be perceiued that no water springeth there. In like sort, lawes must prouide for necessity, and not fauour sloth and idlenesse. By sloth wee lose that which we haue alreadie gotten, but by diligence we attaine to that which we haue not, and which may be necessary for vs. I passed (saith the wise man) by the field of the slothfull, and by Prou. 24. 30. 31. 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 and iudgement not to care for the getting of that which is needfull for him, because he feareth least hee should lose it. Whereupon this would follow (which is a very absurd thing) that nothing how deere and precious soeuer it bee, ought to bee sought for or desired, seeing all things are subiect to change, yea knowledge through great diseases, and other inconueniences may bee lessened and lost. Idlenesse and sloth do not hurt the soule onely, but impaire also the health of the bo­dy. Yea that rest which a man taketh by negligence, is much more hurtfull vnto him, than Idlenesse de­caieth the health of the body. painefull exercise. And they which thinke that health needeth necessarily a continuall rest to preserue it well, vsing that goodly pretence because they would not bee troubled with [Page 154] moe matters than needs they must, especially with those which concerne publike commo­dities, as also because they would not take paines in the studie of wisedome; they cannot be better compared than to such as will not vse their eyes in beholding any thing, that they might keepe them the better, neither will speake at all to preserue their voice well. Euery kinde 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 goe farther, and say with Socrates, that diseased men ought not to bee 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 e [...]rnest a­gainst this Epicurian sentence, Hide thy life: which was set downe by Neocles brothers to Epi­curus, No man ought to hide his life. meaning thereby to perswade them that would liue happily, not to intermeddle with any publike matter. But contrariwise (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 and to cure thee, that so thou maiest amend and repent. If in the knowledge of nature thou hast learned by songs to praise God, his iustice, and heauenly prouidence: or in morall knowledge to commend the law, humane societie, the gouernment of the common-wealth, and there in to respect honour, not profit, 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 counsaile proceeding out of the mouth of an Ethnik, as necessary to be practised at this day, as we see it contemned of so many wise worldlings, who say they haue the absolute and sound reformation of our estate 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 because they will take no paine, and others doe worse in maintaining the corruption of the estate, and in cleauing wittingly to the destruction thereof. But let vs proceed to looke vpon the fruits of idlenesse. It is of that fountaine whereof cursed ignorance drinketh and maintaineth her selfe, and from thence flow all pleasures followed with bitternesse and griefe, which with draw vs from all vertuous occupations, to imploy our selues about all kindes of trifles, that are neither good, honest nor profitable, but rather hurtfull and very pernitious. Of which number wee may note gaming, which is as common amongst vs, and as blame worthie, as any other imperfe­ction, Of gaming and of the estects therof. seeing her foundation is laid vpon lucre and couetousnesse, or else vpon the losse of time. Those cursed effects which it bringeth forth daily, as quarrels, murders, blasphemies, cogging, ouerthrow of houses and families, doe sufficiently testifie vnto vs the in famous na­ture thereof. Likewise it hath beene so abhorred of the ancient Sages, that Chilon being sent from Lacedemonia to Corinth, to intreat of a league betweene those two peoples, and fin­ding the rulers playing at dice, returning backe againe, and would not speake of his com­mission, Chilon refu­sed to make a league with dicers. saying, that he would not staine the glory of the Spartanes with so great an ignomi­nie as to ioyne them in society with dice-plaiers: How many happy ages haue our forefa­thers passed ouer, and yet neuer heard word of so vnhappy an exercise? And some say that the Lydians were the first inuenters of games, but it was when their countrie was brought in­to great necessitie of victuals: to the end that by playing, they might finde some helpe and The occasion that mooued the Lydians to inuent games. meane to sustaine and to resist hunger the better, by spending euery other day in gaming without any meate. Which they continued for the space of twenty and eight yeares, preser­uing their countrey by that meanes from a generall famine through the great sparing of their prouision. But now adaies we see, that men are so farre from recompencing the fault of so vile an occupation by fasting, that contrariwise it is followed with all kinde of dissolutnesse, gluttonie, riot, and superfluitie. And this is seene too much in these new faculties of careles men, who haue taught vs this goodly prouerbe, That a man were betrer loose than bee idle. But if they knew their inestimable losse, not of money which they abuse, but of the richest and most precious thing that may bee spent, and which can neuer be recouered, I meane of time, they would speake cleane contrarie: That to loose is woorse then to be idle, because it is ioyned with a naughty action, which of necessitie turneth to the detriment of himselfe or of his neighbour, and oftentimes of both. Among many goodly and holy ordinances, which Al­phonsus sonne of Ferdinando king of Spaine, caused those knights to obserue, which he made of the order of the band, (himselfe and al his children being of the same order) this was straight­ly Alphonsus de [...]ice a­gainst play. 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 forfaiting his wages for one moneth, and himselfe to be forbidden another moneth and a halfe from entring into the kings pallace. But because the nature of man is not able to abide continuall labour, and occasion of busines is not alwaies offered, it shall be lawfull for vs, according to the precept of Plato his Academy, [Page 155] to bestow our leasure vpon some honest pastime and game of moderate pleasure, that is not How we may recreate ourselues. farre separated from study or vertue, which will not be blame-worthie in vs, so wee vse it as we doe rest or sleepe, after wee haue dispatched and ended graue and 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 doe good and to profite euery one, esteeming it great honour to end their daies in such a com­mendable exercise: according to that saying of Erasmus: That in vaine men follow that which is Of perseue­rance. good, and striue to doe well, if they stand still before the end of their daies. For that man loseth his time in running swiftly, who fainteth before he come to the end of his race. Nothing will bee vnpossible to thee (saith the same author) so that thy heart faint not. Not to goe forward in the way of the Lord, is all one with turning backward: yea it were better neuer to begin, than not to perseuere 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 wherein vpon ad­uised and 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 despaire, 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 trie euery way. And if any man hath not this excellencie of spirit and greatnesse of heart 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 and best things, to stay 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 kinde of life, which we haue chosen from the beginning, so that the end thereof be to liue well. And let vs shunne idlenesse in such sort, as to say with Cato, that this is one thing whereof wee ought to repent vs most; if we know that we haue spent a whole day, wherein wee haue neither done nor learned some good thing. Phocylides minding to instruct vs in this matter, said, that in the euening we ought not to sleepe, before wee haue thrice called to our remembrance whatso­euer An excellent precept of Phocylides. Examples a­gainst idlenes. we haue done the same day, repenting vs of the euill, and reioycing in our well doing. A­polles the best painter that euer was, would not suffer one day to passe without drawing of some line, meaning thereby (as he said) to fight against idlenesse, as with an arrow. Aeleas king of Scythia said, that hee seemed to himselfe to differ nothing forme his horsekeeper, when hee was idle. Dionysius the elder beeing demaunded if hee were neuer idle, answered: God keepe me from that: for as a bowe (according to the common prouerbe) is marred and breaketh by beeing too much bent: so is the soule through too much idlenesse. This is that which Masinissa the Aphrican would learnedly teach vs, of whom Polybius writeth that hee died when he was fourescore and ten yeares of age, leauing behind him a sonne that was but foure yeares old. A little before he died, after he had discomfited the Carthaginians in a maine battell, hee was seene the next day eating of course browne bread, saying to some that mar­uelled thereat, That as iron is bright and shineth so long as it is vsed by the band of man, where as a house falleth into decay when no man dwelleth therein, (as Sophocles saith) so fareth it with this brightnesse An excellent comparison. and glistering light of the soule, whereby we discourse, vnderstand, and remember. The same rea­son mooued Xerxes father to say to Darius, that in perilous times and dangerous affaires, hee How political knowledge must be pre­serued. increased in wisedome. Likewise politicall knowledge, which is such a prudence, setled mind, iustice, and experience, as knoweth full well how to make choice of, and to take fit opportu­nitie in all things that happen, cannot be maintained but by the practise and managing of af­faires, by discoursing and iudging. Now to conclude our present treatise, seeing wee know that we are borne to all vertuous actions, let vs flie from idlenesse and sloth, the welsprings of The fruits of idlenesse. all iniustice and pouertie, the stirrers vp of infinite passions in the soule, and the procurers of sundry diseases in the body, euen to the vtter destruction of them. And let vs embrace dili­gence, care, trauell, and studie, which are sure guides to leade vs to that ende for which wee The end of our life. ought to liue, that is, in glorifying God, to profite our selues in honest things, and also all those with whom we liue; wherein consisteth all the happinesse and contentation of the life of good men. And let vs not doubt but that all time otherwise spent, is lost time: knowing that all times in respect of themselues are alike, but that which is imploied in vertue is good in regard of vs, and that which is vnprofitable wasted, and in vice is naught. Further, let v [...] learne neuer to giue ouer the effecting and finishing of that which we once know to belong to our dutie, seeing that without perseuerance neither he that fighteth can obtaine the victory, neither the conquerour the garland, but hee that continueth to the end, shall be saued. Therefore let Math. 10. 12. [Page 156] vs be carefull to make profite of that talent which is giuen vs to keepe, that we be not found euill and vnprofitable seruants before him, to whom we must yeeld an account euen of eue­ry idle and vaine word. Math. 12. 36.

Of an Enemy, 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 and 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 greatnesse of courage, which respecteth our enemies, 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 couragiously their iniuries, forsaking all desire and lust of reuenge.

As industrious Bees gather the driest and most pearcing hony of bitter Time: A pretie com­parison. so a wise and vertuous man (saith Xenophon) knoweth how to draw profite and commoditie from his enemies, vpon whom we must beware of reuenging ourselues, least (as Theophrastus saith) we hurt ourselues more than them.

It is the propertie (saith Cicero) of famous personages and noble hearts to contemne iniuries offered vnto them by knowne wicked men, whose commendation of a man importeth some dishonesty in him. Now then ASER, teach vs somewhat of this matter wherein we haue so great need of instruction.

The Cynicke Philosophers said, that if a man would be in safetie and partaker of happinesse, he must of necessitie haue good friends or sharpe enemies, that the first sort by Good friends or sharpe ene­mies are ne­cessarily re­quired to a happie life. good and wise admonitions, and these by notable iniuries, might withdraw him from doing of euill. And truly 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 enemie, by gouerning ourselues therein with the reason of a true Academical pru­dence, besides that we shall shew forth the effects of that title which we beare, and of the end of our being, wee must bee so farre off from hating an enemie, that wee should rather thinke ourselues beholding and bound vnto him for that great good which hee procureth vnto vs. That this is so, is not this one propertie of vice to make us more ashamed before our enemies when wee haue committed a fault, than before our friends? Doe wee not take our enemie Why men are beholding to their enemies. for a spie and enuier of our life? If any imperfection reigne in vs, who will more freely giue vs to vnderstand thereof than hee that hateth vs, who will not bee slacke to publish it euery where? For this reason Plutarke calleth an enemie a Schoole-master that costeth vs nothing of whom wee learne that which may greatly profite vs, and which we know not. To this ef­fect How men be­haue them­selues now a­daies towards their enemies hee maketh mention in his Apothegmes of an Athenian captaine who complained to Aristo cheife captaine of the Lacedaemonians, that his souldiers blazed abroad the manners of the Athenians: If the Athenians (said Aristo. vnto him) did looke well to their doings, they should not neede to care what the Spartans could say of them. These things being well con­sidered by vs, if we haue enemies, they will be a meane to make vs more fearefull and restrai­ned from offending, and more earnest and diligent to order well our behauiour, to direct our doings, and to correct our imperfections. But let vs marke a little how the noble and couragious youthes of the world behaue themselues now adaies. The reproofes and iniuries of an enemie, may peraduenture bee tolerated in some sort by the skilfullest sort of those that boast themselues to be so curious obseruers and readie defenders of their honour, so that they be not vttered in their presence: because 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 raised behinde their backs. According to these weake rea­sons they would haue other men iudge of reproch and iniurie, either to credit or to discredit them according to their power, and not as the truth of the fact itselfe requireth: whereupon also they passe that ouer with profit & amendment of the life, which they knew was misliked in them. There are others, who vpon a bare report made vnto them, thinke themselues great­ly misused and harmed by those that spake ill of them, so that presently they purpose to bee auenged of them. But herein they agree all, that if any man voluntarily offereth iniurie to [Page 157] they would haue the sworde presently to decide the controuersie, What say I, for an in­iury? Nay for a yea or a nay, they foorth with thinke that the lie is giuen them, and that they are outfaced, so that nothing but the death of the one, or of both together, and of­tentimes of their deerest and best friendes, is able (as they thinke) to repaire the preiudicate and supposed offence, and all for this vaine honour of the world. O detestable fury, not to bee found in most cruell beasts, which spare the blood of their sexe! It is not conuenient, that any time should bee lost in reproouing the same, beeing of itselfe so odious, that it can­not so much as be once named but with shame, trembling and horror. For no man is so dull Murder for­bidden. of vnderstanding, but he knoweth that effusion of blood 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 seruice of his prince and country in a iust warre. Amongst all the sententious sayings of Socrates the wise, and the wonderfull works of Plato his scholler, I find none more diuine, or worthy of greater A notable sentence. praise than the sentence so often repeated by them, That reuenge is not in any sort to bee vsed. It is not iust (saide the same Socrates) to offend any, although hee had offered vs wrong. For a good man ne­uer ought to do euill: yea it is a great deale better to suffer, than to offer contumely, to bee slaine, than to slay, because the one bringeth no detriment to man, who is the soule, but the other procureth the vtter ruine and destrustion thereof. 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 and geneosity taught vs the by study of Philosophy, no doubt but they would subscribe to the opinion of these wise Philosophers, agreeing very well with that which is taught by the spirit of God, who cōdemneth the murderer, and him that Leuit. 24. 17. Psal. 9. 9. 16. Mat. 5. 10. offereth wrong and iniurie to another: but calleth himselfe the defender of innocency, and such a one as returneth a double reward and recompence to those that suffer for righteousnes and equitie. Who may therefere 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, and by the other wee are vtterly frustrated thereof, and throwne into a hell of eternall fire? So that if wee endeuour to shew foorth the effects of true Magnanimity and greatnesse of heart, there is no doubt but to beare and to endure withall modesty and To suffer in­iury patiently is a badge of a most abso­lute vertue. patience the outrages and wrongs of our enemies, is the marke of that vertue which is most absolute and perfect. That it is so, doth it not appeare in this, that vertue consisteth in diffi­cult things? And that vertue that commeth neerest to the diuine nature, which is hardest to bee obtained, and least familiar with men, it is not more woorthy and vnbeseeming a noble and valiant man, than all the rest? Vnto which may wee attribute better this marke than to the vertue of patience, whereof we haue already intreated? We see no man vpon earth of so base estate, no woman so feeble and weake, no liuing creature so little, but if they bee stri­ken they will reuenge themselues very willingly as well as they can. How greatly then ought this vertue to bee accounted of, which forceth this naturall lust of reuenge, bred in all liuing creatures, and how noble must the mind of that man needes be which is able to maister such a violent passion, so common to all men, thereby procuring to itselfe the name of a mild and gracious spirit, and ready to forgiue, which is proper and peculiar to the diuine nature? Ther­fore that great Monarch Alexander, said, That a man wronged had neede of a more noble heart to for giue his enemie, than to be reuenged of him, and to kill him. Behold the saying of as noble a prince as euer the earth bare. What can the Courtiers of these times say to the contrary? It is a great vertue (saith Epictetus) not to hurt him of whom thou art misused. It is a very commendable thing to par­don him whom thou mightest hurt, and it is a praise worthy kinde of reuenge, to let them goe to peace that are ouercome. Therefore Pittacus the Sage hauing one in his power that had dealt contu­meliously A commen­dable king of reuenge. with him, hee suffered him to depart vnharmed, saying, That pardon was better than reuenge, the one beeing proper to the spirit of a man, the other of a cruell beast. But further, although it were onely in respect of our owne benefite during our life, wee ought to shunne all motions of iniury, and all desire of reuenge: forasmuch as wee cannot either determine or execute the same, but with a thousand perturbations, which cause vs to want the rest and tranquility of our soules, wherein all our happinesse and felicity consisteth. And therefore Seneca saith, If Good coūsell of Seneca. hee that wronged thee bee weaker than thou, forgiue him: if hee bee mightier, spare thyselfe. For who­soeuer nourisheth his neighbours anger, whosoeuer prouoketh and incenseth him more, when hee seeth him vehement and importunate against him, hee committeth two faults. First hee hateth himselfe by procuring his owne trouble and griefe: Secondly, his brother, because he maketh him sad, and vexeth him. Moreouer prudent men (as Theophrastus saith) [Page 158] ought to doe nothing in choler. For that vnreasonable part of the soule beeing mooued, fore­seeth nothing wisely, but beeing driuen forward with a contentious desire, suffereth it selfe to bee carried hither and thither, as if it were drunken. Also wee must take great heede, We must do nothing in choler. that wee doe not alwaies put in execution whatsoeuer wee haue a minde vnto, but onely that which moderate reason commaundeth vs. Wherein wee shall deserue the praise of true Magnanimitie, if I say, wee can commaund our selues and all vehemency of choler, which driueth men forward to be auenged on their enemies, and is in act that sauoureth more of a vile and abiect heart drawing neere to brutish fiercenes, than of a noble minde which despi­seth whatsoeuer is earthly, mortall, and fading, that it may thinke of nothing but of heauen An apt simi­litude. and immortality. This is that which the study of our Philosophy teacheth vs: and euen as ex­pert Phisitions know how to drawe medicines apt for the preseruation of life out of serpents, poisons, and other deadly and venemous things: so we ought to draw from our enemies, not their life, which ought to be onely in the power of God and of his iustice, but profit and com­modity by their backbitings, reproches, and iniuries. Which will easily be done, if we make How a man may profit by the backbi­ting o [...] his enemies. small account of their intent, and consider narrowly the fact which they speake ill of, to the end that if we be guilty of that which they condemne in vs, wee may purge and eorrect our selues. And if so be they harme vs wrongfully, their impudencie will cause their reproaches and iniuries to be turned backe, and sent against themselues, together with that shame and dammage, which they thought to procure vnto vs, whereas we shall be no lesse honest and vertuous men than before. So that the best reuenge and most honourable victorie, which wee can carry away from our enemies, will be to surpasse them in diligence, bountie, mag­nanimity, The best kind of reuenge. good turnes, and in all vertuous actions: whereby they will sooner perceiue and confesse themselues vanquished and constrained to stoppe their mouth, and to represse their tongue, than by any other force, which wee can oppose against them. Then may wee say, that as he who enterprised to kill Pormethens the Thessalian, gaue him so great a blowe with asword vpon an apostume which put him in danger of death, that by launcing it hee saued his life contrary to his meaning: so the iniurous speeches of our enemies vttered in wrath and of ill will to hurt vs, haue bene the cause of curing many euils in vs whereof we made no account, and of making vs much better than we were before. But because iniurie seemeth so hard and vneasie to be tollerated by the imbecility of mans nature, which is so soon offen­ded, and by the heart of man beeing full of reuenge, let vs yet see whether we can finde any remedy, if not to cure that which is incurable, at least wise to purge and to cleanse the acci­dents of this euill. Iniurie is offered either to the goods, to the honour, or to the person of a How many waies a man may receiue iniurie. man. As touching the first and last, namely, the spoiling of our goods, and violence offered to our person, what other reuenge either by the law of God or of man can wee haue than to repulse force with force, I meane when wee are constrained thereunto, or else by the way of the Prince his iustice, which is open to euery one? If any haue robbed thee, must thou be­come a theefe or satisfie thy selfe by thine owne strength? Much lesse oughtest thou to sette thy selfe against him that is not faultie, as many doe. If thou being the weaker are 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 tranquility and ciuill society; to the ende thereshould 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 priuat force, that they haue restored theeues and robbers into those places which Men must not take the law into their owne hands, although it be not right­ly executed. they vniustly possessed, if they had bin driuen from them by violence. But some man will say, that these things ought indeed to be duly considered of, if iustice were executed, and had not forsaken the earth to dwell in heauen. And how then canst thou execute it, seeing thou art not called to doe, but to demaund iustice? Tarie, and the iust Iudge will returne double that which hath bene vniustly taken from thee, which thou hast suffered, or which hath beene denied thee, euen then when you shalt haue greater need than now that thy daies are are so short: and then shalt thou liue for euer of that which thou hast reaped in this poore and miserable life. Concerning honour, the iniurie whereof we feare more than of the other let vs know that it cannot be hurt in a good man, because vertue, which is inuincible, prote­cteth Of the office done to honor. & dependeth it. But now adaies we fetch it not so far off. For we wil haue our honor ty­ed to the vaine opinion of the world, which reiecteth & contemneth those men as cowards and base minded, that haue but once put vp the least iniurie offered by another, but honoreth [Page 159] as noble and couragious those that can lustily kill their enemies. This is the cause why many, who would willingly forgette an iniurie receiued, dare not doe it for loue of their friendes: as also because they see, that it would rather bee imputed vnto them as a token of a fainte hearte, than of a desire to follow reason. But let all these blood suckers, inclined The execuse of quarrellers to reuenge and to murder, couer their beastly cruelty as well as they can, yet haue they no other reason to disguise it but this, that it is an vsuall kinde of behauiour now adaies amongst men, to the ende they may bee welcommed, praised, and fauoured of Kings, Princes, and great Lords, otherwise they must take a Coule, and shutte 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 worldly honour, than bee saued with the small number of honest men, except peraduenture they will say, that they knowe no other life but this, and that they will 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 altogether ignorant of the nature and happinesse of the o­ther life, and that they care not greatly to come vnto it. But let vs that are better instructed imitate Socrates, who beeing counselled to reuenge a wrong receiued made this answer, what [...] If a Mastiue had bitte mee, or an asse giuen mee a blow, would you haue mee serue writtes vpon them? So let vs behaue our writs towards them that are froward and vicious, making a great deale lesse account of their iniuries, than of a blow that hurteth, which they cannot Socrates void of reuenge. doe at all to our honour. As for good men we shall neuer be hurt by them, Now, if wee draw neere, although neuer so little, to the perfection of such a nature, much lesse ought we to bee prouoked and stirred vp through any laughter or gibing which cannot touch or offend any but those that are troubled and carried away with passions, Thus much did Socrates wisely giue one to vnderstand, who told him that certain mocked him, I doe not (quoth he) think that I We must not be mooued with mocks. am mocked. Hereupon I remember a notable answer made by one Ptolemaeus king of Egypt, who was counselled to punish a Gramarian. The king demaunding of him by the way of gi­bing, who was father to Peleus, hee made this answer: that he desired first to know who was Lagus his father, nothing thereby that the king was borne of base parentage, If it bee vnseemelte (quoth Ptolemaeus to his friends) for a king to bee mocked, it is also vndecent for him to mocke another. Now although it be our duty to treade vnder foote all desire of reuenge, and to make no ac­count Ptolemaeus. of iniuries and mocks, yet it is lawfull for vs sometime, if wee bee disposed, and no greater offences arise thereof, to stoppe the mouthes of such as are iniurous and impudent, How a man may repulse a mocke. with a little short reply, not in wrath or choler, but with a certaine meekenes and graue smi­ling, and somewhat nippingly, so that it passe not the boundes of modesty. Cato knew well how to be haue himselfe after this sort, who being iniurously dealt withal by one that had al­waies Cato. liued wickedly, saide thus vnto him: I am not able to deale with thee in this manner by con­tēding with iniuries. For thou hast throughly vsed thyselfe both to vtterreproches freely, & to suffer with [...]ase when any mā offereth thee wrōg or iniury, But as for me, I delight neither in hearing, nor in vttering thē. Likewise Demosthenes answered another in this sort: I wil not enter into this combat with thee, Demosthenes. wherein the vanquished is better than the vanquisher. Plato also being touched with iniurous spee­ches, saide: Goe on to speake ill, seeing thou diddest neuer learne to speake well. Lysander, Admirall of Plato. the Lacedemonians, being reuiled with many bitter speeches, said to him that offered the iniury: Spue out boldly my friend, spue out boldly and often, and spare not, to see if thou canst emptie thy Lysander. soule of that euill and wickednesse wherewith it is replenished. Shall wee thinke now, that these fa­mous men, making so small account of iniuries and wrongs, had any other bound than right The limits that are to be vsed in hea­ring the wicked. and iustice onely in the hatred of the vices of wicked men, or that they would haue sought by any other way for the satisfying of those wrongs, which they receiued? Let vs consider how Scaurus behaued himselfe towards his enemie Domitius against whom he was to put vp a complaint by way of iustice. There was one of Domitius his seruants, who before iudge­ment was giuen of their processe, came to Scaurus, and said, that he would disclose vnto him a Scaurus. matter of great importance against his maister, which vndoubtedly would cause him that was his aduerse partie to gaine his sute, But he not minding to heare him any further, tooke order that he should be straightly boūd, & so sēt him to his master. The means which Agesilaus vsed to make his enemies his friends, in stead of reuenging himselfe vpon them, are worthie of e­ternall praise, and ought to mooue vs greatly to correct our naturall imperfections, so much How Agesi­laus made his enemies his friends. inclined to reuenge. For when he could come to the knowledge of them, without any fur­ther shew, hee thrust them into publike offices and charges. And if it fell out so that they committed any offence wherebie they were drawne to iudgement, hee holpe them as [Page 160] much as he could, by that meanes winning the friendship of euery one. For although wee commonly say, that as one and the same Sunne softeneth the waxe, and hardeneth the clay, so good deeds winne the hearts of good men, but prouoke the wicked; yet there is no man of so peruerse a nature, whom a man cannot make his friend by plying him often with bene­fits, and when occasion is offered, by binding him with some notable good turne. For this cause Augustus, after the cospiracy of Cinna was discouered, notwithstanding that he had him in his power, being conuicted by his own letter, yet he did not onely forgiue him, but taking Augustus. him by the hand, sware friendship with him, and bestowed vpon him great estates and dig­nities, wherein Cinna afterward serued him faithfully. And it seemeth that for the same reason The Venetiā the Venetians hauing taken the Duke of Mautua their deadly enemie, in steade of taking his estate from him, they made him their Generall captaine: so that he euer abode their faith­full friend. Pontinus also an ancient captain of the Samnites, said, That they were either freely to set Pontinus. at libertie the Romane armie, which was surprised in the streights of the mountaine Apeninus, and so make them loyal friends through the bond of so great a good turne, or else to put them all to death, thereby to take from the enemie a great part of his strength. Neither may wee here let goe in silence the dis­cretion of Dyonisius the elder, king of Syracusa, in punishing an iniury. Which example The prudēce of Dyonisius in punishing euil speakers. ought to cause all themto blush: who in furie and choler, after an iniury receiued, or af­ter some report thereof, seeke presently for some cruell reuenge. This king beeing told that two young men as they were drinking together, 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 folly, and that contrariwise the other was very staied, and drunke but a little, hee punished this fellow as one that was malitious, and had beene his enemie of set purpose, but forgaue the other, as beeing drunken, and mooued by the wine to speake ill of him. Concluding therefore our present discourse, let vs learne that it is the property of a great and noble minde to be milde, gracious, and ready to forgiue. and that it is a greater point of Magnanimity to surmount the common nature of men by a won­derfull diuinitie of the soule, than to follow after that which beasts are able to do better than we. For many of them in this earthly generosity, whereof many men make so great account, excell and surpasse the best of them all. In all debates and controuersies with our enemies, let vs retaine (as Cicero councelleth vs) grauity and constancy, and chase away all choler: because nothing that is done through perturbation can be done constantly, or be approoued of any. Let vs not be afraid (said Antisthenes) to wish all the good in the world to our enemies, except valure, which may make them rash to venture vpon our life: and let vs giue ouer all will to procure them any Antisthenes counsa [...]le. hurt or displeasure, or any maner of reuenge. Let vs rather desire not to be spared of them in those things which are blame worthy in vs, in that so we may be more ready to amend and correct them. Let vs loue our enemies, blesse them that curse vs, do good to them that hate and persecute vs, ouercomming euill with good, and leauing all vengeance to him that hath reserued it to himselfe, who by his power directeth the Matth. 5. 44. n [...]ts, swords, hatchets, instruments and scourges of his wrath, all which are our enemies for the amendment of our life: and then shall wee shew forth those true effects of the vertue of Fortitude and Mag­nanimity, Rom. 1 [...]. 19. with our heauenly Father requireth of vs.

Of Iustice. Chap. 37.

TRue Philosophie (saith Socrates) is to know and to practise both pri­uately and publikely those things that are honest and iust. This is that prudence which teacheth vs well and nobly to gouerne both domesti­call What true Philosophy is and ciuill affaires, the name whereof is Temperance and iustice. By which speech this wise Philosopher taught vs the straight and vnseparable coniunction and knotte of the foure morall vertues, being neuerthelesse distinguished by their proper and particular effects. Which hauing hitherto offered vs mattter wherein to reioyce our spirits about the three first riuers flowing out of the fountaine of ho­nesty, [Page 161] thereremaineth now for vs to consider of the last of them, which although it bee but one particular, yet in truth it is the very perfection of all duty, and is called Iustice: the pre­cepts whereof if we keepe diligently, we shall truly become images of God his essence, and be made according to his likenesse. Let vs then begin my Companions, to intreate of this great and heauenly vertue.

Iustice (saith Cicero) is the mistresse of all the other vertues, and as it were their Queene. Shee is the ground-worke of euerlasting glory and renowne, and without her nothing can be praise worthy. The fruits and effects of Iustice. Shee putteth a difference betweene the good and the bad, which being taken away (saith Seneca) nothing followeth but confusion. For to reward the wicked and not the good, to afflict the vertuous, and not to chastise the euill man, is to make a gallimausrey of vice and vertue.

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

No kingdome, common wealth, or city (saith Plato) can be either well ruled or insti­tuted Three things necessarie in euery com­monwealth. in the beginning, or preserued and kept in a happy estate without diuine or humane Iustice, without the counsell of the aged, or without the fauour of the heauenly wisedome. 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 of all iustice is grounded vpon that honour and seruice which we owe to God, whereupon wee The ground of Iustice. are induced to be dutifull to our neighbours according to charitie. Therefore wee must a­boue all things loue iustice, and apply all our studie thereunto, seeing it is the first and princi­pall point that concerneth the direction of a Christians mans life, yea moe are partakers of the fruite thereof, than of any other vertue. Iustice (saith Seneca) is the law of God, and the bond of humane society. For auoiding therefore of confusion in this matter, we say with Plato, that Iu­stice The distincti­on of Iustice. obserued and kept 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 dealing with men, beeing 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 thoroughout a mans calling and charge, and that nothing is more like to the greatnesse of God, than a man perfectly iust. Aristotle calleth iustice a generall Whosoeuer hath Iustice perfectly hath all the ver­tues. vertue, because hee that hath her perfectly, may boast that he hath within him all the other vertues. For hee could not know what were iust and vniust, nor make choise 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 hee knew not how to mo­derate all his passions and priuate affections, not suffering himselfe to bee ouercome either with wine, gluttonie, lust, couetousnesse, or with any other desires and motions, which hinder the vse of reason. Besides, he could not practise one principall and diuine point of iu­stice, which is, to succour with all his might the afflicted and oppressed, and to prouide that no man bee wronged if it lie in his power, notwithstanding any danger whereunto hee may fall, although it be certaine losse of life, and of all earthly and transitory goods, I say hee could not practise this, if through Fortitude and Generosity hee contemne not death, the earth, and whatsoeuer sauoreth of the world, that he may be (so farre forth as his humane na­ture will soffer) a follower of the diuinitie. Iustice (saith Cicero) is a constant and perpetuall wil and desire to giue to euery one his right. Shee is the proper vertue of a noble minded man, because shee is profitable to others, but to herselfe fruitlesse, 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 agreement within himselfe, and is a friend to God, to men, and to himselfe. Iustice (saith Diogenes) worketh great tranquilitie and perfect felicitie in our soules. For to be affraid of none, and not to blush at the sight of any mans person, bringeth with it great contentari­on, and is as it were the perfection of life, which is proper onely to a iust soule. Iustice (saith Hesindus) is a chaste and reuerent virgine, not violated or defiled, but lodged alwaies with The praise of Iustice. Respect of persons is not to be vsed in the practise of Iustice. shamefastnesse, chastity, and simplicity. Pindarus calleth her the Queene of all the world. Py­thagoras teaching by his riddle-like precepts, how a man ought to beware of transgressing iu­stice, saith: Goe not beyond the ballance. If we purpose (saith Plato) to exercise iustice perfectly, we must make no difference of men in regard either of their friendship, kindred, wealth, pouerty, or dignity. This vertue (saith Cicero) requires of vs the forsaking of our pleasures & priuate cō ­modity, [Page 162] that wee may procure the benefit of the Common-wealth, although it bee to our perill and losse. And those men commaund and gouerne very well, who forbid vs to doe any thing whereof wee doubt whether it bee iust or vniust: because equity is so cleare of it selfe, that when we doubt of any thing, we may bee assured that there is some iniustice in it. Aristotle and Cicero diuide Iustice into these two parts, Distributiue and Commutatiue. Distri­butiue iustice consisteth in giuing to euery one according to his desert, whether it be honor The diuision of Iustice. The diste­ren [...]e bet [...]ene Commuta­tiue and Di­ [...]utiue Iu­stice. The [...] of Iustice. The necessity of Iustice. and dignity, or punishment. Commutatiue iustice is in keeping fidelity, and in causing it to be kept in promises and contracts, and in behauing our selues no otherwise to another, than we would be dealt withall. Many parts and particular duties are also attributed by the Philo­sophers to iustice, as Liberality and sundry other, whereof wee will particularly discourse hereafter. But we must heere learne, that the end of all iustice tendeth to the preseruation of the common society of men. For the preseruation of the lawes (which are the Gardian & Tu­tor of good men, and a mortall enemy to the wicked) is so necessary for euery estate & con­dition of life, that (as Cicero saith) the very pyrates, theeues & robbers could not liue together without some part therof. If we desire to know more of her vnspeakable fruits, let vs consider that which Paulus the Pythagorian hath written, saying: Iustice among men ought in my opinion to be called the mother & nurse of all the other vertues. For without her no man could be either temperate, valiant or prudent: the profit wherof will be very euident if we consider all her effects. For the prouidence of God is that iustice which gouerneth the world, & hath the principality ouer it. In cities & townes iustice is Diuers [...]es [...] [...] ­st [...] diuers respects. righly called Equity and Peace: in particular houses betweene the husband and the wife, Vnity & Concord: in respect of seruants towards their masters, Goodwill: of masters towards their seruants, Humanity and Gentlenes: and in mens bodies, Health & Perfection of the members. Thus you see that iustice is the beginning & perfection of all the vertues. By these short sayings of ancient & graue persona­ges, the excellency of this holy and sacred vertue iustice, appeareth sufficiently vnto vs. Yea it is so earnestly commanded by the spirit of God vnto Magistrates in these words of exercising iudgement and iustice, so often repeated, that whosoeuer infringeth and violateth it, cannot Ierem. 21. 12. & 22. 3. auoide the curse and wrath of the Almighty, which will both light vpon their owne heads, and also worke the destruction of them that are committed to their charge. It belongeth to iustice, to receiue the innocent into protection and safegard, to maintaine, defend, sustaine, What Iustice and Iudge­are. and deliuer them: and to iudgement, to resist the boldnesse of the wicked, to represse their violence, and to punish their offences: because Magistrates are therefore armed with the sword and with power, that publike peace should not bee disturbed. This also is that which Solon meant to teach vs, when hee said: That the greatnesse and preseruation of all Common-wealths consisteth in two things in the reward of the good, and in the punishment of the wicked: which beeing taken away, the whole discipline of humane society must needes bee dissolued and come to nothing. For there are many that haue no great care to doe well, if they see not vertue re­compenced with some honour: although this beseemeth not a noble minded man, who ought to doe nothing but onely for the loue of vertue. And againe, the malice of the wicked cannot bee 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 the ancientest Law-makers, as Historiographers report, and were very carefull and diligent obseruers of iustice. In their cities they painted Iudges The Egypti­ans were zea­lous of Iustice How they painted Iud­ges. without hands, and the President or chiefe Iustice with his eyes blind-folded: to teach, that Iustice ought not to bee either a briber or respecter of persons, that is, shee 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 albeit they were commaunded by them to iudge vniustly, yet they should not obey them. Since their time, the auncient Graecians and Romanes shewed themselues great, true, and zealous follow­ers of this vertue of iustice, and that towards their greatest enemies. They iudged it a very no­ble The Graeci­ans and Ro­manes. act to accuse the wicked, so it were not vpon any any priuate occasion or passion: they delighted greatly to see yong men by way of iustice to pursue transgressors, as gray-hounds well fl [...]ht follow after w [...]lde beasts. This caused Solon being demanded what citty seemed to him to be best gouern [...]d, to answer: That citty where in they that are not wronged, do as eagerly follow after satisfaction in the behalfe of another man wronged, as if themselues had receiued the iniu­rie. What [...] is be [...] [...]ouer­ned. For the truth is (quoth he) that they which violate and breake lawes, do not offend one man alone, but the whole citty and common-wealth: therefore euery ought to desire and [Page 163] seeke after iust punishment. Moreouer, the seuerity which the Lacedaemonians obserued in their iudgements, procured such a publike safety, that for a long time they vsed not to put either locks to cofers, or barres to gates. Aristotle maketh mention of a certaine countrey, where the inhabitants were to assure the safety 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 ilfauoredlie kept. O happie, yea an hundred times happy was the golden age of those fa­mous men, full of heauenly spirit, because vnder their gouernment Iustice was had in such honour and reuerence. But let vs rub vp the memorie hereof by some notable examples. If any thing causeth Magistrates to commit iniustice, it is chiefely the fauour which they beare, Examples of the loue of Iustice. Cleon. and the bond wherewith they are bound more to some than to others. Therefore Cleon the Lacedaemonian minding to deale in publike affaires, gathered all his friends together, and told them that hee renounced and discharged himselfe of all their friendship, because friend­ship many times caused men to yeeld, and to step aside from their good and right purposes in matters of iudgement. 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 of Aristides the Athenian his loue Aristides. vnto iustice, is worthy of speciall remembrance. For calling into the law an enemie of his, after hee had set downe his accusation, the Iudges were so mooued against the accused partie, 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 party and cast himselfe at the Iudges feete, beseeching them, that he might bee heard, to iustifie and to defend himselfe, according as the lawes commaun­ded. Further, one writeth of him, that when hee was vpon a time Iudge betweene two parties that pleaded before him, one said: My aduersary hath done thee great wrong, Aristides. But he forthwith interrupting his talke, made this answer; My friend, declare onely whether hee hath wronged thee. For I am hereto doe thee right, and not my selfe: shewing thereby, that Iustice ought to bee executed without any priuate passion, reuenge, or choler, where withall many at this day are ouercome. Iunius Brutus Consul of Rome, condemned his two sonnes, Titus and Tiberius to bee beheaded, beeing conuicted for conspiring the reentrie of Tarquinius race vnto I B [...]tus. the kingdome of Rome, from whence they had beene vanquished for wickednes and whore­dome. Truely a notable example, and cleane contrarie to those that are fauourers and ac­cepters of persons. Phocion refused to helpe his sonne in law Charillus in iudgement, beeing accused for taking certaine money vniustly, saying vnto him: That hee made him his Ally in all Phocion. iust and reasonable matters onely. Alexander the Great vsed this commendable custome as hee sate in place of Iustice to heare criminall causes pleaded, that whilest the accuser declared his Alexander. accusation, hee stopped one of his eares with his hand, to the ende hee might keepe it pure and vpright, not admitting thereinto (as hee gaue them to vnderstand) any preiudicate or false impression, that so hee might heare the accused partie speake in his owne defence and iustification. Truely an example meete for Kings and Princes, that they should not lightlie beleeue slaunderers, nor giue sentence of execution presently vpon their report and perswasi­on: because 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 property of a tyrant. Neither ought they, after the punishment is inflicted, to repent them thereof, which is a token of ignorance, and basenesse of minde: but Iustice must see execution done when reason and iudgement require, and that without either griefe or pleasure. Augustus Caesar knowing that Asprenas a very familiar friend of his, was accused in iudgement, and fearing that if hee went Augustus. to the place where the matter was to bee heard, hee should offer wrong to Iustice, as also if he went not, hee should seeme to abandon his friend, as iudging him culpable: hee asked coun­sell of the Senate, with whom hee resolued to bee present at the iudgement of his friend, but to speake nothing, because in so doing he should neither doe him wrong, nor violate iustice. Agesilaus king of Lacedaemonia deserued likewise great praise for his vertue, albeit hee were a very assured friend to his friend, and of a gentle nature, ready to imploy himselfe in the be­halfe Agesilaus. of all them that stood in neede of him. Neuerthelesse, when a friend of his contended with him about a matter, which hee 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 bee vniust, I haue not promised, but onely spoken it. Hee vsed also to say, that hee esteemed Iustice as [Page 164] chiefe of all the vertues, and that valure was of no value if it were not ioyned therewith, yea would be needlesse if all men were iust. And when certaine men who were sent vnto him to Prowes with­out iustice is worth no­thing. The diffe­rence be­tween a great and little king confer about some agreement, said one day vnto him, that the great king would haue it so: wherein (quoth he vnto them) is he greater than I, if he be not more iust? Whereby he iudged very well, that the difference betweene a great and a little king ought to bee 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 doe iustice, as Herodotus speaking of the Medes, and Cicero of the Romanes, make mention. This is that which a poore old wo­man signified to Philip king of Macedonia, when she came to him to haue her complaint heard. To whom when the king made answer, that he had no leisure at that time to heare her, Philip. shee cried with a loud and cleare voice, Bee 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 heart with the consideration of his duty, that he returned presently into his pallace, where setting aside all other affaires, he gaue himselfe many daies to heare all their complaints 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 party cried out aloud, that he appealed to Philip after he should be throughly a­wake. Which being noted by the said Prince, he would needes heare him againe: and after­ward declared him not guilty, paying notwithstanding with his owne money that summe wherein he had before condemned him, that so he might keepe inuiolable the authority of of his sentence. The Emperor Traian is iustly commended of Historiographers, because hee Tra [...]anus. alighted from his horse, as he was going to warre, onely 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 Hebrewes asked a king of Samuel, they added this, To iudge vs like all na­tions. 1. Sam. 8. 5. Yea these heads which had the soueraignty ouer them before were onely in the nature of Iudges. It is Iustice onely, which through the grace of God causeth kingdomes and mo­narchies What causeth kingdomes to flourish. to flourish: as Archidamus did very well signifie to one, who asked of him what were those gouernors of the Lacedaemonian common wealth, by whose meanes it was maintained in such and so great glory as was then to be seene: 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 duty of Magistrates and of their dignity. In the meane time let vs marke well for our in­struction the notable sayings and examples of ancient men here mentioned of vs, which doe 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 exercise the same amongst vs, by visible testimonies, and that he will bring it to a full pe­riod God is the author of iu­stice. and perfection at the appointed time, which is onely knowne to him, let vs take good heede that we neither contemne nor violate it. Let such as are decked with diademes for the administration of Iustice, who neuerthelesse commit this duty to others vnder them, make What manner of men magi­strates ought to be. choise of sufficient and able men to beare so heauy a charge, I meane able, both 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 offered to innocencie. To meete with which inconuenience, and to take away the cause of so many abuses and naughty dealings which now adaies are knowne 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 meanes, not to leaue Iustice, which is so pretious a thing, to the licence of any whosoeuer will take it vpon him, whereby One meane whereby the ab [...] o [...] [...]u­stice may be taken a [...]. The inconu [...] ­nience that [...] it is set to open sale, as it were some merchandise of small account. Which dealing (that I may speake my minde freely) giueth occasion, yea constraineth those men to take bribes and to be couetous, who (according to the counsell of [...]et [...]ro giuen to Moses) ought to be faithest from it. For so long as the places of iudgement shall be v [...]ndible, and bestowed vpon him that offereth most, we shall alwaies see that for money, such as are most ignorant worst liuers & vnworthiest, will be the first and chiefest. Now what iustice can be hoped for of s [...] men? For after they are once placed therein, the chiefest respect [...]s to reape gaine pron [...] and aduan­tage, according to that value and rate of money which they laid out vpon it. Did my o [...]fice cost me so much? then it must be thus much worth vnto me. For if I had imployed my money [Page 165] elsewhere, I might haue had thus much of reuenues and inheritance. Truly this saying full of impiety neuer caused them to blush that haue vttered it sundry times, although it hath wrought the same effect in many that haue heard it. The Emperour Alexander, and after him The saying of Alexander and Lewes the 12. Lewes the 12. vsed this speech long since by way of prophecy, That buyers of offices would sell by retaile as deare as they could, that which they brought in grasse. 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 common­wealth, they sell the blood of the subiects, they sell the lawes: and taking away the reward of honour, of vertue, of knowledge, of godlinesse, of religion, they open a gate to thefts, to bribes, to couetousnesse, to iniustice, to ignorance, to impietie: in a word, to all kinde of vice and filthinesse. Neither doe I doubt but that they which buy them are as greatly to be reproued, Against buy­ers of offices. and blamed, as those that sell them: because 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 will doe 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 doe it be­fore thee? Besides, if thou considerest thy selfe well, what leadeth thee hereunto but ambiti­on or couetousnesse? And if peraduenture some one among a hundred is touched with a good desire to profit and to serue his countrey, what can hee doe 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 beeing in such company. And let not such buyers of offices thinke, that because of their bought estates they deserue any honour, (if for other respects they are not worthy) which is the reward of vertue onely: 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 bee, which ought to be most light. The Emperour Aurelianus was so fearefull of placing an vnworthy man in the Aurelianus. seate of iudgement, that he neuer preferred any to the dignity 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 her proper and happy end, than the vertue of Iustice: which beeing taken from amongst vs, all other vertues, sequester themselues farre from vs, giuing place to the perturbations of our soules, which draw vs into ruine and confu­sion. And when as the greater sort being well instructed in their dutie, bestow the admini­stration A meane to preserue poli­cies. of Iustice vpon those men onely that deserue it, opening that gate vnto them onely for their vertue, then doe 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 property it is to bring men to honour. And from this good begiuning will proceede the other point no lesse necessary, beeing the entire ornament and preseruation of Iustice, namely, the punishment of the wicked: so that all things shall bee maintained in good order, to the benefit, rest, profit and greatnes of this French Monarchie.

Of Iniustice, and of Seueritie. Chap. 38.

AS there is but one only way to hit the white, and many to misse it, by shooting either higher or lower than is requisite: so fareth it with our actions, which A pretty com­parison. cannot be good but after one sort, but are euill many waies. This is that which wee noted before in discoursing of three principall 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 Euery vertue is in the midst of two vices. those vertues, whereof we intreated euen now, whose defect and contrary vice is Iniustice, and her excesse and counterfeit 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 guilty of great Iniustice, who beeing appointed of God to persecute the wicked with the sword drawne, will (forsooth) keepe their hands cleane from bloud, whereas the wicked in the meane while commit murder, and offer violence vntrou­bled. 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 clemency, the true ornament of a Soueraigne: and the other, to turne authoritie into tyranny. Neuerthelesse Magistrates in the execution of Iustice ought to take great heed, [...]east by ouer-great seuerity they hurt more than they heale.

As a Goldsmith can make what vessell he will, when the drosse is taken from the siluer: so when the frōward man is taken away from the kings presence, his throne shall be established in Iustice. Notwithstanding the seat of a Iudge that is too seuere, seemeth How the thrones of kings may be established in iustice. to be a Gibbet already erected. But we shall vnderstand of thee ARAM, the nature and ef­fects of these vices, Iniustice, and Seueritie.

None are so peruerse, nor giuen ouer so much to the desires and concupis­cencer All men haue some know­ledge of good and euill, and some inward sense of a di­uine nature. of their flesh, that they can vtterly deface through obliuion the knowledge of good & euill, or the inward apprehension of some diuine nature, both which are ioyned 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 deeds before the iudiciall throne of this Deity. Therefore with what impudency soeuer the wicked outwardly gloze their corrupt dealings, as if they gloried in them, yet seeing they haue, as well by the testimony of their conscience, as by proofe and experience, this knowledge euen against their wils, that Iniustice is vnfruitfull, barren, and vngratefull, bringing forth nothing worthy of any ac­count; after many great labours and trauels which it affoordeth them, the remembrance of their vnpure deedes abateth their courage, and maketh it full of trouble and confusion. So The fruits of Iniustice in the wicked. that although a corrupt and naughty man, during the sway of his vicious passion, perswadeth himselfe, that by committing a wicked and execrable deede, hee shall enioy some great and assured contentation, yet the heare, thirst, and furie of his passion being ouerpassed, nothing remaineth but vile and perillous perturbations of Iniustice, nothing that is either profitable, necessarie, or delectable. Moreouer, this troubleth his minde, that through his dishonest de­sires he hath filled his life with shame, danger, distrust, and 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, because it is a malice and naughtinesse that hath no excuse. For seeing men haue this inward sence and feeling, that their very thoughts doe accuse or absolue them before God, they ought to make account thereof, as of a watchman that watcheth and 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 pouerty, 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 profit sake, to slander, de­ceiue, lie, or execute any such like things: it is certaine, that there is nothing in this world of so great value, no treasure so precious, which should mooue vs to forgoe the brightnesse and Vertue is to be preferred before all worldly things. Iniustice is a generall vice. name of vertuous 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 Impiety, in regard of men, of deniall of rights and lawes. Our discourse is of this latter, which bringeth forth pernicious effects after diuerse manners, destroying all duties of hone­sty. But not to stay ouer-long in the kindes of Iniustice we will note this, that we are so ma­ny How many waies a man may be vn­rust. waies guilty of Iniustice, as we denie to our neighbours those duties which we owe vnto them, and which our vocation requireth of vs: as also when we seeke to in rich our selues by their hinderance, whether it be openly, or by sinister and subtle meanes against Christian sin­ceritie, which ought to shine in all our dealings. Let vs see how the Auncients hated this vice, and spake of the pernicious 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: be­cause all the treasures of the earth are not to be compared to the least vertue of the soule. For this cause all men ioyntly 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 vnity 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 ouer floweth in all impiety, not caring for any thing but to satisfie his vnbrideled desires. And if it fall out that they who haue the sword in hand to correct Iniustice, doe either authorize or practise it themselues, then is the gate of all miseries opened vpon euery one, through the vnruly licence of the wicked, who wallow in all kinde of cruelty: from whence all disorder and confusion proceedeth to the vtter ruine and and finall [Page 167] 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 enemie to good men, and the gardian and tutor to the wicked. Briefly, it bringeth forth all effects contrary to those which wee mentioned to bee the fruits of Iustice, and is the well spring of the other vices that hinder duty. Is it not Iniustice that giueth au­thoritie to murders, robberies, violent dealings, and to other damnable vices, which at this The effects of Iniustice. day are vnpunished, and are the cause that of many great, goodly, and wealthy families, poore widdowes onely and orphanes, quite vndone, doe remaine, crying for vengeance, and expe­cting it from aboue, for the wrong that is offered to their innocency? How many such are set before our eies by histories, which are the light of truth? But alas the vnhappinesse of our age is growne to greater measure. How many of the greater sort, I meane of the gouernours and magistrates of this desolate kingdome, may iustly challenge that praise whereby Pericles Pericles. captaine and gouernour of the Athenians, thought himselfe more honoured, than by all his braue exploits done in his life time, either in warre, or in politike gouernment, wherein hee was the chiefest of his time, and which his friends laid before his eies, beeing readie to die, thereby to assure him, and to cause him to reioice in a true immortalitie of glorie? O my friends A notable ex­ample for e­uery ciuill Magistrate. (said he vnto them) Fortune hath had her part in those exploits: but I make greater account of this, that I neuer caused any of my Countreymen to lament, or to weare a mourning gowne, which onely thing ought to be attributed to my vertue. O excellent and honourable praise, which euery good man ought to seeke after, and to desire: namely, to be no cause of bringing sorrow and griefe to the common-wealth through any act 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 contrariwise, it will be a very hard mat­ter for others, who haue beene 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 their life past. The whole course whereof cannot be Why the life of the wicked cannot be happy. much more vnhappy, 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 frights and perturbations, with repining and terrible disquietnesse 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 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 A compari­son. pastime, with the halter ouer their heads wherewith they must be strangled. But there are many men that cannot be better compared than to little children, who seeing men worth nothing, to dance and play vpon a Theater, apparelled with cloth of golde and siluer, or with A cōparison. other rich garments, and crowned with precious ornaments, haue them in great estimation and admiration, and thinke 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 of those goodly precious robes of gold, which consumeth them. The selfe same thing is by them, The wrong cōceit which men haue of the wicked that prosper. who when they see many wicked men, either placed in great authority and dignity, or des­cending of good and famous houses, they honour, admire, and esteeme them the happiest men and most at ease in the world: neuer considering that they are chastised and punished for their offences, before they see them either put to death, or else quite fallen from the height of their fortune. Now seeing it is a thing flatly confessed of those that haue any knowledge of our Philosophy, and prooued sufficiently by our former discourse, that nothing can bee called honourable or profitable which proceedeth of Iniustice or of malice, that excuse which men giuen ouer to vice do commonly alledge to cloke their impiety withall, namely, that Iniustice bringeth with it very ripe and ready fruit, and that the punishment if there bee 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 already learned, the punishment of any sin is equall The punish­ment of sinne is equall with it both for age & time. Al things are present with God. with it both for age and time. Furthermore God permitteth oftentimes his diuine iudge­ment to bee publikely knowne and shewed vpon the vniust: yea hee declareth himselfe so much the more openly, by how much the lesse men exercise Iustice and vpright dealing. And yet in respect of his maiestie, we must not looke 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 [Page 168] him, and lesse than the present instant. But if according to our carnall sences, we desire exam­ples of the greatnesse 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 along time; who can be ignorant of them in the vnspeakeable affliction of this poore France, wherein it werevery 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 and daily doe feele vpon their heads? Those common-wealths (saith Cicero) which are ready to bee ouer­throwne, A sure token [...] common wealth. and haue all things forlorne and desperate in them, fall into this miserable issue, that they whom the lawes condemne are restored, and iudgements giuen are recouered 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 safetie. What other thing can 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, and good men driuen away: suits in law are commen­ced The miserable estate of France. against euery one more vpon knauerie than equity, corroption than integritie, fauour 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, tho­rough the reading of histories, the like causes of the ruine, alteration, and subuersion of many very florishing estates, proceeding from the reigne of Iniustice, which being the daughter of tyranny (as Dionrsius the elder said) must needs be of the same nature: namely, that by vsurping an vniust and intollerable dominion, it must of necessity fall speedily into a miserable and wretched ende. Wee haue in all our former discourses alleadged sundry examples of vices, which (as we said euen now) take their beginning, or at least wise are inseparably ioyned with Iniustice, and hereafter we will make mention of others, when wee handle certaine points, The deniall of Iustice is dangerous, Philip. which properly depend of this selfe same originall. In the meane while we will here note, that the deniall of Iustice hath procured to many their death or vndoing. Philip the first, king of Macedonia, was slaine by Pausanias a meane gentleman, because hee would not let him haue Iustice against Antipater, who had offered him wrong. Demetrius the besieger, hauing receiued Demetrius. many requests and supplications of his subiects, threw them all into the water, as he went o­uer the bridge of a riuer: wherupon his subiects conceiued such hatred against him, that with­in a while after his armie forsooke him, and yeelded themselues to Pyrrhus his enemy, who draue him out of his kingdome without battell. In our time, Henrie king of Sweathland, stri­king with a dagger a Gentle-man that asked Iustice of him, stirred vp the Nobility and peo­ple Henry King of Sweath­land. in such sort against him, that putting him into prison, where he is at this present, they ele­cted his yonger brother to bee their king, who now reigneth. But for a more woonderfull matter, wee might here rehearse, how God, to shew vnto vs his detestation of Iniustice, hath sometime, suffered his iudgement to fall 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, wee finde that Ferdinando the 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 A notable hi­store of the death of Fer­dinando the fourth. to appeare within thirty daies before the tribunall seate of Iesus Christ to receiue iudgement for thy Iniustice, seeing there is no other Iudge in earth to whom wee 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 houre thereof so vncertaine, although determined, that no other cause thereof ought to bee supposed, but onely necessity. But yet when it followeth so neerely some notable wickednesse committed, and some disquietnesse and torment of minde is mingled therewith in the soule, as it commonly falleth out, we may take such a death for a testimony 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 suffereth also many times their punishment to bee noto­rious, and that sometime by such as are not much better than themselues. Hereupon Apollo­nius that great Philosopher said, that in his peregrination ouer three parts of the world, hee maruelled most at two things, whereof the first was, that hee alwaies saw the greater the eues hang the lesse and oftentimes the innocent. And thus it fell out in the time of king Philip the Notable In­iustice com­m [...]ted by a Prouost of Paris. long, wherein a Prouost of Paris, named Henry Lapperell, caused a poore man that was priso­ner in the Castelet to be executed, by giuing him the name of a rich man, who being guiltie and condemned, was set at liberty by him. But this reward followed him hard at the heeles: [Page 169] being for the same accused, conuicted, hanged, and strangled. Not long after, a president of the Parliament, named Hugues 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: Hugues of Crecy. namely, from euery action repugnant to the duty of Christian charity, & destroying the bond of humane society, through the vtter spoiling of the riuers that flow from the fountaine of honesty. And let vs be afraid through such impiety to fall into the indignation and wrath of the Almighty, to whom onely (as to the author of iustice, and to whom 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 defer sometime the punishment of Iniustice, let vs know that it is for their greater and more grieuous condemnation, who multiply and heape daily vpon their heads iniquity vpon iniquity. 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 will propound vnto them the fact of a Pagan king, who shall rise vp in iudgement a­gainst them, if they doe otherwise. The prince I meane is Artaxerxes, surnamed Longhand, and Artaxerxes. king of the Persians, who being requested by a Chamberlaine of his whom he greatly fauoured, to doe some vniust thing, and hauing by his diligence found out, that he vndertooke this suite for another, who had promised him thirtie thousand crownes, called of them Dariques, he comman­ded his treasurer to bring the like sum vnto him, and then said vnto his chamberlaine, Take this money which I giue thee. For in giuing it vnto thee, I shall bee neuer the poorer, whereas If I had done that which thou requirest of me, I should haue bin more vniust. Alexander Seuerus the Empe­rour handeled after another fashion, yea more iustly, a seruant of his, who vsed like a horse-leach of Alexander Seuerus. the court to sucke their blood that had to deale with his master, by thrusting himselfe forward, & proffering his meanes to fulfill their request for a good reward, by reason of the fauour which hee bare him: which turned to the great dishonor of his imperiall Maiestie, because a Prince ought not to make greater account of any thing, than of the grace and fauour of his gifts and benefits. This monarch caused him to be tyed to a post and choked with smoke, making this proclamation by sound of trumpet, That they which sell smoke, should so perish with smoke. Now to enter into the last The punish­ment of one who sold his masters fa­uour. point of the matter which is here propounded vnto vs, wee must diligently note, that as it is the duty of all magistrates, and of such as haue authoritie ouer others to chastice and to punish euery malefactour, so likewise they must beware least vnder pretence of exercising iustice they fall into another kinde of iniustice through ouermuch rigor, which is as hurtfull or rather more than that vice wherof we discoursed euen now, namely, into Seuerity, which caused them to be misliked for Of Seueritie. cruelty, and belongeth rather to a beastly & sauage nature, than to the nature of man. For cle­mency, and compassion neuer ought to be separated from a good and iust sentence, which is to hold small faults excused, or but lightly to punish them, prouided alwaies that iustice be not viola­ted. Clemency (saith the wise man) is the true preseruation of the royall throne. And therefore one of the Ancients said, that it was il to be subiect to a prince vnder whom nothing was tolerated, but worse Clemency preserue prince his throne. Prou 20. 28. M. Torquatus. Aufidius. when al things were left at random. We may alledge here for an example of ouer great seuerity the fact of Manlius Torquatus a Consul of Rome, who caused his sonnes head to be cut off, because hee fought against his enemy body to body contrary to the Edicts, & out of his ranke, albeit be came away victor. The act of Aufidius the Romane was more cruell & barbarous than iust, when he slue his sonne for withdrawing himselfe to take part with Cataline: vttering this speech vnto him: I did not, wretch as thou art, beget thee for Catiline, but for thy countrey. Such murders and cruelties defaced all the commendation of iustice, whose waies ought to be ordinary and vsuall, ruling rigour with gentlenes, as the rigour of discipline ought to be 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 seeing a soldier returne alone to the campe, condemned him to death, thin­king Most cruell seueritie of Piso. that he had slaine his cōpanion, notwithstanding 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 party executed, returned to the Proconsul with both the souldiers. But Piso being offended therwith, put them all three to death: the first, because he was cōdemned: the second, because he was the cause of the condemnation: and the Captaine, because he obeyed not: so that he put three to death for the innocency of one man, abusing his authority & power in most cruell manner, whatsoeuer rigour was vsed in those times in the ordinance of warlike disci­pline. Now to take from vs all taste of such barbarousnesse, let vs call to minde an act of Augu­stus Caesar worthy of eternall praise, who would not condemne one that was accused of seeking Augustus Caesar. his death, because the argumēts & profes were insufficient, but left him to the iudgment of God. Let vs learne therfore for the conclusion of our discourse to bate all kinde of Iniustice in such sort, [Page 170] that euery one of vs seeke to profite his neighbor, rating at an high price (as Euripides saith) the violating of right, which is holy and sacred. And thus through the good order of magistrats, and reformation of euery one by himselfe, the wicked shall haue no means to rob, to spoile by force, to take bribes and to decieue others, when breakers of iust laws shallbe 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 bee well engrauen in the hearts of all Iudges: the first sentence is contained in these words. Execute iudgement and righteousnesse: or otherwise I haue sworne by my selfe (saith the Lord) that this house shall be wast. The other sentence is this: O ye iudges, take heed what ye do: for ye exe­cute Ier. 22. [...] [...]5. not the iudgement of man, but of the Lord: & With what iudgement ye iudge, ye shall be iudged. For truly the crowne of praise & immortal glory is kept & prepared for them that walke in truth and righ­teousnes, 1. Cor. [...]. 9. [...]. Mat. 17. 2. but shame and dishonor, with eternall fire for those that perseuere in vnrighteousnes.

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

SVch is the corruption of our age, wherein impietie and malice are come in the place of ancient innocency, that vertue seemeth very vnfit to be receiued and imployed in Of the cor­ruption of ou [...] [...]. When vertue seemeth to be out of season. affaires, seeing the gate is quite shut vp against her. So that a man might aptly say, that whosoeuer should thinke to bring backe againe, amiddest the peruerseliues and corrupt ma­ners of this present time, the vprightnes and integritie of ancient behauiour, he did as much as if he offered fruits out of season, which being faire in sight, were notwithstanding vnfit to be vsed. Neuerthelesse wee must not doubt to bring her in sight, and to maintaine her with all our power, who knoweth how to cause her enemy Vice, both to reuerence and feare her, and in the end also to triumph ouer him, mauger all the power and vnderproping, which he receiueth from the wic­ked In the midst therefore of so many trecheries and treasons, wherof men glory now a daies, let vs not be afraid to paint them out in their colours, thereby giuing honour to fidelity, which is a part of iustice, or rather Iustice it selfe: which I leaue to you my cōpanions to make plain vnto vs.

It is the 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 (saith Cicero doth better be­seeme a noble heart, 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 giuen our faith. But it belongeth to thee AMANA to handle this matter.

Amongst the famous and great personages of old time, no vertue was more commended, What f [...]h & fidelity [...]s. or straightlier kept and obserued than Faith and Fidelity, which they affirmed to be the foundation of iustice, the indissoluble bond of friendship, & the sure supporter of humane society. Of this faith we mind now to speake, not touching at all that religious & sacred faith, concerning the holy misteries of true piety, which is a singular gift of God his Spirit, and peculiar to those that appertaine to his eternall election. This therfore which respecteth the mutuall conuersation and promises of men, hath bin alwaies kept vnuiolable of honorable men, and ought to be so amongst O [...] the viola­ting of faith. vs: because he that giueth his faith, laieth to pawne whatsoeuer is most pretious & diuine in his soule So that if he forget himself so much as to break & violate the same, he committeth manifest impiety shewing that he careh not to offend God by abusing his name to colour his lying. It Leuit. 19. 12. Deut [...] 11, Mat. 5. 34. were a great deale better neuer to take God to witnes, than to forsweare him in mockery, seeing the Scripture so oftē forbiddeth vs to take his name in vain, to sweare falsly by it, or in any sort to defile the same. It is true that this question hath alwaies bin, & is at this day more thā euer in cō ­trouersie: namely, whether a man is bound to performe that which he hath promised and sworne to by compulsio, or no? And this sentence is receiued & approued of many, that nothing but our Whether a forced promise is to be keept. wil bindeth vs to performe those things, which necessity forceth vs to promise. But to speake ac­cording to truth, & without any particular passion, we say, that true & perfect magnanimity suf­fereth vs not to promise any thing, & to pawn our faith therunto, except we were willing to per, some it, because no vertuous & wise mā ought to forget himselfe so far, as to do or to promise any thing contrary to his duty for any necessity, no not for death it self. Neither is there any thing wherby a foole is soner discerned frō a wise mā, tha by promises: forasmuch as an vndiscret man A wise man must neuer promise any thin [...] [...]ainst duty. lightly promiseth whatsoeuer you wil, & oftētimes more than is required of him: but a man of good iudgmēt weigheth his spech with sēce & reason, before he gage it to any body, and hauing once giuē his word, he reuoketh it not, what losse or dāmage soeuer may insue therof; as he that esteemeth a great deale more of the honor of truth & fidelity, thā of his own life beeing touched with vntruth & periury, If it were lawfull for euery one to alleadge necessity or constraint, Psal 15. 4. [Page 171] thereby to cloake the breach of faith, to whom 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 particolar affaires betweene party and party, are grounded vpon a benefite, which euery one supposeth to bee necessary and profitable for himselfe, and so consequently that they ought not to be kept? Who doubteth but that the breach of them may easily bee coloured with the like necessity, and so vnder this goodly pretence of false right and equity, should be allowed? But what? May we be iudges of our selues, and in our owne cause? First our aduerse parties, to whom we are bound must be called, and must agree 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 bee too burthensome vnto him, or if hee were circumuented by deceit, fraud, error, force, iust feare, or grieuous hurt. But when we are both iudge and party and in steade 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 subtilty. This did Lysander Admirall of the Lace­daemonians vsually practise, who made no reckoning of iustice but when it was profitable Lysander a forsworne & deceitful man accounting onely profite to be honesty, and saying, that children must be deceiued with the play of cocke all, and men with oathes. Which kind of dealing argueth a man to bee in truth, woorse in behauiour towards God than towards his enemies: because he that begui­leth his enemie through the meanes of fidelity sworn vnto him, doth sufficiently testifie, that he feareth him, and dares not discouer vnto him that which lieth hid in his heart: and in the meane time he hath no reuerence or feare of the diuine Maiesty from which nothing is hid, but vseth that for a couering and maske of his wickednesse. Wee must (saith Cicero) keepe that promise inviolable, which we haue made to our enemie, albeit the mishaps of war haue constrained vs to yeeld vnto it. How much lesse therefore ought we to breake our faith giuen to our friendes, and We must keep promise with our enemie. 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 neighbours, to de­ceiue and beguile them in those things which we are able to performe, thereby destroying Of the neg­lect of fidelity cometh a cu­stom of lying the bond of humane society, yea of nature it selfe, which bindeth vs both to will and to pro­cure their good. This is that which Epenetus the Lacedaemonian would teach vs, when hee said, that liers were the cause of all the sinnes and crimes in the world. And therefore Plutarke also saith, That to lie is a seruile vice worthy 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 bee 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 dearer. 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 fault of that thing which he selleth, but rather of a malicious, deceitfull, crafty, subtile, and wicked man. And if this bee a vice & sin, not to declare the fault of that thing which is sold, how shall they be termed, who It is wicked­nes to cōceale the fault of that which a man selleth. vse a thousand words and lies to set foorth their merchandice? Whereas good men haue al­waies bin very scrupulous & precise in keeping the truth from all kind of pollution, as that which ought to be as well in the heart as in the mouth, in the works as in the words of euery honest man. But if lying procure blame and dishonor to all men, it doth much more to kings & princes. For seeing they are placed in such authority, that they may do what pleaseth them. what need they to lie? If Machiauell and his followers fauourers of tyranny, had well weighed that which we read in infinite places of Scripture, that God wil ouerthrow dissemblers & liers Lying in a prince is most odious. with al their lies & subtleties, hardly could they commend dissimulations, deceits, trecheries, and such like pranks, wherewith they seeke to poison the noble minds of good princes, to cause them to degenerate both from their naturall 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 equity, which will haue couenants & promises kept: the other in regard of the Prince his faith, which he must obserue inuiolable, although he receiue losse thereby, be­cause he is the formal Warranty vnto all his subiects, of that fidelitie which is amongst them The promise of a nutrice is tyed with a double hand. selues: so that no fault is more detestable in a prince then periury. For if he that is debtor 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 law, & his faith for an oracle, God him [Page 172] selfe (saith the master of the Sentences) is bound by his promise. Gather together, (saith hee) 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 Of the word & faith of a prince. into question, whether 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 & of nature, than the simplest that is subiect thereunto? If faith ought not to be kept with enemies, it is not to be giuen vn­to them: and if it be lawfull to capitulate with them, it is as necessary to keepe promise. Yea we may furt her adde, that periury is not to be reuenged or called in question, after that peace and agreement together is made: otherwise there would neuer bee any assurance of peace or end of periury. From the selfe same fountaine of the profanation of faith, & custome in lying, (it being the property of vice to ingender another vice for a punishmēt of it selfe) proceedeth that pernicious plague of kingdomes and common wealths, I meane Treason, hated of God Of Treason. 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 own 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, to seeke them out (which notwithstand­ing is not the property of a noble heart) when they stand in neede of them, as they that want gall, or the poyson of some venemous beast: afterward to giue them ouer and reiect them be­cause of their wickednesse. If a man be called slothfull he may become diligent: If talkatiue holde 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 traytor, there is no water to wash him cleane, nor meane to excuse himselfe. Now let vs come to the exam­ples of the auncients, and know what zeale they bare to fidelity, and hatred to periurie and Notable ex­amples. treason, as also what recompence commonly followed and accompanied such things, and with what reward noble minded men did requite those that were disloyall and traiterous. At­tilius Regulus a Romane of 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 contrary aduice in the Senate: shewing that it was not for the pro­fit A. Regulus. of the Common wealth to make such an agreement. Afterward, hauing resolued with himselfe to keepe faith with the enemie, hee returned to Carthage, where hee was put to death very cruelly. For his eie lids being cut off, and himselfe bound to an engine, hee died with the force of waking. Demaratus king of Sparta, beeing in Persia with the king, against whom a great man of Persia had rebelled, was the meanes of their reconciliation. After­ward Demaratus. this barbarian king hauing his saide vassall in his power, would haue bene 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 enemie, and now to put him to death being his seruant and friend. A reason truly well worthy to be marked, but very slenderly put in vre at this day. Augustus hauing made proclamation by sound of trumpet, that hee would giue 25000 Crownes to him that should take Crocotas, ringleader of the theeues in Spaine, hee offred Augustus. himselfe to the Emperor, and required the sum promised by him, which hee caused to bee paide him, and pardoned him withall, to the end no man should thinke that hee would take his life from him, thereby to frustrate him of the promised recompence: as also because hee would haue publike faith and safety 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 war against the Spaniards, was in great danger by reason of the multitude of enemies who sought to inclose him round about. And not being then in possibility to bee succoured of any but of the Celtiberians, who demanded of him 200. Talents (which are Cato. 120000. crownes) in hand for their wages, the Councell tolde him, that it was not by any means to be gotten presently, but yet promised to furnish them with such a sum, & that with­in any time which they would appoint: otherwise that it was more expedient not to meddle with them. But this wise and well aduised captaine vsed this occasion to very good purpose, by resoluing with himselfe and with his souldiess, either to ouercome their enemies, or else to die (after they had agreed with the Celtiberians) that the Romane glory should not be stai­ned by the falshood of their promises. For (quoth he to his souldiers) if we get the battle wee will pay them, not of our owne, but at the charges of our enemies: but if wee loose the victory, none will bee left aliue either to pay, or to demand any paiment There was no talk among the councel of these noble [Page 175] Romanes, how they might deceiue their enemies, 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 enterprises thus grounded had good successe, so periurie and violating of Periured and faithlesse per­sons haue alwaies had ill successe. Tissaphernes. right were through the vengeance of God pursued for the most part with vnhappy effects, contrary to the platformes and desires of periured and faithlesse men: or at the leastwise that themselues were speedily punished for their wickednesse. And therefore when Tissaphernes, lieutenant to the king of Persia had broken a truce, which he had made with the Grecians, they gaue him thankes by his owne Herald, because he had placed the Gods, in whose name the truce was sworne, on their side. And indeed he smally prospered after that in his enter­prises. Cleomenes king of Lacedemonia, hauing taken a truce for seauen daies with the Argi­ans, assaulted them the third night after, knowing that they were in a sound sleepe, and dis­comfited Cleomenes. them: which he did vnder this crafty subtletie, because (forsooth) in the foresaid truce mention was made of the day only, 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 my raculous­ly frustrated of his principall intent, which was, by the meanes of that ouerthrow to haue suddenly taken the citie of Argos. 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, & droue him from the wals, not without great murder & losse of the greatest part of his armie. Whereupon within a while after he became furious, and taking a knife he ript his body in smiling manner, and so died. Carcalla the Emperor traue­ling with his armie towards the Parthians, vnder pretence of marying the daughter of Arta­banus Caracalla. 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 while 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 vnfaithfulnesse. The Corinthians saw be­fore their eyes their cities raced to the ground, because they had offered violence to the Ro­mane The Corin­thians. Embassadors, contrary to the law of nations. The Emperor Iustinian receiued infinite losses and dammages for breaking his faith with the Barbarians, and for violating the peace Iustinianus the Emperor. 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 Cleueland, hauing falsified his faith with Lewes king of Germanie, was put to the worst and vanquished: and being Rastrix Duke of Cleue­land. prisoner, his eies were put out for a marke of his faithlesse dealing. But what neede wee search in antiquitie for testimonies of the fruites which commonly proceede from the breach of faith, seeing examples are dayly before our eies to our cost? What doe wee behold at this day but a doubling, yea a heape of all miseries, because faith, which is so preci­ous and exquisite a thing that it admitteth no comparison, hath so often beene valued at so The cause of the present miserie of France. small a price? The history hereof is but to common, and the truth too apparant (to the great hurt of euery one) to stand vpon the proofe thereof, whereas it ought rather to bee buried from all memorie, if it were possible, as well to deface all spots of infamy, for which we are bla­med of nations farthest off, as to take away the distrust that one hath of another, which is so Examples of the entertain­ment which the Ancients gaue to trai­tors. great amongst vs, that it hath beene one principall cause of kindling the fire of diuision so often in this desolate kingdome. But to leaue such a pittifull matter subiect, let vs consider what honour and entertainement men in olde time gaue to traitors, who are now adaies so welcome to the greatest. Lasthenes hauing holpen Philip king of Macedonia to become ma­ster of the citie of Olynthum, whereof hee was an inhabitant, and complaining to the king Lasthenes. that certaine called him traitor, he receiued this onely answer that the Macedonians were na­turally rude and grosse, calling a spade a spade, and all things else by their proper name. When 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 voice: I loue Rymetalces. treason well, but I loue no traitors. And in truth what man of any good iudgement will trust him? Hee that betraieth his Prince, his benefactor, his citie, his country, his kinsfolke and friends into their hands to whom he is nothing so much bound, how may not he betray them also another time? This did Agis, sonne of Archidamus 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 goe Agis. to the countrey of one whom they would make knowne vnto him, who had promised to guide & bring them within the castel of his city. What (quoth he vnto them) is it a reasonable [Page 174] matter to commit the safety and life of so many valiant yong men to one that betraieth his countrey? Pausanias, captaine of the Lacedaemonians, hauing receiued fiue hundred talents of gold of king Xerxes, promised to betray the city of Sparta vnto him. But his enterprise be­ing Pausanias. discouered, Agesilaus his father pursued him into a temple where hee thought to haue saued himselfe, and causing the gates thereof to bee walled vp, suffered him to die there of of hunger: and afterward his mother cast his body to the dogs, and would not bury 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 because Ariobarzanes. he sought to betray his army 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 cowardlinesse and treason of Iohn Iustinian of Genua, after he had made him king according to promise, he cut off his head within three daies. A meete Iustinian of Genua cause o [...] the [...]ing of Constanti­nople. recompence for such a wretch, who was the cause of so great a plague to christendome, whereby the Emperor Constantinus, the Patriarke, and all the Christians were slaine. The Empres with her daughters, and with the noblest damsels she had, were led before Maho­met, and after a thousand villanies offered vnto them, their bodies were cut in peeces. True it is that histories are diuerse touching this fact of Iustinian. For some say, that perceiuing him­selfe to be hurt in fight, he fled: whereupon most of all the men of war were discouraged: and that after he had saued himselfe in the Ile of Chios he died, either of his wound, or for griefe and sorrow, because 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, but pro­pound it to princes as a patterne of the hatred and punishment of periory and treason. For A famous & heroicall [...]act o [...] [...]ultan So­lyman. sending a Bascha of his into Valona to passe into Italy both by sea and land, this Generall lan­ded at the hauen of Castro, whereat the inhabitants being astonished, yeelded themselues vnto him vnder his oath and fidelitie, whereby hee promised that they should depart, their liues saued, with bag and baggage. Neuerthelesse this Barbarian slue them all, except those whom 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, and sent backe all his prisoners with their good, into Italy. Truly an act worthy 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 safety, his honour, and his soule to him, vnto whom he giueth it, and committeth manifest impiety against God, when he breaketh and violateth the same: vnlesse he had vowed it for the performance of some wicked deede, with which both diuine and humane law dispence. Let vs know also, that it is the beginning and foundation of a great and notable vertue to bee giuen to truth, that it was of such credit amongst the Ancients, that in Cato his time, when any man rehear­sed a strange thing and hard to beleeued, this prouerbe went of him, (because he was knowne Cato com­mended for his truth. 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 father and author, that following the counsell of Saint Paul, 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 roundnesse and Eph. 4. 25 Luk 10. 37. integrity of heart and manners appeare 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, all bonds of friendship broken, and all humane society confounded.

Of Ingratitude. Chap. 40.

AS the remembrance of an euill is kept a long time, because that which offen­deth is very hardly forgetten: so we commonly see, that the memorie of bene­fits The memory of euill things is [...], [...]ut o [...] [...]ood things ba [...]en. receiued is as suddenly vanished and lost, as the fruite of the good turne is perceiued. Which thing doth so ill beseeme a man well brought vp and instructed in vertue, that there is no kinde of Iniustice, which he ought more to eschue. And therefore my compa­nions, I thinke that according to the order of our discourse we are now to speake of the vice of Ingratitude, that knowing the ignominie thereof, and the pernitious effects which flow from it, we may beware of spotting our life therewithall.

An vngratefull person cannot be of a noble minde, nor yet iust. And therefore (as Sophocles said) a man is to remember him often of whom he hath receiued courtesie and pleasure. For one good turne begetteth another, and euery gentle heart easily pardoneth all iniuries, except vnthankfulnesse, which it hardly forgetteth.

Ingratitude maketh men impudent, so that they dare ioyue together to hurt those that haue beene 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 Ingratitude the cause of the sinne and death of man. he had receiued of his Creator, by eating of the fruite of the tree of life, at the perswasion of Satan, contrary to his expresse commandement to whom he owed all obedience, it is certaine that neither sinne nor death, neither through them any kinde of miserie and calamity should haue had any power ouer him. But as by his Ingratitude hee 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 spirit, rebel­led against it, and that with such force, that they led him often captiue into the bondage of sin. Now although we are necessarily and iustly made inheritors of the same curse both of sinne and death yet how become we so dull of vnderstanding, as to desire with cheerefulnesse of heart, and without constraint, to succeede him in the cause thereof, I meane Ingratitude. which we ought to hate in greater measure, and to flie from it more than from death it selfe, by reason of the euils which it hath brought vpon vs? Notwithstanding if we looke narrowly into the iustest mans life that is, it will be a hard matter, yea altogether vnpossible, to finde it purged and exempted from 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 No mans life voide of In­gratitude. soules with Ingratitude, as if they tooke singular delight therin, by accustoming their minds to keepe very diligently the memory 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 benefite, all fauour, how little soeuer it be, which the heauens or m [...]n impart vnto them, and to preserue it in perpetuall memory as in a most safe treasurie, wherein they may keepe and lay vp those good things which they receiue. But contrariwise vnthankfull men suffer the remembrance of their greatest felicities to slide away suddenly: which is the cause that they are alwaies voide of happinesse, of rest, and tranquillity, and full of vnquietnes and vncertaine desires, which is an argument of the imperfection of their reason, and of their ignorance of that which is good. This is that which Seneca saith, that the life of the igno­rant is vnthankfull, wauering, and vnstaied in things present, through the desire of things to The life of the ignorant is vnthankful. come. And as it is the property of an ignorant man to be alwaies troublesome to himselfe, so from Ingratitude and the forgetfulnesse of our prosperitie, proceede cares and melancholy passions to no purpose, which consume men, and pull on age vpon them more than yeares. For it is vnthankfulnesse that causeth vs to bee neuer contented with our present estate, but to complaine and murmure, in stead of giuing praise (as it becommeth vs) to him that sen­deth vs farre better things than we desire. Vpon the least touch of affliction, the Ingratitude for a million of graces receiued before, causeth vs to cry out that wee had neuer any thing but mishap: whereas rather we ought to take aduersity for a blessing and testimonie of the loue of God towards vs, being assured that by iustice rightly ordained, he dispenseth pouerty God dispo­seth al things by iustice. and riches, health and sicknesse, honour and contempt, according as he seeth it expedient for euery one of vs. Yea, it is necessary by reason of the intemperancy of our flesh, which is ready to cast off the yoke of the Lord when he handleth vs ouer gently, that hee should reine vs in hard with the bridle, and keepe vs within the compasse of some discipline, least we whol­ly giue ouer that seruice and obedience which we owe vnto him. But to vexe our selues vpon euery occasion, and as often as things fall out contrary to our inconstant and rebellious will, which for the most part is ignorant of that which belongeth vnto it, is that which Pythagoras said, To eate our heart, or to offend and wound our soule and spirit, by consuming them with cares and griefes: as also not to know that one cause which most of all troubleth this misera­ble life, is the suddaine entrance of sorrowes and irkesomnesse in the heart, which afterward will not depart out of it but by little and little. These are melancholy passions voide of rea­son, which (as Plato saith) proceede from naughty fumes and bitter vapours gathered to­gether within vs, and which ascend and mingle themselues amidst the passages of the soule. Euen as our strange and vnwoonted dreames testifie and signifie, that there is within vs [Page 178] repletion of grosse and gluish humors, and perturbations of the vitall spirits: so are those euill vapors which darken our senses, and dimme the eyes of our soule: namely, ignorance, rebel­lion, The vapours wherewith the eies of the minde are dimmed. arrogancie, murmuring, vnsatiable desires, and 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 deedes, which he accepteth as done to himselfe. For onely God needeth nothing, nei­ther asketh any thing for himselfe, but onely willeth vs not to be unthankfull for that which it pleaseth him to giue vs. And through the selfe same fountaine of the corruptions of our soule we are bewitched with vnthankfull forgetfulnes of those good turnes which we receiue from our like: yea vpon the least dislike of them, which either with, or without reason wee forge in our braines, we say, That neuer did any of vs good. The vassall, for the least deniall or hard countenance which hee receiueth of his Lord, forgetteth all the good turnes, furthe­rances and fauours, which before that time he had done vnto him. The son 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 vngratefull wretches in France, who euen betray & sell daily them, of whom they hold all their aduancement and greatnes. And if vnthankfulnesse be familiar with the meaner sort, let vs not thinke that it is farther off from those of high 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 bin done vnto them, by Of the ingra­titude of great men. 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 encrease in calling and great­nesse, because commonly as they mount vp in calling (not beeing well instructed in vertue) they waxe worse and worse in behauiour. But let them boldly take this for an infallible rule, that an vnthankefull 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 honour, bounty, and humanity, wherewith the prince recompenceth vertuous men, therby prouoking and alluring them to seeke the welfare of his estate. This also is that which procureth the proceeding of Arts and Sciences, and that which bringeth forth notable wits, as contrariwise, Reward and honor nouri­sheth vertue and Artes. Impudencie and Ingrati­tude are com­panions. The descrip­tion of Impu­dencie. all those things languish that are extinguished by little and little through the ingratitude and couetousnes of those that rule. The Ancients said not without cause, that impudency was the companion of ingratitude. For if no beast (as they say) is so shamelesse as an impudent, who is he that may be said to haue lesse shame, than an vnthankfull body? Impudencie (saith Theo­phrastus) is a contempt of glory, wrought in a man through the desire of vile and filthy gaine: and that man is impudent that borroweth some thing of him whom hee purposeth to deceiue. Are not these the proper effects of the vice of Ingratitude, which seeketh nothing else but to draw away the commodity and profit of euery one, being vnwilling to do good to any, or to requite a pleasure receiued, neither caring for true glory and immortall honor, which followeth euery vertuous action grounded vpon duty and honesty? And truely it is a very hard matter for them to bee answerable to their honor, who seeke their owne profit as much as may be. For we must know that in equity and reason there is a difference betweene duty, and that which we commonly Dutie and profit are two distinct things. call profit: yea they are distinct things, and separated one from the other, as honesty is from such earthly commodity. This latter maketh men voide of feare to breake asunder and to dissolue whatsoeuer was ordained and ioyned together 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, industry, and whatsoeuer else is in their power, that they may profit euery one, and that without hope of recompence: albeit they that receiue good turnes are bound to returne againe the like to their benefactors according to their ability, and to ac­knowledge their kindnesse. 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 neigh­bour, and it were prooued against him long time after, that he had bin vnthankefull for it, and had ill acknowledged the good turne receiued, I say, that such a one should be put to death. A law against vnthinkefull persons. 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 liberality, or Iulius Caesar in par­doning iniuries; yet wee reade of them, that when they had knowledge of an vngratefull person, Alexander neuer gaue vnto him, nor Caesar euer for gaue him: so greatly haue vertuous men alwaies hated ingratitude. It is reported of the Storke, that as often as shee hath yong shee casteth one out of her neast for the hire of the house, and reward of him that lodged The Storke a gratefull b [...]d. her. O barbarous ingratitude, to behold him that hath beene lodged, serued, and brought [Page 177] vp in a house, and that with the sweate and labour of another, to seeke and to indeauour the spoile of all that is therein, euen to the honour, and oftentimes the life of his host! Is it not the same vice of vnthankfulnesse that soweth dissentions and quarels, betweene the children and the father, betweene brethren, kinsfolks, and friends, and all for want of acknowledging The fruits of ingratitude. one towards another, that bond of nature wherewith we ought to be tyed, and that seconda­ry supply of good turnes, 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 succour and aide of many, how great soeuer wee be? But what? Wee see by daily experience that which one of the Auncients said, That all humane things grow to bee olde, and come to the ende of their time, except Ingratitude. For the greater the increase of mortall men is, the more doth vnthank­fulnesse Examples a­gainst Ingra­titude. Pyrrhus angment. And yet we may note many examples in histories against this vice, which ought to awaken vs in our duty. Pyrrhus is exceedingly commended by Historiographers, because he was gentle, and familiar with his friends, ready to pardon them when they had angred him, and very earnest and forward in requiting and recompencing those good turnes which he had receiued. Which caused him to be grieued aboue measure at the death of a friend of his: not (as he said) because he saw that befall which is common and necessarily in­cident to the nature of man, but because he had lost all meanes of acknowledging vnto him those benefits which he had receiued: whereupon he reprooued and blamed himselfe for de­laying and deferring it ouerlong. For truely money lent may well be restored to his heires that did lend it: but it goeth to the heart 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 which he receiued. This caused the Ancients not onely to feare the note of Ingratitude towards their friends, but also to contend with their enemies, which of them should doe 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 them in his custody, and would not let them pay any ransome. But the Romanes being vnwilling that he should excell them in any kind of beneficence, as also because they would not giue 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 who had beene Secretarie to the Great Scipio, when he perceiued that he was a competitor, and ioint-suiter for the Pretorship with the sonne of the Circerius. same Scipio, be 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 beene furnished, preferring immortall renowne before that, as one that would not shew him­selfe vnthankfull towards them vnto whom hee was beholding. Wee reade of a barbarous Turke, by countrey an Arabian, and Admirall of the Infidels in their war against Baldwin king A notable hi­storie of an Arabian Turke. of Ierusalem, who not willing to suffer himselfe 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 liberty when they were his prisoners, went by night vnto him into a towne whither he was retired after the losse of a battell, and declared vnto him the purpose of his compani­ons: whereupon he led him out of the towne, and conducted him vntill he had brought him out of all dauger. Moreouer as concerning that which we haue already 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 liberality, which subiect is sufficient for a seuerall discourse, we will content our selues without any fur­ther addition, with the propounding of a notable example of Baiazet, Emperour of the Baiazet. Turkes touching this matter. This man beeing aduertised at the taking of the towne of Mo­dona from the Venetians, of the valure of a yong Ianitsarie of the age of 22. yeares, who was the first that mounted vpon the wall, whereupon 30000. Ianitsaries mo beeing mooued therewith were imboldened to doe the like, gaue him presently an office of Sangeat, which is one of the greatest and richest estates next to the Baschas, and is valued at 10000. duckats in yearely reuenewes. Now if wee desire to follow to the vttermost of our power, the noble courage of those famous personages, that so we may not fal into the shamefull vice of ingrati­tude, this will helpe vs greatly, if we alwaies esteeme the benefite which we receiue of ano­ther, A meane to keepe vs from ingratitude. greater then it is: and contrariwise repute that lesse than it is which we giue. For therby [Page 178] 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 vaine-glorious men doe, who vaunt that they stand in need of none) disdaine 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, because a receiuer is as needfull as a giuer for the accomplishing of a good turne. Fur­thermore, this will be another great occasion of preseruing the common and mutuall bond, Another mea [...] for the same. whereby we stand bound one to another, and of banishing all ingratitude from amongst men, if we obserue this point alwaies, 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 handi­crafts-man, as he saw him passe by, brought from a riuer in his hands and gaue him, but re­ceiued Artaxerxes thinkfully accepted a little water. 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 wil that offered it. He thought it no lesse an act of magnanimitie and kingly 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 wherewith they may be noted, whom he hath already bound vnto him. For (as Plato saith) that is true vertue, which setteth 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 Vertue is a sufficient re­compence to it selfe. haue occasion to bee grieued at an vnthanekfull person, yet hee hath no libertie to re­pent him of the good turne which hee hath done him. Yea, the vnworthier hee is that re­ceiueth a benefite, the more is hee to bee commended from whom it commeth. And wee may assure our selues that that thing only 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 deeds and actions, is to see himselfe adorned with that ver­tue which is profitable to others, but to it selfe is fruitlesse, painefull, and perilous. To the end therefore that we may reape profit by all that hath beene heere discoursed, seeing wee The sleep [...] of the [...] is woo [...]se than death. know by ouer-many experiences vnto what mischiefe Ingratitude hath made vs subiect, let vs awaken 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 spirit is worse than death. Therefore let vs watch in spirit, that both with heart and voice we may sing and set forth the vnspeakable benefits that are daily offered vnto vs by the goodnesse of God, wherof we shall be made partakers through his grace, if our frowardnesse be no let vnto vs Let our ioy, con­tentation and pleasure be in them that destroy and driue farre from vs all irksomnesse and sad melancholy, and let vs take singular delight in profiting one another by good turnes and be­nefits: yea let vs shew that we haue such noble mindes, that no Ingratitude can turne vs aside from the desire of doing good to all. Lastly, let vs recompence double, and reward without reckoning those good turnes, which wee receiue of others, rather fearing least wee should bee 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, and Iustice, are good things; and that their con­traries are euill, namely, want of Prudence: Intemperance, Cowardlines, and iniustice. As for the goods of Fortune, & of the body, as riches, glory, friends, and honour, beauty, health, strength, and dexteri­tie, he calleth them meane or indifferent things, which of them­selues are neither good nor bad, but become either the one or the [Page 179] other, as they are vsed with Prudence, or abused by Imprudence and want of discretion. Now seeing we entred yesterday into these points that depend of Iustice, I thinke the sequell What Libe­ralitie is. of our matter requireth of vs the handling of Liberalitie, which is nothing else but an excel­lent vse of those means which God putteth into our hands for the succording of many: which vertue (as Cicero saith) is altogether ioyned to iustice, and ought to be guided by moderati­on and reason. Now my Companions, I leaue the discourse of this matter to you.

The vnstable riches of earthly treasure (as Agapetus wrote to Iustinianus) Riches resem­ble the waters imitate the course of the floating water. They abound for a little while to such as thinke they haue them, and suddenly they returne back againe and goe to others: but the treasure of Li­beralitie and largesse, only abideth still with him that possesseth it.

The habit 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 nobilitie of minde 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, Couetousnesse and Prodigalitie, and seeing the iudgement of reason ought to be the director and master of gi­uing, and of free Libertie, 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 ioyned with the knowledge of truehonestie, and perfect goodnesse, they offer meanes vnto him whereby he may the better How riches may be well vsed. execute his good and honest iuclinations, to the profit and releefe of all them that stand in neede. Hereupon we must bestow only whatsoeuer we haue more than necessary: 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 deed, that Aristotle and all the Peripatecians maintained this opinion, that a happy life which consisteth in the perfect vse of vertue, could Aristotles o­pinion con­cerning a hap­py life destitute of bodily and outward goods. not be in allrespects absolute, if it wanted the assistance of bodily and externall goods, which are as instruments to further a man in the good and vertuous execution of his honest desires. But we shewed heretofore by good reason, and according to the opinion of the Academicks and Stoicks, that vertue only is sufficient of it selfe to make a man liue happily, and that his vertue cannot be either more honoured, or disgraced through the abundant hauing or not hauing of the goods of fortune, and of the body, seeing all other things receiue their glory from vertue, and are not able to adde any thereunto. And therefore a poore vertuous man A poore man may be libe­rall. is not kept from any perfect vse of vertue, no not of Liberalitie, which consisteth not in wa­sting much wealth, but in succording 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, then were all the presents of the rich, because they gaue of their abundance, and shee of that little which shee 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 abilty. But chiefly rich and mighty men are bound thereunto by that commande­ment giuen vnto them in the Scripture, to make them friends with the riches of iniquity. Luke 16. 9. They must take good heede that they passe not the bounds of this vertue of Liberalitie, but strictly obserue those three points already touched by me, namely: that they bee liberall, Where, When, and Asmuch as is requisite: For when Princes bestow estates, offices, or money, vpon vnworthy persons, they giue where, and more than they ought. And if in time of war, or calamities of their people, they giue to flatterers, dancers, and ministers of their pleasures, How princes passe the li­mits of libera­litie. and consume much vpon feasts, Plaies, Turneis, and Maskes, they spend Where and When they ought not, deseruing thereby the name of prodigall men, and louers of riot and super­fluity, howsoeuer flattering Courtiers labour to disguise such wastfull spendings with the name of Largesse and Liberality. But such superfluous expences bring forth effects contra­ry When the in­feriour sort passe the bounds of liberalitie. to the vertue and duty of a king, causing princes to leuie extraordinary taxes and tributes vpon no iust necessity, which is wholly to ouerthrow the vse of Liberality. And this is done also by men of meaner calling, when in their actions and expences they propound to them­selues another end than good workes grounded vpon the loue of their neighbours accor­ding to charity. Cicero giueth vs a very good precept against the opinion of many in our [Page 180] time, who giue out in speech, that they are borne to doe great things, namely, to practise Li­beralitie, and beeing poore of worldly goods, seeke to enrich themselues by vnlawfull and vniust meanes, that they may bring to passe their lofty desires: thinking afterwards through good deedes and great Liberality to make amends for that fault which they haue commit­ted. But (as that father of Philosophy saith) our goods and patrimony must be iustly gotten, not by dishonest and hatefull gaine: secondly, wee must profit as many as wee can, so that they be worthy thereof. Moreouer, a man may and ought to increase it by reason, diligence, and sparing, but to maintaine Liberality rather then to minister vnto lust, voluptuousnesse, or heaping vp of treasures. And yet now adaies these are the principall occasions for which riches are desired, which as they encrease, 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 workes of Liberality, which are to succour the needy. But this is tobe farre separated from the commendable end, and good vse of riches, wherof all that we haue About what we are to be­stow the ouer plus of our wealth. ouer and aboue our necessity ought to be imploied in the seruice of the common wealth, iu releeuing the poore, diseased, afflicted, and prisoners, in procuring the good bringing vp of youth, and generally in exercising all other deedes of piety: accounting it great gaine to helpe the poore, seeing God is the rewarder thereof. Amongst the ancient Romanes there was a law kept inuiolably, That no man should presume to make a publike feast, except before he A notable law amongst the Romanes. 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 begge in the streetes. Therefore Plato saide that where there are beggers in a towne, there are also theeues and church robbers. Now if wee that bearethe name of Christians, and acknowledge the poore to be the members of Iesus Christ, are not ashamed to banquet and feast, when in the meane time the needy cry at our gates, and almost die of hunger, doe wee not thinke that these Heathen men shall rise in iudgement before that great and iust iudge, to accuse and condemne vs as theeues and church rob­bers, and chiefly 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 law of God and man? Wee must feede the poore, and not kill them: but to deny them nourishment, or to driue them from vs, is to kill them. For this cause Epami­nondas How Epami­nondas com­pelled a rich man to be liberall. captaine generall of the Thebans, hauing knowledge of a very rich man that had no care of the poore in the towne, sent a poore needy fellow vnto him, and commaun­ded him vnder a great penalty 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) because 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 neede, and to shew them­selues enemies vnto them that made no account of the poore. But if wee should diligently search all histories and deedes of famous men, yet could we not find a more notable example or worthy to be followed than that of Cimon the Athenian, who hauing gotten great wealth honourably, both for himselfe and his countrey, by the taking and ouerthrow of manie Cimon a no­table patterne of the true vse of riches. Barbarians and townes belonging vnto them, knew neuerthelesse how to bestow it liberal­ly with greater glory and honor, by releeuing all his poore country men to whom his house was as an hospitall, wherein they were all nourished and fedde at an ordinary that was com­mon to so many as would come thither; which was furnished not with dainty and delicate fare, thereby to occasion rich folkes to seeke it out, but with many common sorts of victuals in all plenty and abundance, and that for a great number of persons. This This he did chiefely, as he said, to the end that poore honest men might haue the more leisure to imploy themselues about the affaires and 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 bee taken away, that stran­gers which passed by, and his owne countrey men that wanted, might take of the fruits that were there according to their necessity. Now if this vertue of Liberality bee prayse­worthy in all persons that vse it well according to their ability, it is most of all necessarie, Liberality most necessa­ry for princes & great men. honourable and profitable for king: and princes, heads and captaines of armies, gouenours of estates and common wealths, as that which procureth vnto them more th [...]n any other thing, the good will of euery one, wherein the chiefe strength and stay of their greatnesse consisteth. But withall they haue great neede of prudence and iustice, especially soueraigne princes, to distribute liberally and according to harmonicall proportion their giftes, graces, [Page 181] and good turnes, whether they be estates, offices, benefices, knighthoods, exemptions, freedomes, and other recompences due as rewards to their subiects, according as euery one deserueth. It belongeth principally to them to keepe religiously and from point to point the Iawes of Liberality, marking well to whome they giue, how much is giuen, at what time, in what place, to what end, and their owne ability that giue. Moreouer, a Soue­raigne The lawes of liberality. must looke that recompence goe before gift, by rewarding first those that haue de­serued, before he giue to them 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 among the vicious, strangers, and vnworthy persons, this is that which oftentimes setteth flourishing estates on fire. There is neuer any want of flat­terers and of impudent crauers about kings, whose onely drift is to suppe vp the blood, gnaw the bones, and sucke the marrow of princes and their subiects, to satisfie their foolish A common mischiefe which fol­loweth the greater sort. and vnprofitable expences; which are such and so great, that a man is well at ease to giue them any thing, they are alwaies so needy and money lesse, and sticke not to say that they neuer receiue good of their masters. In the mean while, they that haue deserued of the com­mon wealth, are commonly remooued furthest from their maiesties: which cometh to passe both by the ignorance of the greater sort, who make but a bad choice of seruants worthy their fauor, as also because the honor and credite of good men forbiddeth them by flatte­ry and begging to seeke after the rewards of vertue, which should be offered vnto them. But not to wander from our matter subiect, let us now consider of some notable examples of the Ancients concerning this whereof wee haue here discoursed. It was by his magnificall and incomparable Liberality, that Alexander the Great made a way for his noble platforms, The liberality of Alexander. whereby he became Monarch of the three parts of the world, distributing liberally all his deamins amongst the Macedonians, as before we mentioned. But what a notable testi­mony of this his Liberality did he giue a fresh, when during the war he caused this to bee To the Ma­cedonians. published in his army, That all they that were indebted vpon any occasion whatsoeuer, should bring their creditors vnto him, and he would discharge all their debts? Which thing he likewise performed. Moreouer, who wil not admire the Liberality which al his life time he To al debtors in his army. exercised towards the learned men of his time? Wee reade that hee gaue at one time to his master Aristotle, 800. Talēts, which amount to 480000. crowns, as a reward for his pains, To Aristotle. trauelles, and expence which he had bin at in describing the nature and property of liuing creatures. He sent to Anaxarchus the Philosopher 50. Talents, which are 30000. crowns, but To Anaxar­chus. he refused them, saying: that he knew not what to do with so great a sum. What (said Alexan­der then) hath he no friends to pleasure, seeing all king Darius wealsh will not suffice mee to distribute amongst mine owne? Perillus besought him to giue him some mony towards the marriage of his daughters, wherupon he gaue to him also 50. Talents. And when he told him that it was too To Perillus. much by halfe, he replied thus: If halfe be enough for thee to take, yet it is not enough for me to giue. Likewise he gaue to a poore Egyptian asking his alms, a rich & populous citie, & when the To an Egyp­tian. other all astonished supposed that he mocked him: Take (quoth he to him) that which I giue thee: for if thou art Bias that demandest, I am Alexander that giueth. The first Monarch of the Cae­sars, is hee not also exceedingly praised of Historiographers for the liberallest Prince of his Caesar a libe­rall Prince. time, & for such a one as shewed indeed, that he loved 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 & 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 onely distribute it to euery one according to his desert. Antonius one of his successours, sought to imitate him Antonius a magnificall Prince, but voluptuous. in his bountifull Liberality. For proofe hereof may serue that commandement, which he gaue to his Treasorer to double the halfe of 2500. crownes, which hee had giuen to one of his fauorites, 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 blot and infamy, which caused his destruction, in that he applyed it to the seruice, and main­tenance of his delights and pleasures, and abused it in the fauor and behalfe of the wicked, which is all one in great men as if they themselues were authors of vice and iniquity, Arche­laus king of Macedonia, may serue vnto them for a notable example, wherby they may learn Archelaus gaue not to the vnwor­thie. to keepe themselues in their estates from such a pernitious euil. This king being requested by a Minion of his Court to giue him a cup of gold wherein hee dranke, deliuered it to his page, commanding him to beare and giue the same to Euripides, who was there present, and thē said to the other: As for thee, thou art worthy to aske, & to be denied also: but Euripides is [Page 182] worthy of gifts, although he aske not. Antigonus the elder beeing importunately desired by How Antigo­nus denied one that was importunate. one that was good for nothing, and that counterfeited the Cynicke Philosopher, to giue him a drachma, which might be in value about foure pence halfe penny, made answer: that it was no meete gift for a king. And when the other replied, that hee should then giue him a Talent, he answered: It is no present for a Cynick. Titus the Emperour was so greatly in loue with Liberalitie all his life time, that remembring one euening with himselfe, that hee Titus a good and liberall prince. 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 doe them good, putting in practise that precept of Phocylides, which saith: Sleepe not at night before A notable precept of Phocylides. thou hast thrise called to minde thy workes that day, and repent thee of the euill, but reioyce 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 mankinde are ended, Ptolemaeus the Theban, captaine ouer a great army, had so acquainted himselfe not to denie Ptolemaeus the Thebane. any that stood in neede of his Liberality, that when a poore souldier 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 giue thee, For I had rather goe bare-foot, than see thee suffer so much. Denys the elder, entring into his sonnes lodging, and beholding Denys the elder. 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 liberality preserueth his friends, and mollifieth his enemies. This is that which Cyrus by experience shewed vnto Croesus, Cyrus. and how smally those gifts which he had bestowed vpon worthy persons had impouerished him. For sending to euery one of them to succour him with money, they sent him altogether 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 by scattering abroad, is gathered together. Perti­nax, Pertinax. who succeeded Commodus in the Empire, surpassed all the Emperours that euer were for exceeding liberality, which hee vsed to the benefit and profit of all his subiects. For first hee 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 all taxes and subsidies for ten yeares, with perpetuall assurance that they should not be troubled in their possession. Hee 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 customes, tributes, and tolles laid vpon the hauens of riuers, at the entries into townes, waies and passages; which hee called inuentions of tyranny to get money, and placed all such things in their ancient liberties. Which actions beseemed rather a father of the countrey, than a lord and master: and there are few princes that vse to doe so, but many to whom 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 are the proper will of God onely, whose people they must rule with right and e­quity, 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 Liberality, 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 kinde of voluptuousnesse or vice, neither yet vpon the wicked, as though we purposed to nourish and maintaine their impieties. For this is vtterly to destroy iustice, and consequently the bond and preseruatiue of humane society. But if we, being well instructed by the Spirit of wisedome, feede the hungry, giue drinke to Math. 29. the thirstie, lodge them that want harbour, and clothe the naked, sowing in this manner by the workes of pietie that talent which is committed to our keeping, we shall reape abundant­ly in heauen the permanent riches and treasures of eternall life.

Of Couetousnesse, and of Prodigalitie. Chap. 42.

IF that diuine rule of Cicero were as well written in our heart, as hee desired to haue it setled in his sonne, That onely that thing is to bee iudged profitable which is No wicked thing ought to be iudged profitable. 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 [Page 183] 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 profit from honesty, & so suffering themselues to be ouercome of couetousnes, which is the defect of liberality, whereof we discoursed euen now, whose excesse also is Prodigalitie, of which two vices we are now to intreate.

Euery one that coueteth treasures (said Anacharsis, one of the wise men of Graecia) is hardly capable of good counsell 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 thereunto, is mad. For couetousnes neither for shame of the world, nor feare of death, will not represse or moderate it selfe. But it belongeth to thee, ARAM, to instruct vs in that which is here pro­pounded.

Since the greedie desire of heaping vp golde and siluer entred in amongst men, with the possession of riches, couetousnesse followed, and with the vse of them plea­sures and delights: whereupon they began to saile in a dangerous sea of all vices, which hath so ouerflowne in this age of ours, that there are very few towers how high soeuer sea­ted, Couetousnes hath ouer­flowne all. 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 ready money, seeing all this doth not teach them, not to be carried away with passions for riches, and seeing the possession of them in that manner procureth not a contentation voide of the desire of them, but rather inflameth vs to desire them more through an vnsatiable couetousnes, which is such a pouerty of the soule, that no worldly goods can remedy the same. For it is the nature of this vice to make a man poore Couetousnes will neuer be satisfied. all his life time that he may finde himselfe rich onely 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 al other desiers helpe forward the same, and seeke to content those that serue them. Couetous­nes (saith Aristotle) is a vice of the soule, whereby a man desireth to haue from all parts without reason, and vniustly with holdeth that which belongeth to another. It is sparing and skanty in giuing, but exces­siue in receiuing. The Poet Lucretius calleth it a blinde desire of goods. And it mightily hin­dreth the light of the soule, causing the couetous man to be neuer contented, but the more hee hath, the more to desire and wish for. The medecine which he seeketh, namely, golde and siluer, increaseth his disease, as water doth the dropsie: and the obtaining thereof is al­waies vnto him the beginning of the desire of hauing. He is a Tantalus in hell, who betweene water and meate dieth of hunger. Now it is very sure, that to such as are wise and sound of Couetousnes like to a dropsie. iudgement, nature hath limited certaine bounds of wealth, which are traced out vpon a certaine Center, and vpon the circumference of their necessity. But couetousnes working cleane contrary effects in the spirits of fooles, carrieth away the naturall desire of necessary things, to a disordinate appetite of such things as are full of danger, rare, and hard to be gotten. And which is woorse, compelling the auaritious to procure them with great paine and trauell, it Stratonicus de rided the su­perfluity of the Rodians forbiddeth him to enioy them, and stirreth vp his desire, depriueth him of the pleasure. Stra­tonicus mocked in old time the superfluity 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 together like great and mighty men, and spend like mechanicall and handi­crafts men. They endure labour in procuring, but want the pleasure of enioying. They are like Mules that carry great burthens of gold and siluer on their backs, and yet eate but hay. They enioy neither rest nor liberty which are most precious, and most desired of a wiseman, Couetous mē compared to mules. but liue alwaies in disquietnes, beeing seruants and slaues to their riches. Their greatest mi­serie is, that to encrease and keepe their wealth, they care neither for equity or iustice, they contemne all lawes both diuine and humane, and all threatnings and punishments annexed vnto them: they liue without friendship and charitie, and lay holde of nothing but gaine. The miserable life of coue­tous men. When they are placed in authority and power aboue others, they condemne the innocent, iustifie the guilty, and finde alwaies some cleanely cloke and colour of taking, and of excusing (as they thinke) their corruption & libertie, making no difference between duty and profite. Wherefore we may wellsay in a word, That couetousnes is the root of all euil. For, what mischiefes are not procured through this vice? From whence proceede quarrels, strifes, suites, hatred 1 Tim. 6. 10. The fruits of couetousnes. and enuie, thefts, pollings sackings, warres, murders and poisonings, but from hence God is forgotten, our neighbour hated, & many times the son forgiueth not his father, neither the [Page 184] brother his brother. nor the subiect his Lord, for the desire of gaine. In a word, there is no kinde of cruelty 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 subiects to rebell against their princes, gouernours, and magistrates, when, not able to beare their insati­ble desires, nor their exactions and intollerable subsidies, they breake foorth into publike and open sedition, which troubleth common tranquilitie, whereupon the body politike is changed, or for the most part vtterly ouerthrowne. Moreouer, the excesse of the vertue of li­beralitie, which is prodigality, may bee ioyned to couetousnes, and then there is no kinde of vice but reigneth with all licence in that soule that hath these two ghests lodged together. And because it is a thing that may seeme hard to conceiue, how two vices so disagreeing by nature, may bee found to agree in the same subiect, we will soone beleeue it, if we say with the How prodigality & coue­tousnes may in some sort be linked to­gether in one subiect. Ancients, that is is the point of couetousnes, to gripe, and to take Where & When it ought not: and that this dealing is put in practise necessarily vpon one of these two occasions, either of niggardlines and sparing, or for prodigality, as they doe that vniustly seeke for meanes to satisfie their fond desires, and their vnprofitable and super fluous expences. The common opinion is, that they who put to no vse the riches that they get so couetously, are more mise­rable than those that abuse them after they haue obtained them by ill meanes: because many may reape profite by these, but of the other none, no not their onely heires receiue more benefite than they doe of hogges, which is after their death. But it falleth not so out altoge­ther with Kings and Princes, whose couetousnesse ioyned with prodigality is more hurtfull Couetous mē compared to hogs. to their subiects than that which is ioyned with sparing. For this latter, although it ma­keth them committe much iniustice, and polling of their people to fill their treasuries, yet when any neede happeneth to the Common wealth, either of forraine warre, or any other calamity, a good ground worke is laide in the bottome of their cofersfor to redresse the same. But the other maintained with the like iniustice, leaueth nothing behinde for prodi­gall princes, wherewith to helpe themselues in time of necessity. Whereupon oftentimes proceedeth the finall subuersion of their estate, weakened by exactions, to the ouerthrowe and vndoing of many who would haue beene the sinewes of their strength: and all to enrich a few who then will stand them in small steade; or else because they wasted it vpon riot and superfluities, whereby the warlike vertues both of themselues and of other subiects become degenerate and bastardlike. Of this we note, that after a prince groweth to bee prodigall and desirous of superfluity and foolish expences, no riches he hath will euer suffice him: so that to satisfie his spending, hee must needes become couetous and vniust. The like happe­neth many times to the meaner sort, and to men of all estates, that they are couerous and prodigall both together, namely, when they gather wealth by vnlawfull meanes, and spare to spend it in the workes of pietie, that they may sowe it plentifully vpon delights and pleasures. But the humour niggardlinesse and neerenes, is most common in couetous wen, whom Plu­tarke compareth to rats and mice that are in gold mines, which eate the golden oare, and yet nothing can bee gotten from them but after their death. Likewise he compareth them Couetous mē compared to rats & cundat pipes. to pipes through which, water beeing 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 one nor the other reape any good or benefite by them, vntill in the end either some tyrant take all away by vi­olence from that hold fast, or else some one that is the worst of the race succeedeth, spending all dissolutely vpon pleasure. This caused Diogenes, iesting at couetous men, to say that he It is better to be the sheepe than the son of a couetous man. had rather bee their sheepe than their sonne, because they were very carefull to giue their cat­tell meete pasture, but in steade of feeding their youth with conuenient and profitable nou­rishment, through good and vertuous education, they marre, spill, and corrupt them, by grafting couetousnes in the soules of their children, as if they meant to build within them a strong sort wherein to keepe their succession safely. Whereas contrariwise they should learne of Cicero, that the glory of vertue, and of praise woorthy and honorable deeds, is the greatest riches which fathers can leaue to their children, and more excellent then any other patri­mony whatsoeuer. Socrates called a young man brought vp in ignorance, and rich withall, a golden slaue. And that seruant answered not vnfitly, when, being demanded what his maister did ( [...]ho was a couetous man, and one that hauing great quantity of good wine, sold it to o­thers, and sought for sowre wine in Tanerns for his owne drinking) he said: Albeit hee hath great store of good, yet he seeketh for euill. But let vs now consider of some notable exāples: [Page 185] shewing forth the pernitious effects, which, as we said, proceede from these two vices, Couetous­nesse, and Prodigalitio. Muleasses king of Thunes, had his eies put out by his sonne, that hee Examples of the fruits of couetousnesse and of prodi­galitie. Muleasses. Polymnestor. might seaze vpon his treasures Priamus king of Troy, fearing the taking of his citie, sent Po­lydorus his yongest sonne to his sonne in law Polymnestor, with a great quantity of gold and siluer: but he being desirous to possesse the same slue the childe 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 her woman put out his eies. The Emperor Caligula was so much touched with couetous­nesse, Caligula. that there was no kinde of lucre: or meane to get money 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, whom he had violated and sent into banishment. And yet in one yeare of his reigne he spent prodigally 67. Millions of gold, which Tiberius his predecessor had ga­thered together. Nero vsing great cruelty, polling, exaction, and confiscation towards his sub­iects, gaue to the ministers of his tyranny in those fifteene yeares wherein he reigned, the Nero. value of 55. Millions of Crownes. He caused a very stately guilt pallace to be built, which tooke in compasse a great part of Rome, but it was ouerthrowne after his death, that the memory of such a cruell tyrant might bee rooted out of the earth. A notable example for such as thinke to get a vaine glory by buildings that are more stately than necessary, and yet Against the superfluitie of sumptuous buildings. leaue behind them a notorious marke of their tyranny, and perpetuall testimony to posterity, that they haue raised their houses with the blood of their subiects. Henrie the seauenth Emperour, a Prince indued with most excellent vertues, was poisoned with an Hoast, which an Italian Monke corrupted with money caused him to take. But what neede wee seeke for An Italian Monke. such examples of auncient men to know the fruits of couetousnesse, 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 money, and all committed to this ende, that the authors of them may haue their goods whom they kill, for the satisfying of their insatiable couetousnesse? Amongst many other, who hath not heard of the cruell wilfull murder of a A cruell mur­der of a Gen­tlewoman and of her house­hold. Gentlewoman of a good house, and of her men and maides, by her owne brethren in law, done a few daies past? A cruelty exceeding that of the Cannibals, who yet spare domesticall blood. But God the iust iudge would not that such an execrable wickednesse should belong concealed and vnpunished. For when it could not be found out by any inquiry of man, one of the murderers touched with the hand of God, and taken with an extreame sicknesse, being as it were mad, and as Caine was in times past, disclosed his sinne of himselfe, the hainousnesse whereof so troubled him, that hee could hope for no mercy. Afterward recouering his health, hee was taken vpon his owne confession, and beeing conuicted of the fact, accused all the authors thereof, of whom some are executed, and the rest expect no better euent. That couetousnesse causeth subiects to rebell against their couetous Princes, and that often­times to their ouerthrow: we haue an example in Mauritius the Emperour, who was depriued Mauritius de­priued of the Empire for his couetous­nesse. of the Empire, and had his head cut off, besides the death of his fiue children, and of his wife, by reason of the ill will of his people and men of warre, which hee had purchased, who could beare no longer his couetousnesse, whereby hee was mooued to winke at spoiles, and murders, and to keepe backe the pay of his souldiers. In the time of S. Lewes the king, the people of fiue cities and fiue villages of high Almaigne, which at this day we call Switserland, raised such a great tumult and sedition, that they put to the edge of the sword all their Prin­ces, The Nobili­ty of Switser­land destroy­ed for the same cause. Lewes. 11. Lords, and Noble men; the chiefe cause thereof was their couetousnesse, which made them oppresse their subiects with vniust exactions. the niggardly sparing of king Lewes the eleuenth, mooued strangers greatly to contemne him, and was in part the cause of the rebel­lion of his subiects. For hauing put away in a manner all the Gentlemen of his houshold, hee vsed his Tailor alwaies for his Herald of Armes, his Barber for Embassadour, and his Physiti­on for his Chancellor: and in derision of other kings, hee wore a greasie hat of the coursest wooll. We finde in the chamber of accounts a bill of his expences, wherein is set downe 20. souses for two new sleeues to his old doublet, and another clause of 15. deniers for grease to grease his boots. And yet he increased the charges of his people three millions more than his predecessors had done, and alienated a great part of his Demaine. Sparing may well be vsed (which at this day is more more necessary than euer) and yet the maiesty of a King nothing diminished, neither the dignity of his house, and without the abusing of his greatnesse. Like­wise those men, who after ther they haue hoorded much treasure, and are so besotted and blinded with a couetous loue of their wealth, that they will not vpon any necessity imploy [Page 186] it, can no more auoide their destruction, than the other before mentioned. This doth the hi­story 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 succo­red Calipha. of his owne people, because 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 soldiers, thou mightest haue preserued thy selfe, and thy city. Now therefore enioy it at thine 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 middest of his riches. The punishment which Dionysius the elder, king of Syracusa, laide How Diony­sius punished a couetous wretch. vpon a rich couetous subiect of his, was more gentle, but worthy to bee well noted, beeing full of instruction. For being aduertised that he had hid great store of treasure in the ground, hee commanded him vpon paine of life to bring it vnto him: which hee did, although not all of it, but retained part, which hee tooke with him, and went to dwell in another city, where he bestowed his money vpon inheritance: When Dionysius vnderstood thereof, hee sent for him, and restored all his golde 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 vnworthy to enioy. And to speake the truth, there is no reason wherewith the couetousnesse of such men may bee coloured. For if they say, that they spend not because they care nor for spending, it is a point of great folly in them to labour to gather more wealth than they want. But if they desire to spend, and yet dare not for niggardlinesse doe so, nor enioy the fruite of their labour, they are a great deale more miserable. Whereby it appeareth vnto vs what a goodly and commendable thing it is to bee content and satisfied with a little, which freeth vs from the desire of vnnecessarie things. Now if wee are to take those things for superfluous, which we will not vse, we ought, for the reasons already set downe, to make no lesse account of those which wee would abuse in riot and superfluity. The couetousnesse of Darius, king of the Persians, was beguiled and laughed to scorne through the subtill inuention of Nitocris Queene of Babylon (some attri­bute How Darius his couetous­nesse was be­guiled. it to Semiramis) who beeing desirous to welcome her successors that were touched with auarice, which she abhorred aboue all things, caused a high sepulcher to bee erected ouer those gates of the city through which there was most passage, with these words ingrauen therein: If any king of Babylon that shall come after me finde 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 kingdome causing the coffin to bee opened, thinking to finde there that which was promised. Neuerthelesse he found there nothing but a dead body, with this wri­ting: If thou were not ins [...]tiable and very couetous, thou wouldest not haue opened the tombe of the dead. Moreouer that couetousnesse oftentimes blindeth men so far, as that it causeth them to take away their owne life without feare of condemning their soules, many examples thereof are left in memory: of whom some through griefe for some great losse of goods, others to leaue their children rich, haue voluntarily procured their owne death. Cassius Licinius was of this Cassius Lici­nius strang­led himselfe to leaue his goods to his children. number, who being accused, attainted, and 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, hee sent word to Cicero that he was dead during the processe and before condemnation: and presently in the field he smoothered him­selfe with a napkin, hauing no other meaning therein but to saue his goods for his children: For then the lawes concerning the punishment of such as had robbed the common-wealth, or such as being preuented slue themselues, were not made: so that they that were accused might saue their liues by forsaking their goods, yea by paying so much onely as their accusers demanded. But there are some of a cleane contrary disposition to Licinius, who beeing ready to giue vp the ghost, would gladly carry their wealth with them, as wee reade of Hermocrates, Hermocrates beque thed his goods to himselfe. A Ratte sold for 200. pence. Couetousn [...]s caused Cras­sus to play on both [...]es. who by his will made himselfe heire of his owne goods. Athenaeus maketh mention of ano­ther, who at the houre of his death deuoured many peeces of his gold, & 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 towne of Cassilina by Hannibal, preferred the hope of gaine before his owne life. For he chose rather to sell a Ratte, which he had taken, for 200. Romane pence, than to satisfie his hunger, whereof hee died quickly after: and the buier beeing the wiser man, saued his life by that dearemeate. Crassus Consul of Rome is likewise noted by Historiographers to bee extreme couetous, which caused him to swimme betweene [Page 187] two factions diuided for Caesar and Pompey, seruing his owne turne by them both, and changing many times from one side to another in the administration of the Common wealth. Hee shewed himselfe neither a constant friend, nor a dangerous enemy, but soone forsooke both amity and enmity, when hee saw it would bee profitable to him, whereof the encrease of his substance gaue great proofe. For when he first began to inter­meddle 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 war with the Parthians, he would needes know how much all his wealth came to. And first hee of­fered to Hercules the tenth of all his goods: secondly, he made a publike feast for al the peo­ple Wonderfull riches. of Rome of a thousand tables: and thirdly, he gaue to euery citizen as much wheate as would finde him three moneths. Notwithstanding all this, he found that he was woorth 7100 talents, which amounted to foure millions, two hundred and threescore thousand crownes. He vsed to say, that he accounted no man rich, except he were able of his own char­ges to hire and maintaine an army: because as no man can set downe a ready reckoning of the expences of warre: as king Archidamus said, so the riches that is to sustaine it, may not be limited. But in the end his couetousnes 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 couetousnes, so Pompey was as much commended & wel thought of, because he abhorred and condemned it. Whereof hee gaue good proofe, as also of great Pompey ab­horred coue­tousnes. piety at the taking of the city of Ierusalem from the Iewes. For when he entred into the tem­ple, and beheld the great riches thereof, the table of gold, the golden candlesticke, a great number of vessels of gold, with great abundance of good and exquisite spice for smels, and 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. Wee that say we are Christians, follow a farre off the piety of these heathen men, when 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 wee see that this cursed plant of couetous­nes groweth as much in the house of praier, as in the courts of kings and princes. The corruption also that hath followed the same, is knowne sufficiently in those men, who to satisfie their vnsatiable desires call themselues protectors of this Hydra Ignorance, to the destruction and perdition of their owne soules, and of tenne thousand mo for whom they are to answer. Iouian Pontanus rehearseth a pleasant historie of a cardinal named Angelot, who The great co­uetousnes of a cardinall. 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 a light by a trap dore into the stable, and so steale their oates, and carry it into his garner whereof he kept the key himselfe. He continued his goings and commings so often, that one one of his horsekeepers not knowing who was this theefe, hid himselfe in the stable, and taking him at the deed do­ing (being ignorāt who it was (bestowed so many blows on his with a pitchfork, that he left himself dead so that he was faine to be caried by foure men into his chāber. Iohn Maria Duke of Millan, chastised very iustly, but ouer seuerely, the couetousnes of a Curat, who denied the seruice of his office in the burying of a dead body, because his widow had not wherwith to The cruel pu­nishment of a couetous cu­rate. 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 coarse, & so cast thē both into one pit. A cru­elty no lesse detestable thā the vice of those wretches that sel the gifts of God, & make mer­chandise of that, which they ought to giue freely to the people. Now to end our matter, we maintaine this, that couetousnes and vnlawfull desire of riches, is the root of all euill, mi­sery and calamity. Moreouer it is more to bee misliked in great men when it followeth riot and prodigality, than if it bee ioyned with niggardlines, as well for the reason before tou­ched, as also because niggardly and couetous princes vse more carefully in their estates and 1. Tim. 6. 10. dignities to prouide such men as are prudent & staied, for the preseruation of their subiects, knowing that their owne ruine dependeth of their vndoing. Which thing voluptuous princes neglect, because they dreame of nothing but of their pleasures, and so prouide none but such as will serue their numor therein, and flatterers, or else such as wil giue them most money wherewith to maintaine their delights. And let vs further know, that all What magi­strates are best liked of coue­tous princes. couetous men go astray from the right way of truth, & infold themselues in many griefes & miseries, & become odious to euery one. Besides, not being content with their dayly bread, when contrariwise their desire is infinite, they euidently mocke God as often as they make that petition: because they labor to conceale and to dissemble before him that knoweth all [Page 188] things, their couetous and greedie affection, whereas true praier ought to declare and to open the inward meaning of the heart. Let vs therefore that are better instructed learne, that god­linesse with contentation is great gaine: and let vs not wearieour selues in the heaping vp 1. Tim. 6. 6. Matth. 6. 19. We must re­nounce vn­iust riches. of treasure, which the rust and moth may consume and eate, and the theefe steale, but let vs renounce riches and the world, ouer which Satan beareth rule, least in that terrible day hee accuse vs before the great Iudge, and conuince vs of taking something 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 minde of man, which of it owne nature is created sociable, gracious, and ready to helpe euery one, yea, which by the force of charitie working toge­ther, with it, feeleth it selfe as it were constrained to mourne with those that weepe, and to reioyce with them that laugh, is able to shew nothing more vn­worthy it selfe, than to be be ouercome of Enuie, which is a wilde plant in the soule, bringing Nothing more vnwor­thie the spirit of man th [...]n enuie. forth cleane contrary effects to that good will which we owe to our neighbour, and compre­hending in it all iniustice generally, and all wickednesse of men: as we may see if you thinke good (my companions) to search more narrowly into the nature of this vice.

Enuie proceedeth of a naughty disposition, and prouoketh light braines (as Pindarus saith) to reioyce in beholding the aduersity of some, and to be vexed at the happy The nature of Enuie. 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 auoide enuie, thou becommest mi­serable.

Glory and vertue (saith Virgil) are alwaies enuied: which vice is commonly accompanied with hatred and ill-will, whereby men are driuen forward to detract and slander others. But he that kee­peth Hatred and illwill are the compa­nions of en­uie. his mouth (saith the wise man) keepeth his soule. Let vs then heare AMANA, who will in­struct vs more at large in this which is here propounded vnto vs.

That wicked and subtle enemie of mankinde, not beeing able to abide the glory whereunto God hath called men, of which he depriued himselfe through his pride, was driuen with enuie to tempt our first parents: whose in gratitude conceiuing sinne in the soule of man, the first fruit brought forth by this cursed plant, seemeth likewise to haue beene en­uie, What exe­crable fruits enuie hath brought forth with which Adams eldest sonne being mooued, slue his onely brother. O cursed and fu­rious enuie, oh slothfull branch of execrable euils, seeing by thee man was first beguiled, and induced afterward to admit murder into his heart, and to water the earth, being yet virgine-like, with his brothers blood: whereby hee began his chiefe worke vpon innocency, to the end that wicked men might from father to sonne haue this prerogatiue to oppresse the good! Is there any vice then amongst vs which wee ought to hate and flie from more than from enuy, which hauing nothing of her first euill nature diminished, leadeth men to most vniust and detestable actions? Neuerthelesse to what passion are wee more inclined, or doe we nourish more willingly than this? Let euery one enter into himselfe and vndoubtedly he shall finde there a thousand enuies, which are neuer without hatred and rancor, grafted in the secretest place of his soule. True it is, that enuie according to the subiects which it mee­teth withall, bringeth forth more pernitious effects in some, and lesse hurtfull in others. But howsoeuer it be, this passion is alwaies blame-worthy, and ought to be eschued of euery good and vertuous man, whose desire is, not to wander out of the path of duty, and honesty. We say therefore that Enuie is a griefe arising of another mans prosperitie, and that malignity is What enuie is. Malignitie is defined of some to be the effect of that malice which one man beareth to another. The diffe­rēce between hatred and enuie. commonly ioyned with it, whether it bee the fountaine thereof, as some say, or one part thereof, as others will haue it. This malignity is a delight and pleasure taken in another mans harme, although wee receiue no profite thereby: and it seemeth to bee accidentall, that is, procured by hatred or ill will, arising of some euill affection that one man beareth to another. For this cause Plutarke distinguisheth hatred from enuy, saying: that hatred is bred in our hearts through an imagination and conceite which we haue, that hee whom wee hate behaueth himselfe wickedly, either towards all men generally, or particularly towards vs: but that men enuie onely those whom they know to bee in prosperity. And so it seemeth, that enuie is indefinite and not limited, much like to sore eies, that are offended at euery clearenesse and light, but that hatred is limited, beeing alwaies grounded and staied vpon [Page 189] some certaine obiects in regard of it selfe. Moreouer, no man hath iust cause to enuie ano­ther mans prosperity. For he doth no man wrong, because he is happy: whereas one the contrary side many are iustly hated for their vices and impieties, and ought to be shunned of good men: which hatred of the wicked is a property that belongeth to good men. But the To hate the wicked is a property of good men. 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, and increa­sed by the selfe same meanes, albeit they succeede one another. The same Plutark being desi­rous to teach vs, how wee ought to abhorre enuie: calleth it sorcery: because through the Enuie compa­red to sorcery. poison thereof, it doth not onely fill the enuious body with a naughty 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 hee compareth it to the flies called Cantharides. For as they alight especially vpon the fairest To Cantha­rides. wheate, and most blowen roses: so enuie commonly setteth it selfe against the honestest men, and such as haue most glorie and vertue. Power, honour, strength, riches, are but The fire­brands of en­uie. Enuie most of all hurtfull to the enuious. brands to kindle the fire thereof. Therefore Thucydides saith, that a wise man desireth to bee enuied, to the end hee may doe great things. Bias said, that enuie and an old house often­times light vpon a man, and neuer knocke at his gates. But if enuie be hurtfull to others, it is much more noisome to him that possesseth her, tormenting him within continually with a thousand turbulent passions, which shorten his daies, diminish the 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 hee beareth against all them that deserue more than himselfe, whereupon hee 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 contrarie to his minde, hee thinketh that hee had so many blowes giuen him with a cudgell. Thus we see, that enuie wishing well to none, doth no lesse torment and hurt the soule that is infected therewith. And to speake in a word, it compre­hendeth the generall iniustice, which is all kinde of wickednesse, and destroyeth all duties of humanity, causing men to hurt those whom they ought to loue and succour. Of this wilde plant of enuie, backbiting is a branch, which delighteth and feedeth it selfe with slandering Of backbi­ting. and lying, whereupon good men commonly receiue great plagues, when they ouerlightly giue credit to backbiters. Therefore Diogenes the Cynicke being demanded what biting of beasts was most dangerous, answered: Of furious and wilde beasts, the backbiters: and of tame What biting of beasts is most dange­rous. beasts, the flatterers. To the same purpose Themistocles the Thebane said, that It was the greatest griefe in the world, to see the honour of a good man in the mercy of a venemous tongue, and wronged with slanderous speeches. For seeing good fame and credite is more precious than any treasure, a man hath no lesse iniurie offered him when his good name is taken away, than when he is spoiled of his substance. But backbiting and slandering doe then bring forth most pernitious effects, when princes are readie to heare slanderers, of whom they themselues are in the end corrup­ted. When back­biting hur­teth most. For the enuious and backbiting person doth as a naughty painter did, who hauing ill­fauoredly 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 from those whom he would gouerne. But because he cannot doe it openly, fearing their vertue whom he hateth from his heart, hee will seeme to welcome, to honour, and to admire them, and yet vnder hand, and behind their backes he will cast abroade and sow his slanders. And if so be that his priuie and secrets reports, which pricke behinde, doe not presently bring forth the end of his intent, yet he keepeth in memorie that which Medius vttered long since, who was as it were the master and captaine of the whole flocke of flatterers, banded together about Alexander a­gainst all the honest men in the court. This fellow taught, that they should not spare to nip boldly, and to bite with store of slanders. For (quoth he) although he that is bitten should bee A pestilent precept of Medius giuen to backbiters. cured of the wound, yet the skar as the least will still remaine. And by such skars of lies and false accusations, or rather to giue them a better name with Plutarke, by such fistuloes and cankers Alexander being gnawen, vniustly put to death Calisthenes, Parmenion and Philotas, giuing himselfe ouer to the will and possession of three or foure flatterers, of whom hee was clothed, decked, set forth and adored as it were a barbarian image. Such is the force and effi­cacy, of lying ioyned with flatterie, ouer that soule which hath no sound iudgement of reason to discerne truth from falshood, or a good nature from a malicious. True it is, that this com­fort [Page 190] cannot bee taken away from good men, namely, to bee perswaded that the sleights of backbiters and slanderers are able to preuaile but little against the inuincible tower of sacred The comfort which can­not be taken away from good men. vertue, and 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 hands vpon the hauen of their deliuerance. So that if princes would not fall into those inconueni­ences, Good coun­sell for prin­ces against flatterers. We must not lend our eares to slanderers. nor be deceiued as this great Macedonian Monarch was, they must, vpon the reports of backbiters, throughly and with reason weigh all things, and not suffer themselues to bee perswaded by slanderers, but discerne their words with a sound iudgement. Further let vs note, that they which lend their eares to their lies and detractions, are no lesse to be blamed and reprehended, than the slanderers themselues, because 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 bee perswaded before he hath learned the truth of things. Moreouer, they that accustome them­selues to heare willingly reports and lies, commonly also take more pleasure in reading and Who delight most in rea­ding of fables. learning fables and dreames, faults and vices noted in peoples and nations, than in true narra­tions and goodly sentences made and and written with good iudgement and diligent study, or in perusing the honours, heroicall facts, and commendations giuen to vertuous & 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 tho­rough backbiting, he shall know that it is a great point of modestie, and most necessary 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 hee were his capitall enemie. Wee see also that this craftie and subtill kinde of wickednesse is vsually practised of backbiters and enuious per­sons, A subtill pra­ctise of enui­ous men. when they perceiue that they cannot cause themselues to bee accounted as honest men as they are whom they purpose to slander, then they labour to prooue that these men are not so honest, as some others whom they commend and preferre, seeking by that meanes to co­uer their hatred and ill-will, and to get credit to their slander by that praise, which they giue indirectly to others. They spare not the dead many times, neither is there any let in them why through their enuie they draw them not out of that rest wherein they are, which is dete­stable impietie. Now seeing we know what euill proceedeth from these wilde and naughty plants of enuy, hatred and backbiting, and that naturally, as inheritors of the vice and sinne of our first parents, we carry in our hearts, I know not what enuie, ielousie, and emulation a­gainst some one or other, let vs beware that we nourish not such vicious passions, but weaken their force, and make them altogether vnable to cause vs to depart from dutie: let vs accu­stome A meane to resist enuy and hatred. our selues not to enuy the prosperitie of our enemies, neither to backbite them in any sort. And if it be possible, let vs not besparing in giuing vnto them their praise and honour, whensoeuer they doe any thing that deserueth iustly to bee commended: because that also bringeth greater praise to him that giueth it. For then if it fall out so that he reprooueth some­what in his enemy, his accusation carrieth more credite and force with it, as that which pro­ceedeth not from the hatred of his person, but from a dislike of his doings, thereby declaring that equity and iustice onely are the bounds of his hatred. Besides, we shall reape a greater be­nefite Equitie and Iustice are the onely bounds of a good mans hatred. than is hitherto rehearsed. For when wee accustome our selues to praise our enemies for well doing, and are not grieued when any prosperity befalleth them, we shall vtterly driue from vs the vice of enuy, and iealousie ouer the good successe of our friends and acquain­tance, when they attaine to honour. Whereas on the contrary side if we acquaint our selues and take delight in enuying the welfare of our enemies, we shall doe the like many times to our friends: as we see the experience therof in many at this day, who are so touched with this vice, that they reioyce at the euill which happeneth to their well willers, and to such as are the occasion of their good and preferment. But if wee bee desirous to discharge our dutie to­wards our neighbours for whose profite we are borne, let vs seeke to practise that sentence of Cicero, That an honest man and good citizen neuer ought to be mooued with hatred or enuie vpon supposed crimes, no not towards his enemie, wishing to die rather then to offend against iustice, which is an vtter enemie to that vice. This also will be a good helpe and meane to keepe vs from backbiting, i [...] we What scoffing is and how it is to be auoi­ded. eschue all kinde 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 backbite [Page 191] another openly and vntruely. This great imperfection of gybing is very familiar amongst vs, although it be as vnseemely for an honourable personage as some other more infamous vice. But to the end wee may haue better occasion to keepe vs from it, let vs know that many times a man is more mooued with a gybing gird, than with an iniurie: because this lat­ter A scoffe is many times worse taken than any o­ther suspici­ous speech. proceedeth commonly from the vehemencie of sudden choler, euen against his will that vttereth it, but the other is more taken to heart, as that which seemeth to come from a set­led will and purpose to offer wrong, and from a voluntarie maliciousnes without any ne­cessitie. If we be disposed to be merrie, as sometimes oportunity, place, and persons inuite vs thereunto, let it be done with a good grace, and without offence to any. Now although enuy and backbiting, by reason of their pernitious effects are so odious to all honorable and How mirth is cōmendable. vertuous personages, yet no other reuenge is to be sought or desired, than that punishment which followeth and groweth with the vice itselfe, which neuer suffereth him that is tou­ched therewith, to enioy any rest in his soule, as wee 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 punishment augmented and doubled, there is no better way, than to study so much the more to do well, as we see them labour more earnestly to enuie and to condemne our dealings. For as the Sun being directly ouer the top of any thing whatsoeuer, if it leaue any shadow at all, yet it is but short and little, because the light therof is dispersed round about the same: so the excellency of vertue, glory A notable way how to be re­uenged vpon the enuious. & honour, in the end constraineth the venemous tongue to drinke and to swallow downe her owne poison, not daring to bring it againe in sight, whereby enuy and blame are as it were wholy extinguished, and vnable to hurt good men any more. This reason caused Philip king of Macedonia to make this answer to certain, who told him, that the Graecians spake ill Philip tooke occasion through backbiting to do better. of him behind his backe, notwithstanding hee did them much good, and therefore willed him to chastise them: What would they doe then (quoth this noble and gentle Prince) if we should doe them any harme? But they make me become a better man. For I striue dai­ly both by my wordes and deedes to prooue them lairs. And another time, as his friendes counselled him to put to death: or to banish a Gentleman of Macedonia, who continued in slandering him, hee would not do either of both, saying: that it was no sufficient cause to condemne him to death: and as for banishing him, he saide: that it was a great deale better if he stirred not out of Macedonia, where all men knew that he lied, than if he went amongst strangers to speake ill of him, who because they knew him not well, might peraduenture ad­mit his slander as true. Whereby this vertuous Prince at one time shewed foorth the effects of three excellent vertues: first, of Clemency, in that he would not put him to death, of whom he had receiued great iniurie: then of Magnanimitie, in contemning iniurie: and lastly, of wonderfull Prudence, in that he did not banish him. And indeede he was of such a gentle nature, that hee would neuer punish them that gaue him an euill report, but rather tooke away the occasion thereof, as heretofore we haue in part mentioned it. And for a greater testimony of the goodnesse of this Monarch, the answer he made to them that counselled him to destroy the citie of Athens, deserueth well to bee heere set downe, I doe all things (quoth he to them) for glorie, how then should I destroy Athens, which by reason of learning, is the Theater of glory? The examples of Demetrius Phalorius, a Prince of immortall renowne, ser­ueth fitly to teach vs what small account we are to make of the dealings of enuious men; so Athens the Theater of glory. farre ought we to be from caring either for their doings or sayings. When word was brought to this Prince, that the Athenians: mooued with enuy against him, had broken downe those three hundred images, which were before erected in their streete of Areopagus to his honour, and thereupon was prouoked by his Councell to be reuenged of them, hee saide: The Athenians way well throw downe my images, but they are not able to abase my ver­tues, for whose sake my images were heretofore errected for a publike spectale. And truely those acts of Princes, which, being done in their life time, are worthy of memory, may serue them for an euerlasting monument, and not Images and Tombes made with mens hands, which length of time, besides a thousand other accidents may bring to powder. Neither are The best mo­nument for a prince. they depriued of the same glory that liue vnder the gouernment of great men, when, accor­ding to their places and callings, they direct their actions to the benefit and safety of the common wealth. For whensoeuer enuy laboreth to hurt them with supposed crimes, their Innocency is a tower of brasse against slanderers. innocency (as Horace saith) will be vnto them in place of an inexpugnable tower of brasse: so that being assured of that, they need not stand in any feare of the cruel teeth of slāderers. Therefore Socrates being reprooued by Hermogenes, because he did not once dreame of de­fending [Page 192] himselfe when he was accused, made this answer: I haue dreamed of that all my life time, by striuing to liue well. To conclude then our present discourse, let vs learne to vncloth our hearts of all enuie and hatred, which procure so many turbulent and hurtfull passions in the soule, and ouerthrow all that charity and loue, which we ought to beare towards euery one. Let vs feare this sentence pronounced by the holy Spirit. That whosoeuer hateth his bro­ther is a man slaier. And if wee see that vice and imperfections reigne in our life, let vs hate 1. Ioh. 3. 15. 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 remedy is taken away, by reason of their long setled habite and continuance in vice: for then wee are to shunne alto­gether the hurtfull conuersation of such forlorne men. Let vs take heede that we please not our selues in detracting and backbiting, or in speaking rashly of any without aduisement taken, of whom, to whom, 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 lay aside all maliciousnesse, and all guile, and dissimulation, and enuy, and all euill speaking, and as new borne babes desire the 1. Pet. 2. 11. milke of vnderstanding, which we may as it were boast that wee haue in the true and right knowledge of iustice, which is to render to God that which is due to him, according to piety, and to our neighbours whatsoeuer belongeth to them, according to the duty of charity, which is gentle, not easily prouoked to anger, nor enuious, nor reioycing in iniquitie, but al­waies in the truth. 1. Cor. 13. 4.

Of Fortune. Chap. 44.

IF I bee not deceiued (my companions) we haue hitherto sufficiently discoursed of the foure Morall vertues, beeing riuers that flow from the fountaine of duty and honesty, as also of all the parts that belong vnto them, and of their contrary vices Therefore from henceforth wee are to make choise of some other matter, and to apply that which we might haue learned in the discourses of our Morall Philosophie, vnto estates, char­ges, and conditions of life, wherunto euery one of vs may be called during this life: yea, let vs assaie to giue aduice and counsell to superiours, according to the measure of our iudgement. But because, as I thinke, the entry to so high a matter, requireth some leisure to thinke vpon it, I am of opinion, that we were best to deferre this point vntill the next daies worke: and in the meane time, for the spending of the rest of this afternoone, looke out some matter subiect, apt, and sit to recreate our spirits withall: which, because naturally they delight in variety and diuersitie of things, cannot haue a more conuenient matter, than to make sport with the di­uers and sundry effects of Fortune, which according to the saying of the Ancients, is very con­stant in her inconstancie. Further, let vs consider how we may vse this word of Fortune, which Fortune is constant in her incon­stancie. is so common amongst vs, and not abuse it.

To him (saith Cicero) whose helpe, 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 (saith Vertue, speaking in Mantuan) that surmounteth Fortune, and the scourge that punisheth sinnes. Vice and Vertue (saith Plutarke) haue no masters, to rule ouer them: and they are very blinde, who, calling Fortune blinde, suffer themselues to be guided and led by her. But we must learne of thee (ASER) what we are to thinke of this counterfeite Goddesse.

If we are perswaded, that he who is Iustice it selfe, and the essentiall truth, maketh Princes contemptible (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 Psal. 107. 40. 41. sheepe, there is no doubt but that Fortune, being an Epicurian word, rather than an Heathe­nish, is nothing else but a fained deuice of mans spirit, and an imagination without truth: vpon which (as Plutarke saith) a man cannot settle his iudgement, nor yet comprehend it by the What For­tune is. God ordereth casuall things necessarily. discourse of reason. So that wee must confesse, that all things are guided and gouerned by the prouidence of God, who knoweth and ordereth casuall things necessarily. Which albeit we easily contesse with the mouth, as also that prosperity and aduersity depend onely of the will of God, yet wee may daily note in many of vs, effects cleane contrary to the word, in that, when wee deliberate about our affaires, we presently cast our eye vpon humane meanes, [Page 193] to come to the ende of them, although they are but second causes, casting behinde our Humane means are but second causes. backes that helpe, which is from aboue. And when wee want the blessings of God, through his anger and iust indignation, (which wee care not to appease) and so for the most part stumble vpon the cleane contrary of all our platformes and goodly enterprises; then wee accuse, not our ignorance und ingratitude towards his Maiesty, but the vnfortunate mishap and chance of humanethings, which through the common errour of men, we at­tribute to Fortune. Now, knowing that we liue, and mooue, and haue our being in God one­ly; Act. 17. 28. Rom. 11. 33. that his mysteries are great and wonderfull, and such, that if we should go about to sound the bottome of them, it were all one as if wee 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 that of ourselues we cannot direct our steppes: that it is the Lord that offereth a man into his handes, who vnwittingly killeth him with the head of his axe slipt from the helue: that Ier. 10. 13. Exod 21. 13. Deut. 19. 4. 5. Prou. 16. 33. lottes 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 because the order, reason, end, and necessity of those things which are so strange, vncertaine, and mutable in the world, are for the most part hidden in the counsell of God, and cannot bee comprehen­ded by the opinion and reach of man, we may well call them casuall & changing, in respect of ourselues. The like we may both conceiue of all future euents, holding them in suspence, because they may fall out either of the one or the other side, (and yet being resolued of this, How we may vse these words of For­tune & chāce that nothing shall come to passe which God hath not ordained;) and also note them out by this word Fortune, not attributing thereunto any power ouer their inconstancy and conti­nuall alteration of humane things: especially seeing they are so changeable, that it would bee a very hard matter speaking after the manner of men) to comprehende them vnder a more proper and fit word. The definition also, which the Auncients gaue of Fortune, is verie agreable to the effect of the thing signified, and of that whereof we haue daily experience: namely, that there is no other finall end of change, and alteration in man, than that of his be­ing. Plato saith, that Fortune is an accidentall cause, and a consequence in those things which proceed from the counsell of man. Aristotle saith, that Fortune is a casuall & accidentall cause in things, which being purposely done for some certaine end, haue no apparant cause of their The opinion of ancient Philosophers touching Fortune. 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 shee looketh not whereat shee shooteth; that oftentimes shee delighteth in taking away that which is gotten with very great paine, but especially in ouerturning those felicities, which, as men thinke, are best staied and assured, I [...]uenal saith, that when it pleaseth her, she maketh a Consul of a Rhetoritian: and likewise cleane contrary, hauing this property in her to reioyce greatly in the variety of chances, and to deride all the deuices of men, oftener lifting vp into the place of soueraigne autho­rity such as are unworthy thereof, than those that deserue the same. Amongst the Ancients, The Romans gaue great honor to For­tune. the Romanes honoured Fortune more than all the rest, esteeming of her (saith Pindarus) as of the patron, nurse, and vpholder of the city of Rome. They builded for her many sump­tuous Temples, wherein shee was adored vnder sundry names, and honorable titles for a Goddesse of singular power: insomuch that they thought themselues more beholding to her for the greatnes and prosperity of their Empire than to vertue. Sylla hauing attained to the soueraigne authority of a Monarch, and of Dictator, yeelded himselfe and all his acti­ons to the fauor of Fortune, saying, that he reputed himselfe to be Fortunes child, and there­vpon tooke vnto him the surname of Happy. Which opinion seemeth to haue preuailed greatly with him, in causing him, after he had committed infinite proscriptions, murders, and cruelties, voluntarily and without feare to giue ouer the Dictatorship, to leade the rest of Sylla surna­med him­selfe happy. his yeeres in all assurance and quietnes, and as a priuate man to passe and repasse through all Italy without any gard, euen in the midst of them whom he had so much offended. We read also, that when Mithridates king of Pontus wrot vnto him concerning the war which he had vndertaken against him, saying, that he maruelled how Sylla durst buckle with his great for­tun, especially knowing that she had not deceiued him at any time, whras she neuer knew Sylla Consul, he returned this answer: For this selfe same reason thou shalt now see, how Fortune doing her duty, will take her leaue of thee to come to mee. Iulius Caesar gaue a certaine 1. Caesar. argument 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 [Page 194] Anchor, hee said thus vnto him: Bee not afraide my friend, for thou carriest Caesar and his Fortune. Augustus his successor sending his nephew to the warre, wished that he might bee as valiant as Scipio, as well beloued as Pompey, and and as fortunate as himselfe: attri­buting Augustus. to Fortune, as a principall worke, the honour of making him so great as hee was. To this purpose also it is reported, that great aquaintance and familiarity growing betweene Augustus and Antonius his Companion in the Empire, they often passed away the time toge­ther with sundry sorts of plaies and pastimes, wherein Antonius alwaies went away vanqui­shed. Whereupon one of his familiar friends well seene in the art of Diuination, tooke oc­casion many times to vtter his minde vnto him in these or the like speeches: Sir, what doe you so neare this young man? Separate your selfe farre from him. Your fame is greater than A true fore­sight of a soothsayer. his, you are elder than hee, you commaund more men than hee, you are better exercised in feates of Armes, you haue greater experience: but your familiar spirit faileth his, and your Fortune, which of it selfe is great, flattereth his, and if you sequester not your selfe farre from him shee will forsake you and goe to him. Thus we see what great estimation the Romane had of Fortune, yea they stood in so great awe of her power, that Paulus Aemilius that great Captaine said, that amongst humane things, hee neuer feared any one of them, but amongst P. Aemilius. diuine things hee alwaies stood in great feare of Fortune, as of her in whom there was small trust to bee placed, because of her inconstancie and mutable variety, whereby shee neuer vseth to gratifie men so liberally, or to bestow such absolute prosperitie vpon them, but that some enuie is mingled withall. O deceitfull Fortune (said Demetrius) thou art easily found, The descrip­tion of For­tune. but hardly auoided! They that haue laboured most in painting out this fained Goddesse, say, that shee hath a swift pace, a loftie minde, and a hawtie hope. They giue her light wings, a globe vnder her feete, and in her hand a horne of abundance, full of all such heauen­ly and earthly things as are exquisite and pretious, which shee powreth forth liberally, when and where shee pleaseth. Some put a wheele into her hands, which shee turneth about con­tinually, whereby that part which is aboue is presently turned downeward: thereby giuing What is mean [...] by Fortunes wheele. vs to vnderstand, that from the highest preferment shee throweth downe in one instant such as are most happie, into the gulfe of misery. In a word, wee may well compare her to glasse, which, the brighter it is, the sooner it is broken and dasht in peeces. Histories the treasurie of antiquitie, set before our eyes innumerable examples of common and contrary effects, which are wrought by this vnconstant Fortune, and those oftentimes practised vpon the same persons, whom of small shee hath made very great, and after taken them dome low­er, Examples of the contrary effects of F [...]tune. Hannibal. yea made them more miserable (if I may so speake) than they were at the beginning. Hannibal, that renowned Captaine of the Carthaginians, that redoubted enemy of the Ro­manes, after notable victories obtained sundry times against them, was in the ende vtterly ouerthrowne and compelled to flie hither and thither, and to haue recourse to forraine prin­ces, into whose armes hee cast himselfe for the safety of his person: and after long wandring, beeing olde and spent, hee setled himselfe with the king of Bythinia. But Titus Flaminius whom the Romanes had sent Embassadour to that king, required to haue him, that he might Flaminius ora­tion against Hannibal. put him to death. For (quoth hee) as long as hee liueth hee will bee a fire for the Romane Empire, which wanteth but some one or other to kindle it. When hee was in the vigour and strength of his age, neither his hand nor his body had procured so great dammage to the Ro­manes, as his good vnderstanding and sufficiencie in the art of warre had done, being ioyned with the hatred hee bare them. Which is nothing diminished through olde age, neither yet through the alteration of his estate and fortune: because the nature and quality of manners 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 extremity. But before he dranke therof, he vttered these words. Go to, let vs deliuer the people of Rome from this great care, seeing it lieth so heauy vpon them, and the time seemeth vnto them ouerlong to stay for the naturall What speech Hannibal vsed before he poisoned himselfe. death of this poore old man, whom they hate so extremely. And yet Titus shall not obtaine a victory greatly honourable, or worthy the praise of the auncient Romanes, who, euen then when Pyrrhus their enemie warred against them, and had won battels of them, sent him word to beware of poison that was prepared for him. Thus did this great and vertuous captaine finish his daies, being vtterly ouerthrowne, and trode vnder foote by Fortune, which for a time had placed him in the highest degree of honour that could bee. Eumenes a Thracian, Eumenes. one of Alexanders lieuetenants, and one that after Alexanders death had great warres, and made his partie good against Antigonus king of Macedonia, came to that greatnesse and authority from a poore Potters sonne: and afterwards being ouercome and taken prisoner, [Page 195] he died of hunger. But such preferments of Fortune will not seeme very strange vnto vs if wee consider 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 countrey Pertinax. woman. And hauing reigned onely two moneths, he was slaine by the souldiers of his guard. Aurelianus from the same place obtained the selfe same dignitie. Probus was the sonne of a Aurelianus. Probus. Maximianus. Iustinus. Gregory 7. Henry 4. Gardiner, and Maximianus of a blacksmith. Iustinus, for his vertue surnamed the Great, from a hogheard in Thracia, attained to the Empire. Wil you haue a worthy example agreeable to that saying of Iuvenall which we alleadged euen now? Gregory the 7. from a poore monke was lift vp to the dignity of chiefe bishop of Rome: and Henry the 4. Emperor, was brought to that extreame miserie by wars, that he asked the said Gregory forgiuenes, and cast himselfe downe at his feete. And yet before this miserable Monarch could speake with him, he stoode three daies fasting and barefoote at the Popes palace gate; as a poore suppliant waiting when he might haue entrance and accesse to his Holines. Lewes the meeke Emperour, and king of France, was constrained to giue ouer his estate, and to shut himselfe vp in a monasterie, Lewes the meeke. Valerianus. through the conspiracie of his owne children Valerianus had a harder change of his estate, en­ding his daies whilest he was prisoner in the hands of Sapor king of the Parthians, who vsed the throate of this miserable Emperor whensoeuer he mounted vpon his horse. But was not that a wonderfull effect of Fortune, which happened not long since in Munster, principall towne in the countrey of Westphalia, wherein a silly botcher of Holland, beeing retired as a poore banished man from his countrey, called Iohn of Leiden, was proclaimed king, was serued and obeied of all the people a long time, euen vntill the taking and subuersion of the said Iohn of Lei­den. Mahomet. towne after he had borne out the siege for the space of three yeares. Mahomet the first of that name, of a very small and abiect place, being enriched by marying his mistres, and seruing his owne turne very fitly with a mutiny raised by the Sarasins against Heracleus the Emperour, made himselfe their captaine, tooke Damascus, spoiled Egypt, and finally subdued Arabia, dis­comfited the Persians, and became both a Monarch and a Prophet. Will you see a most won­derfull effect of Fortune? Looke vpon the proceedings of that great Tamburlane, who being a peasants son and keeping cattell, corrupted 500. hundred shepherds his companions. These Tamburlane. men selling their cattell, betooke them to armes, robbed the merchants of that countrey, and watched the high waies. Which when the king of Persia vnderstood of, hee sent a captaine with a 1000 horse to discomfit them. But Tamburlane delt so with them, that ioyning both together they wrought many incredible feates of armes. And when ciuill war grew betwixt the king and his brother, Tamberlane entred into the brothers pay, who obtained the victory by his meanes, and thereupon made him his lieutenant generall. But he not long after spoiled the new king, weakened and subdued the whole kingdome of Persia. And when he saw him­selfe captaine of an army of 400000. horsemen, and 600000. footemen, he made warre with Baiazet Emperor of the Turkes, ouercame him in battell, and tooke him prisoner. He obtained also a great victory against the Souldan of Egypt, and the king of Arabia. This good successe Baiazet. (which is most to be maruelled at and very rare) accompanied him alwaies vntill his death, in so much that he ended his daies amongst his children, as a peaceable gouernor of innumerable countries From him descended the great Sophy who reigneth 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 daies in an iron cage, wherein being priso­ner, and ouercome with griefe to see his wife shamefully handled, in waiting at Tamburlanes table with her gowne cut downe to her Nauell, so that her secret parts were seene, this vnfor­tunate Turke beate his head so often against the Cage, that he ended his life. But what need we draw out this discourse further to shew the strange dealings, and maruellous changes of Fortune in the particular estates and conditions of men, which are to be seene daily amongst vs, seeing the soueraigne Empire 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 Of the foure soueraigne Empires. 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 little kingdomes, common-wealths, and other ciuill gouernments end, when they are come to the vtmost, and full point of their greatnes? And much lesse if it fall out so with men, who by nature are subiect to change, Wee must prepare our selues for all euents. and of themselues desire and seeke for nothing else but alteration. Being assured therfore, that there is such vncertainty in all humane things, let vs wisely prepare our selues, and apply our [Page 196] will to all euents, whose causes are altogether 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 waies of entrance, that man putteth not all his assurance in barres or locked gates, nor yet in high walles, but staieth himselfe vpon Philosophicall sentences and discourses of reason, whereof all they are capable that imploie their wils, trauell and studie thereupon. Neither may we doubt of them or distrust our selues, but rather admire and greatly esteeme of them, being rauished with an affectionate spirit. He that taketh least care for to morrow (saith Epicurus) commeth thereunto with greatest ioy. And (as Plutarke saith) riches, glory, authority and credit, reioyce them most, that stand least in feare of their contraries. For when a man seeketh after any of them with an ouerburning Who taketh greatest ioy in outward goods. desire, whereby also too great a feare of loosing them is imprinted in him, the pleasure which he hath by enioying the same, is very weake and vnstable, much like to a flame blowne vp and downe with the winde. But as for the power of Fortune (saith the same Philosopher) it bringeth downe those men that of their owne nature are cowards, fearefull and of small cou­rage. Of the power of Fortune. Neither must we attribute cowardlinesse to 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, victory without bounty and clemency, fighting without valure and boldnesse; briefely, 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, common-wealths, 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 must looke higher, and turne towards him who vseth such meanes in the execution of his wonderfull counsell, when he mindeth to chastise and punish Whither we must looke in the change and successe of things. men for their offences. Examples hereof we haue in those great monarchies of Babylon, of Persia, and of Graecia, whose markes are no more to be seene, than the path of a ship in the water, or way of a bird flying in the aire. And yet they were ouerthrowne 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 iniquity. 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 her forces; but let vs feare him who directeth and disposeth in wisedome all things created to their proper end, which is the glory of his name, and saluation of his e­lect: The proper end of all things. 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 sense of man. And yet not so hid, but that we ought prudently to consider of these meanes which he offereth 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 duty.

Of Mariage. Chap. 45.

IT is great perfection (as Seneca writeth) for a man to take in hand and desire to obtaine but one only thing. But no man A wise man is not desirous of many things. is one and the same, except a wise man: all other men are of diuers formes. Who knoweth not with how great disquietnes the minde of man is set on fire, with what lightnesse it is carri­ed hither and thither, and with what ambition and desire it is stirred vp to take hold of many sundry things at once? Not­withstanding wee must diligently marke, how the heauenly Wisedome hath made a distinction of estates and kindes of life amongst men from the be­ginning [Page 197] of estates and kinds of life amongst men from the beginning, appointing that of Adams two first children, the one should bee a husbandman, the other a shepheard. Since that the selfe Distinctions of callings appointed from the be­ginning. Gen. 4. 2. Euery one must abide in his calling. 1. Cor. 7 20. All things done in faith are precious in Gods sight Gen. 2. 24. same prouidence hath alwaies commanded, that euery one of vs should looke vnto his cal­ling in all the actions of his life, accounting thereof as of a station assigned vnto vs by his Maiestie, and as of a perpetuall rule whereby wee must direct the ende of our intents, and fol­lowing the will of God, striue to continue such men to the end of our daies, as wee 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 appeare precious before the heauenly throne, if wee doe it in faith according to our calling, and giue glory to the Eternall for our whole condi­tion and state of life. Now we know that after God had created man by his almighty power and vnspeakable goodnes to make him partaker of his glory, and to rule ouer the earth, the sea, and all things contained in them, hee gaue him presently the woman for a faithfull com­panion, and sweete solace to his life, and for the preseruation of his kinde, instituting and sanctifiing marriage from that time forward. Therefore I thinke my companions, that wee ought to handle this first, because it is the first calling of man, most common, and most ho­norable: to the end that we may, as we said yesterday, begin to apply the actions and practise of the vertues, of which wee haue hitherto intreated, to estates and conditions of life, where­unto each of vs may be called.

If we could (saith Plato) behold with bodily eies the beauty that honesty hath in her, we would be far in loue with her: but she is to be seene onely with the eies of the mind. And truely with the same eies wee may behold it in marriage, if wee consider narrowly the Honesty is alwaies beau­tifull. honesty of the coupled life, when it is in euery respect absolute, than the holy bond whereof, the earth hath nothing more beautifull or honest.

Marriage (as the Scripture saith) is honourable among all, and the bed vndefiled. He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing, and receiues fauour of the Lord. Therefore of Marriage is honourable among all. Heb. 13. 4. Prou. 18. 22. Man borne to liue in society. The definitiō of society. The end of societie. 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 forth to liue in societie, and not alone, like to brute beasts, it must needs bee (saith Aristotle) that hee which liueth solitarily is either a very beast, or more than a man. Now a society is an assemblie and agreement of many in one, see­king after some good thing that is profitable, pleasant and honest, at least that seemeth to be so: or else labouring to flie from and to eschue some euill. Euery societie respecteth the maintenance and preseruation of Monarchies, kingdomes, and common wealth. But be­cause no one whole and generall thing can bee knowne (as the Philosophers say) except the parts thereof be first knowne, it agreeth very fitly with the cause of our meeting together, and is also very necessary for vs, to learne what the society of wedlocke is, which beeing the semi­nary and preseruation of all societies, is nothing else but a communion between the husband and the wife, extending it selfe to all the parts that belong to their house, of which we are to The definiti­on of wed­locke. consider hereafter. The originall and antiquity of this society, called Marriage, is especially worthy of memory, because God himselfe was the author thereof. For hee had no sooner created the first man, but hee purposed to giue him a wife, for a faithfull companion, a com­fortresse The author & antiquitie of marriage. The end thereof. Another end of his life, and a helpe like vnto himselfe. Which hee performed, assoone as hee thought vpon it: forasmuch as with him to will is to bee able, and to doe: as likewise to bee able and to doe, is to will. Furthermore, hee instituted this diuine misterie for the generall increase of mankind, and lawfull propagation of nature, euen in the time of innocencie be­fore man had sinned, sanctifying it at the same time, with his blessing. Vnto which necessity of Marriage, man had made himselfe a great deale more subiect through the curse of sinne, which hath giuen place in his soule to the concupiscences of the flesh. Whereby it appeareth that we haue need of this remedy in two respects, namely: in regard of the end and condition The necessity and third end of marriage. of our first nature, as also by reason of sinne, which came in afterward, except in those to whom God hath granted the speciall grace and gift of continencie, which is as rare a thing as any other whatsoeuer. Notwithstanding there hath alwaies beene a thousand contrary opinions as touching this matter, namely: whether marriage is to be desired and sought after, Continency a rare gift. or rather to bee hated and eschued, 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, was one of the greatest enemies of marriage, as may bee The varietie of opinions touching marriage. prooued by that which is written of him. For beeing requested to bee at the marriage of a friend of his, he excused himselfe, saying: That he was neuer desirous to goe to such a feast, or to bee [Page 198] at such a funerall: iudging that it was all on for a man to marry a wife, and to wed a coffin, and to put himselfe into a tombe, or to take a sheete for the beginning of his buriall. Many other Pythagoras opinion of mariage. 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 sworne enemy to the reason of man. Secundus was of this sect, who being demanded what a wife was, The contrary (quoth he) of a husband. Moreouer Secundus opi­nion of a wife. they said, that a womans nature was such, that although she had continued 30, yeares with her husband, yet he should daily finde in her new fancies, and sundry sorts of behauiour: so that nature seemed a stepmother to men rather than to beasts, because these know and shun their contraries, but man is naturally led to loue and to seeke after his enemie. His misery therefore is very great, in that so weak flesh is able to force a heart that is at liberty, causing a man often­times to procure to himselfe that which doth him hurt, and to make great account of that which he contemneth, as experience sheweth the same in regard of women. Thales one of the Sages of Grecia, minding to shew that it was not good for a man to marry, when one asked Thales iudge­ment of ma­riage. him why he married not, being in the flower of his age, said, that it was not yet time. After­ward, being growne to further age, and demanded the same question, he answered, that the time was past. Marius the Romane asked Metellus, being a man also of great credite, why hee would not take his daughter to wife, seeing she was beautifull in body staid in countenance, e­loquent Metellus would not giue away himselfe to a wife. in speech, noble by race, rich in dowry, 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 owne than hers. They that follow this opinion now touched, and abhore marriage, alleadge commonly these or the like reasons: that although the name of husband be sweete and honourable, yet whosoeuer will well consider of it, shall find it full of great and intolerable burthens: and that the time is yet to come, wherein many thornes are not found amidst the roses of mariage, and Reasons a­gainst mari­age. wherein great store of haile falleth not together with that sweet raine. Who is able (say they) patiently to abide the charges of marriage, 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 yoake of so vnperfect a sexe? Who is able fully to satisfie, either their fleshly lust, or their insatiable pompe? Doth not the old prouerbe say, that women and shippes are neuer so well rigged, but that still there remaineth something to bee amended? Whereupon Women compared to ships. I would conclude willingly, that if a married man neuer loathe his estate, yet hee tireth him­selfe at the least. Riches breed care, pouertie griefe, sailing terrifieth, eating hindereth, walking wearieth. All these troubles are (we see) dispersed or diuided amongst many, but married men haue them altogether. For if we marke a married man, wee shall seldome see him, but either pensiue or sad, or wearie or hindered, or sometime amazed or afraide of that which may befall him, or may peraduenture be committed by his wife. Concerning good aduice, and choice for the obtaining of a good marriage: If thou takest a poore wife, shee will bee contemned How hard a matter it is to marrie well. and thy selfe lesse esteemed: if thou takest her rich, shee will looke to command thee, and of a free man to make thee a slaue. So that when thou thinkest to take an equall companion to wife, thou shalt wed an intollerable mistresse, I know not whether I should say a she diuell: If thou marriest a faire woman, thou puttest thy selfe in great danger, least thy round head become forked, which would bee a fearefull metamorphosis and alteration, if it were visible and apparant. Euery castle is hard to keepe, how well soeuer it be watched, when it is assaul­ted by many: and his victorie is in a desperate case, who being alone, is compelled to fight against many. What shall I say more? Wealth maketh a woman proude, beautie suspe­cted, and hardnesse of fauor loathsome. Is there any thing (as Plutarke saith) more light than the tongue of an vnbrideled woman? more nipping than her iniuries? more rash than her An vnruly woman is full of all euill. boldnesse? more execrable than her naughtie disposition? more dangerous than her furie? These euill speakers of women further inrich their saying with a thousand histories and ex­amples, as testimonies of the infinite miseries and inconueniences which haue beene procu­red by them. For they alleadge the deceiuing of the first man by his wife, whereupon sinne and death, and through them all miseries entred into the world. Sampson betraied by Dalila, Salomon became brutish through his concubines, Achab rooted out through Iesabel, Marcus Automus slue himselfe for the loue of Cleopatra, the destruction of Troy because of Helena, the Examples of miser [...] e­uents procu­red by wo­men. Pandora of Hesiodus, the pitifull death of Hercules by Deiamra, and many other miserable e­uents procured chiefly by women, and plentifully declared in histories. Neither doe they forget the saying of Hipponactus, That of one marriage, onely two good daies are to bee hoped for, namely, the marriage day, and the day of the wiues death. They say that the wedding day (according T [...] good [...] [...] ma­riage. [Page 199] to Alexandreides speech) is the beginning of many euills, that in no estate Fortune sheweth her selfe more inconstant, and lesse faithfull in performing her promise than in marriage, as Polyhistor saith: because there is not one to be found, wherein there is not some deceite, or some occasion of complaint giuen to the man, They say as Philemon said: That a wife is a ne­cessarie and perpetuall euill to her husband: that (as Diphilus said) nothing is hardlier found in all the world then a good wife. Whereunto that olde prouerbe agreeth, that a good wife, a good mule, and a good goate, are three naughty beasts. The answer alwaies made by a noble Romane, Three euill beasts. is not forgotten of these seuere Censurers of women, to whom when some of his acquain­taince and friends said, that he had great cause to hold himselfe happy and contented, be­cause he had a wife that was faire, rich, and come of noble parentage, hee shewed them his foote, saying: My friends, you see that my shee is very new, faire and well made, but none of you can tell whereabout it pincheth me. Likewise the saying of Alphonsus king of Arragon is alledged by Alphonsus o­pinion of a perfect mari­age. them that blame marriage, namely, that if a man would see a perfect and well agreeing mariage, the husband must bee deafe, and the wife blind, that hee may not heare his wiues brawling, nor shee see her 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 end of Antumne when the leaues begin to fall. I remember yet three things which I haue heard vttered in contempt of mariage: the saying of a merry conceited mā, the deed of another, & the answer of a good fellow that was in talk of a certain mariage. They haue reason (quoth the first) who say, that whē a yong man is to be maried, he must be Three merry conceits. 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 and laid her vpon his necke. Thirdly, when one said to a good fellow that hee should tary vntill his son were wise before he maried him: Be not deceiued my friend (quoth hee to him) for if he once grow to be wise he will neuer marrie. These & such like reasons are com­monly alledged by them that mislike mariage. But now marke what we say to the contrary. Notable rea­sōs in the de­fence of mar­riage. First we haue to consider the beginning and antiquitie of mariage, the place where it was instituted, & who was the author therof, & that in the time of innocency, of which things we haue already spoken. Moreouer we must remember, that the heauenly word honored with his presēce, & set forth a wedding feast with a miracle, euen with the first which he wrought Christ hono­red awedding with his pre­sence & with a miracle. in this world. Can any thing then be found more holy, than that which the holy of holyes. the Father & creator of all things hath established, honored & cōsecrated with his presēce? But what greater equity can we vse than to leaue to our successors that which we hold of our predecessors? By wedlocke copulation we came into the world, and by the same wee must leaue others behinde vs, to continue that propagation which hath endured from our aun­cestors 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 hee esteemeth holy? Is there any greater inhumanity, than to reiect the fountaine of humanity? Is there any greater ingratitude than to deny to those that are to come, that which wee holde of them that are past? When God created woman, not of the slime of the earth, as he did man, but of his bone, did he not shew therby that he would haue Wherfore the woman was created of the rib of man. Gen. 2. 18. nothing faster cleauing, neerer ioyning, or surer glued to him than his wife, especially when hee added these words, That it was not good for man to bee alone? as though hee had saide, that his life would be miserable, irkesome & vnpleasant, if he had not giuen him a wife for a faith­full companion. How dare we say, that we know better what is meete for vs then hee that made vs, and knew all our life before we came out of the bowels of our mother? then he that honored the bond of matrimony so far as to say, that a man shal leaue his father and mother, & cleaue to his wife? Is there any thing more holy than that honor which we owe to The great preheminéce of marriage. them that haue begotten vs? & yet the fidelity of wedlocke is preferred before fatherly and motherly honor, that it should be kept & preserued euen to the last gaspe of life. Further wee see how the Spirit of God speaking by his Prophet honoreth mariage so far, as to vse it for Psal 45. a similitude and representation of that holy & sacred vnity, which he hath with his Church. What could any man say more to extoll the dignity thereof? That which God hath begun, onely death endeth: what God hath conioined, death onely separateth: what God hath made sure, man cānot shake of: what he hath established, man cannot abolish. Oh what and how great is the dignity, preheminence, and prerogatiue of mariage? Againe, do we not see how Mariage euer vsed & recei­ued of all nations. it hath bin continued throughout al ages past vntil this present, receiued and approued of al nations, both Hebrews, Greeks, Latins, and Barbarians, so that there is no nation vnder the cope of heauen, how barbarous soeuer it be, and far frō ciuility, which sheweth not great ioy [Page 200] and delight at wedding feasts? Besides, who shall defend commonwealths without armour and weapons, and who shall weere armour if men bē wanting? If that be not supplied by ge­neration which through death necessarily endeth, how can the linage & race of mankinde The Romans had l [...]s [...] fauor of mariage endure? The lawes of the Romans (who where the pattern of vertue to al nations) with tigor punished such as would not mary, forbidding them all publike dignities, and depriuing thē of those which they had obtained. And to inuite them the rather to marry, they appointed priuiledges for them that had children, so that he was most benefited and preferred to publike honours that had most children. When Augustus Caesar was Censor, inquiry was made by his authoritie of a Romane knight that had broken the law and would not marry, whereupon he should haue beene punished, but that hee prooued that he had beene father of three children. The same Augustus being come to the Empire, and desirous to correct the detestable vncleannes of his subiects, and to compell them to contract matrimony, leuied an Augustus his [...] to re­pr [...]s [...] the vn­cleannes of h [...]e subiects. impost by way of a fine, vpon their legacies and windfals comming by the death of others that did not marry after 25, yeares of age, or that had no children. Whereby he greatly chasti­sed whordoms, adulteries and sodomitry: and furnished Rome with good citizens which then was greatly destitute of them by reason of ciuill wars. What is the cause (saith Vlpanus the Lawyer) that womens dowries had such great priuiledges? It was for no other reason, than because Why the dowries of womē haue alwaies had great pr [...] ­ledges. of the profit that commeth to all common wealths by mariages. He that had three children amongst the Romans could not be cōpelled to cary a message, or publik embassage: he that had fiue was exempted from personall charge & he that had thirteen from al charge. And in our time in the commō wealth of Florence (as Rapbael Volateranus rehearseth in his philology Euery citizen that is a father of fiue children either males or females, is exempted, freed, & discharged The priuiled­ges of them that had chil­dren. of all publike tax, loane, or subsidy. If nothing be more blessed, nor happines more to be desired than immor­tality, line all propogation maketh vs immortall through the continuing of kind. Wherevpon wee may inferre by way of conclusion, that no greater happines can come to a man and wife in this world than to leaue issue as a testimony to posterity, that once they were in the world, and haue left behind them a token of their life. It was enacted by Lycurgus lawes, that no citizen preferring the estate of continency before that of marriage, should bee at publike plaies: which at that time was a note of great ignominy. We account not him a good gardiner that painfully dresseth those fruitefull A comparisō between a good gardiner & a citizen. trees which he hath in his garden or orchard, if he haue no care to plant and graft new thereby to sub­stitute others in their place, which by succession of time waxe old and dy. And how shall we take him for a good citizen, and such a one as zealously seeketh the good of the common wealth, that contenteth himselfe with those citizens that are aliue, and neglecteth the ingendring of new in good and lawful ma­trimony, whereby to supply the want of such as daily dicay? Further, if I should goe about to rehearse here the happines, pleasure and contentation which man and wife liuing holily together, and 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 befound than for a man to liue with her vnto whom he is coupled, not by good wil only, but also by a mutuall communication of bodies? If we take great delight to confer with our friends and The happines pleasure and contentation in mariage. familiar acquaintaince about our secret affaires, shal we not receiue greater ioy without com­parison to disclose our thoughts to her vnto whom we speake as safely as to ourselues, who is also partaker as well of our aduersity as prosperity, & accounteth our weale or w [...] to bee her own? We are ioyned to our friends by good wil & liking only, but to our wife we are conioi­ned and linked by soueraign charity, by bodily commixtion, by sacred confederacy, & by an The neere comunction of married couples. inseparable fellowship & society in all weathers. If the mā aboūd in temporal goods, the wife will keepe them faithfully for him, and increase them by her industry & 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 himself in his house his wife will take away that irksomnes from him, which otherwise would seaze vpon him being solitary. If he go abroad, he is glad that he hath left that party in his house which he most trusteth. In youth shee is a sweet and amiable companion, and in old age a very conuenient comforter and solace. Moreouer, by marriage a man increaseth his friends, allies, kinsfolks, and neighbours. which is a very great bene­fite Mariage in foreas [...]th friends and kinsfolks. and inuincible strength. Brethren and sisters, nephewes and nieces are doubled. Peace is many times procured betweene monarches and princes by mariages, and infinite quarrels and diss [...]ions appeased. But what vnspeakeable pleasure doth the very father take to see his liuely picture ingrauen in the face of his children, and that so neere the quicke, as neither Lysippus, Men [...]or, Bolycletus, Phidias, Praxiteles, Zeuxis, Appelles, nor Parrhasius had euer the skill to graue or paint so well? Againe, what ioy receiueth he by hoping, that when his [Page 201] children shal waxe great, they wil 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 and ceremonies to be done for him, as are requisite in that case? For the conclusion therfore of this present matter we say, that no man can iustly blame mari­age, vnto which all laws both diuine & humane exhort vs, nature prouokes vs, honesty draw­eth vs, infinite commodities inuite vs, all nations shew vs the way thither, & lastly necessity Motiues to mariage. of continuing our kinde constraineth vs. And briefly to answer the grounds alledged to the contrary, they may be ouerthrowne by one onely distinction, which is; that most of them that dispraised marriage were heathens, and blinded in their vaine wisedome, or to speake better, in their folly, wanting then that knowledge of the truth, which God of his grace hath since reuealed vnto vs. And no maruell if they erred in dispraising marriage, 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 such as were most excellent among the Philosophers, blamed it, but rather honored and commended it, the most of them also being married, as namely, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Plutarke, & others. The best Philosophers praised and vsed mariage. As for their strongest reason that mislike marriage, namely, the deceiuing of men by women the fault ought to be imputed rather to the men, than to the women, because 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 bee any imperfection, it ought not to be obiected to them, by way of reproch, but rather to na­ture than to them. And they that vp braid them therewith, shew that they wander out of the path of reason, are destitute of all good sense, and are vnworthy that women should haue conceiued them, brought them into the world, giuen them suck and nourished them.

Of a House and Familie, and of the kinds of Marriage: of certaine ancient customes obserued in Marriage. 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 depēd of their house. Therefore I suppose (my Companions) that for the sequele and vnderstanding of this matter which we haue propounded to our selues to intreat of, I mean Oeconomy 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 ioyned to­gether with great cunning, but in stones that haue life, and are partakers of reason, tending to the benefit and profit of the house, as to their end. Also if you thinke it good, & our houre giue vs leisure, we may enter into the consideration [...] of the sundry sorts of marriages, and of A house consisteth in liuing stones. certaine ancient customes obserued therein, which I touched not in my discourse, because I would not be ouer long.

First, it is necessary (saith Aristotle) to ioine those together, which cannot be the one without the other, as the male and female for generation. Next, he that is able to execute What assem­blies are most necessary for the institution of a familie. the commandements of his master by the strength of his body, is a subiect and slaue by na­ture. And of these two assemblies a house or familie is first instituted.

A familie or house is an assembly framed by nature, to communicate dayly together: and they are called of the Graecians [...], such as liue of the same prouision, The defini­tion of a house. [...], such as vse the same chimney. But we shall vnderstand of thee ARAM the whole discourse of that which is here propounded vnto vs,

When I consider of the excellency & greatnes of Plato his skil, who was grealy admired of the Grecians, as he that for vertue & honesty of life, for eloquence of speech, and Plato establi­shed a com­munitie of all things in his Common­wealth. perswasion by true & learned Philosophy, went far beyond all other Philosophers, I cannot sufficiently wonder, how, amidst so many good laws & profitable statutes for a cōmonwealth which we haue receiued frō him, he imagined to establish therein the communitie of goods, wiues, & children, amongst his Citizens, not suffering them to haue any thing proper & pe­culiar: to the end (as he said) to banish from his citie these two words, Thi [...]e and Mine. which in his opinion were the cause of all euils and desolations that befall Common wealths. The Nicholaites reuiued the same error in the primitiue Church, and many others haue labored The Nicho­laites receiued Platoes com­munitie. by friuolous reasons to defend and maintaine it, chiefly to root out (as they say) vtterly from within the soule, those humane affections, which commonly carry men rather towards [Page 202] their wiues, children, and goods, than to other things. Which affections so long as they beate sway amongst the citizens, cause them oftentimes to turne aside from their duty towards the common-wealth, whereby it is made weaker, and of lesse continuance. Now among many grounds confuting this error, (which being receiued, would fill al with disorder & confusion, The confu­tation of this errour. to the ouerthrow of humane society) that is most certaine and cannot be impugned, that for­asmuch as the lawfull distribution of goods, & manner 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 community of goods, wiues, and children, is a thing flatly gainsaying the institution of God, and therefore to bee reprooued. Moreouer, if goods were common, an infinite multitude of do-littles, of idle and negligent persons, borne (as Horace saith) onely to deuoure and to consume the benefits of the earth, beeing vnwilling to labour, and resem­bling waspes that eate the hony of the Bees, would feede and cloath themselues with their goods, who get their liuing with great sweat of their bodies, and vexation of their mindes. 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 and offence, vtterly defacing all honesty of life, can there be amongst men, than the community of wiues, whereby all fornications and adul­teries would be maintained by authoritie? This shewes 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 common-wealth. For there would not bee any publike thing, if nothing were priuate, nor common, if nothing were peculiar. Yea Plato afterward did wisely leaue that opinion, and quietly renounced his first Commonwealth, to giue place to a second. And the Heraldes of Gods word condemned this error, when it was raised vp in the Apostles time by an arch­heretike called Nicholas of Antioch, who maintained this opinion, that goods, wiues, and children, ought to be common amongst Christians, and for example to others, communica­ted his wife to whomsoeuer would, albeit shee was yong and very beautifull. Thus following the order established of God, and continued alwaies through so many ages, vntill our time, and hauing seene the first institution of marriage, we must also containe it within the house, which is a society and communion of life betweene the husband and the wife, the master and the seruant, for daily profite. Hesiodus putteth the Oxe in stead of the seruant, so farre foorth (saith Aristotle) as the Oxe being fit to labour, is to poore men in the place of a slaue. This The definiti­on of a house. house thus described is simple, but when children are contained therein, it is absolute 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 The diuision thereof. Masterly, and Possessorie part. The Matrimoniall part comprehendeth the husband and the wife: the Parentall containeth the father, mother, and children: the Lordly hath vnder it the master, men seruants, and maid seruants: the Possessory part includeth within it mooue­ables, immooueables, and chattels. Now to follow our matter already begun, and to dis­course of things in order, we haue here to handle and to obserue diligently this first part of a house, called the coniugall or wedlock part, and the sequele of our discourses shall instruct vs in the other parts. He that hath tasted of learning, and beene well instructed in the study of wisedome, shall finde that there are foure kinds of coniunctions and marriages, namely, the marriage of honour, the marriage of loue, the marriage of labour, and the marriage of griefe. Foure kinds of mariage. The mariage of honour is of three sorts. The mariage of honour is deuided into the highest, middlemost, and lowest degree. The highest is that supernaturall mariage, whereby God and mans nature meete together, euen by a mystery, which ouerpasseth the vnderstanding of all humane capacity. We saw the effect and truth thereof in the incarnation and natiuity of the eternall Sonne of God. The middle­most mariage of honour is, when God and the soule meete, and are ioyned together by grace and glory. The lowest degree of the mariage of honour, is when God and the Church are coupled together, and are made one mysticall body. These three sorts of mariages are super­naturall, and appointed of God after an vnspeakeable manner: but the cause of our assembly requireth not that we should speake any more of them. Now to come to the other kinds of coniunctions, which respect only the estate of mankinde: the mariage of loue, is that which is betweene an honest man and a vertuous woman, linked together by God, for the preserua­tion 2. The ma­riage of loue. of the linage of man. It may bee called a charitable coniunction, vnity, and society of them that are good, being made by grace, peace and concord. Of this mariage spake that wise Iew, saying: That three things among others, were approoued of God and men, The concord of brethren, the loue of our neighbour, and the husband and wife that agree well together. And to say Eccles 25. 1. [Page 203] 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 and wife feare God, and keepe their pro­mise one to another: according to that saying of the wise man: Blessed is the man that hath a Eccles. 26. 1. The marriage of labour. vertuous wife: the wife also being no lesse happy that hath a good husband. The other kinde of mariage, namely of labour, is that which is commonly practised in our daies, wherein ma­ny, yea almost all marry for couetousnesse, not for the vertue, chastity, or good report, which they heare of women and maidens. Plautus the comicall poet said, that in mariage a man Plautus would haue a man chuse his wife by the eares, not by the fingers. Lycurgus for­bad all dow­ries. Themistocles. must take his wife by the eares, and not by the fingers: that is to say, for her good report, not for her dowrie, which is told with hands. Lycurgus being desirous that his Citizens should put the same in practise, established a law, which forbad giuing of dowries with maidens in mariage, to the end that euery maide should labour to endow her selfe with vertue: for loue whereof, and not of riches, they should be demanded in mariage. The same reason mooued Themistocles, whē two men required his daughter in mariage, to prefer the honest man before the wealthy: saying, That, he had rather haue a man to his sonne in law without goods, then goods without a man. We read that Olympias the mother of Alex. hearing of one had maried a very faire woman, but scarse chaste, being rauished with her loue; said, that he was a brainles We must not marry by the lust of our eies nor by the report of our fingers. man, otherwise he would not haue maried by hear say, nor by the lust of his eies. We may say as much of them that marrie by the report of their fingers, counting vpon them how much their wiues bring to them by mariage, not considering before whether they be so qualified, that they may liue with them. But let vs know, that euery mariage made through couetous­nesse, especially where there is inequality of riches, as namely when the husband is poore, and the wife rich, will be alwaies riotous, and very hardly will there be any peace betweene them. Which thing Menander desirous to teach vs, said, that when a poore man marieth a Menander. 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 intollerable than a rich wife. This caused a yong man to goe to Pittacus, one of the Sages of Graecia, and to aske his Pittacus an­swer to a yong man that as­ked his aduise in marriage. counsell, saying: I haue two wiues offered me, the one is equal to me in goods and parentage, the other goeth farre beyond me, which of them shall I take? Marke (said this wise man) where children are ready 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 yong man comming, who exceeding them in strength and bignesse, and Euery one must marry his equall. Martia. supposed that hee would make one among them, they said aloud, let euery one goe to his match. Whereby he learned what he was to doe concerning his mariage. Martia a noble widow, being demanded why she married not againe, seeing shee was rich, and as yet in the floure of her youth; made this answer I can sinde none (said she) that loueth not my goods more than my person. The same reason mooued Venda Queene of Ruscia to throw her selfe into the water Venda Queene of Ruscia. thereby to reuenge her selfe of them that made warre with her, to haue her in mariage, seeing they could not win her by gentlenesse. For shee knew well, that they desired her for her kingdome, and not of any good will they bare vnto her: as it is the custome of princes to respect onely their aliance and profit, marrying oftentimes by substitutes and proxies those whom they neuer saw but by picture. But I finde that Elizabeth that wise Queene of Eng­land, Against mar­riage by sub­stitutes and proxies, Eliza­beth Queene of England. was of a better iudgement, when she wrote to Henrie Prince, and since king of Sweath­land, who demanded her in marriage, That he was the onely prince in the world, whom shee ought to loue most, because he required her when shee was a prisoner: but shee was resolued neuer to marrie any man before shee had seene him. The like answer she sent to the Archduke of Austria, which was in part the cause why neither of them would come vnto her, fearing belike, that if they were not wel liked, they should bee sent backe againe into their countrey. Of this that hath beene hitherto discoursed, together with the experience which is daily seene, we may inferre, that marriages made through couetousnesse, are indeede marriages of labour. And of this Of marriages made onely for beautie. number may those be reckoned, wherein bodily beautie, and other outward graces are onely regarded. For it seldome falleth out but that the spirit of dissention troubleth all those hou­ses, and that all loue and liking vanisheth together with age, which causeth the liuely hue of colour to wither away. Likewise among these marriages of labour, wee place those wherein Of the dispa­rity of age & manners be­tweene marri­ed couples. there is disparitie of age, and especially of manners. Therefore Dionysius the elder said to his mother, who being very olde, would needs marry a yong man, that it was in her power to violate the lawes of Syracusa, but not the law of nature. Aristotle saith, that men and wo­men ought to marry together in such an age, that both of them should leaue off to beget and to conceiue children at the same time. According to this rule the husband must be twenty [Page 204] yeares, or thereabouts, elder then his wife: because naturally women conceiue and beare chil­dren At what age men and wo­men ought to marrie. vntill fiftie yeares, and men may beget children vntill 70. Licurgus also for bad that any man should marrie before he were 37. yeares old, and a women before 17. Whereof this rea­son may rather be rendred, that the wife may more easily acquaint her-selfe with her hus­bands manners, he being then of ripe iudgement, and shee comming into his power from her tender yeares. For (as the same Aristotle saith) diuersitie of manners and callings hindereth friendship and true loue. But because of the shortnesse of mans daies, I thinke it were good for him to marry at thirtie yeares of age, taking a wife of twentie yeares old, to the end that Why a man on [...] to haue ten yeares more then his [...]ife. her age may not bee too much vnlike his: that so liuing according to the common course of nature, they may leaue their children prouided at the same yeares, and such as might bee well able to liue without them. A maiden also of that age is able to iudge a great deale better what is meete for her, and what duty shee oweth to her husband, and of his commande­ments, than if she were yonger. Now, seeing we are about this matter, I thinke I shall not di­gresse from the same, if I speake of the marriage of widowes. It is certaine that those women that haue already learned the disposition of their former husbands, are often times very hard­ly Of the mari­age o [...] wid­dowes. Timotheus. altered. Whereupon some alledge 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 play: Which if he had, he tooke a greater reward by half 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. Chilon one of the wise men of Graecia, said, that he accounted him a very foole, who hauing saued himselfe from a perilous shipwracke by painfull swim­ming, Chilons opi­nion of secōd marriages. would returne to sea againe, as though a tempest had not power ouer all barkes. Platoes Androgy [...]a teacheth, that second marriages can neuer fitly be made. Concerning this matter, we can haue no better counsell than that of S. Paul, whither I referre the resolution of this 1. Cor. 7. 39 matter. But experience daily teacheth vs what infinite miseries, quarrels, suits, & ouerthrow of houses, proceede from such marriages, through the donations and profits which yongmen The discom­modities of second mari­ages. Valeria. craue that marrie 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 notable example to women, who said, that her husband died for other, but liued to her for euer. Saint Hieroms rehearseth a history quite contrary to this here spoken of, auouching that he saw at Rome a Of a woman that had bin maried to 22. husbands. The notori ous loosenesse of a widdow. woman that had beene married to 22. husbands, who afterwards marrying one that had 20. wiues, died in his life time. Whereupon the Romans crowned him with Lawrell, in victorie, and caused him to carry a branch of Palme in his hand at his wiues funerall. He maketh men­tion also of another widow, who of almes brought vp a little childe and abused it at the age of ten yeares, by whom shee became great with childe, contrarie to the order of nature, God so permitting it, to discouer the vile filthinesse of that woman. Second marriages were a great deale more honourable for such widowes. The fourth kinde of marriage remaineth yet, which we called the marriage of griefe, which is nothing else but the assembly and coniuncti­on Of the marri­age of griefe. of the wicked and reprobate, of whom that common prouerbe is spoken, that It is better one house be troubled with them than twaine. Their life cannot be but full of wretchednesse and miserie, the griefe whereof will abide by them for euer. But to returne to our first speech of the marriage of loue, which is holy and lawfull, guided by good reason; and according to the ordinance of God; mortall men beholding the holinesse and necessity of this mysterie, haue enriched and set forth the same with all kinde of ioy and delight, with the assembly of kins­folkes, and calling together of friends and ghests, with bankets, feasts, ornaments, iewels, Tragedies, Comedies, and such like pastimes, vttering ioy: and not to bee misliked; so that all dissolutenesse and ouer great super fluitie be set a side, and honesty and comelinesse obser­ued. Commenda­ble ornaments of mariages. Wedding songs vsed in old time. Diuers cu­stomes vsed at the cele­bration of marriages. The Assyri­ans customes. But especially the wedding songs, vsed by the Ancients both Greekes and Latines, and made to beautifie and enrich their weddings, are worthy of eternall praise. Moreouer, they had amongst them infinite and sundry customes kept at the knitting vp and celebration of marriages, some being good, others bad, of which we will here alleadge certaine, because wee may finde instruction in them. The Assyrians had certaine Magistrates called Triumuirs, and Presidents of weddings, approoued and graue men, whose office was once a yeare in euery Towne and Village to bring all the yong maidens that were to be married, into one publike place, and to cause them to be proclaimed one after another, beginning with the fairest, who were giuen to them that offered most, & bad last. With this money that came by them, they married those that were hard fauoured, as good cheape as they could: and otherwise than [Page 205] after this sort, it was not lawfull for any body to contract matrimony. Wherein they shewed a maruellous care in prouiding equally for all their daughters. The ancient Graecians had a custome to burne before the doore of the new married wife, the Axletree of that chariot The custome of the Greci­ans. wherein she was brought to her husbands house: giuing her to vnderstand thereby, that shee was to dwell there with him, whether shee were willing or no, and neuer to depart from thence. Lycurgus would not haue the husband and wife to lie together in the beginning of their marriage, nor to see one another, but by stealth and secretly: To the end (said he) that amitie and loue might bee the better preserued betweene them, that they might be healthy, and that their children which should come of them, might be stronger. The Romanes passed all other nations in pompe, ceremonies, and comelinesse of marriage. They obserued this in­uiolably, The customs of the Ro­manes. that their maidens and widdowes should not bee constrained to marry. On the wedding day they vsed that fashion, which at this day is very common. The new married wife was richly apparelled, with her haire hanging about her shoulders, and her head crow­ned with a garland of flowers. The mother of the Bride went before her daughter bearing a cofer of trinkets, iewels, rings, and other litle 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 body, and innocency of minde, which the yong women ought to haue. The new married wife was led from her fathers house to her husbands house, along the broadest streetes in the citie, to note thereby, that a wife ought alwaies to passe by the greatest way, and not to be found at any time in suspected and secret places, whereupon some suspition of euill may arise. When shee was come to the entrie of her husbands house, be­fore shee went ouer the threashold of the doore, hee tooke her with both his armes by the wings, and lift her aloft in such sort, that hee strooke her head and the doore post together, and so set her within the doore before euer her feete touched the ground. This was done, that the married wife should remember through the griefe of the blow, not to goe often forth out of her husbands house, if shee would haue the report and name of an honest wo­man. Her garments, behauiour, gesture and gate, were correspondent to all modestie, hone­stie, and shamefastnesse. Shee wore a iewell hanging by a ribben about her necke, to signi­fie, that shee was bound and put in subiection to her husband. Shee presented also to her husband water in one hand, and fire in the other. Which some interpret thus, that as the The Romane brides vsed to present fire and water to their hus­bands. communication of mans life consisteth chiefly in the vse of these two elements, of fire and water, so there cannot be any fellowship more familiar or neerer linked together, than that of the husband and the wife. Now, because fire and water signifie communication, others haue thus vnderstood it that as fire and water are cleane contraries as well in the first as in the second qualities; so are man and wife, the one being hot and drie, of the nature of fire, and the other colde and moist, of the nature of water: which contraries beeing ioyned together, make a harmonie and temperature of loue. Againe, some would haue the dissentions, mur­murings, and complaints that are often in marriages, signified thereby: wherein laughter is not without weeping, nor rest without labour, nor sweet without sowre, according to the na­ture of all earthly things, in which wee cannot taste hony without gall, nor sugar without A­loes. Many other ceremonies were vsed of the Ancients, which for breuitie sake, as also be­cause there is small instruction in them, I omit for this present. Therefore to conclude our discourse, we learne, that the name of a house doth not onely signifie the walles and roofe of What is sig­nified by the name of a house. a building, but that it ought to bee taken for a familie gathered together to communicate one with another in all necessities. Wee learne also that in euery marriage we ought to haue regard to the ordinance and institution of God, and to those politike lawes vnder which we liue, to the end we trouble not common tranquillitie: that wee must auoide all disparitie of goods, of houses, of age, and especially of nature and manners. Let vs not suffer our selues to be carried away with any foolish passion, but looke chiefly to this, that vnder a gracious and honest behauiour may shine forth cleare and euident steps of an vpright and sincere soule, voide of dissimulation: saying with the Wise man, Fauour is deceitfull, and beauty is vanitie, but a woman that feareth the Lord, shee shall be praised. We must also rid our wedding assemblies of all Pron. 31. 30. dissolutenesse, of all kinde of allurements to voluptuousnesse and nicenesse, that they may ra­ther seeme to be schooles of honour and chastitie, than of intemperance and loosenesse. If we lay such foundations in marriages, no doubt but God will blesse them, and make them happy and prosperous, to the glory of his name, and to the quietnesse and contentation of vs all.

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

AS Physitions stand more in feare of feauers engendred of hid causes gathered together by little and little of a long time, than of those which proceede of very apparant causes: so the small [...]arres and daily quarrellings of married folkes, being vnknowne to strangers, and drawing by little and little to an incurable hard­nesse, Small [...]arres must be auoi­ded in a house doe more separate them one from another, than any other cause whatsoeuer. Therefore it is necessary that all the rootes of such naughty sprigs should bee cut off, and all occasions escheued, which might prouoke one another to the least and lightest anger that may bee. The industrie of the man ought to aime especiaily at this, being called to the honourable estate of Head of a family, looking diligently that hee performe such duty towards her, who is so straighly linked vnto him, that such dissentions neuer take their beginning through his de­fault. Let vs then (my Companions) take occasion of this subiect to bee better instructed in the dutie of a husband towards his wife.

Reioice (saith the wise man) with the wife of thy youth. Let her bee as the louing H [...]nde, and pleasant Roe: let her brests satisfie thee all times, and delight in her loue continually. For why Prou. 5. 18, 19, 20, 21. Eu [...] man must content himselfe w [...]rh his owne wi [...]e Ep [...]. 5. [...]5, 26. How hus­bands ought to loue their wiues. shouldest thou delight in a strange woman, or imbrace the bosome of a stranger? For the waies of a man are before the eyes of the Lord, and he poudereth all his paths.

Husbands (saith S. Paul) loue your wiues euen as Christ loued the Church, and gaue him­selfe for i [...] So ought men to loue their wiues as their owne bodies: hee 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 wonderfull art. Which when hee had ended, one Melanthus stood vp before all the company that was present, and said: My Lords, behold Gorgias, who by his eloquent oration exhorteth vs that are in number infinite to concord, and yet hee cannot play the Orator so well as to cause his wife and his chambermaide 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. Therefore, my Lords, I thinke it great rashnesse in him to exhort vs to concord, when hee cannot haue it himselfe in his priuate house. And truely, besides the vnspeakeable torment that is ioyned with such riots, iang­lings, and controuersies in a house, it is a shamefull offence when they are knowne to stran­gers. The Ancients had a priuate and houshold God, whom they called the God Lar, which wee may translate into our language, the God of the Harth. Hee was had in such veneration, [...], the house­hold God of the Heathen. that if any man withdrew himselfe to the Harth and house of his deadly enemie, his enemie durst not offer him any violence as long as hee was there, the Harth beeing vnto him a sanctuary and place of immunity. For so wee reade of Themistocles, that be [...]ing banished from Themi [...]tocles [...]aued by fly­ing to the ha [...]th of his enemy. Athens, and pursued by some that would haue laid violent hand vpon him, hee fled to the Harth of his deadly enemie, 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. Now 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 enemie, beeing fledde to his Harth, how infamous an act (thinke you) and vnworthy the nature of man, did these men iudge it to bee, to offer any violence to them that were of the same Harth, but chiefly to the Wife, who is a principall person belonging to the bedde, table, Harth, yea to the whole house of the Husband, and is called by the law, a companion both of the diuine What place the wife, hath next to the man. and humane house? At this day wee commonly obserue this, not to offend in any sort those that come to see vs: and if wee haue any occasion of quarrelling, it shall not bee shew­ed as long as they are in our house, if wee haue any care not to bee accounted vnciuill, and voide of discretion. And how shall wee not vse the same reason towards them that are vnto vs a second selfe, with whom wee are to liue and die? Let vs then haue regard to those princi­pall points that are to bee desired for the establishment and continuance of loue, vpon which euery holy marriage ought first to bee grounded, as wee haue already said. Secondly, it Loue the first foundation of euery holy marriage. must bee grounded vpon the conformitie and agreement of good and honest conditi­ons: and lastly, it must hold and depend of prudence, which breedeth a continuall, liuely, and mutuall affection of one towards another, the true testimony whereof is a reuerend behauiour of each to other. It is a Maxime and principle graunted by wise [Page 207] men, that no man is woorthy and meete to commaund, vnlesse hee bee better than they ouer whom he commaundeth. Therefore it seemeth that nature commonly giueth more vigor, strength, authority, grauity, and prudence, in deedes and wordes to men than to wo­men. The best must command. The effects of which graces hee cannot better shew foorth, than by gouerning him­selfe with reason, and according to duty towards his Wife: first, in louing her, then in go­uerning her graciously, as beeing a free person, (as Aristotle saith), perswading her more by reason than authority. Hee must not offer her any iniury, either in deed or word, bur honor and make much of her. For the Husband that honoureth his Wife, honoureth himselfe. The husband must cōmand ouer his wife as ouer a free person. The Lawyer saith, that married women are and ought to be set forth with the beams of their Husbands, and that the Husband ought to giue example to others to honour his wife: whereby also hee shall i prouoke his wife to honour him. But on the other side, by offering her wrong, he shall incense her, and giue her occasion to reply vpon him with bitter speeches, which in the end will prouoke him to wrath, and to behaue himselfe worse towards his wife, thereby constrainining her, as it falleth out oftentimes, to inuent some mischiefe against him and his honour. There are a thousand examples hereof in good authors, and experience The fruits of hard dealing. affoardeth too many proofes of the same. We reade of Clytemnestra the wife of Agamemnon, that, to reuenge an iniury receiued from her 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 Clytemnestra. one as lighteth vpon themselues. But what? This sexe is fraile, spitefull, and giuen 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 dogge, by prouoking him ouermuch, and that an Eele is oftentimes lost, when it is strained ouer hard. Therefore let a wise husband know this, that hee must neuer deale iniuriously with his wife: especially before other: and that A husband must neuer beat his wife. hee must abstaine most of all from laying violent handes vpon her. If the Ancients would haue their slaues corrected, rather with wordes, than blowes, much more ought the wife to bee dealt withall, whom God calleth a helpe like to vs. To this effect Marcus Aurelius said, that a wise husband and one that mindeth to to liue peaceably with his wife, ought aboue all Marcus Aure­lius precept to husbands. things to obserue this rule, namely: To admonish her often, to reprehend her seldome, but neuer to lay hands vpon her. Homer bringeth in Iupiter reproouing his wife, and threatning her when shee is rebellious, but neuer maketh him goe farther. Wee reade in the life of Cato, of whom Iupiter. it was giuen out that hee was a sworne enemy to women, that he neuer strooke his wife, ac­counting Cato. that sacriledge, and yet hee knew well how to vse the place and dignity of a husband, which keepeth his wife in obedience. But aboue all that hath beene hitherto spo­ken, a husband must obserue this as an inuiolable law, that hee abstaine from touching any other woman but his owne, as well in respect of the feare of God, who excludeth all whore­mongers A husband must especial­ly auoid adul­tery. and adulterers from his heauenly mansion, as also because 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, hee shall hardly haue a good countenance of his wife at any time, except shee dissemble the matter, that shee may the better bee reuenged of him, either by rendring like for like, thinking that she hath iust oc­casion to breake her faith made to her husband, seeing he hath broken his to her, or else by some other mean vpon his persō. Of this suspitiō which the wife hath of her husabnds incontinency, or the husband of the wines, is bred a great passion, or to say better, a furie and rage, which wee call Iealousie. Chrysippus calleth it a disease of the minde, proceedidg from a feare which a man hath, that that thing is communicated to another, which hee would What ielousie is. not haue common but priuate to himselfe. Or otherwise wee may say, that Iealousie is bred of that loue, which will not suffer a partner in the things beloued. Some write (saith Plu­tarke) that Cattes are troubled with the smell of perfumes and sweet sauours, insomuch that they waxe madde withall. Likewise if it should so fall out that a woman should bee offended and haue her braine troubled with the perfumes of her husband, hee were of a very strange nature if hee would not abstaine from it, but for the enioying of a little pleasure would suf­fer her to fall into so great an inconuenience. Now seeing it is so that such accidents come vpon them, not when their husbands are perfumed, but when they giue ouer themselues to the 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 doe that draw neere Whordo [...]e is great iniustice to Bees, who abstaine from touching euen their owne wiues. For it is reported of Bees, that they hate and make war more against them than against others, because they haue such false hearts, as lie neere their wiues, beeing defiled and polluted with the company of [Page 208] any other women. The wilde Boare (saith one of the Poets) pursued of dogges, the Lionesse bitten with hunger, the Tyger robbed of her young ones, or the Viper whose taile is trod vpon, are not more terrible than a woman that is offended: but nothing will sooner cast her into a frensie and furie, than Iealousie. Ariadna buried aliue Zeno Isauricus the Emperor, that shee might bee reuenged of him. Hee that taketh to himselfe those pleasures which he forbiddeth his wife, doth as much as if hee commanded her to fight against enemies. to The cruel re­uenge of Ari­adna. whom he had already yeelded himselfe. And if vice, whoordome, curiosity, superfluity, cho­ler, and other imperfections reigne amongst men, how should they driue them away from women? So a husband must correct himselfe first, and after vse learned in structions towards his wife. Let him (as Bees do) gather together and carry to his wife, so much of his studies as may serue for her profit. For seeing women (as Plato saith) haue a soule as well as wee, and as quicke a spirit, yea oftentimes a more excellent spirit than we, wee must not thinke Women are capable of Philosophy. them vncapable of the goodly reasons of Philosophy, wherein many of them haue gone be­yond many Philosophers. Knowledge and skill will keepe a woman from other vnmeete exercises, and being rauished with her husbands braue discourses, she will contemne the losse of time in vnprofitable matters. Shee will neuer fall into that danger which oftentimes befal­leth women, who conceiue and bring foorth by themselues strange counsels, & 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 sun (as fables faine) preuayled more than the Northerne winde. For the more the wind laboured to get away a mans gown, and to that end blewe more violently, the harder did hee girde vp and restraine his gar­ment. A tale of the sun and the wind. But when the Sunne waxed hotte after the winde, the man feeling himselfe heated, cast off his gowne, and afterward burning with heate, hee put off his coate and all. So if husbands goe about to order their wiues with their bare authority and by force, they will striue against it, and be offended: but contrariwise, being admonished with reason they yeeld of themselues and take it patiently. The fooles of this world commonly girde and mocke that man, who peraduenture seemeth to be ledde a little too much by his lawfull wife, and Women must be led more by reason, & gentlenes thā by force. loyall spouse vsing more gentlenesse and curtesie towards her, than rigor and commanding and yet you shall see themselues so strangely bewitched by some strumpet, that they feare not to hazard their life and honor in her seruice. But it beseemeth a man a great deale bet­ter to bee 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 The best way to bring an vn ruly wife into good order is to make her more honest. wiues and of noble houses, studie not to make them more honest and better qualified, but to pull them downe, perswading themselues that they will come to better order when they haue abased and brought them low. Whereas euery one ought to maintaine the dignity of his wife as hee would doe the iust height of a horse, and be skilfull both in the one and the other to vse the bridle well as becommeth 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 body, through a mutuall loue and ioint affection, whereby hee is bound vnto her. And as the soule may well be care­full ouer the body, although it become not a slaue to the pleasures and inordinate affections thereof, so a wise husband will behaue himselfe by pleasing and gratifying his wife in honest things, and by shewing that he loueth honour and vertue aboue all things. This will bee a meane to make her as wise, vertuous, and honest, as otherwise: if himselfe begiuen to volupru­ousnes, hee shall cause her to like of curtisans conditions, and to become slippery and lasci­uious. No man must chide or fawn vpon his wife before others. No man (saith Cle [...]bulus) ought to chide or to fawne vpon 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 wel: whē Xantippa his wife, reuiled & chiding him, in the end being caried headlog with wrath, ouerthrew table & al. Wherupon Euthydemns whom he had brought home to sup with him, rose vp to depart. But Socrates not shewing himself greatly moued, or angry with his wife, Socrates pati­ence in sustai­ning the infirmities of his wife. staied him, and said [...] What? do you not remember my friend, that as wee 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 angry therefore? Solon ordained that the husband should goe see his wife thrice a moneth at the least, not for pleasure, but to yeelde vnto her, as it were by obligation, the pledges and gages of friendship through honor, grace and loyaltie, which ought to increase daily. Husbands must be care­full in looking to then fa­milies. And as cities at sundry times renew these alliances, which they haue one with another, so this law maker would haue the alliance of marriage, that I may sospeake, renued by the spe­ches vsed at such gretings 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. Whereupon also the [Page 209] women thinke that they are despised and smally beloued. And in truth they haue occasion giuen them so to thinke, when their husbands seldome keepe them company. The Pilot that giueth ouer his shippe to the mercy of the waues, declareth euidently that hee careth not for loosing that which is in it. A Wife without her husband is exposed to many ambu­shes Women maried their ser­uants in the absence of their husbāds and assaults that are hardly sustained. To this purpose I remember a notable historie written in the Chronicles of Ruscia, namely, that the inhabitants of Nouogradum, which at this day is the chiefe and principall seate of that countrey, being gone into Grecia to be­siege the towne of Corsun, where they continued for the space of seauen yeares, their wiues in meane while wearied with their long abode there, married their seruants. The husbands afterward returning conquerors, found their slaues in the field, who gaue them battell, and had the better of them. Neuerthelesse in the end the slaues were vanquished, and the most part of the women mooued with indignation for that ouerthrow, hung themselues. Now as touching that other point mentioned by that wise man Cleobulus, namely, that a man must not dally with his Wife in the presence of others: Cato depriued a Senator of Rome from the Senatoriall dignity, because he kissed his Wife in his daughters presence. This was somwhat Men must not dally with their wiues in the presence of others. too extreame. But howsoeuer it bee, as Plato admonisheth men growen in yeares to shewe themselues shamefast hefore the yoonger sort, to the end that they also should learne to be­haue themselues reuerently and warily, so surely this precept is specially to be kept betweene Wan and Wife, that they may bee an example of honour and chastity vnto all. Likewise the man must diuide the offices and affaires of the house with his wife, giuing her authority ouer all things in his absence: and in his presence also ouer houshold matters, & such things as are more proper and agreeable to that sexe, causing her to be feared, reuerenced, and obei­ed What house­hold affaires are to be deuided betweene the man and the wife. of the children, men seruants and maid seruants, as himselfe. But as if we take two sounds that agree well, the base is alwaies 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 apparent, that things are done by the direction, counsell and inuention of the husband. For a family will suffer but one head, one master, and one lord: otherwise if there be many heads, the comman­dements There must be but one head in a fa­milie. would be contrary, and the familie in continuall trouble. Now the foundation of all duties 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 marriage. Wee haue handled heretofore the great effects of Loue the bād of marriage. friendship, which if they be required among common friends, no doubt but they are much more betweene those, whom God, nature, the lawes, and loue, haue so straightly ioined toge­ther. Also let husbands know, that they ought to reuerence their wiues more than any other person, and perceiuing them to be wise and vertuous, (as they may make them if they be not altogether forlorne and corrupted) let them neuer seeme to distrust them in any respect. The A husband must not dis­trust his wife. Romans when they returned from a voiage, or from a far country, or onely out of the coun­try, into the city, 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 therefore as loue and friendship is the fountain of euery good duty of the husband towards his wife, and that which as it were stealeth away, and maketh the will of his halfepartner to be wholy his owne, let vs consider for the conclu­sion Examples of the loue of husbands to­wards their wiues. of our speech, of some notable examples of great loue in the behalfe of men, to the end we may be drawne on to loue and to honour them that are in the same place towards vs that the Church is towards God; which he so loued, that he sent his onely Sonne to die for the redemption thereof. Tyberius Gracchus, a noble man of Rome, finding two serpents in the chamber where he slept, inquired for the meaning thereof by sooth saying, whereunto hee T Gracchus. gaue absolute credit. 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 thereof he slue the male, and within a little while after he died. Whereupon Historiographers doubt whether his wife Cornelia were more happy in finding a husband that loued her so well, than miserable in loosing him. Baptista Fregosa maketh mention of a Neapolitan, whose wife being taken on the sea coast by the Moores, he presently cast himselfe after her into the sea, and following The great loue of a Ne­apolitan to­wards his wife. their foist, besought them to take him also. Which they did, so that both of them were brought before the king of Thunis to whom the vessell belonged: who hearing the dis­course of the fact, and being mooued with compassion ouer such perfect friendship, deliue­red them both. 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 vpon any other. Nynus king Orpheus. [Page 210] of the Assyrians, falling in loue with Semiramis the wife of Menon a vassall of his, besought him to let him haue her to wife, in recompence whereof he offered him his daughter in mar­riage. But Menon bare such great loue towards her, that hee would not yeeld thereunto. Whereupon the king being mooued with wrath, and threatning to plucke out his eies, and Menon to take her away by force, as hee did indeede, Menon for very griefe and sorrow hung him­selfe. Periander king of Corinth loued his wife so tenderly, that after she was dead, he caused Periander. M Lepidus. her to be laid by him certaine daies. Marcus Lepidus being driuen into banishment, heard that his wife was married to another, wherupon he died for sorrow. When word was brought to Plantius Numidius a Romane Senator, that his wife, whom he loued as himselfe, was dead: P. Numidius. Sylanus. hee thrust himselfe into the bosome with a dagger, whereof hee died, Sylanus a Roman slue himselfe after his wife, whom he singularly loued, was taken from him, and giuen to Nero the Emperor. Dominicus Catalusius Prince of Les bos loued his wife so well, that although she [...] grew very leprous, yet hee neuer depriued her therefore of his boord or bed. We reade of a Dominicus Ca­talusius. Roderigo Sar­miento. great Lord of Spaine, called Roderigo Sarmiento, that through griefe which he receiued for the losse of his wife, he slept for a yeares 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 discreetly towards them, without offending them, or going beyond the boūds of our duty. And as nature mingleth vs together by our bodies, to the end that taking part of the one and part of the other, and putting all together, shee may make that which commeth thereof common to both, and that in such sort that neither party 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 together, euen our will, affection and authority. Neuerthelesse this must be done in such sort, that as in one cup although there be as much or more water than All things must be com­mon between the husband and the wife. wine, yet we call it wine, so in the authority of the wife the husbands name must bee written, as hee that directeth the same. But in the meane while let these words Mine and Thine bee banished farre from them, vnlesse it bee in this respect, that, according to the opinion of the Physitions, as blowes giuen on the left side are felt on the right, so the wife must through compassion feele the harmes of her husband, and the husband much more those of his wife: to the end that as knots haue their strength by interlacing the endes one within another, so the society of marriage is preserued and strengthened when both the parties doe affoord a mutuall affection of good will, beeing assured that both together shall bee made heires of grace and life.

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

NAture hauing honoured woman with a gracious alluring of the eies, with a sweete speech, with a beautifull countenance and modest behauiour, hath giuen The naturall gifts of wo­men. her great meanes to winne the good liking and loue of her husband, if shee bee honest and shamefast: as likewise shee may easily deceiue man by offering him pleasure, if shee bee wickedly minded. This did Olympias wife to king Philip. know full well, when shee tooke the Thessalonian woman by the hand whom her husband loued so well, and by whom (as they said) he was charmed and bewitched. But the Queene seeing her so faire, and of so good a grace, and as her speech declared, a woman of a good house and well brought vp: Away (quoth she) with all slander, for I see well that your charmes 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 her, her wealth, her nobility, her charmes, and the whole web of Venus, she study by meekenesse, good behauiour and vertue to obtaine her husbands loue. Go to then, let vs see if wee can giue the wife some instructions touching this matter, how shee may keepe her selfe within the limits of her duty towards her husband.

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

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

When Kings and Princes honour Philosophers and learned men, it is certaine [Page 211] that they honour themselues? but philosophers that court it, and become seruants to riches, are not thereby honoured. Wee may say as much of wiues. For when they submit them­selues to their husbands, they are praised: but if they will become mistre [...]ses ouer them, it beseemeth them as ill, as it doth such as yeelde to that subiection: and both of them reape It is an honor to a woman to obey [...]r husband. more shame than honour thereby. Therefore those women that make choice of effeminate husbands, and delight in commanding them, are like to such as had rather guide the blind than follow the wise and cleere sighted. So that if a wife loue, esteeme, and honour her hus­band, I thinke that all honest duty will flow from thence, to their common contentation and comfort, and to the benefit, quietnes, and honour of the whole familie: I meane if shee loue him as her selfe, and esteeme and honor him, as her nerest Lord. A wise woman ought to thinke that her husbands manners are the lawes of her life, which (if they be good) she is wholy to follow, but if they be bad, she must patiently beare with them. For as a looking glasse serueth to no purpose, although it be guilt and decked with pretious stones, if it doth not A wife com­pared to a looking glasse. liuely represent his face that looketh into it, so a woman is not to be liked albeit shee haue store of goods, if her life be not thereafter, and her behauiour and conditions be not confor­mable to her husband. If a looking glasse represent a sadde and mourning countenance to one that is ioyfull and merrie, or contrariwise a smiling face to him that is sorrowfull, it is a false glasse and woorth nothing. So is she a bad wife and vnreasonable, which frowneth when her husband is desirous to be merry with her; and to take some honest recreation, or con­trariwise, which laugheth and sporteth her selfe when shee seeth him full of businesse and greatly troubled. For the one is a token of her froward disposition: and the other, that shee despiseth the affections of her husband. And as lines and superficiall parts, as the Geometri­cians say, mooue not of themselues, but as the bodies mooue wherein they are: so a wife must Notable si­militudes. haue no proper and peculiar passion or affection to her selfe, but must bee partaker of the past times, affaires, thoughts and laughters of her husband. The further the Moone is from the sunne, the clea [...]er it is, and shi [...]eth so much the more: and contrariwise it hath lesse light, and is obscured the more, as it commeth neerer thereunto, so euill women deale with their husbands when they loue not their presence. For in their absence you shal see them as iocund Euill wiues resembled to the Moone. and [...]rolicke as may bee, but when they are with their husbands and at home, then are they sorrowfull and pensi [...]e. Moreouer a wife must not trust too much either to her wealth or to the nobility of her race, or to her beauty, but to that which [...]itteth nearest her husbands heart, that is, to her behauiour, manners and conuersation, taking order that these things bee not heard, troublesome, or irksome to her husband euery day, but such as please him & agree with his conditions. For the trou [...]lesome conuersation of a Wife that alwaies [...]arreth, in the end maketh euen her honest behauiour odious, as her ouer great pinching and niggardlinesse An o [...]erth­warting wife maketh [...]erselfe odious. causeth her sparing and good huswiferie to become hatefull. As this custome was obserued amongst the Per [...]ians, that when their enemies came rushing vpon them with great clamors, they receiued them with silence, and contrariwise, if they were set vpon with silence, they made head against them with open mouth: so discrete women holde their peace when their husbands cry out with choler, and contrariwise if they vtter not a word, they labor to appease How a wife must deale with h [...]r cho­lericke hus­band. and pacifie them with their comfortable speeches. A wise woman that loueth her husband as becommeth her, sometime tolerateth and dissembleth an euill intreaty, trusting so much to her constancy and vertue, that by continuing in her duty shee is able to bring him backe a­gaine to his. Shee must gouerne her selfe so discretly, that neither her neighbours, nor other of her familiar friends bee made acquainted in any sort with her complaints and greuances. A wife must not disclose her husbands imperf [...]ction to any body. For by discouering them, either she shall make her selfe a laughing stocke to others, or else giue occasion to the enemies of her honor, to prouoke and solicit her to naughtines. And if any one knowing the imperfections of her husband, vnder this pretence of seeing her hardly dealt withall perswade her to decline from her duty, she must answer him after the example of king Philip, who being wronged by the Greciās intreated them cu [...]teously. What then would my husband do vnto me, if I begin to hate him, and to offer him iniurie? If shee perceiue that any woman of her acquaintance laboreth by her talk either to fow or to increase some dome­sticall dissention, she may wisely say with her selfe: In what case would this woman that seeketh to make me iealous, desire rather to see me, than malicio [...]sly to play the [...]l [...] huswife with my husband, and to for sake my house & mariage bed, wherupon 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 and fained promises of such disturbers of domestical peace. Neither will she admit and nourish those vain and sot­tish opinions which commonly busie the minds of such women as are ruled and gouerned [Page 212] onely by passions, but containing her desires through reason within a conuenient compasse, the confidence which shee hath in her husbands vertue will breede perfect ease to her soule, by taking from her all doubting and occasion of complaining. Now vpon this discourse wee giue this note by the way, that when any displeasure falleth out betweene married folkes, they must haue a speciall regard then that they make not two beds. For by this meane the anger will endure the lesser while. Also they must shun all occasions of quar [...]elling in bed. For as a Married cou­ples must not make two beds for any iar betweene them. great bellied woman ready to li [...] downe, and euen feeling the pa [...]gs of her trauell, said to those that willed her to lie downe vpon the bed, How can the bed cure me of this euill which came vnto [...]e vpon the bed: so those quarrels, iniuries, wrath and choler that are bred within the bed, can hardly bee appeased and healed at any other time or place. But to continue our matter of the duty of a Wife, she must neuer suffer any to enter into her husbands house without his When is the best time and place to paci­fie stri [...]e be­tweene man and wife. expresse commaundement or licence. For euery honest wife ought to feare that which is commonly spoken of the loosenesse of women, and labour as much as may bee to conuince those slanderers of lying, who know no other song than to speake of their incontinēcy. Caesar said, that A woman must not onely bee free from the f [...]ult, but also from all susp [...]tion thereof, which was the cause why hee put away his owne wife. And seeing it is the duty of an honest woman to A woman must be free from all suspi­tion of incon­t [...]nen [...]y. take vpon her the care and ouersight of houshold affaires, shee must keepe at home and not loue to gad abroad, or be desirous of meetings, but so farre forth as her husband would haue her doe so. The greatest vertue of a woman (said Euboides) is not to bee knowne but of her husband: and her praise (said Argeus) in a strange mouth is nothing else but a secret blame. She must not loue to gad abroad or to be seene. A Wife ought to bee modest in [...]er garments and ornaments of her body, and not vsesuch sumptuous apparell as the law or custome of the countrey permitteth: because neither rich workes of gold, nor precious attire, nor bodily beauty make not a woman so praise worthy as She must be modest in her attire. her modesty doth, which consisteth in deedes, words, countenance and apparell. That is an ornament (said the Philosopher Crates) that adorneth, and that thing adorneth a woman, The true or­naments of a woman. which maketh her more honourable. And this is not done by iewels of gold, emeralds, preci­ous stones, or purple garments, but by euery thing that causeth her to be accounted honest, wise, humble and chaste. Those women that curiously pricke vp themselues, and inrich their bodies with ornaments full of pompe, make men more dissolute and incli [...]ed to loosenesse, especially when they make great window workes before their dugs, and giue licence to their eies to wander and gaze about. Whereas contrariwise a wise woman through her honest be­hauiour, together with her lowly and setled looke, leadeth so many as cast their eies vpon her to continencie and chastity. But a discouered dug, a naked bres [...], frizeled locks, paintings, per­ [...]umes, [...] [...]ine [...]o­ [...]s of an a­du [...]terous heart. and especially a rowling eie, and alasciuious and v [...]chaste looke, are the forerun [...]ers of adultery. He that will not credite me, let him reade Tibullus, Propertius, and O [...]id, who are of the same opinion. It may well bee said of such women, whose number is too great amongst vs, that they haue lost all shame: albeit the best dowrie, the best inheritance and most precious ie well which a woman can haue, is to be shamefast. Yea the fortresse and defence that nature Samefastnes is the best dow [...]e of a woman. hath giuen to a woman for the preseruation of her 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 beheld themselues in looking glasses, if they were hard fauoured to cor­rect their deformitie with vertue, by making themselues vertuous: and if they were faire, not to blot their beauty wi [...] vice. In like manner it were very good, that when the married wife holdeth her looking glasse in her hand, she would speake thus to her selfe if she be foule: What A [...] excellent v [...]e of loo­king glasses. 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 bee loued for her good behauiour and honest conditions, it is farre greater honour vnto her than if it were for beautie. Moreouer, a woman must haue a speciall care to bee silent, and to speake as sel­dome, as she [...] may, vnlesse it bee to her husband, or at his bidding: reseruing houshold A woman must be silent and secret. wants affaires secret to her selfe, and not publish them abroade. Thus doing, if any euill, any reproach or dishonour come to the house through any of them that are within it, the fault will bee her husbands and not hers. Likewise a woman that respecteth her honour, ought to be ashamed to vtter any dishonest speeches, flouts, and iests, and no lesse ashamed to giue eare A woman must a [...]o [...]de f [...]h [...] spee­ [...]hes [...] [...]estes. vnto them. For if she once giue her selfe to gibing, they that laughed at some little word of hers will afterward mocke the author thereof: seeing the honor of women is such a nice and chary thing, that it is not lawful for them so much as to thinke, much lesse to speake of many things, which men may freely both talke of and put in practise. Therefore those dames that minde to preserue their grauity, must bee silent not onely in vnlawfull but euen in necessary matters, [Page 213] vnlesse it be very requisite that they should speake of them. To hee short, that woman that is borne to vertue, and purposeth to performe her dutie towards her husband, must please him in all honest things, and in such as draw neerest to his inclination, she must loue him in­tirely, A short sum of t [...]e dutie of a wi [...]e. and esteeme of him aboue all others, shee must bee patient and know how to winke at, and to beare with many things done by him, shee must be prudent to gouerne her house, skil­full in huswifery to preserue her goods, carefull to bring vp her children, faire spoken and cur­teous to her neighbours, plentifull in honorable workes, a friend to honest companie, and a very great enemie to the lightnesse of youth. Moreouer she must bestow as much time as she A woman must be desi­rous of know­ledge. can steale from domesticall affaires, in the study of notable sayings, and of the morall senten­ces of ancient Sages and good men. And it were a seemely and honourable thing to heare a woman speake to her hu [...]band 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 withdrawne and turned aside from other vn­worthy exercises, whereunto wee see them so apt and inclined now adaies, which maketh them ve [...]y offensiue, as plaies, dancing, masking, hunting, and discharging of harquebuzes, Exercise vn­seemely for women. with such other dealings very vnmeete for their sexe. Whereas if in lieu of all these things a wife would imbrace the loue of knowledge, so farre forth as her wit and leasure require, and as her husband shall like of, she should be partaker not onely of the flowers and songs, but al­so of the fruits, which the Muses bring forth and bestow vpon them that loue letters and Philosophie: which will greatly helpe her towards the leading of a happy life with her hus­band. Now considering that loue is alwaies the well-spring of euery good duty, especially betweene those that are linked together by marriage, (which ought to be so great in regard What great loue the law of nations re­quireth in a wife towards her husband. Examples of the great loue of woman towards their husbands. Hipsicrates. of the wife, that the Ciuill law, and law of nations, will haue a woman follow her 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 beene in vertuous women towards their husbands, as well when they were aliue, as after their death, by refusing to ouer liue them. Queene Hipsicrates the wife of king Mithridates commeth first to minde, who bare such loue towards her husband, that polling her selfe for his sake (although shee was yong and very faire) shee acquainted her selfe with the wearing of armour, and rode with him to the warre. And when he was ouercome by Pompey, she accom­panied him in his flight through all Asia, whereby she mollified the griefe and sorrow which he [...]eceiued by his losse. Triara wife to Lucius Vitellus, brother to the Emperour Vitellus, seeing her husband in a dangerous battell, thrust her selfe amongst the soldiers to beare him com­panie, Triara. and to helpe him both in death and life, and fought as well as the valiantest amongst them. When king Admetus his wife saw her husband very sicke, and heard the answer of the Oracle, which was, that He could not recouer except one of his best friends died for him, she sl [...]e her selfe. When the wife of Fredinando Goncales a prince of Italie, knew that her husband was priso­ner, The wife of Ferdinando. Goncales. and in danger of death, she went to visite him, and putting on his apparell, abode in his place, whilest he being clothed in her garments saued himselfe. Zenobia Queene of Armenia, seeing her husband Radamisus flie from a battell, and not beeing able to follow him because Zenobia. shee was great with childe, besought him to kill her. Which when he thought to haue done, she was striken downe with the blow of a sword: but beeing taken of the enemie and tho­roughly healed, Tyridates the king, who had vanquished her husband, married her afterward for the great loue that was in her. The princesse Panthea loued her husband Abradatus so Panchea. Artemisia. well, that when hee died in Cyr [...]s campe, shee slue her selfe vpon his bodie. Artemisia Queene of Caria, for the great loue she bare to her husband that was dead, dranke all the ashes of his bodie, meaning thereby to bee his sepulcher. When Iulia the wife of Pompey sawe a Iulia. gowne of her husbands all bloodie, wherewith he had offered some sacrifice, shee imagined that he was slaine, and so died presently after. When Porcia the wife of Brutus heard of her husbands death, and percei [...]ed that her kinsfolks tooke away all meanes of killing her selfe, Porcia. she drew hot burning coles out of the fire, and threw them into her mouth, which she closed so fast, that she was choked thereby. Sulpitia beeing carefully restrained by her mother Iulia from seeking her husband Lentulus in Sicilia, whither he was banished, she went thither being Sulpitia. apparelled like a slaue, banishing her selfe voluntarily rather than shee would forsake her husband. Octauia sister to Augustus, and wife to Antonius, not with standing the iniurie that her husband offered vnto her in perferring before her a Queene that was nothing so yong Octauia. or faire as shee, bare such great loue towards him, that setting aside all intreatie of her brother, shee would neuer leaue her husbands house, but still brought vp his children by his first [Page 214] marriage as carefully as if they had beene her owne. Moreouer shee [...]ought by all meanes to reconcile those two Emperours, saying, that it was an vnworthy thing, that two so mightie princes, the one for the euill intreaty of his sister, the other because hee was bewitched by a wicked woman, should warre one against another. As this vertuous princesse had taken he [...] iourney as farre as Athens, where shee meant to take shipping, and to seeke out her husband being then in wa [...] with the Par [...]ians, bringing with her souldiers, money, furniture and other munitions, he sent her word that shee should passe no farther, but stay for him at Rome. This shee performed, and sent him all the aboue named things, not seeming at all to be offended with him. Whereas he in the meane while [...]korned her, sporting himselfe with Cleopatra in the sight and knowledge of all men, and afterward dealt worse with her when the warre was begun betweene him and Augustus. For he sent a commandement to Octauia at Rome to go out of his house, which shee presently obeyed, albeit shee would not therefore forsake any of her husbands children, but wept and bewailed her mishap, which had brought her to bee a principall cause of that ciuill warre. Aria, the wife of C [...]cinna, followed in a little boate vn­to Rome her husband, who was taken prisoner because he had borne armes against the Em­perour Aria. Claudius. Beeing there condemned to die, shee would haue borne him company, but that her sonne in law and her daughter staied her. When shee saw that, shee strooke her head so hard against the wall, that shee fell downe amazed: and being come to her selfe againe, said vnto them: You see that you cannot hinder me from dying cruelly, if ye stay me from a more gentle death. They being a stonished at the fact, and at her words, suffred her to do what she would: who then ran to the place where her husband was, and slue her selfe first, after shee had spoken thus couragiously vnto him: I am not, Cecinna, sorie for that which is done, but because the race of thy life must ende. When Seneca was condemned to die by Ne­ro, The manner of Seneca his death. Paulina. and had libertie to choose what kind of death he would, he caused his veines to be ope­ned in a bath: his wife Paulina of her owne accord did the like to her selfe in the same bath, mingling together their blood for a greater vnion and coronation of their long and perfect loue. Whereof Nero beeing aduertised, presently commanded that her veines should be stopt, constraining her thereby to liue a little longer in continuall griefe. Hipparchia, a very faire and rich woman, was so far in loue with the Philosopher Crates, who was hard fauou­red Hipparchia. and poore, that she maried him against all her kinsfolkes mind, & followed him through­out all the countrie, being poorely apparelled and bare-foote, after the Cynicke fashion, Pisca seeing her husband pine away dayly through a great and strange disease, which he had Pisca. concealed from her of long time, hauing at the length knowledge thereof, and perceiuing it to be incurable, she was moued with pitie for the euill which he suffered, whom shee loued better than her selfe: and thereupon counselled him with great courage to asswage his grie [...]e by death, and the better to stir him vp thereunto, she offered to beare him company. Where­unto her husband agreeing, they imbraced each other, and cast themselues headlong into the Sea from the top of a rock. The king of Persia taking prisoner the wife of Pando [...]rus, whom he had vanquished and slaine, would haue maried her. But she slue her selfe after she had vt­tered Pandoerus wife. these words: God forbid, that to be a Queene, I should euer wed him that hath beene the murther of my deere husband Pandoerus. Ca [...]ma, a Greekish woman of the countrie of Galatia, bare such loue to her husband, euen after his death, that to be reuenged of a Camma. great Lord called Synorix, who had put her husband to death, that he might marry her, shee gently denied him at the first when hee became a suter vnto her, but after, in processe of time shee consented thereunto. When they were come to the Temple of Diana to so­lemnize the marriage, before the altar shee powred foorth a little of that drinke, which shee had prepared in a cup, and drinking part thereof, shee gaue the residue to Synorix to drinke. The liquor was made of water, honie, and poyson, mingled together. When shee saw that he had drunke all, shee fetched a great and lowd grone, and vsing reuerence towards the Goddesse, said vnto her: I call thee to witnesse, that I haue not ouerli­ued Sinatus my husband, for any other intent than to see this day: neither haue I enioyed any good or pleasure in all this time, wherein I haue since liued, but onely in hope that one day I should be able to reuenge his death, which being now performed by me, I go cheere­fully and with ioy vnto my husband. But as for thee most wicked man (quoth shee to Sy­norix) take order now, that thy friends and kinsfolkes, instead of a wedding bed, pre­pare a buriall for thee. And so within a little while after, both of them ended their daies. Macrina, the wife of Torquatus, loued her husband so feruently, and was so sorrowfull for his absence, that for one yeares space, wherein hee was gone vpon a voyage, shee neuer Macrina. [Page 215] went out of her house, nor looked out of her window. Wee may reade that many women of Lacedaemonia, 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 veiles, who went out and left their wiues in their place, which sustaining the punishment due to others, were beheaded, contrary to humanity, 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 afraid to speake it, men are farre inferiour vnto them in perfection of loue. Men are in­feriour to women in perfection of loue. Wherefore we will conclude that it is easier for them to be dutifull to their husbands, whom, as we haue already said, 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 house-hold affaires, to the quietnesse and contentation of their happie life, and to the immortall praise and honour of their good name.