CHAP. 1. Notwithstanding the excellency of mans Creation, yet must Arte be vsed to gaine obedience of the creature.

ALlthough the Omnipo­tent Creator after hee had made this visible world, made man, placing him king & Em­peror ouer the same, and of al thinges therein contained, where, by contemplation of the excellency of the work, he might not onely admire and reuerence the Creator, but also acknowledge his clemency towards him his creature, and although in the creation by his instance of word, he made al things in their perfection, & that in the Creation of man, he made greater deliberation, for hauing created all o­ther creatures with bodies and faculties of life toge­ther, yet to make the excellency and dignitie of the creation of man greater, he fashioned the body of man onely apart, to plant therein the soule by inspiration, [Page 2]shewing that the soule that he inspired in the body of man is not taken of the earth, or of the elements, to die as the body doth, but in his creation hee breathed in his face the breath of life, Gen. 2.7. wherby mā was made a li­uing soule: & although all other creatures were subiect to corruption, & man to a perpetuitie of felicitie to e­ternall life, & that the excellency of the creation of o­ther creatures, hath rauished the admiration of for­mer ages, and that great imagination is to be made of man, for that vnder his feete all are subiected, & for his onely vse and seruice created and still preserned, & that although his habitation bee on earth, yet by his vnderstanding the course of the firmament, the depth of the Sea, and the vncredible height of the Skie, hee contemplateth as neere vnto him, Insita sunt nobis omnium artiā ac virtu­tum semina, magister (que) ex oc ulto deus producit inge­nium. neither doth the darkenes of the ayre confound his minde, the thicke­nes of the earth-let his affection, nor the profoundnes of water hinder his desire, and that the knowledge of all thinges remaineth in man, so that man cannot but acknowledge man the finder out of the cause of all things, and his diligence the consummation of al arts: yet neuerthelesse, man must consider that by his diso­bedience, he hath lost al obedience, which by original creation was subiect vnto him, & that now the obedi­ence of all creatures must be attained by Arte, and the same preserued in vigor by vse and practise, Dissinition of Arte. Nam ars in­faecunda est sine vsa & vsus temerarius sine arte, & al Art is no other then a habit, working by true reason, consist­ing of many things gathered by experience, profita­ble to the vse man, not inheritable to man being obscured by the scourge of his owne trangression, although the vertues therof are planted in his originall Nature, so as he shall euermore desire the true knowledge and [Page 3]practise thereof, because nature still desireth restitu­tion to his prymary perfection.

CHAP. 2 Who are fit to learne Horsemanship.

IT shall be worthy consideration to vn­derstand that to attaine to the perfect­ion of this Arte requisite for the best vse of the common-weale, Nisi in us sit qui doceat in vanum docto­ris lingua laborat. Gregorie. it is fit that he that shall exercise the same, beare a naturall inclination therunto, which if Art and pract­ise be reaued from the science is little worth, but bee­ing vnited and conioyned, there shall recide the rarest Artists of the world, and their workes of greatest per­fection, & so haue all the ancient Philosophers found by experience, that where nature doth not dispose an Artist, it hath bene a superfluous labour to toyle in the rules of Arte, Quia natura nihil agit sine aeternis consiliis, because nature doth not worke but by the Author of nature: and this aduice Galen reporteth to haue beene giuen to his father, when he first set him to the studye of phisick, and Plato when he was to teach graue doct­rine, alwaies made choise of such Schollers, as by na­ture he reputed most fi [...] thereunto: for although there be many differences of witte in man-kinde, yet Vnum semper advnum destinasse, [...] One instru­ment to one vse one wit is alwaies fatal to one thing: Ei vna ars vn [...]ingenio satis est, and one arte is suf­ficient to one wit, & one only wit with preheminence can fal but to one mans lot: for God being the Author of nature, hath not giuen to each man more then one [Page 4]difference of wit, being a miracle if he giue more in an eminent degree: Nusquam de­ueniet qui quot Giderit sequitur calles Varro: for as that man that runneth into e­uerie path hee seeth, shall neuer come to his iourneys end: so he that striueth to know all arts, shall neuer at­taine the perfection of any one, wherfore this natural difference must be discerned, if you wil reduce Horse­manship to perfection, which otherwise will be as vn­possible as for a Mid-wife to make a woman to be deli­uered that is not with Childe: for mans witte holdeth his proportion with knowledge, as the earth doth with seede, wherein is a naturall disposition, because euerie earth cannot without destruction produce euerie sort of seede: and nature is conditioned like vnto a Step­mother, which is onely carefull to bring vp those chil­dren herselfe breedeth, which mooued Cicero to say, what else is it (to resist nature) but after the manner of Gyants, to fight with the Gods, the which who so la­boureth to ouer-come, shall rest vanquished by her.

CHAP. 3. Who are fit to teach Horsemanship.

IT is to be considered, that the Maister which teacheth the Art, haue both man­ner and method in teaching, whose vn­derstanding must bee sound and firme, least it befall the Schollers as it did cer­taine Phisitions, whom Galen conuinced by many rea­sons and experiments, shewing their practise false and preiudiciall to mans health, in whose presence their teares fell from their eyes, curssing their hard hap in [Page 5]hauing so bad maisters when they were learners: so is it also requisite that the studie of Art bee in order, be­ginning at the principles, and passing through the midst to the end, not to haue many lessons at one time of diuers matters, & to carrie them fardled together, wherby a masse of things being in the vnderstanding, afterwards comming to practise, they haue not a vse of their precepts of art to assigne them a place conue­nient: for in the same manner euerie thing is learned, so is it preserued in memorie: which mooued Galen to write a booke to teach the manner how to reade his workes, least the Phisitians might be intangled in con­fusion: and therefore it behooueth euerie Artist not onely to approoue his natural inclination, and the na­turall capacitie of the Scholler, but also that know­ledge haue his due digestion to take deepe root: for as the body is not maintained by the quantitie it eateth, but by that which the stomacke digesteth, euen so the knowledge of this Art is not attained by much teach­ing or much reading in a little time, but by that prac­tise ioyned thereunto, which by little and little it con­ceiueth and chueth vpon: for the wit of man doth day­ly better, by processe of time, and attaineth to that which formerly it neither vnderstood nor conceiued.

CHAP. 4 That the nature of the horse that is to bee taught be truely vnderstood.

LAstly it behooueth that the nature of the Horse (being the subiect where-upon Arte and practise [Page 6]doth work) be sufficiently knowne, because the know­ledge of all thinges is such, Potentia a na­tu [...]a actu [...] a [...]o [...]untate. that vnlesse the nature of them bee knowne, they cannot be truely and perfectly knowne, being a sundrie diuersitie of natures, as the thinges be sundrie whereof they be, because as that is onely naturall in them, as it is of them, so doth it declare the nature and naturall qualitie of them, nam ex arena nullum funiculum nectes, neque ex pumice oleum ant aquam vlla arte exprimes, For art cannot make ropes of sand, neither draw oyle or water out of [...]ints, Et nulla ars humana & licitapossit contra naturam essicere quicquam: and no lawfull and humaine Arte can effect any thing against nature, neither can the Offices and dueties of Arte be performed, because all Art worketh by true reason, Difinition of reason. and reason hath his worke and being, from na­ture, and is the perfection, center, and the limits of all mediocritie, beyond which it is not lawfull to decline neither in too much nor too little: Nam quicquid mode­ramine caret,Quid natura nisideus, et di­ [...]ina ratio tot [...] mundo & [...]ar tibus cius en­serta.id in pessimam degenerat speciem, whatsoeuer doth want the meane doth degenerate into the worst kinde. I then conclude that the naturall inclination of the Ryder, the sufficiencie of the teacher, and the na­ture of the subiect, truly vnderstood with the pro­gresse vse and practise therin, the ful perfection of this Art will be approoued.

CHAP. 5. An incytation to all men to loue Horsemen and Horses, and thereby the Arte.

NOw for asmuch as the sinewes of wis­dome are not to beleene lightly, Qui [...] est [...]. because wisdome comprehendeth nothing but certain & vndoubted knowledge, which proceedeth from the beginning and cause to the knowledge and effect of the thing, and from the effect and euent into the knowledge of the cause; let no man bee perswaded that hath true knowledge, that a thing is other­wise then hee knoweth it to be, the which being gros­ted in man, they rob and depriue themselues of it, who without iudgement allowe, and approone the opini­on of the Elders, and doe suffer themselues like sheepe to be led by others directions, who at the onelye hea­ring of Ancients and Elders, thinke it not posible for them to knowe more, or for the other not to erre: whereupon Ari [...]t in his first book of Pol [...]t [...]ues saith, As they haue [...]eft to pose itie that which they haue sound false, why should not those that haue sound our the truth, leaue their better things to them that sha [...] come after? and seeing the omnipotent Creator crea­ted man vpright, directly tending to heauen, and all Plants opposite with their heads, and rootes within the earth, and horses, and all other beastes in the mid­dle [Page 8]betwixt man and Plante, going as it were athwart, so that man (the vniuersall king of these lower parts) walking with an vpright countenance as a maister in his house, rulling all beastes with obedience and following will to man their commaunder; springing from their naturall affection to account the minde be­ing the efficient cause of their affection to action: (the minde beeing the efficient cause of their affection) it is a consequent in reason, that man by his knowledge and practise for the obteyning of the motion of their affection, labour by art & practise to gaine the minde and natural disposition of the subiect, to endure their being, which the god of nature hath giuen, wher­unto euerie creature desireth restitution. All which principally consisteth in the true knowledge of nature: for who seeth not that where nature is bound, how it desireth to bee loosened, The works of nature and wherin it is decayed how it laboureth to be restored, and how all creatures in the world reioyce at their returning againe to nature, and how the ordinance of all thinges is to haue ioyned the end to the beginning, & to make the course of it stable? Not to change from his proper & origionall kinde, do we not see the tree, bird, sea, Sun, Stones, Fyre, and e­uery creature preserue themselues in the natural course of their first and primarie creation, and haue an ynated hatred of all things that be enemies to the same? Ther­fore whatsoeuer creature is to remaine for durable, must now, by mans industrie and the helpe of his owne nature (so far as lyeth in the power of man) bee brought to his former restitution, and for this cause hath nature hid the knowledge and truth of all thinges in the heart of man, which mooued Plato to say, That whatsoeuer men learned, they doe but re­corde [Page 9]them as things forgotte: Shall man then (so di­uine a Creature) so much degenerate, to become so slymy and earthy, not to awake his thoughts from the sleepe of idlenes, to imbrace the true knowledge of na­ture, Art and practise of Horsemanshippe, tending so­much to the honour of the King, and preseruation of the whole body of the common-weale? can any calling bee more noble then a good Horse-man? are they not tryumphers both in Campes and Courts? doth any earthly thing breede more wonder, and hath not the same from all beginning beene hereditarie in the moste noble persons? how then, Fascientia no­bilior quae Ger­satur circa no­bilius subiectū: shall not that act­ion bee accompted moste best and honourable, that is euermore performed by the best? wherefore let the pleasure in the excercise of your mindes bee so cherished, that without perswasion of the excellencye of the knowledge, your selues may bee perswaded by knowing the fruites of knowledge, Patente indisposito, frustra intitur vis agentis, None will bee taught if he be not mooued with desire to bee taught: and as Aristotle saith, It is not [...] but [...] must bee the fruite, and how [...] can bee without being mooued to practise, is not hard to consider, but no doubt that man which seeth the vertue cannot but bee rauished with the loue of her beautie: for as the Image of such actions stirreth and instructeth the minde with desire to bee worthy, so it informeth with knowledge and practise how to be worthie: haue not Horsemen from all begin­ning bene accompted egregia et imidiate regni mem­bra. The most excellent & principall members of the kingdome, and such as the Maiestie both of King and kingdome depend vpon? What else mooued Seuerus [Page 10]the Emperor to cal them Senatorū seminarium, the nur­serie of the state? and as men (especiall aboue others) euermore called to the great and solemne meetings of the kingdome: Comitis apel [...] la [...]g [...]n [...] & pr [...] [...] Co [...] laluls [...] [...]hitter. is not a Dake called Dux a dncendo exer­citu, of being the generall leader of the Army? and a Marques called M [...]chio of this word M [...]cha, which signifieth a horse? for markg [...]ase signifieth equitun. prae­feclus, the general of the Horsemen: and Marsteller the maister of the Horse, on whome all the companye of horse-men called Equestres depended, who in former ages haue twice in the yeare celebrated their feastes, called Equiria, horsemens feasts, viz: On the thir [...]nth of March, and the eighteenth of Aprill. And the Ro­mens in their gouerment did ensrancheis Horse-men with many liberties & immunities: & as an ensigne of their fame, appointed to those horsemen called Eque­stres, the wearing of golde Rings, naming them Equites aurati, the golden Knightes, and afterwards for their more honour gaue them ornawenta deaur [...]ta gilded or­naments: If I should speake of ancient Histories, who are the witnes of former times, the light of truth, the life of remembrance, the mistris of life & messenger of old season, how memorable is Salon on theme st [...]e­nowned king, who kept twelue thousand Horsen [...]en? Phrao, Corncl [...] Ta [...]us Oldendor­puis [...] de [...]tar. so. 133 inuincible Alexander, [...]ulius C [...]lar King [...]ycus, Bellerophon Son of G [...]oucus King of Eplera who [...]lew two monsters, Solym [...] & Chymera who rid swift P [...]g [...] ­sus into a mountaine of Iabia, called Chimera, and of C [...]ius C [...]lar, in the time that hee sauoured M [...]rius a­gainst Silla: who to shew the excellency of his horse­manship, caused his hands to be bound behinde him, and by the only keeping of his knees close to the horse [Page 11]with the small motion thereof without bridle and sad­dle perfectly to stay, stop, and turne: and of many other kings, the memorable records of whose excellent acti­ons would rauish the Reader with admiration, how horsemen should become so wonderfull among men, So may I not forget the worthines of the Horse, from whome the worthines of man proceedeth, whose an­tiquitie cannot be blotted out of memory, beeing ori­ginally created with man for his only vse and seruice. It is said in the 21. of Prouerbs, that the Horse was prepared for the day of battaile: Bello arman­tur equs bella haec [...]n minta ninantur. and in the 1. of Kings the 4. and 2. Croni. 9. that Salomon kept 40. thousand horses for warre, and likewise many places of the Scriptures make mention of the greate prouision of Horses for warres, and to illustrate their excellencie, appeareth in the 39. of Iob. How the strength of the Horse commeth from the Lord, and with neying hee co­uereth his necke, and that his neying is fearefull, that hee diggeth with his feete in the valley, and reioyseth in his strength: hee goeth foorth to meete the Harnest man, hee meeketh at feare, and is not affraide, and turneth not his backe from the Sword, though the Quiuer rat­tle against him, the glittering Speare and the Shield: hee swalloweth the ground with swiftnesse and rage, and beleeueth not it is the voice of the Trumpet: hee saith among the Trumpets ha, ha, hee smelleth the battaile a farre off, and the noyse of the Captaines, and the shou­ting, so that there cannot bee any doubt of their ex­cellency, being from the testimony of eternall truth. Besides many testimonies that recorde the greatnesse of their same and worthy actions, for which they gay­ned great solemnities of their burialls, and remem­brances [Page 12]brances of their worthinesse.

As amongst the Persians, who after the death of their excellent Horses, buryed them and made Sepulchers and monuments ouer them, and as Pliny reporteth, the Pyramides did the like. Also Plutarch saith, that Simon of Athens, for the great victorie that hee got by his Hor­ses in the warres in Olimpio, after their deathes made se­pulchers and monuments ouer them. Likewise Alex­ander for the renowne of Bucephale his Horse, made him a Sepulcher and Monument, builded a Cittie, and wal­led it about, and named it after his horses name, as a memorial of his fame: and as Pliny recordeth, Caesar the Dictator caused the picture of his Horse to be set vppe before the house of Venus. And likewise the horse of Augustus Caesar, was buryed with an honourable mo­nument ouer him: And Dion Cassius reporteth, that A­drian the Emperor, after the death of his horse Borische­mius, buryed him and made a Princely Sepulcher, and a stately pillar ouer him, with Epigrams about it, grauen in stone.

And Iulius Caesar (as Tranquillius affirmeth) erected a Monument ouer his horse, with Ensignes, to signifie their dominion ouer the whole world. Againe, some haue so loued their horses for their excellencies, as they haue caused them to be buryed in their own buri­als, as Lethurgus, the horse of Hypp immon: so likewise Ar­suitus the horse of Biornon his Sonne, was buryed with his Maister: so likewise, as Caelius recordeth in his 26. book, Cap. 8. Panthenia & Eropha 2. famous Mares, were solemnly buryed with their maisters: & likewise some horses for their great swiftnes in running, were bury­ed, & Epitaphes made ouer them, as Lampon, Pancates, [Page 13]Pelorus, Campasus, Lamus, Sicoris, Ileridas Theron, Rhebam, Aethon & others, whereof I recite some few.

Againe, some horses haue bene so louing, to weepe at the death of their Maisters, Virg: lib. 11 and some with griefe to dye, as Aethon, the horse of Palantis, the sonne of Euan­der, who at his maisters funerall powred out teares.

Nichodemus king of Bithinia, Plin: lib, 8 cap. 42 had a horse who for the griefe of the death of his Maister would neuer eat till he died as Gellius recordeth. And Antiochus had a horse, who when his Maister was deade, for the greefe thereof cast himselfe to the ground, and casting out his feete presently dyed: And Dionisius the Tyrant, had a horse, who being forsaken by his vngratefull master, followed him by his footesteps to sinde him out: and Dyon also reporteth, that the Emperour Caius Caligula, had a horse named Vel [...]cissimus, which hee so loued, that he had him verie often to dine and sup with him at his table, and caused him to be serued with barley [Page 14]in a great vessel of golde, and to drinke white wine in a Caudrone of golde: amongst which notable remem­brances, I may not omitte for the honour of this king­dome, the monument of Arundel Castle, which Beauis the honorable Earle of South-hampton builded for a monument of his horse called Arundell, for sauing him from many perils: but because some will report selfe-loue better then any guilding to make that glo­rious wherein himselfe is partie, I will not as the pro­uerbe saith, aquam in Pelagus effundere, cast water into the occan: neither in re non dubia vti ratione nō necessaria hauing infinite worthy testimonies of histories & holy writ (cuius spiritus ne (que)est mēdax ne (que)mordax) besides the daily assurāces of euery wel minded mīs practise wher­fore seeing the power, iustice and prouidence of the creator, and the weakenes of man in so small conside­ration of so excellent a creature, as also the gentillitie and noblenesse of the beast so manifest, whose heart is so highly set, that for to dye hee will not leaue his mai­ster in danger, but hath such loue with fiercenes, and such fiercenes with loue, which prodigall nature hath giuen him, by which we see him like a thunder, break the presse of the men of war, murther and kill those re­sisting his maister, & letting him in his way, and finally neuer to cease his violence, till either life bee lost, or victorie obtained. I hope there is not any minde so base as to become a step-mother to Horse & Horse­manship & whereas I haue made shew but of a spark of the excellency of man and Horse in seuerall deuisi­on, If I should now ioyne the excellency of them both in one, and thereof onely gather the Tithe, how excel­lent thinke you were that coniunction, where [Page 15]such simpathy of obedience & reciprocal loue is each to the other in all motions: each accompaning the o­ther in skill and ready attendance to the skil, as your eye and sence shall not apprehend, but one sence and one will by indiuiduall connexion of two bodies in one, and with such pleasant motions, as if you stedfast­lye beholde them, you would thinke them chayned to your looks, and all their actions in such due time and measure, as no Artist can obserue better: the man euer­more commaunding the horse as his owne limmes, the voice, hand and wand, legge and spurre, with such pleasing grace, as when correction is done, it is so se­cret as eye cannot discerne, nor horse seeme to com­plaine, which would not onelye rauish the beholders sences, but make all acknowledge man and horse, to sacrifice themselues to mans pleasing delightes: all which (though they may seeme more then wonder­ful) yet (because wonder is the daughter of ignorance) know that wonders are no wonders in such wonder­full creatures: but fearing I haue runne too long a ca­riere in this matter (being vnworthy to speake of their worthes) I thinke fit herein to giue my pen a ful stop, hoping and heartily praying, that the famous Court of our most renowned and gracious King may be as­well replenished with horsemen, as the court of King Diomsius was with Phylosophers, of whom it is recor­ded, that his whole Court through the greatnesse of their multitude, was replenished with the dust of their feete.

And lastly, because I wil (vno multa comprehendere,) en­treat the Reader, that for as much as the excellencye of perfect horse and perfect horsemen is so excellent, [Page 16]auncient and vniuersall, that no nation doth despise it, nor barbarous nation without it, since neither the dis­cription, nor end containeth any euil, the thing distri­buted cannot be euil, since the effects be so good, as to teach goodnesse, and delight to the beholders and learners of it, since the honour of the King, preseruati­on of his kingdome, and the terror of the enemies de­pendeth vppon it, since the holy Scriptures wherein is no vntruth hath recorded it moste honorable to all posteritie, to thinke as I thinke, and I thinke I thinke truely, the lawrell crowne appointed for Tryumphant Captaines doth moste worthily honour the horse­mans Tryumph.

CHAP. 6. That the ancient writers and practicioners, doe approue the goodnesse of horses from the countries they are bred. viz. from Ayre, Water, Ground Complexion Colour, Mark and Shape: and first of the Countries, and so in order to the rest.

• 1. Arabia.
• 2. Thessalia in Grecia
• 3. Naples.
• 4. Barbarie.
• 5. Turkey
• 6. Spaine
• 7. Sardinia & Corsica
• 8. Hungarie
• 9. High Almaine.
• 10. Flaunders.
• 11. Swethland.
• 12. Ireland
• 13 Friesland
• England Scotland and
• France, are not mentioned
• but in this manner, viz:
• No Palfrey to England
• No Gelding to Scotland
• No Hackney to Brittaine.

CHAP. 7. Of the Ayre.

FIrst of the Ayre, I deny that any horse can absolutely obteine or bee depriued of his original and naturall qualitie, by the goodnes or badnesse of any Ayre whatsoeuer: although hee alter his helth, or obscure the quality for a time, yet doth it not depriue him of his naturall qualitie, but such as he had [Page 21]from his Syer and dam, such will he be vnto his death, although by good or euill vsage, or education he may be either helped or hindered: for the best phisitions & Philosophers, do hold that all creatures receiue their conditions and qualities at the time of their framing and not at their birth, for otherwise nature were not perpetuall, so as the ayre where they are bred cannot be any speciall inherent cause of naturall goodnes or badnesse, et res quaelibet dominatur a suacausa, and euerie thing is gouerned of his own cause: then if no cause of naturall goodnes, not any naturall effect thereof can followe: the which if it be not naturall, then not per­petuall but accidentall, whereof art taketh no know­ledge, so as the force thereof cannot depriue generall nature, for it is a generall rule amongst all learned, quòd accidens in corpore nullum, pars est corporis naturalis, that an accident in the body is no part of the naturall body.

CHAP. 8. Of the Water.

SEcondly of the water, which all men know to be a heauy element, colde and moist, and yet the water cannot aptly bee saide a meere Element of Water, being mixed and vnpure, as our experi­ence doth teach vs, with Brimstone, Allom, salt, and such like, &c. no more then smoke can be said of it self to be a pure clement, but this we know, that it is by na­ture colde and moist, and the power and vertue there­of, [Page 22]doth mollysie and yeelde nourishment more then the aire to the body, & therfore doth tēperate & mo­derate the element of fire in the body, but the same cā ­not any waies depriue original nature, without depri­uation of y^• subiect, being cōpounded of the elements, wherof water is one, (although not such as we see, ex­cept it do exceed the cōpasse of natures mixture in the creation of the creature, for if materiall water should alter the nature of the Beaste from the qualitie of his originall creation, how should hee bee fit for the vse of man, when necessitie shall enforce him to drinke of all waters? and thereby haue seuerall alterations in qualitie, and therefore that beeing no principall cause there cannot be any effect of the alteration of original nature from the creation.

CHAP. 9. Of the Ground.

THe third & the last is the ground which is a heauie Element, colde and drie, and may well be saide to bee the mother of all bodies, the which (according to the Mathematickes be deuided into moun­taines, Hilles, Vallies, Fields, Medowes, and such like, the cause whereof the great Flouds and Windes, in the time of the generall inundation of the whole world, haue so erected as some learned doe maintain, and in the first creation to be otherwise: Now that the drynesse or wetnesse, the stony or shade, hils or dales, should make a new alteration of nature, other then for perfection or imperfection of health, or for other ac­cidentall matter, as the Fens and marshes doe wit­nesse, I cannot finde reason to perswade, although I [Page 23]admitte the goodnesse of the ground, a meanes to ma­ny good purposes, for preseruation of the tempera­ture in the composition of the creature, & then being no alteration of nature, other then accidentall, which hath not perpetuitie, I holde the same no such cause whereupon any such effect followeth, & consequently that the goodnesse of horses is not appropriate more to one countrie then to another, neither is, or can be any assurance of the natural goodnes of any horse, for as ashes thogh they be compounded of the 4. elemēts, yet no naturall agent in the world can corrupt them, or take frō thē their qualitie agreeable to their nature, because nature left to her libertie, & to her own order without oppressing her, & turneth by little & little to recouer the figur she had before, which could not be, if the same were once depriued of his original quality, which it took at the time of creation, for nature neuer passeth frō one extreame to another but by the mean.

CHAP. 10. Of the colour of horses.

NOw are we to proceede to the examination of the certainty of the knowledge that may be takē from his colour, which all men most embrace, wherof my purpose is first to name those which they cal the best. viz. Browne bay, dapple­gray, black ful of siluer haires, black like a moore: the Roane bright bay, darke bay, bright sorrel, flea-bitten, whitelyard, &c. The ancient writers tel vs that euerie horse is coloured as he is complexioned, & according to complexion he is good or euil conditioned, and as hee doth participate of the Elements, so hee is com­plexioned, and this is the Topica, vel sedes argumenti, [Page 24]the place or seate of the argument: affirming, that if he haue most of the element of the fire, then hee is chole­ricke, and therefore light, hot, & fierie, and of no great force as the bright sorrel: but if of the element of wa­ter, then dull, slowe, heauie, cold of nature, and there­fore most commonly milk white: but if of the element of the Aire, then more full of blood, sanguine, nimble, pleasant, and of collour bay: but if of the earth, then melancholly, faint-hearted, sad and heauie, and of co­lour dark, dun, russet, or blacke: and thereby seeme to conclude, that colours are the demonstrations of goodnesse of qualitie: so as by these and such like rea­sons, by continuance of time, our selues beeing desi­rous euermore to maintaine and vpholde that we first receiue, as the new pot that retaineth the taste of the first licour it was first seasoned with, not hauing iudge­ment truely to discerne the same, being a fundamental point of their doctrine, In this Art is to be examined from reasons of truth, and confutation of cauill, and therefore from right institution.

I will begin with difinition, because a man may be well said to knowe, when hee vnderstandeth what it is that hee doth handle: I define complexion thus: Com­plexto est qualitas que ex actione ad inuicem, & passione con­trariarum qualitatum in elementis inventarum resaltat, complexion is a qualitie or condition which doth re­bound or moue out of the ioynt action and passion of contrariety of the qualities, moued in the elements: of which foure complexions, (whose fathers are the foure Elements) there is a mixture of them all, in all the partes of the body, yet diuerslie more inclyned some to one, some to another complexion, according [Page 25]to their diuersitie of their vses, that of these discords, a perfect harmony may bee made vp, for a perfect com­plexion: but when any part of the body goeth to bee distempered, & leadeth to an extreamitie beyond the compasse of natures temperate mixture, then cures of contarie qualities to the intemperate inclination of that part, may bee both necessarie and helpfull for the strengthning and assisting nature in the expulsion of her enemies: and I doe graunt, as the learned doe say, that there are foure complexions, and likewise foure elements, but I deny that euerie horse is coloured as he is complexioned: for if the diuersitie of colours of horse haire should bee a true demonstration of com­plexions, there would bee many more complexions then there are elements: and although it bee true that horses haue complexions, and also true, touching the compositions of the elements, yet it doth not followe, neither doe I admitte that the colour of their haire is a demonstration of their complexions, or that they be coloured according to the temperature of the foure elements: for the diuersities of their colours, are to e­uerie mans eies witnesses of more colours then there are complexions: besides, The Moore is black. The Europian white. The Ameri­can tawny. The East In­di [...]n [...]ed. Distmouish those cō [...]lexi­ons [...]y the ha [...]e. The cause of the colour of haue. horses doe almoste yearely alter their colours from the colours they wre of at the time of their foaling, wherein also should be alte­ration of complexion: for wee doe see the colour of mans haire doth not truely manifest his complexion, for that there are seuerall men both of blacke, red, browne and white hayre, and yet euerie one of their complexions are perfect Sanguine: so as the diuersitie of colour of mans haire doth not declare the diuersi­tie of mans complexion: for the naturall cause of the [Page 26]colour of mans haire, is the grosse vapour which ari­seth from disgestion, that the braine maketh at the time of his nourishment: and looke what colour is of the member, such is that of his excrements, if the braine in composition partake much of fleame, the haire in growth is white: if much choller, saffron co­loured, &c. And moreouer Hipocrates saieth, that the coloure of mans haire, may alter with the ayre of the countrie: wherfore then should it be admitted in hor­ses, to haue their colour of haire according to their complexion or temperature? and if in horses, why not in Kine, Sheepe, Hogs, Dogs, and such like? and seeing that euery mans experience approueth the contrary, why should I not say with Cicero, Experientia magis quam discendo cognoui: I haue knowne more by experi­ence then by learning. Furthermore, if that his haire should be coloured according to his complexion, the which I doe not admit, but if it were admitted, yet how shall it be prooued, that according to his colour he is well or euill conditioned? For if by condition they meane his good or bad action, and the goodnes of his worke & qualitie, then is their proposition al­so vntrue: for euery creature worketh according to his nature, and all learning doth deny, that complexi­on and nature are in all parts one and the same: for the learned doe know that the temperature of the Ele­ments is termed Nature, and that is the schoolemai­ster that doth teach the sensitiue soule of the Horse what to doe: Animi mores corporis tempe ratur imse­quūtur [...] and according to that temperature doth one bruite beast better performe the workes of his kinde then another, but that shall neuer be found true, in respect of the colour or that the temperature of the [Page 27]Elements is manifested in his coloure: againe some Horses are of many colours, & then, acording to their rule, of many complexions: and if complexion were admitted simply for Nature, then by consequence of reason, of many natures, & so of many diuers and seue­rall workes, and qualitie of workes: Notwithstanding, for further examination of their infallible rules, wher­with the whole world is blinded, let vs come to the vse practise and daily experience of colours: and let our great loue to colours, set spectacles vppon them, to make their excellencie appeare greater, clearer and more glorious then they are, and examine the moste best and generally admitted coloure, called Browne baye, which is termed the best at al assayes: and which the Frenchmen do call Bayarie loyal: trusty Bayard, be­ing noted the generall and chiefe Captaine of all co­loures, & let me aske any Horseman, in whome know­ledge and practise doth reside, whether all Horses of that coloure without exception, are good, if al be not, then the rule for coloure fayleth, and then by conse­quence, the coloure for haire procedeth not from complexion, for if all baye colour be principallie good, then whosoeuer hath liued, and hath his sight to know baye colour, needeth no further or more know­ledge to knowe a good Horse, and if that coloure bee onely the best, then no Horses so good as those.

An other question I would demaund, whether there are not as good Horses of other colours, the which if it be admitted, then the colour from complexion fayleth.

Moreouer if yet you rest not satisfied, I will set down the wordes of two learned writers, that after longe [Page 28]discourse thereof, say that de pilo diuersi diuersa sentiunt of the colours of haire diuers doe diuerslie thinke. And Ouid & Virgill two famous learned men, are direct opposite each to the other in opinion of colour of horses: the one of them affirming the white colour best, and the other denying the same, beeing a colour according to the rule of complexion the moste worst: and yet I could giue excellent examples of the good­nesse of white horses, but the more this cause is hand­led, the more the error of colour is manifest: but as I haue saide for this matter experientia omnium rerum certissima moderatrix, experience is the best moderator of this controuersie. Now if you will yeeld your selfe to heare the originall of these former errors, vnder­stand that the best writers hereof haue ben much abu­sed, for Opianus saith, that colours of horses were cho­sen and maintained for hunting of wilde beastes, be­cause (saith he) the colour of some horses is hatefull to some beastes more then to others: and vppon such like causes haue the learned writers alowed colours, leauing to posterity their opinions what colours they thought best for such actions: since which, some wri­ters seeming (or at least making shew to vnderstand much, making greate Bookes of diuersitie of matter, haue set downe colour a principall cause of a good horse, so as by translating and taking notes out of o­ther mens labours vntruely, collecting and adding their owne conceits (not being able to vnderstand the naturall causes) they haue made al men almost be ca­ryed away with toies, and not with true iudgement, & thereof do notwithstanding wonderfully tryumph, playing as he that hath gotten nothing, holdeth it fast, [Page 29]so as if the horse be a brown-bay, with a white starre, white foote, or such like, he is valued oftentimes more then he is thrice worth. Thus hath many ages taken that for a cause, which is no cause: there is nothing more true, then that the goodnesse of the cause is the goodnesse of the effect, for as Bernard well noteth, si bona fuerit causa pugnantis, pugnae exitus malus esse non po­test, if the cause of a quarell be good, the effect and issue thereof cannot be euill: and as I haue said, so I say still, that all true knowledge seeketh after the begin­ning and cause of thinges to attaine to the knowledge and effect of the thing, and from the effects and euents to finde the knowledge of the cause: Thus you see that to depend vppon speech without probable reason, and without shewing the cause of such things as they publish to the world, doth infect with error all those that entertaine the same, and will dayly increase so long as they sectari riuulos & non petere fontes, thinke the spring clearer then the fountaine, Faelix qui potu­it rerum cog­noscere causas. it is scien­tia sciolorum quae est iusta ignorantia, it is the knowledge of the pretended knower that is ignorant: but where true knowledge & practise con­cur, there & not else­where truth shi­neth.

CHAP. 11. Of horses markes.

ANother matter alleaged by the writers, Non tam im­perto nobi [...] o­pus quam ex­emplo. to know a good horse is his markes, but for asmuch as I haue stayed about the displaying of the colour, I purpose not to stay about a particuler part of colour, whereof the Italian writers haue drawn particuler names, from whome (as people apt to imi­tation) the common people willingly entertaine the same, and the horses so marked (for example presseth more then law, and the eyes & thoughts of the lesser, are alwaies vppon the great) and therefore when a horse hath a white foote or a white marke, they say he is excellent good, and him the Italian calleth Balzano, but say if the white extend high & large, that betoke­neth debilitie, because (say they) whitenes betokeneth weakenes, dulnes, and such like, and that they call Bal­zani, & so running in the path of their owne pride as a stray sheepe that hath beene long time lost, is euer lost: goe forward and tell vs of Calzati, Arseglio, Traua­to, trustrauato, Rapicano, Attuffūato, Guzzo, Zaino; &c. sure I am, that neither white foote, white starre, white list, strake, snip, phillet in the fore-head, white rumpe, blacke or red flee-bytings, Ostrich feather where it cannot bee seene, meale nose, meale flanke, bearded vnder his chops like a Goate, blacke and long fetter-lockes, long maine, long taile, blacke maine, blacke [Page 31]taile, blacke list and such like, are no more assurance of a good horse, then the hauing a feather in a mans hat, doth proue him a good man or a bad, which by seeing and practise, you will sooner beleeue, then my saying can perswade, for vndoubtedly you shall finde good and bad of all colours, and without markes. But men hauing bene perswaded especially by strangers to those obseruations, al men are possessed therewith by custome, and haue sought to breed by such mares and horses that haue bene so coloured and mar­ked as infallible tokens of their goodnesse, whereby great multitudes of those colours and markes haue bene generally bred, and thereby receaued and estee­med of great value, beeing accompted true noates of good horses: how truely may it be said, consuetudo pic­candi tollit sensum peccati, the custome of dooing euill maketh men sencelesse and without feeling of that is euil, which maketh a monster in nature, when as seeing their owne experience, wil not beleeue so true expe­rience. And therefore I conclude with Augustine, con­suetudinem vincere dura pugna, to ouercome custome is a hard fight.

CHAP. 12. Now of his shape.

THe last thing the writers affirme to knowe a good horse, is his shape, which originally as it issued from the hands of God, was no doubt most excellent, for the workes of God were all perfect, but [Page 32]the particuler obseruations and discriptions of per­fect shape, Nihil est sine mensura ac partium pro­portion-for­mosum. This rule is ge­nerally to be obserued in the shape of a hor­ses discription. are in number about thirtie, the which I will recite and giue some short answere to euerie par­ticuler, as they are by them recyted, onely to mooue you to carefull consideration to vnderstand what they accompted perfect shape: which being deuided into 4 parts, 3. parts therof, are as well incident & proper to Iades, as to good horses, and therein I wish you to obserue their incertaintie for your vnderstanding, & I will begin with the hooue, & so ascend til the whole body be described: First therefore they say that the hooue should be black, smoothe, dry, large, round and hollow: and some write, that if it bee soft and tender, and the heele broad, it is a signe of lightnesse, and that the Horse will from his foaling, treade light vpon the ground, being affraide to trust his hooues, beeing tender, and therefore streyneth his fore legs-and back the more.

First, for briefe answere heerein, there appeareth contrarietie in the description, and yet both are here­in commended: and yet the learned say, contraria non solum substantia sunt seperata, sed etiam pugnant inu [...]em, contraries are not onely seperated in substance, but doe each of them fight against the other: for all con­taries are either immediate or mediate, as if a man would thus reason: aut dies aut nox est, either it is day or night: of which if you allow one, the other is taken away: but to say that a man either sits, or walks, is no contrarietie, although no man can doe both at one time, for a man may do neither, as he that lyeth down: but here the drie hooue is commended, therefore the moiste, and soft hooue is discommended, but aswel a [Page 33]good Horse as a bad Horse may haue a drie hoofe, & there is not any Horse can be saide to haue a perfect hoofe, that hath a moist or soft hoofe: and yet the greater cōmendations is attributed to the soft hoofe, because (say they) it betokeneth lightnes: but if a man might thus reason, a drie hoofe is naught, because it is brittle, and easily becommeth hoofe-bound: and a soft hoofe is naught, because it is a flat or pumish hoofe, which cannot be deep of hoofe, so as he can­not be a horse of continuance, no more can he be bold of his feet as other Horses, and especially, if he be not very skilfully shod: neither dare he vse his feete bold­ly vppon stony and hard grounds, and therby becom­meth fearfull and yeelding, and so not sure footed: but if it be said that good shooing may altogether helpe that faulte, I answere, good shooing may doe some good, but not to the perfction of the hoofe, but on­ly to succour the vnperfection thereof: good Smithes are rare to be found, but how if he be euill shod (as it is ten to one amongst common Smithes) is he not more then halfe spoiled? besides it is vnperfect, for it cannot be of continuance as a deepe hoofe: & because it must be intended only of the forefoot it is the worse. And all thinges must be considered and allowed, that are in perfection, which is mediocritie, & not in their imperfection, which is euermore in extreames, there­fore to be reiected: besides, if the hoofe should bee hollowe and drie, it cannot be perfect, for then by the hollownes it would be the more dryer.

Againe, to haue it large and round is not perfect, for thereby it will be fleshie and club-footed, which is propper to Iades: and as to the tendernes of his foote, [Page 34]that it should be a signe of lightnes, as it hath no truth so it hath no reason to defend it, but a plaine and ma­nifest demonstration of fearefulnesse, by reason of his tender hoofes: and how he should vppon trauell strain his fore-legges, and his backe and spare his hoofes, I cannot vnderstand, but sure I am that such horses can­not long continue or endure hard trauel for mans vse, the end of his creation consisting altogether in acti­on and nor otherwise.

2. The second rule is, that his hoofes should bee small and heauie: I answere, that the former com­mendation of a large hoofe, and now of a small hoofe are somewhat repugnant, yet I gather, and I thinke I gather truelie, that their meaning is that the Cronet of the hoofe should bee small and hea­uie: to which I answere, if the smallnesse, how­soeuer it bee taken, be not answerable to the ioint, it is naught, & that it should bee hayry, I answere: if hee haue a good Fetterlocke it is good, in that it answereth his nature, and yet the ioynt may bee bare without hayre, and yet a good horse, but beeing not part of his shape I leaue it.

3. That his pasternes should bee short, neither to lowe nor too high, & therby strong beneath, and not apt to fownder: I answere that his pasternes should bee answerable in length and shortnesse to the naturall and equall proportion of the body, and the shortnesse of the pasterne is no more assurance of strength, then to say, that euerie thing that is short is strong, or that euerie short boned beast is strong, for the strength of the pasterne is the vprightnesse thereof, and not the shortnesse: doe you not of­ten [Page 35]see a weake Horse to haue a short pasterne, and a great weake Horse to haue a greate and short pasterne, bending and bowing in his pasterne, al­though it bee short: And as for aptnesse of foun­dring, is a rule without reason, for as a short pasterne preserueth not a horse from foundring: no more is a long pasterne the cause of fowndring and when you vnderstand the cause of fowndring: and whence it proceedeth, you will reiect the rule.

4. That his ioynts ought to be great, with long fetter-lockes behinde, and that the same is a signe of force, I answere the greatnes of his ioynts, are words doubtfull, because they may be great of bone, without much flesh, which of it selfe is good: and yet may a great leane ioynted Horse be weak & a Iade, but the greatnesse of ioynt must be answerable to the pro­portion of his body, otherwise the great ioynt lit­tle auaileth: and as to his long fetter lockes, it may bee a token of a moiste constitution, and not of strength, for then the more haire the more strength, but his strength lyeth not in his haire as Sampsons did, neither is it any part of his shape.

5. That his legges ought to bee streight and broade, I answere, if you consider onely the streight­nes and broadnesse of his fore legges it is good, but if heerein you consider his hinder legges, they may bee broade and crooked in the ham, and yet verie good, I neuer condemne his shape therein, if his action be good, and of continuance, whereof this giueth no certaintie.

6 That his knees should be great, leane and plaine, I answere, that the same are all good for shape, and yet we see Iades to be so shaped as wel as the good horses.

7 That his thighes should bee full of sinewes, the bones whereof to be short, equall, iust, and well pro­portioned: that when he standeth with his legs toge­ther, there should bee more distant one from another towards the brest then beneath: I answere, for the ful­nesse of sinewes, nature frameth in qualitie and num­ber al a like, as many in one horse as in another, other­wise there should be a defect in nature, which as it is vniuersall, doth not erre: moreouer, the proposition is such as I know not how a man should attaine to a cer­taine knowledge thereof vpon the viewe of any horse, when the same is not to bee seene by the eye: and as to equalitie of proportion, it is perfection of shape in all creatures, and therefore to bee allowed: and as to the distance betwixt his legges, is altogether from the ful­nesse and breadth of the breast, which causeth the dist­ance: for otherwise it were to be attributed to the fat­nes or leannes of the horse, which is accidentall, and therfore vncertaine.

8. That his shoulders should bee long, large, & full of flesh: I answere, that the length and largenes should be answerable in proportion to his body, and beeing so it is verie good, but as to the fulnesse of flesh it is more or lesse by good or bad keeping, and no part of shape, and aswell incident to Iades as to good horses.

9. That his breast shold be large & round, I answere it is verie good, and yet a Iade may be so.

10 That his necke should bee rather long then short, great towards the brest, bending in the midst, [Page 37]and slender towards the head. I answere, if it bee not set on as the necke of a Hog or Goate right forward it is good, and the longer and higher reard, the better shape, and yet no assurance of a good horse.

11. That his eares should be small, sharpe, and vp­right: I answere it is comelines, and a good shape, & yet no assurance of goodnes.

12. That his fore-head should be leane and large: I answere, if that largenes bee intended both of breadth and length, according to naturall proportion, it is good, otherwise the largenesse may be deformitie of shape.

13. That his eies should be great and blacke, I an­swere it is a very good shape.

14. That the hollownes of his browes be well filled, & shooting outward, I answer the filling vp of the ho­lownes of his browes is verie good, but the shooting out may breede deformity, if it bee fleshye and doe much ouerhang the eye, especially if the eye be small: otherwise good shape.

15. That his Iawes should bee slender and leane, I answere it is a perfect and good shape.

16. That his nostrils should be open, and puffed vp as you may see the red within, apt for ayre: I an­swere, the nostrils may seeme greater and redder vp­on the violence or motion of the horse, but a wide nostril is part of a good shape, but I reiect altogether flitting of horse nostrils to let in ayre, although the nostrils be little, as though nature were defectiue ther­in, not considering the cause of the perishing of the horses winde, which is not in the nostrill, & therefore neither helped nor hindred thereby, as the French, & [Page 38]some English Ferrars suppose: 17 Moreouer the streightnesse for the receiuing of breath is not in the lower end of the nosthrill, but in the caues and streight passages, high towards the fore-head, wherein if by a­ny humors the same are straighted or hindred, therein is the receiuing or deliuerie of the winde hindred, or by obstruction or opilation of the lungs & not other­wise, and then slitting is ridiculous.

18. That he ought to haue a great mouth, I answere that it is parte of a good shape.

19. That his head should be like a sheepes head, I an­swer that sheepes heads, beeing as other beasts are, of diuers shapes, it cannot be directly answered, for if I should conceiue the shape thereof contrary to the writers meaning, I should wrong them, & therefore leaue it to be described heereafter according to my owne knowledge therein, but if you take it according to the proportion of the most sheep, it is good.

20. That his Mane should be thin and long, and yet not disliking thicknesse, and that the thinnesse betoke­neth aptnes to be taught, so the thicknes strength, I answere it is no part of shape, but an ornament to the shape, & as to the thinnes, to betoken aptnes, or thick­nes, strength, is of as great force in reason as the thick or thin beard of a man, giueth neither aptnes of wit or increase of strength, but rather a token of a dry or of a moist constitution.

21. That his withers and walleyes should be sharpe pointed, right and streight, so as a man may see from thence the departure of his shoulders, I answere it is perfect good shape, and yet he may be a Iade.

22. That his back would be short, eeuen & plain, I an­swere, [Page 39]it is very good shape, but no assurāce of goodnes

23. That his sides should bee long and large, vvith small space betvvixt the hinder Ribbe and the Huckle­bone, I ansvvere it is very good shape, but no assurance of his goodnes.

24. That his belly should be long and great, orderly hidden vnder his ribs, I answere it is verie good shape and yet no assurance of goodnes.

25 That his flanke should be ful and not gaunt, with naturall friezled haire on both sides, and the higher such haires mowt the better, I answere, the fulnesse of his flanke is comely in shape, & the friesled haires are no part of shape, neither of any importance other then satisfaction to some mens delights, althogh some men of place and speciall note haue greatly commen­ded it vnto me, but I could not conceaue any rea­son from other then a liking of a receiued tradition, neither of any moment by obseruation.

26. That his Rump should be round & plaine with large space betwixt the huckle bones, I answere it is verie comely and good shape, but no good horse.

27. That his thighes should be large and long, with bones wel fashioned & full of flesh, I answere, if it bee proportionable to naturall shape, it is good, & to the fulnes of flesh according to his goodnes of keeping.

28. That his hams shold be leane, dry and streight, I answere it is verie good, & yet no assurāce of goodnes.

29. That his hooues should be large & croked like a Hart, should be a signe of swiftnes, I answer, the large­nes of his hooue ought to be proportionable, and it is good, but that the crookednes betokeneth svviftnes, is meerely a conceite, for although some Horses that [Page 40]are crooked be swift, some also that are straight are swift, & therfore it giueth no certain assurance therof.

30. That his taile should be ful of haires, long downe to the ground: or as some write that his taile should be thin and crispe, I answere that they are toyes, and conceits without reason, neither any parte of shape but onely an ornament to shape.

31. That his truncheon should be of measurable big­nes & wel cowched, I answere that the bignes is no­thing but the comlines of cowching and cariage, is commendable.

32. That his stones and yard should be small, I answer I hold it fit to be proportionable to the body, & other­wise not materiall.

33. That he should be proportioned like a Stag, low­er before then behinde, I answere if he be lower be­fore, it is absolutely naught, if in the only seat of the saddle lowe, & forward high reared, thogh he be som­what reared behinde, it is good, and the comparison in the generall naught.

CHAP. 13. The naturall good quallities of Horses, in their primary crea­tion.

GEntle Reader, it hath bene briefly shew­ed, aswel what the ancient and late wri­ters haue obserued and published, for the knowledge of good horses, namely from the Countries, Ayer, Ground, complexion, colour, marke, and shape: whereby ap­peareth, that man is a subiect wonderfully diuers, and [Page 41]wauering, vppon whome it seemeth verye difficult to settle an assured iudgement, I say, a iudgement vniuer­sall and entire, by reason of the great contrarietie and disagreement of their iudgement, which doe so many times contradict one th'other, in so strange a manner, that it seemeth vnpossible they should all come foorth of one, and the same shop; wee alter and wee feele it not, we escape as it were from our selues, and we rob our selues: Ipsi nobis furto subducimur: we goe after the inclination of our will, Anima legit ratio. and as the winde of occasion carrieth vs, not according to reason: At nihil potest esse aequabile quod non a certa ratione proficiscatur: Our spi­rits also & our humors are changed with the chāge of time, our proceedings are very heady and perempto­rie: for we haue no patience to consult with reason, but determine meerly vpon fancie: he that is hot in the pursuite of what he liketh, none sooner weary, herein alone he is good for a common wealth, ma­king more busines then time it selfe, and in a word, any thing rather then himselfe: & therefore I affirme that it is impossible without full knowledge of the origi­nall cause of their goodnes (wherein I dare affirme the best that haue written reymaned ignorant) certainlye to expresse, & assuredly to manyfest the naturall good­nes of Horses, without proofe and tryall. For how is it possible to clense a riuer or spring that is corrupt, from corruption, that beginneth not at the head from whence the water commeth? & if the originall foun­taine cannot be found, dooth not the same of necessi­tie, still remaine corrupt? therefore Summa est dementia in corum fidem sperare, quorum perfidia comperta est, It is meere madnesse to repose trust in infidelitie, Sed vbi [Page 42]cognoscitur vnde morbus sit natus, ibi facilius potest inueniri remedium, but when the knowledge of true causes are certainely knowne & vnderstood, there is great hope of good effects of true iudgement: If then it shall ap­peare in this my tractate, that all former writers of this subiect, haue bene ignorant of the originall causes of the goodnes of Horses, maruaile not that huius erro­ris tantique mali causa sie obrepsit inforum, the great decay of good Horses, & the manifolde errors in Horseman­ship, and the increase of the infinite and intollerable number of Iades, do so swarme within this kingdome, and elsewhere vpon the face of the earth, so as in place of one true perfect shaped Horse, there are a thousand Iades, to the dishonour of king and Country. Will any gather fine and pleasant fruite from trees before the same be fully ripe, & fit to be eaten, but such as are ig­norant and without vnderstanding to knowe what is fit to be done? and can any truly taste and gather, the true vse and fruite of any Arte, but he whose minde & vnderstanding, hath bene & is mollified and ripened thorough the knowledge of Nature, Art, and practise thereof, and hath thereunto submitted himselfe, and disgested by experience, the whole substance & mat­ter of this Arte?

Where is hee to be found, that hath laboured and spent his time in the true knowledge, of Nature, art & practise of horsmanship (but onely in some particu­lar part therof) without which it is impossible to haue a true and sound iudgement therein, because the same is as a body, consisting of many particular mem­bers, how then can the whole Arte of Horse­manship be knowne, before euery parte thereof bee [Page 43]knowne?

If a Gentleman endeauour to be learned in the Lawes of this Kingdome, doth he not first come to an Inne of chauncerie,, and there continue one yeare or two, to learne the Lawe French, and to read bookes fit for a young student, and then goe to an Inne of Court, and must painefully study eight or nine yeares before he be called to the Bar, & after he is called dili­gently and studiously for diuers yeres, keepe his vaca­tions and excercise of learning, both in the house and publikely abroad, in Innes of Chauncery to be aproo­ued of his study, and if he be then thought and aproo­ued sufficient, within few yeares after called to bee a Reader, in an Inne of Chancery, for one, two, or three yeares together, before he be suffred or vndertake to practise? And is not euery base manuell trades-man an Apprentise, and Iournyman before he be admitted a Maister of his Arte? how then shall it be possible for a Gentleman to attaine perfection, in so honourable and difficult an Art as Horsemanship, without ma­ny yeares study and practise, when as all Kings, Prin­ces, and Nobilitie, become Schollers for many yeares, onely to attaine to ride well (beeing but a par­ticular parte of Horsemanship) And shall any that hath vnderstanding onely in part, presume sufficien­cie of vnderstanding, truely to write of the whole Arte?

I know there is not any thing more opposite to the practise of this time, and writings of others, then this my labour, and yet I haue notwith­standing aduentured, Lupum auribus tenere, to holde the Woolfe by the Eares, bitten while [Page 44]I holde, and slaine when I lose, knowing that difficult thinges doe euermore come slowly and dangerouslie forward, and cannot shew themselues manifestly to­gether at one instant, but are from time to time aug­mented and brought to better order, whereby the nature of euerie thing (according to natures desire) is most best knowne and discerned in the end, & the end to a generallitie of perfection, so as in all Arts their good is the end, & can the end and perfection of any Arte be more excellent good, and more worthy of a subiects pen to bee treated of then of the true know­ledge of the honourable Arte of Horsemanship, the increase of strength, the honour of the king, and pre­seruation of the kingdome? what if the same be resist­ed with the bitter humor of Zoilisme and malice, a thing not greatly to be meruailed, for so much as that which is easiest, is still most vsual: but if any are so euil created to bee malicious detracters (whose reason cannot shewe so reasonable to leaue reasoning in thinges aboue their reason) I leaue them to their dis­membred fractions, and to the vsarie of their owne desires, and onely endeuour to establish the vnstable iudgement in the true knowledg of a good horse, and will set downe the naturall quallities that were in euerie horse at his first creation, without which, no horse can truly be called a good horse, which by mans transgression lye secret and hid in man, and by natu­rall abilitie of man may be restored to a full and suffi­ciēt perfectiō for mans vse, & though not in the super­latiue excellencie as they issued from the hands of God, for as God gaue vnto Adam all perfection that might be in mankinde, so hee gaue all perfection to [Page 45]those creatures which were immediately created by him: for nothing issued from the hands of God ill sha­ped or vnperfect, and as Adam was created Lord of all creatures, & to prouide for and preserue them in all perfection in their kinde, the same right and charge is discended vppon vs his children. But if euerie point herein bee not, or can bee so plaine or euident laide foorth, as were to bee desired, yet it is a custome in reason to coniecture probably, where wee cannot de­fine certainly, and still by all artistes more and more to be laboured, & to make perfect that which in a meere admirer can be hardly imagined, yet in a sufficient vn­derstanding see it liuely exprest: and if my rules which I expresse bee easily ouerturned, that which I teach is consequently subiect to ouerturning the want of due apprehension heerein, hath brought many errors vnto all Arts and professions, so as it is more laborous to purge Art from error, then to teach the true know­ledge and practise of the Art: the due consideration whereof moueth me orderly to set downe those onely true qualities which naturally were in them in their primarie creation, and ought to bee in euerie good horse, full and sufficient for the vse of man, and parti­culerly prooue the same by the rules of nature, Art & practise, the which I reduce onely to sixe: Boldnes, louingnes, sure going, easie going, durable and free going: all which are like vnto Hypocrates twins, sicke to­gether, and well together, laugh and weepe together, and alwaies are inseparable, in euery excellent horse.

First therefore I affirme, that euerie good Horse na­turally is and ought to bee bolde, I meane not (as the prouerbe saith) so bold as blinde Bayard, whose senses [Page 46]are not sufficient to guide him from his owne wilful destruction, but of naturall boldnes, neerest to his first creation and perfection of goodnes, wherein was no defect of Nature, but full and complete for the vse of man, in all obedience to the true performance of euery action: for if hee had bene fearfull, he had not bene fit to encounter the enemie, to passe waters, or dangerous places, great concourse of people, much noise, strange sights or such like, which shold not now haue bene, if the affections of nature grafted in them had remained still vncorrupted: Difinition of feare. for as feare is defined to be an awe of some euill drawing neere at hand, so hauing possessed the creature, it depriueth him of ma­ny comforts, which nature originally had affoorded: for the Horse which remaineth neerest his originall creation, goeth foorth, as Iob in his 29. Chapter af­firmeth to meet the harnest man, & mocketh at feare, and is not afraid, and turneth not backe from the sworde. And as Virgil saith, Nec vanos horret strepitus, neither doth suddaine noise feare him, and there­vpon the learned say, Quod alios territ, is non cu­rabit, that which dooth astonish & make other creatures affraid, he regardeth not.

CHAP. 14 Of Louingnes to man.

SEcondly, I affirm that euery good horse is and ought to be by Nature, louing to man, free from al hurt & mischiefe: and although loue be such a thing, as cannot exactly & perfectly bee definde, as also vnpossible to comprehend all things which do appertain to the nature, disposition and efficacie ther­of, yet who doth not see the vertue whereby the louer is knit vnto him whome he loueth, and yet none able so much to knowe what, as of what quallitie it is, but by actions and obseruations: and therefore when man shall put a louing Horse to any action, he shal see in him euermore, a following will to obay, and as thunder pierceth the clowds, so violently (for the loue he beareth his Maister) doth he force himselfe against his Maisters enemie: and if ineuitable danger ensue, he either carrieth his maister from the same, or powring out teares of his maisters ruine, entertaineth present death, whereby the learned, haue truely noted their originall nature, saying Victores exultant, sed victi do­lent, when they are victors & ouercommers, then they reioyce, but being ouercome they are sorrowfull and mourning, otherwise they could not be approoued sensible creatures: wherof I haue giuen you examples not vnlike the true loue that was betwixt Nisus the son of Hictaci, & Eurialus, that when Eurialus his deere beloued friend was slaine, Nisus hauing taken re­uenge of his death, afterwards digged him selfe into [Page 48] Eurialus graue, & so rested with pleasing death, where­of Virgil in his 9. book saith: his amor vnus erat, pariterq in bella ruebāt, to these was one loue, & by fight perished together: such is the loue of the louing horse to man e­uermore, entombeth his maisters loue in the graue of destruction: iealious of his masters safety, vvhen as the frovvard dogged-natured horse keepeth mischiefe and malice inseperable, to vvaite vpon his actions, to giue freedom to himselfe, nam contra eorū eadem est disciplina, for of contraries is like learning: vvherefore as loue tovvards man & man is a vertue commended, so loue and obedience of beastes, vvith perfection of action to man, is originally the ordinance of God in his first creation, and therefore as euerie thing ordayned by God, is in his ordinance most excellent, so all frovvard and dogged lades, resisting and opposite to their ori­ginall creation: vvith a naturall inclination and perse­uerance therein to man, is a manifestation of their corruption.

CHAP. 15. Of sure going.

THirdly, I affirme that euerie good horse by nature is sure going, and by al pract­ise appeareth so to be: for as continually hee is sure from stumbling, so if any ac­cident tendeth to his dovvnefall, he stri­ueth so long as breath or life lasteth to recouer, and keepe himselfe vp if it bee possible vvith his maisters [Page 49]safetie vsing his ioyntes and limbes with such spirit and nimblenesse, that hee seemeth to swallowe the ground by his agilitie, betokening rather flying then strugling, euermore aduenturing his owne perill to keepe his maister from perill; whereas the roile and Iade that will not aduenture the leaping of a blocke yet will not faile to stumble (nay to make a downefall) at a strawe, euermore endangering his maisters safety by his sluggish and fearefull seruice, so as his Maister neuer so much attendeth his owne preseruation as when he trusteth to a Iades securitie.

Againe, if the good horse were not by nature sure going (no art beeing able to helpe) how should the first creation of horses bee perfectlye good, the same being euermore a principall good action for the vse and safetie of man, for whose onely seruice he was created and still preserued.

CHAP. 16. Of easie going.

FOurthly I affirme that euerie good horse by his originall nature is easie going, as a principall qualitie of his first creation and therefore so stedily, iustly and duely he lifteth and setteth, fearing to shake his maister, expressing thereby the effect of his strength, & the vertue of his loue, still striuing to bee delightfull without danger or meanes of discontent: the contrary wherof euermore hapneth by the vse of Iades racking euerie part of mans body, so as hee rather desireth a [Page 50]footeboies place, then a Horsemans seat, not onely to the ouerthrowe of mens lawful labours and endeuors, but the whole vse of their perfection of action, wher­vnto they were onely created.

CHAP. 17 Of long continuance in trauell.

FIftly I affirme, that euery good Horse is by his originall nature durable, and of great continuance in his labour: the same being a principall qualitie of his first creation, for that to enable his ser­uice to the vse of man, in the 39. of Iob. it is saide, that his strength is giuen him of God, and that he reioy­ceth therein, as purposely ordeyned by God, for the seruice of man, without which man is depriued of his best and hopefull issues of his labours, by his debilitie and lacke of strength.

CHAP. 18. Of free going.

SIxtly I affirm, that euery good Horse is free, and full of desire to performe as a most principall quallitie, of his first cre­ation, in perfection of all action, befit­ting the vse of man, without which hee doth bring much more tedious and grieuous labour, then profitable vse, and therefore to manifest the or­dinance [Page 51]of God in their creation, for the comfort of man, it appeareth how he thrusteth himselfe with ioy, to run headlong into the battaile: and as Virgil saith, Loco stare nescit, micat auribus et tremit artus, cauatque tel­lurem et solido grauiter sonat vngula cornu, hee cannot quiet rest, but setteth his eares vpright (and being full of spirit) hee holloweth the ground, and with the hol­lownes of his horned hooues, maketh great sound, wherein the great goodnes of God to man, is to be noted, that so strong & warlike a beast, is so willing to obey, and desirous to performe: when Assensus sequi­tur authoritatem dicentis, with his whole assent he fol­loweth the authoritie of the speaker, whereby al their works might carry admiration, if man were not made tame with their continuall actions of admiration.

CHAP. 19. To prooue those sixe qualities, in their originall nature, and what they are.

NOw it remaineth that wee prooue, That these sixe qualli­ties are al­waies inse­perable. that these sixe quallities of a good Horse, their coherens & indiuiduall connexion, as linkes in one chaine, and so fastened & coupled together, What is a Relative as the lacke of the one shall be a true relatiue, the losse and destruction of the other: for relatiues are alwaies together in nature, be­ginning to be, and finishing their being in one, and the same moment. First therefore, you see that if he be not bold, although he be louing, sure going, easie going durable and free, yet they all are nothing, [Page 50] [...] [Page 51] [...] [Page 52]to assure the rider from danger. Likewise if he be not louing, vppon many occasions and times, vnexpected he may often spoile his maister, keeper, or rider: also if he be not sure in going, what imminent danger is euermore to be expected, in all dangerous places, the experience too often approued. Also if he go not easie how can man be free from bruises, and sorenes in all parts of his bodie, so as he shall not be able to make vse of himselfe, for preseruation of himselfe. Also if he be not durable, and of strength and force to conti­nue his trauell, or the action vndertaken, being fit and reasonable for a Horse to performe, how can he satis­fie mans vse the end of his creation? Sixtly and lastly, if he be not free and of good courage, euermore of himselfe forward, free, and of good mettle, without compulsion, or stripes, what vexation or losse (yea many times of life) by a crauing dull Iade, who wil not acknowledge?

But when all these good quallities are insepera­bly conioyned in Nature (as they are in euery perfect Horse) what can the heart of man more desire, if vn­derstanding guyde his affection to declare vnto him what is to be desired, with what facility of arte and practise, will such horses be broken and brought to perfection, what assurance of their voluntarie and durable seruice, in all perfection: how delightfull to the owners, how profitable to their purses, how ioyfull and comfortable to all that vse them, how seruiceable and honourable to King and Countrie, what soule liueth that will not acknow­ledge?

And because there is not any other or more excellent [Page 53]qualities to bee desired in horses for the vse of man then the perfection of those sixe qualities, it conse­quently followeth that all horses in their first and pri­marie creation were absolutely endowed with them in all perfection: for the increase, preseruation and continuance whereof, I purposely composed this labour, all which I doubt not will be hereafter perfor­med by all breeders of horses, if they shall obserue & make practise of those rules and precepts that are here­in set foorth so plaine and euident as will giue full contentment to all that shall desire the knowledge thereof.

First therfore intending institution of a good thing I thinke moste fit to obserue, Cicero his rule, and to be­gin with true diffinition, Difinition of nature. and leauing diuersities of o­pinions, I define Nature thus: nature is not the thing it selfe, but the proper and peculiar strength of the thing naturally giuen vnto the Creature in the creati­on at the time of the framing, & not at the birth, where it receiueth that quallity which it hath not only of be­ing and working, but also of begetting &c. and as it is a strength bred and grafted in the creature at his framing, it therefore commeth not by chance or ac­cidentally, neither is it mutable but naturall, peculi­ar and vnchangeable: but because Nature may bee two waies vnderstood, viz: a particuler & a generall, I will first shew that diuersitie. The particuler nature is that which in euerie single substāce ministreth essence to the whole compound, & with all is mother to such action & motion as is agreeable to the subiect, wherin it is as the nature of fire causeth fyers ascention, the nature of earth, the earthes going downward. The [Page 54]vniuersall nature is the author and maintainer of all actions and bodies, to which the seuerall single bo­dies are in subiectiō by their obedience, acknowledg­ing a kinde of superioritie in that vniuersall nature, & therefore it is said, quod vniuersalis natura falli out errare non potest, quia contingenter agit in indiuidius, sed indiuidua sunt remotu abarte, so there are sundry diuersities of na­tures, as the things be sundrie wherof they be, which beeing moste wisely and many waies deuided by the creator, cannot bee knit vp to one selfe same thing: Againe, and as the learned haue obserued, nature is of that excellency, quod nihil habet vitij, Nature hath no defect, because God is the author thereof, and his pro­uidence hath so prouided, that euerie nature by wor­king doth declare of what qualitie it is, so that his workes are moste assured testimonies what his nature is, and therefore verie fit to put difference betwixt the things that be wrought naturally, & that be wrought accidentally: for all naturall things are done often & continually, and those which be done accidentally be not so: The sun giueth light to the world because it is his nature, but when it dazeleth weake eies, it is not naturall but accidentall: and also those things that bee naturally done, be not done with euil will, or by moti­on of others, but easily and voluntarily: so whatsoeuer is naturall is accustomable, perpetuall, voluntarie and ready: and as it is created & made with the creature, it is reason that it should beare the nature of his be­ginning: and that which is of a Horse, to bee the nature of a Horse and of no other Creature. For if a man should call a naughtie Natured Horse the nature of a Dogge, wee may not thereupon ga­ther, [Page 55]that a horse and a Dogge bee both of one Na­ture, for as each creature is, such is the nature there­of, and so it worketh according to that Nature, whereby it is euident, and with truth not to bee opposed, that nature is nothing else but the tempe­rature of heat, coldnes, moisture & drynes, the which is a schoole-maister to direct the sence of the horse, which hee hath from his braine, to cause the natural body to worke, wherein if heate be predominate, then dooth the sence direct the body to worke accor­ding to the qualitie of heate, which is with freenesse, vigor, spirit & courage, and so, and not otherwise is it truely said, that euery creature worketh according to his nature: and as of heat, so doth it worke accordingly in each temperature, and thereby wee may certainely determine the horses disposition, habit, naturall pow­er, lacke of power, affection, and such like, as hereafter shall most plainely be demonstrated, which the Logi­cians doe consider in qualitie, and so seeke the nature of his qualitie in his works: so that of what qualitie his work is of, such quality we may truly say his nature is: for he is such in the qualitie of his nature, as he is tried & found to be: & after this maner euery simple mā may learne to know the nature of euerie horse, but my pur­pose is to teach you most assuredly to know his quality without any worke or tryall, onely vpon the view, as hereafter wil appeare, the which naturall qualities are not gotten by teaching or instructing, by customes or Arte, but naturally, and so to euerie man an assurance of what qualitie his nature is: for nature proceedeth so farre in euerie Horse, that shee giueth them not onely a feeling, but also a power to declare the same [Page 56] Queſtion. to others, whereof may arise this question: For as­much as it hath bene saide, that God is the author and giuer of nature, and according to his creation all perfectly good, and that all creatures aswell men as beastes, worke according to nature, and haue no na­turall desire or inclination of corruption, because euery creature naturally desireth his owne preseruati­on and perfection, what needeth either Arte or pra­ctise to helpe or alter the same nature?

Anſwere. I answere that it is most true, that Arte and pra­ctise were needles, if man his disobedience had not de­priued him of all obedience, that by creation was subiect vnto him: and the same his disobedience did not only bring a curse vpon the Earth, but also the dis­obedience of all creatures to man, and corruption to all & euery their actions, so there is not now any obe­dience, or perfection in the dooing of action, but that which is gotten by arte and preserued in vigor, by vse and practise: so that all thinges which now are vnto corrupted man most combersome, as punishments of his disloyaltie, were by original creatiōn ordained for his furtherance: Note this, and therefore nature in Horses, is not, neither can be any other then an inclination and forwardnes: knowledge a quickner vp of nature, and arte, a guide to keepe it in order by generall precepts, vniuersall grounds, and experience, with imitation, conferring both by the continuall holding on of ma­ny particular actions: so as nature of it selfe is now in­sufficient: Nature. knowledge and arte without nature, fond­nes, and without experience vnprofitable. As in chi­rurgerie, Arte. although the bare practitioner, do by his ex­perience, sometime hit well vpon the healing of some [Page 57] Practiſe. disease, yet it is euident, that hauing arte and know­ledge matched with his experience, so as he discerne the nature and cause of his disease, marking the com­plexion, age, and manner of liuing of his patient, and considering the equalitie and quantitie of his medi­cine, and applying them in due time, shall the better performe the duty of his science, and the better attain the desired end: Obiection. but it is againe obiected, that if the creation and creature were from God perfectly good, notwithstanding his disobedience to man, & his owne corruption, yet being created and preserued by God for the only vse of man, how commeth it to passe that where there is one Horse by creation good, in action there are a thousand Iades according to creation and in action. Anſwere. I answere, first that the creation and genera­tion of these times, are not immediatly created by God (as in the first creation) without meanes, but by natu­rall meanes, whereunto his grace is annexed (Crescite et multiplicamini) growe and increase: vnto which meanes being his owne ordinance, he giueth his bles­sing for the increase & preseruation therof. 2. it may be answerd out of the 4. of Esdras, 9. verse, that the world hath lost his youth and the times begin to waxe olde: and also in the 2. of Esdras, chap. 5. the question being demanded why the latter age should not be as perfect in creation as the first? it was answered, aske a woman wherfore are not they whom thou hast now brought forth like those that were before thee, but lesse of sta­ture? & she shall answere thee, the same were borne in the flower of youth, the others were borne in the time of age, when the wombe failed: consider now thy selfe how that ye are lesse of stature, then those that were [Page 58]before you, and so are they that come after you, lesse then they: as the creatures which now begin to be old and haue passed ouer the strength of youth: So as the farther generation is from the first creation, the more neerer to corruption.

Thirdly, it may be answerd, that euery Horse is cre­ated as man is of soule and bodie, and is compounded of the foure elements as man, and hee that doubteth thereof, may aswel doubt whether himselfe be, or no: but the one which is in man celestial, neuer dying: the other terrestial, & dieth with the bodie: and yet a most excellent pure liuing spirit, hauing the faculties, nutri­tiue, vegetatiue, motiue, and sensitiue: so doth it by his temperature of the elements righty rule as mans doth, & gouerne the bodie of euery Horse, which na­turally obeieth to euery action, and that is truely cal­led Nature, wherof onely God is the Author, so as the goodnes or badnes of the temperature of the elemēts is the cause, The cause why one horse doth better performe his kinde then a­nother. why one beast doeth better performe the workes of his kinde then another: the temperature be­ing the schoolemaister to direct the sensitiue soule, to euery action, and such is the force of natures custome, to haue dominion ouer all creatures, & therefore the learned terme nature [...] dicta ab eo, quod aliquid nasci faciat, named from that which maketh something to be created, whose propertie & cause we cannot with­out obseruation finde, other then that God, the au­thor of nature hath ordeined it, Nam obscurata est ratio naturalis per in obedientiam primi parētis, our naturall rea­son is obscured by the disobedience of our first parents, and yet nature may not be saide to be vnper­fect, or faultie, for it hath put into all thinges possibi­lity [Page 59]and aptnes, and also acte and perfection: and thereupon Cicero saith, who hath reason from nature, to the same is right reason giuen, and then comming from nature is also perpetuall, for perpetuum est quod natura, frequens quod vsus introducit, what nature brin­geth is perpetuall, and what vse bringeth is often, so as nature whether it be armed with vertue or vice, it is perpetual, and the faculties causeth the perfection thereof acordingly: for nature is knowne by his work, and nature causeth the bodie to worke, therefore such as the nature is, such is the worke, and such as the worke is, such is the qualitie of the nature.

Now the seate or place of those faculties of this nature, is principally the braine and the heart, The braine is the [...]e [...]t of the sencible soule, the sence of sence and mo­tion, & of the moste noble animal spurits composed of the vitall, and raised from the hart by the Arteries vnto the braine. as the regall and principall seates of the creature, the heart beeing the place where the vitall and Arteriall spirrits are bred, and doe equally; participate the temperature thereof, from whence they had theyr being, and are dispersed ouer the whole bodie, and then it may be truly saide, Cuius effectus omnthus prodest, eius et partes ad omnes pertinent, where the effect of any thing is profitable to all, there the partes thereof appertaine to all: and as the power of that vitall spirit is great or small (which is euermore according to the temperature of the elements) such and the same it causeth and enforceth the bodie, and e­uery parte thereof to worke, and therefore it is truely saide that euery man and beast worketh according to the qualitie of his nature, following the drist of nature (that is the temperature) in their wor­king, so as the more pure and excellent, the tem­perature of the Elementes are (which consisteth in [Page 60]the true harmony, mixture or proportion of the foure first qualities, hot, cold, dry, moist) in any creature, the nearer is the same creature to his sitst creation, and the more effectuall in operation to euerie action.

Fourthly it may bee answered, that horses doe not c [...] ̄tinue in the perfectiō of their first creation, because in all generation of begetting there is a proceeding vitall spirit before the seede which effecteth concep­tion, according to the strength and qualitie whereof, the creature begotten is in perfection of strength and qualitie: as for example, if an olde horse & an olde Mare doe beget and bring forth a Colt, you will con­fesse there is a decay on both parts of that vital spirit in old yeres, which cannot effect equality of strength & power, which naturally youth (I meane the midle age wherein perfection consisteth) preserueth & bestow­eth, if there be not a meanes of defect, as sicknesse, na­tural coldnes, inordinate vse & such like (which in old age is also much more vnperfect) wherby oftentimes wee see not onely the decay of beasts, but of the withe­ring of the noble progeny of man, and therefore no meruaile if the horses of this age be so vnperfect, when man is defectiue & vnperfect in the true natural causes of generation, by suffering vnperfect creatures to beget and bring forth, how can there be perfection in the creature begotten, and then they being vnper­fect, doe they not also afterwards beget vnperect? For it is an infallible truth, fortes creantur fortibus, & bouis est in inuencis, est in equis patrum virtus nec imbe­cillam fercces progeneran aquilae columbam, the strong are begotten of the strong, and the vertue of the Syer of the Oxe and the Cowe, is in the young bullocke and in [Page 61]horse, neither doe lustie Eagles beget young Doues: such as is sowen such will be mowen, E squilla non nas­c [...]tur resa of a bramble there groweth no rose, discendit inclin ti [...] pr [...]candi quod procreatum est, the good of the begetter is the good of the begotten. Cicero saith true­ly, n [...]carboris necequi virtus in opinione sita est sedin natura: Neither is the goodnesse of the horse placed in opini­on but in nature, and therefore Secrates execrari eum sol [...]bat, qui primo vtilitatem a natura seiunxisset, was ac­customed to curse him that seperated vertue from na­ture: whereunto Celsus concurring saith, quae rerum na­tura prohibet nulla lege confirmare possunt, where nature refisteth, no strength preuaileth. Fiftly and lastly if it be obiected that the indurance of a horse in specie or kinde, may be a limited indurance of the perticuler, & therefore a perpetuall preseruation of the species or kinde, thorough the facultie of procreation to propa­gate his kinde, that though euerie horse must of natu­rall necessitie dye, yet might hee leaue another of his owne kinde behinde him, as good as himselfe, and so a continuall succession of goodnesse, I thus answere, that if they graunt a corruption in the particuler (as of necessitie they must) it must likewise bee granted in the species, for the species being a thing existent only in imagination, not hauing any reall beeing, but as we conceiue of it in the particulars, it is a necessarie illa­tion from the corruption of all the particulers, to con­clude the like of the generall: for as Nutrition is to the particuler, so is generation to the species, wherfore as by the nourishment the horse taketh restitution of his naturall moisture, there is not supplyed so pure humiditie as was loste, the particulers decaying by [Page 62]little and little are at last cleane consumed, so by pro­creation the maintenance of the species, the puritie of the humors, being by degrees & by time diminished, at length there followeth euen of necessitie an abso­lute corruption, now the decaie comming by the par­ticulars whose function this generation is, being by continuall mixture of outward nourishment corrup­ted, the seede, the matter and meanes of propagation cannot but be tainted with like corruption, and this is the reason why horses are neither of continuance or goodnes as in former time, for if the naturall vigor of the species be by little and little continually weakened, there must of necessitie followe a perfect corruption, but the most of vs (like men at the stop, where manye pathes meete) insteede of choosing the right way by iudgement of reason doe stand stil amased, and in that amazement conclude, that all comes to one, as who would say, that South and North leade both to one place, but if we applyed our wits as aduisedly to iudge between truth and falshood, as euery man in his trade doth iudge betweene profit and losse, we should forth with by principles bred within our selues, and by con­clusions following vpon the same, discern true know­ledge from error, and the way ordeyned from deceit­full inuentions of our common practise, wherefore to conclude with the cause of causes, I doe resolue that the want of the true knowledge of breeding is the on­ly cause of the multitude of Iades, because no mā hath hetherto either written or practised the true naturall meanes of good breeding, & that all nations doe erre herein, the only number of Iades in all nations are my witnesses, and I would gladly learne from any, how the contrarie may be defended.

CHAP. 20 How to know a horse that is bold by nature.

FIrst of his boldnesse, It hath bene saide, & that truely, that euerie creature wor­keth according to his nature, and that his works doe manifest his nature, and therfore he that hath had long tryall of his horse cannot bee ignorant of his nature, so as the goodnesse of nature is considered in his quality & the qualitie of his nature in his works, and yet a horse that is fearefull by nature may by compulsary meanes after long vse make little or no shew of fear, although he be fearefull by nature, as beeing in a ship vppon the Sea, where are Trumpets, Guns and such like, not ha­uing meanes to auoid the same, by vse, & continuance thereof, seemeth not fearefull, for as man (beeing an vnderstanding creature) by often compulsarie abu­ses, may be made tame to be abused, so a creature void of reason and vnderstanding, may seeme to abide and indure that which nature abhorreth. Now to the mat­ter propounded, consider that there are natural signes which without will or desire to signifie any thing, doe make some other things besides thēselues to be known by them, as the smoak doth signifie there is fyer, & it is wel known by the perceiuing of things prooued, that there is fier withall, although there dooth nothing ap­peare but smoke only, like as a foot-step is the signe of a beast to haue bene there, likewise by the fore-head countenance and cie of man, nature dooth signi­fie the knowledge of the minde, which Cicero calleth ianuam mentis, the dore of the minde, & others doe say [Page 64]that the eye is the image of the countenance, quasilu­mine scintillans,In facie legit [...]r homo.& vim speculi habēs adeo vt intuentibus re­ferat totum huminis fere speciē, & is as a sparkling light, & hath power of beholding, so as to the beholder it doth almost declare the whole quality of mā, wherby apea­reth that nature hath made & ordained probable con­iectures of the vnsensible parts, as appeareth in the 1. K. Ca. 3. when the compassion of the naturall mother was mooued, by which commotion of nature the king gaue true iudgement, and therefore it is truely saide, ex his quae extrinsecus adparent cōijoiuntur ea quae non adpa­rent, from those outward appearing thinges, those things which doe not appeare are coniectured: from whence also may be truly collected, that vultus est ani­mi index, the countenance sheweth what the minde is: O quam difficile est crimē non prodere vultu: how hard is it, a fault by face, not to bewray, in facit prudentis lucet sa­pientia, in the face of a wiseman wisdome shineth: Pro. 17. Cor hominis mutat faciem siue in bonosiue in malo, the heart of a man changeth his countenance whether it be in good or euil. An euill eye the windowe of death. Eccl. 13.26. So as the eye and coun­tenance of man, being the messenger of the minde, & the window of the heart, the inward secrets of man are disclosed. If then the minde and secrets of the hart of man may bee and are knowne by outward signes, ha­uing wisdome to conceale, how shall or may a crea­ture not endowed with reason and vnderstanding, Impudicus o­culus impudici cordis est nun­cius. Chry. a­uoid the discouerie of the secrets of his owne nature? Moreouer that the countenance is a discouerie of the inward minde, appeareth in the 4. of Gen. When Caine was wroth, his countenance feldowne, wherupon the Lord saide: Why art thou wroth, and why is thy countenance [Page 65]caste downe, And Salomon, 27. prou: 18. saith Quomodo in aquis resplendent vultus prosp [...]cientum, siccorda hominum manifesta sunt prudētibus as the faces of those which look into waters shine vnto them, so the hearts of men are manifested to the wise: and no doubt the obseruation of the countenance of the Horse, The outward. Phisiognomie doth not falsi­fie and betray that good pro­mise that Na­ture hath plā ­ted in the frōt doth more certainly discouer his inward quallitie, as an Image of his affecti­on: but if man would knowe the secrets of mans heart, he must leaue it to the creator, for solus Deus est scruta­tor cordis, Onely God is the searcher of mans heart, and the knowledge of mā touching m [...], is but cōiectura qua­litatis, for as he which beholdeth his face in the water doth not discerne it exactly but rather a shadow then a face, euen so he that by external Physiognomy and ope­rations, wil deuine what lyeth hid in the heart of man, may conceiue an Image of that affection that dooth raign in the mind of man, rather then a resolute know­ledge.

But the Physiognomy of a horse is much more certain for he can not keep secret or conceale as man can, There is no­thing that hath a truer resem­blance, then the conformi­tie and relatiō of the body to the spirit. but being in perfect health remaineth euer one & the same in countenance. Therfore to conclude and to make the truth hereof appeare: chuse a horse with a broad fore­head, a great black full eie standing out like an hares eye, and a high reared forepart, and bee assured that by nature he is bolde, and to giue you a further assu­rance, marke a Horse with a narrow forehead, lit­tle eies, & a low fore part, which is meere contrary, and assure your selfe that by nature he is starting and fearefull, and to seale vp the truth, heerein the triall wil confirme you.

So as the obseruation, of his naturall shape in that [Page 66]part telleth you that the same is so sure, as when you see smoak there hath bin a fyer.

CHAP. 21. How to know a horse that is louing by nature.

THat euerie good horse is by nature lo­uing to man: To confirme this pro­position, I thinke the examples before remembred are sufficient, besides euery man his dayly experience, & that Iades are naturally mischeuous & dangerous to man, wher­of I will giue some examples, as Fulko the fift king of Ierusalem after he had raigned eleuen yeares, was by a mischeuous Iade strooken in the hinder part of the head, whereof he presently dyed: Bellat the King of the Pauuonians, Phillip sonne of Lodowick, Crassus, Seleucus, Calinisius, and many others by euill natured horses were slaine. It is truely said an Ape will be an Ape, & the Leopard wil not change his spots, nor the Moore his skin, that is perpetual which nature bringeth forth I haue tolde you that the countenance is a represen­tatiue of conditions, amongst which this is one, when you see a horse with a plaine smoothe eye, so as the more you beholde his eyes and countenance in beau­ty and seemely proportion, the more hee see­meth as Plato saith, the obiect of your loue, where­by you doe not onely grow in loue of him, but con­ceiue that he hath as it were prepared a cherful coun­tenance to entertaine your loue, which naturally crea­ted [Page 67]with him cannot otherwise appeare: But if he bee beetell browed, that is great liddes or lumpes of flesh couering little eyes that are inward in his head, Lac [...]rt is like a Newight, vvhereof in I­taly are many. and hollow aboue, or looking as the Lacert, which euerie way it looketh, leareth awry, and neuer direct vppon you, you may assure your selfe his naturall desire euer trauaileth to effect mischiefe in all his actions, for di­stortū v [...]ltū sequitur distortio morum: A deformed coun­tenance hath deformed conditions, being by the God of nature extraordinarilie marked for a discouerie of their hatefull affections: But the conttarie, which is a great, smoothe, ful blacke eye, without hollownesse ei­ther aboue or within, or lumpes of flesh ouer-hanging his eyes, with a sweete smile inherent in nature and expressed in countenance, you may assure your selfe of his good temperature, manifesting it selfe in his ioy­full and merry countenance, so as hee seemeth natu­rally to fawne on you to gaine your loue, if your intemperance hinder not his naturall af­fection, & the truth of things are ne­uer better manifested then by ob­seruation of the con­trarie.

CHAP. 22. How to knowe a horse that is sure going.

THat euery good horse is by Nature, Plura simul collat a [...]uant que singula non prosunt. sure going, I must intreat you to remember that my 6. rules for the knowledge of a good Horse, are relatiues, and so lincked each in the other, as you cannot throgh­ly apprehend the one without the other, so inseperable are they, as the one cannot be approoued without the other: and therefore Vhi plur a coniunctim exiguntur, ibi non sufficit vnum probari, where many thinges are ioyntly re­quired for proof, there it is not sufficient only to allow one: wherfore the rule to know a horse to be sure going is, that he be very long foreparted, I meane from his withers to his head, very long necked, and the same broad towards the brest, thin and slender neere to the head, with a high reare, his head naturally hanging to his necke, so as his nose beare not further out or more then his forehead, but carrying the same as the Ramme dooth when he is fighting, and so as his forehead and nose hanging naturally euen, his necke long, his sight lustie bolde and perfect, he euermore seeth his waye without restraint and at pleasure, where to tread in all fafety, and then hauing a true and iust trot or amble, together with the perfection of his raine (for that is the onely perfect and true raine) which no other shape can affoorde with continuance, hee trauaileth with such ease and delight to nature (which all Arte is euer to attend) beeing bolde louing and [Page 69]thereby proud and stately in going, and naturally easie and delightful to man, he goeth with great grace, sure­nes of foot, ease to the ryder, and pleasure to himselfe: when as the contrarie shape cannot by any Arte bee reduced to perfection, longer then he is moste highlye kept, and his pride and heate continueth, because no­thing is more offensiue to Nature then violence, and restraint from his naturall imperfection to perfection, by meanes of which discontentment, hee will eyther raine and beare his head to Natures shape, which is moste and onely pleasing to himselfe, or cause the ry­der to giue libertie thereunto, or else become hard of hand, with great paine, by meanes whereof it wil be vnpossible for him to bee sure of foote, being in Na­ture euill shaped, for nobiles & generosi equi facile fraeno reguntur (saith Seneca) the best horses are moste lightly borne, but contrarywise the Iade not hauing delight in himselfe, must be permitted to goe like an Asse or a pack-horse, whereunto if any shall giue allowance, I thinke an Asse better for such a lumpe of flesh, and hee a fit couer for such a Pot, except old age, sicknesse, or other infirmitie (which is neuer exempted from pro­tection) be the cause.

CHAP. 23. How to know a horse that is easie-going.

THat euerie good horse is by nature easie going, wherin if either the wāt of know­ledge, or the intemperance of the Rider, alter the same, (it is not within my pro­position) [Page 70]for I speake not only of nature: which obser­uation I also gather from the shape, and I doe euer­more accompt that a good and perfect shape which giueth perfection of action, with perfection of come­lines, grace and continuance thereof vnto the end, for otherwise he is not to be named a horse of good shape I am not doubtfull of any thing I affirme, hauing had long assurance thereof without being deceiued, there­fore in your choise of horse retaine it, a rule infallible, that your horse be high in the withers (if you will haue him easie in going) which beeing ioyned with the high reared fore-part and other rules before ex­pressed, he wil cary your body very vpright, with great grace, statelines, true raine, safety and ease: otherwise the forward hanging of your body on a horse that is lowe before, will halfe perswade you that your backe is cracked, if not broken, by reason of your leaning for­ward: but the high reared horse whether his pace bee Trot or Amble (being orderly ridden) will raine easie, pleasantly mouthed, lift and set, iust, true, steady, and easie, stil bearing you as if you were caryed in a chaire, and when you are to encounter your enemie, a safetie to your person and disaduantage to him. And if you shall enforce him to a speedy trauell, which no doubt through his violentlifting will alter his easinesse, yet when you equally cōsider him with a lowe foreparted horse in equalitie of place and perfection of raine, you shal be sure th'one wil break you before th'other bruse you: besides, the comely, stately, and sure-going of the one, and the great danger & disgrace of the other, be­cause in action he cannot giue grace, & when you tra­uell in companye, obserue a man shaked or rocked on his horse backe, and you shal be sure that the horse is [Page 71]lower before, or if he carry his head truely.

CHAP. 24. How to know a Horse that is durable, and of con­tinuance in Iourney.

THat a good horse is by nature durable, is also an obseruation of his shape, yet must hee haue all the other rules before m [...]ntioned, the which I will euer main­taine as infallible truthe, being insepera­bly linked together, to demonstrate a true and exact knowledge of any horse. First it is to be considered that strength is the cause of continuance of trauell, then in what part of the body the strength prin­cipally and naturally resteth in the horse, for as the strength of the Bull is naturally in the necke, the Lyon and Beare in the paw, the Dog in the chap so the horse in the fore-part, where nature hath imposed the burthen, and there is and must bee his principall force and strength, the which fore-part must bee deep and broade, from the point or top of his withers to the bottome of his chest or breast: his ribbes bearing out as the lidde or couer of a truncke, wherby he will appeare broad, full, round, and bearing out in the Chest and brest, with an eeuennesse of Chest and belly to the flanke, so as his belly hang not deeper then his chest, nor his chest deeper then his belly, with leane, vpright, and streight pasternes, & somewhat nar­row hooue towards the toe, assure your selfe hee will bee durable, and as good in the end of his labour, as at the beginning, if not better, and performe his tra­uell with great delight: but if he be of contrarie shape, then wil his actions be cōtrary, namely the longer he is [Page 72]trauailed, the more Iade, whatsoeuer shewe he ma­keth at his setting foorth: for if strength and abilitie of bodie fayleth, although a good spirit enforceth his la­bour, yet it cānot be of perseuerance, Vbivires dificiunt, ibi laudanda est voluntas, where strength faileth good­will hath all the praise. And therefore when you view a colte, A [...]ol [...]ed doth expresse what his proofe will be when he commeth to age. how yong soeuer he be, when he is foa­led, his naturall shape will neuer alter, but euermore growe and continue in the same shape vntill his death: and therefore be well assured that he haue a perfect naturall shape, when he is most young, such as I doe herein describe, & so may you be assured not to be de­ceiued, either in the choice of old or yoūg: what can be strange to the knower? Aristotle saith that Cognitiò nost­ra est cognitio cognoscentiset cogniti, our knowledge is the knowledge of the knower, & of the thing knowne: & when nature hath shaped the colte in perfection, with what facilitie doth arte perfect the qualitie & vse of euery action? but if nature hath shaped the same vnperfect, there cannot be any hope of perfect action, with comlines and continuance, for Sordida natura sem­per sequitur sua iura, like nature like worke, because eue­ry creature worketh, according to his nature, and like euermore bringeth forth like: beware therfore of euil beginning, either in art, knowledge or practise, least by continuance thereof it carry soueraingtie in you, Natura cala­mitatum molli­mentum consu­etudinem iuue­nit. to the ouerthrowe of your hopefull desires, for Grauissum est imperimum consuetudinis, the soueraingtie of custome is intollerable.

CHAP. 25. How to know a free and perfect spirited Horse.

THis being the cōclusion of those sixe qua­lities, which euery good Horse naturally hath, and retaineth from his conception, vnto his death; spare your eares as tunnels to your bodie, to let the same fall deepe into your ap­prehension, and consider who is the author of the fa­culties, which are planted in the creature, at the time of his creation, and you shall finde it the onely worke of the creator, by those meanes which his owne ordināce hath established, not as a fleshy substance, or as an ac­cidentall thing, but a powerfull spirit, proceeding from the vitall spirit, and arteriall blood, that goe wan­dring through the whole bodie, to stir vp the power of the beast, to giue him force and vigor to worke, by which the sencible soule performeth his works, which are termed Nature: and the same norisheth, preserueth, increaseth, & giueth power to the creature, to signifie the same to others: and the more it doth abound the more powerful it is in the operation, and if it cease his power in operation, then doth the whole bodie cease his naturall power in working: and as this spirit is of substance most pure, so when it is plentifully infused it maketh and worketh all the creature and quallitie of the same creature pure, so as man not knowing or fin­ding the reason, cānot but wonder at the work & work­master, and therefore the more excellent, perfect and [Page 74]pure the creature is created, the greater is his operati­on and trauell: as we the Sun which mooueth continu­ally, the moone that is neuer staied, the sky euer moo­uing, the fire neuer without working, the clowdes ne­uer cease remoouing, &c. so when wee see a strange, prowde and comely shaped Horse, of pure and perfect substāce, described in euery parte as aforesaide, there is presented to our sences & cōsideration some excellent & deuine work, by so pure and refined metall, which is specialy performed by the Element of fire, so as it see­meth to represent the Image of Venus, which Apelles for the space of ten yeres had imploied his wit & pollicie to paint, being so beautiful, that the beholders became amorous, as though it had bene some liue Image, so as by publike edicte, he was charged to keepe it secret, for feare to allure youth to corruption. Or like that brasen Horse which Pausanias the Greeke historiographer, mē ­tioneth to haue bene found in Heraclia a Prouince of Peloponesus, whose beautie was such, as other Horses with ardent desire and affection, sought to ioyne and couple with him, as if they had found a prowde mare: wherefore for the satisfaction and confirmation of this proposition, how to know a perfect, quicke, and free spirited Horse, you must still retaine all the description of shape before described, with this, viz. that he haue a slender leane head, leane, thin, & slender iawes, which is an absolute & perfect assurance of quicke & free for­ward spirit to euery action: by all which descriptions, you shall assuredly knowe his quallities, onely vppon the view, as if you had made tryall of him many yeares, and thereof make no more doubt, then whether the sun hath at any time giuen light to your eyes: but if the [Page 75]Horse be defectiue in his shape, as I haue before descri­bed, then assure your selfe he wanteth that natural per­fection I haue referred the rule vnto, for as it is a natu­rall course euen in euill, by degrees to come vnto per­fection of euill, so is it also as naturall, that where per­fection of shape faileth, in the whole or in parte, there imperfection is present, & the natural quallities answe­rable therevnto: obserue then I pray you, that a perfect Horse by nature is thus shaped: viz. a leane slender head, broad forehead, great blacke eyes, The descripti­on of the most perfect shape of a Horse. full and plaine ouer the lids, slender, thin, and leane iawes, broad, thin, long & high reared neck, the head set to the necke so natural­ly as a Rammes head when he fighteth, high withers, a deepe broad chest and breast, his ribbes bearing out as the lid of a trunck, with an equall eeuenes from his chest to his flancke, leane vpright pastornes, with a lean deepe hooue, somewhat narrowe towards the toe: the most in­fallible true and approoued description, of a most per­fect, absolute and excellent Horse, be he yong or olde, without any respect of colour, countrie, marke, or o­ther obseruation whatsoeuer, and so sure as thy selfe hath a being, he wilbe found in all his actions naturally bolde, louing, easie, sure footed, durable, and free going, the onely qualities of his first and primary creation: and if he be not the most excellent and perfectest shape, that nature euer brought forth, and the best in action, I shall acknowledge these my labours, the recorde of my folly, & vnperfect iudgement, to all succeeding ages. But be­cause I know & do assure my selfe, that Vnius mens non est capax tantae molis, that it is vnpossible that one head shold bee sufficiently furnished for so many matters, and that to be moste true which Iustinian the Emperor recordeth [Page 76]in his 44. constitution. Nihil in rebus humanis sic vsqa­deo semotum ab omni contreuersia, temetsimaximam cum iustitia contunclionem habeat, quod dubitationem & contro­uersiam nō recipiat, si subt [...]liter animi curas intēdas, vt nihil prorsus inter homines sicposse desiniri vt non exquisit is sub­iaceat impugnationibus illorum, qui suos adfectus praeferunt veritati. There is nothing in humane thinges so re­mote from controuersie, if with subtilty you straine the powers of the minde thereunto, and nothing can be so exactly defined amongst men, that cannot bee subiected to exquisite cauels, of those which doe pre­ferre their affections before truth: for who knoweth not but that a playing wit can praise the discretion of an Asse? wherefore my selfe knowing that neither my words or pen, can carrie with them the life of my in­ward feeling, I haue the more largely discoursed to vnfolde my knowledge by the plainest demonstration for the meanest vnderstanding for as Lucianus saith, Prouerbe oc­cultae musices nullum esse respectum, and as Salomon saith, Sapientiae reconditae & thesaur [...] abstrusi nullam esse vtilita­tem, of wisdome shut vp there is no pleasure, nor profit commeth of hidden treasure. I haue therefore here­in indeuoured, Polipi mentem tenere, to frame all my discourse to the true louers of the re­nowned Art of Horsemanship, & to obiect against any assertions, the moste difficult ob­iections.

CHAP. 26. Obiections against the generall propounded rules.

FIrst it may be demaunded, whether these obseruations are both for young coltes, when as their bodies are not growne to perfection: and for olde Horses, which by leannesse seeme to be vnperfect? I an­swere, when the Colt falleth from the Dam, the natu­rall body is of that proportion of shape which neither can or will at any time after alter, & in that shape doth it growe and increase vnto the end, not as some doe ignorantly alleadge, one yeare to growe in the fore­part, and another yeare in the hinder part, for the fa­cultie of nature cannot be nutritiue in a sound bodye to one part & neglect the other part, neither can any part continue without nourishment, without the de­struction of that part, neither can the nourishment of the body alter the forme and naturall shape of the bo­dye, and therefore the rules are infallible both for olde and young, and to graunt them otherwise were absurd because nulla ratione potest admitti per communem sensum, quia non couuenit humanae societati, by no reason it can be admitted by common sence, the same not be­ing agreeable to humane reason. Nulla placidi­or quies nisi quam ratio composuit Therefore what Na­ture hath framed is constant and perpetuall without change, and the forme of constitution, & shape, such in his age, as you see him a Colt.

2. Secondly it may be demaunded, whether a Horse [Page 78]wanting any of these rules may notwithstanding be a good Hotse? The degrees of goodnes & what is to bee sud good. I answere, you must consider that there are degrees in goodnesse, as good, better, and best of al: Next you must consider, what is good, or what may be saide to be good, for no one thing can be tru­ly saide to be good, that vnderstanding & knowledge doth not tell you to be good: for ignorance and er­ror do call light-darkenes, and darkenes light, good euill, and euill good so as your direction must not be opinatiue, but examined, per Norman rationis, by the rule of reason, if you be a creature reasonable: for do you not know, the Fly, the Dog, the Lyon, the horse, & man, are al liuing creatures? but with diffe­rence, for only mā is a liuing creatur reasonable, crea­ted for the only glory of God, so as you must alwaies reason from true definition: then if you will demaūd of the most best good Horse, I holde and will defend against all contrary opinion, that there is not any of the most best Horses, that doth or can want any of my sixe rules, which I prooue thus. When God first crea­ted Horse, he created them in all perfection of that kinde, for nothing issued frō his hands ill shaped: hee made him perfectly good, Psal. 8.5 and all that good, onely for man, and to that end were all his creatures made, and as he made man their lord and ruler, so did he ap­point them their preseruer, but no destroyer of his creatures, Iustissima pa­na vt qu [...]sci­one rectū non sac [...]t et a wit­ [...]at scire quod tectū. Aug. and all this is inheritable to vs: then exa­mine what is that which man can more or lesse re­quire in a horse for perfection, then these sixe quali­ties before described, being such as are euer insepera­ble & euermore so to be apprehēded in iudgement, & conceit: for if he be bold and feareth nothing, that [Page 79]true wisedome and discretiō would haue him to aduen­ture, neither defectiue in his loue to giue his life for your sake, & so easie going as your selfe can desire, and so sure of foote as no perrill or danger is to be feared, 1 2 3 4 5 6 withsuch perseuerāce & cōtinuance in labour, as your body and his life can endure: & with al forwardnes, fol­lowing will, freenes, and obedience, so as two or three lashes shalbe sufficient to enforce his trauell, till his vi­tall spirit & life forsake him, being such qualities, as all the best Artists, & skilful horsemen of the whole world haue, & in all ages will laboure and endeauour to bring Horses vnto, as to a restitution & perfectiō of their first creation, according to the natural disposition original­ly infused in them by God for the preseruation of their first being, how shall grāt the depriuatiō of any of them or of any parte of any one of them, without the publike trespas to man, for whose onely vse and comfort, they were made, as Lord and Emperor of all creatures, & so consequently to the all-creator? but if your meaning be to descend to the comparatiue degree, that is, to a horse not altogether of such excell [...]cie, then in some sort ther may be some tolleratiō admitted, in part of some of my rules, namely his boldnes, which if by nature hee want, yet by art may in some sort be helped, by vse of being a­mongst guns, drums, trumpets, and such like, the which I dare not absolutely admit, if by any possibilitie those may be that are naturally bold, otherwise there must be a cōtinual vse & practise to cōtinue & preserue whatsoe­uer is accidentally gained: & yet peraduenture at some times faile, because it is not naturall. Againe, Neglectis G­renda filix in­nas uur agri [...]t Horat. a Horse may be thick chapped or iawed, & admitted, if y^e whole head be lean, & al the shape otherwise perfect: but yet there wilbe a great difference of pleasure in his raine & pleasant [Page 80]mouth besides his voluntarie forwardnesse, when you shall compare the one with the other.

Lastly, the verie high born, proud and stately horse, might also in some part be tollerated and admitted to a lower raine, and yet a good Horse: but when you consider the grace, maiestie, and high countenance with honor and maiestie to man, beeing a part of his primarie creation, I cannot admitte the least imputa­tion to man, for whose glorie and vse they were in all perfection originally created, neither to admitte the consideration of any imperfection, but rather by all possible meanes to vphold the perfection of their cre­ation, least man should thereby take libertie to neglect his duetie and charge, which mans corruption too much of it selfe: alloweth, and vpholdeth as the prac­tise in all ages and times, (in all professions doe suffici­ently witnesse) howsoeuer they pretend the contrarie, and thereby allowe to Arte such perfection as to make that perfect which nature hath made vnperfect, when as Art is but onely a quickner vp of Nature, as to en­deuour by Art and practise to make a low fore-parted or short necked Horse to raine well and perfect with continuance, prouerb. which will be performed, ad calendas grae­cas, when God hath made another world. For there is not any learned phisitian or other learned man that can or will chalenge absolutely to cure a disease that nature hath bred and brought forth, because it onely appertaineth to the Creator. If a man will bend a streight Tree crooked, or a crooked Tree streight, so soone as it is at libertie, will it not return to his natu­rall grouth, can the taming of a Lyon make him leaue his naturall roaring? will Art make a Foxe faithfull, & [Page 81]harmeles, or make a birde not to delight in the woods, wherefore then do men seeke to haue breed, and keep crauing dull Iades, and vnperfect shaped Horses, and perswade themselues, that good feeding, good kee­ping, and artificiall riding and practise, will make them absolute, and perfect Horses, and heere of pub­lishe and set foorth great volumes, do they thinke that art can bring an ape to beget an ape with a long taile? If this be not error ignorance and senceles practise, my desire is of those that better vnderstand, to defend the contrary, and to manifest the same by reason: how shameles a thing then were it for me to admit, more grosse imperfection when mans corruption transpor­teth him so far beyond the degrees of reason, to al­low and maintaine all seeing imperfection.

Againe, some will and do obiect that Horses of such excellent shape, spirrit and life, as I haue descri­bed, will be dangerous to those that are not expert in the art, and that such will speedely spend themselues, and not continue in flesh or good liking, and are very chargeable to keepe, and besides so vnruly and intem­perate, as thereby great danger will ensue, to the most people that are vnskilfull of Horsemanship: and such like childish and ignorant conceits, wherein the mul­titude do excell, it might aswell be obiected, that fire and water, wine and weapon, and many such like are dangerous, and that many haue perrished therewith, therefore very vnfit to haue them, or vse them, the which proceedeth from their debilitie of iudgement, not able to apprehend that such Horses, are the most excellent that euer haue bene or shalbe created, being compounded of the most iust, and true proportion, of [Page 82]mixture of the temperature of the elements, which giueth them that fulnesse of spirit, vigor and courage, neither that the temperature of an excellent Horseman which compriseth all perfection wherewith naturall man can bee endued with, if he haue the managing of such Horses will not (Animum volentem accendere) blow the fire when it burneth cleere, knowing that such na­tures are to be vsed according to the temperature of their owne nature, without iarre or violence: but the ignorant rider not able to iudge of his nature, doth so far distemper nature in the beginning, as afterwards not knowing how to restore him to his former obedi­ence, is astonished with the admiration of his wonder: & holdeth Omne ignotum pro magnifico, All vnknowne things beyond the degrees of admiration. The He­brues doe deriue the name of Time of a verbe which signifieth to corrupt, because it doth corrupt all, and as the times are, so are men that liue in them, whereby the best horsemen that euer haue bin, do not only car­ry the note of the errors of the times wherin they liue, but the ful streame of the corruption thereof, which maketh me to become like vnto the Marriner, who or­dereth his sailes acording to the times and the winde, and doth of necessitie turne and wind to arriue to that place obliquely, by fetching a compasse when he can­not do it directly, and by a straight line- Non semper et vnogradu, saith Seneca, sed vna via: non se mutat sed ap­tat, he saileth not alwaies with one and the same pace although he follow the same way, he changeth not, but accomodateth himselfe: whose example I haue followed heerein, but with the glew of mutuall con­cord yet adhering to that memorable sentence of Ter­tullian, [Page 83]That is true whatsoeuer is first, Contra pra [...] and that is false whatsoeuer is latter, and therefore the forsaking, or not knowing, the knowledg of these that liued nearest the first creation, who did see best, and the adhering to the knowledg of those that haue liued furthest from those times, who did see more dimly, and their knowledge more corrupt, hath bene the cause of their manifolde errors in Horsemanship, in these latter ages, and the principall cause of my long discourse, in this tractat, wherein I haue often deliberated to thinke & rethink, redoubting what may happen, yet knowing when to feare, I did thereby knowe safely to go forward, Nam animus vereri qui scit, scit tutô aggredi, so as I doubt not to affirm the Athenians prouerbe after victory, Noctua volavit, the bird of darkenes is put to flight, comfor­ting my selfe with that saying of Aug. Qui se dicit scire quod nescit, temerarius est, qui se negat scire quod scit, in­gratus est, he is rash that speaketh that hee dooth not know, And he is vn­thankfull that denieth to knowe that he doth knowe.

CHAP. 27. Of perfect breeding.

WHen I remembred that Salomon proclai­meth mans wisdome vnperfect, and his knowledge in each science vncertain, Eccle. 8. & perceiued neuer man, to haue attained such degrees of learning, as to finde him­selfe ignorant, how time the beginner increaser and subuerter of all humane knowledge, hath wrought defects and difficulties in vnderstanding: I could not but admire the breeders of Horses within this king­dome, seeing them in this moste decayed time of knowledge, to cast their anchor into the deepe and deceaueable sands of the practise of these times, wher­in vnlimited & tirrannicall custome, which neuer ad­mitteth either dispensation, or quallification (without notorious affront) ruleth and raigneth in the superla­tiue supremacie of error: and onely by referring the effects of al good breed, to the immediate work of god as though the effect of all such causes were supernatu­ral, & to be reduced to God immediately, as a mira­cle, receauing them from nature, and abhorring the naturall meanes, not considering that there are effects onely naturall and only to be referred to nature, not that nature is an vniuersal cause, endowed with a iuris­diction seuered from God, but that she is a name of order which God hath bestowed in the frame of the worlde, to the end that the necessarie effectes might follow the preseruation thereof, thorough which [Page 85]their vnanimous consent in practise, they haue long sucked a strong opinion of the possibility of good breed, whereby there is growne a broad sea of diffe­rence, in your point of true knowledge of breeding and their acustomed practise, so as notwithstanding the great and inuincible power of nature in all crea­tures, whereof God being the Author, and whereun­to as vnto a naturall meanes, he hath applyed himself for preseruation, there is not one Horse of a thousand bred in the perfection of nature, whereby all and eue­ry of them, cannot but acknowledge his own thoughts and forseeing doubtfull, which maketh me crye with Paul, Nihil mihi conscius sum, I know not how far I shal offend: but when I apprehended with Galen that euery science is a conuenient & firme notice, that neuer de­parteth from reason, knowing the end where vnto I was borne, and to whose benifit I should liue, notwith­standing all stimulatorie causes of progression, I ass­embled my conceits to peîrce through the hardnes of the enterprise, & rather estemed to walk alòe to steepe downefalles, and with Quintus Fabius to hazard my credit, yea with worthy Horatius Cocles, my life (for the honour of my soueraigne and benefit of my country) then to be like the beasts who neuer forsooke the bea­ten path and high market way, with a guide before them: so as posteritie shall still liue without adding increase to former knowledge, and therefore as to the load-star of my desire, and prefixed period for produ­cing fourth of that truth which this Art hath bin long in trauell of: for Nihil magnum subito noscitur I haue ad­ventured to draw the thred of this subiect to my deter­minate conclusion, not by a dim light soone quen­ched, [Page 86]but by a Sinopsis or perfect viewe of the whole body of breeding, & to shew the reason and cause of the errors in breeding, & the true meanes of restitu­tion thereof to perfection. An action most befitting man, The vse of reason. who by nature is reasonable to teach, according to his owne nature, the same being as Seneca affirmeth, an imitation of nature, so as reason hauing his true vse, it shall not onelye beholde and contemplate the truth, but also represse and bridle all affections, that swell and rise against it, as a vertuous Mistresse admo­nishing, and thereby become the most excellent nursse to suckle vp true knowledge & practise to the full pro­portion of man his hopeful desire: but least any shold tell me that my passion in the earnest loue of this sub­iect should make me forget my passages, I proceede to set downe the only essentiall and true obseruations of a perfect breede, wherein I pray you obserue a princi­ple, most fit truly, to know whece proceedeth the most excellent colts that are begotten.

1. First prouide Horses and Mares of the most per­fect and beautifull shape, euen such and no other then I formerly described.

2. Secondly truly vnderstand at what age such hor­ses and mares are fittest to beget and bring foorth per­fect Colts.

3. Thirdly how to prepare and keepe those horses and Mares before they come to the Action.

4. Fourthly, when, how and where they are to doe the action in perfection.

5. Fiftly how to keep them in perfection after their conception vnto the time of foaling.

6. Sixtly and lastly how to vse them when they are [Page 87]foaled, and how to preserue & continue them in their perfection.

Now if any man demaund of me why I doe not shew what groūds are meetest for breed, & how such groūds are to be seuered, Prouerbe. & to what end euerie diuision should serue: I answere, it were Sisiphi saxum voluera, great la­bour without profit: for can any man thinke that euery man that wold or doth breed horses may goe to Co­rinth, or can haue such groundes as may be discribed? are not most grounds of seueral natures & qualities? & are there not infinite numbers of Colts most excel­lently bred by such as haue no inclosed groundes? and doth not euerie mans experience (being his principall leader) confirme the sufficiencye of multitude and number that are so bred, so that if one of an hundred that are bred were good, few could iustly complaine. I haue therefore heerein indeuoured to enforme the reader with true knowledge, how to haue an ex­cellent breede (so neere as mans wisdome may attaine) the truth wherof being laid down, will sufficiently direct euerie man how far the true vse of all grounds doe

CHAP. 28. Of the creation and generation of Horses.

1. IT is twofolde, Supernaturall. and to be considered after a two-folde manner.

1. The first and primarie once immedi­ately by God in his supernatural Cre­ation.

2. Naturall. The second and ordinarie in his naturall genera­tion.

1. Conception. The ordinarie and naturall generation is made by the elementarie force and forming vertue, which is in the seede when it is in the wombe, in such order, that the 13: first daies the seed of the horse and mare doe mingle, vnite, and curdle together like Creame, & are made one body, which is the conception.

2. Tormelesse blood. The next xiii. daies this seede is concocted, thick­ned and changed into a masse of flesh and indigested formeles blood, which is the proper matter of his bo­die.

3. Fashioned bo­dy. The third xiii. daies following, of this masse or lumpe is made and fashioned the body in grosse.

4. Perfect body The fourth xiii. daies, the whole body is ended and perfected, and no more vnperfect in shape: and at the fourth month, the Colt hath motion and sence, and tripling this terme, which is at the twelue months, he commeth foorth into the light.

CHAP. 29. Of the Elements whereof the Horse and euerie other creature is compounded.

EVerie Colt and likewise euerie creature, and things inanimate are in their creati­on compounded of the Elements, which is as much to say, of a pure and simple thing, which the outward sence cannot discerne, and yet the common beginning of all Crea­tures, namely of Fyer, Ayer, Water, and Earth, I mean not such as we dayly see with our eyes, for they are bo­dies compounded, which our sences doe perfectly know, but these Elements I speak of are aboue, which our outward sences are not able to discerne.

First of the Fyer, Fyer. which is the highest & lightest Element placed next the Moone, and of nature hot & dry, but most of heate: 1. His vertues & properties by reason of his heate are to mooue to generation. The vertues.

2. Secondly to seuer the bones in the Colt from the flesh, the flesh from the sinewes, the heart from the li­uer, &c. as the wood that is burned hath vapor, smoak flame and ashes, which the heat seuereth, so in burning of seuerall mettalls, the heate seuereth the one from the other, and yet gathereth the like together.

3. Thirdly to ripen.

4. Fourthly to disgest thinges rawe and vndigested.

5. Fiftly to mingle dry with moist.

6. Sixtly to open the Pores of the Colt, that the ayer being somewhat grosser, may enter into the body

7. Seauenthly, to breake the colde of the water and earth, so as it may not distemper the bodie.

The second element is the Ayre, Aeyr and placed next the fire, and is light and hot, but chiefly moist.

1. First by reason of his moisture, I meane not a wate­rish moisture, but a comforting nourishing moisture, as oyle is to the lampe, The vertues. to make the matter apt to re­ceiue shape.

2. Secondly, to make the mixt bodies of blood, fleame choler, and melancholly, not onely subtile and pene­trable, but also light, to the intent they may be nei­ther too grosse nor too heauy.

3. Thirdly, to slake the burning of the heart, and of the other members, as apeareth by the office of the lungs, which (as a paire of bellowes) doth drawe fresh ayre vnto the same, and also gladde the spirrits, and dis­burdeneth it selfe of those fumes and excrementes which oppresse it, filling all emptie corners with moi­stnes: and howsoeuer the ayre seeme to our sences, yet doth it yeeld more moisture then the water.

The third element is Water, which though heauy and moist, Water yet most colde.

1. First, by meanes of his coldenes (for colde is not actiue) it doth conglutinate and ioyne his bones with flesh and sinewes, The vertues. and his flesh with sinewes and bones: for the nature of colde is to binde, durt, wood, stickes, strawes and such like in one masse.

2. Secondly, with his coldenes it doth temper the feruent heat of the fire.

3. Thirdly, it doth gather that together, which the fire would disperse asunder: for the nature of heate is to o­pen and disperse that which colde hath conioyned, and of colde to binde that which heat hath dissolued.

The fourth element is the Earth, which though it be heauie and colde, yet most chiefiy drie. Earth

The Colt being a mixt body, the earth doth harden and retaine his shape, which the Ayre and water would make fluxible, The vertues. as is to be seene in waxe and other things, newly wrought, which before it be hard and dry, will not holde, and when the body dieth, those ele­ments, both in quallitie and substance, returne from whence they came, as that which is hot to the fire, that which is moist to the ayre, that which is colde to the water, and that which is dry to the earth.

CHAP. 30. Of the humors.

THe humor from whence the seed and menstruall blood are taken for the framing of the Colte, are, 1. Blood, 2. Fleame. 3. Choler, 4. Melancholly.

1. The blood which is perfect, is hot and moist, and yet his predominate quallitie, heate, and therefore ful of ioy and pleasure.

2. The Fleame is colde and moist, but the predomi­nate quallitie thereof coldenes, and therefore full of waterish blood, with little heat of spirit.

3. The choler is hot and dry, but the pedorminate qualitie therof is heat, and therfore full of anger when the blood is ouer hot, not cleere but of thick spirit.

4. The melancholly which is blacke choler, is colde and dry, but the predominate quallitie drines, therfore heauy, sad, and fearefull, for the blood is thicke and colde, and the spirit full of darkenes.

CHAP. 31. The vses to be gathered from the humors.

Humor. FIrst that the cause of the good or bad temperature of the Colte (which is his good or bad qualitie) proceedeth from the goodnes or badnes of the blood, & the blood in nature (though not in pre­dominate qualitie) is like vnto the ayre, light, hot and moist: fleame to the water, which is heauie and moist, choller (which is red) like vnto blood, hot and drye: melancholly (which is blacke choller) heauy, colde & dry, like vnto the earth. But the fleame sweetneth the force of the two chollers, and the melancholly mode­rateth the suddaine motions.

Blood.The Fountaine of the blood, is the liuer (and the vse of this fountaine is to keep it pure) from which the veines issuing, are as channells of the first and naturall blood: and the Arteries comming from the heart, as conduits of the second blood, more subtill and vitall: from whence it is apparant, that the purity thereof dwelleth in the heart, & yet the liuer is the storehouse of blood, fountaine of the veines, the seat of the natu­rall nourishing facultie or vegatiue soule, made & in­gendred of the Chyle, that is to saya kinde of white suck or whey fit for the nourishment of the bodie, which by veines passe vnto the liuer.

FleameFleame in the braine, which is colde and spungeous and the seat of the sensible soule, Vbi sedet pro tribuna­li, [Page 93]the braine and not the hart, for the heart hauing fee­ling and motion, is not capeable of sence.

CholerCholer in the liuer.

MelanchollyMelancholly in the spleene, which is the receit and discharge of the excrements of the liuer.

1. From hence it may be truely collected, that eue­rie humor hath his proper end and vse, Blood chief­ly nourisheth the body, Fleame helpeth to mooue the Ioints, choler to prouoke the body to anoid excre­ments, and melancholly to prouoke the horse to ap­petite.

2 Secondly it may be collected, that such as the tem­perature of the elements, are in these humors, where­of the Colt is framed in the wombe, such will bee his qualities and dispositions in his actions, and if any of these humors are predominate in qualitie, when the Colt is framed of them, then he is to bee tearmed ac­cording to the predominate qualitie thereof. Now there are in euerie Colt aswell Male as female, foure chiefe or principall instrumentall members, viz. the braine, the heart, the liuer and the stones, otherwise the Female could not haue seede to mooue her to lust, whereof the first three are onely to preserue the body, wherein they bee, and the fourth to preserue the whole kinde, from which doe spring other officiall members which doe serue, and doe office to the prin­cipall members, as the sinewes from the braine, which are animall spirits, the Arteries from the heart, which are vitall spirits, the veines from the liuer, which are the naturall parts, and the seede vessels from the stones as place of generation.

CHAP. 32 From whence these humors proceede, and haue their being.

THere cannot bee any thing more true or agreeable to reason, The foure fa­culties viz. Eating. Retaining. Concoction. Expulsion. then to affirme that nature hath prouided, for euerie beaste foure Naturall faculties viz. to eate, to retaine, to concoct, & to expel, of which concoction altering the foode, there are residing in their bodies the saide foure humors, blood, Fleame, Choler and Melancholly, whereof nature vseth onely the seruice of one to worke the creature, which is an excrement that may fitly be tearmed whey or wheish blood, whose engendering is wrought in the liuer and in the veines, at such time as these foure humors doe take from the beast the forme & substance they ought to haue, and of such licour as this, dooth nature serue her selfe to resolue the meate, & to work that the same may passe thorough the veines, & thorough the straite passages carrying nourishment to all the partes of the body. What is a Veine. The veines being a conceptacle or emptie place of receite, for the blood mixed & cōfused with the vi­tall spirit: the which veines haue their beginning from the liuer, & their office is to draw from the liuer vnto them this whey, & to send part of the same thorough the passages into the bladder, & from thence out of the body, to free the creature from offence, wherof two of the veines cary part of y^e said whey frō the liuer to the cods & vessels of seede, there residing with some smal [Page 95]quantity of the purest blood, wherby the operation of the stones, whose qualities are hot & dry, thereby doe make a perfect seed requisite for such a creature, the which two veines nature planted, one in the reines in the right side, which endeth in the right cod, and ano­ther in the left, both which take their issue from either of the cods accordingly: Moreouer, nature hath giuen to the right cod much heat and drines, & to the left cod much colde and moisture, so that the right side of the reines yeeld matter hot & dry to the right cod, for the generation of the male, & the contrary for the female: & in y^e like maner it is with the female as with the male: but much more colder & moister, & the liuer in which the naturall lust of the beast resideth, hath for his na­turall temperature heat and moisture to predominate, & from these it neuer altereth, if the creature be in per­fection of health and temperature. The heart. And as touching the hart, being formed with the liuer & brain, & main­tained with the purest bloud, hauing greate quantitie therof from the liuer still to preserue the same, then is the heart so hot, as that while the creture liueth, if you put your finger into his hollownes therof, it is vnpossi­ble to hold the same there without burning: hereupon it followeth that the liuer beeing the fountaine of all blood, haue greate store of pure and perfect blood to maintain the whole body: What is a vital spirit. And the vitall spirit of the Colt is no other then a bodily fume or vapor verie pure and subtil, begun in the heart by the operation of the naturall heate spred by the Arteries and veines to recreate and comfort the whole body, which stirring & cōfortable spirit proceeding from the heart & vittal [Page 96]spirits being a perpetuall agent, and euermore in acti­on, because motion & agitation is the true life therof, and so euermore remaineth in all liuing creatures, but not in plants or trees, where only the vegetatiue soule that is his naturall vertue, hath his working, and the vi­tall spirit onely in the Arteries and Veines, as they are seuerally dispersed in the whole parts of the body. For as in the middest of heauen there is scituated the Sun that enlightneth all thinges with his rayes, and cheri­sheth the world & the things therin cōtained, with his life keeping heate: so the heart, the fountaine of life & heate hath affigned to it by nature, the middle part of the body for his habitation, from whence proceedeth life & heat vnto all the parts of the body (as it were vn­to riuers) wherby they be preserued & enabled to per­forme their naturall and proper function: Further­more, if the liuer be not ful of pure blood, it cānot per­fectly disgest the meat, neither can the Cods bee hot: wherin if there be defect of heat, Cods. the seede of the horse cannot be perfectly concocted, and so the horse is im­potent & without power of begetting, for when God said increase and multiplye, Note. you must vnderstand that he gaue them an able power for procreation, which could not bee accomplished without aboundance of heate, and no lesse heate did he bestow vpon the facul­tie nutritiue, with which he is to restore his consumed substance, and to renew another in lew thereof, so as no one thing can bee more apparant, then that pure and cleane blood giueth greate heate, and that heate is the cause of ioy & mirth, which giueth viuacitie, courage boldnes, and fulnesse of spirit to euerie action.

CHAP. 33. Of what age the Horse and Mare ought to be, that beget and bring foorth.

HAuing shewed the principall rules of nature touching the beginning of crea­tion, Obserue this discourse. and the naturall meanes of their bodily composition, it resteth to shewe what Horses and Mares are to be cho­sen to beget and bring forth, but because I haue large­ly spoken of the most excellent and perfect shape, and of the perfections of their qualities, & actions (which I onely admit, and no other) it now resteth to begin and to expresse the onely fit age, when such beautifull Horses and Mares are to beget and bring foorth, and thereof to come to a plaine and true vnderstanding: I thinke fit first to looke backe vnto the time they were created of God, in their primary creation, and to fol­low his example therein, which was when they were in all perfection, and not in their imperfection, for when he created them, they were in all parts most ab­solute and perfect, and then God blessed them saying, bring foorth and multiply, by which example man being a reasonable creature, hauing committed vnto him from God, the rule and gouernment of all his cre­atures, for his onely vse and comfort, cannot now in the naturall generation, (without the neglect of his example) hauing reason for his rule and prescript, but consider nature in the greatest and moste perfection of strength, and to aproach nearest to the intire and [Page 98]perfectest constitution, when he enioyeth al his forces of youth, neither in the corruption or depriuation thereof, and therfore without all doubting the same is in the middle age, beeing the center of all vertue and perfection, & for farther demonstration to confirme in you this proposition, I pray you obserue that euery horse vntil he be 5. yeres old is a Colt, but neuer after, & that is, his first age, & if after that time he lose any of his teeth, it commeth not againe, because the excesse of his moisture doth then begin to abate, being vntill then predominate in moisture, & from 5. yeres of age vntil he be 10. is counted his middle youthfull & per­fect age, both in vigor & spirit, & action, because hee is then more hot & lesse moist, & frō ten yeares of age vnto 15. yeres is his declyning age, because then heate & moisture doe much decay, & frō 15. yeres of age vn­to 20. his old age, because that then he is cold & drie, & if he do continue aboue those yeres, yet is the same with great imperfection. Now for asmuch as all works of generation do only appertaine to the natural pow­er & vertue of his body, which is tearmed his vegeta­tiue soule, whose faculty is to nourish for the conser­uation of his body, wherunto doe also serue the attrac­tiue of y^e meat, the cōcoctiue, the disgestiue, seperating the good from the bad, the retentiue & the expulsiue of superfluities. The second is the increasing & grow­ing facultie for the perfection and due quantitie of the body, and the third is the generatiue, for the con­seruation and preseruation of the kinde, whereby wee see the Wisdome of the God of nature, where the two first are, for the body or indiuiduum and worke within the body, and the third for the kinde, and that [Page 99]hath it effect and oparation in another body and ther­fore more worthy then the other, & hath in it a greate height of perfection, to make another like it selfe, but not vntill there bee a perfect and able body, and in all his actions hee followeth the mo­tions of the temperature of the body, so as both nature, reason and practise doe approoue both horses and all other creatures (of good compositi­on and temperature) to bee in their middle age moste strong and perfect, and fullest of vigor, spi­rit and courage, and therefore the onelie fit time to beget and bring foorth, and thereby the con­trarie reason, the time both before and after vnfit, and moste vnperfect, Nam natura cum ad summam per­uenerit, descendit idq non aequo gressu, ascensus enim lentior, descensus praeceps. Nature is long before it come to per­fection, but when it is come to the highest it suddenly decayeth, wherfore for a full & more plaine demon­stration of truth, and of the errors of all ages obserue. If two Colts, viz. horse & mare vnder fiue yeres of age, not hauing obtained perfection of strength, neither refyned nature frō the excessiue moisture of youth (be­ing but few yeres since they were created) that of their seede a Colt should be formed, being a matter endow­ed with excessiue moisture, their seed cannot possi­bly be of a perfect temperature, neither is or can bee perfect for generation, because all perfect seede for procreation must be hot & dry, for that otherwise it neither will or can incite to copulation, with per­fectiō of generation: wherof also must be plenty, & the same throughly concocted, for that the seed of the mare (beeing in comparison with the horse, is much [Page 100]more colder and moister, & therefore the Horse must haue a great quantity of seed, both hot and dry, equal­ly to temper the coldenes and moisture of the seede of the Mare, from which equallity of temperature, the goodnes of the colte begotten proceedeth, for euery qualitie in reason must be abated, by his contrarie, and then their seede being equally temperate, and sea­soned without excesse of predominate qualitie, it al­waies formeth the best in his kinde, and the stature of the Colte conformable to the quantitie of the tempe­rate seede, and menstruall blood, which it had at the time when it was framed add shaped, and according to the qualitie of temperature al creatures take & cary the conditions and properties of their Sires, at the time of their framing, and not at their bringing foorth. Againe, if a colte should be begotten, of a seede cold and moist, it wilbe great, softe of flesh, great limmed, goutye ioynted, thick boned, heauy and dull, accor­ding to the natutall operation and qualitie of colde and moistnes, which conioyneth all in a lumpe with­out good proportion. Againe, if the olde Horse and olde Mare, should beget and bring foorth, after ten yeares of age, wanting the power and efficacie of their naturall heat, vigor, and spirit, then will the colte be formed of a seed ouer colde and ouer dry: hauing outrun two parts of their age, whereof if a colte be be­gotten, for want of heat to make an equalitie of tem­perature, by reason of the coldenes and drynes, that is predominate, the colte wilbe soone ripe, soone rotten, of small strength, short liued, little spirit or courage with continuance, faint hearted, and euill shaped, for that it wanteth heate and good [Page 101]moisture (I meane a moisture of oylie substance) the two principall elements for preseruation of life and good spirit. Againe, if an old horse and a young Mare should beget and bring foorth: then would the Colt be framed of a seede from the Mare cold and moiste, which is Flegmaticke without any taste, as water, & of a seede from the horse cold and drie, which is sower and heauie, for as Galen saith, the Fleame being a cold waterish humor, is of no force for ornament of good conditions. Lastly, if an olde Mare and a young horse should beget and bring forth, then would the Colt be framed of a seed of the horse, little hot, but ouer moist and of a seede of the mare cold and ouer dry, wherein cannot be any perfection of equal temperature, so as it appeareth an approoued consequent in Reason, that the middle age of the horse, hauing a seede hot & drie and the mare a seede cold and moist, with great plenty of fulnesse on both parts, in the greatest perfection of heate and natural strength of body, doe make equality of temperature, & compound themselues in such high degree of perfection that they bring forth a Colt full of vitall spirit, great courage, boldnes, and pride, thin and dry bones, great sinewes and Arteries of great strength, louing, of long continuance, & of such beau­tifull and perfect shape thorough the naturall qualitie of heate, purifying the whole body from all manner of drosse, & in such resined manner, as though nature had assembled all her forces for the preseruation of her selfe, and expulsion of her enemies, for such is the na­ture of good or bad seede, when it receiueth any well or il rooted quality euermore to communicate to the discendents accordingly.

CHAP. 34. Of the Elements of generation.

NOw I thinke fit to speake of the proper Elements of generation, that is to saye, of the engendering seede, and menstru­all blood, from whence euery colte ta­keth his first being of shape: and heere­in I obserue a difference betwixt nature and seede, for that which is truly called seede, is like the seede of Rise when it is sodden, which though wettish yet thick for otherwise it cannot effect procreation, for the heat hath tried it and made it fit to incorporate it selfe, with the waterish seede of the Mare, and that which is and may be termed nature is thin, and not thicke as seed is, so as all seede may be termed nature, but all nature cannot properly be termed seed: and vnderstand that these proper beginnings depend vppon the qualities of the first beginnings before rehearsed, that is to saye of moist, dry, hot and cold, without which they could doe nothing, nor yet be any thing of themselues.

Againe, obserue that the matter and qualitie, wher­of euery colte is compounded, is so subiect to corrup­tion, that at the instant when and where it beginneth to be shaped, it beginneth likewise to be vntwined, so as if nature had not prouided the naturall faculites, of attraction, retention, concoction, and expulsion, for the preseruation and increase of matter, for continual supplie, the creation thereof beeing finished, and not [Page 103]any parte of that substance remayning, whereof it was first composed (as in truth there dooth not) then had the same presently perished, and because nature is tru­ly saide to be the temperature of these qualities of heat, colde, moistnes and drynes, and that the same temperature is the schoolemaister which teacheth the sensitiue soules of the creatures, in what sort they are to worke, and to performe the workes proper to their kinde, without any teacher, it is now most fit to consi­der and to set foorth, from whence the goodnes or badnes of this temperature dooth proceede, wherein the perfection of creation consisteth, so as all imper­fection and hinderance to originall nature, beeing remooued, the same may be restored to his former perfection, so farre as lyeth in the power and abili­tie of man.

CHAP. 35 That the aliment or food, that the Horseeand Mare do seede vppon, before th [...]ction rai­seth and maketh their seed.

THe learned Phisitions and Philosophers do holde that all aliment or foode is dif­fering in qualitie, (after the disgestion and concoction,) in euery creature, and hath a different and particular seed, aswel in substance as in t [...]perature, from which groud [Page 104]it is probable, and without contradiction that the colt begotten, pertaketh his temperature, and quallitie of the meate, which their Sires did feed vppon, before the action, for who is so much depriued of vnderstan­ding, but knoweth that there are meates and drinks to increase or mittigate heat, or drynes, or moistute: for though it be true, that all meat that Horses eat, whe­ther in naturall quallitie, the same are hot or colde, dry or moiste, turne to the nature of the Horse, and of his substance, whereof if any other creature doe eat, it will doe the like, yet such as the naturall qua­lity of the meat is in his operation, such wilbe the na­turall quallitie of the humors, after the same is con­cocted, and disgested in the bodie, and according thereunto, such wilbe the blood, the fleame, the cho­ler, and the melancholy, that commeth from the same, for if the Horse be fed with grasse, sorrell, let­tuce, or other hearbes, will any man doubt but that the blood and other humors that come thereof, wil­be in nature and qualitie colde, and moist according to the naturall qualitie of that aliment, or foode.

Then if the blood and other humors, after the con­coction of such food, be colde and moyst, will any man doubt that the seed of generation, and the menstruall blood for so much therof as nature taketh from it, but that the same wilbe cold and moist acording to the na­tural quallitie thereof, and that as the blood thereof is colde and moiste, the wheyish blood thereof drawne from the liuer by the veynes, wilbe colde & moist, and the seed thereof cold, & moist, because the humors do attaine the substances and qualities, which the meate had before it was eaten, & that the brain of the colt be­ing [Page 105]the seat of his sence, & hath his beginning & main­tenance from the purest part of the seede and measure of spirit, which the Colt hath from the liuer, heart and veines, will be of like Nature and qualitie. For if wee consider the Colt and sound the causes of his essence and nature, and consider the causes which maketh him mooue, you shall finde that it is his heate and moisture which are two principall qualities, consisting in all li­uing creatures, nourishers of nature, for so soone as heate and moisture faile in any liuing creature, it can no more liue nor mooue, & streight is the body occu­pied with contrarie qualities, coldnes and drynes, the enemies of nature. If you will mount & ascend higher to know what is the cause of those two qualities heate and moisture, you shal finde that it is because al liuing creatures are composed of the foure elements, of fyer, aier, water & earth, in which the said foure qualities of heate, moisture, coldnesse, and drinesse doe consist, and while heate and moisture rain in the body it liueth, but when cold and drynesse are predominate then dyeth it. Againe, if you consider the cause of the heate and moisture, and the other qualities which wee see in the foure Elements, and in the bodies made of them, yee shall finde the sun the cause of the heat, & the moone the cause of the moisture: let vs passe farther, and seek the cause wherefore the Sunne is hot, and the moone moiste, and from whence these qualities come vnto them, and we shall finde the soueraigne cause in God. The due consideration heereof, (if without partialitie it be considered) will moste apparantly condemne the practise of all breeders, and the workes of all former writers, and their knowledge of nature not to bee de­fended, [Page 106]for if iudicially you consider that the power of all begetting doth onely appertaine to his naturall vertue, called his vegetatiue soule, the which if it haue bred and cherished a rawe, colde, and vnperfect seede, how can it be defended, but that the Colt begotten of that seede, wil be of the same temperature, and depri­ued of the good temperature which it ought to haue, according whereunto his goodnes or badnes of acti­on will be, wherefore, seeing all the learned, and true experience teache vs that there are only two waies to come vnto the knowledge of thinges, the one from the causes and maximes to the knowledge of the ef­fects & consequences, the other when contrary by the effects & consequences, we know the causes and maxi­mees. For when we see the earth waxe greene and the trees gather leaues, wee know by that effect, that the Sunne which is the cause thereof approacheth nigh vnto vs, and wee come to receiue this maximee, that the Sunne giueth vigor and force to the earth to bring forth fruites. And by the contrarie wee receiue this maxime, to know the effect and to conclude, the con­sequence, that the Sunne comming nigh vs, the earth bringeth forth her fruits, and with­drawing from vs the earth leaueth to bring foorth.

CHAP. 36. The meanes to make theseede perfect for generation.

IT is graunted by all learned and vnder­standing men, that the seede of the horse ought to be hot and drie, and that all excessiue moisture of seede must bee abated and taken away: Labour. Now the means to make hot and dry seede fit for genera­tion, is labour and spare dyet, Spare dyet. by labour the moisture by reason of heate is exhausted, by spare dyet the dis­gestion is made perfect, and therefore through heate proceeding from labour, the same is easily & perfectly concocted, and so be cometh fit for generation: wher­in also this consideration is to bee had, that the meate that the horse and mare do feed vpon be in qualitie of Nature hot and dry, and then moderately taken, there is no doubt but that the seed which shall come there­of will be easily perfected, because naturallie it parta­keth of the qualitie and temperature of the meate, as hath bin said, and also the same meate that feedes both horse and Mare would be one and the same, The cause why Colts are like their Syres. because it will increase a vniforme seede, and so the Colt be like vnto the Syers: the meate would bee olde sweete hay or Wheate-strawe moderately giuen, his prouender olde dryed, cleane and sweete Oates, wynowed [Page 108]or cleansed from all dust and filth, mingled with olde dryed pease or beanes, with a scattering of Baye salte and anniseedes, their water sweet and pure, and euery day early in the morning when they are both fastinge and emptie, moderately excercised vntill they sweate and then painefully dressed, rubbed dry, and thorough cold before any meat be giuen vnto them, the which doth not only perfect disgestiō, & exhausteth the moi­sture from their seede, but also strengtheneth and clen­seth their blood and bodies from all rawe & vnperfect humors, whereby you shall perceiue them to exceed in pride and lust.

Their prouender is to be giuen them at three seue­ral times in the day, at morning Noone, and night, and at euerie time tost and two hours meatlesse to cause an absolute and perfect disgestion, for fulnes of meat o­uercommeth nature, and thereby not able perfectly to disgest, the disgestion will be rawe and vnperfect, whereof can no petfect seed be made, & if they should be excercised vppon full stomackes, then thorough the greatnes of heat comming by their labour, the meat wilbe more speedely disgested, then nature had ability to performe, by which vnperfect disgestion, the humors must of necessitie be vnperfect, the which being so carryed, from the liuer by the veines into all partes of the bodie, the substance whereof the seede is composed, being carryed to the seed vessels, in such imperfection, the seede remaineth vnperfect, and the blood corrupted, a speciall cause also of all inward di­seases, and outward sorrances.

Hauing obserued that hath bene spoken, about 8. or 10. dayes, before the Horse and Mare come to the acti­on, [Page 109]being both of them in great lust and courage, feede them for euerie of those daies, with such sweete oates and old dry sweet wheat, equall in mixture and quantitie, for the wheate is a great comforter of the heart, and an increaser of the vital spirits, which aboue all things for that action is principally to bee mooued and stirred vp, and for the better & fuller accomplish­ment of the action, for those viii. or ten daies, put into euerie gallō of the water they drink (if they be of value and estimation) a pinte of white Wine, which will greatly abate the colde qualitie of the water, and let them not at any time drinke excessiuely, and sometime giue betwixt them a pottle of strong stale Beere or Ale, with a greate toste of wheate breade, and let the Stable be kept moste cleane and sweet. And if at some times you will alter their dyet, for that peraduenture they will not like of that foode (for horses doe differ therein as men doe) then make them breade in this manner: take wheate and Oates equall in substance, and grinde them together, & as it commeth from the mill (being cleane sisted from filth) bake loues thereof well mingled with brused beanes, otherwise the bread will clam their mouthes, & let it be well seasoned with salt and Anniseedes, and two or three daies old before they eate it, which will bee in euerie part as comfort­able as the other. And then doubt not but this maner of keeping wil make a moste pure blood, from whence proceedeth a moste pure seede, thereof a moste tem­perate and delicate braine, a great fulnes of vitall spi­rits, and so a moste beautifull and excellent Colt, for heereby (as I haue said) their vegetatiue soule, which is no other then their naturall vertue, hauing onelye [Page 110]power of operations as a directer and schoole­maister, to the goodnes of the qualitie of the action, proceeding onely from the temperature of the braine, haue their beginnings & vertues from the perfect tem­perature of the seed, and the seed from the blood, it is euident to the vttermost extent of mans vnderstanding that such as the temperature of the meates are, such wilbe the temperature of the blood, and such as the blood is, such is the temperature of the seed, and such as the seed, such is the temperature of the braine, and such as the braine is, such wilbe the direction of the action, and operation of the colte, for the faculties & temperature on which they consist, are altogether gi­uen them in the wombe, without being taught by ano­ther, whereby the perfection and imperfection in ge­neration is plainely discerned, and that the perfect en­dowment of good temperature, doth possesse suffici­ent power to shape a perfect bodie, and to increase & nourish the same in perfection, with long life, because the knowledge of the sensitiue soule taketh onely his dependance from the temperature of the braine, as his director to performe all his actions, in the fulnes of perfection. Now forasmuch that from the tempera­ture of the foure first qualities, hot, colde, moist, and dry, which is properly and truly called nature, all the abilities of the colte, both of vertue and vice doe pro­ceed, it is an euident argument of truth, that the vari­etie of operation, springeth not from the sensible soule, which is one selfe, in all ages, but from the diuersitie of temperature, by meanes whereof the Horse dooth worke diuersely, in young age, mid­dle age, and olde age, for that it pertaketh in e­uery [Page 111]age a contrary temperature, Wherefore one Horse is better then a­nother. and although Hor­ses of equall ages, are contrary in worke and one far better then the other, yet the reason thereof is that one of them enioyeth a better temperature then the other, and diuers from the other, and therefore it is truly saide, that nature maketh able, and that eue­ry creature worketh according to his nature. What were else the cause that two coltes bred by one Horse and Mare, should one exceed the other in excellency of action, which cannot be from instinct of nature, but onely from the temperature of the foure first qua­lities, and that is the onely cause that one bruite beast performeth the workes of his kinde better then ano­ther: being the onely schoolemaister to direct the sen­sitiue soule what to doe, but the vegetatiue soule on­ly knoweth, how to forme the colte, to giue him the shape which he is to keep, to receiue nourishment, to retaine it, to disgest it, to expell the excrements, and if any part of the bodie doe faile, she knoweth how to supply the same anew, and to yeeld it composition a­greeable to the vse which it is to holde. But the sen­sitiue soule onely worketh so far in the colt, that when it is foaled, it knoweth to sucke, to draw forth the milk with his lips, to the preseruation of his nature, and presently to eat onely those thinges, whereon Hor­ses accustomably do feede, and heereby you see what thinges in nature are proper, to the temperature, and to the vegetatiue and sensitiue soule.

And although some wil say that God hath original­ly giuen to those creatures, this naturall instincte, yet it may not be denyed, but the Naturall instincte must be the selfe-same, with the temperature which [Page 112]we see doth diuersly gouerne in yong age, middle age, & old age, all which proceed from the temperature of the seede that begetteth it, and with the descent of the horse and Mare, which fashioneth the body in the womb, and yet are there not two soules neither toge­ther nor successiuely, neither is the vegetatiue corrup­ted by the arriuall of the sensitiue, nor the sensitiue by the vegetatiue, which being done, the seminall forme vanisheth, and the seede ceaseth to bee seede, and that substance without shape to bee no longer seede, but a Colt, and when the Colt dyeth the soule dyeth, and is annihilated, according vnto that rule, by the corrupti­on of the subiect, the forme perisheth, the matter re­maineth.

CHAP. 37 Obseruations for better direction in breeding.

1. FIrst it is to bee obserued, that which most importeth generation, is that the meates which the horse and Mare that are to beget and bring forth, do feede vpon, bee in qualitie hot and drye, be­cause the seedes and matter whereof the Colt is fra­med, must be tarte and biting, growing from the salt­nesse therof, & so become hot and dry, where through the seede vessels are stirred to generation, and doe ac­cording to their weight and measure, enter into the composition of the Colt, and so are alwaies to endure in the mixture.

2. Secondly, if the braine be pure, the sencible soule of the colte goeth alwaies vnited with the disposition thereof, which directeth the bodie to euery action, and nothing offendeth the sensitiue soule, so much as to make his abode in a heauie bodie, surcharged with great bones, and heauy flesh, and that is the reason which Plato yeeldeth, that the best and finest mettle Horses are of thin bone, but if the Horse be not of a iust and true proportion of temperature, then vn­doubtedly there is not any such perfection in that Horse.

3. Thirdly, the seede is meere vegetatiue and not ca­pable of the sence, but only followeth the motions of the tēperature, therfore if the seed be perfect it posses­seth such force, that after the meate is disgested and al­tered, it maketh them though bad and grosse to turne to his owne temperature, and substance, and yet can­not vtterly depriue the same of the inherent qualitie, for the humors do attaine the qualitie which the meat had before it was eaten.

4. Fourthly there must be great discretion vsed in feeding of the Mare, vntill shee haue foaled, leaste by long vse of ouerbad meates, The meanes to preserue the colte in the wombe. the Colte in the wombe bee impayred of that qualitie of tempera­ture it had from the seede, for otherwise it little auai­leth to haue begotten a Colte of perfect seede, if you make no reckoning of the meat, which afterward the Mare feedeth vppon, and therefore the Mare may not so far eat of contrarie meats, as the Colt shall lose those good qualities, which it receiueth of the seede whereof it was made.

And the reason heerof is cleere (but neuer obserued by [Page 114]any) for at the beginning, the same being made of de­licate seede, and that the colte groweth euery day, im­payring and consuming, and is to be repaired by the aliment & foode it taketh, it is certaine, that if they be bad, and of euill temperature, that the continuall vse of them, being in the wombe, will make great altera­tion in nature, and therfore to continue the colt in the excellency of his tēperature, it behoueth that the suste­nance it taketh, be endowed with the same qualities, as the colde doe not exceed the heat, nor the moiste the dry.

5. Fiftly it appeareth that colts begotten, when the Horse and Mare go to grasse (whereof all our practise is witnesse) cannot be begotten but of colde and moist seede, how excellent soeuer the horse and Mare were, neither can the same colts after they are foaled, by a­ny possibilitie be restored to perfection of tempera­ture, by the best keeping in the worlde, because they take the qualities of their temperature, at the time of their framing, Nam alteratio propria est mutatio et pro­gressus a qualitate sensibili in aliam sensibilem qualitatem contrariorum, vt albo in nigrum: for a proper and true al­teration is a change and going forward from one sen­sible qualitie into another sensible qualitie of con­traries, and therefore can neuer be vtterly depri­ued, and taken from them againe, no more then that which is naturally white, turne naturally into blacke.

6. Sixtly the meate that Horses and Mares doe eat, ought specially to be regarded, least their braines bee thereby distempered, because the braine and the sto­mack are vnited and chained together, with certaine [Page 115]sinewes, whereby they enterchangeably communicate their damages, and we see that some Horses are Iadish in qualitie, and some good in qualitie, which groweth from hauing their braine well or euill instrumentali­zed. And if any do affirme that horses haue no braines, I would haue them answere, from whence he hath his sence, and what is the cause of staggers in a Horse, if it be not the oppression of the braine: and the liuer, the heart, and the braine, being first created and truly said the vitall spirits and arteriall blood, from whence the sensitiue and motiue sinewes haue their being, which go wandring thorough the whole bodie, and their of­fice is to stirre vp the powers of the horse, to giue him force and vigor to worke.

CHAP. 38. Obiections against the former propositions.

IT is saide that the good qualitie of the meat that the Horse and Mare eate, be­fore the action, is the cause of the good or bad temperature of the seede, & that the good or bad temperature of the seed, maketh the goodnesse or badnesse of the Colte, which beeing admitted, then it is demaunded, wherefore Horses, and Mares, that are Iades, beeing so dyeted and kept, should not haue a perfect temperate seede aswell as the best Horses, [Page 116]and by consequent of the proposition as perfect and as good coltes, if the perfection of generation consist onely in the temperature.

I answere, that Iades by good direction and order, with continuance therein, may greatly amend & bet­ter their seede, but they neuer can haue a true perfect and temperate seede, as the excellent Horse and Mare haue (of whome my proposition is) and the reason is apparant, for the seede whereof the Iade was sormed, was originally bad and vnperfect in temperature, o­therwise he had not bene a Iade: and the nature of all seed is of such force, that what meat soeuer the Horse and Mare eat, and disgest, although the naturall qua­litie therof be most excellent to increase a perfect seed, yet it incorporateth that substance of seed which com­meth of that perfect seede, into the substance of their seede, and naturall qualitie thereof, which neuer was of perfect temperature, and then pertaking of the na­turall qualitie of the iades seede, it is tainted with the corruption of the intemperature thereof, and so remaineth still vnperfect seede, and yet the naturall qualitie of the goodnes of the meat, which the Iades cat, is not vtterly depriued or taken away, although the predominate qualitie as to the action and operation of goodnes, is carryed and transported, by the seede of the Iades, whose qualitie and power cannot be taken from it, no more then Art out of an Artificer, & ther­fore such wilbe the qualitie of the iades colt that is be­gotten, & also of vnperfect shape, because that the ve­getatiue & sensible soule, are material and corporall in the seede, with the discent of the Sires, which fashi­oneth the colte in the wombe, and the perfection of [Page 103]shape concerneth onely the vertue of the bodie, that begetteth, & the Iade wanting perfection of shape, his colt cannot haue perfection of action, And againe I haue found that perfect Horse and perfect Mare, may haue a colte that is a Iade, if my former rules be not obserued. And moreouer if a present good order should make a present depriuation of a corrupted na­ture, or a present euill order, bring a totall depriuati­on of that is naturally good, then nature should be in­constant to become euill or good vppon a suddain, sed nemo fit repente malus, no man becommeth euill vpon a suddaine, neither can nature which is perpetuall, pre­sently passe from one euill vnto another, but by the meane.

7. Seauenthly the Horse and Mare must be sparingly and moderately fed, that they may well disgest and o­uercome that they eate, for although the meat in qua­litie be hot and dry, yet if the quantitie thereof be such as their naturall heat cannot disgest, the same becom­meth rawe, colde and moist. And also if after full fee­ding, the Horse and Mare be trauailed, it procureth vntimely disgestion, the wheyish blood thereof com­ming to the seede vessels, is ouer-rawe, and falsely prouoketh before it be disgested, and seasoned: other­wise it increaseth perfect seede fit for generation, and both hauing perfect seede, one must be agent and for­mer, and the other serue for nourishment, as in the forming of chickens, and birds, in which are two sub­stances, one of the yolke another of the white, the chick being made of the yolke is maintained by the white, whiles the forme indureth, and which of their seedes is of the greatest efficacie, of the same is the [Page 118]generation, and whether of the seedes the generation is, of that the colte retaineth the condition and quali­tie: but if the Horse and Mare be kept with ease and rest, it engendereth coldenes and moisture, and there­by quencheth the naturall heat and desire of generati­on, and corrupteth the seede and maketh the same vn­perfect.

CHAP. 39 Now followeth the fourth rule, that is, when, how and where, to doe the action in perfection.

THe time when the action is to be performed must be after the Horse and Mare haue bene dieted, and are most lustie in the perfection of the bodie, hauing plentie of seede, well concocted fit for generation: for dooth not the gardiner with the seede that he preserueth, attend both the perfection of the growth of the hearb, and vntill the seede be ripe, and waxe dry? for if they pull them from the stalke before, they will neuer growe to any vse of perfection: for the seede must haue time to settle, concocte and ripen, and be duely seasoned to become hot and dry, and of suffi­cient substance, & then the time of the moone beeing obserued, which is two or three daies before the full or new moone, when the Mare hath greatest substance of menstruall or flegmaticke blood, for composition of the colte: the which the colte through his greate heat in the time of increasing, and growing in the wombe, will consume, & that is the reason why some coltes are much bigger then others.

Now before the time of action or begetting, viz. when the horse and Mare are both lustie and proude, let some little stoned Iade often wooe the Mare, vntill you see her verie willing to receiue the horse, so as she will seeme to burne in desire, alwaies readie and yeel­ding to the horse, as the hen to the cock: but take great care that the Iade doe not leape her vnlesse hee haue such trusses that he cannot serue her, and thereby you shall be assured to know her desire: then let the horse that shall couer her see him busie with her, which will greatlie stir his desire and natural heate, and so inflame his vitall spirits, as will raise greate quantitie of seede for the action, both in himselfe and the Mare: the acti­on must be done in the morning earely, when the sto­macke hath perfectly disgested, and is emptie, and not vpon a full stomacke. Also when the winde is in the North or west, and not when the winde is in the south, because all heate maketh the seede thin, and the south winde is grosse and moist, and that the ayre is of such force appeareth in the winter, when it dooth harden water, wood, stones, and other creatures: and all heat as the Summer time witnesseth, openeth, dissolueth & maketh the same feeble: Also the horse must couer a Mare sildome, otherwise hee cannot haue plentie of temperate seede, therefore once in three weekes or a moneth is enough, and not to spend his seed but when hee doth abound in fulnesse and perfection of seed without any respect of the time of the yeare, and the place where it is to bee done, would be in some house or yarde, where no hurt can come vnto them, or bee troubled with the sight of other horses, and there let the mare be led to some slope or falling ground, made [Page 120]of purpose, where the hinder part of her body may stand highest, then bring the horse in your hand, at whose sight she will pisse, or at the least offer to doe it, which she must be suffered to do before he leape her, leaste by strayning of her body after the act she loose the seede, then so soone as hee commeth off from her, let the keeper cast a paleful of the coldest water strong­ly at her shape, the coldnes, strength, and suddennesse whereof will cause her to trusse and shrinke vp her bo­die, and thereby a great meanes to stay the seede, and cause it to conioyne and close themselues in the ma­trix: for the wombe dooth not presently embrace and inclose the seed, but some houre after, yet the wombe doth very suddenly draw together: then haue the horse away, and set the mare in some close place without gi­uing her meate for two or three houres after, and no water vntill night, and then not much. And if you doe perceiue that the horse did closely and courageouslie serue her, and she receiue it with all willingnesse, then haue him from her, and let them not come no more together, for if the womb hath once drawne together, and maketh as it were a pursse to drawe the seede vnto it, it will not suffer it to get out, so as if the first time of seruing take effect, all the rest are in vaine, & doe great hurt, and the first dooing is euer best, and most effectu­all, because the seede of both parts commeth from the veine of the right side, and is moste hot, plentifull and aptest to conceiue, consisting of greatest substance, & in qualitie moste hot and dry, whereby it cannot bee easilie lost, like that which is thin liquid and colde, and if it should bee oftner admitted, then the second seede proceedeth from the left side, which naturally is not [Page 121]so hot, but more liquid and moist, whereby the conception is most commonly a mare foale in respect of the moistnes and coldnesse, but if it happen a horse Colt, yet not of that goodnesse wanting perfection of heate, for heate is the cause of hardynes, and courage, because it refyneth the Colt from all drosse and impu­ritie, as fyer doth the golde, and then no doubt but a colt begotten of two excellent natures, in the greatest perfection must of necessitie in all proportion of reason bring foorth a Creature of moste perfection both in shape and action, because Nature affecteth what it best liketh, and pourtrayeth the issue as with a pensill, and fastneth in the wombe with strong roote, when as Hypocrates saith through the moist and watery seede it easely vnloseth.

CHAP. 40. Now followeth the fist rule, to know whether she hath con­ceaued, and how to keepe them in perfection after their conception vnto the time of foaling.

FIftly after she hath bene leaped and carri­ed away, if shee cast not her seede but ea­teth freshly when she commeth to meat, and so continueth, and doth not ney nor pisse often, neither casteth her eie gasing after a horse, & within one day or two begin to be gaunt bellied, because her wombe in conception and closing it selfe together to keep the seede, trusseth vp and maketh her belly more lesse to sight then before, [Page 122]as if she were suddainely become leane, and her haire lyeth very smoothe, and brighter then before, as also about ten daies after, offering her a horse, two or three daies before the full, & likewise before the new moone and she resisteth, (abhorring copulation) it assureth that nature is satisfied, and are manifest signes of their conception: and as touching her keeping, let her not drinke so much as nature desireth, and still keepe her with the same meat and diet for twelue daies after, and then take away the wine and not before, if she be a Mare of worth, least the seede and humors whereof the colte is compounded, should be impayred of the perfect temperature, before it be framed: and keepe her so sweete and cleane as may be, without any maner of laboure, for the space of thirteene dayes, because the seede during that time is but milke, and when you tra­uaile her let it be very moderate, not in great heat, nor with heauie burthens, for feare of dissolution, and when she is put to grasse (if your necessitie be to put her to grasse) let it not be in the winter but in the som­mer time onely, and then in the most dry ground that may be, where the feeding is very short, yet so as shee may once a day fill her belly, and where is pure water and shelter, and in the winter, let both Mare and colte be housed, & their meat, old, cleane and sweet, and in a temperate ayre. whereby they will be healthfull, and prosperous, and if she haue at the time of her coue­ring a colte sucking of her, let it not continue with her vntill she waxeth great, for the milke which the colte will then sucke wilbe corrupt and vnnaturall, and make both her and the colte within her poore and weake, and cause the mare at her foaling to want milke, [Page 123]and neuer to haue a good vdder, and when the Mare is ready to foale, let her be especialy attended, and put in such conuenient place as may not en­danger the Colte when it falleth, for shee foa­leth standing, and at the time of foaling continuallie watched to succour her, if the foale should not come right: & presently after foaling milk the mare as cleane as may be, which wil not onely draw downe her milke and make the same increase, but also keepe the vdder that the milke doe not clodde, which if it should, the Mare may easily become dry, with the great anguish thereof, and if it should so happen, then draw as much milke from her as is possible, and boile it with the tops of Lauender, and bathe all the vdder therewith, whilst it is verie warme, and so continue vntill the clods and knobs in the vdder bee dissolued, & the next water she drinketh after foaling, let it bee a good mash made of malt, or with wheate-meale, and within a moneth after her foaling, giue her a mash with the powder of brim­stone, the powder of Sauen or such like, which will be a great preseruation to the Colt, and if she bee mode­rately laboured at the plough onelie, both when shee is with fole and after foaling, the Mare and Colt will bee much the better: and euermore haue care that she eate not any raw meate in the Stable but olde, sweete, cleane and dry, whereby she will be the sooner in lust, and the Colt still continue his temperature, which of all other thinges is moste specially to be obserued.

CHAP. 41. The sixt rule how to vse them, when they are foaled, and to continue them in their perfection.

SIxtly and lastly, faile not euery winter to Stable and house the Colts, and let the Stable bee open and Ayrie, and the floore paued and not planked, for it will make them more hard to endure cold, and their hoofes moste toughe and durable: their meate old, sweete, and cleane, & verie often giue them in their prouender the powder of brimstone, the pow­der of the rootes of Enula Campana, of white Lillye rootes, of Polipodium of the Oake, of Sauen, marshe Worme-wood, Tobacco, Garlike chopped small, and such like, and make them as domestical and gentle as is possible: teach them no trickes or apish toies, gall not their mouthes nor noses, neither distemper them, but keep them in all loue and obedience to man, and when they goe to grasse, let them runne no longer then Bar­tholmew-tide. Thus by reducing thinges to their naturall causes, at last wee come vnto the end in God, by whose vertue all the creatures in the world doe worke by way of meanes as causes or dayned to that end.

HAuing shewed the manner of true and perfect breeding of Colts, manifesting thereby the er­rors of all former times, by not vnderstanding the naturall causes therof, I finde many obiections en­gaged and imbarked against some of my principall as­sertions, as humors that cannot be stopped from the sores in the body, as aduerse and discontented persons associate themselues to the part greeued, and perse­cuted. Now because they shall not further limbecke their braines in the art of discontentment, I will ende­uour also to take the fuell from that fire.

CHAP. 42 Obiections against the former propositions.

FIrst it is obiected against mee, that I doe admitte the Mare to take the horse at any time of the yeare, when al writers of this subiect admit only the monethes of March, Aprill and May, because those three monethes are ordayned thereunto (say they) by Originall Nature, wherof God is the on­ly Author, and the naturall reason and cause therof, as they affirme is, for that the humor of blood being the principall humor whereof the colt is compounded, & in it selfe hot and moist, doth in those three monethes rule and raigne, and therefore in respect of his heate fittest for generation.

2 The second cause wherfore those three months are fittest for generation is, for that in the monethes [Page 126]of Iune, Iuly & August, the humor of the Choler doth Raigne, the which is hot and dry, and therefore vnfit for generation.

3. The third cause is, for that in the monthes of September, October and Nouember, the humor of Melanchollie doth raigne, which is colde and dry, and that is also vnfit for generation.

4. The fourth cause is, that in the moneths of De­cember, Ianuarie and Februarie the humor of Fleame doth raigne, which is cold and moist, & that also most vnfit for generation, and so they conclude, that God being the God of nature, and of order, and manifested as a meanes for the increase and preseruation of his creatures, hath from the beginning ordayned the same: and for the assured confirmation thereof vnto man, hath more plainly manifested the same, 1. first by the example of all liuing creatures, who by the onely instinct of nature, doe in those monethes in their se­uerall kindes, beget and increase.

2. Secondly by the earth, which then bringeth forth her bud blossome and fruite.

3. Thirdly by the successiue practise of all nations, and that these be their motiue causes, appeareth espe­cially by a tractat of Pero Lopez, in reputation a famous horseman, in his book dedicated to the king of Spaine in the spanish tongue, in the memorable yeare of our Lord 1588. intituled Libro de Albeyteria que tracta del principio y generacion Delos Cauallos. Ca [...]primo &c. cōposed in Dialogue manner, and allowed, and published by the Kings special licence vnder the hands of diuers of his councell.

CHAP. 43. How to know vppon view if a Horse be compounded of a true temperature of the elements, and when other­wise, and thereupon haue a true iudgement of his naturall qualities.

THe true and iust proportion of the temperature of the elements in the humors, when the colt is compounded in the wombe, frameth him in a most perfect shape, and excellent for action and long life, and in reason vnpossible that a Horse of true and perfect shape can be naturally bad, but contrarywise most excellent in action, for there neuer was or euer shalbe a perfect shaped Horse, without a true propor­tion of the temperature of the elements, and it apea­reth, that if the humors at the time of framing the colt in the wombe, hath not any iarring or discord of tem­perature, then do the same frame a most absolute per­fect shape, & y^e truth thereof appeareth in those horses y^e were immediatly created by god (being cōpoūded of [Page 132]the elements as al other creatures) were of the most & only absolute perfect shape (because at that time man had not transgressed) and vntil then, there was not a­ny iarre or discorde in the elements, as all diuine and humane witnesses confesse, soas it appeareth without gainesaying, that the true and equall proportion of the temperature of the elements, in the seede, and the hu­mors whereof the colte is cōpounded, bringeth forth (without some contrary accidentall meanes which is not naturall) the most absolute perfect shaped Horse, and of the most excellent and temperate action, and what a perfect shape is, I haue heerin largely set forth, so as it onely remaineth to shew, how you shall infal­libly iudge vppon the view of any Horse, whether hee was composed of an equall temperature, wherby (as also I haue formerly mentioned) will appeare his perfection or imperfection of action, which canot be truly vnderstood, without the true cause therof be vn­derstood, for Mens Philosophi non acquescit nisi in cau­sa rerum, the vnderstanding man euermore laboureth, vntill he finde out the true cause of the action, he vn­dergoeth.

Aristotle the Prince of Philosophers, in the first of his Metaphisickes, saith that Omne ens naturaliter appetit suam perfectionem, All men desire naturally to know, & the cause is, for that all things, that haue beeing do naturally desire their owne perfection, and (asmuch as in them is) to be restored to their first perfection, & to conserue themselues in the excellencye thereof, which cannot be attained without the true knowledge of the nature of the thing desired to beknowne, & how much the more honorable or beneficiall the same is [Page 133]to the King or common weale, by so much ought the same to be in the highest & superlatiue esteeme, & the true knowledge thereof, first and aboue others to be preferred. Now forasmuch, as the true knowledge of this subiect, euen from the time of mans transgression, hath in all succeeding ages bene laboured to a restitu­tion, of his primarie perfection, and yet not any thing extant to establish mans iudgement heerein, let me now in so waightie a matter, entreat your fauourable eares, and I doubt not to giue good contentment to the iudicious and vnderstanding Reader.

It cannot be denyed but that the Horse and euerie other creature is compounded of the foure Elements, viz. Fire, Aire, Water and Earth, and that the iust and true proportion of the temperature of those Elements, was in all those creatures which were first, and origi­nally created by God in all perfection, without any manner of predominate qualitie, or iarring, and that the harmony thereof was the true cause of their per­fectiō, but at the instant of time when man trāsgressed those elements in all creatures did iarre and rebel each against the other, for predominate qualitie, & so will continue vnto the end, and consummation of all cre­atures, the which as I haue said are now become hom­bred enemies to all creatures, and the onelye cause of sicknesse, and death of all creatures, yet the Sym­pathie of nature in all creatures is such, as it laboureth and so continueth to bee restored, to the first and true temperature, and to suppresse the iarring, not onelye for their preseruation, but also for restitution to their primarie creation, from whence there cannot bee any truth more apparant, then the nearer the Colt doth at­taine [Page 134]the true and iust proportion of the tem­perature of the elements in the creation, the nearer it attaineth to the primarie perfection, from whence also it followeth to knowe how to chuse, and to gouerne the horse and Mare, that shall beget and bring foorth, that their seede and substance of humors, wherof euerie Colt is compounded, may at the time of their action be of a true and iust proportion of temperature, and that the Colt begotten, may whiles it remaineth in the wombe, by the nutriment it taketh, be preserved in the same temperature, and after the foaling so continually maintained, as the true ground of all knowledge in this subiect. Where­fore omitting any farther discourse, I will proceed to set forth, how all men vpon the onely viewe of anye horse, be he olde or yong may know, whether hee bee compounded of true temperature of the elements, viz. Euerie perfect shaped horse hath a broad fore­head, and great eye, to expresse his naturall boldnesse and loue vnto man: leane head, thinne, slender, leane Iawes to expresse his refyned mettell, courage and quicke spirit: long high reared necke, to expresse the perfection of his reyne, and perfect sight of the way to keepe him sure footed: high reared withers, to set foorth the easie going by keeping the bodye of his Rider very vpright: broade, deepe chest and body, with vpright pasternes, and narrowe hoofe, to giue testimony of his great strength and abilitie of body, to indure and continue long & great trauel: And eue­ry vntrue & vnperfect shaped horse, hauing in euerye part the contrary shape, viz. A narrow fore-head, litle eyes, fleshy head, thick fleshy Iawes, short neck, set on [Page 135]like a Hog or Goate, a narrow shallow brest & body, weak bending pasterns & fleshye, broad & club-foo­ted, is a moste vile royle and a Iade in all and euerie his actions, so as all the Artistes and moste excellent horsemen in the vniuersall world can neuer endowe him with the least perfection of action & continuāce therin, wherby you may as truely & infalliblie iudge the difference betwixt good & bad, as the difference betwixt fire & water, as also the perfection & imper fectiō of the cōposition & temperature of his elemēts in the time of his creation, for whē you see a horse or colt that is naturaly lean & dry, & wil hardly be made fat, & continne fat & yet digesteth speedily, of a slen­er substance of bodye, short hayred, and the same hard and full of stirring, it is plaine that he was com­posed of the predominate humor of red choler, and that the blood wherof the seede was made, was of a darke and thicke spirit, and had much of the Gall, for if the blood had bene perfect, it would haue bene hot and moist, of an oilie substance, for want of which radical moisture he doth too speedily disgest, neuer fat & of slender substance, his hayre short, dry and hard, for want of that moisture to passe thorough the pores of the skin, to make the same soft, of length and sub­stance, and that hayre if it bee eaten will neuer bee di­gested by reason of his drynes, when as his bones be­ing eaten will be digested, besides he cannot be long liued, wanting sufficient radicall humors to feede his great heat, for the lack whereof hee is like to a lamp that hath a great flame & little oyle, & therfore spee­dily consuming the Oyle, it extinguisheth his owne light, and this horse is tearmed cholericke, and his shape must of necessitie bee defectiue in substance, [Page 136]because largenes and great proportion of shape pro­ceedeth principally from moisture, so as wanting sub­stance and fulnes of proportion, as I haue formerlye saide, he cannot be of continuance but quickly spent, like vnto small dry wood which speedily flameth, and therefore is speedily consumed, soone hot, soone colde, a great bragger but no performer, a fiery looke and countenance: in whome at the first entring into action there is no temperance, seeming rather to flye then to be content to stand quiet, and yet the trauell of a few myles through his violent heate and drynesse, speedily spendeth his vital spirit, so that his hart which is the chariot of his life, and the fountaine of those vi­tall spirits, and the hottest of all other his spirituall members, for want of sufficient radical oyled moisture to coole the same, is so smothered and choaked that of necessitie it yeeldeth. Againe, when you see a horse that is long, large, loose, and weake ioynted, hollowe eyed, not well compacted (although by hye and proud keeping he may make shew of spirit and vigor) yet not withstanding assuer your selfe, that he is cōpounded of the element of Water, which is altogether flegma­ticke, which in predominate qualitie is heauie, moiste and colde, and therefore a lubber and a Iade, beeing weake and loose in all the parts of his body, by reason he wanteth the chiefe element of Fyer, which is hot & dry, to exhaust and drie vp his predominate quality of moisture, to purge and refine the moisture, to be­come full of vigor, spirit, and courage, to the perfor­mance of his actions.

Also, when you see a horse that hath a great fleshy head, thick boned, and fleshie iawes, a great fleshy vp­right [Page 137]ioynt, a great thicke short necke, and a full proportioned body, whereby hee seemeth a puissant strong horse, assure your selfe; the chiefe and predo­minate Element in his composition was of the earth, which is melancholly, or black choler, which in quali­tie is colde and drie, and of the element of Water, which is heauy and moist, so as by the moisture of wa­ter which is fleame, it groweth great, so by the cold nes and drynes of the earth, which is melancholly, hee is framed a great heauie lumpe or masse, without true proportion of shape, and his actions in qualitie are heauie, sad, and fearefull, and vnapt for action, other then as a great topp, which neuer goeth well but by strong lashing, neither can he bee of other qualitie, then according to the qualitie of the Elements, wher­of he is composed, wanting the two most excellent e­lements, which are, Fyer and Ayre, that is heate and oylie moisture to raise his spirit to the liuely and cou­ragious performance of his actions, so as after hee hath come to bee ten yeares olde, hee will exceede in stumbling and falling flat downe, neither can bee of long life, wanting a iust and true proportion of tem­perature of the foure elements, neither can the best keeping in the world, or the moste skilfull horseman of the world, bring him to performe any action con­trarie to his nature, according whereunto euerie crea­ture worketh, the which nature is no other, then the temperature of the Elements, when hee was compo­sed and framed in the wombe, according whereunto his shape was framed, which beeing naturall, will bee perpetuall and vnchangeable in him vnto his death. And therefore there is not any truth can bee [Page 138]more apparant, then that a iust and true proportion of the temperature of the Elements maketh a Horse of perfect shape and excellent qualitie: and hauing largely shewed you his vertues, I speake not for them, if your sight cannot commaund affection, let them loose it, they shall please much better, after you haue troubled your eyes with the view of the iades deformities, and then how much more they please, so much more odious and like themselues, shall the Iades deformities appeare, for this true light con­traries giue each to the other, that in the midst of their enmitie, the one maketh the other seeme more good or euill.

Now it resteth to consider how possible it can bee that a Colte can be compounded of a true propor­tion of temperature, if you suffer Horse and Mare goe to grasse when they beget, and were all learning and reason banished from this my assertion, the onely infinite number of iades, being a thousand to one of good Horses, would condemne the ge­nerall practise of all Nations, and their errors heere­in not to be defended.

But if you obserue the naturall quality of euery Element (if the instinct of originall nature be not annihilated, you will reforme your iudgement and consequently your practise, in breeding) for the na­ture of the Element of fire (whereunto the humour of perfect blood is likened) dooth seuer the pure from the vnpure, rust and drosse from the Iron, the copper and vnperfect mettel from the gold, the siluer from the impuritie of the Alleye or Ore, the mas­ [...]e and vnpurified substance of fleshe from the [Page 139]bones, the grossenes of the bones into the purity of bones, and it openeth and disperseth the massie and vnproportionate substance into a pure and fine substance of flesh, and the reason why the blood of the Mare is more waterishe, raw, grosser, and vnperfecter, then the blood of the Horse is, for that she wanteth that sufficiencie of heate, which the Horse hath, to refine and perfect the same, and the fountaine of blood, both in Horse and Mare, would be plentifull and pure, because their seede is first taken from the same (as I haue for­merly shewed) and the fountaine of blood is the liuer, from which the veines doe disperse and conuey the same to the whole bodie, and the li­uer is called Epar from the worde Pyr which signifieth fire, now if the liuer should be colde or a fountaine of vnperfect blood, then no doubt but the colte wilbe vnpersect, and the reason is apparant, for that the element of fire in the blood, dooth purifie all the substance whereof the Colte is framed in the wombe, and the vitall spirit of the sensible soule of the Horse and Mare, if the elements in them be not in perfection of tem­perature, can not endure.

Againe, the element of the ayre, being a light and pure element, hotte and moyste, dooth most naturallye feede preserue, maintaine, and che­rish the Element of fire, euen as pure oyle dooth the light of the lampe and maketh the mixte bo­dies of fleame, choler, and melancholy, light, to [Page 140]the intēt they may be neither too grosse nor too heauy. Againe the element of water being heauy, colde, and moiste, according to his nature, doth greatly enlarge both bones, flesh, and sinewes, and according to the nature of moisture, doth temper the feruent heate of fire, and keepe that together which the heate would disperse. Againe, the element of the earth being cold and dry, but principally dry, doth harden the bodie, to retaine his shape, which the aire & water would make fluxible, the which elements in the foure humors of blood, fleame, choler, and melancholly (whereof eue­ry colte is framed) there ought to be a iust proportion of temperature, otherwise it is vnpossible to haue a beautifull and perfect shape, or excellent qualitie or action, from whence there followeth the truth of my assertions. That if the aliment or foode (although the Horse and Mare be of perfect shape) whereof the Horse and Mare doe feede, be not in naturall qualitie such as the humors, that proceede from the same, may be fit for the true proportion of temperature in the seede, and euery way ordered as I haue prescribed, when the colte is to be begotten and after, there is not neither can be assurance of perfect races, and con­sequently of perfect Horses, whatsoeuer M. Pero Lopez, or any other shall af­firme, to the contrary. notwith­standing his lunary or luna­ticke obserua­tions.

CHAP. 44. The answere to the examples

NOw to answere the examples, the first whereof is, that all liuing creatures, in those three moneths of March, April, & May, do beget and bring forth, I answere briefely, that if the example be vnder­stood, it doth not condemne my proposition, for if it were granted that all liuing creatures, do in those 3. moneths only beget & bring forth (which were moste vntrue to grant-the word (all) cannot haue an absolute reference to the whole species and kinde of all crea­tures without exception, so as no creature hath, doth, or shall beget or bring foorth, but onely in those 3. moneths: but it is true that there are some of all crea­tures, that do then commonly beget and bring forth, and some there be of all creatures, that neither then nor in any time of their liues, beget and bring foorth, thorough the imperfection of some naturall cause, neither is it an infallible propositiō, to say, that because they do beget & bring foorth, in those three moneths, therefore all other moneths of the yeare are vnmeete and exempted to beget and bring foorth, for if you consider the originall cause from God, when he saide increase and multiply, the same was not particularly limited to any day, moneth, or yeare, for the examples are manifest, that there are some of al creatures, which doe beget and bring forth in all moneths of the yeare [Page 142]and the reason wherfore in these three monethes, these actions are most vsuall, is for that the sun hauing long absented himselfe, so as the cold and stormy win­ter weather hath greatly weakened and impaired the naturall strength and state of the bodie, especially of the sauadge and wilde, which want fulnes of foode to increase and mainetaine the same, and for that cause doe abstaine from generation, vntil the sun giue more heat to comfort their bodies, with increase of foode, the which is to be seene in the seuerall kinde of all cre­atures, as in conies, pigeons, and other domesticall creatures, which doe beget and bring foorth in all times of the yeare: and to say that those three months are onely fit, because blood is then predominate, is also against the opinion of the learned, who affirme the blood to increase from the eight of Februarie, vnto the seauenth of May, and that red choler incre­aseth from the seauenth of May, vnto the seauenth of August, and that blacke choler which is melancholly, beginneth to increase from the seauenth of August, vnto the seauenth of Nouember, and that fleame be­ginneth to increase from the seauenth of Nouember, vnto the seauenth of February, and yet not any of them can be saide to haue dominion onely in those times, for that were to allow the discordand predo­minate qualitie of the elements, which is the onely cause of sickenesse, and the continuance thereof, death.

CHAP. 45. The answere to the second example from the earth.

THe apparancy of that reasō, is also taken from the force of the naturall heate of the sunne, wherewith all trees, grasse, & plants, the vegetatiue soule or the natu­rall life and vertue thereof, hauing ben imprisoned in the colde time of winter in the rootes lying in the bowels of the earth, to shroude and pre­serue themselues from destruction, the sunne drawing neere vnto them, the same being the preseruation of their liues, do then begin to shew their life in the grea­test glory, but the same is not to be attributed to the saide moneths, if the sunne did not at that time extend his naturall heat more and otherwise, in the other Monethes, as the diuersitie of colde and hot countries do manifest, and therefore I will proceed to the reasons of the practise of these moneths.

The reason of the common practise of all nations, is for that a mare goeth with foale twelue moneths and ten daies, or there abouts: and therefore the moste breeders would not haue the mare go to horse, before those moneths of March, Aprill, or May, because her foaling time should be neere the spring of grasse, the which opinion and practise I thinke fit likewise to ex­amine.

There is not any mā of experience y^e can truly deny but [Page 144]if the Mare be lustie, and in perfection of health, when she foaleth, at what time of the yeare soeuer it be, but that she hath more milk for three weekes or a month, then the foale is able to sucke, and to continue plenti­full in milke, let her presently after foaling bee milked so cleane as may bee, and so continued vntill the curd in her vdder be broken and dissolued, which will make her plentifull in milk, a thing easily done, if she before be made domesticall, and the same is approoued true in all creatures that giue sucke, so as if she foale in the beginning of Winter, yet wil she haue plenty of milk, being housed, she wil haue a more lusty, strong, health­full and couragious Colt, of great stature, and greater strength, and better able to indure hardnes, and keepe his flesh better then if she foaled at May day, my rea­sons are, Although the grasse maketh great quantitie of milk, yet the same is verie thin, and the winter food lesse in quantitie, but verie thicke and of greater nou­rishment, and that a Colt foaled in the winter will bee stronger then that is foaled in the Summer, because that coldnes of ayre by vnyting & knitting of the bo­die (according to the nature of colde) giueth strength much more then heate, for heat openeth, dis­solueth and weakeneth, for all creatures are stronger in Winter then in Summer, and they will eate much more, and disgest better in the colde then in the heat, because the naturall heat is thereby in the inner parts, & not dispersed, and those are most strong & of grea­ter stature that are bred verie far North, then those in the south. And Aristotle in his politiques saith, that ge­nerally such as are bred in colder countries, are stron­ger and bigger bodyed, and better couraged, and [Page 145]longer liued, for the coldenes of the compassing ayre restects the ayre into the inner partes, and by that re­flection the heates force is increased, and the partes gathered better and closer together. And moreouer by giuing somtimes masshes, made with malte, or with wheat meale, and mixed with the pouder of brimstone, of the rootes of Enula campana, of Polipo­dium of the Oake, Anniseedes, Licorish, Fenegreeke Turmericke, Bay-berries, and such like, which will not onely increase the milke of the mare, but also most medicinable for the healthfull preseruation of her and her foale, and the Colte being thus wintered in the house with his dam, it will make it to feede of all manner of winter foode, and quietly take any me­dicine, and become most gentle, being brought vp in the company of man from the day of the foaling, whereby it shall not neede to be tamed or broken, as other Coltes are, neither to be roughly handled for the curing of any hurt or sorrance that may happen. Also (if you cannot otherwise iudge) you shall there­by finde the natural qualitie and disposition thereof, and being from his time of foaling, kept in a paued stable with stone (for so would all stables be) it will harden his hooues, not suffering them to become broad footed, making him most bolde to tread vp­pon any ground, it will make him louing to the man, and bold to euery action, and to be taught many good qualities, and when the spring of grasse com­meth, it wil little or nothing regard the dams milke. And if any doe thinke that in the winter for lacke of milk it would be in penury or hindered of groweth, they do much erre therein, for it will feede fat, lusty, [Page 146]& strong in the winter, if it be brought vp by hand without milke, giuing it hay, oats, bran, barly, pease or beanes, & such like: but on the contrary, when the colte is foaled in May, or in the middle of sommer, (which most men desire) not well considering what they desire, the contrary of all former benefits will ensue, it is saide that the colte will haue plenty of milke, which I doe not deny, but being milke from grasse it wilbe thin and waterish, and for a smal time, and when it hath least neede of plenty (and this is the greatest reason) but when it is growne & able to take great store of nourishment, then the winter weather of snowe, frosts, and fluds, the colte being then yong and tender, the mare cannot (in reason) but want plenty of milke, wanting plenty of pleasant foode, warme and dry lodging, at which time the colte will onely depend vppon the dam, and thereby bring both her and colte to pouerty, not being able sufficiently to cherish herselfe, & so both become weake before winter be past, besides the colte wilbe sauadge and wilde, so as if any disease or weakenes come vnto it, the same remaineth remedilesse, if nature cannot o­uercome it, and heerein my experience telleth vs, many to haue perished, neither is it able or apt to feed vppon any food but the mares milke, to keepe it selfe in strength, and thereby also the dam restrayned and kept from lust of generation, and lastly the most ma­teriall cause of all others, namely the continuall fee­ding of wet & colde grasse, which is in naturall quali­tie exceeding colde and moist, the good and perfect temperature of the elements in the coltes, wil by con­tinuance be greatly impaired, being of all others of [Page 147]the greatest importance: againe whereas they affirme that the mare in may is most fit to receiue the Horse, because the time and season is warm & she much col­der then the Horse, they do little obserue the materi­all cause of generation, namely the coldnes & moist­nes of seed, which the food of grasse maketh, wherof no perfect shape can ensue, onely desiring a Colte without any respect of goodnes & perfection, the vn­resistable witnes of all erronious practise in breeding. Againe, if the mare go to grasse, and hath a colt long sucking her, when foode and lodging is full of penu­ry, how can she be full of lust to bring forth a perfect strong and lusty colte: & althogh thewinter (in respect of winter) be open and seasonable, and the mare full fed with grasse, can any man doubt, but that notwith­standing her natural desire of generation wilbe quen­ched, & if it wer admitted that she hath a desire there­vnto, yet can the same be in such perfection as ought to be for generation? Now commeth the true Chimist who turneth euery thing into siluer, that breedeth mony to the third generation, neither hath it sooner any being then he sets it to beget more, and he cri­eth out vppon charges, and yet would haue his Horse cat good meat, but on his neighbours trencher, & he saith that breeding colts in the stable is very charge­able, but if he did once apprehend, that in that charge were gain, then were eury face of a colt a new Image whome he would adore with the highest veneration: if it should be granted, that feeding at grasse all the winter time, is somewhat cheaper then feeding in the stable, yet when the preseruation of mare and colt in strength and perfection of health, & from the daunger of death, with fluds, snowes and such like is [Page 148]considered together with the foder, which necessitie inforceth to giue vnto them in such seasons, the great attendance of the keeper, and yet oftentimes losse of all, notwithstanding his diligence, the spoile of good grounds (for in such they must then be kept) by their deepe treading in wet seasons (they must acknow­ledge) if the Horse and Mare be of good worth, the keeping in the stable much the cheaper, in respect of their seruice to their King and country, & the benefit of the purse, as the common practise of the chāpion countries, where are few inclosed groūds do witnes, breeding if the same were guided with true know­ledge, who wold as far excel the colts that are broght vp at grasse, as hay exceedeth stubble, & if any wilbe a seruant to himselfe, yea to his seruant, and doe such base homage, to that which should be the worst drudge, it may be doubted he would dispatch him­selfe when corne falles, but that it greeueth him to cast away mony on a cord. Againe some whose ton­gues are like the tailes of Samsons foxes, carying fire­brands to set the whole field of valourous Horsemen on a flame, for no act can passe without their cōment, for their eares be long, & their eyes quick, but too im­perfectious: To confute tryfling thinges seri­ously is a point of those which haue no iudgementAnd they wold know, how many mares one horse may couer, how or when to haue a Horse colte or a Mare colte, how to make a Mare caste her foale, when the colte should be seuered from the dam, when to gelde, how to haue pied coltes, by the example of Iacob, in the 30. of Genesis, and such like, not being of any moment worthie any an­swere, because these questions are moste truely answered in the knowledge of nature, without which [Page 149]no sufficient answere can bee made, I referre them to the consideration of that hath bene said, wherin these questions are easily resolued. And because I wold be vnwilling to charge the Reader with answering of trifles, or with much tediousnes, knowing the know­ledge of breeding is notloued enough, because it hath not bene heeretofore seene, and that the errors therein lose much detestation, because their vglinesse is secret, certainely there are so many beauties, and so many graces in the face of her knowledge, that no eie can possibly see it without affection, without rauish­ment, and the visage of her errors so monstrous tho­rough loathsome custom, that if her louers were not ignorant, they would be mad with disdaine and asto­nishment, what need you more then to discouer these two to the world, this worke will saue the labour of exhorting & disswasion, for heerin is the true know­ledge and error of breeding stripped naked to the o­pen viewe, see now whether shall finde more fol­lowers, and if still the vaine mindes of men shall dote vpon their olde mistres, it will appeare to bee, not because she is not foule, but for that they are blinde and bewitched.

CHAP. 46. Of a perfect Stable.

FIrst the scituation of the stable would be on a most drye ground, if it may be, so as at all seasons of the yeare, both man and Horse may come and returne from the same cleane and dry, also it would be builded and so placed, as there may be a continuall currant for the clensing and keeping the same sweete from all things noysome to the same: it would be seeled ouer the Horses, to keep both Horse, racke, meat and manger, from all dust, it may not haue any filthie gutter or sincke neere, in, or vnder the same, neither any priuy, or other vnwholesome fauour of hog-sties, hen-house, or such like. Some auncient writers affirme, that the strong sauour or ayre of a priuy will make a Horse blinde: the Horse is naturally a proud beast, and delighteth in all cleanesse: the racke would be set high and sloping, for dust or filth anoying the Horse eyes or maine, or dangering his crest, by crooked or wry feeding, and the manger deepe and strong, for casting prouender out of it with the Horse nose; with posts and partiti­ons, as you may see in all well ordered stables: the flore would be paued and not plancked for these rea­sons.

First it is more durable and lasting, and lesse charge, it maketh your Horse most bold vpon stony and hard [Page 151]grounds, by continuall standing vpon stones, it is the most excellent thing that may be for Colts-being vn­shooed, for it hardeneth the hooue, so as by conti­nuance and custome, they will be as bolde on the stones as if they were shoode, it will not suffer his hooue to run broad, and the continuance thereof maketh the same very tough and durable, and will much longer and better carry a shooe: the pauement would be eeuen, not higher before, where the fore­feet stand, for it is very paineful to the hinder-legges, so as the Horse vnlesse necessitie compell him, wil not stand straight or bolde in the stable: and doubt not of coldenes, for when he is littered at night, he lyeth warme enough: there would be diuers windowes in the stable, the which would be so placed, as the sta­ble may thereby be cleered with the ayre, or close shut, or open as occasion may serue, in the night time, especially in the winter: and when Horse haue laboured, it would be very darke, aswell for warmthe as otherwise for the Horse to take their sleepe: at other times it would be kept somewhat colde, for thereby the Horse will feede and digest the better, neither shall the Horse be made too tender, which may be hurtfull when vpon occasion in other places where a man shall trauaile not hauing the like, wher­by the Horse may take colde: all poultry, and foules, hogs and such like, would not be suffered at any time to come into the stable, there would not be any dust or loame walles in the stable or place, about or neare the racke or manger, or wherein the Horse standeth, to retaine or keepe dust, for the Horse naturally will licke them to their great hurt.

The dung must not by any meanes lye neare the sta­ble, neither any thing of euill sauour. Neere to the stable would the Groomes of the stable bee lodged, to be ready at all times, and vpon all occasions, and ioyning to their lodging wold be a conuenient room with a presse therein to set all their Saddles, Bridles, Girthes and such like; with all kinde of necessarie in­struments, to mend such furniture, with all thinges necessarie for shooing, letting blood, and such like, and all medicinable things, either for inward disease or outward hurt.

There would be also to the stable annexed certain sheds or roomes to lay horse litter in, both new and olde, for that it is moste vnfit for the litter to be vnder the manger, as commonlye is vsed, leaste the Horse should either feede on it, or be offended with the sa­uour, because no creatures doe better or more de­light and comfort in sweete and cleane keeping then a Horse, beeing a speciall meanes to shew himselfe cheerefull and pleasant, besides, there would be a lit­tle inclosed roome, such as horses after their labour might bee put into, to wallowe themselues, wherein moste horses take exceeding delight, being also most healthfull for them so to doe, the which the auncient writers affirme, doth so much comfort a horse, as if they bee tyred, hauing after wallowed himselfe, and being cleane rubbed, will trauell presentlye againe with courage, as if it had not bene. Moreouer, aboue all things, there would be also places or sheds for the horses to bee clensed, curryed and trymmed in, and not in the stable & place, where they lye stand & feed in respect of the dust, loose haire, and filth that com­meth [Page 153]from them, so as the place in the stable where he standeth might and ought to be made most sweete and cleane, with Racke, manger and the place of his standing, being comely, healthfull, and profitable to the owner, for the preseruation of his horse, the great fault and neglect whereof is vnexcusable, and of all good horsemen to be respected and amended: Nei­ther would I haue any horse, hauing the Glaunders, or any other sicknesse, hurt or disease, to remaine in the stable at such time, but kept in a shed for that pre­sent time from all other horses, by which meanes, & all other good dyet, which heereafter I purpose to expresse, there cannot be any doubt of health & long life to the horses, the contrarie wherof hath discom­forted a number of worthy Gentlemen from keeping of horses of value and worth, and content themselues with Iades. Thus hauing verie shortly described the Stable, it next followeth to speake of making the Colts to amble without any handling of them, wher­in also I purpose to be short, because there are ther of many practises.

CHAP. 47. Of making Colts to amble from the time of their foaling.

FIrst vnderstand, that euery Colte when it is foaled and remaineth tender of his hooues, hath no other traine or pace how slow soeuer it be, but the same is an amble, & by obseruing his treading, is apparant to the eyes of all that do or will beholde it: and because the same shall not be enforced to a­ny faster pace then only to go, keep the colt with the dam in the stable, and the next day after the same is foaled, put on a halter, bridle, or snaffle, at your pleasure on the Mares head: in the morning earely lead her foorth, let the Colte followe her so gently and soft a pace as she can go, into some eeuen, plain, and hard ground, and be sure that the Colte be not enforced to goe faster then you lead the Mare, and then obserue and you shall finde the Colte going by her, that he doth altogether go and traine his legges in an amble. thus continue leading the Mare in so soft and slow a going, about halfe an houre, and the Colte of himselfe will not goe faster then his dam, by which meanes all his pace wilbe an amble: then haue them into the stable againe, and suffer not the Colte to come from his dam, after about 12. of the clocke lead the Mare and Colte foorth againe, going that pace and no other then you did, for halfe an houre more, all which time obserue, and you shall see [Page 155]the Colte tread an amble, then pace them into the stable againe, and keepe the Colte from going a­broad, and then after about 6. of the clocke at night, haue the Mare and Colte abroad againe, leading the Mare as aforesaide, and after haue them both into the stable againe, and beware that you neuer goe faster with the Mare then that the Colt treadeth an amble. And thus continue euery day with the Mare & Colt for 10. dayes, and as the Colte increaseth in swift­nes of pace in his amble, so increase the pace of the Mare, and he will amble most swiftly and perfectly: if you begin in that slowe manner aforesaid, and neuer enforce him to goe faster, vse will bring him vnto all perfection: And thus you may make any Horse to amble most perfectly without any other practise.

CHAP. 48. Of shooing.

Although that most famous Ferrar M. Mar­tin Alman deceassed, hath set foorth by Mai. Blundeuill, a very good worke of shooing, and that I must cōfesse my selfe to haue re­ceiued my first knowledge therein from the saide M. Martin, yet I may not heerein extinguish the worthi­nes of M. Iohn Orpen, of Greenewich, fellowe Fer­rar to the said Martin, from whom as from my chiefe instructers, I increased both my skill & desire, whose excellencie of knowledge was suchas I think worthy Hanniball did not exceede those two worthy Ferrars.

And because I would not haue any Gentleman a­count himselfe a Horseman, vntill he haue in some measure attained knowledge in euery part of Horse­manship, for that the name of a Horseman, dooth truly containe the whole partes of the knowledge of Horsemanship, and if the true knowledge of hooues were rightly vnderstood, then were the true know­ledge of shooing without great difficultie, but fea­ring euery man to followe the practise of this liuing and ignorant age, and to read a little, and lesse prac­tise, and that a part of knowledge is taken and ac­counted a full and competent knowledge, I am in­forced to intreat somthing heereof, although there be a practise thereof in euery parish within this king­dome. First therefore I will set downe what is a per­fect hooue: namely a perfect hooue, is leane, smooth deepe of hooue, tough, something narrow towards the toe, and conueniently brode in the heeles, much like an Asse hooue, for if it shold be a round hooue, then you will haue a club or fleshie hooue, which are both naught, and if it be broad before and spreading out of the sides, it hath narrow heeles, and is pomish footed, that is a broad hooue without deepenes of hooue, both which are naught, and not able to con­tinue many yeares with long trauell, not being deepe of hooue in the quarters thereof, where all the strength, burden, and bearing of the Horse resteth, I meane of the fore-feete onely, and so for want of deepenes of coffen, cannot be of long seruice, and commonly all Horses bred and continued in very wet and soft grounds, are flat and broad footed (ex­cept their Sires be Iennet or Asse hooued: and where [Page 157]some would haue the hooue very short, because the horse may tread most on the toe, I cannot allow that opinion, for euery Horse ought to tread plain, eeuen and full in all parts of his feete, because the horse that treadeth moste on the toe, doth not lift and set eeuen and truely, neither can be so sure footed, as the Horse that treadeth eeuen & iust, and in all parts alike, or so easie for the ryder, and in the true paring of the Cof­fin of the fore-feete resteth all the skill (except it bee for enterfering behinde) And therefore you must not only spare, but to the vttermost you may preserue the hinder quarters of the fore-feete, taking little or nothing away from the edge of the coffin, because all the weight and burden of the horse resteth vpon the quarters and heeles of the fore-feet & therfore those quarters, I meane the edge of the Coffin on the hin­der parts of the forefeete must be maintained and ta­ken of the butter as little as may be, especiallye on the inside, for thereby the horse treadeth and beareth e­qually, and a speciall meanes to keepe the horse from enterfering, which few Farriers little thinke vppon, but the toes of the fore-feete being naturallye thicke and hard, must be alwaies abated and pared thinne as the edge of a knife, wherby you shal make the hooues of the forefeet to be loe before, and high in the quar­ters, by the onely paring and preseruing of the Cof­fin of the quarters, and thereupon, and vpon no other reason, is that [...]ouch prouerbe, Deuant [...]ariar, dariar deuant; before behinde, behinde before, that is, spare the fore feete in the quarters behinde in paring of the Coffin, and the hinder feete in paring the toes thin before, the which must be obserued also in the [Page 158]piercing of the shooe, and not vpon any other cause as some coniecture & haue published in their works. Againe, for preseruing the Coffins of the fore-feete frō growing narrow together, being a matter of great importance (although through ignorance) little re­garded and practised (except some Farriers brought vp in speciall place of seruice) therfore when you do pare the coffins of the forefeete, the which must bee done so euen & plain as the eie can discerne, so as the shoe laide vpon the coffen, may seeme to bee glewed therunto, for that you cannot see light betwixt the shoe & the coffen in any part, for otherwise the shoe is not well turned or welded, or the hoofe truely pa­red, but before it be nailed be sure to amend the fault so as it may beare eeuen & iust vpon the edge of al the coffin, then before you set on the shooe, in both the quarters of the coffen of euerie fore-foot next the frush, cut out of the end and corner of the coffen, as neere to the quick of the heele as may bee, as much of the coffin as you may lay your finger in it, wherby the coffin shall neuer gather too neere the frush, to close vp, & become narrow in the heeles, so as when the horse is shod, you shal haue a very good distance betwixt the broad end of the frush, and the spunge of the shoe, wherby al grauel & stones wil wash & work out the sponge of the shoe, beeing cut a slope in the sponge in this maner.

Then when the shooe is tacked on with nailes, sette downe the horse foote & stand directly behinde the Horse, and viewe whether the frush of the Foote bee directlye, and of iust proportion, euen betwixt the Webbes of the shooes, and whether the Horse stand right, and bee supported vpright thereby, then seeing the shooe to stand right, and the frush e­qually betwixt the webbes or Spunges of the shooe, you shall bee assured thereby, that the shooe stan­deth right, the continuall vse whereof will cause the Horse to treade and trauell boldely and sure­lye, because his quarternes being the bearing place, will bee broade and eeuen to support the whole body.

And for the true making of the shooe, all the web would bee straite and plaine, not drawne in at the heeles, and quarters narrowe, or beaten to the heeles which many vse to doe, neither hollowed, if the feete be perfecte, but eeven and flat, with a broad Webbe, the Spunges thicker and more substanti­all, then anye part of the shooe, to cause the ioynt to stand vpright, and so wide in the quarters, as both sides may disbord the Coffin of the hoofe the bredth of a strawe, to garde and saue the Coffin of the hooue, beeing the onelye strength of the whole foote, and also the shooe so farre sette backe to garde the heeles, as may saue the same from bru­sing and cutting with Stones, and vnlesse the Coffin bee continuallye so kept open from hard oppressing and inclosing the Tuell of the foote, which is inclosed within the Coffin, whereby the Tuell becommeth bound and imprysoned to [Page 160]the great greefe and lamenesse of the horse, but the foote and ioynt of the horse maintained as a princi­pall poste to support the whole building, for other­wise the horse will become hooue-bound, which many ignorantly call dry foundred, & also make the ioint become weake, lame, and full of windegalles.

And therefore when you come to the peircing of the shoe of the forefoot, spare not to peirce it from the quarter to the hard toe, but not backeward to the heele, & let the shooe be so peirced, as the holes bee much wider on the out side of the shoe then within, for the holes of the inside of the shooe would bee no wider then the Shanke of the nayle may well fill, otherwise the shooe will neuer sitte fast and steddy, and the circle of the peircing more dist­ant frō the edge of the toe, then from the edge of the quarter, because euerie Smith knoweth there is more hold to bee taken with lesse danger, in respect of the tuel & quick of the foote, and all the nailes would be vntoled without shoulders, which will so sinke, and strongly fill the hole, as the shooe wil sit most strong, then driue the nailes eeuen, leauing as little clime as may be possible, & by cutting the hoofe a little with the point of a knife, let the clinch be cleane hid, the which shooing would alwaies bee done, eight or ten daies before you trauell your horse, for by that time the hoofe will be growne to the nailes, to holde the shooe fast.

And for helping of enterfeting, you must keepe him full of flesh, and alwaies preserue the Coffins on the inside of the hoofes, without paring away more then to make them eeuen for the shoes, and abate the [Page 161]outside of the coffin of the same foot, & besides, make the spunges of the shooes of the inside of the shooes much more thicker then the outside. Now hauing giuen a perfect direction for shooing of hooues fit for vse and trauell, I purpose not to spend time in di­recting how to shooe vnperfect hooues, namelie broad, flat, fleshy, pomish and club hooues, and such like, all which if they be natural are onely incident to Iades, not fit for the vse of man, wherein if I might preuaile, none of them should be suffered to beget or bring foorth colts, because it is vnpossible for art [...] to make perfect with continuance, what nature hath made and brought foorth vnperfect. It now re­steth to shew, how to tame colts before they come to the ryder, for it is not a proper attribute to a famous and skilfull ryder to be a tamer of coltes, no more then a great learned phisitian, to be both Apotheca­ry and phisition.

CHAP. 49. Of taming of coltes.

ALthough I haue formerly shewed that the yearely wintering of coltes in the stable, will make them most tame and domesticall, as also bring many other benefits both to the owner and to the colts, vntil they come to be ridden, which would not be before fiue yeres of age, if you would haue strong, sound, and durable coltes, which all men desire: and [Page 162]although they are more then halfe tamed thereby, yet many things remaine vndone, which must onely be directed by knowledge and practise. Now when the Colt is made gentle to suffer saddle and crupper to be set on his backe, shooes on his feet, and also led to water, and walked in the hand, in all gentlenes, then take another gentle Horse, and saddle him and the Colte also, and ride vppon the olde Horse, lea­ding the Colte in a halter, let the saddle of the Colte be crosse girded, because the same is a sure way to keepe the saddle in his due place, and the rider from casting, for if you doe not crosse gird the saddle, when the Horse is emptie, the saddle and girthes wilbe loose, and if any striuing should be with the Horse when he is full (if the girthes be not crosse) by striuing to try his strength, the thrusting out of the wind of his belly, will make either girth or strapp to breake, whereby if he should haue aduantage, he will euer after vpon like occasion make like aduenture, which may turne to the spoyle of Horse and man, and beside the girding of a Horse ouer the belly, when he is full, may breede paine or cholicke in his guts, and other such like infirmities.

Thus done ride foorth a mile or two, leading the Colte in your hand, and so come home againe, in all gentle and louing manner, but neuer goe out and come home one way certaine, neither vsually alight at one place, for feare of any euill ha­bit to settle in him through custome, wherein if you finde him without resistance to follow and to leade, sometime alight from your Horse, when you are abroad, and giue the colte a peece of bread, grasse [Page 163]or such like, and stand stil with him, making much of him, then mount vpon the olde horse againe, and af­ter you haue ridden halfe a mile or such like, alight & giue him the like reward, still vsing him in all loue, & when you come home againe, reward the colt as be fore, and then haue him into the Stable, letting him stand an houre or two without meat, and then come to him and reward him, and giue him some good prouender, by which vsage the Colt will loue you, and desire your company, and when you haue se­uerall times thus vsed him, giue him to eat such meat as I haue prescribed in the title of cures, to cause him to followe you wheresoeuer you goe, although hee be loose.

And oftentimes when you are in the stable with him, cause some drum, gunne, musicke, or such like to come into the stable, and to play or shoote, or some extraordinarie noise or feare, at which time, do you stand by him, comfort and cherish him so much as you may, whereby he may bee assured of your com­fort and loue.

And if you find that after 8. or 10. daies vsage, he be­commeth verie conformable vnto you, ride him still abroad with another horse, laying a cloake-bagge or some heauie burden in the saddle, and so let him cary it seuerall daies, vntill you see him as gentle as an olde Horse, but take heede you doe not distem­per or vexe him in anye thing, till hee knowe good from euill, but euer feede him and reward him to gaine his loue, neither let him weare any bytt or snaffle, but onely a Halter, thus dooing you shall bee sure to haue him obedeient vnto you in [Page 164]all things, without resistance or hurt to himselfe, then commit him to a discreet and temperate rider, that hath knowledge and practise answerable to his pro­fession, and he will attaine perfection with great ex­cellencie and pleasure, and preserue his bodie in health from surfeits, and all his limmes from strayne or hurt, which is a most speciall meanes to haue your Horse most louing and tractable to man, and of long health, life, and continuance, to your great contentment: and beware of Horse coursers taming, if you loue your Horse, vnlesse they be of great and approoued temperance, the mother of all vertue.

CHAP. 50. Of ryding.

BEfore I enter into the vnfolding of the parts of this arte, I thinke fit first to shew the naturall instinct and tempera­ture that ought to be in euery perfect ryder, the onely motiue & true dispo­ser of his desire, namely the reiecting feare of per­rill, and force of paine, the true properties of his for­titude to guide his noble nature, thorough hard and difficult things, to the attaining of the end of his iust desire, because the perfection of euery worke con­sisteth in this, that it be done by a staide and constant reason, for thereby shall he vndertake without rash­nes, and performe without feare, so as he shal not in any thing shrinck or yeelde vnto perturbations or any other humane accident whatsoeuer.

For though he looke like death in the face, he will passe by with a smile, Minus timori [...] minus pericu­li, audaciam pro muro esse, essugere mor­tem, qui eam contemait. and rather haue his blood seene then his backe, which being well imprinted in his minde, pricketh him forward to enterprise and per­forme those things, that are most excellent, difficult, and fullest of laboures and perrils: for as Aristotle af­firmeth: Whosoeuer wil be valiāt, must be free from all feare of death, constant in aduersities, voide of feare in perrils, choosing rather to dye valiantly, then to saue himselfe cowardly, and so ballanced, he floats stedfastly in the midst of all tempests, because his constant reason and temperature (the eyes of his va­lour) refine both iudgement & will, from those grosse faults and errors, wherein if nature were his onely guide, he wold fal into, the want wherof is to be hol­den a iust exception in a professed Ryder, Nam nisi sū ­mum praestes artificem, ridiculas sis, et aut laudem eximiam aut risum auferras oportet: And because euery rider is a creature reasonable, so ought he to be able to yeeld a reason of his dooing, for that hee onely tea­cheth by reason, an inherent pecular propertie to man, and yet it can not be truly saide, that euery rea­sonable man is a perfect Rider, because euery man hath not attained the reason of the art, and therefore vnable to teach, Nam quod nemo didicit, nemo dece­re potest, For no man can teach that hee hath not learned, neither can the true order and vse of any arte be vnderstood, wherein euery per­fecte Rider ought to staye and followe, other­wise contrary effectes will euermore ensite: for amendment whereof (presuming himselfe a Ry­der) proceedeth from one violence to another, and [Page 166]thereby the Horse being a creature sencible is be­come a creature sencelesse, for as continuall cor­rection is violence, so all violence taketh away pleasure: but if correction be to remedie a fault, and ease griefe, therein is Arte and reason, and the effect pleasure, so as it is euident, that when the Ryder is not endowed with valour, true knowledge of the Arte, Neglectis v­ [...]enda filix in­uascitur agri [...] temperature and pract­ise, then are the fruites of Nature such, as Grounde bringeth foorth without mannu­ring.

And therefore the Errors and Faults of this Arte in a man of good constellation and tempe­rature proceede onelye from want of true knowledge and practise. For as a good player on a Lute or Violl, toucheth no other stringes then those that are touched by him that is moste vnskilfull, yet because the good player is enformed with know­ledge and practise, hee knoweth what Stringes make that sound, which the care iudgeth by the harmonie and agreement of sound to bee delecta­ble, so as thereby he is truly taken for his crafts­maister.

Euen so, he that will be a good Horseman and perfect Rider, must not onely haue naturall gifts of true valoure, wisedome and temperance, but also true knowledge and practise to attaine per­fection.

And although it must bee confessed that [Page 167]euerye good beginninge commeth vnto vs by Nature, yet the progresse and growth therein com­meth vnto vs by precepts of reason, and the ac­complishment by knowledge and practise: for na­ture without knowledge is blinde, knowledge with­out nature wanteth, & practise without the two for­mer, vnperfect:

Heereof it commeth, that vnlesse Nature, Arte, and practise bee conioyned, it will bee vnpossible to become a good Ryder, or bee able to knowe, howe, and when to helpe his Horse, how or when to correct his Horse, neither how or when to cherish his Horse, the onelye and principall thinges required in a perfect Ryder, And yet if the Ryder that is inritched with Nature, Art and practise, shall bestowe all his labour and skill vppon a Royle or Iade, and thinke thorough his excelling knowledge and practise to make perfect his naturall imperfections: let him assure himselfe, that hee shall oleum & operam perdere, lose all labour and paines bestowed vppon him, because Arte and practise shall neuer attaine perfection vppon that subiect wherein Nature is vnperfect, no more then Arte can assure it selfe to make strong Gables of the purest Sande: for although euerie Horse bee a Creature sensible, mooued by sence and feeling, as thinges propper to Nature, and taketh his instruction by speech, as man instruct­eth man, which is either by cherishing him when hee doth wel, or by punishing him when he resisteth, yet neuerthelesse, when a Iade beginneth to bee [Page 168]taught, and proceede with a continuall perseuerance therein, yet shall hee neuer attaine the perfection of action, because all arte must imitate the natures of the Horse, which to content and please, is the ende of the whole Arte, but where contrarie natures are, there, of necessitie must be contrarie working, & then must needes ensue contrarie effectes, for euerie crea­ture worketh according to his nature: for amend­ment whereof the ignorant & pretended Rider pro­ceedeth to violence, which nature abhorreth, as Arte doth error and reason vnruely passion, whereby the horse is mooued to perturbation, and then his riding becommeth greeuous and painefull, so as hee know­eth not what to do, no more then an vntoward schol­ler by whipping to say his lesson delightful, and were it granted that the horse were of a good disposition to yeeld all obedience to the most skilfull Rider, yet shall he neuer attaine to any perfection of action, be­cause nature hath not shaped nor giuen him aptnesse fit for such purpose, no more then a natural foole can by education attaine to true wisdome. And yet verie few Riders neither haue or doe truely iudge hereof, for that no one thing is more manifest in all their writings and actions, then prouisions and meanes to help to make perfect that which is most vnper­fect by nature, as though they had neuer learned, that Art can neuer ouercome the necessitie of na­ture, wherefore I doe wish all such as desire to bee Riders, let them first examine their owne naturall dispositions.

Secondly, to learne to knowe true and perfect shape of Horses; Thirdly, the naturall causes of their [Page 169]goodnesse and badnesse. Fourthly, to bee taught by an vnderstanding Maister, and not to beginne without his direction. Fiftly to practise, and euer­more examine the reason of thy practise, then shalt thou see what a hand-maide, all Arte is to nature in beholding the actions of the perfect shaped Horse to bee easie, readye and perfect according to his per­fection of nature, as true qualities bred and brought forth by nature, not by correction, but by all milde­nes and gentlenes voluntarily performed, the which all true and perfect Ryders will and ought altogether cherish, seeing all the Horses dooing in that beauti­ful form, that himself doth expresse when he desireth to appeare most beautifull, so that hee doth appeare to the beholder both noble, terrible, and beautiful, being iust in his pase, iust in his trot, iust in his gallop, iust in his carriere, iust in his stop: iust in his manage: iust in his bounding: iust in his head: iust when he stan­deth still: iust in vnion with the wil of the rider, & his head & neck wil be so iust, & of such staidenes, & the mouth of so sweet & perfect stay, as it wil seem nature & straineth to set forth her own glory: al which natu­ral, & not accidental in a perfect & true shaped horse, as therby is brought to a sound conclusion & ground by sweet & gentle meanes, without force or violēce, wherein all artes haue their beginning, proceedings and perfecting, howsoeuer the brainelesse and igno­rant Ryder (whose anger fore-seeth nothing) preten­deth the contrarie.

It resteth now to speake of those thinges which moste principally are required by the Art for the true performance of such actions, as Art, requireth either [Page 170]for helpes, corrections, or cherishings, for redu­cing the Horse to perfection of action, fit for the vse of man.

For he which knoweth truly how to ayde, to cor­rect, and cherish a Horse in his due time, is, and so ought to be accounted the most grounded in this arte; the which cannot be in small time either attained or performed, and therefore for the true attaining thereof, I would wishe that at the first, none should vndertake the same but by the directi­on of a good schoolemaister, least it be saide vnto him, as Timotheus the best player of the Flute of his time, who when he tooke a scholler vsed to demaund of him, whether he had made any entrance into that play? which if he had, he tooke a greater reward by halfe, then he did of them that knewe nothing, say­ing that his paines were greater in taking away from his scholler that which was naught & vnskilful, then in teaching that which was good, to such as vnder­stood nothing at all thereof: whereunto Aristotle wel agreed, when he said that he which dooth any thing at all aduenture, not considering how well he dooth, ought not to be called vertuous, but he onely that putteth in execution, after knowledge, consultation, and election. The things that are principally to be vsed, for helpes, corrections, and cherishings, I think may be well contayned in these three: viz. the voyce, the hand, and the legge: because the voyce by words of art helpeth, and with milde, meeke and gentle words cherisheth, but by tanting words terrifieth & correcteth. The hand (beeing the instrument of in­struments) vpon the true vse whereof the ground of [Page 171]the art resteth, by the temperate and sweet stay ther­of, it helpeth: and by clawing or gently patting the Horse, it cherisheth, and by striking correcteth: A­gaine, the hand by the stroke, ierke or sound of a wand or rod, it often helpeth by vsing it mildely and gently, or clawing or scratching him therewith it cherisheth, and by striking hard correcteth. Againe, the hand with a bridle in slacking it cherrisheth, and by draw­ing it correcteth, and by the guiding thereof it go­uerneth the Horse as a sterne dooth the Ship, which in all motions and actions answereth to that motion which the hand mooueth. The leg when it gently prouoketh with the calfe, helpeth; when it hardly striketh correcteth: the spurre also by gentle meanes helpeth, and by hard stroakes correcteth; so as to bring a Horse to true obedience and perfection of action, he is to be helped, corrected, and cheri­shed: he is to be helped to the end he should not erre, and therein is great knowledge required: he is to be corrected, for his erres and faults committed; wher­in is knowledge, fortitude, and temperance to be v­sed: he is to be cherished for his well dooing, where­in is both knowledge and reason required, whereby appeareth how euery good rider ought to be quali­fied. Of which, namely of the voyce, the hand and the leg, before I come to speake of the action, where­in the true vnderstanding heereof is most proper, I purpose to giue a little further introduction: and first of the voice. When you minde to helpe your Horse therewith, it must be with most milde & cheareful voice, as to say, hey hey: hola, hola so boy so, hup, hup, enough, enough, no more: & ma­ny such like: but a correction is all contrarie which [Page 172]is with a terrible or thundering voice, as villaine, Traytor, and many such like, and in cherishing the moste milde and sweete voice is vsed, as my good boy, so my good boy, with an inclination of bending your body to him, and such like, so as also the sound of the voice is to be vsed, as wel as a voice pronoun­ced, by giuing a chirke with the tongue, which may be called clacking, in pronouncing wherof the tippe of the tongue striketh the roofe of the mouth, as it doth in making the supposed sound drawing neere the greeke word Clognus, and so also there is another sound of the voice, as hah hah: The next, is the hand, which as I saide is the instrument of instruments, in the true vse and gouernment whereof is the ground of the whole Art, and as for the bridle and the Rodd, they are but deade and senselesse instruments, with­out all vse, when they are not appointed for that vse, and the temperate and firme hand-bearing vppon a firme and sweete stay, neither too much slacking nor to much drawing in euery good horse, causeth a true and iust raine, a iust bearing, a iust staidenesse, with a light and sweete mouth in all actions: so as, whatsoe­uer the horse doth, is both easie, ready & perfect, and being done by delight, must of necessity be best done, because it best pleaseth both man and horse, neither of them being moued to perturbation greef or pain, & as for the rod & wand being instrument onely for the hand, how or when it is to bee borne, offered, v­sed or not vsed, I thinke fittest to referre the same to the proper place hereafter sette foorth, and for the Bridle which the Italians properly call Il manico del timone, the handle of the sterne, because the Bridle go uerneth the Horse, as the Sterne dooth the [Page 173]ship requiring reason and discourse therein, I thinke also fit to referre to his proper place, where the horses lessons shall be taught.

The third thing is the legges, wherein the vse of the calfes of the legge, the heeles, the stirrop, and the spurre are to be handled, I referre also to his proper place, whereby I would auoide all teadiousnesse and disorder both for the easier attaining of vnderstan­ding and the sure-keeping thereof in memorie, for the blindnesse of mans wit through the disobedience of our first parents is such, as not hauing a certain pre­script to followe, presently runneth into error, the which whosoeuer doth not knowe, hee knoweth no­thing, and is ignorant of himselfe, dispising al diuine and humane witnesses, and the example of all ages; & therefore I haue onely deuided the same into certain prescript generall groundes or rules to followe, whereof the Ryder shall haue dayly vse in the teach­ing of the whole art to his horse and schollers.

First when the Ryder beginneth to teach a young horse, or a young Scholler, let him follow the order of a discreete Schoole-maister, that teacheth Chil­dren to write, who at the first intreateth and entertai­neth the Scholler into his schoole in all louing spee­ches & gentle vsage, assuring him, that in his schoole is nothing but pastime, pleasure, and delight; and so winning and calling him vnto him, causeth the schol let to take pen, paper and inke, and in a moste milde and gentle manner sheweth him how to carrie his arme and hand, and holde his P [...], and then how to make the first letter, the which when the Scholler at­tempteth, although it be verie bad don, yet in respect [Page 174]of the infancye of his knowledge and willing minde to perform, is not onely to be commended, but re­warded of his maister, wherby the scholler is so farre encouraged and imboldened, as hee seemeth ouer ioyed and still desireth and laboureth to goe on to be taught, and to ma [...]e manye letters, but the discreete vnderstanding schoole-maister verie mildelye and comfortablie restraineth his desire, to write other­wise or more then he knoweth fit, vntil he haue made the first letter moste perfect, in all which time the Maister will not suffer his Scholler to vse his owne way, or to write fast, alwaies directing him, vntil he haue made the first letter moste perfect, and so teach­eth him fom one lesson vnto another, vntil he can do euerie one in perfection, and then afterwards in a gētle & slow maner teacheth him how to ioine those letters in all perfection, and still keepeth the Scholler in the continuall vse and practise of perfection, so as oftentimes the Scholler through his aptnesse of na­ture, ioyned with the apprehensiue loue of his dis­creete and louing Maister, commeth oftentimes to greater perfection then his teacher, both in faire and swift writing: euen so would young Schollers in Ri­ding, and yong Horses in their beginning be taught, whereby all their actions might bring delight & ad­miratiō to the beholder. For by milde teaching, slow teaching, not weried with long teaching at one time, but giuing often breath, high keeping in courage, often rewarding, great familiaritie, no change of ry­der til he be perfect, no change of bitt, no rough bitt, no cutting or galling nose or mouth, but gentle fee­ling, no beating nor whipping, no violence nor pas­sion, [Page 175]but with all ymitation of natures delight, ma­keth all the Horses actions more then wonderful, be­cause Nature hath a naturall loue to it selfe, and an innated hatred of all things that be enemies vnto the same, which is plainely testified by that naturall Sym­pathy and Antipathie, which may be obserued in all creatures, as the Lambe which neuer had experience of the Wolues crueltie, yet at the first sight of him doth tremble and flie for feare.

CHAP. 51. Correction.

SEcondly, that the Rider neuer correct his horse, but when gentle meanes and cherrishing will not preuaile, for no doubt hee will willingly yeeld by gen­tle meanes, if it bee made sensible vnto him, what, how, and when to doe, but that Horse that will not by gentle meanes be mooued, let the ri­der assure himselfe, that hee is of a bad nature, but if any thing shall happen wherin of necessitie correcti­on is to bee vsed, then let Salomons direction bee fol­lowed, who as hee was the wisest that euer was, or shall bee, so did hee keepe more horses then anye King, that historie mencioneth, who saith, that an vntamed Horse becommeth fierce, but if he offend, [Page 176]correct him (saith hee) in the instant time that hee er­reth: wherein how many doe offend, all mens eies are witnesses, beholding the common horse-breakers & ignorant ryders to minister violent and horrible cor­rection, when the beholder cannot finde a cause, nor himselfe expresse the reason: but Salomon saith, that correction is to be ministred in the instant time, that he erreth, and not when he is ignorant, whereof I haue before shewed the difference; for error euer­more taketh that for true which is false, so as it appe­reth, that when a horse hath bene taught, and yet not­withstanding erreth in the same, he hath beene truely taught, Salomon would haue him in that instance of time punished for that error, but not to punish him for ignorance.

CHAP. 52 That teaching is not fit for such Horses as nature hath not framed fit to be taught.

THirdly that all Ryders lose no time in teaching, club-headed, distorted, hate­full countenance, fleshie, gourdy lym­med, short, thicke necked, fleshie chop­ped, hauing their heades set to their necks as a Hog, lowe fore-parted, narrowe, shallowe brested, and euill shaped Iades and roiles, but turne them either to the Carters, Carmans, or Paris-Gar­den stable: for euerie particuler nature (that is the [Page 177]temperature of the elements in euery particular bo­die (without al cōtradiction) causeth & maintaineth the particular actions of the bodie wherein it is and as I haue formerly shewed, and will defend against al that shall oppose the contrary: and that such shaped Horse were neuer compounded or framed of a true temperature of the elements, and therefore vn­possible to be reduced to perfection of action, other then by great force, which nature abhorreth, and that is but for a very small time, whereby they sha­dow the glory of the kingdome, disparage the iudg­ment thereof, discourage many noble and heroi­call gentlemen, either to become breeders, riders or maintainers of Horses, and cast mists ouer the perfection of our English riders, when not any na­tions of the world haue better, as euidently appea­red in that late renowned and famous rider, Sir Ro­bert Alexander knight deceassed, I may not compare him with Alexander Magnus, but in the true art and knowledge of riding, I euer esteemed him Alexander Maximus, whose excelling knowledge and practise of himselfe, and his worthy schollers, of this English nation, might, and may, not onely range themselues in the former rancks of the best Horsemen of the worlde, but reach with victorious armes at the gol­den fleece, and meritoriously wrest and wring the victory out of the victors hand, although sometimes (yet a small time) their glories haue bene ecclipsed and their hearts wounded; with the strangers good, as about the 18. yere of the raigne of that most bles­sed and euer renowned queene Elizabeth deceassed, when Prosper the Italian Horse-courser florished, [Page 178]may be remembred, sed dies dedit, quod dies negabat, for within few yeres hee was meritoriouslie with infamy reiected, as not worth ye the vnworthiest horsemans place, raise therefore your spirits, and dayly more & more endeuour the true knowledge and practise of Horsemanship, which principallye consisteth in the true knowledge of breeding, wherein you shall see your vnderstanding inlightned with the beames of diuine Nature, and because in euerie part of this tractat, I haue desired all and euerie one in his place and calling, to put all strength thereunto, I heere conclude, and heartily entreate all and euerie one.

CHAP. 53 Now of the Bridle, Saddle, bringing the Horse to the blocke, the mounting and seate of the Rider, and then to the execution of the action of teaching.

WHen the Horse is made gentle, famili­ar, & fit for the Ryder to teach, put on a headstall, with a Chaine or Cauet­sane ouer his nose, with a paire of strong raines, but so loose and easie for his nose, as may neither hurt nor abate his courage, or his quick & fresh feeling, and in all gentle manner set a saddle on him, with an vpright short pomell, so as the true vse of the hand may not bee hindered or harmed, the bolsters whereof would be broad in the top, to inclose the thighe, and yet to beare so slope as the knee bee not pinched, neither the thighe kept from the true resting place, the seate whereof would be of reasonable length and largenes, the Bolsters behinde bearing forward to inclose and support the thigh to the former bolsters, the strappes therof broade and verie strong, with broad girthes, and ve­rie strong and broade buckles, and crosse girded, so as the saddle may rest firme on his backe, wherby the seate will be easie, sure, & certaine without motion, leauing the neere stirroppe leather almoste halfe a hole longer then the right stirrop, and although the Horse be gentle, yet because hee hath a new maister and rider not knowne vnto him, beeing neither assured of himselfe, nor of that his Ryder [Page 180]would haue him to doe, so as it may bee truelye said, hee is not himself, that is troubled in minde, therfore to keepe him from feare and perturbation, I would haue a quiet, slaide horse also sadled to be rid before him, and then bring them both to the block, but the olde Horse first, and then the Colt, at which time let the Ryder vse all milde & gentle words to the young Horse, making the Raynes of the Bridle eeuen and iust, holding them in his left hand, not stiffe, nor al­together remisse or loose, and so soon as he is moun­ted on his backe, sit quietly there a while, least anye sudden motion should breede perturbation in the Horse, and vntill the Ryder haue settled himselfe in the Saddle, his Nose directlye answering the Horse: his fore-toppe betwixt his eares, his legges hanging streight downe, neither thrusting downe the toe, nor lifting vp the heele, but with his foote in such eeuennesse in the stirrop, as as if he stoode vpon the ground, the stirrope leathers rather short then long, winding his toes something nearer to the horse-side, then the heele, holding the Raines eeuen & iust with his Crest, eeuen with the point of the withers, little aboue the Maine, with his Thighes and Knees close to the Saddle, and his feete resting in the stirroppe in due place, not too far thrust into the Stirrop, with an vpright and straite body: his Ridge-bone answe­ring the Ridge-bone of the Horse, so as the Horse and Ryder may neuer seeme but as one body in all motions, during which time, clawe the Horse with your hand, to put him from feare or hard conceite of his Ryder, that done, goe forward about two paces faire and softly, and stay againe, making [Page 181]much of him, & so softly and quietly to the place, where the rider meaneth to tread out a ring, all which must be donne by the ryder, bouldly and without feare, and as he must be thus vsed in going forward, so must he be vsed in treading and pacing out the ring in some new plowed ground, that is most deepe of mould, where first let the olde Horse enter, betwixt two furrowes, so far as the rider may haue space enough and mould enough, and fol­low with the young Horse close vnto him, which will cause him the willinger to goe, because he is directed and guided by the olde Horse, by which meanes he shal not be any waies discomforted, then let the olde Horse (the young Horse following) en­ter on the right hand, ouerthwart the furrowes, and tread out twice together a round ring, conteyning in circuit about 30. paces, & beeing come about the second time, where he beganne, tread out the like ring on the left hand, and after he hath so gone twice about, let him begin againe on the right hand, & so continue vntil he haue gone about the left ring 4 times, & the right six, that done, go faire and softly out of the selfe same furrow where he began, about 30. or fortie paces, and there stand still, keeping his head and bodie right in the path, remembring al­waies to haue some go by, to signifie his true doing, and to helpe if neede be, and then goe very gently backe againe from the place he came, and there let the rider alight, making much of him, by coying him, giuing him a little grasse, hay, or bread, in his mouth, to procure and win his loue, and thus let him be vsed for two dayes with a Horse before him, [Page 182]and after let him leade and beginne himselfe, to treade and pace the Ring in this gentle manner by the space of ten daies, keeping a temperate, staide and firme hand vppon the Reines, with a sweete feeling stay, carrying his fore-head as Rammes do, when they goe to fight, whereby hee shall not onelye Reine well, but beare his heade iust, stayed, and light, and when hee knoweth what to doe, and that for the same hee is euer­more cherished, hee will striue to doe it faster & faster; with the continuall keeping of your hand steadye, hee will doe it with a wonderfull pride and delight: and by giuing of libertie and hastie dooing, will worke the contrarie.

In the pacing of the Ring, you may not carry ouer hard hand, to dull the sence; but so tempe­rately, as the feeling may be alwaies fresh, other­wise by the violent haling thereof, by much gal­ling his Nose, whereof hee would willinglye haue ease, to auoide the same, he wil set his head & necke awrie: the true vse therefore is, that stan­ding in the Furrowe iust and streight with his bodye, you moooue him gentlye to goe for­ward, and in the verie motion turne him on the right hand, by drawing verie softlye the right Rayne shorter with your right hand, lowe, vn­der the Pomell of the Saddle, whereunto if hee yeelde (as no doubt but hee will,) especiallye hauing trodde the same before, presentlye make much of him, neither drawing nor slacking the Reyne: at which time of dooing, both for ease [Page 183]of the Ryder and Horse, if neede shall bee, let some, skilfull bodye (but his Keeper were moste fitte,) come on his left side to his fore­shoulder, and thrust him in by little and little, and then the Ryder also by the Calfe of the left legge, and the clacke of his tongue to bee a helpe to make him goe forward, but if the horse bee such as I haue described, hee will doe it voluntarilye and perfectlye without such helpes; but if hee should not in the verie motion of the turne, to drawe the Reyne with your hand, as before, whether it be on the right hand or on the left, all which must bee done by gentle dea­ling, so as hee may hope for rest and quietnesse, whereby hee will bee readye to doe whatsoeuer you will: but if hee bee a ramadge Iade, or of euill disposition by Nature, for my owne part I esteeme him not of any worth to be kept, as I haue before saide, and therefore the excel­lent breede is euermore to bee increased and cherished: for doe not all Ryders vse all meanes of Art and practise to remooue imperfection, & to reduce them to perfection for the vse of Man, for whose onely vse they were created? whereunto the vnperfect shape by all the Arte and knowledge of man, cannot haue perfection with continu­ance.

Hauing spoken of pacing the Horse in the Ring, it followeth, that after the ten daies expyred, the Horse bee taught to trotte the Ring, which must be begun in as slow & gentle trot as he was in his first beginning of pacing, increase his ring-turns by [Page 184]two & two euery day, vntil he make ten turnes for the left ring, & 12. for the right, which wil increase his swiftnes, whereof he would be restrained vntil he be most perfect (as I haue shewed in teaching the schol­ler to write) & then wil he do it in the greatest grace and pride that may be, which is the true propertie & qualitie of all Art, euermore to effect perfection, during which time of beginning of trotting, he may not be ridden with wand, nor weare any bytt, vntill he be most perfect in trott, stoppe, and turne wel on both hands, and not by any meanes suffered to gal­lop, vntill hee can also perfectly aduance, by which meanes he will be iust in his pace, iust in his trot, iust in his stoppe, with a staide head and necke, being the chiefe goodnesse that nature and Art affordeth.

Wherefore when you begin to trot the Ring, be sure that at the first he bee moued therunto, as gent­ly and quietly as you can deuise, and so to euerie act­ion whatsoeuer, vpon a stayed, temperate, and firme hand, with a sweete stay, & with a true reyne, that is, that his nose be iust vnder his fore-head, neither too much out, nor too much in, which is the iust placing and setling of the head, which will make him haue a pleasant mouth, when hee commeth to weare the bitt, and in this consisteth the chiefe point of Horse­manshippe, because hee is so to be maintained in all his actions, the which is most easie to bee done, and continued, if the horse bee of perfect shape and spi­rit, but if he shold make resistāce for that he is either rammage or euill broken, then trot him swift with quicknesse of voice, rod, and spurre, for the time of his trotting is the fittest time to make him forgette [Page 185]his toyes, and to attend his way, and if all this wil not helpe, then spare not to gallop him, and then be sure he will be a I ade from the beginning to the ende, for a Horse of good temper and perfect shape, can neuer be of so bad nature and qualitie.

Wherefore I thinke fit now to shew, how to make your Horse perfect in stop, after you haue ended the number of your Ring turnes, which is to trott your Horse right out in the middle furrowe betwixt the Rings, vntil you come at the place of stop, and there to make a prettie stay, keeping his bodye right in the pathe, wherein, if the whole body, or any part stand ouerthwart, seeke not at first to correct him for the same, but let a foote-man direct him to stand right in the pathe, by thrusting in that part which standeth out of order, or you may cause the horse to goe far­ther in the same path, and stoppe him, holding that raine straiter on that side, whereon hee most forceth your hand, then on the other, which wil enforce him to keepe right, which when hee yeeldeth, euermore cherish him, and after it will be good to trot and stop him on a ground that is a little steepe, which some­thing falleth, and immediately riseth, but when he is perfect, then you may doe it on a ground verie steepe: but to teach him to goe backe, you must (as I haue saide) keepe a firme stayed hand on him, with­out giuing libertie, and then striking him on the necke with your rodde, and in that instant time say backe, backe, but if hee refuse, let a foote-man with a rodde gently strike him on the knees, & so by gentle pulling in of your hand and fayre meanes win him, and when he yeeldeth, cherish him.

Hauing shewed how to ride your Horse without wand, bit, or spurre, I will now shew you how to ride with all three, and the true vse of the hand vpon the bit, the chiefe & only principall point of horse­manship. First therfore when you ride with a wand, take it very warilye, that the Horse bee not feared therewith, & to assurethe horse therof, presently af­ter you haue receiued it, coy and scratch him about the necke with the end thereof, and for the carrying thereof it must be in the right hand, with the point vpright, and when you would vse it, let the point fal close vnto him as occasion shall require: but in your manage lay your hand on your right thigh, and the wand crosse the Horses necke, and when he hath made his course and turned on the right hand, then before the end of his second course, when he is al­most ready to tourne on the left hand, list your hand and rod, & hold the point right foorth on the right side, against his eye, and as he changeth turnes, so change your rod of the one side and of the other; but if your Horse will not turne on the side you would haue him, euermore beat him on the contrary side: and when he is any way disordered, carry the wand on the contrary side, and when you would haue him carry his forepart light, strike him on the shoul­der and forelegs, and when you would haue him light behinde, strike him one the rump and hanches: and thus much for the vse of the wand as occasion shall serue.

Now for the true vse of the bit, which is an in­strument onely guided and directed by the hand, & because the ground of the art of riding dependeth [Page 187]wholly vpon the vse and true gouerment of the hand, being guided by reason and discourse, so as the Horse in all motions and actions is and ought to answere to that motion, which the hand mooueth, I may not passe the same ouer-light­ly.

First therefore let the bit that you first bit your Horse withall, be gentle and pleasant, yet so that the gentlenes cause him not to dispise you, nor the hardnes driue him to dispaire; for you must vn­derstand, that knowledge alwaies presupposeth rea­son, and reason sence; and sence and reason con­sist in true mediocrity, and therefore amongst the most learned precepts that were written in the tem­ple of Apollo in Graecia, this was in the second place nothing too much.

SOLON saide nothing more then enough, PIT­TACHVS doe all thinges by a mediocritie, so that all difference betwixt good and badde consisteth in a certaine mediocritie, which CI­CERO calleth the best of all thinges; for when you presse him with the bridle, if hee carryeth his head well, yet must you presentlye ease your bridle hand, and make much of him, because hee sheweth himselfe obedient vnto you, and whensoeuer hee doth anye thing well, and with delight, you must bee verye heedefulnot to vexe him, as if your desire were to torment him, but euer so winne him, as hee may bee willing to please you.

So likewise when you beare a firme hand with a stay; & thereby the Horse doth bring in his head, [Page 188]and yeelde to your hand, yet you must shorten the raines of your bridle, till his head bee setled in due place, that is neither to carie his fore-head too much out, nor too much in, & stil maintaine him in y^e forme in all his dooings, yet that it exceede not mediocrity or temperature, but remaine light on the hand with a sweet mouth. Thus hauing shewd you, that it must be done, I will shewe you how to doe it, by keeping this order: stay your horse temperately with the bri­dle vpon a stayed hand, as his resistance shal require, without giuing any libertie, then with your rodde strike him gently vpon the bowing of the necke, pro­uoking him with the spur on that side, hee most wry­eth his buttock, to the end he may goe iust, vntill he draw backe one of his forefeete, which if hee doe, make much of him, and then stay a while, and do the like, drawing onely the bridle, for the former cheri­shing will cause him to vnderstand you, and then wil he goe lightly backe with both the fore legges, when you touch him on the necke with the rodde, saying with a lowde voice, backe: at which voice with the feele of the rodde, and drawing of the bridle, he will goe backe to your desire, and alwaies after, when hee is out of the due and true stay vppon the bridle, doe the like, that is to goe backe in forme afore-said, and although some disorder be committed, haue no dis­paire, for you shall finde him easily wonne to a good mouth, by this vse of a temperate and firme hand, which is by the mediocritie of slacking and drawing, which is propperly tearmed a sweet stay, What is a tē ­perate and firme hand. which the Italians call Dolce Appoggio, making him light vpō the hand, champing the bitt with great pleasure, and a [Page 191]stayed head in due place, the true tokens whereof are iust rayne, iust staide, and light borne head with pleasure on the bit, being properties inseperable in euery perfect shaped Horses actions, but because it may seeme very difficult to haue continuance of perfection in euery action, although it is common vppon stop, or standing still, to be in order, yet per­haps vpon motion, he wil leaue playing on the bit, and beare vpon the hand, especially vppon the maine careere, which commeth for want of true knowledge how to maintaine and continue the hand iust and firme with a sweete stay, so as he may take pleasure on the bit, and therefore how to maintaine a Horse both in furious and qui­et dooings, is to be considered of, if then at any time he make any disorder, note it dilligently, and by and by stay fayre and gently, and make him go backe as you did before, for in going backe he wil bring him­selfe into his right order again, then presently make much of him, and forthwith mooue him forward, faire and gently, till he come to the place of stop, and as he must be thus vsed in going forward, so must he be vsed in treading of the rings, first gently vppon the pace, vppon the trot, and so vpon the gal­lop, in practising wherof you must precisely obserue that it be done with a temperate, stayde, and firme hand, otherwise he will gape, thrust his tongue vp­pon the bit, or ouer the bit to defend himselfe, thrust his head out sudd ainely, pluck it in disdainefully, or else shaking or moouing his head one way or other, to be freed from the pressing of the intemperate hand which is to him violence and contrarie to Nature, [Page 192]the which Art shold euermore labour to please. The true forme & practise of drawing the bridle, is also to bee learned, which is, that being mounted in the Saddle, let the Ryder draw the Raines equall, and if the Horse know not the Bytt, then let the Bytte bee verie slack, and hold the Raines in his left hand, with the little finger and ring finger betweene, vnder the pomell of the saddle, as neere the withers as he can, and then with the right hand draw the raines softlye and equally together through the left hand, so as the standers by can scarce perceiue, the which hee may not remooue, vntill he feele the Horse begin to stay vpon the bytt, & then there hold them without slac­king or farther drawing, vntill hee peruse whether the head standeth in true forme, which if it bee not, then let him a little yeelde his left hand againe, and standing so a prettie while, bring his left hand to his former place againe, where the Horse made the first stay vppon the bytte, but if you perceiue the Horse doubteth whether to put it out, or bring it in, which will bee hardly perceiued, other then that then, hee standeth without motion vppon the bytte, then drawe the Raines with your right hand, some­what more through the left hand as before, but so little and gently as can scarce bee perceiued by the Beholders, for so must all the motions of the hand bee, and then keepe it firme and stayed a pret­tie while, and then if hee yeelde, though verie lit­tle, keepe your hand still at one stay, neither slack­ing nor drawing it, wherebye hee will feele the ease hee hath gotten by yeelding, and then pre­sentlye make much of him, but if it happen the [Page 193]Raines fall slacke, remooue not your left hand, but drawe the Raines through your left hand, as before, for they may not be slack vntill he stay a­gaine vppon your right hand, whereunto when­soeuer he yeeldeth, make much of him, continu­ing still in this sort to solicite him, till his head be in his due place, that is neither too much out, nor too much in, after which time, if hee beare not light, let his keeper strike him gently on the knees of his fore-legges to make him go backe, whereby he will bring in his head, and then will the bit mooue, and your hand finde ease, but be very carefull at that instant, to keepe your hand so firme, as you neither slacke nor drawe in, to the end he may feele and reteyne the ease of his owne motion of yeelding, which willingly he will not loose, beeing delightfull to nature, but take delight to stir the bit in his mouth and goe backe withall likewise, the which when you finde, are tokens of the winning of his mouth, which beeing won, with obseruation of good order, may be brought to continuall perfection.

Thus I haue shewed you so much as Arte may helpe, but if the shape and nature of the Horse be opposite and repugnant, as in the grea­test number of Horses it is, howsoeuer for a time it may seeme perfect, yet no doubt it can­not be of continuance, and therefore still desire all men, to put their vttermost helpe for to increase a perfect breede of Horses, and increase of tem­perate teachers.

But because in the whole Art of Ryding there is no one thing more difficult, then to make a Horse Trott iust, and that the pefection thereof is the per­fection of all other his iust dooings, I purpose a little farther discourse heerein, fearing that I haue beene too briefe, so as diuers doubts may stil arise amongst such as haue not had long knowledge and practise therein.

Wherefore obserue that when you are teaching your horse heerein, or in any other lesson, that you doe not trouble him, with anye other lesson at that time, neither suffer him to begin to learne any other, vntill he be verie perfect in that he is in learning.

2 Secondly that you doe not suffer anye other to ride him vntill he be perfect in such lessons you pur­pose to teach him, least he be confused by diuersitie of hands, and man-ner of teaching.

3. Thirdly, when hee is brought to a iust stay of head, and assurance of the bytt, then doe you maine­taine him therein to a full perfection.

4 Fourthly, when he is out of order, then stay him and make him goe backe, as before is mencioned.

5 Fiftly, when he is in order, then make much of him, and stay not long, but with a firme hand faire & gently put him into his pace againe.

6. Sixtlye, if hee continue in his good order, make much of him, giuing your body, with a gentle moti­on of the calfes of your legges, mooue him to doe it more speedily, the which if he be by nature good, he will quickly performe, alwaies remembring to keep a firme hand, vnlesse by bringing in his head, the [Page 195]Reines fall slack, which must be then drawne as hath bene tolde you.

7. Seauenthly, if his trot continue not light vppon your hand, stay him, cause him to goe backe, which will bring him in order againe, and then gently put him into his pace, & so to his trot as before; which being wel done, cherish & coy him by all the swee­test & best meanes you may, so that you may ouer­win his loue therby, & so for that time leaue him, & lead him home by some leading line, in which time giue him a little grasse or hay on your hand, and scratch him, & speake to him with the most louing words you may, which will make him at your next exercise, doe all thinges to your greatest content, & within twentie daies he will pace and trotte in such order, as alwaies after you may trot him most swiftly in the rings or in manage.

8. Eightly, in his swift trot, by all meanes keepe your true feate and firme hand, so as he lose not that excellent forme and grace before prescribed, but do not galloppe him vntil he be iust and perfect in his swift trot, & then out of that trot, to put him to a qui­et gallop in the large ringes, euen to the stoppe: but beware you draw not your hand hastily to you, but by a little sway of your bodye, backe and hand to­gether, and stay your hand there til he come back a step or two, & there stay him & suffer him not to go forward, & in that instant make verie much of him, & so let your hand and body go to the place againe.

9. Ninthly, if he should then offer to goe forward, stay him with the like sway, and then alight & lead him home, making much of him, as before.

10. Tenthly, to assure your selfe of the right vse of [Page 196]this hath bene saide, and of the perfections therof, pace your Horse ouerthwart some deepe fallowe, as fast as you can for halfe an hower but suffer him not by any meanes to trot, keeping your hand in a firme and temperat stay, as before: and if you still finde his head in due place, his cariage light & plea­sant vpon the bit, you are assured you haue gained the perfection of the hand, and the true vse thereof for the teaching and making of a yong Horse, wher­in obserue that if he be of perfect shape, his head wilbe in due place, & light vpō the bit, without art.

Now a little I purpose to speake of the Horse that is alreadie taught, and brought to perfection, wher­in a good rider hath small neede to vse any rod, or other help, but to keep his true, iust, and perfect seat, because the Horse by the least token or motion of bridle or spur, will do all thinges in such time and measure, as the beholders will iudge the Horse and rider but one bodie, one minde, and one will; and therefore how the reines should be caried, placed & vsed, is the onely thing to be spoken of. The reynes you must holde in your left hand, placing the little finger and ring-finger betwixt the two reines, and the thumbe close vp on the reines, so as the hand re­mooue not from the crest of the Horse, for by the motiō of the hand it is signified to the Horse which way you would haue him turne: which is by strey­ning the reyne on that hand you would haue him turne, and slacking it on the other: the order and manner there of hath bene and is yet diuersly vsed of the best horsemen, and therefore I leaue it to euery mans vse as he findeth it most fit: but in running at the Tilt, where the Horse neither doth or can turne, [Page 198]the rider must not draw the bridle towards the Tilt, but only strainethe reine that is next the Tilt to make him cary his head towards the same.

1. But because the true shape and goodnes of na­ture of the Horse is, it that art attendeth & worketh vpon, in those Horses the rules of arte haue perfec­tion with continuance, so as the Horse that is of perfect shape and well taught, shall not indanger winde or limbe, or deformity of body.

2. Next, your person shal neuerbe in perill by rea­ring or running away.

3. Thirdly the rider shall neuer be grieued with heauy bearing vpon his hand, but performe all with great delight: neither shal you need Cauetsane, mus­role, martingale, or such like, but only false reines.

4. Fourthly & lastly, this teaching will manifest the difference betwixt true knowers and ignorant ry­ders, which doings the Horse doth represent & ex­presse when he would appeare most beautifull, and thereby make both the rider and himselfe appeare most noble, terrible and beautifull to beholde, with such delight to the beholders, as they will seeme to be rauished with delight; all which is attained by good discretion, taking of time with temperance, which of few is little regarded, rather ryding with­out order, and with such extremitie of spur and rod, that for want of breath they commit many difor­ders, whereby the poore Horse is cruelly tormented being no other then to ride as mad men without di­scretion, and as passionate and furious men without reason.

After your horse hath pefectly learnd swiftly to trot [Page 198]perfectly to stop, & perfectly go back; thon ought he to be taught perfectly to aduaunce, which is by lif­ting vp both his fore-feete iust and euen together, like vnto a goate, somewhat aboue the ground, and so let them fal euen & iust, twice or thrice together: the true dooing wherof wil cause him to make a iust perfect mannage, and a ready and perfect turne: for the attaining whereof, trot him gently fortie or fifty foote in some plaint way, then giue him a iust stop, which he wil truly perform, because he hath before perfectly learned the same, alwaies keepe a steady, pleasant, & perfect hād on the bridle: then instantly with a milde voice, say, hup, hup, striking him in that instant with your wand on the right shoulder, & also with both the calfes of your legs together, but spur him not, if possiblye without it hee wil aduance, the which with a little labor, & patiēt teching, no doubt hee wil attēpt to do, 2. or thrice together; the which if he do, then in that instant make much of him (al­thogh it be very meanly done) & pause a little time & giue breath, then trothim again in like maner, the like distance of groūd, & as before, so gently vse him again, y^e which if he do better aduāce, make much of him but if he do not better euery time hee is taught, you must stil folicite him vntil he doe better, & then presently coy him, & make much of him: all which must be with temperance, & not with furie, and be sure to giue him breath, and not to be rash or hasty, neither forget to make much of him, when at your direction hee doth any thing well; so shall you cause him to do y^e same most delightfully, & also sencibly aprehend when he doth wel whatsoeuer you desire, & after that he can in plain groūd perfectly aduīce, [Page 199]then teach it him gently vpon the hanging knole of a hill, to bring him perfectly to stop, and runne sly­ding vpon his bu [...]tocks or hinder legges, which is moste praise-worthy, beautifull or gracefull for manage and turne, and therefore let him do it most perfectly before you teach him any other lesson: and when he can doe it perfectly vpon a soft trott, then vpon the swift trot & afterwards doe it vpon a soft gallop, and not before, but neuer vpon a swift gal­lop, vntill he be perfect both in turne and mannage, remembring the manner how I tolde you to make a Scholler write as faire and perfect as his maister: & be sure to obserue (if it may be) when you teach him to haue one by that can iudge of the good or euill dooing therof, the want wherof is a principall cause of most errors, because the Ryder cannot iudicially see whether it bee as it ought, that is iust and true, and with comelye grace: whereby manye faultes and errors are committed and continued, which by the helpe of a skilfull director, would bee easily amended in the beginning, for principio mederi multo melius quam fini, to amend a fault in the begin­ning, is far more easie then when it hath bene long accustomed: for if he aduance too high, and not iust and euen, and with a good grace, as hee ought, then may the fault be speedily found, and easily amended by immediate correcting him, with one, or with an euen stroke of your legges and the wand, with a sweete staied hand on the bridle, which with few tri­als, will amend what is amisse, and the end full per­fection.

And for the teaching of your horse to yerk, because [Page 200]thereby commeth much more hurt then good, I leaue to entreat thereof. And whereas some apoint many helpes for Horses that are harder, to turne on the one side, then on the other (although I confesse their general desire is more apt to the left hand then to the right) yet to a Horse of good nature and per­fect shape, little Arte will speedily helpe, and to teach those Horses that are otherwise shaped, is but to teach an Asse to run vnder a bridle, and may truly say with Horace, O infelix operam perdas, O vnfor­tunate skill to loose thy labor, and so soone shall a ryder bring a Iade to perfection, as an Asse to play on a harpe: for as a good Horse by the sound of a trumpet is stirred and mooued to battaile, so Suem abigat citius, quam animet ad pugnam, the Sowe is ther­by sooner chased away, then incouraged to fight, because nature hath not made her for that purpose.

It now remaineth to shew when to make the halfe turne and the double turne, the chambetta, the ma­nage, to passe a swift cariere, the coruet, & such like.

The next lesson he is to learne, after he is very per­fect in those I haue set down, is to make a true & iust halfe and double turne, which would be in this ma­ner. First when you haue gently trotted, stopped & aduanced your Horse the length of a short cariere, teach him gently and mildly to make the halfe turne (beginning alwaies on the right hād) that is to turn him with the helpe of your left leg, that his head may stand that way which before his taile stood, which is called a halfe turne, because he maketh but halfe a circle; but if in the turne he set his head that way it stood at first, that is a whole circle, and there­fore [Page 201]called a whole turne; but let him first doe the halfe turne perfect, and let that bee his first lesson, & learne it very perfect before you teach him the dou­ble turne, which must be done by helping him with your voice, and Calfe of your left legge, and not at first by any meanes to haue him spurred, if he can be otherwise brought vnto it, because to spur is a cor­rection, which may not bee done but in that instant when he hath committed an error, and not while he remaineth ignorant what to doe; by which meanes vndoubtedly being a sencible creature, he wil euer­more perceiue his errors and offences, wherby with little correction he wil easily amend any fault; & ne­uer driue him to dispaire, for hauing formerly attai­ned a perfectiō of a iust, euē & swift trot in the rings, (the verie true ground of all other lessons) he will easily turne on the right hand, setting his head that way his taile stood; the which being perfectly attai­ned, then close it vp with another halfe turne on the same hand by the prescribed helpes, setting his head and all his body in the same pathe it vvas at the first: then giue breath, and make much of him, and then make him doe as much on the left hand, and so to change from hand to hand, leauing alvvaies on the right; remembring that the tvvo first halfe turnes be done more leasurely, then the tvvo last halfe turnes, vvhich must be done more speedily, and then make him doe as much on the left hand, & so change from hand to hand, leauing alvvaies on the right. Thus by often making much of him vvhen he doth vvell, ta­king leasure, & giuing breath, you shal vndoubtedly, if he be of good nature & perfect shape, make him do [Page 202]swiftly, loftilie, and iustly, & with such grace as shall bring to the vnlearned beholder wonder, and to the skilful, admirable delight.

In the doing wherof, first obserue whether hee bring on the contrarie legge orderlie.

Secondly, that hee doe it after the first bound of aduancing, and after at the second or third bound.

Thirdly that you alwaies begin on the right hand and end on the right.

Fourthly, that after he is perfect in dooing of the whole turne, that you make him doe it swiftlye and roundly, without stop or stay of the halfe turne, and speedily in the closing of euerie whole turne, and in so narrow a roome as may be.

Fiftly, after he is perfect as aforesaide, giue him on each hand three whole turnes, wherof let the first be verie faire and softly, beginning at the right hand and ending at the right, in the dooing whereof you must alwaies helpe him with your tongue, your rod and your legge, whereby a continual vse before you teach him any other lesson (which would neuer bee done vnlesse he be perfect in the lesson hee is lear­ning) you shall in the end with discreete and tem­perate teaching, bring him to an admirable perfect­ion, keeping time and measure, that the one bee not swifter then the other except the last, which euer­more would be moste perfect and speedy.

Now to proceed to the managing of a horse, the true signification whereof is to bee rightlye vnder­stood, by such as endeuour Horsemanship, for igno­ratis terminis ig noratur & ars, to bee ignorant of the termes, is to be ignorant of the Arte, I take it to be a [Page 203]compound of these lattin wordes, manus and ago, for as the sterne of a ship dooth guide and gouerne the same by a sweete and gentle motion, so the hand (being the instrument of instruments) doth guide & gouerne the Horse to enerie action, and therefore may fitly be saide manu agere, or as the Italians pro­perly call Maneggiare, which is as much as skilfully to handle. And therfore when the rider shal exercise the Horse perfectly and gracefully in his place, trot stop, aduance, double or single turn, cariere, gallop, leape, caperiole, coruet, assaut, or whatsoeuer, the hand being the principall actor or primus moter, may truely and aptlye bee called mannage, which can­not truely be done without the generall knowledge and practise of the generall preceptes of the whole Arte. And as all the former exercises must bee taught and begunne to be exercised vpon a soft pace or trott, and not with a galloppe, euen so ought his managing to be.

And although many worthy Horsemen haue and doe onely restraine managing to gallopping, and to bring too and froe in one selfe pathe, by halfe rest, whole rest, or without rest, as when the rider mana­geth with halfe rest, causing the Horse at the end of euerie managing path, after hee hath stopped to ad­uance twice together, and at the second bound to turne and rest one bound: doth not the Rider ther­in exercise the trott, the stoppe, the aduance, and the turne which he formerly learned, and according to the same maner: or when he manageth with whole rest; and turne him at the third bound, and rest two boundes: Or manage him without rest, by turning [Page 204]him immediately vpon the stop, without anye tary­ance or rest at al, which only is most common with vs in England, and yet the manage with the halfe rest is moste necessarie for attaining of perfection; doth not the Ryder keepe and maintaine the Horse in one path, one place of stop, making him keep his ground, and therein carrie his head, necke, legs, and all his body iust, closing his turne roundlye, and in narrow roome, with true time and measure in euery action, as he hath bene formerly taught? how then can managing be properlye referred to one onelie action, when it is the perfect acting of euerie action and lesson he hath learned? wherin when your horse is moste ready and perfect, you may increase the of­ten dooing of his lessons at your will, and make alte­ration of his turnes and exercises, to finde out the perfection of his obedience, and when the same are artificially and perfectlye performed, then may the rider be truely saide a perfect manager, in all which alterations beware of furious passion, or of longer exercise, then you finde ful breath and delight in the horse; wherin if there be any omission, be sure there cannot be perfection of the thing desired: for as pa­tience is a braunch of magnanimitie, fortitude and greatnes of courage, so impatience is a weakenes & imbicilitie, of a base, vile, and contemptible nature, because choller & anger are enemies to al reason, & therfore saith Salomon he that is slow to anger is bet­ter then a mightie man, and he that ruleth his owne minde is better then hee that winneth a Cittie.

Now resteth it to shewe what are the principall things that are to be obserued in the true managing [Page 205]of a horse. First he is to be taught his manage with a soft trot & not with a gallop: my reason is, because therby he may at the first, sencibly apprehēd what he is to do, & how to do; the which when he knoweth, if he be of good nature & perfect shape, he will not only do it most willingly, but perform it most beau­tiful, graceful, & praise-worthy, which is by bowing of his houghes behinde, to turn round with the chā betta, which is by holding vp the forefoot on that side he shold turn, whiles he bringeth ouer the con­trarie leg, and setteth it not down vntil he haue clo­sed his turn, so as therby he shal carie both his fore­feete aboue the ground, to his great praise, and not trayling vpon the ground which is disgracefull.

When you teach your horse (which is after hee can stop wel, aduance before, and turne readily on both hands) then with a soft trot come to the place of stop about 20. paces in length, and make him ad­uance twice together, & at the second bound turne him on the right hand (for on that hand you must al­waies beginne) helping him so, that by bowing his houghs behinde, hee mooue his fore-part orderlye, then immediately in gentle maner trot him back to the place you came frō, & then & there after he hath made his stop, at the second bound of his aduancing turn him on the left hand, obseruing the like order vntil you haue gone 10. or 12. times, and at the last, cause him to aduance twice together, & thus much for the halfe rest, the which when hee can perfectly doe, you may teach him the whole rest, which is to aduance thrice, & at the third bound to turn, but be sure he be perfect in one lessō before you teach him another.

Now because the mannage without rest is moste propper for Iades, I omit to entreate therof, because I wold not admit Asinum sub freno, an Asse to weare a bridle: in all your managing let your body still ac­cōpany your horse in the action with a good grace, And vvhen he hath verie perfectlye learned his ma­nage, on a soft trot, then may you manage him vvith a gallop, giuing him on each hand one single turne: and a little before you turne him, holde your rodde on the contrarie side, vvhereby hee shall knovve on vvhat side to turne, and at the stop make him to ad­uance, either vvith voice, rod or spurre, alvvaies re­membring to giue breath, and euermore beginne vvith a gentle gallop, vntill he be verie perfect, and then time will bring him to a perfect and swift ma­nage: but I wish you so to vse & exercise your horse, as when hee is become a perfect Horse, you may long be maister of a perfect Horse, and not to spend or spoile him in a little time, in teaching of him needelesse toyes.

There might be much more spoken of helpes and corrections in managing, but because they are pro­per to Iades, or else to horses that are euill taught, I omit them: for if your horse be such as he ought, & your selfe temperate and discreete (otherwise I wish you not to professe your selfe a Horseman) you shall heerein finde sufficient.

After your Horse is perfect in such lessons as haue beene formerlye remembred, Cariere. and growen to his full and perfect strength, hauing learned al his lessons without swift gallop, and therein so ready as may be wished, then beginne with him with a short [Page 207]Cariere, in a faire sandie way, & with a liuely voice put him forward, forcing him to runne swiftlye; roundly, & smothely, with a steady head, and light­ly to stop him selfe on his buttocks; then turne him on the left hand, & softly pace him to the other end of the Cariere path, and there stop him and turne him againe on the right hand, and so leaue. And as this passing a cariere or swift gallop, must neuer bee done or taught, vntill hee be moste perfect in all the lessons, so must it be done verie sparingly, as once or twice in a month at the moste, so shall hee doe all things with admiration, and of long continuance.

CHAP. 54. Bound and Leape.

SOme haue a desire to haue their Hor­ses to bound, leape and yarke, and be­cause I know it would be most exact­ly done, which cannot bee but by the best spirited Horses, tending altoge­ther to their destruction, and a matter rather of de­light, then good vse, I leaue it to the disposition of the owner, wishing much rather to haue it omitted then practised, vnlesse there were more plentie of Horses that are meete for the same.

CHAP. 55. Of the Capriole and Ooruetti.

THe difference betwixt these twois, that the Capriole or Goates leap is alwaies in go­ing forward, and the Ctorueti still in one place: these are to be learned & taught by one order, but neither of them shall euer be well learned and exactly done, vnlesse your horse be very perfect to stoppe, which is by much bending the el­bough of the hinder houghes or heeles of the horse: now the Coruetti may in some sort resemble the dauncing of the Beare at a stake; for when he daun­ceth and praunceth vp and downe in one place, lif­ting his forefeete euen and iust together, seeming to turne if he might be suffred, that is properly the cor­uet, the which is neuer well done, vnlesse he bee iust and steadie of head, and body, bowing the hammes of his hinder legs, as if hee would sitt or slide on his buttocks. And the Capriole is in the same manner yet still going forward, seeming as though he wold yark behinde by aduancing his rump, but doth not: and as hee doth it forward, so will he doe it back­ward and side-long.

Now you are not to teach your horse either of these, vntil he be absolutely perfect in those former lessons before mentioned, because these lessons be­fore mentioned, because these lessous are only lear­ned by stopping & aduancing, the which if he haue once perfectly & long practised, then trot him for diuers daies vpon some hanging groūd: & vpon the [Page 209]knole of the hill on the same ground, make him to aduance twice together, the which he will very quickly do; then help him with the sound of your lips, to trot two paces farther, and there to stop and aduance twice together at the end of the two paces all the length of a hanging hill downeward, remem­bring euermore to cherish him when he doth well, and to giue breath, that all his doings may be done with delight, otherwise he will neuer do it worthy commendations; and by this vsing of him, you shall haue him vvithin a little time at euery time that he stoppeth & aduanceth, if you helpe him vvith your vvord in saying hup, and vvith your rod by striking him vpon the forepart of his shoulder; and in his vvell dooing thereof make much of him, he vvill go from stop to stop, aduancing both forefeet and hin­der loynes vvith time & measure so oft as you vvil, and in such iust, euen and staid manner, as vvilbe ve­ry delightfull ro beholde,

Novv because I vvould not haue you begin any lesson, but by the direction of a perfect schoolemai­ster, and in that course to continue, so must you en­deauour your selfe to knovv the reason of all your doings, and therefore be sure to be alwaies present at the excercises of the most skilfull Horsemen, and as Salomon saith, let your foote tread often vppon their threshold, read the best writers, and when you are able to iudge truly, and to make difference be­twixt good and bad, make asmuch practise as you may, and then neuer doubt to become a perfect Horseman, and be able to teach your Horse what­soeuer is fit for a Horse to doe, and a man to knowe.

And if I should now discribe the forme and fashi­on of all manner of bitts, I thinke it needelesse, for two respects: First for that Laurentius Rusius, in his booke written in latten, intituled with the Greeke word Hyppoateia, signifying the medicine or cures for Horses, as also Maister Blundeuile in his booke, & diuers others haue verie painefullye performed the same. When you shall knowe the perfect shape of good Horses, and the perfection of the true know­ledg of their nature, in this treatise most plainly de­scribed, you wil acknowledge the multitude & vari­ety of bits, not to be of any vse, & besides, hauing di­uers good Bit-makers within this kingdōe, who can exactly make as many perfect bits as art cā require, I haue thought fit heere to rest, and not to make vo­lumnes of needles matter.

Gentle Reader, thou seest how briefely I haue en­treated of the Art of riding, and yet I doubt not but sufficient to the vnderstanding Reader, And much better then teadiousnes to a young Scholler: But whosoeuer he be that desireth to be a perfect ri­der, and a good Horseman, must labour and studie to attaine the true knowledge of nature, because na­ture & Art are ioynt pattentees with practise, with­out which it is impossible to attaine to perfection in either, so must hee also abandon the studye and practise of apish toies, and violent helpes: I knowe, Non omnis fert omnia tellus. Euerie ground is not fitte for euerie seede, nor euerie man for euerie action, nor euerie Horse for the saddle: sand dooth not [Page 211]makegood cables, neither hempe good morter. Let me without offence putyou in minde of that famous and worthy ryder M. Fredericke Grison, and others whose workes of ryding (if without affection) they be read and digested, there will apeare therein a perfect picture of ignorance, in the true knowledge of naturall causes, or at least the re­iecting of the force thereof, which no doubt cau­sed him and them to publish so many needeles, for­ced, fond, and friuolous helpes for the perfection of riding, and to set foorth in number Fifty seuerall formes and fashions of bits, thereby to perswade, that art can perfect the imperfections of Nature, wherein there is not any truth, more manifest, then his and their imperfection in true iudge­ment.

And yet who seeth not, that the Byas of mens con­sent hath drawne the same to be applauded and practised of all horsemen, in all nations, and belee­ued as an Oracle from a deuine power. I do enter­taine, & reuerently esteeme the most of his grounds and rules of riding, and account not any to haue written better; but to set foorth so many & infinite helpes and corrections, onely proper and peculier for Iades, whome all art, knowledge, and wisedome of man shall neuer perfect with continuance, can­not but manifest a weake iudgement, and palpable ignorance of nature; and therefore all must acknow­ledge, that euery man by nature, is the obiect of change. A tree, the fruite whereof is neuer ripe but in the latter seasō, his nature cannot easily be discer­ned whiles it is greene: you must see the bud, the [Page 212]blossome and the fruite, before you can iudge, Ildi doda la sera, it is the euening must comend the day, saith the Italian, and so must you clense and grinde the corne before you can eatit, & then no doubt, shal our virtue grounded vpon rules of reason, pursue & effect that which our fate hath promised, Inueniet vi­am aut faciet, she will either finde a way, or make one: for God dooth nothing that concerneth vs without vs, were it not then a Star of merrit for euery man to giue his thoughts a stronger wing to flie, with petition to our most sacred Soueraigne for the pla­cing and planting within euery shire and county of his kingdomes, a sufficient vnderstanding ryder? But alas, who seeth not, that the best enterprise is blasted in the blossome, by a sinister and scandalous perswasion? and yet I am assured, Faciliu [...]est errare na­turam, quam dissimilem sui princeps possit rempublicam formare. And therefore I do wish the sentence of Bru­tus deeply planted in the hearts of al Brittanes, Vicit amor patria, [...]uida est peri culo [...]rtus:laudisque immensa cupido: that one and all did thirst in husbanding the honour of their coun­try and their owne vertue: and withall, ad their in­dustry to the inuocation of diuine assistance: so as great Brittaine may so flourish in Horsemanship, as they may say to all Horsemen of other nations, as Plato said to Dionisius, Quid enim communicabit, Olla ad­cacatum? wherein can their earthen pipkin benefit our brasen pot?

CHAP. 56. Short infallible rules to be obserued and practised by euerie Horseman.

1. DOe not gallop your horse be­fore he can stop well.

2 Doe not runne him before hee can stop in his gallop.

3 Doe not swiftly gallop him be­fore he can stop, aduance, and turne readily.

4. Doe not make him a runner before he bee sixe or seauen yeres olde.

5. In all his dooinges, from the beginning to the end, keepe his reine true, and his head steady, for it is the foundation of all.

6. In the morning earely when hee is emptie, and before he eate any thing, teach and exercise him e­uerie morning once, vntil hee bee perfect, and after, twice in a weeke is sufficient.

7. In all his teaching and exercise, doe it mode­rately and temperately, and leaue him alwaies after the well dooing of his lessons, both in breath, and with a good mouth.

8. After he is perfect in his lessons, exercise him not alwaies in one place, neither keepe your selfe to a iust and certain instance of time, viz. neither more nor lesse, neither longer or shorter.

9. In managing your horse, doe not gallopp him swiftlye at the first, but with a soft pace, and seldome with a gallop.

10 In correcting your horse for an error, correct him euen in the instance of the time that he erreth, and not otherwise, and when he doth wel be sure to make much of him.

11 In the time when your Horse is fit to run, that is, when he is of full strength, and in perfect breath and emptie, obserue in him fiue things: viz. that heThis must be after, & when he is perfect in all his lessons, and in grea­test perfection of strength, for before that time it doth, 1. Distemper hand and mouth.2. Diminisheth strēgth.3. Maketh him ouer­reach.4. Faint-hearted & yeel­ding.5. Performeth all things disgracefully.

• 1 Gather roundly.
• 2. Go smoothly.
• 3. Beare his head steadily.
• 4. Runne swiftly, and
• 5. Stop lightly.

12. In all his teaching and exercise:

• 1. Begin softly.
• 2. Goe forward more spee­dily.
• 3. Performe the last coura­giously.

13 Lastlye exercise and performe all your actions with an vpright body, your stirrops short, and keepe your legs and your seate gracefully, and comely, and do all without feare or perturbation of minde.

CHAP. 57. The causes of sicknesse and death: in the true knowledge whereof consisteth their preseruation.

WHen I had learned the double conside­ration of nature. Frst in the incorrupt state and puritie of creation. Second­lye in the degenerated condition of corruption, I could not finde the least iarre and disagreement in the primarie nature of Horses, though compounded of the contrarie na­tures of the foure elements: but as an vndefiled na­ture tempered by proportion, without the least dis­cord, but after mans pride had broached the deuils suggestion by the taste of the forbidden fruite, then appeared the Rebellion of the elements in all crea­tures, since which time there is not found a diffe­rence of any other cause of their diseases. But to leaue the testimonies of long experience, let vs pro­ceede to shew the truth heere of more particular, & to know that the first cause of naturall diseases and death of all horses is contrarietie of the elements in the compound: for all corruption presupposing al­teration, which is onely betwixt, and by meanes of contrarie qualities, contrarietie of the inherent qualities (beeing the onelye cause of alterati­on) is also cause of the compound corruption: for our experience telleth vs, that those things wherein are left disagreement, are of longest continuance, & [Page 216]so the inherence of contrariety, one speciall cause of the horses dissolution; the reason is, for that their bodies consisting of the euer- [...]arring elements, Fire Ayre, Water and earth, haue alwaies an vnresistable home-bred cause of dissolution.

For by consent of Philosophers, and reason it selfe setteth downe (as an vndeniable truth) that safetie from diseases, Wherein health of hor­ses consisteth. & the life of horses, & the chief main­tenance therof (consisteth principally) if not wholy, in the due and iust proportionall temperature of the foure first qualities, heate, colde, drynesse & moi­sture, and til their disproportion there is no danger of sicknesse or anye growing death: What is sicke­nes. for sicknesse cannot bee defined other then the disproportion of those foure qualities, whereby the part whereunto the same is incident, is disabled to performe his na­turall function, so as the disproportion of the foure first qualities, & their swaruing from their iust tem­perature, is the cause of the horses dissolution, wher­by in euerie horse we see a declining from his in­grafted Nature, The cause of their dissoluti­on. which increaseth according as his age altereth, and therefore his dissolution can­not bee auoided: but Nature, like a kinde mother is neuer wanting to the necessities of her of­spring, and therefore hath bestowed on the horse a facultie to restore that disabled part of sickenesse through the assimulation of nourishment applyed thereunto, least there should follow a suddaine de­struction, against which I doubt may bee propoun­ded, viz.

Queſtion: If there may bee restitution of the part disabled whence commeth death the end of Nature?

Anſwere: To which I answere, that the impurity of that supply, for the restoring of that outward part, by degrees tainteth that perfection of the restitution, and by a continuall mixture, at length corrupteth it, for as in the mingling of water with wine, the greater the infusion of water is, the more is the infeebling of the wines force, till at length it be cleane opressed and extinguished; so is it in the case of restitution of health, wherein though at first the naturall meanes retaine their puritie and naturall qualitie, yet at length by the continuall mixture, there followeth a totall and perfect corruption of the integritie, for if by the restoratiue facultie, there could be a perfecte supply of that which was lost, the Horse might for any impediment in nature bee preserued in perpetuall health,The reaſone for as the mediocrity and puritie of oyle, dooth preserue the light of the Lampe, so too much thereof, or a little water being contrary in qualitie, dooth quench the same; euen so, if the faculty that doth restore the disabled parte of the Horse, be either too much or any way impure, it dooth little auaile to per­fect restitution to the disabled part: and although the same be pure, yet shall it taint the perfecti­on of restitution, and in the end by a continu­all languishing, be cleane consumed by a home­bred enemie, where by little and little it spoyleth him of perfection of restitution. A­gainst which, it may be also replied, that not-withstanding the imperfection of restituti­on, yet there maie be an endurance, and [Page 218]perpetuall preseruation of the species or kinde of horse, because they haue a facultie of procreation, to propagate their kinde, that though euerie horse of necessitie must dye, yet may he leaue another of his owne kinde, of as great perfection behinde him, wherby there might be a continnall and euerlasting succession.

Anſwere. To this I answere, that if a corruption be graunted in the particuler, it followeth (a rule in reason) to graunt it in the species, for the species being a thing existent onely in imagination, not hauing any euill being, but as it is conceiued of in the particulers, the like must be concluded of in the general: but to shew it by a demonstratiue proceeding, let vs obserue the like course of the decay in the species, as there is in the indiuidium: for as the facultie of restitution is to the particular, so is generation to the species, in case of preseruatiō; for as the restitution of the part disabled, the supply is not so pure as that which was lost; Note. The reason why Horses are not of so long continu­ance as in for­mer time. the particulers decaying by little & little, are at last cōsumed, euen so by procreatiō the maintenāce of the species, and the puritie of the part disabled, being by degrees and by time diminished, at length there followeth euen of necessitie an absolute cor­ruption; by reason that the particulars, whose funct­ion the generation is, being by continuance of out­ward nourishment corrupted; the seede, the matter, and meanes of propagation cannot but be tainted with like corruption: and this is a chiefe reason why Horses are not so health-full, but of lesse continu­ance then they were in the first creation, like as the diuision of any thing finite, that by often detraction, [Page 219]though but of little quantitie, the whole becom­meth at length vncapable of diuision, so by conti­nual wasting of the kinde, there followeth at length euen of necessitie a totall and inuincible extingui­shing: from whence I conclude, that it is vnpos­sible for horses to be of such perfection of excellen­cie, as in their primarie creation, or to last and con­tinue without diseases and death, hauing inward­ly in their nature, sufficient and vnpreuentable cau­ses of dissolution.

Hauing thus euidenced the truth of these two positions of diseases and death, and that there is a time of endurance vnto euerie particular horse, and vnto the whole kinde; and learning by experience (the naturall and true mother of knowledge) that a­mong the particulars there are differences in nature of diseases and death, both in length and shortnesse of time in continuance, it remaineth that I set down the causes of this naturall difference, which cannot be done, other then by propounding the receiued causes of the length and shortnesse thereof, accor­ding as they are more or lesse in the Horse: and so iudge of the effects.

CHAP. 58. The causes of long life.

IT is euident, that all Horses that were neerest vnto the beginning, were clearer & lesse tainted with corruption, & there­fore in this last age of the world, they are in a more extreame degree of corruption, by rea­son of that frequent alteratiō in the elements, when euery mutation addeth something to the begun impuritie.

Now touching the causes of long life, I wil brief­ly discotomise them, because they are either

• Inward, or
• Outward.

The inward causes are ei­ther naturally engrafted or obtained by

• Arte.
• Industrie, and
• Wisdome.

Now that which is naturall, is of necessity in the good temperature & proportionate mixture of the foure first qualities in the body. For heate that is vn­proportionate to the quantitie of moisture, rather hastneth death, by the too speedy consumption of his moiste foode, then any way prolongeth life.

So also too great cold that ouerswayeth the quan­titie and vertue of naturall heate, shortneth life: and so likewise it may be said of the excesse of the other two contrarie qualities, moisture and drought: for [Page 221]too much moisture oppresseth the naturall heate; as wee see greene wood quench an vnequall quanti­tie of fire: so that the good and iust proportion of temperate mixture are true causes of long life, for all mixture of superstuities is against these three:

• 1. Nature.
• 2. Enemie to good digestion.
• 3. And found Nutrition.

The first cause Temperature is a firme and standing habit of the body.Now if it be demaunded what this iust proporti­on is, and when they are truelye tempered, so as may be best auaileable for long life? the answere is, that heate and moisture are then well proportioned when neither the moisture with his too greate quantitie, deuoureth the heate, nor the ouer­much heat too suddenly consumeth and eateth vp the moisture: yet must the heate haue a kinde of do­minion ouer the moisture, else it cannot bee able to nourish the body. For in nutrition, the thing nou­rished by reason of the instrument ordained for that purpose, must actually work vpon that wherby it is nourished: & because that euerie agent must be pro­portioned vnto the patient in the equalitie of ex­cesse, therefore must the heate, being the vegetatiue soules actiue instrument of Nutrition, haue domini­on ouer the moisture, the subiect matter of that fa­cultie.

The second causeThe second cause of long life, is the mode­ration of their naturall appetite of eating, be­ing auaileable, either in excesse to kill, or in moderation to saue, by which moderation, the horse shal daily repaire the decay of his humidity by [Page 222]supply of moderate nourishment, and neuer ouer­whelme his heat with aboundance of moisture, nei­ther mingle his radicall moisture with too much su­perfluous impurities; for the extreames are dange­rous, both excesse & defect: Note: to much eating, hinde­ring good digestion, and ingendering crudities; & to little eating, giuing occasion of the heats too sud­daine preuailing ouer the moisture, both which are friends to sicknes and death.

The third cause:The third cause of long life is moderate labour, a thing very auaileable to digestion, dispersing the nourishment into the parts of the bodie; and as a bellowes to kindle and reuiue their natural heat: for ouer [...] [...]h rest, by excesse of humors, cooleth the bodie. And as the elementish fires which wee vse, vnlesse it be sometime blowne and fed as it were with aire (which in naturall qualitie is moist) is ex­tinguished, so their naturall heat without moderate labour and excercise, is after a sort cast a sleepe, or rather benummed: whence proceedeth that other daughter of dulnes (collection of excrementall su­perfluities) their heat not being able to digest their receiued nourishment; and thence commeth their many corruptions, and sincke of vnnatural humors, as we see standing water soonest putrifie and gather filth. And therefore beware to trauell Horses be­fore they haue thoroughly digested their meat, for thereby they clog their stomackes, and make them vnfit after concoction, and withall fill their bodies with ouer rawe humors, which by excercise are di­spersed thorough the veines, into all the partes of the bodie. And therefore neither too much labour, [Page 223]neither to vehement nor yet continual, for these by consuming of the spirits, are like hurtfull; neither too little, for continued rest and idlenes engender putrifaction.

The fourth cause of long life.The fourth cause of long life, is moderate vse of sleepe and waking, for they are the maintenance of life in their mediocritie, and both hurtful if beyond measure; for the immoderat watching wasteth the spirits, and consumeth the vitall iuice; causes lean­nes, hindereth the operation of the sence, and dry­eth the marrowe & the braine, and the moderate sleepe hindereth health, dulleth the naturall heate, and consumeth the moisture: and sleepe is but a va­pour ascending from the stomacke to the braine, which benummeth the braine for a time, and kee­peth the bodie sencelesse, and the sooner and more prouoked by full feeding.

The fift cause;The fift cause of long life, is to keep a Horse from excessiue spending himselfe vppon Mares, for it is deaths best harbinger, for it wasteth the spirits, wea­keneth the stomacke, and dryeth vp the braine and marrowe, and therefore the reason why a Mule, be­ing a mixt creature, begotten betwixt a Horse and an Asse, is longer liued then either of them, is for that his iusting in that kinde is but once onely in the whole course of his life.

The sixt cause of long life, The sixt cause is moderate riding in lōg iournies, for by the immoderat emission of heat into the outward parts of the body, it kindleth the fire of cholor, which being vehement, is an horror vnto nature, and inflameth the blood, so as if the Horse at that instance be not very empty and cleane, [Page 224]in the body, the blood and humors being mingled together, are through the violence thereof, disper­sed into all the parts of the bodie, and then a suden colde taken vppon it (which seldome escapeth) the same dooth presently putrifie the blood, and congealeth it to the in [...]uitable danger of the Horse. The seuenth cause:

The seauenth cause is wholesomnesse of ayre, and soile, cleane keeping, the stable sweete; cleane, olde and dry meat: when he is in the stable, dressing him in some shed out of the stable, that the filth of his bodie do not come neere his manger, neither stin­king litter lying vnder the manger, continually fu­ming vp to his head, neither euill sauour neere to the stable.

The eight cause is, The eight cause. not to trauell or labour a Horse that is taken from grasse, vntill he be purged and clensed from his superfluous humors, which he hath gathered at grasse in the time of his rest and full feeding, the which being many, by his trauell and heat, will by the veynes be dispersed into all the parts of the bodie, which afterwards cannot be taken away without great perrill; and when hee is made cleane, he will draw his breath long, and be cleane and empty betwixt his Iawes, without any impostumation, The ninth cause: knob, or kirnell.

The ninth cause is, to keepe the Horse whiles hee feedeth in the stable, from all rawe and greene meat, the mother of many vnnatural humors, and the nurse of many inward diseases, proceeding from the aboundance thereof, and the corruption of blood.

The tenth cause is, The tenth cause. to keeep the Horse from eating and drinking, whiles he is hotte, for that weakeneth the hearte and spirits, hindereth appetite, and maketh digestion vnperfect, and often times pre­sent death.

The cleuenth cause is neither to wash nor walke him after trauell and labour, The eleuenth cause: but to set him in the stable, warme clothed and painefully rubbed and dryed, and if necessitie inforce, to wash his legs with beere and butter, or dish water, or beefe broth made warme, and clense, cleere, and rub them thoroughly, both cleane and dry, and litter him with plenty of sweete strawe, and if he haue not drunke in the time of his trauell, then when he is colde, and has well eaten, giue him warme water to drinke vvith a little Malte, Meale, or Bran.

The twelfth & last cause of long life, is, The twelfth cause. to put often times into his prouender, the powder of Anniseeds, Licorish, Fenegricke, Turmericke, Bay-berries, the powder of brimstone, white Lillie rootes small chopped, Ennula campana rootes small chopped, or the povvder thereof, Rootes of Polipodium of the oke small chopped, or the povvder thereof, Sa­uen small cut, Marshe vvoorme-vvood small cut, or the povvder thereof, Garlicke small chopped, Tobacco smal chopped, Hearb of grace smal chop­ped, Isop, Horehovvnd, and Coltefoote smal chop­ped, or some of them, vvhich vvill keepe him sound and perfect from all inward diseases.

Thus hauing briefely set dovvne the invvard causes of long life, wherout you may deduce the cōtraries, [Page 226]sicknes and short life, for such is the disposition of Horses, and of all creatures bodies, that by the con­tinuall combat and enterchangeable dominion of the euer-iarring elements, they often change their primary constitution, so that if there were no cause of transmutation, which notwithstanding are many and manifolde, yet hauing that home-bred cause within them, that would in time alter their tempe­rature; for we see, the same bodies in youth and old age, diuersly tempered euen by the variation of their originall constitution, and the infallible cause of their diuersitie and difference, although many times not the onely cause, but that onely which pro­ceedeth from the inward ingendred cause of destru­ction, thorough some accidental, immoderate con­tingent or vnnaturall action, which sometime hap­peneth in their full strength and perfection, for that which is onely naturall, neuer passeth from one ex­treame vnto another, Aristotle in his tripertite diuision of a­ges. but by the meane.

And although experience (the naturall and true mother of knowledge) & time, the mother of truth, who euermore bringeth her owne daughter to per­fection, approoue the contrariety of the inherent qualities of heat, colde, drynes, & moisture, the one­ly causes of invvard diseases, and the continuance, and vnperceiueable lingering thereof, the princi­ple cause of their vntimely death; knovving a suc­cessiue impairing alvvaies, importeth a small disso­lution, so that the preuention of the extremity, and suppressing the dominion of the contraries, there is not so much as an apparance of their perpetuitie: yet vvho is he that seeth his Horses enioy but a [Page 227]small perfection of health, doth not possesse himselfe with the forgetfulnesse thereof, and of their morta­litie? whence you see how farre they wrong their sences, and themselues from iudgement, standing stil to beholde the execution of doubtfull issues, neuer remembring that as from the firmest friendshippes, doe spring the greatest enmities, so from soundest health the deadliest maladies. Therefore qui causam rei praestat, is remprestare videtur, he that preuenteth the cause of sicknesse, preuenteth the sicknes it selfe: & it is not better, occurrere malo quam postea remedium querere, to preuent the disease, then afterwardes to seeke remedie for the disease, but how a perfect order and stability should consist in these disioyned subiectes, vnlesse the origionall causes there of had bene formerly expressed, (without begetting error the childe of confusion) extendeth beyond the limits of vnderstanding. It therefore re­maineth how to cure those horses that haue inward diseases, and afterwards the outward diseases.

CHAP. 59. The meanes to helpe and preserue horses from the inward diseases.

THere are foure waies or meanes to preserue and keepe horses from their inward diseases, viz. purging, sweating letting blood, and vomiting, whereof in order.

First of purging, which may bee saide two-folde, outward & inward: the time of purging or clensing, the outward parts must be presently after the taking of the horse from Grasse into the stable, which euer wold be at or before the feast of Saint Bartholmew, by reason of the great moistnes and colde that then vsually happen, & to be taken vp very gently for fear of heating of him, least his humors thereby should be dissolued by the veines and Arteries into euerie part of the body: and that euery horse at such times are ful of humors, appeareth in the best spirited hor­ses, if you then perceiue their actions, how lubburish and heauily they performe the same at such times.

The manner of purging or clearing the outward parts of the bodye, would bee in this manner: First, sheare his eares, and a little place behinde for the head-stall to lye flat and euen. Then take Sope, and annoint his head and iawes therewith, and then take warm Buck-lie, and wash and clense the same in eue­rie part so cleane as is possible from all sweate and [Page 229]scurffe, and presently rubbe his head and euerie part with cleane linnen cloathes, and after with wollen cloathes verie drie: then put on his head a double whood or beggin made of purpose to keepe all the parts of his head verie warme: Then if it bee a faire warme day, in the Sunne, in like maner, wash, purge and clense all his body and euerie part thereof, espe­cially his maine, taile and cods: then rubbe him and cleare him verie dry, and cloath him, and stuffe him verie warme, and giue him plenty of sweet & cleane litter: Then annoint all his hoofes, (hauing first wa­shed them and made them dry with this oyntment: Take of Turpentine and sheepe suet, halfe a pound of vnwrought waxe: a quarterne of Allom; of Sallet Oyle, halfe a pinte: of Tarre a quarter of a pinte: boile themll together vntill they be well incorporated, & keepe it in a pot, and euerie day (his feet being clean) annoint his hoofes therewith: neither let him goe at grasse (if he be a horse of worth) aboue one moneth in the yeare, at any time after.

The manner of purging or clensing the inner parts of the horse, A moste ex­cellent Glister to be giuen within a day or two after the horse is ta­ken frō grasse. (must euermore be done before hee be laboured or exercised) in this manner. viz. First, an­noint your hand with sope, and thrust your arme in­to his fundament, and rake out al the dung; and then giue him this glister: take of Malloes, three handfuls: Marsh mallowe rootes, two handfuls bruised: Violet leaues, two handfuls: Flaxe-seed, three spoonefuls: and a good quantitie of the white Lilly rootes: and boyle them together in a Gallon of faire water to a Wine quart: straine it: and put thereto of Seene one Ounce, let it steepe in the lycour [Page 213]three hovvers ouer embers, then put to it of Sallet­oyle, halfe a pinte, and being blood vvarme, giue it him in a glister, and make him keepe it so long as you may, and this vvould be done three or foure daies before thefull or nevv moone.

The next day after he hath taken the saide glist­er, giue him early in the morning this drinke, viz.

Take a quart of the strongest and best alevvorte, a quarter of a pinte of honny, and six penny vvorth of the best treacle, vvell mixed and brued together, and keepe him meatles after, six houres, and let him not drinke any colde vvater but a mashe, and eate svveet vvheat stravve, and olde cleane svveet oates.

The next day after he hath taken the saide drinke, giue him earely in the morning this drinke, viz.

Take a pinte of the best vvhite vvine, vvherein hath bene steeped all night an ounce of Sence, straine it and put into it one ounce of the best A­loes beaten into povvder, halfe an ounce of Aga­ricke, and a spoonefull of the povvder of Licorish, vvarme them a little on the fire, and brevve them vvell together, and then giue it the Horse, ride him gently or vvalke him a quarter of an houre, set him into the stable very warme clothed, let no aire come to him, and let him neither eate nor drinke 6 houres after, and at night giue him a warme mashe, svveete vvheat stravve, olde cleane svveete oates, and plenty of litter.

The next day (if the signe be good) let him blood, if the blood be very bad, take from him tvvo quarts, if indifferent, but one quart; keepe him verie vvarme and with vvarme mashes, in vvhich mashes [Page 231](if possibly he will take it) put the powder of brim­stone, Fenegreke, Turmericke, and of Enula campa­na, of each one spoonefull.

The next day after (if the weather be faire) ride him very gently a mile, and so backe againe, and at his comming home, presentlye haue him into the Sta­ble, and cloath him so warme, as hee may sweate, but not violentlye: and so faile not to ride him when hee is fasting euerie day moderately, a mile or two, vppon some pleasant ground, and euerie day to sweate a little for sixe daies, and keepe him warme, and with warme water, and the Stable close when he is in it.

Hetherto you haue heard how to cleare him outwardly by washing, and inwardlye by purging, bleeding, and sweating: and for vomiting take a great roote or two of Polipodium of the Oake cleane scraped, and laide all night in steepe in Spike oyle, tyed fast to his bitte, and euerie morning fast­ing let him bee ridden vvith it, and if hee haue anye colde or filth in his stomacke, it will force him to cough, and reare it from the stomacke; and by this means you shal be sure to clense & refine his blood, to exhaust his watrish humors, and to make his in­ner parts cleane, so as with temperate order before prescribed, you shall bee sure to keepe him long, a sound, perfect and seruiceable Horse.

Now because the Liuer being the fountaine of blood, & the Lungs the bellowes of breath, & yet not vnlike a standing poole, which continually ga­thereth corruption, the which being corrupted or stopped, speedilye destroyeth the subiect; I will set [Page 232]downe excellent meanes to preserue both the one & other in perfefection, otherwise hee wilbe but as a silthye vessell which is seldome clensed.

CHAP. 60. To refine the blood, and preserue the Liuer from infection.

TAke a root of polipodium of the Oake made verie cleane, cut it into small peeces, a handfull of Liuer-wort, cut in small peeces, & sixe pence weight of Ruebarbe cut small, and euerie morning for three or foure daies in a month, giue it the horse in his prouander, verie earelye, two or three houres before his watering, and once in halfe a yeare make triall of his blood how pure it is, & accordinglye minister helpe if need be.

CHAP. 61. A most soueraigne drinke to preserue his lungs cleere, the most excelling knowledge in Horseman or Farrier.

TAke the Tartar of white wine lees, which is alwaies at the Apothecaries (which is no other then the lees of white wine dried to powder) one ounce and a halfe, of I sop two handfuls, of Coltesfoote two handfulls, of Horehownd one handful, of Ennula campana roots one ounce, foure Licorish stickes brused, Anniseed one ounce, red Sugar candy foure ounces, boyle them all in a quarte of ale, and when it is halfe boy­led, put to it of Isop water twice distilled one pin̄te, of Coltes foote water twice distilled one pinte, boile them againe, then straine it and giue it him verie warme to drinke.

The charge heere of is small, you may make what quantity you will, by doubling or trebling the sim­ples. If you haue a delicate Horse and haue cleared him & dieted him, as I haue prescribed, then euery morning that you will hunt him, or excercise him, giue him fasting a pinte heereof, and so continue him vntil you finde him cleane, & in perfect breath, and then the moderate excercise of him wilbe suffi­cient to keepe him cleane.

The reasons why the Horse should be thus clen­sed and cleared after long rest and full feeding, are, First the pores of all the skinne being opened, the Horse will easily sweate, and therebye cleere the body from the vnperfect moisture.

Secondly, it maketh the whole body to receiue Ayre, (which of it selfe is naturally moiste) to helpe to coole the burning & violent heate of the heart, and of the other members, when the Horse doth la­bour, as appeareth by the office of the lungs, which as a paire of bellowes dooth continuallye drawe fresh Ayre vnto the same, filling all the emptie cor­ners with moistnes, and therefore the Lungs, most principally ought to be kept cleere, to draw breath to coole the same, and that is the reason why Hor­ses are broken winded, because the lungs are vnper­fect to doe their office: and likewise the reason why broken winded Horses when they are kept at drie meate, doe drawe their breath much more shorter, and with more violence then when they goe to Grasse, because grasse is naturally colde and moist, and thereby his heart being more colde, the Horse draweth his breath more at length: but if the Horse be cleare, emptie, and sound in the body, then doth he alwaies draw his breath alike, and so doth euery other creature also, from which ground of reason, three things may be collected & obserued. The first is, that the horse head bee kept verie cleare from all obstructions, (the which euermore commeth by colde) which greatlie hindereth drawing breath in­to the body: Secondly that the skinne of the Horse be kept cleare and open to draw breath, at the pores [Page 235]of the skinne into the body. Thirdlye, that Canales Pulmonis, the pipes or Canes of the Lungs, bee not opilated or stopped throgh viscous fleame or tough humors like bird-lime, or with impostumation in the pipes, and so become putrified: euerie of which with continuance thereof, will destroy the horse: & there is no truth more apparant then that the causes of all these inward corruptions and infirmities pro­ceede onely from great rest, full and foule feeding, and the distemperatures of heate and colde; & that by the taking away of these causes, such effects can­not follow: so as you see the preseruation of health and long life, is the moderate and temperate labour and exercise, the spare, cleane and sweete foode, as hath bene formerly expressed.

CHAP. 62. Certaine rules to be obserued by such as shall either trauell or exercise their horses.

FIrst, when your Horse is lustie and pleasant, and cleere in bodye, then is he fit for labour or any exercise, but if he be sad, heauie or deiected in coun­tenance, although hee bee cleare, doe not labour him vntill you haue found the cause, and remooued it.

2. Secondly let not your horse eate any thing by two or three houres before you trauell him, & then [Page 236]not much, vntill you come to your lodging; for bay­ting at noone is naught and hurtfull, except you rest 4. or 5. houres, so as he may not trauell vpon a full stomacke, and let his baite be small, & be sure he ne­uer weare a rusty Bit or Snaftle for feare of the canker.

Thirdly, let your trauel be moderate (except necessi­ty (which cannot be limitted) enforce you, & come to your lodging long before night, so as your horse may neither eat nor drinke vntill he be very cold: & if it be in winter time, be sure to cloath & couer his head & breast very warme after trauel; & euery mor­ning either squirt a little vinegar into his nosthrils, or els rub them with oile de bay, with a cloth noin­ted therewith fastned to the end of a sticke, & thrust vp and downe his nosthrils, to purge his head.

Fourthly, neither wash nor walke your Horse (e­specially in the winter time) for when he is very hot, to walke him in the colde aire, reason telleth you, that it is not sufficient to keep him in moderat heat: and to wash him, it is a preparatiue to a speedy end, or the least that may befal, to bring him to some dan­gerous disease: And to confirme the truth heerein, I affirme, and will by good and propable demonstra­tion of truth make it manifest, that there is no dan­gerous disease incident to Horse, but the same pro­ceedeth from the cause of heat or colde, and none more dangerous then this: neither can any Horse­man or vnderstanding Farrier truely instance vnto me any particular disease to the contrary; and to all young Horses the common messengers of death.

Fiftly, when you trauell, alight often from your Horse (if cause of necessitie enforce not the contra­ry) and lead your Horse to some place of grasse, stravve, or brakes, and there staye, and vvhist­le, vntill your Horse pisse, vvhich by little cu­stome he will vsually doe, for the long retenti­on of his vvater, is many waies hurtfull, and (ex­cept it be in such places) he is most vnvvilling to pisse, because the sprinckling thereof vvill scalde his legges.

Sixtly, if your Horse be very hot, let him not drinke colde vvater, but rather at some house and village giue him a quart of good beere, or a pinte of vvine, and if you doe vvater him by the vvay, let him not drinke vntill he haue vvashed his mouth, vvhich is done vvhen he thrusteth his head into the vvater, presently pull vp his head, vvhich vvill clense his mouth, and let him drinke but little, although there be necessitie, and let it be fiue or sixe miles from your Inne, and then ride him so as he may still keepe the same heate he vvas in vvhen he did drinke, and vvhen you come to your Inne, dresse him cleane from svveat, and keepe him verye vvarme, and let him not eat vntill he be colde, and let it be gi­giuen him by little and little at a time, and after drinke if neede be.

Seauenthly, after his laboure, if you can haue a conuenient place, let him vvallovve himselfe, for it dooth exceedingly comfort him, and giueth delight to his whole bo­die.

Eightly, if he happen to fall sicke in your trauell (which commeth commonly either by eating or drinking too much at one time) by any accidental meanes, the which being suden, may be doubtfull truly to iudge. Giue him a pinte of sacke or malme­sey, a quarter of a pint of Aqua vite, with six penny worth of the best treacle, and a quarter of a pinte of the best sallet oyle, brew them well together, & giue him a draught, and then take a new laid egge, & pul out his tongue, bruse the shel, and thrust it into his throate, and then let goe his tougue: then giue him another draught, and after that another egge in the same manner; and after all the saide drinke, then let him blood in the pallate of his mouth, and then rub it well with salte, and put on his bridle, stop him, and clothe him, head and body with clothes, and giue him litter enough and feare him not, but if you can­not haue sacke, or wine, nor treakle, giue him halfe a pinte of Aqua-vite, or any other comforta­ble vvater, and tvvo egges in forme aforesaide, to comfort his hearte, which is the Chariot of his life.

Ninthly, at the night giue him a good comfor­table mashe if he will eate it, and cleane svveet pro­uender, such as he vvill eate; bath all his legges with butter & beere, clense his feete and stop them with cow-dūg, & after he is sufficiētly fed, giue him plen­ty of sweet litter, and then suffer no man to come into the stable, and shut all the vvindovves & dores, so as it may be very darke, and early in the morning let him be thorougly dressed & rubbed, and before you ryde, tvvo houres, let him eate halfe a pecke of [Page 239]old sweete Oates, with a pinte of the strongest Ale, Beere, Malmesey or White-wine, for his breakefast.

Tenthly, if that your Horse be young that you do trauell vpon, (which is the ouerthrowe of al fine mettell Horses, when you come home and may rest, then let him blood, and if you finde his blood hot and darke coloured, spare not to let him bleed vntill there come perfect blood, after for three or foure daies keepe him with good mashes, and giue the purging drinke before mentioned, and with a pinte of white wine, one ounce of Alloes dissolued into powder, halfe an ounce of Agaricke, and a spoone­full of the powder of licorish, made blood-warme, and well brewed together, and let him not drinke colde water for foure or fiue dayes after, and in his prouender put the powder of Brimstone, Ennula campana, and Polipodium of the oake, well min­gled together, a good spoonefull at a time, two or three howers before his water, and he will remaine a most healthfull and sound Horse, if he be thus vsed vntill he be eight yeares olde, for then the chiefe danger is past.

CHAP. 63. The order of curing Horses that are diseased, the causes thereof, the signes thereof, and the cure toereof.

I Haue before shewed that the distempe­rature of the Elements, and of their qua­lities of heat, colde, drynesse, and moy­sture is sicknesse, and their continuance their death in all creatures, the which I pray you obserue as the onely causes thereof: and that all cures consist in the contraies, and that the safety and preseruation of the creature: is in reducing them to a true, iust, and equall proportion of their tempera­ture, the which being well imprinted in your vnder­standing, will remaine an euerliuing schoolemaster to direct you, to rhe perfection of al Horsemanship.

CHAP. 64. Ague or Feuer in Horses.

THe learned doe holde three generall kindes: First, when the vitall spirits are inflamed, wherein heate is prdominat more then Nature requireth. Second­ly, when the humors are distempered by heat. Thirdly, when the firme parts of the bodie are continually hot, so that the ague cōmeth either by excessiue heting the horse, & therupon a sudden cold, or by fulnes of bad bumors, which principally grovve from full, foule, or rawe feeding, and great [Page 241]rest, and for that reason it taketh the horse either hot ot colde: now he cannot be cured but by the contra­ry, viz. by spare feeding, cleane feeding, dry feeding, & moderate labour: & to this end, the cure must bee ministred. But to be curious in the destinctiō (hauing sufficiently expressed the same in this tractat) I pur­pose not: it is sufficient to knowe that learning and practise acknowledge a horse to haue an ague as wel as man, and to keepe due houres to make him shake and tremble as a man, & to knowe the same also, ap­pereth by the inflamations from the heat of the sto­macke, which scaldeth and maketh the tongue rawe.

CHAP. 65. The Cure.

FIrst, when you perceiue his deicted countenance, & that hee beginneth to tremble (or before,) enforce him into a heat, & giue him this purging drink: Take a quart of white wine, put there­vnto one ounce of Alloes small beaten: of Agarick, halfe an ounce: of licorish & Anniseeds half a dram: & a little hony: warme it a little on the fire, and then ride him vntil he be hot, & put him into a sweat: then haue him into the stable, let him stand on the bitt, cloath him, & stop his breast, head and bodye verie warme, so as hee may moderatelye sweate: let him haue plentie of litter, and so let him stand fiue or sixe houres: then vncloathe him, and rubbe him perfectlye drye, and then cloathe him againe, but not so hot, and when hee is colde vnbit him, [Page 242]and wash his tongue with Allome-water, vinegar, and sage, and giue him sweete wheat straw to eate, and a gallon of olde, svveete and cleane oates; and at night giue him a good mashe, and the next day after let him blood a quart, and if his blood be very thick, black, darke oryellowe, let him bleed two quarts, & afterwards keepe him warme from the Ayre for 4. or 5. dayes, and giue him vvarme vvater to drinke, and a little sallet oyle in it, if he vvill drinke it.

CHAP. 66. For the same.

LEt him blood in the necke and tem­ple veines, and before or vvhen he be­ginneth to tremble, take three nevv laide egges, and six or seauen spoone­full of Aqua-vite, breake them & beat them together; giue it him and ride him vntill he svveate, then clothe him very vvarme, and make him svveat, and after he is rubbed dry and colde, giue him cleane foode as aforesaide, moderately, let him not drinke any colde vvater, but vvarme, vvherein hath bene boyled mallovves, sorrell, and purslaine, of each three or foure handfuls, and keep him vvarme. probatum.

CHAP. 67. For the same.

LEt him blood, take of Germander foure ounces, of Gum Draganet, and of Deade Roses, of each an ounce: of Oyle Oliffe foure ounces: of Ho­ny foure ounces: put them into a quart of strong Ale, and giue it warme to the horse to drinke, then ride him vntill hee sweate, and cloath him and keepe him warme as aforesaide.

CHAP. 68. Ache in the head.

THe cause of this disease commeth ey­ther of colde, takan after a great heate, or of a rawe or vnperfect digestion of stomack, proceeding principally from full and foule feeding, and betwixt the stomacke and the braine is such affinitie, as they doe equally communicate their damages: the signes are these, the hanging downe of his head, his eyes will swell and runne of water, and will forsake his meate.

CHAP. 69. The Cure.

LEt him blood in the pallat of his mouth, and rub it with Salt to make it bleede well, then take a sticke with a linnen cloath fastned at the end ther­of, well annointed with oyle of Bay, thrust it vp and dovvne his nostrils, therby to open and purge his head: also perfume him vvith the smoake of Garlick stalkes broken into smal peaces: also aire him with the smoke of Frankinsence, hol­ding the same in a chafingdish vnder his Nostrils, with a great cloath cast ouer his head, and let it be done morning and euening: keepe him vvith spare dyet & moderate exercise, the which wil clense his stomack & make it so cleane & emptie, as his braine wil not be disquieted: afterwards let him bloud, & giue him good mashes to drinke for two daies after and no colde water.

CHAP. 70 Of the sudden sicknes of a horse.

THe cause is, for that the heart which is the chariot of his life wherein the soule of the horse liueth, wanting the vse of the veines and Arteries to car­rie the vitall spirit of heate to all the parts of the body, to giue the horse feeling, & abi­litie to operation, by reason of some obstruction of [Page 245]humors or colde, which for want of heate cannot be dissolued, for that the nature of colde is to binde and conglutinate together, and to keepe them from their natural course, proceeding from some violent exercise or immoderate feeding and rest, by reason whereof there is great iarre & discord amongst the qualities of the elements: the motion of the vitall spirit, wherby the horse liueth and mooueth, is im­prisoned for that time, and so seemeth taken as a dead horse without action. The signe is the sudden deiecting of his countenance.

CHAP. 71. The cure.

LEt him blood on both sides the brest, next the heart, whereby the veines and Arteries being euacuated and emptied, they may begin to doe that office whereunto nature hath appointed them, and let him bleede the quantitie of two quarts: then giue him a comfortable drinke, to stirre vp the vital spirits to action, viz: take a quart of the best sack, & burne it with Graines, Cloues and Sinamon, and a quarter of a pound of the best Sugar, and burne it well together with halfe a pinte of Sallet Oyle, & foure penny worth of the best Triacle, then ride him verie gently vntill hee beginne to sweat, and so haue him into the Stable, keepe his head and heart verie warme, and cloath him & stuffe his body with sweet straw, and keep the stable close, and so let him stand 6. houres meatles, but beware you cloath him not too much, for the drinke vvill thoroughlye [Page 246]warme him and make him sweat, let his drinke be warme water, wherein boyle Mallowes a handfull, water Cresses a handfull, of fennell and parsly seed, of each an ounce, and twice a day morning and eue­ning, when he is most fasting, ride him gently a mile or two, let his meat be sweete wheat strawe, olde cleane dry oates, mingled with wheat, and sometime with olde pease, and sparingly giuen and often, but not much, vntill you see him waxe very hungry, and let him be well rubbed, and all his litter cleane and sweete.

CHAP. 72. Staggers.

THe cause of this disease, is for that as I haue formerly saide, the braine and the stomack are vnited and chained together with certaine sinewes, and thereby enter­changeably communicate their dammages, so as when the stomacke is oppressed with grose and tough humors, or some strong vapors, as when the Horse hath eaten some strong hearb, as the wilde parsenip or such like, by the strong vaporous spirits proceeding out of the stomack to the braine, opres­sing the same, as the strong vaporous spirit of wine, Aqua vite, and such like doth the braine of man, he is dizzie and reeleth, as if he were drunke: and here­of I haue had often experience, but at the first the horse doth only reele, and stagger, as if his backe were swayed, and will eate his meat, but after he will forsake his meate and not be able to stande.

CHAP. 73. The Cure.

The Cure. LEt him blood in the temple veines, one handfull vnder the eyes, then take Garlicke, Hearbgrace, and a little Leauen and bay-salt, stamp them to­gether, and then put thereunto a little quantity of Aqua-vitae, and put it into the Horse eares; then take wooll and wet it in the medicine, and put it into his eares, and binde them close, and so let it remaine 24. houres, and wash his tongue with vinegar and salte, let him not drinke any cold drinke, and once a day gently walked.

CHAP. 74. For the same.

TAke of bitter Almonds one ounce & a halfe: of Oxe gall two drams: of blacke Elebar stamped one halfe pen­ny worth: of Graines, of Castorum, of vinegar, of varnish, 5. drams: seeth them together vntill the vinegar be consumed, and straine them and put it into his cares, as aforesaid: but binde them with a woollen list, and not with a­ny cutting string.

CHAP. 75. For the same.

LEt him blood, as afore saide, then with a knife make a hole of an inch long, o­uerthwart his fore-head, hard vnder­his fore-top, and raise the skin with a eornet, thrusting it vpward toward the head-stall a good handfull, and then taint it with turpentine and hogs grease molted together, and doe the like vpon the ridge of the rump, and remoue the taintes euerie day, and keepe him with warme water.

CHAP. 76. Crampe or conuulsion of sinewes.

The cauſe. THe cause of this disease, is much ful­nesse, or verie great emptinesse, great eating and feeding, much rest, lacke of moderate exercise, or by ouer-much bleeding, extream labour, or extream colde: that which hapneth of great fulnesse and rest commeth suddenly, that which commeth by empti­nesse or penurie, commeth but by little and little.

I haue seene a horse, his head, Iawes and necke so stiffe, and starke, as he could not bow it any manner of way, nor the strength of men open his Iawes or mouth without breaking them; The ſigne. his eyes hollowe in his head, and the fleshie parts thereof in the greate corners turned backward, and his tongue so benum­med, [Page 249]as he could not eat, neither drinke, but by suck­ing of his drinke by little and little with his lips: and for my instructions, I did see the maner of his death. And the same came by full and foule feeding, and great rest, being exceeding fat when he died. I would willingly haue aduentured his cure, if many Smithes had not taken the same vpon them, neuer vn­derstanding the cause, as his end manifested.

CHAP. 77. The Cure.

TEt him blood in greate measure, take him behinde, and giue him the glister I prescribed before for a horse that is taken vp from grasse, rubbe him with two or three lustie strong men, and haue him into a verie warme roome, then take two quarts of strong Ale, and two pound of backe sope, and boile them together vntill they looke as tarre, & annoint and rub all his body therewith, so as it may drinke in, then cloathe him, and stuffe head and necke, and all the partes of his bodye, to bring him to a greate sweate, and if it may bee giue him a pinte of white wine, and two ounces of Alloes, and halfe an ounce of Agaricke infused therein, beaten small, putting therein three spoonefuls of the best clarified Hogs-grease: and if that cannot bee done, giue him euerie day a Glister, and keepe him with continuall rubbing, and in a warme roome, and giue him to drinke small Ale, wherin mal­lowes and licorish haue bene boyled, & let his dyet be spare, but sweet and good.

CHAP. 78. Colde in the head.

The cause THe cause heere of commeth by some heate & standing stil, or hauing some colde ayre, piercing his head when he is hot, or by some humors congea­led after long rest, and full feeding, wanting moderate exercise to expell the same. The signes are a continuall distilling rewme, waterish cies, The ſigne. or the short drawing breath at the Nostrilles, when the Canes and passages of breath are stop­ped.

CHAP. 79. The Cure.

The Cure. PVt vpon his head a double whood, and euerie morning when hee is fasting, ride him, with two Goose feathers dipt in Oyle of Bay, and thrust vp into his Nostrils, through the ends where­of, with a needle, put two threds to fasten the same to the headstall, so as the feathers cannot fal out, and to the snaffle, or Bit that he is rodden with, fasten a roote or two of Polipodium of the Oak, which hath bene steeped all night in Spike oyle, and euerie time you ride him, annoint the same with the said Oile, & when he commeth home put on his head the double whood, and perfume him being hot with Franckin­sence, [Page 251]casting a cloath ouer his head, that the smoak may ascend into his head, vse him thus nine daies, together, and giue him warme water or good mash­es during the saide nine daies: for all rewmes hauing continuance are dangerous, and many times hauing continuance, remedisesse, leauing a worse disease then themselues.

CHAP. 80. Glaunders.

The cauſe. THe originall cause of this disease is the rewm, which being an aboundant moi­sture, beeing naturallye verie colde, at length congealeth (according to the na­ture of colde) and then proceedeth to kirnels, & so to inflamation, The course. and become so great in the end, that they seeme to strangle and stoppe the breath of the horse, from whence he is saide to haue the Strangles, and by continuance of time, the same perish either the liuer or the Lungs, by a con­tinuall distilling of putrified and corrupt matter, The ſigne. the signes are apparant to euerie man that hath sight, & the diuersitie of medicines infinite, and y^e beginning alwaies of this disease, is taking colde after heate, the which cannot be auoided from a horse that hath full feeding, and great rest, will of necessitie haue, especi­ally, if he feed of rawe, greene, vncleane, or filthie mustie meate, or by the vse of continuall trauell vp­pon full stomack, or before his body be made cleane after long rest: for the standing poole is euer muddy.

CHAP. 81. The Cure.

FIrst cleere his head as is perscribed for the cold in the head, in euery part (if he be able to be rid or walked) that he may receiue breath: then giue him this drinke: take a pinte of malmsey, 6. penny worth of the best triacle, and a quarter of a pound of sweet fresh butter, then presently rub him vnder his Iawes, with plenty of sweet hogs grease, & leaue it thicke annointed, then make him this poultis, Take 2. handfuls of malowes, a handful of wormwood, asmuch rue, and asmuch smallage, a quart of wheat bran, and a quart of hogs grease, boile them together, and stir them continually in boyling, vntil the hogs grease be almost consumed, and being hot as may be suffered, binde it vnder his iawes & thropell, and wrap all his head very warm, leauing ayre for his mouth and nostrils: then aire him againe with frankinsence, & keepe him warme in the stable, & so let him rest with that poultis 24. houres, the next morning early giue him a quart of the best new ale with a spoonefull of the powder of licorish & anniseeds, and a good peece of butter, blood warme, then rub his nostrils with a clowte bound to the end of a sticke, wel anointed with oile of Bay and butter, then remooue the poultis, and if you finde the kirnels and inflamations to be very soft, lance them thorough, and stop the holes full of hogs grease & Turpentine boyled hot together, & soft towe boiled therin, and then warme some of [Page 253]your poultis, and binde to it as before, but not alto­gether so hot, and so let it remaine vntill the next day, and his head kept verie warme as before. If he will eat, giue him cleane sweet oates, steeped in new ale or malmsey if he wil eat them, and wheat straw, but no hay: giue him no cold water for 9. daies, but good mashes if he wil take them: keepe him with a spare dyet, & euery day, gently walke or ride him, if he be able, and then keepe him warme after it, and let him sweat euery day a little if it be possible, and after rub him very dry, and let him not drink in his owne swet. In his prouender take of the root of the white Lilly, of the root of Ennula campana, & of the root of Polipodium of the oake, very sinely cut or chopped, the quantity of two spoonefuls at euery time you giue him prouender, and be sure that he be hungry & eager of prouender when you giue it him, and so continue for 9. daies, and be­ware you keep him very hungry, and with spare di­et. At the 9. daies end giue him this purging drinke. Take a quarte of white wine, or of strong ale worte, one ounce and a halfe of Alloes, beaten into pou­der, halfe an ounce of Agaricke, 2. spoonefuls of the powder of the root of Ennula campana, three spoonefuls of hony, brew them well together, and giue it him blood warme, & keep him warme: with in 6. daies after let him blood, & if it be good take but a quart, but if it be very bad, take two quarts at least: after this, vse him both in feeding and labour moderatly, & he wil euer after be perfect in health.

CHAP. 82 Mourning of the Chine.

THe cause heereof is greate heate, The cauſe. and thereupon taking colde, and then first it beginneth with Rewme, then the Glaunders, and after to this mourning of the Chine, (as it is vsually tearmed) but more truely and essentiallye, it be­ginneth with the Rewm, which proceedeth to infla­mation of the liuer or lungs, by the continuall distil­ling vpon them, The ſigne. then to the Glaunders, which is impostumation therof: and lastly, to an exulceration: which abruptly and vntruelye is tearmed, the mour­ning of the Chine, and yet to maintaine this borrow­ed and erronious tearme, some writers doe affirme, that it breedeth after the Reines of his necke, and in­to his head, and that it causeth the flesh along by the Chine to rot, and to draw matter, & that it commeth through by his head, along by the Chine bone, and will matter out at his Nostrils. How this Rewme shold rot the flesh of the Chine, seemeth more then prodigious and ridiculous, either in Phisicke, Philo­sophie or practise: but for as much as they can ney­ther define the proposition certainely, neither con­iecture probablye, I passe it ouer as a position with­out reason or truth, and the rather, because common experience after the ripping of such diseased horses, being deade, sheweth euermore the exulceration, [Page 255]corruption and consumption of the liuer or lungs. And therfore there is not any thing truer, then that this disease commeth of a violent heat and sudden colde, which enflameth the blood, & so corrupteth by degrees (as I haue said) the substance of the liuer: by which distemperature, and inflamation (the liuer being the fountaine of blood) becommeth extraor­dinarily distemperated with heat, by which excesse of heat, cholor and colde, fleame are engendred, from the which all the weakenes of the liuer pro­ceedeth, and from thence obstruction and stopping, whereby the grose and tough humors, by the vio­lence of heat, by labor, are drawne into the springs of the fountain, that is to say, the smal veines which cary the blood from the liuer, whereby the Liuer cannot giue perfect nutriment, by which obstruct­tion and stopping, the humors being chollericke, breed many hard knobs in the liuer, and then the in­flamation breaketh out, of the veines, and floweth into the bodie of the liuer, and there being out of his propper vessels, doth immediately puputrifie, & therewith corrupteth so much fleshy substance of the liuer, as it is imbrued withall, and so by little & little perisheth the whole liuer, and then the bloody matter afterwards becommeth corruption: & when it breaketh out, it is as a filthy sore, (which is this v­surped mourning of the chine) and in the end this filthy matter, flowing abroad with his euill vapors, corrupteth the heart, and causeth death, as you see the end of all Horses that haue this disease. From whence you see, that an inflamation begetteth A­postumation, and appostumation exulceration, & [Page 266]then the liuer being thus corrupted, there cannot be good digestion, for lacke whereof, the body wan­ting perfect nutriment, doth cousume and perish.

CHAP. 83. The signes to know the disease.

1. FIrst, the continuall distilling reume in the head.

2 Secondly, the continuing knobs betwixt the Iawes.

3 Thirdly the keeping of his haire without casting.

4 Fourthly, the continuall running of thicke stin­king matter at the nose.

5. Fiftly the fastning or growing of a knob as big as a walnut, to the inside of one of the Iawes, & then commit his carcasse to the croes, for then he is past helpe.

CHAP. 84. Thecure

FOr the first, which is the reume, cure it is mentioned, for the colde in the head.

For the second, which is a congea­led substance, gathered into knobbes betwixt the Iawes, cure the same as the glaunders.

For the third, which is keeping still his winter coate, & the not casting of his haire, let him blood often, vntil you see that he haue pure & fine blood, and giue him good mashes made very strong with malt, & put in his prouender polipodium of the oak, small cut, the root of the white Lilly small cut, of each a good quantity, if he will eat it, and shred in it also a handfull of Liuerworte, & if he be a Horse of value, at euery time, a six penny waight of Rue­barbe, and euery morning being fasting, giue him a pinte of the drinke, prescribed for the preseruati­on of his Lungs, and keepe him onely with wheat straw (but no hay) and olde sweete and cleane oats, and euery morning after he hath taken that drinke, ride him gently two or three miles.

For the fourth, which is the thicke running at the nose, continually cleere his head, as hath bene pre­scribed for the colde in the head, and so in euety part as in the rest are prescribed, onely adding pur­ging drinkes, viz. after all these prescribed orders, giue him two seuerall mornings, a pinte of white wine, one ounce & a halfe of Alloes, halfe an ounce of Agaricke, two drams of Licorish and Anniseeds, and a spoonefull of pure hogs grease warmed and well dissolued together, and after he hath purged, the next day let him blood in both the brest veines, the quantite of a quart, and still keepe him with good mashes and moderate trauell, when he is fast­ing, giuing him euery morning fasting for nine dayes after, a pinte of that drinke prescribed for clearing of his Lungs.

For the sift, if you finde no amendment, but a knob growne to his Iawe, you may giue him a purge, with pills, as I haue prescribed, and if that helpe him not, then he is remediles without all doubt.

CHAP. 85 These things following are most excellent to put in Hor­ses prouender to preserue them from these and all disea­ses.

THe powder of a Wolfes liuer.

The powder of Ennula Compana.

The powder of pollipodium of the Oake.

The fine cut peeces of Ruebarbe.

The powder of Brimstone made very fine.

The powder of Licorish, Anniseedes, Fenegreek, Turmericke, Bay-berries, Long-pepper, Agrimony, Camamile, wormewood, Sauen, Linseed Smalage, Perseley, Rue, Isop, Coltesfoote, Horehownd, and such like.

CHAP. 86. Of a broken winde.

THe cause of this perrilous disease, hath not bene truly foreopened by a­ny, not being truely vnderstood, and therefore accounted of al Horsemen vncurable. And therefore as plainely as I can, I purpose to vnfolde the same, and I wil de­uide the same into three kindes, euery of which may be truely tearmed a broken winde, because the breath being drawne very short and thicke, contra­ry to originall creation, the which is long colde, & quiet, for so euery creature is by nature, but when any accident of violence of the body is vsed in a­ny creature, then euery mans experience telleth him that he panteth and fetcheth breath very short and thicke, and therefore with the cause thereof I will begin, the which being vnderstood, the effects can not be hid. Now the causes why a Horse draweth his breath short, may be many, as sicknes, great ful­nes, or violent excercise: but the reason of the cause is, for that the heart being the onely hottest part of the body, from whence the Arteries and veines do carry the vitall heat into euery part of the bodie, (and therefore is truly said to be the chariot of life) when the same by sicknes, fulnes, or violence of ex­cercise is choked and as it were smothered with great heate, then dooth the lights being the bel­lowes [Page 207]to draw breath, according to that office that nature hath ordeined them vnto, presently labour with all violence to draw breath to coole and com­fort the heart, and so consequently all the other members and parts of the bodie, to fill all the emp­ty corners with aire, which naturally and in predo­minate qualitie is moist: and when they haue drawn sufficient breath, the drynes and heat by the moyst­ure of the aire is quenched, the which being done, then dooth the creature draw breath leasurely and coldely, and not before: but so long as the heart is oppressed with the violent heat of sicknes, or by great fulnes, or violent excercise, the canes, pipes, and passages for breath, are almost stopped or cho­ked vp, then dooth the lungs labour very extreame thicke, to preserue the life of the creature, which is the heart, and therfore it is saide to be the first thing that liueth, and the last that dieth. And to make the same a little plainer, obserue a Horse that is broken­winded, (as the vsuall terme is) and you shall finde that he fetcheth his breath much more shorter when he is kept in the stable onely with die, meate, then when he goeth to grasse, and the onely reason is, the coldenes of the moist food, which keepeth the heart and all the bodie in coldenes, because the humors that come from the digestion of grasse are colde and moist, according to the naturall qualitie of grasse, and rawe hearbs. This rule being kept in minde, it is a truth apparant, that all thinges which hinder and stop the free passage of breath, breaking the naturall course thereof, are the onely causes of broken winde: so likewise the cure of broken winde [Page 271]must be the remoouing of the stoppings of aire, & then the lungs will perfectly do their office, & then the creature is perfect from the disease.

The differences of broken windes both in cause and effect are diuers, and yet may be truly tearmed broken, namely shortnes of breath, Pursicke, and broken winde. Shortnes of breath:

1. And first touching shortnes of breath, it may come by some grosse & tough humors, cleauing to the hollow places of the lungs, stopping the winde­pipes, so as the horse cannot easely draw his breath: and the signe thereof is his coughing often, dayly, and vehemently, without voyding at the nose or mouth.

2. Secondly it may come by hasty running after drinking, or vpon ful stomack, or by the dissolution of some humors discending into his throate or lungs, by reason of some violent heat dissoluing the same. And the signes therof are continual panting, sending the same foorth very hot at his nose, in a squeasing manner, and his flanckes wil beat so thick as he cannot fetch breath, but by holding the neck right out and straight, and this may truely be called broken winde, although in truth no broken winde.

CHAP. 87. Thecure

TAke a close earthen pot, and put ther­in three pintes of strong wine vinegar and foure new laid egges, with the shelles vnbroken, and foure great gar­licke heads, cleane pilled, and brused, then couer the pot close and set it in some warme dunghill, and there let it stand a whole night, and the next morning take foorth the egges, but breake them not, then straine the garlicke and vinegar through a cleane cloth, then put thereunto a quar­ter of honny, halfe a quarter of sugar-candy, two ounces of licorish, and two ounces of Anny­seedes beaten into fine pouder, and then the Horse hauing fasted all night, in the morning open his mouth and pull out his tongue, and put one egge in­to his throte, and then let goe his tongue, so as he may swallowe it downe, and then power after it a hornefull of the saide drinke, being luke warme, and so all the egges in that manner, and all the drink being spent, then bridle him and stop him, & cloath him very warme, and so let him stand foure houres, then vnbit him, and if it be in the winter, giue him wheat strawe, but no hay, and if in sommer giue him grasse, and for nine daies giue him onely ma­shes to drinke, with some sallet oyle or hogs grease in it.

CHAP. 88. For the hawe in the eye.

THis is knowne to all Smithes, and no doubt is ingendered by some grosse humor defending out of the head: the cure thereof, is to pul both the eye­lidds open with 2 seuerall threds stitched with a needle, to either of the lidds, then catch hold of the hawe with the stich of another needle and thread, and pull it out so farre as you may stay it with your singer, to the intent it may be cutte round the bredth of a penny, and leaue the blacke behinde, for by cutting away too much of the fatt and blacke of the eye, the Horse many times becometh bleer-eyed, and therfore you must spare the fat which is the wash of the eie and the filme, wherein the eye groweth, but cutt betwene the filme and the crush and then squirt in a little white wine, or beere.

CHAP. 89. For the Lunaticke eyes.

FOr as much as they are so called, I am content so to continue the name, and it is said that the Horse becometh blind, at certain times in the moone, & thereupon, most men doe gather that his sight is good or bad, according to the Na­turall course of the Moone: but the truth there­of is from the Naturall sight of the eye, which is [Page 274]a blewish eie or sight, and all Horses that are so sighted, after extraordinary heat and trauell, wilbe blew, and haue a filme ouergrow the sight, so as he cannot see, and although it be cured, yet vpon like occasion will fall blinde againe, which I haue often seene: & therfore horses that haue such blew eies are to be anoided, the full experience whereof, I had from that worthy Ferrar M. Iohn Orpen of Greene­wich deceassed, who alwaies cured the same by thrusting Tutty into their eyes with his singer: but if you lay vpon the temples of his head a plaister of pitch, rosen and masticke, and then with a sharpe knife make two slitts, on both sides of his head, an inche long, somewhat towards the nose, a handfull beneath the eyes, not touching the veine, and with a cornet loose the skin vpward the breadth of a groat, and thrust therein a round peece of leather, as broad as a two penny peece, with a hole in the middest to keepe the hole open: and looke to it once a day that the matter may not be stopped, but run ten or eleuen daies, then heale it with Turpentine, Hogs grease and waxe, boyled together, with flaxe dipped in it, and take not away the plaisters til they fall away, then burne him with a small hot drawing yron, made like a starre with a hole in the middest, in each temple vaine where the plaister did lie, in this sort, * * and if this helpe not, set him to carte: beware you breed no colts of Horses that are so ey­ed, for vppon euery hard trauell, he wilbe blinde.

CHAP. 90. For the canker in the eyes.

THis commeth by corruption of blood, by meanes whereof you shall see many red pimples both within and with­out the eye, & thorough inflama­tion the eye will looke red, and be full of corrupti­on. The cure is to let him blood (on that side the necke that you see the eye is grieued) a pottle or more; if you see the blood very foule, and the infla­mation great, then take 3. pintes of faire water, and of roch allome and greene copporas, of each halfe a pound, and of white coppor as an ounce, & boile them vntill halfe be consumed, then once a day be­ing made warme, with a fine cloth clense the eye, so as it looke rawe, and thus doe euery day vntill it be whole.

CHAP. 91. For impostumes in the eare.

THis commeth by some blowe or euill humors: The cure is, take the pouder of Linseede, and of wheat flower, of each halfe a pinte, of hogs grease one pound, warme them in a pot on the fire, vntill they be throughly encorporated, by conti­nual stirring, then take a peece of white leather, somewhat biger then the impostumation, and spred it, being very warme, as farre as will couer the swelling, and renue it euery day vntill [Page 276]it breake, then lance it, so as the corruption may goe dounwarde, and taint it to the bottome with a full taint of slaxe, well dipt in this ointment fol­lowing, of melrosatum, of Oile olife and turpentine, of each two ounces, and mingle them throughly, well together, then make him a biggin of Canuas to close in the sore, so as the taint and ointment may abide with in, renewing it euery day once vntil it be whole, But if the paine be in the eares with­out great swelling, which may be only with cold, then take black woole dipt in the Oyle of Camomil and thrust into his eares.

CHAP. 92. For the Poole euill.

THis cōmeth of like causes, & groweth as a fistula betwixt the eares or nape of the neck, you shal perceiue it by the swelling: if it be not broken, ripen it with plasters of white hogs grease, as though you would scald it therewith, and make him a biggin to keep it very warme, and renue the plaster twice a day very hot, and the sooner it will ripen: then where it is softest and where the cor­ruption may best issue forth, with a round hot yron as big as your litle finger, two inches beneath the softe place, thrust it vpward, so as the point of the yron may come forth at the ripest place, then taint it with flaxe dipt in hogs-grease, and lay also a plaister of hoggs-grease vpon the same, renewing it [Page 277]4 or 5 da: then after take half a poūd of turpentine cleane washed and dry from the water, with two yolkes of egs and a litle saffrone, and mingle them together, then with a quil search the depth of the hole, and taint it with a sponge so big as the hole to the bottome, well anointed with that oint­ment, and so thrust it with a quill into the wound to the bottom, and a warme plaster of hoggs grease to couer it, renevving it tvvice a day, but vvhen the svvelling ceasseth vse no plaster.

CHAP. 93. Of the Viues.

THis commeth of corruption of blood, the cure is, draw them with a hot Iron right down in the midst, from the root of the eare, so far as the tip of the eare will reach being pulled downe, and againe vnder the roote of the eare, with a hot yron drawe two strikes on each side like a broad arrow head thus [...], then in the middest of the first line lance them with a Lancelet or Rasor, taking holde of the kirnels with a paire of pinsers; but beware you touch them not with your bare finger: pull them so far out with your pinsers as you may cut the kirnels out without hurting the vaine, then fill the hole full of salt.

CHAP. 94. For the Canker in the nose.

THis commeth of a corrupt blood, consu­meth the flesh, and makes it rawe within, and in the end will eate the gristle ther­of: it will also cause the horse to bleed at the nose and yeild filthy sauour: the cure is, take of greene copperas and of Allom of each a pound, and of white copperas, one quarter, boile these in a pottle of running water vntill it be almost halfe consumed, then take it of and put into it halfe a pint of hony, then hold vp his head with a drinking staff, but not too high, and with a squirt of brasse or elder, squirt the same water being luke warme, three or foure times together into his nostrils, and giue him libertie to blowe out the filthy matter, least you choke him: and with a stick and a ragge wash his nostrils twice a day vntil he be whole.

CHAP. 95: For bleeding at the nose.

THis may come vppon many causes which cannot be truely known, comming from with­in the body, & therfore I wil shew how to cure the same: take a pint of red wine, & put thereunto a quarter of bole armony beaten vnto fine powder, & put the one half thereof into his nostril that blee­deth holding vp his head; & this may do wel if in the nostril or head there be the original cause: the next day giue him the rest into his body, & that wil sure­ly binde his body & it may help the bleeding, being invvard.

CHAP. 96. Of the riftes or corruption in the pallate of the mouth.

TAke sharpe vinegar and salt and wash the same, and then annoint it with honny. For the lam­pas or bladders in a Horse mouth euery Smith can cure.

CHAP. 97. For the canker in the mouth.

VVash the fore place with strong vinegar, made thicke with the pouder of Allome, two or three daies together, to destroy the exulcerate mat­ter. Then take a quart of faire water, of Allome 4 ounces, of honny 4. or 5. spoonefulls, of maudlin leaues, Sage leaues, & Collumbine leaues, of each a handfull, boile al these together till halfe be con­sumed, and then euery day wash the same two or three times being warmed, and it will heale it.

CHAP. 98. For the Gigs in the mouth.

THey are swellings with blacke heads, growing in the inside of the lips, the cure is to flit them and thrust out the corruption, and to wash the same with vinegar and salte.

CHAP. 99: For the heat in the mouth.

TVrne vp the vpper lip and iagge it with a lancet, that it may bleede, and washe it with vinegar and salte.

CHAP. 100. For the Camey in the mouth.

THis commeth by eating of filthy hay, that cats, dogs, and other vermine haue pist vppon, which will cause the Horse mouth to be furd or clammy, as he will not not eat. The cure is to let him blood in two great vaines vnder the tongue and to wash his mouth, with vineger and salte, and to giue him new bread that is not hot.

CHAP. 101. For the hurt of the tongue with the Bit.

THe cure is to wash it with Alome water, then take black bramble leaues and chop them with larde, then put them within a cloute and make them as round as a ball, then dip the same in hony and annoint the tongue therewith vntill it bee whole.

CHAP. 102. For the Barbels or paps vnder the tunge.

THe cure is to clippe them away and to wash the mouth with vinigere and salt.

CHAP. 103. For the swelling in the gummes.

THe cure is, make him to bleede well in the pallet of the mouth and also to scarifie the gummes that the ranke blood may come forth and then rub them throughly with vineger and salt.

For to drawe the wolues teeth. CHAP. 104.

THese are two litle teeth growing in the vpper Iawe next to the great grinding teeth, which hinder the horse for grinding his meat, so as he will let it fall vnchewed, & somtimes, you shall see some teeth so long and ouerhanging in his Iawes, that they doe race and cut his cheeks so as he cannot feed: The cure is, tye the horse head to some rafter or post, and his mouth to be open­ned with a corde, so as you may see euery part ther­of, then take a round yron toole halfe a yard long, made at the end like a Carpenters Gouge, and with your left hād set the edge of that toole at the foot of the wolfes teeth, on the outside of the Iawe, turning the hollowside of the toole doūward, holding your hand stedily, then with a mallet in your right hand strike on the head of the toole, a pretty blowe to losen it, and make it bend inward, then wrench the tooth outward, with the inside of the toole, and thrust it out of his head: & doe the like to the other tooth, and fill the holes with salt, and if any tooth ouerhang the nether teeth to the hurt of the horse, then with your mallet and toole pare the tooth, or as many as do ouerhāg for hurting the horse mouth.

For the crick in the neck. CHAP. 105.

THere are many opinions how this should come to a horse, and therefore I wish many meanes to be vsed before any extream meanes be vsed: first therfore, if the horse haue such a crick that he hol­deth his necke streight and cannot haue the vse to lift the same vp and downe as is vsuall, then let two [Page 283]men one on the each side rub his neck, so long as by common intendment it is growne very hot, which being done, put a bit into his mouth, and make triall if he will or can reine in any seemly pro­portion, the which if he do, then it is to be intended either the same came by some colde or some strain, and then I would haue him let blood on both the brest vaines, and all his neck throughly annointed, and labored with Aquauite and Nerue oyle, that it may drinke into the skin, and two sheep skins wrap­ed about his neck with the wooll next the neck, to keepe it in a great heate, and so to rest 24. hours, & if he doe not heerby amend, but carrieth his head still downe & feedeth slowly, then make a hole in his forehead hard vnder the foretop, & thrust in a cornet to raise the skin from the flesh a handfull deep, then take a goose feather well nointed with hoggs grease to keepe the hole open that it may run ten dayes together, & euery day twice let the feather be cleansed & newly annointed, and let his neck be stil labored with rubbing, & kept very warm to keepe it in a sweat, and if you perceiue no a­mendment, then draw him with a hot yron from the root of the eare on both sids of the neck through the middest of the same, euen to the brest a straw deep, that both ends may meet on the breast, but if he car­ry his necke awry on one side, then onely draw the contrary side with a hot yron, & faile not eury morning when he is fasting, to ride him with a bit til he sweat, & the hotter he is, the more pul in his reine, & when he cōmeth to the stable, keepe him warm the he sweat, & after coole him moderately, and rubat him throughly.

CHAP. 106 For the wennes or knobs in any part of the body.

THe cure is, take of mallowes, sage, and red netles of each a handfull, boile them in running water, put therevnto butter and hony a litle quantitie, and when the hearbs be soft, bruse them, then put thereunto of Oyle of bayes two ounces, and two ounces of hoggs grease, and warme them together ouer the fire, which being well stirred and verie hot, make a plaister as big as the wen vppon a peece of leather, and so renew it by the space of eight dayes, alwaies laid to so hot as may be, and if it come not to a head, then lance it very deepe, then heale it with very cleane washed turpētine, the yolk of an egge & a litle saffron well wrought together, with a taint of flaxe well rould therein, renewing it euery day once.

CHAP. 106. For the falling of the Crest.

THe cure is, first let the crest be suppor­ted to stand vpright, then on the con­trary side that it falleth, draw his crest the depth of a straw with a hot yron, the edge of which yron wold be half an inch broad, & make your beginning & ending somewhat beyōd the fal, but the first draught must go al the way vpon the edge of the maine, euen vnderneath the roots of the same, bearing your hand right dounward into the neckward, then answer that with another draught beneath, and so far distant from the first as the fall is broad, compassing al the fall: and betwixt these two draughts, right in the middest draw ano­ther draught, then with a button of an inch about, or else crossing the same with your yron, burne at each end a hole, or else crosse the spaces betwixt the draughts: the reason is, that by the pursing vp and shrinking of the skin on the contrary side, the crest may stand vpright: some will afterwards anoint the same with fresh butter, or somthing aswage the heate, but Maister Orpen of Greenwich an excellent Farear, would not do any thing that might enlarge the skin: and for my owne opinion, I hold it best [Page 286]vntill 9. daies be past, and then to take away the scab it will not be amisse.

CHAP. 107. For all manginesse.

THis is diuersely cured, some thus. Take of green copporas, of allom, of each a pound, of white copporas a quarterne, boile them together in 3. quarts of running water, in a strong earthen pot, vntil halfe be consumed, and being made warme, with a clout on a sticke rub him once a day, vntil he be whole.

CHAP. 108 For swelling in the withers or backe

THe cure is, presently to lay a good quantity of Horse-dung (new made) vpon it, and if it be new done, it will aswage it: If not, then pricke it with a fleame or fine pen-knife through the skin, to make the blood issue out: then take of mallowes & smallage, 3. or 4. handfulls, boyle them till they be pap, straine them and bruse the hearbs in a wodden dish, and put thereunto a little hogs grease or sallet oyle, sheepes suet, or other fresh grease, boile them together, not frying them hard, and then with a cloth binde it warme to the swelling, renewing it e­uery day vntill it be gone.

CHAP. 109. For inflamations or cankers in the withers.

IF the inflamation be great, draw round about the swelling with a hot yron, and crosse it, then take a roūd hot yron sharp pointed, & thrust it vpward in the swel­ling place, towards the point of the withers, that the matter may issue downewards, then taint it with hogs grease, and annoint all the swelling, con­tinuing so to do til it be asswagde, renuing the taint euery day vntil the fiery matter be fallen away, then taint it with turpentine, the yolkes of egges and saf­fron mingled together, as aforesaide, renuing the taint euery day till it be whole. But if the swelling goe not away, then be sure the same is greatly in­flamde and growne to impostumation, then launce it and let out the corruption, then take halfe a pinte of hony, of verdigrease two ounces beat to pouder, mingle it with the hony, and boyle them in a pot till it looke red, and being warme, make a taint or plaister, as the same shall require, renuing it euery day till it be whole, but to keep it from danger, the surer way is, to thrust the hole full of this last salue, and to thrust after it a peece of spunge to keepe the hole open, and to draw foorth the venom ther­of, and so to vse it till it be whole: some would haue you alwayes thoroughly wash the hole, with olde chamberly, & bay salt, that hath bin wel boiled to­gether, before you taint it, and no doubt it is very good; but if the same be very vlcerous and corrupt, then take lie, hony, roche allome, & mercury: seeth them together, & scoure the same therewith to the bottome.

CHAP. 110. For the Nauellgall.

THe cures heereof are diuers, and so they ought to be, for medecine is to be mini­stred according to the hurt, of more or lesse. If it be but galled, take soote of a chimney and yest mixed together, and plaister it once or twice a day.

CHAP. 111. For the sweying of the backe.

THis hurt commeth by some streine. The cure is, that so soone as he beginneth to complain which is by reeling or rolling in the hinder partes, which is easely discerned: then take a sheeps skin, as hot as it can be taken from the sheepe, and clap the fleshy side thereof along his backe, & pre­sently put many clothes vpon it, to keepe his back as warme as may be, and so let it continue till it be­gin to smell, then prepare another in like manner, [Page 290]and take away the olde, and so continue him for 21. daies at least, and let him not be trauelled but still rest. And if this helpe him not, then draw his backe with a hot yron, right out, on both sides of the edge of his backe, from the pitch of the buttocke vn­to a handfull within the saddle, & then ouerthwart: and let not the strikes be deep but so burned as they may looke yellowe, then presently lay on it this charge: of pitch a pound, of rosen half a pound, of bole armony, halfe a pound, made in pouder, & halfe a pinte of tarre, and boile them together in a pot, vntill they be throughly mingled, then being luke warme, daub it very thicke vpon the burning, and clap on as many flocks of the Horse colour as you can make to abide, and let them remaine till they fall off.

CHAP. 112. For the hide hound.

THe cause heereof is, a sudden colde after great heat, when the pores are open, the colde entreth, and maketh an attraction of the sinewes, soas the Horse seemeth to goe or trauell with great griefe, his skin being as if it were starched, being shrunk and clung to his ribs. The cure is, to let him blood in both the slanke veines, being next the girding place and the flankes. Then take a quart of good white wine, and put thereunto three oun­ces of sallet oyle, of commin one ounce, of anni­seedes two ounces, of licorish two ounces, beaten [Page 291]into pouder, and giue it him warme, then let him be throughly rubbed from the huckle bone alongst the backe, and ouer the ribbes, halfe an houre together: then couer all his backe with a sacke, thoroughly soked in a tub of water, and the water wrung out of it, and vpon that cast many cloathes, and gird them fast vnto him, to bring him vnto a swet, which is the onely and chiefe thing to recouer him, and keepe him with good mashes, and euery day let him be so vsed for seauen or eight dayes together, giue him much sodden barly and beanes for his dy­et, and greene malte on the floore, and after the 8. daies end let him blood in the two brest veines, a­bout a pinte, then give him a pinte of sacke, a quar­ter of a pinte of sallet oyle, foure penny worth of the best triacle, and ride him vntill he sweat, then presently set him in a warme stable, and clothe him very warme, and at night giue him a good mash of malte, with the pouder of brimstone to the quan­tity of two spoonefuls.

CHAP. 113. For Surfeting with Prouender.

VVHen a Horse hath eaten more then the sto­macke can well digest, he is in such paine as he is not able to stand, but lyeth and walloweth as if he had the bots, the danger whereof I haue for­merly written. The cure is, to let him blood and to draw his yard and wash it, to put a peece of a cloue of garlicke into it, to make him pisse: also to rake him behinde, and to giue him a glister with the wa­ter [Page 292]of sodden mallowes, fresh butter and sallet oile keepe him warme and let him eat very little for 4 or 5. daies after.

CHAP. 114. For the surfetting, called, the foundring in the bodie.

THe cause of this disease, is ouermuch eating af­ter labour, whiles the Horse is hot, whereby his meat not being digested, breedeth euill humours, which by little and little do spred through all the parts of his body, and at length oppresse the whole body; and do so take away his strength that he hath not power to goe or mooue his ioynts, and being laid, is not able to rise, whereby he wanteth the vse of pissing, as also of dunging: for nature being o­uercome, then doth the humor rule the body to the vtter destruction thereof: In lik [...] maner, it is when the Horse beeing over hotte with trauell drinketh so much as the colde, thereof suppres­eth his naturall heate: The cause is, that the evil humors being predominate according to their na­ture, being heauy & moist, immediatly resort down to the horse legs and feet, and there rest, whereof there must be some dissolution, which if it be not preuented, make great gourdy lims, as the paines, cratches, spauins, winde-galls, casting of the houes, & such like: all which seeme more then wonderful to the ignorant, because ignorance, is the mother of wonder: The cure hereof must be according to the effects that are wrought in the horse, as if it be espied, when the haier beginneth to stare, that he be [Page 293]chil, and shrug for cold, forsake his meat, hang downe this head, quiuer after cold water, and after two or three dayes, begin tocough, then it is a signe, that his surfet is not great and then he may be cured thus: couer his belly with the glister last mentioned and giue him this drinke: take of malmesy a puart of su­gar half [...]atterne, of houy half a quartern, of sina­mon half an ounce of licoris and Anisseeds, of each two spoonfull beaten into fine pouder put it into the Malmsie, & giue it him blood warme keep him warme, & with warme water, & 4. or 5. dayes after let him blood.

CHAP. 115. For the yellowes.

THe cause herof, is also the aboundance of bad humors, the cure is plaine: let him blood, if you see it yellow a pot­tle, then cure him by giuing a quart of white wine, of saffron and turmerick of each halfe an ounce, and the Iuice that is wrong out of 2. handful of Selondine, & being blood warm giue it him and keep him warme, and with good mashes, wherein put two sponfull of the powder of Brimston: some will giue in this drinke, the greene order of geese strained. I could now intreat of the dropsie in a Horse, but if you obserue those fewe rules I haue set downe, in the beginning of the title of cures, you will be free almost from all diseases.

CHAP. 116. For the Colick.

The cause of this disease is 2. fold, either it commeth through aboundance of humors or with wind, and herein the owner or or keper may giue good di­rection, for if he knew the Horse to be cleane within and orderly dieted, then it will be probaly coniectured it is the wind, and although it be winde yet I iudge the origenal to beobstruction, of humor which will not suffer the vvind to haue his free passage, vvhich othervvise nature vvould expell as his enimie, The cures may be diuers, & be­cause it is a disease that few Farriers, vnderstand, I wil set downe seueral cures, because if one thing cannot be spedily procured another may, First it may be an obstruction, for that the horse hath the stone, & cannot stale: first take a quart of white wine, halfe a pinte of burre seed, beaten smal, 2 ounces of parsly­seed, of smalage Saxafrage, the roots of philupendu­la, Grommell seed, & broom seed, of each 2. ounces beaten to fine pouder, a good handfull of water­cresses, and lay them in steep all night, and in the morning strain them cleane, and put to it a litle black sope, and a litle butter, and ride him till he be­gin to sweat, then set him in your stable with a great quantitie of sweet litter vnder him, and cloath him warme and so let him stand meatles seuen or eight houres, then giue him dryed oates & vvarm vvater, vvith a quantitie of sallet oyle to drinke, and before [Page 295]he haue this drinke let him fast all night. If he be a Horse there is nothing better for him then to couer a Mare.

CHAP. 117. For Costiuenes or belly bound.

TAke of the decoction of mallows a quart, put to­it halfe a pint of oyle or somuch butter, an ounce of Benidicte luxature & powre into his fundament with a litle horne, and hold his taile close to his fun­dament, whiles another doth lead him, & so keep it [Page 296]as long as you can, and after keepe him warme and giue him warme water to drinke.

For the Laxe. CHAP. 118.

TAke of Beane flower & Bole armony, of each a quarterne, mingled in a quart of red wine, giue it him luke warme, and after drinke warme water, with beane flower: but if that will not stay him, then giue him halfe a penny worth of Allom, beaten in­to pouder, & Bole Armony beaten small, in a quart of milke, stirring them til the milke be all of a curd, and this will stop him.

For the Wormes. CHAP. 119

THey are ingendred of raw & euill humors: there are 3. kindes of them; the worme, the bot, the truncheon. The Horse wil lye downe and wallowe, which is when they feede on him, his breath will stincke, and his mouth clāmy. The cure, giue him a quart of new milke, and halfe a pinte of hony in it, blood warme: this will make them rest from gnaw­ing of him, because they wilsuck therof vntil they be ready to burst: then the next day giue him this drinke following.

The cures that are pretended are diuers: first take a quart of wort, or ale of the strongest, then take a quarter of a pound of ferne, half a pound of Sauin, halfe a pound of stone crop; stamp them, and put them together with two spoonefulls of brimstone, and asmuch chimney soote, beaten to pouder, and let them lye in steepe two houres, then straine them and giue the Horse a little, warme; then bridle him and let him stand 6. houres after without meat, and there is no doubt but the Horse wilbe at quiet, for the strength thereof is such, to staine the mawe as [Page 297]the bot will not meddle, but fly from it, but it doth not kil them: And so is it of all other medicines for the same, whereof are infinite. Now if I may per­swade you, or rather Mai. Iohn Orpen, that worthy Farrier deceased, after these former drinkes giuen, the third day make him purging pils, as hath bene before, viz. Take of lard a pound, laid in water two houres; then take nothing but the cleane fat there­of, stamp it in a morter, & thereunto put of Lico­ris, of Anniseedes, of Fenegreeke, of each beaten into pouder 3. ounces, of Alloes in pouder 2. oun­ces, and of Agaricke one ounce, knead them in paste and make 6. balles therof, then hauing fasted ouer night, giue him the next morning 3. of these pilles, nointed with hony, when you haue opened his mouth, catch hold of his tongue, holde it fast til you haue hurld in one, and thrust it downe his throate with a rowling pin, and then let his tongue goe till he hath swallowed it down, and so do with the rest, and keepe him close from all ayre, and at night giue him a good strong mash, & warme water 3. daies af­ter; my reasō is, for that these balles wil now purge out of his body all the bots and wormes, and al the humors that bred & cherished them: so as your Horse wilbe perfectly cleane: And you shall finde most of the bots aliue, when they are purged; for you cannot kil them with medicine, but only make them forbeare vexing of him, so long as his mawe resteth so bitter & stinched, as they dare not feed on it, but vpon other humors, whereby moste men thinke they haue cured their Horse perfect: and the like reason is for chickins gut, and such like: which being a pleasanter foode then the [Page 298]horse mwe, leaue him aprest, to feede on them, but doe not cure him, for in reason it cannot kill them nor auoide them, and therefore the botts remaine stil in the body.

CHAP. 120. For the Colt euill.

THe eure is to wash the sheath cleane with luke-warme Vinegar, draw out his yarde, and wash it also, then ride him in some running streame vp to the belly, to allaye the heat, and thus doe lustily a quarter of an houre, and so euerie day after for three or foure daies.

CHAP. 121. For mattering of the yard.

TAke a pinte of white wine, boile therin a quar­ter of Roche Allum, and with a Squirt thrust vp verie farre into his yarde, squirt the same three or foure times to pierce and clense the bot­tome from the filth, and thus continue vntill he bee whole.

CHAP. 122. For the Foalling of the yard.

THe cure is to wash the same with warme white wine, and annoint it with oyle of Roses and ho­ny [Page 299]mingled together, then put it vp, and with a codpeece or trusse, keepe it still vp, and dresse him euerie day once till he be whole.

CHAP. 123. For the swelling of the Cod or stones.

THe cure is to let him blood on both sides, in the flanke veines, then take of Oyle of Roses, and Vinegar, of each a pinte, halfe a quartern of Bole Armony, beaten into pouder, mingle them together, and being luke warme, annoint the Cod therewith with two or three feathers, and the next day ride him into the water, and giue him 2. or three turnes, then bring him to the stable, and when hee is dry, annoint them againe, and so continue till he be whole, but if the cods doe swell by meanes of anye hurt, then couer the cods with a charge of Bole Ar­mony and Vinegar wrought together, renewing till the swelling goe away; and if it breake, taint it with Melrosatum, and make him a breech, renewing it til it be whole.

CHAP. 124 For incording or Bursting.

THis is when the rimme that incloseth the guts is broken, so that they fal into the Cod of the horse, which is apparant to sight or feeling: the cure is to put 4 pasternes on his feet, as the horse-gelders vse, then bathe his stones with warme water and but­ter, then raise them vp from the bodye with both [Page 300]your hāds being closed by the fingers fast together, and so holding the stones in your hands, worke downe the gut into the body of the Horse, by stri­king it downeward with your thumbes, one after another, vntill that side of the stone be so small as the other, then hauing returned the gut into his place, take a woollen list of two fingers broad, tho­roughly annointed with fresh butter, and tie his stones both together, or so nigh his body as maybe, not ouer hard, but that you may put your finger be­twixt; that done, in all quietnes take the Horse a­way, and let him not be stirred 3. weekes after, but the next day vnloosen the list, & take it away, & then & euery day after twice or thrice in a day, cast colde water vpon his cods, to make him shrinke vp his stones, & at 3. weekes or moneths end, to geld him of that stone, which done, let him eat little, and con­tinually drinke water but a little at a time, till three weekes be ended.

CHAP. 125 For the Botch in the Graines of a Horse.

THe cure is, to take of wheat flower, Turpentine, and Hony, of each like quantity, stirring it to make a stiffe plaister, & to lay it to the sore to break it, & then lance it, and taint it with Turpemine, and Hogs grease, as before.

CHAP. 126 For griefe in the shoulder that hath bene long time.

THe cure is, giue him a slit on both sides, an inch vnder the shoulder bones, then with a swannes quill put into the slit, blowe vp first the one shoul­der [Page 301]and then the other, as big as you can possibly, euen vp to the withers, and with your hand strike the winde equally into euery place of the shoulders, and when they be both full, then beat all the windy places with a hasell wand, ouer all the shoulders, then with a flat slice of yron loosen the skin within from the flesh, that done rowel the 2. slitts or cuts with two round rowels of leather with a hole in the middest, that the mattet may issue foorth, and let such rowels be three inches broad, and so put in as they may lye plaine and flat within the cut. Then take of pitch, & of rosen, each apound, of tar halfe a pinte, boile these together, and when it is some­what coole, drawe all the shoulders very thick ther­with; that done, clap on as many flockes as wil stick of the horse coloure: and euery day clense both the wounds and rowels, and put them in againe, conti­nuing so 16, daies; then take them out and heale vp the wounds with hogs grease & turpentine molten together, renuing it vntil the wounds be whole, but let the flockes lie vntill they fal off, and let the horse run to grasse at the least halfe a yeare.

CHAP. 127 Of wrinching the shoulder.

THis commeth by a fall, sudden or short turning, rashe running out of some doore, or by some stripe of a horse, a sudden stop or such like; which being done, he wil traile his leg close to himselfe as he goeth. The cure is to let him blood in the breast so soone as it is perceiued or knowne (& the sooner the better) three pintes at the least, and to keep all the same blood in a pot, and thereunto put a quart of strong vinegar, six egs broken, shelles & all, and [Page 302]so much wheat-flower as wil thickē that licour; put therūto 1. pound of Bole Armony, beaten into pow­der, & 2. ounces of Sanguis Draconis, so as the flower may not be perceiued, & if it be to stiff, soften it with vinegar, then with your hand daube al the shoulder from the maine downward, & betwixt the forebow­els all against the haire, & let not the horse remooue vntil the charge be surely fastned to the kin, thē ca­rie him into the stable, & suffer him not to lye all that day, keeping him with a spare dyet, 15. daies toge­ther at the least, and let him not remooue out of his place but onely lye down all that time, & euerie day once refresh the shoulder pointe with this charge, laying still new vpon the old; & at the 15. daies or 20 daies end, leade him gently to see if he be amended, the which if hee bee, let him rest by the space of two weekes without trauel, but if he bee nothing amen­ded, then rowel him with a leather rowell vpon the shoulder point, and keep him rowelled the space of 15. daies, renewing the rowell, & clensing the woūd euery other day, and walke him vp and downe very gently, alwaies turning him on the contrarie side, & if he goe wel, pull out the Rowell and heale vp the wound with Turpentine & Hogs grease, & a taint of flaxe, but if the hurt were so violent that all this will not help him, then draw him Chequer wise with a hot yron, ouer all the shoulder point, and let him go to plough euery day two houres in soft ground, and where he may not be ouer-much strained, & if it bee possible, let him be let blood so soone as hee is hurt in those plate-veines, and also in the place, or as nere as is possible where the hurt or blow is, to the intent that no bloud congeale there, or that it tarrye vntill the flesh become blacke with the bruse.

CHAP. 128 Of splayting of the Shoulder.

THis commeth by some slippe, where­by the shoulder parteth from the brest, and so leaueth a rift or rent in the flesh and filme vnder the skinne, which causeth him to traile his leg after him. The cure is, to put a paire of streight pasternes on his [Page 304]forefeete, and toilet him stand still in the stable; then take of Dialthea one pound, of Sallet oyle a pinte, of oyle de bayes halfe a pound, of fresh butter halfe a pound, melt them together in a pipkin, annoint the greeued place therewith round about the inside of the shoulder, & within two or thee houres after all the shoulder will swell, then with a fleame strike all the swelling places, or with a sharpe hotte yron, the head whereof would be an inch long, to the in­tent the corruption may runne out: and still annoint the same verie often with the saide oyntment, and if it gather to a head, then lance it where it is moste soft, then taint it with Hogs-grease and Turpentine and a taint of flaxe.

CHAP. 129. Of the shoulder pight.

THis is whē the pitch or point of the shoul­der is displaced: which if it bee, the point will sticke out farther then his fellowe, & the horse will halt right downe. The cure is to make him swimme in a deepe water some xi. or xii. turnes, if he be able to make the ioynt returne to his place, then make two tough pinnes of ash­wood, the bignesse of your little finger sharpe, and thrust in one of the pinnes, from a boue downe­ward, so as both the ends may equally stick without the skinne, and if the pinne of wood will not easilye passe through, make it way with an yron pinne, then make two holes crosse to the first holes, so as the pin [Page 305]may crosse the first pinne right in the midst with a right crosse, and the first pinne would be somewhat flat in the midst, to the intent the other being round may passe the better without stop and close the iu­ster together, then take a peece of a line, somewhat bigger then a Whip-corde, and at one end make a loope, which being put ouer one of the pins endes, winde the rest of the line good & streight about the pins ends, so as it may lye betwixt the pins ends and the skin, and fasten the least end with a pack needle, and a pack-threed vnto the rest of the corde, so as it may not slip; but first annoynt both prickes and corde with hogs grease, then bring him into the sta­ble, and let him rest the space, of ix. daies, and lye downe so little as may bee, and put a pasterne on the fore legge, so as it may be bound with a corde vnto the foote of the manger, to keepe that legge al­waies in the stable more forward then the other, & at the nine daies end, pull out the pricks, & annoynt the places with Dialthea, or Hogs grease, and turn him to grasse.

CHAP. 130. For swelling in the fore-legges.

THis commeth after great labour, but the effici­ent causes are many, but principally that he is trauelled whē he is to yōg, before he be clensed frō his humors: that he is trauelled when he is full, that he hath too much rest, & is not kept with moderate dyet, that he feedeth on green meat, that he is wash­ed after labour and such like, as in the title of dyet I haue set forth. But if he be naturally fleshy lymmed, [Page 306]he wil neuer be free, but so soon as he is cured vpon trauel he wil swel again, & therfore such iades wold be gelded and put to cart, and neuer suffered to get Colt. The cure is diuers: take of mallowes three or foure handfuls, Rose cake and Sage a handfull, boile them in water, and therunto put halfe a poūd of butter, and halfe a pinte of Sallet oyle, and being made very warm, wash him twice a day for three or foure daies.

CHAP. 131. For soundering.

BEfore I enter to expresse the cure, I would haue you diligently to note the cause of this disease, for in the knowledge of the causes lyeth the [Page 307]knowledge of the cures; and if you do obserue those few rules I set downe in the beginning of this title of curing, and doe diligently obserue, assure your selfe you shall be little troubled with curing: for hauing preuented the cause of the greefe or sicknes, ye doe euermore preuent the greefe and sicknesse it selfe. The causes of foundring are either from su­perfluous and ouer-much eating and drinking, from immoderate and extream labour, or aboundance & fulnesse of humors: and because I haue entreated heerof in the title of dyet, as also in the title of bree­ding, I leaue you to the diligent consideration ther­of, and my rules formerly prescribed. The vndoub­ted and infallible cure hereof is, Garter each legge, immediately one handfull aboue the knee, with a list (good & hard) and then walke him to chafe him into a heat, & being somewhat warm let him bloud in both the brest veines, two or three quarts, and re­serue the same, continually stirring it with your hād to gather out the clods thereof: then take thereof two quarts, of wheate-flower halfe a pecke, sixe egs shels and all, of Bole Armony halfe a pound, of San­guis Dr [...]conis halfe a quarterne, and a quart of strong Vinegar; mingle them all together, & charge all his shoulders, brest, backe, loynes and forelegges therewith, and walke him vpon some hard ground, suffering him not to stand still, and when the charge is drie, refresh it againe, & hauing walked him three or foure houres together, leade him into the stable and giue him a little mash of Mault, and some hay and prouender, and then walk him againe, for foure or fiue daies, renewing the charge vppon him as it [Page 308]dryeth, so long as it lasteth, and keepe it warme, and with a thin dyet. But if you see the Horse to be a­fraide to set his hinder feet to the ground, and to be so weake behinde, & to stand quiuering and shaking and couet to lye downe, garter him also aboue the hoofs, on the hinder legs, and let him blood also in the thigh veines, to the quantitie of a pottell, and so double your charge in quantity, and therwith al­so charge both hinder legs, reines and flankes, all a­gainst the haire, & if you finde him feeble, by draw­ing so great a quantity of bloud, giue him a quart of Malsmesey, a little Sinamon, Mace and pepper fine­ly beaten into pouder, made luke warme, & let him be walked and chafed vp and downe, if he be able to goe, but if he bee not able, then tye him vp to the Racke, and let him be hanged with Canuas & ropes so as he may stand vpon the ground with his feete, and not suffered to lye downe: then pare all his feet so thin, that the dew come foorth, and tacke on the shoes againe, stopping the feete with branne and hogs-grease boiled together, and so hot as you may, and wrap them in cloathes euen to the pasternes, ti­ing the clouts fast: Let his dyet be thin, & giue him no cold water, & so soon as he is able, let him be al­most continually walked, vnlesse he be so long gone that his hoofes beginne to lose, or that it breake forth at the Cronets of the hoofes, then take two Egs, and asmuch bole Armony and beane-flower as wil thick the same, and mingle them well together, and make thereof plaisters, such as may close each foote round about, somwhat aboue the Cronet, & binde the same so fast that it fall not away, or be re­mooued [Page 309]by two daies together, but let the soles of his feete be clensed and stopped euery day once, & the Cronets but euerie two daies, & not walked for loosing his hoses: but when he amendeth, walk him vpon some soft ground faire & softly, but if it break out aboue the hoofe, then take all the fore-partes of the sole cleane away, leauing the heeles whole, then stop him, and also dresse him about the Cronet, as aforesaid if this greefe be espyed in time, it is iustly cured.

CHAP. 132 Of the Splint.

THis soarance is known to al men: the cure is, wash it with warme water, & shaue off the haire, & lightly scarifie all the sore place with the point of a rasor, so as the blood may issue forth: then take of Cantharides halfe a spoonefull, and of Enforbium as much, beaten into fine powder & min­gle them together with a spoonful of Oyle Debay, and then melt them in a little pan, stirring them wel together, so as they may boyle ouer, and beeing so boyling hot, take two or three feathers, and annoint all the sore places there with, and let not the Horse remooue from the place for two houres after.

After carrye him away and tye him so as hee cannot touch the medicine with his lippes, and also stand without litter al that day and night, and with­in two or three daies after annoynt the sore with butter for nine daies after.

CHAP. 133. For the Malender.

THis is a sc [...]b growing in the forme of lines, or strecks ouerthwart the bent of the knee, in the [Page 311]knee, in the inside of the legge. The cure is, wash it with warme water, and shaue the scab cleane away, then take a spoonefull of Sope, asmuch Lime, and make it like paste, and spred as much on a clout as will couer the sore, binde it fast, renewing it euerye day for three daies together, then annoynt the same with oile of Roses, to cause the crust to fal away, and then wash it with Vrine, & strew on the powder of Oyster-shels.

CHAP. 134. For an vpper Taint or ouer reach vpon the backe, sinewe of the shanke, somewhat aboue the ioynt.

THis is a swelling of the maister sinew which com­meth, for that the horse doth ouer-reach & strike that sinew with the toe of his hinder foot, the place will swell and the Horse hault. The cure is to wash the place with warme water, and shaue off the haire so farre as the swelling goeth, and scarifie euery part of the sore lightly with a Rasor, that the blood may issue forth, then take of Cantharides and Euforbium halfe an ounce, mingle them together with halfe a quarterne of Sope, and with a slice spred some of this oyntment ouer all the fore, and let him rest for one houre after, and let him stand without litter, and the next day dresse him so againe, and the third day [Page 312]annoynt the sore with butter nine daies after, then take 3 handfull of mallowes, a handfull of Sage, and a Rose cake, and boyle them in water, & when they be soft, put halfe a pound of butter, and halfe a pinte of sallet oyle to the water, & being warm, wash the place foure or fiue daies together therewith.

CHAP. 135. Of the nether ioynt.

THis is a blader ful of Ielly, like to a wind­gall, not apparant, but by feeling, grow­ing in the middest of the pastern aboue the frush: it commeth by some streine, wrinch, or ouerreach, the nether ioint toward the fetter locke will bee hot, and somewhat swollen: The cure is, tye him aboue the ioynt, with a list somewhat hard, and that wil cause the bladder to appeare to the eye, then lance it, & thrust out the Ielly, then take the white of an egge, and Salt beaten together with a little towe, and binde vnto it, renu­ing it once a day for fiue or sixe daies.

CHAP. 136. Of an ouer-reach on the heele.

TAke the white of an Egge, and Bole Armonye, mingled together with a little flaxe, and renewe it for foure or fiue daies.

CHAP. 137 Of the Serew or Serow.

THis is like a splint in manner of a gri­stle, as great as an Almond, it groweth on the fore-leg, sometime on the out­side, & sometime on the inside, in the middle of the leg. The cure, take an Onyon and picke out the core, & put therein a spoonefull of Honnye, a quarterne of a pound of Vnslickt-lime, and three penny worth of Verdegrease, and roste the Onyon, and bruse it, and lay it to hot, hauing first cut the skinne.

CHAP. 138. Of a false quarter.

THis is a rifte moste commonly in the inside of the hoofe, it commeth by euill paring the hoofe, the Horse will halt, & the rift wil bleed; the cure is, cut so much away on that side of the shoe where the greefe is, so as the rift may be vncouered, then open the rift with a drawer, & fill it with a role of towe, dipt in Turpentine, waxe and Sheepe Suet molten together, renewing it euerie day til it bee whole. When the rift is closed, drawe him betwixt the hayre and the hoofe, with a hot yron ouer­thwart the place, whereby the hoofe will shoote all downeward, and ride him with an other shoe till hee be throughly whole.

CHAP. 139 Of a Horse that is Hipped.

THe Horse that is hipt, is when his hip Bone is remooued out of his right place, and commeth by stripe, stretch, slipping, slyding or falling; he will go sideling, and the lower hippe will fall lower then the other, the cure is speedilye to take of Oyle debay, of Dialthea, of Neruall, of Swines grease of each halfe a poūd, melt them all together, stirring them continually, vntill they be throughly mingled together, & annoynt the sore place against the haire with this oyntment euerie day once for 15. daies to­gether, and make the oyntment to sinke wel into the flesh, by holding a broad bar of yron ouer the place annoynted, to make it enter into the skinne, and if at the end of those daies it doth not mend, then slitte a hole downeward into the skin, an inch beneath the hip bone, making the hole so wide as you may easily thrust in a rowell with your finger and then with a little broade slice of yron, loosen the skin from the flesh aboue the bone, and round about the same, so broad as the rowell may lye flat and plaine betwixt the skinne and the flesh, which rowell would bee of soft Calfes leather, with a hole in the midst, like a ring hauing a threed tyed to it, to pul out when you would clense the hole: and if the rowell be rowelled about with flocks fast tyed on, & annoynted with the oyntment of Hogs Grease & Turpentine boiled to­gether, [Page 315]it will draw so much the more: that done, taint it with a long taint of flaxe, dipt in turpentine and Hogs grease made warme, and so renewe it euerie day, for xv. daies: and before you dresse him, let him be walked euerie day a quarter of an houre, and as it healeth, make the taint euery day lesse thē the other: and so soone as he is whole, drawe with a hot yron crosse lines of 8. or 9. inches long right ouer the hip bone, so as the rowelled place may bee in the middest thereof, and burne him no deeper, but so as the skin may looke yellowe: and then charge all that place, & ouer all his buttocks with this charge. Take of pitch one pound, of Rosen one pound, of Tarre halfe a pinte boyle them together, and being good and warme, spred it with a clout tyed to a stick, and clap on as many flocks of the Horse colour as will sticke, and the more he may trauell at his owne wil, the better.

CHAP. 140 Of Stifling and hurts in the stifle.

THis is when the stifling bone is remooued from his right place: but if it be not remo­ued, then the horse is hurt and not stifled. The cure is in all points like vnto the sholder pight, sauing that the pins need not be so lōg because the stifling place is not so broad, & stāding in the stable, let him haue a pasterne with a ring vp­pon his fore-leg, & thereunto fasten a corde, which corde must goe about his necke, and let it bee so much strained as may bring his forelegge forward [Page 316]then the other to keepe the bone from starting out, but if he be but hurt with some stripe or strain, then the bone will not stand out, but perhaps the place may be swollen, then a moint the place with the ointment last mentioned, in the chapter going be­fore, euery day for 15. daies, and if he mend not therewith, then rowel him with a herne rowel, and clense the hole euery day, by turning the rowel an­noynted with the saide ointment.

CHAP. 141. For a wrench or straine in the Pastorne.

TAke a quart of brine, and seeth it till the same arise, & then streine it, and put to it a handfull of tansey, a handful of mallowes, a sawcerful of ho­ny, a quarter of a pound of sheepes tallowe, beate them together and set them on the fire, till they be well sodden, & then lay it hot to the taint, & sowe a cloth fast about it, and so let it rest 5. daies: and if this preuaile not, wash the place and shaue away the haire, sauing the fetter locke, and scarify it, and lay Cantharides to it, and heale it as the splint.

CHAP. 142 Of the dry spauin.

THis is apparantly knowne. The cure is to washe it with warme water, and shaue off the haire so far as the swelling is, then scarifie the place, that it [Page 317]bleede, and take of Cantharides a dosen, of Eufor­bium halfe a spoonefull, breake them into pouder, and boile them together, with a little oyle de bay, and being boyling hot, with feathers annoint the sore, and tie his taile for wiping it, and within an houre after, set him in the stable, and tie him so as he lye not downe that night (for rubbing the medi­cine) and within a day after, annoint it euery day with butter, for 6. daies, then draw the sore place with a hot yron, then take a sharpe yron like a bod­kin, somewhat bowing at the point, and thrust it in at the nether end of the middle line, and so vpward betwixt the skin and the flesh, an inch and a halfe, and then taint it with turpentine and hogs grease molten together, and made warme, renuing it eue­ry day once, the space of 9. daies: but remember that immediatly after his burning, you take vp the mai­ster veine, which must be done in this manner: cast the Horse vpon some straw, then hauing found the veine, marke well that part of the skin which coue­reth it, and pull that aside from the veyne with your left thumb, to the intent you may slit it with a rasor, without touching the veine, & cut no deeper then through the skin, and that longest wise, the veine goeth and not aboue an inch, then will the skin re­turne againe to the place ouer the veine, then with a cornet vncouer the veine, and make it bare, and being bare thrust the cornet vnderneath it, and raise it vp, and put a shooemakers thred vn­derneath, somewhat higher then the cornet, [Page 318]then the Cornet standing so still, slit the veine long­waies, that it may bleed, and hauing bled somewhat from aboue, then knit it with a sure knot somewhat aboue the slit, suffering it to bleed onelye from be­neath, a great quantitie, then knit vp the veine also beneath the slit, with a sure knot, then betwixt these two knots cut the veine a sunder, where it was slit, and fill the hole with Salt, then lay on this charge: take halfe a pound of pitch, a quarter of a pound of Rosin, and a quarter of a pinte of Tarre, boyle them together, and beeing warme, annoint all the inside of the ioynt, and clap on flocks of the horses colour, and turn him to Grasse, if it may bee till hee bee perfect whole, and the hayre growne a­gaine.

CHAP. 144. Of the wet or bloud spauin

THis is commonly knowne, and some call it the thorough Spauin: it is fed by a thin fluxible hu­mor, by the maister veine. The cure is to shaue off the haire, & to take vp the veyne in euery part, as I haue described in the cure of the bone spauin, and then to cut the veine asunder, & draw it with a hot yron, and to charge it, and to put on flockes, as I there described, & it will perfectly heale and cure it, for I haue prooued it certaine.

CHAP. 145. Of the Curbe.

THis is commonly knowne. The cure is, take of wine lees a pinte, a porrenger full of wheat­flower, of commin halfe an ounce, and stirre them wel together, and being made warme, charge the sore place therwith, renuing it euery day once, the space of 3. or 4. daies, and when the swelling is almost gone, then draw it with a hot yron, and co­uer the burning with pitch and rosen molten toge­ther, and laid on warme, and clap on flockes of his owne colour, & let him rest, and come in no water 12. daies.

CHAP. 146. Of the paines or cratches.

THis is a fretting matterish water, bred in the pastornes of the hinder legs, sometime by foule keeping, but principally of liquid and thin humors resorting to the ioynt, whereby the legs will be swollen, hot and scabby: The cure is to wash the pastornes with beere and butter, which being drye, clip away all the haire sauing the fet­terlocke, [Page 321]then take of turpentine, hogs grease, and hony, of like quantity, mingle them in a pot, & put thereunto a little Bole Armony, the yolkes of two Egges, and asmuch wheat flower as will thick­en them, then with a slice, lay it on a cloth, make a plaister to goe round about the pastorne, & binde it fast, renuing it euery day, let him not come in a­ny wet, but stand still: and some will wash it onely in Gun pouder and vinegar.

CHAP. 147. Of windegalles.

THis griefe euery man knoweth. The cure is, wash the places with warme water, & shaue off the haire, then draw it with a hot yron, in this man­ner, [...] that done, slit the middle line which passeth right downe through the windegall with a sharpe knife, beginning beneath and so vpward, halfe an inch, and thrust the ielly out, then take pitch & ro­sen molten together and laid on hot, and put flocks vpon it.

CHAP. 148. Of the Ringbone.

THis is a gristle growing about the cronet of the hoofe. The cure is to fire the sore with right lines from the pastorne to the coffin of the hoone, in this manner, | | | and let the edge of the draw­ing yron be as thicke as the backe of a big knife, and burne it so deep as the skin may looke yellow, then couer it with pitch and rosen molten together, and lay thereon flockes of the Horses coloure: some will eat it away with corosiues, as the splent.

CHAP. 149 Of the crowne scab.

THis is a filthy stinking scab, growing about the cronets of the hooues: the haire will stare like hogs bristles, and be alwaies mattering, annoint it when the haire is shauen away, with the ointment for the paines, and keepe it from wet.

CHAP. 150. Of the Quitterbone.

THis is a breaking out on the top of the cronet of the hooue, commonly on the inside, and com­meth by pricking or grauelling, it will breake out [Page 323]with matter, or a little deep hole like a thistle. The cure, to burne it about with a hot yron, then take of Arsenicke the quantity of a beane, beaten into fine pouder, put it into the bottome of the hole with a quil, & stop the mouth of the hole close with towe, and binde it so that the Horse may not come at it with his mouth, and so let it rest that day, and the next day if the hole looke blacke, it is a good signe, then taint the hole with hogs grease, & turpentine molten hot together with a taint of towe, and co­uer it with a bolster of towe, dipt in that ointment, continuing so til you haue gotten out the core, and then see whether the loose gristle in the bottome be vncouered, and feele with your finger or a quill if you be nigh it; and if you be, raise it with a croo­ked instrument, and pull it out with a paire of nip­pers, and then taint it with the said ointment, and after take hony and verdigrease boild together till it looke red, and heale it therewith, laid vpon towe, and take heede it heale not too soone, or close vp suddainely.

CHAP. 151. Of Graueling.

THe cure is to pare his hooue, and get out the grauell, then stop him with turpentine & hogs grease, molten hot and stopped with towe, and be­ware he come not out of the stable till he be well.

Be sure that you haue searched and made the foot very cleane, then take an ounce of virgin waxe a quarter of an ounce of Rosen, aquarter of an ounce of Deeres suet, halfe an ounce of Bores grease, a head of Sinigreene, bruse them all in a morter, and set it ouer the fire to melt, then lay it hot thereunto and it will helpe him.

CHAP. 152. Of Surbaiting.

The cure is, take off his shooes, and make his feete very cleane, but pare no hooue away, then tacke a hollowe shooe on, then take halfe a pound of the sword of bacon, a quarter of a pound of white sope a handfull of burnet, a handfull of bay leaues, and 4. or 5. branches of hearb grace, stamp them well and fry them, and lay them to the feete so hot as ye may, both vnder and ouer the foote, and keep him dry, renuing 4. or 5. times.

CHAP: 153. Of the pricke in a Horse soote with a naile or otherwise.

THe cure is, cut the mouth of the hole, where the pricke is, as broad as a two penny peece, and search it cleane, for els it is very dangerous; take a handful of red nettles, and beat them in a mor­ter, [Page 325]put thereunto a spoonefull of redvinegar, and a spoonefull of blacke sope, and 3. spoonefulls of bores gre ase or salt bacon, beat them altogether and make a salue thereof, and thrust asmuch into the sore thereof as you can, and stop it for falling out, and let it tae knower, and it shall neuorrot further. Some will poure in hothogs greaseand turpentine, and a taint of flaxe, and so cure it, but if it begin to breake out at the top of the cronet, then take halfe a quarterne of Bole Armony, asmuch beane flower, and two egges, and make a plaister of towe, and binde it vpon the cronet, and keepe him dry, and the hole very open in the foote, till he be well, and renue the plaister euery two daies, till it be whole, and if after it should happen a peece of flesh like a fig to grow in the bottome of the foot, pare it away with a hot yron, and lay hogs grease and tur­pentine to it, to heale it.

CHAP. 154. Of the retreat or cloying the foote, with a pricke of a nayle.

THe cure is, to take turpentine, waxe, and sheeps fuet, moulten together, and poure into it: or the medicine beforeprescribed.

CHAP. 155 Of loosening the hoofe.

THis greefe if it be loose roūd about the hoofe, then it commeth by foundring, if it be in part, then by some other an­guish; if it come by foundring, then it wil first breake in the fore-part of the cronet, against the toe, because the humor doth dis­cend right towards the toe, but if of a chanell naile or pricke, then the hoofe wil loosen equally round, but if other hurts, then right aboue the place, that is offended, which would bee well obserued of the Farryar; But of what cause soeuer, bee carefull to keepe open the hole in the bottome of the foote, & restraine it aboue with the restrictiue plaister of Bole Armony, beane-flower, and egges, mencioned in the cure of the pricke in the foote: you may take three spoonefulls of Tarre, a quarter of a pound of Rosen, a handfull of Tansey, a handfull of Rue, a handfull of Mints, & as much of Southern-wood, beate them all together with a pound of Butter, & one penny-worth of Virgins waxe, and so make a plaister, and binde it to for seauen daies, and it will be whole.

CHAP. 156. Of casting the hoofe.

THe cure is, take of Turpentine one pound, of Tarre halfe a pinte, of vnwrought waxe halfe a [Page 327]pound of sheepes suet halfe a pound, of sallet oyle halfe a pinte; boyle all these together, vntill they be throughly incorporated; make a boote of leather with a strong soale, sit for the Horse foote, to be buckled about the pastern, then take a good quātity of flaxe or towe, and lay this salue vpon it to couer the foot, so as the boote may not any wayes grieue him, renuing it euery day vntill it be whole: then let him stand in the stable vpon a bed of cowdung and snailes beaten together, which will encrease the same for 15. daies, and then put him to grasse. This receited ointment wold be alwaies vsed to annoint the hooues.

CHAP. 157. Of the hooue bound.

THis is a shrinking together of the whole coffin of the hooue, whereby the tuell of the foote, which is inclo­sed in the same, is so pinched, that the Horse is very lame therewith, & es­pecially after trauell; and if you knocke them, they will sound as an empty bottle: and if both feete be not bound, you shall apparantly see the hooue that is bound to be lesse then the other. This commeth by suffering the feete to remaine dry after great tra­uell: and it commonly commeth to a Iennet or Asse hooue, because it is deepe of hooue, but not to the flat hooue, for that only wrinckleth & waxeth brit­tle, and by reason of the bredth and shallownesse of [Page 328]hooue it cannot inclose the tuell of the foote, to strengthen it, and yet it is the moste worst hooue. The cure is to open the feete in the quarters verye much, so as you may well lay your thumbe betwixt the frush of the foot and the end of the coffin where it principally bindeth, then raise both the quarters of the hoofe, with a drawer from the Cronet, vnto the sole of the foote, so deepe as you see the dew come forth, & also two rases of each side, then open the foote within, & let him blood in the toes, and if it be old, the blood will be as colde almoste as water, for that it hath not bin fed with blood, wher­in the vitall spirit is, & that is the cause of the cold­nesse, wherby it is apparant, that the hoofe hath not prospered, but starued, for you shal see the frush and all the sole of the foote shrunke vppe and star­ued, then take away the sole of the foot, and stop it with Nettles and salt brused together gently, not o­uer hard, renewing it once a day for 9. daies, and bee sure euerie day twice, thoroughlye to annoint the cronet of the hoofe, with the oyntment prescribed for casting the hoofe, and after the 9. daies ende, let his feete bee stopped with Branne and Hogs-grease boyled together, and binde to as hot as may bee but still annoynt the hoofe, and when you put him to grasse, let him not weare any shoes, but put him in a Marsh or medowe, deepe of grasse, whereby his feete will be alwaies wette, and so enlarged againe: some ignorantlye call this dry foundering, when as all foundering in that foote cōmeth by descending of humors to the feet, and this is cleane contrarie, & my experience hath cured horses that haue beene [Page 329]hoofe-bound foure or fiue yeres, by this practise, which commeth asmuch by drawning blood in the toe of the foote, contiuually knocking the same vntill you finde warme blood to come forth.

CHAP. 158. Of the running of the frush.

THe cure is, pare away the corrupt places, vntill you see it raw, & where the issue is, then take a handfull of soote, and as much Salt, & the white of three egges, and beate them toge­ther, and hauing made the shoe hollowe, and tacked on, stoppe the feete therewith verie hard, and renew it euerie day for 7. daies, and let not the horse touch any wet, & when he is whole, be sure after trauel to keep that foote cleane from grauell.

CHAP. 159 Of the Leprosie or vniuersall Manginesse.

THe Horse that is infected heerewith will bee full of Scabbes, rawenesse, scuruye, and continuall scratching. The cure is, [Page 330]first to let him blood the first day on one side of the necke, and giue him a quart of new milke, and halfe a handfull of the finest pouder of brimstone, throughly stirred together, for that will expell the mange, and in all his prouender and mashes conti­nually for 5. or 6. daies giue him brimstone, and in hot graines, but if he will not eat it, giue it him with milke, new ale or wort: then the next day let him blood on the other side of the necke, at each time a good quantity. Within 2. daies after let him blood in the breast veines; within 2. daies after in the flank veines; within 2. daies after vnder the taile, so as he becommeth weake therewith: keepe his blood in a pale, then seeth chamber-ly and bay salt together, and let it be strong of the salt, then take a quantity of that blood and stir them together, that the same be thicke, then let him be rubbed all ouer with a pease wispe: then when the same is hot, rub him in euery part of his body therewith: and let it dry vpon him asmuch as may be, and the next day more of the same vpon the olde, that it may be as it were plaistred with the same, the which being done in the sunne, will casely be performed. After the same hath rested vpon him two daies, take bucke-Lye, and blacke sope, being very warme, and wash all his body cleane: then giue him a quart of sacke, and halfe a pinte of the best treacle to drinke, and annoint his body with this ointment in euery place. Take of Lampe oyle a quart, fine pouder of brim­stone a pinte, 2. pound of black sope, a pinte of tar, a pinte of barrowes grease, and so much 5 foote of the chimney, as wil thicken it, compound them wel [Page 331]together, annoint him all ouer with the same, being very hot, and so let him rest till it fall off from him, then when it is all gone, wash him cleane with sope suds, and thoroughly dry him, and then cloth him and put him into a sweat, and after dry him & keepe him warme and he wilbe perfect, and remember within one moneth after let him blood a pottell at least, and it will bring him to perfection of bodie, and health, with cleane and sweete dyet, and mode­rate labour: & if any place be raw, throwe thereup­pon the pouder of brimstone only, and it will dry it and heale it, and then giue him a purging drinke, and put him to grasse so soone as you may.

CHAP. 160. Of the sarcyn.

THis vlcer is not vnknowne to any that haue en­ioyed Horses, and yet vnknowne almost to all; I meane the true cause of the disease, and the cure: some say it is a corruption of blood, some an out­ward hurt, as of spur galling, biting of ticks, hogs lice or such like, some say an infirmity bred in the breast neere the heart, and in the side vessels or cod neere to the stones, of euill humors congealed to­gether, which after disperse themselues into the thighes, and sometimes into the head, and do send foorth watery humors into the nostrils, and then it is called the running Farcin. I haue often said if the true cause of a disease be knowne, the disease it self is easely cured. If any man of vnderstanding thinke [Page 333]that by healing the place grieued, that the same is alwaies sound & whole, he is deceaued: for many times the sudden healing or curing killeth the body or maketh that part which seemeth to be healed, to become of little vse for the helpe of the body: for the mange, the leprosie, & this disease of farcin, are in a Horse especially most pernicious, for often times it falleth out that many Horses infected ther­with, though they liue, and the disease seemeth to be cured yet are of small or no vse: and as I haue elsewhere saide, that as God created Adam Lord of all his creatures, to rule, gouerne, preserue, and haue the vse of his creatures, the same right is discē ­ded vpon vs his children, so as all our gouernment ouer his creatures, must be according to the nature of man, gouerned & prescribed by reason, because all creatures are depriued of reason, but only man: whereby it may be probably coniectured, that where man doth gouerne, there, and not elsewhere, reason doth gouerne, and then reason being the bounds and limitation of mediocrity, we are to infer, that mediocrity is the center of all vertue, and the same ought to be vsed in all the actions of man. Let vs then consider of the vse and practise of this di­se ase: doth not euery mans experience and his own vnderstanding (being his witnes) tel him, that when a young or old Horse that hath long rested, being taken vp from grasse, that he is full and choked as it were with aboundance of humors? & doth he think that when trauell disperseth those humors, as it wil, [Page 333]that these humors do not fly into the ayre, but re­maine in the seueral parts of the body, and doth he think that the greatnes of humors being an enemy to nature, but that nature would expell them if she could, or else keepe them from the heart, the foun­taine of her life, and so leaue them to creepe out of the body in some of the outward parts thereof? or otherwise, if they cannot get out better to destroy that member then the whole body? & doth not the continuall increase of humors, in the end by disor­der, become rulers & predominate ouer nature, so as nature is enforced by their violence to yeeld her selfe to destruction? and doth not most men ride their Horses vpon a full stomack, and cause nature against her will to digest the same vnnaturally, whereof many vnperfect humors are bred? & doth not most men when their Horses stand in the stable and rest, giue him continually more then he can di­gest, which also breedeth raw supersluous humors? and doth not most men feed them in the stable with new, rawe, and greene foode, which naturally bree­deth obstructions, and raw & filthy humors? and do not most men when their Horses are in the sta­ble, suffer them to rest and feede full without mode­rate excercise? and do not most men when they trauell, their Horse being very hot, suffer them to drinke their fill? & do not mostmen when their hor­ses come into the Inne very hot, the stomack thē be­ing most weake, suffer them then to eate, before na­ture be able to digest? How then shal I expresse the [Page 334]true cause of diseases, when all these abuses breede infinite causes of disease, without which no cure can perfectly be effected, yet where man cannot tru­ly define, Reason leaueth him probaly to coniect­ure: and therefore I coniecture the cause of this di­sease to growe either from aboundance of bad hu­mors, which corrupt the blood, or from great dist­emperature of the blood, by a violent heat into a sudden colde, so as I haue gathered it onely to the corruption of the blood, for otherwise I doe not thinke that the bite of a Horse or a lowse could so poison the whole body, as to become lothsome to behold: & therefore to the cure: first let him blood on both sides of the necke, 3. quarts at least, for it is most certaine that the liuer which is the fountaine of blood is corrupted, and so sendeth the same into euery part of the bodie, then giue him this drinke; take a gallon of faire water, put into it a good hand­ful of Rue, a good spoonefull of Hempseed, and a handfull of the inner rine of greene elder, bruse them in a morter together, and seeth it till halfe be consumed, and being colde, giue it him to drinke: euermore continue to let him blood in that veyne which is nighest to the sore place, a great quantity, let his diet be thin, but very cleane and sweete, viz. wheat strawe, and dryed sweete oates, a few at a time, then take this approoued medicine follow­ing, which although the disease be neuer so foule, it will vndoubtedly cure it.

Take of hearb grace a handfull, of Fetherfew a handfull, of Chickweed of the house a handfull, of Kiks wood a handfull, of hearb Robert a handfull, [Page 335]keep the residue therof in a pipkin close couered in the earth, stop the mouth therof close with hearb grace and dock-leaues, and a greene turffe laid vpon it, that no aire come in, and euery third day vnty his eares, and dresse it with new, & so continue it till all the farcin be dead; for vndoubtedly at 3. or 4. dres­sings it will kill it: wash all the hearbs so cleane as no durt or filth be on them: boyle chamberlye and bay salt, with a little copporas and strong nettles, to wash the sores if neede be. But beware of burning them, either with fire orother corosiue, for although it may kill the vlcer, yet being dispersed, it wil burn and scortch the Horse skin, for burning doth purse the skin, and maketh it run together, so as the Horse wil neuer after prosper. I wold haue you get cases of leather; fastned to a head stall, made hollowe like the shape of a horse eares, to lace or buckle, that you hurt not his eares, or make them laut eared, which thing the Sadlers will helpe you heerein, for many times by long binding, the eares are spoiled, so as they must be cut off.

After that you see the filthy vlcer killed and dead, yet you must knowe that the blood is still putrifyed and corrupted, therefore euery month at least let him blood, but alwaies in seuerall places, and when you see the blood fine and pure, then giue him some good scouring drink, a quart of white wine, a quar­ter of an oūce of ruebarb, laid in it in steepe, in very thin slices all a night, one ounce & a halfe of Alloes in pouder dissolued therein, halfe an ounce of Aga­ricke, an ounce of sence steeped in the wine al night, 3. races of Ginger sliced and laide also in steepe [Page 336]all night, and two ounces of sirrop of Roses, but the Rubarbe, Senee and Ginger, take out of the wine but before you put in the other simples, and then make it blood warme, and giue it the Horse, & so let him rest all that day, giuing him nothing but Wheate-straw at night, and the next day following giue him a pottle of sweete strong worte, & a quar­ter of a pinte of Treacle, and then keepe him warme and giue him wheat-straw, & good plentie of sweet Oates. After all this wash all his body very clean with Buck-lye, and black-sope, and after cloath him warme, and giue him a swet, and he will remaine a perfect horse, and heereof haue no doubt.

CHAP: 161. Of the Cancker.

THis Vlcer likewise groweth from the causes a­fore said. The cure is, let him blud aboūdantly in the veines that be next the sore, then take of Alū 1. pound, of green Coporas 1. pound, of white coporas a quarterne, and a good handfull of Salt, boyle them together in faire running water from a pottle to a quart, this water being warme, put parte thereof into a dish, and with a coult wash the same till it begin to bleede, and let it dry in, then take of black-sope 1. pound, and of Quick-siluer halfe an ounce, and incorporate them till the quick-siluer be not seene, and alwaies after you haue washed the same with a slice, couer the Vlcer with this medi­cine till it be whole, but bee sure still to let blood [Page 337]about the Vlcer, for many daies together, and when it is killed, then cast vppon it the pouder of vnslickt lime, or of brimstone.

CHAP. 162 Of the Fistula.

THis is a filthy Vlcer also, bred from some Vlcer not thoroghly cured. The cure is to search the depth thereof, with a quill, or with some other instrument of lead, for vnlesse you finde the bottom it is hard to cure, and hauing found the bottome, if it bee in place where you may boldlye cut with a Rasor, make a slit against the bottom so wide as you may thrust in your finger, to feele if anye bone or gristle be perished, or spungie, or loose flesh, which must be gotten out, then boile a quarterne of honny and an ounce of Verdegrease in powder, stirring it continually vntill it looke red, then taint therewith and bolster it with flaxe that it get not out, but if the place be where the taint cannot bee conuenientlye kept in, fasten on each ende of the hole a Shooma­kers threed ouer the bolster, to keep the taint in, re­newing it euery day vntill it leaue mattering, and make the taint lesser and lesser, & sprinckle thereon a little slickt lime. But if you cannot come to taint it to the bottome, then take strong lye, honnye, Roche Allum, Mercurie, and seeth them together, and ap­plie it to the bottome of the Fistula If the Fistula be in the head, take the iuice of Howselike, and dipp a locke of wooll in it, and put the same in his eares, & vse it euerie day till it be whole.

CHAP. 163. Of a spungie wart.

THe cure is, if it be lōg enough, tie a threed about it verye hard, and it will eate it off, or else take it off with a hott yron.

CHAP. 164. Of Woundes.

THe cure is, take of Turpentine, of Mel Rosatum, of oyle of Roses, of each a quarterne, and a little vnwrought waxe, and melt them together, stirring them continually, and so vse it with taint or role, as occasion shal be.

CHAP. 165. Of pulling out shiuers or Thornes, and of swelling.

THe cure is to pull it out if it may be seene, but if it swell, and cannot, then take wormewood, Pa­retorie, Beares foote, Hogs grease and honny, boyle them together, and being hotte, make a plaister; it is excellent for anye swelling, so also is Wine-lees, Wheate-flower, and commen boyled together, which when it is at a head, Launce it.

CHAP. 166 Of Sinewes out or brused.

TAke of Tarre, Beane-flower, and oyle of Roses, and lay it hotte to the place: so are Wormes and Sallet Oyle fryed together: so is the Oyntment of wormes, which you may haue at the Pothecaries.

CHAP. 167. Of killing the fier either in burning or shot.

TAke Varnish or Oyle and Water, beaten to­gether, and annoynt the place with a fea­ther.

CHAP. 168. Of Bones out of Ioynt.

THe cure is, to binde all the fore-legs together, and to cast him on his backe, and then to hoyse him from the ground with his heeles vpward, so shall the weight of his bodye cause the ioynt to shoote in againe in his right place.

CHAP. 169. Of a Horse that stumbleth.

THis is called the cordes: the cordes is a sinewe that breedeth amongst the Sinewes, the one end commeth downe to the Shackle veine, and so vp thorough the legge, and goeth ouer the inner side of the knee, and so ouer the shoulder, and so along [Page 340]the necke by the Wesant, and it goeth ouer the tem­ples, vnder his eye, downe ouer the snowt, betwixt both the nostrils & the gristle, there knit the length of an Almond, take a sharpe knife and cut a slit euen at the top of his nose, iust with the point of the gri­stle, open the slit, & you shal perceiue a white string, take it vp with a bores toth, or a Bucks horne that is crooked, or some crooked bodkin [...] & twine it about straite, and cut it a sunder, you may twine it so much as you may reare his foote from the ground, then stitch vp the slit, and annoynt it with butter, & the Horse doubtlesse shall be cured.

CHAP. 170 Of curing a hurt.

TAke waxe, Turpentine, rosen, & Hogs grease of like quantitie, and halfe so much Tarre as a­ny one of the other simples, melt and boile them to­gether, and keepe it ready for any accident.

CHAP. 171. Of repayring a broaken hoofe to make it grow.

TAke of Garlick heads, 7. ounces, of hearbe grace three handfuls, of Allom beaten & sifted 7. oun­ces, of Barrowes grease that is old 2. pound, mingle all these with a handfull of Asses dung, and boyle them together, and annoynt the hoofes there with.

CHAP. 172. Of a horse that cannot pisse.

TAke a pinte of white Vinegar, halfe a pound of Simgreene, bruse it smal, & wring out the iuice, [Page 341]take a handfull of Fennel, a handful of Foxe-gloues leaues, or the flowers: 2. ounces of Gromel seede, and halfe a pinte of sweete hony, stampe them well together and straine them into the Vinegar, let him stand without meate and drinke 24. houres.

CHAP. 173. Of sretting in the Guts.

TAke in the morning a quart of good Ale, 4. oun­ces of Fenegreek, 7, oūces of Bayberries, asmuch long pepper, an ounce of Ginger, two handfuls of Water-cresses, a handful of Sage, another of Mints, beate them altogether in the Ale, and seeth them in the Ale, then streine it, and giue it him blud-warme, rope all his legs, and tye him that he lye not down, and put him into a sweat, and keep him warm, and drinke no colde water for three daies after, and giue him dryed beanes and Oates for his prouender.

CHAP. 174. Of the dangerous galling of a Horse.

TAke a pottle of vergis, two pennyworth of green coporas, boyle it to a pinte and a halfe, wash and search the hole there with, and fill the hole with red leade so let it remaine three daies vntouched, then wash it with the same, fill it againe with red leade, this will heale it, though it bee galde to the bo­dy.

CHAP. 175. Of sinking a Thistula or windegall.

FIrst seere the Thistula, then take Rosen, sheepes tallowe and Brimstone, and boile them together, lay it on hot with a cloth, and it will sinke downe.

For the windegall, slit out the ielly; and lay it not so hot on, and it will keepe the same cleane.

CHAP. 176. Of a Blister.

TAke the iuice of ground Iuy, so much Brimstone, a quantity of Tar, and so much Allome, and lay it to the blister.

CHAP. 177. Of the paine in the head.

TAke a pinte of malmesey, fiue new laide egges, a head of brused Garlicke, small Pepper, Sinna­mon, and Nutmegges, beaten sine & giue it him to drinke, three daies together, and fast six houres af­ter.

CHAP. 178. Of a Farcin or sudden breaking out in any part of the body, to stay it, and fill it.

TAke this ointment, and alwaies haue it ready in your stable: three ounces of quicke siluer, put it into a bladder, and two spoonefulls of the iuice of Oringes and Lemons, shake them together, then take a pound of fresh hogs grease, and of vergis one ounce, beate them all in a woodden dish, and [Page 343]worke them thoroughly together, then take a poūd of fresh Hogs grease, and annoint the same there­with, and slit the same if neede be, then wash it, and then put into his eares, the iuice of Rugweede, and he will be perfect.

Of a wrinch in the Fetterlocke, or other ioynt that is suddenly done. Chap. 179.

TAke of Naruile, and black-sope, boyle them to­gether a little on the fire, & annoint it therwith.

Of a Windegall that it shall not grow againe. Ch. 180.

WHen you haue cut the skin, take a spoonfull of Oyle de bay 1. spoonful of Turpentine, one penny worth of Verdegrease, the white of an egge, & a quarter of an ounce of red lead, boyle them toge­ther to a salue and lay the same to the place.

Of the stone in a Horse and Cholicke. Chap. 181

TAke a pinte of white wine, halfe a pint of bur­seed, & beat them smal, two ounces of parsely­seed, halfe a handfull of I sope, halfe an oūce of black-sope, halfe a handfull of vnset leckes, and halfe a handfull of water Cresses, mingle them toge­ther, & stamp them and strein them, but put the bur­seed & parcely seed to it after it is streined, and then warme it, and giue it him to drinke.

Of a horse that pisseth blood. chap. 182.

TAke Barly, & seeth it in the iuice of Gomfollye, and giue him the barly to eate, and the iuice to drinke.

Of Ripening an impostume. Chap. 183.

TAke Mallow roots, & Lilly roots, & bruse them, and put vnto them Hogs-grease, and lyn-seede meale, and plaister wise lay it to.

To bring haire a gaine. Chap. 184.

TAke the dung of Goates, some hony and Allum, and the blood of a Hog, boyle them together, & being hot rub the place therewith.

To make a white marke on a horse. Chap. 185.

TAke a Tile & burne it to pouder, take dasie roots, and the roots of a white bryer, of each a like, dry them, and make powder thereof, then shaue the place that you wil haue white, rub it very much with the powder, then wash the place with this water: take a quantitie of Hony-suckle-flowers, and a quantitie of hony, and the water that Moles haue bene sodde in, and wash the place, and rub it very sore therewith: doe this fiue daies, and keepe him from all winde, and it will bee white.

To make a horse he shall not neigh. Chap, 186.

TIe a woollen list about the middest of his tongue and he shall not ney so long as it remaineth.

To make a horse follow his Maister. Chap. 186.

TAke one pound of Otmell, a quarter of a pound of honny, and halfe a pound of Lumary, & make a bagge thereof, and beare it about you next your skinne, and labour therewith till you sweat, & wipe the swet with the bag, and keepe the Horse a day & night fasting, and giue it him to eate, and also vse to giue him meale and branne, and he will follow you.

Lastly obserue in al cures, that the onely sure way is to giue fire to the wood, if possibly you may with­out danger of the sinews, & beware that you do not cure but when the horse hath rested, & that it be not done when he is in any griefe or paine, but in ca­ses of necessitie. I had once purposed to haue set out the medicines of all cures as they are vsed in moste [Page 145]christian Nations, but time would not permit, and therfore I refer it as God shal giue life & leasure. In the meane time, assure thy selfe if thou wilt reade this tract at aduisedly, temperately, and with delibe­ration, thou shalt finde sufficient for thy full instruc­tion.