The Paraphrase.

EVery wyse Oratour, as Tullie in his booke de Oratore teacheth, ought principally▪ in whatsoeuer matter he dealeth, to consider three things: That is, to make all those that shall eyther heare his speach, or reade his workes, to be well willing, vnderstanding, and mindefull. The speaker shall make his audience well willing, when he laboureth to obteyne their [Page] fauour and good wil towardes him. For no man wil gladly geue eare to such a man, as he is afore euil perswaded of: he maketh his hearers to vnderstād, when he declareth the matter, that hee meaneth to entreate off, in shewing that it shal be profitable & com­modious, he causeth them to be attentiue, or mindeful, when he mooueth or stirreth them vp by good meanes & inductions to be rea­die to heare, not hauing their minds caried away with anie other matters. All these points hath this learned gentleman (folow­ing this inscription) obserued in al his dis­course. But especially in this first Prouerbe he hath obserued y^e first, in making him that shal reade him, wel minded towardes him, procuring his fauour & goodwil, in calling him by y^e name of his sōne & beloued. For as the Ciuil law sayth, we can name no man by a more sweet or better name, thē to call him our sonne. He maketh him to vnderstand, in shewing him howe to direct or order his life amōgst the people: he maketh him attētiue, in these wordes, where he saith, Geue eare. And the meaning and matter of this Pro­uerbe, is the most sweet & gracious behaui­our, that men of all degrees ought to vse in [Page 2] their conuersation. And if so be, that men of gret estate & calling, ought to vse this gētle behauiour, much more ought they that are of meane degree to do it. And therfore Sene­ca in the speach that he hath with the Em­perour Nero (as he bringeth in, in his 9. Tragedie) when the Emperour did striue to gouerne rather by feare then by loue, and commaunded sundrie things to be done by force and disorder, to the ende the people should feare him: because Seneca did there­fore greately blame him, the Emperour tolde him, that whatsoeuer he did, he ought by reasō for to do, for the sword was it that defēded the Prince. Seneca answeared, that the faith and true allegiance of his subiects would better defend him.The prince that is feared, is neuer beloued The Emperour replied, That it is good that the Prince bee feared. Seneca answeareth: it is better that he be beloued. The naked sword (saith Ne­ro) shal make them doe what I wil haue thē. Beware, saieth Seneca, you neuer fall into suche an errour. The Emperour answereth, I wil force the people to feare mee. Surely saith Seneca, that which you force and com­pell the people to doe, they will verie hard­ly suffer. And therefore it is not meete [Page] that anie person (as is sayde) especially suche gouernours as are vertuous and iust, should vrge or force any thing agaynst the good will of the people, much lesse that priuat persons should in their conuersation one with an other doe it. For (as Seneca in his thirde Epistle sayeth, whereas hee sheweth the deliberation that a man ought to haue in the getting and keeping of his friende) If thou wilt be beloued, loue, or as the Prouerbe sayeth, By loue thou shalt doe, that hated thou shalt neuer at­tayne vnto. For there is nothing in the world that is sought w^t loue, either by the prince of his subiecte, the Lorde of his te­nant, or the friend of his familiar, but it is easily obteined. For as Virgill saith in his Bucolikes. Loue ouercōmeth al thinges, insomuch is for the great loue that the Al­mightie bare vnto mankinde, hee sent his only begottē sonne, to take our flesh vp­pon him, and to die for vs, that he might beare our faults and infirmities (as Esai saith,) and suffer for our offences. And therefore if loue coulde cause God to abase himselfe to be conuersant with man, and to doe that, which might chiefly auayle vs, [Page 3] being euerlasting and most perfect, and we mortall, and imperfecte: what shall it not doe in the companie and conuersation of one man with an other? Whereuppon Valerius in his thirde booke in the title of Loue and delight, writeth that Damon and Pithias, two of Pythagoras his schollers, bare so great loue and affection one to the other, as when Dionisius of Sarragos would haue put one of them to death, he see­yng that there was no remedie but needes he must dye, required that hee might haue libertie to goe home to dispose & set in or­der suche thinges as hee had, promising to put in sureties for his returne, at what day soeuer he woulde appoint him. Dionisius supposing that none so faithfull a friēd could be found, that in such a case woulde become suretie, to the hazard of his life, and all that he had, aunsweared, that he was content to giue him leaue & time to goe to his house, so that he put in such suretie as hee promised: whereuppon he left him for suretie his o­ther friende. And as the last day was now come, wherein the condemned person was bound to returne, & to suffer his determined death, all those that were present did count [Page] a great follie in him that woulde in suche a case become suretie, & hazard his life for an other, how great soeuer the friendship was betwixt them. But the partie that was suretie did no whitte distrust the fidelitie of his friende, nor repent him any whitte of his suretyshippe. Nowe as they were all gaping and gasing to see the ende of the matter, at the last day, and euen in the last houre, commeth the condemned man, wher­at Dionisius was greatly astonished, and for the great faithfulnes & loue, that he saw betweene them, pardoned the partie that he had condemned, and desired them both, that they woulde vouchsafe him for a third into their friendship. Wherby it is euident, that loue is of so greate a force, that it for­ceth such men as be true friends, to venter & giue their liues the one for the other. So that very well saith the Prouerbe: Loue, and thou shalte beloued bee. For Se­neca in his thirde Epistle affirmeth, that nothing doeth more trouble a man in his prosperitie and wealth, then to thinke that they can neuer bee to him good and faithfull friendes, to whom he himselfe hath neuer been good. Howe manie [Page 4] kindes of Friendshippes there bee, and howe some bee friendes for Commoditie sake, others for pleasure and delight, o­thers for vertue and honestie, howe some bee sworne friendes, and what difference there is betweene Loue and Friendship, because I will make no long processe, I leaue here to speake of. Of all which both Aristotle in his eight booke of his E­thickes, Tullie in his booke of Friend­shippe, and Seneca in his nienth Epistle, do largely and thorowly discourse. I should al­so here declare, how we shoulde behaue our selues in getting of friendes, and hauing once gotte them, howe to continue them. Whereof Seneca intreateth in his 3. Epi­stle: whyther, for auoiding tediousnes, I referre the Reader.

The Paraphrase,

IN this prouerbe the Marques his minde is, to prooue by natural reason, that which he hath written in the former prouerbe, that is, that men ought to be gētle and eurteous in their conuersations, and that they ought not to doe anie thing by force or feare, but rather by loue and gentlenes. He also set­teth down the inconuenience that foloweth to him that had rather be feared then loued, saying: Who can assoyle the man that is dread from care and deadly feare, &c. For if he that feareth, haue not altogether lost his discretion and vnderstanding, he wil not feare him that he feareth: For he may e­sily vnderstand, that he, that liueth in dread, will seeke by all the meanes to be deliuered of him y^t he feareth. For feare (as Aristotle saith in the 3. booke of his Ethiks) is a con­tinuall looking for the harme that shal hap­pen. According to which, such as feare o­thers, do continually looke to receiue harme at the handes of those whom they feare, or to escape the euill that they looke for. They imagine how they may preuent, in doing of euill, them of whom they thinke to receiue [Page 5] euill: And therefore in the speache that Thyestes the Sonne of King Pelops hath with his sonne Philistines, where his sonne requireth him to forsake the place of his banishment, and to come and gouerne and liue together with his brother Araeus (as Seneca sheweth in his seconde Tragidie) where Thyestes doth shew the reasons, that moueth him rather to liue in a poore estate, then to be a man of greate place & authori­ty, saying, While I liued in princely state and maiestie, I was neuer free from fea­ring of those that feared me, yea and many times I was afraide of the very sword that hung by mine owne side, least in the ende I should come to be slayne with it. And after­warde, Oh what a great happines is it, not to be feared of anie, to sleepe soundly vpon the grounde, and to eate in safety the meate that is prouided. Poison is presented in golden cuppes: meaning, that it is not ge­uen to the poore labourer that drinketh in earth or wood, but to great estates, that drinke in golde geuen by those that feare them, and by such as they haue good cause to feare. And therefore Tullie saieth, in his booke of Friendship, that in the life of Ty­rantes, [Page] which be such as gouerne by force and feare, more then by loue, there can be neither faith, loue, nor stedfast friendshippe. To the Tyrant all thinges are suspicious, and euerie thing ministreth, vnto him occa­sion of sorrowe and care. And it followeth: Who can loue him whom he feareth, or him of whō he knoweth he is feared? With this agreeth that, which Boetius in his third booke of Comfort writeth, that such as are guarded with men of warre, stand in dread of those, whom they seeme to make affraide. And therfore wel sayth the Prouerbe, That feare is a deadly griefe vnto the sense. Which is verified as well in the person that feareth, as in him that is feared. It is written of Dionisius, as Boetius in his 3. booke of Comforte witnesseth, that hee was a great Tyrant, and such a one as by ty­ranny and crueltie subdued many countries, and did manie harmes and mischiefes, who as he sought to gouerne by tyrannie and force, it is most like hee was rather feared then beloued. It is written, that a special friende of his comming to see him, told him, that he had great cause to thinke him selfe happie, in that he had atteyned to so greate [Page 6] and so hygh estate as hee was in: Dionisius made no answere at all, but bad him to din­ner, where ouer the chaire where his ghest should sit, he caused to be hanged, by a verie smal thred, a weightie and a sharp pointed sword, in such sort as his friend being set, the sword hung directly ouer the crowne of his head, so as if the thred brake, it was sure to run thorow him, & thus caused him to sitte down to dinner: who al the while that he sat, sweat for feare, least the thread breaking, the sword should fal vpō him & destroy him. Di­onisius caused him with sundrie dishes to be deintily and delicately serued: the borde being taken vp, he asked his ghest if hee had not pleasantly dined? Who answeared him: what pleasure coulde I haue at my­meate, seeing the swoorde by so small a stay hanging ouer my head, and still looking for the losse of my life, whensoeuer the thred should breake? Loe saith Dionisius, such is the life of all tyrantes, who for the mis­chiefes and tyrannies that they have doon, and for feare of those whom they haue of­fended and wronged, doe liue continually in feare and in dread, and doe looke euerie howre for eyther death, or some great dan­ger, [Page] touching y^e which I haue made a more large discourse in my Commentaries vpon the Prouerbes of Seneca, in the Prouerbe that beginneth, He that alwaies feareth, is euerie day condemned. To the which be­cause I wil not be long, I referre the reader, since the Marques hath well concluded in this Proueth, where he sayth, Esteeme, and thou shalt be esteemed: meaning, that it lyeth in thine owne power to be feared, or to be loued, and that feare is a deadly grief to the sense, of which euerie man will seeke to ridde him selfe with as much speede as he may.

The Marques.

CAesar (most woorthie prince) he that is heere mencioned, was called by the name of Iulius, and of others Caius, the selfe same that passed the Rubicon against Pompey, as Lucan writeth in his booke of the Ciuill-warres, who after the death of Pompey and Cato, triumphing with great pomp in the citie of Rome, and taking into his handes the common treasurie, behaued himselfe with such pride and outrage tow­arde the Citizens, that they coulde by no meanes abide him: and as his hautinesse was thought of them intollerable, they conspired to kill him, which treason of theirs they did no long time delay. The chiefe of this conspiracie, were Brutus and Cassius, as is more at large set foorth by Eutropius in his booke of the Emperours of Rome. Valerius Maximus doeth also recorde the same, and Iohn Boccace in his booke of Ladies, where he entreateth of the vertues of women, commending Porcia the daughter of Cato, and wife of this Brutus.

The Paraphrase of the doctour.

IN this Prouerbe the Marques proueth by familiar example, that which hee hath shewed in the Prouerbe before by naturall reason. For as Aristotle saith in the second of his Rhethorikes: In the workes and ac­tions of men, that which commeth after, doeth commonly resemble that, which hath been done before, & therfore it is a cōmon vse with writers, when they woulde per­swade or haue their doinges well thought of, to bring in examples of thinges that in the like case haue happened. And for the same cause the Marques hath in this Pro­uerbe made mention of that which happe­ned to Iulius Caesar, whose doinges are largely set out by Lucan, in his booke that hee wrote of the ciuill warres. This Iu­lius Caesar by force and tyrannie sought to aspire (which nothing appertained vnto him) to the gouernement of Rome, and subdued and ouercame both Pompey, and all his fauourers, who fought for the lawes and liberties of their countrie. In the pro­secuting whereof Caesar slue manie, disin­herited a great sorte, and iniuried a num­ber. [Page 8] And for the mainteining of this his tyrannicall iurisdiction, hee was forced to make himselfe to be feared, to the intent hee might keepe them from rebelling. But for al that euer he could doe, two gentlemē citi­zens of Rome, whose names were Brutus and Cassius, conspired against him, and in the Parliament house where he mistru­sted no such thing, sette vpon him, and siue him, giuing him, as it is written, foure and twentie woundes, whereof he presently died: and therefore the Prouerbe sayeth. Great Caesar as the stories tell: and so sai­eth Lucan, most cruelly was slayne. Al­though hee was a mightie Prince, and had a strong and a puysant garde: yet at the time that Brutus and Cassius trayte­rously murdered him, they found him with­out anie of his friendes or seruantes all a­lone. It followeth. Who on the earth so mightie is, that when hee is alone, can of him selfe doe anie more, then can a seelie one? That is to say, though a man be neuer so mightie, yea, though he be a king of many landes and countries, yet is he but a man, and for his owne per­son can doe no more then a man maie [Page] doe. And although we reade in the second booke of the Kinges, that the person of a King in an armie, is of more value then a thousand souldiers: and that the death of a Prince or a Captaine, is more hurtfull to an armie, then y^e death of a thousand others, because of the worthinesse of the Prince or Captaine: yet, as S. Hierom in one of his Epistles affirmeth, though in the ordering of a battaile, the worthinesse of a Prince or a Captaine is chiefly considered, when it comes to the fight, not the degree, but the dooinges of euerie partie, is respected: for when it commeth to the shout, the force and prowesse of euerie one is his safegarde, be he King or Emperour: If he fight not as he ought to doe, he is of none account. And though he be neuer so valiant, being but one man, he can, as the Prouerb is, do no more then an other man.

The Paraphrase.

FOr the proofe and confirmation of that which goeth before, the Marques affir­meth, that he hath seene in his time great numbers aduaunced and set vp by loue, and manie ouerthrowne and tumbled downe, that haue sought to rule by feare, which proofe in hauing had the experience, is the truest and certainest that may be. For easier shall we be deceiued by olde recordes, or sooner erre in trusting our owne naturall reason, then faile in knowledge of the truth, in a thing that we haue had experience of. And therefore is it commonly sayd, that ex­perience is the mother and mistresse of all things: and as Aristotle in the first of his Phisickes sayeth, If any that be wise doe erre, touching their opinions in learning, they may well be called backe againe, and brought to the knowledge of the truth, by natural reason and perswasion. But he that [Page] denieth that which he seeth with his eyes, heareth with his eares, and knoweth by the triall of his other senses, with suche a one we ought not to dispute: For he that denieth his senses, is altogeather without sense. And therfore the proofe that is made by experience, is most strong and assured. The Marques saieth, that in his time he hath seene many aduaunced by loue. Loue bringeth with it, vnitie, Peace, & concorde: where feare alwaies causeth hatred, as is witnessed afore by the testimonie of Tullie, in his booke of Friendship, howe great the force of friendshippe and concorde is, may easily be knowne, by the harmes that a­rise of discention and discorde. Which our Sauiour in the Gospel expresly shew­eth, where he saith, That euery kingdome diuided within it selfe, shalbe destroyed. and come to nothing: & suche as liue in peace and amitie, do prosper and encrease. And Salust in the conspiracie of Cateline saith, that by loue and concord the smal­lest thinges that be, encrease, and growe to be great, where by discorde, great and mightie thinges decay, & come to nothing. For vertuous minds in bōdage brought, will slacke no time to trie by al the force [Page 10] and meanes they can, to come to liber­tie. It is lawful for euery man by the lawe of nature to defend his life, his goodes and his good name, by al the meanes & waies that he may: Insomuch as if any man will kill me, it is lawful for me for the safegard of my lyfe, to kill the partie, that doth so as­sault me, neither ought I to forbeare (as the lawiers saie) till I be stricken or hurt, for it is yenough for me the feare y^t I am in to be murthered, and that yf I kill him not, I am sure to be slaine my selfe. In so much that it hath been the opinion of some Doc­tours. That if I stande in feare of a migh­tier man then my selfe: and knowe that whersoeuer he meete mee, he will kill me, and am not able to stand vppon my guard, nor to bande with him, in this case I am not bounde to forbeare, but may kill him, at the best aduantage that I can take him. The lyke opinion is of some Doctors that yf I be wrongfully deteyned in prison, and stande in feare of some violence or vniustice, that in this case I may lawefully breake prison, and if a iudge shall wrongfullie condemne me, [Page] whereby I shall greatly bee damnified in my person, and that the execution be out a­gainst me, it shall be lawfull for me to as­semble my friendes and my kinsmen, and to resist the officer, vsing all the meanes I maye to saue my bodie and my goodes: yea, I may hurt the other in the defence of my goodes, and the sauing of my credite. For as the Doctours saye, if I remaine in anie place, and knowe that mine ene­mie is comming to doe me some mischiefe, and that it shall bee greatly hurtfull and a­gainst my credite, to go from the place, that I neede not to depart, but maye well ta­rie there: and if the other assault mee, if I kill him, I am not to bee punished. And the reason is, that for the greate feare that I am in, it is lawfull for mee to saue my selfe, and my credite, as well as I may. And this is it, that the Prouerbe meaneth, that vertuous mindes in bon­dage brought. And therefore hee sayeth, Vertuous or good men: because the iniu­rie is not so great that is done to a raskall, or a lewde person, as that which is done to a vertuous or a godly man. And though such a man of a vertuous minde, will [Page 11] beare as much as maye bee, yet beeing vniustly wronged, and euill dealt withall, and put in feare, hee slackes no time to trie by all the meanes and wayes he can, to come to libertie.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe, the Marques goeth aboute to beate downe all manner of hau­tinesse and pride of minde, shewing the greate misliking, that the Lorde hath of all such, as are prowde and disdainfull: As Dauid in his Psalme sayeth: That the Lorde resisteth the prowde, and giueth grace to those that bee humble and meeke. And Solomon in his Prouerbes affirmeth, that after pride commeth al­waies [Page] a fal, & he that hath an humble heart, shal come to great honour: & this is it that the Prouerbe meaneth, That euery man ought to be amiable. That is gentle and lowly in his speach, & not hautie, not proud, nor disdainful: It is writtē in a booke of the commendations of Caesar, that he neuer said to any Gentleman, get you away. But come you hither. And in the first booke of the wor­thie acts of Philosophers, it is written, that the great Caesar passing by a court of iudge­ment, where haply was arrained an ancient Gentleman that had somtime serued him in his warres, which Gentlemā when he per­ceiued the Emperour, cried vnto him, & be­seeched him to alight & to helpe him that he might be deliuered frō his false accusers, the Emperor willed a learned aduocate y^t stood by, to take his cause in hande, & to do the vt­termost he coulde for him for his sake. The poore Gentleman seeing the matter so put of, said with a loude voice: Caesar, when you were in the field, & like to be troden downe of your enimies, I did not in your danger serue you by a Proctor: but with y^e great ha­zard of my own life, I fought for y^e defence of your person, at which bāquet I receiued these wounds for you: & there withal shewed [Page 12] his woūded body.Hard for a soul­dier in these daies to finde a Caesar. Which words when Cae­sar had heard, without any pride or disdain, he presently alighted, & cōming himselfe to the barre, defēded his cause. For he thought it a part not onely shamefull, but most vn­thākful, if he should not haue done as he did? And when the whole assembly did greatly wonder at this noble & worthy deed, he said, that the Prince that sought not to bee belo­ued, of his subiects, did neuer truly loue thē, and to this end the Prouerb sheweth, what great good it bringeth to be louing and not high minded, & how greatly God doth hate the proud and the disdainful, who much dis­pleaseth our Lord, as is said before. And Se­neca in his first Tragedie saieth, That the gracious & righteous God doth alwaies hunt & persecute the proude. Proude Prin­ces hateful to God. The Pro­uerbe saith, Forth of wicked & malitious men auoide the cōpany: For al their do­ings tend to strife, and ende with villanie. There is, nothing that more disquieteth and troubleth the cōpanie & conuersation of one man with an other, then a brauling or a con­tētious person, neither doth any thing more alure men to company one with another, thē curtesie and gentle behauiour, and therfore Chilo that was one of the vii. wise men of [Page] Athens, demaūding whether of the twaine were best for a man to be, wrangling and contentious, or milde and quiet: It was an­swered him, that the better was he that was milde and quiet: For the friends and neigh­bours of such a man did rather honour him, then feare him.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe, the Marques sheweth the order that men ought to haue in their answeres, when they be spoken to, and that howsoeuer it goeth with vs, we ought con­tinually to bee curteous and gentle in our speach. And it is one of y^e principall graces that men can haue of God, as Dauid in his Psalmes witnesseth, Thy mouth is full of [Page 13] grace, & therefore the Lord hath blessed thee. And though a man fal out & wrangle with thee, yet if thou answerest him gently and mildly, not proudly nor frowardly, thou shalt a great deale sooner pacifie him. For as Solomon in his Prouerbs saith, A soft vorde wil breake the bone, and a sweete peach doth pacifie wrath. As Seneca in its first boke y^t he wrote of Anger & Wrath, shewing that great Princes, ought to bee gracious & gentle in their answeres, bring­eth for example the King Antigonus, who hauing caused his men to march an vnrea­sonable iournie in a day,Princes ought to bee gentle in their speeches. when that they all weery and ouerlaboured, were come to the place where they should encampe, he made them, without giuing them any rest, euery man with great and heauy burdens to marche, whiche was a great way farther, close to the wall of a towne, that he ment to besiege: and as the poore men, beeing o­uerladen, went rayling and curssing of the King, because hee had made them to take such an vnreasonable iournie, and after had caused them to marche with so extreame burdens, not suffering them any whitte to rest: the King perceiuing it, chaunged [Page] his apparell, and keepeing company with those that were scarse laden, and those that did moste reuile him, he helped them to car­ry their burdens, and as the souldiers felt themselues greatly eased by his company, they mused what he was that was amongst them, and so busy to helpe them, for the knewe him not, by reason he had so disguised him selfe, at the last being importu­nate with him, to tel what he was: You haue hitherto saith he, cursed and rayled at the king Antigonus, for whose sake a day and night you haue taken suche paines. Now speake wel of him, that hath made one amongest you and helped you, in bearing part of your burdens, this gracious answeare made the king to be a thousande times better beloued of his soul­diours then he was before, and therfore the Prouerbe saith, Here well that the an­sweare shoulde alwaies be gentle, since good woordes coste but a litle. It a­uoideth quarrelling and fighting, when any man falleth out with them. In the Cronicle of the Philosopers, wee read, that one of Athens was alwaies qua­relling and falling out with an honest quiet [Page 14] man one Anacharsis a Scithian, which countrey was of all others of least estima­tion. When the Athenian for the more despite called him a Scithian, Anacharsis, answering him gently again, and smiling, saide vnto him: my countrey is a shame to me, and thou art a shame to thy countrey. The Prouerbe goeth farther and saith, It litle doeth auaile with words thy wrath to wreake, that is: hee that threatneth with woordes, and hath a will to be reuen­ged, and to threaten, shalbe counted but for a vaunter and a pratler, and if he haue a minde to reuenge, he looseth the oportunity of it by his boasting and threatning. In a Tragedie of Seneca, Medea vitterly threa­tening Iason, because he had cast her of, and maried an other, the Nurse reprehen­deth her, and blameth her, telling her that it is not seemely for vs to be presumptious, highminded, nor enraged with those, with whome wee deale, neither oughte we on the other side so muche to abase our selues as we come therby to be counted for outcastes and persons of no value. Among all the vertues and vices that Aristotle doeth entreate of in the fourth Booke of [Page] his Ethycks, he speaketh of the vertue of Magnanimitie, whiche is for a man to stand vpon his honour that he knoweth, for his vertues and qualities he deserueth, and to keepe his estimation, in such sorte as it decay not: and to this ende saith the Pro­phet, My honor and my glory will I giue to no other. This vertue hath two extre­mities and vices, the one is, as Aristotle saith, for a man to be vaineglorious, proude and disdainfull: which is, when hee taketh vpon him, more then of right to him per­teineth. In the other extremitie and vice, are thought to offend all such, as by reason of their base minde are nothing accounted of, nor esteemed: and if they happen to come to any honor or preferment, they be­haue them selues like sheepe or mecockes. Of this vertue and the vices, the Marques speaketh in the Prouerbe where hee saith, Let not vnwoorthy honors please thee. For, those that are therewith all delighted, are vaunters, vainglorious, and foolish, as Aristotle saith, where he sheweth the incon­ueniēces that follow to thē, that make more of them selues, then there is cause why, say­ing that such honor commeth quickly to the [Page 15] ground. So that the man that taketh more vppon him then hee may, is of others by great good reason soone put from it. Of these proude and vaine vaunters speaketh Iob. The vaine man exalteth him selfe in his pride, and thinketh that he is borne free from subiection, as the Colte of a wilde Asse. And before hee saith, I would not haue thee so to throwe downe thy self, as to be counted an outcast. For this is not humilitie, but basenesse and weake­nesse of minde, and this is it that Aristotle prooueth in the authoritie aforesaide. And the Apostle saieth, that forasmuch as hee was ordained the Apostle of the Gentiles,Humilitie springeth of Nobilitie. hee would honor and esteeme his dignitie and office, and yet for all that he left not to be humble and meeke: for humilitie spring­eth not of basenesse and feeblenesse of mind, but of vertue and noblenesse of nature. And that which the Marques doeth heere disa­lowe, is onely the basenesse and vilenesse of the minde, in what sort the conuersation of men ought to be. Isocrates in his Admo­nishments writeth in this sort, Be not hau­tie nor disdainefull to those that bee in thy company, for euen the very seruants [Page] will hardly away with their maisters that are proude and disdainful. The modest and temperate behauiour, is that which al men delight in, & that is neither to be to hautie nor to base, to hie minded nor to abiect.

The Paraphrase.

IN the Prouerbe before, the Marques hath shewed, what order men ought to ob­serue in their speech: in this and those that folowe, he teacheth howe we should behaue our selues in hearing. For as the tongue ought to be bridled in speaking: so ought the eare to be temperate in hearing, for such as are wise and vertuous ought not to giue eare to euery worde that they heare, but only to suche as are good and honest. For as Salomon in his Prouerbe saith, The Prince that is contented to heare [Page 16] lies and tales, shall haue his court reple­nished with naughtie persons. For when the rest of his seruantes perceiue that he delighteth in a tatler or a taleteller, the whole company will straight addict them selues to be liers and slaunderers, & picke­thanks, for as saint Gregorie in the .xiiii. chapter of his booke of Moralls saith, That suche as delight in hearing of slaunders & accusations, are counted to be eaters and deuourers of men, as Salomon say­eth, Be not present at the banquets of sinners, nor eate thou with those that come togeather to feede of fleshe. To come togeather to eate fleshe is as S. Gregorie saith, To gather, them selues togeather, to speake euill of their neigh­bours. And therefore the Prouerbe saith, that we should flee taletellers as those that hurt & anoy Innocentes, For he that com­meth to diffame or slaunder his neighbour,An euill prince maketh an euill Court. commeth clothed with a sheeps skin, but is in very deede a rauening Woolfe. For his intent is to infect and mooue the minde of him that heareth him against him whō hee slandereth. Valerius sheweth a way, how to reiect & rid away such slanders, & picthanks, & saith that there was 2 very deare friends [Page] hauing great enuy, and seeking to set dis­corde betweene them, came to the one of them, and tolde him, that he had heard his freend speake very euill of him Quoth the other, I cannot beleeue it, for hee is my frende, and I knowe he will not speake e­uill of me. The slaunderer beeing very ear­nest, and the other not seeming to credite him, hee confirmed it at last with a greate oathe, that the thing was true, that he had tolde him. I now beleeue you, quoth the o­ther, since you sweare that my freend hath spoken euill of me: but be you well assured, it was something, that hee thought should benefite mee, that made him to speake as he did. With which aunswere the slaun­derer was cleane out of countenance, percei­uing that the partie, whom he would haue abused, was to hard for him. For the traines and pathes of pickthankes, are not for wise men to fall in, but for grosse heads and sim­ple people. Tullie in his Inuectiue that he made against Salust hath these wordes, I haue seene (saith he) many that in tel­ling of other mens faultes, haue more offended the hearers, then did they that committed the faultes. And therefore [Page 17] Backbiters, whether their accusations bee false or true, are not to be suffered. Since as Tullie saieth, They more offende the mindes of such as heare them, with their spitefull and euill speech: then doe those that commit the euill in deede. And ther­fore wise men ought greatly to shunne & to stop their eares, against all Clawbackes, taletellers, and backbiters, and not only to banish them, but all vaine and idle talke, as Saint Bernard writeth in an Epistle, tou­ching the gouernment of a house, to a gen­tleman called Raymond, wherein he shew­eth, what wayes hee ought to vse to auoyde all Parasites and gesters,Gesters to be auoyded. saying: When­soeuer thou art troubled with Coxe­combes, counterfaits, or gesters, make as if thou diddest heare them, and let thy minde be vpon other matters, for if thou once answere them, and seeme to take pleasure in them, thou shalt neuer be rid of them, thou shalt shewe thy selfe to be but a light fellowe, in seeming to take pleasure in any such follyes, & shalt be forced to giue them rewards, loosing and casting away (in so doeing) whatso­euer thou giuest.

The Paraphrase of the Marques.

ASsuerus was a man of so great pow­er amongst the heathen, that he was accounted for a Monarch, or ruler of the world: and as it is written in the Booke of Hester, Haman beeing in speciall fauour with the King, taking a displeasure against the Iewes (who liued vnder the gouernmēt of Assuerus) procured the Kings displea­sure greately against them, but especially against Mardocheus, so as hee appointed him to be hanged. And as it was a custome that Assuerus alwayes vsed, to haue many times read vnto him a Booke, wherein was contained the seruices that any of his sub­iects or any other had done vnto him, where happely he chaunced to heare a speciall ser­uice [Page 18] that Mardocheus had done vnto him, (what seruice it was I leaue here to speake off, beeing a matter commonly knowne to all such as haue beene studious in the scrip­tures). This being vnderstood of the king, and at the earnest request of Hester, hee commaunded that Haman should bee trus­sed vppe vpon the same Gallowes that hee had prepared for Mardocheus, whereby according to the saying of Dauid, Hee fell into the same pitte, that hee had digged for other. With this Prouerbe agreeth the saying of Solon, That euery well guy­ded common wealth, standeth vppon twoo feete, the one & the right foote, is the boun­tifull rewarding of those that haue doone good seruice: the other the left foote, is the punishment and correction of all disorde­red persons and offenders. What Prince soeuer wanteth either this bountie in re­warding, or iustice in punishing, his com­mon wealth shall alwayes be lame and hal­ting, and the good deedes and seruice of the subiectes, ought euermore to bee recorded, and many times read to the Prince, and the parties them selues continually to bee examined.

The Doctour.

IN this prouerbe the Marques sheweth by examples, that which he hath taught in the prouerbe before, and to this intent he bringeth in y^e story of king Assuerus, which story is written at large in the Booke of Hester, which is one of the Canonicall bookes of the holy Scripture. Of which to make you here a shorte relation, you shall vnderstand, that this Assuerus was one of the greatest & mightiest Princes that was in the world, and as it is written, was Lord of an hundred and xxvii. Prouinces, who toke to wife Hester, a Iewish woman, and of the linage of the Iewes, whom hee very entirely loued. This Queene had an vncle with whom shee had been brought vp, cal­led Mardocheus, who vsed to come dayly to the Court, to learne and vnderstande how the world wēt with the Queene his Neece: and as the story telleth, the Que [...]ne beeing so aduised by Mardocheus, did not discouer what country man he was, neither was it knowen that he was her vncle. This King Assuerus had one that was very great about him, called Haman, who bare all the sway [Page 19] in the Kings house, and as the whole com­pany, aswell the greatest as the meanest, gaue honor and reuerence to Haman, bee­ing so commanded by the King, only Mar­docheus would neither honor him, nor doe him any reuerence, notwithstanding that the Kings seruaunts had many times bla­med him, for not honouring of Haman, nor making obeisance to him, as the rest of the Court' both did, and the king had comman­ded: and because they sawe, that he would take no warning, they complained to Ha­man of him: who casting his eye vpon the Iewe, and perceiuing plainely, that he vsed no reuerence towardes him, conceiued a great hatred against him, and for the dis­pleasure that he bare him, deuised howe he might procure the destruction, aswell of all the Iewes, as of Mardocheus, and there­vpon tolde the King, that throughout all his dominions, there swarmed a lewde and a contemptuous kinde of people, beeing authors of new sects and Ceremonyes, and dispisers of his Maiesties lawes and ordi­naunces, which was a thing not before seene, that such a kinde of people should be suffered to liue within his dominions, made [Page] humble request to the King, that hee might haue licence and authoritie from him, to destroy them, promising thereby, to bring to the Kings cofers, an infinite masse of treasure. The King answeared him, that he freely gaue him the treasure that he spake off, and for the people, hee bad him doe with them what he thought good, and gaue him his ring from his finger, that he might send out letters, for the execution of his com­maundement. Whervpon Haman in great haste caused letters to be directed to all the Prouinces and Cities within the Kinges dominions, y^t they should at a day appoin­ted, set vpon the Iewes, and destroy them, taking all their goods, and not leauing one of thē aliue: which newes, when they came to the eares of Mardocheus, were not very pleasant vnto him: whereupon he hied to the Queene, and perswaded her to goe w^t great spede to the King, and to sue for pardon for her woful countrymen: which at the first she refused to doe, by reason of a law, that if any should presume to enter the Kinges cham­ber, without licence or speciall commaun­dement (except the King did holde out, in signe of clemencie, the goldē scepter that he [Page 20] held in his hand) should presently dye for it. Notwithstanding, at the earnest request of Mardocheus, after that she & al the Iewes in the Citie had fasted three dayes & three nights, she got her to the king, whom when the King perceiued, in token of his fauoure towards her, he held foorth his golden scep­ter, and saide vnto her, Queene Hester, What haue you to say to mee? Demaunde the one halfe of mine Empire, and I will giue it thee? Who humbly beseeched the King that it would please him & Haman, to come to a Banquet that she had prepa­red for him, at which banquet she would de­clare what petition she had vnto him. At the later end of the banquet, when the king had well fed, and demaunded of Hester what her petition was, promising that if it were the halfe of his kingdome, hee would pre­sently graunt it: She aunsweared, O King if I haue found fauour in thy sight, graunt me my life, & the life of my people, for both I and my people are betrayed and ap­pointed to dye: if it had so been, that wee shoulde haue been solde for slaues, it had been farre more tollerable, and with my sorrowe I shoulde haue satisfied my selfe. [Page] when the King had hearde her, hee was greately disquieted, and asked who it was that durst presume to attempte so great a matter, and what authoritie he had. The Queene aunswered this great enemye. Of me and my nation, is this Haman that is heere present. Which when Haman heard, he was suddainely nipped in the head, and as the King flang foorth in a fury, towards the garden, Haman came to the bed where the Queene sat, to beseech her to haue mer­cy vpon him, because he perceiued that the King was determined that hee should dye. The King returning from the Garden, and finding Haman vppon the bed, where the Queene sat, supposing that he had been too familiar with her, began to conceaue a great hatred against him, and then some that were aboute him, tolde him that Ha­man had made a paire of Gallowes for Mardocheus: wherfore he commaunded, that both he and his sonnes should bee han­ged therevpon. Which shortly set downe, sheweth the meaning of this prouerbe, that if Assuerus had not giuen eare to Hester, shewing him, y^t Haman against all order of iustice had determined to destroy the people [Page 21] of the Iewes, he had vndoutedly abused the sword, that he for iustice due did beare: & which he was bound as a King and a good Iusticer wel to vse. And into error had he fallen, & wished it streight vndone: so had the guiltles creature died, that no offence had done. Which had been a great blotte vnto him. For as the ciuill law sayeth: It is a better deed to leaue a fault vnpunished, then to punish an innocent.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe, the Marques meaneth to prooue by naturall reason, that which in the other Prouerbe he shewed by exam­ple: and the reason why we seldome find the [Page] absent to be cleare, and that we seldome guiltie see the man that doth appeare, Is because he that speaketh euil of him that is absent, maketh his tale to seeme as true as may be, and perswadeth him that heareth him, to giue credite to his wordes, & though perhaps some speake in his defence, yet the partie that is absent, is alwayes thought to be faultie: and so likewise of the other, that the present is not founde to bee guiltie, because he is able to answere to whatsoeuer is spoken against him, and whatsoeuer his aduersarie hath set downe for certaine, by his deniall of it, he bringeth it to be doubted of. And as Tullie in his new Rethorike say­eth, If any man be accused of any crime or trespasse, if he bee not guiltie, hee may flatly denie it: and if he be guiltie, he may alledge what great cause and reason hee had to do, as he did, and so shal he cleare himselfe of the fault that is laide against him. No proceeding against him that is absent. And therefore it is a principal ground in the lawes, that whatsoeuer is done in iudgement against him that is absent, if he doe not absent himselfe vpon contempt, shal be nothing preiudiciall to him: & the grea­test barre that may be to anie processe that [Page 22] is brought, is to say, that he was not willed to appeare. And therefore when Adam of­fended, and God was to condemne him for his disobedience, and contempt: the Text sayeth, that the Lord called and sommoned him to answere (if any answere hee coulde make) for himselfe, when he sayde, Adam, where art thou? For the Lorde knew well enough, in what place he was, but because he should not say, that God had proceded a­gainst him, without hearing him, or calling him, being absent, & not contemptuous, he both called for him, & heard what he coulde say, and finding his answere not sufficient, condemned him, although he sought to les­sen his fault as much as he could, when he said, The woman, that thou gauest me, gaue me the apple that I ate. Vpon this ground also stood Medea, (as Seneca in his vii. Tragedie sheweth) in the speach that she had with king Creon, the father in law of Iason, that would haue banished her his realme: when she asked, for what cause and fault she should be banished? And that they ought not to proceede against her, without hearing her cause, affirming that shee was readie to proue her innocencie, and to [Page] purge hereselfe of any crime, that coulde be layde against her. And because Creon ie­sting at her, sayde: The poore innocent woman requireth to knowe the cause of her banishment, meaning that she was so lewde and so wicked, that her lewdnesse, and her naughtinesse beeing so openly knowne, it was not needefull to arraigne her, because she was knowne to all men to bee guiltie. She answered:A notable an­swere of a woman. If thou, being a King, ta­kest vpon thee to be a Iudge, thou oughtest to heare me: If thou take vpon thee to be a tyrant, and an vniust man, thou mayest at thy pleasure take my life from mee. And when the King would by no meanes be in­treated, but that she must depart his realme, she made this notable conclusion: that who­soeuer he be, that commaundeth any thing without hearing of the partie, though the thing be iust that he commaundeth, yet he himself is vniust in the commaunding of it. And the reason of this notable saying of Medea, is that which is before sayde, That according to the lawes both of God, of na­ture, and of man, no Iudge ought to pro­ceed against any man, without hearing the partie: and the Prouerbe sayeth, You must [Page 23] heare the partie, and giue no iudgement, till you haue well weyed the matter. For there must information be had, and proofe, whether it be trueth, that the contrarie part alledgeth, and the proofe and the witnesse well examined by good foresight and ad­uise: and this is it that of right ought to be done in a case of iudgement, and one of the greatest defeatings, or auoydings, as the Lawyers say, of any proces, is, if iudgemēt haue been prooued or done without delibe­ration. And therefore the Prouerbe sayth, See that you take good deliberation in iudgement.

The Paraphrase.

THe Marques in this Proueth conclu­deth two things. The first is, the effect [Page] that followeth, when a thing is done with good deliberation, and brought to passe by good aduise and counsaile: the seconde is, whose aduise and coūsaile in our doings we ought to follow. Touching the first, Solo­mon in his Prouerbes saith, The determi­nations of a man neuer come to good, where counsaile is not afore had. The de­uises that are executed by good aduise, are alwayes perfect & good. And Seneca saith, Do al thy things by good aduise, & thou shalt neuer repent them. For a man not taking coūsaile nor aduise in that which he intendeth, it is not possible for him, that he should foresee the errours that he shal fal in. And falling therein, for want of good foresight & counsaile, it must needes be, that he must repent himselfe, and say, I had not thought so great a mischiefe woulde haue folowed. And as Valerius writeth, that Scipio of Affrica was wont to say. It was an euill fauoured, & a shameful thing, for a man in any matter (especially in such as belong to a man of warre) to say, I would not haue thought it. For such things as are to be done with the sword, ought well to be thought of before. For the errours that in [Page 24] warres are cōmitted, can neuer, as Scipio saith, be amended. And as Vegetius in his booke that he made Of the knowledge of the Warres affirmeth, There is no other reason to be yeelded why the Romanes did subdue the whole worlde, & conquered wheresoeuer they came, but because they did al that they did by great deliberation & aduise, being ve­rie skilfull & well trained in such things as belonged to the warres. For what (saith he) was a handful of poore Romanes to the in­finite numbers of the Frenchmen? or what could so slēder a power preuaile against the great forces & puissance of the Germanes? Certaine it is, that y^e Spaniards were more in nūber, and of greater strength & force, thē were the Romanes. The skill of the souldier the on­ly aduaunce­ment of Rome. They were alwayes behind the Affricanes, both in wealth & po­licies. And no mā doubteth, but the Greeks were farre beyond them in grauitie & wise­dom. Yet alwayes did the souldier of Rome preuaile, because of his skill, being continu­ally trained & daily exercised in the warres. For there could nothing hap in any skirmish or battel, wherew^t they had not long time a­fore been acquainted. Certaine it is, as the Prouerb saith, y^t that which is done by de­liberation, cōmeth not to craue amendment [Page] at the second hande, and that from this coun­saile and aduise, the olde stager ought neuer to be shut out. For as Aristotle sayth in the first of his Ethickes, The yong man by reason of his small experience, can haue no great knowledge in anie matter, and therfore not able to giue anie good coū ­saile. And beside in his booke of Rethorike, In mans affaires and actions, the thinges that haue passed, be cōmonly like to the thinges that after happen: and as the young man hath had no experience of such thinges as haue happened before, so can hee neuer bee able to iudge of the things that shall after fal out, & therefore the auncient mē are alwayes able to giue better counsaile. And therefore Roboam the sonne of Solomon, for taking the ad­uise of yong men, and refusing the olde and expert fellowes, did verire worthily forgoe tenne partes of twelue, of his kingdome, as shal hereafter be more at large declared. And though young men are by reason of strength and lustinesse, more able and fitte for the fight, than are the olde men: yet as Tullie in his booke of Age saith, The great and notable exploites are neuer done by [Page 25] force nor agilitie of body, but by coun­saile, aucthoritie, & secresie, And among the principal causes that we reade, why Alexander had alwaies the victory and the better hand, it was the chiefe, that he went alwaies accompanied with graue & aunci­ent counsellours. For as Trogus Pompei­us in his eleuenth booke writeth, That A­lexander whensoeuer he was in any iour­ney of great daunger, he neuer called to counsel, nor made priuie to his doinges the young and lusty Gallantes, but the olde expert souldiers, that had folowed the warres with his father, and with his vncle, whom he vsed not so muche for souldiers, as for gouernours. And it is saide that those whom he put in his bat­tailes, were commonly of the age of three­score yeeres & vpwarde, to the entent that none of them should thinke to run away, but to ouercome, and trusting more to their handes then their feete, shoulde set their whole mindes vpon the victory. And when diuers of his old souldiours desired him, that they might depart, to rest and refreshe them selues, offering him their sonnes, that were young and lustie to serue in their pla­ces. [Page] It is saide that he answered, I had ra­ther to haue about me the well experienced grauitie of aged men, then the frowarde­nesse and vnaduised rashnesse of young men. And thus did Alexander attaine to whatsoeuer he desired, and was in all his doinges, honourable and vertuous, because he neuer suffered, as the Prouerbe sayeth, The olde man to depart from his side.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe the Marques shew­eth, and prooueth by good example and greate experience of thinges before pas­sed: That which before he declared, that as long as the Romanes gaue credit to the aduise and counsaile of their aged Fa­thers, [Page 26] so long they prospered, and did well: and when they once ceassed so to doe, their honour presently ceassed and came to nought. They were gouerned in those dayes by a certaine companie of men called Senators, which woorde and name commeth of the Latine woorde Senex, which signifieth aged. In what sorte and by what meanes the Romanes prospered, is plainely declared by Iudas Machabee, in the first boke of the Machabees: where he saith, The Romanes by their wisedome and sober behauiour possessed the whole worlde, and ouerthrewe the Princes that rebelled against them, and made Tributa­ries Galacia, and Spaine, subdued and o­vercame the king of the Persians, and An­tiochus the king of Asia, hauing in his company a hundred and thirtie Elephants, sacked al their cities, and made Tribu­tarie vnto them all their Dominions, and brought into subiection al the countries rounde about them, as wel farre as neare: So that their very name was a terrour to all that hearde of it. And the only cause of this their prosperitie, was the great wise­dome and foresight, the which they had, [Page] and the great loue that they bare to their countrey, they were gouerned by three hun­dred and thirtie Senatours, which euery yere elected one to haue the chiefe auctori­tie? amongest them there was neither enuy nor ielousie, and therefore saith the booke, Iudas the Machabee, The Romanes prefer the com­mon profite be­fore their own. did enter frendship, and make a perfect league with them. For al their studie & care was to maintaine their cōmon welth, not hauing any regard of any priuate cōmoditie: For as Tullie sai­eth, Two things they ought to doe, that wil profite their countrey. The first is, that leauing apart al priuate commodi­tie, they bestowe all that that they do vp­on the cōmon wealth. The second, that they be not forward in some one thing, and backward in an other. And whilest the Romanes obserued this order, their common wealth increased still greater and greater, according to the saying of Cato, whose wordes are witnessed by Saint Au­gustine, in the seuenth booke of the citie of God, the .ix. Chap. Doe not think: (saith Cato) that our forefathers brought the common wealth of Rome from a small thing to be greate, only by the sworde. [Page 27] For if that were the matter, our company at this time is greater, our souldiers more in number, and our furniture a great deale better. No, it was other matters that ad­uaunced our auncestours, whereof wee be cleane without:What made the Romanes to floorishe. they being at home, were alwaies careful for matters abrode, and gouerned vprightly and iustly, their hartes were alwaies free, and were continually faithful counsellours, they were neither en­tangled with riot nor vices, but we by our disordred lustes, haue brought our common wealth to be poore, & our selues to be riche. The offices and rewardes that were to be giuen, as recompenses, and the encourage­mentes of vertue, are solde for money, or geuen for fauour. Our ancestours to enrich the common wealth; dyd make themselues poore: But in these corrupt times of ours the case is quite altered: The treasures of our owne common wealth are small and poore, & we our selues are become wealthy & rich, which is a thing most monstruous, and the ouerthrowe of all goodnesse. In whiche saying is verified and concluded whatsoeuer is conteined in this Prouerbe: When Tirantes once began to rule and [Page] beare the sway. Which Tirants be those, that more regarde their owne priuate com­moditie then their countries, they not on­ly ceassed their conquestes, but shortly loste that, which they had wonne.

The Paraphrase.

THe Marques in this Prouerbe she­weth, with what care and diligence we ought to seeke for knowledge and furthermore, to what ende wee ought to trauaile and seeke for it. For as A­ristotle in a boke that he made of the Soule [Page 28] saith: Our soule or minde at the time of our birth, is as a blanke, or a cleane peece of paper that hath nothing vpon it, but is re­dy to receiue any perfectnesse, knowledge, or maners and therefore if it so be that: the very perfection of the soule, is knowledge. the Marques doeth to good end admonish and exhort vs to seeke for this knowledge, by al the meanes that we may. Cato saith, Seek to get knowledge or Art: For when fortune is fickle & wil faile, yet Art and science wil neuer forsake thee. And there­fore it is written in the sixth booke of Poli­crates, That the Emperour Octauian, as great a Prince as he was, caused his chil­dren to be so brought vp, that if euer fortune shoulde faile them, yet they shoulde haue a meanes to get their liuing. And therefore he caused his sonnes to be trained vppe in knowledge of the warres, to learne, to runne, to leape, to swimme, to caste the dart, to throw the stone, both with the hand and with the sling, and his daughters to woorke all maner of linnen woorkes, and woollen woorkes: So that yf euer it shoulde chaunce them to fall into pouertie, they shoulde yet be able with their handes [Page] to get their liuing, and the Prouerbe saith more, That a man ought not to seeke learning for fonde desire of prayse, Learning to what end it ought to be sought. but skilfully to reprehende the vnskilfull sinners waies. For the intentes of suche as seeke to be learned are diuers: Some, to the end they might be counted wise & great learned men, and for suche reputed and cōmended in euery place, not for any good that they meane to do to others therby: and the ende of this is vanitie: Others, not for to doe anye good withall, nor for any desire of praise, but for their owne pleasure: the ende of whiche is foolishe curiositie. Some againe seek to be learned, to come to riches and promotion: the ende whereof is coue­tousnesse: Others seeke to attaine to know­ledge, to profite & benefite their neighbours withall: And the ende of that is charitie: Others to be instructed and edified them selues: And the ende of that is wisedome: And these two last be they, that seeke not to be learned for vaineglory, but to be skilfull reprehenders and admonishers of others.

The Paraphrase

HEere doeth the Marques declare what profite & commoditie commeth by knowledge,The commodi­tie of learning. saying, that by learning we come to knowe what GOD hath doone, and what he doeth for vs. The knowledge whereby we may knowe GOD, and what he hath doone for vs, is to be had by peru­sing the olde and newe Testament, wherin we shall finde, how God is the creatour of al the whole worlde and how he created it only of his owne goodnesse & mercy, and how he hath giuen vs lawes and commaun­dementes, by the which we may serue and obey him, & that though a man haue of long [Page] time liued vertuously and godly, yet if in the ende he offende God, and die without repentance, that God wil neuer remember his righteousnesse nor good life, that went before: Againe, yf a man hath been a gree­uous sinner all his lyfe time, and yet in the ende repent and turne vnto GOD, and die with vnfaigned repentance, the mer­cifull Lorde will neuer lay to his charge any sinne that he hath committed: Accor­ding as the Prophet Ezechiel from the Lordes owne mouth testifieth, We shal al­so therein see that all the race and posteritie of man, for the offence of our first father Adam, are adiudged and condemned to e­uerlasting damnation: And howe GOD, for the great loue that he bare to man­kinde, hath sent his only begotten sonne Iesus Christ, to take our flesh vpon him, & to suffer most cruel death for our saluation: And to pay, as Esay saith, The price of our redemption. Also by the Scriptures wee know, what other benifites soeuer the Lord hath doone for vs. Beside, the scripture tea­cheth vs how we ought to loue God with al our hart, with all our minde, & with all our forces, & that we ought rather to die a glo­rious [Page 30] death, then to offend him with a sin­full life: & this he meaneth when he saith, The dreame is forgottē quite that soone thou shalt forgoe. For our life is compa­red to a sleepe, which we shal leaue before we be aware, as Innocentius saith in a booke that he wrote of the wretchednes of the state of man, where he hath these words: Tel me my brother,The vanitie and miserie of this life. what goodnesse doest thou finde in these worldly delights? What doeth thy glory profite thee? What doeth thy pleasures auaile thee? These be not they that can deliuer thee from death, nor defend thee from the wormes: For he that late was lustie and glorious in his Pal­lace, lieth nowe dead and stinking in his Sepulchre: he that late was tickled with the delightes of the bed, lyeth nowe torne a sunder with the wormes in his graue What meanest thou to be proude, being but wormes meate and ashes? Why moy­lest thou for riches, that shall shortly be di­stributed to the poore? As the Prophet saith, They slept their sleepe, & those that were lately riche,The great good that commeth by rea­ding the scrip­tures. haue nowe nothing in their handes. There true wisdome, knowledge of God, and skill in the scrip­ture, bringeth vs to this vnderstandyng. [Page] by this a man knoweth how to serue God, not regarding this transitorie life, which passeth as a sleepe or a dreame.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe the Marques sheweth that one of the principall causes of wise­dome and knowledge, is to feare God, as Salomon in his prouerbes saith, The be­ginning of wisdome, is the feare of God, and wisedome & knowledge the foolish doe abhorre, and therfore he saith, That wisedome is more woorth then the wea­pons of the mightie, of greater value then precious stones, & more fine thē pure gold. For by wisedome we are able to discerne betwixt good and euill, betwixt vertue [Page] and vice, to which ende leauing to speake of the doctrine and rules of the holy Scripture, whereby we are taught to flee from all sinne and wickednesse and to em­brace and followe vertuousnesse) Aristotle hath written three bookes: In the one of them he entreateth of the rules and orders that are requisite for the guiding of a coun­trey and citie, which booke is called the Politiques: In the other he sheweth howe a man ought to gouerne his house, his wife, and his children, & this booke is called the Aeconomikes. The thirde, teacheth how a man shoulde gouerne him selfe, wherein there is a medlie of rules & obseruations, by which a man may knowe the vertuous, and discerne and seuere them from the vi­ces. And specially in this booke he shew­eth, that all maner of vertues are gotten by vse and custome, and that a man by vsing a long time to liue vertuously, it commeth at length to bee naturall vnto him, and although a man be naturally enclined to vice, yet yf he accustome him selfe to vertue, he shall leaue his euill inclination and become vertuous. And this is it that the Prouerbe sayeth, [Page 33] Who so beginneth to liue well in his youth, it is a signe that he shall not doe a­misse in his age. But it is not one vertuous act alone, that can be called a beginning, as Aristot. saith, no more then can one swallow shew a spring. And the greatest presump­tion by which we may cōiecture (as Ari­stotle in the second of his Ethickes sayeth) whether a man shall proue vertuous or no, is the pleasure or the heauinesse that he taketh in his well doing. For if he be ioyfull, & take delight in the vertuous actes that he doeth, it is a token that he wil proue well in his age, and be verie vertuous. But if he goe about them, with an euill will, and seeme to take no delight therein, it is a signe that his vertues will not long endure. And therefore as the wise man sayeth: By the pleasauntnesse and heauinesse of a child in his youth, we shall easily ghesse what he will be in his age.

The Paraphrase.

AS it is written in the thirde Booke of the Kinges, Solomon the sonne of Dauid, after the death of his Fa­ther, was chosen to be King. And the first thing that euer he did, because he would lay a good foundation, he went to a hie Moun­taine, that was neare about him, called Ga­baon, to offer sacrifices to the Lord. And that night the Lorde appeared to him in his sleep, and said vnto him, Aske what thou wilt, that I may giue it thee. And Solo­mon sayd. Thou hast shewed vnto thy ser­uant Dauid my father great mercie, in that thou hast giuen him a sonne to sit vpon his seate, and to succeede him in his king­dome: And now, O Lord my God, it is thou that hast made thy seruant king, in stead of Dauid my father, and I am but yong, and know not how to goe out and in, and thy ser­uant is in the middest of thy people, which [Page 34] thou hast chosen, and verely the people are so manie, as can not be tolde, nor numbred for multitude: Giue therefore vnto thy ser­uant an vnderstanding hart, to iugde thy people, that I may discerne betwixt good & bad. And this pleased the Lord well, that Solomon had desired this thing. And God said vnto him, Because thou hast asked this thing, and hast not asked long life, neither hast asked riches, nor the soule of thine ene­mies, but hast asked vnderstanding and dis­cretion in iudgement: Beholde I haue done according to thy petition, for I haue giuen thee a wise & an vnderstanding hart, so that there hath been none like thee before thee, nor after thee shall anie arise like vnto thee. This storie serueth here for this Prouerbe, that sheweth, how Solomon sought chiefly for wisedome, by which without debating of anie matters, or calling of any counsaile, hee was able sufficiently to gouerne his kingdome and dominions.

The Paraphrase.

THe Marques here sheweth in this Prouerbe, what is the marke that a man ought specially to shoote at, and sayth, that although it be a goodly thing for a man to be eloquent, and to haue a good tongue, yet it is a great deale more worthie praise, to be wise. Eloquence is a fine and sweete kinde of speaking, by the pleasantnesse whereof, it draweth men to the opinion of the speaker: The figures, and rules where­of are set foorth by Tullie in his Rethorike: And if this eloquence be ioyned with wise­dome and knowledge, it is a speciall orna­ment: but if a man haue more wordes then wit, he shall be counted a vaine iangler and a pratteler. And therefore sayeth Tullie, That farre better is wisedome voyde of eloquence, then foolish pratteling with­out discretion. Wisedome among all the moral vertues, that Aristotle in his Ethicks [Page 35] intreateth of, is the most principall vertue, or rather, as he saith, the onely vertue, mea­ning that all the vertues are chained and linked together in one. And therefore the Philosophers commonly say, that whosoe­uer hath one, hath al. For if he haue one ver­tue, he must needes haue wisedome thorow­ly, he that hath wisdome thorowly, hath all vertues: therefore hee that hath one vertue, hath all vertues. Wisedome, as the Philo­sophers say, consisteth of three partes: the first is memorie, to remēber such things as hath passed: the second knowledge, to know such things as are present: the thirde, pro­uidence, to foresee such thinges as are to come. And he that hath these three partes, may be counted wise, and a seruant obedi­ent to morall Philosophie. For as I sayde before, wisedome conteineth in her selfe all morall vertue: And as Aristotle sayeth, It is a thing vnpossible for a man to bee wise, and not to be good. And therefore the Prouerbe sayeth, The wise man is all his life obedient to morall Philosophie.

The Paraphrase of the Marques.

ROboam was the sonne of Solomon, and King of Israel, who after his fa­thers decease, did vse such tyrannie ouer his subiectes, that verie woorthily hee was de­priued of the moste parte of his gouern­ment.

The Doctour.

TO proue the harmes and mischiefes, that he that wanteth wisedome runneth into, the Marques here bringeth in the Storie of Roboam, the sonne of Solo­mon: Of whom it is written in the thirde Booke of the Kinges, that after the death of Solomon, the people assembled togi­ther to make him King, and spake vnto him, saying, Thy Father made our yoke grieuous, nowe therefore make thou the [Page 36] grieuous seruice of thy father, and his hea­uie yoke, that he put vpon vs, lighter, & we will serue thee. And hee sayde vnto them, Depart yet for the space of three dayes, and then come againe to mee. And the people departed. And King Roboam tooke counsaile with the olde men, that stoode be­fore his Father, while hee yet liued, and sayde, What counsaile giue you, that I may haue matter to aunswere this people? And they sayde vnto him, If thou be a ser­uant to this people this day, and folow their mindes, and answere them, & speake gently vnto them this day, they wil be thy seruants for euer. But he forsooke the counsaile that the olde men had giuen him, and called vn­to his coūsaile yong men, that were growne vp with him, and waited on him, & said vnto thē. What coūsaile giue you, that we may answer this people? And the yong men, that were growne vp with him, answered him, saying, Thus shalt thou say vnto the peo­ple: My little finger shall bee weightier then my fathers whole bodie, and where as my father did lade you, and put a grieuous yoke vpon you, I will make it heauier. At which words the people greatly disdaining, [Page] ten tribes of them presently forsooke him, and chose Ieroboam for their king. Wher­by is concluded, that Roboam, because he was not wise, nor aduised, nor carefull, to preuent such mischiefs as might happen, o­uershooting himselfe shamefully in his foo­lish answere, was worthily forsaken and re­iected of his people: as is mencioned in the Prouerbe.

The Paraphrase.

THe Marques sheweth in this Pro­uerbe the profite and commoditie that commeth of seruing and fearing God, and the hurtes & inconueniences that follow to such as offende him according to the dayly [Page 37] lessons of the church. The soueraign power of God is shewed, in casting downe the mightie out of their seate, which are those that heape to them selues his displeasure, and in exalting the humble and the meeke, which are those that feare him. For as Da­uid in one of his Psalmes sayth: The Lord throweth downe one, and lifteth vp an other, for the vessell is in the hand of God: And of such as serue and feare God, he sayth, I haue not seene the iust forsa­ken, nor his seede begging their breade: And of those that offende, and fall into his displeasure, he saith, I haue seene the wic­ked in prosperitie, and flourishing like the Cedars in Libanus, and within a while I went by the place where he was, and beholde, he was perished, and not to be seene. And therefore well saith the Pro­uerbe, The Lord bringeth the mightie to the ground, that offendeth him, & pro­uoketh his displeasure, & aduaunceth to honour the poore man that feareth him. And vpon this is the whole Scripture in a maner grounded: that is to wit, that God promiseth euerlasting ioy, & sufficiencie of worldly goods to all those that serue him, [Page] and euerlasting destruction both of life and goods, to those that offend, and prouoke his wrath.

The Paraphrase.

IT is written of Dauid the King, that for feare of falling into the hands of Saule, he fled into an other countrey neere adioy­ning, where they well vnderstood that hee was annointed king ouer Israel: And when they had taken him, and brought him be­fore the King of the countrie, whose name was Achis, because they should not detaine him in prison, nor gratifie Saule with the deliuery of him, hee fayned him selfe to bee [Page 38] mad, and wryed his mouth, as one that had been possessed with a spirite, and fomed at the mouth: & this was counted for a great wisedome and discretion in Dauid, because he framed him selfe according to the time and season, whereas if he had doone other­wise, he had cast away him selfe. And Cato saith, That it is a great pointe of wise­dome, to counterfaite follie in some place: and in an other place, It is good for a man to seeme half out of his wit & en­raged, when time and reason requires. As Aristotle in his third Booke of Ethicks witnesseth, where he speaketh of Fortitude: At some time againe it shall behooue him to shew him selfe to be humble and meeke, yea and also fearefull, as Aristostle in the very same booke writeth. The like is to bee obserued in the vertues of Temperaunce, Liberalitie, and all other vertues, in know­ledge of which circumstances, Wisedome doth chiefly consist. Againe the Prouerbe sayeth, That a man ought to abhorr pre­sumption, as the enemy, and contrary to the cleare Lampe of Knowledge. VVherevpon Sainct Hierome in one of his Epistles writeth after this sorte.

[Page] Amongst all other things, that the Ro­maines wisely deuised, this was one, That whensoeuer any of their Captaines retur­ned with victory to Roome, least he shoulde be puft vp with pride and vainglory, for the worthynesse of his person, or brought into a fooles paradise, forgetting himselfe, for the great honor and triumph that was done vnto him, they thought good, that as they honoured him three maner wayes, for the ouerthrowe that hee wan: so the selfe same day, to make him remember him selfe, and to let fall his Pecockes taile, they likewise dishonored him with thre notable dispights. The honor (which was doone to all conque­rours) that they did vnto him was in three manners: The first was, that all the people of the Citie, came out to meete and receiue him, with great ioy and gladnesse: The se­conde, all the Prisoners that he had taken, went before his Chariot, with their hands bound behinde them. The third, they put vp­on him a shert of the God Iupiters, and set him in a Chariot of Golde, which was drawen with foure white Horses, in which sorte they caried him to the Capitoll, with great honor, ioy, and showtes of the people. [Page 39] And with these three sortes of honor, they ioyned these three reproches, to the end hee shoulde not wax proude nor insolent. The firste was, they placed by him cheeke to cheeke, a ragged and an vnseemely knaue: and thus they did to signifie, that any man though his state were neuer so base nor mi­serable, might by vertue attaine to the like honour: The second, this beggerly compa­nion, did nowe and then buffet him, to the ende, he should not be too proude of his ho­nour, and euer as he strake him, badde him to remember that hee was a man, and should dye: The thirde dishonour was, that it was lawfull for euery man to giue him the shamefullest woordes they coulde de­uise. And this the Romaines did as I saide before, to the ende the Conquerour should abhorre presumption, which is the aduersarie of the Knowledge, that clere and comfortable light.

The Paraphrase.

THis is the onely difference betwixt euerlasting thinges, and transitory things: The euerlasting things, endure for euer: the transitory thinges, as with time: they come, so with time they decay, & there­fore in the proueth before, the Marques gi­ueth vs aduice, and exhorteth vs to bee con­formable to the time & season; And that rea­son that maketh him so to say, is, that as a thing is in one time wrought & done, so is it in an other time vndone & destroied. For as Solomon in his Eccleastes saith, There is a time to be borne & a time to die, a time to build, & a time to pluck downe: neither ought we as y^e prouerb saith, to be offended, if things fal not out according to our desire, for when it pleaseth Fortune, such things as seeme displeasant vnto vs; shall redound to our commoditie. For the better vnderstan­ding wherof, we must consider what is the true signification of this word (Fortune) of [Page 40] which there be many & sundry opinions. For some, those y^t be heathen people, as Boetius in his first booke Of Consolation saith, will needs haue this Fortune to be a Lady, and a great goddesse, vnder whose gouernment and at whose dispositiō, are all the treasures and riches of the world: & farther they say, that shee hath all maner of persons in the, worlde vpon a wheele, & that her condition and nature (for she is a woman) is, neuer to be long of one minde, but somtime of great and honourable personages, to make poore and miserable creatures, & againe of poore & miserable caitiues, to make hye & migh­tie Princes, stil whirling about her vnsted­fast wheele, as pleaseth her. Aristotle hath also the like maner of speach in his Booke Of good Fortune, where he affirmeth, that there are diuerse and sundry opinions a­boute Fortune. But all their opinions are farre differing from our Christian faith. For as Boetius in his firste Booke Of Consolation, And Saint Augustine in the fourth Booke Of the Citie of God, doe vnite, this Fortune & destinie, are no other things, then the prouidence of God, & ther­fore to speake like a good Christian, that [Page] which the Prouerbe heere saith: When as it pleaseth Fortune, &c. is as much to say, as when it pleaseth the prouidence of God, the thinges that bee hurtfull vnto vs, shall turne to our profit, and such things as are profitable, to our hurt and destruction. Whereof there is a very good example in the holie Scriptures, in the first Booke of Moses, where it is written, that the Chil­dren of Iacob, for the malice that they bare to Ioseph their brother, threw him in­to a deepe pitte, and after solde him to cer­taine Merchants, who solde him to an offi­cer of King Pharaoes, that vpon the vnfull accusation of his wife, kepte him a long time in Prison, from whence hee was sent for by King Pharao, and after that hee had declared the meaning of his dreame and foreshewed the comming of the deare and the barren yeares, he was made the greatest man aboute him, which was the cause that the patriarch Iacob with all his house escaped the great famine, & came to liue honourably in Aegypt and thus did it please fortune, that is to say, God, that the hurtfull things, that is, the imprisonment of Ioseph, and all the other harmes and mi­series [Page 41] that he sustained, should turne to the profite of himself, his father, and his bre­thren. So likewise doe the things that appeare good and profitable, many times fall out to bee hurtfull and euill vnto vs, as to haue great store of monie, is a profita­ble thing, and yet it often falleth, that their throates are cut for it, that haue it: and so do­eth a profitable thing become hurtefull.

The Paraphrase.

THE Marques in this Prouerbe sheweth, that if a man be not able of him selfe to rule and order his life, hee should seeke out, and set before his eyes, same wise and notable man, according to [Page] whose doings he shuld in euery point frame his life, as Seneca writeth to Lucilius, & it is one of the chiefest lessons that hee could deuise to giue him, for the framing of his life aright. He willeth him, that he shuld alwaies imagine him selfe to bee in the presence of some good man, for example sake either Cato or Lelius, for ether of them were both vertuous & wise: and that he should frame al his thoughts, and direct all his deedes, ac­cording to the life and vertues of them, and so should he neuer do amisse, and this is it, that is ment in y^e prouerbe, Follow the wise man and his lawe. The law of the wiseman is his discretion, for as Aristotle saieth, The iust and the vertuous man is a lawe vnto him selfe, for hee measureth the times, & disposeth his things, according as the time and reason doth require. And the Prouerbe saith more, Speake thou no euill of thy Prince: according to the do­ctrine of the Apostle Sainct Paule, We are bound to feare God, and to honour the King. We ought to serue the King as our naturall Lorde, and wee offende God grie­uou [...]ly, in dissobeying of him: In so much as some Doctors of law are of opinion, that [Page 42] whosoeuer obeyeth not the Kinges com­maundement findeth deadly, according to that is written in the second of the Kings, Hee that obeyeth not the Prince, shall dye for it. And therefore as it is a grie­uous and greate sacriledge, to blaspheme the name of God: so is it a damnable and horrible offence to speake euill of the King: and against such as shall so offende, it is ve­ry well prouided, bothe by the constituti­ons of the Emperours, and by the lawes and statutes of Spaine. And the Mar­ques sayth, That wee ought not onely to forbeare to speake euill of the Prince a­broade and in company, whereby it may come to his eare, but also wee ought not to do it in secrete. For Solomon sayth in his Prouerbs.The Prince not to be euill spoken of. Speake no euill of the Prince iu any wise, for if thou doest, be sure the verie birdes of the ayre will disclose it. The Byrdes of the ayre, as some Doc­toures teache, are the Spyrtes and Diuelles, according to the saying of our Lorde and Sauiour in the Gospel, where hee telleth the parable of the seede, that fell by the highe waye, and the Byrdes of the ayre deuoured it. The [Page] The birdes of the Aire saith our Sauiour, are the lewde and wicked spirits, that take out of the heart of man the worde of God. And in this sorte is the aforesaide allegati­on to be vnderstoode, that the birdes of the aire will discouer it, that is to say, the wic­ked spirites, who shall reueale the treason that thou haste spoken in secret, and this is it, that the Prouerb meaneth, when it saith. The very walles will witnes beare.

The Paraphrase.

[Page 43] AS Aristotle in the first Booke of his Ethicks affirmeth, that the cleerest & most bewtifull vertue of all others,The duetie of a Iustice. is Iustice, whose brightnesse doth farre exceede either the day starre, or the e­uening starre: and therefore he saith, That Iustice comprehendeth in it self all other vertues. And Saint Augustine saith in his fourth Booke Of the Citie of God, that Iu­stice beeing taken away, the kingdomes of the earth are nothing else but greate com­panyes of theeues, nor the companyes of theeues any other then small kingdomes. And therefore saith the wise man in his Ec­clesiastes, Follow iustice, all you that are Iudges on the earth. Whosoeuer is a Iudge, ought to bee as a Balance, and iust weight, in all his doinges, and neither for feare, friendship, nor any other respect, to forbeare the executing of vpright Iustice. And therefore Valerius sheweth in his sixth booke, that where as a certaine Iudge forbare to do iustice, because of the loue that he bare to y^e partie that was accused,A good exam­ple. Cam­bises caused his skin to be plucked ouer his eares, & to be nayled to the bench where hee sat, commaunding his sonne to be set in the [Page] place, and to giue the sentence, that his fa­ther should haue giuen: which was suche a terror to all those that came after, that frō that time forwarde, they could neuer bee brought by feare or friendship, to giue any other iudgement, then that which was iust and vpright. And so hath God in his lawes commaunded, Thou shalt doe Iustice to the pore aswel as to the mightie, neither shalt thou haue any respect of persōs. One of the seuen wise men of Athens, as it is written in the liues of the Philosophers, was wont to say, that the lawes, where good Iusticers wanted, were like vnto Eobwebs, where flyes and such weake Creatures doe hange and stick fast: but the great and the strong doe breake thorow without any stop. Who soeuer wil deale in iustice as he ought to do, must haue no respecte of persons, but must punish aswel the euil doeings of the great ones, as the offences of the meanest sort.

THe Marques here sheweth how great the excellency of Iustice is: and Tully writeth in the dreme of Scipio, that for such as haue well gouerned in the cōmon welth, and vprightly & truely administred Iustice, there is prepared in an other worlde more hyer and glorious places then for vs, be­cause of the labours & toyles that they haue sustained, for the preseruing of their coun­try. And as Aristotle writeth in his Ethicks Iustice is an externall good, and is pro­perly to giue to euery man that whiche is his. There are many that can vse them selues well in such matters as touch their owne cōmoditie, but not in things that are to the behoof of others. And therfore Iustice is a most excellent vertue, and the very line and straight path y^t leadeth vs to heauen, & as the Prophet saith, Righteousnes (which is God) loketh cōtinually downe from hea­uen, for to giue euery man according to his deserts: glory & rewarde to such as do wel, and correction & punishmēt to such as haue done euil. And y^• al men are bound to do Iu­stice, Elianus proueth by a prety tale in his [Page] story of the Romanes, where hee sheweth that Traian the Emperour, going with a great armie against his enimies, there mee­teth him a widowe, that with piteous cryes and lamentatiōs, falling downe at his fete, besought him that she might haue Iustice of certain that had slaine her sonne. Traian made her aunswere, that as soone as he re­turned from his iourney, hee would doe her iustice. And what, saith shee, If you neuer returne, who shall doe mee iustice? That shall, quoth Traian, my successor. The wid­dowe answered, What is that to thee if thy successor doe wel: when thou art to receiue the rewarde of thine owne doings, and are bounde to doe me iustice: thy successor shal­be bounde to doe Iustice to such as suffer wrong in his time, neither shall the iustice of an other man bee an excuse for thee. The Emperor being touched with these words,A good Em­perour. alighted from his horse, & departed not frō thence, till hee had thorowly satisfied the poore woman. For the continuall remem­brance of which his worthy deed, the people set vp his image in brasse in the middest of Rome, because he shewed the true and per­fect Iustice, that was elected by God.

The Marques.

LEntus, as Valerius in his sixth booke declareth, was a Senatour of Rome, by whom the citie was strengthened with good and profitable lawes. Amongst a num­ber of others, he made a law, that whosoeuer was taken in adultrie, should lose his eyes. It happened that a sonne of his was taken for the same offence. Vpon whom when the father obseruing the lawes that hee had made, would without qualifying or dischar­ging of any point, presently haue executed the punishmēt: the whole citie being moued with compassion towardes the yong man, did earnestly sue for his pardon, with whose importunate and instant requests, the father [Page] being ouercome, graunted. Yet because the offence should not remaine vnpunished, he first caused one of his owne eies to be pluc­ked out, and after one of his sonnes: which both is and ought to be a great example to all such as beare the sworde of Iustice.

The Marques.

FRondinus was a Citizen of Rome, as Valerius in his sixth booke, and Iohn Galensis in a Breuiate that he made of the foure principall vertues, writeth: Conten­tions & quarellings arising many times a­mongs the Citizens of Rome, about the de­bating of their matters, there was a law made amongest them, that whosoeuer [Page 46] should come to the Capitol with a weapon, should suffer death. Frondinus forgetting himselfe, comming from the felde with his sworde about him, came into the Capitoll, which when one of the standers by percei­ued, he blamed him, and tolde him, that he had broken the lawe that hee made. Nay, quoth he, thou shalt see that I will confirme the lawe that I made, and sodainly thrust himselfe thorowe with his owne swoorde, whereas hee might well with some colou­rable reason haue escaped the punishment.

[Page] THe Marques doth shewe the modera­tion that a man ought to haue in gi­uing of correction, and sayth, Whensoeuer we punish the euill doings of any man, wee ought not to doe it furiously, nor hastily, but with temperance and reason, whereof Va­lerius hath diuers notable examples, but specially in his fifth booke, he writeth of one Archita of Toranto, a man of great posses­sions, that hee was a long time absent from his Countrey, about the studie of Pythago­ras his doctrine. And when hee returned home, & had surueyed his manours and pos­sessions, he found thē to be greatlie spoyled and decayed: wherevpon calling to him his steward, he said vnto him. Surely if I were not at this present furiously bent against thee, I woulde punish thee according to thy desertes, and make thee an example to all vnfaythfull varlets. So that Archita chose rather to leaue the greate negligence and euill dealing of his Stewarde vnpuni­shed, then hastily and furiously to correct him in his wrath. The same Valerius doeth also in the same booke tell vs, that this Archita beeing extreeme angrie with one of his seruantes, for a villaynous part [Page 47] that hee had played, woulde not in anie wise punishe him himselfe, but committed the punishment of him to Spensippus a friend of his, to the ende that he, not moo­ued with wrath, shoulde vse measure and temperance in the corecting of him. Se­neca writeth also of the verie same Archi­ta in his thirde Booke of Anger, that be­ing on a time greatly offended with one of his slaues, hee caused him to bee strip­ped starke naked, thinking to haue scour­ged him: and as hee was readie to strike him, hee plucked backe his hande, and re­strained himselfe, wherewith a friend of his happening to come in, and asking what the matter was, I thought (quoth hee) to haue scourged this fellowe, but feeling my selfe to bee in a rage, I thought it no meete thing to punishe anie man in mine anger. And this is the mea­ning of the Prouerbe, where it sayeth, That moderate Correction is good, and free from blame: And when it is out of measure, deserues reproch and shame.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe, the Marques sheweth how men ought to behaue themselues to­wards such as haue offended, and are sorow­full for it. For according to the saying of the Prophet, God desireth not the death of a sinner, but to haue him to turne and be saued. And the chiefest lesson that olde Anchises (as Virgil in the sixth book of his Eneados writeth) did will his sonne to take heede vnto, was to seeke in all his exploites to mainteine peace, as much as he might, to pardon such as were sorrowful for that they had done, and to vse the swoorde against proude and disdainfull tyrants. And to say true, it is not the part of a man, to perse­cute [Page 48] any man that is in miserie, to followe him that flieth, nor to striue with such as are weake and vnable. And therefore Iob sayth vnto God, Wilt thou shew thy pow­er against a leafe, that trembleth with the winde? And persecute a straw that is drie and withered? Meaning, that it was not a thing beseeming the maiestie of God, who was almightie, to persecute so miserable a creature, as he was. And the Prouerbe say­eth, That it is a point of manhood, to as­saile him, that mindeth to doe mischiefe, And to inuade with the sworde, as Anchises sayeth to Enaeas, the proude and contemp­tuous persons, not suffring them to vse their tyrannous minde in doing of euil, as the Ci­uill lawe teacheth, touching the duetie and behauiour of a Conquerour or gouernour, that they ought to take such order in euerie Prouince, that the wealthie & the mightie oppresse not the poore & the needie, and that they hinder not such as go about to defende and chearish them. And this is the verie meaning of the Prouerbe, where it sayeth, That it is the signe of a valiant minde, to resist all such, as seeke to doe wrong.

The Paraphrase.

AMong the rest of the vertues that A­ristotle in the fourth Booke of his Ethickes speaketh of, Magnanimitie, or greatnesse of minde is one. And the spe­ciall grace of this vertue is, that such as haue it, can not bee touched with anie in­iurie or reproche. For if iniurie bee of­fered vnto them, a noble minde maketh no accompt of it, but rather disdaines him that offereth it, as a vile and an vnwoorthie person. Tullie writeth in his Booke of the vertues of Caesar, that hee was of so greate a courage, and so noble a hart, that where hee was verie [Page 49] mindefull of all other thinges, hee neuer would remember any iniurie doone vnto him. And Saint Augustine, in one of his Epistles saith, that he that hath a greate minde, and a noble and gentlemanly heart, doeth not onely, not beare in memorie, an iniurie doone vnto him, but also denieth, that he receiued anie iniurie. And Seneca in one of his Epistles sayth, that if a man of a noble and valiant minde, be at anie time iniured, he ought to behaue himselfe as Plato did, who when one had giuen him a blowe in the mouth, neither sought for a­mendes, nor laboured to reuenge, but de­nied, that anie iniurie was done vnto him. The same Seneca in his booke of wrath tel­leth, that the Atheniens hauing sent their Ambassadours to king Phillip: the king, af­ter their message declared, required of them to knowe what thing he might doe, that might be most acceptable to the people of Athens. Wherwith one churlishe knaue amongst them, called Democritus, stepped foorth and tolde him, that the greatest plea­sure that he coulde doe to the citie of A­thens, The great mo­destie and mag­nanimitie of king Phillip. was to goe hang him selfe, and when all the companie that stood by, were [Page] greatly offended with this lewde answere, and were about to haue torne him in pie­ces, the king woulde by no meanes that they should hurt him, but let him alone, and sayd vnto the Ambassadours, Goe tell your maisters of Athens, that much more proude are they that doe vtter such woordes, then those that heare them, and not reuenge them: neyther is there any other cause of this, but the modest clemencie and ver­tue.

The Paraphrase.

SAint Isidorus saith, Euill is that iustice that pardoneth not the frailtie of man: [Page 50] And a little after, Doe not desire to con­demne, but to correct and amende. Beware of rigour in the executing of iustice, and thinke of mercie in geuing of sentence. And Saint Gregorie in his Pastorall sayeth, That iustice without mercie, and mercie without iustice, are both vnperfect. And therefore although a man haue offended and done amisse, if he be not frowarde, ob­stinate, and without grace, being iudged with loue and charitie, his offence shall be founde tollerable, and the seueritie of iu­stice, beng tempred with pitie, shall bring the offendour to repent and amende.

The Paraphrase.

TO forgeue, and shew mercie to such as offend, we are stirred vp both by the lawe of nature, the holie Scriptures, and the gracious admonition of our Sauiour. The lawe of nature doeth moue vs to bee mercifull, as Seneca in his firste booke of Mercie writeth, and hereof we haue a natu­rall example in the king of Bees, whom nature hath framed without a sting, hauing taken away his weapon, to the ende hee shoulde be neither fierre, nor cruell, nor a re­uenger of iniuries, and that men might take examples of these little poore crea­tures. The Scripture mooueth vs to mer­cie, as it appeareth in the Epistle of Saint Iames, where he saith, that iudgement shal [...] be geuen without mercie, to such as shewe no mercie. Our Sauiour exhorteth vs to mercie, where hee saieth: Blessed are all those that are mercifull, for they shal ob­teine mercie. The Prouerbe saith, That the punishment of the sword is misliked for if it bee once done, it is past all re­dresse. And therefore Salust in the Con­spiracie of Catiline sayeth, that wee ough [...] to trie euery way, that may be, before we [Page 51] come to the sworde, euen as the Phisitions doe, who vseth all the medicines that may be, before they cut of the member. And if so be that Princes may geue sufficient cor­rection without the death of the offendour, they ought to doe it. For if it be once done, it is to late to say, I woulde it were not.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe are limited and inter­preted the Prouerbes that goe before. For such as ought to forgeue, are either priuate persons or officers, in the common wealth. As they be priuat persons, they are boūd to release the extremity, but not the in­iurie, for they may require a recompence at the law: But if they doe not, their reward [Page] shalbe the greater. According to the say­ing of our Sauiour in his Gospel, For­giue, and you shall be forgiuen. And tou­ching the examples that are in the prouerbs that goe before: if they be officers and in authoritie, they cannot pardon an offence that is doone against a common wealth, nor trespasse, that is done betwixt neighbours: But they may vse a moderation and discre­tion, according to the circumstances of the matter, as if the partie grieued be a slaue, or free born, if he be a gentleman, or a cōmon person, if the offence were in words, or vpō proposed malice, or ignorātly, & not wilful­ly done, if he murdered with poyson, or with the swoord. In such cases the Iudges and those that be in authoritie are woont to haue great consideration: for he that killeth with poyson, by treason, or secretly, his offence is more horrible thē his that killeth by chāce­medlie. And therefore it is prouided by the lawes of Spaine, that if the Prince vp­pon speciall consideration doeth pardon a man that hath killed, suche cases are al­wayes excepted: for hee that murdereth af­ter anie of the aforesaide manners, is not to be suffered, nor pardoned: and this is the [Page 52] effect of the Prouerbe.

The Paraphrase.

THe meaning of this Prouerbe, is de­clared in the Prouerbe that goeth before. For it is a greate crueltie, and contrarie to al humanitie, to pardon such a one as murdereth by treason, or villanous­ly, and it woulde be the decay and destruc­tion of all iustice and authoritie. For as S. Augustine in his booke Of the citie of God saith, Iustice is of such an excellencie, as the lewdest people that be, cannot liue [Page] without it, much lesse those that be good & vertuous. Likewise Saint Augustine, as hath been alleaged before, sayth, Take iustice away, and your kingdomes are nothing else but greate companies of theeues, and therefore it is ordayned in the statutes of Spaine, that if there be in anie Prouince or Countrie, great numbers of euill disposed persons, and if they happen to take one of them, though the partie de­serue not to die, yet it shall bee lawfull for the Iustice to hang him, for a terrour and example to the others. And if he otherwise do, it deserues not the name of pittie, But of euill sufferance, and the hinderance and ouerthrowe of lawes and authoritie.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerbe, and certaine others that followe, the Marques sheweth the order that we ought to obserue in ea­eating and drinking: and these two, being the chiefest sustainers of our life, a man hath as much a doe as may bee, to vse a mo­deration and temperance in them. For as Aristotle in the second boke of his Ethicks saith, These two do onely sustaine our mor­tall life, and are alwayes desired as things of moste pleasure: and because wee haue so great delight in them, as the things where­with wee haue been accustomed from our birth, it is very hard and painefull to be re­strained of them. But those that exceede and obserue no measure therein, are counted of Aristotle in the first of his Ethickes, to liue like Dogges, and to choose the life of mon­sters. The same Aristotle in his Ethicks, telleth vs of a great glutton, that was cal­led Philoxenus, who put all his felicitie in eating and drinking: and the earnest request that hee made to the Gods, was that they [Page] would make his neck as long as a Cranes necke, to the ende his delight might be the greater, in the long goyng downe of his meate, and his drinke. For he tooke that for the chiefest pleasure that was.

The Paraphrase.

VVE do read, that many haue great­ly offended more by excesse in ea­ting & drinking, then for any other offence. For example sake, let vs looke vppon our first Father Adam, who for a gluttonous desire of eating, brought both himselfe and al his posterity to destructiō. Lot, the bro­ther to Abraham, by too much drinking, as it is writtē in Genesis, shamed not to lye [Page 54] with two of his daughters. And therfore is Temperance & sobrietie worthie of greate honour, being a vertue of greatest commēda­tion. The maides of Rome that were ap­pointed to attend vpon their Gods, to the ende they shoulde be sober & temperate, did neuer eat more thē three meales in a weeke: and Valerius writeth in his first booke, that the women of Rome, to keepe themselues chast and sober, did neuer drinke wine. Of such sobernes & temperance was the greate Alexander (as Vegetius writeth in his booke Of the art of warres) that he was so farre from setting his delight in eating & drinking, that he neuer vsed to eate but as he trauailed. We likewise reade, that hard by the campe of Hanniball, there grew an appletree, being as ful of apples as it might hang: And so great was the continence and temperance of the souldiers, that the tree after their departure remained as full of fruite, as it was when they firste en­camped. For they counted it a greate shame and dishonour, to eate any thing that was deyntie, while they were in the fielde. And of Iulius Caesar the Emperour, wee reade that his dyet [Page] was grosse and common, as herringes, sprattes, cheese, and greene figges, & that he did eate at all times, and in all places, whensoeuer he was hungry, and with this temperance and modestie, he bridled the fu­rie and disorder that followeth of to much eating and drinking.Gluttonie pro­uoketh Leche­rie. For the bellie, being stuffed with good meates and wines, doeth presently yeeld to the rage of riot and Le­cherie. And therefore sayeth Solomon in his Prouerbes, That wine ought not to be geuen to Princes: For where drunken­nesse hath place, no secrete can bee kept, And therefore the Prouerbe sayeth, Tem­perance stayeth the raging lust of youth, and of small and temperate feeding, there ariseth neither disordinate lust, nor other e­uill. Saint Augustine did euer vse to saie, that he liued not to eate, but did eate for to liue, and this is the Temperance which, as the Prouerbe sayeth, is woorthie of honour.

The Paraphrase.

SAint Bernarde in an Epistle that hee writeth of the ordering and gouerning of a house, to one Raimond a gentleman, doth specially amongst other things exhort him, to haue a careful eye to his liuing, and to his expenses, and to take heede that his receits be greater then his charges. For if his ex­penses and his reuenues be one as much as the other, hee shall bee sure to bee ouershoes and vndone before he be aware: and there­fore his counsell is, that he that is wise, shoulde alwayes set his bellie and his purse at discorde, and vppon their strife be taught to knowe whose parte he shoulde take. The belly proueth his purpose by the present de­light that he feeleth, and the purse prooueth his by the trial of the present harme and the miserie to come: and farre better is it for [Page] a man to prouide and be carefull before hee come in neede, then to seeke for helpe, when hee is in miserie. And this is it that is meant by the Prouerbe, That pouertie is seeldome knowne to come to a person of good gouernement: And gluttonie, and sloth, where they once come, haue ne­uer regarde to Nobilitie. For as Sainte Bernarde saieth, The negligence and pouertie of the Maister of the house is, as it were, a burning and consuming fire in the toppe of it.

The Paraphrase.

SOlomon in his Prouerbes willeth the slugard & the loyterer, that he go to the [Page 56] Emoth, and consider her order and her tra­trauayls, which hauing neyther Captaine, nor gouernour, seeketh and prouideth in Sommer for her liuing, and gathereth and layeth vp in the Haruest time, as much as shall suffise hee to liue by in the winter: And sayth, that if a man will take paynes & be diligent, his haruest shal flow like a foū ­tayne, and pouertie shal presently flie from him, and therefore doth the Prouerbe bid, To preferre a gaynefull watche before a harmeful sleepe. For learning is not to be got without trauell, for all men haue not knowledge by the inspiration of the holy Ghost. But he that will atteine to know­ledge, must seeke and take paines for it, and he that will come to be able to liue, must as the Prouerbe saith, preferre a good watching, before an euil sleepe.

The Paraphrase of the Marques.

THe perfection and profoundnesse of Solomon the king of Israel, as wel in natural iudgement, as in knowledge of the lawe, is both at this day sufficiently knowne, and shalbe alwaies hereafter ma­nifest, who in his latter age being waxen ef­feminate, and altogether ruled by women, laied aside his obedience to GOD, and be­came an idolatour, as may be seene at large in the booke of the kinges.

The Doctour.

THe Marques hauing in his Prouerbs before, declared the inconueniences that men fall into by gluttonie, and excesse in eating and drinking, doeth shewe vs in [Page 57] this Prouerbe, and a fewe that folowe, the inconueuiences and harmes that proceede of carnall and fleshly lust: For where as men cannot liue for euer, nor alwaies continue, and that it is incident and com­mon to them, that some be borne, and some die: it is therefore of necessitie prouided by nature, that men should haue the com­pany and vse of women, and so breake the bondes of virginitie: And this ought to be doone with great modestie and considerati­on, as the Prouerbe heere sheweth: For a man to lie with any other then his owne wife, though it be with intent of encreasing the worlde, is hainous and deadly sinne, Yea, yf a man lie with his owne wife vpon a fleshly desire, and not for procreation, hee doeth offend: For a man ought not to haue the vse of a woman for any other end, then for the encreasing of posteritie: Or for a­uoiding of whoredome, he may vse his own wife. And those that doe otherwise, doe fal into that filthie sensualitie, that brought Solomon to all his miserie, wherof the Marques hath partly spoken aboue.

The Paraphrase of the Marques.

DAuid that most holy Prophete, and king of Israel after Saul, was a man that did many woorthie and notable acts, and a man of great wisedome, hee doeth greatly set foorth the glory and Maiestie of GOD in his Booke of Psalmes. Notwithstanding hee dyd greeuously fall and offende in fleshly and beastly affection, committyng moste horrible adulterie: howbeit hee afterwardes turned to GOD with great repentance, and with great [Page 58] griefe and mourning bewailed his offence. Hee committed adulterie with the wife of Vrias, who was mother to Solomon, for the which greeuous offence, the Lorde was more offended with him, then for all that euer hee did, as is to be seene at large in his life.

The Doctour.

SExtus Tarquinius was the sonne of Tarquinius the King, as Liuie in the first of his Decades writeth. The like is affirmed by Saint Augustine in his boke of the Citie of GOD, Valerius Max­imus, and many other auncient writers. No lesse was Lucretia famous for her vertue, then was this Tarquine to be ab­horred for his wickednesse. Amongst ma­ny that haue written of the woorthinesse of this Ladie, none doeth so greatly delite me, as M. Iohn Galensis, in a booke that hee wrote of the foure principal vertues, whō I only determin to folow. His words as I haue translated thē out of the Tuscan [Page] tongue are these: Well woorthie of im­mortall and euerlasting remembraunce, is the noble & vertuous Lady Lucretia: Who refusing to liue any longer, did rip out the stain of the villany and violence done vnto her, with the death of her owne person: The maner wherof S. Augustine telleth in his boke of the citie of God, saying, that Sextus Tarquinius came with Collatinus the husbande of Lucretia, to a house of his, cal­led Collatinū, where they found Lucretia vertuously disposed amongst her maidens and women: the only Paragon of her time, & most commended of all others, was this Lucretia: Whom when the sonne of Tar­quinius king of the Romans had through­ly behelde, he was presently inflamed with disordinate and wicked loue towardes her: whereuppon within a fewe dayes after, ac­companied only with one man, he retur­neth vnknowne to Collatinus, vnto the a­foresaide place, where he was honourably entertained and receiued of Lucretia: who made him great cheare, and lodged him ac­cording to his estate, supposing that she had had her friende, and not her enimie in her house. Tarquinius being now a bed, [Page 59] & al a fire with the flames of beastly desire, perceiuing that they were all fast a sleepe in the house, taking his swoorde in his hande, leapeth out of his bed, and goeth di­rectly to the chamber of Lucretia, whom he founde fast a sleepe: where laying his hande vpon her brest, he said vnto her, Lie stil Lucretia, I am Sextus Tarquinius, yf thou makest any noise, thou shalt die for it. Wherewithall the Lady beeing with great feare awaked, and seeing no succour about her, nor any waye too escape death, Tarquinius beginneth to disclose vnto her his great affection, and somtime with faire woordes, intreating her, and sometime a­gaine terribly threatning her, assaieth all the waies that he can deuise to bryng her to graunt to his desire: But when he saw that she was by no waies to be remooued from her stedfast and chaste minde, and that the terrour of death coulde nothing pre­uaile, he casteth about againe, and thinke­eth to boorde her on an other side, and saith vnto her, I will tel thee what I will doe, if thou wilt not consent vnto me, I wyll first kill thee, and afterwards kill an euil fauou­red knaue that I haue heere in the house, [Page] and laye him in bedde with thee, where­by it shalbe reported to the worlde, that thou wert taken in shameful and filthie ad­ulterie. And with this feare he ouercame the chaste minde of the vertuous Ladie, and hauing obteined his desire, with great disdaine departed. Wherewith the poore Lucrecia, beeing now ouerwhelmed with sorowe and pensiuenesse, for her great and greeuous mishappe, sendeth with al speede possible to her father, her husbande and all other their friendes at Rome, earnest­ly desiring them to come vnto her with as muche haste as they coulde. VVho when they were come, Lucrecia, all heauie and sorowfull in her bedde, at their entring in­to the house, fell into a great weeping, and when her friendes began to salute her, and to bid her bee of good comfort: Alas, quoth she, What comforte can there be to a wo­man that hath lost her chastitie? and looke­ing stedfastly vppon her husbande, shee cried out, and saide, O Collatinus, the feete of a straunger hath been in thy bed: But I sweare vnto thee of a trueth, only the body is defiled, for the mind was neuer consenting, and that shal my death present­ly [Page 60] declare: And therefore I require you all to shewe your selues men, and not to suffer this horrible act to remaine vnpunished. Sextus Tarquinius was he, whom I re­ceiued, not as an enimie, but as a supposed friende, who hath this laste night depri­ued me (and you also, yf you be men) of al ioy. VVhen shee had vttered these wordes, they all beganne to comfort her, and to tel her that her offence was nothing, beeyng forced and constrained thereunto, and that where there was no consent, there coulde be no offence. VVhereunto Lucrecia re­plied, and saide, As for that, looke you to those thinges that concerne your selues, I, though I dooe cleare my selfe of beeing guiltie of any offence, yet doe I not dis­charge my selfe of punishment. There shal neuer chaste woman take occasion to be e­uyll by the example of Lucrecia: And with these wordes, plucking out a knife that she had secretly hidden, and thrusting it to her hart, she fell downe dead, whereat both her husbande and Brutus her father, makyng great lamentation, presently drewe out the knife out of the wounde, being al stained & embrued with blood: which knife Brutus [Page] takyng in his hande, sware to reuenge the iniurie and the death of his daughter, and to destroy both Tarquin the king, his wife, and his children, either by fyer, by swoord, or by al the waies that he might, and neuer to suffer any of the kindred to reigne in Rome. VVith which he gaue the knife to Collatinus, and so from one to another: Whereby this mourning chaunged into wrath, and desire of reuenge: they all made promise to folowe Brutus, and taking with them the body of Lucretia, they brought it to Rome, and laide it in the middest of the market place, to the ende that the horrour of so strange a facte, might stirre vppe the people to reuenge it. At the sight wherof, the people were straight in armes, and fo­lowing Brutus, they thrust out of Rome Sextus Tarquinius, who after miserably died in prison.

The Paraphrase of the Marques.

COrnelius Scipio, as Valerius rehear­seth in his thirde booke, hauing taken the Citie of Carthage, was tolde by his souldiours that in the sacke of the Towne there was taken a young maiden, of woon­derful beauty & great parentage, who was affianced to a Gentleman of the nobilitie: which as soone as he vnderstoode, he com­maunded that the Damsel, her husbande, and her parentes, should be brought before him, and caused the young maide safe and vntouched to be deliuered vnto them, gi­uing with the maide in marriage, a great masse and quantitie of Treasure, that was offered for their raunsome.

The Paraphrase.

SAint Hierome saith, in a certaine ad­uice that he giueth to a friende of his, Be alwaies busie in some labour or o­ther, that the Deuil may finde thee occu­pied. And the reason is, because idlenes is the roote and groundwoorke (as the Pro­uerbe saith) of all maner of sinne, specially, of lecherie, which springeth sooner of idle imaginations, then any sin beside: VVher­vpon Seneca in his fourth Tragedie, bring­eth in the olde Nurse, who seeketh to dis­swade Phaedra from the beastly loue that she bare to her sonne in law Hippolytus, where Phaedra saith that there was no blame nor fault in her, since Cupid the God of loue had so mortally wounded her, and that there was none to be blamed for it, but the God himselfe. The Nurse [Page 62] aunsweareth, That brainsicke and wicked persons, the better to cloake and coloure their naughtinesse, and that they might the freelier attaine to their letcherous pur­poses, haue vainely imagined a God-head to be in loue, saying that there is a GOD of loue, whose power extend­eth not only to men, but euen to the verye Gods: which, saith the nurse, is a false and shamefull deuise. For whosoeuer hath a­bundance of wealth, & liueth at pleasure, giuing him selfe to idlenesse, banqueting, and surfeiting, passing his life in dalli­aunce and disport, suche a one doeth loue continually torment: yf it be not so, aske of the Ladie Venus, howe chaunce shee hath so colde entertainement in the poore labourers houses, where you shall seldome or neuer see any of them goe mad for loue? And the only reason of it is, that they are continually painefully la­bouring and trauailing to get their liuing, not hauing any time to be idle or euill oc­cupied. To liue in the fleshe, as the Di­uines say, and not to folowe the fleshe, is a woorke more proper to God then to man, [Page] and cannot possibly be done without great labour and vertuous exercises: And there­fore the Prouerbe saith, It is no smal mat­ter to subdue the fleshe: That is to say, for a man to conquere him selfe. And there­fore those that first deuised Monasteries, and religious orders, did aboue all other things ordeyne, that they shoulde neuer be idle, nor haue any thing to occupie their mindes withall but vertuous exercises, and this is the effect of the Prouerbe, where it saith: Shunne idlenesse, and giue thy selfe to honest exercise.

The Paraphrase.

[Page 63] THE faultes that we heere committe are of two sortes, either they are doone by chaunce, and vnwittingly, or they are doone vppon knowledge, which cannot be without imagination: Also our thoughts and imaginations are, as the Doccours say, of two sortes. One is the first motion that we haue to offende, and this because it is not in our power, being, as we be na­turally, inclined to deadly sinne, is not to be reckoned for sinne: But if wee take pleasure in our euill thoughtes, and con­tinuing in them, determine to put them in execution as soone as wee may haue time and place, this is as great an offence as yf we had alredy doone it, according to the saying of our Sauiour in the Gospel, Whosoeuer looketh vppon a Woman, to luste after her, hath alredy com­mitted adultrie in his hart. For the e­uill thought was the seede and causer of the sinne, and would, yf time hadde serued, haue perfourmed the deede. And therefore Seneca in his fourth Tragedie, bringing in the Nurse, that disswadeth Phedra from her euill pretence that she had to play the Whoore with her sonne in lawe, maketh [Page] her to saie thus, O woorthie and moste renowmed Ladie, descended of the woor­thie Stocke of Iupiter, and wife vnto Theseus, banishe speedely from thy no­ble and chaste brest this moste hainous and shamefull imagination, quenche quickly the raging flames of this vnnatural desire, make not thy minde to be the woorker of so wicked and Diuelishe a deuise: whoso­euer resisteth this franticke and fond affec­tion of loue, the same may be well assured that hee shall conquere and ouercome it: But he that nourisheth the sweete poyson, that is, the wicked thought, and delighteth in it, it is very harde for suche an one to re­fuse the yoke, to which they haue once sub­mitted their necke. And this is it that the Prouerbe heere saith, That wee ought not onlie to flee from doeing of euill: But also from thinking of euill, for of euil thoughtes, there neuer springeth, as is said, good seede.

The Paraphrase.

SOlomon sayth in his Prouerbes, that the man that hapneth vppon a good wife, is blessed of the Lorde, and the tale of his yeeres shalbe doubled, that is, he shall liue twise so long as he should haue doone. And in an other place, hee saith, That no better lot can happen to a man, then a good wife. And this is it that the Pro­uerbe saith, That the wife is an ornament to her husbande, when shee will be ruled by reason. In what sort this obedience ought to be, the Apostle teacheth, saying, Let the husband be the head of the woman, and as the head hath the preheminence and principalitie ouer all the rest of the mem­bers, so ought the husbande to haue ouer his wife, who as Aristotle in his Oeco­nomikes doeth say, ought not to be vsed [Page] of her husbande like a Slaue, but as his companion, and his felowe: And the hus­bande according to the doctrine of the A­postle, Is bounde to vse her wel, and to loue her, and shee to honour and feare him. Feare (as Aristotle in the boke aboue mentioned saith) is of two kindes. The one is called a seruile feare, the other a sonnely feare. The seruile is that, which is hadde for feare of punishment, and not for any loue: and this is the feare that the Slaue hath of his maister, who as hee serueth against his owne will and by force, hee doeth it more for feare, then for loue. The Sonnely feare, is a meddlie of feare and loue togeather: And this is the feare that the sonne hath of his father, and that the wife ought to haue of her husband, for if the wife feare her husband, and doeth what soeuer he commaundeth her, she ought not to doo it for feare of any punishment that shee shoulde haue yf shee did it not, but for feare of displeasing & offending her hus­band, and to the end her husband should thinke well of her, in seeing her willing­nesse in doeing whatsoeuer he cōmaundeth her. And this is the meaning of y^e prouerbe [Page 65] A godly ornament to man, I do accompt the wife, where as she is obedient to rea­son all her life. That is, when she shall loue and reuerence her husband, and while shee keepe her selfe honest and chaste, looking carefully to such thinges as bee aboute the house, as Aristotle at large discourseth in his said booke of Oeconomykes, and Solo­mon in the ende of his Prouerbes, whither because I would be short, I referre the rea­der. The Prouerbe sayth further, That in mariage a man ought not to followe his fansie. The choise of a wife. Wherein there are two things to be vnderstoode. The first, that he take a wife of a good & vertuous kindred, according as a Philosopher once answered, whē it was as­ked of him, what maner of wife were best to be chosen. Marie, quoth he, such a one whose mother & grandmother thou knewest to be honest & chast: for as the parents haue been, such will cōmonly the daughter be. So like­wise in marying, a man ought to choose a wife of like degree & state to him self, & such a one as is answerable to his yeeres, accor­ding to the olde Prouerbe, Like good, like blood, like age, maketh a good mariage. And as Ouid sayeth, The Oxen that are [Page] vnequally matched, will neuer draw well together. And therfore the Prouerbe saith, Choose thy wife with heed, and great dis­cretion.

The Paraphrase.

IT is generally agreed vpon amongst the Philosophers, that good is deuided into two kindes, the one of them profitable and commodious, the other honest. And where profite on the one side, and honestie on the other side meeteth, we ought alwaies to pre­ferre honestie before profite. And as their o­pinion is, the vertues are cōteined vnder the kind of honest goodes, and worldly goodes, vnder the kinde of profitable goods. And he that refuseth a vertuous wife for her want [Page 66] of worldly wealth, and taketh a wife for ri­ches, not regarding her vertues, trespasseth against reason, and seeketh his owne disqui­etnesse and harme; that will neuer be reco­uered. For the goodes that hee hath, shall quickly be consumed, & he shall be plagued at home with a froward foole. For as the wise man in his Prouerbs saith, A wise and a vertuous wife, raiseth and setteth vp the house, but a foolish woman bringeth it to ruine: for shee will waste and consume the goods that she brought with her, and what­soeuer her husbande besides by his traualle getteth: neither is it good to take a wife of greater parētage then he himself is, but on­ly to regard, that she be vertuous, and equal in degree to himselfe. For as it is written in the Chronicle of the Philosophers, Cleo­bolus one of the seuen wise men of Athens, did euer say, that the wife ought to bee of no greater blood than her husbande. For if thou takest a wife of hier degree then thy selfe, thou shalt alwayes bee sure to haue thy wiues kindred to bee as Lordes ouer thee. And therefore the Prouerbe sayeth, My sonne, beware thou neuer commit such a follie.

The Paraphrase.

MOst certain it is, that the more good things do meete together, the bet­ter it is. As to haue a wife that is honest, beautifull, and wise, is farre better then to haue one that is honest, and neither wise nor well fauoured. But because they seldome happen togither, nor are not farre distant from loosenesse, you shall verie hardly see a verie faire woman to be verie wise, and as Ouid saith, hautinesse, and disdaine, is na­turally incident to faire women. Pride is alwayes the cōpanion of beautie. And here­in is verified that which the Poets in their fables haue written, and also Seneca in his seuenth booke declareth, that the Goddesse [Page 67] Venus the better to hide her whordome, en­closed herselfe and her mate within a verie darke house, and yet not so close, but the iea­lous Sunne was peping in with his bright beames at the small cranies & holes, where he discouered all. Whereat the good Ladie taking greate displeasure with the Sunne, because he had so vncurteously handled her, laide her heauie cursse vppon him, causing that all the womankinde that were discen­ded from the Sunne, should be as good as euer twigged. Now of the linage and kin­red of the Sunne, are all welfauoured and beautifull Dames, and therefore, because you shall hardly find a faire woman, that is not foolish and dishonest, it is said, that the curse of Venus did light vpon them. And this is the signification of this tale. And Solomon saieth in his Prouerbes, That beautie in a woman without wisedome, is like vnto a ring of golde in the snoute of a sowe. And this is it, That beautie and wisedome seldome meete, nor are farre distant from lightnesse.

The Paraphrase.

PYthagoras, and his followers, were of opinion, that there were two chiefe heades, the one the authour of all goodnesse, the other the authour of euill. And vnto these two they referred al things y^t were wrought in the worlde, and sayd, that of the God of goodnesse, proceeded and came the light, and all things that were good and perfect: of which number they accounted Man. Of the God of euill, sprang darknesse, and all vnperfect things: amongst which they rec­kened the woman. And in verie deede, ha­uing respect to man, the woman is an vn­perfect creature, although not so vnperfect▪ but by teaching shee may bee brought to some perfection, and to be profitable in her kind. For as Aristot. saith in his Oecono­mikes, and they be also the wordes of saint [Page 68] Isidore, that to bring things to a perfecti­on, it behoueth to haue the man, the wo­man, & the oxe that ploweth. And in the name of the woorking oxe, hee includeth all maner of Instrumentes that are necessarie about an house. And further, he sayth, that it proceeded of the great wisedome and dis­cretion of nature, that man was made of more perfection then the woman, because he was to commaund, and she to obey, and that man was of more actiuitie and abilitie then the womā, because his office was to trauail in matters abroad, & without doores, & hers only to sit at home, and to keepe that which is brought in. And therefore the Prouerbe saieth, that the woman is not vnprofitable, nor vnperfect. Neither ought we to thinke, that because some women haue been to blame, therefore they are all to be condem­ned. For as the nurse sayth to Hippolytus, as Seneca in his fourth Tragedie sheweth, where Hippolitus saith, that if there had ne­uer been other euill woman but Medea, the wife of Aegeus, her onely villanies were sufficient to cause all other women to be ab­horred. Wherto the nurse answereth, that it were greatly against reason, that the offence [Page] of one or two should be the blame of all the rest: And therefore sayeth the Prouerbe, that notwithstanding the faultes of a fewe, the vertues of women haue been highly commended and set out with the pen.

The Marques.

SAint Katherin was a virgin, and a holy Martyr, and among the whole company of Saintes of speciall commendation, tou­ching whose life and death, beeing a thing so commonly knowne, I refer the Reader to the booke called The Flower of Saints.

The Paraphrase of the Mar­ques.

HEster the Queene, was the wife of King Assuerus, of whom it shall not bee needefull to speake much, considering that in the Paraphrase to the prouerbe of Assuerus, in the beginning of the Booke, there hath been enough saide. It is suffici­ent to knowe that she was a holy woman, and a deuout seruaunte of God, as appea­red by her vertuous life, and by the earnest Prayers that shee made vnto God, in the case of Hamon and Mardocheus. Iu­dith (as her Booke testifieth, which is one of the 24 bookes of the Bible) was repu­ted among the Iewes, for a woman of sin­gular wisdom, and of great honestie in life: who slewe the great Holofernes, that be­ing sent by the King Nabuchodonosor with a great and puisant Campe, had be­sieged the Citie of Ierusalem, as her Booke at large declareth, where it also ap­peareth by what great policicie (after shee [Page 70] had slaine him) shee conueyed his hed, pas­sing thorowe the watch of the Camp, to the aforesaid Citie. This only fact (renowmed Prince) strake such a feare and terrour to the harts of the enemies, as they speedily and without order, to their great losse, brake vppe their siege. So as shee is great­ly commended in the Scripture, for her beautie, and for her noble and valiant sto­macke.

The Paraphrase.

VAgnes as Statius in his Booke of the Warres betwixt the Thebanes and the Argians reporteth, was the cheefe among the Argian Ladies, that went alto­gether to King Creon with humble petiti­on, for the deliuery of the dead bodyes of their husbandes and kinsemen, that were slaine at the battaile of Thebes, fighting against Ethiocles the Sonne of Oedip­pus, and nephew to King Layus, who was [Page 71] of the linage and stock of Cadmus: Who hauing receiued a flat denyal, went altogi­ther to Theseus, that then was Duke of Athens, declaring vnto him with great ex­clamation, the great crueltie and extremi­tie that was showed vnto them. Theseus who was then newly come from the warres of the Amasons (as Iohn Boccace the poet of Florence, in his Booke of Theseus, at large discribeth) vowed, that before he en­tred the Citie, he would go out of hand with his whole forces against Creon, requiring him yet before by his Embassadours, to graunt vnto the poore Ladyes, this their so iust and reasonable request: which when he disdainfully refused to doe, hee made warres vpon him, and slew him, wherby the gentlemen of Argos, by the industrie and diligence of the vertuous Vagnes, came in the ende to bee honourably buryed. At the ende of this battaile, wherin Creon was slaine by the handes of Theseus, beginneth the story of Arcyt and Palemon, the ser­uants and great louers of Emilia the sister of Hypolitus, which because of the tedious­nes, and that the matter maketh nothing to our purpose, I heere passe ouer. Diana was [Page] counted the goddesse of Chastitie, a Lady that set all her delight vpon the feeld in the chase and hunting of wilde beastes. Lucre­tia and other the famous Ladies of Rome, are sufficiently mencioned, as wel by Lyuy, and Valerius in their storyes, as by Saint August. a man of more credit, in his Boke Of the Citie of God, and Iohn Boccace in the fall of Princes, and commendation of woorthy women, where it is shewed how she, beeing the wife of Collatinus, was violently forced by Sextus Tarquini­us, wherevpon with a knife, or a swoord, shee slewe her selfe, saying, I free my selfe from the faulte, but not from punishement: which I heere but briefely touch, because I haue writen thereof before in the story of Sextus Tarquinius. Daphnis was daughter to Peneus, a Virgin, dedicated to Diana the Lady of Chastitie, who as O­uid writeth, beeing greatly desired of Phe­bus, and not consenting nor able to with­stande the force of her furious louer, com­mending her selfe to all the gods, but spe­cially to Diana whom shee serued, was (as the Poets faine) transformed into the Laurell, a tree of continuall greenenesse, [Page 72] sweete of sauour, and of a delectable sha­dowe. The morall whereof beeing decla­red by diuers Authors, as Fryer Thomas of Capua in his Moralls vpon the Me­tamorphosis, Iohn Boccace, in his Genea­logie of the heathen gods, and Maister Iohn the Englishman, commenting vppon the same Booke, I heere leaue to declare, as a thing to long to entreate off. It may suffice that shee was counted among the heathen for a mayden of singular beawtie. Anna was mother to the Virgin Mary, and wife to Ioachim, a woman of great sanctitie and vertuousnesse of life. An other of the same name was sister to Queene Dido, a wo­man of great commendation among the heathen, both of them as wel she of the He­brues as the Heathen, were worthy to be had in continual memory. Dido as appea­reth by her true story, was the daughter of King Belus, sister to Pigmalion, & wife of Sichaeus, who after the death of her husband made a vowe neuer to marry againe, & for­sooke the countrie where her husband was murdered, by the meanes of her traiterous brother Pigmalion, & comming into Affri­ca, founded the stately Citie of Carthage. [Page] Where while shee purposed to liue a sole and a chaste life, beeing required in marri­age by the King Hiarbas, and vtterly refu­sing, she was by the saide Hiarbas strongly besieged, and brought to so hard a poynt, that seeing no other way to escape, and to preserue her chastitie, chosing rather to die then to liue thus violated, threw her self, in­to a great flame of fire, & so ended her daies. This story although Virgill doe otherwise declare, yet is he not, considering the liber­ty of a Poet, greatly to be blamed. Virginea with what earnestnesse she was required by Appius Claudius, to consēt to his dishonest and vnlawfull lust, is sufficiently declared by Liuie in his second Decade, and likewise by Iohn Boccace in his Booke Of the fall of Princes, where it is at large declared, with howe great constancy the chaste may­den preserued her virginitie.

The Paraphrase.

THe auncient Philosophers were of o­pinion, that all the Vertues were to be reduced into the number of foure, which they named Cardinall or principall ver­tues, whereof they accounted to bee chiefe Fortitude or manhood, which as Aristotle in the thirde of his Ethicks testifieth, is so much the more excellent and praiseworthy, as the subiect and matter wherwith it dea­let, his dreadful and difficult: for manhood hath for his obiect or contrary, Death, which is, as Aristotle saith, the last of all dreadfull and terrible thinges, beside the great dangers, and sharp and cruell aduen­tures: So as by reason of the difficultie or hardnesse of the obiect, there are but few that happen to attaine to this vertue. And as it is written in the Ciuil lawe, those that lose their liues for the libertie of their coun­trey, are counted to liue for euer: for muche [Page] better is it for a man to dye freely in fight, for the libertie of his Countrie, then esca­ping to liue with a shamefull and cowardly flight. And as the Prouerb heere saith, and they be the very words in effect of Aristo­tle in the 3. of the Ethicks, The death that is honourable, is to be preferred before a di­shonourable life, which the Marques doth plainly set foorth by examples following.

The Paraphrase.

AFter that Pompey was ouerthrowen by Caesar at the battail of Pharsalia, & had retired him selfe to Lesbos, where his wife Cornelia lay, & passing from thence to Aegypt, was slaine by y^e hands of Photinus [Page 74] and Achillas, at the cōmaundement of king Ptolomei, who was at that time his ser­uant. Cato, who saw that the side of Pompey went in such sort to wrack, as was not by a­ny meanes to be recouered, fled vnto the ci­tie of Vtica: where, fearing by some misad­uenture to fall into the handes of Caesar his mortall enemie, he presently dispatthed him selfe. Mucius Sceuola was a man of great courage among the Romanes, who when Porsenna the King had with a great pow­er besieged the Citie, determined with a noble minde to raise the siege: and to bring his matter to better effect, went secretly a­lone out of the Citie, with full intent to kill the Kinge, and happening to spye in the Campe, a Secretary of the Kings appare­led in Princely roabes, supposing that it was the King, thrust him thorowe the bo­dy with his swoorde, wherevpon beeing presently taken by the Guarde, and such as stoode by, hee was shackeled and brought before the King, who demaunding of him what foolishe presumption had brought him to this misery? he aunswered, that not onely hee, but diverse others, to the number of an hundred more, had professed [Page] by solemne othe, for the deliuerance of the Citie, to doe their vttermost indeuour in killing of the king: Whervpon Porsenna, giuing credite to the words of Mucius Sceuola, presently raysed his siege, com­maunding that Sceuola should foorthwith be burned: who when hee was brought vnto the fire, thrusting out his hand with a vali­ant courage into the flame, there held it, til such time, as the whitenes of the bones, the flesh beeing scorched away, appeared, and when he was asked, what made him to vse such crueltie to his owne fleshe: he aunswe­red, that since his hand had failed of his ver­tuous purpose, it was good reason, that it should suffer such punishment for so greate an offence.

The Paraphrase.

ACcording to the true opinion of both the Astronomers and the Catholike diuines, we are not in such sort constrained by the starres to doe any thing, as we bee thereby depriued of our owne will, to doe of necessitie that which they foreshowe, but by inclining vs to doe certaine actions, they moue al our bodyly forces to do such things as they signifie. Which doth not so farre inforce vs, but that as Ptolomy saith in his Centiloquium, A wise and a vertuous man, may rule & reigne ouer the starres. That is, though the starres doe stirre and moue a man to doe euill, yet the partie him selfe hath sufficient power, if he will, to doe wel. But the olde people, beeing ignorant of this vertue, and seeing the Planet Mars did mooue men to be venterers and souldi­ers, held opinion, that he was the onely god of battailes, and that hee aduaunced and re­warded all such as were valiant and vente­rous: which olde maner of speaking, is here by the Marques at this time followed. And most certaine it is, that such as make much of them selues, doe shunne as much as they [Page] may, the comming into any perill or daun­ger. Of which sort of people Seneca in his first tragidie speaketh, where he saith, That great yeeres and gray heares, happeneth to faintharted, and such as loue to sleepe in a whole skin. For such manner of per­sons will be sure to commit themselues to no hasard nor danger, wherby they are vn­capable of any vertue or honor. For Honor as Aristotle in the fourth of his Ethicks saith, is a reuerence, that is giuen to men in rewarde and recompence of their ver­tues. And therefore the Marques saith, That whosoeuer is so valiant, as not to regarde his life in any vertuous attempt, shal be sure to receiue the crowne of Mars: that is, the renowme & rewarde of a vertuous minde, which he shall quickly attaine vnto if he represse feare. And where as there are in the vertue of Fortitude two extreames or vices, the one in ventering to farre, the other in fearing to much: the Marques hath not here said, If thou restrainest bold­nesse, as hee sayeth, If thou abandonest feare: because as Aristotle in the thirde of his Ethicks affirmeth, and as dayly ex­perience [Page 76] teacheth, the nature of man is more inclined to fearfulnesse then to bolde­nesse, and therefore those that seeke to bee valiaunt and vertuous, ought more to trauel in the repressing and abandoning of feare, then in the restraint or temperaunce of boldenesse. And therefore to good purpose sayeth the Marques in this Prouerbe, If thou abandonest or forcest feare, and not corrage, and because as it is sayde abooue, it is in euery mans power and will to bee vertuous, it is heere well saide of the Pro­uerb, Thou shalt not want the honour, nor the state thou seekest to beare.

The Paraphrase.

THE Emperours did in their lawes carefully prouide for the behoofe and good estate of their Subiectes, to sette downe rewardes and encouragements, for such as were honest and vertuous, and to de­uise punishments and corrections, for suche as were wicked and euill disposed. And it is very wel thought, as hath been saide be­fore, that such as valiantly lost their liues, either in defence of their faith, or for the li­bertie of their countrie, are rewarded with euerlasting life: or if any man dye in the defence of his owne honesty, he shall conti­nually be well thought of, and commended. But such as cowardly forsake the feelde, and run away from the warres, the lawes haue appointed to dye, and are accounted for wretches and villaines, whether they dye or liue, and their shameful and reproch­full life, is more griefe to them then any death that can bee deuised, especially an honest death, & this is the meaning of the Prouerbe, Detest an euill life &c. For as Aristotle in the 3. of his Ethicks saith, A man is borne to honor & libertie, which two things, we ought alwaies to keepe and [Page 77] maintaine, and to couet by all meanes we can, to diehonestly, & to liue vertuously. The Prouerb saith further, that life can not be borrowed. For as Iob sayeth, The Lord hath rated the dayes of our life, which can not bee lengthened: And therefore no man may shunne the appointed houre that God hath determined. And herevpon ariseth the tale among the Poets, of the three sisters of destinie, whereof the one of them called Clotho, carieth the distaffe, the other named Lachesis, spinneth, and draw­eth out the threede, which the thirde sister, Atropos, windeth vppe vpon the reele. And as Seneca in his first Tragedie sayth, These three sisters are so cruell and hard, that it was neuer seene, that the threede which they had once wounde vppe, could euer bee got backe againe. These sisters of the De­stinie doe signifie in deede the posting time of our transitorie life, whereof the day once past, can neuer be called backe againe. And therefore sayeth Seneca, these three vnlibe­rall Ladies doe rule by assured order, and may neither shorten nor lengthē, otherwise then is appointed. Therefore ought euerie man to applie himselfe to die well, since the [Page] time of his death can by no maner of meanes be altered.

The Paraphrase.

COdrus beeing (as both saint Austine & Valerius report) the king of Athens, when as he was to fight with Pelops duke of the Lacedemonians, and had answere of his Idols, to whom he sacrificed, that the side whose captaine was slaine should haue the victorie, preferrin, glike a worthie gen­tleman, the liues & prosperitie of his poore subiects farre aboue his owne, apparailing himselfe in a base and simple habite, and ru­shing into the thickest of the enemies, was presently slaine. Of whom Virgil writeth, [Page 78] that he chose rather to die with the victorie, then to liue with the ouerthrow.

The Paraphrase.

VNder the vertue of Fortitude is takē and included all maner of vertuous and godly actions, that are done without re­spect of praise. For a man ought not to look for the praise of the people, as a recōpence for his good deed, and specially if it be done in his owne presence, which for two causes is to be disliked. The one, because that glo­rie nor praise is no perfect recompence or rewarde for anie vertue: For as Boe­cius sayeth, Praise or glory is nought else amongest the multitude, but a tickeling and bewitching of the eares. The other [Page] reason is, that praises and commendations before the face, doth rather seeme a kinde of flattering and clawing, then a praise. The Prouerbe saith further, That if thou doest reprochfull wordes of any man sustaine, It is no cōmendation, to report the same againe. The meaning of it is, that no man that is of great minde or courage, ought to speake of the iniurious and euill words that hath been offered him, but shall rather bee counted both wiser and valianter, if he dis­semble them, and seeme not to wey them, as it is writtē in the third booke Of the liues of the Philosophers: where a Philosopher be­ing railed at, and reuiled, made this answer, Thou, quoth he, hast learned to speake e­uill, and I haue learned, to make no ac­compt of lewd speech. And more is he to be commended, that beareth euill wordes, then he that offreth them.

The Paraphrase.

SOlomon is his Prouerbes sayth, Let a stranger cōmend thee, and not thine owne mouth. And Cato saieth, Neither praise nor dispraise thine owne doings: for thy praise in thine owne mouth is a great disgrace vnto thee. And those that praise themselues, because as Tullie sayth, it seemeth to proceede of pride, doe thereby bring themselues into hatred and euill will. So as if any man shall set soorth his owne doings, to the ende to bee commended & ho­noured, and shall thereby be reputed to bee a man of great vanitie and folly, his errour as the Prouerb saith, shal appeare to be great.

The Paraphrase.

THe chaunces that are wonderfull, are those that doe seldome happen, which though a man hath seene with his own eies, yet will not the common people (who neuer beleeue more then is subiect to their grosse senses) giue credite to him that shall report them, but shall bee counted a liar and vaine prater for telling of them. And therefore if a man be not driuen by necessitie to tell it, it is much better for him to keepe his tongue. For as Isocrates sayeth, I haue manie time repented for woordes that I haue spo­ken, but for keeping silence, neuer. And eue­rie mans perfection doeth rather stande in the proofe of his workes, then in his words, according as Saint Luke writeth in the beginning of the Actes of the Apostles, touching our Sauiour, where he sayeth, that our Lorde Iesus Christ beganne to do and to teach: where he placeth his workes before his woordes, which is the meaning of the Prouerbe, And manie woordes to vse doeth shewe no great perfection, tis better, &c.

The Paraphrase.

AS Seneca sayeth in his booke of Bene­fites, wee are not borne to liue onely to our selues, but to benefite and profite our kinsmen, our friendes, our neighbours, yea, and euerie other person that we can. Sith nature, as the ciuill law saith, hath linked all men in a consanguinitie and duetie eche to other. And therefore we are bound being of abilitie, to be liberall and bountifull to such as liue in wante and necessitie, though as the Doctours say, it ought to bee done [Page] by order and degrees, as first to consider our parents, next our children, then our kind­red, and after them our friends, and so tho­rowout as they be in degree. And if so bee we haue some of our kindred that be of the householde of fayth, and others that be not, the Apostle willeth vs (if our power be not sufficient to serue them both) rather to re­lieue those that be of the fayth, then the o­thers, and this great vertue, Liberalitie hath, as Aristotle writeth in the fourth of his Ethickes, certaine circumstances: As that hee that giueth ought, to consider to whom he giueth, and to what end he giueth, and to looke that the things which hee gi­ueth, be not of the basest of his substance, as Caine did, who offered vnto God the verie worst and vilest of his flocke, whereas Abel offring the best that hee had, his Sacrifice was accepted, & Caines refused. Likewise, he is to consider, to whom he giueth. For to giue to such as haue no neede, is to cast a­way that, which is giuen. It must also be knowne, whether the partie to whom we giue, be able to woorke, and can by his la­bour sufficiently maintaine himselfe. For to giue to such a one, were to rob another, that [Page 81] is not able to labour, nor hath any meane to gette his liuing, and yet, as the lawiers say, if a man be well borne and descended of a good house, so as he cannot, considering his parentage, without great shame & dis­paragement, giue himself to anie base trade of life, although he be of abilitie for bodie to trauell and labour, yet is it a good turne to relieue him, because he is in the same case with him that can neither labour nor hath means to get his liuing,A right Spa­nish stomacke. for with his honesty he cannot abase himselfe to any vile occupa­tion, and therfore is to be considered. More­ouer we ought to regard the manner and in­tent of our liberalitie, which ought not to bestowed for anie vaunt or vayneglorie, as appeareth by the exāple in the Gospel, where our Sauiour, beeing present in the temple, there cōmeth in together, to offer, a proude wealthy Pharisey, and a poore ver­tuous widdowe. The riche Miser offereth of his great substance, great and precious presentes: the poore widowe turneth out of the bottome her purse, and her hart, a poore sillie Farthing. Our Lord demaundeth, which of the twayne had offered most, and gaue sētence with the poore widow, because [Page] the mind of the giuer, who onely gaue it in respect of the seruice of God, & not for anie vaunt, or vaineglory, as the riche man did. Beside al this, we ought to geue that, which we geue, with a willing & a cheerful minde, as the Apostle saieth, For the Lorde doeth loue a cheerfull giuer, and such a one, as is not slacke nor slowe in the bestowing of his benefites. For he giueth double, as the cōmon prouerb is, that giueth soone: & as So­lomon saith in his prouerbs, Say not vnto the pore man, go, & come againe to mor­row, when it is in thy hand to helpe him presently. For as Aristotle in the fourth of his Ethicks saith, Liberality standeth not in the giuing of many & sumptuous gifts, but in the habit of him that giueth, whatsoeuer it be that is giuē: that is to say, in the cheer­full & bountiful mind of the giuer, which all are here briefly comprehended by the Mar­ques: Be franke and free. &c.

The Paraphrase.

ALexander king of the Macedons, and one of the 3. monarchies of the world, was a Prince of great liberality and frank­nes, of whom Seneca writeth in his Booke of Benefites, That when as a poore minstrell came vnto him, & beseeched him to bestowe a pennie vpon him, the king presently gaue him a whole towne, and when the poore felow, halfe astonied, tolde that so greate a gifte was not fitte for him: Alexander an­swered him, hee did not regarde what was meete for suche a fellowe to receiue, but what was seemely for so greate a Prince to geue. Titus was Emperour of Rome, a Prince of a noble minde, and of greate liberalitie, who as it is re­ported by Eutropius in his life, and other auncient Authours had proclaimed, that whosoeuer had anie sute vnto him, what soeuer it were, it should be graunted, & when [Page] some of his counsell misliking it, had tolde him, that it woulde bee a meanes to discre­dite him, when hee shoulde not be able to performe that which he promised. He aun­sweared them, that it was not conuenient, that any person shoulde departe from the face of a Prince with a discomforted and heauie hearte. It is also reported of him, that beyng set at Supper, and calling to re­membrance that he had not bestowed any thing vpon any man that day, looking with a discontented countenaunce, hee saide vnto those that were with him, Alas my friends, I haue vtterly lost this day: meaning that the time is neuer well spente of Princes, wherin they are not geuing to some bodie.

The Paraphrase.

MIdas, as Ouid in his Metamorpho­sis declareth, was king of Phrigia, who receiued with great interteinement the Gods, Iupiter, and Mercury, as they hap­pened to come by him, who willing to make him some recompence for his good will towardes them, bade him to aske of them whatsoeuer hee most desired. Midas being a most miserable wretch, and coue­tous as the Diuell, desired of them, that whatsoeuer he touched, and whatsoeuer tou­ched him, might presently turne into golde: which was by and by graunted him, where­by he became in a short time to bee wonder­full riche, but when the foole was in the middest of his Paradise, the very drinke and meate that should sustayne him, turning into gold, he died, (as it is reported) of fa­mishment. The moral of this tale, I here meane not to meddle with, because it hath been touched by many greate and learned Philosophers and Poets. It suffiseth to knowe, that it noteth and reprooueth the shamefull and most wicked vice of co­uetousnesse and filthie auarice. Antigonus [Page] the king is greatly blamed of Seneca, in his booke of Benefites: of whom he writeth, that when a poore man desired of him a great quantitie of golde, he made answer, that it was a great deale too much, and not meete for him to require: and when the poore soule desired him to giue him but a pennie, he answered againe, how that was too small a thing for a king to giue. And thus not re­garding how foully this dishonorable nig­gardlines, & pinchpining doth blemish the name of a Prince, the couetous Antigonus made these answers to the poore miserable felow, which deserue for euer to be recorded, as a foyle & counter shewe to the noble Em­perours Alexander and Titus.

The Paraphrase.

THE Prodigall man, as Aristotle in the fourth booke of his Ethikes sayth, is he that spendeth more then is needefull, & where it is needelesse. Who, perceyuing the vertues of the li­berall man, that spendeth that which is meete, and where it behoueth, and that the couetuous miser is condemned, for not spending that, which hee ought: taketh himselfe straightwayes for a liberall and a vertuous Gentleman: and sayeth, that hee vseth monie, as it ought to bee vsed. And this is a vice greatly to bee auoy­ded, for the meane betwixte these two extremes of Prodigalitie, and Couetuous­nesse, is the vertue Liberalitie. Howe­beit, true it is, as Aristotle sayeth, the lesser vice of the twayne, and more to bee borne withall, is Prodigalitie. For the prodigall man profiteth those to whom hee geueth, although hee hurteth him­selfe: But the Churle and the miser nei­ther profiteth himselfe, nor anie man els. [Page] Besides hee that is prodigall, will sooner come to be vertuous, and liberal, thē the co­uetous, for two reasons. The one is, that by reason of his greate expenses falling in to neede and want, he will quickely see what hurt he receiueth by too much spending, and will from that time forwarde learne to bee wiser, and to keepe his money the better. The seconde is, that with the time of his spending, hee waxeth aged, and people in their olde yeeres be more sparing and thrif­tie, then in their youth, because the hope of gaming is nowe taken from them, whiche in youth doeth alwayes encourage them. But, the couetous person cānot be brought to the vertue, by neither of these reasons. For the older he waxeth, the more miser he waxeth, and therefore if wee mislike a man, that by reason of his prodigalitie commeth to be poore, we ought a great deale more to detest a Misar that by couetousnes groweth to be rich. For as Salust saith in his booke of Catiline, Couetuousnesse hath vtterly ba­nished both faith and honestie, and cleane destroyed all artes and knowled­ges. Whereby it hath brought in pride & crueltie, contempt of God, and a generall [Page 85] Merchandise of suche thinges as shoulde freely bee geuen. Couetousnesse is al­wayes infinite, and neuer satisfied with a­bundaunce, nor diminished with want. And therefore Though the prodigall bee to bee mislyked in necessitie, and want: yet ten times worse, a miser that is coue­tous and scant.

The Paraphrase.

FRabricius, beside a number of other his noble, vertuous, and worthie actes, excelled in the vertue of liberalitie, of whō it is reported by Valerius in his nienth booke, that when he was presented by the state of Beneuento, with a great masse [Page] of monie, hee returned the embassadoures with their treasure home agayne, as one that contented himselfe with the benefite of his Temperance, and helde himselfe satisfied with that small wealth which hee had, supposing it to bee a sufficient riches: For hee did alwayes saie, that riches con­sisted not in much hauing, but in little co­ueting.

The Paraphrase.

THE Prophet Dauid saieth in his Psalter: Blessed is that man, that hath compassion vppon the poore and [Page 86] the needie: For in the time of his neces­sitie, the Lorde shall deliuer him. And Solomon in his Prouerbes sayth, That who so hath pitie vppon the poore, and relieueth, them lendeth vppon vsurie to GOD, who shall restore him with great gayne, that which hee hath disbursed. And therefore the Prouerb saieth, To helpe a man in miserie, our dutie vs doth bind. Where Duetie is taken for a woorke of Mercie, as Seneca accounteth it in his Booke of Dueties, and farther it saith, Not to succour when we may, is odious and vnkind. For as Solomon in his Prouerbs saith, Whosoeuer stoppeth his eare at the crie of the poore, shall crie for helpe him­selfe, and not be hearde. And therefore it is not to bee thought of a noble minde, but if hee see a man in miserie or distresse, hee will followe the aduise of the Prophet Esaie, who saith: Breake thy breade to the hungrie, and carrie home to thy house the sorowfull and the poore, where thou seest a man bare and na­ked, cloth him, and despise not thine own flesh, Solomon saith in his Prouerbes, He [Page] that hath pitie vpon the poore, shalbe hap­pie. And this is the meaning of this Pro­uerbe. A noble minde wil neuer staine, &c.

TRuth is of so great a worthines and excellencie, that God himselfe, as it appeareth in the Gospel, is called the Truth. This truth hath two ex­tremities. The one, called vayne boasting, which is when men brag of thēselues, more then they are able to performe: the other is named Ironia, when men publishe of them­selues, that which is not in them. Men [Page 87] ought to loue and honour the trueth after one of these two manners, eyther where it concerneth onely them, and therein men ought to beware, that they neither exceede, nor doe lesse then that which is reason. The other is, when it toucheth an other, & in this case, to reuerence the trueth, is as much to say, as to performe whatsoeuer is promised, and to bee true of our worde, as well to our enimies, as to our friends, as we are bound by the Ciuill lawe: for there is no greater duetie betwixt man and man, then to keepe their faith and promise iustly one with the other, without the which, all trafficke and dealing amongst men must of necessitie cease. And therefore the Prouerbe sayeth, Truth honour thou, and alwayes loue, steppe not from her aside. And farther, that we ought to frame our friendshippe after truth. Friendshippe, according to the minde of Aristotle in his Ethickes, is in one of these three sortes, eyther for profite, for pleasure, or for honestie. Friendshippe for profite, as Seneca sayeth, is Merchantes friendshippe, which neuer endureth longer than there is hope of gayne. Friendshippe for pleasure, lasteth as long as delight and [Page] pleasure lasteth, and as delightes doe alter with yeeres, and suche thinges as seemed pleasant at some age, are thought displea­sant in an other: Therefore this Friend­shippe can neuer long continue. Friendship for honestie, is that which is grounded vp­pon truth and vertue: and as vertue, truth, & honestie, are thinges euerlasting & vnchan­geable, so the friendship that is grounded vppon them, cannot but continue for euer. This friendshippe floorisheth in the time of prosperitie, and continueth and remayneth in the time of misfortune and aduersitie, and therefore hee saieth: That shee is the daughter of holinesse, & that honestie is the faithfull sister vnto the most soue­raigne vertue. Honestie, (as Plato repor­teth, & as it is brought in by Tullie in the beginning of his offices) is of suche an ex­celling beauty, as if she might be seene with mens eyes, the whole worlde woulde bee in loue with her. Who because shee is stedfast, assured, sounde, and euerlasting, is saide to bee The faithfull sister to soue­raigne vertue.

The Paraphrase.

MArcus Attilius, as S. August. writeth in his 1. booke of the Citie of God, and also Tullie in his Booke of duties, beyng pri­soner among other Romanes, in Carthage, & sent vnto Rome, to persuade an exchange of prisoners: when he came to the citie, and hauing declared his message, was demaun­ded to geue his opinion what hee thought best to bee done, after that he had thorow­ly cōsidered that the Roman prisoners were olde, & impotent men, and that the Cartha­ginians were all young and lustie fellowes: his aduise was, that they shoulde in no wise make anie exchaunge, and when his friends, vnderstanding that his counsell was allowed, laboured by all meanes they [Page] could to keepe him from goyng agayne. He told them that hee had geuen his faith and his woorde to the Carthaginians, that he would returne himself with the answere, and therfore notwithstanding that he knew & was sure that his goyng thither should be harmefull & dangerous, comming into the handes of his cruell & dealy enimies, yet cō ­sidering that he had promised, he would per­forme it, and so in deede did, whereas he suf­fered most cruell death, with greate torture and tormentes.

The Paraphrase.

[Page 89] SOlomon saith in his Prouerbs, that the praier which euery man ought to make vnto God, is this Pouertie nor riches lord giue thou vnto me, but on­ly that w^t is sufficient for my maintenance, least by hauing to muche, I be tempted to forget God, and to saie, Who is the Lord? and hauing on the other side to litle, I bee forced by miserie and want, to blaspheme the [...]ame of my God. And this aucthoritie of Solomon is in a maner the full Cōmen­tarie of this Prouerbe. Likewise Aristotle in the tenth of his Ethickes saith, To seeke to possesse a meane & moderate wealth, is the perfection that a man attaineth vnto. And Seneca in a booke that he made of the quietnesse and satisfyng of the minde, mo­ueth this question, What quantitie of the goods of fortune a man ought to enioy to, and what is the meane & temperate state of riches? That a man ought to seeke for and possesse so muche as may keepe him from pouertie, and yet to be not farre from it: And this is it that preserueth a man from falling, as the piller, which is the consci­ence, being the greatest rest and quietest that a man can carry with him. The Pro­uerb [Page] saith, Nothing can continue long, that on the earth is wrought. The world it selfe must ende, and all thing that therein is created: wee see that nothing endureth long, beautie decayeth, fauour faileth, strength abateth, and life it selfe but a smal time lasteth. The greatest princes that be, must away, and though the whole world be subiect to them, yet are they them selues but subiectes to miserie, to casualtie, to so­rowe, to sicknesse, and to death, and muste die as an other man: all our pompe, our va­nities and follies muste haue an ende, wee haue no continuall abiding place, as saint Paule saith, but must al away, some to hea­uen, some to hell, according as they haue heere behaued them selues: And therfore is it a great madnes for any man to set his felicitie in so fickle an estate, that he know­eth can not long time endure, & to behaue him so fondly for the small time that he is heere, as to liue hereafter in torments, that shall neuer ende.

The Paraphrase.

SVbstaunce and riches doe neuer satisfie the appetite nor desire, but as Cassio­dorus writeth in an Epistle, as in a drop­sie, which is a disease that causeth cōtinuall thirste, the more a man drinketh the thirsti­er he remaineth: So yf couetousnesse be not bridled, the more riches we get, the more wee desire: and therfore the Prouerb heere willeth, that a man shoulde waie with himselfe, whether it be better to possesse great riches with trouble and tormente, or to enioye a reasonable liuing with conten­tation and quietnesse. For as Seneca in his Epistle to Lucilius saith, There is no man that is loued or fauoured of God, but he that contemneth and despiseth ri­ches. The possession whereof, saith Se­neca, I doe not take from thee, but would [Page] that thou shouldest enioy thē without feare, which to attaine vnto, thou hast no other way, but to liue happily & quietly with thē, esteeming them as thinges transitorie, that soone may be forgone. And he that pos­sesseth them in suche sort possesseth them with quietnesse and contentation.

THe riches & wealth of the worlde, are the thinges that are most accounted of amongst the goodes of fortune, which do sometime encrease, & sometime decrease, as Boetius in the person of Fortune spea­keth, saying, that the seruantes (which are these temporall goodes) doe stil attend vp­pon their mistres, which is Fortune, with whom they do alwaies both come and goe, [Page 91] and therfore saith Boetius, that Fortune hath the whole worlde vpon her tottering wheele, bringing whom shee list aloft, and casting others downe, making poore men of suche as were riche, and riche men of suche as were poore. And therefore the Marques heere warneth vs, that we apply all our forces to the obteining of morall goodes, that is to say, Vertues, which are in deede the perfection of the Soule, as Aristotle in his boke of the Soule, writeth. And these, saith the Prouerbe, stande like brasen walles, both firme and sure, a safe defence, whatsoeuer thee befalles, as muche to say, as they neuer leaue nor for­sake a man: As Tullie declareth in his Paradoxes, where he bringeth in Bias the Philosopher, one of the seuen wise men of Athens, who, when the Citie was taken by a Tirant, and the people fleeing, hadde taken with them as muche as they coulde carry, only Bias medled with nothing, and when one of his neighbours did aske him howe chaunce he tooke none of his goodes with him: he answeared him, that all which was his, he carried about him, not coun­ting any thing to be his, but the vertues of [Page] the minde, esteeming the goodes of the worlde to belong as wel to any others. And this is the meaning of this prouerb, Seeke thou the treasures of the minde, &c.

The Paraphrase.

A Tyrant is he, as Aristotle in the se­uenth of his Politiques saith, that com­meth to the Crowne by force or by pollicie, who endureth no longer then he is of force or power, as Medea saide vnto Creon in the seconde Tragedie of Seneca, Tyrantes and euil gouernours doe not endure for e­uer, and as Agamemnon saith vnto Pyrrus in the speache that they had about the death of Polixena, Their gouernmēts that are by [Page 92] force, continue no long time, but the gentle & mild gouernmēt is that which endureth. And therefore the Prouerbe saith, Seeke not ambitiously to raigne, nor rule with tyranny, and that we ought to forsake her pathes, and her workes, and choose to liue among the meanest sort, which is the best and the quietest life. Which is that which is saide in the Prouerbe be­fore, that Seneca wrote in his Epistle to Lucilius, That there is no man esteemed or accounted of GOD, but those that despise & contemne the pompe and wealth of the worlde.

The Paraphrase.

NOworldly wealth, but specially no ty­rannicall gouernment, can bring a man to perfection, or to liue happily, but rather draweth with them feare, daunger, vexation, and cares, and as Boetius saith, The Tirants that are alwaies waited vp­on with their guard, to terrifie and amase others, are alwais afraide them selues of those, whō they suppose to feare. And Tul­lie in his booke of Friendship saith, that in the life of the Tirant, there is neither faith, loue, nor any long enduring goodwill, of e­uery thing is he ielous, and eche thing ministreth vnto him cause of care, and dis­quietnesse. And further he saith, Who can euer loue him, whom he feareth, & of whom he knoweth that he is feared? And this is the meaning of the Prouerbe, The loftie states, nor throne of high degree, doeth make a man. &c. Touching the which, Boetius in his thirde booke of Consolati­on writeth of Dionisius of Sarogosi, who from a meane man was aduaunced to the Crowne, to whom, when his friende came vpon a time to see him, and greatly praised [Page 93] the happinesse of his estate, telling him that he ought to account him self most hap­py, that had attained to so high a dignitie: Dionisius bidding him to a dinner, caused him to sit downe, where ouer his head was hanging a terrible Sworde with the point downewarde, who with the feare and ago­nie that he was in for falling of the sworde, made but an vnpleasant dinner, sitting all the time vpon thornes: After he was risen, Dionisius asked him, yf his dinner were not pleasant vnto him: Suche a pleasure (quoth the poore fellow) GOD keepe me from, that euery moment looked to haue a Swoorde vppon my pate: and suche (quoth Dionisius) is the life of euery Ty­raunt, euen as full of pleasure as hath been thy dinner: for the highnesse of his state en­creaseth his miserie, and chaineth him with the chaine of thraldome, touching the which I haue spoken at large before in the second Prouerbe.

The Paraphrase.

BOetius in his second booke of Conso­lation saith, that nature contenteth her selfe with a very smal thing: and yf you shal at any time ouercharge her with thinges that are superfluous, the more you charge her, the more hinderance, hurt, and displea­sure you doe vnto her. And therefore the Prouerb saith, that we ought to seeke that, which we may honestly and easily attaine vnto, and no more. For if wee will well marke it, as Boetius in his first booke of Consolation saith, We shall see a man in one houre hoysed vppe a lofte, and in the selfe same houre caste downe againe, and an other aduaunced in his place: for solace and sorowe succeede one the other. And as Seneca in his seconde Tragedie sayth, haue [Page 94] their turnes. And this is it, that the Prouerbe saith, That loftie states and mightie powers, come topsey turuy downe. &c.

The Paraphrase.

SOlomon sayth in his Prouerbes, That the goodes which are hastilie gotten, will as swyftly be gonne. So that the sodayne rising aloft, hath alwaies his fall and great mischiefe at hande: For as Dauid sayth in his Psalmes, Neuer trou­ble nor frette thy selfe at the prosperitie of the wicked, nor at the aduauncement of the vnrighteous, for they shall sodayn­ly [Page] be plucked vppe by the rootes, and those that faithfully abide in the Lord, shal inherite the land. And againe, I haue seene the wicked floorishing like the Cedar of Libanus, and within a while after there was no remembraunce of his beeing. And therfore saith the Prouerbe, Be sure, the wicked man, shal neuer long endure.

The Paraphrase.

SEneca saith, in an Epistle to Lucilius, that he is not poore that hath but a litle, but he that desireth muche. For great ri­ches is it to nature, to haue a litle with con­tentation and ioy, for a very small thing doeth nature require, and a litle suffiseth [Page 95] her: And therefore the Prouerbe saith, I haue not seen men take any great paine or trauaile to liue in the worlde, but misera­bly doe they moile and toile, and fret their hartes asunder, that seeke to clime aloft.

The Paraphrase.

TVllie saith in his Philippicaes, that the goodes which are wickedly gotten, will euil fauouredly be spent: And therfore there is nothing that can assure a man of y^e cōtinuance of his state, for a thousand mis­fortunes maye happen that may make a riche man a begger. And therefore Seneca saith, that we ought to possesse those riches we haue without care, so as it may neuer [Page] greeue vs, though wee loose all we haue, ta­king them not for our owne, but as straun­gers and thinges lent vnto vs, and for the time that we haue enioyed them, we ought as Boetius sayth, to giue thankes that wee haue been benefited by them as by external goodes, neither ought we to complaine yf we loose them. And this is the effect of the Prouerb, where it saith, What great assu­rance hast thou nowe, that thee may certifie? &c.

The Paraphrase.

WIth great wisedome saith Dauid in his Psalms, If riches happen to abounde, set not thy hart vpon them, least yf we fortune to forgoe them, we shoulde so­rowe [Page 96] and torment our selues for them: For whatsoeuer happen vnto vs, it is alwaies best to say with Iob, The Lord hath giuē, the Lorde hath taken away: Blessed be the name of the Lorde for euer. And so shall no man be scorned nor derided, for a­ny thing that he hath lost, or may loose.

The Paraphrase.

OF goods there are two sortes, out­warde and inwarde. The outwarde goodes be such as fortune giueth, and these be none of our owne, according to the saying of Bias before alleaged: but our owne goodes are those, that be within vs, which are the Morall vertues, which are not subiect to anye change of fortune: [Page] For when al the giftes of Fortune fayleth, yet learning and vertue remaineth, which neuer leaue nor forsake a man, but main­teine and accompany him all his life time, according to the opinion of Cato in his Philosophie. This beeing, as it is very true, wee ought not so with carke and care, to heape, to regarde, and scrape vppe riches, which belong not vnto vs, and may many waies be taken from vs, doe what we can to keepe them. And therefore our Sauiour hath warned vs, that we shoulde lay vp our treasures in heauen, where nei­ther rust nor mooth can come, and where no theeues can breake in, to steale it. This can we not doe with our goodes of the world, but howsoeuer wee dispose them, they are subiect to chaunce and casualties, that may happen.

The Paraphrase.

ENuie, as Aristotle in the seconde of his Rethorikes sayeth, is a sullennesse and griefe of that men haue, to see ei­ther honour or any good thing to hap­pen to anie that is of the same calling that they themselues are, and it is one of the vi­lest natures that can be in a man: so as ma­nie times the enuious person, without anie iust cause at all, becommeth a mortall ene­mie to his neighbour, according to the saying of Saint Gregorie in his Pasto­rall, where hee sayeth, That the enuious man, beeing not able to cleare his hart from the venim that is there congealed, discouereth himselfe, and falleth to wor­king of mischiefes openly. Wherevpon our Sauiour Christ sayeth in his Gospel, That there is no Prophet without ho­nour [Page] but in his owne Countrey. For his owne kindred and companions, for the great disdaine they haue of his estimation, doe seeke by all the meanes they can to dis­credite and deface him, which is not for a vertuous minde, nor doeth a noble hart beseeme. For it is for a noble and gentle­manly hart to behaue himselfe as the good Moyses did, who when certaine enuious persons, to moue him to displeasure, came vnto him, and tolde him that two of the common people did prophesie in his tent, Moyses verie graciously answered them, that he wished to GOD, that euerie one of the people were able to prophesie, which milde speech proceeded from a noble and a valiant minde.

The Paraphrase.

ABel and Caine were brothers, as Mo­ses in the first of his fiue bookes wri­teth. The cruell murther of Caine done vppon Abel, and the cause thereof, is in the same Booke at large described. And there­fore, to make anie, long Paraphrase vpon it, were but a thing superfluous. And it is well knowne, that enuie, the roote of mis­chiefs, was the first deuiser of that so shame­full and horrible a fact.

The Paraphrase.

SEneca in his Epistle to Lucilius wri­teth, that the vnthankefull man is he, that returneth a good turne without interest: in whose opiniō we are bound not barely to returne the benefite which we haue receiued, but to do it with recompence. For as Valerius in his fifth booke writeth, Hee that doeth not thankefully recom­pence a good turne, doeth clearly be­reaue men of the doing and receiuing of pleasures, without the which, the life of men is rather a death, then a life. And this is it that the Prouerbe saith, Good turnes that haue been done to thee, haue stil be­fore thine eie. &c.

The Paraphrase.

PTolomey was king of Egypt, who as Lucan writeth, was seruant to Pompey the Emperour of Rome, at whose handes he receiued his kingdome. And as the Ci­uill warres beganne to waxe hot betwixt the two mightie Princes, Cesar, and Pom­pey, (after the battaile of Pharsalie) Pom­pey retired from the fieldes of Philippos, to a place in Lesbos where hee had ap­pointed his wife Cornelia to lie: but per­ceiuing the people of the Countrey not to bee such as hee might trust, hee went by Sea from thence to Egypt, where he com­mitted himselfe to the handes of Ptolomey, who conspiring with Photinus, and A­chillas, (two mischieuous persons) betraied him, and after they had slaine him, presen­ted his head vnto Caesar, at the sight where­of, Caesar, as the storie telleth, could not re­fraine from shedding of teares. Whervpon maister Frances Petrarch in one of his So­nets thus writeth.

[Page] Which in our vulgare speech is thus,

Of the reproches of this Ptolomey, all hystories are full. And because as I haue said, Lucan setteth out this matter more at large, it is needlesse to make any long dis­course thereof, since this Booke requireth no such exquisitenesse, nor intreateth of anie forraine storie. Ezechias being of the tribe of Iudas, was king of Ierusalem, the seruāt and greatly beloued of God: who, when Se­nacharib king of the Assirians had besie­ged the Citie, & fent Rabsacah his messen­ger vnto him, and to the rest of the people, willing them to yeeld themselues, and pro­mising them their liues, threatning them, that if they otherwise did, he would assured­ly put them all to the sworde, and that nei­ther their God, nor any other God beside, should be able to deliuer thē, as they might see by the experience of a number of other mightie countreys that he had conquered & [Page 100] brought in subiection: Ezechias being a­frayed of the hugenesse of the armie, and of the great power of Senacharib, shewed vn­to Rabsacah the temple of Ierusalem, with all the vessels and ornamentes thereof, and all the Iewels of his owne house, which had been gottē together, and laid vp by his pre­decessors: but the Lord knowing the weak­nesse and faintnes of Ezechias, and foresee­ing that he was determined to yeeld himself into the handes of Senacharib, or at his ap­pointment to Rabsaces, being greatly of­fended with him, sent vnto him the Prophet Esay, to let him vnderstande, that he should presently die: but such and so great was his sorowfull lamentation and mourning, as it pleased the almightie to reuerse the sentēce.

The Paraphrase.

FRiendship, as Aristotle in the eight of his Ethikes, sayeth, and as hath been sayde afore vpon one of the Prouerbes, is of three sortes, for delight, for profite, and for honestie. Friendship of delight, is the friendshippe of flatterers, and iesters which endureth but a small while: for when the pleasure ceasseth (as testers are not at all times, nor of all men liked) this friend­shippe straight wayes endeth. An other friendshippe there is, grounded vpon profit, and is, as Seneca termeth it, merchaunt friendshippe, for it endureth no longer then there is hope of profite: And those that vse this kinde of friendshippe, doe it, as Seneca sayeth, more vpon the profite, then in respect of the person. The Flye al­wayes attendeth vppon the honie, and the Woolfe vpon the Carion. Which kinde of people are more in loue with the praye, [Page 101] and the spoyle, then with the man. The third kinde of friendship setieth it selfe only vpon honestie, and groundeth her selfe vpon vertue, and this endureth as wel in aduersi­tie, as in prosperitie. This is the allonely true friendship, which the Prouerbe coun­selleth vs to choose, and this is that which Aristotle sayeth causeth in friendes but one hart and one minde: and this friend, whose friendship is grounded vpon honestie, is he, that wel reprehendeth, and is no flatterer, nor will consent to any wickednesse nor e­uill, but giueth counsaile with out affecti­on, iustly and vprightly, perswading al­wayes to vertue and godlinesse of life, and all the actions and doinges of such friends as are knit in this friendship, doe ground them selues as the Prouerbe saith, vpon goodnesse and honestie of life.

The Paraphrase.

IN this Prouerb is mention made of the diuision of friendship, before specified, and it sheweth that the friendshippe that is vpon profit, which is the dissembling and flattering friendship, is not in very deede the true friendship. For there is no perfect friendship, but that which is grounded vp­on vertue and honestie, which friend aboue all others we ought to esteeme: and of such a friend speaketh Aristotle, where he say­eth, What pleasure hath any man in his life, though hee haue all the felicities in the worlde, if he want a friende? For, to liue happyly and quietly, it behoueth a man to haue one, to whome he may safely open all his doings, and with whom he may bee as bolde as with him selfe. We reade in the Cronicle of the Philosophers, that Aristo­tle beeing demaunded what hee accounted a friende to be: made answere, that it was one minde in two bodyes. Of this assured [Page 102] and perfecte friende doeth the Prouerbe heere speake.

The Paraphrase.

CAto in his morrall Philosophie saith, That the first and principall vertue that a man should haue, is to haue a sober and a modest tongue, for much is he in fa­uour with God, that is able to holde his tongue, when time and cause requireth. I­socrates in his Oration sayeth, that in two thinges onely, speache is to bee preferred before silence: the one is, in speaking that, which is to a publike commoditie: the other, in vttering that, which necessitie forceth. In all other thinges hee sayeth: [Page] that silence is farre to bee preferred before speech: but specially a man ought to keepe his owne secrets. For as Seneca saith, If thou art not able to keepe thyne owne secrets, how canst thou require an other man to doe it? And therefore the Prouerb saith, Thou shalt be counted discrete and wise, if thou kepest thy secrets to thy self, and that a man bringeth him selfe in subiection by speech, but shall neuer bee harmed by silence.

The Paraphrase.

SEneca in his third epistle setteth downe, the way and meane how to get freends, and being gotten, how to kepe them, saying [Page 103] to Lucilius, Way with thy selfe a long time the worthynesse of the partie whom thou doest choose for thy friend, and when thou hast founde him to be meete for thy friend­ship, commit all thy doings and all thy de­uises vnto him, and be as bolde of him as of thy selfe. With thy friende saith Seneca, imparte all thy cares and all thy thoughts, and in so doeing thou shalt haue him faith­full vnto thee: but if thou growest once into ielousie, and hidest any thing from him, thou giuest him cause to be vnfaithfull, for diuers in fearing to bee deceiued, haue taught others to deceiue, and therefore the Marques saieth, The readiest way it were to make thy friend thy foe.

The Paraphrase.

SEneca in the aforesaid Epistle sayeth, That he which dare not trust his friend as much as him selfe, hee is greatly decei­ued, as one that knoweth not perfectly the force of freindship, howbeit hee sayeth be­side, Liue thou in such sorte, that thou com­mittest nothing, neither in deede nor thought, that thou shouldest be ashamed to shewe thy friende: meaning, that a man mighte to haue no filthy nor dishoneste thoughts in his minde, but such as can mi­nister no cause of offence to any man, not though it were to his very enemie.

The Paraphrase.

SEtting aside the lawes both of God and man, we see that euen by very na­ture men are moued to honour, loue, & feare their parentes, and that we shun to offend them, for the benefite of nature that by them we haue receiued, as we are taught by the Ciuil law. Besides, our Sauiour Ie­sus Christe intreating of the Commaunde­ments, hath not promised long life for the fulfilling of any of them, saue onely for this, where he saith, Honor thy father and thy mother, that thou maist liue long & ma­ny daies vpon the earth: As it is also writ­ten in Ecclesiasticus, He that honoreth his father, shall receiue ioy and comforte of his owne children, and shal liue a long and an happy life. And againe, The bles­sing of the father maketh stedfast the state of the children, but the curse of the mother bringeth them to distruction, Whervpon saith the Prouerbe, The Lorde him selfe hath promised, &c.

The Paraphrase.

VEturia was an honourable Matrone of Rome, and mother to Coriolanus, a man of great wisedome and valure, to whom for his great deseruings, the com­mon wealth of Rome was not a little be­holding, howbeit as it is no newe thing a­mongst men, to haue their good deedes re­quited with vnthankfulnesse, he was moste vnkindely & vniustly banished by his owne Countrey men: the cause why, I finde not apparant, for malice neuer mindeth reason, neither doth euill will at any time regarde Iustice. But to returne to the matter of Co­riolanus, beeing thus banished, goeth straightwayes to the Volscians, who at [Page 105] that time were in armes against the Ro­manes: and as vertue in all places getteth estimation, so was he receiued and inter­teined with great honour amongst them, and for his valour, within a very small time chosen to be their general. Wherby it came to passe (as Valerius writeth) that euē him, whose profit and good turnes his Citizens could not away with, nowe were they, the case beeing altered, driuen to dreade as their mortall enemy, and besieger of their towne: And beeing thus by the siege sore di­stressed (which is alwayes more grieuous to great and populous Cities, then to small townes) they were constrayned to send vnto Coriolanus, moste humbly requiring him to leaue his siege, and to departe from the Citie, and whereas their Embassadors, bee­ing the chiefe and principall men of the Citie and of the Capitoll, with colde enter­tainment, were neither heard nor answered, they continued their sute, and with humble submission sent out their priestes and cler­gie, beeing araied in their deuoutest ves­tures: but as the other were returned, so were these sent back, with very harde spee­ches and euel entertainment, whervpon the [Page] whole Citie bewayling their miserable case, and crying out for the cruel aunswere, that (iustly deserued) they had receued. Ven­turia the mother of this Coriolanus stau­deth vp, and taking with her Volumnia hee sonnes wife, with her and her Children she goeth directly to the Campe of the Volsci­ans, whom when Coriolanus a farre of perceiueth, hauing in his company a ga­lant company of Gentlemen, he commeth foorth to meete her, though not a little dis­quieted, because his minde gaue him that their comming was onely to mooue him for the raysing of his siege, and as soone as he came neere vnto them, alighting from his horse, hee came towardes his mo­ther to embrace her. But shee, put­ting him a little backe from her with her hand, with a heauie countenaunce saide vnto him these woordes, Before thou commest neare mee, and before I re­ceiue thine embracinges, let mee vnder­stande whether I bee come vnto my sonne, or to my enemie? or whether I shall enter into thy tent as a mother, or as a sorrowfull captiue? Alas, to what extremitie is my wretched Age come, to [Page 106] see thee firste bannished and expulsed thy Cittie, and nowe a cruell enemie and spoyler of thy Countrie that nourished thee? howe couldest thou come into these partes with so deadely and reuengefull a minde? howe couldest thou enter into these territories, and not let fall thy fu­rious displeasure and threatnings? Howe happened it, that at the sight of Rome thou saydest not vnto thy selfe, Loe heare within these walles is enclosed my na­tiue soyle; my patrimonie, my mother, my wife, and my children? Vnhappie woman that I am, who am well assured, that if I had neuer borne thee, Rome had neuer by thee been besieged: And if I had neuer beene deliuered of a sonne, I had happily dyed both free and at home in mine owne countrie. I speake not these woordes, because I am not able to suffer anie thing that shall be more re­prochfull to thee, nor for the griefe of myne owne captiuitie, whose miserie can not be long by reason of my age, but onely for these, that be heere present, thy miserable wife & poore distressed infants. [Page] When Ventruria had thus ended her so­rowfull complaint, Coriolanus imbracing her w^t teares in his eyes, said these wordes: Mine owne sweete Mother, my rage and fury is conquered & appeased, and is turned at your request from this mine vnnatural & vnthankful countrie: wherwith he presently discamped, & brake vp his siege. Wherevp­on Valerius in the same Chapter sayeth, That the hart, that was full of wrath & re­uenge, for the iniurie that he had sustained, and was now in assured hope of present vic­tory, vpon the onely sight of his mother, and vpon his vertuous compassion, chaunged his intent of bloody warres, into a sweete and healthfull peace. Long were it to write, how greatly vertuous children haue alwayes beene gouerned by duetie and re­uerence to their parents. Touching Nero of whom mention is made in this prouerb, where hee sayeth, The beastly lust of that same monster vile &c. Howe lothsome and horrible the lecheryes of this shame­full tyrant was, and what, and howe greate his disobedience was to his owne natural mother, is to bee seene in the story of his life, where who so liste may reade it. And [Page 107] therefore I meane to stand no longer vpon this prouerb, but to conclud, affirming that reuerence ought of bounden deutie to bee giuen to the Parents, for which the Lorde hath promised in the fourth of his Com­maundements, a long and blessed life vpon the earth. I could heere bring in, if I were disposed, a great number of testimonies, as wel from the Philosophers, as from the holy Patriarches and Prophets. But be­cause the olde saying is, The tedious tale offends the eare, and briefest words wee gladiest heare. And therefore let this that I haue saide, suffise the Reader, which I take to be inough for the vnderstanding of the Prouerbe.

The Paraphrase.

ABsalon was the sonne of Dauid, a man of passing beautie and singular proportion, who found the meanes by cer­taine of his seruants to murder his brother Amon for the deflouring of Thamar his sister, & turning her dishonestly out of his house. For which murder Dauid was greatly offended, howbeit vppon fatherly compassion, and at the humble sute and re­quest of Ioab, who was a speciall friende to Absalon, he pardoned him. But Absa­lon, whether it were because he found not the like countenaunce at his fathers hande as he was woonte to doe, or that hee was set on by some wicked seruauntes and leude Councellers, or whether it was the moti­on of his owne euill disposed minde, he pre­sently withdrue himselfe (as if he wont with his fathers fauour) from Hierusalem, and came to Hebron, and with the sounde of the Trumpet, calling togither the people of Israel, without any regarde of his due­tie to his father, he made him selfe King, with presumption to depose him, and to set vy him selfe, & to that intent he allured vn­to [Page 108] him a great number of the tribes of Isra­el, and entred into open armes against his father. But God, who could neuer away with the disobedience of the childe to his father, turned all his deuises, force, and po­wer to his owne confusion, for at the ioy­ning of the battailes, the fight being fierce, there was slaine to the number of twentie thousand, and Absalon him selfe galloping vp and downe, and passing thorowe a thick wood, was hanged by the heare of the head vpon the bough of an Oke, his Moyle run­ning from vnder him, and beeing found so hanging, was slaine by Ioab and certaine of his seruants: wherby the good father ob­tained the victory of his disobedient sonne, where it plainely appeared, that God him selfe, abhorring his rebellious fact, fought against him, as is more largely declared in the seconde Booke of the Kinges, which I haue heere but briefely touched, to shewe that the disobedience to the father, is great­ly displeasing of God.

The Paraphrase.

THE blessed Apostle telleth vs, that as long as wee liue in this worlde, we are Pilgrimes and straungers to the Lorde, meaning that our true and naturall countrie is that, of which Da­uid speaketh saying, I trust to see the glo­ry of the almightie in the land of the li­uing. The land of y^e liuing is the glory of Paradise, where who soeuer remaineth doe liue without any dread or daunger of death. [Page 109] And as the Apostle sayeth, all the while that we are absent from that place, wee are aptly here called straungers and pilgrims, meaning, that as the pilgrim wandreth here and there forth of his Countrey. So we are alwayes absent and out of our coun­trey, as long as wee liue in this transitorie life. And because that by the meanes of age we draw neare to our owne countrey, when we drawe neare to death: by which death, as Plato saieth in his Phedro, the soule at­teineth vnto libertie, and breaking out from the Gaole of the bodie, being deliuered frō sorrow and miserie, commeth to her owne quietnesse, ioy and solace. And therefore we ought not to be displeased at our olde age, since that it is the race of goodnesse, that is to say, the plaine path & way, by which wee passe from sorrow and trouble to quietnesse, and to rest. And this is onely to be vnder­stood of the modest and well gouerned age, for that is shee that abateth the lustes and outrages of youth. For there is an age, as Aristotle sayeth in the first of his Ethikes, that being destitute of all vertue and good behauiour, is altogether doting and chil­dish: For there is no difference, as Aristotle [Page] sayth, betwixt him that is yong of yeeres, and him that is young in behauiour, so that the age which shall not be displeasant, must be modest and furnished with good behaui­our and vertuous exercises, and that is the age, that doeth abate the fire of vicious youth, and doeth restraine eche lewde and fonde desire. This age (as Tullie in his booke de Senectute writeth) doeth alay both lust, pride, & presumption, and doeth so enfeeble the force of the flesh, as it brin­geth a man to bee lowly, milde, and modest. Of this kinde of age also speaketh the Psalme, where it sayth, When the time of meeknes & mildnes shal come, then shal we be reformed, which time of mildnes is from the age of threescore, to threescore and ten, which season suffreth not a man to be prowd or disdainful, but lowly, milde, and disposed to vertue. And therfore the Prouerbe saith, It doeth abate the fire of vicious youth, &c.

The Paraphrase.

IT is commanded in the lawe of God, that whensoeuer we see an old ancient man, we should rise and reuerence him. And we finde in the Ciuil law, that in the Citie of Rome in the olde time, they vsed to worship and reuerence their aged persons, and the peo­ple of those dayes did yeelde the same ho­nour to suche as were olde, as they did to their Iudges and Magistrates: and this onely they did in respecte of the honour that their olde yeeres doeth giue them, for no young man, though his wit be neuer so pregnant or quicke, is able to attaine to that vnderstanding, that the olde man by his experience hath gotten. For as A­ristotle in the first and sixteenth of his E­thikes witnesseth, the number of yeeres is it that giueth knowledge & experience. And therefore he sayeth, that the yong man can [Page] neuer giue anie perfect iudgement of anie thing, because he neuer hath had anie great experience. And although that in naturall Philosophie, and in the liberal artes & lear­nings, there needeth nought else but a sharp and quicke conceite and vnderstanding: yet in morall Philosophie, which is the know­ledge, by which we learne to liue vprightly and honestly, it is not onely enough to haue a good wit & capacitie to, but also to haue the experience and knowledge of time: and such thinges as are done by men of ripe yeares, we alwayes presume that they bee done vppon great aduise and deliberation, which is nothing so with yong men. And therefore vppon great consideration, our Sauiour being perfect God and man, al­though in the verie instant that he was con­ceiued, he was perfect in all knowledge & vnderstanding, & did not grow with space of time to more ripe knowledge & skill, would neither preach nor publishe his doctrine in his yong yeares, but at such time as he was come to his perfect age, neither doeth the Church receiue for trueth and certaintie a­nie other things, then those, which we read to bee done at his full age. Wherevpon [Page 111] all such Bookes as are written of suche thinges as hee did in his childehoode, and youngest yeares, the Church doeth take for Apocripha, and counteth them not in the Canon of holy Scriptures. And it is good reason that the thinges that are done in vnripe yeares should be of no authoritie, since our Sauiour Christ himselfe woulde neither preach, nor publish his doctrine, till such time as hee was of ripe and perfect age.

The Paraphrase.

THere is no man, as hath bene saide be­fore, that attaineth to anie perfection in his doinges and deuises, but onelie [Page] by long experience of manie yeeres. And therefore saieth Aristotle in the sixth of his Ethikes, that young men ought alwayes to haue about them olde and auncient men, whose counsaile they may vse, and whom they ought in al things to beleeue, and ther­fore age is of great account and estimation, for it maketh, as the Prouerbe here sayeth, men to be wise, meete to iudge, and discrete in gouernment. And therefore Trogus Pō ­peius in his eleuenth Booke writeth, that Alexander whensoeuer hee happened vpon anie desperate aduenture, or sawe himselfe in great daunger in the field, woulde neuer haue about him anie yong blooddes or hew­sters, but olde men that were of experience, such as had serued his Father, and his Grandfather in their warres, to the end hee might haue in his companie, not onelie Souldiours, but directers: he sayeth be­side that, when his old Souldiours had re­quired of him leaue to goe home to rest, and refresh their olde and weeried bodies, and that they woulde sende in their places their sonnes that were yong and lustie, and better able to doe him seruice: He answered them, that he made a great deale more ac­count [Page 112] of the wise and skilfull grauitie and authoritie of such auncient men, then he did of the vnexpert actiuitie and strength of those couragious and lustie gallants. For age is onely it that maketh a man wise, and woorthie of reuerence. Neither ought anie man to mislike it, since it is the thing that euerie man desireth. And as Tullie in his De Senectute sayth, As the fruite is not in season, nor to be eaten, till it bee perfect­ly ripe, no more is man to bee accompted in his wisedome and perfection, till such time as hee bee olde, for then is hee one­ly come to his ripenesse, though as the fruite is, hee bee nearest his corruption: For then, as the Prouerbe sayeth, he go­uerneth. &c.

The Paraphrase.

SEneca, as hath bene said before, sayth in his second Tragedie, that no man could euer yet haue the Goddes so fa­uourable, that they might be able to as­sure themselues, to liue till the next day. For although we bee most assured, that we shall die, yet is neither the houre nor the time of our death certaine, but rather, if we consi­der the great daungers and casualties that our wretched life is subiect vnto, wee ought euerie houre, yea euery moment to looke for it, according to the warning of our Sa­uiour, who willeth vs to watch and pray, for we knowe not the day, nor the houre of our visitation. And therefore as the Pro­uerbe sayeth, it is a great follie, to thinke that Death is not alwayes at hande, & that he shall not, as he came into the world, goe out of it. For as the Apostle sayeth, there is a lawe ouer all flesh, that they shal once die. [Page 113] Valerius telleth vs in his fifth booke, that when there was woorde brought to Anaxa­goras, that his sonne was dead: Hee answe­red the messenger, that it was neither newes, nor a strange thing, that hee tolde him, but that it was such as he alwayes lo­ked for. For hee knewe that there was no­thing could come from him, that should liue for euer, and that it was a generall matter, that whatsoeuer receiued the spirite of life, must agayne restore it, and that as no man died, but that first he liued, so no man liued, but at last he died: And therefore well saieth here the Prouerbe, Greate madnesse were it for a man to thinke this foolish life. &c.

[Page] AFter that our first Father had trans­gressed the commaundement of God, our life became straight to bee subiecte to death, and fulfilled with all kindes of cala­mitie, and miserie. For as the Apostle say­eth, Through the offēce of our first father Adam, wee are all borne the children of wrath. And neuer shall we be without trou­ble, griefe, and miserie, during our mor­tall life, untill suche time, that our soule bee free and deliuered from the dungeon of the bodie: And this maketh the Apostle to saie: I desire to be loosed and to be with Iesus Christ. For the Apostle, being vexed with many sorowes, griefes, and miseries, desi­red to be dissolued, to the ende he might rest from all his trauayles, and Saint Iohn in his reuelation, saieth, Blessed are all those, that die in the Lorde, for they shall rest from their laboures. So as by a good and happie death, wee are sure to be made parta­kers of the euerlasting glorie of our Lorde and Sauiour Iesus Christ.

The Paraphrase.

DEath as Aristotle in the thirde of his Ethicks sayth, is the last of al horrible & dreadfull things: which being, as Tully in his Tusculans sayeth, a thing that natural­ly happeneth, we ought not to thinke that it can be euill, since nature hath appoynted it. And Seneca in his Epistle to Lucilius say­eth, that life is geuen vnto vs, with conditi­on, to looke for death. The path is playne and assured that leadeth vnto it, and to dye well, is to die willingly. And therfore death is neuer to bee feared of those that bee good and vertuous: But of the wicked the Psalm sayeth, The death of the vngodly is hurt­full and euill, but the death of the godlie is life, because they passe from transitory death, to euerlasting life. According to the saying of our Sauiour vnto the theefe, This [Page] day shalte thou bee with mee in Paradise: which happened into him, because hee bele­ued, according to the Prouerbe here, That after his departure here, he went to per­fect rest, attending for the glorious day Wherein he shoulde be blest.

ARistotle in the seconde of his Ethickes sayeth, that in all sciences, the woorke is brought to perfection, by hauing respect vnto the meane, neither adding nor taking from it more then is reason: meaning that the ouerplus and the defect, doe marre the whole matter, and that the meane doeth on­ly saue and preserue it, which suche as are skilfull maisters doe chiefly consider. For seeing that vertue is the most certeine and [Page 115] best of all other artes, and that hir woorke and actions differ not from the actions of nature, it were greatly against reason, that she should not (as wel as al other arts) serch and finde out the meane: and further hee sayth, that the vertue morall consisteth as well in passion as in action, and that in all thinges that be, there is an extremitie of too much, and an extremitie of too little, and a meane betwixt both: As for example, in feare, in boldenesse, in coueting, in cruel­tie, in pittie, and of all thinges that con­cerne either pleasure or sorrowe, the meane, as Aristotle sayth, is to be commended, and the extreames doe alwaies bring shame and dishonour. And like as it happeneth, that to the perfection of any thing, there are a great number of thinges required, as likewise to make an imperfection, suffiseth that anie one of those thinges be wanting: euen so for a man to atteine vnto the very meane of vertue, there are a great number of thinges required, but to the not attaining therevnto, suffiseth the want of anie suche thing as is needefull. And hereof Aristotle putteth a ve­rie familiar example of such as be Archers, that to hitte the white, is a matter of greate [Page] cunning and hardnesse, and none is able to say that hee can doe it but hee that is a per­fect Archer: but to misse it, is a very easie matter, and euerie man that will, can doe it. So likewise is it of the vertuous meane, for euerie man that list, may auoyde it. And therefore is the number a greate deale more of the wicked, then of those that bee good, neither doth it followe, as Aristotle saieth, that of euerie thing the meane is alwayes best. For some things there are, that assoone as they bee named, they are mingled and wrapped in mischiefe. As for example, for a man to reioyce in an other mans harme, not to be ashamed of anie euill that he hath committed, to beare a repining spite at an o­ther mans good happe, to commit adultery, to murder, to steale: of these things, and such like, there is no meane that may bee called vertuous. For howsoeuer a man doe them, they carrie with them mischiefe and offēce, but in all other thinges that may bee well done & euil done, there are both extreames, and a meane. And of suche meaneth the Prouerbe, where it sayth, The onely reme­die, in all extreames is, for to keepe the perfect meane with thee, which if thou ta­kest [Page 116] for thy friende, (that is: if so be a man in the order of his life ioyne himselfe with vertue, which is the meane:) A long & hap­py life, thou shalt be sure to leade, and liue without offence and strife. In what sorte we ought to seeke out this meane, and how we ought to order our selues for the obtei­ning of it, Aristotle at large declareth in the seconde of his Ethickes, whyther for auoyding of te­diousnesse, I referre the Reader.