¶ Of floorishing yeeres. The first Dialogue.

MY yeeres are floorishyng, I shall yet lyue a long tyme.

Loe, this is the first vaine hope of mortall men, whiche hath alre­dy, and wyll hereafter, deceiue many thou­sandes.

My yeeres are floorishing.

A vayne ioy, and a short: & whyle we be speakyng, this flowre withereth.

My age is sounde.

Who wyl cal that sound, whiche wanteth much, and when that whiche remayneth, is vncertayne?

But there is a certaine prefixed terme, and lawe of liuing.

Who made that lawe? or what is the prefixed time of lyfe? Surely it is a very vnequl law, that is not indifferent vn­to al men: yea rather, it is so variable, that there is nothing more vncertayne in the lyfe of man, than the terme of mans lyfe.

Howbeit, there is some terme and measure of life, which the wise men haue defined.

To appoynt the terme of lyfe, it is not in his power that receiueth it, but in his that geueth it, which is GOD. And I vnderstande, howe that hereby you meane the terme of threescore & ten yeres, or if nature be somwhat stronger, fourescore yeeres, and there you appoynt the ende: vnto whiche who so doth attayne, theyr lyfe is but payne and trauayle: vnlesse he aduaunce your hope a litle further, who sayth, The dayes of a mans lyfe are many tymes an hundred yeeres, vnto which age how few do attayne, we see: but admit that it happened vnto al, which happeneth but to fewe, notwithstandyng I pray you howe muche is it:

Very much truely: For the lyfe of young men is more assured and farther of from olde age, and so from death.

Thou art deceiued: for although there be nothing safe to a man, notwithstandyng that is the most daungerous part of his lyfe, whiche to muche carelesnesse maketh vnaduised. There is nothyng neerer to other, then death is to lyfe: when they seeme to be farthest a sunder, then are they neerest togeather, al­wayes the one passeth away, and the other draweth nygh: why­ther [Page]soeuer ye flee away, death is at hande, and hangeth ouer your heades.

Wel, at the leastwyse, youth is now present, and olde age is absent.

Nothyng is more flytting then youth, nothyng more deceyuable then olde age. Youth stayeth not, but in delightyng she slyppeth away, olde age immediatly folowyng after softly in darkenesse and silence, striketh men at vnwares: and when she is thought to be farre of, then standeth she at the doore.

My age is in rysing.

Thou trustest to a most deceitfull thing. This rysing, is a goyng downe, this short lyfe, this vnstable tyme, stealeth a­way, yea without makyng any noyse with the feete, euen whyle we sleepe, and make merie. And, O that this swiftnesse of tyme, and shortnesse of lyfe were as well knowen in the beginning, as it is in the ende? whiche to those that enter seemeth infinite, and no­thyng when they goe out, and are scarce so many minutes as they appeared to be hundredes of yeeres. So then, at length de­ceypt is knowen when it can not be auoyded: whereby it com­meth, that many tymes counsell is geuen in vayne vnto those yeeres, they are both vnbeleeuyng, and vnskylfull, disdainefull of anothers counsell, and wantyng of their owne. And therefore, there is nothyng that discouereth the errours of youth, although they be innumerable and greeuous, and yet notwithstandyng hyd and vnknowen to those that committed them, better then olde age doth, and layeth them foorth before their eyes, who sometyme dissembled them, and winked at them. Neither doo ye sooner perceyue what ye ought to be, then ye be made that whiche ye woulde be, and then ye can possibly be none other then ye be. But yf there were any that coulde vnderstande these thynges in tyme, or by hym selfe, or beleeue when he is taught, surely hym woulde I accompt a woorthy and happie youth among many thou­sandes, he shoulde not passe his lyfe through so many difficulties, whose onely course lyeth safe and straight through vertue.

Myne age is nothyng spent.

Howe is that vnspent, whiche since the tyme it first beganne is euery day wasted, and whyle it is geuen, is also taken away by very small portions. For Heauen turneth about with perpetuall motion, minutes consume houres, and houres the day. That day thrusteth foorth another, [Page 2]and that, the next day folowyng, and there is neuer any ceassyng. So doo monethes passe away, so yeeres, and so dooth an whole age make hast, and runne, and as Cicero sayeth, fleeth away. And as Virgil sayth, It neuer waggeth the swifte winges. So lykewyse, they that fare by Sea, they are caried away in the shyppe, and feele not howe, and many tymes are at their viage ende before they be ware.

An age that beginneth, is far from the ende.

Within the space of a short lyfe, no­thyng is farre of.

But there is no part farther from the ende, then is the beginnyng.

None in deede, but this shoulde be truely sayde, yf all men lyued lyke space of time. Howbeit, euen the very fyrst age falleth sundrie wayes into death: whereby it chaunceth many tymes, that he that seemed farthest of, is nearest his ende.

Truely, I am of a most floorishing age.

Although fewe do marke it, yet there is some change wrought since we beganne to speake, and in the drawyng foorth of euery sillable, there is some part of lyfe passed away, and some peece of transitorie flowre of youth decayed. And I pray you, what hath this deyntie and gallaunt young man, more then that rough and riueled olde man, besides this short and transitorie flowre whiche fadeth euery day? where­in what shoulde be so pleasaunt and delectable I doo not finde, since he knoweth that almost sooner then a man can speake it, he shall hym selfe be suche an one as this olde man nowe is, or els is mad yf he knowe it not, vnlesse of twayne whiche are led toge­to be put to death, he is to be accompted the happier, whiche is commaunded last to lay downe his necke vppon the blocke to be cut of, who truely seemeth vnto me in a maner in the more mise­rable state for the deferryng of the death: Howbeit the condition of these men, and of the other of whom I spake before, is not all one, insomuche as this man may haue some entreatie or meanes made for hym in the meane whyle to escape his fellowes execu­tion, and to lyue. Onely death can preuent a young man, that he shall not lyue vnto olde age. To be short, there consisteth no great felicitie in a small processe of tyme, and vnto loftie mindes there is nothyng that is short accompted acceptable. Awake ye that sleepe, it is now tyme, & open your dimme and slumbring eyes. [Page]Accustome your selues at length to thynke vpon eternal thinges, to loue them, and to desire them, and therewithal also to contemne transitorie thinges. Learne to depart from them willingly, which can not continue with you long, and to forsake them in hart, be­fore by them ye be forsaken.

My yeers are stable and greene.

They lye whiche say that there is some age (I knowe not which) stable. There is nothyng more swift then tyme, and tyme is the charret of al ages, to carrie them away in: And doest thou then imagine that it is permanent? O vanitie, there is nothyng durable, for euen at this present thou art violently drawen away. &c.

Of the goodly beautie of the body. The seconde Dialogue.

THE beautie of my body is goodly.

It is no more permanent then the tyme that commeth with it, with whiche also it flitteth away. Stay the tyme if thou canst, and so perhaps thou mayest stay beautie.

The beautie of my body is singuler.

Thou restest vpon a brittle foundation. The body it selfe passeth away like a shadow: and doest thou thinke that a transitorie accident of the body wyll continue? Accidentes may perishe, the subiect remaynyng, but when the body perisheth, they must needes decay. And among all the qualities whiche passe away with this mortall body, there is none swyfter then beautie, whiche so soone as euer it hath shewed it selfe as a pleasant flowre, it vanisheth euen in the sight of them that woonder at it and prayse it: it is quickely nipt with the least frost, and beaten downe with a smal winde, and eyther suddenly pinched of with the nayle of some enimies hande, or ouerthrowen with the heele of some sicknesse passing by. To be short, vaunt and reioyce as muche as thou list, behold he commeth apace that wyl couer thee in a thin veile. How much the beautie of a liuing man is to be esteemed, death declareth, and not death only, but olde age also, and the space of a few yeeres, yea one dayes fit of a sudden fetter. Last of all, to admit y^t no outward extremitie do happen, by continuance it consumeth of it owne accord, & turneth to nought, [Page 3]neyther dyd it bryng so muche delyght when it came, as it pro­cureth griefe when it departeth. The same, yf I be not deceyued, dyd the beautiful Romane Prince Domitian prooue sometyme to be true, who writing vnto a certayne friende of his: Vnderstand sayth he, that there is nothyng more acceptable then beautie, nor more brittle. And although it were durable, and a gyft of nature that continued, yet do I not see what there is in this glitteryng beautie, whiche is no sounde thyng, and which resteth only vpon the vppermost part of a man, that shoulde be so muche desired, whiche couereth many fylthy and horrible thyngs, flatteryng the senses, and deludyng them with a simple and sleight ouercastyng of the skin: And therefore it is better to take pleasure in true and permanent good thyngs, then in such as are false and transitorie.

The beautie of my body is most excellent.

Thou hast a veyle before thyne eyes, a snare before thy feete, byrdlyme vpon thy wyngs, thou canst not easesily eyther discerne the trueth, or folow vertue, or mount aloft with thy mynde: Beauty hath hyndred many from atchiuing honest exploites, and turned them to the contrary.

The beautie of my body is woonderfull.

You say wel, to call it woonderful, for what is more woonderful then this vanitie? From howe many delectable thin­ges doo fayre young men absteyne? what trauayles doo they su­steine? how muche doo they punyshe them, to the ende they may (I say not be) but appeare the more beautiful, & that only to set foorth theyr beautie, not thynkyng vpon eyther theyr good health or pleasure? How much tyme therewhile is there spent in eating and drinking? how many honest, profitable, and lastly, necessarie businesses are there neglected? And therfore kepe vnto thy self this short and transitorie good & vaine ioy, & that without enuie. Thou hast thyne enemie at home, and that which worse is, a delec­table and pleasant one: thou hast that which wyl take away thy quietnesse, and spende thy tyme, and is a perpetual torment: thou hast the occasion of payne and trouble, a plentiful matter to mini­ster dangers, a maynteyner of lustes & letcherie, & an entrance no lesse to purchase hatred, then to procure loue. Perhaps thou shalt be amorous to women, but odious to men, or peraduenture suspected: For ielousie in wedlocke is by no meanes more kynd­led, [Page]then by bodyly beautie. And nothyng is more ardently coue­ted then beautie, nothing moueth the minde more forcibly, & ther­fore nothyng is suspecied more vehemently.

The beau­tie of my body is great.

The same is wont to enforce foolish young men to that which is not expedient for them, while they thynke that euen as they lust, so also it is lawfull for them to vse theyr present commoditie, not regardyng what is meete and conuenient: whiche thyng many tymes hath been the cause of a sharpe and shameful ruyne to many.

The beautie of my body is alowable.

It shalbe so but a very short tyme, seeyng that this coomlynesse & colour of thy face shalbe chaun­ged. These yellow lockes shal fal away, the other that remayne shal waxe hoarie, the skalie wrinkles shal plowe the lothsome fur­rowes vpon thy tender cheekes and glysteryng forehead, a sorow­full cloude shall couer the cheereful beames and shynyng starres of thyne eyes, rotten raggednesse shal consume and fret away the smooth and whyte iuorie of thy teeth, not changyng them only in colour, but disorderyng them also in place, thyne vpright necke & nymble shoulders shal waxe croked, thy smooth throte shal waxe curled, thou shalt thynke that those drie handes and crooked feete were neuer thyne owne: What neede many woordes? the day wyl come, in whiche thou wylt not knowe thy selfe in a lookyng glasse. Of al these thynges whiche thou thinkest to be farre from thee, to the ende that when they come thou shalt not be astonied at suche monstruous bugges, say not but that thou hast ben fore­warned: And nowe I pronounce vnto thee, that yf thou lyue, these thynges wyll come vpon thee almost sooner then it can be spoken: and if thou do now beleeue me, thou shalt then lesse won­der to see howe thou art transfourmed.

In the meane whyle my beautie is noble.

What can I say more brief­ly then that saying of Apuleius Mandarensis? Stay a litle whyle, and there shalbe no such thyng.

Hitherto the beautie of my body is excellent.

I had rather the beautie of thy mind were excellent. For the beautie of the mind is a thyng far more precious, pleasant, and sure, then is the beautie of the body, consist­ing lykewyse of semblable lawes & cumlinesse of order, with apt and due disposition of the partes. It is a woorthie matter to wish [Page 4]for that beautie, and to imploy a mans trauayle in pursuyng the same, which neyther length of tyme shal consume, nor sicknesse ex­tinguyshe, nor death it selfe ouerthrow. But now you haue mortal thynges in admiration.

Truely at the leastwyse nowe my beautie is rare.

In this, as in many other thyngs, a mediocritie is to be wyshed. But yf thou neyther please thy selfe with this thy beautie, neither endeuour to please others but with that which is comely & conuenient, & shalt vse it chastly, soberly, and modestly, thy commendation therby shal not be smal­ly aduaunced.

A beautiful face honesteth the mynd.

Nay rather it prooueth it, and oftentymes draweth it into daunger: And why shouldest thou glory of that, since it is neyther thyne owne, neyther canst thou keepe it long, which was neuer glorious vnto any to haue had it, but vnto many to haue cast it of? I let passe to speake of other: Spurina was renowmed, not for her natural beauties sake, but for her procured deformitie.

I doe indeuour that vertue of the mynde, may be ioyned with the beautie of my body.

If thou bryng that to passe, then shal I say that thou art truely and in al respectes for­tunate: then shal thy beautie appeare more excellent, and thy ver­tue more acceptable. And although Seneca doo write, that he see­meth vnto hym to be deceyued, who sayth,

And vertue founde in body fayre, the greater grace it beares: yet me thynks he myght haue ben more worthyly reprehended yf he had sayde that it had been in deede greater, or perfecter, or hygher. But nowe synce by saying it is more acceptable, he re­spected not the thyng it selfe, but the indigent of the beholders: surely Virgil seemeth vnto me to be deceiued in so saying. To conclude, as the grace of beautie hath in it no soundnes, & nothing to be desyred? so if it be wyllyngly added to vertue, neyther the one be impayred by encrease of the other, I wyl suffer that this be termed an ornament to the other, or a thyng not vnpleasaunt to syght, howbeit short and frayle. But yf it be alone with­out vertue, I wyll then cal it a burden to the mynde, and an vnluckye signe of sorowful deceipt.

Of bodily health. The thirde Dialogue.

MY health is prosperous.

Whatsoeuer I sayd er [...] while concernyng beautie, imagine that it were now agayne repeated.

My bodily health is strong.

Behold howe olde age commeth against thee, garded with a thousande kindes of sundrie diseases to inuade good health, and in the meane whyle pleasure fighteth agaynst thee a familyar combat.

The health of my body is ioyfull.

An vnaduised ioyfulnesse, which vseth to make the pos­sessours thereof carelesse and necligent, and many tymes to pro­cure those diseases, whiche the distrustful carelesnesse of the party hath feared, as redie to impaire his good health.

The health of my body is good.

Vse it well, els it is but a smal good: Yea, it is a great euyll, yf (as it is woont,) it mini­ster cause of some offence. Good health hath been dangerous and hurtfull to many, that myght with more safetie haue been sicke in their beddes.

I am in very good health of body.

A very good thyng truely, and muche profitable, whether a man hath ought to doo with the body, or with the minde. But lyke as there resteth the force of poyson in the rootes of certayne hearbes, whiche being corrected by minglyng of other thinges with them, there is an holsome drinke made of many things togeather, which before consistyng but of one thing, wo [...]e haue been hurtfull: So lykewyse bodily health, to the ende it be not harmefull to him that hath it, ought to be tempered with none other thing, then by adioynyng thereunto the good health of the minde. A sicke mynde dwelleth in no place woorse then in an whole body.

Of restored health. The fourth Dialogue.

I IOY that I am deliuered of a long sickenesse.

Resto­red health I confesse, is more pleasant then reteined. Most vn­thankefull men, ye scarce knowe your goodes otherwyse then [Page 5]by loosyng them, and therefore when they be lost they greeue you, and when ye recouer them, they make you meery.

A most sharpe feuer hath forsaken me.

Phisitions cal those feuers most greeuous, whiche frie with heate within the bones and marow: Howe much more greeuous are they whiche lye hyd within the mynde, whereof I would wysh thee specially to be delyuered?

My sicknesse is gone.

Pre­sent sicknesse hath oftentymes doone good, while weakenyng the strength of the body, it hath procured health to the mynde. Con­sequently therefore when this is wantyng, it hurteth and dimini­sheth the light of the mynde, and augmenteth the pryde of the body: albeit then, sicknesse seeme to be naught, yea, very euyll, notwithstandyng that euyl is to be embrased whiche bringeth re­medie to a greater euyl.

At length my long sicknesse hath an ende.

Oh thou most foolyshe man, doest thou thynke thou hast thus escaped death, to whom thou run­nest dayly? Thou art now nearer vnto hym, than then, when thou thoughtest thou wast hard at hym: your iourney is vnreturnea­ble, and ye stay in no part thereof, ye haue no Inne to rest in, ye cannot slow your pace, your sleepe and watchyng, your toyle and restyng, your sycknesse and health, are steppes a lyke vnto death.

I am ryd of a perilous disease.

Thou hast a creditour whom thou canst not deceyue, thy day of payment is deferred, but thou art not discharged of thy band: for thou must needes be sicke agayne, and dye.

Of bodyly strength. The .v. Dialogue.

THere hath happened vnto me strength yenough, yea very much.

Reade ouer that which is sayd touching beautie and good health: Of lyke thyngs, like is the doc­trine.

I haue much strength.

Beware thou attempt nothing trusting in thine owne strength, whereby thou mayest appeare weake.

I haue great strength.

This is a glorie, as if it were for a Bul.

I haue plentie of strength.

An Eliphant hath more.

I [Page]haue much strength.

I beleeue that wel: to much, tur­neth to starke naught, or is it selfe a fault.

I haue ouer­much strength.

If this ouermuch be brought to a mediocritie, it is wel. But what yf it turne to a want? what if this great force be conuerted into a notable weaknesse? Beleeue me, there was neuer yet any strength of body so great, but that it was broken either with immoderate labour, or sharpe sicknes, or with olde age, that consumeth al thyngs. The force of the mynde only is vnfatigable and inuincible.

The strength of my bo­dy is mightie.

None was more strong then Milo, but many more noble.

My body is hugie, and of great force.

Vertue, which is of all thyngs the most worthiest, hath no neede of the bygnesse of the body, but dwelleth in the mynde.

There is nothyng hard to this strength.

Yes, there are many thynges impossible for thee to do, and this one thyng especially, that who so putteth his trust in his body, should be avle to clymbe on high.

My strength is aboue the strength of a man.

Whosoeuer in this behalfe surpas­sed al other men, yet in the same he was inferiour to many lyuing creatures.

There is nothyng that with this strength I can be afrayde of.

Yes truely very much: for agaynst so great confidence in a mans owne strength, fortune armeth her selfe with great force, and many tymes disdayning to encounter in equal fight, to the entent she may shewe how weake a creature man is, yea, when he thynketh hym selfe most strong, in slender conflict she hath ouerthrowne Giantlike personages. Hercules, whom none coulde ouercome, the force of lurkyng poyson subdu­ed. Milo, who was knowne and renowmed at al exercises of strength and valiencie, one poore tree caught fast, & held him there to be torne in peeces by wyld beasts. And so that valiant strength of his without example, was found to be inferiour to the force of a clouen Oke: And wilt thou trust to thy strength?

I am of an hugie strength.

Euery hugie thing, is troubled with his owne mole & bignes.

My strength encreaseth.

This is for the most part the nature of al thyngs, that when they be come to the highest, then they fal downe againe, & that not with lyke leysure as they gate vp. For theyr rysing is slow, but theyr [Page 6]fallyng is sodayne. This strength also whereof thou vauntest, when it shall leaue to encrease, wyl not continue, but fyrst wyll priuily begin to decay, and afterwarde at length wyl openly fal. Al mortal thyngs do equally flyt away, except the mynd only, but the signes and footesteps of theyr departure doo not appeare a­like, vnlesse a man wyl say, that those lyuyng creatures do go lesse or slowest, which eyther go in the dark, or make no noyse in their creeping, and put out the prynt of theyr goyng with the pressing of theyr tayles.

I boast in the strength of my body.

What wouldest thou then do in thyne owne? Thynke how great thyne owne strength is, for this is not thyne, but the strength of thy harborow or Inne, or rather thy pryson. It is a vayne thyng for thee, beyng thy self weake, to glory of thy strong dwellyng, or to speake more aptly, of a strong aduersarie.

I reioyce in my strength.

What other shal I say, then that saying of the Poet? Thou shalt not reioyce long, and in steede of myrth, complaintes shall come in place. Dooest thou remember howe he that was so strong, of whom I made mention twyce erewhyle, complayneth of his strength in olde age?

Of swiftnesse of the bodye. The syxth Dialogue.

BVt I am very swyft.

Tel me whyther thy run­nyng [...]endeth? Many haue ben destroyed through their owne swyftnesse.

My swyftnesse is wonderful.

Run ye mortal men whither ye lust, the swiftnes of heauen outrunneth you, and leadeth you vnto olde age, and death. The one of these wyll take away your runnyng, the other your mooueyng.

My swyftnesse is very great.

It tendeth thyther, where it shal haue an ende.

My swift­nes is s [...]e [...], as [...]he lyke hath not been heard of.

It ten­deth thither where there shalbe great slownesse.

My swift­ne [...] is infinite.

Be it as great as it list, it shal haue no place where to exercise it selfe: for the whole earth is as is were [Page]a smal pricke or poynt.

My swyftnesse is inestimable.

This cōmendation is due vnto wit, vnto which the seas, and heauen, and eternitie, & the spaces of nature, the hydden pla­ces, and secretes of al thynges lye open. As for this body, which is circumscribed and compassed about with a prick and smal mo­ment of space, whyther wyl the swiftnesse thereof bring it, and where wyl it leaue it? Admit this space were very wyde & great, eyther in respect of tyme, or of place, notwithstandyng whyther soeuer it turneth, it maketh hast to the graue. This narrowe roomth, and place of necessitie, is knowne without Astrologicall coniecture, or Geometrical demonstration. So then ye runne thyther, where in deede there is no runnyng at all.

My swyftnesse is incredible.

Although thou excel al men, yet thou art not able herein to match an Hare.

My swift­nesse is marueilous.

The same accompaniyng many vpon hanging hilles and broken mountaynes sydes, hath disa­poynted them of the playne grounde: and many also that woulde runne, or as it were, flie, by vautyng, or otherwyse, vppon the walles and battlementes of towres, vpon the tacklynges of ships, vpon the cragges of hilles, without hurtyng them selues, shortly after by some litle tripping or slyding of the foote, haue in this outrage been found dead in the hygh wayes by fallyng. It is a dange [...] us thyng, and agaynst the course of nature, that there should be such lightnesse in heauie bodies, and the practise thereof wil make a man not to be nimble long: For, although he escape without hurt, yet he shall soone leaue it of through weerynesse: for the strength of a man is but short, and his swiftnesse shorter.

I am nowe very nymble.

An Asse also is nymble in his youth, & a Parde waxeth slow with age. In tyme nimblenes wyl waxe styffe. The first age hath spurres, the last hath bridles: whatsoeuer thou art thou shalt not be long, & if thou desire to be good, indeuour to be so. Only vertue is not afrayde of old age.

Of wit. The .vii. Dialogue.

MY wit is also quick.

I pray God it be vnto ver­tue: Otherwyse look how much the quicker, so much the nearer to destruction.

I haue a redy wit.

If it be also appliable vnto good artes, it is a precious furniture of the minde: If otherwyse, it is burdensome, perilous, and trou­blesome.

My wit is very sharpe.

It is not the sharpenesse, but the vprightnesse and staiednes of the wit, that deserue the true and perpetual commendation. The sharpnesse of some wittes is rebated with smal force, and wil faile at the first en­counter, and the most strongest thinges if they be stretched foorth to the vttermost, become feeble, and so likewise weakenes ouer­commeth all strength.

I haue a most sharpe wit.

There is nothing more odious vnto wisdom then to much sharp­nes: Nothing more greeuous vnto a Philopher then a sophist: & for that cause, in old time the auncient fathers feigned that Pal­las could not abyde spyders, whose curious worke, and fine webs are brittle, & serue to no purpose. Therfore let the edge of the wyt be lyke the edge of a weapon, that it may not only pearse, but also stay from going further.

My wyt is prompt, and redy to euery thyng.

This was sometyme attributed vnto Marcus Cato Censorius, that he was as redy and apt to lear­nyng, as to the warres, to matters concernyng the fielde, as the citie, and also to the exercise of husbandrie: whiche thyng in part the Gretians doo ascribe to theyr countreyman Epa [...]inun­das, and the Persians to theyr Cyrus. Take herde whereunto this thy redie wit be enclined, that it be not craftie, and that it be not only not quicke and pliant, but rather lyght and inconstant. For it is one thyng to be able to stay, and another to be able to go whyther soeuer a man lust.

My wyt is excellent.

It skilleth much in what kynd a man do excel: For the significa­tion of that woorde is vncertayne: and true it is, that a mans wit is of force, if he do throughly bende it. And therefore geue me ra­ther a good wit, then an excellent: for the one cannot be conuer­ted to euill, the other is flexible vnto many thinges. For Salust writeth, that Lucius Catiline was a man of notable courage, but of a corrupt naughtie wit and disposition.

My wit is great.

I requyre a good and a modest wit, the greatnes only is suspected: For a great wit hath many tymes ben the be­ginnyng of great euylles. And seldome were there any great er­rours, but they sprang from great wittes.

Of Memorie. The .viii. Dialogue.

MY memorie is very great.

Thou hast then a large house of loathsomenesse, and a gallery ful of smo­ky images, among which many thinges may displease.

My memorie conteyneth many thinges.

Among many thynges there be but fewe that do delight a man, the more part of them do molest him, and oftentimes the remem­brance of pleasant thinges is greeuous.

My memorie com­prehendeth sundrie thinges.

If they be good, it is wel: If they be euil, why art thou glad therof? Is it not greeuous yenough, either to haue suffred or seene euils, but that they must continually come into our minde, or alwayes lye forth before our eyes:

My memory conteyneth diuers thyngs.

That is to say, diuers both faults, & offences, & heinous trespasses, and reproches, & shames, & repulses, & sorowes, & trauailes, and dangers, although (as some say) there is pleasure in the remem­braunce of this whereof I spake last: wherein notwithstanding we must this vnderstande, that not so much the remembraunce of the forepassed euyls, as the delyght of the present good state, pro­cureth the pleasure. And therfore no man taketh delight in the re­membrance of his labour and danger, vnlesse he be at quyet and in securitie: no man can gladly thynke on pouertie, but he that is rytche? on sicknesse, but he that is in health: on pryson, but he that is at lybertie: on bandes, but he that is free: on ba­nyshment, but he that is returned home agayne: Only the re­membraunce of shame is greeuous, yea, in the midst of honours. So that there is nothyng that is holden more deare, or is more incurable, then is a mans honour and good name.

My memorie is manyfolde, and conteyneth much tyme.

In manyfold remembrance, are manyfolde troubles. For some doo nyp the conscience, some pricke it, some wounde it, some con­founde it, some terrifie it, some ouerthrow it, wherby it commeth to passe, that when men cal them to remembrance, red blushyng and wan palenes enterchangeably possesse theyr faces in silence, which thing chaunceth sometime to the vilest & wickedst persons, causing theyr going to be vncertaine, theyr speach doubtful, with [Page 8]many other such passions moe, signifiyng that the mynd is trou­bled with to wel remembryng.

My memorie is prompt.

I had rather thy wyl were godly, thy desire chast, thy counsels honest, thy deedes innocent, and thy life without rebuke.

I haue a very firme memorie.

How should you men then forgeat the heauenly precepts, which are so few in num­ber: How should you forgeat the only God? How should you then forgeat yourselues:

My memorie is passyng firme.

I thinke wel it be so, of earthly and vnprofitable things. But whyther and to what purpose tendeth this vagabounde and flickeryng memorie? Which wanderyng through heauen and earth, and forgettyng to returne to it selfe, calleth not to remem­brance that one thing which is necessarie and healthful: in which yf perhaps sometyme it find any smal pleasure, most times it find­eth plentie of griefe. And therefore not without cause, when one offered to teach Themistocles the art of memorie, which at that tyme was inuented by Simonidis, answeared, that he had rather learne the art of forgetfulnesse. And although he seemed iustly to answere so, as one that aboue al credite excelled al other in that gyft of nature, and whose memory was ouerwhelmed with innu­merable representations of matters & wordes, notwithstandyng it agreeth almost with al men: for so al of you learne the thynges that you ought to forgeat, and forgeat the thinges that ye ought to learne, exercising your memorie in such matters as were pro­fitable to forgeat, & therin not contented with the limitatiō of na­ture, ye set forth your madnes in art.

My memory is al­mightie.

This title is proper to God only. You would haue said perhaps that it is of great power, notwithstanding if an excellent memorie be of any force, which in deede is better then al othervaine curiositie, let it reiect y^e hurtful, & embrace the profita­ble, & not so diligently pursue the things that delight, as the things that profite.

My memory is the best that can be.

There is nothing better then the best, & therfore if thou wilt seeme to say true, it behoueth thee to shew thy self mindful in y^e best Re­member thy sinne, y^t thou maiest be sorie for it: remember death, that thou maiest leaue to syn: remēber the iudgment of god, that thou maiest be afraid: remember his mercy, y^t thou do not dispaire.

Of Eloquence. The .ix. Dialogue.

BVt mine eloquence is notable.

I graunt it is a great instrument of glory, but doubtful, with two points. It skilleth very much how a man do vse this also.

Myne eloquence is flowing and swift.

Some, not a­mysse, do compare the eloquence of a foole or a lewd person, to a mad mans swoord, both whom it is meete when they goe abrode, to be vnarmed.

Mine eloquence is famous and bryght.

A thyng is sayd to be bright many wayes, the Sunne is bright, a fire is bright.

Myne eloquence is very shynyng.

The sorowful cometes, and hurtful swordes, and hateful helmets of our enimies doo shyne: but that the shyning of elo­quence may be glorious, it must be tempered with holynesse and wysedome.

The plentie of myne eloquence is very great.

If it be ioyned with modesty, I doo not denie but that it is an excellent thyng, and surpassyng the common measure of men: otherwyse it were better to be dumbe.

I haue elo­quence yenough.

That there was eloquence yenough and but litle wysedome in that most wicked man, thou readest in Salust, yet sought he not for any glorie by his eloquence: how be it, if it be more deeply consydered, it was not eloquence, but vn­profitable babling. For no man can be a true oratour, that is to say, a maister of eloquence, vnlesse he be a good man And if thou, beeing a good and a wise man, diddest suppose that this streame and readinesse of woordes, which for the most part doth most abounde in the fancie and impudent crue, was sufficient for the commendation of the Oratorie, and the perfect duety of elo­quence, or that this cunning in speache only was yenough, thou wast deceiued. The redines of the tongue, & plentie of wordes, & the art and skil also to vse them, may be indifferent to the wicked and the godly: but that which thou seekest apparteineth to the best sort of men, & not to al of them, but to very few: so that euill men are banished frō this cōmendation, being a thing wherunto the good gifts of y^t minde, as vertue & wisdome, are required, whiche they do want. Which, if thou do not vnderstand to be so, I wyll [Page 9]shewe thee howe. And remember these two thinges whereof I speake, & imprint their diffinitions in thy minde, whereof the one is Catoes, the other Ciceroes. The fyrst sayth thus: An Oratour is an honest man, skilful in speaking. The other: Eloquence, sayth he, is nothyng els but wisedome, speaking copiously. By these woordes thou seest, that to the essence and substaunce of an Oratour, and of Eloquence, is honestie and wysedome required, whiche notwith­standing are not sufficient, vnlesse there be cunning, & copie. So that the two first thinges do make a man good and wise only, the other make hym neither good nor wise, nor eloquent, but full of woordes. Al these ioyned togeather, do make a perfect Oratour, and his cunning which truely is a more rare and high thing, then they suppose that hope that it consisteth in multitude of woordes. And therefore if thou couet the name of an Oratour, and seeke for the true prayse of Eloquence: fyrst studie vertue and wysedome.

Myne eloquence is full and perfect.

To that whiche is full and perfect, nothyng is wanting, but there wyll be muche lacking if the premisses be away. And therefore before thou pronounce of the whole, recount this one thyng secretely with thy selfe.

Mine eloquence is the chiefest.

There is nothyng aboue that whiche is chiefest, and therefore if these cease, it cannot be chiefe, but a certaine transitorie and mishapen thing, that hath neither roofe nor foundation.

Myne elo­quence is pleasaunt and comely.

This pleasauntnesse & comlynesse, I knowe not what flatterie and craft, not profite or vprightnes it resembleth. Howbeit, y^e pleasant & comly pleading of a deceiptful man, is of no more force before vpright iudges, then is the payntyng of a harlot, or sugred poyson, or the strength of a frentike person, or the gold of a couetous miser. Whatsoeuer it be, although it appeare to be somwhat, and doo delyght, yf it want the essential beginning, it ought to seeme nothing at al, or al­most nothing.

I haue great confidence in mine eloquence.

Great confidence hath oftentymes opened the way to great dangers. To the intent it may lift vp the mind, and helpe it, let a man bridle his affection, & know him selfe, and examine him selfe what he hath to do: let insolencie & disdaine be far of. But yf, going yet farther at libertie, it begin to forget it owne strength, [Page]it is no lenger confidence, but rashnesse and boldnesse, a thing of all other farthest of from wysedome. This, as in all affayres it seemeth more pretious to sight, so in affection it is more dange­rous then cowardise. For this keepeth men at home flouthfull and deuoyde of glory, and boldnesse pricketh them foorth in heate, and whom it was thought it woulde preferre, it casteth downe headlong, it maketh most valiaunt men to appeare dastardes, it hath caused most warie men to proue vnaduised: and that I may now come nearer to thee, it hath made them that appeared most eloquent, to be founde without speeche.

Myne eloquence is exceeding great.

Yf we may beleeue the Historici­an, eloquence hath dwelt among infinite vices: and holde thou fast his aucthoritie for an vndoubted trueth, and doubt not of that which the prince of elequence writeth in his rethorikes, That elo­quence cannot be without wisdome, which as it appeareth, is plaine­ly repugnant to that which goeth before. And in deede this elo­quence, howsoeuer it be taken, the greater truely it is, the more noysome and hurtful it is, yf it be alone.

Myne eloquence is singuler.

That same is the thing which led the most singuler men both among the Greekes & Latines into destructi­on: Which to be so, Demosthenes, and Cicero, and Antonius, wyl not deny.

Myne eloquence is plausible.

If thou vse it vpryghtly without boastyng, there is no one meane whereby thou mayest sooner get the goodwyll of the multitude, and purchase glory, without whiche it can not be gotten, but by meere exercise of vertue. But if thou abuse it arrogantly & wicked­ly, thou shalt soone bring thy selfe into danger, and heape vp the hatred of many vpon thy head. It is the saying of a certaine wyse man, that life & death are in the power of the tongue. The tongues, not of one man onely, but of a certaine many, haue ouerthrowne whole commonwealthes, & wil ouerthrow hereafter. The tongue, is the worst and most hurtful member of an euil person. There is nothyng softer then the tongue, and nothing harder.

Mine eloquence is ratlyng.

Thunder and lightning ratle also.

Mine eloquence is florishing.

The poyso­nyng hearbe Aconitum florisheth likewyse. To be short, turne and returne it whiche way soeuer thou canst, thou hast both a nar­rowe [Page 10]way to glory, and a very prone path vnto enuie.

Of Vertue. The .x. Dialogue.

IS it not then lawfull for me to boast of vertue?

Ad­mit it be lawful, yet it is lawful to boast in him only, who alone is the auctour and geuer of vertue, and al goodnes.

The vertue of my minde is great.

Take heede, lest the greater it be supposed, the lesse it be in deede.

My vertue is tryed in doubtful state.

It is the propertie of ver­tue, to weigh not what is doone, but what ought to be doone: not what we haue, but what is wanting: whereby it commeth to passe, that we see it not vaunt of that whiche is alredy gotten, but careful for that which is to get. I would say, if I might so speake, that vertue is couetous, or truely lyke vnto couetousnesse. It thir­steth continually, it burneth dayly, and the more it seeketh, the poo­rer it seemeth to it selfe, and the more it coueteth. It hath no ende of desiryng, it hath no sufficient recompence of desartes.

My vertue is greater, then is accustomable for men.

I feare me lest this boastyng proceedeth rather from pride, then from vertue.

My vertue is very muche renowmed.

Humilitie is the foundation of true vertue: neyther is there any renowme so great, which pride wyl not obscure. This doth he knowe to be true, who beyng created bright, shinyng, and renowmed, and aduauncing himselfe, deserued not onely to be made darke and obscure, but also the prince of darkenes. Whiche thing if it hapened vnto him, what may other hope of themselues?

My vertue is excellent.

It is not accustomable for vertue to boast or wonder at it selfe, but to imitate that which is in other. And therefore alwaies breathing higher, & alwayes as­piring farther, in comparison of it selfe, it litle regardeth any other.

My vertue is absolute.

Vertue neuer iudgeth so of it selfe, it trusteth not in it selfe, it is not arrogant, it knoweth that this is a time of warfare, & not of triumph, & therfore it neuer slee­peth, but is alwaies busie. It is alwayes redy, as though it began but now, which notwithstanding thinketh not y^t it hath accompli­shed al thing, or y^t it is perfect & absolute. Beleeue me, it is not ver­tue, errour is obuersant vnto vertue, & contrary vnto it: whosoeuer [Page]thinketh that he is come to the toppe, in this he is first deceyued, that he is not where he thinkth him selfe to be. Moreouer, in that by wandring that way, it forsaketh the path that leadeth thither, & while it preuenteth that which it hath not, it neglecteth that which it myght haue had of it owne accorde. For why? there is nothyng so contrarie to profite, as the opinion of perfection. No man en­deuoreth to doo that whiche he supposeth he hath doone alredie. This errour hath often tymes hindred suche as haue attempted great matters, and that were nowe redie to reache to the hyghest.

My vertue is absolute, as touching the capacitie of man.

If thou lay downe al thy lyfe before thyne eyes, and be­ing an vncorrupt Iudge in thine owne cause, thou require of thy selfe an accompt of thy woordes, deedes, and thoughtes, through euery day, then shalt thou see howe muche there is voyde in thy minde, and howe great a roomth vices doo possesse.

At the leastwise my wisdome is commune & ordinarie.

In the highest thinges a meane hath scarcely any place: but admit it haue, notwithstanding that is not the matter of ioy, but of traueile and studie: For that whiche tendeth to the highest, is not in quiet vntyl it attayne thereto.

I haue some vertue.

Leaue the iudgement hereof vnto other. And yf thou hast any vertue, the ende of the ioy is not there, but in him vnto whom true vertue leadeth by the narrowe way: For we professe that Philo­sophie which teacheth vs not to enioy, but to exercise vertue: And therefore nowe this is not the f [...]l time of reioycing, being besette rounde about with so many dangers of death, but rather of wish­ing and hoping. Thou mayest hope that thou shalt reioyce, but so, that thou feare that thou mayest be sorie.

If I haue any goodnes, I knowe from whence it commeth, and I reioyce therein: If I lacke any thyng, I knowe from whence to require it, and therein is my hope.

This is vertue, and nowe thou hast founde an assured path vnto true ioy.

Of the opinion of Vertue. The .xi. Dialogue.

WHatsoeuer I am, men haue a good opinion of me.

Opinion changeth not the thing it selfe.

The common opinion is, that I am a good man.

What yf thou be nought, is not then the opinion false? For him that knoweth a thing, & falsely reioy­ceth, it is a madnesse.

In the opinion of the common peo­ple, I am called good.

There is nothing which opi­nion can not imagine to it selfe. But whatsoeuer good or euyll dwelleth in the minde, it is not altered by diuers opinions, nor speeches. And therefore, if all the men in the worlde doo say thou art a good man, thou art in dede made neuer awhyt the better.

At the leastwise I haue a good name.

The wise man among the Hebrewes sayth, that a good name is better then great riches. And agayne in another place, A good name, sayth he, is letter then precious oyntmentes. By these wordes he hath expres­sed the value of a good name, and the smel of good report, in com­paring them to golde, & to an oyntment: But howe can a name or any thyng els be good, if it be false? And therefore whatsoeuer name a wicked man hath, his wickednesse notwithstanding is not the lesse. Then let hym not glory in his vaine name, but let hym heare the saying of the same wyse man, The name of the vngodly. sayth he, shall rot away: and that saying also of another man, This is our glory, to wit, the testimonie of our consience. If that doo grudge within thee, what wyl the whisperyng of flatterers auayle thee? what good wyl that name doo thee, which is gotten by feygning and flatterie? there springeth no good out of an ill roote: Neyther mayest thou say that a good name springeth hereof, seeyng in so saying thou canst not say trueth.

My citizens thinke well of mee.

It skilleth not what other men thinke of thee, but what thou thy selfe thinkest.

My citizens speake well of mee.

Beleeue them not, they know not what they speake, & they lye willingly, by reason of a certaine itche they haue in their tongues, to speake doubly and on both sides, whose continual custome is turned into nature.

Very many speake well of mee.

To beleeue those that are ignoraunt, what is it other, then willingly to be deceiued?

The [Page]countrey rounde about speaketh wel of mee.

Perhaps allured by meanes of fayre speache, or gyftes on thy part, or loo­kyng for some commoditie at thy handes N [...]uer beleue him that loueth, or him that hopeth.

My neighbours renoume my name.

One of them abuseth another, and all of them abuse thee.

My citizens geuen [...]e a good report.

Within thy minde there is a more incorrupt and assured witnes: Demaund of thine owne consience, and beleeue that.

Men haue a good opinion of mee.

Opinion is the name of a doubtful thyng Vertue is a thing most assured.

I seeme vnto my selfe to be a good man.

Then art thou euyl: For good men doo mislyke and accuse them selues.

I seeme good vnto my selfe, and to others.

What if thou be euyll, and they fooles?

My citizens hope well of mee.

Endeuour that their hope be not deceiued. It is a shame to delude them that hope well of a man, in that whiche he may doo of hymselfe.

I thynke I am suche an one of whom many doo not hope in vayne.

It thou were so, thou wouldest not beleeue it. It is an euyll thyng for a man to de­ceyue others, but woorst of all to deceyue hym selfe.

All men thinke that I am good.

But what yf thou know the contrarie?

All men call me good.

And doest thou beleeue them all? Art thou not ashamed to be called that whiche thou art not? But among many other thynges, this is a strange qualitie which is engraff [...]d within you, concernyng your selues and your affayres, yea, although they be secrete, to beleeue euery one better then your selues. And [...]ccording to Horace say­ing, Both to feare hing infamie, and to be d [...]lighted in false glory.

The whole common people prayse me with one voyce.

There is no way more prone to errour, and to fallyng downe headlong, then by the common peoples steppes: For al­most whatsoeuer the common people doth prayse, is rather woor­thy of reprehension.

I please all men.

God despiseth those that please men, and to please men, is to displease God: and the contraries, reioyce in theyr contraries.

I haue the name of a good man.

That m [...]st be preserued by constancie and honestie of lyfe, otherwyse it loyl soone vanish, [Page 12]for it waxeth stale.

The people doth muche aduaunce my prayse.

Thou hast planted wythered trees in a drye soyle.

My commendation also is great among the lear­ned.

If it be true commendation, it wyll continue, and as Cicero sayth, it wyll gather roote, and spreade foorth. But if it be false, it wyl quickly tall as doth a flowre.

Al men, as it were with one mouth, doo set foorth my vertue.

Ye ought not to glory in the state of men, nor in your owne ver­tue, although it be true, but in hym that is auciour of all vertues: who so doth the contrarie, he shall not onely not obteyne by the testimonie of men that whiche he hath not, but shall diminishe or loose that which he hath.

Al the whole common people speake well of mee.

I haue alredie sayde, and nowe I repeate it agayne: Whatsoeuer the multitude thinketh, is vayne, whatsoeuer they speake, is false, whatsoeuer they dislyke, is good, whatsoeuer they like, is euyll, whatsoeuer they commende, is infamous, whatsoeuer they doo, is foolyshe. Then goe thy wayes nowe, and vaunt thy selfe of the foolyshe speache of madde men.

Of wysedome. The .xii. Dialogue.

I Haue obteyned wysedome.

A great thyng yf it were true, and whiche can not be separated from vertue. And therefore yf thou haddest imbraced that, this were to be allowed: but both of them are more easie in opinion, then in effecte.

I am wyse.

Beleeue mee, yf thou were so in deede, thou wouldest neuer say so: For a wyse man knoweth howe muche it is that he lacketh, and there­fore he boasteth not, but suspecteth.

I professe my selfe to be wyse.

It were well, yf there were so many wyse men, as there are professours of wyse­dome: But the one of these is verie harde, the other verie easie.

I am wyse.

If thou wylt be a wyse man in deede, suppose not thy selfe to be so. It is the first steppe of folly, for a man to thinke hym selfe wyse: and the next, to professe hym selfe to be so.

By my studie I haue artained to wisedome.

In deede by that meanes men attayne vnto it: but whether thou hast attayned vnto it, recount with thy selfe. It is not a matter of small studie, requiryng a space of tyme as other Artes doo: it requireth the whole lyfe of a man, be it neuer so long. If a man, as they say, runnyng all the day, come to the eue­nyng, it is sufficient. That most notable saying of Plato, as many other also of his is wel knowen, wherein he pleaseth Cicero well, and me also: to wit, That he is happie, to whom it hath chaunced, yea in his olde age, to attaine vnto wysedome, and true opinions. These, whether thou hast met withall halfe way, or rydyng vpon some fleeyng Horse hast attayned vnto before thy tyme, it may be doubted, for that thou art so soone be come wise.

I haue receyued the perfection of my wysedome from heauen.

I confesse in deede, that wysedome is an heauenly gyft, but truely he was a great man, and a friende to heauen, that sayde these woordes, Not that I haue nowe receyued it, or am perfect.

I learned wysedome with a greedie mynde.

As the desyre of money and many other thynges is euyl, so the thyrst of wysedome is good: But whether thou be capable of so great a thyng, consider: Surely he of whom I spake before: As for mee, [...]yth he, I doo not thinke that I haue atteyned it. And doubelesse he was a great man, who talkyng with God of hym selfe sayd thus, Thine eyes haue seene myne imperfection. This is the propertie of a wyse man, to acknowledge and confesse his owne imperfec­tion.

I am called a wyse man.

Neyther thine owne nor any other mans saying can euer make thee a wise man, but the thyng it selfe.

I am commonly called a wyse man.

The common people hath learned, as it were by their owne aucthoritie, to call mad men wyse, and wyse men mad, that is to say, to esteeme falshood for trueth, and trueth for falshood. There is nothyng so far of from vertue and trueth, as is the opinion of the common people.

All men call me wyse.

This perhappes maketh somwhat to thy [Page 13]fame: but nothyng to thy wysedome. But I perceyue that thou cleauest to the titles of learnyng, then which there is nothing more liberal: Howbeit they are not sufficient to make them wyse men that are not, but they make them synguler, and notable, and honest, and honourable, and excellent, so that they are ashamed of the simple tytle of wysedome, whiche vnto how fewe in deede it is due, it is straunge to vnderstande: notwithstandyng custome hath so preuayled, that it is numbred vp among excellent styles and tytles, whiche they that heape them togeather in suche wyse, do knowe that them selues do lye: But they are wyllyng to be counted ciuil, yf it were but by lying. You that reade them, and thynke them not only to be true, but somewhat inferiour to the trueth, are deceyued by a common errour. No man wyll enquire of his owne matters: Euery man beleeueth other men of hym selfe. Wouldest thou knowe how wyse thou art? cast thyne eyes behynde thee. Remember howe often in this lyfe thou hast stum­bled, how many tymes thou hast erred, howe often thou hast trip­ped and fallen, howe many shamefull thynges, howe many so­rowful thynges, how many irksome thynges thou hast commit­ted, and then cal thy selfe a wise man yf thou darest: but I suppose thou wylt not dare.

I know my selfe to be wise.

Learned perhaps thou wouldest say: For there be some in deede that are learned, although but fewe: but none almost that are wyse. It is one thyng to speake wysely, and another thyng to lyue wysely: one thyng to be called, another thyng to be wyse in deede. There haue been some that haue sayd that there is no man wyse: which saying, howe true or false it is, I doo not dispute: Truely it is to peremptorie an opinion, and prone to dispayre, and repugnant to the studie of wisedome. The Hebrues do much commend of theyr wyse Solomon: who, howe wyse he was in deede, his number of wyues and concubines witnesseth, but most of all his woorshyppyng of false gods. The Romanes vaunt of theyr wyse Laelius and Cato. Greece, whylest it flooryshed, is sayde to haue had seuen wyse men. These seemed vnworthie of that title vnto those that came after. They that excuse them, say that they dyd not take vpon them that title, but that it was attri­buted vnto them through the errour of the people. There was [Page]one onely, that by his owne possession, and in his owne iudgment, was wyse, the most foole of them all, Epicurus. Whiche title he woulde perticipate with Metrodorus, neyther dyd he refuse so honourable a gyft at his friendes handes, and toke it in good part to be called w [...]se, that the same glory of his, what euer it was, might be the errour of the other. Socratis only was iudged wyse by the Oracle of Apollo: Perhaps for this purpose, that by a false testimony, the false God might mooue hym to m [...]onesse and pryde, who came neare in deede to a wyse man. This much I haue sayde of the auncient wyse [...]. As for our age, it is more happy, wherein there are not reckoned one, or twayne, or seuen, but in euery towne are numbred multitudes of wyse men, as it were flockes of sheepe [...]nd it is no marueyle that there are so many, seeyng they are so easily made. There commeth a foolysh young man to the Churche, his maisters prayse and extoll hym, eyther vpon loue or ignorance, he swelleth, the people are astun­ned, his kinsfolk and friendes reioyce at hym: He (beyng wylled) getteth vp into the pulpit, & ouerloking al from an high, confused­ly murmureth I can not tel what Then the elder sort of Strines extol him with praise to heauen, as one that hath spoken like a God. In the meane whyle the belles iangle, the trumpets rattle, rings flye about, kysses are geuen, and a peece of a blacke round cloath is hung on his shoulders: When this is done, the wise man commeth downe that went vp a foole. A straunge Metamor­phosis, which Ouid neuer knew. Thus are wyse men made now a dayes: but a wise man in deede, is made otherwyse.

I am wyse.

They that thynke very magnificently of themselues, boldly do attempt thynges aboue theyr power, and faylyng in the myddes of theyr indeuour, do learne by their owne peryl or shame, howe partial iudges they haue ben in theyr owne causes. It were better, beleeue me, to reiect false opinions, to be­hold a mans owne insolencie, & to wishe that thou neuer haue oc­casion to trie thy wisdome, which may declare how that thou hast gloryed in nothyng. This is a more direct & safe meanes to seeke wisedome.

I thinke that I haue atteyned to wisedome.

But if thou wilt hearken vnto me, thou shalt sooner atteyne therunto by rysing vp & indeuouryng, then by beleeuyng. [Page 14]There is nothyng that ryseth higher then painful humilitie.

Of Religion. The .xiii. Dialogue.

I Glory in my perfect religion.

There is but one most excellent and perfect religion, whiche is established vpon the name of Christ, and vpon that most assured rocke: al other are vayne superstitions, and goinges out of the right way, and errours whiche [...]eade vnto hel and death, not this which is transi­torie, but the euerlastyng. Howe many, and what notable men, (thynkest thou) haue suffered this miserable want of true religion, who in al other thynges haue excelled the residue? They haue cause to lament eternally, and thou whe [...] to glory and reioyce, not in thy selfe, but in hym, who hath vouchsafed to preferre thee in so great a matter before those that were far greater then thou, then whiche thyng there can no greater nor better be geuen vnto thee in this lyfe. Of whiche I would not sticke to speake some­what more at large, vnlesse it were now by heauenly illuminati­on almost knowne to al.

I am entred into holy religi­on.

Holy orders and ceremonies belong only to this religion, and of all other they are madnesse, and sacrilegious su­perstitions, neyther is it sufficient to be entred. Perhaps it is a greater matter then thou thynkest for, although it be a pleasant trauayle to a deuout mynd: neyther is it yenough to know God, which the deuyls doo, that hate hym: Loue, and worshypping are required, whiche consist of those thynges, whiche I woulde were by men s [...] well fulfylled, as they are knowne.

I please my selfe in my true religion.

To please a mans selfe, is to be proude: As for this true religion, which ty­eth thee vnto God, & GOD vnto thee, it engraffeth humilitie in godly mynds, and rooteth out pryde. In this maner therfore it is lawful for thee to reioyce, that by how much the more mery and religious thou art, by so much the better thou art, & more abound­ing in good workes, geuing thanks vnto him, who sheweth thee a direct path from this mortal life, vnto the life euerlasting.

I thanke God for it, I haue obteyned true religion.

Thou hast said wel, god be thanked; keepe [...] wel then frō erro [...]s, [Page]from negligence, from sinnes. And perswade thy selfe thus, if thou haue obteined it, and exercise thy selfe therein, as it behooueth thee to do, then shal the controuersie cease wherof we contended ere­while, forasmuch as it is written in holy scripture, Godlynesse is true wysedome: and by an other also, The feare of God, is the be­gynning of wysedome, neyther is the same ouer past with scilence by prophane wryters. Of which matter Lactantius maketh mention in the seconde booke of his institutions. Hermes affir­meth, sayth he, that they that knowe God, are not only safe from in­cursions of Deuyls, but also that they are not tyed by destinie. Only godlinesse, sayth he, is their keeper and defence, For a godly man, is neyther subiect to the wicked deuyl, nor to destinie. God delyue­reth the godly from all euyll: For godlynesse is the only good and felicitie of man: And what godlynesse is, he sheweth in an other place by these woordes: Godlinesse is the science and know­ledge of God. He affirmeth also, that Asclepius dyd expounde at large the same saying in a certayne princely Oration. Thus thou seest, howe two most obstinate Paganes doo grope about your trueth. Such is the force of trueth, that oftentymes it draweth the tongues of the enimies vnto it.

Of Freedome. The .xiiii. Dialogue.

I Was borne in freedome.

He is not free that is borne, but he that dyeth; fortune hath great power ouer hym that is commyng into the worlde, but none ouer hym that is dead: She ouerthroweth strong Cities: She vanquysheth va­lya nt armyes: She subuerteth mightie kyngdomes. The graue is an impregnable castle: there the wormes beare rule, and not fortune. Who so therefore haue stept into that lybertie, of al men they are free from the insultes of this lyfe. Thou boastest thy selfe to be free, and knowest not whether thou shalt enter this bay a free man, I say not into thy graue, but into thy chamber. Your libertie whiche hangeth by a weake threede, as all your thynges els doo wherein ye trust, is always waueryng and bryt­tle.

I am a free man.

For this cause, I suppose, thou callest thy selfe a free man, because thou hast no mai­ster: but heare what Annaeus Seneca sayeth, Thyne age is pros­perous, sayth he, perhaps it wyll so continue: knowest thou not at what age Hecuba, and Craesus, and the mother of Darius, and Plato, and Diogenes came into bondage? By these examples he admonishyth thee. There be many other examples of Seneca, eyther concealed or not knowne. Dooest thou not remember how Attilius Regulus (though vnworthy) yet susteyned this re­proche? Hast thou forgotten Valerianus that was of latter yeeres? whereof the one, of whom I spake last, was a captayne, and the other a prynce of the people of Rome, and anon the one made slaue to the Carthagians, the other to the Persians, and this man cruelly put to death, the other consumed with long and miserable seruitude. What shall I say of the kynges of Mace­donia, and Numidia? Perses on the one side, and Siphan on the other: who both fell downe from the top of theyr kyngdomes in­to the Romanes fetters. I omit the auncient fall of kynges and princes. Thyne age hath seene some thrust out of the court into pryson, and the same man also both first a kyng, and last a bond­slaue. For euery one is by so muche the more miserable in bon­dage, by howe much he was the more happy in freedome. Be not proude therefore of thy libertie, forasmuch as bonde men are made so soone, not only of free men, but of kynges: And mar­uayle not at it, seeyng that according to the saying of Plato, Kinges are no lesse made of seruauntes: humane thynges are chaun­ged dayly. There is nothyng vnder heauen permanent: who wyl hope that any thyng can be fyrme or stable, in so great an vncertayntie? Neyther thynke thy selfe to be a free man in this respect, because thou hast no maister, because thou art borne of free parentes, neyther wast euer taken prysoner in warre, nor solde for a slaue. Ye haue inuincible maisters of your myndes, and there is a secrete poyson and infection whiche lurketh in the first Original of man. The generation of you in the very byrth is subiect to sinne, a greater bondage then which cannot be ima­gined. Ye haue hydden enemies, and priuie warres. There be same that sel miserable soules, whiche (alas) for to small a price, [Page]ye make sale of. Yea, some of you are subiect to outragious mi­stresses, to wyt, most fylthy pleasures, whereunto you are tyde with an vndissoluble knot. Goe your way now, & vaunt of your freedome: But you, beyng blynde, see nothyng but that which be­longeth to the body, so that ye iudge hym to be bounde that is subiect to one mortal maister: As for hym that is oppressed with a thousande immortall tyrantes, ye accompt to be free, euen fine­ly as ye doo all other thynges. Veryly, it is not fortune that ma­keth a man free, but vertue.

I am a free man.

In deede thou art so, if thou be wyse, yf thou be iust, if thou be va­liaunt, yf thou be modest, if thou be innocent, yf thou be godly: If any of these be wantyng, knowe thou, that in that respect thou art bonde.

I was borne in a free countrey.

Thou hast also knowne in thine age certayne free cities, which in short tyme haue become bonde. But yf auncient examples be more knowne and renowmed, the most free cities of Lacedemon and Athens, first suffered a ciuil, and afterward a forraigne yoke. The holy citie of Ierusalem, and the mother of euerlastyng liber­tie, was in temperall subiection to the Romanes, and the Assyri­ans, and at this present is in captiuitie to the Egyptians. Rome it selfe, beyng not only a free citie, but the Lady of nations, was first bond to her owne citizens, and after to other most vyle per­sons: so that no man can euer trust to his owne freedome, or his owne Empire.

Of a gloryous Countrey. The xv. Dialogue.

I Was borne in a glorious countrey.

Thou hast the more trauayle to come into the lyght: For the smal starres do shyne by nyght, and the Star Bootis, and the day star lyke­wyse, are dull, in comparyson of the beames of the Sunne.

I am a citizen of a famous countrey.

It is wel if thou be an harborer of vertues, and an enimie to vice: the one of these proceedeth of fortune, the other of thy selfe.

My countrey is fortimate and noble.

It skilleth much by what nobilitie. For, a countrey is made noble by the number of inhabitauntes, by the aboundaunce of rychesse, by the fertilitie [Page 16]of the soyle, and the commoditie of situation, holsome ayre, cleere sprynges, the sea nygh, safe hauens, conuenient riuers. A noble countrey is commonly called suche an one as is fruitful of Wyne & other commodities, as corne, cattayle, flockes of sheepe, heardes of rudder beastes, mynes of golde and siluer. Ye cal that a good countrey wherein are bread strong Horses, fat Oxen, tender Ryddes, and pleasant fruites. But where good men are bred, ye neyther enquyre after, neyther thynke it woorth the en­quiryng, so excellent iudges of matters ye be. Howbeit, only the vertue of the inhabitauntes is the chiefe commendation of a coun­trey. And therfore dyd Virgill very wel, who in describyng the Romane glory and felicitie, dyd not so muche as touche one of these thynges, whiche ye doo only respect, but declared the mightinesse of the Citie and Empire, and the valiantnesse of the peoples myndes: He called them men also happy, in respect of theyr chyldren and issue. This is the true felicitie and nobili­tie of a Citie.

My countrey is famous for good Citi­zens.

What if thou thy selfe be obscure? But what yf thine owne fame bewray thee, and bryng thee out of darknesse, and leade thee abroade into the lyght: thou shalt then be the soo­ner noted.

My countrey is very famous.

Catiline had not ben so infamous, vnlesse he had ben borne in so famous a countrey Vnto Gaius and Nero, there happened ano­ther heape of infamie, to wit; an Empyre: & fauour aduaunced the worlds children vnto the top of fortune, that they might be the far­ther knowen.

I lyue in a most noble countrey.

Eyther sufferyng the contempt, or enuie of many: For without one of these a man cannot lyue in a great Citie: the first is the safer, the other the more famous euyl, and the no­blenesse of the countrey, whereof thou speakest, is cause of them both: Among so many eyes there is no lurkyng.

I am of a well knowen countrey.

I had ra­ther that thy countrey were knowen by thee, then thou by thy countrey, vnlesse thou glister of thy selfe: what other thing will the brightnesse of thy countrey bring vnto thee but darke­nesse. A famous Citie hath accompted of many as obscure persons, who if they had ben in y^e darknes of some poore corner [Page]of the countrey, had been sufficiently famous and noble.

My countrey is renowmed.

It hath then it owne peculyar commendation, and it taketh part also of thyne: What so euer thou dooest wel, the chiefe prayse thereof redowneth in a maner to thy countrey. There was one that went about to as­cribe Themistocles glory vnto the citie of Athens, who an­swered very grauely, and as it became suche a man to doo: For when a certayne felowe called Seriphius, an inhabitour of a cer­tayne smal and obscure Ilande, in heat of wordes, obiected hym in the teeth, that it was his countreys glory, and not his owne, that made hym famous: Veryly answered he, neyther shoulde I be obscure if I were Seriphius, neyther thou be renowmed yf thou were an Athenian. He trusted not to the glory of his coun­trey, but to the glory of his owne vertue: muche more manlyke then Plato, although he were the greater Philosopher. Howbeit sometymes in great wits, there be great and wonderful errours: He therefore among other thinges ascribeth the renowme of his countrey to his felicitie. And that thou mayest knowe the whole mynd of this most excellent man in this respect, Plato sayd that he gaue thankes for many thynges. Truely this was wel sayde, if so be that he vnderstood to whom, and for what gyftes he should geue thankes. He gaue thankes to nature. First, for making hym a man, and not a dumbe beast, of the male kind, & not a woman, a Greeke, & not a Barbarian, an Athenian, & not a Thebane, & lastly, that he was borne in the tyme of Socratis, & not at any other, to the ende he might be taught & instructed by hym. Thus thou seest, how among his causes of gratulation and glorying, he putteth in also that he was borne in Athens. What I wil say herein, perhaps thou attendest. Although our talke be begun con­cernyng this poynt onely, notwithstandyng forasmuch as it hath chaunced vs to make mention of so excellent a man, I wil declare what other men, and what I my selfe also, do thinke of this his whole talke. I know that there be some famous & eloquent men, which do boldly affirme, that there was neuer any thing spoken by any man more foolishly: vnto whose opinion there lacketh li­tle but I do agree. For, I pray you, to what purpose is it to re­ioyce in these thynges: what if he had ben borne a Barbarian, or [Page 17]made a woman? Haue there not ben many Barbarians, that haue excelled many Grecians, both in vertue and wit? Are there not some women, that both in glory of many thinges, & inuention of Artes, are more commendable than certayne men? To be short, what if he had been borne an Oxe or an Asse, what should that haue belonged to Plato of whom we speake? who then should not haue been Plato, but that thing rather which dame nature had framed him. Vnlesse perhappes he gaue credite to the madnes of Pithagoras, to wit, that soules passed out of one body into ano­ther: whiche opinion is so fonde, that truely there was neuer any thing spoken more foolyshly or more impudently, I say not by a Philosopher, but by a man nothing more dissonant to the trueth and godlynes, or that religious eares doo more abhorre. Farther then, What, was it so noble a matter to be borne at Athens, that it coulde not be so good to be borne elswhere, no not at Thebes? Were not Homer, and Pythogoras him selfe, and Democra­tes, and Anaxagoras, and Aristotle, and thousands other, borne eswhere then at Athens, and as highly esteemed, as they that were borne there? And that I may not now depart from Thebes, which the Grecians are vsed to dispise: If ye seeke for a wit, was not the Poet Pindarus borne there? who as Horace sayth, Can not possibly be matched by imitation? If ye require renowme of ex­cellent deedes, Bacchus, and Hercules, were so famous, that Alexa [...]der kyng of Macedonie, that contemned almost al men, proposed those twayne to him selfe to imitate, as the highest and chiefest paternes of glorie. But if ye looke for both these in one, is there not fresh in memorie, and as it were before your eyes, Epaminundas of Thebes, an excellent Philosopher, and a most valiaunt Captaine, and in the vpright iudgement of all men, prince and chiefe of the Grecians in al ages? The same is he that almost vtterly subuerted the Lacedemonians, and put Platoes cuntreymen the Athenians in suche feare, that when he was dead, beyng delyuered of a great terrour, immediatly they gaue them selues vp to licentiousnesse and flouth: And whyle he floo­ryshed at Thebes, howe many thousandes of idle persons and fooles lyued at Athens, who is able easily to recount in his mynde? He ought therefore to haue geuen thankes, not for that [Page]he was borne at Athens, but for that he was borne suche an one, that is to say, with suche a witte, and suche a mynde, and finally in suche good lykyng of his parentes, and in suche plen­tie of temporall goodes, that he myght be set to schoole and instructed in all goodnes: For these thynges, I say, it was behouefull for so learned a man, so zelously to haue geuen thankes vnto that GOD, whiche had bestowed them vppon hym: not for Socrates, nor for Athens, in whose schoole, and in whiche citie howe many vniust and vnlearned persons there were, it is an easier matter to gesse, then to knowe. But to speake no more of the citie: In that schoole among many o­ther, were Alcibiades and Critias, the one an emmie to his countrey, the other a most cruell tyrant: to whom howe muche theyr maister Socrates auayled, let Plato hym selfe aunsweare mee, or thereby let hym vnderstande howe vayne a thyng it is whiche the doctrine of an earthly schoolemaister soundeth in the eares of his schollars, vnlesse the grace of the heauenly Maister be inspired withall into them, without whiche, Socra­tes coulde doo nothyng: although, as we haue sayde before, he was iudged to be the wysest man by the oracle of a lyuyng God. But notwithstandyng, let hym excuse hym selfe, or some other man for hym, what euer he be, of his most foolyshe conuersation with his two wiues, most tatter and testie olde women. But this and the residue, we haue spoken, as it were by the way, except this one thing only, whereby thou shouldest vnderstand, that Plato be­ing so great a man as he was, notwithstanding was led with the vanitie of his gloryous countrey: Not to this ende, that thou shouldest couer thyne errour, with the buckler of so great a com­panion, but that thou mightest more diligently eschewe him, vnto whose example and aucthoritie thou seest that great wittes haue yeelded.

I lyue in a large countrey.

The dis­commodities of a large citie are many: the churche is farre of, the market fatte of. The one of these is hurtful to the minde, the other to the body: [...]he artificers, & our freendes be farre of. There is no harder distance then this is, whom it is paynfull to goe visite, and discourtesie to neclect. Doest thou heare how Horace complay­neth of this matter? One of my freendes, sayth he, lyeth vppon the [Page 18]byll Quirinus, the other at the farthermost part of Auentine, and both of them must be visited. Whither soeuer thou determinest to goe, or to traueyll abrode, dispose the affayres of thy house, forasmuche as thou art vncertayne whether thou shalt returne or not, and the returne it selfe is painefull: Some tyme menne wander in suche wyse, that they neede to direct their course by the Loade stone and Iron: this way is the easiest way, and that is the readiest way: this way thou mayest auoyde the place of iudgement, and that way the theatre, and this way the market. These and a thousande moe are the rockes and daungers of Ci­ties, through whiche when thou passest to thyne owne house, thou goest, as it were, to an other worlde, scarce hopyng that thou shalt come thyther. This discommoditie also thou readest in Horace, howe that Philip the Oratour when he came home, complayned, beyng in yeeres, that the shyppes were too farre of from the place of iudgement. These troubles are wantyng in a small towne, or whatsoeuer discommoditie otherwyse is alleaged.

I am remooued from a small Towne, into a great Citie.

Wyllyngly to launche out of a quiet Hauen, into a tough Sea, is rashnesse. But I maruel the lesse, for that the euen­tes were prosperous. Notwithstanding, the familie of the Clau­d [...] did the like in comming from the Sabines to Rome, Marcus Cato from Tu [...]culum, Marius and Cicero from Arpine, and it prospered well with them. But where shall a man fynde suche men? It is not safe to drawe into an example whatsoeuer hath been attempted by rare and singuler wittes: But when thou hast once determined, to endeuour with all diligence among great difficulties, to ryse vp among them that are hygh, gouernyng thyne enterprise with iudgement, whiche here I name in good part, thou shalt haue the moe prouocations to vertue. Perhappes there are some whom thou wylt folowe vnto glorie. Thou shalt haue a place where thou mayest exercise thy selfe, where thou mayest concend for prayse with thine equalles, and where thou wylt be ashamed of so many witnesses. Vnto many, not seldome, that which the courage of the minde did not geue, the force of shame hath supplied, and to abandon cowar­dice, often times a looker on hath doone more good, then courage: [Page]Both these men truely of whom I spake erewhyle: And Numa Pompilius also, who was sent for from the Cures, and Seneca that came from Cordub [...], and Seuerus that came from Leptis, and many other that came from other places, who shoulde haue been great men where euer they had been: that they were the greater at Rome, both the emulation of vertue, and the plentie of woorthie examples, brought it to passe. Endeuour therefore, that that whiche is only good, doo not peryshe in this thy remoouyng, and that in thy wandryng, thou seeke none other thyng, then that the beautie of thy newe countrey may aduaunce thee in the sight of many.

Of an honourable Familie. The .xvi. Dialogue.

I Come of an honourable Familie.

Doest thou re­turne againe vnto follie? What belongeth that vnto thee?

My stocke is auncient, and glorious.

To glory in that which is another mans, is a ridiculous bragging. The woorthy deedes of the Grandfathers, are blemishes to the degenerating chyldren: And there is nothyng that mere be wray­eth the staynes of the posteritie, then the bryghtnesse and glory of the auncetours. Many times the vertue of one man, hath ben pro­fitable to another. Vnlesse thou winne true prayse of thyne owne, looke not to haue it from another.

Myne auncetours haue been of great nobilitie.

I hadde rather other shoulde be knowen by thee, then thou by other: But doo thou some notable deede, that thou mayest also be noble: For vnlesse these men had doone some thyng woorthy prayse, they had neuer been noble.

My blood is of great cleerenesse.

All blood is for the most of lyke colour, but yf there be any cleerer then other, nobilitie hath not caused it, but health.

My parentes are of great cleerenesse.

What yf thyne obscuritie be the greater? your bodyes alwayes, and your patrimonie often, ye receyue of your parentes: But who so hath integritie and cleerenesse, he seldome transporteth it to his sonne: and he that hath it not, sometyme beholdeth [Page 19]it in his chyld. How much more noble then his father was Caesar? How muche more obscure then his father was the sonne of Afri­canus? Who, yf clearenes and nobilitie could haue been delyue­red by succession, how noble he shoulde haue been, thou knowest. Howbeit, his father myght loue hym, but make hym noble he coulde not: For he suffered an infinite eclipse of his lyght in his sonne. So that whiche is most precious in the heritage, is by the testatours iudgement exempted, and all the solemnitie of ma­kyng testamentes, is but for the bestowyng of the vilest substance. If I had leysure, I coulde nowe resyte a thousande suche obscure heyres of most noble parentes, and also if it were expedient. Thou knowest my meaning.

The nobilitie of my stocke is [...]ery great.

This nobilitie wyll doo thee none other good, then that thou canst not lye vnknowen, if thou wouldest: So that thereby thou art depriued of the most pleasaunt state of ly­uing in secrete and out of knowledge. Whatsoeuer thou doest, the people wyl talke of it: How thou liuest at home, and how thou fa­cest at dinner and supper thy neyghbours wyll couet to knowe, as though thy Father and thy Grandfather had sent spyes vnto thy house, to suruey the secretes of thy familie, and the order of thy dayly dyet. Enquirie shalbe made what thou doest with thy chyl­dren, what with thy seruauntes, and what also with thy wyfe, yea whatsoeuer thou doest, and the least woorde thou speakest of the smallest matter that can be: and they wyl most stomacke thee, that haue least to doo with thee. This is the fruite of thy clearenesse and nobilitie, that if thou tread thy shooe neuer so litle awrye, thou shalt be called the shame of thy stocke, and a foule forsaker of that path whiche was troden before thee vnto honour and dignitie. This I say, happeneth alwayes vnto them that come of a noble familie. Other common matters almost whatsoeuer, doo stayne the glory whiche is alredie gotten, for that it is an harde thyng to couer that whiche is cleare and shynyng.

I am borne most nobly.

Thou foole, nobilitie is not gotten by byrth, but by lyuyng: and many times also (whereat thou may­est woonder) by dying.

I was borne in great lyght.

Beware of shame, whiche by the bryghtnesse of lyght [Page]is more notable, and easier to be seene. Vnlesse thou doo so, it were better to haue been borne in darknesse. Whooremongers, and theeues, and all the crue of lewde persons, doo seeke darke­nesse: onely this foule and false nobilitie fleeth not the lyght, but coueteth to be knowen, to whom I woulde geue this counsell as best to auoyde infamie, not to be knowen at all.

The nobilitie of my stocke is auncient.

The vertue then belike was auncient, without which there is no true nobilitie.

My nobilitie is very auncient.

Too muche antiquitie, taketh away brightnesse of thynges, and breedeth for­getfulnesse. How many noble families haue there been, whereof at this day there is no memorie? How many most floorishyng fa­milies hast thou thy selfe leene, whiche in fewe yeeres haue come almost to nothyng? Whereby thou mayest make a coniecture of those whiche nowe floorishe, and of those whiche nowe beginne to aryse, and to lyft vp the head. Tyme deminisheth and consumeth all thing. Families doo not onely waxe olde, but cities also: yea, the worlde it selfe, vnlesse we be deceyued, draweth to an ende. Thou whiche vauntest of thyne antiquitie, beware that an­tiquitie extinguyshe not thy glorie, and that the roote be not wythered, with whose flowres thou wouldest be odorned. Whatsoeuer is made in tyme, decayeth in tyme: And your nobilitie beganne in tyme, and shall ende in tyme, and that whiche long tyme brought foorth, and longer dyd encrease, the longest dooeth ouerthrowe. It may be that nowe whyle thou imaginest of thy nobilitie, it surceasseth: and thou shoul­dest perhappes haue been more noble, yf thou haddest be­gunne later.

My nobilitie is of olde tyme.

A vayne ambition, and whiche resteth not on it owne merites, but vppon the forgetfulnesse of other: For all thynges are confounded, and the lyne of succession is doubt­full. Among whiche thynges it happeneth vnto thee, not to be the more noble, but the more knowen. The begyn­nyng of all menne is all one. There is but one Father of mankynde, all flowe from one fountayne, whiche passeth some tyme troubled, and some tyme cleere vnto you all: on this condition, that that whiche a litle before was cleere, anon be made [Page 20]obscure, and that whiche was obscure, be made cleere. So that there is no doubt concernyng the fountayne, but by meanes of what small channell the water of this your noble blood (as [...]crme it) flowed vnto you. Hereof it commeth, that he that went to plough yesterday, goeth a warfare to day, and he that was woont proudly to ryde through the myddes of cities, managing his fierce courser with a golden Brydle, nowe dry­ueth his flowe Oxen vp and downe the flabbie fieldes with a simple Goade. And I thinke that saying of Plato to be true: That there is no king, but he came of a lowe degree, and none of lowe degree. but he came of kinges. This change and condition of mans state, is so chaungable and inconstant, that it is sundrye tymes altered from the one to the other: so that thou canst not marueyl yf a Ploughman goe to warre, or a Souldiour returne to the Plough. Great is the wheele of mortall thynges: And be­cause the course thereof is long, this short lyfe perceyueth it not: Which vnlesse it were so, both the spades of kinges, and scepters of clownes myght be discerned. But nowe tyme deceyueth mens memories, whyle they be busyed about other matters. And this is all your nobilitie, wherefore ye swell, and proudly ad­uaunce your selues, lyke a vayne generation as ye be.

The discent of myne auncestours is noble.

Howe farre wylt thou wander? We speake of thy selfe. Thou goest about to substitute others, I can not tell whom, in thy steede: who perhappes maye aunsweare somwhat for them selues, but nothyng for thee, vnlesse thou furnyshe out the cause with thyne owne witnesses. But admitte that these thy Graund­fathers, and great Graundfathers were noble, to wit, when as they beganne by the wynges of vertue to lyfte them selues vp aboue the common multitude: that is the farthest roote of nobilitie. But goe then farther, seeke out more nar­rowly, thou shalt fynde theyr Grandfathers, and great Grand­fathers, obscure and vnknowen men: To be short, this nobi­litie of names and images, is both short, and howe muche soe­uer it is, truelly it is not thyne owne. Leaue of therefore to colour thy name with other mens vertues, lest if euery one re­quire his owne, thou be laughed at, for thine owne nakednesse.

I am noble.

How muche a valiant clowne is more noble then a cowardly noble man, thou shalt then knowe, when thou hast considered how muche better it is to founde, then to ouerthrowe nobilitie. If thou want examples, there be plentie at home, and in the warres, and are commonly founde in reading, so that thou maiest by thy selfe be vmpire and iudge of the residue: And among all, it shalbe sufficient to consider of two couple of men. Into one skale of the Ballance put Marius and Tullie, into the other, set the aduersaries of these twayne, Aulus and Clodius: whiche way the beame wyll cast, and howe muche Rome must geue place to Arpine, who is so blynde that he seeth not?

I am noble by byrth.

I sayde euen nowe, a true noble man is not so borne, but made.

A woonderfull nobilitie, at leastwyse of this common sort, is left vnto me by my parentes.

This nobilitie commeth not by byrth, but by lyuyng. And heare also I see one good thyng. Ye haue store of familiar examples, and ye want not household leaders, whose steppes it were a shame for you to forsake: This if thou suffer to slyppe, thy nobilitie is but a famous and difficult euyll. It happeneth, I knowe not how, that it is a harder matter for a man to imitate his owne auncestours, then strangers: per­happes because vertue shoulde then seeme! discende by inheri­taunce. I speake it not willingly, but experience it selfe she weth it: Seldome is it seene, the sonne of an excellent man, to be ex­cellent.

Of a fortune beginning. The .xvii. Dialogue.

I Was borne in great fortune.

Thou begannest thy lyfe with great vnquietnesse: For Saylers not improperly cal a tempest fortune. And a great fortune is a great tempest: and a great tempest, requireth both great counsayle, and great strength: Thou hast therefore rather cause of care, then of myrth.

I was borne in very great fortune.

Doest thou thinke it better fortune to be borne in the wyde Sea, then in a small Riuer? Although no wyse man wyll graunt the same, how [Page 21]muche then is it more fortunate to be borne in a Palace then in a Cotage? Our mother the earth receyueth al men, wheresoeuer they were borne.

I was borne in great fortune.

Thou hast wayed anker contrary to good lucke: and if thou haue wasted the day in foule weather, prouyde that when nyght com­meth thou mayest be in the hauen.

I was borne aloft.

Thou art subiect to tempestes and whyrlewyndes, and hope of lying hyd is taken from thee. Pythie is the saying of the Lyrike Poet: The mightie Pine tree is often shaken with windes, and high towres fall with the greater force, and the lyghtnyng stri­keth the hyghest Mountaines. As I must confesse that it is noble to be borne aloft, so is it neyther quiet nor safe: All humane lofti­nesse of it selfe is vnquiet, and continually troublesome. So that I maruayle why that saying of Mecaenas in Seneca shoulde so muche be dislyked: For the height it selfe thundreth at the loftie thinges. Seeyng other haue vsed this woorde, why is he only re­prehended? Moreouer, there is nothyng so hygh that is not sub­iect both to trouble, and care, and sorow, and enuie, and griefe, and in the ende obnoxius to death: And truely, it is death only that beateth downe al mortall pryde and eminencie.

I was borne in hygh and great estate.

They that fall from hygh, are sore hurt, and seldome is it calme vpon the wyde Sea: so in the bottome thou needest not to feare fallyng, neyther dread shypwracke vpon the drye lande.

My begynnyng was fortunate.

Marke the ende: As other in theyr kyng­domes, so can fortune also do much in hers. The more fortunate the begynnyng is, the more vncertayne is the ende. Doest thou not perceyue howe all worldly thynges are tossed as it were with a whyrlewynde, so that lyke as a troublesome tempest disquieth the calme Sea, and after a fayre mornyng followeth a cloudie euenyng, and as many tymes a playne way leadeth into a rough straight: so sodayne calamitie foloweth the pryde of prosperitie, and sorowfull death stoppeth the course of a most pleasaunt lyfe, and most tymes the ende is vnlyke the begynnyng.

I began an hygh.

Take heede where thou leauest. The lyfe is alwayes reported by the ende, and thou shalt playnely feele the ende, although thou perceyuedst [Page]not the beginnyng.

I was borne in great felicitie.

We haue both seene the sonnes of bondmen sittyng in princes thrones, and the sonnes of princes fast fettered in chaynes.

Of Sumptuous fare The .xviii. Dialogue.

I Am brought vp in a plentiful house.

This see­meth vnto thee to be a great matter, but in deede it is litle, and anon wylbe nothyng: Wyl the wormes therefore spare thee more then the hard husbandman? Or wyl they feede vpon the softer meate more greedily? I doo neyther iest with thee, nor ter­rifie thee. Thou knowest, although thou doe dessemble it, that thou art foode prepared for that banquet, and perhaps that it is nowe almost supper tyme, or that at the least wyse it cannot be farre of. For the day is short, and the ghestes be hungrie, and death which layeth the table is redy, and therefore consyder what this dayntie banquetyng wyl auayle thee.

I haue been brought vp most plentifully from myne infancie.

Oh euyl begynnyng of chyldhood, wherein neglecting good artes, and accustoming thy selfe to exquisite fare, and delicate for­raigne drinkes, euen from thy tender yeeres, thou art growen vp to a woorthie expectation: to knowe theyr tastes and smelles, and with experience to woonder at deintily prepared banquettes, and to reuerence the glysteryng Plate, neyther late, as was the maner of valiaunt men, to asswage the hunger and thyrst with ordinarie meates, but with busie loathsomenesse, and payneful burdened stomacke, to begynne agayne with them in the mornyng: When so many holy Fathers haue hungred in the wyldernesse, and so many famous Captaynes haue lyued hardly, sparyngly, and soberly: When thou art beset about with thy Iewelles and deyntie dyshes at the Table, yf at one syde of thee were Curius Fabritius Corumcanius feedyng in earthen vesselles on Hearbes geathered with his owne handes, and goeyng to plowe fastyng tyl nyght, and on [Page 22]the other syde Quintinus and Seranus, or he that was after these twayne Cato Censorius Consul, saylyng into Spayne, from whence he returned in triumph, who dranke none other wyne then his Saylers dyd: or yf al these shoulde meete thee beyng most knowne enimies vnto pleasure, with Paulus also and Antonius sittyng by a fountayne syde, and diuiding the bread whiche was sent them from heauen: would not thy su­perfluous meate for shame and sorowe cleaue to thy lawes, and the delight of thyne amazed taste abate? Thou wouldest call to mynde how that by these men which were contented with so slen­der fare, and so base toyle, both theyr countrey was defended, and most noble kynges and peoples subdued, and, which is the most hardest conquest of al, their owne flesh, the world, and the inuisi­ble enimies of the soule vanquished, and howe thou thy selfe wa­lowest in thy costly iunkets, and sumptuous idlenesse, ouercome with filthy voluptuousnesse,

My fare is most delicate.

I perceiue wel this, that al thyne endeuour is, that thy lothsome curiositie may come to the bottome of miserie. There is nothing brought to: passe by▪ the excellencie of meate and drynke, vnlesse there be also plentie, yea rather to much, and quat­ting. Doest thou not cal to mynd, how that Augustus Caesar, who perhaps if he had list could haue fared more delicately than thou, was, as it is written of hym, a smal meate man, and that almost also of a common diet? I say nothing of the meates whereon he vsed to feede, to the intent thou shouldest not disdayne hym as some olde rusticke father of the countrey, and among thy Fea­sauntes, and Partridges, and Peacockes, laugh at the course bread, and symple cheese, and smal fyshes which that prince was wont to eate. But how much better had it been yf so he these your Feasances, and this great furniture of your tables, & the great felicitie of your throates had lyen styl vnknowne at Colanos & the riuer Phasis, rather then to haue flowne hyther to corrupt our age, & to prouoke lasciuiousnesse. How much more honest was that worlde wherof Ouid sayth: Among those people the fyshes yet did swim without taking by deceite, and the Oysters lay safe in theyr shels: neither dyd! talie know the cōmoditie which wel [...] thy Iouia yeldeth, nor the foule which delighteth to kil the Pigmees.

I enioy most choyce wyne.

Euylly, but pro­perly thou hast sayde, I enioy, that is your ende, and to that were ye borne? How much better woulde smal wyne, or wyne delayed with water, or a draught of the pure runnyng streame asswage your thyrst? Truely the Prince of whom I spake erewhyle, vsed also very seldome, for so it is written of hym, to drynke wyne, ne­uer drinking aboue thrise at a supper, while he was in the campe. As for you, ye quaffe ten tymes before meate, and at meate an hundred tymes, and the quantitie of your carousses cannot be measured, and your tentes be more full of wyne then your cities. There is no enterpryse, nor skyrmyshe made, but by suche as are drunke. He absteyned from wyne in the day tyme, and you ceasse not to drinke both day and nyght: He when he was a thyrst, in steede of drynke, dyd eate bread dypped in colde water, or receyued the top of a Lettice, or a hyt of a moyst Apple, or a slice of a Cucumber: but you, prouokyng thyrst by al meanes, do quenche the same with hoat burnyng wynes, which do prouoke another thyrst by drynking of them, or rather, to say the trueth, ye inflame it the more, neyther doo ye remember in the meane whyle, that ye drynke the blood of the earth, and the poyson of Hemlock, whyle in suche sort ye drynke wyne, as Androcides wrote to kyng Alexander of Macedonie. Whose counsayle yf he had folowed, truely he shoulde not haue slayne his friendes in his drunkennesse, as Plinius sayth: nether shoulde he hymselfe in his drunkennesse at length haue peryshed. The same vse of indif­ferent meates, and abstinencie in drinkyng, hath alwayes for the most part ben founde in all the worthie and famous captaynes and princes, and in Iulius Caesar it was singular: which howe muche it is to be preferred before your riotousnesse, your sleepe, being compared with theyr diligence and glory of aduentures at­chieued, may be iudge.

I enioy most bountifull fare.

If men be forbyddento enioy honest thynges, howe muche more dishonest and filthy thinges? Art thou not ashamed in that thou applyest the fruite of thyne immortall soule, to the seruice and slauery of the transitorie bodie? This is an Epicureal perswasion, but heretofore infamous and abandoned. To be short, among al the pleasures which creepe from the body to [Page 23]the soule, they are concluded to be most vyle, whiche are accom­plyshed by feelyng and tastyng, for as much as these senses are common vnto vs with beastes, and crooke downe the reasonable creature vnto beastly conditions, a more contemptible and abiect thyng then which, the state of mankinde cannot incurre.

I am delighted in deintie, & sundry kyndes of meates.

Be delighted in them, and enioy them, yf thou know nothyng bet­ter: but yf thou know nothyng worse, then be ashamed to reioyce in meate, as cattayle doo in theyr prouender, and to make thy bel­ly a place to set vp dishes of meate in, and to take that office from the Binne. Finally, vnderstand this much, that thou canst not long endure this life which thou so lykest: loathsomnesse is next neyghbour to fulnesse, and fastyng consumeth meate. Hun­ger tasteth nothing, but it is sweete and sauerie. There is nothing so deintie, which fulnesse maketh not vnpleasaunt and loathsome. And euen those men which geue them selues to this delight, con­fesse that it is encreased by appetite and seldome vsing, and, as al other pleasures are, is rebated with plentie and often frequen­ting, and many tymes conuerted to nothyng, and into the con­trarie: Yea, Epicurus hym selfe commended and obserued a thyn dyet, as the only stay of his profession. And that whiche honest men do ascribe to sobrietie & modestie, that dyd he ascribe vnto pleasure. Whatsoeuer kynde of lyuyng thou choose, thou must knowe that one path agreeth with diuers endes, there is one kynde of dyet continually to be vsed, and that thyn and mo­derate: vnlesse sometyme perhaps seldome libertie vpon honest respect do geue a man licence without breache of sobrietie. This kynde of dyet whereof I speake, maketh men drye, and strong, and pleasaunt to beholde, and in smell of body neyther greeuous to them selues nor to others. Compare with these those which are moyst, puffyng and blowyng, shakyng, stynkyng, and to vse Tullies woordes, compare with these, those sweaters, and belchers, and then thou shalt perceyue what difference there is betwene sparyng and surfetyng, and yf the vertue do not tel thee, yet the very lookyng and countenaunce of the men wyl shewe which way the choyce wyl lye: so that there is [...] man so much a bondslaue to his belly, but yf he weygh diligently the matter [Page]with hym selfe, wyl preferre sobrietie far before excesse. If thou contempne these thynges as light, doest thou also contempne the diseases whiche spring hereof, and death also? Which although of it selfe it be to be contempned of noble and valiaunt courages, happening naturally & honestly, or at least wyse not shamefully: so is there nothyng more dishonourable or more to be eschewed, then death to happen vpon a dishonest cause. Dooest thou not heare what counsayle Ecclesiasticus geueth? Be not greedie sayth he, of euery kynde of dyshe, neyther geue vp thy selfe vnto all maner of fare. For in abundaunce of meate consisteth sicknesse, and greedinesse prouoketh subuertion to the stomacke: Many haue peryshed by surfetyng, but who so vseth abstinence, prolongeth his owne lyfe.

I feede on deyntie and sundrie kindes of meates.

If thou ouerloade thy Horse, thou shalt ouerthrowe hym, and yf thou feede hym to proude, he wyll kycke thee: The belly lykewyse is not to be trusted concernyng that wherewith it is charged. It were not vnprofitable counsalye in checkyng all enticementes and plea­sures, but especially of the belly, to consyder theyr endes.

Of Feastes. The .xix. Dialogue.

I Vaunte in feastes.

Good fare apperteineth to pleasure, but feastes to madnesse. For what is it other than pompous frensie, to cal togeather a great many ryche folkes into one place, from theyr honest busines, and to entertayne them with honourable weerinesse, and to glut a number of bellies with delicate and hurtful meates, for whom it had been better to haue been emptie, or to haue been filled at theyr owne discretion? wherein as perhaps thou shalt please one mans mouth, so shalt thou displease the appe­tite of many. For it is seldome seene that ghestes agree in diet, and that is found to be true which the Poete sayth: I haue three ghestes which seme vnto me almost to disagre, requyring diuers meat, with a greatly differing appetite, what I geue, what I geue not, what [Page 24]geuest thou, Flaccus, or what dooest thou? Vnlesse a man would geue them nothyng at all, and leaue this care to them who haue no grea­ter care. Let them doo what they lyst, which can doo nothyng els. Now if three doo disagree, what wyl an hundred, or a thousand doo? They wyl scarce depart, at least wyse, without secrete murmu­ryng. This had an yll taste. That had an il smell. The other should haue been set downe first. This came colde to the boarde. That came out of season. The other dyshe was set downe with a sorowful countenaunce. This with an angrie looke. That meate was rawe. The other torne. One wayter was to slowe. This to hastie. That felowe coulde not heare. The other was stub­burne. One was to loude: Another to sylent. This seruant brought warme water to the table with vnwashed handes: An­other fylled small wyne to the boorde. With these and suche lyke complayntes, not only the Halles, but the wayes doo resounde, and the streetes also, and not without cause. For to what pur­pose is it, so gently to solicite men with entreatie to dyne at thy house? to what ende serueth that vnprofitable cost, and superftu­ous labour, and to bryng so great a troupe into one court, but on­ly to boast thy selfe among thy neyghbours, and as it were thy selfe beyng on foote, to make a voluptuous triumphe of thy ban­quettes? The trumpets also and shaknes sounde foorth togea­ther, so that it appeareth that al thyngs are prepared for pompe, and nothyng for thriftinesse. Imagine, that the next day after, one of the ghestes stoode in neede of so muche as the dyshe of meate was woorth which he ate: he shal neuer be able to ob­teyne it of the maister of the feast. For the feast was not made for the ghest, but for hymselfe: Whiche although vn­doubtedly it be so, notwithstandyng when drunken men sytte at the Table swearyng and affyrmyng any thyng vpon theyr othe, they strike the meate, saying these woordes: I sweare, say they, by this our good loue and charitie whiche nowe we exercise togeather. To whom it may be well answered: Nay rather, sweare by this your drunkennesse and surfet. This were true charitie, yf beyng fastyng and drie, you would conuert that to the vse of the poore, whiche now ye lauish out to your owne de­struction, then might ye not improperly sweare by your charitie. [Page]Ye byd vnto your feastes the proude ryche men, and ye shut out the poore hungrie sort, thynkyng it a glorious matter to haue plentie of woorshypful gheastes. And in this point, besydes the opinion of the common people, whiche is the fountayne of all errour, ye haue an aucthour: Beleeue me sayth Cicero, it is ae seemely thyng for the houses of worshipfulmen, to be open vnto wor­shipful ghestes. In deede syr, this is very good, for them to be open to chose that can requite with the lyke, but to be shut agaynst the needie. For whiche matter we knowe that Lactantius, per­haps not vnworthyly, hath reprehended Cicero, who hath also handled the same matter better in another place, but in the same booke. This, sayth he, is a great duetie, as euery one hath most neede of helpe, so especially to succour hym. The contrary whereof is prac­tised by most men, for loke of whom they expect greatest commoditie, yea although he haue no neede of them, to them they become most ser­uiceable. Yea, now Cicero in deede thou sayest wel and truely, for so men ought to doo, although many do contrary. But to re­turne agayne to the matter, yf thou wylt be without the com­playntes and disdayne of ghestes, absteyne from feastes: They that haue ben present at a feast, haue had some iust cause perhaps to reprooue somewhat, and to be greeued: but he that is offended because he was not at the feast, he is no ghest, but a most impu­dent Parasite, whose tongue is no more to be esteemed then his belly, whiche is not only not to be feared, but many tymes to be wyshed: for as the Satiricall Poet sayth, what commedie can there be better, or what more pleasaunt Iester, then an hungrie stomacke? Some such are described by the Comic writers, & diuersly pro­uoke laughter: what could they do, vnlesse they were hearde in presence? To conclude, this is y^e summe of al: there is none other way to auoid the controulment of feasting, then by not feasting, & to driue away the nips and madnes of flatterers, then by laugh­ing at them, & contemning them: thou hast none other meanes to purchase quietnes.

I geue my self to feastyng.

Thou hast chosen a worthy studie, what is most agreeable to this cast, and what to that: or with what meates hunger is best sta­ked, or with what sauces prouoked. Behold this noble & profita­ble part of Philosophie, what meate shal fyrst, what seconde, and [Page 25]what thyrd, cloy thy loathsome stomacke? And what kynde of wine doth sende vp most pleasant fumes to the brayne.

I am delighted in feastes.

If this be meant as the La­tine woorde Conuiuium soundeth, and as our forefathers, who were the aucthours of this name dyd purport, I wyll not onely not reprehende it, but commende it: For it is a pleasaunt thyng, and honest, and to be wyshed, for freendes to lyue togeather: but you cal eating togeather, a feast, and to a most filthy thing, ye geue a most excellent name, as though freendes coulde not lyue togea­ther, otherwyse then by eatyng and drynking, and not better by thynking, and talkyng: seeyng that, as Cicero sayeth, To a learned man, to thinke, is to lyue, and there is nothing more pleasaunt, then the woonted and faythfull conference of freendes. Couer not therefore so shamefull a thyng with so fayre a name, for it wyll appeare through: and that which is called a lyuing togeather, shalbe kno­wen to be but an eatyng togeather. Hearken rather to the Apo­stle S. Paule, Howe with a loude voyce among other thinges he exhorteth vs from euyl bankettinges and drunkennesse, and take beede that ye be not caried away to filthinesse by the glory of names.

Feastes doo delyght mee.

Speake playnely what thou meanest, eatings, drinkings, gorginges, gurmandize: If thou be delyghted to receyue these thynges, thou art but a base debter for a base benefite: But if thou haue delight to geue them, then art thou a foole, and a slaue to a foolysh carefulnesse.

I seeke glory by feastes.

It is your fashion to seeke for a thyng, where it is not to be founde.

I hope to win glory by feastes.

It is false glory, and a very errour. We reade how Alexander kyng of Macedonie, gaue hymselfe ouer to feasting, yea, euen vnto blooddy drunkennes. And so dyd Lucius lykewyse vnto immoderate charges, and the lamentable losse of his Empyre. Shew me other such two: what prince canst thou name vnto me, that is wise, or king, that is sober, and is geuen to such pleasures? As for the woorthy Philosophers and Poets, it is needlesse to speake of them, and much lesse of the godly men, and generally of all that haue conceyued any great or religious mat­ter in their minde, vnto whom doubtlesse al this whole case is in­famous and hateful.

By feastyng I haue wonne glory [Page]among the common people, & the fauour of many men.

A great price for most vile ware, to become a Cooke to please o­ther mens belyes. I suppose there be some whom their stomackes doo pinche, and pouertie dooeth brydle, vnto whom nothyng is more acceptable, then to be discharged of that brydle by the care and charge of other, and to obteine that by other mens meanes, whiche by their owne they are not able. Those that yeelde them this supplie, so long they extol and magnifie, as they doo so: But if once they leaue of, they themselues also shall surcease to be lon­ger extolled: and thus wyll I also surcease, and this is the summe of all. The condition of ghestes, is to be delicate, and complay­ning, and very hard to please. And concernyng Parasites, learne this short rule: Whyle thou feedest them abundantly, they wyll eate, and laugh with thee, they wyll clappe their handes, they wyl commende thee to be a good man, liberall, and call thee a notable member of thy common wealth: They wyl leaue out no one iote of perfect Grecian adulation, whereof the Satyrical poet spea­kyng, tearmeth it a nation most expert in flatterie, and a great deuourer of meate, with other suche qualities commonly knowen to boyes. If thou leaue of sometyme thy liberalitie, they wyll dif­fame thee to be couetous, wretched, and miserable. But yf thou do it through want, then they wyl report of thee, that truly thou art a poore man, but there is no harme in thee, sauing that thou art a foole, and hast no wit, and they wyl shunne thee and thy house, as it were a rocke. Then shalt thou perceyue that saying of Horace to be true: The friendes depart, when once the lees waxe drie in the caske: where the Poet speaketh of suche kynde of freendes. As for true freendes, they specially continue in aduersitie, and most diligently frequent those houses whiche fortune hath forsaken. Suche follies and difficulties it were best to redresse in tyme, and to learne to contemne these proude ghestes, these dry scoffers, with their bablyng and tittletattle, and perswade thy selfe thus: There is no place for vpright iudgement, where al thing is attributed to pleasure, and nothing to vertue. Finally, this transitorie name which is purchased by euyll meanes, and this which is commonly called glorie, among learned men is counted infamie, not glorie.

Of Apparrel. and trimming of the bodye. The .xx. Dialogue.

BVT I am brauely aparelled.

Thinges that are pure, doo loue to be seene naked: And it is a common fashi­on to couer filthie thinges.

I am most exquisitely apparelled.

Thou mayest be ashamed of thy outwarde trimnesse, as oft as thou shalt thinke what is couered therewith: For it were a frentike part of pryde, to couer dounge with purple.

I am very neately apparrelled.

Hast thou not heard what y^t most valient man in Salust saith? that neatnesse belongeth to women, and labour to men.

My ap­parell is fayre and fine.

Then is it a banner of pryde, and a nest of lasciuiousnesse.

My clothes are excellent, and care.

I wyll not set agaynst thee godly poore soules halfe naked, and stiffe with colde, and scarce able to keepe of the winters bitternes, with their simple mantles of Rugge. I know well, that sinfull wealth, disdaineth holy pouertie. And the same most rich man also, of whom I spake yet whyle in our third dispu­tation before this, vsed consideratly to weare none other garment then home made, suche as was spun and wrought by his wife, and his sister, and his daughter, and his nices: For this is also written of him, Thus he that was lorde of al, weeried a fewe women, but such as were most neare of kin vnto him. And thou perhaps being another mans seruant, doest weerie nations that are a great way of from thee. For thee the Fleminges spinne, for thee they carde, for thee they weaue: for thee the Persians, the Seres, the Indi­ans do ioyle: for thee the Tyrian Murrey swimmeth, or Purple fishe: for thee the softe grains of Hispis hangeth vpon the shrubs: for thee the sheepe of Brytaine looke whyte: for thee the Indian Sandix looketh redde: both Oceans sweate for thy sake: but for Augustus, only his wife and his daughter, his sister and his nices do take payne. Thus much is vertue decreased, & pride increased. And since men haue délighted in the contrary, the examples of modestie are waxed vile. For in diet and apparell many contem­ning this great & woorthy prince, haue gone after the woorst, as Caius & the residue, whose belly & backe were neuer couered with ciuile, nor manlike, nor Romane, nor truly humane, but with mad, [Page]and somtyme womanishe, at another tyme diuine, superfluous on euery syde, and monstrous attyre.

My garmentes are most exquisite.

Costly apparell, both by suspition of great diligence in trimming and settyng foorth the beautie, dimi­sheth the grace, and by the bryghtnesse thereof, bewrayeth the ble­mishes of the deformed, and styrreth vp the eyes of suche as passe by to beholde it. And therefore, a deformed man or woman, can not hurt them selues by any meanes more, then by couetyng to seeme fayre and wel fauoured, The gallant apparell, and braue settyng foorth of the body, whiche is of purpose done to win fame by, prouoketh laughter.

I am decked foorth in most choyce colours.

Nature cannot be surpassed by art: And many times disdayning that she is prouoked, by howe much the more greater force she is pressed and couered, by so much the more she riseth vp and sheweth her selfe. As for the natural defor­mities of this mortal body, they can neither be altered with co­lours, nor couered with odors, but they make them either more euident to be seene, or more doubtful to be suspected.

I am caried away with the loue of precious & variable attyre.

Lay a dead carkase in a coffin of golde, beset it rounde about with pearles and cloth of golde, the more thou trimmest it, the more horrible and vgly it is. And to the intent thou mayest not be offen­ded at that whiche I speake, let vs seeke out the originall of that name. For this word carkas, commeth of the Verbe cado, which signifieth to fal. Which being so, why may not the body of a liuing man be so called, aswel as of a dead? For, the one is alrep [...]on, the other shal fal, & falleth continually.

I haue [...] sle [...]pa­rel, and made after the new fashion.

I haue no time nor place now to lament & detest this counterfeiting mockerie of out­landish attyre, whiche this present frentike age hath brought in a­mong you from the farthest partes of the world. But both God & man do vtterly abhor these deformed beastes in the shape of men, whose mindes are brutish, whose speech is the latin tongue, whose apparel barbarous & strainge, whose heare is brayded & frisled af­ter y^t delicacy of women, whose maners are hard & vnciuil, after the toughnes of boares: at one side, plainly bewraying the filthines of their bodies by the impudencie of their demeanure: on the other [Page 27]side, openly discoueryng the lightnes of their mindes, by the wa­uering of the feathers in their top. But whether the maisters that are so vigilant, or the schollers that are so apt to learne, deserue most to be hated, it is to be doubted: By whose deuises thou seest it is now come to passe, that betweene Iesters and Dukes, be­tweene honest Matrons and Harlottes, there is in syght almost no difference at all: Neyther doeth this mischiefe cease, but it day­ly increaseth, and the madnesse is diuersly varied.

Of reste and quietnes. The .xxi. Dialogue.

REst and quietnesse from labours, are happened vnto mee.

Two most acceptable commodities of mans lyfe, vnlesse immoderate vse haue made them most grie­uous mischiefes, whiche it hath wrought in many, and hath procured as many plagues to the body, as diseases to the minde: swellyng to the one, and rust to the other.

I en­ioy most pleasaunt rest.

Say rather that thou doest vse. We can enioy nothing here, but we vse many thynges: thus sayth the holsomer doctrine.

This quietnesse is very pleasaunt vnto mee.

It skilleth muche what kinde of quietnesse the same is: for there are two kindes of quietnesse, One is busie, whiche euen in very rest is doing somwhat, and bu­sie about honest affayres, and this is very sweete: The other is slouthful & idle, and geuen onely to sluggyshnes, then which there is nothyng more loathsome, or more lyke to the graue▪ From the first [...] many tymes spring great woorkes, both profitable to the we snare [...] glorious to the auctours. From the seconde commeth nothyng but inglorious flouth and sleepines. The fyrst is meete for Philosophers: but the second for sluggardes, and suche as are geuen to their belly and sleepe, where they may eate and sleepe their fyll without interruption.

I enioy my wished rest.

That rest whiche we must enioy, shal neuer haue ende. Consider therefore in what rest thou take delight.

I haue founde wyshed rest.

Wouldest thou say rest, or lus­king, or sleepe? whiche some Poetes call the kinseman, and some the image of death: and both very properly.

I sleepe and take my rest.

And many also that goe, do rest in minde, [Page]and many also that sit & lie, are troubled in mind. And sleepe it selfe, which is called the rest of al liuing thinges, hath it owne secret griefes, with many horrible and troublesome visions & fantasies: concerning which, the holy man talking familiarly with God, and being afflicted, maketh his complaynt.

I lye idly in my bed chamber.

Which of these, I pray thee, thinkest thou rested more pleasantly? eyther Vacia whiche lay sleeping at his Farme in the countrey, or Scipio fighting against his enimies in Africa, and Cato against serpentes, and Regulus against both? For there is neyther quietnes without ioy, neither can there be a­ny ioy without vertue.

My toyles being past, I refresh my selfe with pleasant sleepe.

Toyle & laboure are the mat­ters of vertue & glory, who so reiecteth these, reiecteth them also. Contrariwise, too muche sleepe is the matter of vice and infamie, which driueth many, and throweth them headlong into perpetual sleepe. For it nourisheth lust, maketh the body heauie, weakeneth the minde, dulleth the wit, diminisheth knowledge, extinguisheth the memorie, and breedeth forgetfulnes. It is not without cause, that wakeful and industrious persons are commended: As for the sleepie, we see not them praysed, but puffed. And therfore as some vs tearme sleepe, death, so other cal wakefulnesse, life. Take heede then, of lyfe and death which thou choose. It is best to wake, which the wise do commend, that the life may be y^e longer.

I enioy a long, & vn interrupted sleepe.

It is wel, if it be not bro­ken by pinching cares, by couetousnes, by ambition, by feare, by sorowe, and by wicked loue: but euyl, if a mans sleepe be distur [...]ed by some care of dishonest st [...]die. Truely, while the people sleepe, the prince waketh, & while the armie resteth, the captaynes be vi­gilant, which both experience declareth, and Homers Ilias pro­ueth to be true. Vpon noble mindes vigilant cares do depende, but such as are sober and hotsome. It is credibly reported, that Augustus Caesar, of al Princes the greatest and best, vsed but short sleepe, and that also often interrupted. And thou gloriest in the contrary.

I sleepe profoundly.

So do gluttons, letchers, & wrathful persons, togeather with bruite beastes, but lyuing not­withstanding: sl [...]ggish persons, and they that sleepe, are only com­pared to the dead: and as touching that part of tyme, that happie [Page 28]men doo nothyng differ thereby from men in miserie, thou knowest it to be a position of Philosophie. Wherefore, as that part is diligently to be eschewed, whiche leaueth so small a dif­ference of dreames onely betweene men and beastes: so is the contrary to be pursued, whiche offereth no hardnesse to them that are willing. For yf in respect of a simple glory, or small gaine, both Warriours, & Merchauntes, and Mariners, do watch whole nightes abroade in the open ayre, the one among ambushmentes of their enimies, the other among the surgies and rockes, more fierce then any enimie: art not thou able to watche some part of the nyghtes in makyng prayers to God, and among thy bookes, for the true glory, and a large gayne?

Being weerie when I was awake, I haue now wholly geuen my selfe to sleepe.

Thus it is, yee change not your copie, ye deale in all matters after one maner: and looke what thing God himselfe, or nature, or any art, hath geuen you for recreation, that ye turne to your owne shame and discommoditie▪ your drinke to drunkennes, your meate to surfeityng, your leysure to sleepinesse, your good health to voluptuousnesse, your beautie to lasciuiousnesse, your strength to iniuries, your wit to deceitfulnesse, your knowledge to pride, your eloquence to harmfulnesse, the brauerie of your hou­ses, and the apparell of your backes, to pompousnesse and vayne ostentation, your ryches to couetousnesse and riot, your wiues and chyldren to feare and perpetual carefulnesse Goe nowe, be astoni­shed, complayne of your fortune, and lament your wickednesse: of good thinges ye make euil, & of heauenly giftes, ye make fetters, and snares, and chaines for your soule.

I am delighted in pleasaunt sleepe.

Not only Kinges, Captaynes, and Princes, Philosophers, Poetes, & Householders, do watch vp, and rise in the night, which Aristotle sayeth to be auaylable for health, for good husbandrie, and philosophie: but theeues also, and pilferers, and whiche is also more marueylous, mad men, and lo­uers, whom the remembraunce & desire they haue to their trulles, doth styrre forwarde: and wylt not thou for the loue of vertue, hate sleepe, that is freende to vices? and as Horace sayth ex­cellently, Seeyng theeues ryse in the nyght to kill true menne, wilt not thou awake to preserue thy selfe? Ye may be ashamed, [Page]that filthie causes can so muche preuayle with you, and most so­uereine can doo nothyng.

I sleepe all nyght, and no man troubleth mee.

Aristotle seemeth, whiche I haue touched before, in this maner to deuide a mans lyfe, attribu­ting halfe to sleepe, and halfe to waking. And as touching the one halfe thereof, he sayth, that a vertuous mans lyfe differeth not from a fooles lyfe: in whiche place, he wyll haue he night to be vnderstoode for sleepe, and the day for wakyng. This I confesse, is a good and true diuision, for it equally deuideth tyme into the partes: But if it be thus taken, that the partes be of equal space, truely there is an other great difference betweene them. For there is no cogitation or discourse more sharpe, or more deepe, then the nyghtly, no tyme more conuenient for studentes. If he say that sleepe is the one halfe of our tyme, it is a strange saying, to come out of the mouth of so studious and learned a man. God forbyd that a minde whiche is well instructed, and geuen to studie, shoulde sleepe halfe her tyme, seeyng to some the fourth part, and to voluptuous persons also the thyrde part is sufficient. I would counsell a man to ryse in the nyght, in euery part of the yeere. God forbyd, but that they which haue any great exployt in hande, sleepe both the whole Winter and Summer nyghtes: Howbe­it, it is sufficient perhappes to haue broken it once, and as muche sleepe as is broken by watching, so muche may be quickly supply­ed, yf neede so require, by takyng a nappe after noone. But the houres of the winter nyghters are often to be broken: in them it were expedient to syng, to studie, to reade, to write, to thynke, to contemplate, by wit some new thing is to be deuised, & that which is wonne by studie, is to be repeated in memorie. Hearken also to S. Ierome, wryting to Eustochius: We must ryse, sayth he, twice or thrice a nyght, and we must meditate on some part of Scripture whiche we haue learned without booke: And at length, when your eyes are weerie with this studie, ye must eftsoones refreshe them with sleepe, and beyng then recomforted with a lytle rest, they must agayne be weeried with exercise, lest that by sleeping all the night long, and lying styl vpon the pillowe, ye appeare to be as it were buried carkases: By the often and coomely styrring of your selues, declare that ye are alyue, and geuen to vertue.

Of pleasaunt smelles. The xxii. Dialogue.

I Am delited with sweete odours.

These serue ey­ther for foode, or apparrel, concerning which thou hast hearde myne opinion.

My studie is vpon sweete smelles.

Of smelles, some prouoke the appetite, and some wantonnesse. The desire of these incurreth the note of inconti­nencie, especially yf it be vehement. Others are desired for theyr owne sake. The greedinesse of them, is not reprooued of disho­nestie, but of folly: Whereby it commeth, that the smel of wo­mens oyntmentes, and of iunkets, is more discommodable then the odour of flowres, or apples. The same reason is also in those pleasures, whiche are receyued by the eares and eyes. If euer thou hast applyed thy mynde to the readyng of Heathen writers, thou knowest these thynges, neyther doo I nowe touch thee, but by notes I bryng thee to remembraunce of the trueth, to the end thou mayest see, that such kyndes of delyghts are eyther dishonest or lyght.

My studie is vpon sweete odours.

I woulde it were vpon good fame, the smel whereof is also called good, but of euyl fame muche more: and it is more strong then the sent of any spices whyle they are a beatyng, or of brymstone whyle it is a burnyng. Of these sauours, the mynde iudgeth, and not the nose.

I am delighted in sweete smelles.

If thou be led by sense, and seeke after pleasure, as I haue sayd, it is eyther dishonestie or lyghtnesse; if for health sake, it is excuseable, so that measure, which is the sauce of al thinges, be present. For a mylde smel comforteth a fayntyng spirite: but in al thynges that saying of Terence is of great force, Nothing to muche. For as in many other thynges, so in this also there is ins [...]te varietie of kyndes, not only betweene man and man, but betwene nation and nation. For if the report be true, which great aucthours do not condemne, the people that dwel about the head of Ganges do eate no meate at al, but are noorished only by the smel of a wyld apple, whensoeuer they traueyle abrode, they cary nothyng els with them then that good & holsome fruite: and are so impartent of stynke, that as the pure ayre noorysheth [Page]them, so an infected smel stifleth them: A delycate complexion, which so lyueth and dyeth. Hence it proceedeth, that euery nation towardes the East, beyng pampered with the delicacie of the ayre, as they are lesse careful of meate, so haue they lesse plentie, and are more desirous of sweete odours, and from thence forsooth this curiositie came first vnto vs. The Assyrians, the A­rabians, and Sabei, when they were vanquished by your wea­pons, ouercame you with theyr odours: which the rough and inuincible sobrietie of your forefathers resisted so long, that the fyue hundred threescore and fifth yeere, after the foundyng of the Citie of Rome, prouision was made by a straight edict of the Censores, that no man should bryng sweete forraigne oynt­mentes into the Citie. But not long after, the vices of poste­ritie, as the maner is, abrogating the decrees of the Elders, wan­tonnesse gate the vpper hande, and crept into the very Senate, which had been the aucthour of that constitution.

I am desyrous to smel wel.

Straunge odours, and the art of perfumyng, and pleasauntly smellyng, is an argument of no natural good smel, and a token of some secrete defectes. In respect of which causes, not only any honest man, but honest wo­man also, woulde be loath by such kynde of delicacie, to offend the senses of any valyaunt and good man. Thou remembrest the storie of a certayne young man, who being annoynted with sweet oyntmentes, and comming before the Emperour Vaspa­tian to geue him thankes for the office which he had bestowed vp­on hym, as he stoode before hym, the Emperour perceyuyng the smel, and disdayning at the matter, with sterne countenance and rough speech: I had rather sayd he, thou hadst smelt of Garlyke. And so, wel checked, eyther suppressing or cancellyng the letters wherein he had graunted hym his good wyll, he sent hym fru­strate away with his pleasaunt odours. Thus, as these smelles haue been alwayes a shame, so haue they also sometime ben hurt­ful, especially where there is some graue and vpright Censor of manners. Yea, what shal I say that they haue ben daunge­rous to some? For thou knowest also, how that Plautius a Senatour in the triumuiral proscription, for feare of death hydyng hym selfe in the Salernitane Dennes, was bewrayed by [Page 30]the smel of his oyntmentes: purchasyng therby to hym selfe de­struction, and to the proscribers excuse of theyr crueltie. For who would not iudge that he was iustly stayne, who in such troubles of the common wealth▪ and so great danger of priuate men, would then trym hym selfe with sweet smelling oyntmentes?

I haue accustomed my self to artificius odours.

Leaue them of, yf thou wylt folow my counsayle. It is more shameful to frequent the artificius, then the symple: For euery dishonest thyng, the more artificius it is, the more dyshonest it is. Art, which is an ornament to honestie, is an encrease to dishonestie. Hereunto adde moreouer, that it is now growne vnto far more excesse than in olde tyme, although that Rome, as I haue sayd, and Lacedemon also, which I had almost termed the Grecian Rome. when this infectiō came out of Asia, resisted it with rough manners and streight edictes, as it had ben an armie of wel ap­poynted enimies. Notwithstandyng, at length the delicate bande of sweete oyntmentes, with the legions of vices, gat the vpper hand, and their scoutes passed ouer into Europe, and there sub­dued most valient nations. And because it were ouer long to prosecute euery thyng, by the softned [...] [...]sse of one most rough and payneful man, thou mayest co [...] [...] [...]he residue. For [...] the very thickest and heat of [...] inuincible and bar­ [...] Hannibal was annoynted, with his armie: oyntmentes [...] pearcing, [...] near [...]ing. And therefore, of this [...]minate ca [...] [...]yne and his [...] [...]hose beginninges were wonderful, [...] was the ende, as he [...]ell deserued. Whereby it [...] [...]hee p [...]e, that where alway▪ ye haue ben much bounde [...]e vertues [...]f Scipio Africane ye are somewhat also behol­den to the oint [...]entes of Hanibal for it had ben good for them they had ben dry, as it was best for [...]u that they were annoynted, This custom [...] preuayled so ma [...] [...]andred yeeres after, that it were a payne, and also would astonysh a man, to reade what is [...] concernyng this matter, both by Greekes and La­ [...] What shal I vse many woordes? Oyntmentes came vnto [...] then whom nothing was more high & excellent, namely I [...]SVS Christe, which he, that came and put away al [...]ft­ [...]sse and delicacie of the m [...], & to ex [...]inguish al prouocati [...] as of [Page]pleasures, suffered hym selfe to be annoynted withall: veryly not delighted with the pleasauntnesse of the odours, but with the affection and teares of the offerer. But now this custome is by litle and litle diminyshed, that whereas your age is in many thynges inferiour to the glory of your forefathers, yet in this it seemeth to extoll it, in that it is not caryed away with the fonde desire of sweete oyntmentes: but they that are now delyghted therein, it chaunceth vnto them not by the generall infection of the tyme, but by the special imperfection of theyr owne mindes.

I am enticed & delyghted with fragrant odours.

It cannot be otherwyse, but that those thynges which of nature are delightsome and pleasaunt, should entice a man, and whyle they be present delight hym. It is the saying of the wyse He­brue: With oyntmentes, and sundrie odours the hart is refreshed. Howbeit it seemeth to me that in ointments there is not so much delyght, as loathsomenesse. But admit there were so in these o­dours, yet in my iudgment men should rather resist the thynges that be absent, to [...] [...]empt, and obliuion, and vse the thinges that are [...]ese [...] [...] [...]ly, neither bestow any care or trauayle vpon [...] [...]wne secret iudgement thou [...]fesse thy [...] contemptible thynges. And that I may not dra [...] [...] concernyng odo [...] [...]e­ing dishonest an [...] [...] al effem [...]ing mennes mindes to [...] [...]ter I em­brace the opin [...]n of S Augustine, who speake [...] [...] of the pro­uocation of odour [...] [...] desire them not, sayth he [...] they be absent I require th [...] [...] if they be present I [...], be­ing readie alwayes to wa [...] [...]. Doo thou the [...] thou neuer smel euill of [...] odoures, or he od [...] with harefull cleanlynes.

Of the sweeten [...] of Musick xxi [...] Dialogue.

I Am delighted in synging [...] [...]strument.

Al how muche better were it in teares and sygninges? It were better to come to ioy [...] by ioying to teares.

I take pleasure in songs and harmonie.

Wild beastes and foules are deceyued by synging, and, which is more straunge, fyshes also are delighted in Musycke. Thou knowest the pretie fable of Arion and the Dolphin, which is holden so true, that it is cronicled. Many notable writers haue made men­tion of that Miracle, but none more gallantly then Herodotus, the father of the Gretian Historie. Herevnto agree the brasen images whiche are there set vp, where the Musitian first arriued on shoare safely out of so great daunger sittyng vppon the backe of the swymmyng fyshe. Moreouer, it is sayde, that the Sirenes do decey [...]e by synging. This is not beleeued, but founde true by experience, how by flatteryng woordes one man deceyueth another: and to be short, there is nothyng more apt to deceiue, then the voyce.

I am delighted with pleasant Musicke.

The Spider, as they say, annoynteth before he byte, and the Phisition before he strike, the fouler also, and a woman [...]terreth whom they mynde to entice, and a theefe embraseth whom he wyl kyll, and the Polypus fyr [...]huc [...] [...]h whom he [...]ea [...]teth to drowne. And some naughtie pe [...] are neuer more [...]o be feared, then when they sh [...] [...] cur­ [...]us in voyce and behauiour▪ [...] ad [...]ially to [...] founde in the G [...]lmyo [...] Dom [...]. Generally, there [...]s sear [...]e a [...] [...]

I [...], and [...] in singyng [...] [...] Re [...]: [...] heede, for it is [...]: So [...] possesseth the last part of ioy: and agayne, the spi­ [...] shalb [...] [...] [...]egore a fall.

I sing sweetly.

Th [...] [...] whether it be thy last. The Swan syngeth [...] his death: More haue peryshed through [...], [...] and there [...]alate report, that one who [...] wont, dy [...]d sodaynly in the myddes [...] I am de [...]ighted in song and Musicke. [...] cause▪ Euery day, and houre, and [...] the G [...], whyther it is your [...] [...]ought with [...]ngyng, and in olde ty [...], [...] [...]ecorders, whereof is that verse of Sta [...] [...]: Whose custome is, the tender soules with Pipes to bring [...]. Thou takest pleas [...] [...] in both these pompes of fune­rals, [Page]whither thou makest hast (although thou perceiuest not thy selfe to goe) without rest or intermission.

I loue sing­ing.

To what purpose? Doubtlesse in the myndes of woorthymen especially, there resteth a most mightie musike, but the effectes are sundrie, more then a man wyl beleeue. And to omit that which serueth not to our purpose, some it mooueth to vayne mirth, some to holy and deuout ioy, some many tymes to godlie teares: which varietie of affections, hath drawne great wittes into sundry opinions. For Athanasius to auoyde vanities, forbade the vse of singing in Churches. S. Ambrose studious of godlynesse, appoynted that men should syng. S. Augustine maketh godly mention among his confessions, that he aboade both, and that herein he was sometyme in some difficultie of doubt with hym selfe.

I delyght to syng.

This hath been a pleasure vnto many heretofore, and now it is to thee. For in olde tyme, who so coulde not syng and play vpon instrumentes, was counted vnlearned, which iudgement fel vp­on Themistocles the Athenian, the most noble of all the Greci­ans, for that he refused to play vppon an Harpe as he sate with company at meate. And Cicero reporteth, that Fpaminundas the Thebane, perhaps because he woulde auoyde that ignomi­nie, could play very excellently vppon instrumentes. It is straunge, that Socrates beyng so graue a Father as he was, would learne to play: and therfore let vs not maruayle though Alcibiadis were by his vncle Periclis set to schole to learne vp­on the Recorder, beyng among them so commendable an exer­cise, that they learned the same also among the lyberal artes. But let vs commend the wyt of a shamefast Boy, who takyng into his hande the instrument of an excellent Musitian, who of purpose was sent for and hyred to teach hym and puttyng it vn­to his mouth, and streynyng his breath, [...] by his cheekes be­gan to swell, & perceyuyng thereby the detormitie of his counte­nance, blushed, and brake the Pype, and threw it away disdain­fully, deseruyng surely, though but small of yeeres, to be an ex­ample, that by the whole consent of the people the vse of Recor­ders and wynd instrumentes should haue ben banyshed the Citie of Athens. This ardent desyre of Musicke, although it be not [Page 32]yet come so far vnto you, as to possesse the myndes of al Princes, yet hath it inuaded the myndes of some, and specially of the wor­ser sort. For Caius the Emperour, was very muche geuen to syngyng and dauncing. As for Nero, how much he was addic­ted to the studie of the Cytherne, and what great regard he had of his voyce, it is incredible to be spoken. This is one folly in him, and very ridiculus, that the same nyght which was the last of his lyfe, and the fyrst to the world, to take breath, as it were, for a litle tyme, among the complayntes which instaunt death and present feare and sorow dyd minister, this one thyng most of­ten and most miserably he bewayled, not that so great a Prince, but that so great a Musitian shoulde perysh. I let passe others: euen vnto this your age which nowe is present, though but here and there, yet there is come some delyght of the eare, wherwith to be honestly and soberly delyghted, is a certayne humanitie, but to be caught, and as it were wedded vnto it, is great vanitie.

I am deceyued with the pleasure of sweete notes.

Oh that thou dyddest heare the syghes of the godly? Oh that the gronynges and lamentations of the dampned myght enter into thyne eares: And on the other syde, the re­ioycynges of the blessed soules, and the syngyng of Angelles, and that heauenly harmonie which Pithagoras establysheth, Ari­stotle ouerthroweth, and our Cicero restoreth, and godlinesse and fayth perswade thee to be there perpetuall, and the moste sweete voyce [...], yf not of the heauens, yet of the heauenly inha­bitauntes, wh [...]here without ende doo prayse the fyrst and eter­nall cause. [...] these thynges, I say, should enter into thyne eares, how playnely myghtest thou discerne which consent were the sweeter, and which the holsomer? But nowe thou committest the iudgement of the sounde to a deaffe sense, con­cernyng which, perhaps hytherto may seeme vnto some to be a small matter, notwithstandyng it hath troubled many excellent men. Neyther was it without cause that Plato, a man of a diuine wyt, supposed that Musicke apperteyned to the state, and corrections of manners in a common wealth.

Of Daunsing. The .xxiiii. Dialogue.

I Delyght in dauncing.

I woulde haue maruey­led the more, yf the noise of Vyals and Recorders had not pric­ked thee foorth also to dauncing, and after the auntient maner, one vanitie had not folowed another, howbeit a grea­ter, and much more deformed. By singyng there is some sweete­nesse conceyued, which many tymes is profitable, and holy: by dauncing neuer any thyng but lasciuiousnesse, and a vayne sight, hateful to honest eyes, and vnmeete for a man.

I desire much to be at dauncinges.

The body couereth and discouereth the mynde: the castyng of the handes, the moouyng of the feete, the rouling of the eies, declare that there is some such lyke wantonnesse in the mynde, whiche is not seene. And ther­fore it behooueth suche as are louers of modestie, to take heede that they do not speake any wanton thyng: For the hydden af­fectes of the mynde, and secretes of the hart, are many tymes de­scried by small tokens: moouyng, syttyng, lying, gesture, laugh­ter, going, speache, al these are bewrayers of the mynde.

I receyue great pleasure in dauncing.

Oh foolyshe pleasure? Imagine that thy selfe leadest a daunce, or beholdest o­ther daunsing, without hearyng any instrument, and seest the foolysh women, or men more effeminate then women, without any noyse to turne about, and to daunce forward and backward. I pray thee dydst thou euer see any thyng more absurde or doa­tyng? But now the sound of the instrument couereth the vncome­ly moouyng, that is to say, one madnesse hydeth an other.

I am delyghted in dauncing.

There is not in daun­cyng so much a present delight, as an hope of pleasure to come: For it is the forerunner of Venus, to leade about selly wo­men that are astonished with the sounde of the instrumentes, to court them, to claspe them, and vnder colour of curtesie to wynne them: there the handes are free, the eyes free, and the speech free, there is noyse of the feete, the dissonant voyces of the singers, the soundyng of the trumpets, the meeting togeather, the dust, and that which is often added to playes and shewes, mght it selfe, eni­mie to honestie, & friend to vices: these be the things which driue [Page 33]away feare & shame fastnesse, these are the prouocations of leache­rie, these are the laxations of libertie. And, that ye shall not thinke me to be easily deceiued, this is that delight which simply, and as it were innocently ye professe by the name of dauncinges, & vnder the couering of pastime, ye clooke wickednesse. And although ma­ny times this be done among men only, or women only, they doo then but seuerally exercise themselues, & learne what they shal do when they meete againe: like as schollers do meditate while their maister is absent, what they shal say when he returneth. Plucke vp by the coote this craftie and wicked shewe, take away lasciuious­nesse, and thou shalt take away dauncinges. Beleeue me, no man wyll daunce before the Lord with King Dauid, lest peraduenture his wife laugh him to skorne, although no man be mocked for dauncing, or wantonly demeaning himselfe before his Lady.

Dauncing is delectable.

Thou art iumpe of mine opi­nion. If it delight, it is in respect of some other matter, for of it selfe it is an absurd thing, and bringeth more weerinesse then plea­sure. For, to turne round, what is it other then to procure giddines of the head, and to goe about without ende? Among the local mo­tions whiche Plato reckeneth, to wit these, forward, backward, on the right hand, on the left, vpward, dounward, and round about, only the seuenth is infinite. And therefore the thinges that are per­petual, that is to say, heauen, and the planets, doo continualy ob­serue the same: and in earth, the madnesse of men increase ably put­teth it in practise, almost in all their actions and deuises. Neyther is there any Orpheus to stay the Isionian wheele, but inuisible dauncinges, where the volubilitie of the mindes, carieth the bo­dies about with them. And therefore when that which is written may be sayd of al, then may it most properly be verified of these: The wicked walke round about. This sport hath been the cause of many shamefull deedes. Many times an honest Matron hath by meanes hereof, lost her long preserued honestie. Oftentimes the vnfortunate young virgin hath hereby learned that vppon her wedding day, which she had better neuer had knowen.

I am willing to exercise my selfe in honest dauncing.

I had rather thou haddest choosen some other kinde of exercise. But I perceyue whereabout thou goest, and what thou meanest. [Page]Thou wouldest haue this generall restreinct taken away, thou wouldest haue libertie to be geuen, and an order therein to be pre­scribed. Forasmuche as therefore thou art so minded, and suche is thy maner and custome, then whiche if it be naught, there is no­thing worse, and if it be good, there is nothing better: let this be a rule vnto thee in al these thynges, that suche as thou canst not altogether want, thou vse them most modestly and seldome. That thou behaue not thy selfe softly, nor womanlyke in any matter, but let thy manly rigour shewe it selfe, yea somwhat beyonde it owne boundes: and let thy dauncing, or what other pastime soeuer thou frequent, be a relaxation to the weeried spirites, and an exercise to the body, and not a pleasure to effeminate the minde. I woulde gladly abstayne from examples, for the imitation of excellent men is not safe for al to folowe. Euery feathered foule is not able to folow the Eagle. Of imitatours, some imitate the contrary, some one thyng, and some another. Fewe doo fully attaine to the per­fection of that whiche they imitate. The younger Cato, when his minde was ouerpressed with cares of the Common wealth, was wont to refreshe hym selfe with wine. The lyke did Solon a­mong the Greekes. Now some man perhappes desirous to imi­tate these, wyll alwayes doo one thyng onely whiche they dyd, he wyll drynke: and that whiche they vsed to doo seldome tymes, and moderately, this man wyll doo continually, and immoderat­ly: and that whiche they vsed for a remedie, he wyll abuse vnto drunkennesse. The lyke may be easily shewed in other thinges al­so: but nowe thou vnderstandest, as well as I, what that is which I feare, with thee. Notwithstanding, forasmuch as thou hast en­forced me to vndertake the defence of a condemned matter, I wyl set downe vnto thee, the example of a notable personage, whiche thou shalt not folowe, or not chaunge, whiche I wyll recite vnto thee in these woordes, whiche Seneca vseth in that booke where­in he searcheth after the tranquillitie of the minde. Scipio, sayth he, mooued that same his triumphant and martiall body, after the tune and measure of instrumentes, not wantonly mincing, as it is nowe the maner to swim in dauncing, far more effeminately then women, but as the auncient men in fore tyme were wont at playes and festiuall tymes to daunce, after a manlyke sort, which [Page 34]shoulde no way impaire them, if their enimies dyd behold them. By whiche wordes, what he thought then of his owne age, may be perceiued: But he was happie that he sawe not thyne. And although he doo allowe of some large scope of dauncing and drinking, saying, that somtimes it is lawfull for a man to drynke tyll he be drunke, whiche I merueill that so precise a disposition woulde graunt: yet if thou wylt folowe faythfull counsell, drynke wine sparyngly, and abstayne from dauncing. There be other more honest kindes of recreation, wherewith thou mayest refresh thy loathsome and weeried minde. But in all thynges this is the best counsell whiche he vttered last of all, to be circumspect, and take heede: and whatsoeuer thou doest, so to doo it, as though thyne enimies behelde and marked thee: It is muche more bet­ter to liue in suche sort that thyne enimies may woonder at thine abstynence and grauitie, then that thy freendes shoulde excuse thy lasciuiousnesse. That good fame is more noble, when no man is able to obiect a true crime, and dare not obiect a false, then when a fault is obiected, and purged. Perfect vertue maketh the accuser afeard: but that whiche is but meane, prouoketh hym. And as touching sobrietie, I had rather thou were lyke Caesar, whom his very enimies can not denie but that he was a man of lytle wine, as Suetonius writeth, then lyke Cato: I meane not the auncient Cato Censorius, of whose sobrietie we haue spoken before, but the latter, whom Seneca in this sort defendeth for drunkennesse obiected agaynst him, that Catoes lyfe was such, that a man may better obiect an honest crime agaynst hym, then a dishonest▪ But concernyng that whereof nowe we entreat, I had rather thou shouldest not daunce at all, then to daunce as Scipio dyd. But yf thy mynde force thee vnto that whiche I woulde not haue th [...] doo, I woulde wyshe thee to imitate these captaynes, that yf that sayeing of the Lyrike Poet haue fully perswaded thee: At one tyme we must drynke, and at another daunce: Drynke wine so as Cato dranke, and daunce so as Scipio daunced.

Of playing with the Ball. The .xxv. Dialogue.

I Am delighted also with playing at the Ball.

Loe, there is another foolysh occasion of crying, and leapyng.

I am desirous to play at the ball.

It seemeth that ye hate rest, ye seeke toyle & labour euery way, which I would they were comely. For if this play be vndertaken for exercise sake, which, I pray you is better, for a man to weerie himselfe with a furious throwing and striking, wherein nothing can be kept in the minde, or els with moderate walking, wherein is both profi­table moouing of the body, and honest stirring of the minde? Whiche maner, certaine of the Philosophers did make so proper to themselues, that the most famous sect tooke name thereof Had­dest thou rather folowe Dionysius of Syracuse, then Aristotle of Stagyrite? Forasmuche as we haue heard that the Philoso­pher vsed to take delight in studious walking, and the Tyrant in this troublesome game: howbeit I wil not deny, but that modest mindes haue sometime been delighted with this pleasure: For Quintus Mutius Scaenola, the Southsayer, coulde play very cunningly at it, and Augustus the Emperour, after that he had ended the ciuile warres, from exercises of the feelde, betooke hym selfe to the bal: & also Marcus Aurelius Antomu [...], as it is writ­ten of him, played very wel at tennise. Notwithstanding, although the first of these were very well seene in the lawe, both of God and man, and the other also were learned, and both were good princes, yet doo I not lyke any thyng the better of this hastie and clamo­rous game. For al vehement motion, specially if it be ioyned with outerie and clamour, is vnsitting for an honest wit.

Of playing at Dice and Lottes. The xxvi. Dialogue.

I Am delighted with playing at dice and lottes

In the one of these games is losse, in the other folly: yet it is reported y^t Scenola frequented them both, & that which is yet higher, that [Page 35] Augustus the Emperour vsed the one. Yet notwithstanding, that this first chose these to be a recreation to hym selfe from the ceremonies of the Goddes, & the lawes of men, in the knowledge whereof he excelled, and Augustus from the cares of his great Empire, which he gouerned long and wel, now and then to refresh himselfe from his ioyle: I wyl not commend the like in thee. For great and learned men haue certaine strange & peculier appetites, which if thou imitate aswel in maners as in doctrine, thou mayst sone fal: for al things are not worthy to be praised, which are pray­sed.

I take pleasure in playing at Tables.

Who would not be delighted to throw forth a couple or more of squared bones, with certaine numbers marked vpon euery side, and looke whiche way they runne, that way to direct the fingers, to place the round Tablemen in order? A glorious exercise, which is lyke to deserue a famous name, with a triumphant chariot, & renoumed dayes.

I delight moreouer to play at Lottes.

O chyldishe desyre, O lost tyme, O superfluous cares, O most vayne outcries: foolyshe ioyes, ridiculus anger, for olde doating men to stande gaping ouer a payre of tables, and a fewe rouling peeces of wood, by stealth robbing and falling in: whereof that game was in olde time called Ludus latruncularis, whereat there was an Ape that plaied, as Plinie writeth. Doest thou mar­uel at it? Why, it is a peculier play for an Ape, to geather togeather the stones, counters, or tablemen, and to cast them a­broade, to throwe them agaynst the wall, hastely to cast foorth the handes and to plucke them in againe, to insult ouer his aduersarie, to threaten him with grinning teeth, to be angry, to contende, to chafe, and sometime, as Horace sayth, to scrath the head, to gnaw the nayles, and briefely to doo al thing that may prouoke the loo­kers on to laughter. And doo ye omit any one of these? or in your gaming let passe any one kinde of madnesse? Are ye not in suche wyse tormented and vexed, as though the good estate of your sel­ues, or of the commonwealth were in hazarde? There be many, I suppose, which might haue ouercome their enimies in battayle, yf they had ben as diligent to furnish their souldiours in the fielde, as they haue been no place their Boxen or Iuorie table men in or­der. Scarse shall you fynde any man more earnestly bent to any [Page]thyng, then to this foolysh practise. But this is a generall rule in the kingdome of sollie, that looke what thing is least profitable, thereof is conceiued most delight and pleasure.

I am de­lighted with dice playing.

If thou wylt be ruled by counsell, I wyll tell thee of an honest and woorthy kynde of dice­play, whiche in olde time was frequented by learned men in A­thens: that vpon holydayes, when a company of freendes were mette togeather, euery man shoulde alleage somwhat concerning learning, not some ambiguous Sophisme, but some substantiall matter, according to the discretion of the alleager, apparteining to vertue, and honest lyuing. Now, when they had conferred vpon these matters without enuie or anger, they whiche by the iudge­ment of the best learned seemed to be ouercome, were amersed of some smal peece of money. Let the same money be conuerted to Philosophical suppers: And so it shall minister sufficient prouisi­on for the charge, exercise to your studie, and a spur to your wittes, whiche shal aswell prouoke the conquerours, as the conquered. With this kinde of dice play, wherewith our forefathers were wont to furnishe their Saturnalia, furnyshe you your godly holy­dayes, and wherewith they were wont to passe their Athenian nightes, passe you also your Romane nyghtes. Thus hast thou a game whereat thou mayest wyllingly play, and shalt not be asha­med to haue played at it.

Of prosperous playing at Tables. The .xxvii. Dialogue.

I Haue a desire also to play at tables.

O wide gaping whirle podle, that can not be filled: O sorowful and suddaine flitting of the patrimonte? O tempest of the minde, and cloud to fame, and prouocation to wickednesse, and way to desperation. Those whereof we haue spoken before, deserue indifferently to be called games, but this is a mere sorowe.

But I haue had prosperous successe at this play.

There is no good luck at tables, al is euyl, & miserable: For both he that leeseth is gree­ued, and he that winneth is inticed & drawne into daunger.

I haue played fortunately.

Prese [...]t prosperitie hath of­tentimes been the aboving of future calamitie, and this plague hath it owne proper prouocations. If al that play at tables should [Page 36]lose, no man woulde play: but some doo win, howbeit those win­ninges are the forerunners of losse.

I haue played & won.

It is well, if thou returne not againe into the feelde: otherwise there is no feelde more playne, nor fortune in any feelde more inconstant.

I haue played and won.

Thou shalt play againe, & lose. That which thou winnest, a thousand wyl plucke from thee on euery side: & that which thou losest, none wyl restore. Adde this moreouer, that if there were any iustice, that which thou winnest is not thine, & that which thou losest, although it be not another mans, yet it ceaseth to be thine. Finally, there be diuers causes whiche may dehort and plucke backe a good minde from this madnes, vnlesse a certaine headdinesse, pricked forward with couetousnesse, vrged ye thereunto.

I haue won at ta­bles.

Vnderstande that thou hast receyued an hundred times vzurie of an impious banker: thou must therefore restore that whiche thou hast won, and ad therevnto somwhat of thyne owne, whiche cannot be demaunded againe, and is of it selfe con­sumed, and thou hast left of to be fortunate in thy sleepe.

I haue won, and thereby am the richer.

All money is vnstable, and by reason of the roundnesse thereof, it runneth away: but there is nothingmore vnstable then the money that is gotten at tables. Table playing geueth nothyng to any man, specially that plye it diligently, but many tymes they bo­rowe one of another, or it wresteth somwhat from them, and is the more cruell, the more flatteryng that it seemeth. For there is no losse more greeuous, then is to hym that hath begunne to taste the sweetenesse of gayne.

I haue played, and gayned.

To reioyce for winning at tables, is euen as a man shoulde reioyce at sweete poyson: For both anone wyll breake out at the beynes.

I take pleasure in my prosperous play.

Delyghtyng in sinne, is woorse then sinne it selfe. There be some that sinne, prouoked thereto by meanes of an euyll custome, who reioyce not after they haue sinned, but are sorie, and yf it coulde be, would rather they had not sinned. And some we haue seene, who among the scorching flames of lust, haue fealt a colde yeinesse of so­rowe and repentaunce, and yf a man may so tearme it, [Page]a wyll and a nyll at one instant, although they haue been borne away to the worse by force of some custome, whom we may not neuerthelesse vtterly condemne, but by muche practice they may be brought to better state: but as for those that reioyce in wic­kednesse, what hope, I pray you, shall a man haue of them?

I am delyghted in playing at tables.

I hope thou wylt not be so styll, or long delighted: the state of cities is euery day altered, & doest thou thinke that the fortune at tables is perma­nent? Beleeue mee it wyll turne, and conuert thy ioy into teares. I doo not meane that they wyll turne, as thou hast seene them, and as they haue doone to thyne aduantage and vayne ioy: but they wyll so turne, that it shalbe to thy very teares and sorowe.

I take pleasure in playing.

A detestable and desperate delyght, and whiche proceedeth from a fylthie and corrupt minde: and thou deseruelt therefore to be chydden and rated. For what Gentleman, or what man, that is not rather a sauage beast, wyl be delyghted with the name of a game, whiche is full of wickednesse, and most filthie impietie? Where there is nothyng manly besides the mens faces, and their countenaun­ces, distract betweene anger and sorowe, and outragiously con­fused with outcryes, more then is sitting for men: where there is no cumlynesse in behauiour, nor modestie in woordes, no loue towardes men, no reuerence towardes God, but chydyng, ray­lyng, deceipt, periurie, and rauine, and in the ende, bloodshedde and murder. Humane rashnesse can deuise nothyng more cru­ell agaynst GOD, then the blaspheming of his holy name, wherewith aboue al the forgeries of mischiefe, that game aboun­deth▪ Where, if any perhaps holde theyr peace for shamefast­nesse, yet with their often lookyng vp, what they speake with the lyppes of their hart, them selues doo knowe. What honest man can, I say not play at, but with his eyes beholde this game, and is not greeued and driuen away with the loathsomenesse of so wicked a syght?

Notwithstandyng, I am delighted with this game.

Take heede that the Cretaine curse fall not vppon thy head, to be delyghted in euyll custome, then whiche nothyng is more lyght to be spoken, nothyng more gree­uous to happen, and nothyng more neare to destruction.

I [Page 37]am delyghted with playing at Tables.

Disho­nest delyght is to be abiected, yf not for vertue sake, yet for regarde of thyne estimation, and care of thy honestie: For thou shalt not fynde any thyng among the actions of men, wherein theyr manners and vices are more playnely set o­pen. Thou hast seene some set downe to play, that haue trembled, and prayed moste earnestly, and called vppon the chaunce whiche they would haue: and others, who other­wyse were couragious and vpryght of mynde, at this game, for a litle money, to pray, to be angry, and in fine, to be furious. What, and howe many thynges haue certayne valyaunt men doone at game for a small summe of money, whiche in an other place they would not haue doone for a great treasure? There is the kyngdome of al vices, but especi­ally of wrath and couetousnesse. Thou remembrest, howe Ouid in the same booke where in he teacheth the dishonest and superfluous art of loue, yet sometyme intermyngleth some profitable matter: He admonysheth the women louers, that to conceale the vyces of theyr mynd, they absteyne from this, and such lyke games, least beyng seene either swellyng with anger, or greedy with couetousnesse, they displease theyr louers. How muche better were it for this commaundement to be geuen to men, that they offende not onely the eyes of men, but also of GOD that seeth all, and loueth good myndes and curte­ous manners?

I haue played, I haue woon, and am glad.

A fylthy game, and hurtful victorie, a vayne pleasure.

I haue wonne, and am glad.

All reioycyng in a mans owne euyl, is foolyshe: And there­fore it was some Helhounde that fyrst deuysed this game, the vnskylfull whereof are subiect to mockes, and losse: and the skylful, to woonder and astonyshment. For what is more marueylous, then that whiche is commonly spoken in the olde prouerbe, and is vulgarely founde to be true by experience? That al the great players and maysters of this game, are naked, bare, and poore.

Of Iesters. The xxviii. Dialogue.

I Take delyght in the pastyme of Iesters.

The delyght of Musycall Harmonie is more noble, which is pro­cured by a certayne lyberall art: as for this, it is ful of va­nitie and impudency.

I take pleasure in Iesters.

I had rather thou tookest pleasure in poore folke, in humble friendes, and in carefulnesse.

Iesters doo make me laugh.

And what dooest thou make them doo? Howe many tymes haue Iesters mocked theyr maisters that laughed at them? How oftentymes wonderyng at the follie of those that wonder at them, haue they feygned some other matter, whereby they falsly delyght them, & truely delight themselues.

I haue learned Iesters.

Thou hast those that thou mayest laugh at, & that wyllaugh and gyrde at thee. An aun­tient plague among the ryche, which beginnyng among the He­truscanes, grewe so great at Rome. and came to such boldnesse, that Esope left a woonderful and very great patrimonie vnto his sonne whiche he had gotten thereby: and Roscius geathe­red this distracted and vagraunt practise into an art, wrytyng a booke of the Art of iestyng▪ wherein he was not ashamed to compare it to Oratorie, and to matche hym selfe with Tullie: and that for this cause, for that those sundrie affections and se­crete conceyuynges of the mynd, whiche Cicero was wont in eloquent speache diuersly to pronounce, he could also expresse the very same after another fashion, but to lyke effect, by apt iestures. And truely he was very cunnyng, neyther doo I knowe what were so harde or sorowful, whiche he coulde not easyly haue mol­lified: I speake not howe by meanes of his wyt he purcha­sed the friendshyp of the most curteous & gentle Cicero, and was founde woorthie for whom so great an Oratour shoulde pleade, and of whom he shoulde leaue a woorke to the remembraunce of posteritie: but that he qualified the cruel and proude mynd of Sylla, and by hym that despised al men, beyng receyued into fa­uour, was rewarded with a ryng of golde: who also as often [Page 38]as hym lysted, coulde prouoke to myrth and laughter so many graue and seuere fathers, and that Senate by whiche the whole worlde was gouerned: Who enticed the people of Rome, be­yng so great and so many, to geue to hym, aboue a dayly stipende out of the common treasurie of an hundred pence, besides his ser­uautes and assistantes. A great rewarde, although it were payde in sinal money: and I cannot deny but that these thynges were handled by hym with wonderful and rare agilitie of mynde, so that if there were a Roscius any where to be found, perhaps it is not denyed to thee which was lawfull for Cicero, not only to vse his pastime otherwhiles, but also his wit and familiaritie. For there is great agreement of wittes one with an other, although they differ in studie and profession. But where we seeke hym, ma­ny notable artes haue in short processe of tyme peryshed, not onely the arte of Iesting, whiche is now come to this passe, that it is certayne that they which now folow it, are of a corrupt sense and false iudgement. And truely hereof it foloweth, that they to whom euyl thynges seeme good, good thynges are vn­knowne: and that they are vnaccustomed to noble cares, that are delyghted with vyle.

Many iesters do frequent me day­ly.

They wyl leaue to frequent thee, when thou shalt leaue to be ryche and liberal, I shoulde rather say, foolyshe and prodigall.

I haue a great troupe of iosters.

Thou mayest rather say of Flyes, which folowe thee whyle thou art annoynted, and when thou art drye, wyl forsake thee: and it is not sufficient that they doo forsake thee, but that lyke infamie wyl folow this farewel. There be some tongues to whom rest and quietnesse is a punyshment, they haue no delyght but to talke of other folke, eyther in falsly praysyng them, or bitterly slaunde­ryng them: and looke whose wealth they cannot byte, they gnaw his fame. This is one generall lawe among iesters and Pa­rasites, that they be both sorts of them armed with slatteries, and folow fortune: For the one sort, it is sufficient to fyl theyr bellies, the other sort hath another hunger, vnto whom it is an iniurie to make mention of meate, whose greedinesse must be fylled, whiche hath no bottome.

Of the games of VVrestlyng. The xxix. Dialogue.

I Am delighted with the games of wrestlyng.

If to be a looker on, thou art a foole, yf to wrestle, thou art mad.

I vse to exercise wrestlyng.

By euery one of thy woordes, it appeareth vnto what maister thou art a slaue. For these, aswell as the abouenamed, doo belong to the body, and as I haue admonished a litle before, there be thyngs that may be doone more honestly without force and noyce. And there is also a more excellent mouing of the mynde, which if thou knewest, thou wouldest contemne and hate these bodyly ende­uours. But you esteeme of your mynde, as a degenerate and hateful ghest: and of your bodyes, as some great and dearely be­loued lorde: for him you plowe, for hym you sowe, for hym you mowe. Truely in so doing ye do well: but in this ye deale vn­iustly, in that ye referre al thynges to the body: and not regarding the mynde, for this ye spende whole nightes in wakefulnesse, for this ye sigh, for this ye vowe, for this ye learne good artes, this ye obey and serue, of al other a most sumptuous and vnthank­ful maister, to whom neyther any thyng is sufficient, and if perhaps it want somwhat at any tyme, it neuer is mindful of a benefite receiued, and yet notwithstandyng ye obey whatsoeuer this maister commaundeth, and sufferyng the mynd to hunger, for this you do not only prouyde necessaries, but also superfluous thynges in eche respect, and suche as wyll hurt: and not only suche thynges as apparteyne to foode and apparrel, whereof we haue spoken in theyr proper places, but also to games, and sundrie lustes, not perceyuyng how much the trueth is agaynst your de­uises, which speaketh by the mouth of the most eloquent Cicero: whereby it appeareth, that he whiche neglecteth the body, neg­lecteth not hym selfe, but his frayle and transitorie house: but he that regardeth not his minde, truely regardeth not hym selfe. For be sayth not, Thou art he whom this outwarde shape declareth, but euery mans mynde is hym selfe, and not this fourme whiche may be poynted vnto by the fynger.

I am delyghted with the [Page 41]exercyse of wrestlyng.

The heate of Charrettes, the noyse of horses, & the guydyng of the scorching wheeles through narrow straightes vnhurt, the crye of the wrestlers, and theyr throngyng togeather, the oyle, the sweate, and the woonderful dust, is a great token of the dulnesse of the senses, whether it be the pleasure of the eyes, or nose, or eares, that is thereby conceyued: Whiche yf it were sounde and perfect, not these places of out­cryes and tumultes, whiche they tearme places of wrestlyng and exercyse, but rather the diligent obseruation of this place of exercise and toyle, whiche they that are borne doo enter into, whi­che they that lyue doo treade and trample continually, from whence they that dye doo depart, shoulde delyght thee, beyng a more profitable and honest pleasure.

I am geuen to the studie of wrestlyng.

This was not the least glory among our forefathers in olde tyme, but so great, that vnto Diagoras Rhodi [...]s, who was also hym selfe a famous wre­stler, when he sawe two of his sonnes in one day rewarded with wrestlyng victories, as though there remayned nothyng more noble in this life wherunto he might aspyre, another ancient man of Lacedemon, a friend of his, sayd, Now dye Diagoras, for thou shalt not ascend vp into heauen. He accompted it so great and hygh a matter for three of one familie at one tyme to be tryed wrestlers. Truely a very small and lyght Grecian estimation of true prayse, but so common, that it troubled also great wittes. For Plato, beyng so great a Philosopher as he was, was famous for his deedes at Olympus, and in that practise knowne by many euentes, but this was whyle he was a young man. The valiauntnesse of his courage, from whence some thynke that Platoes name was deryued, the strength of his body, and the heate of his yeeres, mooued his youthly mind to the tryall of his strength, wherein he was equall with the best: but in processe of tyme, consyderyng what he had done, he betooke hym selfe to that whiche was better, and chose rather to belyk [...] Socrates, then Milo. And truely great age accu­seth: Youth is easyly forgeuen: there is no excuse to a man of his folly.

The studie of wrestlyng delygh­teth me.

In this game the vylest person sometime [Page]hath the victorie, and the vertue of the mynde is vanquyshed by the hugynesse of the bodie. What Duke or noble man canst thou name vnto me, whiche Milo coulde not ouercome, who woulde run a Furlong with a lyue Bul vpon his shoulders, and kylling hym with a stroake of his bare fyst, stucke not to eate hym whole in one day? A straunge matter, but commonly written by Hi­storiographers. Who therefore shal meete with this felowe to matche hym in his kingdome of Cheualrie? Veryly, there is nothyng more shameful then to beholde noble spirites to be ouer­come with such a beast: and therfore let valiant mindes whiche trust wel to themselues, haue a special regard that they enter not into such exercise where they may be conquered by the most cow­ardes: But if thou take pleasure in contention, enter that con­flict wherein he that ouercommeth is the better man, not of the strength of the bodie, or of any other matter, wherein one may be both the worst and the conquerer. Striue not therefore for riches, nor for dignitie, nor for power, but for vertue and knowledge: and not to the ende thou detract from any mans good name, but that the emulation of another mans prayse may be a prouocati­on vnto thee towardes glory: let there be no iotte at al of enuie, but of vertue. Here hast thou an example of the younger Cato, of whom Salust writyng: He striued not, sayth he, neither with the riche for ryehes, neyther with the factious for faction, but with the valiaunt for vertue, and with the shamefast for honestie, and with the innocent for abstinence. This is the most honest kynde of contentious exercise, not only to be kept at Olimpus, but in euery place: no lesse in the bedchaumber, then in the iudiciall Court: and no lesse in leasure, then in businesse: and no lesse with them that are present, then them that be absent: and with al noble myndes of al ages, and of all countreys. I haue alwayes iudged that saying of Scipio in Liuie to be notable and princely: I am perswaded, sayth he, that this cogitation is in the mynde of euery noble personage, to compare hym selfe not on­ly to renowmed men whiche nowe lyue, but that haue lyued in all ages. And thou lykewyse, yf there be any among the troupes that be present, whiche I scarce can hope, or among al the memorie of antiquitie, choose some matche vnto thy selfe, with [Page 42]whom thou mayest contende, not with armes and Cuggels, but with wysedome and vertue, without feare of daunger, but in hope of an immarcessible crowne. This is my counsayle and o­pinion concerning the wrestlyng exercise.

Of sundrie Spectacles and Shewes. The .xxx. Dialogue.

I Am delyghted with sundrie Shewes.

Perhaps with the Curteine or Theater: which two places are well knowen to be enimies to good manners: for looke who goeth thyther euyl, returneth worse. For that iourney is vnknowen to the good, whiche yf any vndertake vppon ignorannce, he can not choose but be defyled.

I am delyghted with the playes, and the pryses of Fence.

Other dilightes haue some part eyther of vanitie, or of sensualitie, and this hath both, besydes crueltie, and inhumanitie, vnwoorthy of good mindes, neyther is it any excuse for vs, that in foretyme the Ro­manes whiche were the flowre of men were delyghted in these: for in vpright iudgement, that same Citie which most abounded with good and noble examples, had nothyng in it more to be re­prooued, or deformed, then the residue, sauyng at one side the troubles of ciuile warres, on the other syde, the immoderate stu­die of playes: as though the great bloodshed at home in the warres, were not sufficient, vnlesse the peace also were blooddy, and the pleasures blooddy: vnlesse perhaps some man wyl say, that the Theater were more honest, wherein thou mayest see not only the people gaping, but also the Senate, and the Emperours of Rome, the Lordes of al the worlde. In lyke sort were they also delyghted in spectacles, who were made spectacles to mankynde. I wyl tel thee a straunge matter, but wel kno­wen and common. That same rage and folly of frequenting the Theater, so inuaded the myndes of al men, that it brought a­broade into common assemblies, not onely the wyues and daughters of the Emperours, but also the Virgyns vestale, whose chastitie was suche, as nothyng was more perfect, [Page]nothyng more tender then fame, nothyng more reuerent to be preserued, in so muche that in them al motion, all trymming, al wanton talke was reprehended and pu [...]yshed: and yet we reade that there was a place appoynted for these in the Thea­tre, not by euery one, but by the good and great Prince Augu­stus Caesar, Notwithstanding the errour wherein great men are ouerseene is not therefore the lesse, but rather the greater, and more conspicable.

I am very willing to see playes.

A thyng whiche is neyther honestly playde, nor ho­nestly behelde, neyther easily to be spoken whether the player or the looker on be more infamous, or whether the Scene be more dishonest, or the seueral place for the Senatours, sauyng that po­uertie many tymes draweth men to the one, and vanitie alwayes plucketh them to the other. For in euery offence, it skylleth muche whether a man offende through pouertie, lasciuiousnesse, or pryde.

I am delyghted with the syghtes of the Am­phitheater.

A very hurtful delyght euery way, as­wel publique as priuate, whiche thou mayest easyly geather yf thou call vnto mynde out of the stories the begynnyng hereof, and the encrease, with what expences of common charge, and with what care of Princes neare vnto madnesse, and fynally, with what studie and toyle of the people it was buylded. True­ly it is an harde matter to report the manyfolde vanities, and superfluous to repeate so many common things, a thousand cou­ple of Fensars at once, whiche were not only not sufficient for the play, but for the fight, with the flockes of Elephantes, and Tigres, and Lions, and Leopardes, and wylde Asses, and coura­gious Horses, and sundrie kyndes of straunge beastes, sent from al partes of the world, from their Desertes, Parkes, and Fo­restes, to serue the Romane Theater. Moreouer, that the same sumptuousnesse of buyldyng had no patterne, but not lyke to want imitation, Pyllers of Marble brought by Sea and by lande for the vse of the playes, cunnyngly carued by the great industrie of the woorkmen, proudly polyshed on the toppes, and the braunches glysteryng with golde. Of whiche madnesse Scaurus was the chiefe and beginner, he that was Edilis or Maister of the woorkes in buyldyng the Stage [Page 41]of the Theater within the space of a fewe dayes, whiche was rea­red with a small deale of timber and a fewe roopes, bringing in three hundred and threescore suche monstrous pillers, to please the eyes of the people that reioyced in suche toyes: and finished a woorke, as thou knowest it is written, the greatest that euer was made by mans hande, not in respect of the temporall conti­nuance thereof, but by euerlastyng destinie, whereby he deserued truly to be reported, y^t as first by a greeuous proscription he sent the citizens, so afterwarde in his most vaine Edileship he sent good maners into banishment: as one that was both auctor and example of muche losse tyme to the foolyshe commons, and of many great expenses to the common wealth. But O strange case: shortly after, the madnesse of them that came afterward, surpassed this outrage: whereby it came to passe, that what by the wonder­fulnesse and number of the woorkes, there was nothyng in all the whole world to be wondred at, but Rome. For thou seest also how it is written, that the very bowels of the earth were perced, the [...]ntes digged vp, the bidden rockes discouered, riuers turned a­side and conue [...]ghed away in pipes, the frettyng sea shut in or out with great bankes, toppes of mountaines hanging, & the secretes of the sea seatched, and to be breefe, a great and large scope of madding left to the posteritie, and the expec [...]ation of your Grand­fathers fulfylled in you, to wit, that your lasciuiousnesse would ne­uer leaue ye. And that the mischiefe myght be the more [...]eaped, priuate calamitie was added to publike losse: For the people be­ing tyed with the desire to see, and in the meane while forgetting theyr dayly gayne, they neyther let one day escape them, ney­ther perceyued howe armed penurie pinched them by the backe: And thus enterchangably priuate destruction, was turned into publique, and publique, into common. Neyther is the losse of patrimonie more greeuous then of maners, where lust is learned, and humanitie forgotten. And therefore what ye shoulde hope for by shewes from the verie begyn­nyng, your fyrst kyng Romulus gaue a president, who in them circu [...]ented the rough and seuere chastitie of the Sabine women. And although the houour of matrimonie couered both the iniuries, vnto howe many since that tyme [Page]hath this been a meane, not to mariage, but to whoordome, and wandryng sensualitie? To be sh [...]rt, beleeue this one thyng, that we haue seene chastitie often ouerthrowen by playes, but alwayes assaulted. And to speake nothyng of those men who haue pro­ceeded to suche outrage of wickednesse, that they doo almost glory in theyr adulterie: the good name and honestie of many women hath there peryshed, many haue returned home vnchast, moe doubted of, and none the honester. Moreouer, to the ende there may want no kynde of mischiefe, what bodyly slaughters, not onely of priuate men, but of whole multitudes doo there hap­pen: the effuse laughing, turned into sodayne sorowe, and the dead corpses caryed out of the Theater, and the troupes of wee­pers, mingled with the companies of reioycers, doo declare. Thou hast hearde, howe that the same Curio, whiche was slayne in the ciuile warre in Africa on Caesars syde, went beyonde Scaurus in witte, whom he coulde not matche in wealth, how he, I say, deuisyng a Theater of wood, but double and hanging, by wonderfull art hung vp a loft aboue ground, that conqueryng people, beyng ouercome with the playes of the nations, and re­ioycing in their owne perilles, that laughing within, and amazed without, they myght be both laughed at and pitied of the behol­ders. And do we wonder that he coulde turne the mynde of one great banished personage, by laying before hym the hope of an Empyre, who by proposing so light and short pleasure of the eyes, coulde turne about so many thousande citizens in a mouea­ble spectacle? But, some man wyll say vnto me, there perished no body: [...]t there myght haue perished, and thousandes also in another place perished. And that I may not touch both newe and olde downefalles together, by meanes whereof many haue found both their death, and their graue: vnder Tyberius the Empe­rour, at a notable shewe at the citie Tidena, thou remembrest how by the fall of the Amphitheater, twentie thousand men were slayne. This is the commoditie and ende that the lookers on doo get.

I beholde shewes with great pleasure.

Eyther of faygned loue, or true hatred. The fyrst is not for a man to beholde: the seconde not for a reasonable creature. Who wyll wyllyngly receyue a dagger to his hart? Who wyll [Page 42]powre more blood vpon an hotte wounde? Who can waxe pale sooner, then when he seeth death? What delyght haue ye to goe to the schoole of crueltie? Ye neede no scholemaisters, ye learne euyll too fast of your selues: Ye learne more of your selues at home, then is needefull. What if the maisters of mischiefe, and the mystresse of errour, the common multitude shoulde ioyne vn­to this with redy wittes? Many whom nature framed gentle, haue learned crueltie by meanes of shewes and spectacles. Mans minde, whiche of it selfe is prone to vice, is not to be pricked forward, but brydled: yf it be left to it selfe, it hardly standeth: yf it be dryuen foorth, it runneth headlong. There commeth in muche euyll at the eares, but muche more at the eyes, by those two open windowes death breaketh into the soule: nothyng en­treth more effectually into the memorie, then that whiche com­meth by seeyng: thinges hearde, doo lyghtly passe by, the images of thynges which we haue seene sticke fast in vs, whether we wyl or not: and yet they enter not, vnlesse we be wylling, but verie seldome, and they depart soone. Whyther goest thou then? What violence caryeth thee a way? To be mery an houre, and alwayes afterwarde to be sorie? To see that once, that thou wylt repent a thousande tymes [...]hat euer thou sawest it? To see a man slayne with a weapon, or to be torne by the teeth and nayles of wylde beastes, or some suche other syght as may trouble a man that is awake, and terrifie hym when he is a sleepe: I can not perceyue what pleasure is in it, or rather, what bitter­nesse and greefe is no: in it: and I can not discerne any greater argument of madnesse in you, then in that bitter sweetenesse and vnpleasaunt delyght thrust you dayly forwarde to death, enticyng you by miserable flatteries, drowned as it were in a Stygian sleepe. Ye obserue one order almost in al thynges: Whatsoeuer ye desire, whatsoeuer ye goe about, whatsoeuer ye doo, it is agaynst you.

Of Horses. The .xxxi. Dialogue.

I Take pleasure in a nimble Horse.

A most fierce and vnquiet beast, which sleepeth not, and is neuer satisfied.

I am destrous to ryde Horses.

It is not muche more daungerous to sayle vppon the raging Sea, then to ride vpon a fierce prauncer. There is no beast more proude toward his maister: neyther is this improperly gone for a prouerbe among horse breakers, That an horse doeth twice euyll, although be be at one tyme humble, and at another proude: Who beyng of suche strength and swiftnesse, wyll suffer hym selfe for a lytle bile meate to be subiect to another, to be tamed, to be hampred, to be haltred, to be linked in chaines, to be brydled, to be sh [...]oed with iron, to haue nayles driuen through his hoofes, to be spurred, to beare an armed rider, to abyde slauishe imprisonment, and fi [...]thie seruitude? On the other syde, as though he were vntamed, he behaueth hymselfe as yf he were free, and doe [...]h euery thyng as yf he were his maisters enimie: When he shoulde runne, he regardeth not the spurre: When he shoulde stay, he taketh the bridle betweene his teeth: When he should snort, he is asleepe: When he shoulde lye in secrete, he snorteth. This is that plyant beaste whiche some tearme trustie and faythfull, whereof fables doo report so many goodly matters, callyng hym commonly a noble, a princely, an excellent, an honourable beast, woorthie to be bought at a great price, and kept with great diligence: Nay rather, it is a beast whose weerisomnesse, yf it be com­pared with his seruiceablenesse, no wyse man wyll buye hym, no good husbande wyll feede hym: a beast that is impacient, both of rest and labour, with the one he is proude, with the other he is tyred: with the one a fierce beast, with the other a dull iade: at one tyme bolde, at another tyme fearefull: at one tyme flying, at ano­ther tyme fallyng: at one tyme startlyng at a flie or a shadowe, at another tyme dispising his maister, and dyuers wayes drawing hym into daunger. Who can sufficiently discribe his stubbern­nesse, the daunger of his teeth, and his heeles, his neighing, [Page 43]and his impaciencie of his sitter and rider: For truely looke howe many conditions there be of horses, so many dangers are there of the horsemen.

I haue great delight in horses.

I shoulde wonder the more at thee, vnlesse I remembred some great men, bent also to the lyke studie to to folyshly. Who hath not heard that Alexander king of Macedonie, erected a tombe for his horse which he loued, and named a citie after his horses name? But the coutage and heate of minde wrought no woonderfull thyng in hym whyle he liued. There was more stomacke in Au­gustus, although lesse follie: for he buylded not a tombe for his horse, but he made a graue, whiche thing notwithstanding was vnmeete for his wit and grauitie. For whether Iulius Caesars monstrous horse were by him (or any other) consecrated with a sta­tue of marble before the temple of Venus, it may be doubted. Antonius Verus, who came after in yeeres and glory, but in ri­ches and imperiall name was but litle inferiour, that I may omit to tell what fare, and what furniture he ordeined for his horse which he loued immoderately, truely he caused a statue of gold to be made lyke hym, whyle he was alyue, and when he was dead, a sepulture to be buylded (that we might be the more greeued at it) in Vaticanum, among so many holy bones as were there buried, & to be buried. This is scarce credible, but true notwithstanding. The Poet thinkyng on this, and suche lyke thinges, maketh the soules of such men to be delighted with horses in hell. And yet this vanitie is neuer awhit the lesse, but the greater, whiche is able to allure so great mindes vnto it. But that no man shall thynke that this was some auncient folly only, and not at this day raig­ning, let him call to minde one dwelling not far of, and not long since, who is yet lyuing, and not very olde, and dwelling here in Italy among you, whose name it shall not be needefull for me to vtter: a man highly in fortunes fauour, and of no small wit and iudgement, a man otherwise of great courage and policie, whenso­euer he hath occasion to vtter himselfe, or hath any weightie af­faires in hande, who notwithstanding when his horse whiche he loued was sicke, layde him vpon a bed of silke, and a golden pil­lowe vnder his head: and while he hym selfe, being bound and not able to stirre by appoyntment of his Phisitions, for the gout, [Page]was gouerned by their orders, neuerthelesse being either borne in the armes of his seruantes, or vpon some other horse, and carying his Physitions with hym, he woulde goe visite his sicke horse twice or thrice euery day, and sorowfully sighing, woulde sit by hym, and gently stroke him with his hand, and comfort him with fayre speech: To be short, there was no kind of meanes by Phy­sicke let passe vnassayed, and nothing omitted that might relieue his sicke freend. Perhaps posteritie wil cal this a tale, howbeit it is true, and knowen among a great people. Thus this noble gen­tleman, was as carefull for the good health of his horse, as for his owne, and lamented for his death as he had been his sonne.

I delight to ride.

It is profitable somtime, and also an helpe to swiftnesse, and a remedy for weerinesse, and a token of no­bilitie, to ride vpon a goodly courser, and to excel al theresidue, not only by the head, but also by the shoulders, and to be higher then the other by the whole body. Contrariwise, a fierce horse is most troublesome, & many times hurtful to his maister. If thou woul­dest goe a iourney on foote, thou hast no power nor space to rest thee: & therfore thou chosest rather to exchang y^e dustines on foote, for the daunger on horsebacke. And for this cause, horses haue de­liuered many from the middes of death, and brought sundry also into extremitie of destruction, or hurt them with falles, or tumbled vpon them with their bodyes, and so killed them. Yea, horses are not the least seede of warre. Take away horses, thou shalt take a­way forren inuasions of countreis, and the greatest part of warlike destruction: That as in natural Philosophie the question is moo­ued of windes, and of Iulius Caesar in histories, whether it were better the winde should blowe or not, or that Caesar were borne or not? The like question may also be demaunded concerning horses, there are so many contrarie reasons on the contrary side. And it was not without cause, that Thessalia, which first founde out the vse of horses, and tamed them, first coyned money, of siluer and gold, and first assayed to goe vpon the Sea in a shyp, seemed to be the store house of Mars, and for that also not once onely, after so many hundred yeeres it was wette with plentie of valient blood.

How much thinkest thou, doth our poet delight me, where he describeth the maners, spirite, and courage of a noble horse.

And doeth not the saying of the Hebrue prophete make thee afrayd, where he sayth: (At thy rebuke, O God of Iacob, haue they fallen asleepe that got vpon their horses?) Examine euery poinct, not only that pleasant, but also this rough saying.

Of hunting and hauking. The .xxxii. Dialogue.

BVT I am delighted in Dogges.

Now I vn­derstande the delight of a beardles youth, who as Horace sayth, Delighteth in horses, and dogges, and the pleasant greene feeldes. But beware thou be not that which foloweth: Apt to be plucked to vice, and sharpe to them that tell thee thy fault. A flowe prouider for profite, lauishe of money, proud, couetous, and redy to forsake that which thou hast loued. I feare mee thou art suche an one, since thou settest thy pleasure vpon such transitorie delightes.

I am delighted with dogges, and foules.

This peece of madnesse was wantyng: is it not sufficient for thee, to gadde and wander abroade, but meanest thou to flye also?

Thou mockest me, for I meane not to flye, but I am delighted in the foules that flye.

But they wyll flye away, and contemne thy pleasure, and not knowe thee, and vnthankfully be deafe when thou callest them. What shouldest thou do that wan­test feathers, seeyng thy pleasure is winged? Imagine that they returned, the taking of them would be hurtfull: thou wouldest cal againe, and forgetting thy more profitable affaires, loose thy time. Agayne, looking backe, and castyng thine eyes vp to the cloudes after thy foolyshe byrde, perhappes thou wilt weepe, as though there were no necessarie woorke to be doone in this lyfe: by rea­son of the pleasure whiche you fynde by your idlenesse and slouth, ye glorie in that ye are slaues to your byrdes. Nature hath geuen you two handes, with the one ye rule the bird, the other you trou­ble with crooked talentes. So being idle on al sides, & being come lame with desire to flie, to y^e end ye may not seme to do any thing with great noyse, ye ryse before day, and sodeinly run out of the doores, as though the enimies were at the threshold, & all the day [Page]after, ye run about the pondes and waters, wooddes, and bushes, filling the ayre with sundry outcries, and euil fauoured houlinges. And in this pastime ye spende your breath, whiche is meete for some greater matter: with whiche spirite your forefathers made their enimies afearde in battayle, and in peace mainteyned iu­stice. At nyght when ye come home, as though ye had atchiued some great enterprice, yet syt within doores, declaryng howe well that byrde flue, and how well this byrde hath endued his meate, how many feathers of the trayne, and how many of the winges are remaning or lost. Is not this all your skyll? is not this your loue? is not this your felicitie? and is not this al whiche ye requite to God your Creatour, to your countrey that bredde you, to your parentes that be gate you, to your freendes that loue you, to wit, your Spathaukes, or your Hernshawes skimming in the ayre, and some peece of a torne foule, and swet, and dust, and your nyghtly storie of your lost day? Vnto this ye be alwayes vali­ent and vnweeried, and vnto earnest businesse, weake and daintie. Liuies stories, and Tullies orations, and the holy Scriptures, ye condenme as ouerlong: whereof ye may be ashamed. Who can heare this with vnoffended eares? Who wyll beare with you, being borne to other thinges, to lyue in these delites, yf ye lyue in these doynges?

I take pleasure in Spanyels and Haukes.

We haue heard of many princes and noble men, whereof some were wont to take delight in horses, and many in dogges, insomuche that Adrian the Emperour erected monumentes, not for horses only, as those of whom we made mention before, but for dogges also: And moreouer, buyl­ded a citie in the same place, where in prosperous hunting he had slayne a shee Beare with his owne hand, & vsed many tyme to kyl a Lion, but neuer that he made any tombe for a byrde or foule: For which cause, some say that Virgil mocked Marcillus that was nephue to Augustus, in that he seemed to take pleasure in them when he was a young man.

I delight muche in huntyng.

This exercise was peculiar sometime to the Latines, but nowe to the Frenchmen, whiche experience tea­cheth to be true, and wherof some of theyr owne writers do boast. Wherefore to speake nothyng of those kinges, whose whole lyfe [Page 45]was perpetual huntyng, the chiefest kyng of them all, when­soeuer he had any rest from battayle, excercysyng hym selfe in dayly huntyng, at length when he grewe to the extremitie of death, relieued the discommodities and weerysomnesse of his age with this exercyse. A strange matter, specially in a wyse Kyng, and not abhortyng from good learnyng: How­beit, this was his countrey maner as some report. But let it be his countrey guyse, and let them enioy it alone, neyther let the Ita [...]ians take it away from the Frenchmen, neyther contende with them in folly: For yf, laying errour aside, thou cast thyne eyes vppon the thyng it selfe, thou shalt per­ceyue that this is the exercyse of base Noble men of the mea­nest degree, whom a certayne slouth and distrust, whiche is companion to cowardise, and from lowe matters shame and pryde doo dehort and plucke backe. Wherefore, beyng vn­fyt for honest affayres, they dwell in Wooddes, not to lorde a solytarie lyfe, whereunto they knowe them selues as vn­meete as for the lyfe polytike, but to lyue with wy [...]o beastes, and Dogges, and Byrdes, which they woulde not delyght to doo, vnsesse they were ioyned vnto them by some lykenesse: who yf they conceyue any pleasure thereby, or only passyng away of theyr tyme, they doo foolyshly on both sydes, and yet perhaps may attayne to theyr desyre. But yf they seeke ther­by any glory of theyr wyt and magnificencie, then are they decei­ued For, what commendation (I pray you) is it, I say, not for Princes, but for Gentlemen, to take pleasure in handy craftes, or rather seruyle practises, and affayres? whiche is one of theyr excuses. For they whiche haue vtterly renounced the libe­ral studies, which theyr forefathers esteemed, and proclaymed open warre agaynst learnyng, whyther shal they run but to the enimies Campe? But perhaps they wyll be ashamed when they looke backe to the elder tymes, and conferre them selues with theyr predecessours: For they shal oftentymes reade how Plat [...] studied Philosophie, and Homere exercysed Poetrie, and [...]ullie pleaded, and Cae [...]ar triumphed, but neuer reade that they hunted.

Of great retinue of seruantes. The xxxiii. Dialogue.

I Am accompanied with a great trayne.

Cum­bred thou wouldest say.

I haue a great retinue of ser­uantes.

Say rather that thou hast a great num­ber of enimies about thee, from whom (an hard case) thou canst not escape, who behold the secret places of thy house, and bewray thy counsel yf they knowe any, who, besides theyr continual thee­uery, a thyng which neuer happened to any besieged, must by thee in the meane whyle be cloathed, and fead, and kept within thyne owne house: an hard and doubtful kynde of warre, whiche neuer hath peace nor truice, where vnder thyue ensigne, the enimies ar­mie possesseth thy walles.

I haue many seruauntes.

Where many seruantes are, there is much stryfe, much discorde, & many domestical conflictes, wherof either thou must be a shamefull beholder, or a painfull appeaser, and being an indifferent person betwene the playntifes and defendantes, thou must serue them, being of their maister, become their iudge.

I haue many seruauntes.

A seruant is a most curious beast to enquire, and most negligent to obey. He wyll knowe what thou dooest, and what thou thynkest: and what thou com­maundest, he wil not vnderstand.

I keepe many seruants.

A few wyl doo a man more seruice then many, whe­ther it be that gratefull diligence auoydeth the multitude, or els that whereas many be, one looketh vpon another, and they pinch curtesie who shal goe about the busynesse. For as it is a shame to the diligent to auoyde labour, so is it a glory to the slouthfull, whiche al men know to be true: but none wyll geue counsell to the contrarie, and euerie man is delyghted with a multitude.

I haue many seruantes in my house.

Where many seruantes are, there is much noyce, and litle seruice, and no secrecie at al. Looke how many seruantes tongues, so many cryers trumpes: Howe many seruantes eares, and eyes, so ma­ny riftes in the house, whereby euen the things that are in the bot­tome wil easily run out. A seruantes minde is a broken and lea­king [Page 46]kyng vessel, it holdeth nothing, what so euer thou pourest in, it run­neth out immediatly.

I haue many seruantes at home.

Thou hast many hissings, many viperous tongues, & thou knowest not the pleasure of domestical peace: thou hast also many wyde & capable bellies, slippery throates, troubles in thy hal, shame to thy bedchamber, destruction to thy store, & perpetual gurmandize. It is an harde matter to gouerne a few seruantes well, but many, it is impossible.

I haue many seruantes at home.

It were better for thee to be alone. There is nothyng worse, then when quantitie or number augmenteth the qualitie of euyl thynges: a few seruants are euyl, but many far worse.

I haue many that doo serue me.

It were wel yf the promyse, & the thyng promised, were al one. But how much difference there is betwene thē, they which haue experiment do knowe. They promise much, I confesse, and cal the Goddes to witnesse of their promise, that they wyl neuer deceiue, or be vn­true. But if a man require the perfourmance of the promise, he shal finde none at all. Promise and faith were sufficiently per­fourmed, if they did not abuse or deceiue these whom they haue promised faithfully to serue and obey: but they count it sufficient to haue made such promise onely. Adde this moreouer, that be­sides their promise of seruice, they professe also knowledge in al thynges, but when it commeth to trial, they knowe very litle or nothing, and they wyl be sure to do nothing but what their belly, sleepe, and lust perswadeth them. There is nothing more hum­ble and lowly then these at their first entrance, and nothing more insolent or vnfaithfull then their continuance, and nothing more odious and hatefull at their departure. It is an hard thyng to thinke, I say not to suffer, with what pryde & insolencie these ser­uantes, and seruyng men, wyl walke by the maisters of houses, and promysyng theyr seruice, wyl take maistershyp and gouern­ment vppon them, and as though they were hyred to make wast, they doo not only deuoure al, but dispearse abroade and consume, and fyl theyr bellies with theyr gyftes, beeyng prodigall of other mens goodes, and most greedy to catch that whiche is not theyr owne: Whom yf at any time shame or necessitie bryng them to theyr owne consyderation, that [Page]they remember them selues to be seruauntes, with what pryde, with what complaynyng, and with what grudging they do theyr seruice, who is he that knoweth not? That a man would be loath, not only to geue money for such seruice, but to haue it for nothing. And to be short, such hatred and enmitie as th [...]y haue priuily conceyued at home, as soone as euer the [...] be out of the doores, they fall to open contention and raylyng with theyr tongues a­gaynst theyr maisters whom they hate, readie to trie the matter with them by dint of swoord, if it were lawfull. And if perhaps any of them absteyne from reprocheful woordes, not the loue of the first maister, but the feare of the next maister, woorketh that effect: vnto whom in this respect he feareth to be discredited and suspected, while he may iudge the lyke euil cond [...] [...] [...]ym, towardes hym selfe. By meanes [...] which thynges, vnles [...] [...] blinded their eies, men might euidently perceiue, how m [...] [...] [...] ter it were to be without al such seruantes and seruice. [...] haue seruantes round about me.

Vnder the [...] seruantes indeede, as I haue said, most cruel and wicked em [...] [...] are conteined, & yet pride wil not suffer you to liue without th [...] [...] ▪ And in this poynt, as in many other, poore wretches, ye [...] in your owne harme. In this respect ye cheifly [...] for this ye wander by Sea and lande, for this ye [...] [...] [...] ­ther, and cast abr [...]de golde, to the ende that the hande of your ene­mies may growe euery day greater and stronger. B [...] [...] is it not so? Is not the company of the rych generally of [...] [...] ther opinion? Many tymes a man shal see a well goue [...]d familie of a reasonable callyng, to be inferiour vnto the most [...] and gorgeous Courtes of the Persians and Lydians almost [...] none other thyng, yea rather farre to surpasse them in most [...] [...] tere, sauyng that those Courtes doo feede moe, and more [...] [...] ly.

I haue a great troupe of seruantes way [...]ing vp [...]on me.

Nay rather vrgyng thee, and treadyng thee vn­der foote, and leadyng thee bound in ratlyng chaynes, so [...] may wel be sayde to thee: What hast thou doone, wre [...] [...] thou shouldest neede so many keepers to garde [...]hee.

[...] seruantes gard [...]e on euery syde.

Thou hast [...] of flyght, and therefore not of escaping with lyfe. To [...] [Page 47] [...]ernly delighted with a mans owne harme, is a point of desperat madnesse. And therefore in this respect pouertie is to be wy­shed and loued, in that it deliuereth a man from al the discommo­dities which ryches do bryng, but specially from the craftes and weerisomenesse of seruantes.

Of the magnificencie, and beautifulnesse of houses. The .xxxiiii. Dialogue.

I Haue a gorgeous House.

What shal I say other then that saying of Tullie:

neyther o [...]ch [...] [...]ner seke credite by the house, but the house by the [...].

I haue ag [...]o [...]y house.

Why art [...] [...]oud thereof? It is the workemans praise, and not thine. [...] I dwel in a most beautifull house.

Where [...] may lye hyd, where thou mayest wander, where thy ser­ [...]es may ryot, where the people may tarry, where the Para­ [...] may hunger, a wyde place capable of much weerysomnes. [...] I dwel in a great house.

Of cities and hou­ [...] [...] lyke, for he that dwelleth in a wyde place, dwel­ [...] [...] [...]or to the happie lyfe, it skilleth not how wide, but [...] meeryly thou lyuest. Oftentimes in Kinges Palaces dwel [...]e and griefe: and in poore mens cottages quietnesse and [...] the largenesse and beautie of the house were the chief­ [...] [...]utter, the art of buylding were the most worthie art of al o­ [...] ▪

I dwel in a princely house.

As though [...] place coulde driue away cares and sicknesses: or that death [...] [...]th a Ladder to climbe vp to the toppes of Towres? Dyd [...] [...]ullus Hosti [...]ius abide in his Court, when he was stroken [...] [...]ghtning f [...] heauen? And was not also Targuimus [...] in his Court, when he was slaine? To be briefe, Targui­ [...] [...]perbus was also in his court, when he was driuen out of [...] [...]ngdome. There is no place inaccessible to daungers, & no [...] [...]ut agaynst death.

My dwellyng is myne owne [...].

Nay thou hast but a short tyme of dwel­ [...] [...]e, the day of thy departyng is at hand: thou imaginest [Page]thy selfe to be a Citizen, and thou art but a stranger, and dwellest but for a rent: There wil come one that wil thrust thee naked out of doores.

I haue a gorgeous and beautifull house.

When thou art departed from hence, thou shalt haue a darke and narrowe one: but if thou do vprightly consider of thy house, it is but obscure and narowe, and decaying, and eue­ry day woorse able then other to stand vpright, continually fay­ling and foreshewing it owne fall: which neither is far of from vtter ruine, neyther can delite a valiant tenant as an house, but greue him as a prison, where he w [...] [...]e loath to stay, but desi­rous to be discharged. Goe [...] [...]yes [...]owe, and vaunt of other mens houses, or of thyne owne prison.

Of stronge defenced Castles. The xxxv. Dialogue.

I Dwell in a most strong Castle.

There is some commoditie in houses, but much more euil in Castles. Houses defend men from heate, and wynde, and rayne: but these cast stormes of carefulnesse into the mindes of the possessours, and bryng cares and dread to his political securitie.

I haue a Fortresse enclosed with very strong walles.

Hast thou forgotten the Spartane saying: who to his fr [...]nde that she­wed hym the walles of his countrey, answered: If you haue made these for women, it is wel: but yf for men, it is shameful.

I haue a most strong holde.

What other thyng was it then your impaciencie, and your pryde, and couetousnesse that made you haue neede of Castles? Howe muche better were it to lyue indifferently with men, and to lyue vpon the playne and tyl­led lande in quietnesse, and there to take the pleasant sleepe, then to enclose thy selfe within rough and craggy rockes, houlyng with nightly watches, and through thyne owne miserie to make thyselfe suspected, and hated of al men? Hast thou forgotten what Publicola dyd: who although he were one of the chiefe of those that deliuered the Citie of Rome from subiection to the kynges, perceyuing neuerthelesse that the people suspected hym by reason of the situation of his house, to the ende he might discharge him self of that false suspicion, he pluckt his house downe from the hill.

I haue an impregnable Castle.

Hast thou not heard the olde prouerbe: There is no place so impregnable, into which an Asse laden with golde can not enter? A strong Castle pro­uoketh, not hyndreth besieging. The Castle Tarpeian resisted a whyle the insult of the Senones, and so dyd Tarentine of the Carthagiens, vntyll in due tyme they were both succoured. Ca­milius relieued this last, and the other Fabius. But was Han­nibal able to defende both Castles of Locris: No truely, nor Ilion it selfe, nor Byrsa coulde be defended, nor Corinth, whiche of auncient tyme had the f [...]f [...]egnable, notwithstandyng Mumius the conquere [...] [...] Was not the Castle Praene­stine, a more strong and better fortified then which I know not whether euer there were any, about threescore and ten yeeres since, by that great enimie, because he coulde not by force, yet by flattery and false promises, taken and rased, whiche at length rose vp agayne, beyng shaken and weakened, as it were, by a long continual feuer? To be short, there is nothyng inuincible, nothing safe agaynst the craft of man.

Lying in a most strong Castle, I feare nothyng.

Castles haue geuen cause vn­to many of hurtful boldnesse. Many that myght haue lyued safe­ly in peace without Castles, haue committed them selues to the defence of Fortresses, and perished in them, to the end theyr bold­nesse might there especially be tamed, where it first began, mens mindes ought not to be prouoked to aduentures, but rather to be brydled. All deepe securitie is folly, vnlesse it be concernyng God.

I dwel in a most sure defenced Castle.

Admit thy Castle be somwhat, yet what is it other then a certaine refuge, and a dishonourable place of lurkyng to abyde besieging, which as Liuius sayth, is in warre a most miserable thing. When didst thou euer heare, eyther that Iulius Caesar at any time, or both the Africanes, or Pompeius Magnus, or Marius, or Alexander, or Pirhus, or Hannibal, or any other princes of great fame, enclosed them selues within Castles, or rather did not insult ouer Castles: Vnderstand this much, that Castles are not the receptacles of valiant men, but the hiding places of da­stardes. Sthephanus Columnensis, a man in this our age equal to the best of all ages, when a certaine Noble man, a stranger [Page]vnto hym and vnknowne, beyng mooued with the fame of his excellency, came to ayde hym, and as it chaunced were vppon a certaine day in a greeuous and doubtful conflict, compassed with a great bande of enimies: This strange Gentleman perceiuing the danger, drewe neare, and, O Stephan, sayth he, where is thy Castle: He smylyng, as not hauyng any house of his owne in Rome, and laying his hande vpon his breast, This, sayth he, is my Castle: truely a speech most woorthie of hym that spake it. And in deede so the case standeth, holy and deuout persons, put al theyr trust in GOD: vpryght and polytike men, in vertue: valiaunt and warlyke men, in armes: cowardes and feareful­men, in walles and castles.

Of precious housholde stuffe. The xxxvi. Dialogue.

IN my great house I haue excellent furniture.

In superfluous roomth, an vnprofitable weight: The one mini­nistreth lurkyng for the eues, the other preye: but both of them danger for thee, and nooryshment for burnyng and malice.

In my wyde house, I haue plentie of houshold.

The one of these thou must forsake when thou changest place, & if thou wylt enioy the other, thou must often remooue it: which wyl bryng more trouble then pleasure, and more burden then ho­nour.

I haue great store of all maner of furniture at home in my house.

A continual warre, not with theeues only, but with Myse and Moathes: Spiders also, and rust, and smoake, and dust, and raine, doo continually fight agaynst ye. Oh ye delicate rych men, with what weapons wyll ye dryue away these enimies?

My houshold stuffe is most precious.

Not the value, but contempt of the thyng, maketh a rych man: otherwyse desyre groweth by seekyng, and pouertie by desiring: so that nothyng maketh a man poorer, then the ryches of a couetous person, which if they were rightly wayed, and contempt proceeding from an indifferent minde ensued, that were the true way of riches. I wyl neuer count thee wise, whyle thou art in loue with suche follies, no if I saw thy house were co­uered, [Page 49]and thy furniture al beset and glitteryng with golde and precious stones.

My furniture is so braue, that it is en­uied at.

Perhaps it is so in the sight of the eye, or per­swasion of the minde, but in very deede it is a burdensome and troublous heape of pelfe: but there is nothing more hungry and miserable, then couetousnesse, whose greedinesse is prouoked by the thinges that are sought, and yet when they be obteyned, they haue no taste: forasmuche as while they are hoped for, they shine, and whyle they are possessed, they waxe vile: so that whyle many a man thinketh he hath won wealth, he hath gayned but sorow & carefulnesse. These are thy deere burdens: but if thou chaunce to beholde any dearer and more precious, or dayly beholding them take away thy wondring, thou wylt not esteeme them. But admit thou loue them styll, and thy wondring at them do continue: doth there not also withal a difficult & perpetual errour remayne? For in getting there is but one care, but many toyles in keeping: thou shalt haue somthing alwayes to looke to, to number, to folde, to beate, to brushe, and somthing also that shall please and displease thyne eyes.

I haue great plentie of houshold stuffe.

O foolyshe man, that art delighted with the greatnesse of thyne owne impedimentes.

Of Precious stones and Pearles. The .xxxvii. Dialogue.

THE glittering and beautie of precious stones delight me.

I confesse, this is not the least part of terrestrial and mortal vanitie, of them that doo enclose large patri­monies within a litle stone: whose price is vnstable, and vncerteine, and changeth euery day, in that it dependeth only on the fame of the buyers, and lyght beliefe of the mad richer sort: so that some that haue lyen long time neglected, suddenly ryse to great prices: and some that haue been of great value, soddenly fall to be of no estimation: I knowe not vppon what markes appea­ring, not so much in the thinges themselues, as in the opinion of such as haue skill in them. A woorthy knowledge truely, whiche neglecting the woorshipping of GOD, the care of the minde, and the knowledge of them both, geueth it selfe onely to the [Page]searchyng out of veynes of stones. But this is the worlde: And this is not the fyrst tyme that they are muche accompted that craftily make prices of them: as for the true prices, there are none at all, or not knowen. But howe daungerous this vanitie is, and howe doubtfull and vncertayne the iudge­ment, it may appeare who so calleth to minde that whiche chaun­ced of late, howe that when as that Gentleman of greater for­tune then wysedome, had bought a litle stone, which was a car­buncie, for ten thousande crownes: he sayde oftentymes, howe that the exceeding brightnesse and beautie, surpassing all common and naturall stones, brought hym in suspicion of the rightnesse thereof, and for that cause he shewed it vnto a very cunning Lapi­darie, to haue his opinion therein: Who answeared, that in deede it was no true stone, but rather glasse, or some suche lyke kynde of stuffe: not naturall, but deuised by some supernaturall and woon­derfull art. Whiche doubt of this Gentlemans, what was it other then a confessyng that the same glasse was more beauti­full then any stone, although perhaps the stone be harder: Not­withstanding let them iudge hereof, who cast away they money in this kinde of gaine, which they myght conuert to more hon [...]st vses, or misspende their time in this kynde of knowledge, whiche they myght imploy in better studies. And if this doubting were iust, and vpon good cause, who seeth not what ambition, and how much blindnesse there is in them whiche pay so decre for a thyng, not in respect of the forme & substance, but of the bare name only.

There is nothyng that I holde more deere, then precious stones.

Truely I beleeue thee: Not vertue, not thine estimation, not thy countrey, not thy lyfe it selfe. And to say no­thyng of those two thinges whiche you make accompt of, as no­thing more vile: the two last things, & therewith also great riches, and whatsoeuer els ye esteeme most precious, I wyll prooue that they haue geuen place to the price & loue of a precious stone, and that the keeping thereof hath been preferred before exile and po­uertie: yea and if neede had so required, before death also. Who knoweth not of Nonius practice in the like case? This Nonius was a Senator of Rome, and a very riche Gentleman, and had a precious stone esteemed as twentie thousande crownes, and the [Page 50]stones name was Opalus. It groweth in India, glisteryng with varietie of all colours. Now Antonius the Triumuir, beyng prouoked & set on fire with the desire of this iewel, as a man of all other most proude and couetous, and vnto whom whatsoeuer na­ture made desired, fortune made lawful, conceyued (as it fortuned) a mortal hatred of y^e owner, with an vnlawful desire of the stone: Wherby it came to passe, that in that general heateof proscription & banishment, wherein so many lightes of the common wealth pe­rished, that Nonius name also was published among the residue: whiche whether it were for this crime, that he possessed a thing that was precious, and very wel liked of the tyrant, it is not cer­teinly knowen: But he, as one that toke example of the Tiber of Pontus, to the intent he might redeeme his libertie, by the losse of his hurtful burden, & prouide for his safetie, which was more deere vnto him, then his present danger, he tooke that with him, and so departed: perswading him selfe, that yf he had that with him, he would take no care for the losse of his liuing or countrey, beyng redy therewith to goe into banishment, to begge, and if neede were, to dye. Who wyll not thynke well of that, whereunto a Senatour bare so great affection? And truely one of these twayne we must needes graunt, eyther that the Iewell was of great value, or that the owner was of a hase mynde. But thou lookest not to knowe whiche of these twayne I con­clude to be truest. For although the iudgement of this and suche lyke, or rather the infection of them whiche they leaue in the mynde, haue farre and wyde infected the maners of the common multitude: notwithstandyng, it behooueth great wittes, neyther to be delyghted with money, nor any thyng els, sa­uyng the beautie of vertue onely: vnlesse it be, that through the meanes of these short pleasures whiche delyght the eyes, the mynde, beyng styrred vp, be taken with the loue and desyre of the eternal beautie, from whiche fountaine it springeth whatsoeuer is fayre.

I am enticed with the loue of excellent precious stones.

This excellencie nature hath not made, but opinion onely, whiche among some hath geuen the chee­fest price to the Carbuncle, and among other, to the Dia­moude. That whiche I reckened fyrst, is the speciall iudgement [Page]nowe a dayes among the common Iewellers and Lapidaries. And this last, the opinion of certayne auncient writers, according to whose iudgement, the Diamond, whiche is not only the most precious of al stones, but of all earthly thinges, was wont to be the Jewel and gemme in olde time of kinges, and not all, but of the chiefest. But now at this day, forasmuche as there is no en­cre ase of any thyng so great and so speedie, as of lasciuiousnesse and pride, it grewe not onely to be worne by kinges, but also to be set vpon fingers of the common people. Next vnto this is the Indian & the Arabian Pearle in estimation, and after them the Smaragde, I know not by what perturbation of order. For if the rednesse and palenesse of the first be commendable, why likewise shoulde not the whitenesse and greenenesse of these in like maner shoulde not the whitenesse and greenenesse of these in like maner delight the eye? The Saphyre also may more iustly complayne, since there is nothing that the earth bringeth foorth, that in like­nesse more resembleth the cleere heauen. Howbeit, as I haue said, it is the madnesse of men, and not the nature of the thinges, that is in price, the vayne follies of the riche, and the fables of idle per­sons, who woulde soone contemne these trifles, if they would bu­sie them selues about more profitable affayres concernyng peace or warre.

The glisteryng precious stones, and plea­saunt shinyng pearles, do much moue myne affections.

Mooue thee, sayest thou? yea rather they ouerthrowe, tread vnder foote, effeminate and make weake the mynde. Concerning which matter, yf I shoulde goe about to heape vp examples, both of men and women, I should not instruct thee, but weerie thee. I wyll touche one onely, and whiche is greatest of all, to the ende thou mayest vnderstande, howe daungerous this follie is to the weaker mindes, whiche hath inuaded the most hygh and valiant. Pompeius, surnamed the great, the most con­tinent of all the Romane captaines (I meane of the latter sort, who, how much they excel the residue in noble exploites, and vali­ant deedes, so muche they are inferiour vnto their forefathers in modestie of maners, and frugalitie of lyfe) when he returned con­querour out of Spayne, from subduing the West partes of the worlde, and had dryuen the theeues and pyrates into one place togeather, to whom the name of Conuenae, meeters together, [Page 51]was geuen, whiche shall last for euer. There vpon the Pyrenean mountaynes, the sharpenesse of the place perhappes assisting, and modestie helping the matter, and abatyng the pryde of his age and victorie, he set vp a manlyke Trophei, and monument, fra­med in maner of a counterfeite, of his naturall and rough vizage: being then great in deede and magnificiall, who although he were but young in yeeres, yet was he olde in maners, and rype in minde. The same man afterwarde, when he had taken the Py­rates, and vanquished the East, beyng then changed, as it were with the alteration of the tyme and place, and returnyng another man, from another part of the worlde, he shewed in triumphe not his humilitie, but his manly countenaunce, become more effemi­nate then before, after a womanishe, or diuine maner, not portrai­ted in Brasse or Marble, but adorned with rare and exquisite pearles. This is no small rebuke, for the pryde and spoyle of the East, to be layde vpon the head of one man, not without the in­sultyng of the conquering people, and to the excusing of the Prin­ces that shoulde ensue. For what shoulde not Rome (being af­terwarde in slauerie vnder tyrantes) suffer, which being free, behelde this so great insolencie, of a most louyng citizen. As for the other furnitures of his triumphe, whiche was more humble or sober, they are not mencioned, neyther the armour and horses of the subdued nations, as the maner was wont to be, nor the pri­soners, charrets, nor other booties: The vilest thynges whiche we reave to haue been there, was golde, precious stones, and pearles. Among many other thinges, there was a great Guarde­uiandes of Chest, wherein was great store of treasures of all sortes and colours, euery one consisting of seuerall kindes, both cuppes of golde, and garmentes, and pictures: Yea, there was among other thynges a Moone of massy golde, of a woonderfull weight, and beddes of golde, and sundry crownes and gar [...]andes, beset with great and whyte pearles. Moreouer, there was a mountaine of gold, the fourme whereof was foure square, al beset with Hartes, and Lions, and figures of sundry beastes, and ly­uyng creatures: also with trees, and all kyndes of fruites, with glitte [...]ing pearles coueryng the golden branches of the trees upon the toppe of the mountaine. Of the same substaunce also [Page]there was a clocke, so cunningly wrought, that the woorkeman­shyp excelled the stuffe, whiche continually mooued and turned about, a right woonderfull and strange sight to suche as vse to admire vayne matters.

With these thynges I am won­derfully delighted.

Truely I thinke it well, and I sup­pose that thou wouldest gladly haue beholden this Triumph, and more greedily haue led it, & most greedyly haue possessed it, wher­vnto the state of thy passionate mind persuadeth thee. But beleue thou me, these thinges which do so much delight the sight, are al­waies hurtful to the bodie and soule. And a [...] for him of whom we speake, there was nothing that euer did more hurt his triumphant glory, not the Thessalica day, nor the Egyptian foyle. For there he yeelded not wholy to fortune, but here he yeelded wholy to vice. There appeared the force, and vnfaythfulnesse of another: but here his owne frailtie, and ambition. And therefore there he lost his power, and his lyfe: but here he impayred the fame of his po­pulare name, and of his excellent modestie, and his name of Pom­peius the Great, whiche he had wonne by his great trauell. A strange matter to be tolde, howe that he that was founde to be more victorious agaynst the Spamardes, beyng a warlyke nation, then agaynst the dastardly and faintharted Asians: and this the more to be marueyled at, in that duryng the tyme that he aboade in Asia, he remayned perfecte and in­uincible, when as he bare hymselfe most vpryghtly and absty­nently in the Temple of Hierusalem, of all other the most rych­est that euer was. But at the last he was not able to withstande the force of vice, neyther continued he, as before he had alwayes been, a singuler and one maner of man, but beyng made, as it were, one of many, was so captiuated and cast downe. This was the effect of the glitteryng of the precious stones, of the beautie of the pearles, and of the weyght of the golde, In like conflicte before Asia had ouercome Alexander, but it is small victorie to winne hym that is ouercome by his owne vices, and a great matter to ouercome the ouercommer of hymselfe. After whom, there was almost no captaine that could gouerne hymselfe vpryghtly among the pleasures of Asia, whiche beyng transported ouer into the countrey of Latium, [Page 52]dyd vanquysh you in your owne natiue soyle. For yf ye wyll confesse the very trueth, when ye had conquered all other na­tions, your selues were conquered in the Asiane conquest. Goe thy wayes nowe, and make muche accompt of precious stones, whiche are freendes to the eyes, and enimies to the mynde, and the vanquishers of valiant men.

I take great pleasure in glitteryng precious stones.

Some man is delyghted with them that are of sundry colours, and some with the palenesse of other, so that this appetite is diuers, but the vanitie is one. Thou hast hearde howe that in the iudgement of kyng Pyrrhus, who made warre agaynst the Romanes, the Achate was esteemed of all stones the most precious: And nowe, as prices of thynges doo alter, it is of the least value, wherein, as the report goeth, were represented the shapes of sundrie thynges, as of beastes, riuers, forestes, byrdes, and wylde beastes, not framed by the hande of a­ny woorkeman, but by the industrie of nature. In this prince­ly Iewell, as Solinus tearmeth it, were not ingrauen, but naturally imprinted the portraitures of the nine Mu­ses, and Apollo the notable Musitian playing in the middest of them: these spottes and markes of the stone so lynked one to another, that within that space, whiche was but very lytle, euery Image and portraiture myght be discerned by it owne speciall notes, as they were placed within the ring, and for farther ornament, the kynges name was also thereunto ad­ded. For suche thynges as belong to great personages, are the more esteemed. But I pray you, what good dyd this Achate vnto hym? Dyd it make hym inuincible in battayle, or saue hym from death, or coulde it delyuer hym from the reioycyng of his enimies, or from the stone whiche the hande of a woman threwe at hym? What, I say, auayled it vnto Pyrrhus to haue hadde that stone? or what hindred it Fabritius and Curius that they wanted it, by which two valiaunt captaines he was vanquished, and driuen out of Italy? I dare affirme, that neither of these twayne would so much yeelde in minde vnto him, as to make exchange of their harde and rough helmet, for his swoorde that was so beset with golde [Page]and pretious stones, or for his kingly ring. Thus valiant men despise all wanton & effeminate thynges. How should they couet the kynges ring, who only vpon the confidence & trust in vertue, contemned the king himselfe, his princely ryches and kingdome? But you, contrarywyse▪ by distrust of minde, woonder at euery thyng, and couet them▪ as yf they w [...]uld aduaunce you [...]o felicitie: and vertue onely is contemned. There is also a more auncient report and fame of another precious stone, wh [...]che Polycrates kyng of the Sam [...] possessed: some say is was a Sardonix. That stone, among that most ryche princes treasure, was counted the most precious: and therefore he, as one that had neuer in all his lyfe felt a [...]y aduersitie, meanyng to appease [...]he malice of subtile fortune, whiche openly flattered him, and priuily went about to ouerthrowe hym, tooke shypping, and launched foorth into the deepe Sea, and with his owne hande threwe in his ring wherein was that ryche stone, to the intent he myght once in his lyfe be sory: perswading himselfe, that he had craftily dealt with fortune, if he recompenced so many ioyful good turnes, with one sorowful mischance. But she, as being neyther easily deceyued nor pleased, indifferently mingling good with euyll, required yet a farther matter, for so long a tyme of fauour, but a short thyng, mary very hard: that he, who in all his lyfe tyme seemed to hymselfe and o­thers most fortunate, shoulde at his death appeare and be most miserable, by so many vices and punishmentes lyghtyng vppon one head: and therefore refusing that whiche was offered (O the daliance of fortune) euen as though she had sent a fish on message to receyue the ring into his mouth: this fishe was taken imme­diately, and serued to his table, and in hym restored his ring vn­to hym, no [...] without the woondring of the beholders. This stone (many hundred yeeres after) Augustus Caesar, as they say, being moued with the price and strangenesse of the thyng, caused to be set in a crowne of gold, and dedicated it in the temple of Concord. Here agayne I demaunde, what it auayle [...] the tyrant that afflic­ted his countrey to haue had this iewell? or hindred Pythagoras to wan [...] his countrey, wherein they were both borne, and his owne house, and his freendes, whiche he forsooke vpon misliking of his maners? Forsooth, when by the consent of all men this [Page 53]tyrant was hanged vpon the gallowes, and most extreamly pu­nyshed, he was yet woorthy of greater tormentes: But the Phi­losopher dying in peace, was worshypped for a GOD, and his house esteemed for a church. This difference there was betwene the precious stone of the one, and the cloake of the other. But nei­ther coulde Polycrates Sardonix woorke such effect, that his bo­dy shoulde not be consumed by foules vpon the gallowes: Lyke as also of late dayes neyther could the Carbuncle of Iohn kyng of Fraunce, whiche he woore vpon his finger, and was founde and taken from hym that day, preserue hym from the ouerthrow and fallyng into his enimies handes: whose chaunce it was not­withstandyng after certayne yeeres to see and touche it agayne, beeyng redeemed, as it were, in another worlde, & sent to hym by a friende, as a thyng of inestimable price, but of no more efficacie or vertue then other stones of that kynde are. For, that precious stones are bryght and glysteryng, I doo not deny, least I speake agaynst common sense: But I deny that they be good for any thyng, or haue any vertue, but that only whiche is commonly re­ported, they can also breake up the lockes of couetous ryche men, and emptie their coffers.

Precious stones are indiffe­rently efteemed of, and they muche delyght my mynd.

But it is great madnesse to bestowe muche care and cost vppon thynges, whiche although they seeme somewhat, yet in deede are nothyng: This is only to take delyght in the pleasure and deceit of the eyes. Why dooest thou trauayle in those thynges, whi­che doo not only not auayle to felicitie, but they detract nothing from misery, neyther when they be present, nor when they be ab­sent? And although there be many strange and woonderous matters written by many, whiche are not correspondent to a trueth, nor profitable to the readers, but only set downe to make them amazed, specially by the Magiciens, who haue had so muche leasure that they myght fyll whole volumes with suche triflies. Notwithstandyng in this respect I fully agree with Plinius the seconde, and I suppose that they wrote these things not without contempt and laughter at mankynde, to the en­tent that they myght both fyl theyr foolyshe lyghtnesse of be­leefe with vayne opinions, and delyght them selues with our [Page]follies.

I take pleasure in those precious stones, where­in it is credible that there is some vertue.

What vertues those are thou hast hearde, and yf there by any o­ther, what so euer they be, they be myngled with the lyes of Merchantes and wryters, and not so muche feygned by industry of Art, as encreased and confyrmed by your assent: whiche thynges it were muche more better eyther wysely to re­prooue, or valyantly to contempne, then to vnderstande the pryses, vertues, and vyces of al precious stones. But in this one poynt I disagree from Plinie, most of whose sayinges doo muche please me: He promyseth to shewe a meane to finde out the knowledge and craft of counterfaytyng false stones, where he sayth, It is good also to enstructe ryotousnesse agaynst deceypt: But in myne opinion, ryotousnesse ought not to be defended and armed, but to be left alone, and forsaken, as naked among the armed troupes of the subtyle counterfeytours, to the ende, that beyng oftentymes circumuented and deceyued, yf by none other meanes, it ma [...] [...]r leastwyse be chastized by [...] [...]eipt.

Of Cuppes made of precious Stones. The xxxviii. Dialogue.

I Delyght to drynke in precious Stone.

It is an auncient kynde of wantonnesse and ryot, to cause preci­ous stones to be made hollowe for drynkyng Cuppes, in de­spite of glasse, whiche though it be brittle, yet is it a most beautyful and cleane substaunce, and also of syluer and golde, whiche in tymes past was woont to be the bttermost bounde of humane couecousnesse. And there was sometyme founde out whereby ryot myght exceede couetousnesse, whiche was not counted a sufficient woorthie cause of so great an euyl. This the Poet sawe, when he sayde: This man strong cities doth besiege, and houses in distresse. A great euyl doubtlesse, not only contrary to iustice, but also to humanitie. And to the end thou myghtest knowe from whence it springeth, he addeth, That [Page 54]he might drinke out of precious stone. Behold two causes of ciuil furies, that whereas a siluer chalice had been sufficient for the diuine seruice, yet a golden one seemed in mans eye scarce good yenough, vnlesse the danger also enhaunced the price: and pretious stones were cut hollowe by forraigne woorkmanshyp, in whi­che a poore symple wretche shoulde drynke, and with the great­er pleasure applie thereunto his lyppes, defyled with lyes and fylthynesse: beyng a thyng both vnhansome to drynke in, the feare breakyng of the pleasure, and costly by meanes of the trim­myng, and also difficult to be preserued, and ieoperdous for health, and most fyt for poysoynyng. For this saying of an other Poet is true: There is no poyson drunke in earthen pottes. But when thou begynnest to drynke in pottes of preci­ous stone, then be afrayde of poysonyng.

I accompt it a glorious matter to drynke in precious stone.

While pryde aduaunceth her selfe, she thynketh neyther vppon fallyng, nor ruine. Ye be more desyrous to drynke costly, then safely, more ambitiously, then saue [...]ly. Thus vyces are ouercome with vices, and the tast of the [...] dooth not so much solicit [...] [...]e appetite, as the colour of the cuppe prouoketh pryde. Yee stande amazed at the beames of precious stones, and this ama­zyng ye esteeme at the greatest price that may be, not only of money, but of vertue. Dooth not this Virgiliane ouerthrower of his countrey, of whom I speake, seeke for a precious stone of that pryce, lyghtly ouerpassyng iustice and godlynesse, and by losse of them, to gayne this, that he myght drynke in precious stone, and forget hym selfe to be a Euizen and a man.

I am desyrous to drynke in cuppes of precious stone.

Perhaps there is some other cause of so feruent desire: For it is not the gli­stering only that allureth thee, but some hydden vertue. For who is able to declare all the operations and vertues of precious stones: Thus I say then, yf al those thynges that are reported or written of them, the seuenth part were true, it were a worthye matter: but neyther the seuentie part, neyther the seuenscore is true in deede. And yf, as Plinius sayth, there be no one deceypt in the lyfe of man more gaynefull, [Page]who wyl ma ruayle yf there be none more plentifull? Not that there is more common sale of precious stones, then of any o­ther thyng, as beyng suche thyngs as the preciousnesse of them maketh them rare, but that the trueth is neuer more rare in any merchandize. For in no ware is there lesse lybertie of expe­rimentyng, or more libertie of lying, or more vantage of vntrue dealyng, or impudency more free, or the custome of vsyng it more common. But yf perhaps among all these vertues there be any thyng true, shal we accompt this to be it whiche the auc­thoritie of Magiciens confirmeth, and the opinion of the com­mon people establyshed vppon the same auoweth, that the A­methist withstandeth drunkennesse? Is it then without cause, that this precious stone is meete to make cuppes of for drunken­nesse? Nowe I iest with thee: Iestyng many tymes prouo­keth anger▪ to wyt, in ascribyng that to one, whiche another hath deserued: vnlesse we wyl say, that this was the wyt and deuise of pleasure, that the drinkers sight might be delited together with his tast, and so the senses being tickled on al sides, the drunken­nesse might be the more curious and merie. This, vnlesse I be deceiued, is the truest and most certayne cause of this matter, both in other, and also in this, which is specially prouided as it were a captayne agaynst drunkennesse, ouer which sobrietie onely may triumph, in vsing litle wine, accordyng to the saying of that excel­lent counseller, & that not to be drunke for pleasure, but for profite, to abandō the infirmities of the stomacke, with a litle smal wine, I say, delayed with water, to auoyde the force and rage of strong and myghtie wynes, and to quenche and brydle them, as it were with a floodde of water, to knowe and remember that in hotte and strong wyne, and often, or to muche drynkyng of it, there lurketh muche matter of shame, sorowe, and repentaunce, that whyther soeuer thou turnest thy selfe, this is alwayes in mens eyes, and that no man of a sounde mynde can dissemble it. These be the profitable weapons agaynst that Monster. What place is there here nowe left for the Amethist, or for any pre­cious stone? The Magiciens haue deuysed that lye, and there haue been some that haue beleeued, that by the vertue of this stone, promysyng the in sobrietie, they myght boldly quaffe with­out [Page 55]feare of drunkennesse: Falsly and impudently affyrmed by the Magiciens, as many thynges moe, and foolyshly beleeued of the common people, as al thynges els. This is therfore the summe of all, there is nothyng els that procureth vnto you this and suche lyke follies, but pleasure, prouoked and incensed with dangers, but specially pryde and forgetfulnes of your state, and an hurtful feare of mynde, which beyng such, as there is no­thyng more hurtful to the lyfe of man, so I marueyle that there is nothing more pleasant, I say not, in that vertue, beyng so great a good, seemeth but vyle in your iudgement, but your lyfe, your health, your safetie, your ryches, and finally your pleasures, whi­che in your iudgementes are the chiefest felicitie. All these thin­ges geue place vnto pryde only, this aboue all other thynges ma­keth you to couet precious stones, which are euermore vnprofi­table, many times hurtful, and neuer necessary. By prouoca­tion of pryde it is come to passe, that beyng alwayes busy and feareful, but delycate, the floores of your houses be lyke the Al­tars of your Churches, golden and glytteryng with stones, and your purpled and decked sacrifices, are layed out to the furniture of your couetousnesse, and curiositie of your wantonnesse, and the residue of your brauery to pryde, al which vyces ioyntly and seuerally raigne ouer you, howbeit, pryde, as I haue sayde, claymeth the principalitie. Couetousnesse peraduenture, which the name it selfe importeth, might indifferently content her selfe with a great portion of golde, and lasciuiousnes repose her selfe in her banquettes and pleasures, pryde only neuer resteth, so long as she seeth any thyng aboue her, who at the fyrst begynnyng of al thynges, sought to make her selfe equall with GOD, and the very same enforceth you paynfully to seeke for precious stones, and curyously to ioyne or hollowe them, to the entent that when ye gooe abroade, or sytte in open places in iudgement of Courtes, or at Feastes, ye may shyne and glyster lyke Starres, and continually repyne at the beautie of heauen. And to returne to my purpose, by the meanes of this guyde, with your houses, with your ap­parrel, with your meate and drynke, and generally with all your thynges whiche were inuented to serue eyther the neces­sitie [Page]or pleasure of mankynde, ye haue continually mingled some fayre and shyning danger, by encreasyng whereof, this mischiefe commeth to lyght, that of precious stones ye nowe make not only Pottes, but Basons, and Dyshes, and kettles, and Morters, and almost al maner of necessaries. Therefore reioyce pryde, that thou hast gotten the vpper hand: thou requi­redst pottes of precious Stone, and thy ministers haue prepa­red for thee al maner of vessel of the same stuffe. And it is nowe as common a thyng to vse precious stones to these purpo­ses, as to plowe lande to sowe corne in: and so that is growne among you into a custome, whiche was lasciuiousnesse among your Elders.

I delyght to drynke in cuppes of Christal.

Now I spare precious stones, this frosen yse excuseth them, whiche hath in it nothyng more then hath glasse, for it is assoone broken, and cannot be made whole, sauyng that it is harder to be gotten, and eyther it is brought from far, or yf it be found neerehande, it is to be dygged out of the vnpassable and frosen rockes and clyftes of the Alpes, by hang­yng downe by a small rope, & for this cause it is the dearer, and of greater force to prouoke your desyre vnto it. And therefore, thou readest how the Emperour Nero was stroke with a suddeine report, and how among al his other great losses, he bewayled most greuously the losse of two christal cuppes, which were bro­ken by chaunce, or rather, as I thinke the trueth of the storie to be otherwyse, that being throughly inraged with anger, and of­fended with the age wherein he liued, and enuying the posteritie that should come after, knocked them togeather, and brake them with his owne hands, that there should neuer any man drinke out of them more. Behold the expiation of hard fortune, there was ne­uer any thing deuised or found out, wherein this maister of mis­chiefe might more sharply exercise his crueltie: he wreaked hym selfe vpon his Christal, whiche aboue al thynges he loued most dearely. Some man wil say, that this is an excuse for meaner men. In deede to imitate a prince it carryeth some credite, but to imitate Nero no good man wylbe wylling.

I take pleasure in vesselles of Christall.

And percep­uest thou not howe frayle and bryttle thy delyght is? But [Page 56]this is your maner, ye take pleasure in thynges of your owne nature, and whereas your weakenesse ought to seeke some firme thyng, and your principal part, whiche is your soule, to behold, looke, and desyre hygh and heauenly thynges, on both sydes ye seeke after weake and base thyngs. It happened wel, that Murrhine stones are not had in pryce at this day among deynties. The incredible madnesse of your auncestours, with the same conquest whiche brought in many forraygne thynges among you, brought in these also, euen at that tyme when Pom­peius tryumphed in Italy, and roade so royally into the Citie of Rome, brynging in with hym out of Asia an vnprofitable seede, but whiche was sowne in a fertyle soyle, and by diligent husbandmen: and it grewe vp so fast in short tyme, that a man myght see the pryce of one Murrhine stone to be at seuentie ta­lentes, and howe the lyppe of that cuppe was greedyly bitten a­way by the teeth of a certayne louer, by meanes of which strange effect of loue, that blemyshe muche commendyng the beautie of the cuppe, encreased both the fame and pryce thereof. In this respect therefore, neyther your lasciuiousnesse, wherein ye geue place to no age, nor your pryde, is lesse then was your fore­fathers: but in respect of both, the matter is diminished, not only by the fallyng of the Murrhine stone to serue your turne, but also in that they are not knowne vnto you: in steede wherof a newe kynde of riotousnesse hath inuaded your myndes, the roote of the Felberd tree, beyng a woorthy wood, to make cups of, brauely set forth with knottes and skarres, a special folly whi­che now resteth among the Frenchmen. To this purpose also are there other trees founde out, some forraigne, and called by strange names, & some knowne, some called by one name, & some by another, but al of like vanitie, & there wil more be dayly found, and there wylbe no measure of new deuises, vntyl the glorie of the Murrhine stones be surpassed by your cuppes. In this one poyne I confesse, ye haue geuen place to the madnesse of your auncestours, in that they highly esteemed of Amber cups, which scrued to no purpose, but only to haue them for wantonnes sake, & reckoned them amōgst their chiefest delightes: insomuch that it is reade, how that Nero himselfe, not only of al princes, but of [Page]all men the cruellest, by publyshyng of certayne verses, adopted vnto hym selfe the yeallowe lockes and tresses of his yl belcued, and worse murdred wyfe, vnder this name, and by a speciall chosen title. For, a woonderous matter to thynke it, that cru­el disposition of his was friendly to the Muses, in that he called them his, because they seemed golden. O fierce and vnfor­tunate flatteries, O comely and commendable head, woorthy by some wycked foote to be troade downe to the Deuyl? How be it you haue Ambar cuppes, & esteeme them not, or esteeme them modestly, or regard them sparingly.

Of Engrauinges and seales in precious Stones. The .xxxix. Dialogue.

I TAKE great pleasure in Engrauynges, and markes in precious Stones.

I confesse howe that to the comelynesse of nature, a certayne ornament of Art is added, & howe stones are engrauen with prettie faces and portraitures in them to seale withall, a kynde of skyl truely, whiche is recke­ned among the fynest workemanshyppes of most curious wyts: and among al stones the Amethist is most easie and fortunat for engrauyng, as it is reported: and among woorkmen Pyrgoteles first wan to him selfe the name of a cunning engrauer, for that a­mong al woorkmen of his scienc, ehe seemed vnto king Alexan­der most meete to engraue the counterfeit of his phisnomie, whi­che afterwarde the Emperour Augustus dyd weare, when as the precious Stone, whiche he before vsed, was commonly iested at among the people, and tearmed the rydlyng Sphinx, so that besydes the difficulties of the exactions, the very perplexitie and doubtfulnesse of the seale, seemed to purchase hatred to the most modest Prince. Next vnto this man both in skyl and age, were Apollonides and Eronius. Af­ter whom was Dioscores, of great name in this Art, whose woorke when Plinie dyd set downe, I marueyle that he expressed not also his name. This is he that engraued the counterfayte of the Emperour Augustus, whiche he [Page 57]vsed hym selfe so long as he liued, and after him many of the Em­perours, suche reuerence they hare eyther to the countenance of so good a Prince, or woondred at the skyl of so cunnyng a woorke­man. But now that we haue discoursed thus muche of precious stones, whiche eyther nature hath yeelded whole and sounde for your pleasures, or art hath made hollow and engrauen for your de­light, I demaund of thee this question, how much more ought the brightnes of heauen, which is to be gotten without cost or paine, delight thy minde? And not that so much, as he, who is the spring and fountaine of that light? Doo the radiant Carbuncles, the greene Smaragdes, the bright Saphyres, the whyte pearles, so much allure thee, that neither the brightnesse of the Sunne and Starres, nor the greennesse of the earth & trees, nor the purenesse of the ayre and skie in the cleare mornyng, can mooue thy mynde? Ye stand am [...]z [...]d at the beholding of faces which the hand of man hath engrauen in stones, but ye wonder not at the cunning of that workeman, neither do ye honour him, ne ther do ye acknowledge him, although ye haue so many & so excellent meanes so to do, who hath made these precious stones, & the cunning, and the hands, and the eyes wherwith to behold them, to vnderstand them, & to make them. O ye, that are euermore the imitatours of vile thinges, and alwayes the contemners of woorthy and excellent thynges.

Of Pictures, and painted Tables. The .xl. Dialogue.

I Am delighted with pictures, and painted tables.

A vaine delight, and no lesse folly then hath raigned sometyme in great personages, & no deale more tollerable then it hath ben in olde tyme. For euery euyl example is then worst, when as eyther the weight of auctoritie, or of yeeres is ioyned vnto it. The force of custome is great from whence soeuer it tooke beginning, and age as it aduaunceth good thinges to better, so doth it cast downe euyl thinges to woorse. But O, I would God, that ye that do far surpasse your auncetours in vaine thinges, would matche them in earnest matters, and with them woulde esteeme of glory [Page]and vertue, with whom ye stand fondly gazing at Pictures with­out ende.

Truely I am woonderfully delighted with painted tables.

O woonderfull madnesse of mans minde, which woondreth at euery thing, sauing it selfe, since there is nothing not only among all the woorkes of art, but also of na­ture, more woonderfull?

Painted tables delight mee.

What mine opinion is herein, thou mayest perceiue in that whiche I haue sayde before. All earthly delyghtes, if they were gouerned by discretion, would styrre men vp to the heauen­ly loue, and put them in minde of their first original. For, I pray thee, who euer loued a riuer, and hated the head thereof? But you weltring heauily vpon the ground, stouping, and as it were faste­ned to the earth, dare not looke vpwardes towardes heauen, and forgettyng the chiefe woorkeman, with marueilous pleasure ye beholde the slender pictures of the Sunne and Moone, and deter­mine where the passage is to the highest places, but there ye ende the boundes of your vnderstanding.

I am specially de­lyghted with painted tables, and Pictures.

Thou conceiuest delight in the pencill and colours, wherein the price, and cunning, and varietie, and curious dispersing, doth please thine eye: euen so likewyse the liuely gestures of lyuelesse pictures, and the vnmoueable motions of dead images, and countenaunces comming out of poastes, and liuely portraitures of faces, doo bryng thee into woondring, insom [...]ch as thou wilt almost thynke they would speake vnto thee: and this is the onely danger in this behalfe, in that many great wittes haue been ouertaken by these meanes. So that, whereas the clowne and vnskylfull person wyl with small woondryng passe them ouer: the wyser wyll re­pose hym selfe with sighing and woondring. A cunning mat­ter truly, howbeit it is not possible from the beginning to vnfold the fyrst originall and encrease of this art, and the wonderfulnesse of the woorkes, and the industrie of the woorkemen, the madnesse of princes, and the vnreasonable prices wherewith these haue been bought and brought from beyonde the seas, and placed at Rome, eyther in the Temples of the Goddes, or in the bed cham­bers of the Emperours, or in the common streetes, or pub­lique porches and galleries. Neyther was this sufficient, but [Page 58]that they must also apply their owne right handes, which of duety ought to haue been busied about greater affayres, vnto the exer­cise of this art, which the most noble Philosophers of all Greece had doone before: Whereby it came to passe, that among you the art of paintyng was esteemed aboue all handie craftes, as a thyng more neere to the woorke of nature: And among the Grecians, yf ye wyll beleeue Plinie, it was accompted among the chiefee of the Liberal Artes. But I let passe these thinges, for that they are in a maner contrary to mine entended breuitie, and present purpose: and may seeme rather to minister infected hu­mours to the sicknesse, whose cure I promised to vndertake, and by the excellencie of the thinges, to excuse the madnesse of the woonderers at them. Howbeit I sayde yer whyle, that the great­nesse of them that dyd erre, made not the errour the lesse: but I touched that poynt the rather to this intent, that it myght ap­peare how great the force of that folly was, with whiche so many and so great wittes haue conspired, vnto whiche also the prince of errour the common multitude, and long continuance, whiche is the engenderer of customes, and acutoritie, whiche is a great heape of all mischiefes, are ioyned: so that the pleasure and ad­miration thereof, is able priuily to remooue and withdrawe the minde from contemplation of higher matters. But yf these thynges that are counterfeited and shadowed with vayne co­lours doo so muche delyght thee, cast vp thyne eyes vppon hym that hath adorned mans face with senses, his minde with vnderstandyng, the heauen with starres, the earth with flowres, and so shalt thou contemne those woorkemen whom thou woondredst at.

Of Statues and Images. The .xli. Dialogue.

BUt I take great pleasure in Images.

These be sundrie artes, but the madnesse is one, & there is but one be­ginning of them both, & one ende, but diuers matter.

I delyght in statues.

These come in shew more [Page]neere vnto nature, then pictures: For they doo but appeare only, but these are felt to be sounde and substantiall, and there theyr bo­dyes are more durable: Whiche is the cause that there remayne to this day in no place any pictures of men of auncient times, but statues innumerable: Whereby this age in this point, as in ma­ny thynges els erronious, woulde seeme to haue been the fyrst in­uenter of pictures: or whether that because it alleageth that it hath deuised somwhat whiche commeth neare to the fyrst inuention thereof, beyng perfect and excellent in it, and in all kindes of en­grauing, and dare boldly and impudently affirme, though falsly, that it is not inferiour to any, in grauing and caruing all sortes of seales & statues: seeing in very dtede they be almost al one art, or if they be diuers, they sprang both from one fountayne, to wit, the art of drawing, & doubtlesse are of one antiquitie, & flourished at one tyme. For why, Apelles, and Pyrgoteles, and Lysip­pus, lyued at one tyme, whiche may by this meanes be prooued, in that the great pride of Alexander of Macedonie, chose these three together aboue the rest, whereof the one should paint him, the other engraue him, and the thyrde carue him: strayghtly for­biddyng all other, vppon whatsoeuer cunnyng or assuraunce of skyll presumyng, to meddle with expressyng the kynges face any maner of way: and yet was not this madnesse lesse then the residue. But euery disease is so muche the more daungerous, howe muche more stable and fixed the matter is whereof it proceedeth.

But I am de­lyghted in Images.

Thynke not that thou errest alone, or that thou hast no fellowes but the common people: For in tymes past howe great the dignitie hath been of statues and images, and howe feruent the studie and desire of men was reposed in suche pleasures, the most diligent enquirie of Au­gustus and Vaspasian, and other Emperours, and Kynges, of whom it were impertinent and too long to intreate, & also of other noble personages of the second degree, & industrious keepyng of them when they had founde them, and theyr sundrie dedicatyng and bestowing them, may sufficiently declare. Hereunto also may be added, the great fame of the workemen, not rashly spread abroade by the common people, or reported vpon dumbe workes, [Page 59]but celebrated in the soundyng bookes of learned and approoued writers: whiche beyng so great, seemeth in no wyse to be able to spryng from a smal roote. A great name commeth not of nothing, it must be great in deede, or seeme to be so, whereof great men doo seriously intreate. But all these thinges I haue answeared before, and tende to this purpose, that thou mayest vnderstande with what force so auncient and stout an errour must be resisted.

I conceyue pleasure in sundry statues & images.

There is one of these artes, whiche by the handy woorke doth imitate nature, men commonly call it framyng and fashionyng. This art woorketh with waxe, playster of Paris, and cleauing claye, whiche although among all the other artes that haue affini­tie with it, it be more freendly, and come neerest to vertue, or is lesse enimie to modestie and thriftinesse, whiche two vertues doo more allowe of imagies and statues of Goddes and men to be made of earth, and suche lyke matter, then of golde and precious stone: Yet what delyght there is to be conceyued in looking vp­pon faces made of waxe or earth, I doo not vnderstand.

I take delyght in noble statues and images.

I know the meanyng of couetousnesse: it is the price, as I suppose, and not the art that pleaseth thee. I am sure thou doest in minde esteeme one image of golde of meane woorkemanshyp, aboue many made of brasse, and marble, and specially of clay or other cast stuffe, and not vnwysely, as the present valuation of thinges nowe adayes requireth: and this is as muche to say, as to loue the golde, and not the statue, whiche as it may be made noble of a vile matter, so may it be made rude of pure golde. How muche wouldest thou esteeme of an image, whether it were the kinges of Assyria, whiche was made of golde threescore cubites long, which it was death not to adore, although there be many at this day that would adore it to haue it of their owne, or whether it were made of a great Topace of foure cubites long, of whiche thou readest that the Queene of Egypts image was made? a strange thing to be spoken, I suppose thou wouldest not very muche enquire after the woorkeman that made it, but rather after the matter that it is made of.

Images and statues cunningly wrought, delight mine eyes.

Images and statues somtime were the to­kens [Page]of vertues, but now they be enticementes of the eyes. They were erected in the honour and remembraunce of suche as had at­chiued woorthy deedes, or voluntarily yeelded them selues vp vn­to death from their common wealth: Suche as were decreed to be set vp in honour of the Embassadours that were slayne by the king of the Vet [...]i: such as were erected in the honour of Scipio Africane, the deliuerer of Italye, whiche his most valiant cou­rage, and woorthy modestie woulde not receiue, but whiche after his death he coulde not refuse. They were erected in the honour of wise and learned men, the lyke whereof we reade was erected vn­to Victorinus: and now adayes they are erected vnto ryche Merchantes, wrought of outlandish Marble, of great value.

Statues artificially wrought doo muche delight mee.

Euery kinde of stuffe almost wyl admit cunning woorkmanship: but I perceyue how this thy delight is ful of wisdome, and ioyned with the most noble matter. Howbeit I can not perceyue how there shoulde be any pleasure in the golde, no although it were wrought by Phidias, or what worthinesse there shoulde be in it, being but a drosse of y^t earth, although it be yelow, but by meanes of the Anduil, hammers, tongues, coales, inuention, handy labour. What thing may be wrought that is to be wished of a man, or hath in deede any magnificencie in it, consider with thee selfe.

I can not chose but take great pleasure in images.

To take pleasure in the wittie deuises of men, so it be modestly done, is tollerable, and specially of such as excel in wit: For vnlesse malice be an hinderaunce, euery man doeth willingly reuerence that in another, which he loueth in him selfe. To take delight also in the images and statues of godly and vertuous men, the behol­ding of which may stirre vs vp to haue remembrance of their ma­ners & liues, is reasonable, & may profite vs in imitating y^e same. Prophane images also, although somtime they moue the nunde, and styrre it vp to vertue, whilst lukewarme mindes doo waxe hot with the remembraunce of noble deedes, yet ought they not to be loued or esteemed of aboue reason and duetie, lest they become eyther witnesses of our foslie, or ministers of our couetousnesse, or rebellious to our fayth and true religion, and that most excel­lent commaundement of the Apostle, Keepe your selues from [Page 60]Images. But truly, if thou beholde him in thy contemplation, who created the fixed earth, the moueable sea, and turnyng heauen, who also hath replenished the earth, not with feigned and coun­terfeite, but with true and liuing men and beastes, the sea with fishes, the heauen with foules, I suppose that thou wylt as lytle esteeme of Polycletus and Phidias, as of Protegenes and Apelles.

Of vessels of Corinthe. The .xlii. Dialogue.

WHO wyl not be moued with delyght vnto Corinthi­an vessels?

Earthly thynges can not moue him that is accustomed to heauenly: and euen so, yf these vessels be compared with the heauenly treasures, they be smal, they be nothing, they be but loathsomnes, and an heauie burthen. For how can the minde, whiche thinketh vpon it owne beginning, gape into the pittes of earth, or esteeme of that which is digged out of them, whyle he beholdeth the Hea­uens, the Sunne, the Starres, & himselfe, and is busied in the con­templation of the most hygh creatour of all thinges.

I take pleasure in Corinthian vessels.

Knowest thou not then, that thou takest pleasure not onely in a colde and senseles burthen of the earth, but also in the woorkemanshyp of a smutchie and filthie woorkeman, and lasty, in the remnauntes and reliques of the Romane spoyles? Returne to histories. When Mummi­us had by fine force taken the Citie of Corinth, and after the spoyle consumed it with fire, al maner of images, as wel of golde, and siluer, as of brasse, whatsoeuer by chaunce had escaped the handes of the conquerours, whereof that Citie in olde tyme had great plentie, were with lyke fire molten togeather: all kyndes of mettalles ran there flowing, as it were, in one channel, and by that meanes of al those mettalles, there arose one most noble mettall, which was the beginning of these most p [...]ecious vessels: & from the destruction of the Citie, sprang foorth the name of lasciuious­nesse, not that the same madnesse arose in that Citie whiche nowe [Page]was fallyng, but the matter onely was prepared for the madnesse that should folowe hereafter, And by this meanes, Corinth was at that tyme the beginner of this madnesse, which now commeth from Damascus: & from thence at this day are vessels sent, which wyll soone rauishe both your eyes and mindes.

I am delyghted in Corinthian vessels.

I shoulde mar­ueile the more at thee, vnlesse it were read in excellent good wri­ters, howe that Augustus the Emperour, although he were a most modest and graue prince, yet was he notwithstanding so in­uaded, & dryuen headlong with this delyght, that he was thought to haue condemned certayne in the Triumuiral proscription for none other cause then the desyre of suche vessels: insomuche as there was an infamous libel fastened vpon the statue of this woor­thie Prince, to his perpetual ignominie, wherein he was termed a Corinthiarian. And yf ye wyll beleeue mee, there was but small difference in this respect, betweene this most excellent Prince, and the vilest that euer was, Antonius, sauyng that a lesse cause mooued Augustus to doo an iniurie: and euery of­fence is the more greeuous, the greater the person is that offen­deth, and the lesse cause he hath to offende: Neither can the great­nesse and power of the offender escape the woundes of tongues and pennes, or exempt them out of the iudgementes of men: but rather they doo sharpen them, and prouoke them to farther re­uenge. The pratlyng multitude spareth not the blemishes of kynges, and although they feare them in presence, yet priuily they vse their libertie, they hisse in dennes, and barke in darkenesse, and sende foorth doubtfull voyces to the cloudes: they disperse sharpe verses in the streetes, they clappe vp papers vppon statues, they speake by signes, they crye out in silence, they threaten with their eyes, and strike with their tongues. Thus oftentymes great in­famie groweth vppon small causes, and vile dye tearmes, vppon honourable names. If this coulde happen to so great a Prince, what may priuate men hope for, who ought to embrace medio­critie, and abandon superfluitle?

I take pleasure in ves­selles of Corinth.

If thy breast were shut vp against errour, and thyne eyes agaynst bryghtnesse, it myght easily ap­peare vnto thee, howe muche Potters vessels are to be preferred [Page 61]before Corinthian, and howe muche more easie to be gotten, pleasant to be vsed, safe to be kept, and fyt to be employed, both about diuine and humane vses. And truely as touchyng securitie, yf this note of the Emperour Augustus be true, they whiche were proscribed and condempned, should haue lyued in greater safetie, yf they had been without Corinthian vesselles. And as touchyng diuine seruice, that God is as mercyful vnto men when he is worshypped with potters vessels, it is not doubtful vnto me, nor vnto Seneca. But concerning humane vse, although it be certayne that Tuberoes earchen vessels by blinde voyces or scrutinie did hurt theyr maister, as a great rebuke and slaunder a­mong the people, and thereby he had repulse in the Pretorshyp, & in the iudgement of Valerius Maximus, who doth popular­ly excuse this deede of the people, they seemed vnwoorthy of such a publique function: How be it, I am of opinion in this poynt with Seneca, who commendeth very much of them: for they are most agreable to the auncient sparyngnesse, and the manners of the Romanes, by whiche as the pryuate familie of a modest housholder, so ought also the honest common wealth of a wel go­uerned Citie to be guyded, that brydlyng theyr steppes, they may keepe the boundes of a wel ordred and peaceable state vp­on the earth. And therefore yf Helius Tubero in brynging foorth his earthen vessels before the Chappel of Iupiter, where­by he consecrated his frugalitie and sobrietie, and as Seneca say­eth, His pouertie in the Capitol, dyd offende the eyes of the wanton people, it was not the fault of the good Citizen, but of the tyme: for then al thynges be gan to declyne from the auncient strayght­nesse, to this effeminate delicatenesse, whiche fyrst began to won­der at, and fall in loue with cuppes and dyshes of golde, and of precious stone, platters engrauen about the brym with braunches and [...]oures, Saltes with knottes and vynes round about, vessels with tunnyng Iuie, and suche lyke deuises, whiche Galienus the Emperour sent vnto Claudius that shoulde be Emperour after hym. Diuers other kyndes of madnesse also whiche are attribu­ted to magnificencie, but last of al nowe in these dayes, not only running yuie, or vyne braunches, or other curious braunches, but also the whole woods themselues, with theyr in habitantes, as all [Page]kyndes of trees, and wylde beastes, and foules, & mens faces, and whatsoeuer the eye hath seene, or the eare heard, or the mind ima­gined, are of long continuance nowe expressed and engrauen in gold and precious stone, of which we haue entreated a litle before. To be short, pride so much encreaseth, that gold waxeth vile. Not long since these Corinthian vessels, which thou praysest, were not regarded, and contempt, which myght haue ben praysed con­cerning the true estimation of vyle thyngs, is now made discom­mendable by the false admiration of worthy thyngs.

But I am now in loue with Corinthian vessels.

Co­rinth which was burned with your fyrebrands, hath brent you a­gayne with her flan [...]e, and hath reuenged the rasing of her walles vpon your myndes: And this is no strange thing, for oftentymes when ye haue ben the conquerers in forraigne wars, ye haue also ben ouercome by forraigne vices. Euen after this maner Scipio Asiaticus, & Manilius Volsio, y^e conquerers of Asia, did ouer­throw you with the Asian pleasures, with beds of purple, & gar­ments of gold, and exquisite furniture for houshold, and, which is most vyle, with banquets & cookes: so did Pompeius Magnus ouercome you with pearles and precious stones, and Mummius with painted tables & Corinthian vessels, whyle your captaines triumphed ouer your enimies, and your enimies triumphed ouer your affections.

I am enamored with the vse of Corin­thian vessels.

The Corinthian or golden vessels make the meate neuer a whit the better, neither the Samian the worse: for this desire of yours riseth, not from the qualitie of the things, but from the sicknesse of your minds, or rather is it selfe a sicknes of the mind: which to the end thou mayest the better cure, and so waxe whole, in steede of the care for so many vnprofitable vessels, take one most profitable & holsome care vpon thee, that [...]hou mai­est know how to possesse thyne owne vessell in honour, and holy­nesse, as it is wrytten, & not in the passion and desire of hauyng.

Of store of Bookes. The .xliii. Dialogue.

I Haue great store of bookes.

The occasiō to speake of them, is ministred in conuenient time: For as some get bookes for learning sake, so do some others for pleasure & boa­styng. [Page 62]There be other some also which do furnish their chambers with this kinde of stuffe, which was inuented to furnish the mynd withal, and vse them in none other sort then they do theyr Corin­thian vessels, or theyr painted tables, and images, & suche other lyke, wherof we entreated last. There be some also which, vnder the colour of bookes, do satisfie theyr couetousnesse: these be the worst sort of men, which esteeme not the true prices of bookes, & as they are in deede, but as they may sel them. A vyle plague, and lately growne, and whiche seemeth but newly to haue crept in a­mong the practises of the richer sort, wherby there is growne one instrument and art of concupiscence more.

I haue great plentie of bookes.

A painful, but a pleasant burden, & a delectable distraction of the mind.

I haue a marueilous multitude of bookes.

Thou hast therewithal also great plentie of traueyl, and scarcitie of quietnesse: thy wit must be busi­ed this way, and that way, and thy memorie be troubled with this matter, & that matter. What wouldest thou haue me say? Bookes haue brought some men to knowledge, & some to madnes, whilst they draw out of them more then they can disgest. As fulnes some­time hurteth the stomack more then hūger, so fareth it with wits: and as of meates, so lykewyse of bookes, the vse ought to be li­mitted according to the qualitie of him that vseth thē. In al thin­ges, that which is to litle for one, is to much for another. And ther­fore a wise man seeketh not plentie, but sufficiencie in al thynges. For the one of these, is many times hurtfull, the other, alwayes profitable.

I haue immoderate store of bookes.

We cal that immoderate, which hath neither ende nor measure, without which, what there is good and agreeable to it selfe in hu­mane affayres, do thou consider with thy selfe, yea, in those thin­ges which are accompted best, vnmeasurablenesse and immode­ratnesse is to be eschewed, and this saying of the C [...]nicke Poet is alwayes to be had before our eyes: Beware of to much.

I haue an inestimable many of bookes.

Hast thou moe then had Ptolomeus Philadelphus, king of Egypt, moe then the libraries of Alexandria, wherin it is wel knowne, were [...]. M. bokes gathered togither, which being w^t great study & dili­gence brought frō sundry places, were hurut togither in one fire? [Page]which Liuius tearmeth an excellent worke of the maiestie and di­lygence of a kynges trauayl, whom Seneca reprehendeth for that iudgement, saying, that it was not a woorke of the maiestie and di­digence of a king, but of his studious lasciuiousnesse, and not so good neyther, but of a Kyng vaynely boastyng hym selfe in spec­tacles and shewes sought of purpose. And yet notwithstanding perhaps the ryches of a Kyng may excuse the saying of Liuius. and the deede of Ptolomeus, and the Kynges entent forseeyng and prouyding a farre of for publique vses: whiche in this re­spect truely was commendable, in that he caused the holy scrip­tures, which are not only profitable for the worlde, but also neces­sary, with great trauayle and charge by choise men for that pur­pose, to be translated out of the Hebrue into the Greeke tongue. But what shal a man say, when priuate men do not only match, but surpasse Princes in sumptuousnes? We reade how that Se­renus Sammonicus, who was a man of wonderful knowledge, and yet had greater defyre of more learnyng, but had farre many moe bookes, to the number of threescore and two thousand, who when he died, gaue them al to Gordianus the youger, vnto whose father he had been most freindly & familiar. Truely a great inhe­ritance, & sufficient for many wits, but able to ouerthrow one wit, who doubteth? what (I pray you) if this man had done nothing els in al his lyfe time, yf he had him self neuer written any thing, or taken the toyle to searche, or had neuer gone about to take the payne to reade or vnderstand any matter that was comprehen­ded in all those bookes: Had he not businesse yenough to know the bookes themselues, and theyr titles, and the names of the aucthours, and the formes, and number of the volumes? A woorthy occupation, whiche of a Philosopher, maketh a booke keeper. Beleeue me this is not the way to noorysh the wyt by writinges, but to ouerwhelme and kyl it with multitude, or els peraduenture after the maner of Tantalus, to torment the asto­nyshed mynde with thyrst, whiche tasteth nothyng, but gapeth af­ter euery thyng.

I haue an innumerable multitude of bookes.

And also an innumerable multitude of er­rours, some publyshed by the wicked, some by the vnlearned. And those of the fyrst sort, contrary to religion, godlynesse, and [Page 63]the holy Scriptures, the other repugnaunt to nature, equitie, and good manners, & the lyberall sciences, or Histories, and the trueth of thynges doone, but al generally striuyng agaynst the trueth: and in them all, specially the fyrst, where greater mat­ters are handled, and true thynges are myngled with false, the discernyng of them is harde and daungerous. And to admit that the integritie of aucthours were perfect & absolute, what writer is able to remedie ignorance and slouthfulnesse, whiche corrupt and confounde al thynges? For feare whereof, many excellent wyttes haue geuen ouer sundry worthie workes, and our most lewde age is deseruedly plagued with this punyshment, whiche is careful of the Kytchyn, and negligent of learnyng, & encoura­geth Cookes, and not wryters. And therfore, whosoeuer can a litle blot paper with ynke, and knoweth howe to holde a pen in his fyngers, shalbe counted a wryter, yea, although he be voide of all learnyng, without wyt, and destitute of knowledge. I doo not seeke nowe, nor complayne of Orthographie, whiche is long since peryshed, I woulde to GOD they coulde wryte by one meanes or other indifferently that whiche they be wyl­led, then the weakenesse of the wryter woulde appeare, and the substaunce of the thynges not lye vnknowne. But nowe by meanes of their confused copies & registers, promising to write one thyng, they wryte so another, that a man cannot tell hym selfe what he wylled them to wryte. If Cicero or Liuius, and many other of the famous auncient wryters, shoulde come agayne into the worlde, but specially Plinius the seconde, and reade theyr owne woorkes, woulde they vnderstand, and not in many places doubt, whether these were theyr owne woorkes, or some barbarous wryter? Among so many ruins of humane in­uentions, the holy Scripture remayneth, both by meanes of the more speciall care of men, but chiefly by the expresse woorking of God the aucthour thereof, who defendeth his holy woorde, his sacred Histories, and diuine lawes, and geueth continuance vnto his inuentions. The most principall of all other artes doo perysh, and the greatest part of them are lost. Thus of so great a losse there is no remedie, because there is no perceyuyng of it, which in this case is no strange thyng, for the great losses of ver­tues [Page]and manners, are neglected. Nowe when ye prouyd for smal matters with such diligence, ye accompt of the losse of learnyng among trifles, and there be some that reckon it among gayne. There was one of late, not in the fieldes or wooddes, but that which thou mayest the more marueyle at, in a great and moste floryshyng Citie of Italie, not a shephearde or a ploughman, but a Noble man, and of great credite among the people of the coun­trey where he dwelt, who sware that he woulde geue a great summe of money, vpon condition there woulde neuer any lear­ned man come in and dwel in the countrey where he inhabited. Oh wycked voyce of a stony hart. It is reported also, that Li­cinius was of the same mynd, and loathed learnyng, which (as it is written) he tearmed a common poyson and pestilence. How­beit, perhaps his rude and clounyshe byrth may excuse his folly: But surely yf he had ben aduaunced to the state of an Emperour, he woulde not haue abandoned that nature. For the saying of Horace is true. Fortune changeth not a mans kinde. But what shall I say of your noble men, who doo not only suffer learnyng to peryshe, but pray and wysh that it may so? Truely this contempt and hatred of so most excellent a thyng, wyll in short tyme drowne you in the deapth of ignorance. And moreo­uer, not to wander from the purpose, the wryters are restrayned by no lawe, and allowed by no examination, and chosen by no iudgment: there is not so muche libertie geuen to carpenters, to Husbandmen, to Weauers, not almost to any artificers, al­though in others it be but a small danger, but in this, a great pe­ryl: Neuerthelesse euery man runneth to writing, without choise or discretion, and they that destroy all, haue assured rewardes. And this is not so much the fault of the writers, which accordyng to the common custome of men do seeke after gayne, as of studen­tes, and those that are put in trust with publique gouerment, who neuer had any care of such matter, hauing forgotten what Con­stantinus gaue in charge to Eusebius of Palestine, to wit, that none should write bookes, but such as were of skill, and wel seene in the studie of antiquitie, and very expert in the Art wherin they wryte.

I haue good store of bookes.

What yf thy mynde be not capable? Dooest thou remember Sabinus [Page 64]in Seneca, howe he vaunteth in the skyll of his seruantes? What difference is there betweene thee and hym, but that thou art the more foole, and both of you bragge of that whiche is anothers: he, of his seruantes, which in deede were his owne, and thou, of the learnyng of thy bookes, whiche apparteyneth nothyng vnto thee? There be some that wyl seeme to knowe what so euer is wrytten in theyr bookes at home: and when there is mention made of any matter of learnyng, that booke, sayth he, is in my studie, supposyng that that were as muche to say, as it is here also in my breast, and so with a proude looke they say no more: A ridiculus kynde of people.

I haue abundaunce of bookes.

Howe much rather had I that thou dyddest abounde in wyt, and eloquence, and lear­nyng, and specially in innocencie and vertue? Howbeit, these thynges are not to be solde for money, as bookes are, and yf they were, I knowe not whether they shoulde fynde so many buyers as those bookes doo: Those furnysh the walles, these the mynd, whiche forasmuche as they are not seene with the eyes, men re­gard them not. But truely yf store of bookes made men lear­ned or good, then they that are the rychest men, myght be the best and learnedst men: the contrary wherof we see commonly.

I haue bookes, whiche are meanes and helpes to learnyng.

Take heede that they be not rather impedimentes: For as great multitudes of souldyers haue been vnto some an hynderaunce of wynnyng, so plentie of bookes haue ben a let vn­to some of learnyng: and of store, as it chaunceth, commeth scarcitie: but yf it be so, that a man haue them, they are not to be cast away, but layde asyde, and the best are to be vsed, and diligent heede to be taken, least perhaps they whiche woulde profyte in tyme, may hynder out of season.

I haue many, and sundry bookes.

The diuersitie of wayes many tymes deceyueth the trauayler, and he that want assuredly in one path, was in doubt when he came to a crosse way, and the incertentie of three or foure wayes meetyng togeather, is farre more great: and so it hap­peneth often tymes, that he that hath read one booke with effect, hath opened and turned ouer many without profyte. [Page]There be many thynges burdensome to them that learne, but to the learned, few woordes do suffice: to much is hurtful vnto both, but with strong shoulders it is to be borne vp.

I haue gotten togeather a great many of excellent bookes.

There is no man that I can nowe cal to remembraunce, that was famous for his multitude of bookes, besides the Kyng of E­gypt, of whom I spake before: which honourable name he wan, not so much by the number of his bookes, as by his worthie tran­station of certayne of them. Doubtlesse, a marueylous woorke of so many wittes, vnlesse the wyt of one that came afterwarde had been a greater wonder: but yf thou seeke glory by bookes, thou must take another course, for thou must not haue them only, but know them, neyther are they to be committed to the Library, but to memorie, and not to be shut vp in the ful studie, otherwise, no man shalbe more glorious then the publique librarie, or his owne studie.

I haue many notable bookes.

Thou hast many tyed in chaines, who if they could breake away, and speake, they woulde bring thee to the iudgment of a priuate prison: then wyl they priuily weepe, and that for sundry thynges, but specially for this one thyng, for that one couetous person ma­ny tymes hath plentie of those, which many that are studious do want.

Of the fame of writers. The .xliiii. Dialogue.

YEA, what say you vnto it, that I write bookes my selfe?

A publique disease, contagious, and incurable. Euery man taketh vpon hym the office of writing, which belongeth but to fewe, and one that is sicke of this disease infecteth many: It is an easie matter to enuie, and harde to imitate: so that the number of the sicke encreaseth dayly, and the strength also of the sycknesse waxeth more myghtie: euery day moe doo wryte euery day woorse, by reason that it is an easyer matter to folow, then to ouertake. Very proper, and approued, and founde true by experience, is the saying of the wyse man of the Hebrues: There is no ende of [Page 65]wrytyng bookes.

I doo write.

I woulde wyshe that men coulde keepe them selues within their boundes, and that an order amongst all thynges were obserued, whiche by the rashnesse of men, is confounded: They should write that haue skyll and are able, and other reade and heare. But nowe is it no small pleasure to the minde to vnderstande, vnlesse the proud hand make haste also to pen and paper? and whosoeuer doth vnderstand, or thynke that he vnderstandeth some smal peece of a booke, thin­keth he hym selfe meete by and by to write bookes? I woulde that this one saying of our countrey man Cicero in the very be­ginning of his Tusculane questions were engrauen in your me­mories, so that it myght be knowen vnto all that are in high de­gree, and place of lyght and knowledge: It may be, sayth he, that a man may meane well, but yet is not able eloquently to vtter that whiche be meaneth. It foloweth also: But for a man to commit his meanyng and thought to writing, that is not able well to dispose and set it foorth in comly order, neyther by any meanes to delyght the Reader, is the part of one rashly abusing both his leasure, and lear­ning. These woordes of Cicero are most true, but this abuse is nowe growen so common, that euery man taketh that to be sayde to hymselfe, whiche sometyme was to that most holy banished man, who wrote suche matter as he had learned out of the verie fountayne of trueth, and not out of the dryed puddles, sayde, and oftentimes repeated this woorde: (Write.) Whiche commaun­dement al contemners of al preceptes doo obey: for all doo write. And yf, as I haue sayd, there be so great danger in those that write other mens bookes, what shall we thynke of them that write their owne, and them that be newe? Whereby they bring into the worlde doubtful and damnable artes and opinions, or that, which is the least mischiefe that they commit, they weerie men with theyr rude and vnpleasaunt style, insomuche as who so wanteth in them promptnesse of witte, yf he lyst to loose his tyme and bestowe the traueyle of his yeeres, he shall not want weerinesse. This is the fruite (and none other) of your inuentions, to infect or affect, but seldome or neuer to refreshe. Notwithstandyng all men wryte bookes nowe adayes, and there was neuer suche store of wryters and disputers in any age, and neuer suche [Page]scarcitie of those that are skylful and eloquent. It chaunceth there­fore that that hapneth vnto these mens bookes whiche Cicero sayth in the same place, And therefore, sayth he, they reade their bookes with their freendes, neither wyll any man touch them, but such as woulde fayne haue the lyke libertie in writing graunted vnto them, This was rare in Ciceroes age, but nowe it is common. And euery man medleth with them, because all woulde haue the same libertie. Thus these triflers, and pamphlet writers, com­mende, exhort, cheryshe, and pricke foorth one another, and arro­gate vnto them selues falsly the prayses of other men in lyke ca­ses. Hereof commeth this boldnesse in writers, and distur­baunce of matters, and therefore please not thou thy selfe ouer­muche in writing of bookes.

I wryte bookes.

Perhappes thou mayest doo better in readyng them, and conuer­tyng that whiche thou readest into the rule and gouernment of thy lyfe: For the knowledge of learning is then profitable when it is applyed to purpose, and declareth it selfe in deedes, and not in woordes onely: otherwyse that is often founde to be true whiche is written, Knowledge puffeth vp. To vnderstande perfectly and speedily, to remember many thynges and those great also ex­actly, to vtter them comly, to write them cunningly, to pronounce them sweetely: vnlesse all these be referred vnto our lyfe, what be they other then the instrumentes of vayne braggerie, and vnpro­fitable labour, and foolysh ianglyng?

I write bookes.

Perhappes it were better for thee to goe to Plough, to keepe Sheepe, to be a Weauer, to play the Mariner. Ma­ny whom nature hath made Handicraftes men, in despite of her, haue become Philosophers: And contrariwyse, for­tune hath kept vnder foote some whiche were borne in the feeldes, or vnder hedges, or vppon the shoppe boordes and staulles of Artificers, or the nettyng of Shyppes, whiche were apt to haue been Philosophers. Whereby it commeth to passe, that they that are ignoraunt of the causes doo woonder, yf as in the myddes of the Sea, or Countrey, in the Wooddes, and Shoppes, there be founde sharpe and quicke wittes, when as in the Schooles there be dull and blockyshe: For yf nature be wonne, she is hardly wonne.

I write earnesty.

Howe muche more earnestly haue some written in fore tymes, whose heate is so extinguished, that it were vnknowen whether euer they had written or noe, vnlesse other had written so of them. No humane woorke endureth alwayes, and mor­tall labour maketh no immortall thyng.

I wryte much.

Howe muche more haue other written? Who can recken the woorkes of Cicero, or Varro? Who can recite the bookes which Titus Liuius or Plinius hath written? There is one Grecian, who wrote, as it is sayde, sixe thousande bookes. O feruent spirite, if this be true, O long and quiet leasure? Truely if it be a businesse of great trauell to write well one or two bookes: that one man shoulde wryte so many thousande, it is not so easie to beleeue, as strange to wonder at: Howbeit writers of credite doo report it, whom it were hard not to beleeue, who say that they haue not onely hearde so, but also seene them, and that more is, knowne it to be true, for that them selues haue read the bookes: whiche yf it be a marue­lous matter that one man coulde reade so many, is it not more marueyle that one man coulde write them all? It were ouer­long to repeate what men amongst you, and amongst the Gretians haue written, and what they haue written among whom none hath been fully fortunate to the full accomplish­ment of his studie: but that some part of the one, and a great part of the other, and some, are wholy perished, and therefore looke what thou canst prognosticate of thyne owne studies.

I wryte, that is myne onely delyght.

If it be to exercise thy witte, and in writing vnto others to in­struct thy selfe, yf to forget the tyme, and to the intent that by the remembraunce of that whiche is past thou mayest auoyde the present weerisomenesse, I doo excuse thee, and yf thou doo it to the intent to cure thy secret and incurable disease of wrytyng, then doo I take pitie vppon thee. For there be some, yf thou knowest not so much, which would not write, but because they can not leaue of, and running as it were headlong downe an hyll, and vnwilling to stay, are forcibly caried away with that desire.

I haue a great courage to write.

They say there be infi­nite kinds of Melancholie. Some cast stones, some write bookes, [Page]and to write so, vnto one is the beginnyng of madnesse, and to an­other the ende.

I haue, and doo write much.

If it be to profi [...]e posteritie, there is nothing better: If to gette a name only, there is nothing more vayne.

I haue writ­ten muche.

O notable madnesse, and may we mar­ueyle then yf paper be deerer then it was wout to be?

I write, and thereby I looke for fame.

As I sayde ere­whyle, perhaps it were better for thee to digge, and goe to plough, and thereby to hope for a good Haruest: for it is salfer sowing in the ground, then in the winde. For the studie of fame, and earnest trauell in writyng, as it hath aduaunced the renowme of many, so hath it sent ouer innumerable to be fooles and beggers in their olde age, and shewed them bare and babblyng spectacles to the common people. For whyle ye be writing, fyt tyme for better traueyles escapeth away: and beyng rauished, and forgetting your selues, ye marke not so muche, vntyll at last olde age and pouertie awake ye.

Notwithstanding, I write for desire of fame.

A strange desire, for paynes, to seeke winde: Truely A had thought, that Saylers only had wished for winde.

Of Maistershyp. The .xlv. Dialogue.

BVT I haue taken the degree of a Maister.

I had rather thou haddest gotten learnyng, for there is no­thyng more shamefull, then rude and vnlearned Maistershyppe.

I am woorthyly made a Mai­ster.

Thou canst not woorthyly be made a Maister, vnlesse thou hast been a scholler: and necessarie it is that thou haue shewed thy selfe duetifull, lowly, and willing to learne, or els thou hast gone astray out of the way that leadeth to Maistershyp: although I am not ignorant how that some haue ri­sen to the highest degree of knowledge without a Maister, whiche certaine excellent men of great name haue reported and written of them selues: but their traueyle, their wit, their desire [Page 67]to learne, their intent, their diligence, and continuaunce stoode vn­to them in steede of a Maister, neither wanted they an inward Maister in silence, Howheit, I speake nowe of the common sort.

I am called a Maister.

The false name of Maistershyppe, hath hindred many from beyng true Maisters in deede: and whylst they beleeued euery body of them selues, more then them selues, and were counted to be that, whiche they were not, they happened not to be that which they myght haue been.

I haue the tytle of a Maister.

Thou hast seene a Tauerne, wherein was sowre wine, freshly decked foorth with Pictures and flowres, where the thyrstie wayfaring man myght be deceyued. But is the Vintener also deceyued by his owne craft? Truely there be some so accustomed to deceitfulnesse, that by long vse of deceyuing others, at length they begin to de­ceyue them selues: and that whiche long tyme they haue been perswading others, in the ende they perswade them selues: and that whiche they knowe to be false, they beleeue to be true. Glo­rie thou as muche in thy Maistershyppe as thou wylt. But yf it haue chaunced vnto thee woorthyly, it is no strange thing: yf vn­woorthyly, it bringeth these two mischiefes with it: the one, that it maketh thee ashamed to learne: the other, that it maketh thine ignoraunce the more knowen.

Of sundry titles of Studies. The .xlvi. Dialogue.

I Am adorned with many and sundrie titles.

There is great vanitie of boughes, but no fruite.

I abounde with store of titles.

If with true titles, it is a painfull burden: yf with false, it is filthie and shamefull. And what neede a man to seeke for suche titles, in whiche there is eyther toyle or ignominie? Vertue beyng contented with one, or no title at all, is a sufficient title to her selfe.

I haue deserued to be a Maister of Philosophie.

Philosophie promiseth not wysedome, but the loue of wysedome. Whosoeuer therefore wyll haue this, he getteth it by louyng. This title is not harde and paynefull, as some suppose. If thy loue be true, and the wysedome true whiche thou louest, thou shalt be a true Philosopher in deede: For none can knowe or loue the true wisedome, but pure and godly mindes. And therefore it commeth to this poynt, whiche is wrytten, (Godlynesse is wysedome.)

Your Philosophers, standyng in contempt and ignoraunce of this opinion, fell vnto brablyng and bare Logike. And therefore when Diuines rashly entreate of GOD, and Philoso­phers of Nature, they circumscribe his most mightie Maiestie with triflyng argumentes, and prescribe lawes vnto God, that laugheth and mocketh at their foolishe presumption: but these dispute in such sort of the secretes of nature, as yf they came lately out of heauen, and hadde been of Goddes priuie counsayle, forgettyng that whiche is written: Who knoweth the Lordes meanyng? or who was his counseller? Not regardyng also, or hearyng Saint Ierome, who often and by many strong argumentes in the same booke, wherein he bewayleth his brothers death very precisely and briefely: Philosophers, sayth he, disputyng of heauen. speake they knowe not what.

I professe many Artes.

That is an easie matter, but to knowe many is very harde: for confessyng, is more safe then professyng: The one is a to­ken of humilitie and repentaunce, the other of lyghtnesse and insolencie. For they that doo confesse, deserue pardon more easily then they that doo professe knowledge.

I haue obteyned the tytle of Diuine and Humane wysedome.

Wysedome wanteth not tytles, she is sufficiently knowen of her selfe. Who euer lyghted a Candle to goe seeke for the Sunne? Many with these tytles haue been ob­scured, and without them haue become renowmed. Often­tymes there hath been none for good, but some notable signe hung foorth, where haue been euyl wares to sell.

What say you to this, that I haue won a poeticall garlande about my [Page 68]head?

There remayneth yet one labour, to seeke the trueth, and this traueile also is double, to seeke, and to set foorth, and to feigne to the delight of the eare it is a great matter, harde, difficult, and therefore very rare. They that are woorthily called Poetes in deede, doo apply them selues to both, but the common sort neglect the first, and are contented to vse deceite and coloura­ble meanes.

I haue obteyned the rare glorie of Poetrie.

Thou hast found a meane in respect whereof thou may­est neglect the common wealth, and thine owne priuate wealth likewyse, thou hast sought also a way vnto pouertie, vnlesse that dame Fortune of her owne voluntarie liberalitie, wyl largely be­stowe ryches vppon thee, thou hast moreouer sought out the meanes to seeme vnto some mad, and vnto some insolent.

I haue wonne the Baye garland vnto my selfe.

The Baye is a most floorishyng and greene tree, when it is first gathe­red, and vnlesse it be watered with a pregnant wit and diligent studie, it wyl wither immediatly.

I haue gotten the Lau­rell garland.

When a man hath taken paynes, he hath wonne also enuie withall, whiche is the rewarde eyther of studie, or of warfare. That slender bough hath purchased nothing to thy mynde, but onely a vayne signe to thy head, shewyng thee vnto many, who thou haddest better had neuer knowen thee. For what hath it doone, other then layde thee open to the teeth of the enuious? These notable tokens of knowledge, haue hurt many, both in peace and warre.

I professe the Arte of Oratorie.

This is strange which I heare: For it seemeth that of late it is growen out of vse, so great and innumerable are the thynges whereof it consysteth, that there haue alwayes been fewer good Oratoures, then ex­cellent Poetes. And therefore some haue sayde, that it is the proper duetie of an Oratour, to be able to speake copi­ously and trimly of euery matter that is proposed. Al­though this opinion be reiected as most arrogant, notwith­standyng of howe many thynges an Oratour ought to en­treate of, although not of euery thyng, in applying a certayne artifitiall and sweete eloquence in euery thyng whereof he spea­keth, whiche of it selfe is a great matter, yf thou consyder [Page]of it vprightly, thou wylt be amazed, and perhappes thou wylt re­pent thee of thy rashe profession: least thou beware that whylest thou wylt goe about to seeme to knowe all thyng, thou appeare to knowe nothyng, and as it often chaunceth vnder the profession of great skyl, thy hidden ignoraunce do necessarily appeare.

I am a professour of the liberal Artes.

This matter many tymes conteyneth in it more boldnesse, then learnyng. A mans lyfe is too short for any one Arte: and art thou sufficient for them all? One Art sufficeth one wit, with sweating and toyling to attaine to the toppe thereof. To caste of many, as much as ne­cessitie requireth, is not amisse, and more modestie it is to knowe it, then to professe it. I wyll also adde this, whiche hath seemed true vnto the best learned, that it neuer yet happened vnto any of the most excellent and famous learned men to be throughly and absolutely perfect in any one Art. And as touching Rechorike only, this saying of Seneca is well knowen, Eloquence sayth he, is a great and manifolde matter, and was neuer so fauourable to any, that it hapned wholly vnto hym: he is happie enough, that hath at­teined to some one part therof. This, by what men, and what ma­ner witnesses he prooueth it to be true, thou hast hearde, whiche beyng so, let these numbers of professours whiche are almost matche to the common multitude, both in rudenesse and multi­tude, consyder with them selues what they doo, and whereabout they goe, whiche are not contented with one part, nor with one Art, but without discretion inuade them all. O woonderfull con­fidence and presumption: but it is now common.

What wyll you nowe say concernyng the professions of Phisicke and Lawe?

Let thy patientes and clientes make aun­sweare to this. What dyd euer these titles auayle them to the health of their body, or gaining of their causes? Perhappes they haue procured thy profite, & for this cause ye hunt after artes, and the titles of artes, to the intent that what is wanting in learnyng, may be supplied in degrees and apparell, and that the saying of the Satyrical Poet may beverified, The Scarlet, and the Iewelles beset with Amethistes, doo sell the Lawyer. Which thyng woulde appeare to be true, yea, yf the auncient Rethoricians returned agayne into the worlde: for no man woulde geue vnto Cicero [Page 69]two hundred crownes, vnlesse he woare on his fynger a great ryng of golde. To be short, let this he vnto thee the summe of all that hath been spoken of, to wyt, that there be some men of rare disposition, whose studies are sound and honest, the endes whereof are trueth and vertue. This is the knowledge of thyn­ges, and the amendment of manners, and either the ornament of this mortall lyfe, or the entrance to the eternall. As for the rablement of the residue, whereof the number is great, some of them hunt after glorie, some a glittering, but a vaine rewarde, but to the greater sort, the onely respect of money is their ende, which is not onely a smal reward, but also a filthy, and not woorthie the trauaile, nor match to the toyle of a gentle minde: in al these re­spectes, as I haue sayde, the title and apparel is not to be contem­ned, for it is effectuall vnto that whereunto it is appoynted: for why? the mindes and iudgementes almost of al mortal men, spe­cially of the common multitude, whiche are destitute of this meane, are deluded with shadowes. Most matters are gouer­ned by opinion. But for them that are geuen to vertue, to glo­ry in titles, is not only strange and dissonant, but also (as Iiudge) impossible.

I professe many thynges.

It were better to doo one good deede, then to promyse many. And men were in good case, yf so be they were suche as they pro­fesse them selues to be.

Of the Tytles of businesse, and affayres. The .xlvii. Dialogue.

I AM the Kynges Procurer.

Then art thou the peoples enimie.

I am the Procurer of the Exche­quer.

Then art thou the common wealthes enimie.

I folow the Kyngs busynesse.

It is pain­ful for a man to folowe his owne busynesse: What is it then, thynkest thou, for hym to folow another mans, specially theyrs that are of myght, whom to please, is perpetual seruitude, to dis­please, danger, heauy lookes, and punyshment redy for a small of­fence?

I folow the kyngs busynesse.

Thou [Page]hast an accompt to yeelde to an hard iudge, which thou shalt scarce be able to make euen with the spoyle of al thy goodes, with hate of thy selfe, and greeuous offence.

I solicite the kynges busines.

Take heede least, while thy solliciting is dif­ficult, thyne accompt be yet harder, and so inextricable, that as we haue seene it chaunce in many, it entrap thy patrimonie, fame, and lyfe.

I am the kynges Procurer.

Thou must needes displease many, and last of all thine owne Lord and Mai­ster, and whiche is most dangerous, GOD hym selfe, and for the kynges small commoditie, the great discommodities of the Realme, and exceedyng damages of the people, must be dissem­bled, or procured.

I am made the Kynges Procurer.

So soone as euer this odious office began to touche the thresholde of thyne house, euen that day thou beganst to leaue to lyue for thy selfe, from thencefoorth thy libertie, thy qui­etnesse and pleasure are departed. In steede of these, are seruitude. payne, businesse, feare, sorowe, trouble, and bytyng cares, come in place: nowe art thou not a lyue, although thou breath: for the lyfe of such as are busie, is death, who beyng al of them in misery, yet are they in most miserable case whiche are busied in other mens matters, specially in the affayres of Kynges, Tyrantes, and great personages.

I am a Iudge.

Iudge so, as though thou shouldest foorthwith be iudged by ano­ther. There is one iudge of all men, and one incorrupt iudge­ment seate: Before this, shal all ye mortall men appeare, what neede ye then to haue the skyn of the false iudge nayled vppon the iudgement seate, or to haue any barbarous admonition to doo iustice? Euery Iudge sytteth in that seate, where if false iudgement shalbe geuen, neyther money, nor fauour, nor false wytnesses, nor sinister entreatynges, nor vayne threates, nor eloquent Patrones, shall auayle hym.

I am one of the Consuls of my countrey.

A very difficult glory. It is a rare matter so to geue counsayle, that thou may­est at once both profite and please, that there may be trueth in woorde, fayth in counsel, scilence in that whiche is committed, sweetnesse in speache: fortune shall gouerne the euent, and the euent shall purchase credite to the counsayle.

I am [Page 70]gouernour of a Citie.

Thou leadest an vnbridled beast, and as Horace tearmeth it, that hath many heades, with a small twyne, and gouernest a great shyppe alone, that is tossed with hugie waues. A litle house is hardly guyded, how diffi­cult therefore it is to gouerne a whole Citie, see thou: Hadst thou so great neede of trouble, or so litle at home, that thou hast vndertaken the publique? Yea moreouer, it is not only an of­fice of difficultie, but also a vyle function, insomuche as the Saty­rycal Poet tearmeth the gouernour of a Citie, a Stewarde, or Baylyffe, notyng therby the state of these tymes. If then he were a Baylife or Husbandman, what is he now other then a Woodryfe, or Woodman? At that tyme Rome began to be a vyllage, and nowe it is a Wood.

I am a President of a Prouince.

Beyng condempned vnto an hono­rable exile, thou hast exchaunged priuate quietnesse, for forraigne carefulnesse: looke for no rest or pleasure. The state of Presi­dentes is bytter and troublesome, they are forbydden playes and feastes vppon holy dayes, theyr doores are shut agaynst gyftes, and open to contentions, theyr houses are voyde of pa­stymes, and ful of complayntes and chydynges, what so euer is a mysse, whatsoeuer out of order, or out of square, throughout the whole Prouince, there it must be handled and amended, an harde case: for how difficult a matter it is to amend many, in this appeareth, that very fewe doo amende them selues.

Of titles of warres, warfare, and Cheiftein­ship. The xlviii. Dialogue.

I HAVE receyued the honour of the warlyke Gyrdle.

Seemed it vnto thee that thy lyfe had in it to fewe discommodities alredy, vnlesse thou hadst learned also the Art of warfare, by meanes wherof thou myghtest alwayes remayne eyther vnquiet, or with­out honour, or open to dangers, or subiect to contempt.

I professe warfare.

Ye professe that when ye are borne, and therefore what neede you otherwise to professe it: [Page]One armeth his body with harnesse, another his mynde with de­ceits, another his tongue with eloquēce. There is not one of you vnarmed: one soweth, another buildeth, another declaimeth, ano­ther pleadeth causes, one goeth on foote, another rideth on hors­back or in a Couch, one runneth, another saileth, one commaun­deth, another obeyeth. There is neuer an one of you ydle: what strange kynde of warfare is this? One man lyueth in the Campe, another in the iudicial Court, one in the schooles, another in the wooddes, one in the fieldes, another vpon the Sea, one in the Palace, another at home, one spendeth his lyfe abrode in trauayle, al are at warfare, and not men only, but Horace sayth, that the Whelpe also is at warfare in the wooddes. And truely of them that goe to warfare there be many sortes, but the warfare it selfe is but of one kynde, to wyt, mans lyfe vppon the earth: whiche he that defyned to be warfare, truely seemeth vnto me to haue weyghed with deepe and vpryght iudgement, yf so be that he had added battaile to this warfare.

I am prest to goo armed into the warres.

Why dooest thou arme thy selfe outwardly? The warre is within the mynde, that is, whiche the vyces do besiege and ouerthrowe: What neede weapons in this case, vnlesse they [...] worne for the ornament of the body, and not for defence of the mynde? There be some that say, that there is no sight more gallant then to see an armed man: but what brauery there is in an armed mans brest and head, more then in that whiche is peaceable and vnarmed, I cannot per­ceyue. But forasmuch as thou art carryed away with this de­lyght, goo to, gyrde thy body with armour, receyue the shewres and Sun vpon thy Helmet, take vnto thee thy weapons, couer thy selfe with thy shielde, and whyle thou art sleepyng at home, thou shalt be alwaked by Alarme, and thynkest thou hast wonne some great pres [...]ment, but thou wast deceyued, and hast chosen to thy selfe a dangerous and blooddy trade of lyuing. Hope hath many deceiptes, and there be, I confesse, many cheynes whiche drawe the myndes of those into destruction, whiche with gree­dynesse haue vnaduysedly sought after that good, whiche all doo desyre and couet. Neyther doo I deny, but that some haue by seruice in the warres atteyned vnto very great ryches, and been [Page 71]aduaunced to great Empires: but beleeue me, more haue fallen into pouertie, come to imprisonment, seruitude, violent & sodaine death, by meanes thereof. Thou, since thou art so disposed to professe thy selfe a souldyer, vnlesse thou wylt disgrace thy pro­fession, make alwayes accompt of thy lyfe as yf thou were conti­nually in dying, and let that Emperial voyce euermore thunder in thyne eares, Learne to strike, Learne to dye. One syllable long or short shall varie thy deedes and alter that case with thee, for ei­ther thou shalt kyl, or be kylled, and therefore it behooueth thee at al tymes, and in al places, to make thy selfe redy. These Artes are thy delyte. Hearken vnto the Satyricall Poet, where he spea­keth, and reciteth the rewardes of warfare, where hauyng re­hearsed an innumerable fort, he geathereth notwithstandyng ve­rie fewe, among which, the fyrst and chiefe is, Libertie to offende: A rewarde truely not so much to be desyred of good men, as to be accepted by the armed lawes, whiche among armour and weapons are put to scilence.

I haue sent my sonne foorth to the warres.

It is almost commonly seene, that the sonne of a souldyer, is hym selfe a souldier also. For the father can leaue none other inheritance to his sonne then he hath, to wyt, his Bowe and Arrowes, his Peece, his Shielde, his Swoorde and Warre, and that also which maketh vp the game, his gylden spurres. And this whiche we haue sayde to the father, the sonne may thynke it spoken to hym selfe.

Beyng a Captayne in the warres, I am become [...]s with victories.

Howe muche better were it, that beyng a gouernour in peace, thou becamest famous in vertues.

I haue susteyned many warres.

Thou hast bereeued thy selfe and many others of rest and quietnesse, a woorthye woorke.

I am famous for victories and triumphes.

Many tymes euyll is more knowne then good, and a darke tempest more spoken of then a fayre Sunshyne day. To conclude, thou hast prouided titles for thy Tumbe, talke for the people, and nothyng for thy selfe.

Of the friendshyppe of Kynges. The xlix. Dialogue.

I Haue wonne the friendshyp of Kynges.

True friendshyp among men is rare, and thou fanciest to thy selfe that thou hast wonne the friendshyp of Kynges, whom the ex­cellencie of their estate, & the loftinesse of theyr minde, maketh them cōmonly the contemners of theyr inferiors.

I am beloued of kynges.

I perceyue then that thou carest not for thy soule, vertue, fame, quietnesse, rest, & securitie: for the fashion of most kyngs is wel knowne, they scarcely loue any, but suche as settyng al other thynges apart, wyll make them selues the bondslaues and ministers of theyr crueltie, lust, and auarice. And therefore, yf thou be beloued of Kynges, there is no enquy­ryng farther of thee, thou litle carest for thy selfe.

It is by meanes of my goodnesse and vertue that I am beloued of Kynges.

What answerest thou then to Salust? For Kynges, sayth he, are more suspitious of good men, then of euyll, and alwayes they stand in feare of other mens vertues.

In re­spect of good qualities, I am beloued of my Prince.

Of what qualities, I pray you: Haukyng, or Huntyng? Concer­nyng these I reprooued thee in a certayne discourse not long since, of warfare, whereof we disputed last: Which vnlesse it be commended by large bloodshed, and great daungers, it deser­ueth not the name of warfare, but of warlie cowardice, not onely in the iudgment of kynges, but also of the common people.

The kyng loueth me for my conditions sake.

It is for thy vanitie, or daunger: or perhaps for some crimes that are in thee, murder, poysonyng, vauderie, treason, flatterie, & lying, comman plagues, whiche dayly custome in thee excuseth, and vr­banitie commendeth: For these be the most fyttest meanes to wyn the good wyl of some kynges, to whom there is nothyng more hateful then vertue & learning. By these therfore there is no hope to purchase theyr fauour, which are rather the cause of their hatred: thus is peace confirmed betweene wysedome and for­tune.

I am a great man with the kyng.

Art [Page 72]thou greater then Lysimachus was with Alexander, or Seia­nus with Tiberius? the greatnesse and fall of both whom, thou knowest, although writers doo vary concernyng the fyrst of them: I let passe others, the story is long.

I am wel­beloued of my King.

It were better he knewe thee not, and peraduenture more profitable that he hated thee: for then thou shouldst auoyd the danger which now thou folowest. Worse is the flatteryng voyce of the fouler when he calleth the foules into his net, then the noyce of the ploughman that maketh them afrayde.

My Kyng loueth me well.

There are some of whom a man may doubt, whether theyr loue be more dangerous then theyr hatred, these are worse then serpentes, in whom there is poyson myxt with medicine, but in these men there is nothyng but pestilent or hurtful, for whether they loue or hate, the mischiefe is almost all one, sauyng that theyr hate dryue­eth away, and theyr loue deteyneth. And to be short, there is no­thyng more vnquiet and dangerous, then the friendshyp of Prin­ces, vnlesse it were the gouernment of a kyngdome it selfe, al­though I am not ignorant of that danger also, which many haue wyshed for in vayne, and often haue bought it ful deare, and ob­teined it with great peryl: such is the trade of men. Thus one dan­ger is procured by another, one with many, and with great the greatest. A strange matter: a great good thyng that commeth freely is contempned, a greater euyl with great euylles is sought for.

I hope that my Prince loueth me.

That whiche thou hopest, thynke what maner of thyng it is, a brittle, waueryng, & frayle foundation, which the often falles of Princes do declare: a cloudie, troublesome, and vnquiet aduauncement, which the sorowful, busie, and dangerous lyfe of princes proueth to be true. Take heede therefore where thou buyldest: for lyke as the fortune of Princes, so theyr wylles and lykyng also is al­wayes vncertayne, variable, and inconstant, although notwith­standyng yf these thynges were permanent, there were no good­nesse in them, but rather much hurt and euyl.

I haue with great payne and danger, deserued the loue of my King.

Oh, how much more safely and easily myghtest thou haue pur­chased the fauour of the Kyng of all Kynges.

Of the abundaunce of friendes. The .L. Dialogue.

I Abounde in frendshyp.

It were strange that thou onely shouldest haue such plentie of that thing, whereof al e­ther men haue such scarcitie, that throughout al ages there are but verie fewe couples of frendes made mention of.

I haue great plentie of friendship.

Counterfeite friendshyppe perhaps, for as for true friendshyp it is so rare a thyng, that whoso in his long lyfe tyme coulde fynde one, is coun­ted to haue been a very diligent trauayler in such matters.

I am fortunate for friendshyppe.

Thou canst not knowe that, vnlesse thou be infortunate in other thynges: For this saying is true, The fortunate man knoweth not whether he be loued or not.

My friendshyps be assured.

Then is thy aduersitie assured: for this saying is also true, An assured friende is tryed in tyme of aduersitie.

I haue much friendshyp.

Commit the iudgement hereof to experience, not to report, that lyeth in many thynges: perhaps thou shalt fynde fewer then thou supposest.

I haue to great plentie of friendshyp.

Auoyde superfluitie in al thynges: he that hath sufficient, requyreth no more.

I haue sufficient store of friendes.

This neuer happe­ned to the people of Rome, whyle they were in theyr most floori­shing state, neither vnto any mortal creature, as thou mayst reade in the most excellent Historician.

I haue great store of friendshyp.

I sayd erewhyle that they be eyther feig­ned, or imperfect, as the Philosophers hold opinion, for that it may so happen, that at one tyme thou mayest reioyce with one friende, and be sory with another: or yf debate chaunce to hap­pen among them, thou must needes breake thy fayth, eyther with the one or with the other, or with them all.

I haue store of profitable and pleasant friendes.

I perceiue thou speakest of the cōmon sort of friendshyp, which notwithstandyng cannot be many at one tyme, in that to requite the friendlynesse of many, & to lyue familiarly with a multitude, is very difficult, specially vnto hym whose mynde is busyed in the execution of [Page 73]some graue affaires, and traueile of witte.

I haue freendes that profite mee, and delyght mee.

It is but slender freendshyp, whose foundation is eyther pleasure or pro­fite: for whyle these thynges remayne, the freendshyppe shaketh, and when they decay, the freendshyppe fayleth: This is not only possible, but easie, yea almost necessarie, inasmuche as for the most these thynges doo followe eyther prosperitie, or age, and the comlynesse of youth, then whiche there is nothyng more vncertayne. But the freendshyppe whiche is established vppon vertue, is immortall, in that vertue it selfe is a stable and firme thyng, and to vse Aristotles woordes, a continuing thing, for that it can not dye. And therefore those whiche we haue loued in respect of honestie, we loue them also when they are dead.

I am deceyued, but I haue faythfull freendes.

Be­ware that thou be not deceyued, and desire not to make experi­ment. For it chaunceth often, that looke whereof the conceite hath been pleasaunt, the tryall hath been bitter and greeuous.

I thynke I haue good freendes.

Examine diligent­ly wherevpon thou doest thynke so, and specially how much thou thy selfe louest: For there be some that loue not, and yet thynke that they are beloued, whiche is a great follie, and a common errour among ryche men: they thinke that loue may be bought for money, which is only purchased by mutuall louing and liking. A good minde is a most excellent thing, it is not mooued with hearbes, or charmes, not with golde or precious stones, no not with the swoorde or extremitie, but is won by louing and gentle entreating. Moreouer, the amorous saying of Ecato the Greeke Philosopher is wel knowne, which pleaseth wel Seneca and mee: If thou wylt be loued, sayth he, loue thou. Although this be many tymes in vayne, so many, so insearchable and deepe are the se­cret places of the hart, and the mindes of some are so venemous, discourteous, and cancred, that where they be much made of, they disdaine: and where they be loued, they hate: & are not only conten­ted to requite no good wil againe, which is not incident to the most cruel wilde beastes, but the more courteously they be dealt withal, the more dogged they waxe: And, yf a man may beleue it, by loue they are stirred to hatred, which is y^e most dangerous & greeuous [Page]euyll that euer in this lyfe mans simplicitie tasted.

I thinke that I haue verie good friendes.

This worde good, is euermore the Epitheton that belongeth to friendshyp, whiche though it be not named by the tongue, yet is it alwayes vnderstoode in the minde. And yf thou wylt speake it short, say, friendes, and there withall thou shalt say, good.

I thinke I haue friendes.

Beware thou be not falsly perswa­ded, lest haply experience make thee one day beleeue otherwyse. To searche the deapth of the minde, it lyeth not in mans power, and now adayes ye geat friendes at the Wine, and prooue them with your teares, and that is last whiche shoulde haue been first.

As the worlde standeth nowe with me, I haue many friendes.

Thou meanest, I thynke prosperitie: For thus it falleth out for the more part, that although all fortune haue neede of friendes, yet they haue greatest stoare of friendes that haue lesse neede of all other thynges: And thus alwayes scarci­tie followeth scarcitie, and plentie wayteth vppon plentie. When neede and pouertie commeth on, then they decrease, or rather to speake more truely, friendshyp at that tyme is descried. Who were friendes to thee, and who to thy prosperitie, it wyll appears when prosperitie departeth. Thy friendes wyll followe thee, and her friendes wyll goe after her: Thyne wyll be the better, but hers wyll be the greater companie. Thou must not marueile, yf when the Caske is drawne drye, they depart whiche came only for the sweetnesse of the wine: for aduersitie dryueth away a dissembler, and the dregges a drynker.

I seeme to haue an innumerable sort of friendes.

It is well sayde, I seeme. Whereuppon ryseth this thine opinion, seyng that true friendshyp among all men is rare, and thyne, thou sayest, are innumerable? For thou must thus first perswade thy selfe, that there is no friendshyp but among good men, and then hereby thou mayest the more certainly coniecture in thy minde, I say not howe many true friendes thou hast, but howe many there be in the number of all mankynde, when thou shalt begynne to number howe many good men there be.

I haue very many friendes.

Many acquaintaunce say, and yet [Page 74]howe truely thou shalt say so, it is in doubt: For there is no liuing thyng, no wares more difficult to be knowen, then man.

I haue many friendes.

Companions per­happes or ghestes. These wyl not fayle thee, vnlesse thy cheare doo fayle: As for friendes, there be alwayes fewe, or none at all, and many tymes (whiche is most iniurious) a householde eni­mie possesseth the name of a friende, and vnder colour of feig­ned good wyl, there lurketh domestical treason.

I haue moe friendes then neede.

It is very necessarie, and especially to be regarded of all that are in auctoritie, that among so many lyes of flatterers, there may be one that hare and wyll speake the trueth, in whiche respect an enimie is farre more profitable then a friende.

I haue many friendes.

Beleeue mee, thou hast neede of many: And this worlde woulde be farre more holy, ver­mous, and quiet, yf there were as many friendes, as there are so accompted.

I haue a friende.

That is muche: For there is nothyng more deare, nor more rare, then a friende.

Of Friendes not knowen, but by report. The. Li. Dialogue.

PResent report, hath purchased vnto mee absent friendes.

This happeneth many times, that report maketh not only those that a man know­eth not, but also very enimies to be friendes. Re­port made Masinissa knowen to Scipio, so that he that was wont to be the leader of all the Carthagien horfe­men agaynst the Romanes, became afterwarde General of the Romane horsemen agaynst the Carthagiens, and gatte him not only the hartes of his priuate enimies, but also of theeues and Pyrates, whiche are the common enimies of all the worlde: [Page]For the glory and excellencie of his name drew [...] them vnto hym, vpon whom whyle he remayned in exile at Linthern, they came lorcibly rushyng in, so that at the first sight they appeared terrible. But when they perceyued them selues to be suspected, laying a­side their threamynges, and settyng apart their weapons, sen­dyng away their guarde, they conformed them selues to vnac­customed mildnesse, and onely the chiefe of the theeues came vn­to hym, to the intent to woorshyp hym as a God, and his house as a most holy Churche: They weeried his victorious ryght hande with many kysses, and hung vp their gyftes in the porche of his house, as the custome was in those dayes to offer them vp­pon the aulters of the Goddes, accomptyng it in steede of a great gayne that they had seene hym, and reioycyng as yf they had seene an heauenly vision, they departed wonderfully coutented. This hapned vnto Scipio: but seeke for suche another, and where, I pray thee, wylt thou finde hym? How be it it may happen also vnto others, and the excellencie of a mans fame may winne hym the freendshyppe of one that is absent: for I doo not deny, but that report beareth great sway in the worlde. Notwithstan­dyng, is it not muche to be feared, lest that as one sayth, Presence doo diminishe the report? Howe many haue there been whom absent men haue woondred at, and contemned them when they haue seene them before theyr face? Mans iudge­ment is a tender thyng, and is easily turned.

Re­port hath wonne mee freendes beyonde the Alpes, and be­yonde the Seas.

All your dooynges are al­most of lyke fondnesse and vanitie: For what commoditie or profite shalt thou reape by hym of whom thou wast neuer seene, nor neuer shalt be seene, and whom thou neuer sawest, nor neuer art lyke to see? your vices also doo make your present freendshippes vnprofitable and vntrustie, although to say the trueth, they be no true freendshyppes in deede, but are only so rearmed. What mayest thou hope then of these thy freend­shyppes? Beholde, the Comicall Poet sayeth, that Courte­sie winneth freendes: but truely, true freendes in deede are scarce obtayned with great and manifolde courtesies: and thou thynkest that thou hast gotten a freende with a fewe woordes, and [Page 75]those possible none of thyne owne, thou art too ful of hope.

Report hath brought me a freende from the farthest part of the worlde.

A contrary report wyll also take hym away from thee, and so muche the more easily, by howe muche mens eares are more commonly open to euyll, then good reportes.

Fame hath gotten me a good freende.

How knowest thou how good he is whom thou neuer sawest, seeyng that thou knowest not all this whyle what they be whom thou speakest vnto dayly, and art conuersant withal? Your óuer quick­nesse of beleefe oftentymes deceyueth you, ye soone beleeue that whiche you woulde haue. Ye geue muche credite to lying fame. Thou hopest that thou seest his minde, whose face thou neuer yet sawest, notwithstanding that there be so many secret couertes and hydden places in the hartes of those that are very wel acquainted. It is an hard matter to knowe a freende, but in great aduersitie: and it is more difficult to knowe him, then to get hym. For per­happes he may be gotten some time with a fewe woordes, who shall scarce be knowen in many yeeres, and by many tryalles. I speake now of a freende after the common maner of speeche, but as for a true freende, he is not founde before he be tryed: Ney­ther truely doo other mens woordes, or his owne, proue a freende, but the tryall of his loue and trustinesse.

Report hath wonne me a freende a farre of.

Some body hath won thee a freende by tellyng a lye of thee: and lykewyse by re­portyng the trueth, or peraduenture by blasing a false tale of thee, another wyll take hym away from thee. For looke by what meanes all thynges are made and doo growe, by the same they are soone vndone and resolued: And nature wyll haue it so, that thinges which soone doo growe, shal soone decay.

Of one only faythfull Freende. The .Lii. Dialogue.

I Haue one faythfull and approoued freende.

In trying, your iudgement is often deceyued, and looke wherein ye thynke your selues most expert, both in that, and so lyke­wyse [Page]in all other thynges, your opinion fayleth.

I doo knowe it, and not suppose onely, that I haue a most faythfull freende.

And howe many haue there been, thynkest thou, that beleeuyng so muche, yea, and as they thought, knowing so muche, yet when the matter came to more diligent examinati­on, founde them selues to be deceyued: Whence commeth it that there be so many complantes made dayly of freendes, but onely because whom ye counted most saythful, ye haue found vntrustie: There is no coniecture nor estimation so difficult, as is of the minde of man.

I doo not coniecture nor suppose, as I haue sayde, but I knowe that I haue a most assured freende.

Eyther thou hast a most excellent thyng, or els thou art in a most foule errour.

Concernyng this matter, I am in no errour, but I haue a freende whom I haue tryed in sundrie and great difficulties.

Then hast thou a most sweete and sacred thyng, a more excellent then which, next vnto vertue onely, neyther nature, nor fortune, not labour, nor studie, haue graunted vnto Mankinde. A mans parentes, I confesse, are deare vnto hym, his chyldren deare, his brethren deare, all these may waxe vnpleasant, and yet for all that they are styll our parentes, chyldren, and brethren, yea though vppon occasion they surceasse to be sweete vnto hym: onely a freende, as long as he is true, can not surceasse to be sweete and dearelybeloued. Pa­rentes, I say, are deare: Notwithstandyng, dyd not Iubi­ter expulse Saturnus his father out of his kyngdome? Dyd not Nicomedes depriue of lyfe Prusias his father, that was kyng of Bithynia, who at that tyme was in consultation with hym selfe howe to murder his sonne? Ptolomeus also, hereof surnamed Philopater, who hauyng slayne his father, mother, and brother, and last of all his wyfe Euridice, gouerned the kyngdome of Egypt in suche sort by the aduice of harlottes, that he had nothyng in his whole Realme proper to hym selfe, besydes the bare and vayne name of a kyng. Dyd not also Ore­stes slay his mother Clytemnestra, Nero his mother Agrip­pin. and Antipater his mother Theslalonice? Chyldren also are deare. Dyd not These us commaunde his most chast sonne Hippolytus, and Philip kyng of Macedonie his sonne [Page 76] Demetrius, a young Gentleman of singular towardnesse, to be slayne? Dyd not also the other Ptolomeus, whiche is a name repugnaunt to godlynesse, who was also a most trustie kyng of Egypt, slay two of his sonnes? Likewyse, Herode king of Iudea slue one, and Constantinus, Emperour of Rome, slue one of his sonnes, called Crispus. Dyd not also Maleus, generall of the Carthagiens, hang vp Carthalo his sonne? Yea moreouer, mothers, whose loue is more tender, and their kynde more milde, haue also shewed crueltie agaynst theyr chyldren. The historie of Medea is knowen to all men. What sayest thou to the Queene of Laodicea and Cappadocia, who vpon the immoderate desire she had to reigne, slue fiue of her sonnes? Parentes, I say, are deare (for I repeate these agayne) chyldren are deare, brethren are deare. But to conclude al wicked­nesse in one example, Phraates kyng of the Parthians, the most wickedst wretch that euer liued, & of al men most inraged with fu­rie and desire to reigne, cruelly and vnnaturally slue his owne fa­ther Orodes. beyng an olde and diseased man, and moreouer his thirtie brethren, the sonnes of the abouenamed kyng, and with these also his owne naturall soune, to the ende there shoulde none remayne in Parthia to gouerne the kyngdome. But these examples be olde: heare we not howe of late memorie in Britanie. the father and the sonne contended for the crowne? and howe this other day in Spayne, brethren were togeather by the eares for the kyngdome? Howebeit of suche contenti­ons, and specially among brethren, there be plentie examples both newe and olde, that it were almost an harder matter to finde out whiche brethren were friendes, then whiche were enimies, But wee wyll let them both passe, for nowe we ga­ther remedies, and not examples. Moreouer, are not hus­bandes deare, and wyues deare? Concernyng this matter thou shalt enquire of Agamemnon and Deiphobus, and of your countreymen, Claudius the Emperour, and A­fricanus the younger: these men shall tell thee howe deare­ly beloued they were vnto theyr wyues. On the other side, de­maunde of Octauia, and Arsinoe, what the one thought of her husbande Nero, and the other of her Ptolomeus. [Page]The first of her adoptiue, the other of her naturall brother, & both of them of theyr husbandes. The fyrst wyl testifie as she hath been founde towarde her selfe, the other towardes her chyldren. Thus, as thou seest, we gather the most choyce and woorthy examples: As for the common sort, both of cities, and vulgare lyfe and trade of men, whiche are full of suche lyke complaintes, I let them passe. Whiche beyng so, since in all kyndes of those thynges whiche seeme most deere, what by priuie hatred, or open displea­sure, oftentymes there is muche bitternesse, freendshyp onely is voyde of suche griefe and displeasure, and freendes neuer not one­ly not flue or destroyed, but dyd not so muche as hurt one ano­ther willingly: Wherefore yf thou haue founde suche a freende as thou speakest of, perswade thy selfe that thou hast founde a great treasure, and take heede thou doo not as the common sort of people doo, who geuyng them selues to the searchyng and folo­wyng after vile matters, and contemnyng excellent thynges, doo busie them selues more with tyllyng their lande, and folowing their trade of Merchandize, then in seekyng of freendes, and ensu­ing of vertue, and so haply thou neglect this commoditie whiche thou hast gotten. If ye bestowe so muche care and diligence in preseruing your golde and siluer, and orientall precious stones, whiche are but the excrementes of the earth, and purginges of the sea: howe muche more diligent ought ye to be in enterteynyng and keepyng of a freende, whiche is a most precious and diuine thing? Beware thou offende hym in no respect, or that vpon occa­sion of any woorde he conceyue displeasure agaynst thee, and so de­part from thee, and then too late thou heare that saying of Eccle­siasticus: Lyke as one that letteth a byrde flie out of his hande, so hast thou lost thy neyghbour, neyther canst thou take hym agayne, or followe hym, for he is farre of. He hath escaped as a Roe out of the snare, and because his soule is wounded, thou shalt not be able to intrap hym any more. And therefore, as I say, thou hast a great and sweete treasure, but painfull notwithstandyng, and difficult: paineful, I meane to be gotten, and kept. A freende is a rare Ie­well, he must be kept with great diligence, and yf he be lost, be la­mented with great sorowe.

Of plentie of Ryches. The .liii. Dialogue.

BUT I abound in ryches.

I marueyle now the lesse, that thou seemedst to abounde in friendes: for it is no strange nor newe matter, to see the doores and entries of the ryche frequented by common friendes, and feygned attendance.

I haue great plentie of ryches.

A dangerous and burdensome felicitie, whiche shall purchase more enuie, then procure pleasure.

I flowe in wealth.

It followeth not strayghtwayes that therefore thou flowest in quietnesse and pleasure. Thou shalt scarce finde a rich man, but he wyl confesse that he lyued better in meane estate, or in honest pouertie.

I am growne to great wealth. Securitie, ioy, and tranquilitie are decreased, which if they would encrease with ryches, I woulde not only permit, but exhort men to loue them.

I haue great ryches.

Then hast thou a thyng harde to be gotten, careful to be kept, gree­nous to be lost.

My ryches are great.

If they be dispearsed, they wyll decrease, and yf thou keepe them, they wyl not make thee ryche, but keepe thee occupied, and make thee not a maister, but a keeper.

I haue great ry­ches.

Take heede rather that thou be not had of them, that is to say, that they be not thy ryches, but thou ra­ther theyr slaue, and they not seruant to thee, but thou to them: For yf thou knowe not so muche alredy, there be many moe that are had, then that haue ryches, and there is more plentie (whom also the saying of the Prophete noteth) of men that be­long vnto ryches, then ryches that belong vnto men: Thus the greedinesse and basenesse of your myndes, of maisters maketh you seruantes. The vse of money is well knowne, to b [...]y those thynges that are necessarie for nature, whiche are but fewe, small, and easie to be gotten: what so euer is superfluous, is noysome, and then they be no longer ryches, but cheynes and fetters, and no longer Ornamentes of the body, but im­pedimentes of the mynde, and heapes of carefulnesse, and f [...]ate.

I am full of ryches.

Beware that they burst thee not: for euery fulnesse seeketh an yssue. Ryches haue procured the death of many, and doo bereaue almost all men of rest.

I haue woonderful store of ryches.

A thyng repugnant to good manners. To muche ryches haue not only corrupted the manners of priuate men, but also of the whole people of Rome▪ and ouerthrewe theyr great and woonderfull vertue, who so long were a noble, iust, and vpryght people, as they were a poore people. In pouertie they were conquerers of nations, and which is more glorious, conquerers of them selues, tyll at length they that had ouercome vyces, were them selues ouercome and ouerthrowne by ryches: I speake that whiche I knowe, and therefore thou seest what thou hast to hope of riches.

I abounde in riches.

How much had I rather thou aboundedst in vertue.

I rest in my ry­ches.

Poore wretches, ye lye a sleepe in the bryers: your sleepe is sounde, that ye feele not the pryckles: Beholde, the day commeth that shal awake you, and shal playnely expound that whiche is written. The ryche men haue slept theyr sleepe, and when they awaked, they founde no ryches in theyr handes.

Of finding of a golde min. The .liiii. Dialogue.

I Haue founde a Mine of golde.

This hope of ryches, hath been cause of pouertie vnto many, and of destruc­tion not vnto fewe, whilst neglectyng all other thynges, and bestowyng al theyr care and trauayle vppon this one thyng. Notwithstandyng theyr toyle hath turned to litle profite, whylest in respect of the greedie desire that they haue to golde, forsaking the sight of heauen and the Sun, they learne to leade foorth theyr lyfe in darkenesse, and are consumed with the thicke and noisome dampe before theyr tyme.

Chaunce hath offered vnto me a gold Myne.

To the entent that beyng turned away from the contemplation of heauenly things, thou mightest gape after earthly thynges: and not only that thou mightest liue more vnfortunately, & shorter time, neare to the ground, but also drowned vnder the ground.

I enter into a golde Myne.

Nero the Emperour, the same terrible and miserable [Page 78]night, which notwithstanding he had deserued, which was the last night that he lyued, being put in mynde by such as were about hym, to hyde hymselfe in a certayne Caue vnder the grounde, to the entent he might escape the reprochful death, & abusing of the people that sought after hym: answered, That he would not go vnder the ground while he was lyuyng. But thou, being compel­led by no feare, but only carryed away with couetousnesse, goest a­lyue vnder the earth, neyther can the comfortable shynyng of hea­uen keepe thee from thence, neyther the horrible darkenesse of the earth dryue thee away. What marueyle is it, yf men consume themselues with trauayling al the world ouer to seeke ryches, see­ing also in seeking and digging for them vnder the grounde, they disquiet the infernal soules and Fiendes of Hel? And as the Poet Ouid sayth, Men haue entred into the bowels of the earth: And those riches which God had hyd vp, and couered with the dark­nesse of hell, they are digged vp notwithstanding, which are the pro­uocations vnto al mischiefe.

I haue found a Mine of gold.

It is an olde prouerbe, Many times one man starteth an Hare, and another catcheth hym. Thou hast found a bootie which many wyl couet, one only shal possesse, & peraduenture thou shalt not be that one. Vnto desyred thyngs there is much resort, & it is dangerous when one man hath found that which many wyl co­uet, and none wyl be wyllyng to share with other. And this is the cause, that though Italie, as Plinie sayth, be inferiour to no country for plentie of al sortes of metalles, notwithstanding by aun­tient prouision & actes of parliament, order was taken that Italie shoulde be spared.

I digge earth that will yeeld golde.

The trauel is certaine, but the euent doubtful: what if thou dyg long & find nothing? what if thou finde much, but not for thy self? what if it be the worse for thee to haue found sum what, & better for thee to haue found nothing? Mans ioy is most times accompanied with sorowe.

I am gone downe into my golde Mine.

This question is commenly mooued a­mongst men: what deuice will drowne a man in the bottom of hel? and thou being in bel, doest thou seeke what wil aduaunce thee to the top of heauen?

I haue founde a Mine of golde.

Thou hast founde the redie way to the Deuyll.

Of the fyndyng of Treasure. The .lv. Dialogue.

I Haue found treasure.

Beware of the craftes and deceites of fortune: The hooke is offred in the bayte, the line as ginnes pretend a kynde of delite.

I haue founde treasure.

Treasure hath been death vnto many: and though it bryng no danger to the body, yet is it perilous to the soule. Ryches do not satisfie the desire, nay they slake it not, but rather prouoke it: mans desyre is set on fyre with successe, and as the golde encreaseth, the thirst of gold encreaseth also, and the de­sire of seekyng more: but vertue decreaseth, whiche only is the death of the soule.

Chaunce hath brought me treasure.

An hurtful burden, and enimie to modestie. He wyl ar­rogate any thyng to hym selfe, whom sodayne fortune hath made happy.

I haue fallen vppon treasure by chaunce.

Perhaps thou myghtest more safely haue fallen vppon an Adder, forasmuche as plentie of siluer and golde do common­ly bryng scarcitie of vertues: and this is proper to al thyngs, spe­cially that doo come sodaynely, that though other doo hurt, yet they doo it by litle & litle, whilest in tyme they drawe away some­what from the trueth, and geue confirmation to the erronius opi­nions: but these procure sodayne astonyshment, and trouble the mynde, with an vnexpected inuasion.

The treasure which I found, I haue layde vp at home.

That whi­che is chiefe in this thy ioy, thou hast found an heauie and vnpro­fitable lumpe of earth, it is a shame for the mynde, which is of an heauenly nature, to waxe proude thereof.

A treasure vnlooked for, hath sodaynely happened vnto me.

Thou thynkest it wyl continue▪ but it wyll sodaynly decay: for looke what is soone growne, is as soone wythered. Sodayne [...], is lyke the prosperitie of one that is in a dreame.

Of Vsurie. The .lvi. Dialogue.

I Haue layde foorth my money safely to Vsurie.

There are some that wyll abuse thynges that were inuented [Page 79]for a good purpose, and those thynges that were euyll inuen­ted, to worse purpose, or worst of all: thou hast founde mo­ney, not to the ende thou wouldest be ryche, but to the ende thou wouldest be nought, and (as I suppose) wouldest not be so euyl, vnlesse thou haddest founde money. There be some that be the worse for their good chaunces, not acknow­ledging therein the blessing of GOD, neyther lyke vnto him of whom it is written, He wyll thanke thee, for that thou hast deast mercifully with hym: But rather, supposyng that GOD from aboue hath geuen them occasion, and (as it were) a meane and way to commit wyckednesse: And therefore thou hast founde money, wherewith thou myghtest purchase ignominie, and, vnhappy man, myghtest make a lyuelesse mettal to be a bur­den to the lyuely soule.

I haue well layde foorth my money to vsurie.

Say not that an euyll thyng may be wel layde foorth, but only layde downe. If thou cast away an euyl burden, it is wel: otherwyse wheresoeuer thou be­stowest it, as long as it apparteyneth vnto thee, it ceasseth not to be euyl.

I haue wel layde foorth my money to good encrease.

How an euyl thyng may be wel layde foorth to commoditie, see thou. Truely howe muche the more abundant euery euyl thyng is, so much it is worse. Thou knowest the saying of Dauid. Theyr iniquitie is sproong foorth, as it were out of fatnesse: And the richer an vsurer is, the worse he is, so muche the greater his couetousnesse and wyckednesse is.

I applie vsury.

Couldest thou fynde out no better Art to bestowe thy tyme vppon: Or dyddest thou fynde many, but this was most meete for thy disposition? Or what els was the matter that among so many thou appliedst thy mynde to this, a more worse or vyler then which, I know not where thou couldest haue found any, or that dependeth vpon the lykyng of a more wretched, base, and cowardly mynde? A­mong so many Artes as are at this day knowne, and so many trades of lyuyng, thou hast chosen the worst of all: whiche thou hast doone for that it seemed a quiet kynde of lyfe, namely to sytte styll and reckon the dayes, and to thynke long vntyl the last day of the Moneth come speedyly: litle regar­dyng [Page]howe therewithall also thy houres, dayes, monethes, and yeeres doo passe away: and lyke as theyr tyme draweth neare that are indebted vnto thee, so dooth thy tearme lykewyse ap­proche: and lyke as theyr tyme, I say, draweth neare that they must pay thee, so dooth thy tyme drawe neare, that thou must pay thy debt vnto nature, leauyng that behynde thee which thou hast shamefully gayned, and not knowyng when the time wyll come. Thus thou extortest from the poore, to enriche thou knowest not whom, and art alwayes in feare of the future iudgement, and in the meane whyle art not maister, but a feareful keeper of that whiche is gotten by fylthie Rapine, and pinched with hunger and infamie. I woulde marueyle howe this mischiefe coulde be suffered in wel gouerned Cities, but that I see al mischiefes are suffered in them. And therefore when as not long agoe, Vsurers as Leaperous persons lyued separated apart from the company of other men, that not only none shoulde come at them but those that stoode in neede, but also were eschewed by them that met with them, as stynkyng and contagious persons: Nowe they lyue not only among the people, but they be conuersant also with Princes, and they be aduaunced by maryages, and come to great honour and dig­nitie: such is the force of golde. Yea moreouer, a thyng which thou mayest woonder at as a Monster, Princes themselues be vsurers. the Lorde amende them, so smal regarde haue they of the losse of soule and honour, so sweete is the sauour of money howsoeuer it be gotten.

I take delight in vsurie.

A fylthie and miserable delyght.

I vse to laye foorth money to vsurie.

If we beleeue Cato. thou hast slayne a man.

I am an vsurer, I haue learned none other trade to lyue by.

This is a defence for thy couetousnesse, this is the cause whiche thou pretendest: and yf it be harde for hym that is wyllyng to learne, who can learne agaynst his wyl?

I wyl alwayes occupie vsu­rie.

Then shalt thou alwayes be a wretch, alwaies couetous, alwayes poore, and in the ende goo to the Dyuel.

Of fruitefull, and well tylled lande. The lvii. Dialogue.

I Haue fruitefull lande.

Vnderstande thereby then the power of hym that maketh fruitful, and so vse the hea­uenly gyftes, that thou displease not the geuer of them: which thou shalt doo, yf the fruitfulnesse of thy lande, dryue not away the sobrietie and modestie of thy mynde, and thy plentie, be be­stowed vpon thy freindes and the poore: there is nothing plea­saunt or sauorie to one that is alone.

I husband most ex­quisitely fruitful lande.

Man ought not to be ser­uant to the lande, but the lande to man: by meanes of mans transgression, it is come to passe that the earth yeeldeth nothyng to the owner without trauayle: yf it be not husbanded, it bring­eth foorth but a rough croppe, Burres, Thistles, Bryers, and Thornes: the same to labour with the plough, and by strange manuryng, to make it soft and pliant, mans neede hath enforced. Hereof began husbandrie, which in tymes past was the most ho­ly and innocent lyfe, but now subiect both to the auncient toyle, and newe vices, synce nothyng hath been left vnsearched by en­uie and auarice: Townysh vyllanies haue crept into Countrey cottages. Truely it is lykely that husbandmen were the last that waxed wycked: whereof it commeth that the Poet sayth, When Iustice forsooke the earth, she left her last footesteps among them: But it is to be feared, least they that were last euyl, be nowe chiefe: so that yf haply men shoulde one day generally returne to vertue, and the auncient manners of olde tyme, these men woulde then also be last. But nowe I come to the Art of husbandrie, whiche was sometyme had in great pryce, and vsed by men of great callyng and wysedome: wherein, as in many other thyngs, Cato, surnamed Censorius, possesseth an hygh roomth, of whom when it was written, and that most true­ly, that he was an excellent Senatour, an excellent Oratour, an excellent Captayne, and at length, to the fyllyng vp of his commendacion, it is added, that without comparison or ex­ample, he was the most excellent Husbandman of his tyme. [Page]Who wyl then be ashamed to tyll the grounde with Cato? who wyl thynke that there is any thyng vnfytting for hym selfe, whi­che he thought seemely yenough for his person? who besydes the gyftes of his body and mynde, and the glory of his woorthy deedes, had triumphed for conqueryng of Spaine? Who would be ashamed to dryue foorth and cal to his Oxen, whom that voyce draue along in the furrow, whiche had sometyme hartened so many great armies to battayle, and most eloquently defended so many doubtful causes? Who woulde disdayne the plough and the harrowe, whiche that triumphant and Philoso­phical hande touched, whiche had purchased so many notable victories ouer so many enimies, had wrytten so many excellent woorkes of worthie matter, apparteynyng both to Philosophie, Historie, or common vse of lyfe, as are those bookes which he wrote concernyng this matter whereof we nowe entreate? He was the fyrst amongst you that geathered the preceptes of Husbandrie, and brought them into the fourme of an Art, and set them downe in wrytyng: after whom there folowed many other, whereof some haue aduaunced that poore and symple skyl, in woorthy and excellent verses, whiche nowe callyng to my mynde, and not forgetful of mans necessitie, truely I doo not nowe discommende of Husbandrie. Notwithstandyng, neyther the excellencie of wryters, neyther the feare of pouertie, shal euer constrayne me to iudge it meete to be preferred or matched with the liberal and commendable artes? although the first age of the empire had those that were both valiant captaynes, and good husbandmen, but now by continuance of tyme the case is altered. Howbeit, it happeneth not now through the frailtie of nature, that your wittes are not sufficient to atteyne vnto thynges of so diuers nature: And therefore in this age, I wyll permit that excellent personages geue theyr myndes sometyme to Husban­drie, not to make it a toyle, or theyr trade of lyuyng, but rather for theyr recreations, & to put greater cares out of theyr heades, as namely, sometyme to graffe the tender twygge vppon the buddyng stocke, or to correct the ranke leaues with the cro­ked hooke, or to lay quycksettes into the Dyke in hope of increase, or to bryng the syluer streames by newe dygged [Page 81]furrowes into the thirstie mebowes, I am content to geue these men licence after this maner earnestly to busie them selues, to dygge, and delue: but wholly to apply the minde vnto the earth, vnlesse necessitie constrayne thereunto, I count it vn­meete and vndecent for a learned and valiaunt man, who can not lyghtly want some matter of more noble exercise. The good mother Nature, when she gaue many artes vnto men, she made a difference also between their wittes and dispositions, that euery one should followe that, where vnto he was most euclyned. Thou shalt finde some one, who beyng of an indiffe­rent witte, can so cunnyngly eyther tyll the lande, or sayle ouer the seas, that in this behalfe no Philosophers wysedome may be compared to his industrie. It is a follie, and a bootlesse thyng, to contende with another man, not in thyne owne, but in his art: wherein, although otherwyse thou excell hym, and be hygher, as they say, then hee by the head and shoulders, yet thou shalt be founde his vnderlyng, and where thou art su­periour in the greatest matters, thou mayest easily be ouercome in many small.

This Summer, my lande hath been ve­rie fruitfull vnto mee.

Marke the next, for pre­sent plentie hath many tymes been a token of future scarcitie. It is a rare matter to fynde prosperitie without intermission.

I haue husbanded my lande diligently.

It is well doone, yf thou haddest nothyng els to doo.

I haue trymmed my Vineyarde exquisitely.

Perhaps thereby thou hast promised to thy selfe a plentifull vintage: but hast thou also made an agreement with the frost, and hayle?

I haue sowed my grounde thicker then I was woont.

Thou shalt feede the moe Cranes and Wildgeese a­broade, moe Mise and Rattes at home, thou shalt be hoste to foules and woormes, a picker foorth of Darnell, a maker of thy floore, a buylder of barnes, and a seruant to thy reapers and thresshers.

I haue sowed my fieldes plentifully.

Be of good hope, thou shalt reape that which thou hast sowed, corne and care­fulnesse: vnlesse perhaps I may say this more truely, that the come belongeth to many, and the carefulnesse to thee alone: and to speake as the trueth is, the fielde is thy minde, the tillage thyne [Page]intent, the seede thy care, the haruest thy traueyle: these shalt thou finde most plentifull.

I haue well husbanded my lande.

I wyll tell thee a thyng that thou mayest woonder at. Those auncient husbandmen, those valiant men that tooke great glorie in Husbandrie, were of opinion that it shoulde be well follo­wed, but not too well: an incredible thyng perhaps to be hearde, but by proofe of experience founde to be most true, for the pro­fite scarce counterueyleth the charge, and among the auncient writers, there is a comparison, not vnfit, made betweene a man and a feelde: These twayne yf they be sumptuous, although they be prifitable, the remainder wyl be lytle or nothyng at all, and therefore in that respect, neyther is to be muche regarded.

I till my land with great diligence.

I had rather thou diddest till and husband thine owne selfe: but thou, being an earthly creature, louest the earth, whiche is no strange thing, since thou thy selfe shalt make fatte that earth whiche now thou tillest. Tyll and husbande as muche land, and as many trees as thou lyst, yet in the ende, thou shalt not possesse very many feete of grounde, neyther, as sayth Horace, Among those trees whiche thou husban­dest and tyllest, shall any followe thee their short Maister, besides the hatefull Cypres trees.

Of pleasaunt greene VValkes. The Lviii. Dialogue.

I Haue pleasaunt walkes.

I confesse in deede, that these somtyme doo bryng honest pleasure, and somtyme vnho­nest. And therefore, those that be studious of vertue, and such as geue them selues to voluptuousnesse, doo equally delight in shadowie withdrawing places: For the place prouoketh some to wisedome, and some to repentaunce, and some to incontinencie and wantonnesse. For it is not for nothing that the great Oratour, when he obiected adulterie against a vile person, described also the pleasantnesse of y^t place where the fact was committed, as adding a spurre vnto the wickednesse: and therefore we ought not to take delight in the place, but to be merie in minde, if it haue hapned vn­to thee to haue such an one, as knoweth well how to vse al places.

I haue store of pleasant walkes.

Who hath [Page 82]not heard of Tiberius secret walke, and the withdrawing place of Caprea? I am ashamed to recite the thinges that are knowen to al men. The olde man Hircinus, how doth he rayle against secret walkes: How much more gloriously did Scipio Africane liue a poore banished man in the dry countrey, then the Romane prince in al his pleasures? I therefore repeate this agayne: Al your fe­licitie consisteth not in places, neither in any other thinges, but in the minde only. So that they whiche haue commended of the soli­tarie life, and secret withdrawing places, woulde haue it thus to be vnderstoode, to witte, yf the minde be able to vse them wysely, and not otherwise. And therefore I attende to heare, what profite thou reapest of those thy pleasant walkes, and then marke what I wyll pronounce thereof. For if thou vaunt thee so muche of the places which yesterday were not thine, and to morow perhaps may be taken from thee, and if thou consider vprightly, at this present are none of thine, doubtlesse thou vauntest of that whiche is anothers. What hast thou then to glory of? What belongeth it vnto thee that the Alpes be cold in Sommer, that y^e mountaine Olympus is higher then the cloudes, that the hil Apenninus beareth wood and trees? What though Ticinus be bright, Athesis pleasant, Sorga soundyng? If these be prayses, truly they are not the pray­ses of men, but of places: but it is thy part to minister iust matter of thine owne commedation.

I walke in pleasant places.

In the meane while it skilleth what cares doo walke in thy breast: for what auayleth it to put stinking oyntmentes into iuorie boxes? What, to haue a foule mind, in fayre places? Howe many holy fathers haue florished among the rough mountaines? How many filthy adulterers haue rotted in the greene medowes? Moreouer, it hath ben prooued that such places haue not only ben hurtful to mens mindes, but somtimes also to their bodies & liues, not only by taking too much aire, but also by the swoord & sudden inuasion. Who readeth not in Curtius of y^e most pleasant groues and woods, the secrete walkes & herbars which the kinges of the Medes planted with their owne handes, the chiefest thing where­in the kinges & nobles of the Medes bestowed their indeuours and tooke greatest delight, as it is reported? Howbeit, in them at the commaundement of a drunken and frantyke young Kyng, [Page]the auncient and noble Parmenio was stayne, who, as I sup­pose, was the chiefe of the Dukes and Captaynes of the Ma­cedones. Who knoweth not Caieta, and that bendyng of the shoare there, a fayrer and pleasaunter place then whiche, there is none vnder the Coape of heauen: in whiche place the noble Ci­cero was murdered at the commaundement of drunken and cru­ell Antonie? This place in some respect myght be conueni­ent for so woorthie a man, that since the destenies had denyed hym power to dye at Rome, he myght dye in that flouryshyng countrey, the most flourishyng Oratour of all other, and best citi­zen: Howbeit the maner and auctour of his death was far vn­woorthie, It was by chaunce that Cicero at that tyme walked in those places, to auoyde the troubles of the citie, and was after his maner eyther deuising some newe matter concernyng Phi­losophie, or apparteyning to the course and trade of liuing, or be­waylyng the common wealth. The griefe of his minde which he conceiued of the state of his countrey, he aswaged with the delight of his eyes, when as the Butchers that were sent by him that was enimie to all vertue, dispatched such a man out of the worlde, as no age to come wyl restoare the lyke. Thus therefore it hapneth, that delectable places are most ap [...] for treason and deceypt, whilst men lyue there most loosely, and haue least regarde to foresee daungers. For the wylde beastes are sonest snared in the thickest wooddes, and birdes are most easily limed in the greene twigges.

I walke meryly in my pleasaunt walkes, and voyde of care.

Mirth, and neglect of care, are alwayes contra­rie vnto heedefulnesse. So long as euery man thynketh earnestly vpon his owne dangers, and the common state of mans life, there shall scarce any man lyue very merily, or deuoyde of care: And it is neyther the beautie of the places, nor hope of ryches, that can breede forgetfulnesse of mischiefes that are at hande.

I take delyght to be abroade in my walkes.

Not more delyght then doo the wilde Boares and the Beares. It maketh not so muche matter where thou art, but what thou doest: The place shall neuer make thee noble, but thou the place, and that neuer ouherwyse, then by attemptyng some notable matter there­in.

Of Flockes and Heardes of Cattle. The .Lix. Dialogue.

I Ioy in my flockes and heardes.

A brutishe ioy.

I abounde in heardes and flockes.

A beast­ly prosperitie, whiche beastes haue procured.

I loue flockes and heardes.

In all loues, it is to be suspec­ted, that there is some likelinesse betweene the louyng, and belo­ued.

I loue heardes and flockes.

Ye loue euery thing sauing vertue, and one of you another: Those thinges which especially ought to be loued, ye care not for, & those thinges whiche ye shoulde not esteeme, ye loue.

I loue heardes and flockes.

O wretched louers of vile thynges, and haters of the woorthie? Ye loue those thynges whiche vnder­stande not that they are loued, neyther are able to loue you againe, for you your selues doo not loue one another, nor loue them that loue you, and all this mischiefe commeth through couetousnesse, that you not onely preferre a bondslaue before a free borne man, but also a beast, before a reasonable creature.

I haue plentie of heardes, and flockes.

If thou feede them thy selfe, what other shalt thou be, then a most busie sheaphearde? A vile office, although it be praysed of many, specially of Catullus of Verona: but yf thou doo it by other, then thou art not the sheaphearde thy selfe, but seruaunt to thy sheapheardes, and layde open vnto their deceytes. Somtyme thou art indamaged by thy neyghbour, sometyme by fallyng from an hygh, sometyme by murreine, sometyme by theeues, sometyme by straying, euery day some excuse must be feigned, whereby thy losse, sorowe, and abuse doo growe: but the greatest griefe is, to be deceyued by a rude rustike varlet.

I am ryche in flockes and heardes.

Ryches are praysed, yet are they vncertayne, and sub­iect to many chaunces, deceites, theft, murreines, whiche come so often, & are so hot, that many tymes they consume whole flockes, and dispearse whole heardes. Thou knowest the rotte whiche Lucretius described, and afterhym Virgil, with many other, whiche for the want of writers, are not set downe of lyke fame, and [Page]also as hurtfull.

I am ryche in flockes and heardes.

Wyde and large ryches, whiche can not onely not be comprehended in a coffer, as golde and precious stones, but also not within the compasse of a most great house, so that thou art not safe from seruauntes, nor from theeues, nor from cruel wilde beastes, for euery one hath power ouer thy goodes.

I reioyce in my heardes and flockes.

Thou shalt once reioyce, and be sorie a thousand times. There shall no day passe o­uer thy head without some sorowful newes: Now the Sabeis are broken in, and haue taken away all that thou hast, and haue put thy seruauntes to the swoorde, as it was once in tyme past sayde to that good old man that was so ryche in cattel: As one tyme an Oxe hath broken his horne, at another time an Horse hath stray­ned his legge, now a Woolfe hath deuoured a stragling Lambe, at another time the rotte hath inuaded the infected flocke. Wret­ches, ye are not contented to beholde your owne miseries, and mortalitie, but that you must also bewayle the death of bruit beastes.

Of Elephantes and Camels. The .Lx. Dialogue.

I Haue Elephantes.

To what purpose I pray thee, for peace, or warre? With these, the two most notable enimies of Italie, Pyrrhus and Hannibal, whilst they hoped to breake the array of the Romane armies, they troubled their owne or­ders: A greeuous and noysome beast, and whiche, as thou kno­west well, hath oftentymes destroyed their owne maisters and keepers: to sight strange, and for hugenesse of body, forme, swell, and noyse, terrible, vnprofitable to vse, and hard to be gotten.

I haue a great Elephant.

There haue been somtime Elephantes in Italie, not taken by huntyng▪ but caught from the enimies, and ledde in triumphe, whiche at the first sight m [...]de the Italian horses afearde, w [...]en these Elephantes followed them in­to the Capitoll, and were not long before taken from Pyrrhus: As for the Carthagiens, they were not so much taken from them, as forbydden the vse of them: for suche were the conditions of the yeace, whiche they agreed vnto when they were vanquished, [Page 84]and it was specially and namely prouided, that they shoulde deli­uer vp such as they had that were alredy tamed, and thencefoorth they shoulde tame no moe. And thus by small and small the vse of Elephantes decayed, not onely in Italie, where they were farre strangers, and were brought thither as it were by force, but also in Africa and Aegypt, whiche are countreys nearer to the pla­ces where they doo breede. Thus report goeth, that in Italie in the dayes of your great grandfathers, Frederike that was king of the Romanes had one, and the kyng of Aegypt also but one onely: and both these princes had them rather for shewe, then for [...] vse. Thus these beastes in India and Aethiopia, being de­ [...]y [...] from the weerisomnesse of forraine nations, dwel quietly in these owne natiue wildernesses. And what art thou that seemest so muche to glorie in an Elephant? Art thou a second Hanaibal. who being carried vpon an Elephant, and lookyng with one eye, troubled all Italie? This beast, although he doo somwhat resem­ble the vnderstandyng and reason of mankinde, as some wri­ters haue reported, and is much commended for mildnesse of ma­ners, yet doo I say that he is but an vnprofitable beast, and more meete for the prodigalitie of a Prince, then the callyng of a pri­uate person, which is able to fyll an house, and to emptie a barne.

I haue Camelles also.

These are almost both to be considered of a lyke, but that the Elephant is meete to beare turrettes, and Camelles to carrie burdens, and the more commodious and profitable of the twaine. If thou wilt follow my counsell, vse suche beastes as most prudent nature hath engendred in those partes of the worlde where thou thy selfe lyuest, who hath distributed beastes and all other thynges, as they are most meets for euery climate.

I haue a Camell.

Iob had three thousand, & lost them: For both sicknesses, and theeues, and infected pastures, and falles, and a thousande other chaunces hang ouer your heardes. Feeldes, and hylles, and walles are day­ly destroyed: what then shall a man say to these whiche doo not stande? All your goodes for the most part are in perpetual moti­on, and that fame which ye ought to seeke through the engraffed vertue of the mind, ye hunt after with the rarenesse of strange and fortaine beastes.

Of Apes, and other beastes of pleasure. The .Lxi. Dialogue.

I Take pleasure in an Ape.

A beast filthie to be­holde, and vnhappie in effect, of whiche what canst thou hope other then weerisomnesse? Whatsoeuer he findeth in the house, eyther he spoyleth it, or casteth it about. Yf then thou take de­lyght in suche thynges, doubtlesse thy Ape is pleasaunt vnto thee. Cicero calleth hym a monstrous beast, saying also that there is nothyng lesse to be marueyled at, then that an Ape ouerthrewe the pitcher of lottes, whiche that most learned man woorthyly mocketh at, to be written of in the Greeke histories for a woon­der, when as in deede it myght seeme more marueylous, yf he dyd not ouerthrow and cast euerie thyng about.

I haue plentie of beastes of pleasure.

There is nothyng that can be at once both filthie and pleasaunt: for what pleasure or de­lyght is there in filthinesse? Howbeit, a man ought to eschue whatsoeuer offendeth his eyes, his eares, his nose, and his minde, and that tast is corrupt whiche taketh pleasure in bitter thinges. But this is your maner, to be delyghted with filthie thinges: and ye take singular pleasure, not onely in filthie and vnprofitable beastes, but, which is more vile, in dishonest persons, and men of vnseemely speach, and odious demeanure: and to be short, the more euyl [...]auoured a thyng is, the more acceptable and beloued it is vnto you. This is a renerall rule amongst you, this is your fantasie, this is your disposition, this is your studie, and the com­mendation of your iudgement.

Of Peacockes, Chyckens, Hennes, Bees, and Pigions The .Lxii. Dialogue.

I Haue stoare of Peacockes.

By their tayles I wou'd aduise thee to thinke vppon Argos eyes, least the most famous plague that foloweth the neglecting of good rules, do hurt thy feete.

I haue many Peacockes.

I confesse it is a beautiful and comely byrde to beholde, but this pleasure of the eyes is requited with great weerysomnesse of the [...]a [...], agaynst the horriblenesse of whose most hellysh noyse, it were [...]eedeful for men to run away, or to stoppe theyr eares with V [...]ses waxe: I wyl say nothyng of the griefe and complaintes of the neyghbours, whiche are more hateful then any thyng els. But you, whilest imperiously, and leauyng nothyng vnassayed, ye tender your throate and belly, ye thynke neyther vppon your owne nor your neyghbours discommodities, forgettyng how that in olde tyme the most valiant and woorthie men had no such care or desyre, when as fyshes, and wylde beastes, and foules, were [...] [...]uedled withal, & besydes the feathers there is nothyng to be ly [...] of, as Ouid sayth. And now truely I can perceiue nothing in this foule that may delyght a man, besides the excellencie of the [...]esh, whiche some say wyll neuer putrifie, though it be kept & long whyle, which thou mayst prooue yf thou lyst, and S. Au­gustine sayth, he hath proued. Thus, vnlesse ambition and prodi­galitie be present, neyther your meate nor your delyght can satis­fie you. Truely, it is reported that Hortentius the Oratour was the fyrst that euer kylled a Peacocke at Rome to be eaten for meate, a man of great eloquence, in manners delicate and soft as a woman: but such a one, whose manners very many, whose e­loquence very fewe, do imitate.

I noorysh Poultrie and chickins.

A trouble to thy house, meate for Foxes. scrapers of the floore, by meanes of whose talentes thou shalt al­wayes haue dust, and neuer an euen floore.

I haue great store of Hennes.

To omit their noysomnes, the commoditie & charges almost al one, one egge is dearely bought, and casteth much cacklyng.

But I haue plentie of Bees.

Thy felicitie is not only mortal, but flying on the wyng, and fugitiue.

I haue many Hyues.

There is as much busynesse and noyse in euery one of them, as in a great Citie, or an armie of men. Now the swarmes are redy to t [...]e away, now the kynges wyl fight, nowe they neede ringing of a [...]an or brasen Bason, nowe castyng of dust, that they may be saue [...] ▪ Many tymes when thou hast doone al that thou canst, thou shalt be neuer the neare. And thus thynkyng thy selfe to be [Page]rych, shalt finde thy selfe naked: and therefore yf thou compare the carefulnesse of the kepyng, with the hony, thou wylt say, It is bytter Hony.

I haue plentie of Pigeons.

By night the Bees be whist in theyr bedchambers, fayth Virgyl: but Pigeons be neuer at quiet, for there is no lyuyng thyng more vnquiet then a Pigeon.

My Pigeon houses are full.

Then hast thou some that striue and fight, some that mone, some that foule the house by day, some that breake thy sleepe by night: behold what a great matter this is of reioycing.

Of Fyshpondes. The .lxiii. Dialogue.

I Reioyce in my fyshpondes whiche I haue made.

I doo not thynke, that thou hast made them with more felicitie then dyd Solomon. And therefore when thou shalt turne thy selfe to beholde al the woorkes which thy handes haue made, & the traueyles wherein thou hast swe at in vayne, in them al thou shalt perceyue vanitie and affliction of mynde, that perhaps thou mayest be sorie in that wherein thou hast taken pleasure, reputing it both losse of tyme, and of expences.

I haue made me fyshpondes.

It is not sufficient for the belly to haue searched through al landes, but the waters also are assayed, and there is a prison made for fishes in their owne kyngdome.

I haue stored my fishpondes.

Thou hast depriued fishes of their libertie, and natural habitation, and those whom nature made whole, thou haft taught to be sicke.

I haue let in the water into my fishpondes.

Thou seest, howe to haue enforced the waters, it was noted and ascribed vnto price in Iulius Caesar, as great a man as he was: what doest thou then thinke of thy selfe?

I haue enclosed fishes with in my Weares.

Ye keepe flying foules in prysons at your pleasure, what marueile is it then, if you haue the flowe fishes at your commaundement? All thinges are in your power, and subiect vnder your feete, ye most painful and couetous mortall men, except your owne minde only, which either ye cannot bridle and gouerne, or, whiche more true is, ye care not to doo it. [Page 86]And therefore beyng wylde and vagrant, he dryueth you about, and enforceth you to al kyndes of vanitie and mischiefe: which yf it were obedient vnto you, or rather subiect to reason, he would then leade you in a more redy path, to a better ende, and cause you to contempne many thynges whiche ye couet.

I haue fysh shut vp in my pondes.

Forasmuche as all thynges are subiect vnto you, see howe seemely a thyng it is for you to be subiect to pleasure, vnto the most vylest thyng of all o­ther, the most noblest thyng that is vnder heauen. But thus it fareth, you wyl rule al, to be seruantes your selues to sensualitie. And this folly is not newe, nor of the common sort, but aunci­ent, and of the chiefest. Fyshpondes and Weares for Oysters, dyd Sorgius Orata fyrst appoynt at the shore Barane. About the same tyme Licinius Muraena began the Weares for other fishes: who both tooke theyr surnames of a fyshe. These are woorthy causes of a surname, to wyt, for that one of them loued the Gysthead, the other the Lamprey. These be they that haue deserued the tytles to be called Africani, or Macedonici: and perhaps these men haue taken no lesse paynes in takyng and be­stowyng theyr fyshe, and in buyldyng theyr Weares, then Sci­pio and Paulus dyd in deliueryng and beautifiyng theyr coun­trey, with theyr conquestes and triumphes. And therefore it is very true whiche some say, In quantitie al mens cares are almost e­quall, but in qualitie farre vnequal. And as euyll examples haue al­wayes plentie of folowers, after this Licinius, there folowed noble men, Philip, Hortentius, and Lucullus also, a man o­therwise of famous memorie, who not being contented with a simple Weare, neere vnto Naples, he caused an Hill to be cut a­way: whiche stoode hym in as great charges as the buylding of his countrey house, or vyllage, deuising a place of rest for the fyshes whiche he had taken, by the cutting away of a stop whi­che was made of hard rocke, and lettyng in the Sea, as it were a cauline Hauen. And therefore Pompeius the great, who deuised not only Weares, but Empires also, not improperly termed this Lucullus y^e Romane Xerxes, that is to say, a dygger away of hilles. What shal I say of others? The first that made Weares for Lampreis, was one Curus, I know not what he was; [Page]for, notwithstandyng al his Lampreys, he is scarse yet knowen, whereof he had such plentie, that with sixe thousande of them he furnished Iulius Caesars triumphant supper. This man had also his imitatours, namely Hortentius the oratour, of whom we spake before, a man that neuer failed in folowyng an exam­ple of wantonnes: and therefore it falleth out many tymes, that your learnyng nothing abateth your madnesse: but it neuer brin­geth any thyng that a man may woonder at, whylest they that haue attayned vnto learnyng, thynke that it is lawful for them to doo euery thyng, and arrogate muche vnto them selues, whiche they durst not, if they had not learnyng. It is reported therefore that this man had a Weare at the shore of the Baiane coast, whereas, among other fyshes whiche he had, he loued so dearely one certayne Lamprey, that he mourned for him when he was dead. Beholde a woorthy loue, and meete to prouoke so graue a man to teares. He that (as it is read) neyther be­wayled the ciuil warres of his tyme, nor the proscriptions and slaughter of the Citizens, neyther yet woulde haue lamen­ted the ouerthrowe at Cannas, yf it had happened in his tyme, dyd he weepe for the death of a Lamprey? This lightnesse is so great, that that whiche is of later dayes must needes be pardoned. The age and sexe of Antonia maketh her follie more excusable, who is reported, not to haue wept for her Lamprey, but while he was liuyng, to haue decked him foorth with ringes and iewels of golde, insomuche that the strange­nesse of the sight, caused many folkes to repaire to Paulos▪ for that was the name of the vyllage, lying in the Baiane con­fines. There were also Weares of Wylkes and Perewincles, and other vanities concernyng fyshes, and specially the Pyke of Tibur, whiche was taken betweene the two brydges. But I haue spoken yenough of other mens errours, in whiche the moe thou seest enwrapped, the more diligent take thou heede least thou be snared in the lyke: neyther doo I nowe forbydde thee the vse of fyshes, but only the ouer muche care of vyle and vnnoble thynges.

Of Cages of byrdes, and of speaking and singing byrdes. The .lxiiii. Dialogue.

I Haue shut vp sundry byrdes in a Cage.

I leaue nowe to woonder at the prysons for fyshes. There be some also prouided for byrdes, whose dwellyng is the open ayre, a more large and wyde countrey: Gluttonie hath founde out huntyng, it hath founde out fyshing, it hath founde out haukyng, and it is not sufficient to take them whom nature created free, but they be also kept in prysons. How muche more seemely and honest were it, to enforce the belly to be contented with meates that may be easily gotten, and to leaue the wylde beastes to the wooddes, and the fyshes to the Sea, and the foules to the ayre, then to bestowe so much trauel vpon them, that yf it were besto­wed to catch vertues, in this tyme by good studie hauing obtey­ned them (for they wyl not flie away) ye might haue planted them within the closet of your myndes, from whence they could neyther escape away, nor be purloyned.

I haue fylled my Cage with byrdes.

A thyng nothyng at al neces­sary, and no lesse harde to be founde, then difficult to be preserued, auncient notwithstandyng, whiche aboue a thousand and foure hundred yeeres since, one Lelius, surnamed Strabo, fyrst deuised, not that Lelius that was counted the wyse, who, yf he had founde out byrd cages, had lost the tytle of wysedome. There be some in­uentions that seeme to be profitable and pleasant, whiche not­withstandyng become not noble wyttes: they that fyrst found out fyshpondes, and hyrde Cages, what other thyng dyd they respect then theyr bellyes, whiche is farre from those that are stu­dious in vertue?

I haue fat Chrushes, and Turtle doo [...]s in my Cage.

But not slowe tormentours, since thyne appetite beyng prouoked by so many enticements, re­quireth the punyshment of a sicke stomacke. Hast thou not hearde the saying of the Satyrical Poet? This notwithstanding is a present Punishment, when thou puttest of thy clothes, being swelling full, and cariest thy vndigested Peacocke with thee into the baine. He speaketh there of a Peacocke. It is a beautiful & a famous foule: but it is not he alone that pincheth the ouergreedfe panche. The [Page]delyght of thy belly, is but of short tast, which in short tyme wil also turne to loathyng, vnlesse it be moderated. Rawnesse that is not easily disgested, is a sicknesse that bryngeth long payne, and many tymes death: Goe thy wayes nowe, and bragge of thy fat Thrushes, & Turtledooues.

I haue speaking Choughes, and Pyes, & Parrats.

The Emperour Augustus takyng pleasure in the lyke, gaue great summes of money for them that saluted hym conquerous and trimphant Caesar. And when afterward there were many other such presented vnto him, answered, that he had yenough such saluters at home alredy, lay­ing there a measure to that vanitie: sauyng that the last Crowe with his strange pastyme, caused hym selfe to be bought more deare thou were the residue. These histories are read in the Saturnalia: But what in the naturall Historie of our neighbour of Verona: This Crowe that was so docible, vsyng to flie out of the Coblers shop, where he was most diligently fedde, and commyng abrode into the open streete, woulde salute Tibe­rius Caesar, and Drusus, and Germanicus by name, and the whole people of Rome, with such admiration and loue of them all, that when as a neighbour mooued eyther with enuie or anger had killed hym, with great sorowe and griefe of almen the killer was first driuen out of those quarters, and afterward stayne by the people, and the Crowe with diligent exequies and solemne funeral, was taken vp and buried. O alwayes vnspeakable mad­nesse of the people? In that citie there was a Crow wept for and buryed, and he that kylled him, beyng a Citizen of Rome, was put to death: in whiche Citie neyther Africane the greater had a Sepulchre, neyther the lesse a reuenger, for that on Gods name this Crowe, as I haue sayde, saluted the people, but these men of whom I speake, dyd not salute, but procured safetie and glory to the people. Thus the speach of Crowes is more accepta­ble, then the vertue of valiant men. Let any man nowe deny, that it is safe for hym to agree to the peoples iudgement: although who so is an vpryght considerer of thinges, he wyl not marueyle at the publique contempt wherein worthy men are had, since of these woonderers at Crowes, and other pratling byrdes, diuine voyces, and heauenly Oracles are despised.

I haue a faire [Page 89]Parrat.

This bird forsooth aboue al the residue is notable for his golden chayne, vnlesse it be the Phenix agayne, for he among byrdes weareth a chayne, and is moreouer the on­ly byrde of his kynde. But the Parrat, beyng a great saluter, and specially of prynces, nature hath playnly made hym as it were a flatterer: whereby this Disticon or two verses are knowen, I Parrat wyll learne other mens names of you: But I haue learned this of my selfe, to say, hayle Caesar.

I haue a most eloquent Pye.

When as eloquent men are very seldome found, hast thou a most eloquent Pye? I confesse it is a pratlyng byrde, and a diligent saluter: whereof commeth this saying, I pratling Pye doo call thee my maister with a perfect voyce: If thou sawest me not, thou wouldest deny that I were a byrde. Veryly there be strange thynges (I know not whether as true) reported, concer­nyng the diligence and desire to learne of this byrde: But this a­boue the residue is scarce credible, that yf she forget the woorde whiche she is taught, she is very much vexed and greeued, which griefe of mynde, she bewrayeth by her secrete meditation, and yf she chaunce to call the woorde to her remembrance, then waxeth she woonderful meery: But yf through hardnesse of the worde, or weaknesse of her memorie, she be throughly ouercome, many times she dieth for sorow: so that now the Poet Homers death is to be counted lesse strange, yf so it be true. Howbeit, all Pyes are not of lyke aptnes to learne, but those only which receiue theyr meate and name with mast, and are commonly called mast Pies.

I haue gotten a pleasant singyng Nightyngale.

Plinie the second reporteth, that there are Nightingales also and Starles founde that are apt to be taught the Greeke and Latine tongues, and moreouer, that in his tyme there was a Chrushe in Rome, that dyd imitate the speache of a man: the lyke whereof was knowne commonly of late of a Starle, whom it hath been thy chaunce to heare and woonder at many tymes euen in Plinies Countrey, speakyng orderly many woordes togeather, poyntyng and pronouncyng them lyke a man: For as touchyng the Parrat, it is nowe so common a thyng, that it is no more to be marueyled [...]. Howe often hast thou hearde hym playnly call for meate? [Page]How often calling his Feeder by his name, and the better to per­swade hym, flatteryng hym with sweetenesse of gestures and woordes? How often laughyng, in suche sorte, that he hath cau­sed the standers by to laugh, that it was thought not to be the laughter of a byrde, but of a very man? Whiche although it be so, yet al these, beleeue me, but specially the Nightingale woulde syng more pleasantly vppon theyr owne boughes then in your Cages, sauyng that your lust lyketh of nothyng but that whiche you haue made your owne, although nature haue made al thynges common. Thus couetousnesse stretcheth beyonde her owne bondes, and her owne name.

I haue gotten to­geather innumerable store of birdes.

Although thou haue many, yea though thou haue al, yet I thynke thou wylt lacke the Phenix: whether there be such a byrde, or whether there be no such byrde, or whether we beleeue that to be true which some haue written, to wyt, how that vpon the foure hundred yeere after the building of the citie, this bird flue out of Arabia into Egypt, and being taken there, was brought to Rome, and there at an as­semblie was shewed vnto the people, and at length, as it is like yenough, died: which last thing, those graue writers doubt not but it is false, which notwithstanding are in some distrust of the first. And therfore when thou hast al kinds of birdes, yet shalt thou lacke the most woonderful and beautiful birde of al. Sorowfully and angerly I iest with thee: why do ye alwaies reioyce, like children, in vaine pleasures? And as Solomon sayth, Yee litle babes, how long wil ye loue infancie? Turne at the length vnto my correcti­on, as he also sayth. For these are his woordes whiche I speake vnto you: and O ye blynde wretches, suffer the byrdes to lyue in the wooddes, to breede, to feede, to syng, and wander abrode, and stretche you foorth the wynges of your slouhtful myndes vnto heauen, and lyft vp your selues from the grounde, endeuour not to catche byrdes, but to become byrdes. And omittyng these matters, whereof I am ashamed to speake, yf thou haue any thyng wherein it is meete for a man to reioyce, vtter it.

Of the woorthinesse of Marriage. The .Lxv. Dialogue.

I Haue married a noble Wife.

I had rather thou hadst at home, not onely Pies and Parrattes, but Owles and Shritches: They woulde sing, she wyll chyde: they would tell thee somwhat, she wyll doo thee nothing: thou myghst cast them of, but her thou canst not.

I am adorned with a noble marriage.

Thou art tyed with a fayre chayne, from whence death only can delyuer thee.

I am happie, by meanes of a noble marriage.

Thou were more happie, if it were by a chast marriage, and most happie by a single lyfe.

I am beautified with a goodly marriage.

The choyce of a wyfe is hard, a foule one is loathed, a fayre one is hardly kept, by reason that there is perpetual warre betweene the beautie of the body and chastitie of the minde. But if that do hap­pen, whiche is most rare, and honestie be ioyned with beautie, I wyl then reason more largely with thee. Admit she haue all other ornamentes of a woman, nobilitie, wysedome, ryches, fruiteful­nesse, eloquence, good name and fame, good and commendable behauiour, yet know thou this, that with these pride is entred, in­termingled into thy house: So that it is not without good cause that the Satyrical Poet sayeth, That he had rather haue Venu­sin [...], then Cornelia, that was mother to the Gracchi, and daugh­ter to Scipio Africane, that was proude of her fathers triumphes and glory.

I haue chaunced vppon a noble and ho­nest marriage.

What sayest thou of the pride and disdayne? Art thou ignoraunt of the maners of women? Learne to serue, learne to suffer, learne to loose thy deerest friendes: thou must attende thy wedlocke only. A wyfe is a dangerous rocke, and destruction to friendshyp, imperious, and gouernour of the husbandes affections.

I haue married a Gentlewoman to my wyfe.

An heauie burden, and hard fetters to weerie thy shoulders and feete, which sometyme were free: Gree­uous to be spoken, more greeuous to be thought on, but most greeuous to be suffered, a ghest not for one day, but for thy whole lyfe, and perhaps an enimie hath entred vpon thy house voyde of [Page]defence: So that, as I haue sayde, the hope of the auncient reme­die of diuorce beyng taken away, death onely must set the free.

I haue married a welbeloued wife.

Thou art deceyued, she hath married thee, thou liuedst to long at thine owne libertie, thou hast taken a wyfe to be thy Mistresse, a tormentour to her Chyldren in law, an enuier of her Mother in lawe, a yoake to thy Houshold, a burden to thy Kitchen, a payne to thy Store­house, a charge to thy Coffer, an ornament to thy Hal, a shewe for thy Windowe in the day, and an vnquietnesse for thy Chamber in the nyght.

I haue gotten a most louing wyfe.

In the steede of loue, which thou knowest not, ielousie, suspition, and complaintes, are come vpon thee, thou hast continual warres at home, euen in the middes of pleasures and pastyme disagree­ment wyll spryng: thou shalt be safe neyther at boorde nor at bed, thou shalt finde no tyme voyde of stryfe, at midnight ye shall be togeather by the eares.

I haue obtayned a wished mar­riage.

Marriage with a wyfe, and peace with a di­uorce.

I haue a wyfe whom I please exceedingly.

Peraduenture it were better for thee to displease her, then should she not trouble and consume thee with louing, but suf­fer thee to muse on thy matters, and to folowe thy businesse, and to take thy naturall sleepe: Whereas now in pleasing thy wyfe, thou thinkest vpon nothing that may please thy selfe, but vpon her only, she challengeth thee wholy to her selfe, and yet thou alone art not sufficient for her. If vpon occasion thou wouldest go any whi­ther, she wyll say thou runnest away, and seekest causes to depart from her: yf thou do any thyng, she wyll say thou forgettest her: yf thou muse vpon any matter, she wyl say thou art angrie with her: yf thou abstayne from meate, she wyll say her prouision pleaseth thee not: yf thou take thy rest, she wyll say thou hast weeried thy selfe with playing the game of loue with other. And therefore, in being pleasant to thy wyfe, thou must needes be vnprofitable to thy selfe and others.

I haue a wife, whom I loue ardent­ly.

It were better to loue her chastly, vertuously, so­berly, and modestly: for what is ardent loue other then the bur­nyng of the minde, whiche while it flameth, what place can there be for modestie, for coniugale reuerence, tranquillitie, and quiet­nesse? [Page 90]Doth thy wyfe loue theée ardently? Vnlesse she perceyue that thou loue her agayne, her loue wyll waxe colde, and she wyll turne her goodwyll into hatred: but yf thou wylt match her in loue, thou must needes burne lykewyse, and geue thy selfe ouer on­ly to thy louer, and be the wakeful husband of a ielous wife: some tyme with fayre woordes, and sometyme with complaintes and feigned accusations thou must be awaked & troubled in the night, yf peraduenture thou haue wantonly east thine eye aside, or laugh­ed hartily with one that hath laughed, or saluted thy neighbours wyfe, or commended the beautie of another woman, or returned home late at nyght, or finally, shalt doo or say any thing whereby thou mayest be suspected of the breache of loue: which, if it may be called a lyfe, then knowe not I what is to be tearmed death. And this is my opinion concernyng your ardent loue.

I haue a perpetuall companion of my Bedde.

And al­so a perpetuall banishment of sleepe. The sleepe of the wedded bedde is rare, and small, where there is sometyme pleasure, some­time chyding, and neuer quietnesse.

I haue a most fayth­ful wyfe.

I deny not but there haue been some fayth­full, euen to the death. And truely to a man that hath chosen this kinde of lyfe, a good and faythful wyfe is a great treasure: yet the multitude of the contrarie sort is greater, for that many woorthie men haue perished through their wiues tretcherie. I omit the cruel and blooddie marriage of Danaus, that infamous night, and miserable slaughter of so many young men togeather. Not this, they of whom we spake erewhyle, not graue Agamemnon, not Deiphobus the Phrygian can deny, and among your coun­trey folke, Scipio Africane the younger, and lastly of latter tyme, not kyng Alboinus, whose blood stayned the bankes of the fayre riuer Athesis, whiche was shed there by his vnchaste and cruell wyfe.

I haue met with a noble, chast, gen­tle, humble, obedient, vertuous, and faythfull wyfe.

Thou art a notable fouler, thou hast founde a whyte Crowe: and yet there is no man that thynketh he hath founde a blacke one.

Of a fayre VVyfe. The .Lxvi. Dialogue.

I Haue chaunced vpon a faire Wife.

Thou hast gotten an hard prouince, be watchful. I haue sayd alredie, that it is an hard thing to keepe that which is desired of many.

My wiues beautie is excellent.

The beau­tie of the body, as many thynges els, reioyceth commonly in the lyke, and hateth vnlykelynesse and inequalitie. If therefore thou thy selfe be of lyke beautie, thou shalt be busied, if not, thou shalt be contemned, both which are greeuous.

My wiues beau­tie is great.

Her pride is as great, for there is no­thing that so much puffeth vp the mind, and maketh proude.

My wiues beautie is passing great.

Take heede that her chastitie be not as small. The Satyrical Poet hath a pretie saying, It is seldome to see beautie and honestie to agree: Whiche admit they be togeather, yet who can abide the insolencie of beha­uiour, and dayly contempt?

My wyfe is passing fayre.

Then hast thou at home a sumptuous Idole, & a pain­ful, thou shalt dayly see strange and newe fashions, and dayly dis­gu [...]sing of the body, to see howe wel euery thing becommeth, and an inuentyng head to deuise euery way: Now terme the losse of thy patrimonie, a gayne.

I haue a most beautiful wyfe.

Thou hast a contentious Idole, and a proude, whiche beyng assotted, thou mayest woorshyp, whiche beyng rauished, thou mayest woonder at, & honour, and depende wholly vpon her, submit thy necke to her yoke, and reposing thy selfe onely in the beautie of thy wyfe, cast away from thee all other cares, and thyne owne libertie: And, as I sayde erewhyle, beware thou prayse none but her, turne not thine eyes from her face, waxe not faynt in speakyng her fayre, be not lesse fonde then thou wast woont to be, whatsoeuer thou mislikest in her it is treason, al wisedome in thee is forsaken of her: Finally, liue at thy wyues commaundement, & obserue the becking of thy Mistresse as a Drudge, and not as an Husband: Do this yf thou thinke it so great a matter to embrace thy fayre bedfellowe, & to enioy her smooth skin for a litle while, & [Page 91]to beget chyldren vpon a whyte wombe, as it were to take choyce apples out of a fayre vessell.

I haue a beautiful wyfe.

A sweete poyson, golden fetters, an honourable serui­tude.

I take pleasure in my wyues beautie.

A vayne and short pleasure. There is nothyng more frayle then beautie, specially a womans. Who so loueth his wyfe for her beauties sake, wyll soone hate her.

Of a fruitefull and eloquent VVyfe. The .Lxvii. Dialogue.

I Haue a fruitefull wyfe.

She wyll bryng thee foorth many cares, and many troubles: A barren wyfe, is but one trouble in an house, but a fruitefull wyfe, is many. Thou knowest the saying of the Comical Poet, I married a wyfe, what miserie dyd I not taste of thereby? Then had I chyldren, an­other care.

My wyfe is not onely fruitefull, but eloquent also.

At one side thou shalt haue chyldren and nur­ses: on the other side thou shalt not lacke iestes and woordes. Thou hast one with whom thou mayest dispute, and declaime. And hast thou not heard the saying of the Satyrical Poet, where he sayeth, Let not thy wyfe which lyeth by thy side, be a Rethorician, or a Logician, neyther well seene in al Histories. Thou soughtest for a wyfe, and hast founde a Schoolemistresse: and now thou art in this case, that thou canst not vtter any rude or common thyng, without thy wyues controullyng and mockyng, and thou shalt wyshe in vayne that whiche the same Poet sayeth, Let the hus­bande be licenced to speake false congruitie. Among the weeri­somnesses of the worlde, there is none more odious then a saucie woman, or she that can not holde her tongue.

Of a great Dowrie. The .Lxviii. Dialogue.

I Am enryched with a great Dowrie.

And with a great tyrannie, and so one mischeife is heaped vppon another. There be two prouocations of pride in wyues, their dowrie, [Page]and their beautie.

My wife hath a great Dowrie.

There is nothing more importunate or vntractable, then a woman with a great dowrie She thinketh that ther [...] i [...] nothing vnlawful for her to do, which compareth her riches to her husbandes pouer­tie, which mayntayneth her husband, & thinketh her selfe to be his Mistresse, and not his fellowe.

There is a great Dow­rie come into my house.

Where the Dowrie commeth in, libertie goeth out: Whiche thing Lycur [...]s very wel foresaw, who made a lawe, That Maydens sh [...]ulde be married without a Dowrie: adding also a reason, to wi [...], That the wyfe shoulde be married, and not the money, and men shoulde looke more narrow [...]y to their mariages, when as they were restrayned by no Dowrie: And both wysely, for in deede in many houses the husbande is not married to the wyfe, but the money is married to couetousnesse, and doubtlesse a great Dowrie is the wyues libertie, and the husbandes brydle.

I haue a very great Dowrie with my wyfe.

Nay, rather change the places of thy woordes, and say thou hast a wyfe with a great Dowrie: How muche more wyllyng wouldest thou be to shut her out of doores, yf thou myghtest doo it without the money? Truely that mar­riage is shamefull, when as a Virgin is not brought to the bedde in hope of issue, but the desyred Dowrie brought to the coffer by prouocation of couetousnesse.

My wyfe hath brought mee a great Dowrie.

Speake more true­ly, a great price for thy libertie, whiche yf it had been deare vnto thee, as it ought, thou wouldest haue solde it for no money.

There is hapned vnto me a very rich wife.

Thou spea­kest nothyng of her condicions: for I thynke thou thoughtest no­thing of her maners, & of the chiefest Dowries in women, to wit, fayth, shame fastnesse, chastitie, & modestie: These ye regarde not, and in your marriages ye respect only money & beautie, that is to say, couetousnesse and letcherie, fytte meanes for such marriages.

My wyfe hath great store of money.

Marke whether that saying of Themistocles, wherein he concludeth, that he had rather haue a man without money, then money without a man, may not aptly be applied vnto women also?

My wife is very ryche.

How muche better were it, to lyue [Page 92]in quietnesse with a poore wyfe, then to be troubled with a proud: and to be hungrie with a poore wenche that is humble, then to lyue in brawlyng with a ryche and insolent Peacocke?

My wyues Dowrie is exceedyng great.

It follo­weth that the pride of her minde is as great, and hath no regarde nor feare of her husbande. Thou wylt not dare to reprehende her faultes when thou consyderest her Dowrie, thou wylt not pre­sume to humble her when thou remembrest that thou art proud by her meanes, and thou must not onely put vp her loftinesse, and tediousnesse, but also her checkes and iniuries. Doest thou not re­member the Prince Aurelius Antonius, who lost not the sur­name of a Philosopher, although he were an Emperour? Who knowing his wiues whooredome, and when his friendes exhorted him eyther to put her to death, or to put her away, aunsweared: If I put away my wyfe, I must also restore her Dowrie, whiche was the Empire. Thus thou seest how a Dowrie brydled the minde of a most graue man, and great personage: and wyll not thy wyues bridle thee?

My wyues Dowrie is very great, infinite, and inestimable.

The Dowrie of mar­riage was deuised to support charges, not to prouoke couetous­nesse And therfore the more it is increased, the more it is defamed, as by meanes of the greatnesse thereof, doing hurt two wayes, de­claryng both the impudencie of the geeuer, and encreasing the greedinesse of the receiuer.

My wifes Dowrie is very great

It skilleth not how great the Dowrie be, but what maner of woman the wife is: and truely in a Dowrie, not so much the quantitie, as the qualitie is to be considered, to wit, from whence it came, and by what meanes it was gotten: for many great Dowries haue been gotten by euil meanes. Thou knowest the Hehopolitane and Punik [...] maner, whose marriages are not made by their countrey Religion, but their Dowrie is got­ten by whooredome and filchinesse.

Of pleasant loue. The Lxix. Dialogue.

I Enioy pleasant loue.

Thou shalt be ouercome with pleasant snares.

I burne in pleasant loue.

It is well sayde thou burnest: for loue is a secrete fyre, [Page]a pleasaunt wounde, a sauery poyson, a sugred bitternesse, a de­lectable sicknesse, a sweete punishment, and a flatteryng death.

I loue, and am loued agayne.

The first thou mayest knowe of thy selfe: the second thou mayest stande in doubt of, vnlesse thou take thy sweete hartes secret talkyng in the night for a testimonie thereof.

Without doubt I am beloued.

I perceyue she hath perswaded thee, and it is no hard matter to perswade one that is wyllyng, for all louers are blinde and quicke of beleefe. But yf thou thynke that there be any trust in a louers othe, then bring foorth the bil of thy louers hand which was written in the brittle Ice, whereunto the Southerne windes were witnesses. But, O thou foolysh man, neuer geue credite to a dishonest woman: sexe, heate, lightnesse, custome of lying, desyre to deceyue, and the gaine of deceite, euery one of these, and muche more al these, maketh it suspitious whatsoeuer commeth out of her mouth.

I loue that whiche delyghteth my mynde, and I burne in loue sweetely.

Thou thynkest to heare that of mee, whiche the Maister of loue sayeth, That thou mayest reioyce in thy happy burning, and sayle foorth with thy winde of pleasure. But that is not my counsayle: For mine aduise is, that the more pleasauntly thou burnest, the more warely thou shouldest auoyde the fire. Euylles are neuer more perilous, then when they doo delyght: but many times a most sharpe ende follo­weth such sweetenesse.

I loue, and am beloued.

If it were so, what is it other then a double knotte, a neere linke, a greeuous daunger? I shoulde thynke the better of thee, yf thou diddest loue onely, and thou were not beloued agayne, although the facilitie and difficultie of loue be a lyke hurtfull, as some say, in that the minde is taken with facilitie, and striueth with diffi­cultie: Notwithstandyng, I am of opinion, that there is nothing that: procureth loue more, then to be loued: and on the other side, nothyng more deterreth a man or woman from louing, then to knowe that he or she is not beloued, neyther shall be loued. How­beit the blinde and greedie minde of the louer, wyll not easily be­leeue it, who is one of that sort whereof it is written, That they whiche be in loue, deuise them selues dreames.

I loue with pleasure.

He that knoweth not in how yll case he is, [Page 93]is without sense: and he that reioyceth in his misery, is madde.

I confesse that it is pleasant vnto me to loue.

I had rather it were hateful and grieuous vnto thee, that thou myghtest be more redy to eschewe euyll, and more neare to the hope of health: but now the delyght noorysheth the disease, and he refuseth to be whole, that taketh pleasure in beyng sicke.

Let euery man doo as hym lyst, as for me it is my desire to loue.

As men commonly vnderstand and speake, but vnto me it seemeth seruile and base, and a thyng which dooth effemi­nate and weaken the most valiant men. I wyl tel thee that whi­che euery man knoweth: there is no man but wyll woonder at it when he heareth it, the remembrance of great matters is so won­derful, yea to them that doo not knowe them. But to the ende that I may not recite all, whiche I thynke neyther to be necessa­rie nor possible, call to thy remembrance out of two most floorysh­yng nations, only two most excellent Captaynes, Iulius Caesar, beyng conquerer in Fraunce, Germanie, Britanie, Spayne, Italie, Thessalia, and Egypt, & agayne shortly after in Arme­nia, Pontus, Africa, & last of al againe in Spayne, like to haue the vpper hande: in the myddes of so many conquestes, he hym selfe was conquered at Alexandria by princely loue. Hannibal being conquerer at Ticinium, Trebeia, Trasimenus, Cannas, and at length to be ouercome in his owne countrey, fyrst was o­uercome at Salapia a Citie of Apulia, and that the matter myght be more haynous, he humbled hym selfe to the loue of an Harlo [...]. Howe great seemeth the force of this mischiefe vnto thee, whiche by so smal assault coulde inuade so stout mindes and so valient hartes, and with so brittle bandes hamper so swyft feete, and so strong armes? I let passe fables and olde tales, howe Iupiter was transfourmed into beastes, and Mars caught in a ridiculus net, and Hercules spinning his stint vpon the distaffe, moreouer Leander in the surgies of the sea, Biblis by teares, Procrys by her husbandes dart, Pyramus by his owne wea­pon, and Hyphis peryshyng by the Haulter, and, whiche is more certayne, and more credible, the Grecian Captaines fyghtyng for loue, & Troy burnyng with knowne fyre. With­out all these, and a thousande suche lyke, those two captaynes [Page]whom I spake of before, are sufficient to prooue our purpose, ey­ther for the greatnesse of theyr names, or for the trueth of the Hi­storie.

I loue, what wyll you say of hatred, yf you con­demne loue.

As thou takest them, I condemne them both, neyther wyll I cal any thyng good therefore, because it is contrary to euyl: For two extremities that are contrary one to the other, and of equal distaunce from the meane, that is to say, the vertue, are both euyl.

Then it is euyl to loue.

That I confesse.

But I fynde nothyng better then this euyl.

I thynke wel, as thy iudgement now standeth, but thyne opinion concernyng matters, is affectionate and blin­ded.

Let them hate that lyst, I wyl loue.

I may wel terme hatred and loue, thyngs indifferent: For as it is lyke prayse woorthy to hate vyce and to loue vertue, euen so both the hatyng of vyce, and louyng of vertue, are alyke to be condem­ned. To be short, thou shalt scarce finde any thyng whiche of it selfe deserueth eyther prayse or disprayse, but that by meanes of some smal addition, prayse and disprayse do come one into ano­thers place: and therfore take heede what thou louest.

What should I loue, but that which other do loue?

Al men loue not one thyng. There haue ben some that haue loued God so feruently, that for this loues sake they counted it a vaun­tage to leese them selues and theyr lyues. Others there haue ben, who not lookyng so hygh, haue doone the lyke only for vertue, or theyr countreyes sake: I would name these, but that they were innumerable.

I was neuer in heauen, neyther haue I at any tyme seene vertue, but I loue the thinges that can be seene.

If thou loue nothing but that which may be seene, then louest thou no excellent thyng: yea, thou doest directly agaynst the most common commaundement, Loue not the things that are seene, but the thinges that are not seene: For the thinges that are seene, are temporal, and the things that are not seene, are eternal. But you, beyng blynde in mynd, and geuen only to your eyes, are far vnmeete not only to loue, but to vnderstand or thinke vpon any e­ternal thing: but ye folow those things that shal perish with you, & couering your filthy affections with an vnhonest cloke, ye terme letchery loue, whom ye worship, and, accordyng to the liberue of [Page 94]your speach, ye make hym a God, to the end he may excuse your shame, which the heauen can scarce abide to couer. For what doth God commaunde to be doone that is euil? Goe your waies then, and build Aulters to your God, and offer incense vnto hym, he wil carrie you to heauen: nay rather, the God of heauen will throw both him and you dawne into hel togeather.

You turne the pleasures of youth into slaunder, I loue, and therfore beare with me.

If pardon be to be asked of hym that is hurt, then forgeue thy selfe: for thou hurtest none but thy selfe, and ah poore wretch, among what rockes dooest thou dryue thy slender boate?

I take pleasure in liuing so, and I know not what should forbyd me.

It is a miserable thyng to sin, more miserable to be delyghted in sinne, & most miserable to excuse & loue sinne: and then is the matter absolute, when as to the studie of pleasure, a certayne opinion of honestie is adioyned.

I loue, neyther can or wyl I do other.

Thou mightest yf thou wouldest, & perhaps hereafter thou wylt wyshe thou hadst. For thus it happeneth in many matters, but specially in this sicknesse, that the same remedy whiche vertue hath long time assaied in vayne, continuance of tyme hath brought to effect.

There is no tyme shal see me otherwise then louing.

Goe to then, play, reioyce in thy mad sleepe, & thou shalt weepe when thou awakest.

I wyl not weepe, but sing, & comfort my selfe with verses, after the maner of louers,

This is a point wherof much may be spoken, & seeyng thou lea­dest me vnto it, I wyl stay vpon it. Among many other thinges, I confesse, that the madnes of louers is wonderful, not only amōg the common people, among whom by custome, growyng into nature, al madnes is excusable, but also among the best learned in both tongues. For it is euident, that the Greeke Poets, & yours likewise, haue writ [...]en plausible somewhat of others loue, & much of their owne, & haue gained the glory of eloquence in that, wher­in they deserued the blot of reproche Amongst the Grecians, [...]ap­p [...]o was the most to be borne withal, whose age, sexe, & lightnes of mind might wel excuse a wench: but what shal we say to Ana­cr [...]o [...], & Al [...]aeus, who were both of thē not only famous poets, but also valiant men, & renowmed in their cōmon wealches for [Page]theyr woorthy deedes: or what shall we say to your Poetes, Ouid. Catullus. Propertius, Tibullus, who haue written al­most none other thyng then loue: Howbeit, why should I blame the Poetes, vnto whom there is graunted more libertie in wry­tyng, and not rather the Philosophers, which are the gouer­nours and leaders of lyfe? In whiche respect thou maiest also re­ioyce, that there was muche more grauitie in yours, then in the Greeke Philosophers. For among yours, thou shalt scarcely fynde one, that hath not only not committed any such follie, but also laughed at it, and condempned. But among them, a man would woonder, not only at the common sort of them, but al­so at the Stoikes, whiche are the most precise sect of Philoso­phers, yea Plato hym selfe, whom we knowe to haue been in this errour. The Stoikes wyl haue a wyse man to loue: and truely yf they can agree vppon the kynde of loue, they are not deceyued: For as I haue sayde, a wyse man wil loue GOD, and his neighbour, and vertue, and wysedome, and his countrey, and his parentes, and his chyldren, and his brethren, and his friendes: and yf he be a perfect wyse man, he wyll loue also his enimies, not for theyr owne sakes, I confesse, but for his sake that so commaundeth. Among al these thynges, I pray thee, what place is there lefte for beautie? For thus we reade it defi­ned in Ciceroes Tusculane questions, That loue is an inde­uour to make friendshyp, in respest of beautie. But who is so blind, that seeth not what this beautie meaneth? And therefore Cicero aptly demaundeth this question, What loue of friendship is this, sayth he? Why wyll not any loue an euyl fauoured young man, nei­ther a wel fauoured olde woman? forsooth, age and fauour are here specially respected, which are the foundations of this friendship, whi­che by a more honest name, is rather called friendship then lust, or sensualitie, but what in deede it is, it may be easily perceiued by open & sound eyes. And therfore the matter commeth to this issue, that if there be any loue in al the world, without careful or vnhonest de­sire, without sighings and burning grief, the same is graunted to a wyse man: it must be without al maner lust or lasciuiousnes, as the same Cicero sayth, and without al vexation and trouble of mind, which of wyse men are specially to be auoyded. For as the ap­pearance [Page 95]of thynges may be couered by speach, so can not the trueth of them be changed: and we speake now of none other then the libidinous and sensual loue which cannot possibly be without many of these, and other great euyls. And thus much concerning the Stoikes. Now I come to Plato, who is called the prince, yea, the God of Philosophers. And although there be great con­tention among many in this poynt, notwithstandyng in euery controuersie we must stand to the iudgement of the auncient and better sort, and not of the greater number. Plato, I say, this great Philosopher (that I may speake if by the licence of so woorthy a man) hath written much more licentiously concernyng his filthy loues, although to a true philosopher in deede, there is no lust that is not filthy, and not to be alowed, then becommeth the name and grauitie of Plato to haue written. He hath written notwithstan­ding, and, for which I am the more sory, his works be extant, ney­ther was he ashamed of the blot of so renowmed fame, nor the iudgement of posteritie, the force of this passion of his mynde, and the sweetnesse of his stile which pricked foorth his pen, so far ouercommyng his care and feare in this behalfe, whiche he had now so abundantly in this filthie and shameful argument, that a man may sooner discerne the beames of the Platonicke wit, in the wrytinges of the Epicures, then of the folowers of Plato. And this I perceyue to haue been the cause that many forsooke theyr wrytynges, which they myght eyther more honestly not haue written at al, or more wysely haue suppressed, and also, as I gesse, wylbe the cause heareafter that many wil do the lyke: but I haue now touched the chiefest. Thus haue I sayde somewhat concernyng the reprehension of this madnesse, and much more al­so may be sayde, and for remedy therof not a litle. For as tou­chyng the comfort in this sicknesse, whereof thou speakest, whiche thou imaginest to come by verses, let Hor [...]ces short verse & de­maunde be vnto thee in steede of an answere, Doest thou thinke that by these verses thy paines, vexations, and greeuous cares may be driuen out of thy minde? By speaking & singing, loue is noorished and kyndled, not quenched and assuaged, so that those songes and verses of which thou speakest, do not heale, but hurt thy woundes.

By your aduertisment & experince I now begin to beleeue [Page]you, and therfore setting other things apart, conuert your stile, yf it please you, vnto remedies.

Many in fortymes haue gone about to get these togeather, among whom Ouid the great Phisition loued better the sicknesse then the health, whose medicines, as may be seene, are some chyldish, some filthy, or without effect: Others also haue written, among whom hath Ci­cero, shortly, & effectually. To be short, among al that I haue cho­sen and liked, these are in few: changyng of place, whiche as it is sometyme holsome for the body, so is it also for the diseased minde: diligent eschewing of al thynges whereby the countenance of the beloued may be brought into remembrance: also busiyng of the minde, and eftsoones conuertyng it vnto new cares and trou­bles, wherby the foote steppes of the former disease may be vtter­ly extynguished: earnest and continual thynkyng how shameful, how sorowful, how miserable, and lastly, how short, how slipperie, and how smal a thing it is that is sought for by so many dangers and troubles, how much more easily and commodiously it might otherwyse eyther be fulfylled, or wholy reiected, and reputed a­mong the most vylest thyngs. Moreouer, shame hath cured ma­ny, which remedy happeneth to the most noble myndes, whylest they seeke to auoyde infamie and irrision, & are loath to be poyn­ted at as they goe in the streetes, laying before theyr eyes the fil­thynesse of the thyng, voyde of effect, ful of shame, ful of danger, ful of iust causes of sorow and repentance: last of al, settyng false excuses and vayne perswasions aside, to put on the true, to wyt, that neyther nature, nor destiny, nor starres, beare any sway in this matter, and finally nothyng, but only a lightnesse and free iudgement of the mynde. For it is in the choyce of hym that is sicke, to be made whole, so soone as he begynneth to haue a wyll to be whole, and can finde in his harte to breake of the pleasant linkes of their sweete companie, which is an hard matter to doo, I confesse, but possible to hym that is willing. For as Cicero sayeth most grauely, This is to be declared which is found to be in euery perturbation, that it is nothing but in opinion, in the iudgment, and in the wyl. For yf loue were naturall, then all should loue, & should alwayes loue, & al loue one thyng, and then shame should not deterre one, and musing another, and sasietie an­other. [Page 96]For this last, which is sacietie or fulnesse, is by some num­bred among the remedies, and so is also a newe loue, wherby the old is dryuen foorth, as it were one nayle by another: which al­though vnto Artaxerxes kyng of Persia, whom the holy scrip­ture calleth Assuerus, it was put in mynd by friendes, and found profitable by effect, as Iosephus declareth the matter more at large. I contend not of the euent, but I speake of the choyce. And therefore truely I haue ben of opinion, that these two remedies haue sometyme been profitable, but alwayes dangerous: and yf with none of these, nor with them al thou canst recouer, then must thou in thy mynde run to the causes of the disease. These, as I suppose, are the cheifest and greatest of al, health, beautie, and good fauour, ryches, leasure, youth. And as contraryes doo best cure the diseases of the body, so wyl they excellently remedy the minde also, as sicknesse, deformitie, pouertie, great businesse, and olde age, which is a worthy refourmer of the errours of youth. These be my last remedies, which are hard in deede, but in respect of the greatnesse of the plague, to be wyshed.

Of the byrth of chyldren. The .lxx. Dialogue.

I Haue chyldren borne vnto me.

A double mischief, and a domestical burden.

There are chyldren borne vnto me.

Thy wyfe is troublesome, her Aunt more troublesome, and her children most troublesome of al.

I haue chyldren borne.

A most bytter sweetnesse, & gall annoynted with Hony.

I haue sweete issue borne vnto me.

Thynke that there is sprong vnto thee at home a fountayne of grieuous cares: thou shalt neuer lyue without feare, and anguysh.

I haue begotten children.

Thou couldst before neither feare, nor hope, nor pray: but now thou shalt learne to thy cost, thou shalt learne also to take com­passion vpon parentes bereaued of their chyldren, and thou shalt learne to experiment long cares in thy short lyfe, & that now thou takest longer businesse in hande, thou shalt learne to be greeued for the thynges that belong nothyng vnto thee, and to dispose that which thou shalt neuer see: To be short, thou shalt learne to loue another more then thy selfe, thou shalt learne to [Page]loue most ardently, and to be loued most coldly, whiche are hard matters.

I haue chyldren.

Now thou be­gynnest to vnderstande what duetie thou owest to thy parentes.

I haue begotten chyldren.

Thou hast planted a tree which must be husbanded with intollerable paynes, whiche wyl keepe thee occupied as long as thou lyuest, and whereof per­haps thou shalt reape either no fruite at al, or late fruite, and that peraduenture when thou art dead.

I haue chyldren.

If they be good, a continual feare, yf they be wycked, a perpetual sorow: in the meane whyle a doubtful comfort, and an vndoubted care.

I haue chyldren.

Then hast thou whereof to be sory whyle thou art liuyng, and to be knowne when thou art dead, and wherefore thou mayest be willing to die often.

I am the father of good chyldren.

The better thy chyldren are, the more daungerous is thine estate. Thou knowest not what cause of sorowe thou hast purchased by begetting chyldren, what entrance thou hast made into thy house for teares, what power thou hast geuen vnto death and miserie ouer thy selfe. O wretched mothers, sayth Horace: but O wret­ched fathers, say I.

I am father of very good children.

Thou shouldest wishe for death while thou art in this prosperitie, lest that whilest thou lyuest, thou surcease to be that whiche deliteth thee, and at length, with Nestor thou demaunde of thy felowes, why thou hast lyued so long.

I reioyce and am happie, for that I haue wished issue.

A trou­blesome felicitie, a carefull ioy, and many tymes sorowfull, a miserable happinesse. I coulde aleage many excellent men, whose felicitie was by nothyng so much hyndred, as for that they had chyldren.

Of a pleasant young childe. The .lxxi. Dialogue.

I Haue a pleasant young chylde.

If so be that this myrth turn not to sorowe, and the pleasanter thine infant is whyle he is present, the more sorowful thou be when he is from thee.

I haue a chyld of good towardnes.

What if in nothing? That age is of al other most frayle, and is many tymes cut of in the middes of their flowre. And as there is [Page 97]nothing more sweete, so is there nothing almost more bitter.

I haue a most flattering and pratling Infant.

O, take heede that these flatteries turne not into teares. The sight and pratlyng of a young chylde is very pleasant, I confesse, and as it is written in Sta. Papinius▪ their heauenly lookes, and interrup­ted woordes, after the maner of verses or mytre, whiche whyle they are heard, doo delight, when they can be heard no more, doo grieue, and can not be remembred without sorowe. Thus in all worldly thinges, but in nothing more then in this, bitternesse is euermore set against sweetenesse.

I am delighted in my most pleasant Infant.

I forbid thee not to be deligh­ted, that I may not withstand nature, but I seeke for a meane in al thinges, without which there is nothing wel doone. I would haue thee to reioyce more sparingly, that if thou haue occasion to be sorie, thou mayst also more sparingly be sorie: and I would wish thee to thinke, that it may easily come to passe that thou may­est trust to a broken staffe, or leane to a rotten wall, which Adri­ane the Emperour is reported to haue sayde often, when he had adopted Aelius, who was a fayre chylde in deede, and but weake: and thou mayest also sing to thy selfe this verse of Virgil, The destinies shall onely shewe hym to the earth, but not suffer hym to liue longer.

I reioyce in my young Chyld.

Re­ioyce so, as yf thou shouldest be sory, eyther for that, as I haue said, it may chaunce he may die, or, which is much more greeuous, and hapneth very often, of a most pleasant chylde, become a most vnthankefull and disobedient young man.

I ioy much in my young chylde.

There is no husband man so foolysh that wyl reioyce much in the flowre, the fruite is to be looked for, and then he ought to reioyce moderatly. In the mean while tempestes, hayle, and blastinges are to be feared, and the ioy must be moderated with dreade.

Of the excellent fauour of Chyldren. The .Lxxii. Dialogue.

MY Children fauour is excellent.

If thou haue learned by mine instruction not to regarde thine owne fauour, then thou knowest how much thou hast to esteeme [Page]of anothers.

The fauour of my children is great.

A thing verie dangerous for the male kinde, but much more for the female: For beautie and chastitie dwel seldome to­geather, they wyl not, and againe, if they would, they can not, see­ing al humane thinges, especially honestie can yf or kept in safetie now adayes, chiefely if it be ioyned with an excellent beautie. There be some whose beautie is enuied at, but that enuie keepeth it selfe within it owne boundes, some are sory, some angry with their beautie as much as may be possible, many haue waxed olde, continuing vndefiled among the hatred of many, some haue she­wed perpetual and vnquenchable tyrannie. How many saylers do passe euery day vpon y^e calme sea? how many Merchantes do tra­uayle through y^e desartes with their wares safe, & neither Pyrate meeteth with the one, nor the Theefe with the other? But what beautiful woman canst thou name vnto me, that hath not been as­sayed? Although she be chast, she shalbe tempted and ouercome. What womans minde is able to resist so many corrupters? The scaling ladders of sugred woordes are set to the walles, the en­gines of giftes are planted, and the secret moynes of deceites are cast vp vnder the grounde: If these meanes wyll not serue, then force is violently offered. If thou require proofe, call to thy re­membraunce the most famous rauishmentes. Beautie hath temp­ted many, and caused many to be tempted, some it hath ouerthro­wen, and driuen them into wickednesse, or to death. Among the Hebrues, Ioseph was an example of vehement temptation, but the prouidence of God turned the danger into glory. Among the Grecians, Hippolytus and Bellerophon: and among you, Spurina, to the ende she woulde not be tempted, defaced her selfe with her owne hands. Among y^e fyrst was no: Thamar? among the seconde was not the Greekish Penelope? among the thyrde was not the Romane Lucretia safe? Finally, among all sortes, the most part haue been commonly eyther tempted, or ouer­throwen. These be the fruites of this transitorie and brittle beautie, whiche many tymes haue not onely ouerthrowen whole houses, but great Cities, and mightie Kyngdomes. Thou knowest histories. Truely, yf Helen had not been so beautifull, Troy had stoode safe: yf Lucretia had not been so fayre, the [Page 98] Romane kingdome had not ben so soone ouerthrowen: yf Virgi­nea had not ben so beautiful, the auctoritie of the ten men had not so soone fayled, neyther Appius Claudius beyng so great a law maker among the Romanes, beyng vanquished with lust, had lost his fame at the barre, and his lyfe in prison. Finally, there haue been innumerable, who if they had not been so fayre as they were, there shoulde not haue been so many, that beyng forced and decey­ued, haue fallen out of the castle of chastitie, into so great repro­ches and ruine of their soules: and therefore vtter what good ef­fectes thou hast founde in beautie, that they may be compared with their contraries.

My Chylde is passing beautifull.

This beautie hauing enflamed the lust of one called Messalina, choose whiche thou haddest rather of these twayne: ey­ther to deny, and so to be slayne at the louers commaundement, eyther to agree, and to perysh by Claudius swoorde. Thus at one side by chastitie death is purchased, & by adulterie there is nothing but only a litle deferring of death procured: and this is the effect of this noble and excellent beautie. In this therefore, as in al other thinges, the mediocritie is commendable: and if any of the extre­mities were to be wished, beautie is more delectable, but deformi­tie is more safe.

I haue a most beautifull Daughter.

Be careful of treason, and beware of force. Doest thou thinke that there is but one Iason, or one Theseus, or one Paris? Yes, there be a thousand. To haue a Daughter, is a care and trou­ble: if she haue beautie, there is feare, which thou canst not auoyde but by death or olde age: for by marrying her into another house, thou shalt but translate thy feare, and not extinguishe it.

I triumphe and reioyce in the singular heautie of my Chil­dren.

For young folke to glorie and reioyce in theyr beautie it is a vayne thyng, but common: but for an olde man to reioyce in the beautie of his Chyldren, whiche vnlesse he doated, he woulde perceyue to be full of vanitie, or subiecte to daungers, it is more follie, and next coosen to madnesse.

My Chyld hath an heauenly beautie.

Thou hast read, I thinke, the foure and twentie booke of Homers Iliades, where Priamus speaking of his sonne Hector. He seemed not, sayeth he, to haue ben y^e sonne of a mortal [Page]man, but of a God. This sayd Priamus, but Achilles shewed that he was the sonne of a mortall man, and not of a God: and remember thou likewise, that this heauenly beautie of thy chylde whereof thou speakest, may be taken away and blemished, and so long as it continueth, whatsoeuer accompt be made of it, it is but an vncertayne thyng. Howbeit the immoderate loue of fathers, whiche is enimie to vpryght iudgement, bringeth foorth these er­rours and trifles.

I haue a passyng fayre Daughter.

If nothyng els chaunce, thy house must be most sumptu­ous.

Of the valiencie and magnanimitie of a Sonne. The .Lxxiii. Dialogue.

I Haue a valient Sonne.

The more valient he is, the more it behoueth thee to be fearefull: For Fortune layeth more dangers vpon none, then those that contemne her, that is to say, Valient men. And not without good cause: for other men hyde them selues, and seeke to auoyde her force: but these lay themselues open to her furie. Recall forepassed ages to memorie, and thou shalt perceyue, in a maner, all the most valient men con­sumed by violent death.

My Sonnes valiencie is ex­ceedyng great.

Fortitude is a most excellent vertue, but accompanied with sundry chaunces, and therefore see thou haue alwayes teares, and a coffin in a redinesse: Death is at hande to all men, but nearest to the valient.

My Sonne is a most valient man.

Then hast thou one that perhaps may purchase vnto his countrey libertie, to his enimies slaughter, to him selfe honour, and one day vnto thee teares, but feare conti­nually.

My Sonne is valient, and of great courage.

What other thyng dyd Creon bewayle in his sonne that was slayne, then his couragious desire of martial prayse? What Enander in his sonne Pallas, then his newe glory in armes, and the sweete honour of his first encounter? Whereof dyd feareful Priamus admonish his sonne Hector, then that he should not alone expect Achilles? What doth y^e careful mother entreat her sonne, other then to shun that warlike champion? Finally, what dyd Hectors wyfe (beyng ignorant of the heauie chaunce that [Page 99]alreadie was hapned) say that she feared, other then her husbandes well meanyng, and the heate of his minde, that was not able to stay hym out of the fyrst aray of the Souldiours, but woulde ra­ther runne before them all? Whiche thyng also she feared at the beginning, when as she spake vnto hym as he was going into the warres, in this maner, Doeth thy valiencie so deuilishy be witche thee, that thou takest compassion, neyther vpon thy Sonne, nor mee his Mother, who shall shortly be thy Wydowe? Lastly, what o­ther dyd Achilles mother say, beyng fearefull for her Sonne, Now must I seeke for my sonne Achilles by Lande and Sea, and I woulde he woulde folowe mee? Whilst in wayne she tooke hym, being feeble, out of the garboyle of the hotte warres, and carrying hym into the pallace of the calme olde man, hyd hym vp in her virgins secrete closets. All these lamentations and feares were by nothyng els procured, then Martial force, and valient courage.

My sonne is exceeding couragious.

A great courage, without great power, is great follie. True valiencie and magna­nimitie apparteine but to fewe men: although they that seeme most mighty & strong, how weake they be in deede, many things besides death do declare, but specially death it selfe: so that it may be sayde shortly and truely, There is nothyng more weake, nor more proude then man.

I haue a couragious sonne.

Reioyce therefore, for thy house shalbe full of great attemptes, and emptie of rest and quietnesse, and thou shalt often wishe that thy sonne were not so couragious. To conclude, fortitude is a no­ble vertue, and magnanimitie beautifull, but both are painefull and troublesome, and modestie is safe and quiet.

Of the Daughters chastitie, The .Lxxiiii. Dialogue.

I Haue a chaste Daughter.

A great ioy, but a careful: For the greater her chastity is, the more watching is lust ouer her. For there is nothyng more ardently inuaded, then y^t which is defended with chaste watch, and womanly shamefastnesse. When the corruptor hath won the path, he goeth foorth then [Page]more slowly, and permitted thynges are more coldly desired: a thyng that is muche coueted, is hardly preserued.

My Daughters beautie is excellent.

There it is then, where a very good thing ministreth matter to the most vilest. The beautie of Lucretia was great, but nothing in respect of her ho­nestie: so that the chastitie of this noble Matrone violently pricked foorth the hot young man to adulterie. Thus the wickednesse of the reprobate, abuseth the ornamentes of the vertuous.

My Daughters chastitie is knowen.

Pray that it may continue. Thou readest in the Poet, A woman is alwayes di­uers and changeable: Which although Virgil sayd it not, were it therefore lesse true? How many haue we seene that haue been ho­nest whyle they were young, and haue afterward prooued wanton in their age? And so striuing with their present vices, against their forepassed honestie, doo seeme in a maner to repent them of their tyme honestly spent: a more foule reproche then whiche, there can chaunce in no sexe and age.

I haue a most chaste Daughter.

If she knewe her selfe; and vnderstoode whose gift chastitie is, and geuing thankes vnto hym, coulde ap­ply all her studie to preserue the same, & wou [...]d continue vndefiled in safetie, thou shalt then haue great cause (I confesse) to thanke God, and reioyce with her, more then yf thou haddest married her to a Kyng, and yet, beleeue me, some tyme to feare also: For since constancie is rare in al thinges, be sure there is none at al in wo­men.

Of a good sonne in Lawe. The .Lxxv. Dialogue.

I Haue a very good Sonne in law.

Thou oughtest to loue him more deere then thine owne sonne, for thine owne sonne commeth to thee by chaunce, but thy sonne in lawe by choyce. Thanke therfore thy Daughter, who owing vnto thee Nephewes, hath now brought thee a sonne.

Fortune hath brought vnto me a very good sonne in lawe.

In this kinde of affinitie, there be examples of notable fayth, and treason. [Page 100]Seldome or neuer hath any Sonne been so faythfull to his father, as way Marcus Agrippa to Augustus Caesar, as Marcus Aurelius to Antonius Pius, vnto whom euen vnto his liues ende, whiche was the space of three and twentie yeeres, he so behaued hym selfe, that not onely he deserued his loue and his Daughter, but also the succession in his Empire as his Sonne, through his continuall fayth and diligence. But Nero was no suche sonne in lawe vnto Claudius, although he not by his de­sartes, but by his mothers policie, obtayned the Emperours daughter, and Empire.

I haue founde a courteous, and agreeable Sonne in lawe.

Beware least ey­ther the hope of succession, or the seekyng after goodes, doo in­fringe this agreement. Who wyll not wyshe that he may lyue, whose lyfe he seeth to be profitable vnto hym selfe? But yf he once begynne to attempt any thyng, so that perhappes he suppose thy lyfe to be an hynderaunce, or thy death begynne or seeme to be profitable vnto hym, then the affections of the mynde are changed, and secret hatred wyll soone breake foorth. And of what force the discorde is betweene the Father and the Daughters husbande (to say nothyng of the auncient Fable of Danaus, and Nummianus, who was slayne by the wycked treason of Aprimus his Father in lawe, and likewyse Stilico, who through the desyre to reigne forgat his Father in lawe that was dead, and his Sonne in lawe that was lyuing) the most memorable example of Caesar and Pompei, doth suffici­ently declare.

Of seconde Marriage. The .Lxxvi. Dialogue.

I Meane to be married agayne.

If thou knewest throughly what a woman were, or what excellent auctours doo write of her, thou wouldest not haue married at the first.

I entend to marrie againe.

If thy first mariage haue not tamed thee, then marrie againe, & if y^e tame thee not, then thou mayst also marrie y^e third time.

I am about to marrie againe.

Who so hauyng chyldren by his fyrst marriage, bringeth a Stepmother among them, he setteth his house afyre with is owne handes. If youth pricke thee, or letcherous olde age styrre thee to lust, then whiche there is nothing more filthie, per­haps (to speake now more ciuilly then vertuously) it were more profitable, were it not the cause of sinne, or forbyd by the lawe of God, to remedie the matter by keepyng a Concubine, then that a quiet house be disturbed by Stepmothers tempests and hatred.

I entende to marrie againe.

Thou maiest do so by the lawe of man, the lawe of God rather suffryng it, then pray­sing it: All men knowe what Sainct Paul sayth concernyng that matter. And truely we may easily perceiue, how that among the Gentiles, who in that respect lyued in more libertie, this was more suffred, then lyked of. For your Forefathers dyd alwayes repute the experiment of many mariages, to be a token of a cer­tayne lawfull intemperauncie: whiche opinion Sainct Ierome embracing, how muche he writeth agaynst seconde marriages, and how sharply, our promised breuitie wil not suffer vs to declare: whiche although it seeme al to be spoken agaynst women, and not against men, & doubtles that sexe ought to be the greater pre­seruer of chastitie & honestie, notwithstandyng there is more wise­dome and constancie required of men.

I haue neede of se­conde mariage.

I should wonder, vnlesse I knew your conditions: for you make not only vayne, but hurtful thynges also necessarie for you. And as for thee, thou hast a very hard mouth, yf thou haue neede of another wife to brydle thee.

I make hast to be married agayne.

Too it then apace whyle thou art hotte, and when thou art cold, thou wylt repent thee: Hast thou not noted how pleasaunt sleepe is in an emptie chamber? Thy minde is only bent vpon that filthie and miserable act, which passeth away and woundeth.

Of the marriage of Chyldren. The .Lxxvii. Dialogue.

MY ofspring is encreased by the marriage of my children.

This care is somwhat more cōmendable then the last was, and yet notwithstanding, the encrease of the hines hath often been more profitable, then the body­ly issue: The one filleth the caske with pleasant wine, the other annoyeth the friende with bytter cares.

I haue besto­wed my daughter in mariage.

If thou haue so doone circumspectly and happily, thou hast both preserued thy daughter, and founde a sonne, or as I haue sayde erewhyle, one better then a sonne: but yf thou haue doone otherwyse, then hast thou both cast away her, and purchased to thy selfe an eni­mie, and to thy daughter a Tyrant.

I haue bestow­ed my daughter in mariage.

If she were a good daughter, thou hast bereft thy selfe of a sweete and pleasant iew­ell, and transported it into an other mans house: If she were an euyl daughter, thou hast eased thy selfe of an heauy burden, and laden therewith another man.

I haue married my daughter.

Reioyce not to muche at it, Maryage hath been vnto many the begynnyng of a careful and vnfortunate lyfe: and admit that al thynges fall out happyly, a wyfe is a trouble some thyng, and thou hast sent foorth her whom thou lo­uest, about an harde labour and a payneful businesse. Chyl­dren wyl come at home, and thereof wyll spryng vp a peculiar fountayne of cares: But yf there come non [...], then that is a mi­serie and griefe. Thus fruitefulnesse shal make her burden­some, and barrennesse shall make her odious, and perhaps she wyll wyshe she had taryed at home with thee, and wyll haue this thy ouerhastie loue in bestowyng her.

I haue gotten an husbande for my daughter.

The ende of an idle lyfe, and the begynnyng of a payneful, an heauie burden of house­hold cares, the knowledge of the worlde, and the tri [...] or hers [...]e.

My daughter is married.

But she [...]oth [...] her libertie, her virginitie, & her quietnesse, whiche is n [...] indifferent change.

I haue prouided a wyfe for my sonne,

The bringing home of a daughter in law is worse then y^e sending [...]ooth of thine owne daughter, forasmuch as ciuil war is alwayes [Page]more dangerous then forraigne. Thou hast set open thy Castle gates perhaps to an enimie, or truely to a partner, for nowe thou art not Lord and maister alone of thyne owne goodes, and ther­fore it skylleth to know what maner one thou lettest in.

I haue prouyded for my sonne, a noble, ryche, and a fayre wyfe.

Why dooest thou conceale that whiche followeth, to wyt, a proude, and an importunate one, who is enuious of her husbande, and of thy lyfe? There is auncient war betweene the husbandes father and the sonnes wyfe, and neyther of them hath the greater vauntage, but equal feare, for they be both in one state and condition. There is no lyuyng thyng that so much affecteth the hygher place, as dooeth a woman: For in case she perceyue her selfe (by meanes of your lyfe) debarred thereof, what she ima­gineth then in her mynde, and what she wysheth, it were an harde matter to coniecture.

I haue marryed my sonne to a wife.

What knowest thou whether thou haue procured an e­uerlastyng weerysomnesse to hym & thy selfe, or perhaps secrete danger to you both? Many daughters in law, haue consumed theyr fathers in law, and husbandes, with continual pryde and doggednesse: some haue made them away with poyson, and some haue shortened theyr dayes with a weapon. Howe many sonnes had Egisthus, before he had euer a daughter in lawe? Yea, there hath ben founde suche a daughter in lawe, who beyng carryed a­way with desyre to raigne, and impaciencie of the seconde roomth, to the ende she myght the sooner see her husband and her selfe possesse the gouernment, hauyng procured the death of her owne father, caused her Chariot to be driuen ouer his stayne car­kasse: If this be the rewarde of fathers at their owne chyldrens handes, what shal the sonnes father looke for at his sonnes wiues hands?

I am glad that I haue celebrated my daughters maryage.

How many tymes hath an vnlucky euent disturbed this celebration? and teares & tumultes folowed songs, and banquettes, and dauncinges? All immoderate ioy is foolish, specially in these thynges whereout sorow may and woonteth to aryse.

I haue both prouided a wyfe for my sonne, and an husband for my daughter.

Thou hast chaunged bur­dens, thou hast layde a strange care vpon thyne owne shoulders, [Page 102]and carryest thyne owne care vpon other mens shoulders.

Of Nephues. The .lxxviii. Dialogue.

I Haue a younge Nephue, borne of my sonne.

A great loue of thy sonnes, and a continuall care, notwith­standyng it hath a certeine ende: but if it passe any further, there is no ende of carefulnesse, and both he that is borne of thy sonne, and he likewyse that shalbe borne of him, finally, all of them, are borne to thy payne, whose number, how farre it procee­deth, or may proceede, thou knowest. He that was the father of the people of Israel, yf he, beyng affected as thou art, had in suche sort lyued duryng the lyfe cyme of our fyrst fathers, howe great a burden of cares should there haue rested vpon the weeryed olde mens shoulders: For besides Priestes, and women, and chyl­dren, and other vnhable persons, there sprang of his lyne in fewe yeeres aboue sixe hundred thousande fyghtyng men. Goe thy wayes nowe, and boast thee in the armies of thy Nephues, a­mong whom yf perhaps there be any happy, there must needes be wretched of them innumerable. What then? ye must neuer­thelesse not only loue your sonnes and Nephues, but al men al­so: Ye must loue them, I say, in hym in whom ye be all brethren: notwithstandyng, thou must not be careful, nor to immoderately glad, least presently thou be vexed with contrary affections, and it repeathee sometyme to haue reioyced, and thou be ashamed that thou art constrained to hate hym, being a man, whom thou loue [...]st dearely somtime when he was a chylde, as it many times happeneth.

I haue a Nephue borne.

It may chaunce so to fal out, that either through the wickednesse of thy Nephue, or perhaps the force of fortune, thou wylt cal that an vnhappy day, which now thou thinkest to be fortunate. Yea, per­aduenture the childe may dye shortly, & so purchase thee as much sorrow, as euer he procured thee ioy. There be many, & diuers, and suddyne, and vnlooked for chaunces, that happen vnto men, but [...] innumerable. If all shoulde lyue that are borne, the [...] not holde mankinde, no though they liued not [Page]continually, for if they should liue continually they were not men, but euen vntyl they came to olde age, or vnto ripe & lawful yeres. Wherfore, it is a follie to conceiue great ioy of a very short thing, and vncertayne to what ende it wyll come, which is found to be true in chyldren and nephues, but specially in nephues, and most especially now in nephues chyldren, the further they be distant from the roote.

I haue nephues borne of my mother, my daughter, and my sister.

These appar­teyne lesse vnto thee, commit this ioy and care vnto their fathers.

I haue a nephue borne of my brother.

So was Luca [...]e nephue vnto Anneus Seneca, who proued to be no smal part of the Spanyshe eloquence, and likewyse Iugurtha vnto Mycipsa kyng of Numidia, who was not the last exam­ple of the Libyan treacherie, the destroier of his countrey, & mur­therer of his brethren.

I haue a nepheue borne of my si­ster.

So was Psensipus Nephue vnto Plato on the sisters syde, and in a maner his heire in Philosophie: lyke­wyse Alcibiades suche a Nephue to Pericles, the disturber of his countrey, and the rayser of the warres in Greece: and Bru­tus also to Targinius the proude, who threw hym downe from his kingly dignitie, & was a great man, & profitable to his coun­trey, but vtter enimie to his Vncle.

I haue a Nephue borne of my daughter.

Innius, beyng a modest and graue man, was Nephue by the daughter vnto Pacunius, and succeeded hym in Poetrie, and so was Commodus vnto Antonius pius, a most shamelesse and lyght person.

I haue a Nephue borne of my daughter.

Romulus and Remus, beyng nephues vnto Numito [...] of his daughter, re­stored theyr grandfather to his kyngdome of Alba. Aucus Martius, beyng Nephue vnto Numa by his daughter, possessed his grandfathers kyngdome at Rome with great honour: But Cyrus that was Nephue vnto Astiages of his daughter, expul­sed his grandfather out of the kyngdome of the Medes. These Histories are aleaged to this purpose, that concernyng the byrth of nephues, howe muche may be hoped, so muche also may be feared.

Of adopted chyldren, husbandes children by a former wyfe, and wyues children by a former husbande, The .lxxix. Dialogue.

I Haue adopted a sonne.

Adoption is handmayden vnto nature, whiche although she be the more noble, yet is a­doption the more warie, and that whiche nature doth without aduice of the begetter, and as it were by chaunce, in adoption the same is accomplished by the iudgement of him that adopteth.

I haue gotten a good sonne by adoption.

Thou oughtest do so, yf thou haue neglected it: for as begettyng, so is not election excusable, herein thou canst not blame thy wyfe, nor accuse fortune.

I haue adopted a sonne.

This ciuyl remedy was denised wel to helpe nature. The same hath ben experimented to haue been profitable, & to some pestiferous. Nerua adopted a good sonne, but I knowe that some writers are of opinion, that Traiane was deceyued in his adoptyng. And that Augustus was deceyued in adoptyng his Nephue Agrip­pa, his puttyng of hym away, which shortly after happened, doth testifie: but that he was not deceyued in the adoptyng or succe­dyng of Tiberius, I perceyue hym almost constrayned therunto to confesse the same, by puttyng certaine of his friendes to death, which his owne speache also declareth, and the preface of his last Wyland Testament. But Mysipsa, of whom I made mention not long since, was altogeather an vnfortunate adopter, sendyng not a sonne, but rather a cruel Dragon, into his Palace among his chyldren: whom although, whyle he lay a dyeing, he exhorted so to lyue that he myght not seeme to haue adopted better chyl­dren then he had begotten? Howbeit, for the more part better are adopted then begotten, and no maruayle, since the one is guyded by experiment and aduyce, and the other by neyther. But many tymes it falleth out contrary wyse, that not worse on­ly, but worst of al, are adopted: For man is a close and doubtfull merchandize.

I haue a good sonne in lawe.

Seldome is there founde a good sonne in lawe, but more sel­dom, a good father in lawe.

I haue a good sonne in [Page]lawe.

What matter is it vnto thee howe good he be? vnlesse thou reioyce as beyng thy wyues factour. For what shal the vertue of another mans childe auayle thee, but only to bewray the lewdenesse of thyne owne chyldren?

I haue a very good and faythful sonne in lawe, not inferiour to any of my chyldren.

It may be so. Suche a sonne in lawe was Drusus to Augustus, but not Nero suche an one to Claudius.

Of an excellent Schoolmaister. The .lxxx. Dialogue.

I Vaunt of myne excellent schoolemaister.

Thou ceassest not yet to boast of that which is another mans: For what doeth the excellencie of thy schoolemaister apparteine vnto thee? Beleeue me, which I repeate oftentymes, it must be within thee, which must make thee glorious.

I glo­rie in an excellent schoolemaister.

Let hym in the meane tyme enioye as he list that which is his owne, and glorie also if he please, although yf he be very excellent in deede, he wyll not doo it, and touchyng thy selfe we wyl say somewhat hereafter.

I haue a notable schoolemaister.

I long to heare what manner scholar [...] art? For before I know that, I can pronounce no certeintie. How many fooles and dullardes [...] thou were [...]here in the schooles of Socrates and Plato? Howe many without any schoolemaister at all, haue by their owne industrie become excellent, insomuch that they became schoolmaisters vnto ether, that had no schoolemaisters thēselues? We reade not that Virgil had any schoolemaister. The Poet Horace speaketh nothyng of his schoolemaister, but that he was very liberal of his whipping cheare, which I suppose he meant of the stripes whiche he receiued beyng a chylde. Cicero would not aduaunce his schoolemaister with great and most woorthie prayse, neyther coulde he: On the other syde, his sonne, by what instructers and schoolemaisters he was brought vp, namely his owne father, and Cratippus prince of Philosophers at that tyme, yf we beleeue Cicero, it is apparant, neuerthelesse howe [Page 104]notable a knaue, and famous drunkarde, he became, it is well knowne, who myght haue ben learned and sober, had it ben with the only looke and example of his father. Plato hymselfe, al­though as I haue sayde before, he boast of his schoolemaister So­crates, yet is it more for his glory that he excelled Socrates, then that he learned vnder him.

I haue a verie learned school­maister.

The schoolemaisters learning may be pro­fitable vnto the scholar, but it cannot be glorious: yea, whereat thou mayest the more maruayle, he may diminysh thy fame, and exaggerate thy slouthfulnesse: but thou hast shut from thy selfe all meanes of boastyng, and of excuse: thy knowledge shalbe as­cribed to thy schoolemaister, and thyne ignoraunce to thy selfe: And therfore thou hast no cause to glory, but rather to aspire vnto glory. Thou hast suche an one whom thou wouldest be wyl­l [...]ng to folowe and attayne vnto, not whom thou must [...]nke thy selfe to be, for that thou art his scholar. To be short, there is in hym not whiche thou hast, but whiche thou couetest and hopest to haue, and that not without thy great study and trauayle.

I haue a woorthy man to my dayly schoole­maister.

Ciceroes sonne, of whom we spake erwhile, had two notable men to his schoolemaisters, whereof the one instructed hym with bookes at hande, the other with woordes from a far, but howe muche he pr [...]d thou hast hearde. Do we not knowe, that many Princes chyldren haue had many excellent schoolemaisters at one tyme? But what auayleth it to haue them that teache, yf there be none to learne? If the patient be not aptly disposed, the force of the Agent woorketh in vaine. Veryly, yf to looke vpon, and to speake with learned men, would make the lookers on, and the conferrers learned, although we see fewe desirous of vertue or learnyng, notwithstandyng we shoulde see great concourse and resort vnto them.

Of a notable Sholar. The .lxxxi. Dialogue.

FOrtune hath brought me a notable scholar, whom I loue al­ [...]ost more dearely then mine owne childe.

It is a [Page]troublesome businesse to fourme thy wyt vnto the vnequal steps of a chyldes capacitie, and alwayes to haue thine eyes and mynde bent vppon one chylde, and to submit thyne vnderstand­yng and voyce vnto his habilitie and sufferance. But yf thou haue moe scholars, then hast thou a greater heape of traueiles in hand, which wil tosse thee, & tumble thee, this way & that way, & as the Satyrial Poet sayeth, To obserue so many moouing and wauering hands and eyes of children without ende.

I haue one onely most excellent scholar.

For one notable scholar, thou exposest thy selfe to many secrete iudgmentes: Wherein soeuer he offendeth, it shal redound vnto thy discredite. Behold his lear­nyng, wil men say, his eloquence, his manners: see the scholemai­ster in the scholar, there can be expressed no better resemblance of a man, then of his disposition.

I haue gotten a famous scholar.

Go to then, thou hast great hope of glorie, his profiting shalhe ascribed vnto his owne wit, & his default vnto thy negligence: for as much as Plutarche the Philosopher writeth vnto his scholar Traiane the Emperour, that the publique re­port vseth to lay the faultes of the scholars vpon theyr scholemai­sters: whiche, as we reade, many haue founde to be true, a­mong whom was Quintiliane, and Seneca, and the father of Philosophers, Socrates hym selfe.

I haue famous scholars.

It were better they were modest, howbeit, there is no true fame and renowme without some sparkle of ver­tue.

I haue the charge of a great scholar.

Thou encountrest with a threefourmed Monster, at one syde to profite the chylde, on the other to please the parentes, and third­ly to render an accompt to the common wealth, which she wyll require at thy handes, in lookyng for hym to be instructed, who was altogeather ignorant and vnlearned when he was committed vnto thee.

The charge of a noble chylde, is reposed in my credite.

His age, & nobilitie are to be suspected. The one, signifieth that he wyll be vnmynd­ful, the other, that he wyl be proude.

The chylde that is put in trust vnto me, standeth in awe of me.

What wylt thou say, yf he contemne thee, when he is a Springall, and wyll scarce knowe thee [Page 105]when he is a man? The fayth and constancie of chyldren is well enough knowen.

The Chylde that I haue in trust, lo­ueth mee.

Thou hast printed a marke vpon an vn­finished wall, whiche shal be put out as the wal encreaseth: fayth­full loue requireth a sounde age.

I haue a noble Chylde to teache.

An vnquiet chaunce, an vncertaine euent: some wittes there be whom no diligence can amende. Sometime the Father leeseth his cost, the Schoolemaister his traueyle, the Chylde his tyme. Teache hym that is apt, trouble not hym that is vnapt to learne, weerie not both thy selfe and hym in vayne: Art hardly ouercommeth nature.

There hath chaunced vnto me a young Scholar, and not vnapt to learne.

Although thou stand vpon a slipperie ground, and buylde vppon an vncertayne foundation, notwithstandyng, looke faythfully to that whiche is put in trust vnto thee. If he be of ripe yeeres, he may remember it: otherwyse his is the forget­fulnesse, and thyne is the trust: Vertue is a sufficient rewarde to it selfe. There is nothing more sweete, then a conscience bearyng a man witnesse of his good deedes. Let not dispayre of rewarde, withdrawe thee from vertue, for that euen in this lyfe there is no good deede vnrewarded, the most plentifull fruite whereof, as the wyse men haue sayde, is to doo it, and to remember it in silence.

I haue founde a Scholar of great towardnesse.

And truely of great troublesomnesse, and yf he prooue good, thine hart hath begotten thee a sonne, and thy tongue hath brought hym foorth: yf euyll, an enimie, who so often as he shal remem­ber how he stoode in feare of thee, wyll hate thee.

The bryghtnesse of my Scholar is very great, whereby I hope to shyne.

Moderate bryghtnesse delyghteth the eyes, but immoderate offendeth them. Moreouer, none wyll lyghten thee, vnlesse thou shyne of thy selfe, and although thou be co­uered, the true lyght is within.

I haue a great Scholar.

No greater, I thynke, then had Sene­ca. Some Scholemaisters haue been defended, and some op­pressed by the greatnesse of theyr Scholars, and vnto some they haue been an assured Hauen, and vnto some a most daungerous Rocke.

Of a good Father. The .Lxxxii. Dialogue.

I Haue a good Father.

Acknowledge then thy good, for it is but short.

I haue a very good Father.

He wyll procure griefe vnto thee, or thou vnto hym.

I haue a most tender Father.

If the order of nature be obserued, great heauinesse remayneth vnto thee for inheritaunce, but yf the order be peruerted, the lyke abydeth hym.

I haue a Father yet.

Vse him with diligence, this is a frayle pleasantnesse, and thy Father is an old man.

I haue an olde man to my Father.

There is now no place for lingring: make haste to gather the last fruite as it were from a ruinous tree. Keepe him companie as much as thou canst, see him diligently as yf he were immediatly departyng, but heare him more willingly, and lay vp his last aduertisementes in thy careful minde, and when thou goest from him, leaue him furnished with necessaries, as yf thou were goyng a farre iourney. The tyme wyll come thou shalt lacke his counsell, and shalt seeke him, and not fynde hym at home.

I haue an extreame olde man to my Father.

Make haste to shewe the last duetifulnesse of vertue towardes hym whyle there is tyme, yf thou omit any thyng now, thou wylt alwayes be sorie.

I haue a vertuous Father.

Then hast thou suche an one, as desireth to dye before thee, and feareth to lyue after thee.

I haue a very good Father.

Thou shalt not knowe what he was, before thou want hym, and for whom thou wylt lament, when thou hast lost hym.

Of a most louing Mother. The .Lxxxiii. Dialogue.

I Haue a most louing Mother.

But thou art vnto her a continual feare and carefulnesse.

I haue a most louing Mother.

The Fathers loue is greatest, but the Mothers loue is most vehement, and both their loues are such, and so great, that the affection of the childe, vnlesse it be very rare, can scarce counteruayle it. Notwithstanding, the con­tention [Page 106]betweene the Parentes and the Children, in shewing loue and duetie one towardes another, is commendable and vertuous, & let them haue the victorie vpon whom the fountaine of heauenly charitie is most abundantly powred. But hytherto the Parentes haue the vpper hand, neyther is yet the duetifulnesse of the Chyl­dren, or their reuerence towardes their elders and progenitours suche, that it may minister iust cause that we shoulde thinke it woulde be otherwyse: but if it shoulde chaunce so to happen be­sides expectation, there were no sight in the earth that coulde be deuised more acceptable vnto the heauens.

I haue a ve­rie good Mother.

Be thou at leastwise a good childe vnto her: remember that thou was first a burden and coyle vnto her, and afterwarde a most bitter payne, and lastly a continuall trouble, and ielous carefulnesse. Thinke on her wombe that bare thee, and her breastes that gaue thee sucke, how many sleepes, and how many meales or pleasures thou hast broken her of by thy crying? What feare and sorowe thou hast procured her by thy chaunces, and sometymes also perhaps perilous pleasures. Many tymes, as the feare of chyldrens death hath enforced the wretched Mothers to ende their lyues, so also hath the ioy of their lyfe. This last poynt appeared playnely that day, wherein they that remayned after the slaughter at Thrasimenus, beyng dis­persed, returned safe to their friendes: and when two Mothers, who thought no lesse but that their sonnes were slayne in the bat­tayle, sawe them notwithstanding come agayne in safetie, not be­ing able to susteine the force of so sodayne a ioy, they dyed present­ly. So that by this and suche lyke examples it is truely verified, that amongst men there is no greater ingratitude then that which is shewed agaynst the Mother.

My Mother is yet ly­uing an olde woman.

As often as thou lookest vpon her, and beholdest the earth also, thinke from whence thou com­mest, and whyther thou shalt, out of how narrowe a place thou camest, and into how narrowe an one thou shalt depart, to witte­out of the wombe of thyne owne Mother, into the bowelles of the Earth, that is mother of al thinges. Among all the thinges there­fore, which between these twaine do delight, and busie the minde, drawe backe the raynes of pryde and couetousnesse.

Of good Brethren, and louing and fayre Sisters. The .Lxxxiiii. Dialogue.

I Haue louyng Brethren.

A rare matter, for pa­rentes for the most part doo alwayes loue, but brethren most commonly doo hate and despise one another. And therefore the trueth cryeth out by the mouth of the Poet Ouid, That sel­dome is loue sounde among brethren: whereas there is noted the wickednesse and vndutifulnesse of brethren, children, and almost al sortes of men, exceptyng parentes.

I haue very good Brethren.

Truely I woonder at it, it is enough that they be good, for most tymes they be euyll, and the worst of all other, and so much worse then open enimies, by how much there is lesse heede to be taken of domestical treacherie. How great the loue of brethren is, that I may not bryng to lyght them that are vnknowen, nor offende them that are present, the most famous couples, the Micenian, the Thebane, and the Romane bre­thren, doo declare: which infamie, why it shoulde more redounde vnto one citie, then to the whole worlde, I see no cause. Beholde the first brethren that were in the worlde, one was slayne by the hand of the other: and yet hast thou not heard? a most horrible mis­chiefe to tell, for Phraates, king of the Parthians, of whom I spake before, beside his most detestable parricide in murdering at one time his owne father and natural sonne, we reade how he slue moreouer his thirtie brethren, not fearyng by so foule a massacre and bloodshed, to establish his yl gottten kingdome, and vtterly to extinguishe al feare of competitours.

My Brethren are good.

I suppose you haue not yet deuided your inhe­ritaunce, for then your malice wylbreake foorth: Golde is tryed by fyre, and so is the minde by golde. That agreement whiche seemeth to be great, is oftentymes ouerthrowen by a litle golde.

I haue louyng Brethren.

Perhaps thy single lyfe, or lacke of children causeth them to loue thee. Thy marrying wyl discouer them, but hauing of chyldren more better, when they shal perceyue them selues depriued of the hope of succession, whiche hope hath caused the most impatient to suffer muche.

I haue brethren that loue me most deerely.

It ought to be so, vnlesse malice, or feare, or couetousnesse, or immo­derate desire to haue: which whyle it coueteth to be satisfied, quite forgetting the lawe both of God and man, doo hinder it. How great so euer the loue be betweene the parentes and the chyldren, yet are the maners and conuersation diuers, which although the parentes doo perceiue quickly, yet do they acknoledge it too late. Although fathers loue their chyldren at the fyrst, yet it is long are they receyue them into familiaritie, yea, many tymes in theyr [...]age. But brethren, before they be borne, & after they be borne, are conuersant togeather in one house, and are wrapped in the same cl [...]utes, and are of equall yeeres, and of lyke maners. So soone as they be borne, they see one another, are fed with the same meate, vnder the same parentes, are accustomed vnto the same felowes, to the same pastimes, to the same Schooles, to the same Schoolemaisters and bryngers vp, they grow vp togeather, they w [...] men togeather. There is equalitie betweene them on euery syde, and loue confirmed and established by many assured knottes and indissoluble linkes, vnlesse some accidental causes doo breake them, and the hardnesse of a rough minde doo infringe them, whiche is so common a thyng, that I knowe not whether there ought to be any loue greater, then betweene brethren, or any ma­lice be more cankred, or displeasure more deepe: equalitie is al­wayes so troublesome a thyng, and mans minde so impacient of a match.

I haue vertuous and godly brethren.

Keepe them with lyke vertue and godlynesse. Loue is a very daintie thyng, make muche of it, it is hardly gotten, and easily lost.

I haue good Sisters lykewise.

An heauie burden, but pleasant, and almost the first trauel for young men, wherin they may exercise themselues when they come to their owne libertie, & wherein they may win their first renowme of vertue and honestie.

I haue good Sisters.

See thou that they may haue a good Brother of thee, and while thou liuest, although your Father be dead, let them not feele the want of him.

My Sisters are very faire.

Thou art keeper of a slipperie thing: beware of deceipt when thou wat­chest most circumspectly, let the troupes of suters that are about [Page]her awake thee. It is an hard matter to preserue beautie where one man assaulteth: what thinkest thou then where there be ma­ny? The garde of chastitie ought to be by so muche more circum­spect then of golde, as it is more precious, and not to be recoue­red. Truly, there is no meanes whereby a Virgins chastitie may better be preserued, then by tymely marriage.

I haue fayre Systers at home.

Prouide that thou haue them not there long, they woulde better furnyshe many houses.

Of a good Lord. The .Lxxxv. Dialogue.

I Haue a good Lorde.

Whether thou hast hym, or he haue thee, thynke with thy selfe: but this is the maner of speakyng, for so you haue a Lorde, as a man may say he hath a Scab, or a Cough. There be many thynges whiche the pos­sessours haue agaynst theyr wylles: those ryches be troublesome, whiche a man can not shake of.

I haue a good Lorde.

Then hast thou lost thy libertie, for no man can haue a Lorde, and libertie at one tyme. Now neyther thy Systers, of whom thou spakest erwhile, neyther thy Daughters, neyther thy Sonnes wyues, neyther thy Wyfe, neyther thy Patrimonie, nei­ther thy lyfe, are in safetie: for in respect of the Lord, whom thou hast, thou hast left of to haue all other thynges at once.

Chaunce hath offered vnto me, and my countrey, a good Lorde.

These twayne are repugnant, and quite contrary: for yf he be good, he is no Lord: and if he be a Lorde, he is not good, specially if he would be called a Lord.

I haue a good Lord.

Parentes are good, brethren and children may be good, but friendes are alwayes good, els are they not friendes: how­beit, for a Lord to be called good, is a gentle lye, or a pleasant flat­terie.

We haue a very good Lord.

Perhaps a good gouernour of the people, and defendour of the Common wealth: a more acceptable thyng then which can not be offred vn­to God by man. He is not onely not woorthy to be termed very good, yea, not so much as good, but rather woorst of all, who ta­keth away from his Citizens and Subiectes, the best thyng that [Page 108]they haue, to wit, their libertie, which is the cheefe and most speci­all commoditie of this lyfe, and for the fulfilling of one mans bot­tomlesse gulfe of couetousnesse, whiche wyll neuer be glutted, can willingly behold so many thousand wretches in miserie, with drye eyes. And yf iustice and mercie can not preuayle, yet at leastwise shame and honestie must reuoke him from so heauie a spectacle, al­though he be affable to be spoken withal, faire spoken to perswade, and lastly, liberal vnto a fewe, of the spoyles of many. These are the meanes that Tyrantes doo vse, whom men commonly call Lordes, and are found to be Hangmen: With these mistes, they bleare mens eyes: with these baites, they couer their hookes, and catche the credulous in their snares.

I haue a mightie Lord.

There is one only in heauen (who of his owne ryght hath called him selfe Lorde) and commaundeth him selfe so to be called: for Augustus Caesar, that was lord of the earth, pro­uided by proclamation, that none should cal him Lord. The one is God of goddes, the other Emperour ouer men: The one mayn­tayned his Maiestie, the other preserued his modestie. Finally, in this respect he sharply reprooued the people of Rome: for thus it is written of him, He alwayes abhorred the name of Lorde, as a reproche and slaunder. Which moderation also, it is well knowen that his successour obserued, although in all degrees he were farre inferiour vnto hym: who though he were greedy of gouerne­ment, yet refrayned hym selfe from the title of Lordshyp, and so keepyng as it were a middle course betweene ambition and mo­destie, he was content to be a Lorde, but not to be called so, kno­wing that it was vniust which he desired, and therefore desired so as he might auoyde the blemish of reproofe. Harde, proude, and greeuous is the name of a Lord, specially where is loue of libertie, and shame of seruilitie? Whose foootesteppes Alexander that was Emperour of Rome wyfely followyng, woulde haue no man write vnto hym in any more lofue style and maner then to a priuate man. As for the other Alexander, that was kyng of Macedonie, he woulde not onely be called Lorde, but also God: whom these pettie Theeues of our tyme fol­lowyng in lyke pride of minde, scarce hauyng possessed by sinister meanes a towne or twayne, wyll not onely be called Lordes, [Page]but count it a shame to be reputed men, and take it as an iniurie to be so t [...]armed.

I haue a very good Lorde in deede.

There is one very good Lorde in deede, whom yf thou hast, thy seruice is most honest, and more happie then a king­dome.

We haue a iust Lorde, and [...] very good King.

The Greekes make no difference betweene a King and a Tyrant, accordyng vnto which signification, our Poet spea­king of a kyng, sayeth, It shalbe vnto me some part of contentation to haue touched the Tyrantes right hand. But among you, onely the purpose and maner of gouernment maketh the difference: so that he is truely to be tearmed a Kyng, that ruleth with iustice and equitie. But who so sitting in the hygh seate of princely digni­tie, is not a diligent looker to the profite of the Common wealth, but rather a procurer of his owne priuate lust, or eyther seekyng after rapine, or imagining reuenge, pursueth his owne wilful­nesse or wrathfulnesse, and geueth hym selfe vp to the outragious and vnbrydled motions of his minde, the same is a slaue vnto euyl maisters, and no kyng, although he appeare in more maiestie then the residue, and beare the Regal scepter in his hand, and vaunt hym selfe in his Purple and princely apparrell, but is ra­ther a Theefe that is risen vnto dignitie, by vexing the Commons, or troubling the people, and is set in that place, to the intent that exercising his crueltie with a more free scourge, proouing some, and tempting other, troublyng and molestyng all, beyng hym selfe ignoraunt, and followyng his owne passions, notwithstan­dyng, by the ordinaunce of hym that turneth euyl to good purpose, although with wycked and vniust handes, yet executeth he the iust iudgement of God, euen as a blooddie tormentor putteth in execution the vpryght sentence of a righteous Iudge.

My countrye hath a iust and godly Kyng.

A rare treasure, and a most happie state of the Common wealth, vnlesse the present ioy procuring feare of that whiche is to come, dimini­shed the felicitie, by causing a change to be suspected, and the wan­tyng of that whiche is lost, whiche shortly after is lyke to heape vp togeather future miseries, were remayning in mens mindes that knowe the condicions of humane thynges, and Fortunes slypperie wheele, which suffereth no prosperous thing to continue [Page 109]long. Custome asswageth the feelyng of that whiche is euyll, and vnaccustomed thynges cast a man downe, so that some haue sayde that it is best to be alwayes in aduersitie, which they would not haue sayd yf prosperitie would alwayes endure.

We haue a iust and mercyful Prince.

Wyshe to dye whyle he liueth, that thou mayest not lament the alteration of the state: For seldome dooeth one good Prince succeede another, but ofttymes after an euyl commeth a worse, and most tymes af­ter a worse, the worst of all.

Of the clearenesse of the Ayre. The lxxxvi. Dialogue.

THe aire is cleere and pleasant.

Who can nowe iustly say of you, that your heauenly minde is addic­ted to the earth? For ye hang it vp now in the ayre, and ye bestowe your loue vpon the Element, then which there is none more vnconstant.

The ayre is cleere and caulme.

If thou stay awhile, thou shalt quickly see it cloudy and troublesome, that thou wylt thynke thy selfe to be vnder another heauen.

The ayre is cleere and calme.

How much rather would I wish that thy minde were cleere and calme: that cleerenesse and constant tranquilitie were profitable, whiche neyther cloudes could couer, nor windes trouble.

The ayre is cleere.

Euery cleere thyng is not by and by the best, for we reade that cloudie prouinces are more holsome then the cleere, and in this respect the West part of the worlde is preferred before the East.

This bright ayre delighteth me.

To take delyght in the creation and handy works of God, it is not forbidden, so that y^e whole delight of the mind be conuerted vnto God, who is the fountaine of al goodnes, and the eternal Creator of al thynges be praysed in these thynges which are temporal: otherwise, hearken what is written, If saith Iob, I beheld the Sun in his brightnes, and the Moone when she shy­ned cleere, and my bart reioyced in secret, and I kissed my hand with my mouth, which is a very haynous offence, and a deniyng of the most [Page]hygh God.

The ayre is very cleere, I would it might al­waies continue so.

Thou art not able not only to abide it so still, but also not any long whyle: The alteration of tyme is worthily cōmended to be very commodious of many, but special­ly of Cicero.

The ayre is very cleere, I would it might not be changed.

Thou knowest not how soone this cleerenes wil bring weerisomnesse: There is nothing so pleasant, which continual frequentyng the same maketh not loathsome. There is no medicine more effectuall agaynst all tediousnesse of this lyfe, then varietie of tyme and place: With this, mans lyfe is nooryshed and fed, and as S. Augustine sayth, He that cannot be fylled with the qualitie of thinges, at leastwyse may be glutted with varietie.

Of fortunate sayling. The .lxxxvii. Dialogue.

I Sayle prosperously.

I perceiue the matter, Nep­tune layeth snares for thee.

The Sea hath shewed it selfe calme vnto me.

A deceitful calmenesse, and as I may terme it, a bayte for shypwracke: For yf the sea were alwayes rough, no man would venture vpon it.

The Sea is pleasant and sweete vnto mee.

It is a suspiti­ous sweetnesse: theeues flatterynges are threatninges. This face of the Sea wyl sodainly change, so that thou wilt litle thinke it to be the same, but being colde for feare with the strangenesse of the sight, wylt seeke and say, Where is that Sea whiche I praysed erewhyle? from whence come these so many and horrible Moun­taines of water? from whence this roaring of the hougy waues, and these boysterous billowes which with threatnyng froath ryse vp to the cloudes? None know but those that haue proued, what the Sea is, and howe outragious a beast, and what mooued the Poet to call it a Monster. For there is nothyng more monstrous in the whole world, nothing more vntrustie or inconstant, nothing so often transfourmed, so dangerously, or sodainely: finally, no­thyng more quiet while it resteth, or more vnmerciful when it is troubled.

The Sea is now calme and quiet.

The earth it selfe sinketh, and openeth, and doest thou attribute [Page 110]firmenesse to the Sea, as if thou dissembledst thy senses? trust it not, to tempt fortune oftentymes, is meere madnesse.

At least wyse, I haue now sayled prosperously.

There is no sauage beast that falleth into the snare, but he feeleth some sweetnesse before.

I haue sayled prosperously.

Wicked persons also sayle prosperously, and godly men commit shypwracke.

I haue sayled happily.

Be­leeue me, yf thou continue, thou shalt sayle vnhappyly.

Of wisshed arryuyng at the Hauen. The .lxxxviii. Dialogue.

I Am now come to the Hauen: nowe I sytte vpon the Shore.

Many perish in y^e Hauen, moe vpon the Shore: thou hast exchanged the kynde, but not eschewed the danger.

I am come to land.

Thus thou sayest, as though the dangers of the land were eyther lesse or fewer then of the sea, although they be more secret: Did not he esteeme them both alike, who somtime by the one, and somtime by the other, had ben great­ly distressed vpon them both? Neyther is it without cause, that the same poore searcher of waters in Statius, when he died, com­mended the Winters and South wynde, and the better dangers of the experimented Seas.

I am vppon the lande.

Thou art the more subiect vnto chaunces, in respect there be moe men Inhabite the earth, then the Sea. For one man is the greatest part of the miseries that chaunce vnto another: so that death commeth from whence succour ought to come, to let passe the sundry kyndes of beastes, wherof the lyfe of man is ful.

At the least wyse the earth wyl stand steddy vnder foote.

But many tymes it hath not stoode, and for confirma­tion hereof, I let passe auncient examples, as Achaia, and the re­sidue of Greece, with Syria and other countreis, where in tymes past both whole Cities haue ben vtterly swalowed vp, and hilles sunke downe, & Ilandes drowned: to omit also vnspoken of the auncient ruines of your owne hilles Etna & Vesenus, amongst you of late dayes. Rome it self the head of cities was shaken with an earthquake, which in the time of the ciuil warres was counted a strange matter. In this age the Alpes trēbled marueilously, & [Page]the hygh rockes beyng torne away, gaue licence to the Sunne beames to view such places as were neuer discouered before, since the creation of the worlde: a great part also of Spaine and Ger­manie was ouerthrowne. Thou hast seene Cities, strong Castls, and Townes, at one tyme standyng most firmely, which within few dayes after, a miserable and feareful sight, lay al flat vpon the earth. Yea, the riuer Rhine it selfe ran foorth in his chanel as it were weepyng for the ruines wherwith his banks were on eche side defaced, specially that side which was somtyme most beauti­fied with buildinges, whose rubbishe he washeth now with his ratling whirlepooles. And therfore ceasse thou to be carelesse where is no securitie.

I haue the earth vnder my feete.

Not so certayne a place of dwellyng, as of buryal.

I am glad that I am come to the ground.

Like, I see, reioyceth in it lyke, and thou art earth also.

I am come to earth.

Not yet truely, but shalt shortly.

Of comming foorth of prison. The .lxxxix. Dialogue.

I Am glad I haue escaped out of pryson.

Truely I confesse that this libertie after it hath been restrayned is more acceptable, and more also when it is resfored then preserued: but al thynges that delyght, doo not profite, and many tymes sweete thynges are hurtful, and bytter thynges, holsome. Many tymes not pryson only, but death also hath been profitable, and as often lyfe and libertie hurtful.

I am glad I haue esca­ped foorth of pryson.

Erewhyle thou reioycedst that thou hadst gayned the Hauen, and nowe thou art glad that thou hast escaped it. Pryson vnto some hath ben an Hauen, to some, a refuge and Castle of defence, and hath preserued some that would haue peryshed, yf they had been at libertie. Thinges that are shut vp and tied in chaines, are easily kept. Blind mortal men knowe not what is good for them, and therfore they desire their owne harmes, and when they haue obteined them, they reioyce, wherof they shal soone be sory. And that thou maiest not seeke far for an example: thou sawest of late that man, whose enterprise was [Page 111]more couragious then constant, who in time of trouble durst pro­fesse him selfe Patrone of the common wealth of Rome, First he toke vpon hym the name of Tribune, and afterward when fortune changed, was banished the Citie: then after his fall into pryson that first was Prince, and then Bishop, beyng in both well and honestly reputed, at length by euyl chaunce beyng set at liber­tie, and not only stayne, but also hewed in peeces by his enimies weapons, as he was dying, I suppose, wyshed he had been in pryson.

I reioyce that I am come foorth of pryson.

Hencefoorth thou shalt be conuersant in the courtes that are troublesome with contentions, in the streetes of the cities, and tumultes of businesse, and supposing trouble to be libertie, shalt falsly gratulate to thy selfe the one for the other, while a thou­sand snares shal entrap thee, whom before one key dyd shut vp: and when al men reioyce out of a storme to come into the Hauen, thou only art a woonderful Maryner, who willyngly settest out of the Hauen into a tempest.

I am glad that I am re­turned out of prysyn.

The goodnesse and commodi­tie hereof, as of such other like thinges, is neither to muche to re­ioyce, nor to much to be sorie, but in ech state to kepe an equanimi­tie, as the gouernment of your lyfe, specially in so great darknesse of future accidentes: neyther is it so miserable a thyng, as some make it, to goe into pryson, neyther so happy to come foorth. How often hath the pryson of the enimie, ben more safe then his libertie? How often hath libertie, which you also much couet, tur­ned to destruction and death:

I am come foorth of pry­son.

Many chaunces may delyuer a man out of a large pryson, but out of his narow prison, death only.

I am come forth of a painfull pryson.

Into that pryson thou mayest returne againe, but when thou art once departed out of the other, thou canst not come againe in this time.

Of a quiet State. The .xc. Dialogue.

HAuing disposed mine affaires in good order, I now lyue quietly.

Forsooth, euen as thy ship out of the surgies of the sea, so thy mind, being discharged of y^e cares [Page]of this lyfe, is arriued in the harbour of troubles and terrours: but in deede it is not so, for now hast thou greatest cause to feare. Knowest thou not that the state of humane things doth not con­tinue, but he that sitteth highest vpon the wheele, is the neerest to fallyng?

Al thynges goe with me as I woulde wyshe.

Thou sayest wel in saying they goe al, for nothyng tar­rieth. Before then that thou seeme happy, perhaps hope posses­seth some place within thee, but afterward feare, and last of all so­rowe, but ioy neuer, I speake of the true ioy, vntyl such tyme as we attayne to the true & permanent good thyngs.

Haue­ing disposed myne affayres, nowe I take my rest.

Trauayle and sorow are the summe of humane thynges, & canst thou take thy rest in them? An hard head, that can endure to lye betwene an iron payre of sheetes, and rest thy selfe vpon a pillow of thornes.

All thyngs are wel prouided for.

I suppose that thy ship of merchandize is arriued, thou hast esca­ped daunger, thou hast builded an house, thou hast tilled thy lande, thou hast pruned thy vine, thou hast watered thy medowes, thou hast made thy floores, thou hast planted trees, thou hast cast ry­uers, thou hast plashed hedges, thou hast buylded a doue house, thou hast put thy flockes and heardes into pasture, thy bees into their hiues, thy seede into the furrowes, thy new merchandize thou hast sent to sea, thou hast layde thy money safely to banke, thy coffers are full, thy hall is rych, thy chamber neate, thy barnes wel stored, thy store house full to the brim, thou hast prouided a dowrie for thy daughter, a wyfe for thy sonne, thou hast woon the peoples fauour with thy ambitious flatterie, thou hast got­ten theyr voyces, thou hast prepared vnto thy selfe a redy way vnto ryches and honour, there nowe remayneth nothyng, but that thou reioyce in thyne owne felicitie. This, yf I be not deceyued, is thy conclusion: but myne is farre other wyse, to wyt, that thou dye. It seldome happeneth vnto men, to enioy long that which they haue gotten togeather with great diligence: the toyle is long, the vse is short.

Nowe that my affayres goe forwarde prosperously, I am in an assured state.

Howe thou canst stande, whyle thyne affayres goe forwarde see thou, for I cannot perceyue.

I reioyce, [Page 112]nowe that my businesse proceedeth accordyng to my desire.

Now therefore it is tyme to dye: thynkest thou that there can any man lyue long meery heare? Dye therefore while thou art meery, before thou begyn to be sorowful. I wyl nowe repeate agayne that whiche I haue sayde: For the repeatyng of profitable thinges is not tedious, but pleasant. Dooest thou re­member in Tullie, what Lacon sayde to the auncient Diago­ras Rhodius, who at that tyme muche reioyced, though vpon very lyght occasion, whiche thou heardest before when we en­treated of Palestrical exercises? Die nowe Diagoras, quoth he, for thou canst not clymbe into heauen. And truely it was grauely spoken: For in this so great an alteration of thin­ges, what can the mynde looke for more, then to leaue to be me­ry, and to begyn to be sorowful? And therefore Diagoras ve­ry seasonably folowed his friendes counsel: for in the sight and a middest the shoutyng and gratulation of the people, in the middest of the embrasinges and kysses of his sonnes, he gaue vp the ghost. This Historie is written in the booke of the Attike nightes: and in summe, moe haue peryshed through ioy, then sorowe. Of all therefore that are wyse, but specially that are in great ioy, death is to be wyshed, of whiche we ought alwayes to thynke, but most of all in tyme of prosperitie, and this cogitati­on wyll brydle al other.

I haue taken payne, and nowe I rest.

Ye hope al for that, but therein ye be all deceyued: The course of your lyfe fareth otherwyse, and the ende thereof answereth not your expectation. This thy rest is eyther short or false, or, to speake more truely, both: and howe then carrye dreame any rest heare? So dooth he that is in pryson dreame of libertie, the sicke man of health, and he that is hungrie, of dayntie cheere: but behold, the last day is at hand, whiche wyll shortly dryue away these dreames. But be ye not deceyued by dreames and false opinions, wherof the lyfe of man is full, promyse not vnto your selues rest heare: Be­leeue me, death is all the rest that men haue after theyr trauailes.

I haue al thynges most plentifully, that I thynke to be necessarie for [...]ine.

All thinges more then neede­ful, are wast & superfluous, but this is the maner of mans minde, [Page]that professyng and ascendyng vpward to heauen, burdeneth it selfe with so great care and studie, as it is scarce neuer able to dis­burden it self againe: so that being wayed downe with a forraigne burden, whyle it endeuoureth to ryse vpward, it falleth downe, & the earth is vnto it in steede of heauen.

I haue abun­daunce of al thinges, and they be nowe in the Hauen.

Then are they in the end of their course: For this present lyfe is lyke to the troublesome Sea. The end of the one is at the shore, and of the other in death, so that they may be both well termed Hauens. And truely the most part of men, while they be careful in heaping togeather necessaries to lyue by, in the chiefest of their preparation they are cut of by death, and there is nothyng nowe more common, then for death to preuent the carefulnesse of this lyfe: it happeneth but vnto fewe to obteyne their desire, and from these, the vse of theyr dayly gaine is so soone taken away, that the shortnesse of theyr ioy is an encrease of their sorowe, wherof it is knowne that many haue complained at theyr death.

Now that I haue ended my trauayles, I lyue in securitie.

So doth the foule flie safe betweene the line and the grin, the fishe playeth among the hookes, and the wylde beastes among the toyles. Oftentimes whereas is most danger and least feare, it is fortunes cunning to take away distrust, that she may strike the more freely.

I haue toyled al my lyfe tyme, to the end I might take my rest at last.

Thou hast placed thy rest & securitie vpon a daungerous downefal, & hast liued in sorow, to die in mirth, wherein thou hast folowed no absurd gouernment con­cernyng thy lyfe and death, so that we agree about the qualitie of the securitie, and rest, & sorow, and ioy.

I haue prouided al things to furnysh my selfe whyle I lyue.

Nay ra­ther, to make thy death more greiuous: Thou hast wel prouided for the Phisitions, they will shortly come thicke vnto thee, prat­ling about thy bed: There wil come also some to make thy Testa­ment, & some to loke for Legacies: some that wil dissemble their ioy, & counterfeite teares, & secretly curse that thy life continueth so long, & thy death approcheth no faster: some wil marke the cri­sis or determination day of the sicknesse, some the signes and to­kens, & some wyl watch the golden carkasse. All these goodes [Page 113]whiche in al thy lyfe tyme thou hast scraped togeather, wyl be the meanes onely, not for thee to lyue the better, but to dye the more accompanied. Thou hast not altogeather lost thy labour, for thou shalt not lacke companie when thou art sicke, neyther money for thy lust and superfluities, neyther pompe for thy buriall.

Now that I haue gotten al things, I may take my rest.

I sayd erwhyle, thou soughtest rest and comfort of lyfe, but thou hast founde payne and tediousnesse of death.

I haue dis­posed all thynges, and attained prosperitie.

Thou hast heaped togeather a nest of most deceitfull and transitorie hope, which so soone as it groweth to any ripenesse, wyl flee away, lea­uing thy hart voyde and sorowfull, and many tymes it perisheth before it be fledge.

After my long traueyle, commeth quietnesse.

Perhaps it wyll be as short as may be possible. For often the trauel of many yeeres perisheth in a mo­ment, & when as for the most part al procedinges are by degrees, the endes of thynges are not seldome sudden.

By long cares, at length I am come to the beginning of securitie.

Humane curiositie is very careful of the beginninges, but is so blynde that it cannot foresee the ende. A thycke miste of the tyme to come, hath bleared the sight of mortal mens eyes. Let our deli­beration be the accomplishment of our fortune: But to speake more truely, it is the wyl of God, in whose hands are al mens chaunces, not such as in your fond opinion and vngodly hope you imagine to your selues, but which he foreseeth in his prouidence. For this is his saying, Foole, this nyght wyl they take thy soule from thee: Whose then shal these goodes be whiche thou hast gathered? An horrible threatning, which if it be not able to quayle your hope, and breake of your sleepe, doubtlesse ye are fallen deafe.

Of Power. The .xci. Dialogue.

I Haue great Power.

Then hast thou also muche enuie.

I am of great power.

And also in muche peryll.

I am of very great power.

Thou art subiect also to infinite traueyles, and inex­tricable [Page]cares.

I may do much.

So much as thou mayest doo ouer other, so muche may other doo ouer thee.

I haue very much power.

The grea­ter thy power is, the more empire fortune hath ouer it: she bestir­reth her selfe but coldly in small thynges, she chooseth rather the more plentifull matter to exercise her selfe in. In a great pile of wood the flame rageth with fiercer noyse: great prosperitie pre­pareth the way for great aduersitie. A man shall scarce finde one that is in miserable state in deede, that hath not before been in great prosperitie. The calamitie of an vnknowne man, can not be knowne.

Looke what I would do, the same I can do.

Take heede then that thou haue a wyll to doo no euyl: and knowe this, that the more power thou hast, so much the more businesse, and lesse libertie thou hast.

I am of great po­wer.

Howe knowest thou whether it wyll continue? I am ashamed to set downe what men of power haue come to weakenesse, & what kinges haue been brought vnto infamous sla­uerie. Ful of bryers & slipperie are the steppes of mans rising, the toppe is waueryng, the fall is horrible: the rysing to high degree is difficult, the continuing is carefull, the fall is soddayne and greeuous, whiche to be true, not only euery kyng and people, but also the greatest Empires doo testifite.

I am myghtie in armes and ryches.

True and firme power is founded vpon vertue: yf thou take away the foundation, the grea­ter the buyldyng is, in the more daunger it is. What auayleth it to fyll houses with Ryches, fieldes with Mattockes, seas with Nauies, yf in the meane whyle houshold enimies besiege & ouer­come the minde within? Wylt thou haue me graunt that thou art of power? Ouercome then those enimies, and dryue them out of thy boundes, subdue anger, couetousnesse, lust, yea, and thyne owne selfe, who art enimie to thine owne fame and soule. For what power is this, to subdue other by a mans owne passions?

My power is surely grounded.

How can that he when as your lyfe it selfe is dayly subiect to alteration? O thou weake creature, why doest thou swell? thou disputest of power, and in the meane whyle art in danger of thy lyfe, whiche sooner then a man can speake it, eyther some secrete force of nature, or the [Page 114]bytyng of some lytle beast, or some most vyle and base person, hath often tymes taken away from the most mightie personages.

My power is very firmely established.

Where, I pray thee? vpon the sande and waues, or in the winde, or, as they say, vppon Fortunes wheele? Howbeit, my friende, lay downe this thy foolyshe confidence. Here is no power stable, and to vtter (though improperly) that which I thynke, here is no power, that is of power.

Of Glorie. The .xcii. Dialogue.

BVT I haue founde great Glory.

How great thynges may be expressed in a lytle, I doo not vnderstande. If thou measure the shortnesse of tymes, and the narrownesse of places, thou must needes confesse that here can be no great glory. I wyll not here rehearse vnto thee, howe that the whole earth is but a pricke, the greatest part whereof nature hath made inhabitable, and to fortune inaccessible, and that the tyme present is lesse then a pricke, and euermore vnstable, and passeth away so swiftly, that a man can scarce followe it with his minde: as for the other two partes of time, they are alwaies absent, so that the one weerieth vs with slipperinesse of remembraunce, the other with careful expectation: so that al times, either by floods of water, or ouermuch heate, or with some plague or intemperance of the heauen or earth, or briefely by them selues, and their owne fall, are so torne and confounded, that no age almost hath that which another had: & no lesse in time then in place a man may see in short space, y^e thing that was cōmonly knowen, not to be know­en at al. These, & such other like matters, I say, I let many passe: they be cōmon things, wherby it is easily discerned how great this mortal & earthly glory is.

I haue gayned that glory which my calling requireth.

If it be vnworthy, truely it is but short: if it be woorthy, reioyce, not for that thou hast it, but for that thou hast deserued it.

I haue gayned glory.

True glory is not gained but by good meanes: see therefore how thou hast gotten a name, and so shalt thou vnderstande whether [Page]it be true glory or not: yf chaunce hath brought thee fame, the fame wil also take it away.

I am in great glory.

Beware lest that glory whiche thou supposest to be true, be the Image of false glory: In worldly matters there is great illusion.

I am in muche glory.

Lyke as no poore man seeketh to haue the report that he hath great store of mo­ney, but onely to deceyue: so truely, for none other cause doo the wicked couet the opinion of great vertue: notwithstanding both of them are priuie to them selues whatsoeuer other men report of them, the one, how muche money he hath in his coffer, the other, how much vertue he hath in his mynde.

My glo­rie is notable.

If deseruedly, vse it modestly, that thou adde not there vnto the blemysh of pryde: yf not, abuse the people no longer.

My glory is glitteryng.

Eyther studie to deserue it, or put of that heauie garment whiche is none of thyne owne. It were better to be without glory, then lyingly to be glorious. For true glory is preserued by labour: What doest thou thinke then of false? It is harde to feigne and dissemble in all matters, but most harde in that whiche many doo watche on euery side. Men endued with true glory, are rare to be founde, whom because of theyr great difference and vn­lykenesse, the obscure and malitious common people doo hate. It is an harde matter to lye hyd among so many snares of the enimies, thou canst not bleare all mens eyes that are so dili­gently bent vpon thee.

I appeare glorious.

Perhappes it were better for thee to lye hydde, and more safe. This spake he grauely, that hath sayde many thynges lyght­ly, He hath lyued well, that hath lyen hyd well.

I am famous and far knowen, and widely renowmed.

Malice pearceth and searcheth the most secret thinges, and thin­kest thou that she wyl let passe the thynges that are in sight? Yea, they are but fewe, for whom it is expedient to appeare and be seene, and fewe whom fame woulde not hurt to be fully knowen. The saying of Claudianus is well knowen, Presence di­minisheth the fame: but howe muche more dooeth knowledge of the matter diminyshe it? Men are seldome founde in deede to be suche as they seeme.

I appeare glorious.

Thou lyest hyd in an hollowe cloude, foorth of whiche when thou shalt come a lytle abroade, the falser thy glory was, the truer shal be thy shame.

But my glory is true.

None knoweth that better, then thy selfe: & so yf in thyne owne affayres thou put on the vncorrupt mynde of an outwarde Iudge, true glory, as some wyse men holde opinion, is as it were a certayne shadowe of vertue: for it keepeth company with her, and follo­weth her, and sometymes goeth before her: whiche we see to be true in young men of noble and vertuous disposition, whom the opinion whiche men conceyue of them, maketh them noble before their vertue be perfect, whiche, as it were with certayne prickes and spurres, prouoketh & inflameth noble and modest mindes, to be in all respectes aunswerable to the hope of their countreymen and citizens, and throweth downe headlong the foolyshe and proude. Hereof commeth the ridiculus metamorphosis of noble youthes into obscure olde men: For prayse that is profitable to a wyse man, hurteth a foole. Hereby thou perceyuest that a shadowe can not be of it selfe, but it must be the shadowe of another thing. Wouldest thou then that thy glory were true? see then that true and sounde he thy vertue.

Of Benefites bestowed vpon many. The .xciii. Dialogue.

I Reioyce that I haue bestowed Benefites vppon manie.

When thou hast found many vnthankfull, thou wylt be sorie.

I haue powred foorth benefites vpon many.

Thou sayest true, for if a man consider the mindes of the receyuers, the most part of them is caste away.

Many are beholden to my benefites.

Some wyll release them selues by forgetfulnesse: others wyll requite thy good turnes with iniuries, and yf iniuries ceasse, yet complaintes wyl not ceasse: how many doo complayne of suche as haue done them good? This is iniurious, I confesse, but so common, that complayntes are not so often made of the enimies. Thou hast hearde in Lucane. how Photinus complayneth of Pompeius, [Page]and in Seneca, Sabinus of Augustus. But why doo I call thee vnto bookes, or antiquitie? Beholde the myddest of Cities: euery village is full of suche complayntes. There is no ingratitude, as I suppose, but it groweth vppon one of these three causes: Enuie, whiche thynkyng, by the bene­fites bestowed vppon others, them selues to be injured, forget the good turnes that them selues haue receyued: Pryde, whiche eyther iudge them selues woorthy of greater, or dis­dayne that any other shoulde be preferred before them: Coue­tousnesse, whiche is not aswaged, but inflamed by rewardes, and in gapyng after that whiche is to gette, remembreth not what is gotten alredie. I myght more briefely tearme the whole cause of this mischeife, foolyshnesse: for it is not onely the cause of this, but also of all other mischiefes, the ignoraunce of the true good, and the peruersenesse of opinions. Herehence proceede the infections of the minde, chiefely, pryde and coue­tousnesse, vnto whom no duetie is not stubburne, no bounti­fulnesse not too litle.

I haue been beneficial vnto many.

A certayne magnanimitie which Aristotle entendeth, is sayde to remember what it hath bestowed, but to forget the be­nefites receyued. Whiche opinion, although it want not some colour, yet in my iudgement he that hath the true mag­nanimitie, is a contemner of meane and base thynges, and therefore whatsoeuer he doeth, although in the iudgement of many they be great, yet are they but small to a mynde that imagineth greater and rarer matters: and contrari­wyse, yf he haue receyued any thyng whereby he is made beholden to another man, although it be but lytle, yet is it greeuous vnto one that loueth lybertie, and aspireth vnto excellencie, whereof he is desirous with speede to be discharged and vnburdened. And therefore concernyng this matter, I lyke of the saying of Anneus Seneca, Let hym that hath doone a good turne, sayth he, holde his peace, and let hym tell it that hath receyued it. And it is finely sayde, for that there are two poysons or woundes of beneficencie: The one, the exprobation of the geuer, the other, the forgetfulnesse of the receyuer: both are Mothers to ingratitude, and Stepdames to a good turne. [Page 116]The fyrst, bryngeth foorth ingratitude in another, the lat­ter, in it selfe. The fyrst also extinguisheth a benefite in it selfe, the latter, in another. These mischiefes howe many soeuer they be, may be cured by Senecas counsayle.

I haue doone good vnto many.

But thou hast not doone vnto moste, whiche are greeued that they are contem­ned and neglected. There is in vs, I knowe not howe, a more perfect remembraunce of iniuries and offences doone vnto vs, then of the good turnes whiche we haue receyued. And it chaun­ceth many tymes, that for benefites receyued, a man shall finde his friendes forgetfull or luke warme, but his enimies minde­full and earnest.

I haue doone many great good turnes for many men.

There are many of that disposition, that it is dangerous to doo them good: some haue purchased a friende with a small benefite, and an enimie with a great, for that a small debt is easily repayed, and they are asha­med to owe a great debt, and are loath to repay it, so that there is no thyrde leaft, but that he must leaue longer to owe that oweth agaynst his wyll. Thus whylst shame greeueth hym that oweth a good turne, and sorowe hym that hath receyued it, the shyppe of hym that is beneficial, is caried be­tweene the two daungerous rockes of Scilla and Caribdis, and so it is come to passe, that many that myght haue lyued hard­ly and sparyngly, haue been brought into daunger through li­beralitie. For a man can not freely be good among euyll men, an harde sayeing, but I must needes vtter it: there is no lyuyng thyng more vnthankefull then man.

I haue shewed my selfe beneficial farre and wyde.

There be some that be beneficiall, but not friendly, whom the greatnesse of their callyng, and the necessitie of men constrayneth to geue ma­ny thynges, vnto suche as they doo not onely not loue, but not so muche as knowe, of whom yf they hope to be beloued for theyr benefites sake, they be very muche deceyued. There is none lyght­ly, but loueth where he is beloued. Loue is a mutuall knot and reciprocation of mindes. Gyftes are oftentymes geuen vppon necessitie, but loue is bestowed by iudgement. Therefore, as I wyll neuer denie, but that benefites well bestowed, [Page]and with a mery countenaunce and well meanyng minde, em­ployed vppon woorthy persons, are glorious: so is there no man that doubteth, but that many, yea, the most part of them, through the fault of the geuers or receyuers, are lost and cast away: and that way vnto loue is more easie, short, and streight, whiche I shewed thee before, to wit, to attayne vnto loue by leuyng, in whiche, while thou goest forwarde, yf thou win the true name of a beneficiall person, it shall make thee famous and beloued aboue expectation.

I haue bestowed many and great bene­fites.

Not what, but how, and with what minde thynges be doone, both God and man doo respect: great thinges are many tymes odious, and meane thynges acceptable, but aboue all, the very naked hart only is accepted in the sacrifice and gyft of the poore.

Of loue of the people. The .xciiii. Dialogue.

THE people loue me.

Stay awhyle, and a­none they wyll hate thee.

The people loue me.

Make no great hast, the ende is not yet come: for as one day, so is the whole lyfe described by the ende.

I am beloued of the people.

Who was of them better beloued then the Scipioes, then Camillus, then Ru­tilius and Metellus? What shall I speake of Themistocles or Milciades, or of his sonne Cymon, or Aristides? What of Theseus, of Solon, of Hannibal, or of Lycurgus? These Citi­zens, I say, although they were neuer so dearely, and neuer so short tyme beloued of their people, notwithstandyng their endes are all knowen, and this loue turned eyther into contempt, or into hatred, and requitall vnwoorthy of their desartes, trauell at home and abroade, accusation, death, exile imprisonment.

Most part of the people loue me.

The woorser sort then, for there are but fewe good, and it is knowen that the loue of euyll men, is purchased by euyll meanes: For yf a certayne similitude and lykenesse procure friendshyp, as the wyse holde opinion, thynke of thy selfe what thou art, in that most of the people doo [Page 117]loue thee.

The people loue me.

A fayre Wynters weather, Sommers ayre, calmenesse of the Sea, the Moones state, and loue of the people, yf all these were compared togeather, for inconstancie, the last shal beare the bell.

The people honour me.

With theyr lyps I thynke, but theyr hart is far from thee: for it is not more true vnto thee then to God. The people doth seldome any thyng wyllyngly, but raise tumultes and vprores.

The people feare me.

They wyl not doo so long: For it soone decayeth that is not grounded vpon assured iudgement.

The peoples good wyll is feruent towardes mee.

Of an hot beginning many times commeth a warme middle, and a cold end: which may be seene in nothing sooner then in the good wil of the peo­ple.

The people prayse me.

The prayse of fooles, is counted infamie among the learned.

The peo­ple haue me in admiration.

After some smal altera­tion they wyll despise thee, for alwayes they holde one of the ex­tremities, but neuer the meane, as fearyng hym whom they so account of for an enimie.

The people doo reuerence

I woulde marueyle yf thou couldest prosper vnder so attendyng attenders.

The people haue a good opinion of me.

They vse to iudge on both sydes without discretion, and therfore the verdict of the common people, among true iudges, is an argument of the contrary.

The people esteeme wel of me.

The estimation and iudgement of mad men is suspected of sounde wyttes: I had ra­ther the people knew thee not, then so lyked of thee.

The people speake much of me.

And thou therfore art o­uer credulus, and carryed away with the populare ayre: which although thou knowest to haue happened sometyme vnto great men, yet is the vanitie neuer awhyt the lesse, to reioyce in a slender and vncertayne state.

The people haue me in admiration.

And I also woonder at thee, that thou ascribest this any deale to thy glory.

The peo­ple loue me.

This is no prayse to thee, but thy fortune: it is the peoples manner oftentymes to loue the vnwor­thy, but from them many tymes they receyue a most woorthy [Page]reward of theyr vnworthy loue.

Of inuadyng a Tirranny. The xcv. Dialogue.

I Haue inuaded a Tyrranny ouer my countrey men.

Thou hast wel requited thy foolysh louers: They aduaunced thee more then reason required, and thou hast throwne them downe vnder the yoke of vniust seruitude.

I haue ta­ken vpon me a Tyrrannie.

Thou hast depriued others of theyr libertie, thy selfe of securitie, and both, of your rest.

I haue obteyned a Tyrranny.

A state of vndoubted trauayle, of an vncertaine euent, but for the most part infortunate: I wyl not refer thee vnto auncient and forreine Histories. What was the end of Alexander Phaeraeus? what of Dionysius of Syracusae? what of Phalaris of Agrigentum? what of Anno the Carthagien? what of Elearchus of Heraclea? what of A­ristotinus Ephirensis? what of Nabis the Lacedemonian? and lastly, of Hipparchus the Athenian, whose death purchased immortal fame to his murtherers? Neyther wyl I send thee to new and domestical examples, Cassius, and Melius, & Manlius. Citizens of Rome, Catuline also, and the Gracchi, & Apulei­us, not Tyrantes, but affectyng a tirranny, who were espied in theyr wycked attempts, hyndred of theyr purpose, and suppressed: And lastly, not vnto those, who beyng greater, not better, cloked theyr cruel and vniust tyrrannie, with the colour of a iust Empire, namely Caius and Nero, Domitianus and Commodus, Bas­sianus, and the residue of that crue, who were Princes only in name, and had both Tirantes mindes, and Tirantes endes: but I wyl rather refer thee vnto other, whom in the remembrance of your fathers and grandfathers, yea also of this present age, this your region hath seene. These, that I may not weery thee with them that are farre of, I would haue thee to consyder and behold, and thou shalt see that the common and vsual ende of Tyrantes, is eyther by swoorde or poyson, and thou wylt confesse that the saying of the Saterical Poet is true, Fewe Kinges and Tirants [Page 118]dye without murder and woundes, or of a drye death, without blood­shed.

I possesse a tyrranny ouer my Citizens.

A booty and slaughter house to fyl thy selfe with gold, and with blood to gither with the gold lyke an hungry Crow, and like the greedy Horsleach, which wyll not let go the skyn tyll he be full of blood. But with what countenance, or what conscience, doest thou either shead that blood, which to preserue (yf thou were a man) thou shouldest wyllingly shed thine owne blood, or extortest gold from thy Citizens, to geue it vnto thy cruel tormentors, spoiling them whom thou shouldest feede with thy ryches, and enryching those, from whom (as thou readest) thou shouldest by al meanes extort? so smally are the examples and preceptes of your El­ders regarded. But this is one most vyle discommoditie in the lyfe of Tyrantes, that they stand alwayes in feare of them whom they shoulde trust, & trust them that haue no trust nor trueth at al: and all this mischiefe happeneth on the one syde, for that iniu­ries are offered to them that haue not deserued, on the other, for that benefites are bestowed vppon the vnwoorthy, so that the whole course of thyngs, beyng confounded through disorder, eni­mies are made friendes, and Citizens are made enimies.

I am the Tyrant of my countrey.

Couldest thou fynde in thy hart to be so, yf thou remembredst that it were thyne owne countrey. If the representation of your common mother came into thy mynde, thou wouldest neuer in suche sort teare thy brethren, with whom thou hast been brought vp in thy chyldehood, and also in ryper yeeres, hast enioyed the same ayre, the same waters, the same religion, the same holydayes, the same playes and delightes: with what mynde canst thou insult and reign [...]ouer them, and reioyce when they weepe? Lastly, with what impudencie [...]ooest thou lyue in that Citie, wherein thou knowest thy lyfe to he hated of all men, thy death wyshed of all sortes, where thou art assured there is none that woulde not haue thee destroyed, as a most cruell Wolfe in a gentle flocke?

I haue vndertaken a Tyrrannie.

If thou compare the present tyme with the tyme past, thou shalt perceyue howe miserable a clogge thou hast layd vpon thy shoulders: thou lyuedst somtime a safe & quiet life; [Page]but now henceforward vnlesse thou ioyne madnesse to mischiefe, thou shalt passe no day nor nyght without feare and trouble of minde, eate no meate without suspition, take no sleepe without dread, whyle thou beholdest on euerie side the swoord hanging ouer thy head, which Dionysius is reported, not vnfitly, to haue shewed vnto a certaine friend of his that wondred at his wealth and aucthoritie, who was a tyrant in deede, but a most graue con­siderer of the state of tyrranny.

I haue purchased a ty­ranny by the swoorde.

If thou haue gotten it by the swoorde, thou must keepe it by the swoord, and perhaps loose it by the swoord: Thou hast wonne woorthy ryches in deede, to be odious and fearefull vnto all men, and that whiche foloweth therof, to be continually a feareful burden to thy selfe. But to admit there were no danger, which in some Cities and coun­treys the nature of the people beareth sufficiently, beyng apt to seruilitie and obedience, yet when, beyng out of feare and danger, thou shalt call to mynde what Laberius, a Knyght of Rome, sayde vnto hym that was the fyrst founder of this whiche nowe hath the name of a iust Empire: Needes, sayth he, must he feare many, of whom many stande in feare. The reason of which saying is that whiche Ouid aleageth, For euerie man wisheth him dead, whom he feareth: which was first alleaged by Ennius, where he sayth, They hate, whom they feare: eche man wysheth hym dead whom he feareth. But yf all feare and danger doo ceasse whiche hath happened vnto some Tyrantes, theyr boldnesse beyng noo­ryshed by publique calamities, or the experimented dastardes of theyr Citizens: yet is it not a shame for thee to gouerne those vnto whom it were more meete thou were theyr vnderlyng, be­sydes thy iniurious force, which is the worst thyng of al [...] ▪

I haue put on a tyrranny.

Thou hast put of all humanitie and iustice, and chosen a troublesome and blooddy lyfe, or els truely a doubtful death: Vnhappy man, whose death only thy countrey, which hare thee and brought thee vp, dooeth continually hope for. Is not he in sufficient wofull case, whom al men would haue to be in woful case? And is not he most wretched, who cannot possible be so wretched, but is worthy to be more wretched?

I possesse the chiefest place among my Citi­zens.

Thou possessest a tyrranny ouer thy Citizens, thou hast placed thyne house vpon sande, thy bed in the bryers, thy seate vpon a downefal, thy pouertie in rapynes, and thyne en­uie in miseries.

Of a Kyngdome and Empire. The .xcvi. Dialogue.

BEholde, I am a Kyng by right.

That can­not be long vnknowne, for what the difference is betweene a Kyng and a Tirant, I haue declared alredy: And what a­uayleth it for thee to be called a Kyng, yf thou be a Tirant? The safetie of a King and kingdome, consisteth not in a glorious name, but in true iustice. I deeme it lesse euyl for thee to refourme the gouernment that thou hast gotten, and afterward so to be­haue thy selfe, that thou maiest appeare to be a true King, then by tyrannical vexation to spoyle the kyngdome wherunto thou com­mest by right, wherin thou lawfully succeedest thy father: for there belongeth more true prayse vnto the proceedyng and end, then to the begynning of thynges.

I am a kyng.

It were better and more quiet to lyue vnder a good King, then to be a King thy selfe.

I haue ascended into the Regal seate of the kyngdome.

A conspicuous place, and obiect vn­to al mens eyes, and therfore dangerous for slouthfulnes, and paynful and difficult for vertue: For a good Kyng, is a pub­lique seruant.

I am aduaunced to the Regal throne of a kyngdome.

To the end thou mayest seeme woorthy, forget thy selfe and thyne owne affayres, thynke vpon thy people and the commom wealth: the day fyrst that thou wast made a Kyng, thou beganst to dye to thy selfe, and to lyue for other, and which is the hardest case of al, for vnthankful and vniust conside­rers of thy trauayle.

I am come to a kyngdome.

Perhaps thou mayest get there some transitorie glory, but no quietnesse at all.

I reigne vprightly.

Thou doest well, and a most acceptable thing vnto God. And knowe this, that thou seruest suche as are alwayes repynyng and ful of complayntes, and that wyll scarce geue thee thankes before thy death. There is seldome any Kyng so good, but the people loue [Page]hym better that shall succeede, who when he is come, the other is wyshed for agayne. These are the manners of the common people, to hate the thynges that are present, to desyre the thynges that are to come, and to prayse the thynges that are past. Howe then should complayntes ceasse, yf euery good thyng that is pre­sent doo stynke, and nothyng pleaseth, but that whiche grieueth, whether it be alredy past, or hoped for.

I haue gotten the Scepter and Diademe.

Gloryous fetters, and a noble miserie, which yf all men throughly knewe, trust me, two woulde not so often stryue for one seate, but there would be more kyngdomes then Kynges.

I weare the princely robes.

It is not the outward apparrel, but the inwarde furni­ture and princely mynde that maketh a Kyng. Alexander the Emperour of Rome was woont to say, that Empyre and go­uerment consisted in vertue, and not in sumptuousnesse.

I am aduaunced to a kyngdome.

Now is the state of the subiectes vncertayne, whether they be happie in that kind of happines which is imagined to be heare, or in miserie. For a vertuous king, is the felicitie of a transitorie kingdome: but vnto thee remaineth doubtful trauaile, and weightie businesse.

I am a Kyng, and a Kyng may doo what he lyst.

No man lesse: yea, that which in olde tyme was lawful, is not so nowe: And yf perhaps thou looke for licentiousnesse by meanes of thy kyngdome, know that thou art no Kyng, but a Tirant.

I am a Kyng, and I may doo what I wyll.

Nothing but what becommeth a King, who, as I said, hath lesse libertie then a priuate person. If in followyng this path thou seeke for pleasure, thou art deceiued, and as the prouerbe sayth, thou goest quite beside the Cushyn: Pleasure is far behinde, but this way leadeth vnto payne & glory.

I am a king, and I shal now lyue in assured tranquilitie.

Nay rather if thou were in any heretofore, it is now lost: he is but a foolish marryner who seeketh for calmnesse & tranquilitie in for­sakyng the Hauen, & making saile into the wyde sea.

But I am made Emperour of Rome.

A very honourable name, but a very hard office. To keepe great thinges is an harde matter: but what is it to build vp that which is fallen downe, to [Page 120]gather togeather that which is dispersed, to recouer that whiche is lost, to reforme that which is defaced? thou hast taken in hand the tyllyng of a forlorne Farme, which many of long tyme haue neglected: hard land requyreth many spades, and drye medowes much water: thou must abyde heate and cold, and if thy trauayle finde semblable successe, thou shalt reape the commendation, & thy successour the residue, thou shalt sow for hym, and for thy selfe the Haruest wyl come to late, for it requireth many sommers.

I am aduanced to the Empire, I wyl take my rest & lyue in secu­ritie.

Thou art in a false persuasion, thou couldest ne­uer do it lesse: hast thou clymbed vp to the top of an hygh hyl to auoyde windes and lyghtnyng? Hast thou not read the saying of Horace: The hougie Pine tree is most often shaken with windes, & high towres when they are ouerthrowne haue the greater fall, and lightenyng striketh the loftiest mountaines? How much otherwyse, dyd the expert & wyse princes Augustus & Diocletian iudge of the excellencie of this state, wherof the one, as we reade, thought of geuing ouer the Empire, the other, gaue it ouer in deede, and being called vnto it againe, would not graunt therunto? Howe much otherwise did Marcus Aurelius & Pertinax, wherof the first being by adoption called to the hope of thempire, is reported to haue disputed much of the discommodities of thempyre, the o­ther being made Emperour, to haue abhorred thempyre? Great is the aduauncement to the Empyre, great are the toyles in the Empire, & when a man is once risen aloft, the greater and more greeuous is his fal. If thou wilt not beleeue me, aske Iulius Cae­sar, & Caius Caligula, & Claudius, & Nero, & Galba, & Otho, and Vitellius, & Domitianus, & Commodus, & Pertinax, of whom I spake last: Moreouer Bassianus & Macrinus with his sonne Diadumenus, and of al other, the most filthy Heliogaba­lus, and far vnlyke vnto hym in manners Alexander, and the more that thou mayest maruayle, the mother of them both, with her sonne: Also the Maximi and the Maximiniani, and the Maximi and Gordiani: Moreouer, the Philippes and Deci­us, and Gallus, and Volusianus, and Valerius, famous for his notable calamitie, & Galienus the contemner of his fathers mi­sery: To be short, Aurelianus & Probus, Iulianus & Licinius, [Page]Constantius and Valens, Gratianus and Valentinianus, and that I may not weery thee with rehearsing all, demaunde the question of that whole race and succession of Tirants and Prin­ces, and they wyl answere thee all alyke, that looke by what way they arose to the Empyre, by the same way they ran to ruine. And dooest thou then imagine that thou shalt finde rest there, and lyue insecuritie, where all haue founde danger and trouble, and many a most miserable end of theyr lyues? This dyd not those foure imagine to them selues, whom I named in the begynning: Not he that was grandfather on the mothers side to the Empe­rour Antonius Pius, Arius Antonius, an holy vertuous man, as Histories terme hym, but as I confesse of hym, a wyse man, who picied Neruas state, in that he had taken the Empyre vpon hym. For truely it is iniuriously doone to enuy at Princes, when as in deede they ought rather to be pitied.

I am an Emperour, and I am able to reuenge.

Against the enemies of the common wealth perhaps, but not thine owne. For these, if thou be a true Prince in deede, by thine aduauncement securitie is purchased: thy publique duetie and godlines must bridle thy priuate affections. Thou canst not be enemie to this man and that man, since thou hast deserued to be father vnto all men. For a Prince hath that care and auctoritie ouer his subiec­tes, that a father hath ouer his children. A good Prince is the father of his countrey: there was none of all his titles whiche that woorthy Emperour Augustus accepted more thankefully then this, who repressyng the motions of his youth, determined to fulfyll that name of a father: and therfore, they which were somtime thine enimies, are nowe thy chyldren.

I am an Emperour, I may be reuenged.

Thou oughtest not to vse thy power that way, but perswade thy selfe thus, that when y^e power of a great Empyre falleth vpon excellent minds, and that are equal to their calling, it is the occasion of pardon, and not of reuenge, wherof the more vile & weake a mans mynde and strength is, the more he is greedy. In which matter, it were expedient for thee to remember the saying of Hadriane the Em­rour, who (as it is written of him) whē he was made Emperour, said vnto one that was his enimie, thou hast now escaped my hands: [Page 121]A princely and magnifical saying, and fit for an Emperour.

I am an Emperour, & I shal haue treasure answerable to my char­ges.

This saying tendeth to rapine, and as of other thinges, so also of charges and expenses there is a continuall streame and bottomlesse pit, which can neuer be satisfied. It would require a long time to set downe in as large maner the follies and madnesse of men, but specially of y^e Emperours of Rome, in this behalfe. Notwithstanding, among al I wil touch a few, & of them a few thinges among many. Most notorious was the madnesse of Caius, who made a bridge betweene Baiae and Puteoli, which raging crooke of the sea he first passed ouer on horsebacke, & after­terward triumphantly in a charret. What shal I speake of pearles of great price dissolued in Vineger, & golden loaues, and golden seruices of meate set before the guestes at the table, whereby the meaning was not according to the common custome of feastes to stake the guestes hunger, but to consume the wealth of y^e Empire, and to prouoke their auarice? Adde hereunto moreouer casting of money among the people, great moles & heapes of stones & rub­bish throwen into the rough and deepe sea, hard rockes cut in sun­der, plaine fieldes throwen vp into hilles, & toppes of hilles made leauel with plaine fieldes, to the one earth added, from the other earth taken away, and that so suddenly, that the strangnesse of the wonder was nothyng inferiour to the violence done vnto nature, to wit, when death was the rewarde of delaying the woorke, by which meanes hauing within one yeeres space consumed the great treasure of his predecessour Tiberius, and all the riches of the whole Empire, he was driuen to extreame pouertie, and most shameful rapine. Among these thinges I do not recken, how that he had determined in his minde to make a cut through Isthmus the hyl of Corinth, which although it woulde haue ben a woorke of great charges, yet had it been profitable for sea faring men, whereby the two seas had been made one, and they that had pas­sed from Brundusium to Athens, or Chalcis, or Byzantium, shoulde haue auoyded the great crooke of Achaia. Next followeth Nero, matche and superiour vnto him in madnesse, whose disor­dinate expences had no measure, specially in building, wherein he surpassed all prodigal fooles, and him selfe also. He was not more [Page] [...]ful in any other thing, then in this: and therfore I wyll touch on [...] [...] numerable follies. He buyided an house, which rea­ched fro [...] the hyl [...] vnto [...]sguiline, and stretched also o­uer a gre [...] [...]art of the citie, so that not vnwoorthily among the tauntes & reproches wherwith the people with most free indigna­tion girded hym home, this also was cast against him, All Rome shalbe one house, ye Romanes depart ye to the Vehi, yf so be that this house doo not also streatch vnto the Vehi. This house he com­maunded to be called the golden house, not vnfitly, declaring the price by the name. For the house was seeled and knotted with precious stones, and of such height, that at the entraunce [...] of stoode a Colossus, an hundred and twentie foote high. Within was a Gallerie and Hal seeled about with pendentes of Golde & Iuorie, and vpon the top deuises of strange workemanshyp, with motions after the maner of heauen, by litle and litle, of their owne accord turning about day and nyght without intermission: Also a Ponde like the Sea, adorned round about vppon the shoare with buyldinges, after the maner of a Citie: Moreouer, fieldes and pa­stures, and vineyardes, and woods, replenished with al kindes of liuing thinges. The middest of this house, as far as could be coniec­tured, was that place which is cōmonly called Colosseum, whose ruines do yet at this day astonish the beholders: and the more to augment the wonder of the matter, all these thinges were in the very middes of Rome. So that notwithstanding he seemed to him selfe not only not to haue exceeded, but not yet to haue answea­red the greatnesse that ought to be in an Emperours house, inso­much as when he dedicated the house, he made no greater wonder at it, but said this much onely, Nowe at length I begin to dwell lyke a man. I omit these trifles, that he neuer ware one garment twice, that he neuer went iourney with lesse then a thousande Charrets, that his Mules were shod with shooes of siluer, that he fished with a golden Net, that his roapes & cordes were made of sine Purple silke: with many suche other matters exceeding credite, and bree­dyng tediousnesse. But who wyl not wonder at these thinges that readeth of them, but more wonder if he beheld them, y^e remnantes and tokens whereof remayne to this day? The Fishponde that was begun from the bridge Misenus, and should haue reached to [Page 121]the [...]ake Auernus, compassed and couered with wonderful galle­ries, and the dytch that was cast from Auernus to H [...]stia [...] [...] so long distance of way, and through so many s [...]lles, w [...]e bringing the sea into it, and sayling in it without the accidentes [...]t happen on the sea, he might auoyde both the toyle of traueyling by lande, and the weerisomnesse of faring by water: the length whereof, as now the inhabitantes of those quarters doo accompt it, is well knowne vnto al men, but as Tranguillus reckneth, is an hundred & threescore mile: the breadth was such, that two Gallies might meete, and one not touch nor hinder another. Which woorke if he [...] finished, he had beggered al Italy, and the whole Common wealth, but that death onely prouided a remedie for so great mis­chiefes of the world. After him followeth Aurelius Verus, who, that I may let passe other thinges, made suche a supper, that yf he woulde haue made the lyke dynner, I knowe not whether the Romane wealth would haue ben sufficient. Whiche thing when his brother Marcus Aurelius vnderstoode, beyng as great a friend to modestie as this was enimie, is reported to haue lamen­ted, taking compassion vpon the Common wealth and the Empire decaying. I leaue others, for these are too many, and I knowe that there be some of you that wyll thinke these examples to be longer then neede, and the remedies shorter then promise. But sometime it delighteth a learned man, or one that loueth learning and honestie, to heare the madnesse of fooles, whiche may be a warning for him to followe the contrarie, and with al myght and mayne to eschew the lyke. All these thynges tende to this ende, that thou mayest recompt with thy selfe, what it is wherein thou hopest to haue treasure answerable to thy charges. For as good husbandrie and modestie require no great treasures, so neyther treasures nor whole empires are sufficient for prodiga­litie and riotousnesse. And this cause, hath not onely constray­ned men of meane callyng, but almost all Princes, those I meane, that haue followed the vayne of these latter times, of ne­cessitie to fall to rapine and extortion, whiche hath geuen occa­sion vnto many of an hastened and miserable death.

Are not so many Cities sufficient, to beare one mans char­ges▪

Let these aunsweare thee, of whom [Page]I haue spoken so muche, and others innumerable, whom the lyke plague hath brought to lyke confusion. To con­clude, this most deepe denne of expences, that I may so tearme it, lyke as that gapyng pitte of Curtius in olde tyme, can not be filled with any ryches, but may be restrayned by vertue, and speci­ally by modestie. Wherein it auayleth to remember that it is o­thers goodes which thou wastest: and in this poynt also it is pro­fitable to cal often to minde y^e saying of the Emperour Hadriane, which, as it is read, he was wont many times to repeate in his speaches vnto the people, & in the Senat, That he would so gouerne the Common wealth, as knowing that it was the peoples commoditie, and not his owne: A fytte saying for so worthy a Prince.

I reigne, and reuenge is mine.

Truely it is not thine, for he lieth not that sayd, Reuenge is mine. And verily, if thou be a true King, nothing is lesse thine then reuenge, and nothing more, then mercifulnesse. I coulde wyshe that nature had denyed stinges to the kinges of Men, as well as she hath to the kinges of Bees: but now she hath onely geuen an example to the free crea­ture, not taken away his libertie: but that which she doth not en­force, it is my part to exhort. Behold that smal, but diuine Worme, and leaue thou of thy sting likewise, not in the wounde, but before the wounde. The first is the part of a base person, the seconde of a kyng: otherwyse, as not without iustice, so neyther art thou a king without mercie, no not so muche as a man, but onely, as the Fable sayth, a crowned Lion.

I am Emperour of Rome.

Thou hast Augustus, Nero, & Vitellius, whom thou mayest followe. Vnto these three, not only al Princes, but al men are restrayned. Choose vnto thy selfe then one of these whom thou mayest followe. If thou be delyghted in latter examples, thou hast of the same callyng Traiane, Decius, and Galienus.

I am Emperour of Rome, Lorde of the worlde.

The time hath been when that might haue been almost truely auowed, but to what state things now are come thou seest. And to thintent it may be perceiued, how safe it is to commit great matters vnto fooles and dastardes, how great prouidence is there nowe fallen into how great madnes? & how great payne & diligence, into how great slouthfulnesse? The Romane Empire is now no longer a [Page 123]thyng to reioyce in, but an example of humane fragilitie, and the mutabilitie of fortune.

I am famous for mine Empire.

Famous names, obscure thynges, deceytes of the worlde, credulitie of man: these are hookes whereby flexible mindes are plucked hyther and thyther. The names of an Em­pire, and of a kingdome, are glorious names: but an Empire and a Kingdome are the most difficult functions of all other, yf they be ryghtly executed, otherwyse they be dangerous and deadly: neyther is that princely saying commended without cause, The glorious Crowne is more full of care, danger, and sundry sortes of mi­series, then is the honest and happie peece of cloath, whiche yf men dyd knowe, there is none woulde seeke for it, or reioyce when he had gotten it, no not willingly receyue it when it weere offered, or take it vp from the grounde, yf he founde it. Wherefore awake at length ye mortall men, open your eyes, and be not alwayes blynded with false glitteringes: Measure and weygh your owne bodyes, consider in how narrowe roomes you are enclosed, despise not Geometers and Philosophers, the whole earth is but a pricke, your ende is frayle and vncertayne, and whyle ye be young, and whyle ye be in health, ye wrestle with death: and when ye thynke that ye ryse, then doo ye descende, and when ye seeme to stande most surest, then fastest doo ye fall, neyther is there any lyuing creature that is more forgetfull of it owne strength: and many tymes, when ye be Woormes, halfe dead, yet ye dreame of king­domes and empires. Remember that you your selues are a very smal pricke, or to say more truely, a pricke of a short pricke, yea, ye are not so much as the thousandth part of a pricke. This part lyke proude inhabitantes ye ouerbeare, who shortly shall be ouer­borne your selues, and shall no longer possesse any iote of all that ye haue, but that your bodyes shall waxe cold and pale with death. And whereas ye be now blinde and mad, and walke with a proud swelling countenaunce, that whiche nature hath made narrowe, make ye more large in minde, and while ye be in bandes, imagine great matters, and when ye be dying, thynke vppon immortall thynges: and consyder with your selues, how that in this place and time, which in effect are nothing, ye prosecute your ridiculous and mad fansies, during the space of a very short tyme, to wit, ra­pines, [Page]iniuries, reuengementes, troublesome hopes, vncertayne honours, vnsatiable desires, and your owne furies and madnesse: and on the otherside, ye affectate Kingdomes, Gouernmentes, & Empires, Nauies, Armies, and Battayles. And when ye haue thus continued long time in your madnesse, whether ye be Empe­rours or Ploughmen, Ryche men or Beggers, your bodyes are but rotten earth, your lyfe but as a lyght smoke driuen away with a strong blast, and at length, but perhaps too late, ye shal scarce vn­derstand that this worlde was but an high way to passe through, and no countrey to remayne in, and that al these names of King­domes and Empires are but vayne and false.

I am made an Emperour.

When fooles be made Emperours, they do not remember that they haue ben and are men. Like as is the saying of Tiberius the Emperour, who, when a certaine friende of his, being desirous, by rehearsal of certaine matters pas­sed betweene them, to bring him in minde of their auncient fami­liaritie, hauing scarce opened his mouth to say these woordes, O sir, do you remember: he preuented him suddenly, and brake of his talke, and suffred him not to proceede any farther, but answeared hastily vnto him, I remember not what I haue ben: a wicked and proud saying, and not only deuoyde of friendshyp, but of al huma­nitie.

I am ascended to the Romane Empire.

Why doest thou reioyce hereof: Men also ascende to the Wheele and Gallowes. And contrariwise, they lye downe in their beddes, and syt downe in their chayres, and most times quietnesse dwel­leth in lowe places. Climbing hath been shame vnto some, pu­nishment vnto many, and payneful to all.

Of a furnished Armie. The .xcvii. Dialogue.

I Haue a furnished Armie.

I shoulde haue maruey­led if that an Armie had not followed a Kingdome & an Em­pire, that is to say, one miserie another. But Seneca commen­deth Scipio Africanus to the Starres, not because he ledde great Armies, which frantike and wicked persons haue done also, but for his great moderation, which truely an Armie neuer bring­eth to a man, but often taketh it away, or often diminisheth it: for what vertue is there so sounde, which the keeping companie with [Page 124]so many rakehels & blooddy Butchers, and their wicked example, wyl not quayle?

I haue a great Armie.

Thou hast now occasion to liue in y^e fieldes: For neyther can Armies be receiued into cities, neither peaceable citizens & armed souldiours dwell well togeather.

I haue a most valient Armie.

Thou hast matter of war, and losse of peace: if thou re­ioyce in this, doubtlesse thou belongest not to the heauenly citie.

I haue an huge Armie.

Thou hast armed eni­mies on both sides of thee, from whom thou art defended neyther by wal nor trenche, truely an heauy and dangerous case.

I haue many valient legions.

The tediousnes, trouble, & insolencie of these: no man can easily recite, but thou shalt learne by experimenting, how much it is better to liue alone, then with many legions: For truely there are no iniuries, no falshood, no crueltie to be compared to y^e wickednesse of souldiours. Thou shalt by thine owne experience finde, how true that verse is which euery boy hath in his mouth, There is no faith nor honestie in men that fo­lowe the warres.

I am Lord & gouernour of a great Armie.

Perhaps thou were better be a sheapheard among Tygers & Beares. The furie of wilde beastes may be tamed, but the hartes of some men can neuer be reclaimed: and wilde beastes do threaten before they strike, but the malice of men doth suddenly breake foorth. These whom thou tearmest thine, & call thee Lord, alas this hireling & inconstant generation, for how smal a price, and vppon how light occasion wyll they be changed, and of thine owne souldiours, become thine enimies? Their flattering counte­nances shalbe turned into horrour, & their right handes, which they deliuered vnto thee, perhaps shalbe conuerted to thy destruction: and if this happen, it is no rare nor vnaccustomed matter. At Placentia was that terrible commotion, when as Iulius Caesars armie rebelled against him, wherof this was spoken, What Cap­taine woulde not that tumult haue made afrayde? Howbeit, Caesar, through his wonderful constancie and fortitude, repressed the vp­roare, & punishing the aucthours, appeased the armie, & brought them to obedience. Te like did Alexander, that was Emperour of Rome, at Antioche, & it tooke magnificall effect. But goe for­warde a lytle, and thou shalt see that shortly after he was slayne [Page]by none other then his owne Souldiours. In the same maner Pertinax perished before: in lyke sort afterward, the two Max­imi, the father and the sonne: so Balbinus and Maximus: so Probus, a most valient Captayne: so Gratiane and Valenti­nian the younger, a couple of good brethren, the one betrayed by his legions, the other by his companion: so likewyse others innu­merable, whom their enimies coulde not ouercome, haue peri­shed by their owne armies, and those whom they called their Souldiours, they founde eruell Butchers. Take heede therefore wherein thou reioycest: For this thy cruel and vnmerciful armie, as he sayeth, is a beast with many heades, and dareth to aduen­ture any thyng, beyng thereunto prouoked by anger, want, or co­uetousnesse.

I haue an huge armie.

At the Thessalike battayle, sayth Florus, there was nothyng that ouerthrewe Pompei so muche, as the greatnesse of his armie: and it fortuneth almost in all battayles, that the greater armie is vanquished, and the lesser vanquisheth.

Of a well appoynted Nauie. The .xcviii. Diaalogue.

I Haue a well appoynted Nauie.

And the Ayre hath well appoynted Windes, the Sea well appoynted Waues and Rockes: Thou creature of the Land, why med­lest thou with the Sea?

I haue a well furnished Na­uie.

There be also tempestes for thee & shypwrackes wel furnished: thou ioyest in thyne owne daungers, toyle, and ex­pences, whereof there is no ende nor measure: of all your mad­nesses, a Nauie is the most chargeable.

My Nauie is furnished.

The violence of the heauen and sea wyll shake it, and be it neuer so well appoynted, a suddayne storme wyl scatter and destroy it, whereof not to consyder whyle thou saylest on the Sea, is the part of a foole.

I haue a Nauie vpon the Sea.

Are ye not in daungers enough vpon the Lande, but must ye trouble the Seas also? It is not sufficient for you to digge the earth, from whence is fette the hurtfull Iron, and [Page 125]Golde that is more hurtful then iron, as Ouid sayth: but yee haue also ventured vpon the rough and horrible seas, which the first men did only wonder at, in euerie place seeking your owne trouble, and in euerie place your owne danger, and in this poinct yee be wakeful and diligent, and in al other thinges slouthful and negli­gent.

I haue entred vpon the Sea with a great armie.

Thynke vpon thy returne, for it is an easye matter to [...]t foorth. The Sea is commonly calme at the first settyng for­ward, but when men are once entred, it waxeth monstruous and [...]ible: notwithstandyng, for one that was borne among men to couet to lyue among Dolphins and Monsters of the Sea, is doubtlesse a wonderful delyght of a wyld and rough mynd.

I haue a great, and valiant Nauy.

Perhaps it were more for thy profite and safetie eyther to syt in a litle Boate, or to stand vpon the Shore and angle for fyshes, then with an armed Nauy, to offer violence vnto nations. Many by theyr great Na­ [...]es hath been pricked forth to dangerous boldnesse, which hath enforced them thyther where they haue wyshed them selues at home. This the Grecians learned to be true at the mountayne Caphareus, when they returned from Troy, namely the Lace­demonians at Arginusis, the Athenians at the shore of Syra­cus [...]e, and the Carthagiens at the Ilandes Egrates. Many dan­gers happen vnto Nauies, not only by enimies, but also by the Sea. To conclude, when as there were before sundry kyndes of death, this one kynde more is now added to the number. O blind fooles, and to to lauysh of your lyues, which ye loue so dearely, see­kyng for death euery where, which ye feare aboue all thinges.

Of Engines and Artillerie. The .xcix Dialogue.

I Haue al kynds of Engines.

This is also a princely madnesse, to haue wherewith to hurt men when ye lyst, who of duetie ought to be most beneficial of al men. And for this con­syderation only kinges were first chosen and set ouer king­domes to gouerne men, and of them agayne to be honoured and loued as parentes. Some also that are called fathers of their [Page]countrey, do euery thyng quite contrary, and are feared and hated of all men as common theeues and tormentours.

I haue store of engines to ouerthrow townes with al.

How much better were it to buylde them, and preserue them with all? But perhaps thou thynkest it a more glorious matter to destroy, and haddest rather seeme to be the Policertes of thy age: but Townes are not alwayes ouerthrowne with engynes. When Caesar in his warres in Fraunce, had erected very great fortes a­gaynst the Hadriatici [...], first his enimies contemned hym, as though he attempted far vnpossible for humane power to archiue, but then they saw them mooued & brought close to their walles, turnyng theyr contempt to astonishment and feare, they gaue vp theyr defence, and conuerted them selues to conditions of yeeld­yng. And lykewyse in Caesars ciuyl warres, Brutus beyng cap­tayne, when he had erected and brought the lyke vnto the walles of Missilia, he cast the besieged into as great astonishment, but not into as great feare: and therfore issuyng foorth in the nyght, they set on fire the turrets, and engynes.

I abound with engynes and artillery.

Al these thinges wherof thou boastest, apparteyne rather to the iniuryng of other, then to the encreasing of thyne owne honour. How much more commenda­ble were it, and worthy for a man, to abounde rather with the in­strumentes of mercy, then of crueltie, and rather to possesse that wherwith he may geue entertaynment to his friendes, and those that are in necessitie, then by besiegyng innocent townes, to di­sturbe the common tranquilitie.

I haue engines that do cast great stones.

To cast stones, is the part of mad­nesse.

I haue innumerable engynes, and artyllery.

It is marueyle but thou hast also pellets of brasse, whi­che are throwne foorth with terrible noyse of fire: thou miserable man, was it not yenough to heare the thunder of the immortall God from heauen? O crueltie ioyned with pryde? From the earth also was sent foorth vnimitable lighning with thunder, as Virgil sayth, which the madnes of men hath counterfeited to do the like, and that which was woont to be throwne out of the cloudes, is now throwne abrode with a woodden instrument, but of a deuy­lish deuice, which as some suppose was inuented by Archimedes [Page 126]at what tyme Marcellus besieged Syracusae. Howbeit he deui­sed it to the entent to defend the libertie of his Citizens, and ey­ther to auoyde or defende the destruction of his countrey, whiche you nowe also vse to the subiection or subuertion of free people. This plague of late dayes was but rare, insomuch as it was be­held with great woonder, but now, as your myndes are apt to learne the worst thyngs, so is it as common as any other kinde of munition.

I abounde in plentie of artyllery.

It were better thou aboundedst in the hate of warre, and loue of peace, forasmuch? as other weapons are signes of an vnquiet mynde, and these of a degenerate minde, and neyther acceptable to such as loue peace, but rather hated of couragious warryours. Finally, vnderstand this much, he that first inuented artillery, was eyther a dastard or a traytour, desirous to hurt, and feareful of his enimies: and therfore he deuysed as Lucane sayth, How to shew his strength from a far, and to commit his force to the windes, as far as they wyl beare them. Whiche may be vnderstoode of al kinds of weapons that are throwne. A valyant warryour choo­seth rather to encounter his enimie at hande, which the artylleryst escheweth.

Of Treasure layde vp in store. The .C. Dialogue.

I Haue layde vp Treasure in store for warres.

An euyl thyng, for worse purposes: Howe much more profitable were it for thee and others to lay it vp for the vse of thy friends and countrey, and specially for the necessities of them that want? that in deede were true treasure: but nowe the pryce of the heauenly treasure, is conuerted to the purchasyng of Hel.

I haue treasure for the vse of war.

Treasure extenuateth the strength of the mynde, and warres doo enfechle men, and both are hurtful.

I haue great ayde of treasure for warres.

Treasure commonly bryngeth to the owner feare of loosyng, to the enimie hope of gayne, and bolonesse to fight: Who wyl not wyllyngly goe into their warres, where he may wyn much, and loose nothyng: Thou [Page]readest in Horace of a poore fellowe that fought earnestly and ouercame, & when he was rich, suddeinly fel againe into pouertie. And if thou list to consyder of most special and cheife examples, thou shalt perceiue that while the Romanes were poore, they were the conquerours of all nations, and then began to be van­quished when they waxed rich: so when riches came, victories and manhood departed, delightes and wantonnesse also, which are companions to riches, entred in: so that the wryters of those times dyd not without cause complayne of the departyng of the Ro­mane pouertie. Pouertie is a very good nurse of vertues, and wealth, of vyces. Thou hopest of victorie by meanes of thy trea­sure, but thou hast more cause to feare thereof: riches haue made many dastardly and hartles, al proud and loftie, but none at al va­liant.

I haue gathered togeather a great treasure.

Thou hast heaped vp care and enuy to thy selfe, prouo­cation to thyne enimies, vnquietnesse to theeues.

Of reuenge. The .Ci. Dialogue.

MYne enimie is fallen into my hands, I haue power now to be reuenged.

Nay rather there is happe­ned vnto thee a trial of thy selfe, whether thou be slaue to anger, or friend to mercy: which were vncertaine, vn­lesse thou mightest be sed to both. Many thynke them selues to be that they are not, which they do know when they haue tried them selues what they are.

Myne enimie is in my handes, I may be reuenged.

The bounds of power are one thing, and of honestie, another: thou must not respect what thou canst do, but what is scenely for thee to doo, least yf thou wouldest doo as much as thou canst do, it were better thou couldest do nothing at al.

I may be reueuged, and there is nothyng more sweete then reuengement.

There is nothyng more bytter then anger, which I maruaile why one sayd it was sweete: but yf thou feele any sweetnesse in it, it is a sauage sweetnesse, vn­meete for a man, and proper to beastes, and that not of al kindes, but of the most bruitest and fiercest. There is nothyng that lesse apparteyneth to a man, then crueltie and wyldnesse: and contra­rywyse, [Page 127]nothing that is more sittyng for him then mercy and gen­tlenesse, vnto whiche there is nothyng more repugnaunt then re­uengement, and whatsoeuer sharpnesse and extremitie one man sheweth against another in hastinesse of mynde. But yf the name of reuengement be so sweete vnto thee, I wyl tel thee howe thou mayest vse it with much glory: the most excellent kynde of re­uengement, is to spare and be merciful.

I may be reuen­ged.

It is much more beuer and gloryous to forget iniuries, then to reuenge them: there is no forgetfulnesse more honor able then of offences. This one thyng the most excellent Oratour, ascribed to the most excellent prayse of a most excellent captayne, to wit, That he vsed to forget nothing but iniuries. And there is nothyng forbyddeth but that one mans prayse, not being taken from hym, may also be ascribed vnto many: This one commoditie, the goodes of the mynde haue especially aboue al o­ther ryches, when they are despersed abrode, they do not decrease nor perysh. Take thou therfore vppon thee this most noble per­suasion of Caesars, whiche shall make thee far more renowmed, then were Cinaeas and Tarmadas with theyr great memories: For the one commeth of nature, the other from vertue.

I take pleasure in reuenge.

The delyght of reuenge, is short: but of mercy, euerlastyng. And of two delectable thyngs, that is to be preferred that continueth longest: Doo thou that this day, wherof thou mayest receiue perpetual delight. There is no delight greater nor more assured, then that which procedeth from the purenesse of a mans conscience, and the remembrance of thynges well doone.

It is honest to reuenge.

But more honest to forgeue: Mercy hath commended many, but reuengement none: there is nothing among men so necessary, or so common, as forgeuenesse: for there is no man but offendeth, and no man but he hath neede of mercy, whiche being denyed, who shal take away so great abundance of faultes & offences, or renue the brokē league of humane societie? Men shal alwaies striue one against another, & the wrath of God shal alwaies striue against them: there shalbe no end of contention & punishment, neither shal weapons or lyghtnings ceasse. Spare therfore, be mercyful, and moderate thy mind. Do thou so vnto a man, as thou wouldst haue [Page]another man, yea God hym selfe, do vnto thee. Impudent is he that desireth pardon of his lord and maister, and denieth the same to his felow seruant. The Doctor Ecclesiasticus cryeth out disdaynyngly, One man keepeth anger in store agaynst another, and doeth he seeke for pardon at Gods handes? He taketh no com­passion vpon a man that is lyke to hym selfe, and yet he prayeth for his owne sinnes.

I do no iniury, but reuenge.

What skilleth it whether thou offend first or last: It is not in­different to mislyke that in another, which thou lykest in thy selfe: Wylt thou vse that crueltie, which thou condemnest in thyne eni­mie, and be lyke hym in manners, whom thou art vulyke in mynde, and folow that thy selfe, which is worst in hym:

I wyl, and it is lawful for me to be reuenged.

Thou oughtest neyther to haue a wyll, neyther is it permitted by any lawe, for although defence be lawful, yet reuengement is forbyd­den: it is written, He that wylbe reuenged, shal finde reuengement from God. And againe, as I sayd before, Vengeance is mine, and I wyl repay when I see good, sayth the Lorde. Tarry thou for that tyme, let him reuenge thy quarrel, who is Lord both of the offen­dour and the offended. It is common among one lords seruants for one to know another: yf thou haue any sparke of good nature in thee, if thou haue any care to attayne to perfection, rather wish than pray that he do not reuenge, so shalt thou turne thine ene­mies offence, to thine owne commoditie.

I minde to be re­uenged.

Geue space to thyne anger, geue tyme to thy determination, bridle thyne affection, put it of, deferre the time, eyther it wil slake, or waxe colde. One short houre appeaseth the raging sea.

I wil bee reuenged.

By one deede thou shalt offend manye: one iniurye hath oftentymes made innumerable enimies.

I wil be reuenged.

Thou wylt hurt thy selfe more then thyne enimie. Perhaps thou mayest destroy his body or riches, but thou shalt cast away thyne owne soule and estimation.

I wyll be reuenged.

How often hath an iniurie been doubled by studie of reuengement? Many times it hath been dangerous for him that hath been iniured to dissemble his only remedy, yea many tymes to haue made complaint, or but by a secrete becke to pretende that he susteyneth iniurie.

I may destroy myne enimie.

It is better to get a friend, then to take away an enimie, but to do both at once, is best, which is by no meanes more easily accomplished, then by forgeuyng when thou mayest be reuenged. The fittest instrument to take away an enimie, is lenitie: wherin if credite might haue ben geuen to the auncient and wise Heren­nius, neyther had the late conquerous armie of the Samnites a­bode y^e Romane yoke, nor the general Pontius with the residue first suffered the yoke, and afterwarde alone the axe.

I am much prouoked and mooued to reuenge.

Resist that prouocation with godly thoughtes, and al maner examples that may enclyne thy mynde to lenitie, and specially by recomptyng the shortnesse & frailtie of this lyfe, for it seemeth vnto Seneca, with whom I agree, the most effectual remedie, in his booke of the appeasyng of anger: with whom accordeth the Doctour of whom I spake erewhyle. For what meant he other, where he sayth, Remember the last thyngs, and leaue of enmitie? Doubtles this: for there is nothyng that noorysheth enmitie more, then for­getfulnesse of a mans state and condition. For this man, whose death thou so much thirstest, be assured that without doubt he shal dye, and that quickly, perhaps to day, and peraduenture although thou thynke it not, thou mayest dye before hym. Stay awhyle, and moderate thy self, that shal come to passe which thou desirest, and that which thou fearest: Howbeit the death which thou pre­parest for thine enimie, is in making redy for him not by thy pro­curement. What auayleth it to hasten the course of the swyft de­stinie, and to embrue thy handes, that shal dye, with the blood of hym that shall dye? It is not only a wicked part, but also a neede­lesse matter, agreeyng to thyne vngodlynesse, to hasten the tyme that commeth apace, which yf thou wouldest neuer so fayne, thou canst by no meanes prolōg or defer: how much more were it for thy quietnes & honesty, that he whole & sound, thou drie and inno­cent, then that both of you blooddy, & thou shouldest depart hence hurtful and wicked?

I am muche prouoked to reuenge.

Beware thou yeelde not, but set agaynst this pro­uocation the remembraunce of suche men as haue been not only mercyfull vnto theyr enimies, but also fauourable and bene­ficiall: and on the contrary side, laye them before thine eyes, who hauyng hewed theyr enimies in peeces, and yet proceedyng [Page]to farther outrage, haue wreaked theyr crueltie vpon senselesse carkases. Then choose with thy self whom thou haddest rather be lyke, and confer not only theyr deedes, but theyr woordes also: For there resteth no smal part of crueltie in the woordes. Cruel is the foote, more cruel the hand, but of al, most cruel is the tongue. Many tymes that crueltie of the minde which the hand could not match, the tongue hath surpassed: As of crueltie, so of mercyful­nesse, the tongue is the best wytnesse. Therfore let that saying of Hadriane, of whom I made mention not long since, and also of Tiberius, sound in thine eare: of whom it is written, that when he heard that one that was accused, called Carmilius, had preuented his owne death, he cried out aloud, saying, Carmilius hath es­caped my handes. O cruel voyce, and if it may be so tearmed, more cruell then the aucthour of the voyce. What ordinarie puni­shment did he looke for at his handes, whom he escaped (being in prison) by procuring his owne death with his owne handes? Be­holde therfore two persons of one calling, but of dyuers myndes, who vsed the selfe same worde, but in sundry significations. The one said vnto his enimie that was present, Thou hast escaped my handes: the other, of his enimie that was absent, Thou hast esca­ped my handes: The one pardoned his enimies lyfe, the other enuyed his enimies death. Choose whiche of these twayne thou wyll haue reported of thee, eyther the mercyfull saying of that good Prynce, or the blooddy voyce of that cruel butcher. And I am not ignorant, that it is an easyer matter to commaunde these thynges to be doone, then to do them, and I know also what may be obiected against them, to wyt, That it is an harder matter to be mylde in the iniuries that are offered to hym selfe, then to ano­ther: hard it is I confesse, but good. And thou thy selfe canst not deny, but that euery vertue consisteth in that which is good & dif­ficult: vnto them that loue vertue, al things are easie.

I am assuredly determined to be reuenged.

The worser part hath gotten the victory, withstand it yet as long as thou canst, and take away the conquest from it, before it begin to vse it, and raise vp gentlenes that lyeth troden vnderfoote, remember that thou art a man: many haue repented them of their reuenge, but none of their mercy.

I am reuenged.

It had ben better [Page 129]for thee to haue been ouercome of thine enimie: wrath hath ouer­come hym, that ouercame his enimie.

Of hope to VVinne. The .Cii. Dialogue.

I Hope for victorie in Warre.

Hope in all thynges is deceytful, but in warre most deceytful of al: Nothing is done vpon premeditation, but all thinges at vnwares. Most skylfull and exercised in Martiall affayres was he that is reported to haue said, that euentes are neuer lesse answerable to expectation, then they are in warre.

I hope for victorie.

It were better to haue peace, whiche is sayd to haue been a memora­ble speach of the same Captaynes, Assured peace is better and sa­fer, then hoped victorie.

I shal be conquerer in battayle.

What if thou be vanquished? This hope hath hastened many to destruction, without hope of victorie. No man goeth wil­lingly into battaile.

I shal haue the vpper hand in battaile.

That is a worde of the Future tense: For all hope is of that which is to come, and thinges to come are alwayes doubtful.

I shall returne conquerour out of battayle.

O foolysh hope of men, perhaps thou shalt returne, neither conque­rour, nor conquered: but thou promisest thy selfe returne, and a passage through thy fooes to be made by the edge of the swoorde.

I hope to be conquerour.

There is one that hopeth the contrary, and therefore it must needes be that both of you, or one of you, be deceyued: For it may so chaunce, that one of the Captaynes, or both on eche side, kyll one another, whiche I thinke hath hapned often at other times, and once, whiche now I cal to remembraunce, at Thebes, in the last conflict betweene the wicked brethren: and likewyse at Rome in the beginning af­ter the expulsion of the kinges, it is written, the like euent chaun­ced, insomuch as Brutus the Consul, prosecuted the sonne of the proude king vnto the graue. For when death commeth, there is no victorie, which being deferred, notwithstanding thou knowest that some Armies haue departed out of the fielde at euen hande: And therefore it is euident, that both the Captaynes haue been de­frauded of their hope of victorie. But that one of them is lyke to [Page]be deceyued, it is so common a matter, and so dayly found true by experience, as to goe to the battayle: and how knowest thou whe­ther thou art he that shalt be defrauded of the victorie, concerning which thou flatterest thy selfe?

I shal haue the vpperhand in warre.

As the victorie is alwayes doubtfull, so is it often greeuous and blooddy. It is not gotten freely, whiche is won by peryl of life: that is deerely bought, which is bought with blood, more deerely, whiche may cost death: as the conquering part may loose their Captayne, so although thy side ouercome, thou mayest be vanquished. What shall I say of the wickednesse that followe victories? The vanquished fall not into so many mi­series, as doo the vanquishers into vices? But if there be nothing more miserable then sinne and offences, then is not the vanquished, in that he is vanquished, more wretched then the vanquisher, but in this respect lesse wretched, in that he is subiect to fewer mis­chiefes.

I shal vanquish.

To make short, whether thou shalt vanquish or not, or when thou hast vanquished, whether it wyl prooue more for thy commoditie, or otherwyse, it is doubtfull.

Of Victorie. The .Ciii. Dialogue.

BVT I haue gotten the Vpperhande.

Beware lest anger, pride, crueltie, rage, and madnesse, get the vpper hand ouer thee. These are the companions of victorie, and the inuisible and horrible enimies of the victours, of whom oftentimes the most famous conquerours haue been most shame­fully vanquished. Fortune doth not yet call thee to accompt, there is betweene you a long and intricate reckoning, she is an hard and wilful creditour, with whom now thou hast great dealinges, and it is her maner to require that which shee hath lent, with great in­terest.

I haue gotten the vpper hand in a great battayle.

He that hath gotten the vpper hand in a battayle, hath often been vanquished in continuance of warre.

But I haue won.

How often haue the Garthagiens, how often the Frenchmen, how often other nations had the better, and how often haue the Romans been put to the woorst? But the [Page 129]euentes of thinges are to be considered, specially of suche as alter, and can not stand styl.

Verily, I haue gotten the victorie.

Although the end of warre were certayne, yet the euent is doubtful, and sorowe followeth myrth, and myrth followeth so­rowe.

I haue gotten a great victorie.

There is nothing so great, but may be distinguished from that which is too much: find it hath so fallen out, that the winning side hath ben [...] t [...] shewe most woundes, and most dead carkases. It thou wilt no [...] beleeue me, aske Xerxes, and Thermopilae.

It was my chaunce to gayne a great victorie.

A great vic­torie can not be gotten for a final price. Concerning the greatest warre that euer was, whereof the greatest Historician that euer was entreateth, Fortune, sayth he, was so wariable, and the conflict was so doubtful, that they were most in daunger, that had the victorie.

I haue fully conquered.

There is no complet victorie, where there remaineth an armed enimie? howbeit if thou suppresse one, other wyl rise vp, and there be certayne conquestes, that may be tearmed the seede of warre: so hatred cut downe with a weapon, ryseth vp more thicke then before, and souldiours returne with more courage into the fielde: not in suche sort per­haps as somtime a stronge imagination brought vnto Cassius the representation of an enimie which he had slayne, euen the very same day that he dyed, with so hideous a countenaunce, that the very resemblaunce of the dead man, put to flight that most vali­ant Captayne, that was not afearde of hym while he was alyue: but rather so, that many beyng restored for one, with assured handes, doo beare assured weapons, agaynst those that seemed to haue had the victorie.

I haue gotten the victorie, and now am I carelesse without an enimie.

Thou foole, as long as there shalbe men, so long there shalbe enimies. Thou rea­dest how that after so many triumphes, & conquering of the whole world, the citie of Rome wanted not enimies: & hopest thou then to be without? Perhaps if thou be quiet, thou mayest want foes, but neuer if thou fight.

I am a conquerour.

Take heede thou be not so in vayne: victorie is profitable for them that knowe how to vse it, to vse it, I say, not as Maharbal gaue counsayle to Hanibal, but as Hanno that was a better [Page] [...] [Page 129] [...] [Page]man gaue counsayle to his Common wealth. For truely Peace is the best vse and fruite of victorie, neyther are iust warres taken in hande for any other ende, then for peace.

Victorie is on my syde.

Beware she flee not away, for she hath winges.

Of the death of an Enimie. The .Ciiii. Dialogue.

I AM glad of myne Enimies death.

To hope for any thing by the death of an enimie, and to reioyce in any mans death, perhaps is permitted to hym that is immortal, yf any suche may be founde: but to hope for the death of another man, whiche may fyrst happen to thy selfe, or to reioyce that that is be­fallen to thyne Enimie, whiche needes must happen to thy selfe, is a foolyshe hope, and a vayne ioy.

I reioyce in myne Enimies death.

Some other ere it be long wyll re­ioyce in thine.

I am glad that mine Enimie is dead.

If ye were mindful of your owne estate, one man would neuer reioyce in the death of another. When, I pray thee, was it euer seene, that when two went togeather to execution, the one conceiued any pleasure in the others death, knowing that himselfe must goe to the same pot: but doth not rather lament, beholding his owne death in his fellowe?

I haue conceyued de­lyght in mine Enimies death.

How often thinkest thou, haue mens deathes that haue been desired, greeued the desi­rers, and they haue in vayne begun to wishe for their liues, who before wyshed not in vayne for their deathes, when as they begin once to vnderstand that they haue wished to their owne destructiō? But your affections are hastie. Whatsoeuer ye wishe to haue, ye wish it vehemently, as it is written, Iulius Caesar sayde of Marcus Brutus, Yea, rather ye wyshe it too muche, and your earnest desyre can suffer no tariaunce. And therefore whatso­euer ye woulde haue, ye wyll haue it presently, where­of proceede not onely vngodly wyshes, but also poysonynges, and murthers, and whatsoeuer one man can imagine against another, [Page 131]beyng the most hurtfull creature towarde his owne kinde▪ Ye wysh for many thynges, whiche yf ye tooke aduise of reason, ye would stand in feare of, when they are accomplished, and the vari­eue of your wishes, is an argument of your euyl choyce: neyther doeth your rashnesse returne to that whiche is right, vntyll your [...]olythe affections are checked with haplesse successe.

I am glad of mine enimies death.

If thine enimie were but of smal fame and reputation, to reioyce in his death is shameful, and to be sorie, superfluous: but yf he were noble and famous, it is meete and decent to be sorie, though not for the man, yet for vertues sake, whiche euery day hath fewer places to harbour in. Sodyd Metellus Macedonicus bewayle the death of the younger Scipio Africane, and Caesar the death of Pom­pe [...], and Alexander the death of Darius.

I recioyce in the death of my Foe.

How canst thou reioyce in his death, whom thou art commaunded to loue, not as thine eni­mie, but as thy neighboure, being the worke of the same woorke­man?

I am gladde of myne enimies death.

Perhaps thou hearest not, or regardest not the most holsome and knowen counsel of the Wyse man, Reioyce not, sayth he, in the death of thine enimie, knowyng that we shall all dye: And wyl we notwithstandyng be glad? Doubtlesse this counsayle or precept is holsome.

Of hope of Peace. The .Cv. Dialogue.

I Hope for Peace.

It is better to keepe peace, then to hope for it. It is the part of a foole, to neglect thynges certayne, and to embrace doubtfull hope.

I hope for peace.

Thou shouldest haue kept her more nar­rowly, neyther suffered her to depart, whom thou now hopest for. What yf thine impatience haue brought thee vnto this Hope, that thou myghtest choose to be vexed with hoping, for that whiche thou myghtest haue vsed by enioying?

I hope for peace.

Hope of peace hath destroyed many, and calamitie vnlooked for, followyng hoped peace, hath ouercome [Page]and oppressed the vnskilfull & sleepy, whom it could not haue har­med, if it had found expert.

I hope for peace.

Why doest thou hope so long for that, whiche is in thy hand to at­tayne vnto? It is seldome seene but they do finde peace, that are in deede willing effectually to seeke it: but those to whom the name of peace is sweete, peace it selfe is sowre, and therefore they that seeke for peace, withstand peace. Peace hath foure enimies dwelling among you, to wit, couetousnesse, enuie, anger, pride: these if you sende away into euerlasting exile, your peace shalbe euerlasting.

I am in assured hope of peace.

Betweene hope of peace, & peace it selfe, many thinges do hap­pen: a light worde, and a smal gesture, hath many times disturbed compounded peace, yea the very treaties and parlees of peace are often broken of by dent of swoord, and hope of peace sharpneth the mindes, and aggrauateth warres: euen so may a man tearme the treatie of friendship which commeth to none effect, the whetstone and sharpning of hatred.

There is talke of peace, & there shalbe peace.

There is often talke of peace to no pur­pose: many times dangerously haue the captaines of the Frenchmen and Carthagiens entreated of peace, when as Camillus surprised the one, and Scipio the other.

After warre is ended, peace shal be confirmed.

How muche better were it, that it were confirmed before the beginning of war? how many mischiefes and losse of mens liues might be by seasonable peace preuented? But you, like wilful and truently children, can neuer learne wisedome without whipping: In peace, ye seeke af­ter warre, and in warre, ye seeke after peace, and neuer begin to know or loue peace, but when ye are afflicted with warre, & then as ye lament that ye haue lost peace, so anon when it is restored vnto you, with like lightnesse ye contemne it, vntyll that hauing lost it once or twice, ye are taught not to contemne your owne commodities, and to couet your owne harmes, finally, not to be mad, nor foolysh, whereof ye may be ashamed before ye haue ob­tayned it. Ye must haue one thing tolde you often, and it suffiseth not to haue heard, but ye must often see and trye: I wyll speake more playnely, ye must be beaten often, before you can learne any thing.

Peace wil follow warre.

It had ben [Page 132]better it had gone before, and stopped the course of warre: there is no such madnesse, as in hope of remedy, willingly to receyue a wounde: Formentations are helpes, and not causes of woundes. It is naturall for hym that is sicke to wyshe for health, but for one that is whole to wysh for sicknes, in hope of health, is madnesse.

We shal haue peace.

Peace many times pro­cureth hurtful alterations to Cities & Countreis, which although of it selfe it be an excellent good thing, yet is it accompanied with very euyl companions, vniust lawes, lasciuious maners, secret ha­tred, open tyrannie. Remember what sometime in the ciuile wars that Prognosticatour foresayde, and was not deceyued, What auayleth it to pray to the Goddes for peace? This peace commeth with the owner thereof. But warlyke libertie, is more acceptable to valient men, then peaceable seruitude.

I haue peace.

In the meane whyle thou hast warre also.

Of peace and truice. The .Cvi. Dialogue.

I Haue Peace.

An excellent good thing, if it were sincere and perpetual, but truely it is neither: For it is no new thing, but too common and dayly accustomable, that warre lur­keth vnder the couert of peace, and though the peace were pure, yet the instabilitie of mindes wyll not suffer it to continue long, which contende euery day among them selues, no lesse then with an enimie.

I haue obtayned peace.

But wa­rinesse and warlike discipline are lost, and assured preseruation of cities: but thou hast gotten idle slouthfulnesse, and continual dan­gerous securitie, since in most respectes peace is better then war, but in this one respect, war is better then peace, in that it is more warie, and full of experience. The Romane prowesse had neuer decayed, yf the Carthagien warre had continued. The peace with the Carthagiens, was the destruction of the Citie of Rome, and an euerlastyng document to all other Cities, to shewe that peace is not alwayes best for Nations and Empires: that whiche good Nasica wyll sweare to be so, in that it was committed sometyme to his charge, and all the lear­ned wyll confesse that he sayeth true.

I haue [Page]peace.

Vse [...] modestly. Proude and negligent peace, is more hurtful then any warre. Many that haue been in armes, haue been safe among weapons, but so soone as they haue been in peace, they haue fallen among weapons, and too late haue wished for warre. What shal I speake of the ruine of Manners, and the vtter ouerthrowe of Humanit [...] it selfe? How many that haue been very good men in warre, haue by peace become very euyll, as though laying downe all vertue with their armour, they had put on all vices with their gowne? Thus hath the inwarde affec­tion been changed with the outwarde apparrell. In confirmation whereof, although many thousande men might be brought to wit­nesse, yet two onely shal suffise vs, to wit, Sylla and Marius: of whom, the first, as it is written of hym, no man is able sufficiently to prayse or disprayse: for whyle he sought a [...]r conquestes, he shewed him selfe to the people of R [...] to be S [...]pio, but while he exercised crueltie, he represented hym sel [...] to b [...] Hannibal. The seconde, was a man; as it is also written of hym, whose vertues yf they be conferred with his vices, it is hard to say whether he were more valiant in warre, then pestilent in peace: insomuche as the same Common wealth whiche he preserued beyng in armes, so soone as he put on his Gowne and was in peace, he defiled with all kynde of tretcherie, and lastly, ouerthrewe lyke an enimie with forcible Armes.

I reioyce, in that my Countrey is in peace.

What yf peace some tyme extinguishe that whiche is best in a man, and nourysh that whiche is worst? Well knowen is the saying of the Satyrical Poet, who when he had sayd muche concernyng the causes of the auncient Romane ver­tue and valiencie, among whiche is, and Hannibal neare to the Citie, at the last he inferreth, But now wee feele the discommodities of long peace. Wantonnesse and riot more cruell then Armes, doo vrge and take reuenge vppon the conquered Citie. Is there any peace, I pray thee, so muche to be esteemed of, that is no odious to excellent personages, yf it be accompanied with sensualitie and riotousnesse? Truely vnto hym that shall deepely consyder of the matter, though armes be layde downe, yet can it not seeme peace, where the mindes are oppugned with domestical and most subtyl warre, that wanteth [...] good maners are exiled, pleasures [Page 133]beare rule, and vertues are troden vnder foote.

The peace is assured.

And so, as I haue sayde, are the companions of peace, libertie, & licentiousnesse, with dan gers no lesse in qualitie, or quantitie, then are in warre: These bryng de­struction vnto the body, the other vnto the soule, and many times vnto the body also. And therefore vnto many, the brestplate hath been more fortunate then the gowne, & the fielde more safe then the chamber, and the Trumpet then the Pype, and the Sun then the shadowe. There hath ben some that were neuer in more safetie then in the warres, as thou hast hearde Iulius Caesar re­port, concernyng hym selfe and his souldyers: as for peace, yf it woulde come without vices, I confesse it is an heauenly gyft, and suche a good thyng as is inferiour to none: but it seldome com­meth without vices.

But I haue taken a truice.

Thou hast geuen thyne enimie respite to recouer his force, that he may strike more strongly then thou.

I haue truice.

Truice is cosen germane to treason: Thou seest that through subtiltie many things are doone by the enimie, but thou readest of many moe: so that the policies of warre are ne­uer better executed, ayde neuer more freely sought for, yea, truice hath made many inuincible in warre.

I haue taken truice with myne enimies.

A loytryng tyme, ney­ther meery with peace, neyther exercised in warre, but doubt­fully waueryng betweene both, where pride hyndereth peace, and feare detracteth warre: and I knowe not whether it be more hurtful so to continue, or other wyse to fall: For, to desyre a time of breathyng, is the part of one that is weery, and the part of a wretched and madde man, to be able to abyde neither peace nor warre.

Of the Popedome. The .Cvii. Dialogue.

I Haue atteined to y^e Popedome.

Men vse common­ly to flye out of a tempest into the Hauen, but thou wyllingly thest out of the Hauen into a tempest: thou art a woonderfull marriner.

I haue [...]ten the Popedome.

A [Page]rare matter, I wyl not say difficult: Dyd the care ouer one soule seeme so litle grieuous vnto thee, but that thou must take the charge & burden of al vpon thee: Thy shoulders are strōg, or thine ambition is great, so far to pricke thee foorth where thou knowest thou shalt be in euyl case.

I am ascended to the Pope­dome.

By what meaues see thou. For there are two wayes, both tendyng vnto trauaile, but the one leadyng vnto mi­serie. Whichsoeuer of these thou followest, knowe that thou art in miserie: or, yf the best happen, that of a freeman thou art be­come a bondslaue. So thou that art sayde to haue ascended, art fallen downe, beyng nowe become one of those to whom is song that saying of the Prophete: They that goe downe into the Sea in shyppes, hauing busynesse vpon many waters: they that ascende vp into heauen, and descende downe to Hell, whose soule languish­yng within them by reason of the greatnesse and abundance of the storme, is troubled, and they stagger lyke a drunken man, and al theyr wysedome is consumed.

I am ascended into the seate of the hygh popedome.

The deeper the sea is, the more it is subiect to wyndes, and dangerous for tempestes.

I am made Pope of Rome.

Looke howe muche Rome is bygger then other Cities, so much more toyle remay­neth for thee. Some wyll houour thee, some adore thee, some attende and stand about thee, some lay sylken couerlets vnder thy feete, harneyes thy whyte Steedes with golde, prepare thee wyne and banquettes, and taste them vnto thee, whiche is suche a kynde of seruice as the auncient Popes neuer hearde of. Con­trarywyse, some wyl let theyr owne busynesse alone, and fasten theyr eyes vpon thee, thee wyl they note, of thee wyll they iudge, but how iustly GOD knoweth, some also wyll reprooue thy manners, wrest thy woordes, teare thy fame, carpe thy lyfe, and whatsoeuer is any where done amisse, men wyl say it proceedeth from thee, as the only cause and fountaine of euil, and thou shalt be called the beginner of all discordes and mischiefes among the people: How, wyl they say, can the body of the church be whole, when the head is sick & yll at ease? I pray thee, is eyther a golden eup, or a silken bed, or a mitred head, so much to be estemed, that it shoulde be purchased with the losse of quietnesse & a good name?

I am chosen Pope.

Gouerne thy selfe in this tallyng as wel as thou canst, which is so greatly esteemed at this day, which truely is altogether vayne or intollerable, insomuche that not without cause certayne popes beyng ouerweeryed with tediousnesse, haue wyshed to theyr enimies none other punysh­ment then that felicitie. For to speake in fewe woordes, the popedome if it be rightly administred, is a great honour, a great burden, a great seruitude, a great labour: But yf it be yl gouer­ned, it is a great danger to the soule, a great euyll, a great misery, a great shame, and in al respectes a businesse full of peryl.

I holde nowe the seate of the popedome.

Thou shalt not holde it long. Mans lyfe is short, Kynges lyues shorter, and Popes lyues shortest of all, for that by reason of the greatnes of the cares and charge, the olde daies of the Pope are shortened, which are alredy weerled and worne before he attayne to that dignitie.

I syt in the top of the Popes seate.

The hygher thou syttest, the greater is the fall, and men can scarcely come downe from an hygh place without danger, or la­bour. Take heede thou discende soberly, least thou be founde to be one of those, of whom it is sayd, They are lyfted vp on high, to the end their fal may be the greater. There is no man doubteth but that men must descend from almortall aduancement, but this is the difference, in that iust and wyse men do descende, and al other fall downe headlong. And therefore the Carthagien Captayne, who as it is reported of hym, sayde when he was dyeing, The end of all that are aduaunced, is to fall downe, spake not impro­perly, as an vniust man.

I gouerne the state of the Popedome.

The fyrst Popes were woont to be called from that state to the honour of Martyrdome, but nowe a dayes they thynke that they are called to all kynde of plea­sures and delicacie, and for that cause men striue nowe for this place, and euery man coueteth that preferment. For who is he that sueth or wysheth to be Pope of Rome, or Byshop of any other place, but only for encrease of power and ryches: Contrary to the precept of iustice, men seeke to gouerne, not to profite, and that moreouer which is sacrilegious and shameful to be spoken, fat Benifices, & great Ecclesiastical [Page]prefermentes are bought with great rewardes, yea they be bar­gayned for, and promised before they fal. O most vyle exchaunge of manners, in that men cannot be drawen from that, vnto whiche in olde tyme they were wont, and also ought to be enforced. And furious ambition is now so hot, that it seemeth to exceede the boundes of christian shamefastnesse and modestie, but rather, to be an Heathen desire and wylfulnesse: Whom, I meane the Heathen, we haue hearde say to haue been so earnest that way in theyr petitions and suites, that it is read how that Iulius Caesar sued for the hygh Byshops or Prelates office, not without moste large and lasciuious expence of money, wherein recountyng the greatnesse of his debt when in the mornyng he went foorth to the election, he kyssed his mother, saying that he woulde neuer more returne home, vnlesse he were hygh Byshop: And he kept promise, for he returned hygh Byshop in deede. It appeareth with what vehemencie (not request) he laboured for that prefer­ment, insomuche that he determined to wyn it, or els to dye for it, or to goe into exyle: whiche he myght doo both lawfully, who in his youth had purposed vnto hym selfe to raigne: so that he thin­keth hym selfe iniured, yt there be any other gouernour in the world but Caesar▪ or any land that belongeth to twayne. But how it may be lawful for a Christian to sue for the popedome, that hath proposed to hym to serue and beare the yoke of his lorde, I do not perceiue, and to sue for it, not onely by most la­nish prodigalitie, but also, that is not much lesse vile, by flatterie & lyes, which are aries vnmeete for men, but so common and vsual now a dayes, that these are onely the meanes to come to prefer­ment.

I am pope of Rome.

Thou shoul­dest say seruant of seruantes: Take heede thou couet not to be Lorde of Lordes. Remember thy profession, remember thy duetie, remember thy Lorde, who wylbe wrath with none more for transgressing of duetie, then with him that presumeth to be called his owne Vicar.

Of happinesse. The .Cviii. Dialogue.

I Am happy.

Thou thinkest to be made happy ey­ther by the popedome, or empire, or by some other kind of pow­er, [Page 135]and also by ryches: thou art deceyued, these things make not a man happy or wretched, but they disclose and discouer him, and yf they made hym any of the twayne, they woulde make hym ra­ther wretched then happy, for they be ful of dangers, whiche are the rootes of humane miseries.

I am happy.

O wretch, that thynkest thy selfe happy in so many miseries?

I am happy.

Perhaps in thyne opinion, which because it is false, it addeth nothyng vnto felicitie, but much vnto misery. For, for a man not to know his howne misery, is the greatest miserie of all.

I am happy.

So much dyd Pompeius the great vaunt of hym selfe among the swoordes of the slaughter men, which notwithstandyng yf it be deepely examined, he neuer was, no not when he was most hap­py in his most floorishing state.

I am happy.

Thou art happie, and a strange wayfaring man, a woonderfull runner, which in this stonye and difficult path art happy, be­ing tossed among so manie thousand dangers, not knowing wher­in thou art heere happy, which as I suppose neuer any man was, nor neuer shalbe: for who was euer happy in miserie? Therfore, there is none happy before he passe out of this vale of miserie. Among al the men in the world, there are twayne counted hap­py, of whiche the most especiall is Quintus Metellus, both by writers and common report reputed happy. Neuerthelesse, al­though the name of happynesse be very large and amply taken, I knowe it is taken from hym by certayne precise wryters, by reason of most grieuous iniuries whiche he susteyned, and to en­crease the griefe, at the handes of a vyle person. Nowe the false felicitie of other is euydent. Scilla was only called happie, notwithstandyng, the haynousnesse of his lyfe & death, do prooue that he was vnfortunate. Although Alexander of Macedonie, and Iulius Caesar, had most prosperous fortune, yet theyr lyues were euer vnquiet and troublesome, and therefore were not hap­py, for they both had violent deathes: the one in middle course of his warres, the other after his conquest sodaynly: the one pe­rished by poyson, the other by weapon. The Martiall felicitie of the Scipioes, in the one, is by his vnwoorthy exile, in the other, by his shameful and vnreuenged death, diminished. It [Page]were ouerlong to recount euery ones fortune, and therefore I come to the last. Only Augustus the Emperour seemed almost vnto al men to be happy, both for the excellency of his Monar­chie, continuance of peace, length of his lyfe, and pleasant ende thereof, and which exceedeth all, perpetual tranquilitie of minde and manners: who wyl deny that he was most happy? But they that haue applyed themselues to searche after the trueth, wyll not graunt that he was happy. For the inwarde state of his domesticall lyfe, hyndred his outward glory, and the change of his fortune, much altered his want of natural and Male issue, the vntymely death of his Adoptyues and Nephues, and the vn­towardnesse of some of them more woorse then death: Moreo­uer, the treason and secrete practises of certayne most vyle per­sons, and often conspiracies of his owne kynsfolke agaynst hym, the common whoredomes of his most dearely beloued and only daughter, & Neece: finally, an heyre that was none of his owne, and a successour that he lyked not of, whom he chose rather of ne­cessitie then of iudgement, beyng vnworthy of such an Emperour and Empire. If then none of these were happy, eyther shew me some other happy man, with whom thou mayest be happy, or els be thou happy alone, or els at length encline thine eare to the tru­er opinion, accordyng to the purport wherof I say agayne, that there is no man happy before his death.

I am happy in minde.

I know what felicitie thou meanest: ey­ther therefore thou art happy in thyne owne errour, as one sayth, which happinesse, as I haue sayde, is misery, or els by the ver­tue of thy mynde, which is no perfect felicitie, although it be the way vnto it. Last of all, when I examine euery thyng with my selfe, I cannot deny, but that I am enforced to woonder what maner of felicitie it shoulde be whiche some doo dreame of and promyse vnto others, being in many other matters very sharpe and wyse, but in this, most blynde. For whether that there be required vnto felicitie an heape of all honoures, and those neuer to fayle, but to continue permanent, and howe many thynges are wantyng to a man that foloweth this trade of lyfe, euery one can iudge in hym selfe, knowyng those things which he hath, how vncertayne and transitorie they be, or whether, as other [Page 134]suppose, the same be accomplyshed in vertue: truely they that go­uerne them selues accordyng to vertue, whom these men ac­count happy, and whom I also confesse to come neerest to felici­tie, endure continually most cruel conflictes of temptations within them selues, lying alwaies open vnto many and grieuous perils, & are neuer in securitie before theyr death: which whether they know, or know not, they are alyke to be reputed wretched. For there is no felicitie with errour, and none without securitie.

I seeme vnto my selfe to be happy.

Thou haft alredy an answere: for yf errour coulde make a man happy, most men shoulde be happy: therfore thy felicitie is false, and very short. It neuer happened vnto any to reioyce long in an er­rour, trueth only is sounde and substancial. As for errour, it is a slender and vayne thyng, whiche betweene the handes of them that embrace it, fadeth away as a smoke or shadowe. But a time wyl come, which shal dryue away shadowes, and discouer false ioyes, and bryng them to lyght, and make humane felicitie to be discerned from dreames. And therfore, make enquiry of al these men of whom I last made mention, which of them seemed hap­py to them selues or to other: and lykewyse where they be now, and in what state they remaine, what also they thinke of that their short felicitie? though them selues holde theyr peace, the trueth wyll speake, and beare witnesse that they that were accounted happy, were in deede most wretched.

Of good Hope. The .Cix. Dialogue.

HOwe soeuer the worlde goeth, no man shal take hope fromme.

In deede no man is able to take it from thee, but she wyll take away her selfe by litle and litle, and wasteth away, beyng often deluded with vnlooked for euentes.

I hope for many thinges.

Thou must needes also stande in feare of many thinges: for hope dwelleth no where without feare.

I hope for some good.

Then thou fearest some euil: for as hope is opposite to feare, so dooth it spring out [Page]of a contrary fountayne, and it must needes be, that looke what thou beginnest to hope for, the contrary thou must (as necessarily) feare.

I hope for prosperous thinges.

But yet vncertaine, in hope wherof to neglect the things that thou art assured of, is assured madnesse: for he that hopeth for that which he hath not, forgetteth that which he hath.

I am not for­bidden to hope for the better.

What if thou hope for dif­ficult & impossible matters, & that wil neuer come to passe? What if those things which thou hopest for are bad, yea very euil, & thou imaginest them to be better then they are?

I delight to liue in hope.

Say more truely, to die in hope: for whyle men thinke vpon future things, the present passe away, & they that loke a far of, see not what is vnder their eyes, & they that hope to liue to morow, liue not to day: for that is not yet come, whose be­ginning is hoped for. So then, forasmuch as al hope, is y^e loking for a good thing that is absent, it followeth, that he that hopeth, in that respect that he hopeth, suffreth some euyl.

It is a sweete thing to hope.

Truely, I heare many say so, but I can perceyue no sweetenesse in it. For if it be sweete to hope, it is also sweete to lacke that which a man would haue, which who so wyll affirme to be true, doubtlesse he wanteth the sense of taste.

It is pleasant to hope.

Then to hang in doubt, to be affected, & vexed, is hope, & of long punishment, there is long hope: nothing so much weerieth the mind, nothing so much haste­neth old age. And therfore the wise man often tearmeth lost hope, vantage, and reioyceth that he was deliuered from infinite desires and expectations of vayne thinges, whereby he was enforced to take delight in his owne good thinges.

Let fortune looke to the euent, as for me, I reioyce in hope.

Take heede, lest hereafter thou be sory in the thing it selfe, and it repent thee, that euer thou wishedst or hopedst, or enioyedst thine hope. Many whom hope long tormented while they lyued in doubt, when it came to effect which they hoped, were vtterly ouerthro­wen: many haue perished with the wished successes of their long hope, whiche were very tedious, but not late enough.

None shal take hope from me.

None shal take frō thee werisomnesse & trouble of mind: thou hast heard the old prouerbe, [Page 137]It is a great payne to looke or hope for any thyng.

The hopyng or lookyng for a good thyng is pleasant.

But it is deceitful, and doubtful, and troublesome. If thou deny this, thou neuer hopedst for any thyng: But the company is ine­stimable of those that deceiue them selues, vnto whom whatsoe­uer offereth it selfe, there is nothyng without some effect towards that they haue in hand, they refuse nothyng, they deny them selues to none, they are easily turned, and quicke to geue credite. I may say that it were a great argument of lightnesse and folly to em­brace euery hope that a man shal meete withall, and immediatly to repose hym selfe thereon as an assured good, wherevnto all men of learnyng and experience are but slowe.

In the meane whyle, I haue a good hope.

In the meane whyle thou sayest, which wylbe vnto such tyme as it hath decey­ned thee. For this is your custome, ye cast of hope agaynst your wyl, and neuer forsake it, vntyll it forsake you: Yea, many times when it forsaketh you, it is strange to say, howe agayne and a­gayne ye wyllyngly embrace it, when it returneth: and gooyng foorth to meete it, assoone as ye haue layde holde on it, ye forget how before it deceyued you, and retayne it agayne furnished with newe craftes, and lay it vp in the secrete closure of your hartes.

I wyl not forsake my good hope vnto the last.

What yf it forsake thee long before? Wylt thou call it backe, or folowe it, or carry tyll it returne? But goe to, hope a Gods name, since there is nothyng more pleasant vnto thee then to be deceiued. It is not my meanyng to plucke thy hope from thee, whiche so earnestly thou enterteynest, only I admonyshe thee this much, that it is no good hope which thou supposest: It is no good hope that proposeth good to it selfe, but that purposeth well. The moste wycked persons may, yea, and commonly do, hope for that which is good: and therefore that is good hope in deede, whiche is ryghtly conceyued of the true good: he that hath this hope, let hym holde it fast, and not let her depart from hym in the ende, but ioyne her other sisters vnto her, to witte, fayth and charitie. This hope is pleasant, sweete, true, and hap­py, which neyther fayleth nor confoundeth him that hopeth, but aduanceth hym vnto that which is best, & in the meane while ma­keth [Page]the minde cheereful, with the remembraunce of the good that is hoped for. But you, as hopyng for the true good, which ye haue yll deserued, or callyng euyll thynges by the name of good, are in conclusion deceyued: and therefore your expectation is sorowfull before it come, and more sorowfull when it is come.

Myne vnderstandyng is humane, and I speake of those thynges which men cal good.

Heretofore there hath been long contention among the learned, about this name: which doth yet continue, and wyl doo for euer, to the worldes ende, some makyng but one good thing, and contrariwyse other some many.

Let vs leaue these matters to the Philosophers, as for mee, I hope for those thynges, whiche the common people call good.

Thou hopest then for thine owne euyl, which eyther wyll vexe thee with deferryng, or ouerpresse thee with the desired burden. Admit that al thynges goe well with thee appar­teining to the body, & that thou hast prepared power against thine enimie, and as touchyng Fortune, that thou hast borne the yoke of an vnconstant and vnmilde Ladye, and that many of these thynges may be conuerted to the affliction and destruction of the minde, forasmuche as the thynges that delyght the minde, doo of­tentymes hurt it.

I haue cast the anker of good hope, and I wyll not remooue.

But Saylers vse many tymes when a tempest ryseth to cut their Cable, and loose theyr Anker, if they can not weigh him vp, and to depart without him: for it hapneth not alwayes so, as in the calmenesse of the Sea, we reade in the poet, The Anker helde fast the Shyppes, with an assured tooth: so lykewyse, in great troubles and raginges of the Sea, wherein the Anker doth not holde them fast, but rather stay­eth them; and endangereth them often with castyng away, none otherwyse verily in the stormes and tempestes of worldly af­fayres, setled and tough hope hath drawen many into destructi­on, who yf they had cut of, and caste away theyr hope, might haue safely escaped Therefore, the Anker of hope must be oftentymes weighed vp, or yf it holde too harde, be broken of. And yf that can not be, it must euen be quite cut away, and left behinde vnder the waters and flooddes of affayres, to the ende thou mayest safely conueyth the free barke of thy lyfe, through the direction of fore­syght, [Page 138]into the hauen of safetie.

I hope wel.

In well hopyng, and yll hauyng, mans lyfe passeth away.

Of expectation of Inheritaunce. The .Cx. Dialogue.

I Looke for the inheritaunce of an olde man, that hath no chyl­dren.

Thou saydst erwhyle, that thou wast in quiet, take heede thou be not found contrary to thy selfe: for hopyng or lookyng for any commoditie & quietnesse of minde, can neuer dwell togeather: there is no loathsomnesse in this life more gree­uous then this expectation.

I expect the inheritaunce of an olde man.

But thou knowest not what he also expecteth: for this is a general madnesse among men, that almost euery man hopeth, not onely to lyue longer then those that are of his owne yeeres, but also that are younger. Men are vnwilling to thynke on their owne death, but gladly on other mens, when as in deede it were more profitable for them to doo the contrarie.

I hope for an olde mans inheritaunce.

How if he also hope for thyne? One of you must needes be deceyued. How many olde men may there be found, that looke for the death of young men: And truely, there is none so olde, but he may lyue one yeere longer: and none so young, but he may dye to day.

I hope for the inheritaunce of a chyldlesse olde man.

Thy sonne may better hope for it. A more likely hope hath deceyued a younger.

The inheritaunce of a child­lesse olde man shal fal vnto me.

How knowest thou, whether thyne shall fall vnto hym? Claudius succeeded Caius, and Galba Nero, and Nerua Domitian, and Pertinax Com­modus, and the lyfe of a man is ful of suche successions.

I tarie for the inheritaunce of a childlesse olde man.

Whom cannot he deceyue, of them that are willing to be decey­ned, that hath deceiued him, whom he woulde not willingly haue deceiued? Whom may not he suruine, that hath suruiued his owne sonne?

A childlesse olde man hath alredy in wri­ting appoynted me his heyre.

Hath he engrauen it in tables of Diamond, from whence thou canst not be blot­ted out? Dooest thou not knowe vpon howe light occasions olde [Page]men do alter their wylles? Many haue mislyked of that, at the ve­ry ende of theyr lyues, whiche before they lyked well of all theyr lyfe tyme.

A chyldlesse olde man wyll haue me be his heyre.

But it may chaunce, that hereafter he wyl not: For, there is nothyng that a riche chyldlesse olde man taketh in worse part, then to see his goodes loued, and him selfe not regar­ded: for then al is marred.

I am promised the inheri­taunce of a chyldlesse olde man.

I could wyshe, there were that vpryghtnesse and trust in men, that they would neuer promise any thyng, but that whiche is honest, and would also per­fourme that, which they haue promised. But now, there is neither measure in promising, nor regarde of breache of promise, whiche men thynke they may most lawfully doo, in inheritaunce and be­stowyng possessions. And for this cause, the lawes call the willes of Testatours whyle they lyue, walkyng Wylles. I wyll not trouble thee with examples, the thyng is well knowen. Thou hast read, I take it, vnto whom in hath hapned, that not only they were promised the inheritaunce of the lyuyng, but also receyued kysses, and ringes, and the last embracinges of the partie whiche lay a dying, whiche vnto them was an vndoubted token of succes­sion: when as in the meane whyle, there were other heyres ap­poynted, and no mention at all made of them in the Wyll: thus bolde is vnfaythfulnesse, euen in the middes of death. Doest thou thynke then, that thou art free from the deceites of them that are alyue, when as thou readest in what sort, great and noble persona­gies haue been deluoed, by the craftes of them that haue lyen a dy­ing? And not to stay vpon many: The most honourable Gentle­man Lucius Lucullus, suffered some tyme this kynde of mocke and reproche, and also a greater state then he was, Augustus the Emperour. An horrible, and most strange delyght in deceyuyng, which wyll not forsake the miserable and wretched soules, no not in the very poynt of death: but this is your maner, and thou re­posest thy trust vpon a promised inheritaunce, whereof thou may­est be disappoynted, both by the longer lyfe, and shorter fayth of the testatour: although, yf these doo thee no harme, he may haue most iust cause to change his purpose, to wit, an heyre of his owne, and young issue borne to an old man. For Cato begate a [Page 139]chylde, when he was aboue fourescore yeeres old, and Masinissa, when he was more neere to ninetie. The lyke also happeneth now adayes vnto your olde men, who I woulde they were as lyke vnto those anncient fathers in strength of mynde, as they are to force of engendryng: whiche beyng so, truely the lawfull heyre hyndreth the intruder, and cutteth of his foolyshe hope.

I am named Heyre in an olde mans Testament.

But perhappes he is yet lyuyng, and lyke to lyue. As for the Testamentes and Wylles, they are made in the lyfe time, and confirmed in the death: thou thynkest vpon the Carcas and Buriall, and Wolfe may be weeried with expectation and hunger.

An Inheritaunce shall come directly vnto mee.

As the Testatour, so also is the inheritaunce subiect to casualties, that a man can not alwayes haue that heyre whiche he woulde: and an inheritaunce many tymes is nothyng but a vayne name, yea, sundrie tymes a small inheritaunce is very deerely bought, when a man maketh hym selfe seruiceable and subiect to a tatter olde foole, and vseth flattering wordes, vn­meete for a man. Surely, there is no commoditie to be compa­red with the losse of honestie, and that whiche is decent.

The Inheritaunce shall fall vnto me, without contradiction of Lawe or Fortune.

Whereby knowest thou that? seeyng that saying of the most auntient and wyse Father Mar­cus Cato is true: I haue heard oftentymes, sayth he, that many thynges may happen betweene the mouth and the morsell. But ad­mitie nothyng happen betweene, but that thyne expected inhe­ritaunce fall vnto thee, it wyll not tarrie with thee, but departe from thee, to others. Worldly goodes, are roullyng, and money, men say, is of purpose made rounde, that it may alwayes be runnyng. Thou hast gotten an inheritaunce for thy successour: thou beyng perhappes sadde, for hym that wyll reioyce: thou beyng carefull, for hym that is negligent: and looke howe thou hast hoped of another, so wyll other hope of thee.

Of Alchimie. The .Cxi. Dialogue.

I Hope for good successe in Alchimie.

It is strange thou should est hope for that which neuer hapned effectually to thy selfe, nor to any man els, & yf report go that it euer hapned to any man, that report was made by suche as it was expedi­ent to beleeue them.

I hope for good successe in Al­chimie.

What successe meanest thou, other then smoke, ashes, sweate, sighes, woordes, deceit, and shame? These are the successes of Alchimie, wherely we neuer sawe any poore man aduaunced to ritches, but many ryche men fall into pouer­tie. And yet ye haue no regarde hereof, so sweete a thyng it is to hope and be deceyued, wherevnto ye be pricked foorth by coue­tousnesse, and dryuen headlong through madnesse, that ye thinke that to be true, whiche you hope for, and false, whiche you see. Thou hast seene some, that in other matters are wyse, yet in this behalfe to be madde: and some very ryche men, vtterly consu­med with this vanitie, and whyle they couet to become rycher, and gape after filthie lucre, to consume theyr wel gotten goodes, and hauyng spent all theyr reuenue in vnprofitable expences, at length to haue wanted verie necessaries: and other some, forsakyng the Citie wherein they dwelt, haue passed foorth the residue of theyr lyues in sorowe and heauinesse, beyng able to thynke vpon nothyng els, but Bellowes, Tongues, and Coales, and beyng able to abyde to keepe companie with none, but of theyr owne disposition and heresie, haue at length become, as it were, wilde people: many finally, that fyrst by meanes of this exercise lost the eyes of theyr mynde, haue afterwarde also by the same, lost their bodyly eyes.

I hope for golde, whiche my woorkeman hath promised.

It is hehofefull to vnderstande what euery artificer in euery art pro­miseth. There be some that can not be beleeued, whatsoeuer they promyse, and so muche the lesse, as they bynde theyr promyse the more with an othe. But, O you foolyshe men, is it not sufficient for you to be madde in true mettalles, which the earth bryngeth foorth, but that other mineralles vexe you [Page 140]with counterfeiting? Is it a small matter to haue wandred from vertue, but that also losse be added to your errour, and toyle to your losse, and shame to your toyle? He that promiseth thee his golde, wyll suddenly runne away with thy golde. It is no newe tale I tell thee, but a common custome, although the de­ceyt that is committed by fyre, is often also purged by fyre, not­withstandyng, when thou art deluded by the subteltie of thy de­ceyuer, art nothyng damnified by his punishment, but shalt be the better knowen and poynted at for a couetous and foolyshe person, consumed with blowyng of Coales, singed with the fyre, smutched with the smoke.

The Alchimiste pro­miseth me great matters.

Byd hym fyrst perfourme that for hym selfe, whiche he promiseth to others, and that first he relieue his owne pouertie: For, for the most part they are a beggerly kynde of people, and confessyng them selues to be poore, they wyll enryche others, as though other mens neede were more greeuous vnto them then theyr owne: so that beyng wretched them selues, they vse most impudently to say, that they take pitie vpon others, and do promise great matters, some time to them that they know not O shameful promise, & O foolysh be­leefe?

I haue learned the art of Alchimie, I shalbe riche.

Nay rather, yf thou were ryche, thou shalt waxe poore: for I say, that this art whereof thou speakest, is none other, then the art of lying and deceyuing. But goe to, foras­much as thy minde is so bent, followe it, and I tell thee before hand that thou shalt reape profite by this art, thy house shall swarme with strange gheastes, and wonderfull kindes of imple­mentes, thou shalt haue store of eaters and drinkers, and that by good reason, as beyng incensed with heate of the fire, and gree­dinesse of desire: there shalbe blowers, & deceiuers, and mockers, euery corner shal stande ful of vessels, and pottes, and basons, and pannes, & glasses of stinking waters: moreouer, strange heathes, and outlandy she saltes, and sulphure, and stilles, and furnaces, by meanes of all whiche, in the ende thou shalt procure vnto thy selfe vayne cares, follie of minde, deformitie of countenaunce, filthinesse of body, dimnesse of sight, carefulnesse and pouertie, and that which is woorst of all, the name of a Iugler or Sorcerer, & a [Page]lyfe continually to be ledde in darkenesse, among the secret infa­mous lurkyng corners of Theeues.

I hope to ob­teyne the effect of my desire.

Perhaps thou mayest conceyue matter to hope and be glad hereof, but not to reioyce.

I drawe neare to the ende of my perpose.

Hast thou fixed Mercurie? or brought any other vayne conclu­sion to effect? Notwithstandyng, thou art very farre from thy pur­pose, thou shalt alwayes lacke some necessarie matter, but neuer want deceyt.

Of the promises of VVysemen, and Southsayers. The .Cxii. Dialogue.

DIuinours, and Southsayers, promise me many thinges.

Loe, thou hast found out another kynde of men, to whom if thou geue credite, thou shalt alwayes hang in suspense, and lyue in Hope: for the thynges shall neuer come to passe whiche they promise, and thou shalt neuer lacke promisers: so that on the one side, gapyng after the runaway promised thynges, and on the other syde, prouoked by promises, thou shalt continually be tossed to and fro, after the maner of Ixion.

The Southsayers put mee in good hope.

It is as easie a matter to bryng the credulous into hope, as the timerous into feare: as for constant mindes, they are not easily mooued vnto eyther side.

Mathema­ticians promise me manie matters.

There is no­thyng more redie vnto them that want honestie, then to abounde with promises: but who so are ashamed to lye, are flowe in promi­sing.

The Mathematicians promise me happie fortune.

Choose other auowers as a pledge, the kynde of promi­ses is brittle, a bare woorde is scarcely to be trusted.

Mathematicians promise me many thynges.

Seeke some that may fulfyll those promises: it is sufficient for them to haue put thee in hope, no one man canne doo all thynges.

I am awaked by the Southsayers answers.

Thou shalt be brought a sleepe by the euentes, for nothing shall happen that is promised thee.

I am willed to hope for great matters.

It is strange, that the mind of man that is stubberne to vertue, should be so much obedient to vani­tie. If vertue commaund any one thing, be it neuer so good, it is not regarded: but if vanitie wyl any thing, although it be difficult and most vile, it is obeyed.

The Mathematicians pro­mise me happie fortune.

These be woonderful fe­lowes, that know only what is to come, and are ignorant of that which is past, and present, and do so pronounce of thinges that are in heauen, as though they had been called to counsell among the goddes, and were now come downe from thence with a fresh me­mory, when as in the meane whyle they be ignorant what is doone vppon the earth, in theyr owne countrey, in theyr house, and in theyr chamber: so that it is very true whiche thou rea­dest in Tullie, No man seeth what is before his feete, but they searche the regions of heauen.

A certayne notable and true Mathematician, telleth me of great matters.

The more notable the diuinour is, the greater is his libertie of lying, and his credite more prone to a false tale. Truely I vse often tymes to marueyle, and our countrey man Tully not with­out cause marueyled also, what newe or vnaccustomable acci­dent is happened in this matter, that when as in al sortes of men many true matters are obscured by one notable lye, and the cre­dite of the reporter is euer more afterward had in suspition, it fa­reth otherwyse in this kynde of people, that one slender and casu­all true tale, as it were a veyle beyng set agaynst many fittens, notwithstandyng purchaseth credite to a publique lye, yf it be founde that he once tolde true, wherein there was neuer any so impudent a lyar, but some tyme hath told trueth, eyther agaynst his wyl, or vpon ignorance: but yf any of those by chaunce doo hyt vpon the trueth, then is the matter cocke, he shalbe belee­ued yf he foretel that there shal fall a Star this day from heauen: finally, he may lye in all cases, without suspition of lying, that coulde be once founde out of a lye. And they stycke most vppon this one point, for that they can see into the thynges that are to come, beyng forgetful of that which is past, deceiuing those that [Page]haue affiance in them, by meanes of the fauour and sight beliefe which they beare vnto them.

I geue credice vnto Di­uinours that foretel me good fortune.

To geue cre­dite to mad men, is madnesse. And truely although that Cicero seemeth herein to be of an other mynde, yet I am of opinion that the name which the Grecians haue geuen vnto this thing, is more apt then that which is geuen by your countreymen. For the Latines haue deriued this woord diuination, a Diuis, from the goddes, or a Diuinitate, from Diuinitie: but the Grecians fetch their woord Mantice, a Furore, from madnes: you per­haps more finely, but they more truely. The same art al the holy Doctours doo by one content condemne, namely Ambrose, Au­gustine, with the residue, who, if it so happen at any time, as this pestilent custome hath preuailed among many, that among these brablers in disputation concernyng the trueth, they are had in sus­pition for the very names sake of theyr profession, so that the pro­fessours of the true fayth cannot be hearde, with the free consent also of all other, who beyng innumerable are of the same opinion. And although the godly or vertuous men do condemne diuinati­on, what cause is there, or iust occasion of suspition, but that only one, and especially among many, the most excellent Cicero may be regarded and hearkened vnto: For truely he condemneth, moc­keth, and despiseth this whole kinde of illusions and deceipts. And to be short, omitting those thyngs whiche this place cannot holde, not only al godly religion, but also true Philosophie, and likewise Poetrie, which directly imitateth the same, and not the holy men only, but also all the learned, do reiect this vanitie, except those on­ly that lyue of it, or that beyng by them seduced, are fallen into theyr snares, vppon whose losses and errours they founde theyr Art, and rayse theyr gayne. In which Art, this is the chiefe and principal point, to cloke theyr fraude with obscuritie, and so to geue an ambiguous or doubtful answere, so that whatsoeuer hap­neth, may seeme to haue ben foretolde, which is a common proui­so among al that professe the knowledge of thyngs to come, wher­in not theyr Art, whiche is none, nor theyr wyt, which without learnyng and knowledge in matters is naked, but theyr subtiltie [Page 142]and boldnesse, and impudencie, is wonderful. So that, that whi­che once the rough Cato spake merily, that he marueiled that one southsayer laughed not when he saw another, may be also fitly applied vnto al aire watchers, southsaiers, fortune readers, ghes­sers, chaldies, and Mathematicians, and the whole kinde of diui­nation, so vncerteine it is whether their fraude be more filthie, or your madnes more ridiculus: howbeit, it were an easie matter to answere their quiddities, and refute their reasons, but it would be ouerlong, and is so common a matter, and so notably handled by sundry excellent men, that the repetition thereof woulde not only be superfluous, but also folysh. And vnto your most fond vanitie, what may be sayde other, then that ye are worthy not only to be mocked by earthly men, but also by men made of clay, and that haue none other knowledge, then by this meanes only to deceiue fooles, by pretending great skyl, and abusing you with the name and colour of heauen.

I am perswaded that prospe­rous fortune is at hande, the expectation whereof is sweete, plea­sant, and acceptable vnto me.

Nay rather, bytter, sowre, and troublesome: but you hauyng lost your sense, do iudge of the obiectes of the senses, whereunto I suppose you are easi­ly perswaded. For it is an easye matter to perswade them that are wyllyng: and some haue no neede of a perswader, for truely they are theyr owne southsayers, and take occasion to prognosti­cate happy euentes to them selues, both by the meetyng of liuing creatures, and the flying and chatteryng of byrdes. But if thou re­count with thy selfe how often these thynges haue deceyued thee, yf thou aske counsell of thy neyghbours concernyng this matter, or they, beyng infected with the same errour, aske thyne aduice, thou shalt easily perceyue howe far thou oughtest geue credite to these follies, vnlesse those three most notable and famous gouer­nours and Princes, Pumpeius, Crassus, and Caesar, will haply say otherwyse vppon theyr othe, vnto whom, as it appeareth by a great witnesse, and best knowne of all men, Marcus Cicero, all the Chaldeys, and southsayers promysed, that they shoulde all three of them ende theyr lyues moste glory­ously in theyr owne countrey, in happy estate, and honorable old age: which how crue it was, perhaps thou attendest not to heare: [Page]but truely, they dyed al by the swoorde, two of them more mise­rably farre of from Iralie or the Citie of Rome beyng slayne, theyr honorable heads only, wherof sometyme the whole world stoode in feare and reuerence, with shameful reproches buryed, but theyr bodyes most pitifully throwne foorth to be torne by wylde beastes, bytten by fyshes, and rent by foules, cruelly mangled & dismembred, lay there as a most miserable spectacle of fortune. Goe thy wayes now, and say these southsayers haue no knowledge, that they geue iudgement so vncertaynly.

I haue obserued an acceptable token of southsaying.

O importunate madnesse: a wretched man hopeth to knowe the successe of his affayres, of byrdes, when he hath none of hym selfe: what folly is greater then this? Kyng Deiotarus, a gods name, was deliuered from present destruction by the sight of an Eagle: And Agrippa the Hebrue [...] aduertised of his deliuerie out of pryson, the ende of his aduersitie, and begynnyng of prosperitie, by the sitting of an Oule vpon his head, which otherwise is coun­ted an infamous byrde, whose song by Virgils verse, is counted deadly and infortunate.

A good token and prognosti­cation hath hapned.

This worde Omen, signifiyng a token, or an abodyng, is deryued from the woorde Homo. that signifieth a Man, and is an argument of mens madnesse, wherby your myndes are not only euermore drawne into errour by some external thyng, but also by one thyng or another that is within you, that there may be no part voyde of fancies and try­fles: and therefore ye obserue your seruantes neesynges, and drawe your chyldrens woordes, which they vtter by chaunce, to that purpose, not to the purport of them, but to your owne pur­poses, to wyt, because the Centurion sayde, Here we shal re­mayne best of all, the head of the worlde was not remooued: or because the litle gyrle tolde her father crying, when he was goe­yng foorth to warfare, that Perses was dead, it was necessarily iudged that the Kyng of Macedonie shoulde be vanquyshed. O strange and sotted mynde of man, with how small a force art thou dryuen into the pyt of errour?

Good fortune hapned vnto me whyle I was a sleepe.

But thou shalt haue sorowful tidinges when thou art awake.

I saw good [Page 143]hap in sleepe.

But thou shalt finde il hap when thou awakest.

I was an happy man in my rest.

But thou shalt be wretched in thy trauayle. For many tymes [...]reames signifie nothing, and many tymes the contrary.

True thynges are often seene in dreames.

But how more often false? The lyke iudgement is to he geuen of this, and all such other kyndes of vanities, one thyng happenyng true by chaunce, purchaseth credite to a great many of false, and mens myndes gapyng after that whiche is to come, taketh no regarde of that whiche is past.

The Diuinours promyse me many thyngs.

I do not much wonder at these impo­stours and deceyuers, who accordyng to theyr maner do lyue by theyr practise: but I marueyle more at you, that you subiect your lyues, soules, and wittes vnto theyr bellies: and therfore take hede what perswasion thou holdest [...]r yf thou wylt folowe mine ad­uyce, thou shalt expect with a quiet and vpryght mynde, not what the Starres, but what the Creatour and gouernour of the Starres hath determined concernyng thee, feruently woorkyng somethyng euery day, whereby thou mayst be founde the more woorthy of his loue. Concernyng the euentes, let it not once en­ter into thy mynde to mooue any of them, vnto whom the trueth is lesse knowne then to thy selfe, Finally, thus perswade thy selfe, that it is an harde matter for men to knowe what it is to come, and that it is not lawful for them, yf it were expedient, nor expe­dient, yf it were lawfull.

Of glad tidings. The. Cxiii. Dialogue.

I Haue heard glad tydyngs.

Beleeue not fame, she is a lyar.

Many tel me glad newes.

It is better sometyme to beleeue one, then many.

That cannot be altogeather false, which so many messengers doo re­port.

The maner of common report is wel knowne, which is to mingle lies with trueth. A great many of lyes are sea­soned with a few true tales: for no body wyl beleeue hym that which al lyes.

The first aucthour of the rumor is a cre­d [...]le person.

But there is no man contented to report [Page]only as much as he hath hearde or seene. it is nothyng worth vn­lesse that euery one adde some thyng of his owne to that which he hath heard or seene, which when many haue done, a man shal per­ceiue how one lye hath been heaped vpon another, so that this mischiefe going from hande to hande, hath encreased in mens handes as it was going, and which the most excellent poet sayeth, It floorisheth by moouyng, and getteth strength by going.

Hytherto the report is very ioyful.

What yf it flat­ter thee, that it may strike thee? Many times after ioyful rumors, folow woful massacres: this for the more part is the manner of fortune, to promyse hope, that she may wound the deeper, and she annoynteth her cruel weapon with the sweetnesse of some glad ti­dynges, wherewith she purposeth to cut the throate of hym that reioyceth. Which thyng, forasmuche as the learned and wyse do vnderstande, they are nothyng mooued with flatteryng reportes, but remayne vnmooueable, recountyng with them selues either that it is contrary, or that this rumour that semeth so acceptable, may be chaunged into the contrary.

I am delighted in a ioyful rumour.

Stay a whyle tyl thou knowe whe­ther it be certayne, and if it so fall out, yet is it a shame for a man­ly courage to be moued with euery smal rumour, though they be true, but most shameful with those that are false. Many haue ben ashamed that they haue reioyced, and the remembrance of theyr false ioy, hath augmented theyr true griefe.

Of expecting a mans sonne, or Farmer, or wyfe. The .Cxiiii. Dialogue.

I Hope for my sonnes returne.

Thou hopest for a careful ioy, and a neare sorow.

I hope to see my friend agayne.

Thou hopest for a sweete thyng, but deceiueable: mens affayres tremble vpon a brittle foundation, perhaps he whom thou now lookest for is dead, which thou maist proue yf thou liue. There are a thousand kindes of impedimens, & one that is common to al, that is, death.

I trust to en­ioy y^e desired sight of my friend.

These two are almost alwayes ioyned togeather, to wyshe, and to hope: but by sundry [Page 144]casualties they be dayly separated. Howe many may we thynke were there in Rome, that with very desirous myndes expected the returne of the last Marcus Marcellus? But contrarywyse his most cruel foe attended his commyng in the myddes of the way, whose furious sauagenesse was more mightie then was the mercyfulnesse of the conquerour that reuoked his aduersarie from exyle. And therfore Caesar at the request of the Senate coulde pardon Marcellus: but Marcellus Client coulde not sustayne a­ny greater griefe, then that he shoulde enioy that benefite from Caesar.

I hope to see my friende, and I expect him, ha­uyng no enimie to hinder his commyng.

What man is he that hath not an enimie? and albeit he haue no priuate eni­mie, yet is there any without publique fooes? I meane theeues and murderers, who mooued with couetousnesse haue proclaymed open war agaynst mankynde. But imagine there chaunced some such good constellation, y^t this mischiefe were banyshed out of the worlde: notwithstandyng who shal defend Wagons and Horses from ouerthrowyng, ryuers and streames from ouerflowyng, brydges and houses from fallyng, tempestes on Sea and lande from rysyng? Adde moreouer the incursion of fierce and wylde beastes, and venomous vermyne, by meanes of whiche, Dicae­archus a most curious searcher of such matters, sheweth that not only certaine particuler men, but also whole generations of men, haue ben destroyed. And in summe, looke how many chaunces there be in humane affaires, wherof there is no certaine number, so many enimies are there of mankinde, which may, I say not slacke thy hope, but extinguysh it. And though nothyng els doo happen, yet death, of whom I spake erwhile, whether men go or stande, is alwaies at their elbowe, and perhaps more neere to them that ryde and traueile vppon the way, by howe muche theyr iourney, and riding, and changyng of place, seemeth to be subiect to more kindes of casualties.

I hope for my friendes returne, after the prosperous dispatching of his businesse.

How gloriously & prosperously Drusus Nero, that was sonne in law to Augustus, behaued him self and accomplished his affaires, that he was beloued of his enimies that he had vanquyshed, so that they dyd almost adore hym as a [Page]God, whose wonderfull affection towards the memoriall of hym, euen to this present day, I suppose thou mightest perceiue, yf euer thou were conuersant among the states of Germanie. Truely he atchiued such exploites wherof he might woorthily vaunt him, the whiche appeareth yet remayning to this day ingrauen in cer­tayne Romane stones, wherof some of the first sillables are defa­ced and throwen downe by misfortune, in these verses, At the de­parting of the Rhine, I inuaded the land and wasted the enimies coun­trey, while vnto thee, O Rome, which art glorious and renowmed with thyne euerlasting Monumentes of victorie, Hister foloweth with a more calme streame. How thynkest thou, dyd the Emperour Au­gustus, Lorde of all the world, expect the returne of so noble a young Gentleman, whom in louyng he had made his sonne? And howe Liuia Augusta, vnto whom nature had made hym belo­ued, but vertue more beloued, and his brothers cowardice, I sup­pose, most dearely beloued? Howe moreouer his brother hym selfe, how soeuer he was vnto other, yet most louyng of his moste excellent brother? And last of al, howe Rome it selfe, and the whole common wealth, which at that tyme depended so much vp­on no man? But what then? what was the ende of so manyfolde expectations? Sodayne death tooke away this long looked for Drusus, and that by naturall sicknesse, and as some approoued aucthours report, by addyng therevnto the breakyng of his thygh: so that he that was looked for to returne a conquerour in­to his countrey, was brought backe thyther dead. What shal I speake of his sonne Germanicus? I thinke there was ne­uer greater expectation of any man. It was not his father nor yet Augustus that expected him, who were then both dead, but it was the whole citie of Rome. & that with so wonderful desire, as if the whole citie had had but one minde, & had ben a widdow, and a mother that had but one childe. And therfore, at the fyrst report of his sicknesse, al the citie was amazed, and cast into heauinesse, and al mens countenances & apparrel were chaunged, and there was sorowful silence throughout the whole citie. But after that better tidings, although by vncertayne aucthours, reported that he was alyue and recouered, immediatly a most happy & loude noyse was in euery place raysed, which also awaked Tiberius [Page 145]him selfe, and there was great concurse of people into the capitoll ho [...]e, to perfourme vowes, and geue thankes to the goddes, in­somuche that the doores of the Temples were almost borne away with the throng, the darkenesse of the nyght was ouercome with [...] a plentie of Torches and other lightes, and silence broken with the voyces of them that sung for ioy, Rome is in safetie, our coun­ [...]y is in safetie, Germanicus is in safetie. But what at length was the ende of this matter? Euen that whiche is most common in humane affayres: For there came a more certaine messenger, which reported that Germanicus was dead: wherevpon arose a publique sorow and lamentation, which could not be restrained by [...]ictes, holydayes, or any consolations. The historie is well kno­wen, written in the fourth booke of the Emperours.

I hope my young sonne wyll returne.

Were not these young enough of whom I spake erewhile? Then heare of a youn­ger. Marcellinus, that was Nephewe to the same Augustus on his sisters side, how much thinkest thou was he expected of his Vncle, who loued him so tenderly, that he could not heare, without teares, those most noble verses of Virgil, wherein that most ex­cellent Poet celebrated the remembraunce of that young Gen­tleman, being but almost a chyld, and when he was reading them, commaunded the aucthour to holde his peace? How much of his mother Octauia, who loued him so dearely, that she mourned for him continually vnto the last day of her lyfe, as though he had but then dyed, and dyd not onely contemne, but also hate euery one that enduoured to comfort her? What shoulde a man say to these matters, and what thinkest thou other then all other men? He re­turned not, but was translated: and as for Drusus, he returned not to Rome as he went to Germanie, neither dyd Antioche restore Germanicus, neither Baiana Marcellinus. There is a common destinie of your expectations, but thou fansiest vnto thy selfe another, and perhaps that chaunce may happen whiche thou expectest, which peraduenture when it is hapned, thou wylt begin to hope and wyshe that it were gone againe.

I hope for the returne of my friende that is absent.

Who wil marueyle, yf they that are liuing be looked for to come agayne, when some also that are dead, as report goeth, are expected? It is [Page]reported, that the Britaines looke for the comming againe of king Arthure. And some do dreame that Nero the Emperour shal re­turne, a litle before the ende of the worlde. Your whole lyfe, from the beginning to the ending, is not only ful of vayne expectations, but it selfe is also a vayne expectation. If thou perceyue not that this is so, thou hast eyther lyued too short tyme, or too long, or ta­ken no regarde what is doone heere.

I looke for my Farmer, that should come out of the Countrey.

Per­aduenture eyther his House is burnt, or his Haruest withered a­way, or his Medowes ouerdried, or his Oxen dead, or his Vines hurt with the Hayle, or his Trees ouerthrowen with the whirle­winde, or his Cornefieldes drowned with sudden waters, or his Bees flowne away, or his Fruites eaten vp with Caterpillers, or his Pigeon house destroyed by Crowes, Mice, and other ver­mine, or his Poultry deuoured by the Foxe, or his Lambes spoyled by the Woolfe: these for the most part, are the tumours that come out of the countrey.

I hope for my Wiues comming.

If thou hope for that, then do I not know what thou fearest: yet is it so notwithstanding, for some looke for their wines, and some for an ague.

Of looking for better tymes. The .Cxv. Dialogue.

I Looke for better tymes.

All tymes are almost of a lyke goodnes, for that the creatour of tymes is euermore of a lyke goodnes: but you doo alwayes abuse good tymes, and in this as al other thinges, ye impute your owne faultes to the thinges. If the men were good, the times would be good enough.

These times can not continue, but more ioyfull shall suc­ceede.

No time continueth, all passe away, and when they are gone, they returne no more: through vertue, and industrie, and the studie of good artes, they may be bridled, not but that they shal passe away, but that they do not perishe: for there is nothing sweeter then the remembraunce of tyme wel spent. But you not knowing how to vse any thing as it ought to be, when ye haue bestowed all your lyfe tyme eyther in sleepe or idlenesse, or in [Page 146]carefulnesse, or vnprofitable businesse, ye accuse the giltlesse time. Doe I lye, yf I say that you consume your infancie and chyld­hood in vayne pastimes, your youth and mans state in lasciuious­nesse and auarice, your olde age, in complaintes and lamentati­ons? What faulte is there heere in the times? They passe away, I confesse, for it is their nature so to doo, and you neglect them whyle oportunitie serueth, whiche is not your nature, but your faulte. You accuse nature, and excuse your owne fault, which is no newe matter.

I hope for a better worlde.

The merrinesse, or sorowfulnesse of the tymes, as I haue sayde, resteth not in the times, but in your owne selues. By this meanes thou shalt not onely vnderstande howe to hope for prosperous times, but how to deeme of the sorowfull, if thou looke vpon thine owne age, whiche euery day waxeth more heauie then other, as it is described by the Poet, and founde in most olde men. And truely, yf thou cast thyne eyes backwarde, and begyn to recount and consyder thine owne yeeres, thou wylt also therewithal begin to despayre of that whiche thou hopest. There is no cause why thou shouldest hope for alteration of the course of the world. The tymes that folowe are not better, but I feare me rather the worse. And what is the cause, I pray thee? but onely because men waxe woorse and woorse, whiche certayne notable men haue foretolde should be so, and the effect plainly declareth? but that you men, vp­pon good hope do euermore conceiue some great opinion of your noble and modest youth, from whiche opinion I am farre of, for my minde can not prognosticate nor foresee any good to ensue at al, euery thing is so prone vnto vice and vntowardnesse.

The times are euyl, but better shal ensue.

Euery age hath complained of the maners that haue been then, sayth Seneca. And I adde, that euery age had cause in deede whereof to com­playne, & shal haue hereafter, to the worldes end.

I hope for a better time.

There is one way vnto that, wherby yf thou attaine to a better state, thou wylt then hope for no farther matter. Frame vnto thy selfe a merier mind, which thou canst not do without vertue, & when thou hast so done, al things shalbe mer­rie & fortunate, and nothing vnprosperous or sorowful.

I looke for a better tyme.

If it chaunce to come, [Page]which is doubtfull, verily as that approcheth, thou drawest away. How muche were it better to vse well the tyme present, rather then carefully to expect that, whiche perchaunce eyther wyll not come at all, or thou shalt neuer lyue to see.

Of the hoped commyng of a Prince. The .Cxvi. Dialogue.

I Hope for a Princes comming.

As many things are feared, which were rather to be wished: so many are wished, whiche were rather to be feared: on both sides there is great want of iudgement.

I hope for the Princes com­myng.

How much more seemely were it to hope for libertie: for truely, he that hopeth for a Lord or a Maister, hopeth for his owne seruitude.

I hope that the Prince wyll come.

Thou hopest also for the common mischiefe whiche commeth with him. But the tyme hath been, when Prin­ces haue hoped for their kingdomes, and the people haue hoped for their Prince: but now the kingdome is a burden to the Prince, and the Prince a plague to the people.

I and the com­mon wealth, doo hope that the Prince wyll come.

What thou alone dooest hope for, thou knowest best thy selfe, wherein also thou mayest easily be deceyued: but as for the hope of the Common wealth, it is but foolyshe. For what man, vnlesse he were mad, woulde hope for, or desire that, whiche he hath so of­ten times experimented to be hurtful?

I hope that the Prince wyll come.

And he wyll bryng with hym sundry stirres and tumultes, alterations of Cities, hurtfull nouel­ties, famine, pestilence, warres, discorde: al these at once, or euery one of them seuerally, vse commonly to come with Princes now a dayes. If thou lyke of these thynges, then hope for the Princes commyng: but yf none of these be fearefull, notwithstandyng the very name of an Empire is ful of repor [...]es and rumours, deuoyde of al goodnesse, and only founded vpon the shadowe of antiquitie.

I hope that the Prince wyll come.

But I woulde haue thee wyse and circumspect, that as often as thou hearest of his comming, thou imagine that thou hearest the voyce [Page 147]of some thunder that goeth before lyghtnyng, nor begynne not to hope, but rather to feare, yf so be one of them must needes fayle. For to feare aduersitie, although it be repugnant to vertue, yet is it agreeable to nature: but to hope for euyll, is contrary to nature and vertue.

I hope that the prince wyll be heere short­ly.

When thou seest hym present, imagine that thou beholdest an vnfortunate starre to the Common wealth: and concernyng this matter, take aduice of thyne owne memorie, or demaunde of thy Parentes, or of thy Grandfathers, or great Grandfathers, and thou shalt finde it to be so as I say, whiche thyng, declare thou also to thy chyldren & posteritie, least they also lyke fooles, hope for the Princes commyng. I pray thee tel mee, when dyd euer the small Beastes hope for the Lyons comming, or the lesser Foules for the Eagles? Pardon me, if I tel y^t trueth, Man is a most foolyshe creature, and alwayes most desirous of his owne harme: other haue neede of a bayte to take them with­all, and man is caught onely with rumour of fame.

Of hope of Fame after death. The .Cxvii. Dialogue.

I Hope for Fame after my death, for my desartes.

Many hope that they deserue fame, when they rather deserue infamie: and lyke traueylers that wander out of their way, when they thynke they goe ryght foorth, then goe they backe­warde.

I am famous in my lyfe tyme, and I hope to be more famous after my death.

This is true, I con­fesse, in some, insomuche as Anneus Seneca in a certaine Epi­stle profecieth, that he shoulde he beloued of posteritie: and Sta­tius Papinius sayth, that he hath prepared a redie path for the present fame vnto his woorke among posteritie: and lykewyse the Poet Ouid foretold of the eternitie of his name to come, and that he shoulde be read by the mouth of the people, and lyue by fame throughout all ages: and truely none of these are decey­ued. But how many thynkest thou haue there been, that haue ho­ped the lyke, but their hope hath fayled them? Many perhappes [Page]haue thought as much, and haue written, but haue not found that which they promised to them selues.

If I be famous whyle I lyue, why should I not be more famous after my death?

For that it is an accustomable and common experience, that many that haue been famous and noble in their life time, af­ter their death haue become obscure and vnknowen. Dooest thou wonder at it? The cause is manifest, which is a certaine affabilitie, neate & pleasant speach, a fawning countenance, a friendly looke, gentle greeting, benefites bestowed vpon neighbours, defending of clientes, hospitalitie towardes strangers, courtesie towardes al men. These, and suche lyke, do purchase f [...]me to them that are ly­uing: but so sone as they are dead, they continue no longer, vnlesse perhaps as long as they remaine that knewe them, whiche how short a time it is, thou seest: for how should thinges continue, that are not grounded vpon a sure foundation? It is the course of na­ture, that the thinges that are weakely established, and slenderly encreased, do soone decay. And therefore that thy fame may be du­rable, it must proceede eyther from thy holynesse of lyfe, or wor­thinesse of thy desartes, or singularitie of thy written woorkes. A rare kinde of honour, these praiers, and courteous kind of gowned Gentlemen, which walke in their Silkes, and glitter in their pre­cious Stones and Iewels, and are poynted at by the people, are knowen no longer then they can speake, or a litle longer. An hard case, that all this brauerie and pompe, this shewe of know­ledge, these thunderyng speeches, shoulde so soodenly vanishe away into a thinne smoake: an hard case, I confesse, but true it is in deede, for they haue ministred none occasion of any testimonie of their due prayse, but onely of ambition, lucre, or slouthfulnesse.

I shal haue fame after my death.

Fame ne­uer profited the dead, but hath oftentimes hurt the liuing. For what was it other that procured the destruction of Cicero and Demosthenes, then their surpassing fame of learnyng? The lyke also may be sayde of Socrates and Zeno, and infinite other, who are all knowen. For what was it that gaue occasion to the Athe­nians to murther Androgeu [...], that was sonne to king Gnosius, but onely the fame of his wit and learning? What brought the chosen men, as they tearme them, of the great shyp Argos, who [Page 148]in deede were very Theeues, vnto Oetes king of Colchos, but only the fame of his ryches? For what els may we thinke to be signified by that famous golden fleece of the Ram, but great ri­ches diuersly dispersed, wherewithall beastly rich men, and suche as are destitute of the true ryches, are plentifully endued, lyke as Sheepe that are clad with their fleeces?

I shal be fa­mous.

Admit thou be, what great matter concey­uest thou thereof? Fame perhaps were somewhat, yf knowledge were ioyned with it, as it often hapneth in the liuing: but wyll it auayle thee any thyng, to be praysed of them whiche knowe thee not yf they see thee? I pray thee tell me, yf thou shouldest see Ho­mer and Achilles, yf Virgil and Augustus, shoulde they not passe by vnknowen, although their names be neuer so well kno­wen, and famous? Beleeue me, your hopes are for the more part vayne in two respectes: the one, in that the thinges that ye hope for, come not to passe: the other, in that if they do come to passe, yet doo they not perfourme that whiche they promised. For why, for the most, al humane thinges consist more in hope, then in effect. Cast away therfore this vayne hope, & fonde desyres, and contem­nyng of earthly thinges, learne at length to wyshe and hope for heauenly thynges.

Of Glorie hoped for by buyldyng. The .Cxviii. Dialogue.

I Hope for Glorie by buyldyng.

I knewe not so much before, that glory was wonne out of Lime, and Sande, and Timber, and Stone: but I supposed it had only been got­ten by atchiuing of valient deedes, and exercise of vertue.

I purchase Glorie vnto my selfe by buyldyng.

But it is a frayle and transitorie Glorie. Whatsoeuer is made by mans hande, is eyther ouerthrowen by mans hande, or fay­leth of it selfe in continuance of tyme. For long tyme, hath verie long and strong handes, there is none of all your woorkes that canne withstande olde age. Wherefore, when these thynges shall fall whereon this thy Glorie is foun­ded, it must needes be, that it fall also. If haply thou beleeue not, [Page]beholde the thinges that are of antiquitie, whereof thou canst not be ignoraunt. Where is now that proude tower of Ilium in Troy? Where is Byrsa of Carthage? Where are the tower and walles of Babylon? It is now an habitation of Serpentes and wilde beastes: I speake nowe of the auncient Citie of Baby­lon. As for the neerer and newe Babylon, it standeth yet, and is in case to be soone destroyed, yf you were men. To be short, where are those seuen notable woorkes, whiche the Greeke writers haue so muche celebrated? And to come vnto more later tymes, Where (I pray thee) is Neroes golden house, which how much it weeried the woorkemen, imagine thou, it weerieth nowe the readers of it: whiche house, with other outragies and follies in buildyng, wherein he exceeded al other, brought hym to pouertie, and enforced hym to rapine? Where are Dioclesians warme Fountaynes, and Antonius Bayne, and Marius cymbrum, and Seuerus Septizonium, and also his Senerian warme Welles? And briefely to conclude, where is Augustus Market place, and the house of Mars the reuenger, and of thundryng Iupiter in the Capitol, and the Temple of Apollo in the Pa­lace? Where is also his Gallerie, and Librarie, both Greeke and Latine? likewyse his other Gallerie and large Treasance, which were buylded and dedicated in the names of Gaius and Lucius his two Nephues? and the thyrde Gallerie of his wyfe Liuia, and his Syster Octauia, and Marcellus Theatre? Where are all the notable peeces of woorke, whiche sundrie noble men buy? ded in many places of the Citie with so great payne, and exces­siue charges, at the commaundement and instance of the same Prince? Merius Philippus house of Hercules and the Muses. Lucius Cornificius house of Diana, and Asinius Pollioes Court of Libertie, and Munacius Pancus house of Saturne, Cornelius Balbus Theatre, and Statilius Taurus Amphi­theater? Ouer and aboue these, the innumerable woorkes of Marcus Agrippa? And not to touche euery thyng, where are all the vaine and ouerriotous Palaces of Princes and Emperours? Seeke in bookes, and thou shalt finde their names: but seeke all the Citie of Rome ouer, and thou shalt eyther finde nothyng at all, or a fewe remnantes remainyng of so many great woorkes: [Page 149]and therefore thou knowest what thou mayest hope of thyne owne. Truely, vnlesse that Augustus, who was chiefe of al, hadde left somethyng behynde hym besydes buyldynges, his glory had long synce fallen to the grounde: and not only the Temples of the Goddes, which he prepared, fell downe vppon those that buylded them, but other places also in the same Citie, at this day haue some of them fallen downe, some trem­bled and shaken, and nowe they can scarse stande alone and beare theyr owne burden, except one only, whiche is the Tem­ple of Pantheon made by Agrippa. Beleeue me, glory that must continue, requyreth other foundations then are made of Stone.

I seeke for glory by buyldyng.

Seeke it where it is, thou shalt neuer fynde a thing where it is not: true glory consisteth not in walles nor stones. There are, I confesse, commonly iudgementes and estimati­ons of thynges geuen foorth, in whiche respect glory is sayde to be gotten three wayes: by doyng some notable deede, so that good aucthours may condingly wryte of thee: or by wri­tyng some excellent woorke, whiche posteritie may reade and woonder at: or by buyldyng some syngulare peece of woorke: whiche yf it be so, yet this last is the least, and of the other the most transitorie.

I leaue behynde me woorkes of buyldyng, wherein I vaunt when I am dying, and hope to gayne glory among posteritie.

Augustus the Em­perour, of whom I spake, vaunted that he had left the citie of Marble, which he found of bricke, which glory notwithstanding, vnlesse it had been holpen with other thynges, whereunto it would haue come, we see: and therfore yf thou be wyse, dye in other traueyles, and embrace permanent hope. For these thin­ges whereof thou trustest, are both of no price, and also wyll shortly followe thee, and returne to the earth from whence they came.

I haue builded houses whereby I hope for prayse.

Perhaps they wyl prayse thee that shal dwel in them. A short and narowe prayse: but they that doo come after shall eyther not vnderstande that it is due vnto thee, or as men say commonly, geue out that those woorkes were buylded [Page]by Paganes, and thy name shalbe vnknowne.

Of glory hoped for by keeping Companie. The .Cxix. Dialogue.

I Hope for glory by keepyng company.

It skil­leth muche with whom thou keepe company, for there are ma­ny, whiche I woulde it were not so, whose company is discre­dible and infamous.

I knowe that there is no glory wonne but by good artes, or conuersation with good men: I rest my selfe vpon this last, and hope to be good eyther by the example of good men, or yf that fayle, I hope that the familia­ritie of good men wyll purchase me glory.

Truely in a young man this is a very good signe, who vnlesse he hadde a good mynde, woulde neuer wyshe to be ioyned with good men. For, of all friendshyppes and familiarities, a certayne lykenesse is the cause and couplyng togeather. Proceede there­fore, and yf thou canst matche those whom thou dooest imitate, it is wel doone: If not, yet yf thou doo thy best, thy good wyll shal not want the rewarde of glory. For the chiefe and greatest part of vertue is, to haue a good mynde vnto vertue, and vn­lesse this goe before, vertue wyll not folow.

I boast in my familiaritie with good men.

Veryly, I prayle thee for it, from whiche let neyther the hope of gayne, nor of any other thing withdrawe thee, and bende thou al thyne industrie vnto this, that thou mayest be lyke them: other­wyse, that whiche is doone for glory only, deserueth not true glory.

I hope for glory by conuersation with good men.

A great hope, and not discommendable, seeing it consisteth in obseruyng and imitating of knowledge and elo­quence, and other good artes of peace and warre: For many haue become noble, by conuersation with noble men. But take heede of this, that through errour thou choose not to thy selfe euyl leaders in steede of good, or by meanes of the lamentable [Page 150]scarcitie of good men, and penury of vertues in this age, thou attayne not to that for whiche thou seekest.

Of manyfolde hope. The Cxx. Dialogue.

I Hope for many thynges.

In much hope there is muche vanitie, and great meanes left vnto fortune to de­ceiue.

I hope for many thynges.

Many thynges disapoynt a manyfolde hope: Who so ho­peth for litle, hath left but a narrowe way for casualties, but not vtterly stopped it.

I hope for good health.

A forgetfulnesse of mortalitie.

I hope for long lyfe.

A long pryson, wherein thou shalt see much, and suffer muche agaynst thy lykyng.

Fyrme mem­bers.

Strong bandes, but pleasant notwithstan­dyng, from whiche thou art a frayde to be loosed.

Surpassyng beautie of the body.

Prouocation vnto pleasures.

Happy ende of my yeeres.

The matter of a shameful and sorowful thyng.

The couenanted death of my louer.

Some short and fylthy matter, I knowe not what.

Libertie to of­fende.

A miserable ioy, and long repentaunce.

Oportunitie to reuenge.

An entraunce vnto crueltie.

A nymble and strong body.

A stubburne and rebellious drudge.

Great riches.

An heauie burden of Burres and Bryers.

Shyppes to returne from sundry Seas.

Fortune diuersly dispersed, betweene the monsters of the Sea and the Rockes, beaten with the Surgies, drawen with ropes, and dry­uen with the wind.

Gayne by the hoped merchandize.

A baite whiche will corment thee with continuall carefulnesse, and by the hope of one small gayne, dryue thee headlong vnaduysedly into many losses: A newe Mer­chaunt is easye to beleeue, but he that is expert forseeth many thynges.

Honest bestowyng of my sonne, or [Page] [...] [Page 150] [...] [Page]daughter in marryage.

There is no hope almost, that is so often and so grieuously deceyued.

Great power.

An hateful miserie, a rytch pouertie, a fearefull pride.

A kyngdome and empire.

A cragged headlong downefall, and tempestuous stormes, and vnder a glit­teryng diademe, a careful countenance, and heauie hart, an vn­fortunate lyfe.

Honours of the court of pleas.

Dust, and clamour.

Wedlocke, and chil­dren.

Contention, and cares.

Warfare for my selfe, and a sonne for my wyfe.

Trauayle to thy selfe, and payne to thy beloued.

The death of mine olde wyfe, and that I may haue a younger.

To be loosed from a worne stryng, and to be tyed to a strong newe Rope.

Wyt, a tongue, and learning.

An Handuyle, an Hammer, and a peece of iron, whereby to breake thy selfe and others of theyr sleepe.

Com­mendation at my buryall.

A Nightyngale to syng vnto a deafe person.

A golden Pyramis.

A paynted house for a blynde man.

Glo­ry after my death.

A prosperous gale of wynde after Shypwracke.

A name among posteritie.

A testimonie from vnknowne persons.

An heyre for my selfe.

A friende to thy patrimonie, and an argument to thy selfe that thou shalt not returne.

Of hoped quietnesse of mynde. The .Cxxi. Dialogue.

I Hope for quietnesse of mynde.

Why hadst thou rather hope for, then haue peace? Looke howe soone thou shalt begynne throughly to seeke it, thou shalt fynde it.

I hope for peace of mynde,

To hope for peace, is the parte of a warryour. Who maketh warre agaynst thy mynde, but thy selfe only? that whiche thou hast [Page 151]taken away from thy selfe, impudently thou requirest and hopest of another.

I hope for peace of mynde.

From whence, I pray thee? Or howe canst thou hope for that whiche thou mayest geue vnto thy selfe, and so, as none can take it from thee, but thy selfe? Lay downe the weapons of lust and wrath, and thou hast absolutely purchased peace for thy mynde.

I hope for peace, and quietnesse of mynde.

Why then is that which thou dooest agaynst peace? And why dooest thou striue so muche agaynst peace? Men haue scarce neede to endeuour so muche to be in safe­tie as they take paynes to seeke their owne destruction. Con­tinuall warre and traueyle of mynde, is bought more deerely then are peace and quietnesse: thus mens desires doo stryue a­gaynst theyr studies, in suche sort, as yf one man hadde not the mynde of one but of many, and all those repugnant one to ano­ther.

I hope for quietnesse.

I marueyle from whence ye haue this desire of hopyng alwayes, O ye mortall generation. For when ye haue once obtayned that whiche ye hoped for, then doo ye agayne cast foorth your hope abrode to another thyng, and from thence to another, so that to morowe is alwayes better then to day, and future thynges better lyked then present. There are some vnto whom nothyng is more pleasant, then to lyue in hope, who woulde not haue theyr hope of the thynges they hope for to be altred by any euentes: vnto whom what shoulde I wyshe other, then that put­tyng of all thynges tyll to morowe and tyme to come, and in the meane whyle, spoylyng them selues of all theyr goodes, they may waxe olde among theyr vayne hopes: whereby at length they may vnderstande that they hoped to none effect, and loo­kyng backwarde into theyr forepassed lyfe, they may perceyue that they sought for that elswhere, which they had of them selues.

I hope for peace and quietnesse of mynde.

A great part of humane affayres are shadowes: and a great part of men are fedde with winde, and take pleasure in dreames. O, how many doo goe foorth to euerlastyng labours, and warres with this hope?

Of the hope of lyfe euerlastyng. The .Cxxii. Dialogue.

I Hope for the lyfe euerlastyng.

There is no hope more excellent, more beautifull, more holie, so that it be not blynde and headlong. For there be some men, who by alwayes dooyng euyll, doo notwithstandyng hope for good, then whiche nothyng canne be more foolyshe.

I hope for the euerlastyng lyfe.

Suche is the consanguinitie and lynkyng togeather of vertues, as the Philosophers doo dispute, that who so hath one vertue, must needes haue all: whereof it foloweth, that who so wanteth one vertue, wanteth all: whiche yf it be true in the morall vertues, what may we iudge of the Theologicall? And there­fore yf thou haue hope, thou must needes also haue fayth and charitie. But yf one of these be wantyng, it is no longer hope, but rashe presumption.

I hope for the lyfe euerlastyng.

Thou hopest for a good, or rather a most excellent thyng: and therefore see thou, that that good whiche thou dooest, thou doo it well. There be some that doo good thynges euyll, and he is no lesse an vpryght deemer of thynges, that consydereth as well howe, as what shall be and is doone, and dooeth as well weygh the Aduerbes, as the Nownes, and Verbes.

I hope for the euer­lastyng lyfe.

Not the heauenly Powers onely, but also the earthly Lordes doo loue to be hoped of: but by whom? truely by those of whom they knowe them selues to be beloued, or els perhappes that some tyme were odious and rebellious, and beyng desyrous to be receyued into fauour, haue flyen vnto mercie and forgeuenesse.

I hope for the lyfe euerlastyng.

Amende thy temporall lyfe, for that leadeth to the eternall.

I hope for the euerlastyng lyfe.

This is the onely hope of all men, whiche yf thou conceyue a ryght, it wyll make, [Page 152]and alredie it dooeth make thee an happie man.

I hope for the lyfe euerlastyng.

Fyrst thou must hope for mercie, and afterwarde for lyfe, and soberly and mo­destly for both.

It is the euerlastyng lyfe that I hope for.

O happie man, yf this thy hope fayle thee not.

Deo gratiae.

Of deformitie of the bodie. The first Dialogue.

I Complaine, that Nature hath dealt verie hardlie with mee, in making me euill fauoured.

O howe manie fire brandes hath she quenched? howe manie flames hath she repressed?

Nature hath made mee deformed.

She hath not giuen thee that which might de­lite thee: if shee haue giuen thee that which may profit thee, it is sufficient, and therefore leaue thy complaintes.

Nature hath not giuē me the grace of good fauour.

Shee hath giuen thee nothing that sicknes might deface, & old age take away: perhaps she hath giuen thee that, which death it selfe dareth not touche.

Nature hath denied me the fauour of the bodie.

If she haue giuē thee the good fauour of the minde, thou art much beholden to her: contemne that repulse with a valiant minde, and comfort the offence of the looking glasse, with the vpright­nesse of thy conscience.

Nature hath enuied me the fauour of the bodie.

She hath not enuied it thee, but she is ashamed to giue thee that which is dailie diminished and wasted. True liberalitie is perceiued by a cōtinuing gift. Rotten and transitorie giftes couetous persons do giue: good fauour, which is a fraile and transitorie gift of Nature, is gi­uen vnto fewe for their profit, vnto manie to their destruction, but vnto none to their safetie and true glorie.

Bodily fauour is denied vnto me.

Excellent fauour of the bodie, and honestie, do verie seldome dwell together vnder one roofe. It is wel w^t thee, if the worse being excluded, thou retein the better geast with thee.

I haue no part of the come­linesse of good fauour.

Why art thou sorie for that, or, what holie or godly matter doest thou reuolue in thy minde? [Page 163]For what cause doest thou thinke the good fauour of the bodie to be necessarie for thee, or not rather altogether burdensome and hindering? Good fauour hath made manie adulterers, but none chast: Manie hath it ledde through the slipperinesse of pleasures vnto an infamous death, who if they had been euill fauoured, might haue liued without shame and danger. What say I manie? Yea it hath brought innumerable into trouble, but all welnigh into blame.

Why hath nature made me deformed?

To the ende thou shouldest adorne and make thy selfe well fauoured, with that fauour which may remaine with thee in thine old age, in thy bedde▪ in thy beere, in thy graue: and that which may be thine own com­mendation, not the prayse of nature, nor of thy parentes. It is more beautifull, to be made beautifull, than so to be borne: For the one commeth by chaunce, the other by studie.

Much deformitie of bodie oppresseth me.

This deformitie of some is counted a part of vnhappinesse and mi­serie, Beleeue thou me, the minde is not defiled by deformitie of the bodie, but the bodie adorned by the beautie and fauour of the mind. Then it is not this that oppresseth or dishonesteth thee, but it openeth the way, and layeth foorth the matter and meane to honest the minde, and to rise aloft through vertue.

Nature hath brought mee foorth deformed into the world.

If she had brought forth Helen euill fauou­red: or, to speake of Men, if Paris had been borne without good fauour, perhappes Troy had stoode to this day.

I complaine that I was borne euill fauoured.

But fewe good men haue loued the comelinesse of the bodie, none haue desired it, manie haue reiected it: for doing of which, that Tuscane youth is commended, who of his owne accorde man­gled and defourmed the excellent beautie of his well fauoured face, which he perceiued to be suspected of manie, and enimie to his owne good name, and hurtfull to the honestie of other: farre vnlike vnto thee, who wishest for that, whereof he dispoi­led him selfe, and which fewe did euer enioye without hurt.

I want good fauour.

It is more safe to want that, by meanes whereof thou mayest often fall into a [Page]doubtfull and painfull experiment of thy selfe. Comelinesse & beautie hath hurt manie, it [...]th troubled all, manie a [...]r sundrie conflictes it hath made effeminate, and made them ea­sie to be ouercome, and thrust them ouerthwartlie into blame and reproofe.

My stature is deformed, and to lowe.

This discommoditie is not, as thou supposest, to bee complained of: the lowe stature is more comelie, light, and nimble.

My stature is verie short.

Who can gainesay, that as a bigge man dwelleth in a litle house, so may a valiant courage in a small bodie?

My bodie is small.

Thou lamentest, for that thou art not a bur­den vnto thy selfe, but light, and dapper, and actiue vnto all things.

My bodie is verie small.

Who e­uer complained of a small burden? Thou hast a iust cause true­lie to be sorie, for that thou art not oppressed with the greatnes of the bodie, but onelie hast a bodie, neither art a burden to thy selfe, but an vsuall necessarie.

I am of a contempti­ble stature.

As nothing is glorious but vertue, so no­thing is contemptible but vice. Vertue respecteth no stature.

The stature of my bodie is smal.

Vertue re­quireth not the stature of the bodie, but of the minde. If this be long, right, large, magnifical or comelie, whatsoeuer the other be, it skilleth not, not only not at home, but not so much as in the field at warfare, vnlesse it seeme to be more hurtful. Thou kno­west how the most noble captaine Marius, chose tough & strōg (not tall) souldiers. Which thing how wiselie, and with howe fortunate successe he attempted, his often and great conquestes do testifie. As for the heigth & tallenesse of the bodie, it carieth more maiestie with it, but lesse force.

My stature is short.

The same hindreth thee not, but that thou mayest notwithstanding be a good and valiant man: yea, if neede were, and fortune so serued, a King, or an Emperour. For although that Scipio Africane were tall of bodie, and Iulius Caesar of a loftie stature, notwithstanding Alexan­der King of Macedonia, and Augustus Caesar; [...]ere but lowe, neither did their shortnessed [...] bodie hinder their great­nesse of minde, nor de [...]act anie thing from their fame.

I woul [...] [...] [...]r and greater.

Arise [...] [...]e, and thou shalt bee greater, and [...]a [...]er. [...] more profitable and easie encrease.

I de [...]e to bee well fauoured.

Learne to loue and wishe for that, which is better. It is a foolishe part to loue a mans owne danger: and a follie to desire that, whiche by no meanes canne bee gotten. For, if thou ende­uour to bee well fauoured contrarie to the course of Nature, thou shalt profit no more, than to appeare more deformed.

I traueill in vaine to bee well fauoured.

En­deuour to bee good, and that shalt thou not doe in vaine. This vertue hath a speciall gift aboue the residue, that it may bee gotten, and can not bee taken away. And when other things stande at the curtesie of Fortune, and without her cannot bee purchased, nor preserued: vertue onelie is free from her lawes, and the more shee striueth, the more bright­lie shee shineth.

Of weakenesse. The ii. Dialogue.

NAture hath made mee weake.

Like as a sword of steele is couered in a rotten skaberd: so, many times lyeth there hidde a valiant minde in a crasie bo­die.

I am borne weake.

Thou art not meete to beare burdens, nor to digge and plowe lande, but for honest studies, and iust superiorities: So, in a shippe, the stronger sort are set to handle the axes, but the wiser to guide the helme. The life of Man being like a shippe that [...]os­sed with the flooddes of affaires, and the de [...] Sea of the worlde, hath it peculiar oares, and helme: then seeing thou art repulsed from the viler functions, conuert thy selfe to the more woorthie.

Nature hath made me a weake­ling.

What [...] [...]ade thee passing strong? Is strength a thing tha [...] [...]: Cōmeth it not to passe, that the stronger the olde age is, [...] stronger is the sicknesse? [Page]And to let passe the innumerable chaun [...]h [...]ich do sud [...]ie enfeeble and weaken an whole man: the strength of the [...]nde is to be wished for, which neither continuance, nor fortune can empaire.

My bodie is weake.

Nourish and exercise thy minde, in her artes which thou doubtest not to be best, and of most continuance: as for the labour of the bodie, leaue it vnto husbandmen, sailers, and smithes.

I had no strength from the beginning.

But it is more tollerable neuer to haue had it, than to lose it: For if thou had haddest strength, it would not haue continued, insomuch as Miloes strength waxed old, and so would Hercules haue done if he had liued. But so did not the strength of Socrates, nor of Solon, nor of Nestor, nor of Cato. Exercise the better: No­thing can delite a great minde, that doeth not continue.

This poore carcase of mine is weake.

If this in­strument or vessell be sufficient for the soule or mind that dwel­leth within, then is there strength ynough: For that the bodie was by Nature ordeined to serue the minde, there is no man so much a seruant to the bodie that is ignorant, if so be it doe it owne duetie: what doest thou accuse, or what doest thou desire more? For they that are strong of bodie, and weake of witte, are most like vnto beastes, and manie times, which is a mise­rable case, are seruantes vnto other: and manie times also, which is most miserable, and the verie summe of humane mi­serie, they enforce their minde to be slaue to their bodie, and to serue it in most filthie seruitude.

I haue a weake bodie.

The true and notable strength of Man, is in his minde: As for the bodie, it is as a man should say, a certein house of the minde, which, howe strong or weake it is, apper­teineth not to the geastes, especiallie like to soiourne there but a fewe dayes, so that it fall not downe: for then necessitie con­streineth them to remoue into another, which is an euerlasting house, when they are driuen out of the first. I would say more, if thou couldest conceiue more, and were not altogether become deafe by the common noyse, to wit, that the bodie is not the house, but the prison of the minde, not his friende, but his do­mesticall foe, for whose frailtie thou oughtest to pray, whereby [Page 165]thou mightest the sooner be made free, and a conquerour.

I haue no strength.

While thou art in health thou wantest none: but if thou be otherwise, then hast thou o­ther cause to complaine. Thou meanest not then that thou hast no strength at al, but thou wouldest say, thou hast litle strength. Thou art not as strong and sturdie, as was thy coequal, nor he, as was another, neither that other as strong as an exe or an Elephant: there is a measure in euerie mans strength: dame Nature hath most bountifullie distributed vnto euerie one that which is sufficient, and is more louing towarde her children, than anie man is toward his owne. Ye cannot complaine of want, but ye complaine of inequalitie. You troublesome and complaining generatiō, if this should be taken away, the beau­tie of the world must needes perish. Thus that which is best, ye can least abide.

Of sicknesse, The iii. Dialogue.

BVt I am sicklie.

I heare that which I looke for, for these complaints go alwayes together. But if the fleshe be enimie to the spirit, & one of them striue against another, which thing the great friende of trueth, hauing felt within him selfe, hath pronounced it truelie in all men, it followeth, that that which hindreth one, helpeth another. But if the spirit be better and more noble than the fleshe, which then we ought most speciallie to fauour, thou seest, and perhaps vn­derstandest thy state of bodie, which thou sayest to be feeble, to be in deede most prosperous.

I am sicklie.

But sparingnes is an earnest exhorter, and a dehorter from li­centiousnesse, and a mistresse of modestie.

I am sicke.

If thy bodily health be good, lay away care­fulnesse, whatsoeuer happeneth to the bodie, thou art in safetie.

My bodie is sicke and weake.

Sicknes of the bodie, hath been auaileable vnto the welfare of the minde in manie. That excellent man, who from a lowe degree, from the water, and his fishing nettes, was aduaunced to the [Page]skies, and made key keeper of the gates of heauen, whose one­lie shadowe draue away the sicknesses and infirmities of the bodie, being demaunded sometime why he suffred his owne daughter to be molested with a grieuous sicknesse, answered: It is profitable for her it be so. Howe knowest thou then, whe­ther it be also profitable for thee or not?

I haue bin long thus sick in bodie.

The same man of whom I speake, knewe that his daughter might soone & safely be made whole, and he made her whole, and made her able also to heale others. See thou likewise that thy health seeme certeine and vndoubted vnto thee, and perhaps thou shalt be healed. Final­lie, as much as in thee lyeth, cure thou thine owne soule, and committe the cure of him vnto the heauenlie Phisition. In summe, this one thing will I say boldlie: If not for that which shall delite, yet at leastwise hope for that whiche is expedient.

My bodilie state is painful.

Then hast thou that, which will driue away forgetfulnesse and sleepe, & expell slouthfulnes.

I am weake.

Boast in thine infirmities, and accomplish vertue: these two thou hast learned at the mouth of one and the selfe same maister.

The state of my bodilie health is miserable.

An vnplea­sant cōpanion, but faithful, which will often put thee in minde, poinct thee the way, and admonish thee of thine estate, & which is best in dangers, a faithful admonisher.

The estate of my bodilie health is extreame without remedie.

Holde thy peace & reioyce, that thou art enclosed in a ruinouse prison, out of which thou mayst depart soone, and easilie.

Of a base Countrie. The iiii. Dialogue.

I Dwel in a base countrie.

Be thou noble: for there is nothing letteth thee, seeing thy coūtries nobilitie hath no­thing to do with thine.

I dwel in a smal citie.

Great cities haue also smal citizens, & for the most part con­sist of such: & smal cities in times past, haue had great citizens. Yea, Romulus, that was laid forth & nourished in the woods, builded the citie of Rome, that was queene of all cities, which [Page 166] Catiline being borne in the same great citie, went about to o­uerthrow.

I was borne in a small countrie.

Studie thou to aduance it: there is nothing that so much com­mendeth cities, as the vertue & glorie of the citizens, Who so thinketh that this may better be done by the building, or fruit­fulnes, or riches, is deceiued. As it is in euery particular mā, so is it also in cities & kingdomes, & Empires, whom not anti­quitie, not towres & walles, not stretes, not palaces & churches of marble, not statues, not gold, not precious stones, not cāpes ful of armed garizōs, & hauens replenished w^t fleetes of ships, not martes & pawnes stored with outlandish marchandize, and euerie sea round about cut & turmoiled for desire of gaine: last­lie, not the beautie, or nūber of the inhabitants, not the plentie of al things, & the markets flowing with meate, not the sump­tuous apparell of the men, & costlie making & fashion thereof, not statelinesse, not delites, not pleasures, but vertue onlie ma­keth noble, & the fame of valiant exploites, which men do pur­chase, not walles.

I am a citizen of a small freedome.

Knowest thou not that Bias was a Prienian borne, Py­thagoras a Samian, Anacharsis a Scythian, Democritus an Abderite, Aristotle a Stagyrite, Theophrastus a Lesbian, and Tullie an Arpinate? Chous, which is but a small Iland in the Egeum sea, brought forth Philitis, who was no base Poet, and also the father of Phisitions, & the primes of keruers and pain­ters, namely, Hippocrates, & Phidias & Apelles: that it may be vnderstood, how that the litlenesse & narrownesse of places, is no hinderance to the greatnesse & excellēcie of wits.

My countrie is vnnoble.

Endeuour thou asmuch as in thee lieth, to make it noble, which thou mayest doe, if thou list, forasmuch as it cannot make thee noble. For the basenesse of their countrie was neither a barre vnto Numa Pompilius, to keepe him from the Romane kingdome, neither Septimus Se­uerus frō the Empire. Although Augustus, the most excellent of all men, came of later time of a Romane generation, for that hee was borne in the palace, notwithstanding the more an­cient descent his familie was frō the citie Velitrae. Caius coū ­trie was Anthium, & Vespasians Reatinū, an obscure village. [Page]But contrariwise, Achilles aduaūced the Lacissean fame: And the Pelean name, which had been base and obscure many hun­dred yeeres before, which was renowmed by Philip, Alexan­der aduaunced to the skies. It is not ynough that the obscure­nesse of the countrie hurt not the inhabitantes, vnlesse the wor­thinesse of the inhabitantes doe good to the countrie. Rome was a base sanctuarie, and a thing builded by shepheardes, and neuer became famous, vntill it began to be renowmed for va­liant exploites, and excellent vertue of the citizens.

I am bounde to an obscure countrie.

Lighten the candle of vertue, whereby thou mayst shine in the darke, wher­in at the lestwise thou shalt gaine this commoditie, that at lest­wise thou shalt shine verie much with a small light, & so shall it either make thee noble, or thou it.

I dwel in a base countrie.

Be thou likewise lowlie and humble, and let the minde that dwelleth within thee, be lowlie. Thou hast an example of a publique mother, extende not thy selfe broader in thy nest, than by those wings which vertue hath giuen thee: These it is lawfull for thee to vse, and that manie haue vsed them with good successe, I declared erewhile. And therefore so long as thou shalt bee a mortall man, at leastwise holde fast this bridle of insolencie. Some men are proude onelie vppon the nobilitie of their natiue countrie: but those are a foolishe kinde of people.

Of basenesse of stocke. The v. Dialogue.

I Am borne of base and obscure parentes.

Thy state perhaps is not so odious, as thou supposest: I cannot tell whether it were a wished matter to bee borne obscure: consider thou bath wayes of life. For whether thou deter­mine to followe pleasures, and the common way, whiche the vulgare sort doe ensue, the errour shalbe the more excusable which wanteth domesticall leaders, and then shall cease that most bitter improprietie of such as degenerate from their no­ble parentes, in that thou hast no nobilitie at home which thou [Page 167]maist make obscure. Or, if thou choose rather with singular steppes to followe the pathes of vertue, thou shalt by so much become the more noble, the greater the darknesse is, out of which thou art risen, wherewith before thou were oppressed & compassed round about, and so the whole nobilitie shalbe thine, and there shalbe none partaker thereof with thee. Imitation shall take from thee no part of thy glorie: thy parentes shall defraude thee of none, neither thy grandfathers nor great grandfathers, thy counsellers nor maisters: whatsoeuer thou hast done well, thou shalt reape the glorie thereof alone, thou onelie shalt be commended for it, and shalt be called the begin­ner and first founder of thy familie, which could not be, if thou were borne noble. Doest thou see then what occasion thou hast offred vnto the [...]of newe prayse: to wit, to become noble of thy selfe, and to g [...]e nobilitie vnto others, not to receiue it? Thou shalt purchase this vnto thy posteritie, that they shalbe borne noble, which thy parentes gaue not vnto thee. It is a great deale better to founde nobilitie, than to finde it founded by o­thers.

My beginning is newe and rude.

Howbeit, that shepheardlie founder of the citie of Rome was accompted more noble, for that hee builded his fort in the wooddes, and couered his small and base palace with poore thatch, than so manie princes and Emperours that came af­terward, and erected their huge citie walles, their vautes and roughes of their houses of marble and golde: so great alwaies is the commendation of famous newnesse, and a great begin­ning.

I am borne of a base beginning.

Studie then, that thine ende may be noble. About the begin­nings is trauell, and in the ende commeth the fruite, whiche if it be gathered before it be ripe, it cannot long continue.

Vnnoblenesse hath cut of the roote of my glorie.

Nay, it hath not cut it of, but it hath digged it deeper a­bout, that it may rise more stronglie, though more lately, How­beit, I can recite vnto thee out of all sortes of men, some not vnnoble onelie, but vnknowne also, who through vertue and di­ligence became most noble. And truelie if vertue make a man noble in deede, I do not perceiue what should lette anie man [Page]that is willing to be made noble, or what thing is so easie to make other noble, as to make a mans selfe so.

I des­cend from vnnoble parentes.

What sayst thou to Socrates, Euripides, Demosthenes? Whereof the first had a Marbler to his father, the second a midwife to his Mother: the last was not only borne of base parentes, but also of vncertein. As for your countreiman Virgill, he descended of rude and ho­mely parentes of the Countrie: neither was Horace ashamed that his father had bin sometime a bondman, and was made free, and also a common crier: notwithstanding they came both vnto great glorie, and obteined the fauour of a great Em­perour, in such sorte, that he vnto whom all Kinges had sub­mitted them selues, at whose handes all great thinges were sued for, and from whom the hope of all men, in a manner, throughout the whole world, but specially of the nobilitie, did depend, and finally, whose familiare acquaintance was repu­ted a great matter, yea among the greatest men, euen he, I say, would require in sweet and flattring Epistles, as if it had bin some great matter, the friendeship and companie of these two vnnoble persons, whom the Mantuan & Venusine Countries had sent to Rome. And howe manie noble men were there, as we may iudge, at that time in the Palace (as for the most part there were plentie, that were vnprofitable & vnlearned,) vnto whom the nobilitie of these noble men did not seeme woorthi­ly vnnoble and to bee enuied at?

I come of obscure parentes.

These examples mooue not thy minde: I will therefore vse higher. Marcus Cicero, as it is written of him, being borne of the familie and race of knightes, from a lowe beginning by notable actes and honest degrees, came to the Consulship, thē whose time of Consulship, I can not tell whether there were euer any more profitable to the common wealth.

I come of a rustike and vnknowne race of an­cestours.

These are little worth I perceiue: thou aspirest now higher. Truly Marius was also a rusticane of the countrey, but a man in deede, as sayth his countrieman Ci­cero, & had bin of long time an husbandman among the peo­ple called Marsi, who was afterward seuen times Consul of [Page 168]Rome, with so great glorie, that his saide countrieman, al­though hee were his friende, said truelie, That hee twise de­liuered Italie from besieging, and feare of seruitude. And Marcus Cato, a man of meane beginning, beeing long time an obscu [...]e inhabitant of a small Towne, and afterwarde a most famous stranger in the greatest Citie, shortly after, of an excellent citizen, was made Consull and Censor. But if this bee not ynough, and perhappes thou hopest for a king­dome: truelie, neither doeth the basenesse of a mans begin­ning forbidde him to hope for the same by sentence of desert: Herein call to remembrance the thirde, and the fift, and the sixt of the Romane Kinges. Tullus Hostilius, as approo­ued authours doe write, although other some doe report no such matter of him, beeing an infant, was brought vppe in a poore cotrage, and in his youth was a sheephearde. Tarqui­nius Priscus had to father a stranger Merchant, neither came of anie Italian familie. Seruius Tullus, was borne of a ser­uile or bonde woman, although as some say, shee was a cap­tiue, and as other affirme, a noble woman, and by meanes of his vertue, deserued the kingdome of Rome. Neither wilt thou maruell, if thou vnderstoodest the saying of Plato: That there is no King, but hee came of bonde men, and no bonde­men, but hee descended of kinges. Thus the affaires of men, and thus long continuance and Fortune hath confounded all thinges. I say nothing of the kinges of other Nations, and of those, who from the flockes of cattell, and the exercise of most vile actes, haue ben aduaunced sode inlie vnto a king­dome. Alexander the king of Macedonie, made a garde­ner a king in Asia: and this was not one of the least commen­dable actes which he did. And on the other side, I say nothing of them that haue fallen from the toppe of a kingdome vnto the bottome of seruitude. Thus Fortune gouerneth her af­faires, notwithstanding vertue may do much: for by her, men rise safelie vnto the highest degrees, whose pathes being forsa­ken, let princes know, that they stand in tickle state, and that not onelie their decaye is at hande, but also their ruine.

What calamitie then, that I may returne againe vnto thee, of birth is this from which neither hope of reigning, neither the effect is taken away?

I am sprung from a base roote.

Euerie roote is obscure and euill fauoured, from which neuerthelesse faire and flourishing branches doe spring forth: it is not so much demaunded from whence a thing commeth, as what manner of thing it is.

I am des­cended of base parentes.

I perceiue that thou re­uokest my style vnto the highest empire. Septimus Seuerus, of whom I spake before, sprong from the degree of knightes. Helius Pertinax, being also the sonne of a bondman made free, and a base traficquer in the trade of buying & selling of wood, did both of them gouerne the Romane Empire: as also did Philip the father and the sonne, being Arabians, of verie base condition and birth, and Maximinius and Maximus likewise, whereof the first was borne of most obscure and barbarous pa­rentage, and were both ashamed when they had taken vppon them the gouernement of the Empire: and for the latter, whe­ther his father were a smith or a carpenter, it is vncerteine. Verilie, Vespasian, who is reckoned among the good Empe­rours, from no noble stocke, becomming most noble, both go­uerned the common wealth worthily, and also left two sonnes behinde him, one succeeding another, to be his successours in the Empire, and the one of his vertue: howbeit, what doe I stay vpon these small matters, since there is much ambiguitie about the original and birth of Augustus Caesar him selfe? To be brief, certein it is, that the course of Mans fortune, is not preuented by birth: a man may rise by anie meanes, whether Fortune reache him her hande, or vertue.

My stocke is to lowe and base.

As much as concerneth the de­gree of humane power, wee haue set downe examples, aboue which we cannot possiblie go higher: yet there resteth one, not for kingdome or Empire, but in respect of another certein ma­iestie, verie memorable. Ventidius Bassus, an Esculane, bee­ing borne of a base mother, and an vnknowen father, his coun­trie being taken, and he a yong man, was in the triumphe of Gneius Pompeius Strabo, who was father vnto Pompeius [Page 169]the great, brought away among other prysoners: the same man afterwarde, fortune chaungyng her countenance, beyng made ge­nerall ouer the people of Rome, fought with most prosperous successe, agaynst the Parthian King, that was become proude by reason of his auncient power and late conquest, and hauyng slaine the Kinges sonne, and discomfited the power of the enemie, whi­che thing the destinies had graunted before that tyme vnto none of the Romane captaines, taking reuenge on that famous slaugh­ter of the Romans, & most magnificently requiting the death of the Crassi, hym selfe being a conquerer and triumphing, beau­tified that Capitol with his owne charrets, wherin being a cap­tiue, he had somtime furnished the triumphant charrets of ano­ther, and filled the Romane prison with the armie of this captiue enemies. And that this spectacle might be the more acceptable, and the conquest more woonderfull, it was gotten the same day, as the course of the yeeres came about, vpon which the most ter­rible slaughter was receiued at Carras. Who is so ambitious, and greedie of a kingdome, that he had not rather haue this glory without a kingdome, then a kyngdome without this glory? And what, I pray thee, hyndred Ventidius from atteynyng to felici­tie and great honour, although he were borne of base stocke, and in the fyrst part of his lyfe were at lowe ebbe, and in miserie? Truely that man whom Esculum dyd contemne, Rome dyd re­gard, and matched that obscure name of a stranger with the fa­mous names of her noble Citizens. These are the steppes to rise by, these are the degrees vnto vertue, wherby men are ad­uaunced, not only vnto glory and higher fortune, by endeuouring, hopyng, watchyng, but also enthronized within heauen. And therefore thou that art meanely borne, endeuour to ryse, restyng thy first and last step within the entrie vnto vertue, not declyning any whyther, nor staying.

My begynnyng is lowe.

That is nowe past, thynke vppon the thynges that doo folowe: neyther am I ignorant, that as the first and last dayes of a mans lyfe haue seemed vnto some principally to go­uerne the state of humane affayres, or as they speake, to compre­hende and conteyne it: veryly I wyll easily agree vnto the first, although vnto the seconde I cannot so wyllyngly consent. For [Page]although, as they affirme, it skilleth muche, with what good lucke a thyng be begunne: although the Satiricke Poet thynking vppon suche matters, hath thus written, where­as he speaketh of Ventidius: For it auayleth muche, what constellation receiue a man when he beginneth to yeelde foorth his fyrst noyse, and commeth away redde from his mothers wombe. Notwithstandyng we deny these thinges, and these prosperous significations, and this so great force of the starres we renounce, ascribyng all thinges vnto the most gloryous Creatour of the starres, among whose creatures we seclude none from this path of vertue, felicitie, and glory.

The basenesse of my stocke is very great.

And what sayst thou to that? Wouldest thou rather haue thy pryde be muche? Or what hereby dooest thou thynke to be wantyng vnto thee, vn­lesse thou wouldest also fayne declare thy madnesse, by the smoky images, and mangled statues that must be erected in thy courtes and galleryes, and as it were charnell house of thy predeces­sours and familie, standyng full of rotten titles for a gazing stock to them that shall passe by, whereby thou mayest fabulous [...]y discourse with a proude looke in the open streates, of those whom thou neuer knewest?

I am borne vnnoble.

Not only to be borne vnnoble, but so to lyue also, haue seemed felicitie vnto some. Hast thou not read at least­wyse in the Tusculane whiche Cicero hath erected, the A­napaestus of the moste mightie Kyng, praysyng an olde man and callyng hym fortunate, in that he was ingloryous, and lyke to continue vnnoble and obscure vnto his lyues ende?

Of a shamefull byrth. The vi. Dialogue.

MY byrth is not only base, but also shameful.

There is one only true and great shamefulnesse of the mynde: yf thou take that away, all thynges are fayre.

I am yll borne.

He [Page 170]that lyueth well, is borne well, and dyeth wel: But he that lyueth yll, cannot be well borne. For, what skylleth it in how bryght a path a blynde man walke? Or what auayleth it from whence a man come, yf he come into miserie and reproche?

I was borne in sinne.

The moste ex­cellent man bewayleth this matter, and truely euery man is borne in syn. But beware that you heape not more grieuous synnes one vppon another, although there be also meanes to clense them: Howbeit that fyrst deformitie many tymes at the first entrance into this lyfe, is washed away in the sacred fountayne of Baptisme, and the soule by clensyng made as white as Snowe.

My parentes ill beget me.

What belongeth it vnto thee who haue begotten wel, so thou be wel borne, vnlesse thou ioyne thy wyckednesse vnto the wicked­nesse of another.

I am ashamed of my fylthy be­gynnyng.

Then doo I not marueyle that you be proude of that which is anothers, and also that you be ashamed of that which is not your owne: and generally yee repose your good and euyll thynges in any place or person, rather then in your selues, whiche notwithstandyng can be in none other then your selues. And vnlesse thou thy selfe hast committed some vyle and shamefull deede, what fault is there in thee, or what rebuke, to haue ha [...]de a dishonest father? Beware then, that thou be not heyre vnto thy father in his lewdnesse, but studie in that behalfe to be farre vnlyke hym. He that begate thee, thou not beyng priuie thereof, coulde not imprynt his spottes vppon thee agaynst thy wyll within thee, and from thee it muste needes come, that shall make thee obscure or no­ble.

I am borne into the worlde by dishonest parentes.

All parentes ought to seeme ho­nest vnto theyr chyldren, but as they are to be feared, so are they not all to be folowed of theyr chyldren: for some tyme I woulde geue them counsayle to forsake them. Thus muste thou otherwhyle take a contrary course, and yf he be a naturall father, he wylbe content to be forsaken, and wyll desyre to haue hym selfe loued, but not his faultes. This is only the deuised way, by whiche to suppresse and treade vnderfoote [Page]theyr parentes name is a glorious and honest deede in the chyl­dren, to lyue otherwyse then they dyd, that is to say, more conti­nently, and holyly. Let the chyldes tongue conceale the parentes dishonestie, let not his vnlykenesse of lyfe, manners, and deedes, be silent. It is a great commendation to the sonne, when it shalbe sayde behynde his backe, O howe muche is this young man more modest then the olde man his father: and contrarywyse, there is no blemysh more greeuous in the wantonnesse of olde men, then to compare it with the continency of youth. And true­ly, yf the honour of the parentes be burdensome to the chyldren that lyue yll, with howe great a weight dooth the prayse of the chyldrens honestie, presse downe the infamie of the yl lyuyng pa­rentes?

I was begotten in vnlawful and condem­ned lust.

But it were better for thee to haue a desire to be, and so to be reputed the honest sonne of an vnhonest father, rather then the vnhonest sonne of an honest father. For in all prayse or disprayse, those thinges are most chiefly to be regarded, whiche are a mans owne. There is no man iustly reproued or praysed for that whiche is anothers: although as I haue sayde, whatsoeuer is in you, it wyll be the more euident, yf it be set by his contrary. For, as euery one is worthyly praysed or dispray­sed, so is the very and proper cause of prayse or disprayse within hymselfe. But as one man is slayne with anothers swoorde, and one mans goodes burned by another mans fire, so hapneth it not that one mans good name perisheth by another mans fault, for that the goods of the minde are more permanent then the goods of the body, or of fortune, so that they cannot be hurt or taken a­way agaynst the wyl of the owner.

I was begotten agaynst ryght, and law.

Thou hast doone nothyng agaynst the law, but thy parentes haue, and therefore hencefor­ward do euery thyng according to the lawe. In this respect thou hast committed none offence at all concernyng thy birth houre, but of thine owne manners thou thy selfe shalt yelde an accompt. And although in reuenge of wandring venerie the force of the ciuyl lawes is extended vnto the innocent chyldren, notwith­standyng GOD measureth euery one within his owne boundes, neyther imputeth the chyldes offence vnto the fa­ther, [Page 171]neyther the fathers vnto the chylde. And that Philoso­phie iudgeth otherwyse of this matter then do the lawes, thou hast learned of the Philosophers them selues. Being then beaten downe by the lawes, and erected agayne by the iudge­ment of GOD, and the Philosophers, thou hast wherewith to comfort thy mynde: neyther as thou art restrayned from a priuate patrimony, so art thou barred from the publique inheri­taunce of vertue. For the one of these descendeth by the ordi­naunce of man, the other is geuen by desart: and before thou were borne, as thou deseruedst no glory, so truely dyddest thou merite none infamie.

Myne Originall is vn­lawfull and incestous.

What may be borne of in­cest, or what of adulterie, for proofe be Romulus and Alcides. Perses was Kyng of Macedonie, and lugurtha Kyng of Numidia, and both of them expulsed theyr lawfull brethren out of theyr kyngdomes, by euyll vsage, and most vyle meanes, but they expulsed them notwithstandyng. Alexander Kyng of Macedonie, that was called Philippes sonne, yet whose in deede he was supposed to be, thou hast hearde, and also how Philip, towardes the latter ende of his lyfe, was woont some­tyme to say, that Alexander was not his sonne. Whiche thyng his wyfe Olympias of her owne accorde confessed vnto hym, and for that cause he was diuorsed from her, as some aucthours haue written. Constantius hym selfe, beyng borne of a noble Concubyne, was aduaunced vnto the Empyre before his brethren that were lawfully begotten. Vnto these woulde I adde Kyng Arthure, vnlesse that to myngle Fables with Histories, were nothyng els then to dimyshe the credite of the trueth with lyes. To be short, there is no cause why thy byrth shoulde discourage thee: Howesoeuer men are borne, yf vertue aduaunce them, they haue glory yenough.

I am yll borne.

Lyue well, and dye well: how­soeuer thou were borne, it belongeth not to thee, neyther canst thou remember it: neyther enquyre muche after that whiche belongeth not vnto thee, vnlesse it be to make thee more humble and mecke, but not more sorowfull.

I was [Page]borne fylthyly.

Courteous behayour, and an honest lyfe, doo not only take away all blemyshes, but all re­membrance of a shameful byrth. Ʋse this remedie while thou mayest, for beleeue me, thou hast none other.