The common-vvealth of Vtopia containing a learned and pleasant discourse of the best state of a publike weale, as it is found in the government of the new ile called Vtopia. Written by the right Honourable, Sir Thomas Moore, Lord Chancellour of England. — Utopia. English

The common-vvealth of Vtopia containing a learned and pleasant discourse of the best state of a publike weale, as it is found in the government of the new ile called Vtopia. Written by the right Honourable, Sir Thomas Moore, Lord Chancellour of England. — Utopia. English

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE HONble. descended Gentleman, CRESACRE MOORE, of More place in North-Mi•es, in the County of Hertford •sq•••• ▪ Next in Bloud to S. THOMAS MOORE, L. Chancellor of England, and Heire to the ancient Family of th• CRESACRES, sometime Lord of he Mannor of B••borough, in the County of Yorke, in the time of Edward the first.

THE FIRST BOOKE of the Communication of RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, concerning the best State of a COMMONWEALTH.

THE SECOND BOOKE of the Communication of RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, concerning the best State of a COMMONWEALTH.

Containing the Description of VTOPIA, with a large declaration of the politike government, and of all the good Lawes and Orders of the same Iland.

Of the Cities, and namely Amaurote.

Of the Magistrates.

Of their living and mutuall conversation together.

Of their journying or travelling abroad, with divers other matters cunningly reasoned, and wittily discussed.

Of Bond-men, Sicke Persons, Wedlocke, and▪ divers other matters.

Of War-fare.

Of the Religions in Vtopia.

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THE COMMONVVEALTH OF ƲTOPIA: Containing a Learned and pleasant Discourse of the best state of a Publike Weale, as it is found in the Government of the new Ile called Vtopia. WRITTEN By the right Honourable, Sir THOMAS MOORE, Lord Chancellour of England.

LONDON, Printed by B. Alsop & T. Fawcet, and are to be sold by Wil: Sheares, at his shop in Bedford-street in Coven-garden neere the New Exchange. 1639.

TO THE HONble. descended Gentleman, CRESACRE MOORE, of More place in North-Mi [...]es, in the County of Hertford [...]sq [...] ▪ Next in Bloud to S. THOMAS MOORE, L. Chancellor of England, and Heire to the ancient Family of th [...] CRESACRES, sometime Lord of he Mannor of B [...]borough, in the County of Yorke, in the time of Edward the first.

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SIR,

[...] Have found you so Noble in the first Dedication, that I should much derogate from your true Worth, and wrong my selfe to make choise of a new Patron [Page] for the second (exactly done with applause) wherein though I presume, yet persume, t'will bee no sinne to multiply my obligation. Your name, and nature, claimes, and deserves it, 'tis your due and my duty, and were I able to expresse more MOORE should have it, for I must alwayes acknowledge your goodnesse in whatsoever quality for tune shall bestow me. SIR, I know you are wise. In a word I am, really what I am.

Your worships ever to be commanded. Ber. Alsop.

THE FIRST BOOKE of the Communication of RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, concerning the best State of a COMMONWEALTH.

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THE most victorious King of England, HENRY the eight of that name, in all royall vertues, a Prince most peerelesse, had of late in Controversie with CHARLES, the right high and mighty King of Castile, weightie matters, and of great importance. For the debatement and finall determination whereof, the [Page] Kings Maiestie sent me Ambassadour into Flanders, ioyned in Commission with CVTHBERTCuthbert Tunstall. TVNSTALL, a man doubtlesse out of comparison, and whom the Kings Maiestie of late, to the great reioycing of all men, did preferre to the Office of Master of the Rolles.

But of this mans praises I will say nothing, not because I doe feare that small credence shall be given to the testimony that commeth out of a friends mouth: but because his vertue and learning be greater, and of more excellencie, then that I am able to praise them: and also in all places so famous and so perfectly well knowne, that they need not, nor ought not of me to be praised, unlesse I would seem to shew and set forth the brightnesse of the Sunne with a Candle, as the Proverb saith. There met us at Bruges (for thus it was before agreed) they whom their Prince had [Page] for that matter appointed Commissioners: excellent men all. The chiefe and head of them was the Margrave (as they call him) of Bruges, a right honourable man: but the wisest and the best spoken of them was GEORGE TEMSISE, Provost of Casselses, a man, not only by learning, but also by nature of singuler eloquence, and in the lawes profoundly learned: but in reasoning and debating of matters, what by his naturall wit, and what by daily exercise, surely he had few fellowes. After that we had once or twise met, and vpon certaine points or articles could not fully and throughly agree, they for a certaine space tooke their leaue of vs, and departed to Bruxells, there to know their Princes pleasure. I in the meane time (for so my businesse lay) went straight thence to Antwerpe. While I was there abiding, oftentimes among other, but which [...] [Page] I judged to be a Marriner. But the said PETER seeing me, came unto me and saluted me. And as I was about to answer him: see you this man, saith he (and therewith he pointed to the man, that I saw him talking with before) I was minded (quoth he) to bring him straight home to you. He should haue beene very welcome to me, said I, for your sake. Nay (quoth he) for his owne sake, if you knew him: for there is no man this day living, that can tell you of so many strange and vnknowne peoples, and Countries, as this man can. And I know well that you be very desirous to heare of such newes. Then I conjectured not farre amisse (quoth I) for even at the first sight, I judged him to be a Marriner. Nay (quoth he) there ye were greatly deceived: he hath sayled indeed, not as the Mariner Palinure, but as the expert & prudent Prince VLYSSES: Yea, rather [Page] as the ancient and Sage PhilosopherRophael Hithloday. PLATO. For this same Raphael Hythloday (for this is his name) he is very well learned in the Latine tongue: but profound and excellent in the Greeke language. Wherein he ever bestowed more study then in the Latine, because he had given himselfe wholly to the study of Philosophy. Whereof he knew that there is nothing certaine in Latine, that is to any purpose, saving a few of Senecaes, and Ciceroes doings. His patrimonie that he was borne unto, he left to his brethren (for he is a Portugall borne) and for the desire he had to see▪ and know the farre Countries of the world, he joy ned himselfe in company with Americke Vespuce; and in the three last voyages of those foure that be now in prinr, and abroad in every mans hands, he continued still in his company, saving that in the last voyage he came not home [Page] againe with him. For he made such meanes and shift, what by intreatance, and what by importune suite, that he got licence of Master Americke (though it were sore against his will) to be one of the twenty foure, which in the end of the last voyage were left in the Country of Gulicke. He was therefore left behind for his mind-sake, as one that tooke more thought and care for travelling, then dying; having customably in his mouth these sayings: He that bath no grave, is covered with the skie; and, The way to heaven, out of all places, is of like length and distance. Which fantasie of his, (if God had not beene his better friend) he had surely bought full deere. But after the departure of master Vespuce, when he had travelled through and about many Countries with fiue of his companions Gulikians; at the last by mervailous chance he arrived in Taprobane, [Page] from whence he went to C [...]liquit, where he chanced to finde certaine of his Country Ships, wherein he returned againe into his Country, nothing lesse then looked for. All this when PETER had told me, I thanked him for his gentle kindnesse: that he had vouchsafed to bring me to the speech of that man, whose communication, he thought should be to me pleasant, and acceptable. And therewith I turned me to Raphael: And when we had halsed each other, and had spoke these commune words, that he customably spoke at the first meeting, and acquaintance of strangers, we went thence to my house, and there in my Garden, vpon a bench covered with greene turves, we sate downe talking together. There he told us, how that after the departing of Vespuce, he and his fellowes that tarried behind in Gulicke, began by little and little, through farre [Page] and gentle speech, to winne the love and favour of the people of that Country; insomuch, that within short space, they did dwell among them, not onely harmelesse, but also occupying with them familiarly. He told vs also, that they were in high reputation and favour with a certaine great man (whose name and Countrey is now quite out of my remembrance) which of his meere liberality, did beare the costs and charges of him and his fiue companions. And besides that, gaue them a trusty guide to conduct them in their journey (which by water was in Boats, and by land in Wagons) and to bring them to other Princes with very friendly commendations.

Thus after many dayes journies, he said, they found Townes, and Cities, and Weale publiques, full of people, governed by good and wholsome Lawes: for under the line Equinoctiall, and on [Page] both sides of the same, as farre as the Sunne doth extend his course, lyeth (quoth he) great and wide Desarts, and Wildernesses, parched, burned, and dried vp with continuall and intollerable heate. All things be hideous, terrible, loathsome, and unpleasant to behold: All things out of fashion and comelinesse, inhabited with wilde Beasts, and Serpents; or at the least-wise, with people, that be no lesse savage, wild, and noysome, then the very Beasts themselues be. But a little farther beyond that, all things begin by little and little to waxe pleasant. The Ayre soft, temperate, and gentle: the ground covered with greene gras [...]: lesse wildnesse in the Beasts. At the last shall yee come to people, Cities and Townes, wherein is continuall entercourse and occupying of merchandize and chaffare, not onely among themselues, and with their Borderers; but also [Page] with Merchant, of farre Countryes, both by land and water. There I had occasion (said he) to goe to many Countries on euery side. For there was no ship ready to any voyage or journey, but I and my fellowes were into it veryShips of strange fa [...]i [...]s. gladly received. The ships that they found first, were made plain, flat, and broad in the bottome trough-wise. The sayles were made of great rushes, or of wickers, and in some places of leather. Afterward they found Ships with ridged kyles, and sayles of Canvasse: yea, and shortly after, having all things like ours. The ship-men also were expert and cunning, both in the Sea, and in the weather. But he said, that he found great favour and friendship among them, for teaching themThe Loadstone. the feate and use of the Loadstone. Which to them before that time was vnknowne. And therefore they were wont to be very timerous and fearefull vpon the [Page] Sea: Nor to venture vpon it, but onely in the Summer time. But now they haue such a confidence in that Stone, that they feare not stormy Winter: in so doing, farther from care then danger. In so much, that it is greatly to be doubted, least that thing, through their owne foolish hardinesse, shall turne them to evill and harme, which at the first was supposed should be to them good and commodious. But, what he told vs that he saw in every Country where he came, it were very long to declare. Neither is it my purpose at this time to make rehearsall thereof. But per adventure in another place will I speak of it: chiefly such things as shall be profitable to be knowne: as in speciall be those decrees and ordinances, that he marked to be well and wittily provided and enacted among such peoples, as doe liue together in a civill policie, and good order. For of such things [Page] did we busily enquire, and demand of him, and he likewise very willingly told vs of the same. But as for Monsters, because they be no newes, of them we were nothing inquisitiue: For nothing is more easie to be found, then be barking Scillaes, ravening C [...]l [...] [...]es, and Lestrigones, devourers of people, and such like great and incredible monsters. But to find Citizens ruled by good and wholsome Lawes, that is an exceeding rare, & hard thing. But as he marked many fond and foolish Lawes in those new-found Lands; so he rehearsed divers acts and constitutions, wherby these our Cities, Nations, Countries, and Kingdomes, may take example to amend their faults, enormities and errours. Whereof in another place (as I said) I will intreat. Now at this time I am determined to rehearse onely that he told vs of the Manners, Customes, Lawes, and Ordinances of the Utopians. [Page] But first I will respect our former communication by the occasion, and (as I might say) the drift whereof he was brought into the mention of the Weale Publique: For when Raphael had very prudently touched divers things that be amisse, some here, and some there; Yea, very many on both parts; and againe had spoken of such wise Lawes, and prudent Decrees, as be established and used, both here among vs, and also among them; as a man so perfect, and expert in the Lawes, and Customes of every severall Country, as though into what place soever he came ghestwise, there he had led all his life: then PETER much marvailing at the man; Surely Master Raphael (quoth he) I wonder greatly, why you get you not into some Kings Court: For I am sure, there is no Prince living, that would not be very glad of you, as a man not only able highly [Page] to delight him with your profound learning, and this your knowledge of Countries, and peoples, but also meet to instruct him with examples, and helpe him with counsell. And thus doing, you shall bring your selfe in a very good case, and also be of ability to helpe all your friends and kinsfolke. As concerning my friends and kinsfolke (quoth he) I passe not greatly for them: For I thinke I haue sufficiently done my part towards them already. For these things, that other men doe not depart from, vntill they be old and sicke; yea, which they be then very loath to leaue, when they can no longer keepe, those very same things did I being not onely lusty, and in good health, but also in the flowre of my youth, devide among my friends and kinsfolkes. Which I thinke with this my liberality ought to hold them contented, and not to require not to looke that besides [Page] this, I should for their sakes giue my selfe in bondage unto Kings. Nay, God forbid that (quoth Peter) it is not my mind that you should be in bondage to Kings, but as a retainer to them at your pleasure. Which surely I thinke is the nighest way that you can devise how to bestow your time fruitfully, not onely for the private commodity of your friends, and for the generall profite of all sorts of people, but also for the advancement of your selfe to a much wealthier state and condition, then you be now in. To a wealthier condition (quoth Raphael) by that meanes, that my mind standeth cleane against? Now I liue at liberty after mine owne mind and pleasure, which I thinke very few of these great States, and Peeres of Realmes can say. Yea, and there be enough of them that sue for great mens friendships: and therefore thinke it no great hurt, if they haue not [Page] me, nor third or fourth such other as I am. Well, I perceiue plainly friend Raphael (quoth I) that you be desirous neither of riches, nor of power. And truly I haue in no lesse reverence and estimation a man of your mind, then any of them all that be so high in power and authority: But you shall doe as it becommeth you; yea, and according to this wisedome, to this high and free courage of yours, if you can find in your heart, so to appoint and dispose your selfe, that you may apply your wit and diligence to the profite of the Weale publique, though it be somewhat to your owne paine and hinderance. And this shall you never so well doe, nor with so great profit performe, as if you be of some great Princes counsell, and put into his head (as I doubt not but you will) honest opinions, and vertuous perswasions: For from the Prince, as from a perpetuall [Page] well-spring, commeth among the people the floud of all that is good or evill. But in you is so perfect learning, that without any experience, and againe, so great experience that without any learning you may well be any Kings Counsellour. You be twise deceived Master More (quoth he) first in mee, and againe in the thing it selfe: For neither is in me the ability that you force vpon me, and if it were never so much, yet in disquieting mine owne quietnesse I should nothing further the Weale publike. For first of all, the most part of all Princes haue more delight in warlike matters, and feates of Chivalry (the knowledge whereof I neither haue nor desire) then in the good feates of peace: and imploy much more study, how by right or by wrong to enlarge their Dominions, then how well and peaceable to rule, and governe that they haue already. [Page] Moreover, they that be Counsellours to Kings, every one of them either is of himselfe so wise indeed that he needeth not, or else he thinketh himselfe so wise, that he will not alow another mans counsell, saving that they doe shamefully, and flatteringly, giue assent to the fond and foolish sayings of certaine great men: whose favours, because they be in high authority with their Prince, by assentation and flattery they labour to obtaine. And verily it is naturally given to all men to esteeme their owne inventions best: So both the Raven and the Ape thinke their owne young ones fairest. Then if a man in such a company, where some disdaine and haue despight at other mens invētions, and some count their owne best, if among such men (I say) a man should bring forth any thing, that he hath reade done in times past, or that he hath seene done [Page] in other places; there the hearers, fare as though the whole existimation of their wisedome were in jeopardy to be overthrowne, and that ever after they should be counted for very desarts, unlesse they could in other mens inventions picke out matter to reprehend, and find a fault at. If all other poore helpes faile: then this is their extreame refuge. These things (say they) pleased our forefathers and ancestors: would God we could be so wise as they were: and as though they had wittily concluded the matter, and with this answere stopped every mans mouth, they sit downe againe. As who should say, it were a very dangerous matter, if a man in any point should bee found wiser then his fore-fathers were. And yet be we content to suffer the best and wittiest of their Decrees to lye unexecuted: but if in any thing a better order might haue beene [Page] taken, then by them was, there we take fast hold, finding there many faults. Many times haue IPartiall judgement. chanced vpon such proud, lewd, over-thwart, and way-ward judgements; yea (and once in England: I pray you Sir (quoth I) haue you beene in our Country? Yea forsooth (quoth he) and there I tarried for the space of foure or fiue moneths together, not long after the Insurrection, the Westerne English men made against their King, which by their owne miserable and pitifull saughter, was suppressed and ended. In the meane season, I was much bound and beholding to the right reverend Father, IOHNCardinall MORTON MORTON, Arch-bishop and Cardinall of Canterburie, and at that time also Lord Chancellour of England; a man, Master Peter (for Master Moore knoweth already that I will say) not more honourable for his authority, then for his prudence and vertue. [Page] He was of a meane stature, and though stricken in age, yet bare he his body upright.

In his face did shine such an amiable reverence, as was pleasant to behold. Gentle in communication, yet earnest, and sage. He had great delight many times with rough speech to his suiters, to proue, but without harme, what prompt wit, and what bold spirit were in every man. In the which as in a vertue much agreeing with his nature, so that therewith were not joyned impudency, he tooke great delectation. And the same person as apt and meet to haue an administration in the Weale publike, he did lovingly imbrace. In his speech he was fine, eloquent and pithie. In the Law, he had profound knowledge; in wit, he was incomparable; and in memory, wonderfull excellent. These qualities, which in him were by nature singular, he by learning and [Page] use [...] perfect. The King [...] hi [...] counsell, [...] in a manner learned [...], when I was there [...] Fo [...] even in the chiefe of his youth hee was taken from Schoole into the Court, and there passed all his time in much trouble and businesse, being continually tumbled and tossed in the waves of divers misfortunes and adversities. And so by many and great dangers, he learned the experience of the world, which so being learned, cannot easily be forgotten. It chanced on a certaine day, when I sate at his Table, there was also a certaine lay man, cunning in the Lawes of your Realme: Who, I cannot tell, whereof taking occasion, began diligently and earnestly to praise that strait and rigorous justice, which at that time was there executed upon Felonies; who as he said, were for the most part twenty hanged together upon [Page] one gallowes. And, seeing so few escaped punishment, he said he could not choose, but greatly wonder and marvaile, how and by what evill luck it should so come to passe, that Theeves neverthelesse were in every place so rife and so ranck. Nay, [...]ir quoth [...] (for I durst boldly speake myOf Lawes not made according to equity. mind, before the Cardinall) mervaile nothing hereat: for this punishment of Theeves passeth the limits of Iustice, and is also very hurtfull to the Weale publike: For it is too extreame and cruell a punishment for theft, and yet not sufficient to refraine and with-hold men from theft: for simple theft is not so great an offence, that it ought to be punished with death; neither there is any punishment so horrible, that it can keepe them from stealing, which have none other craft, whereby to get their living. Therefore in this point, not you only, but also the most part of the [Page] world be like evill Schoolemasters, which bee readier to beat, then to teach their schollers. ForBy what meanes thee might be sower theeues and robbers. great and horrible punishments be appointed for Theeves, whereas much rather, provision should have bin made, that there were some meanes, wherby they might get their living, so that no man should be driven to this extreame necessitie; first to steale, and then to dye. Yes (quoth he) this matter is well enough provided for already. There be Handy-crafts, there is Husbandry to get their living, if they would not willingly be naught. Nay, quoth I, you shall not scape so: for first of all, I will speake nothing of them, that come home out of the warres maimed and lame, as not long agoe out of Black [...]eath field, and a little before that, out of the warres in France: such I say, as put their lives in jeopardy for the Weale publiques, or the Kings sake, and by reason of weaknesse [Page] and lamenesse bee not able to occupie their old crafts, and be too aged to learne new: of them I will speake nothing, for asmuch as Warres have their ordinary recourse.

But let us consider those things that chance daily before our eyes. First, there is a great number of Gentlemen, which cannot beeIdlenesse, the m [...]t [...]e [...] of theeues. content to live idle themselves, like Dorrers, of that which other have laboured for: their Tenants I meane, whom they poll and shave to the quicke, by raisingLandlords by the way checked for Rent raising. their Rents (for this onely point of frugalitie doe they use, men else through their lavish and prodigall spending, able to bring themselves to very beggery) these Gentlemen, I say, doe not onely live in idlenesse themselves, but also carry about with them at their tailes, a great flock or traineOf idle Servingmen co [...] theeues. of idle and loytering Servingmen, which never learned any craft, wherby to get their livings. [Page] These men as soone as their Master is dead, or be sick themselves, be incontinent thrust out of doores: For Gentlemen had rather keepe idle persons, then sick men, and many times the dead mans He [...]re is not able to maintaine so great a Ho [...]se, and keepe so many Serving-men is his Father did. Th [...] in the meane season, they that be th [...] destitute of service, eyther starve for hunger, or manfully play the Theeves: For what would you have them to doe? When they have wandred abroad so long, untill they have worne threed-bare their apparell, and also appaired their health; then Gentlemen, because of their pale and sickly faces, and patched coates, will not take them into service. And Husbandmen dare not set them a work: knowing well enough, that hee is nothing meet to doe true and faithfull service to a Poore man with a Spade and Mattocke for small [Page] wages and hard fare, which being dain [...]ily and tenderly pampered up in idlenesse and pleasure, was wont with a Sword and a Buckler by his side, to jet through the street with a bragging looke, and to thinke himselfe too good to bee any mans mate. Nay by Saint Mary sir (quoth the Lawyer) not so: For this kinde of men must we make most of; for in them as men of stouter stomacks, bolder spirits, and manlier courages, then Handicrafts-men and Plough-men be, doth consist the whole power, strength, and puissance of our army, when wee must fight in battaile. Forsooth sir, as well yo might say (quoth I) that for Warres sake you must cherish Theeves: For surely you shall never lacke theeves, whiles you have them. No nor Theeves beBetweene souldiours and theeus small diversity. not the most false and faint-hearted Souldiers, nor souldiers bee not the cowardliest theeves: so [Page] well these two Crafts agree together. But this fault, though it be much vsed among you, yet is it not peculiar to you onely, but cōmon also almost to all Nations. Yet France besides this is troubled and infected with a much sorer plague. The whole Realme is filled and besieged with hi [...]ed Soldiers in peace time (if that be peace) which be brought in under the same colour and pretence, that hath perswaded you to keepe these idle Serving men. For these wise-fooles, and very arch-dolts, thought the wealth of the whole Countrey herein to consist, if there were ever in a readinesse a strong and a sure Garrison, specially of old practised Soldiers; for they put no trust at all in men unexercised. And therefore they must be forced to seeke for warre, to the end they may ever have practised Soldiers, and cunning man-slayers, least that (as it is pretily said of Salust) their hands and their minds through idlenesse [Page] or lacke of exercise, should waxe dull.

But how pernitious and pestilentWhat inconve [...]e [...] ces commeth by continuall Garrisons of souldiours. a thing it is, to maintaine such Beast [...], the Frenchmen, by their owne harmes haue learned, and the examples of the Romanes, Carth [...]ginians, Syrians, and of many other Countries doe manifestly declare: For not onely the Empire, but also the field, and Cities of all these, by divers occasions haue beene o [...]r [...]u [...] ned and destroyed of their ow [...]e armies, beforehand had in a readinesse. Now how unnecessary a thing this is, hereby it may appeare: that the French souldiours, which from their youth haue beene practised and inured in feates of armes, doe not cracke or advance themselues to haue very often got the vpper hand and mastry of your new-made and unpractised souldiours. But in this point I will not vse many words, least perchance I may seeme [...] [Page] grow the finest, and therefore dearest Wooll, there noble men, and gentlemen, yea, and certaine Abbots, holy men no doubt, not contenting themselues with the yearely revenues, and profits, that were wont to grow to their fore-fathers and predecessours of their lands, nor being content that they liue in rest and pleasure, nothing profiting; yea, much noying the Weale publike, leaue no ground for tillage: they inclose all into pastures; they throw downe houses; they plucke downe townes, and leaue nothing standing, but onely the Church to be madea sheephouse. And as though you lost no small quantity of ground by forrests, chases, lands, and parkes, those good holy men turne all dwelling places and all glebe land into desolation, and wildernesse.

Therefore, that one covetous and unsatiable Cormorant, and [Page] very plague of his natiue Country,Sheep-masters decayers of husband [...]. may compasse about and inclose many thousands Akers of ground together within one pale or hedge, the husbandmen be thrust out of their owne, or else either by covine and fraud, or violent oppression they be put besides it, or by wrongs and injuries they be so wearied, that they be compelled to sell all: by one meanes therefore or by other either by hooke or by crooke they must needs depart away, poore, sillie, wretched soules, men, women, husbands, wiues, fatherlesse children, widdowes, wofull mothers with their young babes, and the whole houshold small in substance, and much in number, as husbandry requireth many hands.

Away they trudge, I say, out of their knowne and accustomed houses, finding no place to rest in. All their houshold-stuffe, which is very little worth, [Page] though it might well abide the sale: yet being suddainly thrust out, they be constrained to sell it for a thing of naught. AndThe decay of husbandry causeth beggery, which is the mother of usg [...]ds & theeves. when they haue wandered abroad till that be spent, what can they then doe but steale, and then justly pardy be hanged, or el [...]e goe about a begging. And yet then also they be cast into Prison as Vagabonds, because they goe about and worke not: whom no man will set a worke, though they never so willingly proffer themselues thereto. For one Shepheard or Heardman is enough to eat vp that ground with cattell, to the occupying whereof, about husbandry, many hands were requisite. And this is also theThe cause of dearth of victuals cause why victuals be now in many places dearer. Yea besides this the price of wooll is so risen,Woat inconvenience commeth of dearth of Wooll. that poore folkes, which were wont to worke it, and make cloath thereof, be now able to buy none at all. And by this meanes very many be forced to [Page] forsake worke, and to giue themselues to idlenesse.

For after that so much ground was inclosed for pasture, an infinite multitude of sheepe died of the rot, such vengeance God tooke of their inordinate and unsatiable covetousnesse, sending among the sheepe that pestiferous murrein, which much more justly should haue fallen on the sheep-masters owne heads. And though the number of sheepe increase never so fast, yet the priceThe cause of dearth of Wooll. falleth not one mite, because there be so few sellers: For they be almost all come into a few rich mens hands, whom no need forceth to sell before they lust, and they lust not before they may sell as deare they lust. NowDearth of cattell, with the cause therof. the same cause bringeth in like dearth of the dearth of the other kinds of Cattell, yea, and that so much the more, because that after Farmes plucked downe, and husbandry decayed, there is no man that passeth for the breeding [Page] of young store: for these rich men bring not vp the young ones of great cattell as they doe lambes.

But first they buy them abroad very cheape, and afterward when they be fatted in their pastures, they sell them againe exceeding deare. And therefore (as I suppose) the whole incommodity hereof is not yet felt: for yet they make dearth onely in those places, where they sell. But when they shall fetch them away from thence where they be bred faster then they can be bought vp: then shall there also be felt great dearth, store beginning there to faile; where the ware is bought. Thus the unreasonable covetousnesseDearth of victuals is the decay of housekeeping; whereof c [...]s [...]eth beggery and thefs of a few hath turned that thing to the vtter undoing of your Hand, in the which thing the chiefefelicity of your Realme did consist: For this great dearth of victuals causeth men to keepe as little houses, and as small hospitality [Page] as they possible may, and to put away their servants: whither, I pray you, but a begging; or else (which these gentle blouds, and stout stomacks) will sooner set their minds unto stealing? Now to amend the matter, to this wretched beggery, and miserable poverty, is joyned great wantonnesse, importunate superfluity,Excesse in apparell and d [...]t, a maintainer of beggery and theft. and excessiue riot: For not onely gentlemens servants, but also handy craft men; yea, and almost the Ploughmen of the Country, with all other sorts of people, vse much strange and proud new-fa [...]gles in their apparell, and too much prodigall riot, and sumptuous fare at their table.Baudes, Whores, wine-tavernes, ale-houses, and unlawfull games▪ be very mothers of thee [...]es.

Now Baudes, queanes, whores, harlots, strumpets, brothelhouses, stewes; and yet another stewes, wine-tauerns, ale-houses, and tipling houses, with so many naughty, lewd, and unlawfull games; as dice, Cardes, tables, [Page] tennis, boules, coytes; doe not all these send the haunters of them straight a stealing, when their money i, gone? Cast ou [...] these pernicious abhominations; make a law, that they which, plucked downe f [...]rmes, and townes of husbandry, shall reedifie them, or else yeeld, and vprender the possession thereof to such, as will goe to the cost of building them anew.

Suffer not these rich men toRichmen i [...]grossers and fore [...]tal [...]ers. buy vp all to ingro [...]e, and forestall, and with their monopoly to keepe the market alone as please them. Let not so many be brought vp in idlenesse; let husbandry and tillage be restored; let Cloth-working be renued, that there may be honest labours for this idle sort to passe their time in profitably, which hitherto either poverty hath caused to be theeues, or else now be either vagabonds, or idle Servingmen, and shortly will be [Page] theeues. Doubtlesse, unlesse youThe corrupt education of youth, a mother of theevery. find a remedy for these enormities, you shall in vaine advance your selues of executing justice vpon fellons: For this justice is more beautifull in appearance, and more flourishing to the shew, then either just or profitable: For by suffering your youth wantonly, and viciously to be brought vp, and to be infected, even from their tender age, by little and little with vice: then a Gods name to be punished, when they commit the same faults after being come to mans state, which from their youth they were ever like to doe. In this point, I pray you, what other thing doe you, then make theeues, and then punish them? Now as I was thus speaking, the Lawyer began to make himselfe ready to answer, and was determined with himselfe, to vse the common fashion, and trade of disputers, which be more diligent [Page] in rehearsing, then answering, as thinking the memory worthy of the chiefe praise. Indeed Sir (quoth he) you haue said well, being but a stranger, and one that might rather heare something of these matters, then haue any exact or perfect knowledge of the same, as I will incontinent by open proofe make manifest and plaine. For first I will rehearse in order all that you haue said: then I will declare wherein you be deceived, through lacke of knowledge, in all our fashions, manners, and customes▪ and last of all, I will answer your arguments, and co [...]te them every one. First therefore, I willHe is worthily put to silence that [...]s too full of words. begin where I promised. Foure things you seemed to me. Hold your peace, quoth t [...]e Cardinall: for it appeareth that you will make no short answer, which make such a beginning: Wherefore at this time, you shall not take the paines to make your answer, [Page] but keepe it to your next meeting, which I would be right glad, that it might be to morrow next, unlesse either you, or Master Raphael haue earnest let. But now Master Raphael, I would very gladly heare of you, why you thinke theft not worthy to be punished with death, or what other punishment you can devise more exp [...]dient to the Weale publike? for I am sure that you are not of that mind, that you would haue theft escape unpunished. For if now the extreame punishmentThat theft [...]ught not to [...] punished by death. of death cannot cause them to leaue stealing, then if ruffians and robbers should be sure of their liues, what violence, what feare, were able to hold their hands from robbing; which would take the mittigation of the punishment, as a very provocation to the mischiefe? Surely my Lord, I thinke it not right nor justice, that the losse of money should cause the losse of [Page] mans life: For mine opinion is, that all the goods in the world are not able to counterva [...]le mans life.

But if they would thus say; that the breaking of Iustice, and the transgression of lawes is recompenced with this punishmēt, and not the losse of the money, then why may not this extreame and rigorous justice well be called plaine injury? For soStraight Lawes not allowable. cruell governance, so straight rules, and unmercifull lawes be not allowable, that if a small offence be committed, by and by the sword should be drawne: Nor so stoicall ordinances are to be borne withall, as to count all offences of such equality, that the killing of a man, or the taking of his money from him were both a matter, and the one no more heinous offence then the other: betweene the which two if we haue any respect to equity, no similitude or equality consisteth. [Page] God commandeth vs that weThat mans law ought n [...]t to be prejudiciall to Gods law. shall not kill. And be we then so hasty to kill a man for taking a little money? And if a man would understand killing by this commandement of God, to be forbidden after no larger wise, then mans constitutions define killing to be lawfull; then why may it not likewise by mans constitutions be determined after what sort whoredome, fornication, and perjury may be lawfull? For whereas by the permission of God, no man neither hath power to kill neither himselfe, no [...] yet any other man: then if a law made by the consent of men, concerning slaughter of men, ought to be of such strength, force, and vertue, that they which contrary to the commandement of God haue killed those, whom this constitution of man commanded to be killed, be cleane quit & exempt out of the bonds & danger of Gods cōmandement? [Page] shall it not then by this reason follow, that the power of Gods commandement shall extend no further, then mans law doth define, and permit? And so shall it come to passe, that in like manner, mans constitutions in all things shall determine how farre the observation of all Gods commandements shall extend. To be short, Moses Law, though it were ungentle and sharpe, as a law that was given to bondmen, yea, and them very obstinate, stubborne, and stiffe-necked: yet it punished theft by the purse, and not with death. And let vsTheft is the old law not punished by death. not thinke that God in the new law of clemency and mercy, under the which he ruleth vs with fatherly gentlenesse, as his deare children hath given vs greater scope and licence to the execution of cruelty, one vpon another. Now you haue heard the reasons, whereby I am perswaded, that this punishment is unlawfull. [Page] Furthermore, I thinkeWhat in convenience ensueth of punishing theft with death. that there is no body that knoweth not, how unreasonable, yea, how pernitious a thing it is to the Weale publike, that a theefe and an homicide or murtherer should suffer equall and like punishment:Punishing of theft by death causeth theft to be a murtherer. For the theefe seeing that man, that is condemned for theft in no lesse [...]eopardy, nor judged to no lesse punishment, then him that is convict of manslaughter; through this cogitation onely he is strongly and forcibly provoked, and in a manner constrained to kill him, whom else he would haue but robbed: For the murder being once done he is in le [...] [...]eare, and in more hope that the [...] shall not be bewrayed or knowne, seeing the party is now dead, and [...]id out of the way, which onely might haue vtt [...] ▪ and disclosed it.

But if he [...] and d [...]s [...]i [...] [...] [Page] more danger and jeopardie, then if he had committed but single fellony. Therefore, while we goe about with such cruelty to make theeues afraid, we provoke them to kill good men. Now as touching this question, what punishment were more commodious and better: that truly in my judgement is easier to be found then what punishment might be worse. For why should we doubtWhat lawfull punishment may be devised for Theft. that to be a good and a profitable way for the punishment of offendors, which we know did in times past so long please the Romanes, men in the administration of a Weale publike most expert, politique and cunning? Such as among them were convict of great and heynous trespasses,How the Romans punished theft. them they condemne into stone quarries, and into mines to digge mettall, there to be kept in chaines all the daye, of their life. But as concerning this matter, I allow the ordinance of nation [Page] so well as that which I saw, whiles I travelled abroad about the world, vsed in Persia among the people that commonly be called the Polylerites: whoseA worthy and commendable punishmēt of theeves in the Weale publike of the Polilerites in Persia. land is both large and ample, and also well and wittily governed; and the people in all conditions free, and ruled by their owne lawes, saving that they pay a yearely tribute to the great King of Persia.

But because they be farre from the Sea, compassed and inclosed, almost round about with high mountaines, and doe content themselues with the fruits of their owne land, which is of it selfe very fertill and fruitfull: for this cause neither they goe to other Countries, nor other come to them. And according to the old custome of the Land, they desire not to enlarge the bounds of their Dominions: and those that they haue, by reason of the high hills, be easily defended: and the [Page] tribute which they pay to their chiefe Lord and King, setteth them quit and free from warfare. Thus their life is commodious rather then gallant, and may better be called happy or wealthy, then notable and famous: For they be not knowne, as much as by name, I suppose saving onely to their next neighbour, and borders. They that in this Land be attained and convict of Fellony, make restitution of that which they stole, to the rightA pr [...]vy nip for them that doe otherwise. owner: and not (as they doe in other lands) to the King: whom they thinke to haue no more right to the theefe-stollen thing, then the theefe himselfe hath. But if the thing be lost or made away, then the value of it is paid of the goods of such offenders, which else remaineth all wholeTheeves condemned to be c [...] [...] labo [...]ers. to their wiues, and children. And they themselues be cōdemned to be cōmon labourers, and unlesse the theft be very hainous, they [Page] be neither locked in prison, nor fettered in gyues, but be vnited and goe at large, labouring in the common workes. They that refuse labour, or goe slowly or slacke to their worke, be not only tyed in chaines, but also pricked forward with stripes. But being diligent about their worke, they liue without checke or rebuke. Every night they be called in by name, and be locked in their chambers. Beside their daily labour, their life is nothing hard or incommodious; their fare is indifferent good, borne at the charges of the Weale publike; because they be common servants to the Common-wealth. But their charges in all places of the land is not borne alike. For in some parts that which is bestowed vpon them is gathered of almes. And though that way be vncertaine; yet the people be so full of mercy and pitty, that none is found more profitable or [Page] plentifull. In some places certaine Ladies be appointed hereunto: of the revenues whereof they be maintained. And in some places every man giveth a certaine tribute for the same vse and purpose.

Againe in some part of theServingmen. land these Servingmen (for so be these damned persons called) doe not common worke, but as every private man needeth labours, so he commeth into the marketplace, and there hireth some of them for meat and drinke, and a certaine limited wages by the day, somewhat cheaper then he should hire a free-man. It is also lawfull for them to chastice the slouth of these servingmen with stripes. By this meanes they never lacke worke, and besides the gaining of their meat and drink, every one of them bringeth daily something into the common Treasury. All and every one of them be apparelled in one colour. [Page] Their heads be not poled or shaven, but rounded a little aboue the eares. And the tip of the one eare is cut off. Every one of them may take meate and drinke of their friends, and also a coat of their owne colour: but to receiue money is death, aswell to the giver, as to the receiver. And no lesse jeopardy it is for a freeman to receiue money of a servingman, for any manner of cause: and likewise for servingmen to touch weapons. The servingmen of every severall shiere be distinct and knowne from other, by their severall and distinct badges: which to cast away is death: as it is also to be seene out of the precinct of their owne shiere▪ or to talke with a servingman of another shiere. And it is no lesse danger to them, for to intend to runne away, then toAn [...]vi [...] intent esteemed as the deed. doe it indeed. Yea, and to conceale such an enterprise in a servingman, it is death; in a free [Page] man, seruitude. Of the contrary part, to him that openeth and vttereth such counsels, be decreed large gifts: to a Freeman, a great summe of money; to a Servingman freedome: and to them both forgivenesse and pardon of that they were of counsell in that pretence. So that it can never be so good for them to goe forward in their evill purpose, as by repentance to turne backe. This is the Law and order in this behalfe, as I haue shewed you: Wherein what humanity is vsed, how farre it is from cruelty, and how commodious it is, you doe plainly perceiue. For as much as the endThe right [...] and intenn of punishment. of their wrath and punishment intendeth nothing else, but the destruction of vices, and saving of men: with so vsing, and ordering them, that they cannot chuse but be good; and what harme soever they did before, in the residue of their life, to make amends for the same.

[Page]Moreover it is so little feared, that they should turne againe to their vicious conditions, that way-faring men will for their safeguard choose them to their guides before any other, in every shiere changing and taking new: For if they would commit robbery, they haue nothing about them meete for that purpose. They may touch no weapons: money found about them, should betray the robbery. They should be no sooner taken with the manner, but forthwith they should be punished. Neither can they haue any hope at all to scape away by flying: For how should a man, that in no part of his apparell is like other men, flye privily and vnknowne, vnlesse he would runne away naked? Howbeit, so also flying, he should be descri [...]d by the rounding of his head, and his c [...]re-marke. But it is a thing to be doubted, that they will lay their heads together, and [Page] conspire against the Weale publike. No, no, I warrant you: For the Servingmen of one shiere alone, could never hope to bring to passe such an enterprise, without solyciting, entising, and alluring the Servingmen of many other sh [...]eres to take their parts. Which thing is to them so impossible, that they may not as much as speake or talke together, or salute one another. No, it [...] not to be thought that they would make their owne Countrymen and companions of their counsell in such a matter, which they know well should be jeopardy to the concealor thereof, and great commodity and goodnesse to the opener and detector of the same. Whereas on the other part, there is none of them all hopelesse or in despaire to recover againe his former estate of freedome, by humble obedience, by patient suffering, and by giving good tokens and likelihood of himselfe, [Page] that he will ever after that, liue like a true, and an honest man.

For every yeare divers of them be restored to their freedome, through the commendation of patience. When I had thus spoken, saying moreover, that I could see no cause why this order might not be had in England, with much more profit, then the Iustice with the Lawyer so highly praised. Nay, quoth the Lawyer this could never be [...]o stablished in England, but that it must needs bring the Weale publike into great jeopardy and hazard. And as he was thus saying, he shaked his head, and made a wry mouth, and so he held his peace. And all that were present, with one assent agreed to his saying. Well, quoth the Cardinall, yet it were hard to judge with out a proofe, whether this order would doe well here or no. But when the sentence of death is given, if then the King should [Page] command execution to be referred and spared, and would prove this order and fashion, taking away the priviledge of Sanctuaries: if then the proofe should declare the thing to be good and profitable, then it were well done that it were stablished: Else then condemned and reprived persons may as well be put to death after this proofe, as when they were first cast. Neither any jeopardy can in the meane space grow hereof. Yea, and me thinketh that these Vagabonds may very well be ordered after the same [...] fashion, against whom we have hitherto made so many lawes,The [...] vering judgement [...] of [...]. and so little prevailed. When the Cardinall had thus said, then every man gaue great praise to my sayings, which a little before they had disallowed. But most of all was esteemed that which was spoken of Vagabonds, because it was the Cardinals addition. I cannot tell whether it [Page] were best to rehearse the communication that followed; for it was not very sad. But yet you shall heare it, for there was no evill in it, and partly it pertained to the matter before-said. There chanced to stand by a certaine jeasting Parasite, or scoffer, which would seeme to resemble and counterfeit, the foole. But he did in such wise counterfet, that he was almost the very same indeed that he laboured to present: he so studied with words and sayings, brought forth so out of time and place, to make sport and more laughter, that he himselfe was oftner laughed at, then his jeasts were. Yet the foolish fellow brought out now and then such indifferent and reasonable stuffe [...], that he made the Proverbe true, which saith: He that shooteth oft, at the last shall h [...] the marke: So that when one of the company said, that through my communication, [Page] a good order was found for Theeues, and that the Cardinall also had well provided for Vagabonds, so that onely remained some good provision to be made for them that through sicknesse and age were fallen into poverty, and were become so impotent and vnweldy, that they were not able to worke for their living. Tush (quoth he) let me alone with them: you shall see me doe well enough with them. For I had rather then any good, that this kind of peopleSick, aged, impotent perso [...]s and begge [...]s. were driven somewhere out of my sight, they haue so sore troubled me many times and oft when they haue with their lamentable reares begged money of me: and yet they could never to my mind so tune their song, that thereby they ever got of me one farthing. For evermore the one of these chanced: either that I would not, or else that I could not, because I had it not. Therfore [Page] now they be waxed wife: For whē they see me goe by, because they will not leese their labour, they let me passe, and say not one word to me. So they looke for nothing of me, no in good sooth; no more, then if I were a Priest, or a Monk. But I will make a Law, that allA common Proverbe among Beggers. these beggers shall be distributed, and bestowed into houses of religion. The men shall be made Lay brethren, as they call them; and the women, Nunnes. Hereat the Cardinall smiled, and allowed it in jeast, yea, and all the residue in good earnest.

But a certaine Fryar, graduate in divinity, tooke such pleasure and delight in this jeasts of Priests and Monkes, that he also (being else a man of gr [...]sly andA merry talke betweene a Fryar and a Foole. sterne gravity) began merily and wantonly to jest and taunt. Nay, (quoth he) you shall not be so rid and dispatched of beggers, unlesse you make some provision also for vs Fryars. [Page] Why, quoth the [...]easter, that is done already, for my Lord himselfe set a very good order for you, when he decreed, that Vagabonds should be kept straight and set to worke: for you be the greatest and veriest Vagabonds that be. This jeast also when they saw the Cardinall not disproue it, every man tooke it gladly, saving onely the Fryar: For he (and that no mervaile) being thus touched on the quicke, and hit on the gaule, so fretted, so fumed, and cha [...]ed at it, and was in such a rage, that he could not refraine himselfe from ch [...]ding, scolding, raising, and reviling. He called the fellow Ribbald, villaine, javell, backbiter, slaunderer, and the child of perdi [...]ion: citing therewith terrible threarnings out of holy Scripture. Then the jeasting sco [...]er began to play the sco [...]er indeed, and verily he was good at that▪ for he could play a part in that play, no man better. Patient your selfe, [Page] good Master Fryar (quoth he) and be not angry; for Scripture saith: In your patience you shall saue your soules. Then the Fryar (for I will rehearse his owne veryTalke qualified according to the person that speaketh. words:) No gallowes wretch, I am not angry (quoth he) or at the least-wise, I doe not sinne: for the Psalmist saith. Be you angry and sinne not. Then the Cardinall spake gently to the Fryar, and desired him to quiet himselfe. No my Lord (quoth he) I speak not but of a good zeale as I ought; for holy men had a good zeale: Wherefore it is said; The zeale of thy house hath eaten me. And it is sung in y• Church: The scorners of Hel [...]z [...]us, whiles he went vp into the house of God, felt the zeale of the bald, as peradventure this scorning villaine R [...]bbauld shall feele. You doe it (quoth the Cardinall) perchance of a good minde and affection: but me thinketh you should doe, I cannot [...] [Page] and esteeme me and my sayings. I ensure you, Master Raphael, quoth I, I tooke great delectation in hearing you: all things that you said, were spoken so wittily and so pleasantly. And me thought me selfe to be in the meane time, not onely at home in my Country, but also through the pleasant remembrance of the Cardinall, in whose house I was brought up of a Child, to wax a child againe. And friend Raphael, though I did beare very great love towards you before, yet seeing you doe so earnestly favour this man, you will not beleeve how much my love towards you is now increased. But yet, all this notwithstanding, I can by no meanes change my mind, but that I must needs beleeve, that you, if you be disposed, and can find in your heart to follow some Princes Court, shall with your good counsels greatly helpe and further the Common-wealth. [Page] Wherefore there is nothing more appertaining to your duty, that is to say, to the duty of a good man. For whereas your Plato judgeth that weale-publikes shall by this meanes attaine perfect felicity, either if Philosophers be Kings, or [...]lse if Kings give themselves to the study of Philosophy; how farre I pray you, shall Common-wealths then be from this felicitie, if Philosophers will vouchsafe to instruct Kings with their good counsell? They be not so unkind (quoth he) but they would gladly doe it, yea, many have done it already in books that they have put forth, if Kings and Princes would be willing and ready to follow good counsell. But Plato doubtlesse did well fore-see, unlesse Kings themselves would apply their mindes to the study of Philosophy, that else they would never thorowly allow the counsell of Philosophers, being themselves before [Page] euen from their tender age infected, and corrupt with peruerse and euill opinions, Which thing Plato himselfe prooued true in king Dyonise, If I should propose to any King wholsome decrees, doing my endevour to pluck out of his mind the pernicious originall causes of vice and naughtinesse, thinke you not that I should forthwith either be driven away, or else made a laughing stocke? Well, suppose I were with the French King▪ and there sitting in his Counsell, whiles in that most secret consultation, the King himselfe there being present in hi [...] owne person, they beat their braines, and search the very bottomes of their wits, to discusse by what craft and meanes the King may still keepe Millaine, and draw to him againe fugitiueThe Frēch men privily be counsailed from the desire of Italy. Naples: and then how to conquer the Venetians, and how to bring vnder his jurisdiction all Italie; then how to winne the [Page] Dominion of Flanders, Brabant, and all Burgundy; with divers other Lands, whose Kingdomes hee hath long agoe in mind and purpose invaded. Heere, whiles one counsaileth to conclude a League of Peace with the Venetians; so long to endure, as shall be thought meete and expedient for their purpose, and to make them also of their Councell; yea and besides that, to give them part of the prey, Which afterward, when they have brought their purpose about, after their owne mindes, they may require and claime again? Another thinketh best to hyre the Germans: Lanceknights. Another, would have the favour of the Switzers wonne with money: Anothers advice, is to appease the puissant power of the Emperors Majestie with Gold, as with a most pleasant and acceptable sacrifice: Whiles another giveth counsell to make peace with the King of Arragon, & to restore [Page] unto him his owne Kingdome of Navarre, as a full assurance of of peace: Another commeth in with his five egges, and adviseth to hooke in the King of Castile, with some hope of affinitie, or allyance; and to bring to their part certaine Peeres of his Court, for great Pensions.

Whiles they all stay at the chiefest doubt of all, what to doe in the meane time with England; and yet agree all in this, to make with the English-men, and with most sure and strong bonds to binde that weake and feeble friendship, so that they must be called friends, and had in suspition as enemies. And that therefore the Scots must be had in a readinesse, as it were in a standing, ready at all occasions (in case the English-men should stir never so little) incontinent to set upon them. And moreover, privily and secretly (for openly it may not be done, by the Truce [Page] that is taken;) privily therefore, I say, to make much of some Peere of England, that is banished his Countrey, which must clayme Title to the Crowne of the Realme, and affirme himselfe just Inheritor thereof: that by this subtile meanes they may hold to them the King, in whom else they have but small trust and affiance.

Here, I say, where so great and high matters be in consultation▪ where so many noble and wise men counsaile their King onely to Warre: here if I, silly man, should rise up, and will them to turne over the Lea [...]e, and learne a new Lesson, saying; That my counsaile is not to meddle with Italie, but to tarry still at home; and that the Kingdome of France alone is almost greater, then that it may well begoverned of one man; so that the King should not need to study how to get more: And [Page] then should propose unto them the Decrees of the People that be called the Ach [...]riens, which be scituate over-against the Iland of Ʋtopia, on the South-east side.

These Ach [...]riens once madeA notable Example, and worthy to be followed. warre, in their Kings quarrell, for to get him another Kingdome which hee laid clayme unto, and advanced himselfe right Inheritor to the Crowne thereof, by the Title of an old alliance. At the last, when they had gotten it, and saw that they had even as much vexation and trouble in keeping it, as they had in getting it; and that either thei [...] new conquered Subjects by sundry occasions were making daily Insurrections to rebell against them, or else that other Countries were continually with divers In [...]odes and forraines invading them; so that they were ever Fighting, either for them, or against them, and never could breake up the [...] Campes: Seeing [Page] themselues in the meane season, pilled and impoverished, their money carryed out of the Realme; their owne men killed, to maintaine the glory of another Nation: when they had no Warre, peace nothing better then warre, by reason that their people in warre had so injured themselues to corrupt and wicked manners, that they had taken a delight and pleasure in robbing and stealing; that through man [...]aughter, they had gathered boldnesse to mischiefe; that their Lawes were had in contempt, and nothing set by or regarded; that their King being troubled with the charge and governance of two Kingdomes, could not, nor was [...]ot able perfectly to discharge his office towards them both: seeing againe, that all these evils and troubles were endlesse, at the last laid their heads together, and like faithfull and loving subjects gaue to their King free [Page] choise and liberty to keepe still the one of these two Kingdomes, whether he would; alledging, that he was not able to keepe both, and that they were more then might well be governed of halfe a King, for as much as no man would be content to take him for his Mulettor, that keepeth another mans Mules besides his. So this good Prince was constrained to be content with his old Kingdome, and to giue over the new to one of his friends, who shortly after was violently driven out.

Furthermore, if I should declare vnto them, that all this busie preparance to warre, whereby so many Nations for his sake should be brought into a troublesome hurly-burly, when all his Coffers were emptied, his Treasures wasted, and his people destroyed, should at the length through some mischance, be in vaine, and to none effect: and [Page] that therefore it were best for him to content himselfe with his owne Kingdome of France, as his fore-fathers and predecessors did before him; to make much of it, to enrich it, and to make it as flourishing as he could; to endevour himselfe to loue his subjects, and againe to be beloved of them; willingly to liue with them, peaceably to governe them, and with other Kingdomes not to meddle, seeing that which he hath already is even enough for him, yea, and more then he can well turne him to.

This mine advice, Master Moore, how thinke you, would it not be hardly taken? So God helpe me, not very thankfully▪ (quoth I.) Well let vs proceed then (quoth he.) Suppose that some King and his Councell were together, whetting their wlts, and devising what subtile craft they might invent, to enrich the King with great Treasures of [Page] Money.

First, one coun saileth to raiseEnhancing and embesing of Coynes. and enhance the valuation of Money, when the King must pay any; and againe, to call downe the value of Coyne to lesle then it is worth, when he must receiue or gather any: For thus, great summes shall be paid with a little money; and where little is due, much shall be received.

Another counsaileth to faineCounterfes Warres. Warre: that when under this colour and pretence the King hath gathered great abundance of money, he may, when it shall please him, make peace with great solemnity, and holy ceremonies, to blind the eyes of the poore Communalty, as taking pitty and compassion forsooth vpon mans bloud, like a loving and a mercifull Prince.

Another putteth the KingThe [...] of old Lawes in remembrance of certaine old and mouth-eaten Lawes, that of lo [...]g ti [...]e have not [Page] beene put in execution, which because no man can remember that they▪ were made, every man hath transgressed. The fines of these Lawes he counsaileth the King to require: for there is no way so profitable, nor more honourable, as that which hath a shew and colour of Iustice.

Another adviseth him to forbid many things vnder great PenaltiesRestraint and Fines, specially such things as is for the peoples profit not to be vsed; & afterward, to dispence for money with them which by this prohibition sustain losse and dammage: For by this means, the favor of the people is won, & profit riseth two wayes: first, by taking forfeits of them, whom covetousnesse of gaynes hath brought in danger of this Statute; and also by selling Priviledges and Licences: whichSelling of Licences. the better that the Prince is▪ forsooth, the dearer he selleth them, as one that is loath to [Page] grant to any private person any thing that is against the profit of his People; and therefore may set none, but at an exceeding deare price.

Another giveth the king counsel to endanger vnto [...]ns Grace the Iudges of the Realme, that he may have them ever on his side, and that they may in every matter dispute and reason for the Kings right. Yea, and further to call them into his Pallace, and to require them, there to argue and discusse his matters in his owne presence: So there shall be no matter of his so openly wrong and unjust, wherein one or other of them, either because he will have something to alledge and object; or that he is ashamed to say that which is said already; or else to picke a thanke with his Prince, will not finde some hole open to set a snare in, wherewith to take the contrary part in a trip.

[Page]Thus whiles the Iudges cannot agree amongst themselves, reasoning and arguing of that which is plaine enough, & bringing the manifest truth in doubt: in the meane season, the King may take a fit occasion to understand the Law as shall most make for his advantage, whereunto all other for shame, or for feare will agree. Then the Iudges may bee bold to pronounce on the Kings side: for hee that giveth sentence for the King, cannot be without a good excuse: For it shall be sufficient for him to have equity on his part, or the bare words of the Law, a wrythen and wrested understanding of the same (or else, which with good and just Iudges is of greater force then all lawes be) the Kings indisputable Prerogative. To conclude, all the Counsellers agree and consent together with theThe saying of rich Crassus. rich Crassus, That no abundance of gold can be sufficient for a [Page] Prince, which must keepe and maintaine an Army: further more that a King, though he would, can doe nothing vnjustly.

For all that men have, yea, also the men themselves be all his. And that every man hath so much of his owne, as the Kings gentlenesse hath not taken from him. And that it shall be most for the Kings advantage, that his subjects have very little or nothing in their possession, as whose safeguard doth herein consist, that his people doe not waxe wanton and wealthy through riches and liberty, because where these things be, there men be not wont patiently to obey hard, vnjust, and vnlawfull commandements. Whereas on the other part, need and poverty doth hold downe and keepe vnder stout courages, and maketh them patient perforce, taking from them bold and rebelling stomackes.

[Page]Here againe if I should rise vp, and boldly affirme, that all these counsels be to the King dishonour and reproach, whose honour and safety is more and rather supported and vpholden by the wealth and riches of his people, then by his owne Treasures? and if I should declare that the communalty chooseth their king for their owne sake, and not for his sake: to the intent, that through his labour and study they might all live wealthy, safe from wrongs and injuries: and that therefore the King ought to take more care for the wealth of his people, then for his owne wealth, even as the office and duty of a shepheard is in that he is a shepheard, to feed his sheepe rather then himselfe. For as touching this, that they thinke the defence and maintenance of peace to consist in poverty of the people, the thing it self sheweth that they be farre out of the [Page] way: For where shall a man findPoverty the mother of debate, and decay of Realms. more wrangling, quarrelling, brawling and chiding, then among Beggers? Who bee more desirous of new mutations and alterations, then they that be not content with the present state of that life? Or finally, who be bolder stomacked to bring all in a burly-burly (thereby trusting to get some wind-fall) then they that have now nothing to leese? And if any King were so smally regarded, & so lightly esteemed; yea, so be-hated of his Subjects, that other wayes hee could not keepe them in awe, but onely by open wrongs, by polling and shaving, and by bringing them to beggerie; surely, it were better for him to forsake his Kingdome then to hold it by that meanes: whereby though the name of a King be kept, yet the Majesty is lost: For it is against the dignity of a King to have rule over Beggers, but rather over rich and [Page] wealthy men. Of this mind was the hardy and couragious Fabrice, A wort [...]y saying of Fabrice. when he said; that He had rather be a Ruler of rich men, then be rich himselfe.

And verily, one man to live in pleasure and wealth, whiles all all other weepe and smart for it, that is the part, not of a King, but a jaylour. To be short, as he is a foolish Physitian, that cannot cure his patients disease, vnlesse he cast him in another sicknesse; so he that cannot amend the liues of his subjects, but by taking from them the wealth and commodity of life: he must needs grant, that he knoweth not the wealth and commodity of life; he must needs grant, that he knoweth not the feate how to gouerne men, But let him rather amend his owne life, renounce vnhonest pleasures, and forsake pride: for these be the chiefe vices that cause him to runne in the contempt or hatred [Page] of his people. Let him liue of his owne, [...]urting no man: Lee him do cost not aboue his power: Let him restraine wickednesse: Let him prevent vices, and take away the occasions of offences by wellordering his subjects, and not by suffering wickednes to encrease, afterward to be punished: Let him not be too hastie in calling againe lawes which a custome hath abrogated; especially such as have been [...]ong forgotten, and never lacked nor needed. And let him neuer under the cloake and [...]tence of transgression, take such fines and forfeits, as no Iudge will suffer a private person to take, as unjust and full of guile.

Here if I should bring forth before them the Law of the Macarie [...]s, A stra [...]g [...] and notable law of the M [...]ri [...]s which be not farre distant from Vtop [...]a, whose King, the day of his Coronatio [...] is bound (by a solemne Oath, that he shall never at any time have in his Treasure above a thousand pound of [Page] Gold or Silver. They say, that a very good King, which tooke farre more care for the wealth and commodity of his Countrie, then for the enriching of himselfe, made this law to be a stop and barre to kings from heaping and whording vp so much money as might impoverish their people: For he fore-saw that this sum of treasure would suffice to support the king in battaile against his owne people, if they should chance to rebell: & also to maintaine his warres against the invasions of his forraine enemies. Againe, he perceived the same stocke of money to be too little and vnsufficient to encourage and enable him wrongfully to take away other mens goods: which was ye chiefe cause why y• law was made. Another cause was this. He thought y• by this provision his people should not lack mony, wherewith to maintaine their daily occupying & chaffer.

[Page]And seeing the King could not choose but lay out and bestow all that came in at oue the prescript summe of his stocke, he thought he would seeke no occasions to doe his subjects injury. Such a King shall be feared of evill men and loved of good men. These, and such other informations, it I should vse among men wholly inclined and given to the contrary part, how deafe eares thinke you shall I haue? Deafe hearers doubtlesse (quoth I.) And in good faith no mervaile. And to be plaine with you, truly I cannot allow that such communication shall be vsed, or such counsell given, as you be sure shall never be regarded nor received: For how can so strange informations be profitable, or how can they be beaten into their heads, whose minds be already prevented, with cleane contrary perswasions? This Schoole Philosophy is not unpleasant among friends [Page] in familiar communication, butSchoole Philosophy in the consultations of Princes hath no place. in the counsels of Kings, where great matters be debated and reasoned with great authority, these things haue no place.

That is it which I meant (quoth he) when I said Philosophy had no place among Kings. Indeed (quoth I) this Schoole philosophy hath not: which thinketh all things meet for every place. But there is another Philosophy more civill, which knoweth, as ye would say, her owne stage, and thereafter ordering and behaving her selfe in the play that she hath in hand, playeth her part accordingly with comelinesse, vttering nothing out of due order and fashion. And this is the Philosophy that you must vse. Or else whiles a Comody ofA [...]ine and fit s [...]ilitud [...] Plautus is playing, and the vild bond-men scoffing and trifling among themselues, if you should suddenly come vpon the Stage in a Philosophers apparell, [Page] and rehearse out of Octavia the place wherein Seneca disputeth with Nero: had it not beene better for you to haue played the dumme person, then by rehearsingA d [...]mme player. that, which served neither for the time nor place to have made such a tragicall Comedy or gallimalfry: For by bringing in other stuffe that nothing appertaineth to the matter, you must needs marre & prevent the play that is in hand, though the stuffe that you bring be much better. What part soever you have taken vpon you, play that as well as you can and make the best of it: And doe not therefore disturbe and bring out of order the whole matter, because that another, which is merrier and better commeth to your remembrance.

So the case standeth in a Common-wealth: and so it is in the consultations of Kings and Princes. If evill opinions and naughty perswasion, cannot be vtterly & [Page] quite plucked out of their hearts, if you cannot even as you would remedy vices, which vse and custome hath cōfirmed: yet for this cause you must not leaue and forsake the Common-wealth: you must not forsake the Ship in a tempest, because you cannot rule and keepe downe the winds. No nor you must not labour to driue into their heads new and strange informations, which you know well shall be nothing regarded with them that be of cleane contrary minds. But you must with a crafty wile & subtile train study and endevour your selfe, as much as in you lieth, to handle the matter wittily and handsomly for the purpose, and that which you cannot turne to good, so to order it that it be not very bad: For it is not possible for all things to be well, vnlesse all men were good: which I think will not be yet these good many yeares. By this meanes (quoth he) nothing else will be brought to passe; but [Page] but whiles I goe about to remedy the madnesse of others, I should be even as mad as they: For if I should speake things that be true, I must needs speake such things: but as for to speake false things, whether that be a Philosophers part or no I cannot tell, truly it is not my part. How beit this communication of mine though per adventure it may seeme vnpleasant to them, yet cannot I see why it should seeme strange, or foolishly newfangled. If so be that I should speake those things that PLATO faineth in his Weale publike, or thatThe Vto pi [...] weale publike. the Ʋtopians doe in theirs, these things though they were (as they be indeed) better, yet they might seeme spoken out of place. For as much as here amongst vs, every man hath his possessions severall to himselfe, and there all things be in commen.

But what was in my communication contained, that might [Page] not, and ought not in any place to be spoken? Saving that to them which haue throughly decreed and determined with themselves to runne headlong on the contrary way, it cannot be acceptable and pleasant, because it calleth them backe, and sheweth them the jeopardies: Verily if all things that evill and vitious manners have caused to seeme vnconvenient & naught should be refused, as things vnmeet and reproachfull, then we must among Christian people winke at the most part of all those things which Christ taught vs, and so straightly forbad them to be wincked at, that those things also which he whispered in the eares of his Disciples, he commanded to be proclaimed in open houses. And yet the most part of them is more dissident from the manners of the world now a dayes, then my communication was. But Preachers silly and wily men following [...] [Page] swarme into the streetes, and daily wet to the skin with raine, and yet cannot perswade them to goe out of the raine, and to take their house, knowing well, that if they should goe out to them, they should nothing prevaile, nor winne ought by it, but with them be wet also in the raine, they doe keepe themselves within their houses, being content that they be safe themselves, seeing they cannot remedy the folly of the people. How be it doubtlesse Master Moore (to speake truly as my mind giveth me) where possessions be private, where money beareth all the stroake, it is hard and almost impossible that there the Weale publike may justly be governed, and prosperously flourish; vnlesse you thinke thus: That Iustice is there executed, where all things come into the hands of evill men; or that prosperity there flourisheth, where all is divided among a [Page] few: which few neverthelesse doe not leade their liues very wealthily, and the residue live miserably, wretchedly, and beggerly.

Wherefore, when I consider with my selfe, and weigh in my mind, the wise and godly ordinances of the Vtopians; among whom, with very few lawes all things be so well and wealthy ordered, that vertue is had in a price and estimation, and yet all things being there common, every man hath abundance of every thing. Ag [...]e, on the other part, when I compare with them so many Nations ever making new lawes, yet none of them all well and sufficiently furnished with lawes: where every man calleth that he hath gotten, his owne proper and private goods, where so many new lawes daily made, be not sufficient for every man to enjoy, defend, and know from another mans that which he calleth [Page] his owne: which thing the infinite controversies in the law, daily rising, never to be ended, painly declare to be true. These things (I say) when I consider with my selfe, I hold well withPlato willed all things in a Commonwealth to be common. Plat [...], and doe nothing mervaile that he would make no lawes for them, that refused those lawes, whereby all men should have and enjoy equall portions of wealths and commodities.

For the wise man did easily fore-see, this to be the one and onely way to the wealth of a communalty, it equality of all things should be brought in and stablished. Which I thinke is not possible to be observed, where every mans goods be proper and peculiar to himselfe: For where every man under certaine titles and pretences draweth, and plucketh to himselfe as much as he can; so that a few divide among themselves all the whole [Page] riches, be there never so much abundance and store, there to the residue is left lacke and poverty.

And for the most part it chanceth, that this latter sort is more worthy to enjoy that sta [...]e of wealth, then the other be: because the rich men be covetous crafty, and vnprofitable. On the other part, the poore be lowly, simple, and by their daily labour, more profitable to the commonwealth, then to themselues. Thus I do fully perswade my selfe, that no equall and just distribution of things can be made, nor that perfect-wealth shall ever be among men, vnle [...]le this propriety be exiled and banished. But so long as it shall continue, so long shall remaine among the most and best part of men, the heauy and inevitable burthen of poverty and wretchednesle. Which, as I grant that it may be somewhat cased, so [Page] I vtterly deny that it can wholly to be taken away: For if there were a Statute made, that no man should haue in his stocke aboue a prescript and appointed summe of money: if it were by certaine Lawes decreed, that neither the King should bee of too great power, neither the People too haughty and wealthy; and that Offices should not by inordinate sute, or by bribes and guifts: that they should neither bee bought nor sold; nor that it should be needfull for the Officers, to be at any cost or charge in their Offices: For so occasion [...] given to them by fraud and ravine to gather up their money againe; and by reason of guifts and bribes, the Offices be given to rich men, which should r [...]ther have beene executed of Wise men: By such lawes I say, like as Sicke bodies that be desperate and past cure, be wont with continuall good cherishing [Page] to be kept and botched up for a time: so these evils also may be lightned and mitigated. But that they may be perfectly cured, brought to a good and upright state, it is not to be hoped for, whiles every man is Master of his owne to himselfe. Yea, and whiles you goe about to doe your cure of one part, you shall make bigger the sore of another part, so the helpe of one causeth anothers harme: for asmuch, as nothing can be given to any one unlesse it be taken from another.

But I am of a contrary opinion (quoth I) for me thinketh that men shall never there live wealthy, where all things bee common: For how can there be abundance of goods, or of any thing, where every man withdraweth his hand from labour? Whom the regard of his owne gaines driveth not to worke, but the hope that he hath in other [Page] mens travailes maketh him sloathfull.

Then when they be pricked with poverty, and yet no man can by any law or right defend that for his owne, which he hath gotten with the labor of his own hands, shall not there of necessity be continuall sedition and bloodshed? Specially the authority and reverence of Magistrates, being taken away, which, what place it may have with such men among whom is no difference, I cannot devise. I marvaile not (quoth he) that you be of this opinion. For you conceiue in your mind either none at all, or else a very false Image and similitude of this thing. But if you had beene with me in Vtopia, and had presently seene their fashions and lawes, as I did, which lived there fiue yeares, and more, & wold never haue come thence, but onely to make that new land [Page] knowne heere: Then doubtlesse you would grant, that you never saw people well ordered, but onely there. Surely (quorh Master PETER) it shall be hard for you to make me beleeve, that there is better order in that New Land, then is here in the Countries that we know. For good wits be as well here as there: and I thinke our Common-wealths be ancienter then theirs; wherein long vse and experience hath found out many things commodious for mans life; besides that many things here among vs have beene found by chance, which no wit could ever have devised. As touching the ancientnesse (quoth he) of Commonwealths, then, you might better judge if you had read the Histories, and Chronicles of that land, which, if we may beleeue, [Page] Cities were there, before men were heere.

Now what thing soever hitherto by wit hath beene devised, or found by chance, that might be as well there as heere. But I thinke verily, though it were so that we did passe them in wit: yet in study, in trauell, and in laboursome endevour, they farre passe vs: For (as their Chronicles testifie) before our arrivall there they never heard any thing of vs, whom they call the Vltraequinoctialles: saving that once about 1200 yeares agoe, a certaine Ship was lost by the I [...] of Vtopia, which was driven thither by tempest. Certaine Romans and Egyptians were cast on Land. Which after that never went thence.

Marke now what profit they tooke of this one occasion through diligence and earnest trauaile. There was no craft nor science within the Empire of [Page] Rome whereof any profit could rise, but they either learned it of these strangers, or else of them, taking occasion to search for it, found it out. So great profit was it to them that ever any went thither, from hence. But if any like chance before this hath brought any man from thence hither, that is as quite out of remembrance, as this also perchance in time to come shall be forgotten, that ever I was there. And like as they quickly almost at the first meeting, made their owne, whatsoever is among us wealthily devised: So I suppose it would be long before we should receive any thing, that among them is better instituted then among us.

And this I suppose is the chiefe cause why their common-wealths be wiselyer governed, and doe flourish in more wealth then ours, though wee neither in wit nor riches be their inferiours. [Page] Therefore gentle Master Raphael (quoth I) I pray you and beseech you describe vnto us the Iland. And study not to bee short: but declare largely in order their Grounds, their Rivers, their Cities, their People, their Manners, their Ordinances, their Lawes, and to bee short, all things that you shall thinke us desirous to know. And you sha [...]l thinke us desirous to know whatsoever we know not yet.

There is nothing (quoth hee) that I will doe gl [...]dlier. For all these things I have fresh in minde: But the matter requireth leisure. Let us goe in therefore (quoth I) to dinner, and afterward wee will bestow the time at our pleasure. Content (quoth hee) be it. So wee went in and dined.

When dinner was done, we came into the same place againe, and sate us downe upon the same bench, commanding our servants [Page] that no man should trouble us. Then I and Master Peter Giles, desired Master Raphael to performe his promise.

Hee therefore seeing us desirous and willing to hearken to him, when he had sate still and paused a little while, musing and bethinking himselfe, thus he began to speake.

The end of the first Booke.

THE SECOND BOOKE of the Communication of RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, concerning the best State of a COMMONWEALTH.

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Containing the Description of VTOPIA, with a large declaration of the politike government, and of all the good Lawes and Orders of the same Iland.

THe Iland of VTOPIA,The fight and fashion of the new Iland Ʋtopia. containeth in bredth in the middle part of it (for there it is broadest) 200 miles. Which bredth continueth through the most part of the Land, saving that by little it cōmeth in, and waxeth narrower [Page] towards both the ends: which fetching about a circuit or compasse of 500 miles, doe fashion y• whole Iland like to the new Moone. between these two corners the Sea rūneth in, dividing them a funder by the distance of 11 miles or there abouts, & there surmounteth into a large Sea, which by reason that the Land on every side of passeth it about, and sheltreth it from the winds, is not rough, nor mounteth not with great waves, but almost floweth quietly not much vnlike a great standing poole: and maketh well-nigh all the space within the belly of the Land in māner of a haven: and to the great cōmodity of the inhabitants, receiveth in Ships towards every part of the land. The forefront, or frontiers of the two corners, what with bords and shelves and what with rocke, be jeopardous and dangerous. In the middle distance between them both, standeth up above the water a great Rock, which therefore it is [Page] is nothing perilous because it is in sight. Vpon the top of this rock isA place naturally [...]eaced, needeth one Garrison. a faire and strong tower builded, which they hold with a garrison of men. Other rockes there be lying hid under the water, which therfore be dangerous. The channels be knowne onely to themselves. And therefore it seldome chanceth that any Stranger unlesse he be guided by an Ʋtopian, can come into this haven. Insomuch that they themselves could scarcely enter without jeopardy, but that their way is directed and ruled by certaine Land-markes standing on the shore. By turningA politike devise in the changing landmarkes. translating, and removing the markes into other places, they may destroy their enemies navies, be they never so many. The outside or utter circuit of the land, is also full of havens, but the landing is so surely fenced, what by nature, & what by workmanship of mens hands, that a few defenders may drive back many armies [Page] Howbeit as they say, and as the fashion of the place it selfe doth partly shew, it was not ever compassed about with the Sea. But King VTOPVS, whose name, as conquerour, the Iland beareth:The Iland of Ʋtopis, so named of King Ʋtopi [...]. For before this time it was called Abrax [...]) which also brought the rude and wild people to that excellent perfection in all good fashions, humanity, and civill gentlenesse, wherein they now goe beyond all the people in the world: even at his arriving and entering vpon the land, forthwith obtaining the victory, caused fifteene miles space of vplandish ground, where the Sea had no passage, to be cut and digged vp. And so wrought the Sea round about the Land. He set to this worke: not onely the inhabitants of this Iland (because they should not thinke it done in contumely and despight) but also all his owne souldiours.

Thus the worke being divided [Page] into so great a number of workemen,Many hāds make light worke. was with exceeding marvailous speed dispatched. Insomuch that the borderers which at the first began to mocke, and to jest as the vaine enterprise, then turned their derision to mervaile at the successe, and to feare. There be in the Iland fifty foure large and faire Cities, or shiere towns,Cities in Ʋtopia. Similitude causeth concord. agreeing altogether in one tongue, in like manners, institutions, and lawes, they be all set and situate alike, and in all points fashioned alike, as farre forth as the place or plot suffereth.A meane distance betweene City and City.

Of these Cities, they that be nighest together be twenty foure miles asunder. Againe, there is none of them distant from the next, aboue one dayes journey a foot. There come yearely to Amaurote, out of every City, three old men wise and well experienced, there to intreate and debate, of the common matters of the Land. For this City (because it [Page] standeth just in the midst of the Iland, and is therefore most meet for the Ambassadours of all parts of the Realme) is taken for the chiefe and head Citty. TheThe distribution of Lands. But this now a daies is the ground of all mischiefe. precincts and bounds of the Shieres, be so commodiously appointed out, and set forth for the Cities, that none of them all hath of any side les [...]e then twenty miles of ground, and of some side also much more, as of that part where the Cities be of further distance a sunder. None of the Cities desire to enlarge the bounds and limits of thei [...] [...]ir [...]s. For they count themselves rather the good husbands, then theHusbandry & tillage, chiefly and principally regarded and advanced. owners of their lands. They have in the Countrey in all parts of the shiere, houses or f [...]rmes builded, well appointed and furnished with all sorts of instruments and tooles belonging to Husbandry. These houses be inhib [...]d of the Citizens, which co [...]ithe [...]o dwell by course. [Page] No houshold or Farme in the Countrey hath fewer then fifty persons men and women, besides two bondmen, which be all vnder the rule and order of the good man, and the good wife of the house, being both very sage, discreet; and ancient persons. And every thirty Farmes or families have one head ruler, which is called a Philarch, being as it were a head Bayli [...]e, Out of every one of these families or farmes, commeth every yeare into the City twenty persons, which have continued two yeares before in the Countrey. In their place so many fresh be sent thither out of the City, who, of them that have beene there a yeare already, and be therefore expert and cunning in husbandry, shall be instructed and taught. And they the next yeare shall teach other.

This order is vsed for feare that either scarcenesse of victuals, [Page] or some other like incommodity should chance, through lacke of knowledge: if they should be altogether new, and fresh, and vnexpert in husbandry. This manner and fashion, of yearely changing and renewing the occupiers of husbandry, though it be solemne and customably vsed, to thinke that no man shall be constrained against his will to continue long in that hard and sharp kind of life; yet many of them have such a pleasure and delightThe duties of men of husbandry. in husbandry, that they obtaine a longer space of yeares. Th [...]se husbandmen, plough and till the ground, and breed vp cattell, [...]nd provide and make ready wood, which they carry to the City either by land or water, as they most conveniently. They bring vp a g [...] of [...] A strange fashion to [...]atching and bringing vp of Pulle [...]. and that [...]y [...] poll [...] ▪ cie: for▪ the [...] vpon the egges; but by [...] in a certaine equ [...] they [Page] bring life into them, and hatch them. The chickens, as soone as they be come out of the shell, follow men and women in stead of the hennes. They bring vp very few horses: nor none, but veryThe vse. of Horses The vse of Oxen. fierce ones: and that for none other vse or purpose, but onely to exercise their youth in riding, and, feates of Armes: For Oxen be put to all the labor of ploughing and drawing: which they grant not to be so good as horses at a sudden brunt, and (as we say) at a dead lift; but yet they hold an opinion, that Oxen will abide and suffer much more labour, paine and hardinesse, then Horses will. And they thinke that Oxen be not in danger and subject unto so many diseases, and that they be kept and maintained with much lesse cost and charge: and finally, that they be good for meat, when they be past labour. They sow corne only for bread. For their drinke is [Page] either Wine made of grapes, orBread and drinke. else of apples, or Peares, or else it is cleare water: and many times Meath made of honey, or Licouresse sodde in water; for thereof they haue great store. And though they know certainly (for they know it perfectly indeed) how much victuals the City with the whole Country or Shire round about it doth spend: yet theyA great discretion in sowing of Corne. sow much more corne, and breed vp much more cattell, then serveth for their owne vse, parting the overplus among their borderers. Whatsoever necessary things be lacking in the Countrey, all such stuffe they fetch oa [...] of the City: where without [...]ay exchange, they easily obtaine it of the Magistrates of the City. For every moneth many of them goe into the City on the Holiday. When their harvest day draweth neare, and is at hand, then the Philarches, which be the head Officers and B [...]iliffes of [Page] husbandry, send word to the Magistrates of the City what number of harvest men is needfull to be sent to them out of the City. The which company ofMutuall helpe quickly dispatched. harvest men being ready at the day appointed, almost in one faire day dispatcheth all the harvest worke.

Of the Cities, and namely Amaurote.

AS for the Cities, who so knoweth one of them, knoweth them all: they be all so like one to another, as farre forth as the nature of the place permitteth. I will describe to you one or other of them, for it skilleth not greatly which: but which rather then Amaurote? Of them all, this is the worthiest and of most dig [...]i [...]y▪ [...] [Page] another River which indeed is not very great. But it runneth gently and pleasantly: For it riseth even out of the same hill that the City standeth vpon, and runneth downe a slope through the middest of the City into A [...]yder.

And because it riseth a little without the City, the Amauritians have inclosed the head spring of it, with strong fences, and Bulwarkes, and so have joyned it to the City. This is done to the intent that the waterThe vse of fresh water. should not be stopped, no [...] turned away, or poysoned, if their enemies should chance to come vpon them. From thence the water is derived and conveyed downe in channels of bricke divers wayes, into the lower part of the Citie. Where that cannot be done, by reason that the place will not suffer it, there they gather the raine water in great [...] sternes, which doth them as good [Page] service. The City is compassed aboutThe defence of the Townew [...]ls. with a high and thicke stone wall full of tu [...]ets and bulwarkes. A dry ditch, but deep and b [...]o [...]d, and over-grown with bus [...], b [...]ers, and thornes, goeth about three sides or quarters of the City. To the fourth side the riuer it selfe serveth as a ditch. The streets be appointed and set forth very commodious, and handsome, both for cariage and also against the windes. TheStreets, Buildings and Houses houses be of faire and gorgious building, and on the [...] side they stand joy [...]d together in a long row through the whole streete, without any partition [...] seperation. The streetes be [...]v [...]y [...] broad. O [...] To [...] the ba [...] of the house▪ [...]gh the [...] of [...]. Eve [...] [Page] on the backside into the Garden. These doores be made with two leaves, never locked nor bolted, so easie to be opened, that they will follow the least drawing of a finger, and shut againe alone. Who so will, may goe in, for there is nothing within the houses that is private, or any mans owne. And every tenth yeareThis geare sine [...]leth of Plato h [...] community they change their Houses by lot. They set great store by their Gardens.

In them they have Vine-yards, all manner of Fruit, Hearbes, and Flowers, so pleasant, so well furnished, and so finely kept, that I never saw thing more fruitfull, nor better trimmed in any place. Their study and diligence herein commeth not onely of pleasure, but also of a certaine strife and contention that is betweene street and street, concerning the trimming, husbanding, and furnishing of their Gardens: every man for his owne part. A [...]d verily [Page] you shall not lightly find in all the Citty any thing, that is more commodious, either for the profit of the Citizens, or for pleasure. And therefore it may seeme that the first founder of the City minded nothing so much, as these Gardens. For they say that King Vtopus himselfe, even at the first beginning, appointed and drew forth the plat-forme of the City into this fashion and figure that it hath now, but the gallant garnishing, and the beautifull setting forth of it, whereunto he saw that one mans age would not suffice, that he left to his posterity. For their Chronicles which they keepe written with all diligent circumspection, containing the History of 1760 yeares, even from the first conquest of the Iland, record and witnesse that the house▪ in the beginning were very low, and like homely cottage▪ or poore shepheard houses, made at all [Page] adventures of every rude peece of timber, that came first to hand, with mud walls, & ridged roofes, thatched over with straw. But new the houses be curiously builded after a gorgious and g [...]llant [...]ort, with [...] [...]es one over another. The out-sides of y• wall [...] be made either of hand fi [...]t, or of Plaister, or else of brick, and the inner-sides be well strengthened with timber work. The roofes be plain and [...]t, covered with a certaine kind of Plaster, that is of [...]o cost, and yet so tempered that [...]o fire can hurt or perish it▪ & withstandeth the violence of the weatherGlased o [...] canvased windowes. better then any lead. They keepe the wind out of their windowes with gl [...]ste, for it is there much vsed, and some here also with fine linnen cloath dipped in oyle or amber, and that for two commodities: For by this means more light commeth in, and the wind i [...] better kept out.

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Of the Magistrates.

EVery thirty Fa [...]es o [...] F [...]rme, choose them yearely an Officer, which in their old language is called the Syphogrant, and by a newer name, the Philarch. Every tenne Siphogrants, with all their thirty families be vnde an Officer, which was once c [...]lled the Tranibore, A Tranibore in the Ʋtopian tongue, signifieth a head or chiefe Peere. A me [...]vilous strange fashion in choosing Magistrates. now the chiefe Philarch. Moreover as concerning the election of the Prince, all [...]he Siphogrants which be in number two hundred, first be sworne to choose him, whom they thinke most meete and expedient. Then by a secret election, they name Prince one of those foure whom the people before named vnto them. For out of the foure quarters of the City there be foure chosen, out of every quarter [...], to [Page] stand for the election: which be put vp to the Counsell. TheTyranny in a well ordered Weale publike vtterly to be abhorred. Princes Office continueth all his life time, vnlesse he be deposed or put downe for suspition of tyranny. They choose the Tranibores yearely, but lightly they change them not. All the other Officer, be but for one yeare. The Tranibores every third day, and sometimes, if need be, oftner come into the Counsell house with the Prince. Their counsell [...]ite [...] and [...] fies between party & party forthwith to be ended, which [...]w a dares of a set purpose be [...] de [...]a [...]ed. is concerning the Commonwealth. If there be any controversies among the commoners, which be very few, they dispatch and end them by and by. They take ever two Siphogrants to them in counsell, and every day a new couple. And it is provided, that nothing touching the common-wealth shall be confirmed and ratified, vnlesse it haue beene [...]easoned of and debated, three dayes in the counsell before it be decreed. It is death to haue [Page] any consultation, for the common-wealth out of the counsell, or the place of the commonAgainst hosty and rash decrees or statutes. election. This statute, they say, was made to the intent, that the Prince and Tranibores, might not easily conspire together to oppresle the people by tyranny, and to change the state of the Weale-publike. Therefore matters of great weight and importance be brought to the election house of the Siphogrants, which, open the matter to their families. And afterward, when they haue consulted among themselues, they shew their devise of the counsell. Sometime the matter is brought before the counsell of the whole Iland. FurthermoreA custome worthy to be vsed in these daies in our Councels and Parli [...] ments. this custome also the counsell vseth, to dispute or reason of no matter the same day that it is first proposed or put forth, but to deferre it to the next sitting of the counsell: Because that no m [...]n when he hath rashly there [...] [Page] none other occupation that any number to speake of doth vse there.

For their garments, which throughout all the Iland be ofSimilitude in apparell. one fashion, (saving that there is a difference betweene the mans garment and the womans, betweene the married and the vnmarried) and this one continueth for evermore vnchanged, seemely and comely to the eye, no let to the moving and welding of the body, also fit-both for winter and summer: as for these garments (I say) every family maketh their owne. But of the otherNo Citizen without a science. foresaid crafts every man learneth one. And not onely the men but also the women. But the women, as the weaker sort, be put to the easier crafts: as to worke wooll and flaxe. The more laborsome sciences be committed to the men. For the most part, every man is brought vp in his fathers craft. For most commonly▪ they [Page] be naturally thereto bent and inclined.To what occupation every one is naturally inclined that let hi [...]. learne. But if a mans mind stand to any other, he is by adoption put into a family of that occupation, which he doth most fantasie. Whom not onely his father, but also the Magistrate doe diligently looke to, that he be put to a discreet and an honest housholder. Yea, and if any person, when he hath learned one craft, be desirous to learne also another, he is likewise suffered and permitted. When he hath learned both, he occupieth whether he will: vnlesse the City hath more need of the one, then the other. The chiefe and almost the onely office of the Syphogrants is, to see and take heed, that no man sit idle: but that every one apply his owne craft with earnest diligence. And yet for all that,Idle persons to be driven out of the Weale publique. not to be wearied from earely in the morning, too late in the evening, with continuall worke, like labouring and toyling Beasts. [Page] For this is worse then the miserable and wretched condition of bondmen.

Which, neverthelesse is almost every where the life of workmenA moderation in the labour and toyle of artificers. and artificers, saving in Vtopia. For they dividing the day and the night into twenty foure just houres, appoint and assigne only 6 of those hours to worke, before noone vpon the which they goe strait to dinner, and after dinner, when they have rested 2 houres, then they worke three houres, and vpon that they goe to supper. About eight of the clocke in the evening (counting one of the clocke the first houre After noone) they goe to bed: eight houres they give to sleepe. All the voide time, that is betweene the houres of worke, sleepe, and meate, that they be suffered to bestow every man a [...] he liketh best himselfe. Not to the into it that they should mispend this time in riot, or [Page] sloathfulnesse, but being then licensed from the labour of their owne occupations, to bestow the time well & thriftily vpon some other Science, as shall please them: For it is a solemne custome there, to have Lectures daily early in the morning, whereto be present, they only be constrained, that be namely, chosen and appointed to learning. Howbeit a great multitude of every sort of people, both men andThe study of good literature. women goe to heare Lectures, some one and some another, as every mans nature is inclined. Yet this notwithstanding, if any man had rather bestow this time vpon his owne occupation, as it chanceth in many (whose minds rise not in the contemplation of any Science liberall) he is not letted nor prohibited, but is also praised and commended, as profitablePlaying after supper. to the Common-wealth. After Supper, they bestow one houre in play: in Summer, [Page] in their Gardens: in Winter, in their common Halls, where they dine and sup. There they exercise themselves in Musicke, or else in honest and wholsome communication. Dice-play, andBut new a daies diceplay is the pastime of Princes. such other foolish and pernicious games, they know not. But they vse two games, not much vnlike the Chesse. The one is the battaile of numbers, wherein one number stealeth away another. The other is where vices fight with vertues, as it were in battaile array, or a set Field. In the which game is very properlyPlayes of games also profitable. shewed, both the strife and discord, that the vices have among themselves, and againe their vnity and concord against vertues. And also what vices be repugnant to what vertues: with what power and strength they assaile them openly: by what wiles and subtilty they assault them secretly: with what helpe and ayd the vertue, re [...]i [...]t, and overcome the [Page] the puissance of the vices: by what craft they frustrate their purposes: and finally by what [...]eight or meanes the one getteth the victory. But here least you be deceived, one thing you must looke more narrowly vpon. For seeing they bestow but sixe houres in worke, perchance you may thinke that the lacke of some necessary things hereof may ensue. But this is nothing so; For that small time is not onely enough, but also too much for the store and abundance of all things, that be requisite, eitherThe kinds of sorts of idle people. for the necessity, or commodity of life. The which thing you also shall perceiue, if you weigh and consider with your selves how great a part of the people in other Countries liveth idle. FirstWomen. almost all women, which be the halfe of the whole number: or else if the women be somewhere occupyed, there most commonly in their stead the men be idle. [Page] Besides this, how great and how idle a company is there of Priests, and religious men, is theyPriests and religious men. Rich men and landed men. call thein? put thereto all rich men, specially all landed men, which commonly be called Gentlemen, and noblemen. Take into this number also their servants: I meane all that flocke of stout bragging rushbucklers. [...]oyne toServingmen. Sturdy and valiant beggars. them also sturdy and valiant beggers, cloaking their idle life vnder the colour of some disease or sicknesse.

And truly you shall find them much fewer then you thought, by whose labour all these things are wrought, that in mens affaires are now daily vsed and frequented. Now consider with your selfe, of these few that doe worke, how few be occupyed, in necessary workes: For where moneyWonderfull wittily spoken. beareth all the swing, there many vaine and superfluous occupations must needs be vsed to serve onely for riotous superfluity, [Page] and vnhonest pleasure: for the same multitude that now is occupyed in worke, if they were divided into so few occupation, as the necessary vse of nature requireth, in so great plenty of things a [...] then of necessity would e [...]due, doubtlesse the prices would be too little for the artificers to maintaine their living.

But if all these, that be now busied about unprofitable occupations, with all the whole fo [...]ke of thē that live idlely & sloathfully, which consume and wast every one of them more of these things that come by other mens labour, then two of the workmen themselves doe: if all these (I say) were set to profitable occupations: you easily perceive how little time would be enough, yea, and too much to store vs with all things that may be requisite either for necessity or commodity, yea or for pleasure, [Page] so that the same pleasure be true and naturall. And this in Viopia the thing it selfe maketh manifest and plaine. For there in all the City with the whole Country, or Shire adjoyning to it, scarcely fiue hundred persons of all the whole number of men and women, that be neither too old nor too weake to worke, be licensed and discharged from labour. Among them be the Syphogrants Not asmuch as the Magistrates liue idlely. (who though they be by the lawes exempt and privileged from labour) yet they exempt not themselves: to the intent they may the rather by their example to provoke others to worke.

The fame vocation from labour doe they also enjoy, to whom the people perswaded by the commendation of the Priests, and secret election of the Syphogrant [...], have given a perpetuall licence, from labour to learning. But if any one of them prove [Page] not according to the expectation and hope of him conceived, he is forthwith plucked backe to the company of artificers. And contrariwise, and often it chanceth that a handicrafts man doth so earnestly bestow his vacant and spare houres in learning, and through diligence so profiteth therein, that he is taken from his handy occupation, and promoted to the company of the learned.Only learned men called to Offices. Out of this order of the learned be chosen Ambassadours, Priests, Tranibores, and finally the Prince himselfe. Whom they in their old tongue call Barzanes, and by a newer name, Adamus.

The residue of the people being neither idle, nor yet occupyed about vnprofitable exercises, it may be easily judged in how few houres how much good worke by them may be done and dispatched, towards those things that I have spoken off. This commodity they have also above [Page] other, that in the most part of necessary occupations they need not so much worke, as other nations doe. For first of all the building or repairing of houses askethHow to avo [...] [...]excessiv [...] [...] building. every where so many mens co [...]ll labour, because that the vnth [...]y h [...]re s [...]lfereth the houses that his father b [...]lded, in continuance of time, to fall in decay. So that which he might haue vpholden with little cost, h [...] successor is constrained to build it againe a new, to his great charge. Yea many [...] also the house that stood one m [...]n in much money: and another is of so nice and so delicate a mind, that he setteth nothing by it. And it being neglected, & therefore shortly falling into ruine, he buildeth vp another in another place with no lesse cost and charge.

But among the Ʋtopians, where all thing be set in good order, and the Commonwealth in a good stay, it seldome chanceth, that they choose [Page] a new plot to build an house [...]pon. And they doe not onely find speedy [...] quicke remedies for present [...] but also prevent them th [...] be like to fall. And by [...] their houses con [...] l [...]st very long with little labour and sm [...]ll reparations, [...]omuch that these kind of workemen sometimes have almost [...]hing to doe. But that [...]y [...]e commanded to hew tim [...]er at home, and to square and [...] vp stones, to the intent that if any worke chance, it may the speed [...]r [...]se. Now Sir, inHow to l [...]ss [...]n the char [...]e in apparell. their apparell, [...]k [...] (I pray you) how [...] they need. First [...]ll, while▪ they be at worke, they be covered homely [...]ther, or [...]ki [...], that will [...]st s [...]v [...]re [...] ▪ When they go [...], they c [...]st vpo [...] them [...] hideth the other [...]pp [...]rell. These [...] the [...] I [...] all of o [...] [Page] and that is the naturall colour of the wooll. They therefore doe not onely spend much wollen cloth, then is spent in other Countries, but also the same standeth them in much lesse cost. But linnen cloath is made with lesse labour, and is therefore had more in vse. But in linnen cloath only whitenesse; in wollen, onely clenlinesse is regarded. As for the smalnesse or finenesse of the thred, that is nothing passed for. And this is the cause wherefore in other places foure or fiue cloath gownes of divers colours, and as many silke coates b [...] not enough for one man. Yea, and if he be of the dilicate and nice sort, tenne be too few: where as there one garment will serve a man most commonly two years: For why should he desire more? seeing if he had them, he should not be the better hapt or covered from cold, neither in his apparell any whit the comlier. [Page] Wherefore, seeing they be all exercised in profitable occupations, and that few Artificiers in the same crafts be sufficient: this is the cause that plenty of all things being among them, they doe sometimes bring forth an innumerable company of people to amend the high-wayes, if any be broken. Many times also, when they have no such worke to be occupyed about, an open proclamation is made, that they shall bestow fewer houres in worke: for the Magistrates doe not exercise their Citizens against their will [...] in vnneedfull labours. For why, in the institution of the Wea [...] publike, this end is onely and chiefly pretended and minded, that what t [...] may possibly be spared from the necessary occupation [...] and affaires of the Common-wealth, all that the Citizens should withdraw from the [...]ily service to the free liberty of the mi [...]d and gar [...]shing [Page] of the same. For herein they suppose the felicity of this life to consist.

Of their living and mutuall conversation together.

But now will I declare how the Citizens vse themselves one to another: what familiar occupying and entertainment, there i [...] among the people, and what fashion they vse in the distribution of every thing. First, the City consisteth of [...]lie, the f [...]lies most co [...]o [...]ly be made of ki [...]d. For the women when they be married [...] a l [...] full [...]ge, they goe into their husb [...]ds house.

But the male Children, with all the whole [...] off-spring [...] still in their [...] fi [...] [...] be governed of the [...] [Page] he dote for age: for then the next to him in age, is placed in his roome. But to the intent the prescript number of the citizensThe number of Citizens. should neither decrease; nor aboue measure increase, it is ordained that no family, which in every City be sixe thousand in the whole, besides them of the Countrey, shall at once haue [...]ewer children of the age of fourteene yeares or thereabout, then ten, or more then sixteene; for of children under this age, no number can be prescribed or appointed. This measure or number is easily observed and kept, by putting them that in fuller families be above the number into families of smaller increase. But if chance be that in the whole Citty, the store increase above the just number, wherewith they fill vp the lacke of other Cities. But if so be that the multitude throughout the whole Iland, passe and exceed the due number, then they choose [Page] out of every City certaine Citizens, and build up a Towne under their owne lawes in the next Land where the inhabitauts have much waste and unoccupied ground, receiving also of the same Countrey people to them, if they will joyne and dwell with them. They thus joyning and dwelling together doe easily agree in one fashion of living, and that to the great wealth of both the peoples: For they so bring the matter about by their Lawes, that the ground which before was neither good nor profitable for the one nor for the other, is now sufficient and fruitfull enough for them both. But if the inhabitants of the land, will not dwell with them to be ordered by their lawes, then they drive them out of those bounds which they have limited and appointed out for themselves.

And if they resist and rebell, then they make warre against [Page] them. For they count this the most just cause of warre, when any people holdeth a piece of ground voyd and vacant to no good nor profitable use, keeping other from the use and possession of it, which notwithstanding by the law of Nature ought thereof to be nourished and relieved. If any chance doe so much diminish the number of any of their Cities, that it cannot bee filled up againe, without the diminishing of the just number of the other Cities (which they say chanced but twice since the beginning of the Land, through a great pestilent Plague) then they fulfill and make up the number with Citizen, fet [...]hed out of their owne forraigne Townes, for they had rather suffer their forraigne townes to decay and perish, then any City of their owne I [...]and to be diminished. But now againe to the conversation of the Citizens among themselves. [...] [Page] hands of their Bondmen: for they permit not their free CitizensOf the slaughter of Beasts, we have learned manslaughter. Filth and ordure b [...]ing the injection of Pestilence into Cities to accustome themselves to the killing of beasts, through the use whereof they thinke, clemencie the gentlest affection of our nature by little and little, to decay and perish. Neither they suffer any thing that is filthy, loathsome, or uncleanly, to be brought into the City, left the ayre by stench thereof infected and corrupt, should cause Pestilent disease [...]. Moreover, every Street hath certaine great large hals set in equall distance one from another, every one knowne by a [...] verall name. In these hals dwell the Syphogrants. And to every one of the same halles, be appointed thirty families, on either side fifteene. The stewards of every hall, at a certaine houre come into the meat markets, where they receiue meate according to the number of their hals.

[Page]But first and chiefely of all, respect is had to the sicke,Care, diligence and attendance about the sicke, that be cured in the hospitals. For in the circuit of the City, a little without the walls, they have foure Hospitals, so big, so wide, so ample, and so large, that they may seeme foure little Townes, which were devised of that bignesse, partly to the intent the sick be they never so many in number, should not lye too throng or strait, and therefore uneasily, and incommodiously: and partly that they which were taken and holden with contagious diseases, such as be wont by infection to creepe from one to another, might be laid a farre from the company of the residue.

These Hospitals be so well appointed, and with all things necessary to health so furnished, and moreover so diligent attendance through the continuall presence of cunning Physitians is given, that though no man be sent t [...] ther [Page] against his will, yet notwithstanding there is no sicke person in all the City, that had not rather lye there then at home at his owne house. When the steward of the sicke hath received such meates as the Physitians haue prescribed, then the best is equally divided among the halls according to the company of every one, saving there is had a respect to the Prince, the Bishop, the Tranibores, and to Ambassadours and all strangers, if there be any, which be very few and seldome. But they also when they be there, have certaine severall houses appointed and prepared for them. To these halls at the set houres of dinner and supper, commeth all the whole Syphograntie or Ward, warned by the noise of a brazen Trumpet: except such as be sicke in the Hospitals, or else in their owne houses.

[Page]Howbeit, no man is prohibitedEveryman is at his liberty, so that nothing is done by compulsiō or forbid, or after the halls be served to fetch home meate out of the Market to his owne house; for they know that no man will doe it without a cause reasonable. For though no man be prohibited to dine at home, yet no man doth it willingly: because it is counted a point of small honesty. And also it were a folly to take the paine to dresse a bad dinner at home, when they may be welcome to good and fine fare so nigh hand at the hall.

In this hall, all vile service, and all slavery, with all laboursome toyle, and drudgery, and base businesse, is done by bondmen. But the women of everyWomen both dresse and serve the meat. family by course have the office and charge of cookery for seething and dressing the meate, and ordering all things thereto belonging. They sit at three tables or more, according to the [Page] number of their company. The men sit vpon the Beuch next the wall, and the women against them on the other side of the table, and if any sudden evill should chance to them, as many times happeneth to women with child, they may rise without trouble or disturbance of any body, and goe thence into the nursery. TheNurses. Nurses sit seyerall alone with their young sucklings, in a certaine parlour appointed and deputed to the same purpose, never without fire and cleane water, nor yet without cradles, that when they will they may lay downe the young Infants, and at their pleasure take them out of their swathing cloathes, and hold them to the fire, and refresh them with play. Every mother is nurse to her owne child, vnlesse either death, or sicknesse be the let. When that chanceth, the wiues of the Siphogrants quickly provide a Nurse. And that is not hard to [Page] be done. For they that can doe it, proffer themselves to no service so gladly as to that. BecauseNothing sooner provoketh men to well doing then praise and commendation. that there this kind of peece is much praised: and the child that is nourished, ever after, taketh his nurse for his owne naturall mother. Also among the nurses, sit all the children that be under the age of siue yeares. All the other children of both kinds, as well boyes as girles, that be under the age of marriage, doe either serve at the tables, or else if they be too young thereto, yet they stand by with marvailous silence. ThatThe eles C [...]tt [...]n of yong children which is given to them from the table they eate, and other severall dinner time they have none. The Syphogrant and his wife sit in the midst of the high Table, for as much as that is counted the honourablest place, and because from thence all the whole company i [...] in their sight. For that table standeth over thwart the over end of the Hall. To them be [Page] joyned two of the ancientest and eldest. For at every table they sit foure at a messe. But if there be a Church standing in that Syphogranty, or Ward, then the Priest and his wife sitteth with the Syphogrant, as chiefe in the company. On both sides of them sit young men, and next unto themThe young mixed with their elders. againe, old men. And thus throughout all the house, equall of age be set together, and yet be mixt and matched with unequall ages.

This they say, was ordeined, to the intent that the sage gravity and reverence of the elders should keepe the youngers from wanton licence of words and behaviour. For as much as nothing can be so secretly spoken or done at the table, but either they that sit on the one side or on the other, must needs perceiveOld men regarded and reverenced. it. The dishes be not set downe in order from the first place, but all the old men (whose places [Page] be marked with some speciall token to be knowne) be first served of their meate, and then the residue equally. The old men, divide their dainties as they thinke best to the younger on each side of them. Thus the elders be not defrauded of their due honour, and neverthelesse equall commodity commeth to every one. They begin every dinner and supper of reading somthing that pertaineth to good manners and vertue. But it is short, because no man shall be grieved therewith. Hereof the elders take occasion of honest communication, but neither sad norThis now adaies is observed in our Ʋ niversity. Talke at Table. unpleasant. Howbeit they doe not spend all the whole dinner time themselves, with long and tedious talke, but they gladly heare also the young men: yea, and purposely provoke them to talke, to the intent that they may have a proofe of every mans wit, and towardnesse, [Page] or disposition to vertue, which commonly in the liberty of feasting doth shew and vtter it selfe. Their dinuers be very short: but their suppers be somewhatThis is repugnant to the opinion of our Physiti [...]s [...] Musicke at the Table. longer, because that after dinner followeth labour, after supper, sleepe and naturall rest, which they thinke to be of more strength and efficacy to wholsome and healthfull digestion. No supper is passed without Musicke. Nor their banquets want no conceits, nor junkets. They burne sweet gummes and spices or perfumes, and pleasant smels, and sprinckle about sweet ointments and waters, yea, they have nothing undone that maketh for the cherishing of the company. For they be much enclined to this opinion: to thinke no kind of pleasure forbidden, whereofPleasure without bar [...]e, commendable. commeth no harme. Thus therefore, and after this sort they live together in the City, but in the Countrey they that dwell alone [Page] farre from any neighbours, doe dine at home in their owne houses: For no family there lacketh any victuals, as from whom commeth all that the Citizens eat and liue by.

Of their journying or travelling abroad, with divers other matters cunningly reasoned, and wittily discussed.

BVt if any be desirous to visite either their friends dwelling in another City, or to see the place it selfe, they easily obtaine licence-of the Syphogrants and Tranibores, vnlesse there be some profitable let. No man goeth out alone but a company is sent forth togither with their Princes letters, who doe testifie that they have licence to go that journey, and prescribeth also the day of their returne.

[Page]They haue a Waine given them, with a common bondman, which driveth the oxen, and taketh charge of them. But vnlesse they haue Women in their Company, they send home the waine againe, as an impediment and let. And though they carry nothing forth with them, yet in all their journey they lacke nothing. For wheresoever they come, they be at home. If they tary in a place longer then one day, then there every one of them falleth to his owne occupation, and be very gently entertained of the workemen and companies of the same crafts. If any man of his owne head and without leaue, walke out of his precinct and bounds, takē without the Princes letters, he is brought againe for a fugitive, or a run-away with great shame and rebuke, and is sharply punished. If he be taken in that fault againe, he is punished with bondage. If any be desirous to [Page] walke abroad into the fields, or into the Countrey that belongeth to the same City that hee dwelleth in, obtaining the good will of his Father, and the consent of his Wife, he is not prohibited. But into what part of the Countrey soever he commeth, he hath no meat given him untill he have wrought out his forenoones task, or dispatched so much worke, as there is wont to be wrought before supper. Observing this law and condition, he may goe whither he will within the bounds of his owne City. For hee shall be no lesse profitable to the City, then if he were within it. Now you see how little liberty they have to loyter: how they can haue no cloake or pretence to Idlenesse.O holy commonwealth and of Christians to be followed. There be neither wine tauerns, nor alchouses, nor stewes, nor any occasion of vice or wickednesse, no lurking corners, no places of wicked counsailes [Page] an vnlawfull assemblies, but they be in the present sigh [...], and vnder the eyes of every man. So that of necessity they must either apply their accustomed labours, or else recreate themselves with honest and laudable past [...]es.

This fashion and trade of li [...]e, being vsed among the people, it cannot be chosen, but that they must of necessity have store and plenty of all things. And seeingEquality is the cause that every man hath enough. they be all thereof partners equally, therefore can no man ther [...] be poore or needy. In the counsell of Amaur [...], whether as I said, every City se [...] [...]eth three men a peece yearely, assoon as it is perfectly knowne of what things there is in every place plenty, and againe what things be scant in any place, incontinent the lacke of the one, is performed and filled vp with the abundance of the other. And this they doe freely without any benefit, talking nothing againe [Page] of them, to whom the things is given, but those Cities that have given of their store to any other City, that lacketh, requiring nothing againe of the same City, doe take such things as they lackA common wealth is nothing else but a great houshold. of another City, to the which they gaue nothing. So the whole Iland is as it were one family or houshold. But when they have made sufficient provision of store for themselves (which they thinke not done, vntill they haue provided for two yeares following, because of the vncertainty of the next years proofe) then of those things, whereof they have abundance, they carry forth into other Countries great plenty: as Grayne, honey, wool, flaxe, wood, madd [...], purple died felles, waxe, tallow, leather, and living Beasts. And the seaventh part of all these things they giue franckly and freely to the poore of that Country. The residue [Page] they sell at a reasonable and meane price. By this meanes of tra [...]que or marchandise, they bring into their owne countrey; nor onely great plenty of gold and silver, but also all such things as they lacke at home, which is almost nothing but Iron. And by reason they haue long vsed this trade, now they haue more abundance of these things, then any man will beleeue.

Now therefore they care not whether they sell for ready money, or else upon trust to be paid at a day, and to have the most part in debts. But in soIn all things and aboue all things, to the community they haue an eye. doing they never follow the credence of private men: but the assurance or warrantise, of the whole City, by instruments and writings made in that behalfe accordingly. When the day of payment is come and expired, the City gathereth up the debt of the private debtors, and putteth it [Page] into the common boxe, and so long hath the use and profit of it, untill the Vtopians their creditors demand it. The most part of it, they never aske. ForBy what policy money [...]y be in lesse estimation▪ It is better either with money or by policy to avoid warr [...] th [...] with much losse of ma [...]s blood to fight. that thing which is to them is no profit to take it from other, to whom it is profitable, they think it no right nor conscience. But if the case so stand, that they must lend part of that money to another people, then they require their debt: or when they have warre. For the which purpose onely, they keepe at home all the [...]ea [...]re which they have, to be holpen and succoured by it either in extreame jeopardies, or in suddaine dangers. But especially and chiefly to hire therewith, and that for unreasonable great wages, strange Soldiers. For they had rather put Strangers in jeopardy, then their owne Country-men: knowing that for money enough, their enemies themselves ma [...]y times [Page] may be bought and sold, or else through treason be set together by the eares, among themselves. For this cause they keepe an inestimable treasure. But yet not as a treasure: But so they haue it, and vse it, as in good faith I am ashamed to shew: fearing that mywordes shall not bee beleeved. And this I haue moreO fine wit. cause to feare, for that I know how difficulty and hardly I my selfe would haue beleeved another man telling the same if I had not presently seene it with mine eyes.

For it must needes be, that how far a thing is dissonant and disagreeing, from the guise & trade of the hearers, so farre shall it be out of their beleefe. Howbeit, a wise and indifferent esteemer of things, will not greatly meruaile perchance, seeing all their other lawes and customes doe so much differ from ours, if the vse also of gold and silver among them be [Page] applied, rather to their owne fashions, then to ours. I meane in that they occupy-not money themselves, but keepe it for that chance, which as it may happen, so it may be, that it shall never come to passe. In the mean time, gold and silver, whereof money is made, they doe so vse, as none of them doth more esteeme it, then the very nature of the thing deserveth.

And then who doth not plainly see, how farre it is vnder Iron:Goldworse then yron as touching the necessary vse thereof. as without the which men can no better liue then without fire and water. Whereas to gold and silver, nature hath given no vse, that we may not well lacke: if that the folly of men had not set it in higher estimation for the rarenesse sake. But of the contrary part, nature as a most tender and louing mother, hath placed the best and necessary things open abroad: as the ayre, the water, and the earth it selfe. And [Page] hath remooved and hid farthest from vs vaine and vnprofitable things. Therefore if these mettals, among them should be fast locked vp in some Tower, it might be suspected, that the Prince and the Counsell (as the people is ever foolishly imagining) intended by some subtilty to deceiue the Commons, and to take some profit of it to themselves. Furthermore if they should make thereof plate, and such other finely & cunningly wrought stuffe, if at any time they should have occasion to breake it, and melt it againe, therewith to pay their souldiours wages, they see and perceive very well, that men would be loth to part from those things, that they once began to have pleasure and delight in. To remedy all this they have found out a means, well as it is agreable to all their other lawes and customes, so it is from ours, where gold is so much set by, and so diligently [Page] kept, very farre discripant and repug [...]t: and therefore uncredible, but only to them that be wise. For whereas they eate and drinke in earthen andO [...] full [...]. glasse veslels, which indeed be curiously and properly made, and yet be of very small, value: of gold and silver, they make chamber-pots, and other veslels that serve for most vile vse [...], not only in their common hal [...], but [...] every mans private house. I [...] more or the same [...] they make great chaine, s [...], and gyues, wherein they [...] their bond-men.

Finally, whosoever for a [...] [...] sence be [...]med, by their [...],Gold [...] repr [...]s. [...]ang [...]g, or gold: vpon their f [...]gers they weare rings of gold: and about their necke [...] of [...]d: & in conclusion then [...] tied with gold. Thus by [...]eanes p [...]ble they p [...]o [...]ure to have gold and [...] among them [...] and [...] [Page] And these mettals, which other Nations doe as grievously and sorrowfully soregoe, as in a manner their owne lives: if they should altogether at once be taken from the [...], no man there would thinke that he had lost the worth of one f [...]rthing. They gather also pearles by the sea sid [...], and D [...]onds and Carbun [...]l [...] Gemme [...] and [...] [...]to [...]s, [...] [...]ildren to play [...] all. upon certaine Rocke, and yet they s [...]ke [...] for them: but by chance finding them, they [...]ut and polish them. And therewith they deck their young Infants. Which like as in the first yeares of their childe hood, they make much, and [...] and proud of such [...] so when they be a little [...]ore growne in yeare [...] and dis [...]retio [...], perceiue that [...]o [...]e but children doe weare such t [...]ye and trifles: they [...] them away even of the [...] shame astnesse, without [...] [...]dding of their [...] our children, when [Page] they waxe bigge, doe cast away nuttes, brouches, and puppets. Therefore these lawes and custome, which be so far different from all other nations, how divers fantasies also and minds they doe cause, did I never so plainly perceiue in the Ambassadours or the Inemolians.

These Ambassadours came to Amauro [...]e, wh [...]les I was there.A ver [...] pleasant t [...]le. And because they came to [...] treate of great [...] weighty matters, those three Citizens a piece out of every City, were come thither before them. But all the Ambassadours of the next Countries, which had beene there before, and kn [...]w the f [...]shions and manners of the Vt [...]pians, among wh [...] they perceived no [...] given to sumptuou [...] App [...]r [...]l [...], [...] to be contemned, gold al [...]o to be [...] nied and reproachf [...]ll, w [...]re wo [...]t to come thither in very ho [...]ely and simple array. But the Inemolians [Page] because they dwell farre thence, and had very little acquai [...]nce with them, hearing that they were all apparelled alike, and that very rudely and homely, thinking them not to have the things which they did not weare: being therefore more proud, then wise, determined in the gorg [...]ousnesle of their apparell to present very Gods, and with the bright shining and glistering of their gay cloathing to dazell the eyes of the silly poore V [...]p [...]ans.

So there came in foure Ambassadours with one hundred s [...]rvant, all apparelled in changeable colour [...]: the mo [...]t of them in [...]kes: the Ambassadours themselves (for [...]t home [...] their owne Country they were noble me [...]) [...] [...] of gold, with great [...] [...] gold, with gold hanging [...] then [...] gold [...] vpon their fingers, [...] and [...] of gold vp [...] th [...], [Page] which glistered full of pearles and precious sto [...]ies: to be short trimmied and adorned with all those things, which among the Vtopians were either the punishment of bondmen, or the reproach of infamed persons, or else trifies for young children to play withall. Therefore it would have done a man good at his heart, to have seene how proudly they displayed their Peacocks feathers, how much they made of their painted sheathes, and how lottily they set forth and advanced themselves, when they compared their gallant apparell, with the poore r [...]iment of the Vt [...]pians. For all the people were s [...]rmed forth into the streets.

And on the other side, it was no lesse pleasure to consider how much they were deceived, and how farre they m [...]led of then purpose being contrary wayes taken, then they thought they [Page] should have beene. For so the eyes of all the Vtopians, except very few, which had beene in other Countries, for some reasonable cause, all that gorgiousnesse of apparell, seemed shamefull and reproachfull. Insomuch that they most reverently saluted the v [...]lest and most abject of them for Lords: judged them by then we [...]ing of Golden ch [...]nes to be Bondmen. Yea you should have [...]e Children also, that had cast away their Pearles and precious stor [...]es, when they saw the like sticking upon the Ambassadors caps: digge and push their mothers under the sides, saying thus to them. Looke mother how great a lubber doth yet weare pearles and preciousO [...]itty [...]e [...]d. [...]nes, as though he were a little child againe.

But the Mother, yea, and that also in good earnest: Peace sonne, saith shee: I thinke he be some of the Ambassadours [Page] fooles. Some found fault at their Golden chaynes, as to no use nor purpose, being so small and weake, that a bondman might ea [...]ily breake them, and againe so wide and large, that when it pleased him, he might cast them off, and runne away at liberty whether he would.

But when the Ambassadours had been th [...]re a day or two, and saw so great abundance of Gold so light [...]y [...]d, [...] lesse reproach, [...] them [...] that, more gold in the [...] and gyve▪ or one [...]gitive bondman, then all the [...]tly ornaments of them three [...] worth: they began to abate their courage, and for very sh [...]e [...]ud away all that gorgious array, whereof they were so proud. And specially when they [...]d [...]lked familiarly with the [...], and had learned all their [...]hions and opinions. For they [...] [Page] that any men be [...]o foolish, as to [...]ull [...]t [...] [...]er [...] [...] an [...] [...]t [...]t [...]y [...] have delight and pleasure in the doubtfull glistering of a little [...] [...]ing [...], which may behold a [...]y of the [...], or else the [...] it selfe.

Or that any [...] to [...] the [...] ▪ the [...] three [...], which [...] ( [...] [...]ever [...]) [...] [...]et [...]. Th [...] [...] th [...]t gold, which of the owne [...], [...] [...] so [...]profitable, [...] now among all people in [...] high estimation▪ [...] ▪ himselfe, by whom yea and [...]o [...] the vse of whom it is so much set by, is in much lesse estimation, then the gold it selfe. InsomuchA tru [...]t [...] t [...] and [...] [...]itty that a [...]mpish block-head churle, and which hath no more wit then an A [...]e, yea and as full of [...]ughtinesse, as of folly, shall have neverthelesse many wise [Page] and good men in subjection and bondage, onely for this, because he h [...]th a great heape of gold.

Which i [...] it should be taken from him by any fortune, or by some subtill wile and cautle of the Law, (which no les [...]e then fortune doth both raise vp the low, and plucke down the high) and be given to the most vile slave and abject drivell of all his houshold, then shortly after he shall goe into the service of his servant, as an augmentation, or over [...] money.

But they much more mervaileHow much more wi [...] is [...] the [...]eds of the Ʋ [...]an [...], [...] of the common sort of Christians. at and de [...]st the madnesse of them, which to those rich men, in whose deb [...] and danger they be not, doe give almost divine honours, for none other consideration▪ but because they be rich: and yet knowing them to be such [...]iggish pennyfathers, that they be sure as long as they live, not the worth of [Page] one farthing of that heape of Gold, shall come to them. These and such like opinions have they conceived, partly by education, being brought vp in that Common-wealth, whose lawes and customes be farre different from those kinds of folly, and partly by good literature and learning. For though there be not many in every City, which be exempt and discharged of all other labours, and appointed onely to learning, that is to say: such in whom even from their very child-hood they have perceived a singuler towardnesse, a fine wit, and amind apt to good learning: yet all in their child-hood be instructed in learning. And the better part of the people, both men and women throughout all their whole life, doe bestow in learning those spare houres, which we said they have vacant from bodily labours. They be taught learning in their own natiue tongue. [Page] For it is both copious in words, and also pleasant to the eare:The studies among the Ʋtopians. and for the vtterance of a mans mind very perfect and sure. The most part of all that side of the world, vseth the same language, saving that among the Ʋtopians it is finest and pu [...], and according to the diversity of the Countries, it is diversly altered. Of all these Phylosophers, whose names be here famous in this part of the world to vs knowne, before our comming thither, not as much as the [...]me of any of them was come among them. And yet in Musique, Logique, Arythmetique,Musique, Logique, Arithmetique, Geonetrie. and Geometrie they have found out in a manner all that our ancient Philosopher, have [...]a [...]gl [...]. But as they in all thing [...] be almost equall to our old and ancient Clarkes; so our [...]ew [...] in subtill inventio [...] have farre passed and gone beyond them.

[Page]For they have not devised one [...]lace [...] to [...] a vp [...] of all those rules, of restrictions, amplifications, very wittily invented in the small Logicals, which heere our Children in every place doe learne. Furthermore, they were never yet able to finde out the second inventions: Insomuch tha [...] none of them could ever see man himselfe in common, as they call him, though he be (as you know) bigger then ever was any Giant, ye [...], and pointed to of us even with our finger. But they be in the course of the Starres, and the moving [...] of the heavenly [...]p [...]ares very expert and [...]ng. TheyA [...] have also [...] ex [...]ogitated and devised Instruments of divers [...]t among [...] t [...]is [...] [...] wherein is exactly comprehended and conta [...]ed the moving [...] and [...] or the Sunne, the Moone, and of all the other Starres, which appeare in [...] Horizon. But [...] the [...] and d [...] of [...] [Page] Planets, and all that deceitfull divination of the Starres, they never as much as dreamed thereof. Raines, windes, and other courses of tempests, they know before by certaine tokens, which they have learned by long use and observation. But of the causesNaturall Philosophy is a knowledge most uncertaine. of all these things, and of the [...]bbing and flowing, and salt [...]ie of the Sea, and finally of the originall beginning, and na [...]e o [...] heaven and of the world, they [...]l [...]. par [...]ly the s [...]me opinious that our old Philosophers hold, and partly as our Philosophers vary among themselves, so they also, wh [...]les they bringMoral philosophie. new reasons of things, doe disagree from all them, and yet among themselves in all points they doe not accord.

In that Philosophy, which which intreateth of manners and vertue the [...] reasons and opinions [...]gree with our. They dispure of the good qualities of the Soule▪ [Page] of the body, and of fortune. And whether the name of goodnesse may be [...]pplied to all these, or onely to the endowments and guirt, of the soule. They reasonThe ends of good things. The Ʋtopians hold opinion that felicity consisteth t [...] honest pleasure. of vertue and pleasure. But the chiefe and principall question is i [...] what thing be it one or more the felicity o [...] man consisteth. But in this point they seeme almost too much given and inclined to [...] opinion of them, which de [...]end pleasure, wherein they determine either all or the chiefest part of mans felicity to re [...]t. And (which is m [...] to be [...]v [...]ed at) the defence of this so d [...]y and [...] an opinion they fetch even from their gra [...]e, sharpe, bitter, and [...]gorous religion. For they never dispute of felicity or blessednesse, but they joyne unto the reasons of PhilosophyThe theologie of the Ʋtopians. certaine principles taken out of religion: without the which, to the investigation of true f [...], th [...]y thinke reason [Page] of it selfe weake and unperfect.The immortality of the soule, whereof these daies certaine christians be doubtfull. Those principles be these and such like. That the soule is immortall: and by the bountifull goodnesse of GOD ordained to felicity. That to our vertues and good deeds, rewards be appointed after this life, and to our evill deeds punishments. Though these be pertaining to religion, yet they thinke it meet that they should be beleeved and granted by proves of reason. But [...] these principles were condemned and disanulled, then without any delay, they pronounce no man to be so foolish, which would not doe [...]ll his diligence and endevor to obtaine pleasure be it right or wrong, only avoiding this inconvenience, that the lesse pleasure should not be a let or hinderance to the bigger: or that he laboured not for that pleasure, which would bring after it displeasure, griefe, and sorrow.

For they judge it extreame [Page] madnesse to follow sharpe andAs every pleasure ought to be imbraced, so griefe is not to be pursue I [...]ut for vertues sake. painfull vertue, and not onely to banish the pleasure of life, but also willingly to suffer griefe, without any hope of profit thereof ensuing. For what profit can there be, if a man, when he hath pa [...]ed over all his life unpleasantly, that is to say, miserably, shall have no reward after his death? But [...]ow sir, they thinke not felicity to rest in all pleasure, but onely in that pleasure that is good and honest, and that hereto, as to perfect blessednesse our nature is allured and drawne even of vertue, whereto onely they that be of the contrary opinionIn this definition of vertue they agree with th [...] S [...]cians▪ doe attribute felicity. For they de [...]ne vertue to be life ordered according to Nature, and that we be hereunto ordained of God. And that he d [...]th follow the cou [...]e of nature, which inThe worke a [...] effect of reason [...]n [...]n. desi [...]ing and refusing thing [...] is ruled by reason. Furthermore▪ the reason [...] and prin [...] the lo [...] [Page] [...]d veneration of the divine M [...] [...]ty. Or whose goodnesse it is [...]at we be, and that wee be [...]n possibility to attaine felicity. And that seconda [...]ly it both stir [...]th and provoketh us to lead [...]ur life out of c [...]re in joy and [...]h; and also moveth us to [...] and further all other in re [...]p [...] of the society of nature to [...] and e [...]joy the same. For [...] [...]ever man so earnest [...] [...]llo [...]er of ve [...]e [...] pleasu [...] ▪ that would s [...] enjoyne your labours, watchings, and fastings, but hee would also exhort you to [...]a [...]e, [...]g [...]n, re [...]eve to your power, the l [...]ke and misery of others, pr [...]is [...]g the same a [...] [...] deed of humanity and pitty. Then i [...] it be a point of humanity, for man to [...]ing health and comfort to man, and specially (which is a vertue most peculiarly belonging to man) to [...]itig [...]te and ass [...]ge the griefe of others, and by taking [Page] from them the sorrow and heavinesse of life to restore them to joy, that is to say to pleasure: which may it not then be said, that nature doth provoke every man to doe the same to himselfe? For a joyfull life, that is to say, aBut now a daies some there be that willingly procure unto themselues painefull griefe, as though therein restedsome high point of religion where as rather the religiously disposed person, if they happen to him either by chance or else by naturall necessity ought patiently to receive and suffer them. pleasant life is either evill: and if it be so, then thou shouldest not onely helpe no man thereto, but rather as much as in thee lyeth, withdraw all men from it, as noysome and hurtfull, or else if thou not onely must, but also of duty art bound to procure it to others? why not chiefly to thy selfe? To whom thou art bound to shew as much favour and gentlenesse as to other. For when nature biddeth thee to be good and gentle to other, she commandeth thee not to be cruell and ungentle to thy selfe. Therefore even very nature (say they) prescribeth vs to a joyfull life, that is to say, pleasure as the end of all our operations. And they [Page] define vertue to be life ordered according to the prescript of nature. But in that, that nature doth all are and provoke men one to helpe another to live merrily (which surely she doth not without a good cause: for no man is farre above the lot of mans state, or condition, that nature doth carke and care for him onely, which equally favoureth all, that he comprehended vnder the communion of one shape, forme and fashion) verily she commandeth them to vse diligent circumspection, that thou doe not seeke for thine owne commodities, that thou procure others incommodities. Wherefore their opinion is,Bargaines and lawes. that not onely covenants and bargaines made among private men, ought to be well and faithfully followed, observed, and kept but also common lawes, which either a good Prince hath justly published, or else the people neither oppressed with tyrannie, neither [Page] deceived by fraud and guile, hath by their common consent constituted and ratified, concerning the petition of the commodity of life, that is to say, the matter of pleasure.

These lawes not offended, it is wisdome, that thou looke to thine owne wealth. And doe the same for the common wealth is no lesse then thy duty, [...]f thou bearest any reverent love, or any naturall zeale and affection to thy natiue Country. But to goe about to let another man of his pleasure, whiles thou procurest thine owne, that is open wrong. Contrariwise, to with-draw something from thy selfe to giue to other, that is a point of humanity, and gentlenesse: which never taketh away so much commodity, as it bringeth againe. For it is recompenced with the returne of benefits, and the conscience of the good deed, with the remembrance of the [Page] thankfull love and benevolence of them, to whom thou hast done it, doth bring more pleasure to thy mind, then that which thouThe mutual recourse of kindnesse. hast with-holden from thy selfe could have brought to thy body. Finally (which to a godly disposed and a religious mind is easie to be perswaded) God recompenseth the gift of a short and small pleasure with great and everlasting joy.

Therefore the matter diligently weighed, and considered, thus they thinke, that all our actions, and in them the vertues themselves, be referred at the last to ple [...]sure, as their end and felicity. Pleasure they call everyThe definition of pleasure. motion, and state of the body or mind, wherein man hath naturally delectation. Appetite th [...]y joyne to nature, and that [...]ot without a good cause. For like as, not onely the senses, but also [...]ight reason coveteth whatsoever is naturally pleasant, so [Page] that it may be gotten without wrong or injury, not letting or debarring a greater pleasure, nor causing painfull labour, even so those things that men, by vaine imagination doe faine against nature to be pleasant (as though it lay in their power to change the things, as they doe the namesFalse and counterfeit pleasures of things) all such pleasures they beleeve to be of so small helpe and furtherance to felicity, that they count them a great let and hinderance. Because that in whom they have once taken place, all his mind they possesse with a false opinion of pleasure. So that there is no place left for true and naturall delectations.

For there be many things, which of their owne nature containe no pleasantnesse: yea the most part of them much griefe and sorrow. And yet through the perverse and malicious flickering inticements of lewd and honest desires, be taken not onely for [Page] speciall and soveraigne pleasures, but also be counted among the chiefe causes of life. In this counterfeit kind of pleasure, they put them that I sp [...]ke of before. Which the better gownes theyThe errour o [...]th▪ [...] that [...]e more for apparels sake. have on, the better men they thinke themselves. In the which thing, they doe twise er [...]e. [...] they be no lesse deceived, i [...] that they thinke their gowne the better then they be, in that they thinke themselves the better.

For if you consider the profi [...]ble use of the garment, why should wooll of a fi [...]er spunne [...]eed, be thought better, then the wooll of a course spunne [...]eed? Yet they, as though the one did passe the other by nature, and not by their mistaking, advance themselves, and thinke the price of their owne persons therby greatly mereased. And therefore the honor, which in a course gowne they durst not have lo [...] ked for, they require, as it were of [Page] duty, for their finer gownes sake. And if they be passed without reverence, they take it displeasantly and disdainfully. And againe,Foolish honour. is it not alike madnesse to take a pride in vaine and unprofitable honours? For what naturall or true pleasure doest thou take of another mans bare head, or bowed knees; Will this case the paine of thy knees, or remedy the phrensie of thy head? In this image of counterfeit pleasure, they be of marvailous madnesse, which for the opinion of Nobility, rejoyce much in their owne conceit. Because: was their fortune to come of such ancestors, whose stocke of long time had beene counted rich (for now nobility is nothing else) specially rich in lands. And though their Ancestors left them not one foot of land, or else they themselves have pissed it against the walls, yet they thinke themselve, nor the lesse noble therefore [Page] of one haire. In this number also they count them that takePleasure in precious stones must foolish. pleasure and delight (as I said) in gemmes and precious stones, and thinke themselues almost gods, if they chance to get an excellent one specially of that kind, wch in that time of their own Countreymen, is had in highest estimation.The opinion and fancie of people doth a [...]g [...]nt and diminish the price and estimation of precious stones.

For one kind of stone keepeth not his price still in all countries, and at all times. Nor they buy them not, but taken out of the gold, and bare, no nor so neither, untill they haue made the seller to sweare, that hee will warrant and assure it to be a true stone and no counterfeit gemme. Such care they take least a counterfeit stone should deceiue their eyes in stead of a right stone. But why shouldest thou not take even as much pleasure in beholding a counterfeit stone, which thine eye cannot discerne from a right stone? They should both [Page] be of like value to thee, even as to the blind man.

What shall I say of them, that keepe superfluous riches, to take delectation onely in the beholding, and not in the vse or occupying thereof? D [...]e they take true pleasure, or else be they deceived with false pleasure? Or of them that be in a contraryHiders of Treasure. vice, hiding the gold which they shall neither occuupy, nor peradventure never see him more: And whiles they take care least they shall leese, doe leese it indeede. For what is it else, when they hide it in the ground taking it both from their owne vse, and perchance from all other mens also,? And yet thou, when thou hast hid thy treasure, as one out of all care, hopest for joy. The which treasure, if it should chance to bee stollen, and thou ignorant of the theft, shouldest dye tenne yeares after: all that ten yeares tho [...] liuedst after thy money [Page] was stollen, what matter was it to thee, whether it had beene taken away or else safe as thou leftest it? Truly both wayes like profit came to thee. To these so foolish pleasures they joyne Dicers, whose madnesse they know by heare-say, and not by use. Hunters also, & Hawkers.

For what pleasure is there (say they) in casting the Dice upon aDice-play table. Which thou hast done so often, that if there were any pleasure in it; yet the oft use might make thee weary thereof? Or what delight can there be, and not rather displeasure in hearingHunting and Hawking. the barking & howling of dogs? Or what greater pleasure is there to be felt, when a Dog followeth an Hare, then when a Dog followeth a dogge? For one thing is done in both, that is to say, running, if thou hast pleasure therein. But if the hope of slaughter, and the expectation of tearing in peeces the Beast [Page] doth please thee: thou shouldest rather be moved with pitty to see a silly innocent Hare murdered of a dogge: the weake of the stronger, the fearefull of the fierce, the innocent of the cruell and unmercifull. Therefore all this exercise of hunting, as a thing unworthy toHunting the basest part of butchery among the Ʋtopians, yet this is now in the exercise of most noble men. be vsed of Freemen, the Vtopians have rejected to their butchers, to the which craft (as we said before) they appoint their bondmen. For they count hunting the lowest, the vilest, and most abject part of butchery, and the other parts of it, more profitable, and more honest, as bringing much more commodity, in that they kill Beasts onely for necessity.

Whereas the hunter secketh nothing but pleasure of the silly and wofull beasts slaughter and murder. The which pleasure in beholding death, they thinke doth rise in the [Page] very Beasts, either of a cruell affection or mind, or else to be changed in continuance of time into cruelty, by long vse of so cruell a pleasure. These therefore and all such like, which be innumerable, though the common sort of people doth take them for pleasures, yet they seeing there is no naturall pleasantnesse in them, doe plainly determine them to haue no affinity with true and right pleasure. For as touching that they doe commonly moue the sence with delectation (which seemeth to be a worke of pleasure) this doth nothing diminish their opinion. For not the nature of the thing but their perverse and lewd custome is the cause hereof. Which causeth them to accept bitter or sower things for sweet things. Even as women with child in their vicia [...] and corrupt tast, thinke pitch and [...]allow sweeter then honey. Howbeit no mans judgement [Page] depraved and corrupt, eyther by sicknesse, or by custome,The kindnesse of true pleasure can change the nature of pleasure, more then it can doe the nature of other things. They make divers k [...]nds of pleasures. For some they attribute to the Soule, and some to the body. To the soule they give intelligence, and that delication, that commeth of the contemplation of truth.

Here [...]nto is joyned the pleasant remembrance of the good life past. The pleasure of the body they divide into two parts. The first is, when delectation is sensible felt and perceived, which many times chanceth by the renuing and refreshing of those parts, which our naturall heate dryeth up. This commeth by meate and drinke. And sometimes whiles those things be expulsed, and voyded, whereof is in the body over great abundance. This pleasure is felt, when we [Page] doe our naturall [...]asement, or when we be doing the act of generation, or when the itching of any part is eased with rubbing or scratching. Sometimes pleasure riseth exhibiting to any member nothing that it desireth, nor taking from it any paine that it feeleth, which neverthelesse tickleth and moveth our sences with a certaine secret efficacie, but with a manifest motion turneth them to it. As is that which commeth of Musicke. The second part of bodily pleasure theyBodily health. say, is that which consisteth and resteth in the quiet and upright state of the body. And that truly is every mans owne proper health, intermingled and disturbed with no griefe. For this, if they be not letted nor assaulted with no griefe, is delectable of it selfe, though it be moved with no externall or outward pleasure. For though it be not so plaine and manifest to the sence, as the [Page] greedy lust of eating & drinking yet neverthelesse, many take it for the chiefest pleasure. All the Vtopians grant it to be a right soveraigne pleasure, and as you would say the foundation and ground of all pleasures, as which even alone is able to make the state and condition of life delectable and pleasant. And it being once taken away, there is no place left for any pleasure. For to be without griefe not having health, that they call unsensibility, and not pleasure.

The Vtopians have long ago [...] rejected and condemned [...]he opinion of them, which said, that stedfast and quiet health, (for this question also hath beene diligently debated among them) ought not therefore to be counted a pleasure, because they say it cannot be presently and sensibly perceived and felt by some outward motion. But of the contrary part, now they agree almost [Page] all in this, that health is a most soveraigne pleasure. For seeing that in sicknesse (say they) is griefe, which is a mortall enemy to pleasure, even as sicknesse is to health, why should not then pleasure be in the quietnes of health? For they say it maketh nothing to this matter, whether you say that sicknesse is a griefe, or that in sicknesse is griefe for all commeth to one purpose.

For whether health be a pleasure it selfe, or a necessary cause of pleasure, as fire is of heat, truly both wayes it followeth, that they cannot be without pleasure, that be in perfect health. Furthermore whiles we eate (say they) then health, which began to be appaired, fighteth by the helpe of food against hunger. In the which fight, whiles health by little and little getteth the vpper hand, that same proceeding, and (as we would say) that onwardnesse to [Page] the wonted strength, ministreth that pleasure, whereby we be so refreshed. Health therefore, which in the conflict is joyfull, shall it not be merry, when it hath gotten the victory? But as soone as it hath recovered the pristinate strength, which thing only in all the sight it coveted, shall it incontinent be astonied? Nor shall it not know nor imbrace the owne wealth and goodnesse? For where it is said, health cannot be felt, this they thinke is nothing true. For what man walking, say they, feeleth not himselfe in health, but he that is not? Is there any man so possessed with stonish [...]nsensibility, or with lethargie, that is to say, the sleeping sicknesse, that he will not grant health to be acceptable to him, and delectable? But what other things is delectation, then thatDelecta [...]ions. The pleasures of the mind. which by another name is called pleasure a They imbrace chiefly the pleasures of the mind. For [Page] them they count the chiefest and most principall of all. The chiefe part of them they thinke doth come of the exercise of vertue, and conscience of good life. Of these pleasures that the body ministreth, they give the preheminence to health. For the delight of eating and drinking, and whatsoever hath any like pleasantnesse, they determine to be pleasures much to be desired, but no otherwayes then for healths sake. For such things of their owne proper nature be not so pleasant, but in that they resist sicknesse privily stealing on: Therefore, like as it is a wisemans part, rather to avoid sicknesse, then to wish for medicines, and rather to drive away and put to flight carefull griefes, then to call for comfort: so it is much better not to need this kind of pleasure, then thereby to be eased of the contrary griefe. The which kind of pleasure, if any [Page] man take for his felicity, that man must needs grant, that then he shall be in most felicity, if he live that life, which is lead in continuall hunger, thirst, itching, eating, drinking, scratching, and rubbing. The which life, how not onely foule and unhonest, but also how miserable and wretched it is, who perceiveth not? These doubtlesse be the basest pleasures of all, as unpure and unperfect. For they never come but accompanied with their contrary griefes. As with the pleasure of eating, i [...] joyned hunger, and that after no very equall sort. For of these two, the griefe is both the more vehement and also of longer continuance. For it beginneth before the pleasure, and endeth not untill the pleasure die with it. Wherefore such pleasures they thinke not greatly to be set by, but in that they be necessary. Howbeit they have delight also in these. and [Page] thankfully knowledge the tender love of mother Nature, which with most pleasant delectation allureth her children to that, to the necessary vse whereof, they must from time to time continually be forced and driven. For how wretched and miserable should our life be, if these daily griefes of hunger and thirst could not be driven away, but with bitter potions, and sowre medicines, as the other diseases be, wherewith we be seldomer troubled?The gifts of nature. But beauty, strength, nimblenesse, these as peculiar and pleasant gifts of nature they make much off. But those pleasures that be receiued by the eares, the eyes, and the nose, which nature willeth to be proper and peculiar to man (for no other living creature doth behold the fairenesse & the beauty of the world, or is moved with any respect of savors, but only for & diversity of meats, neither perceveth [Page] the concordant & discordant distances of sounds and tunes) these pleasures. I say, they accept and allow as certaine pleasant rejoycings of life. But in all things this cautell they vse, that a lesse pleasure hinder not a bigger, and that the pleasure be no cause of displeasure, which they thinke to follow of necessity, if the pleasure be unhonest. But yet to despise the comelinesse of beauty, to wast the bodily strength, to turne nimblenesse unto [...]loathishnesse: to consume and make feeble the body with fasting▪ to doe injury to health, and to reject the pleasant motions of nature, unlesse a man neglect these commodities, whiles he doth with a fervent zeale procure the wealth of others, or the common profit, for the which pleasure forborne, he is in hope of a greater pleasure at Gods hand: else for a vaine shadow of vertue, for the wealth and profit [Page] of no man, to punish himselfe, or to the intent he may be able couragiously to suffer adversity, which perchance shall never come to him: this to doe, they thinke it a point of extreame madnesse, and a token of a man cruelly minded towards himselfe, and unkind towards nature, as one so disdaining to be in her danger, that he renounceth andMarke this well. refuseth all her benefits. This is their sentence and opinion of vertue and pleasure. And they beleeve that by mans reason none can be found truer then this, unlesse any godlier be inspired into man from heaven. Wherein whether they beleeve well or no, neither the time doth suffer us to discusse, neither it is now necessary. For we have taken vpon vs to shew and declare their lores and ordinancies, and not to defend them. But this thing I beleeve verily, howsoever these decrees be, that there is [Page] in no place of the world, neither a more excellent people, neither a more flourishing Commonwealth. They be light and quicke of body, full of activity and nimblenesse, and of more strength then a man would judge them by their stature, which for al that is not too low. And though their soyle be not very fruitfull, nor their ayre very wholesome, yet against the ayre they so defend them with temperate diet, and so order and husband their ground with diligent travaile, th [...] no Countrey is greater increase and plenty of Corne and Cattle, nor mens bodies of longer life, andThe w [...]lth [...] descirption of the V [...]pi [...]s. subject or apt to fewer diseases. There therefore a man may see well, and diligently exploited and furnished, not onely those things which husbandmen doe commonly in other Countries, as by craft and cunning to remedy the barrennesse of the ground, but also a whole Wood [Page] by the hands of the people plucked vp by the rootes in one place, and set againe in another place. Wherein was had regard and consideration, not of plenty, but of commodious carriage▪ that wood and timber might be nigher to the Sea, or the Rivers, or the Cities. For it is lesse labour and businesse to carry graine farre by land then wood. The people be gentle, merry, quicke and fine witte [...], delighting in quietnesse, and when need requireth, able to abide and suffer much bodily labour. Else they be not greatly desirous and fond of it [...]: but in the exercise and study of the mind they be never weary. When they had heard me speake of the Greeke literature or learning (for in Latine there was nothing that I thought they would greatly allow, besides Histories and Poets) they made wonderfull earnest and importunate sute unto [Page] me that I would reach and instruct them in that tongue and learning. I began therefore to read unto them, at the first truly, more because I would not seemeA wonderfull [...]p [...] nesse to lea [...]g [...] the Vtopians. to refuse the labour, then that I hoped that they would any thing profit therein. But when I had gone forward a little, I perceived incontinent by their diligence, that my labour should not be bestowed in vaine. For they began so easily to fashion their letters, so plainly to pronounce the words, so quickly to learne by heart, and so surely to rehearse the [...]ame, that I merv [...]leBut now most block beaded Asse▪ be set to learning, and most prog [...] [...]its corrupt with pleasures. at it, saving that the most part of them were fine, a [...]d cho [...] wits, and of ripe age, picked out of the company of the learned men, which not onely of their owne free and voluntary will, but also by the commandement of the Councell, undertooke to learne this language. Therefore in lesse then three yeares space, there [Page] was nothing in the Greeke tongue that they lacked. They were able to read good Authors without any stay, if the booke were not false. This kind of learning, as I suppose, they tooke so much the sooner, because, it is somewhat alliant to them: For I thinke that this Nation tooke their beginning of the Greekes, because their speech, which in all other points is not much unlike the Per sian tongue, keeping divers sig [...]es and token of the Greeke language in the names of their Cities, and of their Magistrates. They have of me (for when I was determined to enter into my fourth voyage, I cast into [...]he Ship in the stead of merchandise a prety far [...]le of bookes, because I intended to come againe rather never, then shortly) they have, I say of me, the most part of Platoes workes, more of Aristotles, also Theophrastus of plants, but in divers places (which [Page] I am sory for) vnperfect. For whiles they were a Ship-boord, a Marmoset chanced vpon the booke, as it was negligently laid by, which wantonly playing therewith, plucked out certaine leaves and tore them in peeces. Of them that have written the Grammer, they have only Las [...]aris. For Theodorus I carried not with me, nor never a Dictionarie, but Hes [...]chius, and Dioscorides. They set great store by Plutarches bookes. Aud they be delighted with Lucianes merry conceits and jeasts. Of the Poets they have Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles in Ald [...]s small print. Of the Historians they have Thucidides, Herodotus, and Herodian. Also my companion Tricius Apinatus carried with him Physicke bookes, certaine small workes of Hippocrates, and Galens▪ Microtechne. The which booke they have in great estimation: [Page] For though there be almost no natiō under heaven that hath lesse need of Physicke then they, yet this notwith standing, Physicke is no where in greater honour. Because they count thePhisicke highly regarded. knowledge of it among the godliest, and most profitable parts of Philosophie. For whiles they by the helpe of this Philosophy search out the secret my steries of nature, they thinke themselves to recciue thereby not onely wonderfull great pleasure, but also to obtaine great thanks and favour of the Author and maker thereof. Whom they thinke according to the fashion of other Artificers, to have set forth the marvailous and gorgious frame of the world for man, with great affection, incentiuely to behold. WhomThe contemplation of nature. onely he hath made of wit, and capacity to consider and understand the excellency of so great a worke. And therefore he beareth (say they) [Page] more good will and love to the curious and diligent beholder, and viewer of his worke and marveilour at the same, then he doth to him, which like a very bruit Beast without wit and reason, or as one without sense or mooving, hath no regard to so great and so wonderfull a spectacle. The wits therefore of the Vtopians inured and exercised in learning, be marvailous quicke in the invention of feats, helping any thing to the advantage and wealth of life. Howbeit two feats they may thanke vs for. That is, the science of Imprinting, and the craft of making Paper. And yet not onely vs, but chiefly and principally themselves. For when we shewed to them Aldus his print in bookes of paper, & told them of the stuffe whereof paper is made, and of the feat of graving letters, speaking somewhat more, then we could plainely declare (for there was none of vs, [Page] that knew perfectly eyther the one or the other) they forth with very wittily conjectured the thing. And whereas before, they wrote onely in skins, in barkes of Trees, and in reedes, now they have attempted to make Paper, and to imprint Letters. And though at the first it proved not all of the best, yet by often assaying the same, they shortly got the feare of both. And have so brought the matter about, that if they had copies of Greeke authors, they could lack no Bookes. But now they have no more, then I rehearsed before, saving that by printing of bookes, they have multiplied and increased the same into many thousands of Copies. Whosoever commeth thither to see the Land, being excellent in any gift of wit, or through much and long journeying, well experienced and seene in the knowledge of many Countries (for the which cause wee were very welcome [Page] to them) him they receive and entertaine wondrous gently and lovingly. For they have delight to heare what is done in every Land, howbeit very few Marchant men come thither.

For what should they bring thither, vnlesse it were yron, or else Gold and silver, which they had rather carry home againe? Also such things as are to be carried out of their land, they thinke it more wisedome to carry that geere forth themselues, then that other should come thither to fetch it, to the intent they may the better know the out lands on every side of them, and keepe in ure the feate and knowledge of failing.

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Of Bond-men, Sicke Persons, Wedlocke, and▪ divers other matters.

THey neither make BondmenA [...] [...]vailons [...]quity of this nation. of prisoners taken in Battaile, unlesse it be in ba [...]ile that they fought themselves, [...]or of bondmens children; nor to be short, of any such as they can get out of forraigne Countries, though he were yet there a bondman. But eyther such, as among themselves for heynous offences be punished bondage, or else such, as in the Cities of other Lands for great trespasses be cō demned to death. And of this sort of bondmen they have most store.

For many of them they bring home sometimes, paying very little for them, yea most commonly getting them for gramercy. These sorts of bondmen they keep not only in continuall work and labour, but also in bands. [Page] But their owne men they handle hardest, whom they judge more desperate, and to haue deserved greater punishment, because they being so godly brought vp to vertue in so excellent a common wealth, could not for all that be refrained from misdoing. Another kind of bondmen they haue, when a vile drudge being a poore laborer in another Countrey, doth choose of his owne free will to be a bondman among them. These they intreat and o [...]der honestly, and entertaine almost as gently, as their owne free citizens, saving that they put them to a little more labour, as thereto accustomed. If any such, bee disposed to depart thence (which seldome is seene) they neither hold him against his will, neither send him a way with empty hands. The sicke (as I said) they see to with great [...] th [...]t be [...]. affection, and let nothing at all passe, c [...]cerning either Phisicke or [Page] good diet, whereby they may be restored againe to their health. Such as be sicke or incureable diseases, they comfort with sitting by them, and to be short, withall manner of helpes that may be. But if the disease bee not onely vncureable, but also full of continuall paine and anguish thē the Priests and the Magistrates exhort the man, seeing hee is not able to doe any duty of life and by overliving; his owne death is noysome and irkesome to other and grieuous to himselfe: that he will determine with himselfe no longer to cherish that pestilent and painfull disease▪ And seeingƲoluntary de [...]th. his life is to him but a torment, that he will not be vnwilling to dy, but rather take a good hope to him, and either dispatch himselfe out of that painefull life, as out of a prison, or a racke of torment, or else suffer himselfe willingly to be ridde out of it by other. And in so doing, they [Page] tell him he shall doe wisely, seeing by his death he shall loose no commodity, but end his paine. And because in that act he shall follow the counsel of the Priests, that is to say, of the Interpreters of Gods will and pleasure, they shew him that he shall doe like a godly and a vertuous man. They that be thus perswaded, finish their lives willingly, either with hunger, or else dye in their sleepe without any feeling of death. But they cause none such to dye against his will, nor they vse no lesse [...]iligence and attendance about him: beleeuing this to be an honourable death. Else he that killeth himselfe before that the Priests & the Counsell haue allowed the cause of his death, him as vnworthy either to be buried, or with fire to be consumed, they cast v [...]buried into some stinking marrish. TheOf Wedl [...]. woman is not married before she be eighteene yeares old.

[Page]The man is foure yeares elder before he marry. If eyther the man or the woman be proued to haue actually offended before their mariage, with another, the party that so hath trespassed, is sharpely punished. And both the offenders, be forbidden ever after in all their life to marry: vnlesse the fault be forgiven by the Princes pardon. Both the good man and good wife of the house, where that offence was committed, as being slacke and negligent in looking to their charge, be in danger of great reproach, and infamy. That offence is so sharpely punished, because they perceiue that vnlesse they be diligently kept from the liberty of this vice, few will joyne together in the loue of marriage, wherein all the life must be led with one, and also all the griefes and displeasures cōming therewith patiently be taken and born. Furthermore [Page] in choosing wiues and husbands, they obserue earnestly and straightly a custome, which seemed to us very fond and foolish. For a sad and honest patron sheweth the woman be she Maid or widdow, naked to the wooer. And likewise a sage and discreet man, exhibiteth the wooer naked to the woman. At this custome we laughed, and disallowed it as foolish. But they on the other part doe greatly wonder at the folly of all other Nations, which in buying a Colt, whereas a little money is in hazard, be so chary and circumspect, that though he be almost all bare, yet they will not buy him, unlesse the saddle and all the harnesse be taken off, least under those coverings be hid some gall or sore. And yet in chusing a Wife, which shall be either pleasure or displeasure to them all their life after, they be so rechlesse, that all the residue of the womans body [Page] being eovered with cloathes, they esteeme her scarcely by one hand breadth (for they can see no more but her face) and so to joyne her to them not without great jeopardy of evill agreeing together, if any thing in her body after ward should chance to offend, and mislike them.

For all men be not so wise, as to have respect to the vertuous condition of the party. And the endowments of the body, cause the vertues of the mind more to be esteemed and regarded: yea, even the marriages of wise men. Ʋerily so foule deformity may be hid under those coverings, that it may quite alienate and take away the mans mind from his wife, when it shall not be lawfull for their bodies to be separate againe. If such deformity happen by any chance after the Marriage is consummate and finished, well, therein no remedy but patience. [Page] Every man must take his fortune well in worth. But it were well done that a law were made wherby all such deceits might be eschewed, and avoided before hand.

And this were they constrained more earnestly to looke vpon, because they onely of the nations in that part of the world be content every man with one wife a piece. And matrimony is there never broken, but by death: except adultery breake the bond, or else the intollerable waywardDiversement. manners of either party. For if eyther of them find themselves for any such cause grieved, they may by the licence of the Counsell, change and take another. But the other party liveth ever after in infamy, and out of wedlocke. Howbeit the husband to put away his wife for no other fault, but for that some mishap is fallen to her body, this by no meanes they will suffer? for they [Page] judge it a great point of cruelty, that any body in their most need of helpe and comfort, should be cast off and forsaken, and that old age, which both bringeth sicknesse with it, and is a sicknesse it selfe, should unkindly, and unfaithfully be delt withall. But now and then it chanceth, wheras the man and woman cannot well agree betweene themselves both of them finding other, with whom they hope to live more quietly and merrily, that they by the full consent of them both, be divorsed asunder and married againe to other. But that not without the authority of the Councell. Which agreeth to no divorses, before they and their wives have diligently tryed and examined the matter. Yea, and then also they be loath to consent to it, because they know this to be the next way to breake love betweene man and wife, to be in [Page] easie hope of a new marriage. Breakers of wedlocke be punished with most grievous bondage. And if both the offendors were married, then the parties which in that behalfe have suffered wrong, being divorced from the adulterers, be married together, if they will, or else to whom they lust. But if either of them both doe still continue in love toward so unkind a bed-fellow, the vse of wedlock is not to them forbidden, if the party faultlesse be disposed to follow in toyling and drudgery, [...]he person, which for that offence is condemned to bondage. And very oft it chanceth, that the repentance of the one, and the earnest diligence of the other, doth so moue the Prince with pitty and compassion, that he restoreth the bond person from seruitude, to liberty and freedome againe. But if the same party be taken e [...]soones in that fault, there is no other way [Page] but death. To other trespasses no prescript punishment is appointed by any law. But according toThe deseruing of punishment put to the discretion▪ of the Magistrates. the hainousnesse of the offence, or contrary, so the punishment is moderated by the discretion of the Councell. The husbands chastice their wives, and the parents their children, unlesse they have done any so horrible an offence, that the open punishment thereof maketh much for the advancement of honest manners.

But most commonly the most hainous faults be punished with the incommodity of bondage. For that they suppose to be to the offendors no le [...]se griefe, and to the Common-wealth more profit, then if they should hastily put them to death, and so make them quite out of the way. For their commeth more profit of their labour, thē of their death, and by their example they feare other the longer from like offences. But if they being thus vsed, do [...] [Page] rebell and kicke againe, then forsooth they be [...]laine as desperate and wild beasts, whom neither prison nor chaine could restraine and keepe vnder. But they, which take their bondage patiently, be not left al hopelesse. For after they haue beene broken and tamed with long miseries, if then they shew such repentance, as thereby it may be perceived that they be [...]orier for their offence then for their punishment: sometimes by the Princes prerogatiue, and sometimes by the voice or else consent of the people, their bondage either is m [...]ttigated, or cleane released and forgiven. He that mooveth to adultery is in no lesse danger and jeopardy, thenMotion to Adultery punished. if he had committed adultery in deed. For in all offences they count the intent and pretensed prpose as evill, as the act or deed it selfe, thanking that no let ought to excuse him, that did his best to haue no let. [Page] They haue singuler delight and pleasure in Fooles. And as it isPleasure of fooles. a great reproach to doe to any of them hurt or injury, so they prohibite not to take pleasure of foolishnesse. For that they think, doth much good to the fooles. And if any man be so sad and sterne, that he cannot laugh neither at their words, nor at their deeds, none of them be committed to his tuition: for feare least he would not intreat them gently and favourably enough: to whom they should bring no delectation (for other good [...]esse in them is none) much les [...]e any profit should they yeeld him. To [...]ocke a man for his deformity, or that he lacketh one part or limme of his body, is counted great dishonesty and reproach, not to him that is mocked, but to him that mocketh. Which vnwisely doth imbraid any man of that as a vice, that was not in his power to eschew, also as they [Page] count and reckon very little witCo [...]terfe [...] beauty. to be in him, that regardeth not naturall beauty and comelinesse; so to helpe the same with paintings, is taken for a vaine and a wanton pride, not without great infamy. For they know even by very experience, that no comelinesse of beauty doth so highly commend and advance the wiues in the conceits of their husbands, as honest conditions and lowlinesse: For as love is oftentimes wonne with beauty, so it is not kept, preserved and continued, but by vertue and obedience.Si [...]e punished and vertue rewarded. They doe not onely feare their people from doing evill, by punishments, but also allure them to vertue with rewards of honour. Therefore they set vp in the Market place the Images of notable men, and of such as have beene bountifull benefactors to the Common-wealth, for the perpetuall memory of their good acts: and also that the glory and [Page] renowne of the ancestors may stirre and provoke their posterity to vertue. He that inordinatlyThe inordinate desire of honors condemned. and ambitiously desireth promotions, is left all hopelesse for ever attaining any promotion as long as he liveth. They live together lovingly: For no Magistrate is either haughty or fearefull. Fathers they be called, and like fathers they use themselves. The Citizens (as it is their duty) willingly exhibit unto them due honour without any compulsion. Nor the Prince himselfe is not knowne from the other by princely apparell, or a robe of state, nor by a crowne or diade meMagistrats honoured. royall, or cap of maintenance, but by a little sheafe of Corne carried before him. And so a taper of waxe is borne before the Bishop, whereby onely he is knowne. They have but fewF [...] Lawes. lawes. For to people to instruct and institute, very few doe suffice. Yea, this thing they chiefly [Page] reproue among other actions, that inumerable books of laws & expositions vpon the same be not sufficient. But they think it against all right and justice, that men should be bound to those laws, which either be in number moe then be able to be read, or else blinder and darker, then that any man can well vnderstand them. Furthermore they vtterlyThe multitude of Lawyers superfluous. exclude and banish all Atturnies, Proctors, and Sergeants at the Law, which craftily handle matters, and subtilly dispute of the lawes. For they thinke it most meet, that every man should plead his owne matter, and tell the same tale to the Iudge, that he would tell to his man of law. So shall there be lesse circumstance of words, & the truth shall sooner come to light, whiles the Iudge with a discreet judgement doth away the words of him, whō no lawyer hath instruct with deceit, and whiles he beareth out [Page] simple wits against the false and malicious circumventions of crafty children. This is hard to be observed in other Countries, in so infinit a number of blind and intricate lawes. But in Vtopia every man is a cunning Lawyer. For as (I said) they have very few lawes: and the plainer and grosser that any interpretation is: that they allow as most just. For all lawes (say they) be madeThe intent of Lawes. and published only to the intent, that by them every man shall be put in remembrance of his duty. But the crafty and subtill interpretation of them (forasmuch as few can attaine thereto) can put very few in that remembrance, whereas the simple, the plaine, and grosse meaning of the lawes is open to every man. Else as touching the vulgar sort of the people, which be both most in number, and▪ have most need to know their duties, were it not as good for then that [Page] no Law were made at all, as when it is made to bring so blind an interpretation vpon it, that without great wit and long arguing no man can discusse it? To the finding out whereof, neither the grosse judgement of the people can attaine, neither the whole life of them that be occupyed in working for their livings, can suffice thereto. These verrues of the Vtopians have caused their next neighbours and borderers, which live free and under no subjection (for the Vtopians long agoe, have delivered many of them from Tyrannie) to make Magistrates of them, some for a yeare, and some for fiue yeares space. Which when the time of their office is expired, they bring home againe with honour and praise, and take new againe with them into their Country.

These nations haue undoubtedly very well and holsomly provided [Page] for their Commonwealths. For seeing that both the making and the marring of the Weale publique, doth depend and hang vpon the manners of the Rulers and Magistrates, what officers could they more wisely have chosen, then those which cannot be lead from honesty by bribes (for to thē that shortly after shall depart thence into their owne Country, money should be unprofitable) nor yet be moved either with favour, or malice towards any man, as being strangers, and unacquainted with the people? The which two vices of affection and avarice, where they take place in judgements, incontinent they breake justice, the strongest and surest bond of a Common-wealth. These people which fetch their officers and rulers from them, the Vtopians call their fellowes. And other to whom they have beene beneficiall, they call their friends. As [...] [Page] and to breake both league and truth. The which crafty dealing, yea the which fraud and deceit, if they should know it to be practised among private men in their bargaines and contracts, they would incontinent cry out a [...] with an open mouth, and a sowre countenance, as an offence most detestable, and worthy to be punished with a s [...]me [...] all death: yea even very they that advance themselves Authors of like counsaile, is given to Princes. Wherefore it may well be thought, either that all justice is but a base and a low vertue, and which availeth it selfe farre under the high dignity of Kings: Or, at the least-wise, that there be two lustices, the one meet for the inferiour sort of the people, going a foot and creeping low by the ground, and bound downe on every side with many bands, because it shall not run at rovers. The other a princely vertue, [Page] which like as it is of much higher Majesty, then the other poore justice, so also it is of much more liberty, as to the which nothing is unlawfull that it h [...]steth after. These manners of Princes (as I said) which be there so evill keepers of leagues, cause the Vtopians, as I suppose, to make no leagues at all which perchance would change their mind if they lived here. Howbeit they thinke that though leagues be never so faithfully observed and kept, yet the custome or making leagues was very evill begun. For this causeth men (as though nations which be separate a sunder, by the space of a little hill, or River, were coupled together by no society or bond of nature) to thinke themselves borne adversaries and enemies one to another, and that it were lawfull for the one to seeke the death and destruction of the other, if leagues were not: yea, and that after the [Page] leagues be accorded, friendship doth not grow and increase: But the licence of robbing and stealing doth still remaine, as faire forth as for lacke of fore-sight and advisement in writing the words of the league, any sentence or clause to the contrary is not therein sufficiently comprehended. But they be of a contrary opinion. That is, that no man ought to be counted an enemy which hath done no injury. And that the fellowship of nature is a strong league, and that men be better and more surely knit together by love and benevolence, then by covenants of leagues: by hearty affection of mind, then by words

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Of War-fare.

VVArre or Battaile as a thing very beastly, and yet no kind of beasts in so much vse as to man, they doe detest and abhorre. And contrary to the custome almost of all other nations, they count nothing so much against glory, as glory gotten in warre. And therefore though they doe daily practice and exercise themselves in the discipline of warre, not only the men, but also the women vpon certaine appointed dayes, least they should be to seek in the feat of armes, if need should require, yet they never goe to battaile, but either in the defence of their owne Country, or to drive out of their friends Land the enemies that have invaded it, or by the power to deliver from the yoake and bondage of Tyrannie some people, that be [Page] therewith oppressed. Which thing they doe of meere pitty and compassion. Howbeit they send helpe to their friends, not ever in their defence, but sometimes also to requite and revenge injuries before to them done. But this they doe not vnlesse their counsell and advise in the matter be asked, whiles it is yet new and fresh, For if they find the cause probable, and if the contrary part will not restoreagaine such things as be of them justly demanded, then they be the chiefe authors and makers of the warre. Which they doe not onely as oft as by [...]rodes and invosions of souldiers preyes and booties be driven, but then also much more mortally, when their friends marchants in any land, either vnder the pretence of vnjust lawes, or else by the wresting and wrong vnderstanding of good lawes, doe sustaine an vnjust accusation vnder the [Page] colour of justice. Neither the battaile which the Vtopians fought for the Nephelogetes against the Alaopolitanes a little before our time, was made for any other cause, but that the Nephelogete marchant men, as the Vtopians thought, suffered wrong of the Alaopolitans, vnder the pretence of right. But whether it were right or wrong, it was with so cruell and mortall warre revenged, the Countries round about joyning their helpe and power to the puissance and malice of both parties, that most flourishing and wealthy peoples, being some of them shrewdly shaken, and some of them sharply beaten, the mischiefes were not finished nor ended, vntill the Alaopolitans, at the last were yeelded vp as bondmen into the jurisdiction of the Nephelogetes. For the Vtopians fought not this warre for themselves. And yet the Nephelogetes [Page] before the warre, when the Alaopolitanes flourished in wealth, were nothing to be compared with them. So eagerly the Vtopians prosecute the injuries done to their friends: yea, in money matters and not their owne likewise. For if they by covine or g [...]le be wiped beside their goods, so that no violence be done to their bodies, they ease their anger by abstaining from occupying with that nation, untill they have made satisfaction. Not for because they set lesse store by their owne Citizens, then by their friends: but that they take the losse of their friends money more heavily then the losse of their owne. Because that their friends Merchant men, for as much as that the losse is their owne private goods, sustaine great damage by the losse. But their own Citizens lose nothing but of the common goods, and of that which was at home plentifull [Page] and almost superfluous, else had it not beene sent forth. Therefore no man feeleth the losse. And for this cause they thinke it too cruell an act, to revenge the losse with the death of man, the incommodity▪ of the which losse no man feeleth neither in his life, nor yet in his living. But if it chance that any of their men be in any other Country be maimed or killed, whether it be done by a common or a private Councell, knowing and trying out the truth of the matter by their Ambassadours, unlesse the offendors be rendered unto them in recompence of the injury, they will not be appeased: but incontinent they proclaime Warre against them. The offendors yeelded, they punish either with death, or with bondage. They be not onely sory, but also ashamed to atchieve the victory with bloodshed, counting it great folly [Page] to buy precious wares too deare.Ʋictory deere bought. They rejoyce and avant themselves, if they vanquish and oppresse their enemy by craft and deceit. And for that act they make a generall triumph, and as if the matter were manfully handled, they set vp a pillar of stone in the place, where they so vanquished their enemies, in token of their victory. For then they glory, then they boast and crack, that they haue plaied the men indeed, when they haue so overcome, as no other living creature, but only man could: that is to say, by the might and puissance of wit. For with bodily strength (say they) Beares, Lions, Boares, wolfes, dogs, and other wild beasts doe fight. And as the most pa [...]t of them doe passe vs in strength and fierce courage, so in wit & reason we be much stronger then they all. Their chiefe & principall purpose in war, is to obtaine that thing, [Page] which if they had before obtained, they would not haue mooved battaile. But if that be not possible, they take such cruell vengeance of them which be in the fault, that ever after they be affraid to doe the like.

This is their chiefe and principall intent, which they immediatly and first of all prosecute, and set forward. But yet so, that they be more circumspect in auoyding and eschewing jeopardies, then they be desirous of praise and renowne. Therefore immediatly after that warre is once solemnly denounced, they procure many Proclamations signed with their owne common seale, to be set vp privily at one time in their enemes land, in places most frequented. In these proclamations they promise great rewards to him that will kill their enemies Prince, and somewhat lesse gifts, but them very great also, for every head of [Page] thē, whose names be in the said proclamations contained. They be those whom they count their chiefe adversaries, next unto the Prince whom there is prescribed, unto him that killeth any of the proclaimed persons, that is doubled to him that bri [...]geth any of the s [...]me to them alive: yea, and to the procla [...]ed persons themselves, if they will change their minds, and come into them, taking their parts, they proffer the same great rewards with pardon and surety of their lives. Therefore it quickly commeth to passe, that their enemies have all other men in suspition, and be unthankfull, and mistrusting among themselves one to another living in great feare, and in no l [...]s [...]e jeopardy. For it is well knowne, that divers times the most part of them (and specially the Prince himselfe) hath beene betrayed of them, in whom they put their most hope and [Page] trust. So there is no manner of act nor deed that gifts and rewards doe not inforce men unto. And in rewards they keepe no measure. But remembring and considering into how great hazard and jeopardy they call them, endevour themselves to recompence the greatnesse of the danger with like great benefits. And therefore they promise not onely wonderfull great abundance of gold, but also lands of great revenues lying in most safe places among their friends. And their promises they performe faithfully without any fraud or covine.

This custome of buying and selling adversaries, among other people is disallowed, as a cru [...]l act of a base and a cowardish mind. But they in this behalfe thinke themselves much praise worthy, as who likewise, men by this meanes dispatch great Warres without Batta [...]e o [...] [Page] skirmish. Yea, they count it also a deed of pitty and mercy, because that by the death of a few offenders, the lives of a great number of Innocents, as well of their owne men, as also of their enemies, be ransomed and saved, which in fighting should have beene slaine. For they doe no lesse pitty the base and common sort of their enemies people, then they doe their owne: knowing that they be driven and forced to warre against their wills, by the furious in [...]dnesse of their Princes and heads. If by none of these meanes the matter goe forward, as they would have it, then they procure occasions of debate, and dissention to be spread among their enemies. As by bringing the Princes brother, o [...] some of the noble men in hope to obtaine the Kingdome. If this way prevaile not, then they raise vp the people that be next neighbours and borde [...]e [...]s to their enemies, [Page] and them they set in their necks under the colour of some old title of right, such as Kings doe never lacke. To them they promise their helpe and ayd in their Warre. And as for money they giue them abundance. But of their owne Citizens they send to them few or none: whom they make so much of▪ and love so [...]tirely, that they would not be willing to change any of them for their adversaries Prince. But them gold and silver, because they keepe it all for this onely purpose, they lay it out [...]ranckly and [...]ly: as who should live even a, wealthily, if they had [...]stowed it every penny. Yea and besides their riches, which they keepe at home, they have also an infinite treasure abroad, by reason that (as I said before) many Nations be in their debt. There [...]ore they hire souldiours out of all Countries and send them to Battaile, but chiefly of [Page] the Zapolets. This people, is five hundred miles from Vtopia Eastward. They be hidious, savage, and fierce, dwelling in wild Woods, and high mountaines, where they were bred and brought vp. They be of an hard nature, able to abide and sustaine heate, cold, and labour, abhorring from all dilicate dainties, occupying no husbandry no [...] tillage of the ground, homely and rude both in building of their houses, and in their apparell, given unto no goodnesse, but onely to the breeding and bringing vp of Cat [...]le. The most part of their living is by hunting and stealing. They be borne onely to warre, which they diligently and earnestly seek for. And when they have gotten it, they be wondrous glad thereof. They goe forth of their Co [...]y in great companies together and w [...] [...]os [...] ever lacketh souldio [...]rs, there they proffer their service for smal [Page] wages. This is onely the craft that they have to get their living by. They maintaine their lives, by seeking their death. For them with whom they be in wages, they fight hardly, fiercely, and faithfully. But they bind themselves for no certaine time. But vpon this condition they enter into bonds, that the next day they will take part with the other side for greater wages, and the next day after that, they will be ready to come back againe for a little more money. There be few warrs there away, wherein is not a great number of them in both parties. Therefore it daily chanceth, that nigh kinsfolke which were hired together on one part, and there very friendly and familiarly vsed themselves one with another, shortly after being separate into contrary parts, run one against another enviously and fiercely: and forgetting both kindred and friendship [Page] thrust their swords one in another. And that for none other cause, but that they be hired for contrary Princes for a little money. Which they doe so highly regard and esteeme, that they will easily be provoked to change parts for a halfe-penny more wages by the day. So quickly they have taken a smacke in covetousnesse. Which for all that, is to them no profit. For that they get by fighting, immediately they spend need [...]esse, unthri [...]ily and wretchedly in ry [...].

This people sighteth for the Vtopians against all Natio [...]s, because they give them greater wages, then any other nation will. For the Vtopians like as they seeke good men to vse well, so they seeke these evill and vicious men to abuse. Whom, when need requireth, with promises of great rewards, they put forth into great jeopardies. From whence the most part of them never [Page] commeth againe to aske their rewards. But to them that remaine alive, they pay that which they promised faithfully, that they may be the more willing to put themselves in like danger another time. Nor the Vtopians passe not how many of them they bring to destruction. For they beleeve that they should doe a very good deed for all mankind, if they could rid out of that world all that foule stincking denne of that most wicked and cursed people. Next unto these, they vse the souldiours of them for whom they fight: and then the helpe of their other friends. And last of all, they joyne to their owne Citizens. Among whom they give to one of tried vertue▪ and powers, the rule, governance and conduction of the whole Army. Vnder him they appoint two other, which whiles he is safe, be both private and out of office. But if he be taken or [Page] slaine the one of the other succedeth him, as it were by inheritance. And if the second miscarry, then the third taketh his roome, least that (as the chance of Battaile is uncertaine and doubtfull) the jeopardy of death of the Captaine should bring the whole army in hazard. They choose souldiours out of every City, those, which put forth themselves willingly. For they thrust no man forth into warre against his will: because they beleeve, if any man be fearefull and faint-hearted of nature, he will not onely doe no manfull and hardy act himselfe, but also be occasion of cowardnesse to his fellowes. But if any Battaile be made against their owne Country, then they put these cowards (so that they be strong bodied) in Ships among other bold harted men. Or else they dispose them vpon the w [...]ls, frō whence they may n [...] flie. Thus what for [Page] shame that their enemies be at hand, and what for because they be without hope of running away, they forget all feare. And many times extreame necessity turneth cowardnesse into prowesse and manlinesse. But as none o [...] them is thrust forth of his Country into warre against his will, so women that be willing to accompany their husbands in time of warre, be not prohibited o [...] letted. Yea they provoke and exhort them to it with praises. And in set field the wives doe stand every one by their owne husbands side. Also every man is compassed next about with his owne children, kinsfolkes, and alliance, That they whom nature chiefly mooveth to mutuall succour, thus standeth together, may helpe one another. It is a great reproach and dishonesty for the husband [...] [...]ome home without his wife, or the wife without her [Page] husband, or the sonne without his father. And therefore if the other part sticke so hard by it, that the battaile come to their hands, it is fought with great slaughter and blood-shed, even to the utter destruction of both parties. For as they make all the meanes and shifts that may be, to keepe themselves from the necessity of fighting, or that they may dispatch the battaile by their hired souldiors, so when there is no remedy, but that they must needs fight themselves▪ then they doe as couragiously fall to it, as before, whiles they might, they did wisely avoid and refuse it. Nor they be not most fierce at the first brunt. But in continuance by little and little their fierce courage encreaseth, with so stubborne and obstinate minds, that they will rather die then give backe an [...]nch. For that surety of living, which every man hath at home, being joyned with no carefull [Page] anxiety or remembrance how their posterity shall live after them (for this pensivenesse oftentimes breaketh and abateth couragious stomackes) making them stout and hardy, and disdainfull to be conquered. Moreover, their knowledge in chiualry and feates of armes, putteth them in a good hope. Finally the wholesome and vertuous opinions wherein they were brought vp even from their childhood, partly through learning, and partly through the good ordinance and lawes of their Weale publique, augment and encrease their manfull courage. By reason whereof, they neither set so little store by their lives, that they will rashly and vnadvisedly cast them away: nor they be not so farre in lewd and fond love therewith, that they will shamefully covet to keepe them, when honesty biddeth leave them. When the battaile is hottest, and [Page] in all places most fierce and fervent,The Captaine is chiefly to be pursued to the intent the battaile may the sooner [...]e ended. a band of chosen and picked yong men, which be sworne to liue and dye together, take vpon them to destroy their adversaries captaine. Whom they invade now with privy wiles, now by open strength. At him they strike both neare and farre off. He is assailed with a long and a continuall assault, fresh men still comming in the wearied mens places. And seldome it chanceth (vnlesse he saue himselfe by fiying) that he is not either slain or else taken prisoner, and yeelded to his enemies aliue. If they win the field, they persecute not their enemies with the violent rage of slaughter. For they had rather take them aliue, then kill them. Neither doe they follow the chase and pursuit of their enemies, but they leaue behinde them one part of their hoast in battaile aray, vnder their standards. Insomuch, that if all [Page] their whole army be discomfited and over-come, saving the reward, and that they therewith atchieue the victory, then they had rather let all their enemies scape, then to follow them out of array. For they remember it hath chanced vnto themselves more then once: the whole power and strength of their hoast being vanquished and put to flight, whiles their enemies rejoycing in the victory haue persecuted them, flying some one away and some another, a small company of their men lying in ambush, there ready at all occasions, haue suddainely risen vpon them thus dispersed and scattered out of array, and through presumption of safety vnadvisedly pursuing the chase and haue incontinent changed the fortune of the whole battaile, and spite of their teethes wresting out of their hands the sure and vndoubted victory, being a little [Page] before conquered, have for their part conquered the conquerers. It is hard to say whether they be craftier in laying an ambush, or wittier in avoiding the same. You would thinke they [...]tend to file, when they meane nothing lesse. And contrariwise, when they goe about that purpose, you would beleeve it were the least part of their thought. For if they perceive themselves overmatched in number, or closed in too narrow a place, then they remove their campe either in the night season with silence, or by some policy they deceive their enemies, or in the day time they retire backe so softly, that it is no lesse jeopardy to meddle with them when they give backe, then when they presse on. They fence and fortifie their campe surely with a deepe and a broad trench. The earth thereof is cast inward. Nor they doe not set drudges and slaves a worke about it. It is done by the [Page] hands of the souldiours themselves. All the whole Army worketh upon it, except them that keepe watch and ward in armor before the trench for suddaine adventures. Therefore by the labour of so many, a large trench closing in a great compasse of ground, is made in lesse time then any man would beleeve. Their Armour or hardnesseTheir Armour. which they weare, is sure and strong to receive stroakes, and handsome for all moovings and gestures of the body, insomuch that it is not unweldy to swimme in. For in the discipline of their war-fare, among other feats they learne to swimme in harnesse. Their weapons be arrowes aloofe, which they shoot both strongly and surely, not only footmen, but also horsemen. At hand stroakes they vsed not sword, but Pollaxes, which be mortall, as well in sharpenesse as in weight, both for foynes and [Page] downe stroakes. Engines for war they devise and invent wondrous wittily. Which when they be made they keepe very secret, least if they should be knowne before neede require, they should be but laughed at, and serue to no purpose. But in making them, hereunto they haue chiefe respect, that they be both easie to be carried, a [...]d handsome to be moved, and turned about. Truce taken with their enemies for a short time, they doe so firinelyOf Truces and faithfully keepe, that they will not breake it, no, not though they be thereunto provoked. They doe not waste nor destroy their enemies land with forragings, nor they burne not vp their Corne. Yea they saue it as mnch as may be from being overrunne and trodden downe, either with men or horses, thinking that it groweth for their owne vse & profit. They hurt no man that is vnarmed, vnles [...]e he [Page] be an Espyall. All Cities that be yeelded unto them, they defend. And such as they winne by force of assault, they neither dispoyle nor sacke, but them that withstood and disswaded the yeelding vp of the same, they put to death, the other souldiers they punish with bondage. All the weake multitude they leave untouched If they know that any Citizens counselled to yeeld and render vp the City, to them they give part of the condemned mens goods. The residue they distribute and give freely among them, whose helpe they had in the same warre. For none of themselves taketh any portion of the prey. But when the battaile is finished and ended, they put their friends to never a penny cost of all the charge; that they were at, but lay it vpon their neckes that be conquered. Them they burthen with the whole charge of their expenses, [Page] which they demand of them partly in money, to be kept for like vse of battaile, and partly in lands of great evenewes to be paid unto them yearely for ever. Such revenewes they have now in many Countries. Which by little and little rising of [...]vers and sundry causes, be increased aboue seven hundred thousand ducates by the yeare. Thither they send forth some of their Citizens as Lieft enants, to live there sumptuously, like men of honour and renowne. And yet this notwithstanding, much money is saved, which commeth to the common treasury: unlesse it so chan [...]e, that they had rather trust the Country with the money. Which many times they doe so long, untill they have need to occupy it. And it seldome happeneth that they demand all. Of these lands they assigne part unto them, which at their rebuest and exhortation, [Page] put themselves in such jeopardies, as I spake of before. If any Prince stirre up warre, against them, intending to invade their land, they mee [...] him incontinent out of their owne borderers, with great power and strength. For they never lightly make warre in their owne Country. Nor they be never brought into so extreame necessity, as to take helpe out of forraine lands into their owne Iland.

Of the Religions in Vtopia.

THere be divers kinds of Religion, not onely in sundry parts of the Iland but also in divers places of every City. Some worship for God, the Sun: some the Moone: some other of the Planets. There be that give worship to a man that was [Page] once of excellent [...] vertue or of famous glory, not only as GOD, but also as the chiefest and highest GOD. But the most and the wisest part (rejecting all these) beleeve, that there is a certaine godly power unknowne, everlasting, incomprehensible, inexplicable, farre above the capacity & reach of mans wit, dispersed throughout all the whole world, not in bignesse, but in vertue and power. Him they call the father of all. To him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the proceedings, the changes, and the ends of all things. Neither they give any divine honours to any other then to him. Yea all the other also, though they be in divers opinions, yet in this point they agree all together with the wisest sort, in beleeving that there is one principall GOD, the maker and ruler of the whole world: whom they all commonly in their Country language call [Page] Mythra. But in this they disagree that among some he is counted one, and among some another. For every one of them, whatsoever that is which he taketh for the chiefe God, thinketh it to be the very same nature, to whose only divine might and majesty the summe and soveraignty of all things by the consent of all people is attributed and given. Howbeit they all begin by little and little to forsake and fall from this variety of superstitions, and to agree together in that religion which seemeth by reason to passe and excell the residue. And it is not to be doubted, but all the other would long agoe have been abolished, but that whatsoever unprosperous thing happened to any of them, as he was minded to change his religion, the fearefulnesse of people did take it, not as a thing comming by chance but as sent from GOD out of Heaven. As though the [Page] the God, whose honour he was forsaking, would haue revenged that wicked purpose against him. But after they heard vs speake of the name of Christ, of his doctrin, lawes, myracles, and of the no lesse wonderfull constancy of so many martyrs, whose blood willingly shead, brought a great number of nations throughout all parts of the world into their sect: you will not beleeue with how glad minds, they agreed vnto the same: whether it were by the secret inspiration of God, or else for that they thought it nighest vnto that opinion, which among them is counted the chiefest. Howbeit I thinke this was no small helpe and furtherance in the matter, that they heard vs say, thatReligious houses. Christ instituted among his, all things common: and that the same cōmunity doth yet remaine amongst y• rightest Christian cō panies. Verily howsoever it came [Page] to passe, many of them consented together in our religion, and were washed in the holy water of Baptisine. But because among vs foure (for no moe of vs was left aliue, two of our company being dead) there was no Priest, which I am right sory for: they being entred and instructed in all other points of our religion, lacke onely those sacraments, which none but Priests doe minister. Howbeit they vnderstand & percciue them, and be very desirous of the same. Yea they reason and dispute the matter earnestly among themselves, whither without the sending of a Christian Bishop, one chosen out of their owne people, may receiue the order of Priesthood. And truely they were minded to choose one. But at my departure thence they had chosen none.

They also which doe not agree to Christs religion, ferre no man from it, nor speake against any [Page] man that hath received it. Saving that one of our company in my presence was sharpely punished. He as soone as he was baptised began against our wils with more earnest affection, then wisedome to reason of Christs Religion: and began to waxe so hot in this matter, that he did not onely preferre our Religion before all other, but also did vtterly despise and condemne all other, calling them prophane, and the followers of them wicked and devilish, and the children of everlasting damnation. When he had thus long reasoned the matter, they laid hold on him, accused him, and condemned him into exile, not as a dispiser of religion, but as a sedicious person, and a rayser vp of dissention among the people. For this is one of the ancientest lawes among them: that no man shall be blamed for reasoning in the maintenance of his owne religion. For King [Page] Vtopus, even at the first beginning, hearing that the inhabitants of the land were before his comming thither, at continuall dissention and strife among them selves for their religions: perceiving also that this common dissention (whiles every severall Sect tooke severall parts in fighting for their Country) was the onely occasion of his Conquest over them all, as soone as he had gotten the victory. First of all, he made a decree, that it should be lawfull for every man to favour and follow what religion he would, and that he might doe the best he could to bring other to his opinion, so that he did it peaceably, gently, quietly, and soberly, without hasty and contentious rebuking and inveying against other. If he could not by faire and gentle speech induce them vnto his opinion, yet he should vse [Page] no kind of violence, and refraine from displeasant and sedicious words. To him that would vehemently and fervently in this cause strife and contend, was decreed,Sedi [...]ious reasone [...]s punished. banishment, or bondage. This law did King Vtopus make not onely for the maintenance of peace, which hee saw through continual contentation and mortall hatred vtterly extinguished: but also because he thought this decree should make for the furtherance of religion. Whereof he durst define and determine nothing vnadvisedly, as doubting whither God desiring manifold and divers sorts of honour, would inspire sundry men with sundry kinds of religion. And this surely he thought a very vnmeet and foolish thing, & a point of arrogant presumption, to compell all other by violence and threatnings to agree to the same, that thou beleevest to be true. Furthermore, though there [Page] be one religion, which a lone is true, and all other vaine and superstitions, yet did he well foresee (so that the matter were handdled with reason and sober modesty) that the truth of the owne power would at the last issue out and come to light. But if contention and debate in that behalfe should continually be vsed, as the worst men be most obstinate and stubborne, and in their evill opinion most constant: he perceived that the [...] the best and honest religion would be [...]roden vnder foote and destroyed by most vaine superstitions, even as good corne is by thornes and weeds over grown and choaked. Therefore all this matter he left vndiscussed, and gaue to every man free liberty andNovil [...] opinion to be conceived of mans worthy [...]t [...]re. choice to beleeue what he would. Saving that he earnestly and straitly charged them, that no man should conceiue so vile and base an [...] [...] [...] [Page] of mans nature, as to thinke that the soules doe die and perish with the body: or that the world runneth at all adventures, governed by no divine providence. And therefore they beleeue that after this life vices be extreamely punished, and vertues bountifully rewarded. He that is of a contrary opinion, they count not in the number of men, as one that hath availed the high nature of his soule, to the vilenesse of brute beasts bodies: much lesse in the number of the Citizens. whose lawes and ordinances, if it were not for feare, he would nothing at all esteeme. For you may▪ be sure that he will study either with craft privily to mocke, or else violently to breake the common lawes of his countrey, in whom remaineth no further feare then of the lawes, nor no further hope then of the body. Wherefore he that is thus minded is deprived of all honors, [Page] excluded from all offices, and rejectIrreligious people secluded from all honours. from all common administrations in the weale-publique.

And thus he is of all sorts despised, as of an vnprofitable, and of a base and vile nature. Howbeit, they put him to no punishment,A very strange saying. because they be perswaded, that it is in no mans power to beleeue what he list. No, nor they constraine him not with threatnings to dissemble his mind, and shew countenance contrary to his thought. For deceit andDeceit and falshood detested. falshood, and all manner of lies, as next vnto fraud, they doe marveilously deject and abhorre. But they suffer him not to dispute in his opinion, and that onely among the common people. For else apart among the Priests and men of grauity▪ they doe not onely suffer, but also exhort him to dispute and argue hoping that, at the last, that mid [...]e [...]se will giue place to reason. There bee also other, [Page] and of them no small number, which be not bidden to speake their minds, as grounding their opinion vpon some reason, being in their living neither evill nor vicious. Their here [...]ie is much contrary to theA mar [...]eilous stronge opinion touching the soules of brute beasts. other. For they beleeue that the soules of the brute beasts be immorall and everlasting. But nothing to be compared with others in dignity, neither ordained and predestinate to like felicity. For all they beleeue certainly and surely that mans blisse shall be so great, that they doe mourne and lament euery mans sicknesse, but no mans death, vnlesse it be on whom they see depart from his life carefully, and against his will. For this they take for a very evill token, as thoughTo die unwillingly an evill taken. the soule being in dispaire, and vexed in conscience, through some privy and secret forefeeling of the punishment now at hand, were affraid to depart. And the [...] [Page] they thinke he shall not be welcome to GOD, which when he is called, runneth not to him gladly, but is drawne by force, and sore against his will. They therefore that see this kind of death, doc abhorre it, and them that so die, they bury with sorrow and silence. And when they haue prayed to GOD to be mercifull to the soule, and mercifull to pardon the infirmities thereof, they cover the dead corse with earth. Contrariwise, all that departA willing and merry death not to be lamented. merily and full of good hope, for then no man mourneth, but followeth the hearse with joyfull singing, commending the soules to GOD with great affection. And at the last, not with mourning sorrow, but with a great reverence they burne the bodies. And in the same place they set vp a pillar of stone, with the dead mens titles therein graved. When they be come home, they rehearse his vertuous manners [Page] and his good deeds. But no part of his life is so oft or gladly talked of, as his mery death. They thinke that this remembrance of the vertue and goodnesse of the dead, doth vehemently provoke and enforce the liuing to vertue. And that nothing can be more pleasant and acceptable to the dead. Whom they suppose to bee present among them, when they talke of them, though to the dull and feeble eye-sight of mortall men they be invisible. For it were an inconvenient thing, that the blessed should not be at liberty to goe whither they would. And it were a point of great vnkindnesse in them, to haue vtterly cast away the desire of visiting & seeing their friends, to whom they were in their life time joyned by mutuall loue and amity. Which in good men after their death, they count to be rather increased the [...] diminished. They beleeue therefore that the [Page] dead be presently conversant among the quicke, as beholders and witnesses of all their words and deeds. Therefore they goe more couragiously to their businesse, as hauing a trust and a fiance in such overseers. And this beleefe of the present conversation of their forefathers and ancestors among them, feareth them from all secret dishonesty. They vtterly dispise and mocke southsayingsSouthsayers not regarded nor credited. Miracles. and divinations of things to come, by the flight and voyces of birds, and all other diuination of vaine superstition, which in other countries be in great observation. But they highly esteeme and worship miracles that come by no helpe of nature, as workes and witnesses of the present power of GOD. And such they say doe chance there very often. And sometimes in great and doubtfull matters, by common intercession and prayers, they procure and obtaine them with [Page] a sure hope and confidence, and a stedfast beleefe.

They thinke that the contemplation of nature, and the praiseThe life contemplation. thereof comming, is to GOD a very acceptable honour, Yet there be many so earnestly bent and affected to religion, that they passe nothing for learning, nor give their minds to any knowledge of things. But idlenesse they utterly forsake and [...]schew,The life active. thinking felicity after this life to be gotten and obtained by busie labour and good exercises. Some therefore of thē attend vpon the sicke, some amen [...] high-wayes, cleanse ditches, repaire Bridges, digge turfes, gravell, and stone, fell and cleaue wood, bring wood corne, and other things, into the Cities in carts, and serve not onely in common workes, but also in private labours, as servants: yea, more then bondmen. For whatsoever unpleasant, hard and vile worke is any where, from the [Page] which labour, loathsomnesse, and desperation doth fray other, all that they take upon thē willingly and gladly, procuring rest and quiet to other, remaining in continuall worke and labour themselves, not embraiding others there with. They neither reprove other mens lives, nor glory in their owne. These men the more serviceable they behave themselves, the more they be honored of all men. Yet they be divided into two sects. The one of them [...]hat live single and chast, abstaining not only from the company of women, but also from eating of flesh, and some of them from all manner of beasts. Which vtterly rejecting the pleasures of this present life as hur [...]full, be all wholly set vpon the desire of the life to come, by watching, waiting, and sweating, hoping shortly to obtaine it, being in the meane season merry and lu [...]ty. The other sect is no lesse [Page] desirous of Labour, but they imbrace Matrimony, not despising the solace thereof, thinking that they cannot be discharged of their bounden duties toward nature, without labour and toyle, nor towards their native Country, without procreation of children. They abstaine from no pleasure that doth nothing hinder them from labour. They love the flesh of foure-footed beasts, because they beleeve that by the meat they be made hardy and stronger to worke. The Vtopians It is not all one to be wise and good. count this Sect the wiser, but the other the holyer. Which in that they preferre single life before matrimony, and that sharpe life before the easier life, if herein they grounded upon reason, they would mocke them. But now forasmuch as they say they be lead to it by religion, they honour and worship them. And these be they whom in their language by a peculiar name, they [Page] call Bruthe scas, the which word by interpretation, signifieth to vs, Men of religion, or religious men. They have Priests of exceedingPriests. holinesse, and therefore very few. For there be but thirteen in every City according to the number of their Churches, saving when they goe forth to battaile. For then seaven of them goe forth with the army: in whose steads so many n [...]w be made at home. But the other at their returne home againe, reenter every one in his owne place: they that be above the number, untill such time as they succeed into the places of the other at their dying, be in the meane season continually in company with the Bishop. For he is the chiefe head of them all. They be chosen of the people, as the other Magistrates be by secret voices, for the avoiding of strife.

After their election, they be consecrate of their own cōpany. [Page] They be Overseers of all divine matters, orderers of religions, and as it were [...]udges and Masters of manners. And it is a great dishonesty and shame to be rebuk [...] or spoken to by any of them, for dissolute and incontinent living. But as it is their office to give good exhortations and counsell, so it is the duty of the Prince and the other Magistrates, to correct and punish offenders, saving that the Priests, whom they find exceeding vicious livers, them they excommunicateExcommunicate. from having any interest in divine matters. And there is almost no punishment among them more feared. For they run in very great infamy, and be inwardly tormented with a secret feare of religion, and shall not long escape free with their bodies. For unlesse they by quicke repentance approve the amendment of their lives to the Priests, they be taken and punished of [Page] the Councell, as wicked and irreligious. Both child-hood and youth is instructed and taught of them. Nor they be not more diligent to instruct them in learning, then in vertue and good manners. For they vse with very great endevour and diligence to put into the heads of their children, whiles they be yet tender, and plyant, good opinions and profitable for the conservation of the Weale publike. Which when they be once rooted in children doe remaine with them all their life after, and be wondrous profitable for their defence and maintenance of the state of the Common-wealth: which never decayeth but through vices rising of evill opinions.

The Priests, unlesse they be women (for that kind is not excluded from Priest-hood, how beit few be chosen and none but v [...]ddowes and old women) the men Priests, I say, take to their [Page] wiues the chiefest women in all their Countrey. For to no office among the Vtopians is there more honour and preheminence giuen. Insomuch that if they commit any offence, they be vnder no common judgement, but be left onely to GOD and themselves. For they thinke itThe Mejesty and preheminence of Priests. not lawfull to touch him with mans hand, be he neuer so vicious, which after so singuler a sort was dedicate and consecrate to GOD, as a holy offering.

This manner may they easily obserue, because they haue so few Priests, and doe choose them with such circumspection. For it scarcely euer chanceth, that the most vertuous among vertuous, which in respect only of his vertue is advanced to so high a dignity, can fall to vice & wickednesse. And if it should chance indeed (as mans nature is mutable and fraile) yet by reason they be so few, and promoted to no might nor [Page] power, but onely to honour, it were not to be feared that any great dammage by them should happen & ensue to the commonwealth. They haue so rare and few Priests, least if the honour were communicated to many, the dignity of the order, which among them now is so highly estetmed, should run in contempt. Specially because they thinke it hard to find many so good, as to be meete for that dignity, to the execution and discharge wherof, it is not sufficient to be indued with meane vertues.

Furthermore, these Priests be not more esteemed of their owne Countrey men, then they be of forreigne and strange Countries. Which thing may hereby plainly appeare. And I thinke also that this is the cause of it. For whiles the armies be fighting together in open field, they a little beside not farre off kneele vpon their knees in their [Page] hallowed vestments, holding vp their hands to heaven: praying first of all for peace, next for victory of their owne part, but to neither part a bloudy victory. If their Host get the vpper hand, they runne into the maine Battaile, and restraine their owne men from slaying and cruelly pursuing their vanquished enemies. Which enemies, if they doe but see them and speake to them, it is enough for the safeguard of their lives. And the touching of their cloathes defendeth and saveth all their goods from ravine and spoile. This thing hath advanced them to so great worship and true Majesty among all Nations, that many times they have as well preserved their owne Citizens from the cruell force of their enemies, as they have their enemies from the furious rage of their owne men. For it is well knowne, that when their owne Army hath recoiled [Page] and in despaire turned backe, and runne away, their enemies fiercely pursuing with slaughter and spoile, then the Priests comming betweene have stayed the murder, and parted both the hoasts. So that peace hath beene made and concluded betweene both parts vpon equall and indifferent conditions. For there was never any Nation, so fierce, so cruell, and rude, but they had them in such reverence, that they counted their bodies hallowed and sanctified, and therefore not to be violently and unreverently touched.

They keepe holy the firstThe observation of holy dayes among the Ʋtopians. and last day of every Moneth and yeare, dividing the yeare into Moneths, which they measure by the course of the Moone, as they doe the yeare by the course of the Sunne. The first dayes they call in their language Cinimernes, and the last Tapermernes, the which words may [Page] be interpreted, Primifest and Finifest, or else in our speech, first feast and last feast. Their ChurchesTheir Churches. be very gorgious, not onely of fine and curious workmanship, but also (which in the fewnesse of them was necessary) very wide and large, and able to receiue a great company of people. But they be all somewhat darke. Howbeit that was notChurches of adimme light, and a reason why. done through ignorance in building, but as they say, by the counsell of the Priests. Because they thought that overmuch light doth disperse mens cogitations, whereas in dimme and doubtfull light they be gathered together, and more earnestly fixed vpon religion and devotion: which because it is not there of one sort among all men, and yet all the kinds and fashions of it, though they be sundry and manifold, agree together in the honor of divine nature, as going divers wayes to one end: therefore nothing [Page] is seene or heard in the Churches, but that seemeth to agree indifferently with them all. If there be a distinct kind of Sacrifice peculiar to any severall sect, that they execute at home in their owne houses. The common sacrifices be so ordered, that they be no derogation nor prejudice to any of the private sacrifices and religions. Therefore no Image of any GOD is seene in the Church, to the intent it may be free for every man to conceiue GOD by their religion after what likenesse and similitude they will. They call vpon no peculiar name of GOD but onely Mythra. In the which word they all agree together in one nature of the divine Majesty whatsoever it be. No prayers be vsed such as every man may boldly pronounce without the offending of any Sect. They come therefore to the Church, the last day of every [Page] Moneth and yeare in the evening yet fasting, there to give thankes to GOD for that they have prosperously passed over the yeare or Moneth, whereof that holiday is the last day.

The next day they come to the Church earely in the morning to pray to God that they may have good fortune and successe all the New yeare or Moneth, which they doe vse to begin of that same holy day.

But in the holy dayes that be the last dayes of the Moneths and yeares, before they come to the Church, the wives fall downe prostrate before their husbands feet at home, and the children before the feet of their parents, confessing and acknowledging themselves offenders either by some actuall deed, or by omission of their duty, and desire pardon for their offence. Thus if any cloud of priuy displeasure was risen at home, by this satisfaction [Page] it is over-blowne, that they may be present at the Sacrifices with pure and charitable minds. For they be afraid to come there with troubled consciences. Therefore if they know themselves to beare any hatred or grudge towards any man, they presume not to come to the sacrifices, before they have reconciled themselves and purged their consciences, for feare of great vengeance and punishment for their offence.

When they be come thither, the men goe into the right side of the Church, and the women into the left side. There they place themselves in such order,An order for place in the Church. that all they which be of the male-kind in every houshold, sit before the good man of the house; and they of the female kind before the good wife. Thus it is fore-seene, that all their gestures and behaviours be marked and observed abroad of them, [Page] by whose authority and discipline they be governed at home. This also they diligently see unto, that the younger evermore be coupled with his elder, least children being joyned together, they should passe over the time in childish wantonnesse, wherein they ought principally [...]o conceive a religious & devout feare towards GOD: which is the chiefe and almost the only incitation to vertue. They kill no living beast in sacrifice, nor they thinke not that the mercifull clemencie of GOD doth dwell in bloud and slaughter, which hath given life to beasts to the intent they should live. They burne frankensence, and other sweet savors, and light also a great number of waxe candles and tapers, not supposing this geere to be any thing availeable to the divine nature, as neither the prayers of men. But this unhurtfull and harmelesse kind of worship pleaseth [Page] them. And by these sweet savours and lights, and other such ceremonies men feele themselves secretly lifted vp, and incouraged to devotion with more willing and fervent hearts. The people weareth in the Church white apparell. The Priest is cloathed in changeable colours, which in workmanship be excellent, but in stuffe not very precious. For their vestments be neither imbrodered with gold, nor set with precious stones. But they be wrought so finely and cunningly with divers feathers of fowles, that the estimation of no earthly stuffe is able to countervaile the price of the work. Furthermore, in these birds feathers, and in the due order of them, which is observed in their setting; they say, is contained certaine divine mysteries. The interpretation whereof knowne, which is diligently taught by the Priests, they be out in remembrance of the [Page] bountifull benefits of God toward them, and of the loue and honour which of their behalfe is due to God: and also of their duties one toward another.

When the Priest first commeth out of the Vestry thus apparelled, they fall downe incontinent every one reverently to the ground, with so still silence, that the very fashiō of the thing striketh into them a certaine feare of God, as though he were there personally present. When they haue l [...]en a little space on the ground, the Priest giveth them a signe to rise. Then they sing praises vnto God, which they intermixe with instruments of musicke, for the most part of other fashions then-these that we vse in this part of the world.Their Church [...]sic [...]ke. And like as some of ours be much sweeter then theirs, so some of theirs doe far passe ours. But in one thing doubtlesse they goe exceeding farre beyond vs. [Page] For all their musicke both that they play vpon instruments, and that they sing with mans voice, doth so resemble and expresse naturall affections, the sound and tune is so applied and made agreeable to the thing, that whether it be a prayer, or else a duty of gladnesse, of patience, of trouble, of mourning, or of anger: the fashion of the melody doth so represent the meaning of the thing, that it doth wonderfully move, stirre, pierce, and enflame the hearers minds. At the last, the people and the Priest together, rehearse solemne prayers in words, expressely pronounced, so made, that every man may privately apply to himselfe that which is commonly spoken of all.

In these prayers every man recogniseth, and knowledgeth God to be his maker, his governor, and the principall cause of all other goodnesse, thanking him for so [Page] many benefits received at his hand. But namely that through the favour of God he hath chanced into that publike weale, which is most happy and wealthy, and hath chosen that religion which he hopeth to be most true. In the which thing if he doe any thing erre, or if there be any other better then either of them is, being more acceptable to God, he desireth him that he will of his goodnes let him have knowledge thereof, as one that is ready to follow what way soever he will lead him. But if this forme and fashion of a Commonwealth be best, and his owne religion most true and pefect, then he desireth GOD to give him a constant stedfastnesse in the same, and to bring all other people to the same order of living, and to the same opinion of God, unlesse there be any thing that in this diversity of Religions doth delight his unsearchable [Page] pleasure. To be short, he prayeth him that after his death he may come to him. But how soone or late that he dare not assigne nor determine. How beit, if it might stand with his Majesties pleasure, he would be much gladder to die a painfull death and so to goe to GOD, then by long living in worldly prosperity to be away from him. When this prayer is said, they fall down to the ground againe and a little after they rise vp and goe to dinner. And the residue of the day they passe over in playes, and exercise of chiualry.

Now I haue declared and prescribed unto you as truely as I could, the forme and order of that Common-wealth, which verily in my judgement is not onely the best, but also that which alone of good right may claime and take vpon it the name of a Common-welth or publike weal. For in other places▪they [Page] speake still of the Common wealth. But every man procureth his owne private gaine. Here where nothing is private, the common affaires be earnestly looked vpon. And truly on both parts they have good cause so to doe as they doe. For in other Countries who knoweth not that he shall starve for hunger, unlesse he make some severall provision for himselfe, though the Common wealth flourish never so much in riches? And therefore he is compelled even of very necessity to haue regard to himselfe, rather then to the people, that is to say, to others.

Contrariwise, there where all things be common to every man, it is not to be doubted that any man shall lacke any thing necessary for his private vses, so that the common store houses and barnes be sufficiently stored. For there nothing is destributed [Page] after a niggish sort, neither there is any poore man or begger. And though no man have any thing, yet every man is rich. For what can be more rich, then to live joyfull and merrily, without all griefe and pensivenesse: Not caring for his owne living, nor vexed or troubled with his wifes importunate complaints, nor dreading poverty to his sonne, nor sorrowfull for his daughters dowry. Yea they take no care at all for the living and wealth of themselves and all theirs, and their wives, their children, their nephewes, their childrens children, and all the succession that ever shall follow in their posterity. And yet besides this, there is no lesse provision for them that were once labourers, and be now weake and impotent, then for them that doe now labour and take paine. Here now would I see, [Page] If any man dare be so bold as to compare with the equity, the justice of other Nations. Among whom, I forsake GOD, if I can find any signe or token of equity and justice. For what justice is this, that a rich Gold-smith, or an Vsurer, or to be short, any of them, which either doe nothing at all, or else that which they do is such, that it is not very necessary to the Common-wealth, should have a pleasant and a wealthy living, either by idlenesse, or by unnecessary businesse: When in the meane time poore labourers, Carters, yron smiths, Carpenters, and ploughmen, by so great and continuall toyle, as drawing and bearing beasts be scant able to sustaine, and again so necessary toyle, that without it no Common-wealth were able to continue and endure one yeare, should yet get so hard and poore a living, and live so wretched and miserable a life, [Page] that the state and condition of the labouring beast may seeme much better and wealthier? For they be not put to so continuall labour, nor their living is not much worse: yea, to them much pleasanter, taking no thought in the meane season for the time to come. But these silly poore wretches be presently tormented with barraine and unfruitfull labour. And the remembrance of their poore indigent and beggerly old age kille [...] them vp. For their daily wages is so little, that it will not suffice for the same day, much lesse it yeeldeth any over-plus, that may daily be laid vp for the reliefe of old age.

Is not this an unjust, and an unkind Publique weale, which giveth great fees and rewards to Gentlemen, as they call them, and to Goldsmiths, and to such other, [Page] which be either idle persons, or else onely flatterers, and devisers of vaine pleasures: And of the contrary part, maketh no gentle provision for poore Plowmen, Colliers, Labourers, Yron-smiths, and Carpenters, without whom no Commonwealth can continue? But after it hath abused the Labourers of their lusty and flowring age, at the last when they be oppressed with old age and sicknesse being needy, poore, and indigent of all things, then so getting their so many painfull watchings, not remembring their so many and so great benefits, recompenceth and acquainteth them most unkindly, with miserable death. And yet besides this, the rich men not onely by private fraud, but also by common lawes, doe every day plucke and snatch away from the poore, some part of their [Page] daily living. So whereas it seemed before unjust to repentance with unkindnesse their paines, that they have beene beneficiall to the Commonweale, now they have to their wrong and unjust dealing (which is yet a much worse point) given the name of justice, yea, and that by force of a Law. Therefore when I consider and weigh in my mind all these Common-wealths, which now a dayes any where do flourish, so GOD helpe me, I can perceive nothing but a certaine conspiracy of rich men procuring their owne commodities, under the name and title of the Common-wealth. They invent and devise all meanes and crafts, first how to keepe safely without feare of loosing, that they have unjustly gathered together: and next how to hire and abuse the worke and labour of the poore for as little money as [Page] may be. These devises when the rich men have decreed to be kept and observed under colour of the communalty, that is to say, also of the poore people, then they be made lawes. But these most vicious and wicked men, when they have by their unsatiable covetousnesse, devided among themselves all those things which would have sufficed all men, yet how farre be they from the wealth and felicity of the Vtopian Common-wealth? Out of the which, in that all the desireContempt of money. of money with the vse thereof is vtterly secluded and banished, how great a heape of cares is cut away? How great an occasion of wickednesse and mischiefe is pulled vp by the root? For who knoweth not that fraud, theft, ravine, brawling, quarrelling, b [...]abling, strife, chiding, contention, murder, treason, poisoning, which by daily punishments are rather revenged then [Page] refrained, doe die when money dyeth? And also that feare, griefe, care, labours, and watching, doe perish even the very same moment that money perisheth? Yet poverty it selfe, which onely seemed to lacke money, if money were gone, it also would decrease and vanish away. And that you may perceiue this more plainly, consider with your selves some barraine and unfruitfull yeare, wherein many thousands of people have starved for hunger: I dare be bold to say, that in the end of that penury, so much Corne or graine might have beene found in rich mens barnes, if they had beene searched, as being divided among them whō famine and pestilence then consumed, no man at all should have felt that plague and penury. So easily might men get their living if that same worthy Princesse Lady money did not alone [Page] stoppe vp the way betweene vs and our living, which a Gods name was very excellently devised and invented, that by her the way thereto should be opened. I am sure the rich men perceive this, nor they be not ignorant how much better it were to lacke no necessary thing, then to abound with overmuch superfluity: to be rid out of innumerable cares and troubles, then to be besieged and encombred with great riches.

And I doubt not that either the respect of every mans private commodity, or else the authority of our Saviour Christ A marvai [...] saying. (which for his great wisedome could not but know what were best, and for his inestimable goodnesse could not but counsell to that which he knew to the best) would have brought all the World long agoe into [Page] the lawes of this Weale publike if it were not the one onely best, the Princesse and mother of all mischiefe Pride, doth withstand and let it. She measureth not wealth and prosperity by her owne commodities, but by the misery and incommodities of other: she would not by her good will be made a Goddesse, if there were no wretches left, over whom she might like a scornfull Lady rule and triumph, over whose miseries her felicities might shine, whose poverty she might vexe, torment and increase, by rigorously setting forth her riches. This hel-hound creepeth into mens hearts, and pulleth them backe from entring the right path of life, and is so deeply rooted in mens breasts, that she cannot be pulled out.

This forme and fashion of a Weale publike, which I would gladly wish unto all Nations, [Page] I am glad yet that it chanced to the Vtopians, which have followed those institutions of life, whereby they have laid such foundations of their Common-wealth, as shall continue and last not onely wealthy, but also as farre as mans wit may judge and conjecture, shall endure for ever. For seeing the chiefe causes of Ambition▪ and sedition, with other vices, be plucked vp by the roots, and abandoned at home there, can be no jeopardy of domesticall dissention, which alone hath cast underfoot and brought to naught the wel-fortified and strongly defenced wealth and riches of many Cities. But for as much as perfect concord remaineth, and wholsome lawes be executed at home, the envie of all forreigne Princes be not able to shake or moove the Empire, though they have many times long agoe gone about to [Page] doe it, being evermore driven backe.

Thus when RAPHAEL had made an end of his tale, though many things came to my mind, which in the manners and lawes of that people, seemed to be instituted and founded of no good reason, but onely in the fashion of their chiualry, and in their Sacrifices, and Religions, and in other of their Lawes; but also, yea and chiefly, in that which is the principall foundation of all their ordinances: that is to say, in the communalty of their life and living, without any occupying of money, by the which thing onely all nobility, magnificience, worship, honour, and majesty, the true ornaments and honours, as the common opinion is, of a Common-wealth, vtterly be overthrowne and destroyed: yet because I knew that he was weary of talking, and was not [Page] sure whether he could abide that any thing should be said against his mind: specially remembring that he had reprehended this fault in other, which be affraid least they should seeme not to be wise enough, unlesse they could find some fault in other mens inventions: therefore I praising both their institutions and his communication, tooke him by the hand, and lead him into supper, saying that we would choose another time to weigh and examine the same matters, and to talke with him more at large therein. Which would GOD it might once come to passe.

In the meane time, as I cannot agree and consent to all things that he said, being else without doubt a man singularly well learned, and also in all wordly matter exactly and profoundly experienced: so must I needs confesse and grant, that many [Page] things be in the Ʋtopian Wealepublique, which in our Cities I may rather wish for, then hope after.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The common-vvealth of Vtopia containing a learned and pleasant discourse of the best state of a publike weale, as it is found in the government of the new ile called Vtopia. Written by the right Honourable, Sir Thomas Moore, Lord Chancellour of England.Utopia. English

More, Thomas, Sir, Saint, 1478-1535.

Edition statement

1639

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2006-06 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A07711

ID [STC]

STC 18098

ID [STC]

ESTC S112890

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99848131

ID [PROQUEST]

99848131

ID [VID]

13209

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A07711)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 13209)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1249:1)

Source

— The common-vvealth of Vtopia containing a learned and pleasant discourse of the best state of a publike weale, as it is found in the government of the new ile called Vtopia. Written by the right Honourable, Sir Thomas Moore, Lord Chancellour of England., Utopia. English, More, Thomas, Sir, Saint, 1478-1535., Robinson, Ralph, b. 1521., Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver..

Extent

[6], 288, 279-298, 285-288, 303-305, [1] p.

Printed by B. Alsop & T. Fawcet, and are to be sold by Wil: Sheares, at his shop in Bedford-street in Coven-garden neere the New Exchange,. London :: 1639.. (A translation by Ralph Robinson of: Utopia.) (With an additional title page, engraved and signed: W. Marshall sculpsit.) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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