Also the liues of nine excellent Chieftaines of warre, taken out of Latine from EMYLIVS PROBVS, by S. G. S.

By whom also are added the liues of Plutarch and of Seneca: Gathered together, disposed, and enriched as the others.

And now translated into English by Sir THOMAS NORTH Knight.


Imprinted at London by Richard Field 1602.


THE Princely bountie of your blessed hand (most gracious Soueraigne) comforting and supporting my poore old decaying life, of right challengeth the trauels in my studie, the labours of my bodie, and the prayers of my deuotions to be wholly imployed for your Highnesse, and altogether dedicated to your seruice. Wherein whilest I striue to bring in open shew some small per­formance of my most humble dutie to your sacred Maiestie, mine owne vnworthinesse amazeth me with trembling feare for my presump­tion, but that your Highnesse matchlesse grace to so many your most ad­mirable vertues offer my pardon. Vnder which I present in all humble­nesse into your Maiesties sacred hands this my second translation of the late addition of fifteene other liues, vnto those former in Plutarch, published for benefite of my country, vnder protection of the most royall name of your most gracious Maiestie. And albeit in respect of my selfe I offer but dutie, which I wish I could in other and better sort per­forme: yet I am the rather emboldned herein, for that the famous me­morie of renowmed Emperours, mightie Kings, worthie Chieftaines and Generals of armies yea and of two famous Philosophers Plutarch and Seneca, being the whole subiect of this second translation, is wor­thily published vnder your Maiesties patronage. Whose rare vertues and wonderfull wisedome, neither former mightie kings, nor learned Philosophers might equall: from whose blessed fortunes many oppressed Kings, and distressed kingdomes haue sought and found their succors: [Page] and whose most honourable and most happy peaceable gouernement, is worlds wonder to all posteritie.

Wherefore most gracious and most blessed Soueraigne, I beseech your Princely fauour to accept with grace the simple performance of your poore vnworthie seruant his most humble seruice, whose soule with heartiest prayer according to his most bounden dutie, continually calleth vnto God for preseruation of your most royall person, in all honour, health, and happinesse, and so still to raigne o­uer vs.

Your Maiesties most humble and obedient seruant. Thomas North.

THE LIFE OF Epaminondas.


O onely like thy selfe, the world alwayes
Admireth thy great valure, grace and wit:
And thinking to haue all good parts in it,
By hauing thee, triumpheth in thy praise.

WRiters of histories report that Cadmus the sonne of Agenor hauing taken sea out of PHENICIA into EVROPE, by commandement of an Oracle he left the countrey of THRACIA where he had dwelt, and came into BOEOTIA, where he had great doings against a certaine neighbor-peo­ple called SPARTANS: of whom hauing ouercome part of them by subtilties, he made alliance with the chiefe of those that were left aliue, and grew into such fauour with them, that he drew them and their people vnto THEBES, where these great men which were of noble house tooke them wiues, and so had a great number of worthie men of noble race descended from them. Of which some of them were very rich men, and attained to the tipe of royall dignity: as Creon and Iocastus. Now because they were deuided into two principall houses, it is hard to iudge out of which of the two families of the Chronians or Echio­nides, Polymnis the father of Epaminondas was descended. Some are of opinion that he came out of the house of another chiefe man of the SPARTANS, called Vdaeus, from whom descended the deuine Tiresias. But howsoeuer it was, he descended from one of the most noble and an­cient houses of the THEBANS, of whom they report this notable thing: that the most part of this noble linage caried vpon their body euen for a naturall birth-marke from their mothers wombe, a Snake: and so did they beare it in their armes in the deuice of their Scutchions. Touching this matter, I hold the saying of the Poet Euripides to be true: that the honor of noble houses falleth to decay, if once their goods faile thē. For the pouerty wherof some of Epaminon­das [Page 2] ancestors made vertue and profession, seemed to be the cause that they were made small ac­count of. Otherwise I cannot allow that the sayd Poet spake of, that a noble and vertuous man is no body, if he be poore. For one Epaminondas onely throughly confuteth this opinion, who notwithstāding he was exceeding poore, obtained neuerthelesse the chiefest places of honor in the common wealth: for he was one of the best learned and most excellent Philosophers of the world, being Platoes folower and familiar, and the most renowmed man of all the GREEKES, as appeareth by the discourse of his life. Now Polymnis had two sonnes, to wit, Caphisias, and Epaminondas, whom he was very carefull to see well brought vp and taught all the liberall and honest sciences, especially Epaminondas: who had the most stayedst wit, and best inclined to vertue, desirous to hearken and to learne, humble, obedient, and wonderfull apt and docible. And according to the discipline of the THEBANS, he learned of one Dionysius to be very skilfull in song and playing vpon instruments. And as for learning, and in Philosophy chiefly, it hap­pened well for him that he fell into good mens hands by such a meane. When the colledges and companies of the Pythagorian Philosophers that were dispersed through the cities of ITALIE, were banished by the faction of the Cyloniaus: they that kept still together, met in councell at ME­TAPONT to determine of their affaires. But some seditious persons rose against them, set fire in all parts of the house where they were, and burnt them all together, sauing Philolaus and Ly­sis, who being young and lusty, saued themselues through the fire. As for Philolaus, he recoue­red the countrey of the LVCANIANS, and kept there with his friends: but Lysis went further, and got to THEBES, where when he was arriued, Polymnis receiued him, and prayed him to be Epaminondas schoolemaister, who was but a young boy, but yet of good capacitie, and of very great hope. This Philosopher imployed his endeuour to manure this noble and quicke wit of Epaminondas, and in short time made him ready and perfect in all science and vertue: so that it is hard to find a more wise, graue, and vertuous person then he was, of whom it is fit we should say somewhat more at large. When he was but fifteene yeares of age, he gaue himselfe to all manner of exercises of the body, as to runne, wrestle, play at the weapons, and to practise all ma­ner of armes: and being quickly skilfull in all these, he then gaue himselfe to his booke, being naturally silent, fearefull to speake, but neuer wearied to heare, and to learne. Whereupon Spin­tharus the TARENTINE hauing bene a long time with him in THEBES, sayd he neuer spake to any man that knew so much and spake so litle as Epaminondas. If he fortuned to be in any com­pany where there was talke of Philosophy, or of state matters: he would neuer from thence till he saw the matter ended that was propounded. Furthermore, he had no great liking of these darke and mystical arguments of some, that thinke to hide vertue in the obscurity of their words, but he gaue himselfe wholly to the true practise thereof: though otherwise he was as pleasant a man to giue a fine slent in discourse, as could be possible to be found. As the disputation betwixt him and Theanor, touching pouerty and riches doth witnesse, which worthily deserueth to be mentioned here, as in his proper place.

Lysis after he had liued a long time in THEBES, died, and was honorably interred by his dis­ciple Epaminondas, who had honored and entertained him whilest he liued, & at his death omit­ted no ceremonies requisite at his funerall. Arcesus, one of the chiefe of the Pythagorian Philoso­phers that stayed in SICILIA, vnderstanding that Lysis was at THEBES, through age not able to go to him: appointed by his will and testament that they should bring Lysis aliue againe into ITALIE if it were possible, or at leastwise the rest of his bones, if it so happened he were dead. The warres that fell out in the interim were a hinderance that that could not be done so spee­dily. But when the wayes were open and free, the Pythagorians sent Theanor of their sect to THEBES, where he found Lysis dead and buried, and so comming to Epaminondas, after saluta­tions and preambles, told him before Polymnis and Caphisias that his companions which were ve­ry rich, willed him to giue Polymnis and his children a good summe of money, in recompence of their courteous entertainement which they had giuen to Lysis. Whereupon after pleasant ex­cuses made, Epaminondas concluded, that none could be receiued: and added further, that Ia­sona Captaine of the THESSALIANS thought I had giuen him a rude and vnciuill aunswer, when he hauing earnestly intreated me to take a good summe of gold which he gaue me, I sent him word that he did me wrong, and began to make warre with me: for that he aspiring to make himselfe a Lord, would corrupt me with money, a plaine citizen of a free towne, and liuing vnder the law. But for thee, Theanor, I commend thy good will, because it is honest [Page 3] and vertuous, and I loue it with all my heart: but I tell thee, thou bringest physicke to men that be not sicke. Admit then that thou hearing we had bene in warres, haddest brought vs armes to defend vs, and then in the same place thou haddest found vs quiet, and in good peace and a­mitie with our neighbours, thou wouldest not haue thought it good to haue bestowed these armes, and left them with those that had no need of them. Euen so thou art come to relieue our pouertie, as if it were a griefe vnto vs: whereas to the contrary it is an easie and pleasant thing for vs to cary, and we are glad we haue it in our house amongst vs: and therefore we need no armes nor money against that that doth vs no hurt at all. But thou shalt tell thy brethren there, that they do vse their goods very honestly: and also that they haue friends here which vse their po­uerty well. And as for Lysis entertainement & buriall, he himselfe hath fully recompenced vs: ha­uing taught vs amongst many other goodly things, not to be afraid of pouerty, nor to be grieued to see it amongst vs. After Theanor had made some reply touching the good or euill of riches: as that if pouerty were not euill of it selfe, neither was riches to be had in contempt, and despised. No truly sayd Epaminondas, yet considering with my selfe that we haue a world of couetous de­sires of many things, some naturall as they call them, and borne with vs, bred in our flesh for the lusts pertaining to it: others straunge vnto vs grounded vpon vaine opinions, which taking a setling and habite in vs by tract of time, and long vse through euill education, ofentimes do plucke vs downe, and withdraw our soules with more force and violence, then those that be naturall vnto vs. For reason, by daily exercise of vertue and practise thereof, is a meane to take many of those things away from vs that are borne and bred within vs: yet this notwithstan­ding, we must vse continuall force and exercise against our concupiscenses that are strangers vn­to vs, to quench them in vs, and by all possible meanes to represse and subdue them. Now ha­uing made sufficient proofe of that, there is also, sayd he, an exercise of Iustice against greedy couetousnesse of getting, which is not, not to go rob and rifle his neighbors houses in the night, nor not to rob men on the hie way side, nor if any man betray not his friends nor his countrey for money: such one doth not exercise himselfe against couetousnesse, for law possible, or feare, bridleth his couetous desire to offend any man. But that man that oftentimes willingly abstai­neth from iust gaines, which he may lawfully take: he it is that by continuall exercise keepeth himselfe farre off from vniust and vnlawfull taking of money. For it is vnpossible that in great pleasures, yea wicked and daungerous, the soule should containe it selfe from coueting of them, vnlesse before being oftentimes at his choise to vse them, he had not contemned them. And it is not easie to ouercome them, nor to refuse great riches euill gotten being offered, vnlesse he had long before killed in him this couetous desire of getting, the which besides many other ha­bitudes and actions is still greedily bent shamefully to gaine, pleasing himselfe in the pursute of iniustice, hardly sparing to wrong another, so he in any thing profit himselfe. But to a man that disdaineth to receiue liberality and gifts of his friends, and refuseth to take presents offered him by kings, and that hath reiected the benefits of fortune, putting by all couetous desire of gliste­ring treasure layed before him: he shall neuer be assailed to attempt him to do that is vniust, nor his mind shall neuer be troubled, but will content himselfe quietly to do any thing that is honest, carying an vnright hart, finding nothing in it but that that is good and commendable.

But his life is farre more excellent then his discourse: and as touching that, I will yet speake somewhat of it. Diomedon DYZICENIAN, at Artaxerxes request, promised to win Epaminondas to take the PERSIANS part. To bring this to passe, he came to THEBES, and brought a great masse of gold with him, and bestowing three thousand crownes, he bribed a young man called Myci­thus, whom Epaminondas loued dearely. This young man went to Epaminondas, and acquainted him with the occasion of the other mans comming to THEBES. But Epaminondas straight an­swered him, Diomedon being present: I haue no need of mony: if the king wish well to the THE­BANS, I am at his commaundement without taking one peny: if he haue any other meaning, he hath not gold nor siluer enough for me: for I will not sell the loue I beare to my countrey for all the gold in the world. As for thee that hast now attempted me, not knowing me, haply thinking me to be like thy selfe, I pardon thee: but get thee away quickly out of the citie, lest thou seduce some other, hauing failed to corrupt me. And for thee Micythus, deliuer him his crownes againe: and if thou doest it not presently, I will send thee before a Iustice. Thereupon Diomedon be­sought him he would let him go away with safetie, and cary that with him he brought thither. Yes mary, said Epaminondas, but it shall not be for thy sake, but for mine honor: being afraid that [Page 4] if thy gold and siluer should be taken from thee, some man would accuse me that I had a share in that which I refused to take openly. Then he asked him: Whither wouldest thou I should cause thee to be conueyed? Diomedon said, TO ATHENS: which was done, and he had a very good con­uoy with him: and because he should not be troubled by the way betwixt the gates of THEBES, and the hauen where he should imbarke himselfe, Epaminondas gaue Chabrias the ATHENIAN charge of this man, that he should see him safe at his waies end, and so he straight returned backe againe.

Now though he was very poore, yet he would neuer take any thing of his citie or friends, he was so well acquainted with pouerty, which he bare more patiently through his studie of Philo­sophie. For on a time he hauing the leading of an armie of the THEBANS into the country of PE­LOPONNESVS, he borrowed about fiue crownes of a citizen for his expences in his iourny. Pelo­pidas being a man of great wealth, and his exceeding good friend, could not possibly euer make him take any part of his goods, but rather Pelopidas learned of him to loue pouertie. For Epami­nondas taught him to thinke it an honor to him to go plainely apparelled, to eate moderatly, to take paines willingly, and to make warre lustily. But to releeue others, he would make bold to vse his friends goods, and in such a case their goods were common to him. If any of his citizens were taken prisoner with the enemy, or any friend of his had a daughter to be maried, and was not able to bestow her: he called his friends together, and sessed euery man of them at a certaine summe, and afterwards brought him before them that should haue this money, and told him how much euery man had bestowed vpon him, that he might thanke them all. But on a time he went farre beyond this: for he sent a poore friend of his to a rich citizen of THEBES, to aske of him sixe hundred crownes, and to tell him that Epaminondas willed him to let him haue them. The citizen being amazed at this demaund, went vnto Epaminondas to know what he meant to charge him so deepely, to make him disburse these sixe hundred crownes vnto him. It is, saith he, because this man being an honest man, is poore: and thou that hast robbed the commonwealth of much, art rich. He liued so soberly, and was such an enemy vnto all superfluitie and excesse, that being on a time inuited to supper to one of his neighbours, when he saw great preparation of fine meates, baked meates, made dishes and perfumes: he said vnto him: I thought thou had­dest made a sacrifice, not an excesse of superfluitie, and euen so went his way. Euen the like he spake of his owne table, saying, that such an ordinarie neuer receiued treason. On a time being at a feast with his peeres and companions, he dranke vineger. And when they asked him what rea­son he had to do so, and if it were good for his health? I cannot tell, saith he, but well I wote it is good to put me in remembrance how I liue at home. Now it was not for that his nature misliked sweet meates, that he liued thus strictly, and did loue and embrace pouerty, for he was maruel­lous high and nobly minded: but by his straight and vnreproueable life he led, he thought to bridle many insolencies and disorders then raigning amongst the THEBANS, and to reduce them to the former temperance of their auncestors. As vpon a time a cooke giuing vp an account to him and his fellowes of their ordinarie expences for certaine daies, he could find fault with no­thing, but with the quantitie of oyle that was spent. His companions maruelling at it: Tush, saith he, it is not the expence that offendeth me, but because they haue powred in so much oyle into their bodies. The citie of THEBES made an open feast, and they were all of them in their ban­quets, feasts, and great assemblies one with the other: but Epaminondas to the contrarie, he went drie vp and downe the towne very sad, without being annointed with any oyle of perfume▪ or decked with braue apparel. Some of his familiar friends met him in this estate, and wondering at him, asked him why he walked so alone, & ill apparelled through the citie? Because, said he, you might in the mean time safely giue your selues to drink drunke, and make merie, taking thought for nothing. Thus haue we spoken enough touching his temperance: and as for his other vertues they are most famous in armes, the which he with great good fortune and happinesse mana­ged for the good of his countrie.

Now his modesty would in no wise suffer him to seeke his aduauncement, but contrariwise he withdrew himselfe from gouernment, onely to giue himselfe quietly to the studie of Philo­sophie. Howbeit it happened that the LACEDEMONIANS on a time prayed aide of the THE­BANS, at that time being in league with them, who sent them certaine foot-bands. Epaminondas being about fiue and thirtie yeares of age, armed himselfe, and went with the rest. Then it was that that friendship began betwixt Pelopidas and him, which constantly continued euen to the [Page 5] end. For they both being in battell ray the one by the other, against the ARCADIANS, whom they had in front against them in the plaine of MANTINEA, it chaunced that one of the points of the battel of the LACEDAEMONIANS in the which they were, retired, and many of them left their ranckes: but they being resolute, determining rather to die then to flie, stood to it like men, vn­till that Pelopidas being hurt in seuen places, fell downe vpon an heape of dead bodies: then E­paminondas, though he tooke him to be but a dead man, stepped manfully before him to defend his bodie and armes, and he alone fought against many, resolued to die in the place, rather then to leaue Pelopidas among the dead men, vntill that himselfe being thrust into the breast with a pike, and wounded in the arme with a blow of a sword, (ready to giue ouer) by good fortune and in a happie time, king Agesipolis came on with the other point of the battell, and saued them both. Afterwards the LACEDAEMONIANS finely wanne the castell of THEBES called CADMEA, put in a strong garrison there, and gaue the gouernment of the citie vnto Archias, Philippus, and Leontidas, authors of all the mischief. Wherupon to auoide their violence, Pelopidas and many o­thers with speed fled and saued themselues, and were banished by sound of trumpet. And as for Epaminondas they said nothing to him, but let him alone in the citie: for he was contemned as a man of no reckening, because he was so giuen to his booke: and if he should haue had any will to haue stirred against them, he could haue done them no hurt for his pouertie. Now whilest Pelopidas and his companions being at ATHENS, had laid a plot to free THEBES, Epaminondas making no shew of any thing, had long before deuised another practise, which was: to lift vp the hearts and courage of the young men of THEBES. For when they went out to play and ex­ercise their bodies, he alwaies found a way to make them wrestle with the LACEDAEMONIANS. Afterwards when he saw the LACEDAEMONIANS fiercely throw them, and giue them shrewd fals they being the stronger, he rebuked the THEBANS, and told them, it was a shame for them for want of courage, to suffer the LACEDAEMONIANS to set their feet vpon their throats, that were not halfe so strong, rough, and boisterous as they were. All this while Pelopidas and his followers went on with their complot, and they had so good successe in their purpose, that one night they got priuily into the citie of THEBES, and met at Charons house, where they were to the number of eight and fortie. Epaminondas knew all well enough, and some towards night taking him a­side, went about to perswade him to ioyne with them in this enterprise, and to take armes with them to set vpon these tyrants: maruelling much, that he would be so backward, the liberty of his countrey standing vpon it. He answered, that he had taken order with his friends and Gorgi­das, that they should put themselues in readinesse vpon any occasion, howbeit that he would put none of his citizens to death, vnlesse they were condemned by law: yet if you will make an at­tempt for deliuery of the citie, so it be without murther, and shedding the bloud of the citizens, I will helpe you (said he) with all my heart. If you will not beleeue me, but perseuer in your de­termination, I pray you let me alone, pure and vndefiled with the bloud of my citizens, and so blamelesse to attend occasion, whereby I may iustly take hold of that which may turne to the good of the commonwealth: for the murther that will be committed, cannot possibly be con­tained within reasonable bounds. I do certainely beleeue that Pherecides and Pelopidas peraduen­ture will specially set vpon the authors of the tyrannie: but Eumolpidas and Samiadas, both cho­lericke and fierce men, taking the liberty of the night, they will neuer lay downe their armes, nor put their swords vp into their sheathes, before they haue filled all the citie with murthers, and slaine diuers of the chiefe personages. Moreouer, it is very conuenient for the people of THE­BES, that some be left free, and blamelesse of this murther, and guiltlesse of all that shall be done in this furie of action: for so the people shall least suspect that we giue any incouragement to their rising, although to good end. Notwithstanding all this the enterprise was executed, and the ty­rants put to death, the citie restored to her auncient liberty, and the castle of CADMEA rendred vp by composition, and Lysandridas the LACEDAEMONIAN and other commanders within, suffe­red to depart, with safetie of their goods and the souldiers.

These were the beginnings of the long wars of the LACEDAEMONIANS against the THEBANS, with whom the ATHENIANS ioyned in league. For Epaminondas, he quietly gaue himselfe to his book: notwithstanding he was put forward by Pammenes, a principall man of THEBES, and he began to follow the warres very hotly, and in diuers encounters made great proofe of his wis­dome, hardinesse and valure: insomuch that by degrees he attained at the length to the highest charges of gouernment in the commonwealth. And his citizens hauing made no further recko­ning [Page 6] of him, being a man of fortie yeares old: after that they came to know him, and had trusted him with their armie, he saued the citie of THEBES that was like to haue bin vndone, and freed al GRECE from the seruitude and bondage of the LACEDAEMONIANS: making vertue as in a cleare light shine with glorie, shewing her effects when time serueth. Furthermore, Agesilaus being en­tred into BOEOTIA with an armie of twentie thousand footmen, and 5. thousand horse, preyed and spoiled all the plaine countrey, and presented the THEBANS in open field that which they would not accept, finding themselues the weaker: howbeit they defended themselues so well, through the aide of the ATHENIANS, and of the wise conduction of Epaminondas and Pelopi­das, that Agesilaus returned home with his armie. But after he was gone, the THEBANS went with their troupes before the citie of THESPIES, where they surprized and put to the sword two hundred men of the garrison, and afterwards gaue diuers assaults one vpon another vnto the wall, and seeing their labor lost, they returned with their army backe againe to THEBES. How­beit Phoebidas the LACEDAEMONIAN, he that had taken the castle of CADMEA by treason, (whereupon rose all this warre that followed) and was then gouernour of THESPIES, made a sallie out of the towne, and rashly went to giue a charge vpon the THEBANS in their retreate, where he lost fiue hundred of his men, and himselfe was slaine in the field. Not long after, the LACEDAEMONIANS with the self same power returned againe to make war with the THEBANS, who hauing wonne certaine streights and places of aduantage, so blocked vp the way, as they could not ouerrunne the countrey, and spoile it as they had done before. Neuerthelesse, Agesi­laus had so harried and troubled them, that by litle and litle they came to a maine battell, which held very long and cruell. Now though Agesilaus at the first had the better, yet the THEBANS charged him so hotely, that at the length he himselfe was hurt, and constrained to retire, being well payed for teaching the THEBANS militarie discipline. And this was the first time that the THEBANS knew themselues to be as strong and lustie as the LACEDAEMONIANS: whereupon they triumphed in signe of victorie, and from that time forwards, they waxed more couragious to make head against the enemy, and to present them battell. But the onely thing that did most encourage them, was the presence of Epaminondas, who counselled, commaunded, and execu­ted very wisely, valiantly, and most fortunately. A certaine time after that, they went with a great number of good chosen men before ORCHOMENE, where they preuailed not, because there was a strong garrison of the LACEDAEMONIANS, that sallied out vpon them to giue them battell, which was very sharpe betweene them. And yet, albeit the LACEDAEMONIANS were many against one, the THEBANS gaue them the ouerthrow, which neuer happened to them be­fore: but what nation soeuer they had bene, they thought they had done a great feate, if with a greater number by many, they had ouercome a small number of the LACEDAEMONIANS. But this victorie, and the encountring of TEGYRE, where the THEBANS obtained another victory vnder the conduct of Pelopidas, lift vp their hearts on high, and made their valure more famous then before.

The next yeare following, Artaxerxes king of PERSIA, meaning to make warre in AEGYPT, and therefore to retaine diuerse straungers, determined to appease the warres against the GREEKES in hope that they being at peace, would more easily be contented that souldiers should be leauied in their countrey: and thereupon sent his Ambassadours to all the townes of GRECE, to perswade and intreate them to be at peace together. The GREEKES were very wil­ling to hearken vnto it, being wearied of all sides with so long a warre, and were easily drawne to treate of peace: whereby it was especially agreed and concluded, that all the cities of GRECE should be free, and vse their owne lawes; and commissioners were sent all about to withdraw the garrisons in euery place where any was kept. Vnto this the THEBANS onely refused to a­gree, that euery towne should by it selfe seuerally capitulate in this treatie, requesting that the townes in the countrey of BOEOTIA should be comprehended vnder the city of THEBES. Thereunto the ATHENIANS mightily opposed themselues, and there was one of their Orators called Callistratus, that touching this matter made a notable oration before the assembly of the states of GRECE. And Epaminondas on the other side also, made a wonderfull and vehement oration in defence of the right of the THEBANS: insomuch as this controuersie was left vndeci­ded, and the treaty of peace was vniuersally agreed and concluded amongst all the other GREEKES, the THEBANS onely excepted, who were not comprised within the treatie. So through the motion of Epaminondas, they were bold to withstand the decrees of all the rest of [Page 7] GRECE. For the ATHENIANS and LACEDAEMONIANS that many yeares before had conten­ded for the principality of GRECE, made then diuision together: so that the one should com­maund by sea, and the other by land. Thus they could not like in no wise, that the THEBANS should aspire to be chiefe, and therfore they sought to dismember the other townes of BOEOTIA, from the citie of THEBES. And the rather for that the THEBANS being strong and lustie of body, and encouraged for that of late they had oftentimes beaten the LACEDAEMONI­ANS, would striue with them for the superiority of GRECE by land, but specially they had a wonderfull confidence in the wisedome and prowesse of their Captaines, but especially of Epa­minondas. Matters resting thus doubtfull, the citizens of PLATAEES, a towne of BOEOTIA, de­sirous to be at league with the ATHENIANS, they sent to request some souldiers of them, promi­sing to put the towne into their hands. The gouernors of the country of BOEOTIA hauing intel­ligence of it, desirous to preuent the garrison of the ATHENIANS, brought a troupe of souldiers against them, and they all came before PLATAEES, before the townes men had any knowledge of their comming: insomuch that part of them were surprised in the fields by the horsemen, and the other fled into the towne. But hauing no body to aide them, they were compelled to re­ceiue and accept such composition as it pleased the THEBANS to graunt them: which was, to leaue their towne, and to go safely with bagge and baggage, and neuer to returne againe into the countrey of BOEOTIA. After this, the THEBANS razed the city of PLATAEES to the ground, and had the sacke of the towne of THESPIES enemy vnto them. All the GREEKES solicited againe by the Ambassadors of PERSIA, thought it good to make a generall peace, and so assembled the commissioners of all the townes at SPARTA. Epaminondas that was yet scant knowne, because he loued not to shew himselfe, and in all his exploits of warre had euer preferred the aduancement of his great friend and companion in armes Pelopidas, before himselfe: yet famous among the GREEKES for his great knowledge and experience, was sent thither by the THEBANS. Epa­minondas finding that the other commissioners did leane to Agesilaus, began to speake boldly and plainely, and made an oration, not onely in the THEBANS behalfe, but for all GRECE also: making them plainely see, that warre did still increase the greatnesse of the city of SPARTA only, and keepe all the rest of the townes of GRECE vnder. Therfore he gaue counsell to all to establish a firme peace indifferently betwixt them, that thereby it might haue the longer continuance, when all comprized within the contract should be equals. Agesilaus perceiuing all the GREEKS assistant at this assembly to giue very attentiue eare vnto him, and to be tickled, hearing him speake so freely of peace: he asked him aloude if he thought it iust and reasonable, that all BOEO­TIA should be set at liberty. Epaminondas on the other side, did presently and boldly aske him againe, if he thought not also that it was iust and reasonable that all LACONIA should be set at li­bertie. Thereupon Agesilaus in anger stood vp on his feete, and commaunded him to answer plainely, if they should not restore all the prouince of BOEOTIA to her liberty. Epaminondas re­turned the selfe same speech againe vnto him: if they should not also put that of LACONIA in her liberty. This did so anger Agesilaus, besides that it did him good to haue this colour for an old grudge he bare vnto the THEBANS, that foorthwith he put the name of the THEBANS out of the list of those that should be comprised within the peace, and immediatly proclaimed open war against them. But this being done had euill successe afterwards, and by reason of the sodaine and rash enterprise of the LACEDAEMONIANS, it turned to their vtter ouerthrow. For the THE­BANS, there was no remedie but they must beare the whole brunt alone: for there was not a town that durst send them any aide, because they were all agreed and sworne to this peace, insomuch as euery one thought them vtterly cast away and vndone. Many pitied their estate, and they that loued them not reioyced: they made so full account, that the LACEDAEMONIANS should find nothing that could stand before them.

So the LACEDAEMONIANS made king Cleombrotus march with his army towards THEBES: and being come neare to CHAERONEA with ten thousand footmen, and a thousand horse, he pitched his camp there to stay for the rest of his allies. The THEBANS hauing intelligence of the approch of the enemy, chose Epaminondas to be captaine generall, giuing him the charge of this warre, with sixe other Councellers, whom they call Beotarches, as who would say, Gouernours of BOEOTIA, to be of his counsell, and to assist him. Now there came Oracles to the THEBANS from all parts: some promising victory, others threatning ouerthrow. He commaunded them to set those on the right hand of the chaire for Orations that promised victorie: and those that [Page 8] threatned ouerthrow on the left hand. They being thus disposed of, he got vp to the chaire for Orations, and said to the THEBANS: If you will be obedient to your Captaines, and couragious of heart to encounter your enemies, these here, (shewing the good Oracles on the right hand) are yours: but if for faint hearts you refuse daunger, those there (shewing the bad on the left hand) shall be for you. Thereupon enrolling all the THEBANS names that were of age to beare armes, and of some parts of BOEOTIA those that he thought fittest for wars: word was brought him that a very honest and valiant man of his person died in his bed. O Hercules, said he, what, had this man leysure to die in all these troubles? His presence reioyced and made all his armie liuely: also all the time he was Captaine of the THEBANS, they neuer saw any of these terrours happen in his campe without manifest cause, which they call sodaine feares. He was wont to say, that there was no death more honest, then to dye in the warres: and that the body of a soul­dier should not onely be kept in exercise like the champions that fight for maistrie, but rather more hardened to endure any labour or paines meet for a good souldier. And therfore he could not abide very fat men, but cassered a whole band of them for that cause only: saying that scarce three or foure targets could couer so great a belly, as did keepe him that he could not see his owne priuities. So he drew his armie out of THEBES, hauing in all but sixe thousand fighting men. E­uen as they were marching away out of THEBES, diuers of the souldiers thought they had had many vnluckie signes. For as they were going out of the gates, Epaminondas met on his way a Herald, that following an auncient ceremonie and custome of theirs, brought an old blind man as if he had bene run away: and the Herald crying out aloud, Bring him not out of THEBES, nor put him not to death, but carie him backe againe, and saue his life. The old men tooke this mee­ting and cry for an euill signe: but the young men kept silence, and spake neuer a word, for feare it should be thought that their hearts failing them, they would seeke to disswade Epaminondas from going the iourney he had vndertaken. And he himselfe, vnto some that were bold to tell him, that it were well done before he went any further, to consider first what successe the flying of the birds did promise vnto him, answered this verse of Homer:

It is a happy signe, to fight for his countrey.

Such a present and francke resolution stopped the mouthes of all those that were not very con­stant. But there happened yet another signe worse then the first. For there went a Secretarie be­fore him carying a Iauelin, vnto the which was tyed a scrole to make the soldiers know that they should do what the Generall commanded them. The wind rose and blew off this scrole and ca­ried it away, folding it vpon a square pillar that stood vpon a tombe of certaine LACEDAEMONI­ANS, and PELOPONNESIANS, that had bene slaine in that place when Agesilaus brought his army thither. Also there came againe certaine old men vnto him to speake with him, perswading and protesting that he ought not to go any further with his armie, since the gods were so mani­festly against it. All this notwithstanding he neuer ceassed to march with his campe, thinking that the conscience and resolution to fight in a good cause, ought to be much stronger and of more force to put him in good hope, then these euill signes that appeared to make him mistrust the worst. And as in marching to meete with the LACEDAEMONIANS they heard it thunder: they that were neare vnto him, asked him, what that thunder meant? That, faith he, betokeneth that the enemies braines are troubled and astonied: seeing they hauing hard by them so commo­dious places to campein, they now lye encamped where they are. Indeed they halted, staying for diuers of their allies that came not: all of them hauing at better leysure considered of the dis­course Epaminondas made in SPARTA in open assembly of all the commissioners of euery town, against the ambition of the LACEDAEMONIANS. For him therefore applying to good purpose at that time all the goodly discourse he had learned by the studie of Philosophie, for the present time the common people blamed him much: but after the fortunate successe of his intention, e­uery man then iudged him to be a man ripely vnderstanding the dutie of a wise and valiant chieftaine of warre. For making his army march with speed, he wanne the straights hard by the citie of CORONEA, and camped there. Cleombrotus on the other side, vnderstanding that the THEBANS had gained that passage, dispairing he could not passe that way: made his army go a great compasse about by the countrey of PHOCIDE, and marching alongst the sea side in a very troublous and daungerous way, at the last he pierced into the countrey of BOEOTIA without a­any daunger. And as he went also he tooke in litle townes, and certaine gallies that lay alongest that coast, and in the end arriued at LEVCTRES: and there set downe to refresh his men a litle, [Page 9] ouer-wearied with trauell in their iourney. The BOEOTIANS marched presently that way to meet with them, and so passing ouer some litle mountaines, they discouered them in the plaine of LEVCTRES, which did amaze them, seeing so great an army.

The Boeotarches thereupon came together to consult whether they should go forward, and to fight one against many: or else retire, and find out some better place of aduantage. In this coun­sell their opinions fell out to be equall: for three of them thought it good to retire: the other three with Epaminondas, said, they must tarie and fight. So the conclusion of this counsell being doubtfull, and the Boeotarches disagreeing, Pelopidas captaine of the holy band came to thē, who was of the second opinion: so that they all agreed together to put it to the hazard of battell. But Epaminondas seeing their souldiers affraid through the superstition of these signes, deuising by some like remedy to put this mistrust out of their heads: to bring this to passe, some being new­ly come from THEBES, he willed them to say and giue it out euery where, that no man could tell at THEBES what was become of the armes that hung vp in Hercules temple: but that the voice was all the towne ouer, that the auncient demigods their auncestors had come and taken them a­way, for the aide of their descendants at this present time. He suborned another also, that gaue it out he was newly come from Trophonius truncke or hole, and that the god which giueth the Oracles in the same, commanded him to tell the BOEOTIANS that after they had ouercome their enemies in the plaine of LEVCTRES, they should celebrate yearely playes in the honor of Iupiter. And thereof it came that the BOEOTIANS long time after that did yearely celebrate a feast, which is made in LEBADIA. Now to end the painting of this artificial deuise, Leandrias a SPARTAN, be­ing a banished man out of his countrey, and fighting at that time for the BOEOTIANS, being brought before the souldiers, whom they encouraged to fight like men the day of the battell: he did sweare vnto them that the LACEDAEMONIANS had an auncient Oracle, that said they should lose their principalitie, when they should be ouercome by the THEBANS in a pitched field, in the plaine of LEVCTRES. It is true indeed that the LACEDAEMONIANS had had many oracles and forewarnings to bid them beware of the anger of LEVCTRES: but the common people vnder­stood not what this warning meant, but were deceiued by the equiuocation of the word: for that there were three LEVCTRES: to wit, in LACONIA, ARCADIA, and BOEOTIA. Howbeit, the vision of Pelopidas, whereof is made large mention in his life, and the sacrifice he made of the yong Filly that came into his campe, confirmed all the former inuentions, and made them bold that were most discouraged. Adding withall, that Epaminondas hauing assembled all his armie, began to encourage them with these strong and liuely reasons to shew their valour: insomuch, that being freed from this superstitious feare, they longed for nothing more then to come to blowes. Epaminondas euer concluded all his orations in this manner: O worthy men, embrace sacred death, aduauncing your selues to the most honorable and famous fight for your country, for the tombes of your auncestors, and for the holy things. Euen at the same time came to the THEBANS an aide of fiue hundred horse, and fifteene hundred footmen THESSALIANS, condu­cted by Iason: who practised with both sides to make a peace for certaine daies, telling them he was not wise that feared not the euents. Some iudge it was not at that time that Iason trauelled betweene them both, but rather that it was after the iourney of LEVCTRES. Howbeit, I haue fol­lowed that which Diodorus the SICILIAN writeth, as a thing most likely. Now as Cleombrotus retired with his army out of BOEOTIA, he met with a great supply of naturall LACEDAEMONI­ANS, and of some of their allies, brought to him by Archidamus, Agesilaus sonne. The LACE­DAEMONIANS seeing the THEBANS so resolute, and fearing their desperate boldnesse: sent these two troupes the easilier to daunt the courage of their enemies. These two being ioyned together they were ashamed to be afraid of the BOEOTIANS, and whether it was that the truce taken was neare expired, or that they forced not of it, they returned on the sodaine againe into the plaine of LEVCTRES fully bent to fight. The BOEOTIANS also for their part shrunke not an inch backe, and so on both sides they set their men in order of battell. For Epaminondas, he set his battell af­ter a new fashion, neuer before shewed by any other Captaine. For hauing chosen out of his ar­mie the best men and valiantest souldiers he had, he placed them together in one of the points of his battell, where he should be himself & fight in person, seconded with Pelopidas, with his three hundred chosen men, called the holy band: and in the other corner he placed his weaker men, commaunding them expresly not to abide the charge of the enemies that should come to assaile them in front, but faire and softly to retire when they saw them come neare them. So the matter [Page 10] fell out as he wished: and he hoped to determine the battell by the vertue and prowesse of that point where he had placed all the flower and choise of his armie.

Now the signe to fight being giuen, the LACEDAEMONIANS marched of euen hand with the two hornes of their battel, ordred in forme of a Cressant. On the contrarie part, one of the wings of the battell of the BOEOTIANS began to giue backe, and the other with great furie ranne to charge the enemie in the flancke: straight they were both come to the sword together. And at the first, because either side fought very desperatly, the victorie was doubtfull for a certain time: but at the length Epaminondas troupes brake in amongst the LACEDAEMONIANS, and killed the most part of them that were about king Cleombrotus. So long as the king was aliue, he kept backe the THEBANS from victorie, because he was accompanied with all the most valiant men of his army, valiantly fighting about him. But after he fell downe dead on the ground, hauing re­ceiued an infinit number of wounds, and striken downe many of his enemies: then they thron­ged together on all sides, and there was a cruell fight about his bodie, where were heapes of mens bodies slaine one vpon another. And although Epaminondas did sharply follow his point, yet the LACEDAEMONIANS made such resistance at the last, that they did a litle repulse the BOEOTIANS and cleared the bodie of the king out of the presse and multitude: but that held not long. For E­paminondas through his perswasions did so lift vp the hearts and courage of his men, that they gaue a second and so fierce a charge vpon them, that they wholly ouerthrew the LACEDAEMO­NIANS, & made them flie for life. Then Epaminondas fiercely pursuing the flying enemies, made great slaughter, and wan one of the most gloriousest victories that euer Captaine did: hauing in a pitched field ouercome the most noble and warlike nation of all GRECE, with a farre smaller number of men then his enemies had. Also he tooke more glorie of that aboue all his other ex­ploits, & especially because it hapned vnto him in his father Polymnis life time. And oftentimes he had these words vp in his mouth: that of all the honest and happy fortunes that euer chaun­ced vnto him, nothing ioyed his heart more, then that he had vanquished the LACEDAEMONI­ANS at the battell of LEVCTRES, his father and mother that begat him being both aliue. And to say truely, he that day preserued the life of his father and mother, and of his whole countrey be­sides: for the LACEDAEMONIANS were fully resolued vtterly to destroy the THEBANS. Now he vsing at all other times to shew himselfe amongst them, fine and neat, with a pleasant counte­nance: the next day after the battell at LEVCTRES he came out openly very sad, heauie, and pen­siue. Whereupon his friends asked him presently if he had heard any euill newes, or some mis­fortune had happened to him. None, said he, but I perceiued by my selfe yesterday, that ouer­ioyed with the victorie I obtained, I lift vp my selfe more then became me: and therefore to day I correct this ioy, which yesterday was too exceeding in me. He knowing that it was the ma­ner of the SPARTANS to hide and couer (as well as they could possible) all such misfortunes, de­sirous openly to suppresse and shew the greatnesse of the losse they had sustained: he would not suffer them to carie away their dead bodies by great all together, but euery citie one after another: and so by this meanes it appeared that there were aboue a thousand LACEDAEMO­NIANS. Some make the number of the dead to be greater, and say they were foure thousand na­turall LACEDAEMONIANS, but that must be vnderstood of them and their allies: and of the BOEOTIANS, there were not aboue three hundred or thereabouts found dead. This battell of LEVCTRES was striken at the beginning of the 2. yeare of the hundred and second Olympiade.

The LACEDAEMONIANS hauing at that battell lost the greatest part of their honor and great­nesse, which men had seene before in their estate, lost not their courage for all this: but to keepe their youth still in heart, and to take away all feare which had possessed them that had escaped from this ouerthrow: Agesilaus entred ARCADIA with an armie, and was contented to take a small towne of the MANTINEEANS, and to prey and spoile the country, which done he returned home againe. Some thinke that this was the cause that brought Epaminondas into LACONIA. O­thersome report it otherwise, and say that Agesilaus would not suffer the MANTINEANS to reedifie their citie. And there be that are of another opinion, which is: that Lycomedes Captaine of the ARCADIANS hauing made a rode hard to ORCHOMENE, he slue vpon an encounter Po­lytropus Captaine of the LACEDAEMONIANS, and 2. hundred SPARTANS with him, his pur­pose being to win ORCHOMENE: and that thereupon they finding themselues too weake to stand against the LACEDAEMONIANS, they sought the alliance and aide of the THEBANS. How soeuer it was, the LACEDAEMONIANS and ARCADIANS being enemies, by reason of their chiefe [Page 11] citie of MANTINEA: that was the cause the THEBANS ioyned with the ARCADIANS, and being followed with their allies, led by Epaminondas, they entred into LACONIA with an armie of forty thousand men of warre, and with thirty thousand others that followed the campe. The A­THENIANS sent Iphicrates Captaine with twelue thousand men to aide the SPARTANS: but be­fore his comming Epaminondas entred into LACONIA in diuers places, and sacked all the whole countrie, which had not bene laid wast by any enemy in sixe hundred yeares space be­fore, when the DORIANS came to inhabite there. The SPARTANS seeing their countrey wasted and destroyed before their eyes, were desirous to go out with all the force they could make: but Agesilaus would not suffer them, telling them how daungerous it was to leaue the citie, to set vpon such a mightie enemie. So they were quiet, and Epaminondas in the meane space des­cended the mountaine Taugete with his armie, towards the riuer of Eurotas, the which at that time was risen very high by reason of the winter. He sought what he could to draw Agesilaus to fight, who beholding Epaminondas a great while, marching in battell ray alongst the riuers side at the head of his troupes: he wondred at his boldnesse and valure, but would by no meanes come out of his fort. Insomuch as after this armie had preyed and foraged all LACONIA, Epami­nondas led them backe againe laden with bootie. And though Agesilaus had won himselfe great honour for his wisedome, in looking to the safetie of his citie: yet Epaminondas had made his countrey so poore, with the former losses sustained, especially at the ouerthrow at LEVCTRES: that SPARTA could neuer afterwards recouer that losse againe, nor grow into that reputation and power it had before. Furthermore, notwithstanding all the aide of the ATHENIANS, and the ex­perience of Iphicrates, Epaminondas returned with his whole armie as he came. And the more to keepe the LACEDAEMONIANS still vnder their feet, and to heape new troubles vpon them: he gaue counsell to the ARCADIANS and other their allies, to reedifie and replenish the citie of MESSINA with new inhabitants againe, which the LACEDAEMONIANS had long before that destroyed. All the whole councell giuing their consents vnto it, he made diligent inquirie forth­with to seeke out all those that till that time had bene auncient inhabitants in MESSINA: and in the space of fourescore and fiue daies hauing reedified the ruined houses, he set a foot againe one of the noblest and most auncient cities of GRECE, and left there a strong garrison: for the which he was as much esteemed and rather more, then for any other seruice he had euer done.

The LACEDAEMONIANS being lightened of a maruellous great feare, made an agreement with the ATHENIANS, and left them the chiefe commaund by sea, reseruing to themselues that by land. Afterwards through the aide of the ATHENIANS, and the supply that was sent vnto them out of SICILIA, they wan their townes againe by litle and litle. The ARCADIANS to stop their course, assaulted the citie of PALLENE in LACONIA, put all the garrison there to the sword, razed the towne, and preyed all the countrey thereabout: and doubting that the LACE­DAEMONIANS would be reuenged, they prayed aide of the THEBANS, who sent Epaminondas thither with the other Boeotarches, sixe thousand footmen, and fiue hundred horse. The ATHE­NIANS hauing intelligence thereof, sent their armie before vnder the leading of Chabrias, who marched directly to CORINTH, and there had supply of souldiers, of the MEGARIANS, PAL­LENIANS, and CORINTHIANS: so that he had made vp a regiment of ten thousand men. And afterwards the armie of the LACEDAEMONIANS and of their allies, being arriued at the very place of CORINTH, they made all together the number of twenty thousand fighting men. So they determined to repaire and fortifie all the passages and entrances into the countrey of PELO­PONNESVS, to stop the passage of the BOEOTIANS. And beginniug frō the city of CENCHREES vnto the hauen of LECHEVM, they shut and blocked vp all the waies from the one sea to the o­ther, with mighty great peeces of timber a crosse, and with a maruellous deepe ditch. And this great peece of worke was followed with such speed, both by meanes of the great multitude of people, as also through the goodwils of those that laboured it hard: that they had finished and done all before the BOEOTIANS could arriue there. Epaminondas at his comming hauing dili­gently viewed and considered this fortification, perceiued that the easiest way to be forced, was that which the LACEDEMONIANS themselues kept. So he sent to giue them defiance, though they were thrice as many men in number as his owne. For all this that they had the defiance, they durst not come out, but kept them close vnder this fortification, which receiuing certain assaults, they were repulsed. Now all of them doing their best indeuour, being occupied, some assailing, other defending, Epaminondas chose out the best men in all his armie, and lustily charging the [Page 12] guard of the LACEDAEMONIANS enforced them to giue him way, and in despite of them he entred into PELOPONNESVS, which was a wonderfull and memorable exploit of all others. Frō thence he marched towards the cities of EPIDAVRE and TROEZEN, and so foraged all the coun­trey: howbeit he could take none of the townes, because they were defended with strong garri­sons. Neuerthelesse he put SICYONE, PHEVNTE, and some other townes in such feare, that they yeelded themselues vnto him. That being done, he went to CORINTH, and there ouer­came the CORINTHIANS in a set battell, and bet them home fighting euen to the wals of their citie. There were some of his men so rash, and presuming of their valour, that they entred hand ouer head with those that fled, euen within the gates of their citie, which put the CORINTHI­ANS in such a terrible feare, that they ran with all speed possible to get their houses ouer their heads. Chabrias beat them out againe, and killed some of them. Whereupon he caused a token of triumph to be set vp, as if it had bene an ouerthrow. Epaminondas laughing him to scorne for it, said he should not call it a Trophee, or token of triumph, but rather Hecatesie, as one would say, a statue of Proserpina: because in times past they commonly set this image of Proserpina at the first gallowes they found before the gate of any citie. The BOEOTIANS therefore came on with their battell as neare vnto CORINTH as they could, and Chabrias with his troupes camped with­out in a very strong place of aduantage for him: so there were many skirmishes betweene them, in the which Chabrias shewed such valour, that he wan great fame and reputation, euen of Epa­minondas himselfe. Who being asked on a time whom he thought the greatest captaine, himself, Chabrias, or Iphicrates: It is hard to iudge, said he, whilest we are all aliue. Another brought him word that the ATHENIANS had sent an army againe into PELOPONNESVS, furnished with new armours. Well, answered he, doth Antigenidas weepe when he knoweth that Tellin hath new flutes? This Tellin was a very bad player of the flute, and Antigenidas excellent good & skil­ful. Touching the supply of this armie, they were ten thousand SPANIARDS and GAVLES, whom Dionysius the tyrant sent out of SICILIA to aide the LACEDAEMONIANS, hauing payed them for fiue moneths. They had serued reasonably well in this warre, and so in the end of sommer re­turned home againe.

Now it fortuned in these last encounters, that Epaminondas hauing forced the LACEDAEMO­NIANS that stood to the defence of the fortification aboue mentioned, and hauing them in his power to haue slaughtered a great number of them at his will: he contented himselfe onely with this glorie, that in despite of them he had entred into PELOPONNESVS, and sought to do them no more hurt: which gaue those occasion that did enuie his glorie to blame him, and to accuse him of treason, as hauing willingly spared the enemies, because they should particularly thanke him onely. But now that we haue begun to speake of this matter, we must see how he behaued himselfe among his citizens, and the wisedome he vsed in defence of his integritie. Among all those that could not endure the glorie of his vertues, was Meneclides the Oratour, an eloquent man, but withall most wicked and malicious. He finding that Epaminondas wan such honour by warres, neuer left perswading the THEBANS to embrace peace, and to preferre it before warre: because they should not liue alwaies vnder the obedience and command of one man. Epaminon­das told him one day in open councell: Thou wilt deceiue the THEBANS, going about to coun­sell them toleaue warres: and highly commending ease, thou goest about to put iron bolts vpon their feet. For warre begetteth peace, the which cannot hold long but among those that know how to seeke and keepe it with the edge of the sword. Then speaking to the citizens: If ye will haue the principalitie and commaund of all GRECE, before all others: you must shrowd your selues in your tents and pauilions in the open field, and not follow games and wrestlings here at home. Also he knew well enough that the BOEOTIANS spoiled and vndid themselues by ease and idlenesse: which was the cause that he constantly bare this mind to keepe them continually in warres. Whereupon when time came that they fell to choosing of Captaines, and that they went about to chuse him Boeotarche: he said to the citizens: My maisters, I pray you consider of it now you are at leysure, before you choose me: for I tell you plainely, if I be chosen your cap­taine, you must to the warres. He called the country of BOEOTIA, which is all plaine champion, the scaffold of warre: saying it was vnpossible to keepe it, vnlesse the inhabitants had their targets on their armes, and their swords in their hands. This was not because he did not loue peace, and solitarinesse to studie Philosophie, and that he was not more feareful of them he had in his charge then for himselfe, vsing alwaies to watch and forbeare his meate, when the THEBANS were at [Page 13] their banquets and feasts giuing themselues to all pleasures: but he knew them well enough, and he was neuer more carefull of any thing, then to keepe his armie from idlenesse. For on a time the ARCADIANS intreating that his troupes might enter into one of their towns, to lye drie there in couert all the winter, he would by no meanes yeeld to it. For now (said he to his souldiers) that they see you exercise your selues in armes, they wonder at you as braue and valiant soldiers: but if they should see you at the fire side parching of beanes, they would esteeme no better of you then of themselues. No more could he endure couetousnesse: for if sometime he gaue his men leaue to go a booting, his meaning was, that whatsoeuer they got should be bestowed in furnishing of armes. For if any man went about to fill his purse with mony, he thought him vn­worthie to be a souldier. As on a time when he perceiued that his Target-bearer had receiued a great summe of money for the raunsome of a prisoner, he said vnto him: Giue me my target, and go thou thy waies, and buy thee a Tauerne to leade the rest of thy life there: for I perceiue thou wilt no more like an honest man put thy selfe in daunger in the warres, as before thou hast done, because thou art now rich and wealthy. Now Epaminondas being such a one as you haue heard, Meneclides notwithstanding would neuer cease controlling of him: and one day he went so far as to reproch him that he had no children, that he was not maried, and that he magnified himself more then euer king Agamemnon had done. Epaminondas answered him, thou hast nothing to do to counsell me to marie: for in that respect there is neuer a man here in all this councell whome I would lesse vse then thou. And this he spake, because the other was suspected to be an adulterer. And where thou thinkest that I do enuie the glorie and fame of Agamemnon, thou art foule de­ceiued: yet I tell thee he was not a litle troubled to win a towne in ten yeares: where I to the cō ­trarie putting the LACEDAEMONIANS to flight in one day, haue deliuered our citie and all GRECE from them. But thankes be to you, my Lord THEBANS, (speaking to all the whole assembly:) through you I did it, and ouerthrew and ruined the power and gouernment of our enemies. Ne­uerthelesse, Pelopidas and he were very euill recompenced for this good seruice of theirs: for at their returne from LACONIA, they with some other of the Boeotarches were accused, for that af­ter the time of their charge and gouernment was expired, they had kept it foure moneths beyond the time the law had appointed them. With much ado Pelopidas was absolued: but Epaminondas willed his companions to lay all the fault vpon him, as being forced vnto it by his authoritie: and that for his part his words could be no better then his deedes. So vpon this he being called before the Iudges, and after he had iustified that he had passed the time limited of his authority: in stead of excusing himselfe, he went and told brauely his worthy exploits he had done in this iourney at that time, adding withall, that he was willing and readie to die, so they caused his con­demnation to be written vpon the pillar of his tombe, to the end the GREEKS should vnderstand that they had put Epaminondas to death, because he had compelled the THEBANS against their wils to burn the country of LACONIA, the which in fiue hundred yeares before had neuer once bene spoiled: that he had restored the citie of MESSINA with inhabitants againe, two hundred and thirtie yeares after the LACEDAEMONIANS had laid it wast: that he had brought al the peo­ple and townes of ARCADIA to be as one bodie in league together, and had set all the GREEKES at libertie: and all these things, said he, we did in our iourney. The Iudges vnderstanding this worthy and true defence, they all rose from their seates and laughed a good, and would neuer take their bals to ballot against him.

But as for this second accusation, that he had shewed fauour vnto the LACEDAEMONIANS for his owne particular honour, he would make no answer before the people of THEBES to this false imputation, but he rose out of the Theater, and passing through the assembly walked into the parke of exercises. The people being in vprore against him, made no choise of him againe as they were wont to do, although there was great need: but created other Boeotarches to go into THESSALY. And the more (as they thought) to despite Epaminondas, they commaunded him to go that voyage as a priuate souldier: the which he refused not, but went very willingly, and vpon this occasion. Pelopidas being sent the second time into THESSALY, to make accord be­twixt the people and Alexander the tyrant of PHERES, was by this tyrant (not respecting the dignitie of an Ambassador, nor of his countrey) made prisoner with Ismenias. Whereupon the THEBANS being iustly offended, sent thither an army of eight thousand footmen, and fiue hun­dred horse, howbeit vnder the leading of vnskilfull Captaines, who wanting iudgement to vse the time, thought it good to returne home againe without doing any thing. But as they went [Page 14] their way, Alexander being stronger in horsmen then they, followed them, and gaue charge vpon the rere, killed some, and grieuously wounded others. So they knowing neither how to go for­ward nor backward, were in great distresse, and the rather because their victualsfell shorter euery day then other. But being now almost out of all hope to retire home with safety, Epaminondas being then amongst the foote, was earnestly intreated by the souldiers and Captaines to helpe to redresse this disorder. Thereupon he chose certaine footmen light armed, and all the horse­men, and so falling himselfe amongst them in the rereward of the army, he so lustily repulsed the enemies, that the rest of the army afterwards marched in great safety: and did so well, fighting at times, making head as occasion serued, and keeping his troupes in so good order, that he brought them all away safe. This act crowned him with a new glorie, confounded his ene­mies, and wanne him great honour euery where, besides the loue and good will of his citizens: who set great sines vpon their Captaines, because they had hehaued themselues so euill in this iourney. Againe, the people seeing that by so many worthy deeds Epaminondas razed out all the slaunders and accusations which his euill willers had vomited out against him: they chose him a new their Captaine generall, to returne into THESSALIE with another army. At whose comming all the country straight reioyced for the reputation of so great and famous a Captaine, and there wanted litle euen to breake this tyrants necke▪ altogether, his friends and Captaines stood in such feare, and his subiects in good mind to rebell, and very ioyfull for the hope they had shortly to see the tyrant at one blow well recompenced for all his cursed and wicked deeds he had done long before. Neuerthelesse Epaminondas▪ setting aside the consideration of his honour and glorie, in respect of the deliuerance and safety of his friend Pelopidas, and being afraid that Alexander, when he should see his estate in daunger to be ouerthrowne, would take reuenge in his madnesse vpon Pelopidas: he purposely drew this warre in length, wheeling about in euery place, refraining to set on him in earnest, dissembling to make his pre­parations, and still delaying, because he would prepare and soften the heart of this tyrant by this deuice, not to leaue him too much to his bold vnbridled will, neither to stirre vp (to the dan­ger of Pelopidas) the sharpe and inhumane anger of this bloud-sucker. Who being a monster, compounded of cruelty and cowardice, was so afraid onely of the name and reputation of Epa­minondas, and hanging the wing as they say: that he presently sent men vnto him to excuse and iustifie him. But Epaminondas would not that the THEBANS through his slacknesse should make peace and alliance with so wicked a man, but onely he was contented to take a truce with him for thirtie dayes, taking Pelopidas and Ismenias out of his hands. So with them he returned backe againe to THEBES, and alwayes continued faithfull friendship with Pelopidas, refusing euer to haue any part of his goods, but did still perseuere in his wonted simplicitie and discipline. Now speaking of this friendship, they report that Epaminondas hauing committed a man of base condition for some light fault to prison, Pelopidas prayed him to set the poore man at liberty, but he denied him: and yet afterwards being intreated by a woman he kept, he did it at her request, saying that harlots were to be graunted such requests, not Captaines.

This boldnesse he shewed in all places, and to all men, yet mingled with a great sweetnesse, and with a good liuely grace: whereof we will bring many examples, besides that he spake at SPARTA against the LACEDAEMONIANS and Agesilaus, in the presence of all the commissioners of GRECE. The ARGIANS hauing made league with the THEBANS, the ATHENIANS sent their Ambassadours into ARCADIA, to see if they could gaine the ARCADIANS to be their friends. So these Ambassadours began roundly and hotly to charge and accuse both the one and the other: insomuch as Callistratus speaking for them, reproued the other two cities, ORESTES and OEDI­PVS. Epaminondas being present at that assembly of counsell, stood vp, and sayd: My Lords, we confesse that in times past we had a man that killed his father in our city, and in ARGOS one that killed his mother: but for vs, we haue driuen out of our countrey, and banished all such wicked murtherers, and the ATHENIANS haue receiued them both. And to the SPARTANS that had layed many great and grieuous imputations vpon the THEBANS: If they haue done nothing else, my Lords of SPARTA, answered Epaminondas, yet at the least they haue made you forget to speake litle. The ATHENIANS had made league with Alexander the tyrant of PHERES, mor­tall enemy of the THEBANS, who promised the THEBANS that he would let them haue a pound of flesh for an halfe peny. Epaminondas hearing of it, Well sayd he, and we will find them wood that shall cost them nothing to seeth this flesh withall: for we will go fell and cut downe all the [Page 15] trees they haue in their countrey, if they go about to make any alteration other then good. So when he went into THESSALY, and brought backe Pelopidas againe, the ATHENIANS made no great stirre against him: and the tyrant that promised flesh so good cheape, had much ado at that time to keepe his skin whole. But afterwards he had his payment, as you may reade in the latter end of Pelopidas life. But that which did excell in Epaminondas, and did cut the throat of enuy it selfe, was his moderation and temperance, knowing how to vse any state or condition offered him, & neuer to rage against himselfe nor others, alwayes bearing this mind, that howso­euer they tooke him, and in what place soeuer they set him, he was well contented, and all for the good of his countrey: for proofe whereof I will shew you this example. His euill willers on a time thinking to bring him in disgrace, as they say, for spite they made him superintendant and ouerseer of all the customes, whilest others his inferiors, vnworthy to be compared to him, were placed in the most honourable offices. This notwithstanding he despised not this office, but did discharge it very faithfully: for, sayd he, office or authority sheweth not onely what the man is, but also the man what the office is.

But now further: shortly after Epaminondas returne out of THESSALY, the ARCADIANS were ouercome by Archidamus and the LACEDAEMONIANS, and they lost not a man: and there­fore this dayes iourney was called for them, the tearelesse battell. Epaminondas foreseeing that the ARCADIANS should yet haue a storme, gaue them counsell to fortifie themselues: whose counsell they following, they built the towne which afterwards was called MEGALIPOLIS, si­tuated in a very conuenient place. Whilest they made warre with the ELIANS their neighbors, Epaminondas heart neuer fainted, but his mind was alwayes giuen to high enterprises for the good of his countrey: where being respected and honoured aboue all others, he made an oration vnto his citizens, perswading them to make themselues strong by sea, and to attend the conquest of the principality, making themselues Lords of it. This oration of his had bene long thought of before, being full of liuely reasons, which did shew and proue vnto them that the enterprise was both honourable and profitable, aswell by other arguments he alleadged, as also for that he told them it was an easie thing for them that were now the stronger by land, to make themselues also the strongest by sea: and the rather for that the ATHENIANS in the warre against Xerxes, not­withstanding that they had armed and set foorth two hundred galleys well appointed with men, they neuerthelesse willingly submitted themselues vnto the LACEDAEMONIANS. So alledging many other reasons to this purpose, he preuailed so much, that the THEBANS inclined to vnder­take the enterprise by sea. Thereupon the people gaue present order they should build a hun­dred galleys, and withall an arsenall with so many roomes to lay them vnder couert in the docke: and that they should send to them of RHODES, of CHIO, and of BYZANCE, to pray them to fur­ther them in this enterprise. And for this purpose Epaminondas was sent with an army vnto these cities. So in his course he met with Laches, a Captaine of the ATHENIANS, and a good num­ber of ships in his fleete, sent of purpose to hinder the intention of the THEBANS. Notwithstan­ding, Epaminondas made him so afraid, that he draue him backe againe: and he holding on his voyage, brought the cities before named to make league with the THEBANS, who on the other side were at warre with the citie of ORCHOMENE, which had done great hurt and mischiefe in their estate. So they hauing won it by assault, they slue euery man that was able to beare armes, and moreouer made all the women and children slaues.

Some time after Pelopidas death, certaine priuate men of MANTINEA, fearing to be called to account for their bad behauiours and robberies they had done, if the ARCADIANS and ELIANS fell to agreement: they practised so, that they raised vp a new quarrell within the countrey de­uided into two factions, of the which the MANTINEANS were chiefe of the one side, and the TEGEATES on the other part. This quarrell went so farre, that the parties would try it by armes. The TEGEATES, they sent to demaund aide of the THEBANS, who chose Epaminon­das their Captaine generall, and sent him with a good number of men of warre to aide the TE­GEATES. The MANTINEANS astonied at this aide comming out of BOEOTIA to their enemies, and at the reputation of this Captaine: they immediatly sent vnto the ATHENIANS and LACE­DAEMONIANS, the greatest enemies of the BOEOTIANS for aide, which both the cities graunted. Whereupon there fell out often and many great skirmishes in diuerse parts of PELOPONNESVS. Epaminondas being not farre off MANTINEA, vnderstood by the same country men, that Agesilaus and the LACEDAEMONIANS were come into the field, and that they wasted all the territory of the [Page 16] TEGEATES. Whereupon imagining straight that there were few men left in the citie of SPAR­TA to defend it, he went about a great exploit, and a wonderfull stratageme of a man of warre: and had brought it to passe, if the maruellous great good fortune of SPARTA had not hin­dred it. So he departed from TEGEA by night, the MANTINEANS knowing nothing of it, and taking another way then Agesilaus, he had taken SPARTA without one stroke striken, but for a post of CANDIA that with speed brought Agesilaus word of it: who foorthwith sent out a horseman to giue them intelligence that were left at SPARTA, that they should beware they were not surprised vpon the sudden: and he himselfe came speedily after, and arriued there a litle before the THEBANS comming thither: who being very neare the city by breake of day, gaue assault to them that were within to defend the towne. Then Agesilaus bestirred him throughly, beyond the power of an old man. But his sonne Archidamus, and Isadas the sonne of Phoebidas, fought valiantly of all parts. Epaminondas seeing the SPARTANS in order of battell, began then to mistrust that his enterprise was discouered. This notwithstanding, he left not off to force them all he could, albeit he fought with great disaduantage for the incon­uenience of the places he occupied: and continued alwayes couragiously doing and recei­uing hurt, vntill the army of the LACEDAEMONIANS came on, and the night also: where­upon he made them sound the retraite. Now he being aduertised that the MANTINEANS came on also with their forces, he drew his troupes somewhat further off the towne, and there camped. After that he caused his men to refresh themselues with victuals, and hauing left certaine horsemen in the campe, he commanded them to make fires in the morning, and he himselfe went in the meane space, to surprise those that remained at MANTINEA before any man wist he was gone. Neuerthelesse he failed of his purpose, albeit he had forethought him of all misfortunes that any man possible could haue considered in so waighty a cause. But the prosperity of the THEBANS was come to his height, and the course of Epaminondas life drawing neare to an end, would very shortly depriue GRECE of this noble and famous per­son, from whom was taken a most notable victorie, and that twise, by a most straunge accident. For at this second time, when he was neare vnto MANTINEA, left without gard and defence; on the other side of the towne there arriued six thousand ATHENIANS, led by their Captaine Hegele­cus: who hauing put sufficient force into the towne, he ordered all the rest in battell without the towne wals, as though he meant to haue fought a field: and immediatly after them came also the LACEDAEMONIANS and MANTINEANS together, who prepared themselues to put all to the ha­zard of a battell, and therefore sent for their allies out of all parts. They were in all fiue and twenty thousand footmen, and two thosand horse. The ARCADIANS, BOEOTIANS, and their partakers, made the number of thirty thousand footmen and aboue, and three thousand horse. First, the horsmen charged with so great furie as was possible, insomuch as the horsmen of the A­THENIANS finding the THEBANS in front, were the weaker: not because they were lesse valiant and hardy then the other, but because they had not so good leaders, and had few archers among their troupes. The THEBANS on the other side they were well appointed, and specially of THES­SALIANS amongst others, men very skilfull in their bowes, who so plied the ATHENIANS, that they brake them, and put them all to rout. Yet they did not flie amongst their footmen, which made them somewhat recouer their honour they had lost by running away, and all because they had not broken the rankes of their allies. On the contrary part, as they fled they met with certaine troupes of souldiers of NEGROPONT, whom the ARCADIANS sent to take in certaine hils hard by the plaine where the battell was fought, and they put them all to the sword. The men at armes of the THEBANS seeing them turne their backes, did not pursue them at all, but gaue charge vpon agreat battalion of footmen, forcing them all they could to breake and run through them: so the fight was very cruell and sharpe, but in the end the ATHENIANS left the place. This notwithstanding, the Colonell of the horsemen of the ELIANS being appointed for the safety of the reregard, defended them, and comming to the encounter of the BOEOTIANS he resisted them, and made them speedily giue backe: and this reformed the fault againe of the left point of their army. But in the right point, after the horsemen had charged one vpon the other, the fight was soone tried. For, by reason of the great number of the men at armes of the THEBANS and THESSALIANS, the partakers of the MANTINEANS were presently put to rout, and after they had lost a great number of their men, they succoured themselues about the battalion of their foot­men. And this was the successe of the fight of the horsemen. As touching the battalions of the [Page 17] footmen, after they came once to the sword, it was a maruellous bloudie and most cruell fight: for neuer before that time was there so great a number of GREEKES in battell one against the o­ther, nor so great Captaines, nor of better fighting and more valiant men. The two nations that at that time bare the name to be the brauest souldiers for footmen of all the world, to wit, the THEBANS, and LACEDAEMONIANS, they were set in front in the battell one directly against the other. So the first began to charge, neither sparing life nor limme. The first charge they gaue was with their pikes, which being broken by force of the great blowes they gaue to each other, then they fought with their swords, and laying about them body to body, there was no kind of slash­ing and wounding but they both gaue and receiued: and neither part shrunke nor gaue ouer, but stucke to it manfully. And so continuing this dangerous fight a long time, by reason of the valiantnesse of either side: the victory stood doubtfull a great while, and could hardly be iudged which side were like to haue the vpper hand. For euery one that fought had this resolution in his heart, not to feare death what soeuer hapned: but rather desiring to make proofe of the va­lour of his person, worthily gaue his life in pray, to win honour in exchange. By reason where­of, though the fight was most sharpe and violent, the euent of it remained a long space betwixt two irons, not to be discerned of whether side the victorie should fall. Vntill such time as Epaminondas seeing that there was no remedy, but that the resolution of this doubtfull fight de­pended vpon his owne vertue and valour: he resolued with himselfe to venter his life vpon it. So he presently gathered about him all the best and choise men of his army, and of them hauing made a company of resolute men, he ranne with great furie into the greatest presse of all the ene­mies, marching himselfe the formest man before his troupe, with a speare in his hand, with the which at the first blow he gaue, he slue the Captaine of the LACEDAEMONIANS, straight way the other began to assaile their enemies. But Epaminondas killed so many in the place with his owne hands, and did so terrifie the others, that at the last he opened the battell of his enemies, and layed on them so lustily, that they not able any longer to defend themselues against the valorous force of himselfe and his followers, were enforced to giue backe, and to leaue the place to the BOEOTIANS: who were straight at their heeles, beating and following them so eagerly, that in a short space all the field was couered with dead bodies, lying on heapes one vpon ano­ther. But in the end, the LACEDAEMONIANS seeing they could by no meanes saue them­selues, because Epaminondas followed them so neare (giuen ouer too much to his passionate cou­rage) they gathered a troupe together, and running all on heapes they set vpon him, throwing infinite number of darts at him, of the which he put by some, and receiued others vpon his tar­get, but yet there were many that stucke in his body, which he pulled out himselfe, and with the selfe same weapons fought with them that had throwne them at him. At the last, when he had fought more then a man, and beyond all the force a man could vse to giue his countrey the victory: a LACONIAN called Anticrates thrust him into the breast with a dart with such a force, that the wood brake, and the iron with the tronchion remained in his bodie. Hauing receiued this great wound, he suddenly fell downe to the ground: but then was there a more cruell fight about him then before, with great slaughter of both sides: vntill that the THEBANS, which had much stronger bodies then the LACEDAEMONIANS, made them flie for life, and after they had followed them a litle way, they returned againe to the campe where the battell was fought, to the end they might haue the dead bodies in their power, and so the whole victory. Thereupon they sounded the retraite, and thus the battell ceased, for the which both of them set vp tokens of triumph, either side pretending they had the better. For the ATHENIANS hauing ouerthrowne those of NEGROPONT and their adherents which were sent to take the hils of that plaine: they kept the bodies in their power. The THEBANS on the other side hauing o­uercome the SPARTANS, had the bodies of those that were dead in that battell in their power, being the farre greater number also: wherefore they sayd that they were victours. So standing in these termes, it was a good while before they sent trompeter or herauld the one to the other, to burie their dead: vntill that the LACEDAEMONIANS sent first of all, and then they all tooke their dead bodies and buried them. And furthermore, he that had killed Epaminondas was so wel thought of, & highly esteemed for this valiant act of his, for the great feare all the SPARTANS had had of Epaminondas in time past: that they gaue him many great presents and honours, and besides, made those that came after him free from all publicke charges and contributions in the common wealth. And Plutarch also sayd, that in his time one Callicrates, a nephew of Anticrates [Page 18] aboue named, did then enioy that freedome. Touching Epaminondas, he was brought yet aliue into his tent: howbeit the phisitions and surgeons being called together to dresse him, they all agreed, that so soone as euer they pulled out the head and splent of the dart out of his body, he must needs dye. So he made a most worthie and noble end of his life: for first he called for his target-bearer, who was alwayes at his hand in battell, and asked him, Is my target safe? He brought it straight to shew it him. Then he asked who had the victory? The BOEOTIANS, said the target-bearer. Then he commanded they should bring him Diophantus and Iolidas: but be­ing told they were both dead, he willed his citizens to make peace with their enemies, for that now they had no more Captaines of skill to leade them to the warres. Adding further to that aboue spoken, It is now time I dye, and so commanded them to plucke this spell of the dart out of his body. At that word all his friends about him fetched grieuous sighes and cried out: and one of them weeping, sayd vnto him: Alas Epaminondas, thou diest now, and leauest no chil­dren behind thee. No that I do not, sayd he: but I leaue two faire daughters behind me, where­of the one is the victory of LEVCTRES, and the other that of MANTINEA. Immediatly they pulled out the spell of the dart, and at that instant he gaue vp the ghost, without shewing any signe or token that he was troubled in his mind. And thus did he embrace that blessed death: that fortuning vnto him which he often had in his mouth: that warre is the bed of honour, and also that it is a sweete death to dye for his countrey. Now may we well see, that he excelled all the Captaines that euer were before him, did accompany, or follow him. For whosoeuer would compare all their vertues, with the deeds and glory of Epaminondas, he shall see that the vertue of him was more noble and excellent, then any of theirs. For in them will appeare at the first sight some speciall thing more eminent then all the rest, which hath made their fame great and glorious: but in this man onely were ioyned together all the vertues and good parts that could be wished for in a graue, politicke, and a great Captaine, to make him perfect and complete in all things. For in the liberall sciences, in experience, ripe vnderstanding, force of eloquence, strength of body, disposition of his person, in height and greatnesse of courage, in temperance, wisedome, watching, sweetnesse and courtesie: and moreouer in hardinesse, prowesse, good iudgement, and sufficiencie in militarie discipline: I know not where there is to be found so complete a man. For my opinion, I compare Epaminondas to himselfe. Also in his time he wan to his countrey by force of armes, the principalitie of GRECE: but after his death his citizens lost it immediatly, and fell daily to decay: that at the last Alexander the great vtterly ouercame them, made them that were aliue slaues, and destroyed their citie to the very ground. To con­clude, before, and after Epaminondas, THEBES was vnder foote, and yet commanded all others whiles he stood on his feete. And so we must conclude, that THEBES was vtterly ouerthrowne in the battell of MANTINEA, and that Epaminondas at that time wan an immortall glorie. And as in his life time he had caried himselfe modestly, and alwaies detested couetousnesse: so after his decease the THEBANS brought him to his graue at the common charge of the towne, because they found no money in his house to defray the least charges of his funerall.

The end of Epaminondas life.

THE LIFE OF Philip of Macedon.


Philip: that wisedome booteth not at all,
Which scorning iustice, hopes to climbe on high.
Let Princes that behold thy sudden fall,
Loue right and meeknesse, least like thee they dye.

AMyntas, the second of that name, and seuenteenth King of MA­CEDON, of the race of Temenides or Caranides, descended from Her­cules, and that reigned foure hundred and ninetie eight yeares, reckoning from Caranus vnto Antipater, in whom began another race: he had three sonnes by his first wife called Eurydice, borne in ILLYRIA: to wit, Alexander, Perdiccas, and Philip. Alexander hauing succeded his father, raigned but one yeare, during which time he made warre with his base brother Ptolomaeus Alorites. But to appease the strife betwixt them, they sent for Pelopidas, who was at that time in THESSALIE. He tooke vp all their quarrels, restored those that were banished vnto their houses, and (because this peace should be more surely kept) he tooke of them for hostages, Philip, and thirty other of the noblest mens sonnes in MACEDON, and brought them all away with him to THEBES. Now during the time that Perdiccas raigned, which was the space of fiue yeares, Philip kept at Pammenes house, with whom Epaminondas was very great: & hereof it came, that some thought Philip was a hearer of Lysis Epaminondas schoolemaister, and that they conferred together in Philosophy. Howbeit Epaminondas was then much older then he, & surely it can hardly be that they were scholers together: except they will say that Epaminondas continuing all his life time to profit by the study of wisedom, made Philip desirous to heare him sometime, and to follow him also. And it may be well inough also that he had learned of Epaminondas to be so quicke and sud­den of execution in the warres, as he was: which was but one of the least parts of Epaminondas vertues. But as for his continency, iustice, magnanimitie, and clemency, which were the parts that in truth made him great: Philip, neither bv nature, nor by education, nor by study, euer attai­ned vnto it: for all this, he wanted not great gifts of body & mind, as shall appeare in the discourse of his life: and as Theophrastus testifieth, he was greater then any other of the kings of MACE­DON, not onely in prosperity of fortune, but also in wisdome, bounty, and moderation of man­ners. So it came to passe that Alexander, notwithstanding the accord Pelopidas had made, was [Page 20] traiterously killed by Ptolomy surnamed Alorites, who vsurped the kingdome, and was slaine him­selfe by Perdiccas: who after he had bene ouercome in a great battell by the SLAVONS, in the which he was slaine: Philip which was the last of the three brethren, stealing away from the place where he was in ostage, fled into MACEDON, and came to succeed in the kingdome, the which he found in great trouble. For there were slaine at the last battell aboue foure thousand MACEDO­NIANS, and those that escaped were so beaten and astonied with blowes, that they thought of no­thing lesse then to take armes against the SLAVONS. On the other side the HVNGARIANS made in­rodes into MACEDON, and the SLAVONS mustered againe to returne thither. There was one Pausanias also that aspired to the kingdome, by the support of the king of THRACIA. And the A­THENIANS also, they would establish one called Argaeus, and to this end sent a great fleet by sea, and three thousand footmen well armed by land, led by Mantias. Philip taking heart to him in these rude beginnings, began to embolden the MACEDONIANS by wise perswasions: he reesta­blished militarie discipline, furnished his souldiers very well, making them arme themselues, and gaue order they should be continually trained and exercised. It was he that amongst other things deuised how to close his footmen, and that framed the square battell, which euer since was called the MACEDONIAN Phalange. He was very gracious in his words, and by his promises and gifts he wan the hearts and goodwill of his subiects.

Now finding himselfe strong, although he was yet but young of yeares, he resolued to make head against all his enemies, yet not by open force, but where there was need: being alwaies of this mind, to buy time and men as much as he could possible. So perceiuing that the ATHENI­ANS did their vttermost indeuor to win the citie of AMPHIPOLIS againe, and that by this means they sought to bring the kingdome of MACEDON into the hands of Argaeus: he made them leaue it, and thrust out their garrisons. As for the PANNONIANS (others reade PAEO­NIANS) or HVNGARIANS hauing sent ambassadours to them, he corrupted some with money, and wan others by faire promises: insomuch that they were all contented to liue in peace with him. And by the same meanes he brake the hope of Pausanias, hauing by presents gained the king of THRACIA that aided him. And for the regard of Mantias captaine of the ATHENIANS, he marched with his armie vnto the citie of METHONA: but he remained there, and sent Argaeus with the souldiers straungers whom they had brought with them, vnto the citie of AEGES. Ar­gaeus approching neare the towne with his troupe, sent to feele the inhabitants, if they would re­ceiue him, and be the first that should be cause of his entrie into the possession of the kingdome of MACEDON. But perceiuing they cared not for him, he returned againe. Philip that followed him hard at his heeles gaue him battell, killed the most part of his men, and draue the rest vnto a litle mountaine, where he did besiege them so straightly, that they were forced to de­liuer him all the banished men of MACEDON amongst them: whereupon he let them go their liues and goods saued. This first victorie of Philip put the MACEDONIANS againe in heart, and made them bold to enterprise any thing afterwards. Hereupon he made peace with the A­THENIANS, and vnderstanding that the king of HVNGARIE was dead, he entred into their countrie with a maine armie, ouercame them in battell, and made them subiect vnto him. Of all his enemies there were left none but the SLAVONIANS, whom he went to assaile with ten thou­sand footmen, and sixe hundred horse. But since they could not agree together, Bardyllis their king trusting in the victories he had gotten before time of the MACEDONIANS, and in the valiantnesse of his SLAVONS, he came into the field, and presented battell. The which hauing bene fought a long time, Philip behaued himselfe so valiantly with his men of armes the MACE­DONIANS, that he ouerthrew the SLAVONS, leauing seuen thousand of them dead on the ground: and the rest escaped by flying away. Shortly after they were agreed together, and resto­red to Philip all the places they held pertaining vnto MACEDON. Now the AMPHIPO­LITANS had of long time borne Philip euill will, and whilst he was occupied in other places, they did him many inuries: wherefore he determined to make a sharpe warre vpon them. He hauing besieged them with a puissant armie, and hauing brought his engines of warre hard to their wals, he beat them with such furie, that he made a sufficient breach, and entred the towne by force: out of the which he draue those afterwards that were his enemies, and very courteously v­sed and intreated the rest. This towne being seated in a very commodious place, vpon the fron­tiers of THRACIA, and of the countries neare adioyning thereto: stood him afterwards in great stead for the furtherance and increase of his greatnesse. For by meanes of that he presently had [Page 21] the citie of PYDNE, and made league with the OLYNTHIANS, of great power at that time: by reason whereof he and the ATHENIANS, enuying one the other, they both practised to winne them. But Philip hauing wonne POTIDEA, draue out the garrison of the ATHENIANS and vsed them very honestly: for the sent them home to their houses their liues and goods saued, not because he loued the people of ATHENS, but for that he feared the power of their citie. After he had taken in the citie of PYDNE, he gaue it to the OLYNTHIANS, with all the territorie belonging vnto it. Then he returned to CRENIDES, the which he hauing augmented with a great number of inhabitants, he changed the first name of it, and called it by his owne name, PHILIPPI. With­in that territorie he had mynes of gold, the which he opened and digged so diligently, that he drew out yearely new made, about the summe of sixe hundred thousand crowns. By this means in a short time he gathered together a great treasure, and daily the kingdome of MACEDON grew great, because it had one of the chiefest sinewes and props of warre. So he coined a num­ber of peeces of gold called Philippus, wherewith he waged a great number of men, and bribed many priuate GREEKES: who afterwards sold him for ready mony the townes of their countrie, as we shall see hereafter. In all this businesse, Alexander the tyrant of PHERES in THESSALIE, hauing bene slaine by his wife Thebe, and by her brethren called Lycophron, and Tisiphonus, at the first they were honoured as men that had deliuered their countrey of a cruell tyrannie: but very shortly after, these two men chaunging their minds, by money wan the souldiers whom A­lexander kept for the guard of his person, and put themselues in his place whom they had killed, putting many citizens to death that withstood their enterprise: and hauing gathered together a great number of souldiers, they made themselues Lords of PHERES. The ALLEVADES, men of authoritie and greatly followed in the countrie for the auncient nobilitie of their house, would haue opposed themselues against this new tyranny. But finding themselues to be too weak, they made meanes to Philip: who entring into THESSALIE with his armie, ouercame the two tyrants, and setting the townes at liberty which these tyrants held in subiection, he shewed great loue and fauour to the THESSALIANS. By which occasion, in all his conquests he obtained afterwards, he found the THESSALIANS alwaies readie to do him seruice, and to aide him in all his affaires, and not himselfe alone, but also his sonne Alexander. But the greatnesse of Philip grieued his neigh­bours, insomuch as the kings of THRACIA, HVNGARIA, and SLAVONIA, not being strong enough of themselues, they ioyned forces together to make warre vpon him, and to be reuenged. Whi­lest they were preparing to ioyne their forces, Philip went before, and compelled them to do what he would.

About this time, to wit, in the last yeare of the hundred and fifth Olympiade, fifteene years after the battell of MANTINEA, the holy warre began amongst the GREEKES, which conti­nued ten yeares space: and this was the occasion. The THEBANS not being contented with the victorie they obtained at the battell of LEVCTRES, framed a complaint against the LACEDAEMO­NIANS in the assembly of the Estates of GRECE, which they call the councell of the Amphicty­ons: and followed the matter so hard, that the LACEDAEMONIANS were condemned in a great summe of money, because they had in time of peace surprised the castell of CADMEA. The PHO­CIANS also, they hauing plowed vp a great deale of a certaine land sacred to the gods, called the land of CIRRHE, were condemned by the Amphictyons in a great sum of money: and because they would not pay it, the councell pronounced, without longer delay and refusall, all their towns and lands to be confiscated to the gods: & that all other which were cōdemned (of which number were the LACEDAEMONIANS) should be compelled to pay their fines, and if they refu­sed, they should be taken for excommunicate, and the other GREEKES should make warre with them as against accursed and execrable men. Philomelus, a man of great authoritie among the PHOCIANS, did so much, that he perswaded them not to pay it, but contrariwise to defend their countrey with armes, and to win DELPHES. Whereunto they giuing their consents, he gathered together a great armie, and in despite of all hindrances made himselfe maister of DELPHES: cut asunder with sheares the decrees made by the Amphictyons engrauen vpon marble pillars: pos­sest all the gold and siluer that was in the temple: and afterwards rendred a reason of his fact, and prepared himselfe to make warre against the THEBANS, THESSALIANS, and LOCRIANS, and wanne three great battels of them. But being ouercome at the fourth battell, he threw himselfe downe off a high rocke. In the meane space, Cersobleptes, the sonne of Clotis king of THRACIA, hauing rendred vp to the ATHENIANS the towns of CHERRONESVS, partly for the good will he [Page 22] bare the ATHENIANS, and partly for the hatred he had to Philip: the people of ATHENS sent in­habitants thither to keepe and defend the townes. Philip perceiuing that those of METHONE lent out their towne to all them that would make war against him, went and laid siege before it. They that were besieged, did valiantly defend it for a time: but in the end finding themselues too weak to make resistance, they yeelded vpon condition, that the inhabitants should go out euery man with one only gowne. Assoone as euer Philip had the towne in his hands, he razed it euen to the hard ground, & gaue the country all about vnto the MACEDONIANS. At this siege he was woun­ded with an arrow, that put out one of his eyes. Afterwards he led his army also at the instance of the THESSALIANS, into the country against Lycophron, that began againe to tyrannize those of PHERES: who hauing demanded aide of the PHOCIANS, they sent thither Phayllus with 7000. fighting men, whom Philip ouercame, and draue them out of THESSALY. Then Onomarchus that succeeded Philomelus in the charge of general, hoping to haue won THESSALY, made great speed thither with all his army, vnder colour to bringaide vnto Lycophron. Philip went against him with the THESSALIANS, but because Onomarchus had the greater number of men, he ouer­threw him, and killed many of the MACEDONIANS, insomuch that Philip himselfe was in great danger. For his men also were so afraid, that they would haue forsaken him, & he had much trou­ble to keepe them together▪ and in the end was constrained to retire home into his kingdome. O­nomarchus departing from thence, entred into the country of BOEOTIA, ouercame the BOEOTI­ANS in battell, and tooke the city of CORONEA. But Philip returned immediatly with a great force into THESSALY, to driue out Lycophron: who hauing called in the PHOCIANS, Onomarchus retur­ned thither, followed with 20. thousand footmen, and fiue hundred horse. Hereupon Philip per­swaded the commons of THESSALY, that they must all together vndertake this warre. And he could so well solicite them, that he assembled in one campe twenty thousand footmen, and three thousand horse. Then was there fought a most cruell battell, whereof the victory fell to Philip through the valiantnesse of his THESSALIAN men of armes. For Onomarchus and his men, they fled on foot towards the sea, where was by chance Chares the ATHENIAN Captaine sailing all alongst the coast with certaine gallies. There was great slaughter of the PHOCIANS there fol­lowed by the victors. Others to flie with more speed, threw downe their armes, and leapt into the sea, by swimming to get to the gallies of the ATHENIANS. There were slaine in battell and flight as well of naturall PHOCIANS, as of strangers that came for pay, aboue 6000. men, & there were taken prisoners to the number of 3000. Onomarchus that was one of them, was hanged, and all the other drowned as sacrilegers, by the cōmandement of Philip: vnto whom Lycophron yeel­ded the towne of PHERES, & so retired out of THESSALY, which by this means was set at liberty.

As for Philip, he marched with his army towards the way of THERMOPYLES, to make war with the PHOCIANS, within PHOCIDE it selfe: but the ATHENIANS stopped his passage. Wher­fore he was constrained to returne backe into MACEDON, where he staid not long at rest, but de­termined to bring the townes of CHALCIDE in subiection to him. So he took by assault a fort cal­led Gyre, the which he razed. But this was such a terror to the other small townes, that they put themselues vnder his obedience. Passing from thence into THESSALY, he draue away Pytholaus that had made himselfe maister of PHERES. And intending to bring the townes of HELLESPONT vnder his subiection, he tooke in without paine or daunger (rather by treason) the townes of MI­CYBERNE, and of TORONE. Afterwards he went with a great army against the city of OLYNTHE, the greatest & of most power that was in that marches: where first he ouercame the OLYNTHIANS in two great fights, so that he made them leaue the field, & shut them in within their owne town, vnto the which he gaue many assaults, and lost a great number of his men there. But hauing with great sums of mony corrupted Euthicrates & Lasthenes gouernors of the towne, at the length he had it by treason: and hauing sacked it, he sold the townsmen for slaues by the drum. The taking of this towne brought him a great quantity of siluer to helpe to defray the charges of his war, and did also make the other towns afraid, which had taken armes to resist him. Now after he had be­stowed many rich presents vpon his captaines and souldiers, that had done him good seruice in this warre, he gaue also all about great sums of mony to the heads of the towns, and found mer­chants also among them that sold him their owne countrey and fellow citizens. Insomuch that he himselfe confessed he had enlarged his kingdome more through gold and siluer, then he did by force of armes: according to an answer that was made him, when he began first to put him­selfe forward: for being desirous to know how he should carie himselfe, the oracle answered:

[Page 23]
VVith siluer speares begin and end thy war,
So shalt thou topsie turuy turne all things what ere they are.

Now the ATHENIANS being iealous of his greatnesse, did euer helpe them whom he would hurt, and sent Ambassadours to all the cities to perswade them to maintaine and preserue their libertie, and to put their townes-men to death whom they found willing to betray the Com­monwealth: promising them to aide them all, and declared themselues open enemies vnto Philip. He that set them most against him, was Demosthenes: the most eloquent man of all GRECE at that time, and that did more trouble and hurt Philip with the blowes of his toung, and his continuall motions then all the Captaines of GRECE did him besides. All this not­withstanding, with all the diligence and labour ATHENS could vse, they could neuer bridle the wicked disposition of some priuate persons, but they still sought to sell their countrey: for he that bought, sowed siluer without any spare, and there were a great number of traitours at that time through all GRECE. And touching this purpose, they say, that he being desirous to winne a very strong hold, he sent some men before to view it: who returning, reported that it was vn­possible almost to approach it, and did by description set it downe in all points impregnable. Then he asked them if the place were so hard to come to, that a poore Asse laden with gold could not come neare it: for he had oftentimes with siluer very easily wonne that which otherwise was not to be had by force of armes. And this was the cause that he practised to haue traitours in euery towne by gifts and pensions, calling them that receiued him his hostes and friends, corrupting mens manners besides by vnworthie and dishonest meanes. As after that he had wonne OLYNTHE, he made sumptuous and magnificent sacrifices to his gods, to thanke them for the victorie they had giuen him: and so hauing set downe a day of triumph for tilting and tourneying, and common sports: thither repaired a great number of straungers that came to see the feast. So keeping open court, he inuited many of these straungers to come to his sumptu­ous feastes he made, and in them he shewed all the familiaritie and courtesie that might be to entertaine them. For he dranke to some, and then gaue them the cups wherin he dranke to them: to others he gaue great presents, and vnto all generally he gaue good words, and large promises▪ insomuch that many sought how to obtaine his loue and fauour. So it is reported, that one day at a banquet he espied Satyrus, an excellent Comedian and player, that he was very sad: and that he asked him why he did not craue some thing of him, that he might shew his liberalitie vn­to him. Satyrus answered him againe, that he would be glad to obtaine a sute at his hands, but he durst not aske it him, being afraid he should be denyed. Philip liked his answer well, and bad him aske boldly. Then he told him, that a friend of his had two daughters among others priso­ners, both of them mariageable, and besought him that he would bestow them vpon him: not for any other pleasure or profite he should haue of them, but because he would marie them both at his owne charge, before they should be forced to their dishonour. Philip thanked him for his honest petition, and presently caused these two maides to be deliuered vnto him. Thus he be­stowed many such courtesies euery where, whereof he made his profite afterwards with great vsurie. For a number being drawne by the sent and odour of so many good turnes, studied with themselues, enuying one another, which of them might do him best seruice, and find out most meanes to deliuer townes and countries into his hands.

But now to returne againe to that we had begun to speake of the holy warre. The PHOCIANS that had three very strong holds in BOEOTIA, to wit, ORCHOMENE, CORONEE, and CORSIES, did ordinarily from thence make incursions into the country of the BOEOTIANS with great num­ber of souldiers straungers whom they kept in pay, and did burne and lay wast all the territorie thereabouts, and euer had the vpper hand in all their inrodes and skirmishes they had with the countrimen. Vpon this occasion the BOEOTIANS being weake of men, and wanting money, sent in the end to demaund aide of Philip: who was not a litle glad to see them brought so low, for he desired their pride might be pulled downe, which had lift them vp so high since the bat­tell of LEVCTRES. So he sent them a good number of souldiers, not for any desire he had to aide them, but to make them thinke that he made great account of the temple of DELPHES, which the PHOCIANS had spoiled. After diuers exploits of warre, the one side and the other seeing themselues wearie and bare, the BOEOTIANS prayed Philip to come and aide them: which he graunted them, and taking a supply of THESSALIANS with him, he came to LOCRIDE with a good armie, and put himselfe in order to end this warre at one battell. But Phallecus Generall [Page 24] of the PHOCIANS, finding himselfe not strong enough to fight with him, sent vnto him to treat a peace: so he was suffered to go safely with his men whither he would. Whereupon vnder the assurance of this peace, he retired with eight thousand men into PELOPONNESVS. The PHO­CIANS then left without all hope, yeelded themselues to Philips discretion. Thus hauing ended this holy war without stroke striken, beyond all mens opinion, he called a councell of the BOEO­TIANS and THESSALIANS: in the which it was determined that there should be an assembly of parliament of the Amphictyons, vnto whom they would wholly referre themselues for de­ciding of this matter. Whereupon the Commissioners for the parliament of the Amphictyons were assembled, and there among other actes it was ordained, that from thencefoorth it should be lawfull for Philip and all of his race to sit in this councell of the Amphictyons, and that they should haue the two voyces which the PHOCIANS (by him lately conquered) had before. Also, that he and his thencefoorth should haue the gouernment and superintendancie of the sports PYTHIANS, with the BOEOTIANS and THESSALIANS. Because the CORINTHI­ANS had bene partakers with the sacriledge of the PHOCIANS. The rest of their decrees concer­ned those of PHOCIDE, the safetie of the temple of DELPHES, and the vnion of the GREEKES. Philip hauing broken vp the armories of the PHOCIANS and of the straungers that had fought in their pay, he defaced their townes, and made them sell their horses. After he had receiued of the Amphictyons the greatest honour and thankes they could deuise, he returned into his realme of MACEDON, hauing wonne him the name of a deuout and valiant Prince, and layed the founda­tions of the greatnesse vnto the which his sonne Alexander came afterwards. For he singularly desired to be chosen Captaine generall of all GRECE, with full power and authoritie to make warre with the king of PERSIA, as he did. Furthermore, the hereditarie quarrels he had against the SLAVONS, being as irreconciliable, he entred with his armie into SLAVONIA, where hauing spoiled a great part of that countrie, and taken many townes, he returned backe into MACEDON laden with bootie. After that he went into THESSALIE, and draue out the tyrants there, which held the townes in subiection. By this meanes he wanne the hearts of the THESSALIANS, whom indeed he had great care to vse well, hoping that if the THESSALIANS remained his faithfull friends, he should easily gaine the other GREEKES to desire his friendship, and so it hap­ned: for the people neighbours to THESSALY, did presently enter into league with him. Soone after that, he led his army into THRACIA to represse Cersobleptes, who troubled all the townes of HELLESPONT next adioyning to his realme. When he had beaten the THRACIANS in diuers encounters, he compelled the vanquished to pay yearely vnto the MACEDONIANS, the tenth part of their reuenues, and fortifying a few good townes in the best parts of the countrie, he bri­dled the boldnesse of these barbarous people: whereupon the townes within those marches be­ing deliuered from warres, they very willingly entred into league and alliance with Philip.

Thus waxing greater euery day then other, he led his armie before the city of PERINTH, be­cause that stood against him, and tooke part with the ATHENIANS. So he laid siege vnto it, and brought his engines of battery before it, among the which there were rams of 80. foot long, and built vp towers of wood higher then the highest towers of stone that were within the towne: vpon the top whereof he maruellously annoyed the besieged: and battering the wals with these rammes, he made them fall downe in diuers places. The PERINTHIANS on the other side very lustily defended themselues, and reared vp other wals within, in place of them that were fallen down. He plyed them continually with wonderfull assaults, the assailants and assailed shewing all their possible force and endeuour. Now Philip had great Crossebowes and other engines of all sorts to kill farre off, great arrowes long and sharpe at the end, which did wound those that came to the cranewes of the walles, and those that were besieged lost many of their men euery day. But at the length, they were supplied with armes and men whom the BYZANTINES sent vnto them: whereupon equalling their enemies, they beganne to be couragious againe, and resolutely offered themselues vnto any daunger for defence of their countrey. For all this, the batterie begun discontinued not, and Philip deuiding his men into diuers troups gaue them many assaults, continued by turnes one in the necke of another night and day. Which he might easily do, considering he had thirtie thousand fighting men in his campe, with an inesti­mable number of missile weapons, with engines to bestow great shot a farre off, and of all sorts of engines to beate downe townes, with the which he wonderfully plagued and hurt the be­sieged. Neuerthelesse, the siege drew on in length, and many of the townes men died, besides [Page 25] those that were hurt and wounded: and because that victuals also waxed scant amongst them: so that they hourely looked for no other thing, but to take PERINTH. But it fell out cleane con­trarie: for the fame of Philips greatnesse being blowne abroad throughout all ASIA, the king of PERSIA being affrayed of such a power, writ vnto his Lieutenants vpon the sea coastes, that they should aide the PERINTHIANS all they could possible. Thereupon his Satrapes hauing consulted of this matter together, sent vnto the besieged a great supply of men of warre, store of gold and siluer, plentie of corne, of armes, and of all other necessarie prouisions for the warres. The BYZANTINES on the other side sent them the best experienced Captaines and souldiers they had. By this meanes the two forces of the besiegers and the besieged being equall of new againe, the warre began to be hotter then before. For Philip beating at the walles with­out cease with his rammes, made very great breaches, and with his engines to shoot farre off, kept them that none durst stay at the cranewes of the walles: and at one instant made his men to giue an assault at the breaches of the walles throwne downe, and caused others to scale the walles that were yet standing whole, and so fighting with their swords, many were slaine in the place, and others sore wounded, both valiantly fighting for the reward and honour of victorie. The MACEDONIANS hoped to haue the sacke of a rich and wealthie citie, and more then that, to haue goodly presents of the king. They that were besieged on the other side, setting before them all the calamities and miseries of the taking of a citie, did lustily endure any paines and daunger to preuent so great a mischiefe. Besides that, the situation of the towne was a great helpe vnto them, not onely to hope well, but also that in the end they should be maisters. For the towne of PERINTH stood all vpon the sea side, vpon a hauen of halfe an Island that stood of a great height, and this hauen was about halfe a quarter of a league long. The houses there were very narrow and high, and because they stood high vpon the hanging of the coast, all the towne being vnderneath it on the ground, they were built much higher then those that stood beneath: so to see them aboue, they shewed like the degrees of seates in a Theater. And al­though that they without did still beate downe some part of the wall: that vantaged them no­thing for all that. For those within did nothing else but mure vp the entrance into the streetes which were narrow, and they alwaies defended themselues making rampers before the low hou­ses, as if they had bene the best wals in the world.

So Philip hauing gotten the outward walles of thetowne, with all the troubles and daungers possible: he found other walles readie built stronger then the other, as if they had bene done of purpose, besides that the BYZANTINES did alwaies furnish them with any thing they wan­ted. Philip considering this, deuided his army into two, and left the halfe of them to continue the siege, vnder the charge of the best captaines he had: and taking with him the other halfe, he went to besiege BYZANCE it selfe, and gaue it a most braue assault: wherat the BYZANTINES were ama­zed, because their souldiers, their armes, and all other their necessarie prouisions for warre were in the citie of PERINTH. But the ATHENIANS sent them immediatly an army by sea to aide them, as also those did of CHIO, of RHODES, and out of other places. Chares went thither sent by the ATHENIANS, but he did nothing of worth, nor worthy of the fleet he brought thither: because he was suspected of his friends, and despised of his enemies. So that they sent Phocion thither, who before that time had fought brauely with Philip in the Ile of EVBOEA, (which he thought to haue won by means of traitours) had ouercome the MACEDONIANS in battel, and had done ma­ny other notable exploits. Howbeit after his departure, Philip being the stronger, departing from thence came to besiege PERINTH, and after that BYZANCE, into the which Phocion entred with his troupes: who did so valiantly in all fights and assaults, that Philip (who before that time was thought so terrible in armes that none could resist him, neither durst any man present himselfe in battell against him) rose from besieging of PERINTH, and retired from BYZANCE and out of HELLESPONT, and did nothing but lost much of his reputation. For, besides the men that were killed at these two sieges, he lost some of his shippes, and many strong holds, out of the which his garrisons were throwne, and his friends forraged by the ATHENIANS. This was the cause why he offered articles of peace, fearing the forces of the ATHENIANS, desirous to forward his affaires some other way, or rather to meddle no more with them. Phocion coun­selled the ATHENIANS to hearken vnto it, and to accept the conditions vnto the which Philip submitted himselfe. But the Counsellers (especially Demosthenes) that bare the sway at that time, moued the ATHENIANS to a new league, the which Demosthenes prepared against Philip: who [Page 26] bethinking himselfe, determined to employ all his meanes to subdue the cities all at once, to the end that he might afterwards passe further. So he leauied an armie with great speed, and hauing ouercome certaine troupes of the townes in league together neare vnto AMPHISE, he marched into the countrey of ELATIA, and afterwards wan PHOCIDE, and being lift vp with such pros­perous beginnings, he resolued to go to ATHENS. Whereof the ATHENIANS hauing intelli­gence, they were straight in armes euery where, the people being so amazed, that none durst be so bold as to speake, and they knew not what to do. They reiected the wise counsell of Phocion, of which Demosthenes was the cause. Wherefore to repaire his fault, he stepped out and coun­selled the ATHENIANS to seeke the friendship of the THEBANS. So thereupon they sent him to put it in practise, and happily he obtained it, notwithstanding all Philips oppositions to the con­trarie: who being astonied more then before with these crosses, which the eloquence of one man did against him: he sent againe to offer the GREEKES peace. But they kept themselues close, and made straunge of it, expecting the euent of all this great tempest: not being disposed at that time to hearken to pacification. But as if the time of their bondage had bene at the gate, they refused all conditions, yea contemned the very oracles of DELPHES, and Demosthenes had it often in his mouth, that the Prophetesse did Philippizate, to wit, fauoured Philips affaires. These oracles threatned both the one and the other, and especially the GREEKES. Now Philip, though he saw he was deceiued of the friendship of the BOEOTIANS, yet he resolued to fight with the one and the other. Therefore keeping his campe certaine daies, looking for the forces of his friends that were not yet come vnto him: he entred into BOEOTIA, with thirty thousand footmen, and about two thousand horse. So both campes being ready to giue charge vpon each other, they both had like courage and resolution to do well. But as touching the number of men, and skil­fulnesse of Captains, Philip did passe them farre: for hauing done in many places so many wor­thie exploits of armes, he was become very expert in militarie discipline. To the contrarie, on the ATHENIANS side, their best captaines, as Iphicrates Chabrias, and Timotheus, were dead. Phocion also, he neuer thought well of this warre: and the factious, they had hindred the best they could that he should haue no charge. Then was there but Chares and Lysicles, that were too weake to take such a great charge vpon them, and were much inferiour to many of the Captaines Philip had then with him.

The day being broken, and both armies set in battell the one against the other in the plaine of CHAERONEA: Philip placed his sonne Alexander, comming but newly out of his infancie, in one of the points of his armie, attended vpon by the best captaines he had: and he placed him­selfe in the other point, with the valiantest men in his armie, giuing order and direction in all things according to time and place. The ATHENIANS, hauing taken one of the points of their battell, left the other vnto the BOEOTIANS. So the fight began very sharply, & many were slain on both sides, and it could not be discerned yet whether side had best occasion to hope of victory: vntill that Alexander at the length, desirous to make his father see some proofe of his valor, and many other valiant men seeing the courage of this young Prince following him, they with him brake into the battell of the enemies, and there was a maruellous cruell slaughter. Philip on his side also giuing charge vpon the greatest presse and multitude of his enemies, not en­during that any should take the honor from him, no not his owne sonne: set vpon them so fiercely that withstood him, that he put them out of order, and made them flie for life. There died in this battell aboue a thousand ATHNIANS, and there were taken prisoners to the num­ber of two thousand. And of the BOEOTIANS in like manner there were many killed in the field, and a great number taken. After this battell, Philip caused a token of triumph to be set vp, and suffered the enemies to take away the bodies of their dead, and to bury them. He made sumptuous sacrifices vnto his gods, to giue them thankes for his victorie: and honou­red them that had done good seruice in this battell, euerie one according to his degree and de­sert. Howbeit he committed certaine insolencies: for after he had drunke wel with his friends, he went to the place where he dead bodies lay, and there he fell a singing in mockerie, the begin­ning of the decree which Demosthenes had propounded, whose counsell they following, the ATHENIANS concluded to warre against him, lifting vp his voice, and keeping measure with his foote, Demosthenes, the sonne of Demosthenes PAEANIAN set out this. But afterwards when he beganne a litle to come to himselfe againe out of his drunkennesse, and that he had thought a little of the daunger he had bene in: then his haire began to stand vpright on his head, [Page 27] when he entred into the consideration of the force and vehemencie of such an Orator, that had brought him in a peece of a day, to put his whole estate and his life to the hazard of a bat­tell. And when the ATHENIANS sent vnto him to treate of peace, he presently set his coun­tenance, rubbed his eye-browes, and laying aside all madnesse and wantonnesse, made them a very sober and aduised aunswer. Others say, that he dranke too much at the feast of his sa­crifice, and that after supper he daunced and made a mommery with his minions: passed by the prisoners, and gaue them sharpe taunts in mockerie, touching the misfortune of their ouer­throw: and that Demades then being one of the number, was so bold franckly to speake a word to him which was of such efficacie, as it made him refraine from his insolencie. O king, sayd he, being now thy fortune to play Agamemnons part, thou art not ashamed to shew the deeds of Thersites. Philip finding himselfe touched to the quicke with this word so well set, he pre­sently chaunged his apparell and countenance, cast downe to the ground his garland of flowers he wore on his head, caused all the other signes of mockerie which were caried after him to be broken, and from thencefoorth began greatly to esteeme of Demades, and would haue him a­bout him. Demades, being passing eloquent aboue others of his time, did so well entertaine Philip, that he caused him to deliuer all the other prisoners of the ATHENIANS, without paying of any ransome. And further yet, humbling the conquerours fiercenesse, he made peace with the ATHENIANS, but put a garrison within THEBES, and moreouer graunted peace vnto the BOEOTIANS.

But that which principally brought him to incline vnto it, was the desire he had to be chosen Captaine generall of GRECE. And to this end he caused them to giue out abroad, that he would vndertake to make warre for the GREEKES against the PERSIANS, and to be reuen­ged of them for the outrages and sacriledges which they had committed against the temples of the gods in GRECE: and sought to gaine the good will and friendship of all the GREEKES by all kind of courtesies he could possibly deuise or thinke of, as well openly as secretly. So he made a motiue, that he desired to speake with the townes openly, and to communicate somethings vnto them which concerned the good of all their common wealth in generall. And for this purpose there was appointed a generall assembly of the states in GRECE in the citie of CORINTH, in the which he propounded this, to vndertake the warre against the PER­SIANS, and putting them in great hope of happie successe, he perswaded the commissioners of euery towne, which were present in this assembly of counsell, boldly to conclude this enterprise. He solicited this matter in such sort, that the GREEKES with generall consent chose him their Captaine generall with soueraigne authority. Then he began to make great preparation for this war, and hauing made a description and sesse of all the contributions, as also the number of men of warre which euerie citie should furnish for this enterprise: he returned into MACEDON, and sent from thence two of his chiefe Captaines before into ASIA, Attalus and Parmenio, with a part of his armie, commanding them to deliuer the GREEKES cities of ASIA out of bondage. But his death brake the voyage, so that they went not very farre. Now hitherto we haue seene Philips naturall disposition in the middest of his deeds, and what is commendable and reproch­full in so great a Prince. But before we go further in the rest of his life, it may peraduenture not be much impertinent, to insert in this place, some of his sentences and memorable actions, whereby he may be the better discerned, to compare him afterwards with the others. For mens words and fashions amongst their familiars, be the very liuely tables of the affections and pas­sions of the soule: being vnpossible for any man alwayes to counterfeit so, but that they may of­tentimes see his heart at his tongues end.

So then, newes being brought him in one selfe day of three great prosperities: the first, that he had wonne the prize at the courses of coaches with foure horse in the solemnity of the Olympian games: The second, that his Lieutenant Parmenio had ouercome the DARDANIANS in battell: The third, that his wife Olympiade had brought him a goodly sonne: he lift vp his hands to heauen, and sayd: O fortune, I beseech thee send me in exchange of this, some reaso­nable aduersitic, against such and so great happinesse. Lasthenes an OLYNTHIAN, that for a great summe of money had sold him the towne of OLYNTH, complained to him one day that some of his minions called him traytor. He aunswered him againe, that the MACEDONIANS were rude plaine men, that called all things by their name. He seemed to repute the ATHENI­ANS happie men, for that they found yearely ten Captaines in their towne to be chosen: and [Page 28] that he to the contrary in many yeares could find but one, and that was Parmenio. After he had ouercome the GREEKES, many aduised him to put good and great garrisons in the townes, that they might with more safety be kept vnder. But he answered them, I had rather be called a long time courteous, then a short time Lord. And when his familiars gaue him counsell, to banish a malicious person, that did nothing but speake euill: he answered them he would not, fearing least he should euery where else speake euill of him. There was an ACHAIAN called Arcadion, that made profession to speake euill of him euerie where, and warned euery man to flie so farre from Philip, as none could tell there what man he was. Arcadion being by chance met in MA­CEDON, the courtiers would haue had Philip to haue punished him, and not to let him escape out of his hands. Philip to the contrary spake him faire, and sent him presents to his lodging. Shortly after, he commaunded they should make inquiry what talke Arcadion had of him a­mong the GREEKES. Euery man brought him word, that he did wonderfully commend and praise him wheresoeuer he came. Then sayd Philip vnto them, I am a better phisition for euill speech then you are. Another time in the assembly of the Olympian games, as the GREEKES spake euill of him, his friends sayd, that such ill speakers would be seuearely punished, to speake so much euill of him that had done them so much good. Nay, but what would they do then, answered he, if we did hurt them? Smicythus did often accuse Nicanor vnto him, telling him that he did nothing else but speake euill of Philip: so that his best familiars thought it good he should be sent for, and be punished according to his deserts. Yea but (replied he) Nicanor is one of the honestest men of MACEDON: were it not better therefore to inquire whether the fault be in vs, or not? And foorthwith hauing made diligent search whence this discontentment of Nica­nor came, he found that he was a man oppressed with extreme pouerty, and that no man would relieue him in his necessity: whereupon he sent him immediatly a good present. After­wards Smicythus brought word, that Nicanor euery where spake great praises of Philip. See then, sayd he, how it dependeth vpon our selues to be well spoken of. He was wont also to say, that he was much beholding vnto the connsellors of ATHENS, for that they speaking euill of him, were cause to make him an honest man of word and deed. For, sayd he, I do daily enforce my selfe both in my deeds and words to make them lyers. He sent home (as hath bene spoken be­fore) all the ATHENIANS prisoners at the battell of CHAERONEA, without paying any ransome, and yet moreouer they asked for their beds, their apparell, and all their baggage, and complai­ned of the MACEDONIANS, because they did not deliuer it vnto them. When Philip heard of this, he fell a laughing, and sayd to them that were neare about him: How say you, do not you thinke these ATHENIANS suppose they were ouercome by vs at the play at bones? He said also that they which gaue him counsell to deale sharply with the ATHENIANS, were men of an ill iudgement, to counsell a Prince that did and suffered all things for glory, to destroy the Thea­ter of glory, which was the city of ATHENS, by reason of learning. There was a great number of prisoners taken at a battell, and he was present to see them sold by the drumme, sitting in his chaire, his gowne being turned vp alitle higher then was decent. Then there was one of the pri­soners that was a selling, that cried out a loud vnto him, I beseech thee, ô king, to pardon me that I be not sold: for I am thy friend from father to the sonne. Philip asked him, how and from whence this friendship should come betweene vs? I will tell thee in thy eare, answered the pri­soner. Philip commaunded they should bring him to him. Then the prisoner comming neare to him, told him softly: O king, let thy gowne fall downe before a litle: for as thou sittest, thou shewest that that is vnfit to be seene. Then spake Philip aloud to his men, Deliuer him, and let him go: for he is indeed one of my friends and wel-willers, but I had forgotten it. Such was his behauiour to his enemies, and those that spake euill of him.

Let vs now speake somewhat of his iustice, and of diuerse other affections worthie to be no­ted in him: the which do appeare something in his words, and by the effects that followed. And they do shew more & more that this prince had learned very much with Epaminondas, but aboue all, to be nobly minded, patient, and desirous of honour without shame: qualities that had bene much more excellent in him, if he had not made such marchandize with wicked men, as he did that sold their country, besides that they saw in him an ardent ambition: as also in that he coueted to be Captaine generall of all the GREEKES, and the triumphs preceding his death, and all his life do shew. And to this purpose, he counselled his sonne Alexander to speake gra­ciously vnto the MACEDONIANS, to winne their good wils, whilest he had leisure now to be [Page 29] courteous vnto them, another raigning in the kingdome: as if he would haue sayd, that when he came to be king, he should carie the grauitie of a maister and of a Lord, and that he should do iustice. He gaue him counsell also to seeke to get the loue of those that bare credite and au­thoritie in good townes, as well of the wicked as of the good, that he might afterwards vse the good, and abuse the euill. But now to returne to his iustice againe: Being a Iudge be­tweene two bad men, he ordained that the one should flie out of MACEDON, and the o­ther should runne after him. It is reported of him, that he had gotten together a number of the wickedest and most disorderedst men that were in his time, whom he lodged all together in a towne which he had caused to be built, and called it PONEROPOLIS, the towne of knaues. He had on a time bestowed the office of a Iudge vpon one recommended vnto him by Antipater: but vnderstanding afterwards that he vsed to paint his haires and beard, he tooke it from him, saying, that he that vsed deceipt in his haire, would hardly deale truly in a good cause. Machetas pleaded a cause on a time before him whilest he slept, so that not conceiuing nor vnderstanding well the matter, he wrongfully condemned him. Where­upon Machetas began to cry out, that he did appeale. Philip being angred at that word, asked him presently vnto whom he did appeale from him? Before thy selfe, ô king aunswered he, when thou art awake, and wilt giue good eare to conceiue of my fact. These words touched Philip to the quicke, whereupon he rose vp on his feete, and calling himselfe better to mind, knew that he had wronged Machetas in his sentence, and yet neuerthelesse he would not re­uoke his iudgement: howbeit he himselfe with his owne mony discharged the matter, where­upon the sute was brought before him. Harpalus had a kinsman and friend of his called Crates, attainted and conuicted of great crimes. He besought Philip that paying the fine, sentence should not be pronounced against this Crates, that he might auoide the shame and disgrace. But Philip answered him againe, It is better he should beare his owne blame and discredit, then I for him. A souldier of his, a valiant man of his hands, hauing by false report obtained of him the gift and forfeiture of the goods of a MACEDONIAN: it fortuned that the MACEDONIAN ill willing to put vp such an outrage, bewrayed vnto Philip the vnthankfulnesse of the souldier whose life he had saued. Philip was so offended with the villanie of this souldier, that after he had reuoked his gift, he made him quaile in such sort, that his wickednesse was knowne of e­uerie one, and the MACEDONIAN restored againe to all his goods. A poore old woman be­ing in sute of law, besought him to giue iudgement, and pressed him continually: but he ex­cused himselfe, and told her he was not at leisure to heare it. The old woman cried out aloud: Leaue then to be king. He being astonied and liuely pricked with this word, did heare her, and all others in order. As for his friends, Philo a Gentleman of THEBES had done him many pleasures at the time when he remained in hostage in the citie of THEBES: for he was lodged in his house, and after that he would neuer receiue any gifts or presents of him. Whereupon Phi­lip sayd vnto him: Take not from me the title and honour of inuincible, being ouercome by thee of courtesie and liberality. Word being brought him of the death of Hipparchus, borne in the Ile of EVBOEA, he was very sory: and as one that stood by told him, he was ripe, and ready to dye forage: Yea, sayd he againe, for himselfe, but not for me, to whom he is dead too soone: for he is dead before he receiued any recompence of me, worthy the friendship he bare me. As touching houshold matters, he fell out on a time with his wife Olympias, and his sonne Alexander: in which time of his anger, Demaratus a Gentleman of CORINTH went to visite him. Philip then asked him, how, and after what manner the GREEKES liued one with another. Truly, aunswered Demaratus, thou carest much for the peace and vnion of the GREEKES, since the persons that touch thee so nearely, and those whom thou oughtest to make most account of, are so separated from thee. This word made him consider so well of it, that afterwards he appeased his anger: the cause thereof is shewed in the beginning of Alexanders life, and so reconciled himselfe vnto them. Being told him that his sonne Alexander misliked it, and complained that he begot bastards of other women: he told him, Since thou seest now that thou shalt haue manie competitours with thee for the king­dome after my death: endeuour thy selfe to be an honest man, that thou mayest come to the crowne not so much through me, being mine heire, as through thy selfe, for that thou art wor­thie. He perswaded him much, diligently to studie Philosophie vnder Aristotle, to the end, sayd he, thou do not many things that I haue done, whereof now I hartily repent me. Being on a [Page 30] time fallen backward, lying all alongst the place where they exercise wrestling: and wallowing vp and downe, as if he had seene the figure and print of his body in the dust: O Hercules, sayd he, how litle quantity of ground will serue vs by nature, and yet we couet to inhabite all the world. He would on a time lodge his campe in a faire ground: but being told that there was no forrage for the beasts, he was constrained to dislodge from thence, saying, What is our life, since we must take care euen to place Asses? There was an host of his that on a time bad him to supper with him. So, as he was going, he met diuerse by the way, whom he caried thi­ther with him. Whereupon perceiuing his hoast was much troubled, because he had not meate inough to feede so many mouthes: Philip seeing it, sent secretly to tell euery one in their eares whom he brought with him, that they should keepe a place in their stomacke for the tart. The other beleeuing that he spake in earnest, did forbeare to eate, whereby there was meate inough for them all. That which is alreadie sayd, is sufficient to make vs know the naturall disposition of this great Prince: whose end we are now about to describe vnto you. He vndertaking to passe into ASIA, to make war with the PERSIANS, in the state of Captaine generall of the GREEKES: being desirous his voyage should be fauoured of the gods he asked of the prophetesse of DEL­PHES, whether he should ouercome the king of PERSIA? She answered him:

The oxe is crowned when his end is neare at hand,
To offer him in sacrifice, a man doth ready stand.

This oracle being doubtfull and obscure, Philip tooke it for his aduantage: as if Apollo had told him, that the king of PERSIA should be slaine by him, as an oblation of sacrifice. But cleane con­trary, the oracle threatned him with death in a day of a solemne feast: and that he should be slaine as a bull, whom they crowne with garlands and hats of flowers, when they go about to sacri­fice him. Notwithstanding supposing that the gods did fauour his enterprise, he was very plea­sant, perswading himselfe that ASIA should shortly be tributarie to MACEDON. So he prepared sumptuous and magnificent sacrifices in honour of the gods, and made preparation for the ma­riage of his daughter Cleopatra. Now he being desirous to draw to this feast as many GREEKES as he could possible, to that end made proclamation euery where, that there should be games of prize for learning, and musicke, and sent to summon all his hosts and friends, in what part of GRECE soeuer they were, to come to this mariage: and commaunded the Lords of his Court that they should do the like for their part. For he desired to shew the GREEKS all signes of friend­ship, and to make them the best cheare that could be possible, in recompence of the honour they had done him, to choose him their Captaine generall. There was a wonderfull assembly of peo­ple from all parts at this feast, and the mariage was solemnized betwixt Alexander king of EPI­RVS and Cleopatra, and the games also at AEGES acitie of MACEDON. Where not onely Philips priuate friends, and the most notable men of the GREEKES, but also the principall and chiefest townes of GRECE (and among others ATHENS) gaue him presents of many rich crownes of gold. The decree of the people presenting a crowne of gold, and openly proclaimed by a herald, the effect of it was: that if it hapned any man hauing conspired or attempted ought against the person of king Ppilip, shold flie to ATHENS in hope of priuiledge there: that he should be deliue­red into the hands of the king. In the middest of this great feast at the mariage, there was an excel­lent player of tragedies, called Neoptolemus, that rehearsed verses touching the enterprise of Phi­lip: and as if he had meant to haue reproued the pride of the king of PERSIA, he liuely touched that of his maister Philip, and before he was ware, foretold his death in couert termes, and which might be applied (as also Philip did, blinded and astonied with his prosperity) vnto the estate, and vnto the king of PERSIA. Among other verses the beginning of it was very neare to this effect:

Aboue the skies exalt thy pride,
Surmount all hautinesse that is
Within this earthly vale so wide:
Promise thy selfe a worldly blisse,
And prosperous life for euer sure,
Yet canst thou now no longer dure.
For some already haue begun
Thy ruine, which thou canst not shun.
And death neare to that breast of thine
Shall shortly breake off thy dessigne.

[Page 31] The day after this royall mariage the games began to be played, and the people ranne from all parts to the Theater to see them, euen vntill it was darke night. And in the morning at the breake of day there was a procession, in the which among many other sumptuous and magnificent shewes, they caried the images of twelue principall gods of GRECE, wonderfull cunningly wrought with great art: and then after them was borne the image of Philip for the thirteenth, as if he would haue placed himselfe in ranke with his gods. When the Theater was full set with people, Philip himselfe came in the end, apparelled all in white, hauing commanded all his gard to follow him a farre off: desirous to shew the GREEKES, that because of the great confidence he had of their faithfull friendship, he thought he needed no gard for his body. But at that time he was put to death after a strange sort: and that we may know by what occasion, we will take the matter further off.

There was in his court a MADEDONIAN gentleman, called Pausanias, borne in the coun­trey of ORESTIDE, one of the gentlemen pensioners of Philips gard, that sometime was belo­ued for his beauty. He perceiuing that the king loued another, whose name was as himselfe, Pausanias: began to gall him with iniurious words, calling him Androgyne (as much to say, as womanish man) and reproued him that he abandoned his body to any that would. This se­cond Pausanias, very impatiently bare these words in his heart, yet made no reply to them, but onely imparted vnto his friend called Attalus what he meant to do, and within few dayes after lost his life after a notable manner. Philip fought a battell with the SLAVONS, in the which this young man behaued himselfe very valiantly, right before the person of Philip, and receiued vpon his body all the blowes they strake at him, so that he died in the field. This va­liantnesse of his being blowne abroad through the army, Attalus, that then was in great fa­uour with the king, intreated the first Pausanias to come and suppe with him, and hauing made him drunke, he left his bodie to all the horse-keepers and moyletters to be carnally abused. His drunkennesse hauing left him, he was so grieued at his heart for the outrage Attalus had done him, that he went and complained to the king himselfe. Philip was maruellously offended withall, because of the villany that was offered him. But because of the loue he bare to At­talus, and also for that he stood in need of his seruice, and for that he was vnckle of Cleopatra, the last and well beloued wife of Philip, and appointed his Lieutenant for the warre of ASIA, he made as though he knew it not. But to appease Pausanias, he gaue him great presents, and placed him amongst the number of them of the gard about his person. Pausanias hauing made his complaint to Olympias, vnto Alexander, and to some other, had sundrie aunswers, but no iustice at that time. Wherefore keeping this despite in his heart, he resolued not onely to be reuenged of him which had done him this iniurie, but also of Philip that would do him no iu­stice. But to further him in this diuellish purpose, amongst others a Rhetoritian called Herme­crates did set him on, whom Pausanias frequented to learne of him. Discoursing one day to­gether, he asked him how a man might in a short time make himselfe famous, to be spoken of of euerie bodie? Hermocrates aunswered, in killing one that had done many great things. For, sayd he, it is of necessitie that remembring his facts, the name of him that killed him must also be comprised. Pausanias applying that to the purpose of his anger, hauing no patience to pro­long time, his heart being so full of choler and griefe: determined with himselfe to execute his enterprise the same day the playes should be: the which he did, as followeth. He layed horses readie at the gate of the Theater, and went about it, hauing a sword vnder his downe after the fashion of the GAVLES as they weare it. When the time was come that Philip would himselfe go to the Theater, all the Noblemen and Gentlemen that attended vpon him, went into the Theater before him, who had commaunded all the Gentlemen of his gard to come a good way behind him. Then Pausanias seeing Philip going all alone, ranne to him, and gaue him such a blow with his sword ouerthwart his flankes, that he ranne him through and through, so that he fell downe starke dead. The blow being giuen, he ranne away straight vnto his horse, and some of the gard ranne to Philip, others swiftly followed the murtherer, among which was Leonidas, Perdiccas, and Attalus. Howbeit Pausanias that had gotten the start before, had easily mounted on horse-backe before the others could haue come neare him to ouertake him, had it not bene that in the way as he fled, he stumbled at the roote of a vine, which ouerthrew him. Then Perdiccas and the rest lighted on him as he rose, and thrusting at him, killed him in the place. Behold how Philip, that was the greatest king in his time of EVROPE, and for the great­nesse [Page 32] of his power, placed himselfe among the gods: was brought low euen to rancke with the weakest of the world, and died being but sixe and fortie yeares old, hauing raigned 24 yeares. That therfore whereof he gloried most, was in his skill of warres, and in the actions which he ma­naged brauely: preferring that farre aboue all his exploits of warre. For, sayd he, in victory all that fight in the battell haue their part: but in those things that I haue atchiued vnto, hauing wisely di­rected them, none is partaker of the honour but my selfe only. He had fiue wiues, the first was O­lympias the daughter of Neoptolemus, king of the MOLOSSIANS, of the line of Aeacus, of whom were borne, Alexander surnamed the Great, and Cleopatra. Alexander succeeded his father: and for Cleopatra, she was maried to her vnckle Alexander, king of EPIRVS, and brother of Olympias. The second wife of Philip was Audate, a Lady of SLAVONIA, of whom he had a daughter called Cyne, maried vnto Amyntas his consin germaine: who being slain, she was betrothed vnto Lagarus, king of the AGRIANIANS, who died before consummation of mariage. After the death of Alex­ander the Great, she being of a manly courage, and opposing her selfe against those that would depriue the children of Alexander of the crowne of MADEDON: was slaine by Perdiccas com­mandement. The third was Phila: and the fourth was called Mede, the daughter of the king of THRACIA. These two had neither of them any children. And lastly being too old to marry, he maried Cleopatra, the daughter of Hippostratus and Attalus neece: at the mariage of whom he would haue killed his sonne Alexander, for throwing a cup at Attalus head: after the which followed great trouble, and foule stirre betwixt Philip, Olympias, and Alexander: but Demaratus the CORINTHIAN salued all that againe. Of this last wife, he first had a daughter called Europe, and then a sonne called Caranus, whom Olympias put to a cruell death. For his concubines, the one called Arsinoe, being gotten with child by Philip, she fell into Lagus hands, vnto whom she gaue Ptolomie afterwards king of EGYPT. The second was a girle of LARYSSENE, called Phi­linna, of whom he begat Aridaeus: who first of all was poysoned, and in the end cruelly mur­thered by Olympias: being the last king of the race of Temenides in MACEDON. For the issue of Alexander, they were reiected by Cassander. The third was Nicasipolis, a woman of THESSALY, and Iasons sister, tyrant of PHERES: of whom he had a daughter called Thessalonica, whom Cas­sander maried, and was afterwards slaine by Antipater. The end of Alexander, of his mother, and of his children and successours, was lamentable in diuerse sorts. And thus we see in Philip and in his race, how many wayes the high Iudge of the world hath in his power and hand to ouerthrow the greatest, when they are drunke with their prosperity.

The end of Philip of Macedons life.

THE LIFE OF Dionysius.


Base Tyranny is wrongs vnhappy mother,
Witnesse this wretch, in shew both graue and wise:
Yet he himselfe beguiling, and each other,
Shew'd that his heart was fierce, and full of vice.

IN the second year of the second Olympiad, Archias a CORINTHIAN, not daring to returne againe into his citie for a foule fact committed by him in the person of an honest youth called Acteō: he tooke the sea, and sailed into SICILIA with certaine CORINTHIANS and DORIANS, and there built the city of SYRACVSA, the which by processe of time became so great, that it had within it as it were foure townes, of the which the one was called the Ile, the second Acradine, the third Tychè, and the last Neapolis: the one neare vnto the other, with a fort called Hexapyle, which commanded all the other, and it was in the top of a high place which they called Epipoles, as much to say, as ouer all the other townes. It was go­uerned at the first, by the commaund and power of Archias onely: but he being killed by Te­lephus, whom he had abused in his infancie, the SYRACVSANS gathered together of diuerse parts, brought their estate to Aristocratia, which flourished for a time. But being come to passe that Tyndaris one of the Lords of the towne caried himselfe after such a manner, that he made many iealous that his driftand pollicy was to make himselfe chiefe Lord: the other Lords made a law called Petalisme, to meete with this practise: howbeit it was that that increased his enter­prise. Petalisme ba­nishment for fiue yeares.The effect of this law was, that the name of him that aspired to make himselfe absolute Lord of the city, should be written in an oliue leafe, the which being put into the hand of this Lord, without further ceremony it was to tell him that he was banished the city for fiue yeares, much after the fashion that is reported of the Ostracisme of the ATHENIANS. By meanes of this Petalisme, the Lords banished one another, so that in the end, the people became Lord. But hereupon a dangerous sedition happening amongst them, Gelo, Lord of the city of GELE, did so wisely looke into the troubles of the SYRACVSANS: that they chose him king in the second yeare of the three score and twelfth Olympiade. After him succeeded Hieron, who at the begin­ning caried himselfe very euill: but afterwards falling into acquaintance with the Poets Simoni­des, [Page 34] Pindarus, and Bacchylides, which taught him many good things, he raigned very prudently. So, he hauing raigned about twelue yeares, left his brother Thrasybulus his successor: who for his cruelties and insolencies was driuen out of SYRACVSA by force, and went to LOCRES, and there ended the rest of his daies. Then the SYRACVSANS established the gouernment of Lords, which continued sixtie yeares: in which time they make warre with the AGRIGENTINES, and compelled them to sue for peace: they destroy the TRINACRIANS and their town: they set vpon the LEONTINES, which are aided by the ATHENIANS vnder the conduct of Laches and Carcea­das, who behaued themselues so euill, that at their returne home they were banished. Shortly af­ter the new troubles betwixt the SYRACVSANS and the LEONTINES, the ATHENIANS sent Phaax into SICILIA to kindle the fire a litle, and to mutine the one against the other. Howbeit it had no good successe, but rather raised a cruell warre betwixt the SYRACVSANS and ATHENIANS, in the which at the last Nicias and Demosthenes were ouercome by sea and land both, and after­wards put to death, and the souldiers of ATHENS that were prisoners most cruelly vsed. The SY­RACVSANS lift vp with this victorie, did put downe their Lordly gouernment, and brought it to a popular state againe. Then thinking to be reuenged of the CARTHAGINIANS that were come to the aide of the SEGESTANS against the SELINONTINES, which were their friends: they sent Diocles with foure thousand good men against Hanniball the sonne of Gisco, who lay in campe at that time before HIMERA, the which he wan after he had ouercome Diocles, and slaine the most part of his troupes. The SYRACVSANS casting their anger for this losse vpon Hermocrates one of their chiefest citizens, they banished him with the Petalisme, and draue him out of the towne. He helping himselfe with the meanes he had in his hand, made vp and armed fiue gallies, and afterwards with certaine banished men of HIMERA, attempted to put in againe into SVRACVSA. But seeing he could not preuaile, he landed and possessed the ruined towne of SELINONTE, he repaired it, called home againe all the inhabitants dispersed through SICILIA, fortified himself there, and in few daies got together a troupe of sixe thousand men. With these forces he set vpon them of PALERME, and of MOTYE, in league with the CARTHAGINIANS, o­uercame them in a pitched field, maintained his friends, and followed his victorie. The SYRA­CVSANS hearing good report of Hermocrates valour, began to repent them that they had so disho­nourably vsed him. He on the other side being aduertised by his friends of the good affection of the citizens vnto him: to win their good fauour againe, he was very carefull to gather together the bones of those that were killed by HYMERA vnder the leading of Diocles, and sent them to SYRACVSA, in carts very richly set out. For all this they sent not for him home, the SYRACV­SANS being affraid of him, for that he was a man of such courage and wisedome, lest he should make himselfe Lord of the towne. He seeing himselfe thus refused, went backe to SELINONTE, and shortly after being sollicited by his friends, he found meanes by night to come into SYRA­CVSA, and possessed the Acradine. The SYRACVSANS tooke armes immediatly, fought with Hermocrates, killed him in the great market place with part of his traine, and banished those that fauoured him. His friends saued some of them from the violence of the citizens, and amongst o­thers Dionysius the sonne of Hermocrates, a plaine citizen of SYSACVSA, whose life we present­ly write of.

Now it is reported, that his mother being with child of him, dreamed that she was brought to bed of a Satyre, and that the Soothsayers being asked their opinion, answered, she should haue a sonne that should be famous aboue all the GREEKS. Furthermore, a young gentlewoman of SYRACVSA called Himera, some time before Dionysius made himself Lord of the city, dreamed that she was taken vp to heauen, by a guide that hauing caried her too and fro, in the end brought her before Iupiter, at whose feet she saw a yong man with a yelow haire, bound with iron chains: and asking her guide what he was: It is, said the other, the cruell scourge of SICILIA and ITALIE, the which shall spoile a great countrie, assoone as his bolts be off his feet. Within few yeares af­ter, Dionysius hauing alreadie seized vpon the estate, as he came to make his entrie into SYRACV­SA, and that the citizens went out to meet him to do him honor: Himera being there by chaunce, knew him, and straight cried out: This was the young man that she sawin heauen. This being re­ported to Dionysius, he caused them to kill this young damosell. Another time his horse falling in the mire that he could not get out, Dionysius left him fast there: but the poore beast with strugling got himselfe out, and ranne after his maister: bringing in his maine a swarme of bees. This did hearten him, especially through the counsell of his soothsayers, to follow his purpose to sub­due [Page 35] his countrey: the which he obtained by this meanes. The CARTHAGINIANS desirous to make themselues great in SICILIA, sent thither their Captaine Himilco with a great army: a­gainst whom the SYRACVSANS made head, wanne a battell, and killed sixe thousand of his men. Notwithstanding this, he went and besieged AGRIGENTE, and hauing vpon surprise ouer­throwne the army of the SYRACVSANS by sea, he enforced them that were besieged to saue themselues as they could, entred into this great rich city abandoned, and tooke the spoile of it. The AGRIGENTINES that escaped gaue the allarme through al SICILIA, & retiring themselues to SYRACVSA their friend towne, began in full assembly of the city to accuse the Captaines of SY­RACVSA, saying, that by their treason the countrey was sold vnto their enemies. Dionysius, the son of Hermocrates, a yong man of a stout hart, and that did embrace great matters in his mind, being in this assembly, tooke hold of the occasion offered: and seeing the people out of countenance, he stepped forth, charged the Captaines very much, & gaue counsell that they should do iustice: whereupon the magistrates did set a fine on their heads. And hauing found Philistus inclined that way, and gotten money of him (who was very rich) to pay this fine, with promise to fur­nish others if they were condemned: he followed his purpose in other assemblies, hauing speech at will, & a comely maner withall, so that almost for litle or nothing, he wan the harts of the peo­ple, who moued by his orations, did casseere the old Captaines, and chose new, & among others Dionysius, who was a good souldier, & had made proofe of his valiantnesse in diuerse encounters against the CARTHAGINIANS. But after they had chosen him Captaine, he neuer came to coun­sell with his other companions, nor would not be acquainted with them: but vnder hand, made a foule report run abroad that they practised with the enemies. This made men of good iudge­ment to presume that he himselfe went about to make some alteration: and they could not for­beare to blame him for it. Neuerthelesse the people not looking so inwardly into it, they estee­med him very much. Herupon many assemblies were made to thinke of their affaires in wars, in one of the which Dionysius perceiuing the SYRACVSANS astonied, gaue aduice that they should call home their banished men, saying: that it was a great mockery to run into GRECE and ITALY for ayd, since they had hard at their doores such as had bene citizens, who had rather die like va­gabonds, then serue the enemy. And that the fauour they should shew them, would spurre them forward to do their countrey good seruice. The wisest men durst not gainsay this aduice, percei­uing that the people did incline vnto it: that if they hindred that, it was to get as many enemies as there were banished: and that they being called home, should thanke none but Dionysius, at whose commandement they would euer be afterwards. No man speaking a word, the decree of repeale was authorised by the people, and the banished men returned to SYRACVSA. In the middest of all this businesse, letters were brought from GELE, which demanded aide. Dionysius offered himselfe straight, & was sent thither with 2000 footmen, and 400 horse. Being arriued at GELE, & finding the city in trouble, he tooke the peoples part, accused the principals, made them be put to death, & their goods forfeited. With which forfeiture he payed the ordinary garrison of GELE, and promised double pay to them that folowed him from SYRACVSA: vnto the which he returned immediatly, hauing the fauour of his souldiers. So all the people ran about him in multitudes, asking him where the enemies were, and what they did? You do not consider, sayd he, thas your enemies indeed are in your towne. They that gouerne in your estate are more to be feared, then the CARTHAGINIANS: for whilest you are busie about your playes and feasts, they deuide the common treasure among themselues, and pay not the souldiers. In the meane space Himilco prepareth himselfe to come & besiege you, whereof your gouernors make no reckning, neither do they giue any order for it. I knew this well inough before, but now I am most assured of it: for Himilco sent a trumpet vnto me, vnder colour of certaine prisoners, and secretly bad him tell me, that he wold giue me more then any other of my companions, so that I would not search him too narowly: and if so be that I would not helpe him, at the least yet that I would not hinder him. And therefore thinke with your selues to find another captaine in my place, for it is no rea­son whilest others sell the town to the enemies, that I should go hazard my selfe with my fellow citizens, & in danger in the end that they should thinke of me I should be partaker with the wic­ked practises of others. Those that heard what he spake, being maruellously offended, caried these words immediatly all about the towne. But for the present time euery one went home to their house, sad, and troubled in their minds. The morow after, as those that should speake before the people did draw by lot of letters, that they might know in order how they should speake, and [Page 36] that the letter F. came to his lot: some stander by told him, this F. signifieth A Iester or s [...]d Foole.Foole, Dio­nysius, because thou wilt tell vs great follies. No, replied he quickly: that I shall be a Monarke. Presently the people being assembled, and his turne being come to speake, he accused his other companions with great vehemency, was heard very attentiuely, and with great praise of all the people, whom the day before he had angred very much: so that in the end there was some of the assembly cried out, that necessity required that Dionysius should be chosen alone Captaine gene­rall, with all authority and soueraigne power, and that it was no tarying till the enemies be vnder our wals, and that he was a fit man to take care of this businesse: and as for the traytors, that they should thinke of them at better leisure. Hereupon the people chose Dionysius their Captaine ge­nerall, giuing him full authority, and power of the affaires of the commonwealth, and praying him to consider of all that should be expedient to resist the enemies.

He seeing his enterprise so well grounded, propoundeth a decree to the people, that the souldiers pay should be doubled ouer that it was before: for that would make them more cou­ragious and willing to do good seruice. And as for money, that the SYRACVSANS should take no thought for that, for he knew a way how to come by it well inough. This so sudden ad­uancement, and his bold promises ioyned with the disposition of this young man, made many suspect him that had any vnderstanding and iudgement: in so much that some began to go and come to houses to conferre together to find meanes betimes to withstand the tyranny, which had now (as they say) put the irons in the fire. But Dionysius hauing an eye abroad, and a num­ber of spies that slily fell into companies, being afraid they would do him some hurt, determi­ned to prouide for it by a farre fetch to sight, but very fit to serue his turne: which was, to ob­taine licence to chuse a gard for his person, vnto the which he came, as foloweth. He proclaimed in the towne that those that were able to beare armes should follow him, and to make their ren­de-vous with their armes at a day set downe at the towne of the LEONTINES, and bring victuals with them for one moneth. There was then in that towne a garrison of the SYRACVSANS: the banished, & all sorts of men withdrew themselues, whom Dionysius hoped would haue taken his part, for that they were men which desired nothing more then change and alteration, and perswaded himselfe that few of the SYRACVSANS would follow him. Hereupon he went himselfe into the field, and being incamped neare the towne, one caused his friends to giue the alarme, and to cry helpe, as if the enemies had enuironed him to kill him in his tent: and making as though he had bene maruellously afraid, he fled, and saued himselfe by swiftnesse within the castell of the towne, where he passed all the rest of the night, made fires all about, and sent for his soldiers in whom he put most trust, as a man that is afraid, seeing his enemies lye in waite for him. The next morning some of the people of SYRACVSA being gathered together in this towne of the LEONTINES, in open assembly he made a long discourse of that that had passed, to make them beleeue that his euill willers would haue surprised him, and could speake so well, that the people appointed him sixe hundred souldiers to gard his person, such as he himselfe would chuse out. Immediately he chose young men to the num­ber of a thousand which had nothing to loose, hardy and desperate to put any thing in exe­cution that they were commaunded. These he furnished with all things necessarie, and made them great promises: so that he wanne their hearts, and got vnto him the souldiers straungers that were in the SYRACVSANS pay. Howbeit he chaunged the Captaines from their companies, and put in their places some other made to his hand. And afterwards he sent Dexipus, a wise and valiant Captaine LACEDAEMONIAN, backe againe into his countrey, of whom he stood in feare, and perceiued he would be a barre in his way to hinder that he went about. Ouer and aboue that he sent for the souldiers of the garrison of GELE, and gathered together all them that were banished, all theeues and rogues that would come and serue him, iudging them to be fit men to serue the turne he purposed. When he had gotten a great troupe of such rakehels, he straight returned to SYRACVSA, and lodged his forces in the Arsenall, and then shewed himselfe openly Lord, and tyraunt, without any longer dissimulation. This amazed and grie­ued the SYRACVSANS most extreamly: neuerthelesse they were enforced to beare this yoake which they could not helpe, because the towne was full of souldiers straungers, and for that also they were afraid of the CARTHAGINIANS that were neare vnto them with a mightie armie. All this happened, Dionysius being but fiue and twentie yeares old, in the third yeare of the ninetie three Olympiade, and in the three hundreth seauen and fortieth [Page 37] yeare of the foundation of ROME. Thus you see how this young man of a base condition, meanely borne, made himselfe Lord of one of the greatest commonwealths in the world at that time, and continued this vsurpation all the dayes of his life, which was the space of 38 yeares.

This being done, he made them all rich and wealthy that aided him in this enterprise, draue out all those he could find that withstood these his attempts, put to death before all the people Daphneus, and Demarchus, two of the chiefest men, and of greatest power that were at that time in SYRACVSA, and that had most crossed him of all others in the deuice of his purpose. After­ward, because he would yet strengthen himselfe the better, he maried Hermocrates daughter, a SYRACVSAN Captaine, that ouercame Nicias and the ATHENIANS, and maried his sister vnto Polyxenus, brother in law vnto Hermocrates. Whilest things passed thus, the CARTHAGINIANS, being masters of AGRIGENTE, after they had spoiled, burnt & razed it, they marched away with their Generall Himilco, and went and besieged the city of GELE, friend to the SYRACVSANS, in maner of a like distance from SYRACVSA and AGRIGENTE, very farre in land, where the o­ther two were ports of the sea. The besieged did wonderfull valiantly defend themselues, their towne being weake and kept by the citizens onely, accompanied with their wiues and chil­dren that would not forsake them. Dionysius hearing of their necessity, brought a strong aide vnto them of thirtie thousand footmen, and a thousand horse, besides a great number of galleys, that lay off and on vpon the Ile, to cut off victuals from Himilco, and to land also. But when they came to ioyne, Dionysius hauing deuided his bands into three troupes to trouble his enemy the more, he could not do so well but the CARTHAGINIANS had the better, and slue many of his men. He very hardly escaping with his troupe entred into the towne, and there called his friends together to counsell what they were best to do. They seeing the place dangerous, and of great disaduantage to hazard a battell in, gaue him counsell to retire againe. He sent a trum­pet ouer-night to Himilco, to pray him to surcease armes till the morning, that he might ga­ther the dead bodies together to bury them. In the meane space, in the first watch of the night, he made all the people come out of the towne, and dislodged himselfe about midnight, leauing there 2000 men lightly armed, commanding them to make great fires and noise, that the enemies might thinke that he and his men were still in the towne: & that they at the breake of day should come to their troupes. Dionysius hauing escaped thus, came vnto CAMARINE, a towne halfe-way betwixt GELE and SYRACVSA, and commanded all the inhabitants to dislodge and come to SY­RACVSA, that they might auoide the cruelties of the CARTHAGINIANS who sacked GELE. So, all the inhabitants of these two townes compelled to leaue their houses and countrey, all the fields & high-wayes were full of women, children, and of poore people of the country. This mo­ued the souldiers against Dionysius, who accused him that he had done this of purpose, that he might more easily sease vpon the other cities of SICILIA, which should be destroyed by the bar­barous CARTHAGINIANS: and thus they complained one to another of the litle aide he had gi­uen to the townesmen of GELE: how the souldiers of his gard had dealt cowardly in their ser­uice, and ranne away without the losse of a man of theirs, and no body pursued after them. V­pon this discontentment, the ITALIAN souldiers that came out of ITALIE, tooke their iourney to returne home. And the men of armes of SICILIA at the first began to lie in waite to kill Dionysius on the way: but seeing that the souldiers of his gard were neuer from him, nor he from thē: they departed all together, and went with speed towards SYRACVSA, and found them that were left there in garrison, lodged in the place of the Arsenal, who knew nothing what had hapned before GELE. By this meanes being entred without resistance, they sacked the pallace of Dionysius, where they met with great riches, and did so villanously abuse his wife, that for griefe she killed her selfe. But about the time that they departed from the camp, Dionysius imagining by the way what would follow after this, he chose out certaine footmen and horsemen which he thought he might best trust about his person, and went with all speed possible with them to SYRACVSA, sup­posing he should not ouercome these mē of armes, vnles he did as they. And euen as he thought so it came to passe: for they perswading themselues that Dionysius could not well tell what course to take, whether to follow them, or to keepe with is army: thought they had won all, and walked vp and downe the towne telling stories of the cowardlinesse of Dionysius: who hauing marched well neare nineteene leagues at one iourney, came about midnight to the gates of ACRADINE, with about a hundred horse, & six hundred footmen: and finding it shut, caused store of fagots, reeds, and sedge of the fens to be laid against the gate, wherewith the SYRACVSANS vse to burne [Page 38] their lime, which they found there ready at hand. Whilest this gate was a burning, his men that could not follow him so fast arriued one after another. And so the gate being burnt he entred, & found in the market place some of these men of armes, who in hast had set themselues in order of battel: but on the sudden they were engaged, and killed with pikes and darts. Dionysius on the other side, he ran through the towne putting them all to the sword he met here and there in the streets, that were running to aid their men. And not staying so, he entred into their houses whom he knew to be his enemies, killed some of them, and draue others out of the city. The rest of the men of armes fled, some here, some there, and the next morning all his forces arriued at SYRACVSA. But they of GELE, and of CAVARINE, being angry with him, went into the ci­ty of the LEONTINES.

In the middest of all these stirs and doings, the plague being hot in the campe of the CARTHA­GINIANS, enforced Himilco to send a herauld vnto SYRACVSA to demaund peace. Dionysius ac­cepted it very willingly. So peace was concluded, that the CARTHAGINIANS should haue the SI­CANIANS, besides al the towns which they had before the war in their power: That they of SELI­NONTE, of AGRIGENTE, of HIMERA, of GELE, and of CAMARINE, might returne home to their houses, dwell in their country, & in their townes without wals, paying a certaine yearely tribute vnto the CARTHAGINIANS: That the LEONTINES, those of MESSINA & all other the SICILIANS should be free, and enioy their liberties and priuiledges: That the SYRACVSANS should remaine vnder the gouernement of Dionysius: That the prisoners and galleys taken in this war should be restored againe on either side. By meanes of this peace Dionysius got the CARTHAGINIANS out of SICILIA, established his principality surer then euer, and maried againe two other wiues toge­ther: the one a stranger of the city of LOCRES, called Doris: the other of SYRACVSA called Aristo­mache, the daughter of Hipparinus the chiefe man of all the citizens. He had asked a wife of them of RHEGE, but they refused him, and scorned his tyranny: of whom he was cruelly reuenged, as we will tell you hereafter. It is reported that he maried them both in one day, and it was neuer knowne which of them he knew first: for the rest, that euer afterwards he shewed them both a like fauour. They did ordinarily eate together with him, and both of them by turnes lay with him. They of SYRACVSA were desirous that his wife of SYRACVSA should be preferred before the stranger. But Doris had this good hap, to bring foorth Dionysius eldest sonne: which serued his turne well to defend himselfe that she was a forreiner. Aristomache to the contrary was ma­ried a long time to Dionysius and had no children: though he was very desirous to haue one by her. Insomuch that he put Doris mother to death, charging her that she had by charmes and sorceries kept backe Aristomache from conceiuing. But afterwards she had children, to wit, two sonnes, Nisaeus, and Hipparinus: and two daughters, Arete, and Sophrosyne. Dionysius the yonger, maried his sister Sophrosyne: and Arete was maried vnto Thearides, brother to Dionysius the elder: and her second husband was Dion, the brother of Aristomache. Furthermore, considering that the SYRACVSANS being deliuered from the warre of the CARTHAGINIANS should haue leisure to thinke to recouer their libertie againe: and perceiuing that the quarter they called the Ile was stronger of situation, and easier to keepe then any other of the three: he enclosed it in with a strong wall from the rest, & built there many great and high towers, pallaces to keepe his courts, hals for his Counsell and publicke assemblies, goodly galleries, and spacious gate-houses to con­taine a great number of people. And to retire himselfe vnto vpon any sudden emotion of the common people, he built a maruellous strong castell, within the compasse whereof he inclosed the Arsenall, where mightly in docke threescore galleys: and there was a gate also to shut too, in­to the which could enter but one galley at a time. Then chusing out the goodliest and best place of all the territorie of SYRACVSA, he deuided it among his friends, and gaue it vnto them that had charge of men of warre vnder him. That which remained, he distributed by equall por­tions vnto other inhabitants of the towne, aswell naturall borne citizens, as strangers, come from other parts to dwell at SYRACVSA, concluding vnder the name of citizens the bond­men enfranchised, who he called the new burgesses: and distributed to the people also the houses of SYRACVSA, those reserued of the quarter of the Ile, which he gaue vnto his friends and souldiers.

So, hauing as he thought well assured his estate, he began to make warre vpon the free cities of SICILIA, vnder colour that they had fauoured the CARTHAGINIANS. HERBESSE, a city in firme land neare vnto the mountaines, in the hart of the countrey, was the first he attempted, and [Page 39] went and besieged it. But the SYRACVSANS that were a great number in this army, and well ap­pointed, began to haue secret meetings, and to blame themselues, for that they ioyned not with the men of armes to driue out this tyraunt. He whom Dionysius had giuen them for their captaine called Doricus, was ware of their conferences, and threatned one that spake lou­der then the others: who replyed so fiercely againe, that the captaine came to him in choler to strike him. But his companions tooke the quarrell, and did so contest against him, that they killed the captaine in the place. Then stirring vp their fellow citizens to recouer their libertie, they sent for the men of armes of the SYRACVSANS, who were retired into the fort of AETNE. Dionysius a­mazed with this chaunge, presently raised his siege, and with all expedition tooke his way to­wards SYRACVSA, that he might be there first. After he was gone, those that had mutined chose them for their leaders that had killed captaine Doricus, went and encamped themselues with the men of armes before SYRACVSA, in a place called Epipoles to make warre with the tyrant, ha­uing stopped all the passages that he could not come out into the field. And forthwith they sent to them of RHEGE and MESSINA, to pray them to send them aide: which they obtained, to wit, ninetie gallies well appointed. Furthermore, they promised by open proclamation, a great sum of money to him that would kill the tyrant: and to the straungers that were in pay, to make them Burgesses as themselues, if they would take their part against him. They prouided engines of batterie to beate downe the walles of the Isle, and euery day gaue new assaults vnto them, and made very much of all the souldiers straungers that tooke their part. Whereupon Dionysius see­ing himselfe shut out of the field, and that his men forsooke him euery houre, assembled his friends to consult with them what was to be done. Some counselled him to tarie, alleaging that tyranny and absolute power vsurped by him, was a faire tombe. Polixemus his brother was of the mind, that he should saue himselfe on the swiftest horse he had in his stable, in the lands which the CARTHAGINIANS held in SICILIA. But Philistus, who afterwards wrote the storie of his gests, said then, that Dionysius should neither flie away, nor yeeld vp his tyrannie, the which he should neuer forgo but by force, and his feet forward. Dionysius tooke hold of this opinion, and resolued with himselfe to abide all extremitie, rather then to yeeld vp his place. Being in this case he fortuned to come to see a butcher slaughter an oxe, and hauing obserued that at one stroke he fell downe starke dead: Alas, said he, were it not great shame that for feare of death which la­steth so litle while, and is so soone gone, I should leaue so goodly and great a Seigniorie? But knowing what people he had to deale withall, he sent ambassadours vnto them that kept him in so straightly, to beseech them to permit him with safetie to come out of the towne with his fol­lowers. Euen at that instant he sent men to the souldiers CAMPANIANS, to promise them all that they would haue, so they would come and besiege SYRACVSA. The townesmen hauing suffe­red him to go his way with fiue ships, slept quietly in hope that he would be gone: and cassiered a part of their souldiers, supposing they should need no longer to besiege it. So that their souldi­ers dispersed themselues here and there in the fields, euen as if the tyrannie had bene put downe. But the CAMPANIANS allured by Dionysius promises, came into the field, and being come to A­GYRIDE, they left their cariage to be so much the sooner before SYRACVSA. They were twelue hundred horsemen, and made such speed, that they surprized the SYRACVSANS, and in despite of them rode through the towne vnto the castell of Dionysius, in whose aide also at the very same time there arriued by sea, three hundred other souldiers: so that now he became more couragi­ous then euer he was. The SYRACVSANS on the other side began to disarme themselues, some be­ing of one mind some of another: which Dionysins vnderstanding, he made a fallie out vpon them that kept the quarter called NEAPOLIS, or new towne, and put them all to flight: how­beit many were not killed, for Dionysius riding euery where about, willed his men to kill none that fled. Thus were the SYRACVSANS driuen and dispersed in the field, where there gathered a­bout the horsmen aboue seuen thousand. Now for Dionysius, he hauing caused them to be buri­ed that were slain in this conflict, he sent ambassadors vnto AETNE to them that were retired thi­ther, to intreate them to be at peace, and to returne home to their houses, promising them by oath, that he would neuer be reuenged for any thing they had practised or done against him. Those that had wiues and children at SYSACVSA, were compelled to trust to his words and pro­mises. But when the ambassadours alleaged to the others, the humanitie of their maister in bury­ing the dead: they answered, that the tyrant deserued to haue as much done to him, and that they prayed the gods they might quickly requite him. For all this they would not stirre out of AETNE, [Page 40] expecting oportunitie to set vpon their enemy: who being escaped from so great a daunger, he courteously vsed them that returned, to entice the others to follow. And for the rest, after he had well payed the CAMPANIANS, he put them out of the citie, suspecting their inconstancie and treason. They departing from SYRACVSA, went vnto the citie of ATELLE, where they preuai­led so much, that they were receiued into the towne to dwell there. But their wickednesse burst out into such extremitie, that one night they set vpon the naturall inhabitants, killed euery man that was able to beare armes, and afterwards by force thrust out their wiues: and by this meanes made themselues maisters of the towne, and of all the territorie thereabout. At the same time A­ristus, one of the chiefest men of LACEDAEMON was sent vnto SYRACVSA, vpon a rumour giuen out amongst the people, that it was to driue out the tyrant. But the effect shewed that it was but to negociate with him, and to bind him vnto them, to serue their turnes in their affaires. Aristus then hauing immediatly after his arriuall had secret conference with Dionysius, he began to mu­tine the SYRACVSANS, promising them all the aide he could, for the recouerie of their liberty. But afterwards he himselfe killed Nicoteles the CORINTHIAN, who had promised the SYRA­CVSANS to be the head of this enterprise: and accusing them that gaue credit to his words, he made the tyrant more bold and stronger then euer. So did he also begin to shew himselfe more then before: for he found the meanes to send the SYRACVSANS into the fields to get in their corne and haruest, and in the meane space whilest they were out of the citie, he went into the houses himselfe, and fetched out all their armes that had any. Then he enuironed his castle round about with another second wall, built diuers shippes, and assembled a great number of souldiers straungers, whom he afterwards entertained. Now he thinking himselfe too litle a Lord, vn­dertooke to conquer some fronter townes neare vnto the territorie of the SYRACVSANS, and be­fore he would assaile them, he brought his armie before AETNE, which he wan presently. From thence he came to besiege the citie of the LEONTINES, the which hauing resisted him, after he had foraged and preyed the countrie about, he turned vnto the townes of the naturall SICILI­ANS, making as though he meant to set vpon thē, to the end that those of CATANE, & of NAXE, seeing the warre in another place, should care the lesse for themselues. So being neare vnto the towne of ENNE, he put into Limnestus head, a citizen of the same, that he should take vpon him to make himself Lord of the town, promising to helpe him in it: which the other executed. How­beit he kept the town for himselfe, & shut the gates against Dionysius: who being angry with this repulse, counselled the ENNIANS to driue out this new tyrant. The people being set on by him, ran one day in armes into the market place, and cried, Libertie. Dionysius vnderstanding that, fol­lowed with some of his faithfull friends, tooke hold of Limnestus, & deliuered him to the ENNI­ANS, and went out of the towne again immediatly, to make others to trust him. From thence he went vnto CATANE, and wan that town through the treason of Arcesilaus captain of the same: tooke all the armes from the inhabitants, and left a good garrison there. Procles captain of NOXE, shortly after played euen the like part that Arcesilaus had done: and was well recompenced for it, and all his kinsmen and friends were giuen him: but the other inhabitants were sold by the drum, their towne destoyed, and their lands giuen vnto the SICILIANS, neighbors to SYRACVSA. For those of CATANE, they were also sold vnto them that would giue most within SYRACVSA, and their town giuen to the soldiers CAMPANIANS. This made the LEONTINES hold vp their hands, leaue the towne, and go dwell at SYRACVSA. Now Dionysius fortified SYRACVSA a new, and hauing determined to close in the quarter called Epipoles with walles, he assembled threescore thousand labourers distributed by troupes, and seruing skilfull maisters, accompanied with Ma­sons that had their day worke. These men encouraged by his presence, by his promises and gifts, finished the wall in three weekes of a reasonable height and thicknesse, being litle lesse then two leagues about. The banished men of SYRACVSA being fled to RHEGE, did what they could possible to moue the inhabitants to make warre against Dionysius. They laboured it so well, that in the end the RHEGIANS went into the field, and induced the Gouernours of MESSI­NA to keep them companie. But a MESSENIAN called Leomedon, hauing discouraged the troups, euery one went home againe, and did nothing: and as for Dionysius, he looked no further into them, but the RHEGIANS and MESSENIANS hauing sent vnto him to treate of peace, he iudging that the friendship of these two cities would be very expedient for him, made peace with them.

So hauing assured himselfe on that side, and considering that many GREEKES of SICILIA fled into the townes which were subiect to the CARTHAGINIANS, and that there were townes, [Page 41] vntouched, vnto the which they caried their goods: he thought that so long as he was at peace with them, diuers of his subiects would be willing to do the like. Howbeit that in making warre with them, those whom the CARTHAGINIANS should ouercome by armes, would come to his side. Furthermore, word was brought him that CARTHAGE was wonderfully afflicted with the plague, which did the more strengthen him in his resolution. But knowing that he had to deale with mighty enemies of all the people of EVROPE, and that this war would not so soone be ended: he gathered together into SYRACVSA out of all the coasts of ITALIE, of GRECE, and of SICILIA, the best workmen and artificers, vnto whom he gaue great wages, and great gifts vnto those that were most skilfull and diligent. Who labouring in enuie the one of the other, they built vp in a short time two hundred gallies, repaired a hundred and ten that had serued a long time, forged an hundred and fortie thousand bucklers or targets, so many swords and daggers, as many helmets and sallets: fourteene thousand corcelets, curates, and brigandines of all sorts: engines of batterie of all fashions, and of darts, an incredible and vnestimable number. Tou­ching the galleys, to arme them with pylots, mariners, and galley-slaues, the citie of SYRA­CVSA furnished for the one halfe: and Dionysius for the other halfe payed the souldiers straun­gers. The furniture of these shippes, armes, and harnesse being readie, he began to gather his armie together, and would not for sauing of charges put himselfe in readinesse before. He gathe­red together within SVRACVSA all those that were able to beare armes: he drew out of the townes subiect vnto him, all that were meet for war: he leauied men out of LACONIA with con­sent of the Lords of SPARTA, and got a great number out of all parts because he payed well, and gaue them very gracious entertainment that came to serue him. But aboue all the rest he shewed himself a maruellous friend to the RHEGIANS, and MESSENIANS, that had a reasonable strong ar­my in readines to be employed: being afraid that so soone as they shold see the CARTHAGINI­ANS passed into SICILIA, they would ioyne with them: for to which side soeuer these two ci­ties would incline, they would helpe to make a great weight in the ballance, and to bring the victory to fall on their side. It was at that time that he gaue a great countrie of extent vnto the MESSENIANS, and prayed the RHEGIANS to giue him a wife of their towne. But they would not heare of that in any wise. Wherupon he went to the LOCRIANS, who gaue him her of whom we haue spoken before: and for many daies together did nothing else but make banquets and feasts, aswell to his souldiers, as vnto the more part of the citizens of SYRACVSA. For he had now changed his first sourenesse and cruelty of a tyrant into gentlenes: he did vse his subiects in a more ciuill sort, put no more of them to death, nor banished any mo of them, as he did at the first beginning. Shortly after this mariage was past, he assembled the people of SYRACVSA, & did perswade them to make war with the CARTHAGINIANS, telling them that they were enemies of all the vniuersall GREEKS, and of those especially that dwelt in SICILIA, whom they practised by all means they could to make subiect vnto them. And that albeit they did not now make any alteration, it was because of the plague that tormented them much: but so soone as they were free from that, they should see the effects of their malice against all the inhabitants of SICILIA, which they cast long before in their minds. And that it were better for him, since it must needs be, soone or late, to begin to make war vpon them they being now weak, then to tarie till they were recouered again: and that it was a great shame to thē to suffer the towns of GRECE so neare vnto them, to be made subiect to barbarous people: that being desirous to recouer their liberty, so much more willing they wold be to yeeld themselues vnto the SYRACVSANS, so soone as they should see that it were open war. These and other reasons were receiued and allowed by the SYRACVSANS, who were no lesse desirous then himselfe to make war with them. For they ha­ted the CARTHAGINIANS, because that for feare of them they were constrained to put them­selues vnder the yoke. And next, for that they hoped Dionysius would vse them more gently, so long as on the one side he shold be afraid of the force of the enemies, and on the other, of the re­bellion of those whō by force he kept vnder. And especially aboue the rest, for that they hoped being armed, if occasion were offred, they might one day stand for the recouery of their liberty.

Warre being concluded vpon in this assembly, Dionysius suffered the SYRACVSANS to spoile the PHENICIANS that trafiqued in their hauen: which they executed out of hand. The other SI­CILIANS did asmuch: so that the CARTHGAINIANS were driuen to run away, and those that they could catch were cruelly handled in euery place, for the hatred they bare them, because of the proud parts they committed in the wars past. Dionysius hauing all his army in readinesse, sent a [Page 42] Herald vnto CARTHAGE with letters, containing that the SYRACVSANS had decreed in their Councell to make warre vpon the CARTHAGINIANS, vnlesse they departed from the townes of GRECE which they held in SICILIA, and did leaue them at libertie. The Senate and people of CARTHAGE amazed at it, knew that they had to fight with Dionysius, neuerthelesse they resol­ued to take armes, and sent to leauie men out of all parts. Dionysius on the other side, he tooke the field with an armie of fourescore thousand fighting men of foote, and three thousand horse: and had at the sea nere two hundred gallies and ships of ower, accompanied with fiue hun­dred great ships of burden, full of all sorts of engines of batterie, and of necessarie munitions for such an armie. All the townes almost of SICILIA yeelded themselues vnto him, sauing MOTYE, ANCYRE, SOLES, EGESTE, PALERME, and ENTELLE. Leptines his brother and Admirall, lay before MOTYE, and besieged it: and himselfe spoiled all the countrie of the SOLENTINES, PA­LERMITANS, and ANCIREIANS: and besieged EGESTE, and ENTELLE, and gaue them diuers assaults. Newes being brought vnto him that Himilco was at hand, he went and encamped be­fore MOTYE, a town situated within a litle Isle of SICILIA, halfe a league from firme land, state­ly built, and very rich at that time. The which he assaulted by sea and by land, draue Himilco and his forces back, and wan the towne by assault: but they sold their liues and towne very deare, ha­uing killed a great number of the enemies, before they were forced. The SICILIANS yet angry in their harts for the mischiefes they had endured through the insolencie of the CARTHAGINI­ANS in the former wars: were so brued in bloud, that all those of MOTYE were put to the sword. They that saued themselues in the temples, had their liues graunted them: but Dionysius made them all be sold by the drumme. Whilest he was occupied there, the EGESTANS made a sallie v­pon the campe which he had left before the towne, and set it on fire, which burnt the most part of his soldiers, and the rest well warmed, saued themselues as they could. But Dionysius not much regarding this losse, set vpon all the townes of the CARTHAGINIANS with his armie. They for their part, gaue all the authoritie and power vnto Himilco, to prepare for this war of SICILIA. He made an armie of three hundred thousand footmen, and of a great number of horsemen, and gaue the rende vous to the shippes of burthen at PALERME: where he arriued with his fleet of gallies that followed him. The Admirall Leptines hauing descried his comming, set forward with his ships, and fought with them in the maine sea: he killed fiue thousand of his men, sunke fiftie ships, and two hundred carts of warre: and the rest of them saued themselues by flying. But Himilco hauing landed his armie, went and assailed MOTYE, and wanne it againe of the SA­RACVSANS.

At that time Dionysius was before EGESTE, where word being brought him of the arriuall of the CARTHAGINIANS, and of the taking againe of MOTYE: he began to be affraid, and to take aduice to return to SVRACVSA: he commaunded the SICILIANS to retire, and made their lands wast, to disaduantage their enemies by so much the more. This sudden change of Diony­sius, was cause that many of his friends tooke part with Himilco, who seeing his affaires prosper so well, made his armie march to MESSINE: tooke in (passing by) the Ile and towne of LYPA­RE: and then besieged the MESSENIANS so straightly, that in the end he wan the towne by as­sault. And there hauing refreshed his troupes, he razed the towne to the very ground, the which did so much amaze the SICILIANS, that all, except the ASSARINS, turned vnto the CARTHA­GINIANS. Dionysius being at his wits end for so many losses, did fortifie the strong holds that were in the territorie of the LEONTINES, sent the CAMPANIANS to AETNE, that dwelt in the towne of CATANE: and taking order for his affaires the best he could possible, he went into the field with foure and thirtie thousand footemen, and a thousand horse, and lodged vnder the mount Taur, where the banished men of SYRACVSA were placed, fauoured by the CARTHAGI­NIANS, and had fortified it, and made it in forme of a towne: whilest he made his abode there, newes came vnto him that the armie of the CARTHAGINIANS was deuided into two, and that the one part of them went by land to CATANE with Himilco: and the other came towards him by sea, led by Mago. He hoping to make this fleet as nothing, commaunded his brother Leptines to make out with his shipping against Mago. But Leptines was put to flight, with the losse of twenty thousand men, and well neare a hundred of his ships. This losse draue Dionysius into such a feare, doubting besides lest Mago following his victorie should draw towards SY­RACVSA, which was easie to be wonne hauing no garrison in it: he retired into his citie, and from thence sent men into ITALIE and into GRECE, to pray aide against the CARTHGAINIANS. [Page 43] Himilco knowing his retraite, brought all his forces immediatly vnto SYRACVSA, besieged it by land and by sea, wan the suburbes of ACRADINE, and set vp his pauilion in the temple of Iu­piter Olympian, all the other temples of the suburbes hauing bene rifled by the souldiers. In the meane time Polyxemus brought to the aide of the towne, thirtie shippes of their friends vnder the conduct of Pharacidas, a Captaine of the LACEDEMONIANS. With this aide, and all the shippes of burthen, Dionysius put to the sea to go get victuals. But now whilest he was at the sea in his voyage, the SYRACVSANS being carefull to looke to their citie, and spying out all occasions to mischiefe the besiegers: they descryed a boate that brought corne to the campe of Himilco. Whereupon on the sodaine they armed all their galleys, and fought so valiantly with the CAR­THAGINIANS, that they tooke their Admirall with twentie others, and sunke foure of them, and followed the rest that fled, vnto the very place where their ships lay at anker within the great ha­uen, prouoking thē to battel. But the CARTHAGINIANS astonied with this ouerthrow, stirred not.

Then the SYRACVSANS fastened the galleys prisoners vnto the poopes of theirs, and brought them into the citie. Whereupon they being couragions againe for this litle aduantage they had of their enemies: they began to talke among themselues, how the tyrant had bene ma­ny times ouercome, and that they to the contrary without him had ouercome the CARTHAGI­NIANS. And therupon gathering together by troupes, they went speaking one to another, that they were weary with seruing a tyrant, and now specially hauing means to put him downe for e­uer: for before they were disarmed, but now by reason of the wars they had their armes in their hands. Notwithstanding they daily held this talke, Dionysius made the people to assemble, and praised them highly for the good seruice they had done, perswading them furthermore to be of good courage, for within few daies he would make an end of this war. But as the assembly of the people was ready to go their way, Theodorus SYRACVSAN, iudged to be one of the best men of armes within the towne, stepped vp, & made a long oration, in the which after he had by peece­meale laid open all the tyrannies▪ cowardlinesse, and wicked deeds of Dionysius, whom he called grammarian, clerke, a carelesse man, ignorant of the affaires of war, oppressor of all SICILIA, and fauorer of all theeues and ill men of the world: he perswaded them by diuers reasons to indeuour themselues to recouer their liberty. And since that their allies of ITALY and GRECE were within the city, that they should bring backe againe the power and authority to create such captaines as they should thinke good, into the hands of the citizens, according to the tenure of their ancient lawes, or else into the hands of their ancestors and first founders, which were the CORINTHIANS: or at the least into the LACEDAEMONIANS hands, who had then the seigniority of all GRECE. The SYRACVSANS being maruellously moued with such a speech, behold the countenance of their confederates assistants in this assembly: vntill such time as Pharacidas being gotten vp into the pulpit for orations, made euery man hearken, supposing it should be he that should begin first to stir vp and encourage others to the recouery of their liberty. But to the contrarie, he being parti­cularly friend to Dionysius, began to tell them, that his Lords had sent him to aide the SYRACV­SANS and Dionysius against the CARTHAGINIANS: not to destroy them, nor to abolish his estate. This speech being cleane contrary to that the common people expected, the souldiers straungers ran straight about him. Wherupon the SYRACVSANS stirred not, sauing that to themselues they cursed the LACEDAEMONIANS, because that heretofore they had sent them Aristus, who preten­ding he came to aide them for to recouer their libertie, was a traitor and sold them: and now that this Pharacidas had broken the harts of their courages, being well disposed to root out this tyran­nie. For Dionysius, he spake smoothly for the time, being throughly afraid they would haue set v­pon him, and so dismissed the assembly, vsing the most gracious words vnto them he could possi­ble. To others he gaue presents, he sent for others to come and eate with him at his table. In the meane time the plague straungely possest the campe of the CARTHAGINIANS, and in a short time killed wel-neare 150000. of them: wherupon the most part of them were forsaken aliue and dead, the contagion was so horrible. Some imputed it partly to the discommoditie of the place, and excessiue number of men liuing as it were on heapes together: partly vnto the vengeance of God punishing their pride, the insolencies, cruelties, and sacrileges of the CARTHAGINI­ANS. Dionysius vnderstanding of this miserie, would not vainely let slippe such a fit occasion, but armed fourescore galleys, vnder the conduct of Pharacidas and Leptines, and his troupes, with whom he assailed Himilco by sea and by land, tooke his fortes, burnt and drowned the most part of his shippes, brake the rest, and gaue his people of SYRACVSA meanes to set [Page 44] vpon the litle barks, & to shut them within the citie. To be short, he brought them to such extre­mitie, that they sent secretly vnto him to pray him to suffer that which was saued from the ouer­throw the day before, to passe the sea, and to retire home to AFRICKE with safetie: promising to make him a present of an hundred and fourescore thousand crownes. His answer was, that it was not possible all should be saued, yet he was contented the naturall CARTHAGINIANS should passe. For he doubted much that the SYRACVSANS and their friends would neuer suffer him to respite those other, if they once vnderstood it. But he did it of purpose, being vnwilling that the armie of CARTHAGE should be vtterly destroyed, for feare that when the SYRACVSANS should see themselues free from this feare: they would remember the Oration of Theodorus, and put too all their force to recouer their liberty againe. The mony promised him being deliuered, Himilco imbarked by night all the naturall CARTHAGINIANS that were left into fortie gallies, and made saile immediatly towards AFRICKE. Howbeit he was scant out of the hauen, but cer­taine CORINTHIANS perceiued his stealing away, and suddenly came to tell it to Dionysius, who seeming to be very greatly busied, commaunded to sound thealarme, and that the Captaines should prepare themselues to follow him. The CORINTHIANS seeing he went but faintly to worke, would tarie no longer, but euen at the present houre imbarked themselues, drew vp their ankers, and rowed hard after their enemies: so that in a short space they ouertooke the rere of their vessels, and so rudely hurt them, that they sunke some of them. Immediatly after, Dionysius drew his armie into the field: but the SICILIANS, friends vnto the CARTHAGINIANS, had gotten the start before crossing the countrie, insomuch that the more part of them got home to their houses. For this cause Dionysius hauing left a guard to keepe the passages by the high waies, he brought his army backe againe to the enemies campe. The barbarous people seeing them­selues betrayed by their Generall, forsaken of the naturall CARTHAGINIANS and SICILIANS, their hearts were killed, and began to flie, stealing away, some this way, some that way: but all of them in manner fell into the hands of the souldiers that guarded the high wayes. Those that were left, came before Dionysius, and casting downe their armes, besought him to take pitie of them, and to saue their liues: the SPANIARDS onely excepted, who gathered themselues toge­ther with their armes, and sent vnto him to offer their seruice, if it would please him to accept them: the which he did, and receiued them into pay among the souldiers strangers. For the rest, he tooke the other prisoners, and gaue their baggage in prey to his souldiers. For Himilco, after he had liued ignominiously and poorely at CARTHAGE, he died distract of his wits. Some hold opinion that immediatly after he was arriued, not able to endure the shame he got in this warre, he killed himselfe.

Dionysius hauing driuen the CARTHAGINIANS out of SICILIA, he built vp MESSINA againe which they had ruined. Then he went to besiege TAVROMENION, fortified by the SICILIANS: who lustily gaue him the repulse, and made a sallie vpon him, and killed the most part of his men, hauing much ado to escape himselfe. On the other side, Mago chiefe of the AFRICANS in SICI­LIA, did courteously intreate his allies, and receiued into his protection all those whom Diony­sius oppressed. By which occasion hauing won the hearts of the most part of them, he became so strong in a short time, that he got a great armie againe on foot, marched with them to MESSINA, and ouerranne all the plaine countrie, where hauing gotten a great bootie, he tooke vpon him to besiege the ABACENIANS confederates of Dionysius: who being bound to aide them, he went against the CARTHAGINIANS, beat Mago in a conflict, and killed eight hundred of his men. So hauing brought his troupes to SYRACVSA and refreshed them, he armed a fleet of an hundred vessels, to go and make warre with those of RHEGE, and comming to their hauen by night, at that instant time he did fiercely assaile them, set fire on their gates, and set vp scaling ladders in diuerse parts: neuerthelesse the RHEGIANS defended themselues so couragiously, that he was forced to retire. And therupon receiuing certaine intelligence what great preparation they made at CARTHAGE to begin the warre againe: he left RHEGE, and returned againe to SYRACVSA. So the CARTHAGINIANS had gotten together againe fourescore thousand men, whom they sent into SICILIA vnder the conduct of Mago. But before they came to ioyne with the ene­mies, they concluded peace with these conditions, that euery one should enioy that they had gotten: That one of them should not quarrel with the other for any thing: That Dionysius might without breach of peace make warre with the TAVROMENITANS. These being thus agreed vpon betweene them, Dionysius went and besieged TAVROMENION the second time, and did more [Page 45] furiously assault it then before: so that in the end, after long resistance of them that were be­sieged, he wanne the towne, draue out the SICILIANS that dwelt there, and did replenish it with straungers whom he kept in pay. Afterwards because his armie should not be idle and mutinous, he chose twentie thousand footmen, and three thousand horse, and went into ITA­LY with them next adioyning vnto SICILIA, to subdue those GREEKES which had dwelt there of long time. Newes being brought vnto them of Dionysius intention, they assembled all the estates of the countrey of CROTONE, where they all resolued to ioyne together to repulse this common enemy: and making all the forces they could, establishing Eloris, a banished man of SYRACVSA their Chieftaine, they made their armie march against Dionysius, who camped be­fore the city of CAVLONE. He vnderstanding of their comming, raised his siege suddenly to go and meete with them: and the next morning after his departure, by breake of day he gaue charge vpon the GREEKES with his troupes well appointed, who marching disorderly, he killed their Chieftaine, and the valiantest men of their army: and afterwards besieged the others that had saued themselues in a towne, and compelled them to yeeld for that they had no water. Yet contrary to all mens expectation, he vsed them very courteously, and sent them home safe with­out ransome. After he had won this goodly victory, he led his armie into the territorie of the RHEGIANS, whom he hated to the death. They hauing no friends, and too weake of them­selues to resist such a mightie enemy: were constrained to make peace with him with very hard conditions. For he made them giue him threescore galleys, a hundred and fourescore thousand crownes, and for hostage and obseruation of other articles, a hundred of the chiefest of the towne. From thence he returned to besiege CAVLONE, and held them so straight, that he wan it by assault, destroyed it, and gaue the lands vnto them of LOCRES.

But for as much as he could not forget the vnreconciliable hatred he bare vnto the RHEGI­ANS, he hauing demaunded on a time one of their daughters in mariage: they report that the answer they made in an open assembly of the towne vnto his Ambassadors, was that they would giue him none of them, vnlesse he would marry the hangmans daughter of the towne: this made him resolue that he would see the end of it. And where before he had made peace with them, it was not for any good will he bare them, nor that he desired their friendship, but because he would take their galleys from them, hoping that after he had left them bare at the sea, he should come closer to them, and haue them at his discretion. Therefore whilest he was in ITA­LIE, he sought nothing else but to take an occasion to make warre with them, so that he might not be charged that contrary to his faith he had broken the edict of pacification. Hauing there­fore led his army vnto the straite, making as though he would passe into SICILIA: he sent vnto the RHEGIANS to demaund victuals for his army, promising to send them so much againe vpon his returne to SYRACVSA. Which he did, to the end that if they refused, he might excuse himselfe well if he did set vpon them: and if they did giue him any, it should then turne to the hurt of the towne, which if it came to be besieged, should be constrained for famine to hold vp their hands to him. The RHEGIANS that least doubted his malice, furnished him with victuals for certaine dayes: but perceiuing he taried there too long, now counterfeiting he was sicke, then that he vsed other delayes to prolong time, they began to see his fetches, and refused to victuall him any more. Thereupon he faining to be much offended, sent them home their hostages, and came to besiege the towne: comming hard to their wals, he made daily and conti­nuall assaults, beating vpon the wals with great engines which he had made expresly of an incre­dible greatnesse. They hauing chosen a valiant man for their Captaine, called Phyton, and fur­nished all those that were able to beare armes in the towne, they defended themselues couragi­ously, and did many wayes hurt their enemies: and specially in a sally they made, Dionysius was sore hurt with a launce in the flancke, that he was like to haue died. But being recouered and well againe, he pursued his purpose more obstinately then euer: whereby he tooke all hope of aide from them, and hauing continued siege there eleuen moneths all together, in the end the RHEGIANS found themselues in great want of victuals of all sorts: for a bushell of wheate was at fiftie crownes. After that all kind of come failed them, first they did eate vp their horses, and all kind of beasts of burthen. Then when they had no more to eate, they did seeth all their hides and leather they could find within the towne, and so liued awhile. And last of all, com­ming out of the towne, they did eate and deuour vp such hearbes and rootes as they could find by their walles, euen as wild beastes. Dionysius perceiuing it, in stead of pitying [Page 46] of them (nay rather desiring they should eate one another of them) he caused the grasse to be cut downe, and put his beastes in the campe into it, to feed of all that was alongst the towne walles and ditches, to the end they should haue nothing more to eate. So that in the end the poore RHEGIANS ouercome by necessitie, were constrained to yeeld themselues and their towne to the discretion of the tyrant. Who being entred into the towne, found heapes of bo­dies dead of that plague of famine: and such as were yet aliue, seemed rather ghosts then liuing persons. So he gathered together about sixe thousand prisoners, whom he sent all to SYRACV­SA, suffering notwithstanding all that could raunsome themselues, (paying a talent) to be re­deemed: and the rest to be sold by the drumme to him that would giue most. Amongst the pri­soners there was Phyton and his sonne. Dionysius made his sonne to be drowned first: and the next morning after, he made the father to be tied to the highest engine of battery he had, and sent to tel him newes of the death of his son. He was happier by a day then his father, said Phyton: who was drawne all the towne ouer, and whipped most shamefully: hauing a sergeant at his back that cried out aloud, that Dionysius made him be whipped thus, because he had made the RHEGIANS take armes against him. But Phyton that had like a valiant captaine and worthy man shewed him­selfe in this siege, and had liued honorably all his life time, did patiently endure the paine which the tyrant made him suffer. For he remained constant, speaking out aloud that euery body heard him: That he was put to death, because he would not betray his countrey, and deliuer it into the tyrants hands, howbeit that within few daies the gods wold be reuenged of him for this outrage. His constancie was such, that it moued Dionysius soldiers to compassion: who began already to murmure against him. Wherfore fearing lest they shold be so bold to take him out of the tormen­tors hands: he made thē leaue whipping of him, & cōmanded that they shold drowne him in the sea with all his kinred, which was done: for the rest, the city of RHEGE was razed to the ground.

Thus haue we made a large discourse of the practises and wars of Dionysius. Now let vs speake somthing of his priuate gouernment. He had wit enough, but troubled with many vices: & the more he grew in yeares, the more it was corrupted. The flatterers made an end of his destruction: for they called his cruelty, the hate of wicked men, and good iustice, & made him beleeue that he was a most worthy man in all things: insomuch that he thought himselfe the only man of the world, and would be so reputed. Being thus caried, and seeing himselfe at good leysure, he entred into a course which he had somwhat discōtinued during the wars, & wherwith he was strangely taken: which was, to write verses, & to make tragedies. He fel to this study againe with more dili­gence then before, & sent for Poets out ofal parts, whom he honored, and gaue presents vnto, be­cause they should correct his works of Poëtry. They seeking to gratifie him for their profite, said nothing, but that which they thought should be most pleasing vnto him: so that being puft vp with their flatteries, he gloried more in his verses, then he did in his warres. Now amongst other Poets that followed him, there was one they called Philoxenus, a learned man, and excellent to write hymnes in praise of the gods. Dionysius one day gaue him a tragedy of his to peruse and cor­rect, he crossed it all ouer from one end to the other: and one night being asked what he thought of certaine poësies which the tyrant made, he spake openly, that they were woorth nothing. He answered so plainly, that Dionysius angrily said, it was of enuy that he censured his works so, and sent him forthwith to dig in the quarry pit. The next morning his friends intreated Dionysius to pardon him, which he did: & would haue him againe to supper with many others of his sort. In the midst of this feast, Dionysius that desired nothing more then to haue his verses heard: he re­hearsed some of them, and of those especially which he thought best done. Then turning himself to Philoxenus, he asked his opinion. But he answered him neuer a word, but looking about him, called one of Dionysius guard and said vnto him: Cary me againe to the quarry pit. Dionysius smi­ling at it, bare this nip well: and soone after taking Philoxenus apart, perswaded him not to be so sharpe. His friends also told him that he might easily forbeare to speake so freely to no purpose. Then Philoxenus made him an answer all new, saying, that from thenceforth he would keep such a weight on his words, that he would speake the truth, and keepe himselfe in Dionysius fauor, as he did. For Dionysius hauing rehearsed certaine verses full of great lamentations, to moue the hearts of the hearers to pity: he prayed Philoxenus to say his mind of thē: who answered him, that those verses had filled him full of pity. It was a sharpe gird of mockery which Dionysius perceiued not, no more then that which Melanthius spake of a tragedy after the like sort, that he could not see it, it was so darke of speech. And so was Plato not much better vsed then Philoxenus. Dion his [Page 47] disciple, and brother in lawe of Dionysius, had spoken so much good to this tyrant, that being at leysure he was contented to see Plato, and to heare him. So they being together, their talke generally was all of vertue: but chiefly they disputed, what was true force and prowesse? Where Plato proued vnto him, that tyrants were nothing lesse then valiant men. Out of that, turning his talke to speake of iustice: he shewed him that the life of the iust was very happie: and that to the contrary, the life of vniust men was most wicked. Insomuch that the tyrant seeing himselfe conuinced, could no longer endure talke with him: and was sorie to see those that were pre­sent so muchto esteeme of him, and to take such singular pleasure to heare him speake. So at the last his choler being vp, he asked him what businesse had brought him into SICILIA? To seeke an honest man, said Plato. And how? (replyed Dionysius) by the gods (to heare thee speake) it see­meth thou hast yet found none. Dion thought his choler should go no further, and so sent Plato a­way in a gallie, whom Polis a captaine of LACEDAEMON brought backe againe into GRECE. But Dionysius prayed this captaine secretly, that whatsoeuer he did he should kill Plato by the way, or at leastwise sell him: adding too this ieast withall, He shall be neuer a whit the worse for that: for if he be a iust man, he shall be as happy being a seruant as otherwise. And so Plato was sold in the Ile of AEGINE for the price of 200. crownes, and afterwards bought againe by Annicerius a Philoso­pher, and sent to ATHENS.

Dionysius gaue himself all to Poësie, and sent for the best singers he could recouer in the games Olympials, to rehearse and sing his verses before the people. The singers at the beginning were heard with admiratiō of euery bodie, for the goodnes & finenesse of their voyces: but when they came to examine their songs, they were despised, mocked, and whistled at, which angred him ex­treamely when he heard of it. So this passioned desire did so much increase in his head continual­ly, that he became almost as a man beside himselfe: & said that his faithfull friends did enuie him, and began to be at defiance with them, as if they had bene traitors vnto him. To conclude, this fury of his did so possesse him, that he did put many to death vpon false occasions, and banished others, as Philistus, and Leptines his brother, both of them valiant men, & that had done him great seruice in his wars. Howbeit afterwards he sent for them againe, and they were his friends as be­fore. But since we are now to talke of his cruelties, let vs say something as we passe by. One of his greatest friends called Marsyas, dreamed one night that he cut his throate. The tyrant vnderstan­ding of it, put this poore dreamer to death: alleaging that this dreame could not haue come to him at night, but that he had it setled in his mind to commit such an act in the day. Leptines being desirous one day to describe SICILIA in his presence, tooke a halbard from one of the soul­diers of his guard, and with the but end of it drew on the ground that which he would: where­with Dionysius was so angry, that he bitterly tooke vp Leptines, and put the souldier to death that had giuen him his halbard. Dionysius one day being disposed to disport himselfe some way, gaue his Bardasse his sword and his cloke to keepe: which one of his familiars perceiuing, said: And what, do you trust this young boy with your life? The youth began to smile at it: but Dionysius made him be killed, because by his smiling he seemed to allow of this word: and he also dispat­ched the other, because he had shewed him the mean to kill him. He was determined to haue put his brother in law Polyxemus to death: but he hauing an inkling of it, fled out of SICILIA. Dio­nysius sent for Tescha his sister, and chid with her because she had kept his flying away close from him. But she answered him with a bold countenance: And how thinkest thou, Dionysius, that I am a woman so cowardly and faint hearted, if I had knowne that my husband would haue gone, that I would not haue taken sea with him, aud haue bene companion of his fortune? I knew no­thing before he was gone, for it had bene more honorable for me to haue bene called the wife of Polyxemus banished, then sister to thee a tyrant. Dionysius was blanke at this speech, and the SYRA­CVSANS wondred at the vertue of this woman: insomuch that after the tyrannie was destroyed, they did not leaue to do her all the honor that they could haue done to a Queene. And when she was dead, all the citizens by common consent went with her body to the sepulture. A question being moued one day, to wit: Which was the best copper? Antiphon answering quickly that it was that wherwith the ATHENIANS melted the statues of Armodius and Aristogiton, Dionysius made him to be strangled and die in great torments. They report of him that he spared not his owne mother, but caused her to be strangled, though she was very old. And as for his brother Le­ptines, he suffered him to be killed by his enemies, albeit he might easily haue saued and deliuered him at that time. Some talked of his tyrannie in a Barbers shop, and said it was well established, [Page 48] and also euill to be destroyed, as the Diamond to be broken. I maruell, said the Barber, smiling, how you say that of him, vpon whose throat I passe my razour so often? These words being brought to Dionysius, he hanged the Barber. He had put to death at diuers times ten thousand of his citizens, and though he had written in one of his tragedies, that tyrannie was the mother of iniustice: notwithstanding he had oftentimes this word in his mouth: That children must be de­ceiued with plaies, & men with faire promises. And he said, that the greatest pleasure and cōtent­ment he found in all his gouernment, was: that what he wold haue done, was sodainly executed.

One day he would haue had money of the SYRACVSANS: they complained and lamented, be­seeching him to hold them excused, telling him they had no mony. He to the contrarie, made them to be asked also by others: which he did twise or thrise one after another. And as he conti­nued still vrging of them yet further: it was told him they did nothing but laugh as they walked in the market place. Then he commanded his receiuers to presse them no more: for it is a signe, said he, that they haue no more, since they make no account of vs. His mother being past age to marie, would needs mary a yong man. He answered her, that indeed it was in his power to break the lawes of SYRACVSA, but of nature, not. He seuerely punishing all other malefactors, pardo­ned theeues that tooke away mens gownes and clokes whom they met by night in the streetes. To the end that for this cause the SYRACVSANS should leaue to make feasts and assemblies, wher­in they could not keepe themselues from speaking & complotting against him. On a time a stran­ger promised him aloud to teach him secretly, how he should know those that did practise any thing against him. Dionysius prayed him very earnestly. So the other going to him, Giue me said he, sixe hundred crownes, that the SVRACVSANS may thinke thou hast learned of me the signes to discouer the conspirators. He gaue them him, and fained that he had learned these meanes of him: greatly commending the subtill fashion to get money which this man had inuented. Ha­uing heard one day a man that played vpon the citherne passing well, he openly promised him the sum of sixe hundred crownes. The next morning he came to demaund this sum: and Diony­sius told him: Thou gauest me great pleasure yesterday to heare thee play: and so did I thee in making thee this promise: and so thou wert paid in the field for the pleasure thou gauest me, by that that thou receiuedst. One asked him on a time, If he were not idle. God forbid, said he, that that should euer happen to me. He being enformed that two young men of the city drinking to­gether, had spoken many euill words of him and his tyranny at the table: sent to inuite them both to supper to him: and seeing that the one after he had drunke a litle, said and did many od foo­lish things: and that the other to the contrarie was very sober, and dranke but seldome: he pardo­ned the one, as being a drunkard and insolent of nature, and that through drunkennesse had spo­ken euill of him: but he put the other to death, as one that bare him euill will in his heart, and be­ing enemy vnto him euen of set purpose. Some of his familiars reproued him, because he had ho­nored and aduanced a wicked man, and euill beloued of the SYRACVSANS. And he answered them, I will that there shall be some one in SYRACVSA, that shall yet be more hated then my selfe. Once he sent presents vnto certaine ambassadors of CORINTH, which came vnto him. They refused them, because they had a statute in their commonwealth, that did forbid ambassadors to take or receiue any gifts or presents of Lord or Prince whatsoeuer. He was discontented withall, and told them that they did euill to take away that only good which is in tyrannies, that is, to haue power to giue: but they taught men also, that to receiue any good of tyrants, is a thing one should feare and shun. Being informed that a townesman of SYRACVSA had hidden a treasure in the ground in his house, he commanded him to bring it him: the which he did, but not all for all that, for he reserued a part with the which he went and dwelt in another town, and bought some land there: which when he vnderstood, he sent for him to come to him, and restored him all his gold and siluer: Since thou knowest now, said he, how to vse riches, and not to make that vnpro­fitable which is made for the vse of man.

Now his cruelties and tyrannous behauiour made him maruellous odious to the world, by reason whereof he entred into such a mistrust of euery body, that he made a trench be digged a­bout his lodging where he lay, and because he would lye safely, he drew vp a draw bridge, and shut himselfe in with great feare, hauing a great guard without round about him. His wiues durst not come into his chamber before they had put off their gownes, he was so afraid lest they shold bring a dagger vnder their gownes. Yea his brother and his owne son were faine to put off their clothes, & the guard of his chamber should come naked whatsoeuer he was that put his foot into [Page 49] it: then there was another garment cast vpon him. He was afraid of his owne son as much as of any other, doubting that when he felt his owne courage, and frequented men of vnderstanding, he would make some complot against him, and in the end thrust him out of his seate and signio­rie. He locked him vp in a chamber, and would suffer no man to come and speake with him: where for lacke of other occupations, this young man occupied himself to make litle coaches or charrets, candlestickes, saddles, stooles, and tables of wood. Neuerthelesse, after he had some more libertie, and that his father beganne to let him come abroad: he straight grew to be proud and dissolute as might be. And they say, that when he had rauished a townesmans wife by force, his father being angrie with him, asked him: whether euer he had seene him do any such thing or not? the sonne answered him: No more had you a father that was a tyrant. But Dionysius replyed vpon him again: So shalt thou neuer haue a son at all, if thou leauest not to play these wicked parts. Another time going to see his son in his lodging, and seeing there great store of vessels of gold and siluer, he told him: there is nothing in thee of a Lord or Prince, since I haue giuen thee such a deale of gold and siluer plate, and yet thou knowest not how to get a friend. It was an ordinarie thing with Dionysius to tell wonders, and do litle, being so exceeding timorous, but specially after the execution of his Barber, and that his daughters were now waxen great, he would not abide that any should clip his haires with sizers: but he made an image-maker of ima­ges of earth to come to him, who with a burning cole burnt his glib round about his head. Now he made himselfe to be knowne by a memorable fact he did: which was this. A certaine flatte­rer called Damocles, praising the maiesty and riches of Dionysius, and the magnificence of his pal­lace, maintained that the Sun neuer saw a more happy man. Dionysius to make him partaker of this felicitie, made him sit downe vpon a litle bed very sumptuous, and enriched with wonder­full precious things. Then he caused them to set vp tables laden with vessels of gold and siluer, and couered with wonderfull daintie meates, a number of fine Pages attending on his seruice, perfumes passing rare and most excellent sweet for the chamber, and daintie musicke both with voice and instruments. To be short, all the pleasures and pastimes possible to be thought of, did compasse this minion of court round about. But in the midst of al this magnificent furniture, Di­onysius caused a naked sword, glistering, and sharpe pointed, to be fastened to a small haire of a horse, and to be hanged right ouer Damocles head: who forgetting this felicity he had so much commended, besought Dionysius it might quickly be taken away. And like as he was cruell vnto men, so did he shew himselfe a despiser of his proper gods, wherof we will alleage some exam­ples. Hauing sacked the temple of Proserpine in the citie of LOCRES, he tooke the sea, and ha­uing a gale of wind at pleasure: You see, said he, how the immortall gods do fauour sacrileges. He tooke off a cloke of fine gold from Iupiter Olympian, in the towne of SYRACVSA, which cloke weighed fourescore and fiue talents, which are more woorth then fiftie thousand crownes, and gaue him another of woollen, saying: That the cloke of gold was too cold for winter, and too heauie for sommer▪ and that the woollen cloke would be more conuenient in both seasons. He rounded also the statue of Apollo, which had a glibbe of gold. And finding that money went low with him, by reason of his great expences in the warres he had against the CARTHAGI­NIANS, he tooke the sea with a fleete of threescore galleys, with pretence to set vpon pyrates, but indeed it was to spoile a temple of great fame, full of goodly and rich iewels that had bene offe­red vp there, the which was seated vpon the edge of a quarter of a citie of TVSCAN called A­GYLLE. Being arriued there in the night, and hauing landed his men: in the morning by breake of day he sodainly and without any daunger executed his enterprise. For the place being guar­ded with some few men, he easily forced it, and afterwards at his leysure sacked the temple, where he got to the summe of 600000. crownes. Which the townesmen vnderstanding, came out vpon him straight to see if they could defend the temple: but he ouercame them in battell, and hauing taken a great number of prisoners, he spoiled all their countrie, and then returned to SYRACVSA, where he sold his prisoners and his bootie, for the which he had also 300000. crownes more.

So being now well stored againe, he began to set vp an armie: and because he saw the towns subiect vnto the CARTHAGINIANS willing to reuolt, he did entice them, & vsed them very graci­ously that came and took his part. The CARTHGINIANS hearing that, sent vnto him to demand their townes, otherwise they proclaimed warre against him. So on both sides they came into the field. For the CARTHAGINIANS, they dispatched Mago into SICILIA with a great armie. Di­onysius being afraid of nothing, marched before with his troupes, and being camped neare to a [Page 50] place called CABALES: both the armies fiercely gaue charge vpon each other, & after a long fight Mago was slaine in the place with 10000. of his men, and 5000. taken prisoners. The CARTHAGI­NIANS were not discouraged for all this, but chose them againe the son of Mago for their chiefe Captaine, a young Gentleman, wise, couragious, and valiant. So after they had stayed Dionysius by a truce for a certaine time, the terme being expired, they presented him battell, and fought it out so resolutely, that after they had slaine his brother Leptines (whom he forsooke at his need) and fourteene thousand of his men, with much ado he saued himselfe. But the conquerers being neuer a whit prouder of such a victory, they sent ambassadors vnto him that cōcluded a peace for their aduantage. For beside the townes that remained vnto them, Dionysius paid them 600000. crownes to defray their charges in the wars. Also he kept not this peace long, but brake it shortly after: for vnderstanding that the plague was hot amongst the CARTHGAINIANS, and that they were fallen out amongst themselues: he tooke occasion of this aduantage, and to giue colour to his pretence, gaue it out that the souldiers AFRICANS had foraged the lands of his friends, wher­upon he leauied an army of 30000. footmen, and 3000. horse: with this army he began to make war againe, and in the first employment of his forces he wan SELINONTE and ENTELLE: & after that he marched to LILYBEE to besiege it: but seeing it well guarded, he returned backe againe. Hereupon newes was brought him that fire had taken some of the arsenals of the CARTHAGINI­ANS: wherfore supposing al their ships of war had bene burnt, he began to scoffe at al their forces. But they hauing armed vpon a sodain a fleet of 200. gallies, assailed vnlooked for 130. of Dionysi­us gallies, which wintered in the hauen of ERIX, some of them he sunke and brought away the o­thers. After this losse Dionysius retired into SYRACVSA, and fell very sicke. The which Dion per­ceiuing, entred into talke of his children, and of his sister Aristomache. But the Phisitians to currie fauor with yong Dionysius, hindered him that he could haue no fit time to say any thing to him. Or as Timaeus writeth, they gaue him a drinke (as he had commanded them) to make him sleepe, and by this means tooke from him his senses, ioyning death with sleepe. Some others say, that he was killed by his guard: others, that he was poisoned. But Diodorus the SICILIAN setteth downe the cause after another sort: which is this. He had caused, said he, a litle before, a tragedy of his in­tituled, The LENEIANS, to be plaid at ATHENS: & hauing gotten the victory, one of the musitians brought him word of it by sea: which did so please him, that after he had richly rewarded the mes­senger, he made a great sacrifice to the gods to giue them thanks for this prosperity, & sumptuous feasts, vnto the which he inuited all his friends, and dranke so largely, that he fell into a great sick­nes wherof he died. Now he had in times past an oracle, that had foretold him he shold dye then, when he had ouercome those that should be worthier then himself. He applyed this oracle to the CARTHAGINIANS, supposing it was meant by them, because they were stronger then he. This was the cause that oftentimes in the battels he had wonne against them, he being victour, fled, or willingly suffered himself to be ouercome because of this prediction. Howbeit he could not shun his destiny: for being an ill Poet, he was iudged by the sentence of corrupt iudges, to haue excel­led all the other Poets better then euer he was: & then came he to end his daies, as the oracle had foretold him. Now though he had raigned the space of 38. yeares full out, and had boasted many times that he would leaue his son a Principality chained with strong chaines of a diamond: this yong Dionysius ruled no long time, but being shortly after driuen out of SYRACVSA by the inha­bitants themselues, secondly by Dion, & at the last by Timoleon, who ouerthrew him altogether: he was sent to CORINTH, where he ended the rest of his daies in misery. Afterwards the SYRACV­SANS maintaining their liberty for the space of 20. yeares: they fell into Agathocles hands, who al­so cōmitted terrible cruelties. After his death, they being full of ciuill dissention, demanded aide of Pirrhus king of EPIRVS against the CARTHAGINIANS. He hauing made a iourny into SICI­LIA, was constrained to leaue it, and had great war with the ROMAINS. By reason wherof the SY­RACVSANS willingly yeelded themselues vnto Hieron the second of that name, vnder whom (a great friend of the ROMAINS) they prospered the space of fiftie yeares. But after his death, his litle sonne Hieronymus, a yong Lord and vnruly: tooke part with the CARTHAGINIANS: and ha­uing raigned only fifteene moneths, he was killed by his guard. Now for that his death brought on great confusions, and that the SYRACVSANS enclined to the CARTHAGINIANS part: the Consull Marcellus went to besiege SYRACVSA, and tooke it in the second yeare of the 142. O­lympiade. So that afterwards it was gouerned by Praetors, and according to the ROMAINE law, euen to the declination of their Empire.

The end of Dionysius life.

THE LIFE OF Octauius Caesar Augustus.


Thy youth Augustus, and thy tongues good gift,
Thy valour, wisedome, and thy worthy feats,
Thy countries loue, thy lawes, and statutes, lift
Thy throne aboue all other princely seates.

ACcia, the daughter of Accius Balbus and of Iulia the sister of Iulius Cae­sar, was maried vnto the father of this man, whose life we write of now, and who was descended of the auncient race of the Octauians, is­sued out of the countrey of the VOLSCES, and knowne at ROME from the time of Tarquinius, and of Seruius Tullus. Their sonne Octauius was borne in the yeare of the Consulship of Cicero and of Caius Anto­nius, at that time when as the conspiracy of Catiline was discouered, and suppressed. He was called Thurinus: but afterwards, according to the tenor of his vnckles testament, who made him his heire, he was called Caius Iulius Caesar, and lastly Augustus, by the aduice of Munatius Plancus, and by the decree of the Senate. He was but foure yeares old when his father died, and at twelue yeares he made the funerall oration for his grandmother Iulia: foure yeares after that, he became a gowne­man, though he were but yong: yet his vnckle gaue him a present at his returne out of AFRICK, such as the souldiers are accustomed to haue of their Captaines▪ Shortly after he followed his vnckle into SPAINE, whither he was gone against the children of Pompey, and passed through many great dangers to ouertake him. This warre being ended, because Caesar vndertooke other longer iourneys, Octauius was sent into the city of APPOLONIA: and there plied his booke very diligently. And it chanced him, without hauing any mind to it, that being gone to see Theo­genes a learned Astronomer, he cast his natiuity, and suddenly he leapt being amazed, and honoured him. The which made Octauius conceiue great hope of himselfe, and in me­morie of this good hap, he caused certaine peeces of money to be coined, and he himselfe told the opinion of Theogenes. Being returned from APPOLONIA to ROME, after his vnckle was slaine by Cassius, Brutus, and their allies, he declared himselfe to be his heire, though his mother and Marcius Philippus were of another mind. And hauing put himselfe forward, he gouerned [Page 52] the commonwealth of ROME, first with Antonius and Lepidus: afterwards with Antonius the space of twelue yeares: and lastly himselfe alone, the space of foure and forty yeares. But before we speake of his gouernement of common affaires in time of peace and warre, let vs say somewhat (after Swetonius) of his family and his maners. He married being yet very young the daughter of Publius Seruilius Isauricus: but hauing made peace with Antonius after the warre of MVTINE, and at the request of their armies who were desirous to see them friends, he maried with Clodia, the daughter of Publius Clodius and of Fuluia then wife of Antonius. But before he knew her, he sent her to her mother, with whom he was somewhat disconten­ted, and because of the warre also of PEROVSE. Immediatly he maried Scribonia, and kept not her long because she was too troublesome: yet he had a daughter by her called Iulia. But forsaking her, he tooke another which he loued vnto the end: and that was Liuia Drusilla the wife of Tiberius Nero, whom he caried with him great with child as she was, and had no child: by her but one, and yet she went not out her time, and it had no life. His daugh­ter Iulia was maried vnto Marcellus, the sonne of his sister Octauia: and after his death vnto Marcus Agrippa, by whom she had three sonnes, Caius, Lucius, and Agrippa: and two daughters, Iulia, and Agrippine. After the death of Marcus Agrippa, he chose for his sonne in law Tibe­rius the sonne of Tiberins Nero and of Liuia Drusilla, at that time a knight of ROME, and com­pelled him to forsake his wife Vipsamia, of whom he had a sonne called Drusus. But as he was for­tunate in managing the affaires of the common wealth, so was he vnfortunate in his race: for his daughter and his neece Iulia committed so foule faults in ROME, that he was constrained to banish them. Agrippine was maried vnto Germanicus, the sonne of his sisters daughter. Caius and Lucius died in lesse then a yeare and a halfe one after the other: whereupon he adopted his nephew Agrippa, and his sonne in law Tiberius. But because Agrippa was of a churlish nature and vnhonest, he did disinherite him, and confined him to SVRRENTVM. His neece Iulia had a child after she was banished, but he would not know it, nor suffer it should be brought vp. He was very modest and continent in all the parts of his life, sauing that he was somewhat giuen to women and play: for the rest, he liked not great pallaces, but was contented with meane lod­gings: and if there were any ornament, it was in porches and parkes. His houshold-stuffe and apparell was nothing sumptuous nor costly. It pleased him well to make feasts, he very carefully made choise of his guests, and oftentimes he sate downe at the table a long time after euery bo­dy, and would rise before others, which remained after he was vp. In his ordinarie diet he ba­nished superfluity of meates: he delighted to be merry and pleasant among his friends, or to bring in pleasant players of comedies to passe the time away. And he did not tie himselfe to any certaine howres to eate his meate, but when his stomacke serued him he tooke something. So that somtimes he supped not at al, and then when euery man was gone, he made them bring him meate, neither dainty nor delicate. Also he drunke very litle wine, he slept in the day, and by times in the night, talking with some, or reading: so that oftentimes he slept not till the breake of day, and for that he tooke no rest in the night, he might chaunce to sleepe in his litter as they caried him in the streetes in the day time vp and downe ROME. He was a goodly Prince, and that kept himselfe in good state from the beginning of his life to the latter end: not curious to set himselfe out, as litle caring to be shauen, as to weare long haire: and in stead of a looking­glasse, reading in his booke, or writing, euen whilest the Barber was trimming of him. Whether he spake or held his peace, he had so comely a face, that many of his enemies bent to do him hurt, their hearts would not serue them so soone as euer they looked on him. He had very cleare and liuely eyes, but with time he was subiect to many diseases and infirmities, the which he re­medied with great care. As for his exercises, he left armes and horses immediatly after the ci­uill warres: for he was neuer any great souldier. He would play at tennis, at the ballone, he would go abroad in his coach to walke and stirre himselfe. Sometimes he would go a fishing, or play at the bones, or at nuts with yong children of the MOORES & SYRIANS that had some prety maner and behauiour with them, and alwayes spake words to moue laughter. He was learned in the liberall sciences, very eloquent, and desirous to learne: insomuch that during the warre of MVTINE, in the middest of all his infinite affaires, he did reade, he wrote, and made orations amongst his familiars. He neuer spake vnto the Senate nor people, nor to his souldiers, but he had first written and premeditated that he would say vnto them, although he had speech at commaundement, to propound or aunswer to any thing in the field. And because he would [Page 53] not deceiue his memory, or lose time in superfluous speech: he determined euer to write all that he would say: and he was the first inuenter of it. If he had to conferre with any man, or with his wife in any matters of importance: he would put that downe in his writing tables, be­cause he would speake neither more nor lesse. And he tooke pleasure to pronounce his words with a sweete voyce and good grace, hauing continually about him for this purpose a fine man to frame his voice. But one day hauing a paine in his mouth, he made his oration to the people by an Herauld. He made many bookes and verses of diuerse sorts: but all is dead with time. His speech was as the rest of his life, eloquent, well couched together, and sententious. He de­lighted to reade good authors, but he gathered nothing other then the sentences teaching good maners: and hauing witten them out word by word, he gaue out a copy of them to his fami­liars: and sent them about to the gouernours of prouinces, and to the magistrates of ROME and of other cities. He was somewhat, and too much giuen vnto deuinations: he was maruellously a­fraid of thunder and lightning: he had a great confidence in dreames, and in such like vanities. But peraduenture we are too curious searching out his priuate life: yet that may sometime dis­couer great personages more then their publicke actions, in the which they are more carefull to frame their countenances, and do counterfeit most.

Now, as we haue lightly runne ouer his priuate life before spoken of: so shall the memo­rable deeds done by his authorite be briefly represented: being vnpossible to comprehend in a few lines so many notable things, vnlesse a man would make a great booke of them. This is to be noted in him, that so young a man hauing so small beginnings, comming out of a meane house in comparison of others, hath excelled all other young and old men in wisedome and greatnesse of courage: should rise so high, that before he had bene Praetor the Senate gaue him the name of Augustus, created him maister of the horse, when as yet he neuer had charge of a company of men at armes: proclaimed him Emperour and soueraigne captaine, afore he had bene placed in any publike office by authority of the Senate. Furthermore, for the first time he was cho­sen Consull when he was but twentie yeares old: and he was thirteene times Consull, and twentie times called Soueraigne captaine. Afterwards, when he was not yet foure and thirtie yeares old, the Senate and people of ROME gaue him this goodly name of father of his country, because he had maintained and preserued the commonwealth. It is a wonderfull thing that he could wind himselfe out of so many great affaires and warres, that he could within foure and twentie yeares of age, restore againe into so good estate the commonwealth of ROME, turmoiled and troubled with so many proscriptions and ciuill warres as it was. And that afterwards so long as he commaunded alone, he did so firmely establish this Monarchie, that notwithstanding the infinite troubles receiued vnder other Emperours, yet it stood vpright and in so great pro­speritie for so many hundred yeares. After the death of Iulius Caesar, this man being but bare eighteene yeares old, came to ROME, where he was welcomed and immediatly did contest with Antonius, hated of Cicero and of many others: from whence the aduancement of this young Caesar came, and the declaration of the warre against Antonius, iudged an enemy of the com­monwealth, and ouercome by the Consuls Hirtius and Pansa. Caesar who was their associate, was called Soueraigne captaine, though he had not yet fought: both the Consuls being dead of their hurts. But the Senate after this ouerthrow, beginning to change their mind, he perceiuing that they were slow to graunt him the Consulship, resolued to possesse it by force of armes, and began to acquaint himselfe with Antonius and Lepidus which were ioyned together: he made that the souldiers promised by oath the one to the other, that they would fight against none of Caesars troupes, & sent 400 men to ROME to aske for him, in the name of all the army, the office of Cōsull. They hauing deliuered their charge vnto the Senate, Cornelius the Centiner chiefe of this legation or ambassade, perceiuing they wold giue him no present answer, casting vp his cassocke, & shewing the Senate the pommell of his sword, sayd vnto them: This shall do it, if you will not do it. So they being returned without obtaining their demand, Caesar made Antonius and Lepidus come into ITALY, & he for his part hauing passed the riuer of Rubicon, marched with 8 legions right to ROME. This put all ROME in such a feare, as they sent to Caesar to present him the Consul­ship: and twise so much in gift, as they had promised the legions. Now whilest the Ambassadors were on their way, the Senators beginning again to take hart to them, encouraged by the arriuall of the legions of AFRICK, they determined to try all meanes before they wold betray the liberty of their coūtry, being minded to cal backe that which they had sent to Caesar, & so disposed them­selues [Page 54] to make warre. Caesar being offended with this inconstancie, sent certaine horsemen be­fore to assure the people that he would make no tumult at all: he drew his legions neare, and made himselfe Lord of ROME without one stroke striken: and contrariwise, the people and Se­nate receiued him with shew of great ioy. Then, in the assembly of all the people he was cho­sen Consull, iust at the full accomplishment of twenty yeares of his age. So he demaunded in the field that they should proceed criminally against those that had killed his father Caesar. Q. Pedius his fellow Consull published the decree. So were Brutus and Cassius, and all their friends condemned, with interdiction of water and fire. But for as much as Augustus had too small meanes to set vpon Brutus and Cassius, he reconciled Antonius and Lepidus with the Senate, and made alliance with them, followed with great armies. They ioyned, and were in consultation of their affaires the space of three dayes together, neare vnto BOLONIA, or vnto MVTINE, and as if the ROMAINE Empire had bene their owne inheritance, they deuided it betweene them three. So that Caesar had the high and base LYBIA, with SICILIA, and SARDINIA. SPAINE and GAVLE NARBONNESE fell vnto Lepidus: and the rest of GAVLE was for Antonius. They did decree also that they should be called Trium-viri, appointed for the reestablishment of the com­monwealth, with soueraigne authority for fiue yeares, to dispose and giue the estates and of­fices to whom they thought good, without asking aduice of the Senate nor people. So they established Lepidus Consull for the yeare following, in the place of Decimus Brutus that was kil­led: and they gaue him the gard of ROME and ITALIE, so long as they two that remained made their preparations to go against Brutus and Cassius. Besides the presents they should make vnto the souldiers after the victory, they promised to giue them leaue to ease themselues, & eighteene rich townes in ITALIE for them to dwell in. Then they began to set vp a rolle of all the citizens of ROME appointed by them to be slaine. And they decreed to euery free man that should bring the Trium-viri a head of the proscripts, the sum of two thousand fiue hundred crownes, and halfe so much vnto the slaues with enfranchisement: and the like summe also to whosoeuer could discouer any man that had hidden or fauoured the proscripts. Antonius and Lepidus were thought to be the chiefe authors of this horrible tragedie: and Caesar seemed willing to none but to the murtherers of his father, and did a long time oppose himselfe against the other two: but at the length he gaue ouer, and they made wonderfull changes, abandoning their owne parents and friends the one to the other, to be reuenged of their enemies. But when the sword was one drawne, he was no lesse cruell then the other two. Cicero was not forgotten, as we may see in his life: and it would be very hard to describe the wickednesse of that time, the which like a furious streame caried away so many citizens of ROME. In whose historie do appeare most rare examples of all sorts of vices and vertues in all manner of persons: of whom we will make mention, after those that haue written more at large: as amongst others, Appianus Alex­andrinus: which will serue to shew, how much a man is a furious beast, being lift vp in autho­ritie in the commonwealth, and giuen to reuenge. That there is nothing certaine nor sure in mans prosperitie, which bringeth much enuie to his seruants: as to the contrarie aduersitie ma­keth the afflicted contemptible: and euery body ashamed of them. But they are wise men, that in such tragicall accidents do cary an inuincible heart, resolutely obeying necessitie, and a more high prouidence then that of man. We must not call that intollerable which may happen to great or meane men: for all humane accidents are vnder the feete of vertue. It chaunceth of­ten, that force and wisedome do defend a man, as alwayes these two vertues do preserue his ho­nour. He is well aduised that can finely pacifie and diuert the furie of an enemy: as to the con­trary shame and despaire do gripe cowards, slothfull, and fearfull. But in fine, necessity presseth on the one side, and danger on the other.

So they did set vp the names of the proscripts fastned in diuers places of ROME, to the num­ber of an hundred & thirty Senators for the first time, a hundred & fiftie at the second time, and two thousand Knights. Then was the gate open to all villanies and cruelties, fought withall by patience and fidelity: but the examples will shew that better then all the discourse a man can make. Saluius Otho, Tribune of the people, was one of the first. Hauing inuited his friends to his last supper, a Centener came in, who in the presence of all his guests, halfe dead for feare, strake off his head. Minutius the Praetor was also killed, sitting in his seate of iudgement. L. Vil­lius Annalis, a man that had bene Consull, being escaped out of the hands of the murtherers, sa­ued himselfe in the subburbes in a litle house of one of his clients: but his owne sonne hauing [Page 55] no patience to stay for the inheritance of his father, bewrayed him vnto the souldiers who went to kill him there. Shortly after, this parricide being drunke had a quarrell with the selfe same souldiers, who stabbed him in with their daggers. C. Toranius was betrayed in like maner by his owne sonne, who hauing consumed in a few dayes the succession which he had so execrably pursued, and being condemned for theft, was banished into a place where he died for want and pouerty. Now against these wicked, let vs set some vertuous children. Q. Cicero was hid by his sonne, whom they could neuer make confesse (though he was tormented) where his fa­ther was: who, not able any longer to endure they should afflict so vertuous a sonne with so many euils for his sake, came and presented himselfe to the murtherers. The sonne began to in­treate them to kill him before his father: but they were both killed at one time. The Egnaces, fa­ther and sonne, one embracing the other, were both run through and slaine at one blow. C. Hosidius Geta was buried for dead by his sonne: who saued him, sustained and kept him till it was peace. Arruntius, after he had comforted and strengthened his sonne, put himselfe to the swords of the murtherers. The sonne died immediatly after for griefe, and famine. Some other children carefully saued and kept their fathers, and hid them. Certaine women also shewed themselues maruellous faithfull and louing to their husbands: and so were there to the contra­trary some vnfaithfull, that discouered their wonderfull wickednesse. Tanusia made such ear­nest sute, that she obtained grace of Caesar for T. Iunius her husband, who was hidden by Philo­poemen his bondman enfranchised: whom Caesar knighted for his fidelity to his maister. Q. Liga­rius hauing bene kept by his wife was discouered by a slaue, and killed: wherefore his wife kil­led her selfe with famine. Lucretius Vespillo, hauing erred and runne in great daunger here and there, not knowing whither to flie: came secretly to his wife Thuria, and was hidden and kept close betwixt the seeling and the top of the house, vntill she had obtain ed his grace of the Tri­um-viri. Apuleius was saued by his wife, who fled with him. The wife of Antius wrapped vp her husband in couerlets, and made him be caried to the sea as a packet of stuffe, where he imbar­ked, and sailed into SICILIA. Coponius was saued by his wife, who put her honour aside in re­spect of her husbands life: for she lent her body one night vnto Antonius to preserue him (which she did by that meanes) whom she loued better then her selfe. Now to the contrary, some wo­men vnfaithfull to their husbands, deliuered them into the hands of the murtherers, because they might marrie againe. Amongst other, the wife of Septimius hauing shamefully giuen her body vnto one of Antonius familiars: she caused her husband to be put in the number of the Proscripts, that she might more easily continue her adulterie: and so was Septimius put to death. Q. Vettius Salassus, was hidden in a sure priuy place: wherewith he acquainted his wife, but she straight reuealed him to the murtherers. The which he perceiuing from a high place where he was, cast himselfe downe headlong, chusing rather to die so, then to make his cruell wife pastime. Fuluius was discouered by a slaue of his, and his concubine: ielous because he had maried a wife, and had left her, although notwithstanding he had made her free, and had giuen her goods to liue withall. Now let vs presently speake of the faithfulnesse and vnfaithfulnesse of slaues enfranchised. P. Naso was betrayed by his slaue freed, with whom he had bene too fa­miliar. But he sold his death, for he killed the traytor with his owne hands, and afterwards held out his neck to the hangmen. L. Lucceius had put into the hands of two of his slaues manumissed, as much as was necessary to haue relieued him in his banishment: but they ranne away with all, and he came and put himselfe to the slaughter. Haterius, that was in a secret place, was sold and discouered by a slaue of his. Cassius Varus being bewrayed by a free man that was his slaue, escaped neuerthelesse, and hid himselfe among reeds: where being found by those of MIN­TVRNES, they tooke him for a theefe, and would haue racked him to haue bewrayed his com­panions, he discouered himselfe to be a Senator of ROME: but they would not beleeue him, be­cause he was in poore estate. But whilest they were reasoning of the matter, there cometh a Cen­tener that strake off his head. C. Plotius was saued by his slaues: but being a man giuen to parfume and rubbe himselfe with odoriferous ointments, the sent and smell of them discouered him to the souldiers, that went ferriting vp and downe in his house: yet could they not find him, but cruelly tormented his seruants, to make them confesse where he was: which they would neuer do. But Plotius hauing compassion of the euils of his faithfull slaues, came out of the place where he was hidden, and because he would prolong their life, he shortened his owne, and presented himselfe to the murtherers. Appius Claudius, as he was neare to be had by the backe, chaunged his [Page 56] gowne with his slaue, who went in that sort to present himselfe to the murtherers: but they tooke off his head, and so he saued his maisters head. Another slaue of Menenius did the like: for he went into his maisters litter, and offered his necke to the sword of the murtherers: who dispatched him whilest his maister got to the port of the sea, from whence he escaped into SI­CILIA. But the slaue of Vrbinus Panopio is worthy of memory euery where: for he hearing the murtherers came to sacke his maister, tooke his maisters gowne from him and his ring, gaue him his owne, and put him out at the backe gate. Then he goeth vp into his maisters chamber, and lay downe vpon his bed, where he boldly attended them that killed him for Panopio. Another shewed himselfe no lesse faithfull in the behalfe of Antius Restio: for although his maister had throughly thwacked him for his knauish trickes played a few dayes before, and that then it see­meth he had oportunity to be reuenged: he to the contrary imployed himselfe after a maruel­lous fashion to saue his maister: for he meeting with an old man in his iourney strake off his head, and shewing that with his whippings together to the murtherers, he made them easily be­leeue that he had bene well reuenged of his maister, with whom immediatly after he saued him­selfe in SICILIA. The slaues of Martius Censorinus kept him a long time, and so well that he had leisure to go to Sextus Pompeius. Q. Oppius an honourable old man, and being almost at the pits brincke, like to be killed, was rescued by his sonne, who hauing finely gotten him out of ROME, tooke him vp on his shoulders, and afterwards led him into SICILIA, where all the poore distressed ROMAINES were gently receiued: for Pompeius had sent certaine ships to keèpe vpon the coast of ITALIE, and pinasses euery where, to the end to receiue all them that fled on that side: giuing them double recompence that saued a Proscript, and honourable offices to men that had bene Consuls and escaped, comforting and entertaining the others with a most singular courtesie: many went into MACEDON to Brutus and Cassius: others into AFRICKE to Cornificius. Some hauing escaped the tempest that was in the time of Sylla, were euen glut­ted with this cruelty: as amongst others, M. Fidustius, and Lucius Philuscius. T. Labienus was one of the number of the murtherers in the proscription of Sylla. Afterwards he did nothing else but go vp and downe with a soule possessed with furies: so that being weary of his life at this time, he went and sate in a chaire at his gate, quietly attending that they should put him in the number of them that should be killed. Statius Samnis, an honourable Senator, being foure­score yeares old: because theeues should haue no part of his goods, he left them in pray whoso­euer would take them: and afterwards set his house on fire, and burnt himselfe within it. Aponius being kept a good while by his slaues, was so weary to be shut vp in a troublesome place, and where he liued very poorely: that he came out to the market place, and held out his throat to the murtherers. Cestius being possessed with the like griefe, caused his slaues to make a great fire, and then cast himselfe in it. Sulpitius Rufus, a man that had bene Consull died, because of an Ile of his the which he would not sell vnto Fuluia: as also Ampius Balbus, for that he refused to giue this woman a pleasant place of his. Balbus was betrayed by a seruant of his, that shortly after was hanged vpon a gibbet by sentence of the people: and so had his reward for his villanous fact. Antonius did put in the number of Proscripts a Senator called Nonius Struma, and onely to get out of his hands an Emerode esteemed at fiftie thousand crownes. But Nonius found the meanes to escape with this Emerode to the great despite of him that greedily desired this pray. Some valiantly defended themselues, as Atteius Capito, that killed many souldiers running rudely vpon him, thinking he would haue suffered himselfe to be killed as others were. Howbeit after he had sold his flesh deare, he was ouercome by multitude of assailants. Vetulinus aided with his sonne, hauing many times valiantly repulsed the murtherers, he would haue saued himselfe in SICILIA: but in the straight he met with such a number of enemies, that there he was killed. Sicilius Coronas a Senator, was put in the number of Proscripts, because he would not with o­thers condemne Brutus and Cassius: deuising how to escape, he put himselfe in ranke among those that caried a dead corpes to buriall: but he was discouered and put to death. The Trium­viri appointed such men as they liked of to take charge of them that had bene killed. They sold the goods of the Proscripts by the drumme, at such price as the souldiers would: and yet the most part of them were spoiled and giuen away. They promised the widowes their ioynter, and to the sonnes the tenth part of the patrimonie of their fathers, and to the daughters the twentieth part. Howbeit there were few, and in maner none, that had any benefite by that: but to the contrarie, they sacked many that demaunded such rights. On the other side, they did [Page 57] exact great summes of money vpon the citie of ROME, and ouer all ITALIE: the owners were constrained to giue the halfe of their yearely reuenue: the tenants to furnish one yeares rent of that they held of others: the maisters of houses, the halfe of the rent of their houses, according to the rent they went for. To encourage the souldiers, the Triumuiri gaue vnmeasurable gifts, gran­ted them daily new pillage: the legions wintered in the richest townes, who were compelled to feed the souldiers at their owne charge. Furthermore, all the rich men were constrained to pay in nature of a tribute at one time, the tenth part of all that they were woorth. To be short, so that they could find out new inuentions, it was enough to exact mony. For the feare and custome to endure all, had fashioned men to be more slaues, then the murtherers and exactors would haue had them. And to close vp all, the Triumuiri caused mony to be coyned: the which on the one side had the image of Antonius with an inscription in Latine, the effect whereof is this: M. Antonius Emperor, Augur, Triumuir, for the establishment of the commonwealth. And on the other side there were three hands ioyned together, with the markes of the Consulship, and had these words: Salus generis humani, that is to say: The health of mankind.

Now during the cruelties of this Triumuirate, Brutus and his followers made themselues strong in MACEDON, and did diuers exploits of warre: and were afterwards ouercome in the fields PHILIPPIANS, as hath bene said in the life of Brutus, which we need not rehearse againe, the principall being comprehended there. After this victorie, Antonius went into the East to dispose of his affaires in ASIA, and to leauie money there to pay his souldiers, hauing promised to euery one of them fiue hundred crownes. Caesar returned into ITALIE to refresh himselfe, to assigne Colonies to his souldiers, to pacifie the troubles Lepidus had procured, and to set a pike betwixt him and Pompey at a need: if he were neuer so litle in league with him. Caesar fell grie­uously sicke at BRVNDVSIVM: but being recouered againe he entred into ROME, pacified all things, and kept Lepidus in his wonted degree. But when he came to bring his souldiers into Co­lonies, then the storme began to rise: for the owners cryed out that they were tyrannized, being driuen out of their inheritances: the old souldiers they complained that promise was not kept with them. Fuluia and some others practised to set them on, to the end to draw a warre into ITA­LIE, and by this meanes to make Antonius come againe besotted by Cleopatra. These things pro­ceeded so farre that Fuluia tooke armes, for she was then in the campe, her sword by her side, and commanded like a Captaine. Caesar on the other side being angry, sent her daughter home to her, vnto whom he was betrothed, and led his armie against the NVRSINIANS and SENTINA­TES the allies of Fuluia. In the meane space Lucius Antonius departed in the night with speed, and entred into ROME by treason: vsed it as a citie taken in warre, and draue out Lepidus. Caesar left Suluidienus to besiege the SENTINATES, returned to ROME, and draue out Lucius, followed him and shortened his iourney as he was going into GAVLE, shut him vp, and besieged him a great time in PEROVSE, and compelled him through famine to yeeld himselfe, and to craue pardon, which he graunted him. PEROVSE was burnt by a strange accident: for one of the chiefest of the citie hauing set his house on fire, after he had wounded himselfe with his dagger, a boisterous wind being risen vpon it, so dispersed the flames abrode, that it burnt all the houses besides. Caesar caused some of his Captaines to be killed that were against him. He condemned the NVRSINI­ANS in a great summe of money, and because they could not pay it, he draue them out of their citie and territorie. Afterwards he suppressed some troubles raised in NAPLES by Tiberius Clau­dius Nero, father of Tiberius Caesar, and fauourer of Fuluia: who seeing her selfe vnder foot, she fled vnto ATHENS. But Caesar to preuent a new conspiracie, sent Lucius Antonius far from ROME, to commaund the legions that were in SPAINE: he gaue him also commissioners to looke into him, and to obserue his actions. He finely draue out Lepidus also into AFRICK with sixe legions. On the other side Fuluia being dead, Caesar and Antonius agreed being ready to fight: after that they made peace with Pompey that gouerned SICILIA. Immediatly after that he went into GAVLE, to appease some troubles that happened there, and sent Agrippa before, who compelled the AQVITANS to submit themselues, and pacified al GAVLE. On the other side Cneus Caluinus subdued the CERETANIANS in SPAINE. And because the legions had committed certaine inso­lencies, whereupon they fell together by the eares, and the enemies had the better hand: after he had sharpely reproued them, he took the tenth man of the two first bands, and belaboured Iubel­lius with a cudgell. In the mean time Caesar sent at times troupsof men of armes into DALMATIA, and ILLYRIA, to the end to breath them for other warres that were a hatching, as that of SI­CILIA [Page 58] was the first. For Menas the pyrat, Sextus Pompeius Lieutenant, hauing for despite brought his fleet vnto Caesar, and taken his part, vnto whom also he deliuered the Iles of SARDINIA and CORSICA, with three legions: Caesar did him great honors, & refused to deliuer him againe vnto Pompey, who asked him of him. Besides that Pompey complained of Antonius, and pretending to haue iust occasions, he tooke armes againe. Wherfore Caesar sent for Antonius and Lepidus out of GRECE and AFRICKE to come and aide him. Antonius came to the hauen of BRVNDVSIVM: but vpon the sudden, not knowne wherfore, he tooke sea againe, & returned from whence he came. Lepidus came too late, which made Caesar (seeing all the weight fall on his armes) that he sent his Lieutenants against Pompey: who fought with them by sea & by land, & had the better, and put Caesar to great trouble, who had like to haue bin killed by a slaue also, that wold haue reuēged the death of his maisters father, that was a proscript. After that Antonius being come to TARENTVM, with intention to make war against Caesar: Octauia sister of the one, and wife of the other, agreed them, so that they did yet prolong with Lepidus their Triumuirate for fiue yeares more. An­tonius went against the PARTHIANS, and Caesar prepared to set vpon Pompey againe. Hereupon Menas being angry for that he was not so well accounted of as he thought he deserued: he retur­ned againe to ioyne with Pompey with 7. gallies. Caesars fleet hauing sustained great hurt by tem­pest, was also beaten by Menas. Lepidus wan LILYBEE, & tooke certaine neighbor villages. Caesar hauing repaired his ships and army by sea, and made it stronger then before vnder the conduct of Agrippa, who sailed vnto LIPARE, he gaue battell by sea vnto Pompeys Lieutenants. But they being aided by Menas (that was returned the second time) he ouercame and wan thirtie shippes. But the other fleet that Caesar himselfe brought, was wholly ouerthrowne by Pompey, neare vnto TAVROMENION, and Caesar brought to that extremitie, that he was readie to kill himselfe. But Cornificius ran to the shore who saued him, and brought him to the campe: from whence he re­tired further off, and very quickly (but with great daunger) vnto MESSALA. After certaine en­counters where Pompey euer had the better, insomuch as Lepidus was suspected to leane on that side, Caesar resolued to commit all to the hazard of a latter battell: and to draw Pompey vnto it, he cut him so short of victuals, that he was constrained to come to blowes, and the fight was ve­rie cruell: wherein Agrippa bestirred himselfe so valiantly, that he wan the victorie, sunke 28. ships, brake and spoiled the most part of the rest, and tooke two of the chiefest Captaines Pom­pey had: one of the which called Demochares, killed himselfe with his owne hands. Now for Pom­pey, who but a litle before had about three hundred and fiftie saile, he fled away with all speed on­ly with seuenteene, and went to MESSINA so discouraged, that leauing all hope and his armie he had by land, he went to the Ile of CEPHALONIE, where being somewhat come to himselfe, he determined to repaire to Antonius. But Tisienus a Frenchman (his lieutenāt of the armie by land) led all his troupes vnto Lepidus: some GREEKE historians report that it was to Caesar. Plemmi­nius was within MESSINA with eight legions, and did capitulate with Lepidus to render vp the towne to him: wherupon Agrippa hapned to come thither: who maintained, that they ought to regard Caesar that was absent then. But that stood him in no stead, for Lepidus entred the towne, & gaue the spoile of it as well to Plemminius soldiers as to his. Therupon Caesar vndertooke a thing worthie of memory, which was: that being vnarmed he went into Lepidus campe, & turning by the blows of the darts that were thrown at him by some, which hit his cloke & pierced it: he took hold of an ensigne of a legion. Then the souldiers all of them armed followed him, and left Lepi­dus: who shortly after lost empire and army: he that with 20. legions promised himself SICILIA and a great deale more, Caesar gaue him his life, and the office of soueraigne Bishop of ROME, whi­ther he sent him. Some say he was banished. Vpō these stirs there rose a sedition in Caesars campe through the insolencie of the souldiers, that ran euen to his iudgement seat, vsing great menaces. But he wisely appeased all, punished the authours of the tumult, and did cassiere all the tenth le­gion with great shame and ignominie, because the souldiers of the same did outbraue him in words. He dispersed and sent some others to their houses, and gaue vnto them that had vsed themselues gently, two thousand Sesterces for euery souldier: which is thought to amount neare to fiftie crownes. He made them to be mustred, and found that they were fiue and fortie legions, fiue and twentie thousand horsmen, and sixe and thirtie thousand lightly armed. After­wards he did great honours vnto his Lieutenant Agrippa for his notable seruice, and com­maunded Statilius Taurus to go into AFRICKE to take possession of the Prouinces of Lepi­dus. Whilest Antonius made warre with the PARTHIANS, or rather infortunately they made [Page 59] warre with him to his great confusion: his Lieutenant Titius found the meanes to lay hands vpon Sextus Pompeius that was fled into the Ile of SAMOS, and then fortie yeares old: whom he put death by Antonius commandement: for which fact he was so hated of the people of ROME, that though he had giuen them the pastime of certaine playes at his owne costs and charges, they draue him out of the Theater.

Moreouer, Caesar thinking to haue sailed out of SICILIA into MAVRITANIA, the sea being rough stayed him: which was the cause that he sent his armie into ILLYRIA, and set vpon the IAPVDES, which did him much mischiefe, yet at the last he ouercame them. Then he ranne v­pon the PANNONIANS, and the DALMATIANS, whom he made tributaries, being hurt in his thighes, in his armes, and in one of his knees, in this warre against the ILLYRIANS. On the o­ther side, Messala his Lieutenant fought against the SALASSIANS, dwelling in a valley enuironed with high mountaines of the Alpes: and after diuerse ouerthrowes, he made them subiect to the Empire. And shortly after Caesar was chosen Consull the second time: but he resigned the office the same day vnto Autronius Paetus, being about to make himselfe friends against Anto­nius: who being stayed about Cleopatra, gaue his wife occasion to returne from ATHENS to ROME. Now after the fire of enmitie betwixt these two competitours had bene a hatching a certaine time: it stood either of them both vpon to seeke all the meanes to ouerthrow his com­panion. The straunge proceedings of Antonius in fauour of Cleopatra hastened the warre, where­upon followed the battel of ACTIVM, the flying of these wicked louers, and the beginning of the Monarchy of Caesar, confirmed by the conquest of AEGYPT, and the tragicall death of Antonius and Cleopatra. The which we touch briefly, the whole being largely set downe in the life of Antonius. They did great honours vnto Caesar after these exploits. The memorie of Antonius was condemned, and his statues maimed and throwne to the ground. A litle before, M. Lepidus, sonne of the Trium-vir and of Iunia sister of Brutus, conspired against Caesar. But after they had discouered it, he was put to death by the wisedome of C. Maecenas a knight, and gouernor of ROME: his wife Seruilia killed her selfe, as Portio the wife of Brutus. After the vtter ouerthrow of Antonius, Caesar tooke order for the affaires of the East parts, he made alliance with Herodes king of IVDAEA. He sent the king of the PARTHIANS sonne in hostage to ROME, vntill they should send all the ensignes and standards they had wonne of Crassus and Antonius. He gouer­ned the affaires of ASIA, receiued into league and friendshid with him the kings of GALATIA, CAPPADOCIA, & PAPHLAGONIA: & he punished some others by fines, that were not his friends. He gaue priuiledges to the cities of EPHESVS, of NICE, PERGAME, and BITHYNIA, to build temples in the honour of Iulius Caesar, of ROME, and of himselfe. He set the SAMIANS at liberty, and after he had taken order for all the rest, he went towards ITALIE: where after he was arriued, it cannot be expressed with what great ioy he was receiued of high and low, from BRVNDV­SIVM vnto ROME. There he triumphed three dayes together, for the ILLYRIANS, for Antonius and for Cleopatra. He gaue great presents vnto souldiers, and besides the mony that was made of the booty, and distributed by euen portions, he gaue euery one fiftie crowns a peece, the double to a Centener, and the treble to a Knight: and to euerie person among the people ten crowns, euen to litle children. He brought such store of gold and siluer out of AEGYPT (by him reduced into a prouince, and condemned to pay twenty millions of gold to the people of ROME for a fine) that he brought downe vsurie from twelue in the hundred, to foure: and made that land and houses were sold deare, where before the rich men had them almost for nothing. Furthermore, he brought in a maruellous change in all trafficke: he also abolished all taxes and subsidies impo­sed by necessity of the ciuill warres. He cried downe all straunge coine, which were at too high a price for their law, and all through the iniquity of time. He lent out money for a time with­out interest, vnto those that had meanes to make double profite of it. He would not receiue the gold which the cities of ITALIE sent him to make him crownes: but sent them it backe againe with his thankes for their good will. He gaue the pastime of all maner of games and magnificent sights vnto the people, such as they had neuer seene before. He made goodly feasts vnto the Se­nators and Magistrates, and by a world of pleasures he appeased the sorow of proscription, and of so many ciuill warres. Being occupied in these matters, letters came from Crassus Caesars Lieu­tenant, aduertising that he had subdued the BASTARNES, diuerse people of MAESIA, of DACIA, and of THRACIA: that he had won seuen or eight battels of them, that with his owne hands he had killed the king of the BASTARNES, and had brought the king of GETES to such extremity, [Page 60] that he killed himselfe. These newes did increase the ioy, and the triumph was granted to Crassus, and to Caesar also: who by decree of the Senate caused the temple of Ianus to be shut the third time, which had remained open the space of 200 yeares. At this time Caesar that was in his fift Consulship, numbred and mustred all the people of ROME, reformed the Senate, the order of knights, the distribution of corne: and because of the great dearth that was then, he made come to be distributed to the people at a very meane price to some, & for gramercy to the poore. They that had bene bound to the common wealth of too long a time, he discharged them, and burnt their obligations. He confirmed the propriety of houses in strife betwixt them and the common wealth, if they had bene in quiet possession any conuenient time. And to assure all those that had adhered vnto Antonins, & to keepe them that they should no more giue eare to any new rumors: he sware vnto them in good faith that hauing taken Antonins coffers, he had burnt all the letters he found in them, and read not one of them. He set downe an order for Custome, eased the customers that had bene too much oppressed: also he restored the treasure againe, and the augure of health. And by reason of that aboue named, he was called father of the countrey in open Se­nate: and at the same time he sent people to CARTHAGE, to set vp the families of the Patricians, greatly diminished by the proscriptions and ciuill warres.

The next yeare following, which was the 725 of the foundation of ROME, and the sixt of his Consulship: seeing all the wars appeased, peace established, armes laid downe euery where, the cōmonwealth in good strength, the laws honored, iustice in authority, the Senate in their anciēt glory, & the people restored by him to their rights of assembly to chuse their yearly magistrates, and to giue out their commissions & charges according to their old custome: he began to reason the matter with himselfe, which of the twaine was most profitable: either to keepe (for the good of the state, and vnder the title of a Prince) the Empire which he had in his hands: or whether he should render it vp vnto the people. He found himselfe grieued for that Antonius had oftentimes accused him of tyranny & vniust inuasion: and on the other part also he apprehended the fury of the people, and the factions of ambitious men, which like the billowes of the sea, would inconti­nently tosse in horrible fashion this vnconstant sea. Being thus perplexed, one day he tooke aside Agrippa and C. Maecenas, his two faithfull friends, very wisemen and of great experience aboue all others: and prayed them to tell him plainly without flattery, what they thought of it, being resol­ued to follow that which should be most expedient for the good of the commonwealth. Agrippa by an ample discourse did counsell him to render vp to the people his principality and signiority. Maecenas was of the contrary opinion, & gaue such counsell as Caesar followed, tempering both opinions, & made himselfe master in such sort that the people felt it not, but rather confessed that they needed such a Phisition to raise thē vp againe from the incurable maladies they were fallen into. He thanked both his friends, gaue his neece Marcella to be the wife of Agrippa, and did him new honours, proceedeth to a new reuiew of the citizens of ROME: and is chosen Prince of the Senate by Agrippa, who was then his companion in the Consulship. Furthermore, assuring him­selfe that so much good and honours as had bene communicated to the small and great, would make them they should not much passe for their ancient dignitie and liberty: and that the sweet­nesse of the ease and rest they did enioy, would make them forget all the good and euill past: he borowed of his magnanimitie the maruellous counsell that followeth. He resolued to discharge himselfe of the principality into the hands of all the Senate, to render it vnto the people: hoping that the Senate seeing his affection so to submit himselfe to the accustomed order, & not to seeke a domination and gouernment ill-willed, they would thanke him the more: that all the great per­sons would lay aside the enuy which they might beare vnto him, and that the people would e­steeme and loue him so much the more. Vpon this thought, and after he had acquainted some of the Senators withall that stood affected to him, to the end to win others by their meanes, he made an oration in open Senate, well studied, and fit for the time. Hauing made a long discourse of the great extent of the Empire, and of his insufficiency: he added vnto it, that this common burthen could not be caried but by the immortall gods: that he had continued some yeares to manage a part of it, and that experience had made him know that his shoulders were too weake to beare such a burthen as the principalitie, subiect to infinite changes, and exposed to a thousand ambushes. He therefore required, the citie being furnished with so many noble persons, that the affaires might be managed by many men, who ioyning them­selues together, might more easily satisfie the charges, then one alone: that in a good hower, [Page 61] hauing set all things in good estate againe, he did put the common wealth into the hands of the Senate and people of ROME. This oration diuersly moued the Senators. Some of them thought there was more art then truth in it. Others iudged that it was not expedient to put the estate into the power of many. The most of them enriched and made great by Caesar, and that were risen vp by the ruines of their countrey, sayd: that they should preferre that which now they had in hand, before all the time past, beaten with so many tempests. Many others enclined to that side, not that they were in good earnest of that mind, but for feare to be looked vpon with an euill eye, if they did speake against their companions. So then all of them with one consent vnaduisedly, rather then of a common and ripe iudgement, began to beseechand adiure Caesar, that it would please him to be chiefe and preseruer of the Empire, of the which he had set downe so many goodly and happy foundations. Immediatly they ordaine that Caesars guard should haue twise as much pay as they had before. Agrippa was of opinion that they should cas­seere the SPANISH gard, and Caesar in their place should chuse a gard of ALMAINES, knowing well that in those great bodies there was litle malice hidden, and lesse subtilty: and that they were a people that tooke more pleasure to be commanded, then to command.

He being thus established in his Empire by the consent of the Senate and people, to the end they should not thinke he would lift himselfe vp aboue measure, or to giue sure footing to a per­petuall Monarchie: he would not accept the charge to prouide for the affaires of estate, and the gouernement of the Prouinces, but for the space of ten yeares: with condition to giue vp his charge before this terme, if things were sooner setled in their full estate. First therefore, he left a part of the Prouinces vnto the Senate and people, to take care for the gouernement of the same: and for himselfe he kept those that were not yet in order, and in the which he should be driuen to make warre. In those that were quiet, he established Proconsuls: and for o­thers, he gouerned them by his Lieutenants, which had their lesson, according vnto the which they were bound to be directed. Among other lawes they were forbidden to leauie any mo­ney, or to gather men of warre together, or to assaile any Prouince, without the comman­dement of the Senate, or of Caesar. That foorthwith when they sent any successour, they should leaue their gouernement, and repaire to ROME within three moneths. He appointed also vn­to the Proconsuls a certaine summe of money to beare their charges for their horse and cariage of the stuffe. Furthermore he established a law that the Proconsull or gouernour should not go to his Prouince appointed him, till the end of fiue yeares after his commission graunted him: to the end that they which were conuinced for taking of money corruptly, should pay to the Prouinces the fine they shold be condemned: in and he depriued them of all estates and honors, which through their euill behauiours had bene condemned in such fines. And further, he would not that the officers that had to deale in his affaires should haue any authoritie, but to de­maund their stipends and money which the Prouinces were bound to furnish. And because he would beautifie and adorne ROME, as the maiestie of the Empire required: he raised vp many common buildings, and repaired many that had bene left vnfinished or ruined, leauing the names of the founders. His buildings among other were the temple of Apollo in the pallace, with the porch, and a librarie of GREEKE and Latin books. Also the Monuments, and the park, for the walkes and pleasure of the people of ROME. In his seuenth Consulship, certaine Sena­tors propounded that they should call him Romulus, for that he hauing preserued the citie of ROME, it was as much bound vnto him, as vnto the first founder. But he would not accept of that name. Wherefore Munatius Plancus bethought himselfe of another, the which was giuen vnto him by common consent of all, and he held it to his death: as also we will call him from henceforth in all that remaineth to be set downe of his deeds: to wit Augustus. He not to seeme vnworthy of this name, and to cary himself so that no man shold repent this change of go­uernement, began diligently to set his hand to these affaires. He wisely reformed the auncient lawes, and made new, that were very necessary. To make sure worke in these affaires, he chose from sixe moneths to sixe moneths fifteene Senators that had bene Consuls, and did priuately acquaint them with all that was requisite to be done for the preseruation of the quietnesse of the commonweath, giuing order that nothing should passe but it should be searched and examined to the bottome: saying that he would giue the people lawes which they should all allow, and that he would not be his owne iudge alone. Afterwards he reformed the assemblies of the city, where all things were caried by sutes, presents, and violence. He then restored the people their [Page 62] right by voices to chuse the magistrates. And to cut off all sutes, he forbad them to make any rolle of suters names, but of those that had layd downe great summes of money, to the end that being conuinced of their sutes, they should be put to their fines: adding also this ignominy, that such should be depriued of all estates & honors for the space of fiue yeares. And furthermore, he finely hindred the bad practises in elections, giuing order that none should be put in nomination, but such as were vertuous and of good reputation. He left vnto the Magistrates their charges whole, and did alwayes require in al his Consulships that they shold giue him two companions: howbeit the Senate wold neuer agree vnto it. The yeare before, he had reduced the nūber of Se­nators to sixe hundred, all honourable men. At that time also he reestablished the auncient order and dignitie: ordaining that the Senate should haue the superintendencie of the treasure, and of all the reuenues that belonged to the people of ROME. That all the expences for the common­wealth shold be made by their ordinance. That the Senators should haue the hearing of all crimes of treason, conspiracie, ambushes, and offences to his Maiesties person: and that it should per­taine to them to giue entertainement and answer that should be fit, to Ambassadors of nations. When in matters of importance he asked the aduice of the Senate, in stead of comming to the Prince of the Senate according to the accustomed manner, or to him that was appointed Con­sull, or to other Senatours by order: he made choise of any one of them which he thought good, to the end that euery one should giue attentiue eare, and be readie to deliuer his opinion: and not to hold his head downe in his rancke, and content himselfe to be of other mens minds. He ordained also, that the whole bodie of the Senate should not assemble but from fifteene dayes to fifteenes dayes: howbeit that in ordinarie matters the magistrates should thinke of that that were expedient. In the moneths of September and October, the Senatours were not bound to meete, but onely foure hundred drawne by lot: who might establish any decree. And as for himselfe, to honour this company the more, the day of the assembly he neuer salu­ted any of the Senators apart, but all of them together in the counsell chamber when they were set, and all of them name by name, the one after the other. If he would go out, and that he sayd he would detaine the companie no longer: he bad them farewell in the same manner that he had saluted them at his comming in. He ruled iustice also ciuill and criminall, and willed that amongst other things the criminals accused by certaine enemies, should be set at libertie: with condition notwithstanding that they should be brought to prison againe, if the accuser did submit himselfe to receiue the like punishment as the offender, if it were found he slaunde­red him. Moreouer, he made prouision for common workes, and reparations of bridges, causeyes, and high wayes. And because he was determined to make a voyage into GAVLE, he established Messala gouernour of ITALIE and of ROME, for feare least any trouble should happen in his absence. But this place being troublesome vnto Messala, he besought Augustus he would discharge him: and therefore Agrippa was substituted, who ridde all ITALIE of a great number of theeues and robbers on high wayes, and stayed the courses of many other troublers of the state.

The affaires of ROME and ITALIE being in so quiet estate, vnderstanding that ENGLAND was full of sedition, SPAINE next vnto the mountaines PIRENEI in armes, and GAVLE readie to rise: he opened the temple of Ianus, and tooke his iourney to giue order for all. But the Am­bassadours of ENGLAND preuented him, and promised tribute. Then he went to GAVLE in NARBONE, to draw nearer to SPAINE. And so holding on his iourney to NARBONE, he pacified the GAVLES, he made an exact numbring of all the GAVLES, of their goods, possessions, and slaues, and caused the rolles to be brought vnto him. He established lawes and customes in euery place, and deuided GAVLE into foure parts: of the which the first part was called NARBO­NENSE, which extendeth it selfe from the riuer of Var, vnto the mountaines PIRENEI. AQVI­TAIN the second, vnto the riuer of GARONNE. The third, GAVLE LYONNOISE, vnto the riuer of Seine. Then GAVLE BELGICA, bordered with the riuer of Rhein: and rated all the GAVIS at ten milions of gold for a taxe. Now there remained no more for him to do, but to bring SPAINE to order: in the which the ROMAINES had made continuall warres the space of 200 yeares to­gether. Neuerthelesse the CANTABRIANS and ASTVRIANS (which are the BASQVES) and other people neighbors dwelling in the mountaines, they neither cared for Augustus, nor for the Empire: for they were euer in armes, and made incursions vpon the allies of the people of ROME, and did them great mischiefe: who complaining vnto Augustus of the great necessity they [Page 63] were brought vnto, he being neare vnto them, came to aide them: and found the CANTABRIANS besieging of a fort, hauing taken the towne by it called SAGESAME. He charged them home with such furie, that he left them dead in the place, after they had valiantly defended themselues. Af­terwards he deuided his armie into three parts, and enuironed the countrie of the CANTABRIANS, who made head for the space of fiue yeares, and did maruellous great hurt to the ROMAINES: and if the streights wherby they might easily enter into their countrie, had not bene discouered vnto Agustus, they had sent him home againe to ROME with shame. But hauing found the way to sur­prise them on euery side, he made a cruell warre vpon them, putting all to fire and bloud. They retired with speed to one of their highest mountaines, with all that they could carie with them. The ROMAINES perceiuing that it was too hard a match for them, if they should go thither to set vpon so warlike a nation, and that could not be subdued by force: they made forts in the midst of the mountaine, and placed a strong guard there, to the end to famish the CANTABRIANS, and by that means to bring them to reason. But they on the other side, in stead of yeelding them­selues, did abide all the miseries that any man can possibly thinke of: and it came to that passe, that euen to sustaine nature the strong sonnes killed their old fathers, the mothers their infants, and the young men did deuour the old to eate vp their flesh. Vpon this euill, there followed ano­ther, to wit, discord among them. Some would yeeld, others were of another mind. The former alleaging, that they must needs submit themselues to the mercie of the ROMAINES: the other, that they should make a desperate sallie vpon the enemies campe, and so sell their liues. Their contention waxed so hote and violent, that the CANTABRIANS thrust out ten thousand of the ASTVRIANS with their wiues and children, and compelled them to descend alongst the forts made by the ROMAINES: whom they intreated with the teares in their eyes to make them slaues, and to giue them somewhat to eate. Tiberius then one of Caesars Lieutenants, would not suffer them to be receiued, to the end to famish the one by the other, and to end this warre without any bloudshed. This poore people being depriued of sustenance and hope, and being afraid they should yet endure greater euils, began to powne a venimous hearbe like vnto Smal­lage, and poisoned themselues. The young men killed themselues running one against another with their swords in their hands. The others, to the number of three and twenty thousand came downe in a most miserable estate from the top of the mountaine, and yeelded themselues to the discretion of the ROMAINES: who set aside ten thousand of the strongest of them, to serue them in the warre which they intended to make against the ASTVRIANS. The rest were sold by troups, with condition that they should be caried farre from their countrie, and that they should not be made free, before they had serued them as slaues the space of thirtie yeares. They disarmed ten thousand of them: which they bare so impatiently, that many killed themselues with their owne hands, esteeming their life nothing without armes. They say, that a litle child with a dagger kil­led his father and brethren that were chained together, and that by the commaundement of the father: and that a woman did the like to some of her kinsfolkes. And that many of these moun­tainers accustomed to rob passengers, being vpon the gibbet, sang out songs aloud, euen at their deaths, shewing a ioy and maruellous courage. Augustus being then in those parts, gaue leaue to the souldiers of his guard of SPANIARDS to depart into the territorie of the GASCONS with great presents, and priuiledge to enter in rancke amongst the ROMANE legions. He built SARAGOVS­SE, and other townes which he replenished with souldiers, to bridle the courses and tumults of the CELTIBERIANS: and afterwards made a stone bridge ouer the famous riuer of Eber. Then hauing ouerthrowne the CONISCES, friends of the ASTVRIANS, taken their head citie, and put all the inhabitants thereof to the sword: he set vpon the ASTVRIANS, who being enuironed of all parts, and choosing rather to die then to be made slaues: burnt, killed, and poisoned them­selues, and with them many other of their neighbours. There were some of them yet left aliue, with whom the CANTABRIANS ioyned and other their neighbours, and that a long time. These people had this custome, that all goods were common amongst friends, and when one of them came to the other, he receiued and vsed him as himself: and so also in aduersitie they ran one for­tune, or else killed themselues immediatly after their friends were dead. Amongst them were cer­taine loose people gathered together out of diuers parts, who resolued all together to go charge the ROMAINES, and came to fight with such a furie, that nothing but the night could separate them, hauing lost many of both sides. The next morning they began to ioyne againe with more violence then before, and the fight continued euen till night that the ROMAINES obtained the [Page 64] victorie: but they confessed that they neuer encountred with such cruell enemies. They that were left aliue fled into a towne, in the defence whereof they made themselues all to be kil­led, rather then to yeeld themselues. Augustus built certaine places there in that countrie, which afterwards by time were much enlarged. In this selfe same yeare of his ninth Consulship, Teren­tius Varro his Lieutenant subdued the SALASSIANS, which are those of the vale of OSTE: he dis­armed them, sold the young men by the drumme, gaue part of the territorie vnto the souldiers Pretorians, & built there a citie called AVGVSTA PRETORIA. Vinicius also appeased some trou­bles in GERMANIE, and made warre very fortunately in diuers places. By means of which victo­ries, Augustus was called the eighth time Imperator, as much to say, as soueraigne Captaine: and they suffered him to weare from that time foorth the first day of the yeare, a hat of Laurell, and a robe of triumph. At his returne he shut the temple of Ianus the fourth time, maried Cleopatra, (the daughter of Antonius and Cleopatra) vnto Iuba the Storie-writer, ouerthrowne by Iulius Cae­sar in AFRICKE, with a part of MAVRITANIA and of GETVLIA to raigne there. He reduced into a prouince GALLOGRECIA and LYCAONIA, which made a portion of a kingdome: and by rea­son of his sicknesse not able to be present at the mariage of his daughter Iulia, whom Marcellus maried, the sonne of Octauia his sister: he left all to the charge of Agrippa, and went to ROME. There being chosen Consull the tenth time, the Senate gaue him absolute power ouer the estate and lawes, to make and vndo them at his pleasure. They did him greater honours then before, and gaue Marcellus his nephew before his time great offices in the commonwealth: and to Ti­berius his wiues sonne. He in token of thankfulnesse, gaue to euery one of the people ten crownes apeece. Whilest these matters werein hand, the CANTABRIANS and their neighbours reuolted, by subtiltie caught some of the ROMAINS, and cut their throates. Aelius Lamia, gouernor in those parts, to be reuenged of this outrage, put all the whole countrie to fire and bloud, destroyed some townes, and sold their young men by the drum. To be short, he followed them so hard, that he brought them in subiection. Aelius Gallus gouernor of AEGYPT, almost about the same time, be­ing sent by Augustus commaundement with ten thousand men, fiue hundred souldiers of Herods guard, and fifteene hundred NABATEIANS: vnder the conduct of a noble man of ARABIA called Syllaeus: he did nothing to be accounted of, but discouer the countrie. But hauing lost the most part of his men within the deserts where this Sylleus brought them, and ouercome the SABEANS in a battell, he was enforced to retire. Afterwards this Sylleus, for that he killed his king Oboda by treason, he was taken prisoner, and beheaded by decree of the Senate.

Augustus being Consull for the eleuenth time, the plague was in ROME, and for himselfe he was grieuously sicke: but restored againe to health by Antonius Musa his Phisition. The people therefore caused a statue to be set vp to this Antonius, the Senate did him great honours, and in fauour of his profession, gaue immunitie to all others that from that time foorth did practise Phi­sicke. Furthermore, by many ceremonies they did shew the ioy they had for the health of Au­gustus: and specially fathers of houshold dying, expresly commaunded their children to bring their sacrifices to the Capitol with a title in great letters, saying: THAT AT THE DAY OF THEIR DEATH THEY LEFT AVGVSTVS IN GOOD HEALTH. It was also ordained that from that time foorth they should neuer put any man to death, as often as Augustus entred into the citie. Shortly after he did associate with himselfe Calpurnius Piso in the Consulship, who had followed the partie of Pom­pey and of Brutus. Afterwards when he was gone from ROME into the countrie, he made Lucius Cestius his deputie for him, an inward friend of Brutus and of his memorie. Whereof the Senate maruelling, by decree made him perpetuall Proconsull of the ROMAINE Empire, Tribune of the people, and gaue him power to assemble the Senate as often, and when it pleased him. The peo­ple would haue compelled him to haue bene Dictator: but he bowing a knee, casting downe his long robe, and shewing his breast, besought them to discharge him of so odious an estate. In the meane time he accepted the decree of the Senate, and the charge to cause corne to be brought in, because of the dearth that chaunced in ROME. In the which he serued his turne by Tiberius crea­ted Quaestor at the age of nineteene yeares. As for Marcellus his nephew, he was chosen Aedilis Curulus, who aided him to set foorth all the magnificent pompe of plaies, which he caused to be played before the people: euery man iudged that he should be the successor of all his power. But this young man of great hope, died shortly after, to the great griefe of euery man: and no man can tell whether it was of naturall sicknesse, or of poison giuen him by the practises of Liuia. A litle before his death, Agrippa impatient to beare the rising of this Marcellus whom he despised, [Page 65] went into ASIA vnder colour of another voyage. They say that Augustus much troubled with sicknesse, returned to his first consultation, to put the commonwealth againe into the hands of the Senate and people: and for this cause he called for the Senators and all the the other magistrates: vnto whom he gaue an account of the Empire: and that was a litle booke containing the num­bring of all the riches, townes, and prouinces allies, legions, armies by sea and by land, of all the kingdomes and countries tributarie, of all the customs of the Empire of ROME, that which was necessarily to be leauied or released. But being somwhat amended againe, he changed his mind. And furthermore, hauing giuen audience to the ambassadors of Phrahartes king of the PARTHI­ANS, which demanded a son of his brought by Tyridates vnto Augustus: he sent backe the child, & suffered Tyridates to remaine at ROME, where he sumptuously entertained him. By this means he kept himselfe in friendship with the one and the other, and held the PARTHIANS in suspence, to the end they shold alter nothing. At the beginning of the next yeare following, vnder the Cō ­sulship of M. Claudius Marcellus, and of L. Arruntius, the famine increasing at ROME, he wisely prouided for it. And then the people would constraine him by force to accept the Dictatorship, and threatned to set the pallace on fire and to burne all the Senators in it, if they refused to allow this decree. He would none of the office of Dictatorship, and did refuse also to be Censor, al­though that office had bene void the space of 28. yeares. But forasmuch as Munatius Plancus and Aemilius Lepidus, who were chosen Censors, deserued themselues to be censured, because of their discords, Augustus without the name tooke vpon him to discharge it: and prouided to re­forme infinit disorders that were in ROME, in apparell, countenances, companies, and in the fight of Fencers at the sharpe. At the same time Fannius Caepio, & L. Muraena hauing conspired against him, and being discouered by Castricius, they were taken as they thought to haue escaped, & put to death. In the meane time the ASTVRIANS and CANTABRIANS ill intreated by Carisius, they re­belled, but were ouercome in a set battell, and the prisoners sold. The CANTABRIANS pre­ferring death before seruitude, they killed, burnt, and poisoned the one the other. The ASTVRI­ANS being ouercome the fourth time, did submit themselues: and their armes were taken from them. In the same time, Petronius gouernor of AEGYPT, followed with 10000. footmen, and with 800. horse, went to make warre with the ETHIOPIANS, which dwell vnder AEGYPT, who had in­uaded and ruined certaine townes, ouerthrowne and caried away the statues of Augustus. Theru­pon he pursued them, and made them flie before him: took certaine places vpon them, and pier­ced far into their countrie: so that he inforced their Queene to send her ambassadours vnto Au­gustus (then wintering in the Ile of SAMOS) to pray peace, which he granted them paying tribute.

At the beginning of the Spring, he prepared himselfe to giue order for the affaires in the East: but because they that bent themselues for the Consulship, had almost put the city in alarme, and that in the end notwithstanding the order he had set downe, the people had chosen men whom Augustus feared: through the aduice of Maecenas, he made Agrippa come againe to gouerne ROME in his absence, and maried his daughter Iulia vnto him, Marcellus widow. Now whilest Agrippa gaue order for the affaires of the citie, Augustus tooke sea, and hauing prouided for the affaires of SICILIA, he went into GRECE, did much good for the LACEDAEMONIANS, and to the contrarie, repressed the pride of the ATHENIANS, from whom he tooke away the tribute they had leauied of the Iles of AEGINA and ERETRIA. In the meane time, though he made litle ac­count of straungers ceremonies, yet he made himselfe to be receiued into the fraternitie of myste­ries: and the ambassadors of PERSIA hauing caused the temple of Iupiter Olympian to be finished begun of long time in ATHENS: they ordained that it should be dedicated to the spirit of Au­gustus. Being passed from thence into ASIA, he gaue order to his prouinces and those of the peo­ple of ROME: punished the CYZICENIANS, that had killed the ROMAINE citizens in their town. He imposed a tribute vpon those of TYRE and SIDON, who had dealt badly, and brought them into the forme of a prouince. He did much good vnto the townes that had bene faithfull vnto the commonwealth: to some of them he gaue the right of Burgesship of ROME, and to others the same rights and priuiledges which the naturall citizens of ROME had. He built vp againe the cities of LAODICEA, and of THIATIRA: he set vp them of the Isle of CHIO againe, afflicted be­fore by an earthquake, he did exempt them from all subsidies for sixe yeares. He restored cer­taine Realmes vnto their kings whom he had subdued: or else he did stablish others anew, who came to attend him at his Court as subiects, without any signes or tokens of royall dignitie. He sent Tiberius into ARMENIA, to install Tigranes vnto his royall throne againe, hauing bene [Page 66] driuen out of it. Tiberius returned thither, and hauing fought with the ARMENIANS, he gaue them Artauasdes for their king, who ruled not long. Phraates king of the PARTHIANS being afraid they would set vpon him: was very carefull to get all the ROMAINES together, which were taken after the ouerthrow of Crassus and Antonius, whom he sent euery man of them vnto Augustus, with all the standards and ensignes, and also his sonne and nephewes for pledges of his faithfull friendship vnto the people of ROME. Augustus granted him peace, and then he came into the Ile of SAMOS, comforted RHODES, replenished CORINTH and PATRAS with a great number of men enfranchised, whom he made Burgesses of ROME. In this place also there came vnto him embassadors from Porus and Pandion, two of the mightiest kings of the INDIANS, who prayed al­liance and friendship with him, and brought him very rare presents. There came with them a phi­losopher of INDIA called Zarmanus: who being brought to the citie of ATHENS, he burnt him­selfe aliue, as one Calamus did in the time of Alexander the Great.

In this meane space the citie of ROME was ful of great trouble by the practises of Egnatius Ru­fus, who by force would needs be chosen Consull in Augustus place being absent: who gaue not him his voice, but named Lucretius Vespillo, escaped from the proscription, as hath bene spo­ken of before. But this put him in such a rage, that he conspired with M. Genucius, and Plautius Rufus to kill Augustus. But they being discouered betimes, they were imprisoned and executed by decree of the Senate: who made infinite numbers of honours vnto Augustus at his returne: howbeit he would not accept them all, but caried himselfe very modestly in euery place where he was. The people chose him Censor for fiue yeares, and perpetuall Consull: and at his request they graunted triumph vnto Cornelius Balbus, although he were no ROMAINE borne (for he was a SPANIARD) by reason of his notable victories he had obtained, as Lieutenant of Augu­stus, vpon the GARAMANTES. Agrippa on the other side was sent into GAVLE troubled by the in­uasions of the GERMAINS, whom he ordered well enough. Then he led his armie into SPAINE, troubled with the rebellion of the CANTABRIANS: the which came thus to passe. The pri­soners CANTABRIANS whom they had sold by the drumme: by a complot they made toge­ther, cut their maisters throates, and then fled into their countrie, where they sollicited others to take armes, got their fortresses into their hands, and set vpon the ROMAINE garrisons. Agrippa could by no meanes bring his souldiers thither, whether that they deserued to take rest, or that the resolution of the CANTABRIANS did astonish them. But after that he had brought them to his hand, he marched directly against the enemies: who had the better at the first encounter, and the ROMAINES were well beaten. But they being rebuked and punished by Agrippa, who gaue them barley for wheat, he returned again to fight. But then the CANTABRIANS that bare armes were all cut in peeces, the rest disarmed, and drawne from the mountaine to dwell in the plaine. Augustus was saluted Emperour, or soueraigne Captaine, because of this victorie: but Agrippa modestly refused triumph, and within a while after he ouercame the PANNONIANS also. The yeare following, the GETES and DACES being at ciuill warres, Lentulus that had subdued them before, counselled Augustus not to lose this occasion: for he might easily subdue these barbarous people being thus deuided. But Augustus not being of the mind to make any warres at all with a­ny nation, without great and iust cause, (although there were more hope of gaine, then appa­rance of losse,) he answered: There was no cause for him to do so: adding also, that those that sought a litle gaine with great losse and daunger, were like vnto those that would angle with a golden hooke, the which breaking and falling into the water, no fish is woorth the value of it. And therefore that the barbarous were to be left to their owne miseries: and that by their bloud­shed, by their owne companions, they were more then enough punished for the illes they had done the ROMAINES, who ought not to begin first to do euill.

In the same yeare Augustus being very desirous to put his hand to the reformation of abuses in ROME, and that effectually: he ioyned with him his nephew Agrippa in the state of a Censor, and did establish him Tribune for fiue yeares. First of all he began to correct some dis­orders that were in the Senate, he reformed the knights, spectacles, and playes, and the maner of sutes for publike offices. He set fines vpon their heads that would not marie, and bestowed much vpon them that had wiues and children. He gaue vnto Hortensius Hortalus fiue and twentie thou­sand crownes, to procure him to take a wife, that he might raise vp issue to that noble house and familie of the Hortenses. He ordained also that maidens should be twelue yeares old at the least before they maried, and suffered them to kill adulterers taken with the fact, without punishment: [Page 67] condemning the Sodomites without remission. And for militarie discipline, he looked very carefully vnto that. And because a knight of ROME had cut off his owne sonnes thombes, for that he should not go to the warre: he made him to be sold by the drumme and all his goods. But because the Regrators were greedie to seize vpon them, he made them cease the sale, and put the knight into the hands of one of his bondmen enfranchised, and was contented to driue him out of ROME. Furthermore he procured that the Senate should not be kept but with great reue­rence: that the Senators should come together as into a temple of deuotion, and that no decree should passe, but in the presence of 400. Senators if it might be: that no man should be made free of ROME, but vpon great consideration. For the rest: he and Agrippa gaue the people the plea­sure of secular yearely games, which had not bene seene a hundred yeares before. But he tooke very great care that there should be no insolencies committed. He punished the players in diuers sorts, that behaued themselues more licentiously then became them. And when one of them a­mongst them called him Lord, he shewed the people with his voice, his eyes, and his hand, that he was not well pleased withall: and the next morning he published a sharpe Edict, forbidding all persons expresly to say so, and would neuer suffer that any of his should giue him this name. But these playes being ended, he adopted Caius and Lucius the sonnes of Agrippa. In all this great busines, the SICAMBRES, VSIPETES, & TENCHTERES, people of GERMANIE, surprized certaine ROMAINS in their territorie, hanged them vp, passed ouer the Rhein, spoiled GAVLE, ouerthrew certaine horsemen, and following their purpose, ouercame M. Lollius Proconsull of GAVLE, and tooke away an ensigne from him. Yet though he were a man of small action and very couetous: neuerthelesse he was reuenged of them, and coming vpon the inuadors, fought with them, and draue them beyond the Rhein. On the other side, C. Lentulus made war with the DACES, & kil­led three of their chiefe leaders with a great number of men: and afterwards he established a gar­rison by the riuer of Danuby, to stop the incursiōs of this wild nation. Augustus seeing these trou­bles, disposed of the affaires of ITALIE to go into GAVLE, to rid himselfe of these griefes, & by his absence to make his presence more honorable. At that same time, diuers people inhabiting v­pon the riuer of Danuby rebelled: but Augustus Lieutenants bestirred them so well, that they were all compelled to seeke peace. At that time also all GAVLE was in commotion, and that in diuers sorts. But the couetousnesse of Licinius Enceladus, made free, and soliciter of the affaires of Augustus, was cause of all this mischiefe. For he hauing commaunded the people to furnish the tribute for euery moneth, he had put fourteene moneths in the yeare for twelue. So being ac­cused to his maister for money ill gotten, although all the world cryed out of him, yet he found the meanes to escape well enough. For after he had gotten an infinite masse of gold and siluer togther, he brought it to Augustus, saying, he had neuer other intention but to take from the GAVLES the meanes to rebell. For all this Augustus withdrew him from thence, and sent Tibe­rius thither to settle all things in good estate againe. Almost during these commotions, and outragious dissentions, the RHETIANS, neare vnto the lake of Come, they brake into GAVLE, CISALPINE, and tooke out of ITALIE store of boote. They were a people separated from all others, and so cruell, that hauing taken any place from the ROMAINES, they killed all the male children, and further, did aske their soothsayers of women with child: and if they said she was great with a boy, they presently ran her through, and killed her and the fruit of her wombe. Au­gustus would not endure these outrages, but sent Drusus the sonne of Liuia against them: who draue them out of ITALIE, hauing ouercome them in a set battell, neare vnto TRENT. They say that their women shewed themselues so cruell in this fight, that their darts failing them, they tooke their litle children by their legges, and did most barbarously force themselues to smite their enemies in the face. Those that were driuen out of ITALIE would haue entred into GAVLE, but they were repulsed by Tiberius. In the end, these people and their allies were con­strained to submit themselues.

Augustus senta Colonie vnto NISMES in LANGVEDOCKE: and made them free Burgesses of ROME. It is thought that he sent another vnto ARLES, of the sixtlegion: and one of the second vnto ORANGE. Some make report of these Colonies in the time of Tiberius. M. Agrippa on the o­ther side, he gaue order for the affaires of ASIA, and of all the Orient, where he behaued himselfe so well, that all that were friends to the people of ROME, were of better courage then before, and all their enemies so valiantly suppressed, that Augustus was saluted the tenth time soueraign Cap­taine. But Agrippa after his wonted maner, he wold haue no triumph: which was the cause of the [Page 68] losse of this custome, and following his example, were contented from thenceforth with the or­naments of triumph. But of another side, the PANNONIANS, the GENOVESES, and those of PIE­MONT rebelling, they were subdued by the Lieutenants of Augustus: who builded two cities in testimonie of his victorie against these two last people: whereof TVRIN (called Augusta Preto­ria) was one, and GENVA the other.

Augustus hauing pacified GAVLE, stayed the inuasions of the GERMANES, and quenched the rebellion of SPAINE: he left Drusus with authoritie and his armie vpon the Rheine, and came to ROME as Agrippa did out of ASIA, and became extreamely sicke of the gowt. Lepidus he died at the same time, to whom Augustus succeeded in the estate of chiefe Bishop, and made sumptuous spectacles and sights vnto the people. He burnt all the bookes of deuination and pro­phecie, except those of the Sibylles: and yet he kept them not all. He reformed the Kalender, and ordained that there should be no leape yeares for twelues yeares following. He suffered that the sixt moneth then called Sextilis, should be called Augustus after his name. All that yeare was spent in plaies and pastimes, sauing that Augustus (hauing bene sicke) caused all that he had done in his gouernment to be rehearsed before the Senate. He tooke a reuiew of the Senatours, and confirmed his nephew Agrippa in the estate of a Tribune for fiue yeares more. But shortly after, this great person being returned from a iourney out of PANNONIA, whither he was gone to pre­uent disorders that were likely to be renewed: he fell sicke and died, before Augustus could come in time. That was a maruellous griefe vnto him: and not knowing now on whom he should be­stow his daughter Iulia, in the end he chose Tiberius his wiues sonne, and maried them together: but they continued not long in good tearmes together. From thencefoorth Tiberius and Dru­sus dealt almost in all the affaires of warre, and Tiberius especially after the death of the other: of whom we shall speake to best purpose in the life of Tiberius, yet we will briefly note it here. So then Tiberius went and made warre in PANNONIA, risen by meanes of the death of Agrippa: yet he made an end of it, killed some of them, sold and subiected the rest: and compelled all that people to submit themselues vnto the people of ROME. Drusus on the other side made warre in high and low Almaine, and brought the most part of these nations vnto some reason: and after­wards he returned to ROME. Where Augustus held so straight a hand to bring the Senate to or­der, that there were few men desired to be of the Senate: and many to the contrarie that gaue vp their offices. But Augustus compelled those that were of age, of qualitie and sufficiencie, and gaue order also that the dignitie of the Tribunes of the people should remaine entire: suffering those notwithstanding which had this office, their time expired, to be amongst the Senators, or with knights. As for the townes of ASIA afflicted with the earthquake, he payed of his owne to the commonwealth, the yearely tribute which they ought. And for the regard of those which were of his Prouinces, he freed them from all impostes for sixe yeares, and gaue them of PA­LESTINE a great quantitie of corne, which sustained great want and famine. In the meane time Drusus passed ouer the Rhein, made warre with the VSIPETES, SICAMBRIANS, TENCHTE­RES, CATTIANS, CHERVSIANS, and SVAVBIANS, whom he ouerthrew in diuers encounters: and especially in a great battell, where were killed a very great number. For these people were ga­thered together with such a confidence of victorie, that they had alreadie made agreement a­mong themselues for diuision of the bootie. But specially at the last battell, the CHERVSIANS should haue the horse, the SVAVBIANS they should haue the baggage, and the SICAMBRIANS the prisoners. And yet to bind themselues more straightly together, they burnt twenty Cēteners of the ROMAINES. And this was the cause that the battell was so long and cruelly fought be­twixt them: yet in the end the victorie remained to Drusus, who gaue the prisoners and all the bootie to the souldiers, making the horse, baggage, and captiues to be sold to them that would offer most. All the field for a great league and a halfe of length was strawed with dead bodies, and they found in the enemies campe great store of iron chains prepared by them for the ROMANES: howbeit they serued for thē. Drusus set vp a tokē of triumph, & was called Imperator of his troups in the field where the battell was pitched. Afterwards he built aboue fiftie castles vpon the riuers of Meuse, Visurge, and of the Rhein. Tiberius on the other side was in DALMATIA, where he brought them vnder that rose in armes against them. The triumph of Ouatio was decreed to them both, and Augustus was saluted by the Senate Imperator of soueraigne Captaine, and this for the twelfth time. But in these businesses, the warre was hote in THRACIA, and more then e­uer before: all the Prouinces being in rebellion vnder the conduct of Bulogaeses, who had killed [Page 69] the king Rhacuspolis, an allie of the people of ROME, driuen out his Vncle and Lieutenant Rhy­metalces out of THRACIA into CHERSONESVS. L. Piso gouernor of PAMPHILIA went against them, and at the first encounter had not the aduantage, but in the second he ouercame them vt­terly. Drusus hauing made a voyage to ROME, to celebrate the birth day of Augustus in great ma­gnificence, whilst his troupes reposed themselues in their garrisons, about the Spring he retur­ned into GERMANIE, ouercame the SVAVBIANS, gaue them a king: then he inuaded the countrie of the MARCOMANNES, fought with them diuers times, killed a great number of them, and made all the rest subiect to the ROMAINES. Because of this victorie, and of that of Piso, Augustus was called Imperator the thirteenth time. Almost in this time he put Proculus to death in prison, one that he loued best of all his bondmen made free: being conuinced of many adulteries. He made the thighes of his Secretarie Thallus to be broken, for the summe of an hundred crownes which he tooke for shewing a secret letter. In this meane time Tiberius continued warre in DALMA­TIA and PANNONIA, moued through the great imposts whereof the people complained: but in the end he subdued them, and built many castels vpon the riuer of Danuby to stay the inua­sions of the enemies. Piso also in THRACIA ouercame the MAESIANS, and BASTARNES, and brought away a great number of prisoners, who bit their iron chaines for anger, and most im­patiently did beare their seruitude. Drusus made the CATTIANS subiect also, then he came to LYONS to meete with Augustus: from whence they both returned together into ITALIE. They had a custome also that yearely on the first day of Ianuarie, (though Augustus were absent) all the Senatours, officers of iustice, and others of meane estate, brought him New-yeares gifts to the Capitoll: and also euery one cast a peece of gold or siluer into the lake Curtius, for a vow that they had made to his health. He did bestow all these New-yeares gifts to buy many rich sta­tues of the gods, which he set vp in all the crosse streetes.

In the fiue and thirtieth yeare of his principalitie, vnder the Consulate of Drusus Nero, and of Quintius Crispinus, Drusus hauing subdued a great part of GERMANIE, and preparing to go fur­ther: a vision hauing the shape of a great woman, that spake bigger and louder then a mans voice could do, said to him in Latine: Go no further: which was a signe of his death. The which fol­lowed incontinently after, this young Nobleman of an excellent hope, being but thirty yeares old. Augustus had put him in the rolle of his heires, and made an oration in his praise. Afterwards all the charge of the warres of GERMANIE was committed vnto Tiberius. And for Augustus, he being the same yeare called for a witnesse in certaine causes, did patiently suffer any man to aske him, or refuse him, as he had oftentimes done before. One day as he spake in full Senate, one of the Senatours told him: I vnderstood nothing: another, I would speake against it, if I might be heard. Another time being wearie with the contestations of certaine pleaders, he went in cho­ler out of his seate. But some began to say vnto him, that it was lawfull for Senatours to speake freely to any matter that came before them: and that no man was euer offended for the replies or contestations of any man.

Nonius Asprenaes, one of his greatest friends, was accused by Cassius Seuerus to haue poiso­ned a hundred and thirtie bidden guests at a banquet. Augustus did not recommend him, but let the Senatours alone, who banished Cassius. An old souldier vpon complaint being brought be­fore the Senatours, and in daunger of his life, besought Augustus to helpe him. And when he had giuen him an Aduocate to defend him: the souldier opened his breast, and shewing him the markes of the wounds which he had receiued in the battell of ACTIVM, said vnto him: But I beseech thee Augustus, consider that I haue receiued these wounds here vpon my bodie for to defend thee, and would put no other in my place. Augustus moued with these words, appeared in iustice, and pleaded this mans cause the which he wanne. Soone after he was saluted soue­raigne Captaine for the fourteenth time: because of the victories which Tiberius and Sextus A­puleius had obtained in GERMANIE, and in ITALIE. And the authoritie which had bene gi­uen him for ten yeares ouer the state of the Commonwealth being expired, was continued vnto him for ten yeares following. Then he did greatly enlarge the bounds of the territorie of ROME, and hauing aduanced Salustius Crispus (the son of the Historian) vnto the place which Maecenas held, the ROMAINE knight his faithfull friend and principall Counseller, deceased in those daies: and by Tiberius continued to bring the GERMAINES vnder: for the victorie of whom, and also for that he had subdued all the people inhabiting alongst the Alpes; the Senate had set vp a to­ken of triumph, and granted triumph to Tiberius.

[Page 70] Vnder the second Consulate of Claudius Nero, and of Calphurnius Piso, Caius and Lucius yong sonnes of Augustus, were called young Princes, and appointed Consuls, although they were but of tender yeares, and vnder fourteene yeares old. This pleased Augustus greatly, though he fained to take no pleasure in it. Furthermore, he then made an edict touching slaunderous libels, declaring who should haue the hearing of those crimes, and how they should be punished: al­though he himselfe cared not much, and patiently suffered they should gibe at him, conten­ted to answer by open defence, vnto the reproches and mockeries they made of him. They scat­tered abrode one day in the pallace many bils of paper of cruell iniuries against him. This moued him not at all, neither did he trouble himself much to answer it: but in stead of searching it out, he did aduise that hereafter they should haue an eye vpon those, that by litle bookes or Epigrams published (vnder false names) scandale against any man. Tiberius wrote a round letter to him one day, to the end he should carie a straighter hand vpon that: but he sent him these words: I pray thee, my friend, let not thy youth ouerrule thee in this matter, nor be not so hote, though I be euill spoken of by some. It is enough if we gaine this point, that no man can hurt vs. Afterwards he deuided the citie of ROME into fourteene regions, and two hundred and ten streetes, and in euery of them he established Officers to see that all things should be maintained as they ought to be, and to report vnto the Prince any memorable thing that should happen. He prouided for the violence of fire, he built vp the temples that were burnt or ruined by time: and gaue at one time vnto the temple of Iupiter Capitoline, for the renewing of the same, sixteene thousand pounds of gold, and of rich and costly pearles, to the summe of twelue hundred thousand Crownes.

Now Caius and Lucius his young sonnes growing apace, and Iulia his daughter beginning to be too well knowne for her wantonnesse: Tiberius that could no longer endure her, nor these two young Princes (and because he would haue the ROMAINES a litle long for him) he deman­ded and obtained leaue with extremitie, threatning to kill himselfe with famine, if they did not graunt him: and so went to studie at RHODES. In the meane time Augustus prouided for the affaires of ISTRIA, deuided ITALIE into eleuen Prouinces: and because he doubted they did en­uie his greatnesse, he chose nine Pretorian cohorts for his guard, of the which he kept three of them in ROME, lodged here and there in houses, so long as they were in their quarter: and the sixe others were quartered in the next villages vnto it. He also erected new offices, to impart to so many men more the honours and charges of the Commonwealth. At the same time when before the Senate they did obiect many crimes vnto Aimilius Aelianus, and amongst other things, that he spake ill of Augustus: he turning to the accuser, said vnto him as in choler: Proue me that, and I will make Aelianus know that I haue a tongue: for I will say more of him, then he hath spoken of me. He made no further inquirie afterwards, and shewed himselfe very gen­tle and courteous also vnto Cassius of PADVA, a man of a meane estate: who hauing spoken openly at a table, that he lacked no good will nor courage to kill Augustus: he contented himselfe to impose this onely punishment vpon him, as to driue him out of ROME. From his e­leuenth Consulship vnto the twelfth, there passed seuenteene yeares: in all which time he di­uerse times had refused this charge: but now he demaunded it, and obtained it. His intention was to aduaunce Caius his litle sonne to great dignitie, whom he caused to be proclaimed, yong Prince, and sent him to see the Prouinces and armies, in the title of a Proconsull. Then he com­maunded him to go into ASIA, hauing giuen him for gouernours Lollius, and Sulpitius Quiri­nus. He himselfe in the meane time remained at ROME, where he established extraordinarie guards, vnder colour to keepe theeues and maisterlesse men from offering violence, whilest the armies abrode were farre off. The yeare following, Caius hauing trauelled in diuerse parts of the Orient, made peace with Phraates king of the PARTHIANS, and brought away hostages for assu­rance thereof, the kings three brethren, and all the Princes of the bloud. The which was pra­ctised by the meanes of the Queene Thermusa, borne in ITALIE, who being sent by Augu­stus for a gift vnto Phraates, he fell so in loue with her, and held her in such high estimation, that after she had brought him a sonne called Phraataces, he receiued her for his lawfull wife. She being desirous her sonne should possesse the Crowne, draue the right heires farre off by meanes of this peace. And at the end of certaine yeares, Phraataces who entertained it killed his fa­ther, and possessed the kingdome. But he was not long in quiet possession, for the great Lords conspired against him, and tooke from him his life and Crowne together. Furthermore, [Page 71] Caius conquered ARMENIA, and shortly after Augustus demaunded the thirteenth Consulship, to the end to aduaunce his litle sonne Lucius as he had done Caius. He sent him Proconsull into SPAINE, but he fell sicke by the way, and stayed almost a yeare at MARSEILLES. Though these two brethren were farre enough off Tiberius, who kept himselfe as a simple scholer at RHODES: yet they loued not him greatly, nor he them: for which purpose, the processe serued not much against their mother Iulia, banished because of her adulteries into the Isle of PANDATA­RIE. Shortly after, her daughter also called Iulia, maried vnto Lucius Paulus, was also conuin­ced of the same crime that her mother was: and was banished into another Isle of the sea Adria­ticum, called TREMERA. This affliction so neare vnto him, maruellously grieued Augustus, who could not beare it but in mourning, and deuouring himselfe with sorrow. Then all the Prouin­ces of the ROMAINE Empire being in peace, Augustus shut vp the third time the temple of Ianus: and the King of kings, the Sauiour of the world, being borne of a virgin in IVDAEA, appearing a­mongst men: he shut vp the Oracles of all the Painim gods, as the Oracle of DELPHES among others was constrained to confesse it, and neuer spake afterwards. Wherewith Augustus being a­stonied, caused a great altar to be set vp in the Capitoll with an inscription, signifying that it was The altar of the God first borne. The yeare following, to stay the violent course of great vsuries, and to raise vp againe many families decayed: he put into the Exchange two millions and a halfe of gold: that is to say, fiue and twenty hundred thousand crowns: and suffered priuate men to take of it for three yeares without interest, putting in pawne into the Exchequer lands and possessi­ons, being twise as much worth as the principall: and condemned the vsurers that had taken in­terest more then Iulius Caesar had ordained, to pay foure times asmuch, and deducting out of the principall that which had bene paid ouer and aboue the taxe of the law: he gaue the debters three yeares space to pay it, at three equall times from yeare to yeare. He made prouision also for distri­buting of corne, and brought it to 200000. heads of those that shold come to haue any of it: and did wisely remedy diuerse discontentments of the people. Shortly after, Lucius Caesar being 16. yeares of age, died at MARSEILLES: the which was the cause that Tiberius being reconciled for some other occasion with Caius, he obtained leaue to returne from RHODES to ROME: with con­dition (for so was Caius will) that he should meddle with no affaires of estate, and that he should remaine yet the rest of the yeare at RHODES. As touching Augustus, he laboured to recreate him­selfe with his friends: and did willingly see learned men▪ and amongst others, T. Liuius that re­nowned Historian: the Poets Virgil and Horace, but especially Virgil, who was one of his most familiar friends. Which maketh men thinke that Ouid committed some great fault, since he was a banished man so long, and that they could not obtaine his grace, though the greatest men were suters for him. And yet the Historians say Augustus was not angry, as appeareth by the fact of Ti­magenes the Historian: who hauing dispersed abrode some pleasant by-names against Augustus, Liuia, and their familiars, wherat euery one of them laughed, it was so pleasant an encounter: Au­gustus was contented to aduise him to moderate his toung from thenceforth, and did only forbid him his house and familiaritie, suffering him to waxe old in the companie of Asinius Pollio. He did greatly support some also that were accused to haue sealed a false Will, & mingled with the marks of condemnation and absolution a third, pardoning all those that it should seeme had through ignorance sinned in this fact. One being euidently conuinced to haue killed his father, was euen at the point to be sewed vp in a leather sack, according to the custome, and throwne into the sea. Augustus desirous this cursed wretch should not be thus handled, put the answer in his mouth, in asking of him also: Surely I beleeue thou hast not killed thy father. The son of Tarius being char­ged to haue conspired against the life of his father, Augustus was sent for into Tarius house, to counsell him what were best to be done: he gaue the father counsell to banish him far off from all knowledge. And when Tarius would haue made Augustus his heire, he refused it, and obtained that the son should be banished vnto MARSEILLES: and that during his fathers life he shold haue a pension to maintaine him withall.

In the 44. yeare of the monarchie of Augustus, Tiberius hauing bene absent the space of eight yeares, he came againe to ROME, where he liued, and medled with no matters. But that held not long: for in the same yeare Caius, vpon whom Augustus principally looked, died in LYCIA: and some say, that Liuia knew well enough of what death. For she greatly desired the aduancement of her son Tiberius, knowing that Augustus did not greatly loue the last son of Agrippa & Iulia, by reason of the rudenesse of his nature. Augustus tooke the death of his son Caius very vnpatiently. [Page 72] He made his schoolemaister and domesticall seruants to be drowned: and furthermore, he dispo­sed all the forces of the Empire and the legions amongst the Prouinces, in commodious places as well by sea as by land. Afterwards he obtained the Tribuneship for Tiberius, more through the procurement of Liuia then otherwise: although in the end he was content to aduance him, to make his memorie to be so much the more desired, when they had made proofe of his successor, whom he knew better then any other, and neuer spake any thing well, but he spied alwaies some crosse thing in him of a dangerous nature he had. And yet some iudge, that Augustus did repute the vertues in Tiberius to be greater then his imperfections: considering also that in the Oration he made, his words tended to this end, that he adopted Tiberius in fauor of the commonwealth. But before he would declare this adoption: he compelled Tiberius to adopt his nephew Germa­nicus the son of Drusus: and he adopted with Tiberius Agrippa Posthumus, the son of M. Agrip­pa. Then to preuent the complots of some of the chiefest of ROME, he made Tiberius to be cho­sen Tribune for ten yeares following. That was the cause that in ROME they began to speak well of Tiberius, whom they saw by that meanes somwhat stepped into Augustus place, so soone as he should happen to die. Furthermore, at the instance of the people of ROME & of Tiberius himself, Augustus did tollerate the banishment of his daughter Iulia: howbeit for no intreatie he would e­uer reuoke her again. So after the decease of Augustus, she was destitute of all helpe, and Tiberius made her dy for want in an vnknowne place. The yeare following, Valerius Messala, and C. Cinna litle son of the great Pompey, were elected Consuls. Cinna that tooke part with his cousins, was ta­ken prisoner, & brought to Augustus, who gaue him life & aduanced him. This notwithstanding, he was afterwards attainted and conuinced to haue conspired against the life of Augustus: whom through the counsell of Liuia he sent for into his chamber, & gently rebuked him for all the good deeds he had done to him: pardoned him this last offence, & afterwards raised him to the dignity of a Consull, being sory that he durst not demand it. After that Cinna became his faithfull friend and seruant, & bequeathed all his goods by will vnto Augustus: against whom neuer any man cō ­spired more. His Lieutenants in AFRICK obtained some victories, & Tiberius continued the war in GERMANIE, from whence he oftentimes returned to ROME, to keepe himself in Augustus good fauor. Who hauing limited the pay, recompence, commoditie, and time that the soldiers should haue, he procured for some time the good of the commonwealth: which had continued longer in prosperitie, if his successors had better entertained militarie discipline. Afterwards to resist the mutinies of the people by reason of famine, he established corps of guard in all the places of ROME, and draue out a great number of vnprofitable mouths. And when corne came againe to beare the ordinarie price, he was about to abolish the distributiō of corn which the cōmonwealth made: because that the people trusting vnto that, made no reckening to plow their lands. At the same time many towns in diuerse Prouinces were inclined to rebel, which caused the Senate to make a decree, that the gouernors of Prouinces shold command two years one after another, and should not depart thence til their successor were arriued. The ILLYRIANS also they began to rise, but they were supprest immediatly by Valerius Messalinus. For GERMANY, all were subiect vnder the name of the ROMAINS, except the MARCOMANNES, and their king Maroboduus, a vali­liant and wise man, that kept himselfe and his people in good discipline, hauing alwaies an army readie of threescore and ten thousand footmen, and foure thousand horse, all the which he trai­ned and put in readinesse against his neighbours, to defend him the better against the RO­MAINES, if they came to assaile him. Tiberius prepared himselfe with twelue legions to make warre with him: but being constrained to go against the ILLYRIANS, he made agreement with Mareboduus, that sought peace and quietnesse: and so marched where necessitie called him. For the ILLYRIANS, to the number of eight hundred thousand men and vpwards, rose in manner all at an instant, and mustered vp in short time, with such order in their affaires and warlike exploits, that they possest and brought in subiection almost all MACEDON, and put Augustus into a maruellous perplexitie, because they prepared themselues to come into ITA­LIE. Hereupon Tiberius is chosen to go against them, the which he did with so good direction and warlike iudgement, that he dispersed their armie. But now concerning the countrey of THRACIA: there the armie of the ROMAINES was put to flight: yet taking heart againe, they re­turned to meet with their enemies, and obtained an honourable victorie. For which cause they called Augustus Imperator or soueraigne Captaine the sixteenth time. The ILLYRIANS made head againe better then before vnder the conduct of Bato Desidiates: they made violent and straunge [Page 73] inuasions, and Tiberius neuer came against them. Whereupon Augustus conceiuing an euill opi­nion, dispatched Germanicus the sonne of Drusus, to go into ILLYRIA with a complete armie. On the other side, Agrippa Posthumus shewed himselfe so insolent, and committed so many fol­lies, that Augustus could no longer endure them, and therfore he disauowed & disinherited him, confiscated his goods, and confined him to SVRRENTVM: where being more audacious then be­fore, he banished him into the Ile of PLANASIA, neare vnto CORSICA: and caused the Senate to make an ordinance that he should remaine there till his death. By this meanes euery man began to regard Tiberius, who was also declared the son and colleague of Augustus by decree of the Se­nate, who committed vnto him all the armies and prouinces of the Empire. Liuia his mother did helpe him greatly in all these affaires. Furthermore, he would not stir out of ILLYRIA vntill he had made an end of this warre, which continued three whole yeares.

Now at the arriuall of Germanicus, the chieftaines of the ILLYRIANS came suddenly to assaile the campe of the ROMAINS: who faining to be afraid, staid till the enemy came to charge them in disorder. Then they came out with furie against them, killed a great number of thē, and made the rest to flie. Germanicus wan another battell against the DALMATIANS, and pursuing his vi­ctorie, he followed them so neare at the heeles, that they submitted themselues, and demaunded peace. By reason whereof they gaue Augustus the name of Imperator the eighteenth time. Bato Desidiates came to salute Tiberius set in his tribunall chaire, without holding downe his head, or any way imbasing himselfe: and being asked why after so many battels lost, he did yet rebell a­gaine? he answered boldly againe, that the ROMAINES were the cause of it: who in stead of shepheards had sent them wolues to keepe their flocke. Peace was graunted vnto the DALMA­TIANS vpon certaine conditions. And as for the BREVCIANS which continued their warre, they were ouerthrowne in many encounters, and at the length brought to subiection by Plau­tius Siluanus, who triumphed. Their king Bato Breucus had betrayed and deliuered vnto the RO­MAINES another great Captaine of the ILLYRIANS called Pinnetes: and afterwards he was de­liuered himselfe by his owne men vnto Bato Desidiates, who killed him with his owne hand: and then fortified himselfe in DALMATIA, where hauing made head almost a yeare and a halfe against the armies of Tiberius and of Germanicus, he won and lost many battels: at the last being able to hold out no longer, he sent his sonne to demaund peace of Tiberius, promi­sing to yeeld himselfe and his into the hands of Augustus. He obtained safe conduct, and came by night vnto Tiberius campe: who gaue him very gracious entertainment, and many rich pre­sents. Afterwards he made him be brought to RAVENNA, and was also gently vsed: because that in an encounter where he was▪inclosed, and in daunger of his life, he had giuen him meanes to escape and saue himselfe. And because of the diuers victories obtained by Germanicus and Tibe­rius, Augustus was saluted for the nineteenth & twentith time Imperator or soueraigne Captain. And for the PANNONIANS, their young men that had so many times threatned ITALIE, were constrained to bring all their armes together on a heape, as they were commaunded, and to fall on their knees before Tiberius to demaund peace of him. He receiued them into grace, and sent them home to their houses, disposing his garrisons in strong places, vnder the charge of Mar­eus Lepidus. The glorie of Tiberius was yet more noble, and the anguishes of Augustus increa­sed by the ouerthrow of Quintilius Varus: who being gone to assaile Arminius Prince of the CHERVSSIANS, was enclosed in marishes, and vtterly ouerthrowne with three ROMAINE legi­ons that were slaine in the place: and for himselfe, fearing to fall aliue into the hands of the CHE­RVSSIANS, he killed himselfe with his owne hand. The victours did neuer so cruelly handle the ROMAINES as those whom they might know were common Counsellers and pleaders. For at the beginning when Varus came to commaund their countrey, where they knew not what processe meant, he perswaded himselfe he should tame them well enough, vsing the same forme and order of processe there amongst them, as they did at ROME. So he had a iudgement seate, and all matters were pleaded before him. Some of them amongst the rest being very sub­till, seemed to esteeme much this pleading: and to bring him asleepe, they of purpose moued occasion of processe and sute one against the other: and then they went before him, and by RO­MAINES themselues whose tongues they borrowed, they demaunded iustice. Then they re­ioyced not a litle when they could catch any of these Counsellers: for they put out the eyes of some of them, cut off the hands of others of them: and they say, that they cut out the tongue of one, and afterwards sowed vp his mouth, and he that held the tongue in his hand, said vnto him: [Page 74] O viper, at the last yet thou wilt leaue whistling. Augustus was so astonied at this losse, that at times he would beate his head against the wall, crying out, Varus, giue me my legions. Certaine yeares after, Germanicus buried the bones of the ROMAINES that were killed in this ouerthrow. The yeare following Tiberius returned into GERMANIE, and to keepe the passages of the Rhein, Augustus serued his turne with the slaues enfranchised, which caused afterwards great confusi­ons and seditions in the ROMAINE armie. In all these stirres, two men of no worth, called An­dasius and Epicadus, complotted to take away Iulia the daughter of Augustus, and Agrippa Posthu­mus from the places where they were, and to bring them to some legions to alter the estate. But they were soone discouered, and punished for their rashnesse. Some others also committed the like fond enterprises, but they vanished away without any effect.

Furthermore, Augustus being now old and broken, began to leaue all great companies, cassie­red his guards, and sent them to garrisons farre off, to the end they should not go about to make any chaunge. He gaue commaundement that the GAVLES and GERMAINES should depart the citie by a day prefixed. In the meane time Tiberius hauing deuided his armie into foure parts, en­tred into GERMANY, about fiue and twentie leagues into the country beyond the Rhein, & put al to fire and bloud: then he retired fearing some encounter of Varus. Touching Augustus, he quali­fied some strict lawes against the vnmaried, the gifts of the husband to the wife, the banquets and sutes: he did forbid the Deuines to answer the vaine question of those, that wold know how long they should liue: and he suffered the knights (if they were challenged) to fight at the sharp. Germanicus being returned to ROME obtained the Consulship, and Tiberius triumphed of the ILLYRIANS, PANNONIANS, DALMATIANS, and GERMAINES: followed with his Lieutenants Germanicus, Vibius Posthumus, Plautius Siluanus, and Marcus Lepidus, with triumphing robes. But before he went vp to the Capitoll, he went out of his charret, and fell downe on his knees before Augustus. Then he made a dinner for all the people, and had a thousand tables set vp for them: and gaue to euery one of then seuen crownes and a halfe. Vnder the Consulship of C. Si­lius, and of Munatius Plancus, Augustus hauing obtained ten yeares with Tiberius to prouide for the affaires of the commonwealth: to the end to quench many false rumors, about sixteene mo­neths before his death, he made his will, and gaue it to the Vestall virgins to keepe. Because his sicknesse kept him from coming to the Senate, he prayed the Senators to thinke of some meanes to entertaine the men of warre. Which they hauing well considered, found no better meanes then that which he himselfe had found out, to wit: of the twentieth part of the inheritances: and they all agreed vnto it. The next yeare following, he went (as they say) to see Agrippa in his Isle of PLANASIA, the which troubled Liuia much: for she knew what was past. At the same time he and Tiberius tooke muster of the ROMAINE citizens, and shortly after he fell sicke, wherof they recite many causes. But therupon he went into the countrie vnto some places of pleasure, where he mended a litle, and passed the time away pretily merie, carying Tiberius with him, whom he would haue brought on his way to BENEVENT, from whence he went into ILLYRIA. At his re­turne his sicknesse increased, that he was faine to stay at NOLA, and sent for Tiberius, and talked with him a long time very priuately, and after that neuer did any thing of importance: although the Historians do not agree whether Tiberius was come before his departure or not. For Liuia had set spials in the house he lay sick in, and on the high waies, giuing it out abrode that Augustus was well: & on the other side sending messages vpon messages vnto Tiberius, fame spreading it a­brode that Augustus was dead, and that Tiberius held his place. Augustus being at the point to giue vp the ghost, made himselfe to be combed, and speaking to his friends, asked if no bodie made a­ny noise without. So he exhorted them to reioyce with him, for that he had so happily played the Comedy of this humane life. Then hauing sent them all out of his chamber, he asked if Li­uilla Drusus daughter were in health: and so embracing his wife, said these words vnto her: Fare­well Liuia, behaue thy selfe well, and remember our mariage: and suddenly went away, making a sweet end, which he alwaies desired as often as he heard talke of those that died quietly. He died in the same towne, and in the same chamber that his father Octauius died in, and liued neare vn­to the age of threescore and sixteene yeares. His corps being brought to ROME, the Vestall vir­gins brought out his will and testament, by the which he appointed Tiberius his heire, and gaue him three parts of his goods, and his wife Liuia the fourth part. Furthermore he gaue to the peo­ple of ROME twelue hundred and fiftie thousand crownes: to the fiue and thirtie Tribes, thirteen hundred, seuen and thirty thousand, fiue hundred crownes: to euery one of the Pretorian soul­diers [Page 75] 25 crownes, to those of the towne 12 crownes and a halfe. There were other legacies to be payd within a yeare: & he sayd, that all his legacies performed, he left his heires foure millions of gold. Within 20 yeares before his death, he did inherite of his friends goods which had made him their heire, about 35 millions of gold: howbeit that he had spent all that with two patri­monies of his owne for maintenance of the common wealth. With his testament there were three litle libels or codicils, the one shewing what he would haue done at his funerals. The se­cond was a briefe of all his actions, which he commanded should be grauen in copper tables be­fore his tombe. The third contained the estate of his reuenew, & of the principall affaires of the Empire. He had added to them also the names of the infranchised bondmen and of the slaues, whom they might bring to account, and therewith he aduised them to keepe the limites of the Empire which they had at that time. They caried him with great pompe into the field of Mars, where he was reduced into ashes, which they closed vp in his sepulcher built in his sixt Consul­ship. After all these ceremonies the Senate appointed him a temple and diuine honors, and was placed in ranke with the gods. To make this honour yet greater, one Numerius Atticus that had bene Praetor, a man of great authority in ROME, was entised by Liuia, who gaue him fiue and twenty thousand crownes, to sweare before all the people, that he saw Augustus caried vp into heauen. After his death, many speeches were diuersly spoken of his life: some reprouing him, as much as others commended him. But his successour made him oftentimes to be lamented. And so he was wont to say of Tiberius, that he should leaue to the ROMAINES in succession of the Empire, a successour that neuer consulted twise of one thing. And as he was a happy Prince in all his enterprises, and that by his Lieutenants had done an infinite number of worthie ex­ploits against the enemies of the Empire: so in his life amongst his friends he shewed himselfe very gracious, pleasant, and well disposed in company: being learned, eloquent, and sententious in all his talke. And to conclude, such as the Empire of ROME had neuer any Augustus Caesar but him alone.

The end of Octauius Caesar Augustus life.

THE LIFE OF Plutarch.


Thy precepts are a crowne of purest gold
To Traian, deem'd the glorie of mankind.
In hands, and harts, if great men would thee hold,
Vertue should rule, and vice should go behind.

HAuing vndertaken to gather the liues of Plutarch and of Seneca, as they themselues are amply shewed in their workes, the which in despite of the furie of an infinitie of straunge accidents haue yet remained whole and in reputation vntill this present time: First, this thought hath pos­sessed me before, that some man may maruell, how, and wherefore I do ioyne Philosophers, quiet men, and friends of solitarinesse: vnto so many noble and worthy warriers. Wherein it seemeth I wander too farre off from the principall intention of Plutarch, who was so willing to honor the Muses, ioyning into one body so many members and parts of histories offered vnto the posteritie, that in the meane time he hath accompanied, and as it were enuironed them:

With darts, and targets of Mars redoubtable.

But I hope, that if those (which thinke straunge of my doings) will but at leisure with a reposed eye looke vpon the liues before: they shall find that I haue not gone so farre from the right mea­ning, as at the first sight may be iudged. For, besides that the liues of some Orators, especially of Demosthenes and of Cicero, are seene amongst the others: you shall find few noblemen repre­sented by our Author, but that they haue as carefully handled bookes, as their swords. And if some seeme to be so much giuen to armes, that they haue left the studie of learning behind them: yet we may see that they haue loued Philosophers, and that they themselues haue earnestly and effectually reasoned of Philosophy, in time of warre and peace. And whereas Plutarch hath mingled some with vertuous men, some (I say) which haue done infinite hurt to themselues, and to all the world during their liues, and whose names are detested at this day by those them­selues which follow their execrable doings: his intention was not to place them in the Theater of vertue, as if they had deserued it: but as learned painters finely apply cloudy and darke colours in their tables, to the end that the liuely and fresh colours should appeare more beautifull and as it were imbossed; so in entermingling the strange excesses of some GREEKES and ROMAINES [Page 77] amongst so worthie acts of others, he hath so fitly mingled the sweete and profitable together, that it is not possible to be better. But if my two Philosophers (since I haue begun to qualifie them thus) were contented to shut vp themselues in some schoole or studie, and to do nothing else but declaime and fashion some scholers: it may be indeed I should haue better left this en­terprise vnto some follower of Diogenes Laertius, that would describe the sects of Philosophie, and the principall founders of the same. Now there are here two personages, which (as the soule within the body) haue through their notable counsels giuen motions vnto great and meane men in their time, and by other mens eyes and hands haue done infinite things in the so­cietie of mans life, vnto the which they serue at this day with their precepts and goodly instru­ctions, without the which the exploits of others should be partly buried and abolished: as those haue bene of so many other men that came before and after. They be the two schoole-maisters and counsellors of two Emperors. They be men that beside their study haue borne great and honorable offices, in the which they haue so caried themselues, that by their actions a man may gather, that knowledge is a great prop and stay to a vertuous man. If they haue not worne armor and commanded armies: if a man see them in a long gowne, and their bookes in their hands, they lose not therefore their glory which so many wayes recommendeth them at this present, hauing lift vp learning in honour, and furnished strong armes, by meanes whereof all Princes may wisely and happily maintaine their estates against the fury of warres, and vnder the quiet gouernement of peace. As to the contrary, when violence alone would rule, and that men thought there was no need that our spirits should be kept in and directed by the exhortations of Philosophy: confusions came on in heapes, which ruined and ouerthrew that which they thought had bene surest set in the ground. Moreouer, I did not beare my selfe in hand that I could attaine to that, as to represent Plutarch and Seneca in their beseeming comelinesse. They themselues could haue done that, and in their writings there are draughts very agreeable to their grauity. But as we do not willingly take the pensile to paint our selues, but to please our selues, the discourse of our thought sufficeth. In like maner also these goodly spirits here, being conten­ted to be knowne by the glasse of their vertue which followeth them: they leaue euery body to thinke of their deeds and words that that is meete. Amongst all the bookes that serue for the vse of mans life, next vnto that which concerneth our soueraigne good we hope for in a better place then this world: I thinke there are none more profitable nor necessary to all sorts of men, then histories. And amongst histories, those of men which haue bene brought to honor and place of gouernment in the commonwealth: and among those men there, those that haue brought their deeds and sayings to some commendable end. Wherefore I will not enter into disputation nor conference of stories, nor mingle the Scriptures with the prophane, or confound the discourse representing men destitute of the knowledge of the true god, with the holy and admirable con­siderations of the life of them, which haue bene lightned with the happy and supernaturall light. That requireth a whole booke, and separated from this present worke, our purpose being other­wise bent to the same. But as in the former liues I was desirous to waken the good spirits of our nation, and by the interiection of some of my conceipts to induce them to do better: I do the like also in these two, attending the commoditie to set foorth others, if the Author of life do permit me.

Now before we proceed any further, for as much as Seneca was long time before Plutarch, some might also require another order in my discourse. Notwithstanding, as Plutarch doth ordi­narily place the GREEKS before the ROMAINES, and that for the matter of their liues there is no need otherwise for a man to trouble himselfe much about the disposing of them, and that those which be dead do not quarrell together to know who shall go before or behind: I haue thought with my selfe that I might begin this worke where I thought good, without binding my selfe too curiously, either to the order of time, or to such other circumstances. For if any man be offended, I will alledge that vnto him which was spoken vnto one displeased, because his horse was painted standing on his feete, which he would haue had lying on his backe, and his feete vpward: Turne the other side vpward, and you shall be pleased. Euen so is it in his choise to reade such a life first, as he thinketh good, and to turne the table at his pleasure, no man being constrained to come into the closet of the Muses, but at his owne will, and by the gate which pleaseth him best. I could haue bene contented to haue offered Plutarch onely, or left him hidden in his workes, the true and durable treasures of his glory: but hauing bene solicited [Page 78] to shew some patterns, I was vnwilling to let him go alone. Now, I cannot cast mine eye vpon that personage, but Seneca doth also present himselfe vnto me, for many reports and agreements that are betweene them. For, besides that nature hath brought them into the world, in the reuo­lution of one age, both came out of a straunge countrey to ROME: both of them were rich and of great power, maisters and teachers of two Emperours, which did enrich and aduance them to honour, and great offices in the commonwealth. In regard of their learning, although the one of them was of a sect impugned by the other in diuerse respects: yet they both tended to one end, although it was by diuerse wayes: to wit, to driue away vice and vanity out of the harts of their disciples, and to plant in them the loue of vertue, the contempt of death, and of the world, with so sound reasons, and so well combined the one to the other: that it is vnpossible to enter into a schoole of the heathen better ordred then that of these two, to learne (as we ought) to be ashamed of dishonest things, and to exercise those that be honest and vertuous. But as touching other agreements and dissemblances which may be noted as wel in their life and beha­uiour, as in their doctrine: peraduenture it shall be better to reserue it to fitter place, or to leaue the discourse vnto the studious reader: who aduisedly considering this litle which we presently present vnto them, and ioyning thereto the writings of the one and the other: shall know what authority and art these two wise men haue to draw the most ignorant and foolish to the loue of vertue. Also that their stile with their pertinent and plaine manner of discourse is accompanied with great grauity and forcible reasons, to make men confident to beleeue them. If the one flow sweetly, and alwayes almost maintaineth himselfe in the same: the other in his wandrings and rollings about can well reforme his errors, and come to it againe in time: and then go on better then when he first began. Plutarch vseth a world of approches and hookes to pull downe vice. Seneca seemeth to prouoke him to the combat, and when he setteth vpon him, it is in ta­king him by the coller and shaking him in all parts. The one seemeth to be a company of light horsemen charging very swiftly, and at diuerse wheelings and returnes: the other, to a batta­lion of footmen well set in order, assailing resolutely, and not remouing out of the place before he haue won the victory. The opinions of Plutarch are handled with Platonicall inductions, en­riched with examples, with similitudes, with quicke sentences, and gracious recitals, which force the reader to yeeld. Seneca drawing that which is praise-worthy from the STOICKES, and from EPICVRVS also goodly instructions: as the Bee finely draweth from the herbe of bitter iuyce that which maketh sweet hony, differing somwhat from the common vse, he maketh a very pro­fitable and sure harbor wherein a heart ill setled may repose it selfe. The one speaketh as a friend, the other as a maister: and both with such a grace, that whether they giue good counsell, or that they command: the eares and hearts do bow at their voices. Insomuch that the wicked are con­strained in reading of these Philosophers to acknowledge and plainely to heare within this graue schoole, a million of truths which condemneth them: and I cannot tell with what hidden force (as the Adamant draweth iron) they feele themselues to be caried that way, vnto the which the learned instructions of these two Philosophers do direct them, to delight in them e­uen with mourning, and to confesse that those be the persons of whom men may learne to be lesse vicious, and more vertuous: good men also they gather there a sweete fruite as possible may me, for remedy against so many cruelties of this present life. And although they find their true and perfect contentment in a farre better schoole without comparison: yet so it is, that in this schoole here they vnderstand things which afterwards makes the other more agreeable, and more honourable. Now for as much as afterwards we haue mixed the memories of their liues with diuerse particularities, which will make vs see a part of their comparisons that may be no­ted betweene them: let vs begin with Plutarch, and consider his life principally by the instru­ctions which he himselfe hath left vs, and namely in many places of his morall and mingled workes.

Pausanias, in the ninth booke of his description of GRECE, saith, that there ranne a common rumour abroad among the THEBANS, that Cadmus the sonne of Agenor comming from DEL­PHES into PHOCIDE, was guided by a cow marked in both her flankes with white spots in forme of a full Moone: and that the Oracle commaunded him to stay with his troupes in that place where the cow should lie downe. Which came to passe in the territory afterwards called BOEOTIA, because of this cow. At the beginning of the same booke he sayth that BOEO­TIA tooke the same name of Boeotus the sonne of Iton, and of the nymph Menalippe: which [Page 79] should seeme repugnant. But the one and the other opinion may well agree, if we say that Cad­mus being come into that part of the countrey, Boeotius that had a charge in these troupes, and remaining there after the others, left his name to all the territorie which is neare neighbour to ATTICA, but in a thicker aire, because it standeth betwixt two mountaines, and that the country is more Northwards. So that the ATHENIANS were euer thinner of body, and of liuelier spirit: and the BOEOTIANS to the contrary, fuller of flesh, and duller of wit also. From whence came many slents of laughter against the masse and waight of their vnderstandings, and they made prouerbes dispersed in Greeke and Latine bookes. Yea the Poets themselues, and Ebulus among others, do floute the BOEOTIANS, that they are great feeders, and loue to speake much: which agreeth very well with the rest of their maners. Plutarch also himselfe in his first treaty of eating of flesh, noteth somewhat of that. Neuerthelesse, of such a countrey came Pelopidas, and other excellent men, but namely him of whom we are now presently to speake of, no simple nor sot­tish man: but as

Midst bushes, and the thickest of the thorne
The floures of tendrest violets are borne.

Euen so out of a countrey accustomed to bring forth fat men, as they say, and fitter for war then learning: came Plutarch, borne in the city of CHAERONEA, neare vnto LEBADIA. In old time (as Pausanias saith) it was called ARNE, because of Arné the daughter of Aeolus. But afterwards because it stood euill, and looked towards the West: Chaeron the sonne of Apollo and of Thero the daughter of Phylas, caused it to be new built, and turned to the East, to make it more whole­some and habitable. Vpon which occasion, in token of thankfulnesse for the good act of the founder, it was euer after called CHAERONEA. And although for many memorable accidents this towne is noted in histories, yet do I not know any thing that hath so much kept vp the memorie of it vntill this present, as the name of Plutarch, whose ancestours, men of a noble race, maintai­ned themselues from father to the sonne in honourable office and place of charge in their litle common wealth, vntill the time of Nicarchus his great grandfather, who liued in the time of Augustus Caesar, as Plutarch reporteth in the life of Antonius: where he saith also, that all the citizens of CHAERONEA, not one excepted, were compelled themselues to carie vpon their shoul­ders, a certaine measure of corne to the sea coast, which is before the Ile of ANTICYRE: and yet they were driuen forward whipped with many a sore lash. Againe, as they were preparing for a second iourney, and that euery man had his burthen ready: newes came that Antonius had lost the battell before ACTIVM, which saued CHAERONEA. For Antonius commissioners and souldiers fled immediatly, and the citizens deuided the corne amongst them. Nicarchus, a­mongst other children had Lamprias, a learned man amongst those of his time, and of whom Plutarch makes often mention in his bookes, where he speaketh of talke at the table: how that he had bene in company with other learned men at many feasts, where there was no talke but of learning, and matters of Philosophie. He speaketh also of his father, the sonne of Lamprias, not expressing his name although he representeth him discoursing of many points of Philosophy, and namely in the bookes aboue mentioned. Of this Philosopher then the sonne of Lamprias, were borne many children, and amongst others Plutarch, Timon, and Lamprias: all which three were very carefully brought vp and instructed in the liberall sciences, and in all the parts of Phi­losophie: vnto the which they shall euer see an humble reuerence towards their grandfather and father ioyned together, and amongst themselues a fast and pleasant friendship, as may be gathe­red in many places out of their table talke. Whereupon in respect of the grandfather and father, I remembred that Plutarch in those bookes speaking of his grandfather, he makes alwayes ho­nourable mention of him. And as for his father, in the instruction for those that deale in affaires of the estate, he reporteth, that he being young was sent with another in embassage to the Pro­consull, and his companion remaining vpon some occasion behind, he went thither alone, and executed the commission. And at his returne, as he would haue giuen the common wealth ac­count openly, and haue made report of his charge and embassage: his father rising vp alone, forbad him to say, I went, but we went: and I spake, but we spake, and so commanded him to make his report, alwayes ioyning his companion with that he had done. We see in the treaty of brotherly loue, how hartily he loued his brother Timon, when he sayd in these words: For my selfe, although fortune hath shewed me many fauours, which deserue that I should be thankfull to her for them, yet there is none that maketh me so much bound vnto her, as the loue and good [Page 80] will my brother Timon hath borne, and doth beare vnto me in all things: the which no man can deny to be true, that hath but a litle frequented our company. And in his talke at the table, brin­ging in his father and brethren with many others, or together, resoluing diuerse questions of Philosophy, he representeth men that with a grounded knowledge had ioyned a sweete behaui­our, and a wonderfull good vnderstanding, and namely the yong Lamprias, who was of a plea­sant nature, and loued to be merry. Plutarch then hauing a father that loued learning and vertue, was in a good houre put out to learning, whereunto he was wholly inclined. And amongst other good maisters, he met with Ammonius, an AEGYPTIAN borne, saith Eunapius, who hauing with great praise taught in ALEXANDRIA, he did also visite the cities of GRECE wherein learning did yet flourish, and taried a great time in ATHENS, respected and well beloued of euery man. In the latter end of Theomistocles life, Plutarch sheweth that he was a boorder and lying in Ammonius house, and in talke at the table he brought him in, either disputing, or teaching his scholers. So the custome to teach the youth at that time was very fine and easie, to giue children a tast of learning and vertue: for as the tutors imployed part of their time to discourse in the pre­sence of their disciples, they occupied them in the same exercise afterwards, and made them de­clare, and say their opinion of diuerse matters: so that in few weekes by way of sport and recrea­tion they had runne through all the secrets of Philosophie. Vnto the which they ioyned also, besides their compositions and particular exercises, their familiar talke and recreatiue disputa­tions in their walkes, at their suppers and feasts, where nothing else could be heard but that which made the young men wise and vertuous in a short space. That may be gathered out of Plutarchs writings, and out of those especially where he speaketh how children should be taught, of the lecture of the Poets, how they should heare, his talke at the table, and a good number of declamations dispersed in the middest of his morall workes. In this place I remember that which he himselfe spake in discourse, how a man should know a flatterer from a friend, tou­ching the direction of this his tutor. Our maister Ammonius, sayth he, perceiuing in his lecture he made after dinner, that some of his disciples & familiars had made a larger dinner then was fit for studens: he commaunded one of his seruants a free man to beate his owne sonne: he could not (sayth he) dine without vineger. When he had spoken that, he cast his eye vpon vs: so that they which were indeed culpable, found that he meant it by them. We may see also in the first and second question of his third booke of talke at the the table, how ready this Philosopher was to sharpen the spirits of young men that frequented him. Thus therefore Plutarch hauing so good a helpe, in few yeares he profited greatly in the knowledge of all the parts of Philosophy, and neuer went out of his countrey, nor trauelled to vnderstand strange languages, although the Latine tongue was common in ROME, and in diuerse places of the ROMAINE Empire: which extended it selfe into GRECE, and beyond, as Plutarch noteth it in the end of his Platonicall questions. Without notwithstanding that he euer profited much in the knowledge of any other tongue, sauing in the knowledge of the GREEKE: the which also hath a tast of his Philosophie of BOEOTIA. He doth also confesse in the beginning of the life of Demosthenes, that whilest he was in ITALIE and in ROME, he had no leisure to studie, nor to exercise the Latine tongue, as well for the businesse he had then in hand, as to satisfie those that frequented him to learne Phi­losophie of him. So that very late, being well stepped on in yeares, he began to take Latine bookes in his hand, wherein there happened a strange thing vnto him, but yet true notwithstan­ding: that is, that he did not learne nor vnderstand things so much by the words, as by a certaine vse and knowledge he had of things he attained to the vnderstanding of the words. But fur­thermore (they are his owne words) to know how to iudge well, wherein consisteth the beautie of the Latine tongue, or to speake it readily, or to vnderstand the figures, translations, and the fine knitting of simple sayings one with the other, which do adorne and beautifie the tongue, I thinke well (sayd he) that it is a very goodly thing and pleasant▪ but withall it requi­reth a long and laboursome exercise, fit for those that be at better leisure then I am, and that be yet able for age to attend such finenesse. That which is aboue aboue spoken of, sheweth that in that time they learned sciences in their mother tongue, so that euen from their cradle children began to enter into the schoole of the Muses, and pierced into the goodliest secrets of the same, hauing in their owne tongue the arts and goodly disciplines discouered euen to the bottome: whereas presently the best of our age stealeth away in learning of words, and when we should enter into the knowledge of things, our memorie is ouer-whelmed and iudgement altered with [Page 81] an infinitie of obiects, which (like diuerse sawces) haue most times altered our right tast. In­somuch that almost commonly we see that we delight for the most part to heape together let­ters vpon letters, and after a great prouision of strange words, we find our selues children, and voide of the true knowledge of things. But now to come againe to Plutarch, as touching his suf­ficiency and his aduancement in sciences, we need not speake of them in particular, considering that his writings do sufficiently proue them, and that we haue also spoken something in the pre­face of his morall workes.

Now, as his good fortune made him meete with excellent maisters, and men very carefull to manure so noble a spirit: so he for his part aunswered their hope very sufficiently, shewing himselfe euen from his infancy to the end of his life wholly giuen to study, with an earnest de­sire (but well gouerned) to keepe his body in health, to content his mind, and to make himselfe profitable a long time to himselfe, and to others also. Which was no hard matter for him, hauing bene carefully brought vp euen from his cradle, and so well gouerned, as was requisite to main­taine himselfe long in strength: his fathers house and table being a schoole of temperance and of frugalitie. Considering furthermore that talke with learned men was very necessary for him to attaine to that which he pretended: and hauing a mind desirous to excel in all things, he trauelled into AEGYPT, & talked there of all the ancient doctrine with the wisest men, whereof afterwards he made a collection and intituled it, of Isis, and Osiris: which is yet left vnto vs, where he shew­eth himselfe to be well studied in the Diuinity and Philosophy of the AEGYPTIANS. From thence he returned againe into GRECE, and visited the townes and vniuersities where there were any Philosophers, and frequented them all, to gather together the goodly instructions which he hath left vs. Moreouer he began to make collections, & culled out remembrances not only out of the bookes already published, but also of the notable talke and discourse which he vnderstood of the one & the other. Also of registers & autenticall instruments kept in towns where he came, wher­of afterwards he did most artificially frame the most part of his workes. And pretending such a laudable end, the better to establish his conceits, and to speake with a more commendable authority and good maner: he made a iourney vnto the city of SPARTA, of purpose to see the papers & memories of all the gouernment of this goodly commonwealth, & of their lawmakers, Kings, and Ephores, and gathered together all their notable deeds & sayings so carefully as could be possible, euen to the least words of the simple souldiers and women of SPARTA, together with all their customes, ordinances, ceremonies, and fashions to liue in common, and particularly, in warre and in peace. He did the like in diuerse other commonwealths, as his liues, & the demands of things pertaining to the GREEKES and ROMAINES doth amply proue it: without which col­lections also it was vnpossible for him to haue left in writing such particularities, & he could not but of necessity haue had communication with a great number of men louers of antiquities. Vn­to that he ioyned a curious search of statues, mettals, inscriptions, paintings, tables: also of Pro­uerbes, Epigrams, Epitaphes, Apophthegms, & other ornaments of history, to leaue nothing be­hind him. And being continually almost in the company of learned men in all professions: it see­meth his memory was alwayes bent to gather, & his iudgement occupied to discerne that which was to be reiected or retained. By which meanes he saw himselfe in a short time aduanced to the knowledge of all things: moreouer he had in his hands goodly briefes and collections, with the which he finely holpe himselfe, and afterwards made a good part vnto his friends and posterity. He himselfe at the beginning of his booke treating of the contentment and quietnesse of the mind, makes mention of the memories which he had of long time made for his owne vse. So that out of this rich closet he hath drawne the excellent peeces which haue remained vnto vs, and which shew how much we haue lost being depriued of them that are no more to be found, and the which time hath dispersed, or vtterly consumed.

Now though that in generall it may be sayd, that this man was ignorant in no learning, nor of the goodly secrets of nature: yet this word we must adde to it, that whosoeuer shall duly consider the entrance, continuance, composition, binding and inclosing of his discourse, be it that he write an historie, or that he by any treatie apart will put backe vice, and make vertue to be beloued: be it that he sport himselfe in clearing the difficulties of naturall Philosophie, or of the Mathematickes, be it that he beginnneth to commence some disputation against those whose opinions he disproueth: we shall find in his writings an exact and easie method both together, his proofes sound, and his inductions pleasant and agreeable to all sorts of wits, and of such [Page 82] pithie discourses, so that of force we must confesse that this person had bene most excellently directed in his studies, considering that in speaking after such an easie manner, he presenteth so profound instructions, and I cannot tell what, where there is alwayes somewhat to be learned. Furthermore, seeing diuerse sects in credite in his time, it seemeth he had a good will to sound into the depth of the value & error of them. Then reaching higher yet, he hath searched out the opinions of the first Sages. So that the Pythagorians, Platonians, Epicurians, Stoickes, and Peripate­ticians, with their precepts haue bene very familiar with him. But not being content with tur­ning ouer the leaues of their writings, and seeing to the end all that which the naturall Philoso­phers haue thought of the secrets of the world: yet would he familiarly frequent those whom he vnderstood to be practised in sciences, and conferre with them, vnderstand their reasons, and be throughly resolued of them: and at the length obtained his desire, as his bookes make mention. That was accompanied with a continuall reading of all sorts of good Authors, as well to amplifie his collections, as still more and more to enrich his memorie, and to po­lish his iudgement: as may be noted in his workes three seuerall excellences of his spirit. For some of them are certaine declamations made in the schoole, and by way of exercise, as we haue shewed them placed at the beginning of the same: so that if he would haue taken the paines to haue reuiewed and smoothed those peeces there, they would haue seemed to be o­thers then they were. But we perceiue that he left some vnperfect, not thinking that that (which serued not but for a proofe of some thing better laboured) deserued to come to light. There are also some other discourses better polished, yet in such sort notwithstanding, that it plainely appeareth, he might haue amplified them and made them better. And there be other peeces, vnto the which it may be sayd, he hath put his last hand: as are his Liues, and the most part of his Morall workes, written at leisure, very aduisedly, considered in all vnderstanding, and to diuerse reiterations. He could haue done the like in all, and with the like stile haue raised his writings to their perfection: but hauing as it were more expressely stayed himselfe vpon some, he hath shewed therein the disposition of his studies, and with what discretion he spent his time.

Now, though he had tasted of all the sects of the Philosophers, yet you may perceiue that inclining to the Platonians (for he greatly reuerenced Socrates and Plato, whose birth dayes he did yearely celebrate) he neuerthelesse shut himselfe within the bounds of modestie of certaine ACADEMICKES, being content simply to propound the things, but to leaue them to the iudge­ment of the readers, forcing no man. Furthermore, we see with what diligence he had turned ouer the leaues of the writings of the Epicurians, and of the Stoickes, against whom he stoutly op­posed himselfe. But morall Philosophie was his chiefest end: for the rationall, the naturall, and the Mathematickes (the which he had greatly studied) they were but simple pastimes in com­parison of the other. Whereupon may be discerned, that hauing receiued in himselfe a singular pleasure of such study, he alwayes sought to print the same desire and contentment in the thought of all men, leauing the speculations and pricking questions: onely tending to this good, to bring wisedome into the houses, to establish it in the thrones of kings, to make it go in the streetes, to lodge it in the eyes, in the eares, vpon the tongues, and in the bottome of the hearts of all men. See here what his thoughts haue bene, which he could well disgest afterwards: so that it seemeth he was altogether giuen to that. Now though he was occupied in medi­tations and so excellent workes, he forgot not therefore any thing that was requisite for the exercises of his body, such as men vsed at that time, to keepe their spirits in strength, as also more ioyfully to passe ouer so manie other crosses as our life is assailed withall. And we may see also in the precepts he hath written of health, that albeit Physicke was not his profession, neuerthelesse he learned that which was the principall for his owne priuate good. For in that booke of his, he speaketh reasonably of the vse of meates, and sheweth from what meates we should abstaine. Afterwards hauing declared in what sort one should vse his ap­petite and the pleasures of the bodie, he condemneth the excesse of drinking and eating, he teacheth how to preuent sicknesse, setteth downe remedies, treateth of diet, and of signes of sicknesse, and of the true wayes how to keepe health. And thereupon he commeth to reason of the exercises and diet of students, laying that open which we should most care­fully obserue therein: which maketh me beleeue that he hauing knowne so well what was fit for the preseruation of the body, he did wisely helpe himselfe: as also euen to very old age he [Page 83] hath borne office in the commonwealth, and alwayes caried a body and mind lusty and readie to take paines, hauing had this wisedome to consider well his nature and disposition: also to take such meates and drinkes as were good for his stomacke, and to vse them soberly, and keeping his body in good state by commendable exercises and nouriture, to make himselfe profitable a long time for humane society. It is true that he being a graue man, raised to honour, and a Philoso­pher by profession, his chiefest exercises of body were to walke with other learned men, where without contention of words, he alwayes decided some points of Philosophie. Furthermore he loued to talke at the table, and to mingle pleasant & graue matters with some new deuice: so wit­tily and sweetly to enterlace and deuide the course of his life: being no crabbed nor sullen per­son, but pleasant, and whose company was troublesome to none: and otherwise as sober and discreet in his talke, as he was in drinking and eating.

So then his maners, as well alone, as with his friends and openly, do shew, that truly he had a good soule within a body well tempered. Now I do not enter here into the examination of the ridiculous opinions of Plutarch in matter of religion: being sory that so rare a spirit hath bene so miserably enuironed with the darknesse which was at that time in the most part of the townes & men of GRECE, & specially among so many wise men, straungely ignorant and dull in respect of the knowldge of the true God. If we had not bin warned betimes by the true and onely wise men taught in the schoole of eternall wisdome, of such a iudgement of God vpon the wise men of the world, who haue bene confounded in their discourse, when there hath bene question of the honor due to our soueraigne Lord: then we might haue bene astonied, and remained as men cast away. And whereas so many great wise men haue erred in their wayes, that will not excuse them before their iudge, as if he had kept the light from them. For, since that which may be knowne of his eternitie and omnipotent power, hath bene reuealed vnto them in nature and in philosophie: staying a man vpon himselfe, or vpon other creatures, and forsaking the onely Creator, they condemne themselues by their owne words and writings. Now to come againe to Plutarch. He hauing bene Apolloes Priest, as himselfe confesseth, and from his youth suckled with the foolish dotings of the GREEKES: I do not find it straunge, that many absurd opinions and without good ground (yea wicked and pernicious) are scattered in his disputations, tou­ching the default of Oracles, of the religion of the IEVVES, of the inscription of the letter E'i' in the temple of DELPHES: why the prophetesse Pythia doth no more giue her oracles in verse, and in many places of the liues and workes, in the which he openly inclineth to the superstitions and Atheismes of the PAGANS. There he sheweth a conscience euill informed, and a man running very swiftly out of the right way. By the same meanes a man may plainely note, that in matter of supernaturall and diuine philosophy, another manner of light then that of our corrupt vnder­standing is wholly required, not being possible that a man left to his owne wit can compre­hend the things which are of God: because they are discerned after a fashion meerly vnknowne vnto him, and of the which he cannot be partaker but by a speciall grace, and which nature doth not bestow vpon him, but he which hath made and reformed nature. It is no maruell then if Plutarch should be misled, that hath had so manie instructions and maisters strayed from the way of the eternall truth, and whose predecessours were drowned in the bottomlesse pit of ignorance. Yet notwithstanding, in the middest of that darknesse he hath had so much light, that he seemeth at times to note and condemne the laberinth of errour, as a man that hath lost his way in an horrible darke night should from one time to another be directed rightly by the light of the flashings of lightning. For some do gather by his discourse, of the cessation of the Oracles, and by other places, that he did acknowledge one God, and very liberally condem­ned many old and new superstitions, vnto the which both himselfe, and others his like, did cleaue vnto rather by custome for fashions sake, and to please the people, then for any opinion they had that they were worth ought. But as I haue sayd, my intention is not to iudge this person nor his deeds: considering that besides the matter I touch (euery where where he goeth out of the way) he confuteth himselfe sufficiently: witnesse his discourse of superstition, and the seuenth chapter of his first booke touching the opinions of the Philosophers, where he will dis­pute of the eternall prouidence: and the third question of the second booke of talke of the table, making mention of the egge: and the last question of the fourth booke, where he med­leth with speaking of God, and of the ceremonies of the IEVVES. In the meane time, and in the middest of this great blindnesse, they see in Plutarch a heart that is enemie vnto vice, and a [Page 84] friend of good manners. Let a man see him in his familie, in the schoole, in bankets, with his friends, and openly: behold, there is a graue man, modest in behauiour, sharpe, learned, and pleasant in his discourses, offending nor hurting no man. If he speake of vice, he letteth out the filthinesse, and scantly maketh the patient cry. If he speake for vertue, it is with such efficacie, that euerie man may know he spake of the aboundance of his heart. He is a good father of a house, a wise schoole-maister, a graue historian, a braue politician, an excellent Philosopher, a good writer to imitate: and furthermore, a faithfull, profitable, true, and a ioyfull counsellour and friend. His plainenesse, simplicitie, and graue modestie shineth in all his writings: his ver­tue, accompanied almost ordinarily with all others which we need not speake of particularly, neither to vnfold the life of our Philosopher from one part to another to see his vprightnesse, in­tegritie, grauity, sweetnesse, constancie, force, prudence, temperancie, and liberality: that may be truly spoken of him, which had bene long time before applied in the Theaters vnto Amphia­raus, and to Aristides:

He litle cares to seeme vpright, but striueth so to be,
In deepest thoughts preferring vertue still:
Whence day by day, proceeding we do see
Wise counsels, that without respect, true honours lawes fulfill.

In testimonie of his sweete grauitie, and of part of his thoughts: I will alledge some words couched in his owne discourse against choler. As for me, sayd he, If I haue done well or euill I know not, but by that meanes I haue rid my selfe of choler. As the LACEDAEMONIANS did in old time, who to learne their children not to be drunke at all, shewed them their slaues be­ing drunke: so do I consider the effects of choler in others. And afterwards he addeth more, that a man should accustome himselfe to beare many of his wiues words, and of his fa­miliars and friends, which do reproue vs for that we are too gentle and soft. And this was the chiefest cause (sayd he) why I was so often angrie with my seruants, fearing they would waxe worse for want of reproofe and correction. But I obserued my selfe at the last, though late, that first I were better by patience and pardoning them, make my seruants worse: then to hurt my selfe by sharpnesse and choler, seeking to reforme others. I considered also with my selfe, and remembred (sayd he) that as he which teacheth vs to shoote in a bow, doth not forbid vs to draw, but to faile in drawing: so he that teacheth vs to punish in time and place, moderately, profitably, and as we should: doth not let vs but that we may punish. I do labour all I can to withdraw, and vtterly to banish all choler: principally because I would not take from them that are punished, the meane to iustifie themselues, and to heare them. For time bringeth in the interim to the passionate mind, a delay and forgetfulnesse which dissolueth it: in which space the iudgement of reason findeth both the meane and the measure to giue reasonable correction. And besides that they giue the partie punished no place to resist the punishment, if he be not corrected in anger and choler, but conuinced for that he had well deserued it. And (which were yet more vnseemely) they shall not find that the seruant punished speaketh more iustly then his maister that punisheth him. Touching this purpose, I will remember the pleasant report which the Philosopher Taurus made of Plu­tarch, as Gellius reciteth it in the sixe and twentieth chapter of the first booke of his nights Attiques, as some man hath heretofore expressed it in our language. A slaue, a vile and vi­cious man (but yet that had his eares somewhat instructed with bookes and disputations of Philosophie) hauing bene stripped naked for some fault he had done, by the commaun­dement of his maister Plutarch, whilest they were whipping of him, he grombled at the first that it was without reason, and that he had done nothing: but in the end crying out a­maine, and iniuring his maister, he told him that he was no Philosopher as he bragged him­selfe to be: and that he often heard him say it was a fowle thing to be angrie, yea that he made a booke of it: and that now (ouercome with choler) in making him be beaten so cruelly, he vt­terly belied all his writings: Thereunto Plutarch coldly and quietly aunswered: Why, how now roister, sayd he? whereby doest thou thinke that I am angrie at this present? my counte­nance, my voice, my colour, my words, do they giue thee any signe that I am angrie? I do not thinke I haue cruell eyes, nor a troubled face, nor any fearefull crie. Do I blush? do I fome? doth any thing escape me that I should repent me? do I stampe? do I rage? For to tell thee truly, these be the shewes of choler. Afterwardes he turned to him that whipped him: [Page 85] saying: Forward with your businesse, whiles he and I do reason the matter. Furthermore, we may easily gather what Plutarch was amongst his friends, from the nine bookes, containing the questions decided at the table. And for his disputations against the EPICVRIANS and STO­ICKES, they shew that this person for the regard of his actions concerning the commonwealth, hauing respect vnto those whom at that time he made his iudges, and to the posterity into whose hands his writings might come hereafter: he alwayes caried himselfe in such a modest grauity, that they could require no more of him. And if sometime he did feelingly touch some, as Colotes, and Herodotus, it was not in vaine. Also he alwayes vsed termes which witnessed that he had an vpright soule. To be short, it appeareth euery where that his passions were maruellous well staied. And if any of them were furious or violent, he could tell in time and place how to reforme them by the precepts of Philosophy, leading (as is sayd) a life without blame of men. But aboue all the rest, when any discourse or disputation drew him vnto it, to speake of shamefull or dishonest things, he did conuey it with such discretion as it cannot be amended: whereof we need not to bring forth examples dispersed in his writings, and especi­ally in the dialogue of loue, seeing that being concealed it doth no hurt, as also remembred or too expressely reuealed, it cannot but hurt the eyes, and an honest thought.

Furthermore, Plutarchs studie of Philosophie tooke not away the care he had to liue with some profit amongst men, nor made him to disdaine the meanes which his predecessors had left him. But as he came of a noble house, and with time being aduanced vnto office and charge in the commonwealth, greatly esteemed of Traian the Emperor, and of the noble men of ROME, he saw he had goods inough to liue at ease: whereof notwithstanding he neuer made such ac­count as that he wold forget his study, & intangle himself in the snares of the loue of riches, with­in the which so many miserable soules haue bin engaged vnto death. His means serued his turne to maintaine himselfe among his friends, and to bring vp his children: for he had many of an ho­norable Lady which he maried, and loued most dearly. Amongst his other sons, himselfe maketh mention of Autobulus, of Plutarchus, & of Charon, who died a yong infant, & some others whom he nameth not at all. Also of daughters, two of the which were maried to Firmus, and vnto Cra­ton, learned philosophers: and Timoxene, who died very yong. As for Autobulus, he maried in his fathers life time, and it is not well knowne, whether Sextus of CHAERONEA, a Philosopher of the Scepts, who liued in great honour in the Empire of Antonius, was his sonne, or the sonne of Plu­tarchus. That which I am now about to speake of, may be gathered out of diuerse places in the workes of Plutarch, and specially of the discourse at the table. And in the consolation which he wrote to his wife vpon the death of their daughter, they may note that she was an honorable La­dy, modest, and vertuous, well attended on with women and seruants: and otherwise charitable to her children, and bearing great reuerence vnto her husband. That the house of Plutarch was very well gouerned: that he had a great number of kinsfolkes and friends. And in other places of his booke intituled Sympositum, and other treaties, we may know that his sonnes and ne­phews were studious and learned, and specially in the sixt question of his eight booke of talke at the table, speaking of his youngest children: who because they taried somewhat longer at the Theater then they should haue done, to see and heare the pastimes they made there, came by that meanes late to supper: it shewed sufficiently that they now began to follow the fathers steps. And there appeared in no partany euill touch amongst these persons: but as Plutarch did conuerse in a singular reuerence, friendship, and gentlenesse, with his grandfather, his father, and his brethren: we are to iudge the like conuersation with his wife, his children, and his ne­phews: as also they being in so good a schoole could not faile but euery day to go forward in the knowledge and practise of vertue.

But as a fountaine hidden serueth to no vse, so it had litle preuailed Plutarch to haue seene, read, and gathered so much together, vnlesse he had made litle streames runne from such a liuely and goodly fountaine, vnto such places where his vertue might shine more then in any other parts of the world. That was ITALIE, and the city of ROME, the seate of the Empire, and where (notwithstanding the disorders brought in by former warres, and by the dissolutions and tyrannies of some Emperors) notwithstanding there were many learned men, and in the Empe­rors courts also some counsellors, and other persons of authority which loued vertue. Now Plu­tarch hauing begun to aduance himselfe in GRECE, about the time of Vespasian and Titus, it see­meth he came to ROME immediatly after the death of Titus, vnder Domitian, as well to make [Page 86] profession there of Philosophy, as also that he might more nearly know the auncient gouerne­ment of the commonwealth, and to increase his collections, from the which proceeded after­wards infinite particularities inclosed in his workes: but especially the liues of the noble RO­MAINES compared with the GREEKES. For my part, I thinke Plutarch was drawne to ROME by meanes of some friends he had there, especially by Sossius Senecio, that had bene a Consull, who was of great estimation at that time, and namely vnder the Empire of TRAIAN. And that which maketh me thinke so, is because of Plutarchs owne words, who sayth in the beginning of his first booke of his discourse at the table, that he gathered together all his reasons and discourses made here and there, as well in ROME with Senecio, as in GRECE with Plutarch and others. Not being likely that he wold haue taken the paines to haue made so long a voyage, & to haue come to such a citie where he vnderstood not their vulgar tongue, if he had not bene drawne thither by Se­necio, and such other men: as also in acknowledgement of the good turnes and honour he had receiued by such men, he dedicated diuerse of his bookes vnto them, and among others, the liues vnto Senecio, and the nine volumes of his discourse at the table: with the treatie, How a man may know that he profiteth in vertue. Now for the time, considering what he sayth in the end of his booke against curiositie, I suppose that he taught in ROME in the time of Titus and of Do­mitian: for touching that point, he maketh mention of a noble man called Rusticus, who being one day at his lecture, he would not open a letter which was brought him from the Emperor, nor interrupt Plutarch, but attended the end of his declamation, and vntill all the hearers were gone away: and addeth also, that Rusticus was afterwards put to death by the commaundement of Domitian. Furthermore, about the beginning of the life of Demosthenes, Plutarch sayth, that whilest he remained in ITALIE and at ROME, he had no leisure to studie the Latine tongue: as well for that he was busied at that time with matters he had in hand, as also to satisfie those that were his followers to learne Philosophie of him. He doth not tell what matters he had in hand besides his profession: but following that which Suidas and others speake of him, that he was neare to the person of Traian, and had the honor and place to be his schoole-master and tea­cher, or at the leastwise one of so many learned men as this prince made much of, as some story writers do testifie, he was honoured and aduanced to some charge or gouernement: which I thinke is that he speaketh of in this place. Now furthermore, his chiefest labour was publickly to teach all the parts of Philosophie, mingling in his declamations and lectures a diligent and curious search of all that the auncient Philosophers, reasonable, naturall, or morall, of what sect soeuer they were had treated of: as appeareth by his writings, which are as summaries of his lessons and orations he made with his owne voyce. His speech doth not flow so as that of ma­ny other Philosophers, Oratours, and Greeke Historians: but being come later, and in a more rude and harsh world, his stile also is more hard, briefe, enforced, and Philosopher like: ay­ming at this marke to instruct the mind first, not tarying to tickle the eares much, though he did fill and content them learnedly. But the flowing sweetnesse we tast in Plato, in Xenophon, in Herodotus, and in some other, wanting indeed in Plutarch, is supplied and recompenced in him by infinite stories, sentences, similitudes, and notable particulars which he boroweth of others, and whereof he composed a worke so well deuided, so rich, and so pleasant, by reason of his varietie, that it is not possible to reade bookes of a more gentle and profitable reading, a­mongst all the historians, & Philosophers, GREEKS or ROMAINES. If Plutarch then doth at this present content all sorts of men, what may we thinke he did with his liuely voyce? but after the example of this Hercules of GAVLE, which held his auditors eares fast chained to his toung: so hath he by his goodly documents moued an infinite number of men, to leaue vice, and to cloath them with the loue of vertue.

So he hauing continued these exercises for some yeares, being heard and visited of all sorts of men, grew to be of such reputation, that the greatest persons began to seeke him and to make much of him, yea to thinke themselues honoured by his friendship: as his bookes dedicated vnto some of them do sufficiently testifie it. And touching the accesse he had about the person of Traian himself, it may be gathered from the beginning of this goodly collection of Apotheg­mes, which he dedicated vnto this great Emperour, what was his intention: that is to wit, to serue for the good of all the ROMAINE Empire, giuing wholesome instructions vnto the head thereof. For he wisely iudged, that in ruling the thought of that man, it was to giue phisicke at once vnto all the subiects of that great Monarchie. The same being a common thing, that

[Page 87]
Subiects and kingdomes commonly do chuse
The manners that their Princes daily vse.

It is true that such instructions in respect of Traian, do onely concerne his person and politicke affaires. For as touching the only true religion, it was meerely vnknowne of Plutarch, and rudely persecuted vnder the Empire of Traian: who notwithstanding in the end being softened by the precepts of moral Philosophie, and through the aduertisements his deputie gouernors gaue him, & namely Plinius secundus gouernor of BITHYNIA, of the innocencie of the Christians: or rather restrained by the secret prouidence of our soueraigne Lord, (who excellently strengthened his, put the Oracles of the lying spirit to silence, and ouerthrew Idolatrie in most places) he caried himselfe more gently, and did forbid to vexe and trouble them any more, whom before they had pursued with all sorts of cruelties. Furthermore, I thinke that it was in fauour of Traian chiefly, that Plutarch made certaine particular Treatises, (besides the liues of Noblemen) and amongst others that, where he maintaineth, that it is requisite a Prince should be wise. The in­struction for those that deale in the affaires of estate. The notable sayings of GREEKES and RO­MAINES, and others concerning the dutie of Princes and great Lords. Now considering that wherein he reasoneth, and briefly defendeth, (but grauely, and with assured proofes) that a Philosopher ought to conuerse with Princes: some may say that it is an Apologie of Plutarch, against the common and light obiections of some Courtiers, which thinke that Princes cannot be well counselled, but by men that blow (as they say) fire with their mouthes, and that carie the rapier and dagger in their hands: and would that men of learning (whom in scorne they call schoolemaisters and Philosophers) should be turned to their studie, or into a schoole, to crie out there as much and as lowd as they thinke good. Therefore he was willing as well to en­courage himselfe first in that discourse, as also to remedie what in him lay, certaine euils infi­nitely abounding and ouerflowing in others. In all times and ages euery man hath granted and confessed, that amongst those that want good companie, are Princes, Lords, and great per­sonages. For their affaires being so important and waightie, as euery man knoweth, their bodies being weake, and their spirits not able to dispatch all things: they must needes see by others eyes, and worke with others hands. Whereupon there are three sorts of men which are to be reproued. For the first, they are the Princes themselues, who in stead of calling and drawing neare vnto them, men of honour that might helpe them in any matter, they giue accesse vnto ill-minded men, that corrupt them, and ouerthrow their estate. The second (but a small number at all times) are the Philosophers, that is to say, men of authoritie, wise, learned, louers of vertue, and of the good of Princes and of their subiects: who being able to do much, yet they draw backe: or being aduanced, haue not alwaies that consideration nor courage that is fit, being oftentimes caried away with the greatest opinion, and mingling somewhat too much their hu­mane wisedome with the apprehension of their true dutie: whereof their conscience being clea­red diuerse waies, doth sufficiently informe them. For the last, they are ignorant tutours, or A­theists, minions, shifters, iesters, flatterers, brokers of filthie pleasures, and such practisers, which by wicked meanes creepe into Princes Courts, houses and closets. And in recompence of the charges they boldly accept, and of the treasures which they heape together with a wicked consci­ence, and do afterwards spend of the same, they do deceiue, dishonor, and finally they vndo their vnwise maisters: as a million of examples in histories do testifie. Plutarch therefore considering these things, doth attempt in this Treatise to giue courage vnto those, that haue a desire to see all things well ordered: and such maner of men doth he exhort to be about Princes. But because grauity and wisdome maketh men modest and slow: as to the contrary, ignorance & malice ma­keth them haue brasen faces: he sheweth that it is no ambition of a Philosopher to be about great Lords, but rather that his duty doth beare it, sithence that such receiue honor, pleasure and profit: and this he proueth by reasons, & notable examples. But aboue all, he forgetteth not to set vpon thē that come to Princes courts to make thēselues great, shewing that Philosophers should shoot at another marke. And last of all he treateth of the contentment those receiue, which seruing one alone, do by the same means helpe an infinit number of others that are bound vnto them for so great a good turne. I haue written at large the argument of this treatie of Plutarch, because it con­taineth the briefe of al the conceits of this Philosopher coming to the Emperor: & it is a patterne also to al learned mē that enter into seruice of great lords, the which if they wil painfully follow, [Page 88] the chiefest may recouer some part of their auncient glorie. Now I make no doubt of it, but that Plutarch hath assayed by all possible meanes to practise that which he teacheth in this booke, to gaine to himselfe a great contentment in his soule, and to leaue a good sent of him vnto all posteritie.

The cause that maketh me speake this, is the consideration of the estate in the which the Em­pire of ROME stood in at that time, the which if any man will at leysure confer with that which he may gather out of many parts of Plutarchs workes, he shall find the words of Plato very true: that happie are those commonwealths which are gouerned by Philosophers, or by Princes that haue Philosophers about them. For like as an expert pylote by his skill and knowledge resisteth the winds and billowes of the sea, and in despite of their force beareth saile to the desired ha­uen: euen so when the ship of the commonwealth hath a maister that guideth it by the precepts of Philosophie, the gouernment is peaceable and happy euery way. And if any storme happen, and necessitie requireth it, he finely plucketh downe the sailes, and yeeldeth himselfe in such sort to the waues, that he escapeth and ouercometh it with honor. Dion writeth, that one of the first actes Traian did, after he was chosen Emperor in the place of Nerua, was: that he wrote letters with his owne hand to the Senate of ROME, promising by them he would neuer put any man to death, or make him infamous, that was an honest man: and this he afterwards confirmed by solemne oth. He put Aelianus and the souldiers Praetorians to death, because they mutined a­gainst Nerua. And after he had made his entrie into ROME, he gaue good order for the affaires of the estate, and specially fauoured vertuous men many waies, graunted them great priuiledges, and gaue meanes to the cities of ITALIE to bring vp their youth. He raigned Emperour ninteene yeares and a halfe, being two and fortie yeares old when he was chosen. His behauiour was such that he obtained the name of a iust, valiant, moderate, & a good Prince: so that in the flower of his youth, they noted in him a stayed iudgement, and in his age a great courage. He enuied no man, he hurt no man, he raised good men to honorable place and charge in the commonwealth: whereby it came to passe that he was neuer afraid, nor had no enemy in the world. Accusers had no accesse vnto him: he was as gentle a Prince as was possible, and as much an enemy of coue­tousnesse, as he was of murthers and robberies. In time of peace and warre he was at great charge in stately buildings, witnesse the wonderfull bridge ouer Danuby. But with magnificence such enterprises and reparations ordinarily were necessarie, without oppressing or wronging any man: for he was a noble Prince, that desired rather to be beloued of his subiects, then feared and much made of, as some of his predecessors. To meane men he shewed himselfe courteous and easie to haue accesse vnto: graue and honourable among the Senatours. The ROMAINES loued him as much as they could possible, and his enemies infinitely were afraid of him. His pas-times were hunting, feasting, and the Theater to see common playes and sports. Oftentimes he would be priuate with his friends, and came without his guard into their houses, yea sometimes he would lye there, and passe away the night. He was not of the wisest, although by his behauiour they could not iudge otherwise of him, but that he was a wise and learned Prince. There was no­thing in him but it was excellent, and in manner blamelesse. For although he loued to drinke wine, and delighted to see faire boyes: yet for all this he neuer committed any foule act, being very warie in his passions, and aboue all, keeping himselfe from abusing his authority. He desi­red nothing but war, but it was principally to ouercome his enemies, and to enrich his friends. Furthermore, he was so fortunate and braue a chieftaine of an armie, so beloued of his Captains and souldiers, that there was neuer any mutinie or disorder in his campe. That made him dread­full to those that troubled him neare or farre off, of which the chiefest was Decebalus king of the DACIANS: whom he pursued so hard, that being vnpossible for him to escape, he killed himself. Furthermore he made warre with the PARTHIANS, with the ARABIANS, and with the IEVVES, with diuerse euents, but almost alwaies to his aduantage. Furthermore, to come to his manners, he loued so faithfully, that it was a hard thing to make him thinke euill of those whom he loued, which we will proue by some example. Certaine ill-willers brought him word that Sura Licini­us, one of his priuate friends did practise somewhat against him. In stead of taking it ill to con­ceiue a hard opinion of him, he went (vnbidden) into Sura his house, he would sup there, and sending backe his guard, first he made Sura his Phisition come to him, and shewed him his eyes to helpe some griefe that troubled him: not being so contented, he sendeth for his Barber to shaue his beard: then being trimmed, and hauing washed, he sate down at the table and supped▪ [Page 89] The next morning some reporting vnto him the ill will that Sura did beare him: If he would haue killed me, said he, yesterday he might haue done it, for he had meanes to do it. This Sura was he vnto whom Traian had giuen the office of the great Marshall of the Empire: and coming to him to tie his girdle baudricke wise about his necke, hauing the sword drawne in his hand, he vsed this speech vnto him: Receiue this sword of me, and if I commaund as I ought, employ it in my defence: if I do otherwise, draw it against me, and take my life from me. He caused statues to be set vp of Sossius Senecio, of Palma, and of Celsus, who were all three Senators whom aboue all others he loued and honored. He set vp Libraries, and did many notable acts, in testimonie of his great courage. But that which most of all other doth commend him, is, that hauing done wonderfull much good to the Empire, by decree of the Senate, he was surnamed Optimus Impe­rator: that is to say, most good Emperour. And so was he wonderfully beloued of the Senators, and Officers of the Empire, of all the people, and specially of the souldiers, amongst whom he would be so familiar as if they had bene his companions. Furthermore, nothing pleased him so much as this title of Optimus: wherin he gloried amongst his friends, and did more and more in­deuour to shew himselfe so. As also after him (as Eutropius reporteth) when any new Emperor was chosen by the Senate, after the showtings of happie presage, and well wishings of the Sena­tours, they cryed out vnto him: What, canst thou be more fortunate then Augustus, and better then Traian! Now if we bring to the writings of Plutarch the life of this Prince, we will say that the Prince did alwaies thinke of the wise precepts of the Philosopher: and on the other side that the Philosopher hath framed the deedes of the Prince to the rule of good life, which he hath so fitly propounded to great and meane men. And therefore it is not to be maruelled at, if Plutarch declare (to the high praise of Traian and the Senate) in his treatie, where he instructeth those that deale in publike affaires: that in his time for peace sake, people had no need of wise gouer­nours to defend them: for (said he) all the warres against the GREEKES and barbarous people are fled from vs. Thus standeth the estate of the Empire, the which if any man will particularly conferre with that which Plutarch setteth downe in his writings: he shall find it was happie to haue met with so well disposed hearts, to receiue, and carefully to practise his goodly lessons. And that as it was a singular honour to Traian by his vertue to haue obtained a surname that made him greater then the most part of the ROMAINE Emperors: so is Plutarch euery way to be com­mended, that was the excellent instrument to aduance and maintaine so great a good. Whereu­pon I desire his Morals should be specially remembred, to apply that which he speaketh of vice and vertue, vnto that which hath bene touched in the life of Traian. For I thinke the one can hardly be spoken of, but that the other by the same meanes must be remembred. And it seemeth that one selfe soule hath put forward these two hearts, both to giue and receiue one commenda­ble instruction. Onely for proofe a man may with his eye run ouer two or three discourses. As for example, that of the difference betwixt the flatterer and the friend: Against choler: How a man may know if he profite in the exercise of vertue: That it is requisit a Prince should be wise: The instruction for those which deale in the affaires of the estate: The apothegmes: and there shall a man find the rules which the Emperour Traian could wisely apply to himselfe, and pra­ctise in all his actions.

So could he well acknowledge the good he had receiued of Plutarch, being a noble and boun­tifull Prince, as hath bene said here-before. For, besides the great honour he had done him at ROME, hauing made him a Consull: he commanded (as saith Suidas) that all the magistrates and officers which were in the Prouince of SLAVONY, should do nothing but vnder his authoritie. If we had the bookes of Marius Maximus, of Fabius Marcellinus, of Aurelius Verus, and of Statius Valens, which haue written the life of Traian: we might easily draw on this matter further, the which Suidas (according to his stile) is contented to touch in one word. And Dion who was a GREEKE, a man very forgetfull for an Historian, and that in some places shewed he had no great iudgement: he seemeth to haue suppressed the name of Plutarch, as though he had bene offen­ded with the fame obtained by this man. Or else, if one will take things in good part, as I encline vnto it: it may be he thought he needed make no mentiō of one whose writings made him to be knowne sufficiently. Yet furthermore, I do not find that Plutarch was in SLAVONIE at all, and if so be that he made any iourney thither, I thinke he taried not long there: because it appeareth in diuerse places of his works, that his abode was most in ITALIE and in GRECE. And for his hono­rable charges committed vnto him, that should not be thought very straunge, if we consider the [Page 90] merits of Plutarch, the names of Traian, and the goodwill that Sossius Senecio, (one of the princi­pall men of ROME, and of the chiefest fauorites of Traian) bare vnto Plutarch. For he that was in so great credit with his maister, would not forget him whom he loued aboue all other men: wherein he lost not his time, forasmuch as the statue that was set vp for him, and that which Dion and some others do briefly passe ouer, do not commend Sossius, as do the prefaces of honor, and the bookes which Plutarch dedicated vnto him. The which we need no more rehearse, then to write ouer againe the Epistle of Plutarch vnto Traian, the which is written in Latine, as Amyot sheweth in his preface of the liues: where he hath inserted the Epistle at length, because he thought it wisely and grauely written, a briefe worthie of such a Philosopher as Plutarch. That which Cuspinianus saith in the latter end of the life of Traian, seemeth to touch that: speaking al­so, as if it had bene expressed out of Greeke into Latine. But time hath depriued vs of that, and of many other goodly peeces of the selfe same, as we haue somewhat spoken of it before in the be­ginning of the Morall workes. Now he hath written nothing touching his behauiour in his pub­like charge, but contenteth himselfe to speake a word sometime passing by, because he made no account of any thing but of Philosophie, through the helpe whereof he assayed to make him selfe and others wiser, and more vertuous euery day then other. Being a thing very likely that such a man as had so painefully considered of the estate of the world, and of all sorts of publike gouernments, and had ioyned his studies with so great experience: that he hath happily mana­ged the charges that were committed vnto him. To conclude, to liue as we should amongst men, the speculation and knowledge of things being ioyned with the practise of the same, do bring foorth excellent effects: whereas those that do content themselues with the simple theoricke, and others that follow exercise, contemning the true vnderstanding of the causes and grounds of affaires, as Philosophie doth shew them: they oftentimes fall into wonderfull difficulties.

For Plutarch, though he taried a long time in ITALIE and in ROME, yet that tooke not away the remembrance of the sweet aire of GRECE, and of the litle towne where he was borne: but being touched from time to time with a sentence of an ancient Poet, who said, that

In whatsoeuer countrey men are bred,
(I know not by what sweetnesse of it led,)
They nourish in their minds a glad desire
Vnto their natiue homes for to retire:

He resolued to go back into GRECE againe, there to end the rest of his daies in rest and honor a­mongst his citizens, of whom he was honorably welcomed home. Some iudge that he left ROME after the death of Traian, being then of great years, to leade a more quiet life. So being then at rest he earnestly took in hand that which he had long thought of before, to wit, the Liues: and tooke great paines in it vntill he had brought his worke to perfection, as we haue done at this present: although that some liues, as those of Scipio African, of Metellus Numidicus, and some others are not to be found. Now himselfe confesseth in some place, that when he began this worke, at the first it was but to profit others: but that afterwards it was to profit himselfe, looking vpon those histories, as if he had looked in a glasse, and seeking to reforme his life in some sort, and to forme it in the mould of the vertues of these great men: taking this fashion of searching their ma­ners, and writing the liues of these noble men, to be a familiar haunting and frequenting of them. Also he thought (said he himselfe) that he lodged these men one after the other in his house, en­tring into consideration of their qualities, and that which was great in either of them, choosing and principally taking that which was to be noted, and most worthie to be knowne in their say­ings and deeds. In summe, he declared that by continuance of reading auncient histories, and in drawing out the liues which he hath written, and receiuing daily in his vnderstanding the memo­rable things of the most honest and vertuous men of times past: he instructed himselfe, and pre­pared him to lay aside all euill, foolish, dishonest, or spitefull condition: if by chaunce by often frequenting their companie he must of necessitie keepe, he learned any euill touch. The which he did reforme, turning his quiet thought not stirred with any passion at all, to the consideration of so many goodly examples. Now because that some might obiect vnto him, that for the finish­ing of so great a peece of worke, he could not haue made choice of a fitter place then ROME: or rather that being a man giuen to his booke as he was, he should haue left that worke vnto some other that had seene more. This obiection being of some weight, he answereth it at the begin­ning of the life of Demosthenes, and saith: That to attaine to true felicitie, whereof the greatest [Page 91] part consisteth in the maners, qualities and conditions of the soule: it maketh no matter whether a man be borne in an obscure towne and of small name, no more then if he were borne of a foule or litle mother. For it were a mockerie to thinke that some small townes or litle Ilands could not­withstanding bring forth good Poets and excellent players of Comedies: & that they could not in like sort bring out an honest, iust, constant, wise, and noble or worthy man. And although we haue reason to thinke that arts and sciences inuented to make things necessary for the vse of men, or else to win a name and reputation, are made and counterfeited in poore litle towns: so we must also thinke that vertue, none otherwise then a straunge plant can take foot and root in any place, where it meeteth with a good nature, gentle and patient to indure paines. Wherfore if we come to cōmit any error, or that we liue otherwise then becometh vs, we must not accuse or blame the meannesse of our countrey, but iustly attribute the fault to our selues. It is true (saith he) that he that hath vndertaken to frame a peece of work, or to write any history, in the which many things should be put, not familiar in his countrey, and that they find not alwaies at their hand euery where, but strange for the most part, dispersed here and there, and that must be gathered from many places and diuers authors: in truth he must first and before all other things dwell in a great and noble city, full of people, and a great number of men louing goodly and honest things, to the end there may be store of books, and that in searching vp and downe, and hearing them tell with liuely voice many things, which other story-writers peraduenture haue left vnwritten, and that shall beare so much more credit, because they are fresh in memory of the liuing: he may make his worke complete and perfect in all things, and not wanting many things that should be neces­sarie for it. Hauing made this preface, he excuseth himselfe, that he could not profit so much in knowledge of the Latine tongue, as he desired, and sheweth how he did helpe himselfe. But for­asmuch as it is in this worke of his Liues that Plutarch hath most shewed his sufficiencie, whe­ther you consider the length of the worke, or trie with what iudgement he hath procee­ded: peraduenture it will not be hurtfull to speake somewhat of it, beside that which hath bene spoken by his Translator in the Preface. I do not enter here into commendation of Historie in generall, nor we need not apply that vnto Plutarch, which Cicero and many others haue spoken. For if euer there were booke, next to that we call the holy Scriptures, it may be said, that that which containeth the liues of the noble GREEKES and ROMAINES, is an assured testimonie of many hundreds of yeares, a Sunne of veritie, a life of memorie, a true mistresse of life, and an excellent messenger of antiquitie. And as the stone called the Opall, sheweth ma­ny Orient colours aboue all other precious stones: so doth the liues of Plutarch make an a­bridgement of all the best things contained in the Greeke and Latine histories. For there are seene worthie examples of vices and vertues, an infinite number of Maximes and notable pre­cepts touching the duties of euery one, their vertues and vices. Now although Plutarch in the ignorance and blindnesse of the true God, could not (no more then other prophane Histo­rians) touch the true end of historie: yet we may note some admirable thing in him in that re­spect. Since historie (which containeth in it an infinite number of particular deedes and honou­rable actions, as the collection of the liues of Plutarch) is a goodly or glistering glasse or table, within the which may be discerned the wonders and admirable working of the diuine Proui­dence: for to comprehend that well which God and men do, there are three things to be consi­dered in euery historie: to wit, the men whereof there is question, the things worthie of memo­rie, and the circumstances, keeping this ground against the Epicurians and enemies of mans life: That there is a Godhead and supernaturall power which gouerneth and maintaineth the world, wherein nothing happeneth by chaunce, but all is guided by a most wise disposition of the same, for the preseruation of families, of ciuill pollicie, and of a companie and happie congre­gation that shall be taken out of this world into a better. A wise and learned Historian must haue an eye vpon these three things, for to applie them vnto three other vertues that ought to shine in him: veritie, moderation, and eloquence. Forsomuch as if he set out fables, or if he talke to no purpose, and make discourses at pleasure, or if he be troublesome in a speech not coherent and hanging well together: then he deserueth no more the name of an Historian. As for these vertues, I do assure my selfe that euery man of iudgement will agree, that they are rea­dily to be found in Plutarch, accompanied with a sweet grauitie that alwaies pleaseth the reader, and giueth him at a hundred times reading as good a sauor and tast of him as at the first. Let a man look vpon stories that haue nothing in them but the name, and vpō so many books ill composed, [Page 92] of the which Europe is full: they shal find that the parts necessarie to be obserued in the persons is nothing at all regarded: that those which thinke to represent others, they do sample them after a strange fashion. Therupon the affections and passions, the hatred, the enuie, euill speaking, false re­ports, flatteries & lies, present themselues so vntowardly that they marre all. To the contrarie, we see Plutarch very exact in that respect. It sufficeth me to touch the things passing by: whether he shew the vices or vertues of great and meane persons, he doth it in good termes, without aggra­uating or making it lesse. He taketh no maner of pleasure to speake euill of any, but wisely hideth that whereof we ought not to speake but with shame and compassion of mans infirmitie. And he is more enclined to commend the good in vicious persons, then too much to set open the shops of their wickednesse. But if necessitie enforce him vnto it, it is with such manifest proofes, that others which are wicked seeing him wash the head of their companions, they are compelled to hang downe their heads, and to condemne their wicked thoughts. Now touching matters that ought to be remembred in histories, therein are to be considered, the counsels, exe­cutions, and accidents. For counsels, who noteth better then he the wickednesse of those which aske counsell of the world, of the vnconstant multitude, of men of as litle iudgment as them­selues, or of themselues? With what grace doth he lay open the errors committed by Xerxes, Pyr­rhus, Marius, and infinite others? And though euill counsell prosper for a time, yet the eternall wisedome, hath a secret intention to bring things to passe, which the wisedome of man cannot see till it be done: as Plutarch doth finely discouer them in the life of Cato Vtican, and of others. The executions are of diuers sorts, according to the workmen and their means. In this point, Plu­tarch is admirable, shewing particularly infinite thoughts in actions which he representeth: so that for one self deed he giueth alwaies entrance and direction vnto the studious reader, to make halfe a dousin of sundrie rules for the direction of mans life: he was euer so fortunate to compre­hend all things well, and to draw that which was to be offered vnto the view of posteritie. If ac­cidents come in question, he can excellently referre them to the counsels, and draw out good­ly instructions for all sorts of men. Now there remaineth the circumstances of times, of places, of people, and others so diligently searched out in Plutarch, that in this matter he seemeth to haue surmounted himselfe. To proue all that hath bene presently spoken in few words, behold here the booke lyeth open, and vnder the indifferent examination of the learned and vertuous men.

I am not ignorant thatsome men wel thought of among the learned men of our time, haue ve­ryboldly censured Plutarch, accusing him of ignorance: also that he had writtē things incredible, fabulous, and that he had made vnapt comparisons. For his ignorance, that hath bene sufficient­ly handled heretofore speaking of Plutarchs toung. And if we must speake of the sufficiencie of an Historian, I thinke it is most excellent in him: howbeit I shall not need to defend him, seeing that he defendeth himselfe sufficiently well. If he be mistaken in some circumstances, and that they discouer some fault in his memorie, or of discordance condemned by many other Hi­storians: that deserueth not so sharpe a reprehension. And for all the rest, I will adde too the an­swer of a noble person well studied in Plutarchs lecture, for that it sufficeth and fully agreeth with that which we now speake of. And these be his words: If one had spoken simply that Plutarch reciteth things otherwise then they be, it was no great reproch: for those things which we haue not seene, we take them at other mens hands of credit: and I see that to his knowledge he repor­teth at times one selfe historie diuersly. As the iudgement of three of the best Captaines that e­uer were, giuen by Hanniball, is otherwise set downe in the life of Flaminius: and contrarie again in the life of Pyrrhus. But to charge him to haue taken for ready money things vncredible, and also vnpossible: it is euen to accuse for want of iudgement, the author of the best iudgement in the world. And here is the example which they alledge, to wit, that Plutarch said that a child of LACEDAEMON suffered his belly to be torne out by a foxe he had stolen, & hid vnder his gowne, euen to suffer death rather then to bewray his theft. First of all I find this example very euill cho­sen to bound the indeuours of the faculties of the soule, whereas for corporall forces we haue more law to limite and know them. For this cause, if I had had to do withall, I would rather haue chosen an example of this second sort, and they are lesse credible. As amongst others, that which he reciteth of Pyrrhus: that being hurt as he was, he gaue his enemy armed at all peeces such a blow with his sword, that he claue his head downe to the lowest parts, so that the body fell asun­der in two parts. In the other example I find no great wonder, neither do I like the excuse they make for Plutarch, for that he added too this word, (as they say) to aduise vs, and to be warie in [Page 93] our cariage and behauiour. For vnlesse it be in things receiued by authoritie, or in reuerence of antiquitie or of religion, he would not himselfe haue receiued, nor haue made vs beleeue things of themselues incredible. And that this word (as they say) is not vsed in that place to that pur­pose, is easie to be iudged: for that he himselfe reporteth in another place vpon the subiect of the patience of the children of LACEDAEMON, of examples that fell out in his time vnlikelier, to per­swade vs. As that which Cicero also hath testified before him: for that he was (as he said) euen in the very places: that euen till their time there were children, for proofe of patience, that were tried before the altar of Diana, who suffered themselues to be whipped vntil the bloud ran down their legs, not onely without crying, but also without weeping, yea and some of them euen to death. And that which Plutarch telleth with an hundred witnesses: that at a sacrifice a burning cole be­ing fallen into a boies sleeue of the LACEDAEMONIANS, as he was censing: he suffered all his arme to be burnt, vntill the very sauor of the burnt flesh came to them that were present. There was no­thing according to their custome that did more disgrace them, and for the which they should suffer more reproch and shame, then to be taken stealing. I am so instructed with the greatnesse of these men there, that it seemes to me, that this report which Plutarch made should not be incre­dible, or not so much as rare or straunge. Marcellus also reporteth, touching this matter of theft: that in his time there could be found no manner of torture or torment how cruell soeuer, that could force the AEGYPTIANS taken with theft, (whereunto they were accustomed and har­dened) once to tell their names. I know that there were certaine poore countri-men, in the mise­rable ciuill warres, that did indure the frying of the soles of their feet against the fire, and the nip­ping of their fingers ends, to thrust their bloudie eyes out of their heads, their foreheads being fast bound with a great cord, before they would be ransomed. I haue seene one left starke naked in a ditch for dead, hauing his necke swollen with a halter tyed about it, with the which they had dragged him at a horse taile all night long, his body thrust in with a dagger in an hundred places, not to kill him, but to make him full of paine: who had endured all that, hauing lost his speech and senses, resolued (as he told me) to die a thousand deaths, rather then to promise any thing, and he was one of the richest laborers in all the countrey. We must not iudge that which is possi­ble and that which is not, as it is credible and vncredible to our capacitie. It is also a great fault, (into the which notwithstanding the most part of men do fall) to make it nice to beleeue that thing of another man, which we our selues cannot do. This is that which this person answereth vnto the obiection made, touching the fact of the boy of LACEDAEMON set out to accuse our Plu­tarch ouerthwartly with a lye. The other example which they alledge of incredible things, and altogether fabulous, spoken by Plutarch, is: that Agesilaus was condemned in a fine by the E­phores, because he alone had won the harts and goodwils of al his citizens. I know not what note of falshood they find in that: but so it is, that Plutarch speaketh of things which he should better know then we. It was no new thing in GRECE to see men punished and banished onely for that they were too great with their Citizens: witnesse the Ostracisme and Petalisme. And where they accuse Plutarch, that he did not well sort the GREEKES with the ROMAINES: witnesses, Demosthenes and Cicero, Aristides and Cato, Lysander and Sylla, Pelopidas and Marcellus, Agesilaus and Pompey; iudging that he fauoured the GREEKES, for that he gaue them companions so litle resembling them: which is iustly to blame Plutarch for that wherin he was most excellent and praise▪worthie. For in his comparisons (which is the most ad­mirable part of his works, and in the which (in my opinion) he tooke more delight then in any o­ther of his writings) the fidelitie and sinceritie of his iudgements, equalleth their profoundnesse and their waight. He is a Philosopher that teacheth vs vertue. Let vs see if we can defend him from this reproch of malice and falshood. I think that which hath bene the cause of this censure, is the great shining colour of the names of the ROMAINES which we haue in hand. It appeareth not to vs that Demosthenes can equall the glorie of a Consull, Proconsull, or Quaestor of this great commonwealth. But he that shal consider the truth of the thing, & the men in themselues, wher­at Plutarch euer most aimed: and to weigh their maners, their dispositions, their sufficiencie and their fortune: I think to the contrarie, that Cicero and old Cato are indebted to their companions. For the purpose of this censure, I would rather haue chosen the example of the younger Cato cō ­pared vnto Phocion: for in this comparison there might be found a more likely disparitie to the aduantage of the ROMAINE. For Marcellus, Sylla, and Pompey, I see well that their exploits of war are more puft vp, glorious and sumptuous, then those of the GREEKS which Plutarch compareth [Page 94] with them. But the most faire and vertuous actions are not alwaies (no more then in wars) the most famous: I oftentimes see the names of Captaines drowned by the glory of other mens names of lesse merit: witnes, Labienus, Ventidius, Telesinus, and diuers others. And to take it from thence, if I were to complaine me for the GREEKES, might I say that much lesse is Camillus com­parable vnto Themistocles, the Gracchi vnto Agis and Cleomenes, Numa vnto Lycurgus, and Scipio vnto Epaminondas, which were also of his rolle. But it is a follie to iudge things on a sudden of so many men. When Plutarch compareth them, he doth therefore equall them. Who could more eloquently or conscionably note the disparities and differences? Doth he come to compare the victories, the exploits of armes, the power of armies led by Pompey, & his triumphes, with those of Agesilaus? I do not beleeue, said he, that Xenophon himself if he were aliue, although that they suf­fered him to write what he would to the aduantage of Agesilaus: durst put him in comparison. Doth he speake to compare Sylla with Lysander? There is no comparison, said he, neither in num­ber of victories, nor in hazard of battels: for Lysander wan only but two battels by sea, &c. That taketh away nothing from the ROMAINES. To haue simply presented them to the GREEKES, he could haue done them no iniurie, what disparitie soeuer there might be: neither doth he weigh them also all together: in the great there is no preferencie. He hath compared the peeces and cir­cumstances one after another, and iudgeth them seuerally. Wherfore if they wold conuince him of fauour, they must vnfold some particular iudgement, or to say in generall that he had failed to match such a GREEKE with such a ROMAIN: because there were others fitter to be compared, and of better report. So much for this point. There are other that haue blamed the length of Plutarchs discourses, also that he hath mingled many light things, & that he delighteth to thrust in many ver­ses of Poets, without any necessity, say they: iudging that he did that to lose no part of his memo­ries, & so hath confusedly put all peeces together in his worke. But that which hath bene spoken of before, answereth that obiection. And to accuse Plutarch to haue wanted iudgement, (he that hath alwaies bene very discreet in his writings, as he protesteth at the beginning of his booke of fatall destiny) is to shew himselfe madde, and out of his wits. Those things that men iudge to be small are not so alwaies, if they be better considered of: neither is his length so far out of square and troublesom, neither is that out of the matter, which he intermingleth of the Poets, but is spo­ken to good purpose, and oftentimes vpon good ground of aduice in matters of great waight: whereof his workes shall make proofe whosoeuer will examine them without passion.

But now let vs leaue these censors to thinke more aduisedly hereafter what they speake, and come againe to Plutarch: who after his returne to GRECE, gaue himselfe more to his booke then he did before: and notwithstanding he was very old, he made an end of his Liues. And further­more, continuing still the loue he bare vnto his countrey: he employed himselfe in diuers Offi­ces of the commonwealth, whereof he maketh mention also in sundry places of his Morals, and especialy in the booke where he instructeth those that deale in the affaires of estate. For he saith there these words: I answer them that reproue me when they find me present in our towne, to see them measure, and tell bricke, and tile, stones, sand, and lime which they bring: that it is not for my selfe that I build, but for the Commonwealth. And in his Treatise, Whether an old man should yet deale in the affaires of estate. Thou knowest (said he, writing vnto Euphanes) that there are many Pythiades, that is to say, many termes of fiue yeares that I do exercise the Priest­hood of Apollo PYTHIAN: yet I thinke thou wouldest not say to me, Plutarch, thou hast sacrificed enough, thou hast made processions enow, thou hast led many dances: and now that thou art old and ancient, it is time thou leaue thy crowne off thy head, and abandon the oracle, because of thy age. At the beginning of the eight question of the sixt booke of his discourse at the table, he mentioneth his Office of being Maior of the towne of CHAERONEA. To conclude, euen to the end of his life he shewed in his deedes, that which he excellently handled in his writings: which is, that there is nothing letteth old men to serue and profite their commonwealth in diuers sorts of gouernment, whether it be with good words, with good counsell, with liberty and authority to speake boldly, and with graue respect, as the Poets say. For they are not the feet, nor the hands, nor al the strength of the body only, which are the parts and good of the cōmonwealth: but they are first of all and principally the soule, and the beauties thereof: as iustice, temperance, and wis­dom, the which coming late to their perfection, it were to no purpose they should enioy a house, land, & all other inheritances of his citizens, and that it could receiue no more any profit by thē for the good of the Commonwealth, because of their long time, the which doth not so much [Page 95] depriue them of strength and abilitie to do seruice, as it doth increase them with sufficiencie and knowledge of faculties requisite to commaund and gouerne. Furthermore Plutarch hauing li­ued alwaies honorably euen to old age, he died quietly among his children and friends in the ci­tie of CHAERONEA, leauing in his writings an immortall sauour of his name vnto posteritie. Be­sides the honour his citizens did him, there was a statue set vp for him by ordinance of the peo­ple of ROME, in memorie of his vertue. Now furthermore, though time hath deuoured some part of the writings of this great man, and minished some other: neuerthelesse those which re­maine being a great number, haue excellent vse to this day among vs. Howbeit, hauing met with some fragments in Stobeus, of some Treaties which are not to be found any more, I thought it would not mislike the reader to cull out some peeces to present them vnto him, to shut vp all this discourse. Wisedome, saith he, (in the booke Of the profite which knowledge bringeth of the time to come) consisteth not in shew, but in affaires, before a man setteth too his hand: and sheweth how he should come before them, and receiue them when they be offered him: for it considereth the things to come. The bodie hath no eyes but before, the backe seeth nothing at all: but wisdome by helpe of memorie, seeth euen the things that are past and gone. It is the Secretarie which al­waies remaineth and abideth within, as Plato saith. It is the part or instrument of the soule which taketh hold of things past, keepeth them, and layeth them vp safe, making a circle, within the which that that is past ioyneth with the thing present, and will not suffer it to extend it selfe be­yond compasse, and to passe the bounds of nature and knowledge. Of the Booke against pleasure. Pleasure vndoeth the bodie, and daily maketh it tender by deliciousnesse, the common vse wher­of cutteth downe the lustinesse and consumeth the strength, so that weaknesse and sicknesse do abound, and in youth they begin to waxe old. Voluptuousnes is a beast that maketh men slaues, but yet no sauage beast: for if she did openly assaile any bodie, there would soone be an end: but she is so much more daungerous, because she hideth her ill courage, and taketh vpon her the habite of goodwill. We must shunne her therefore for two causes, the one, that she should not hurt vs, the other, that she should not seduce vs. Let vs no more call voluptuousnesse honest plea­sures, but rather acknowledge that they be troubles, seruices and duties: and esteeme the rest as shamefull and violent things, which by their diuersitie flatter vs, and in the meane time finely hurt vs. Now our selues and affaires ought to be subiect to the same law that the brute beastes are: to the end that when we haue satisfied our desire, we haue no new mind to couet further, but that our moderate pleasures be contented when they haue things necessarie. Is there any man that will commend traitours? Now pleasure is euen such a one: for she betrayeth all that dependeth vpon vertue. Doth any bodie esteeme hangmen much? See notwithstanding what it is to follow sensualitie, which tormenteth and rendeth asunder all moderate things. Will any man commend auarice? Voluptuousnesse is as vnsatiable as the loue of money. What pleasure can we take of a beast that destroyeth vs by flatterie? I aske, why doest thou not play the foole and knaue in the presence of all men? To the contrarie thou flyest, and bearest reuerence to thy selfe, abusing thy selfe in the night and darknesse which cannot depose against thee. No man seeketh to hide him that doth well, nor is affraid of the light that is round about him: but rather to the contrarie, he would all the world were become a bright Sunne, to giue light to all the parts of the good workes he doth. But if he happen to commit any fault, he doth all his possible inde­uour to hide it, and blameth his passion. Now let vs take away the veile, and openly muse vpon these pleasures. They make vs drunke, euen to lose our sences: they continually make knaues and drowsie lubbers to follow harlots when they should labour: enemies of mans life, neither ca­ring for father nor mother, void of all reuerence vnto the lawes. In the Booke that trea­teth, how women should be taught and learned. It is no easie thing to hide his ignorance, saith Hera­clitus: and much lesse then when he hath drunke more then ordinarie. Plato saith also, that the thought is discouered by wine: as much to say, after a man hath drunke too much. Sophocles bla­med Aeschylus, because he wrote his tragedies when he had drunke out of measure: for, saith he, though Aeschilus doth well, yet he knoweth not what he doth. Pythagoras being asked how it could be brought to passe, that a drunkard should abstaine from being drunke? If he remembred said he, oftentimes what he did when he was drunk. It is a common saying in euery mans mouth, Let not the child haue a knife. And I say, keepe riches from a child, and ignorance from a man. Of the Booke of accusation. Hippias said, there was nothing so intollerable as accusation: because there was no punishment ordained by lawe for accusers, as there was for theeues: although they [Page 96] stole friendship from men, which is the goodliest riches a man can haue. So that an outrage of fact though it be great, is lesse then accusation, which doth much more hurt because it is hidden. Of the discourse or Epistle of friendship. He is a true witnesse of the truth, that is not bound by be­nefite vnto him that bringeth him forth, and that speaketh before the Iudges without exception of person. We must win loue by gentlenesse and bountie, rather then by menaces: and for the commonwealth, wisedome and gentlenesse should be ioyned together. Agrippinus in his go­uernment, attempted to perswade them whom he condemned to lose goods and life: that it was expedient for them they should be condemned. For, said he, I do not pronounce sentence against you, as a theefe passing by should say, Deliuer thy purse, or thou art dead: but I do that as your tutor, and one that hath a care of you: like vnto the Phisition that comforteth his patient from whom he would cut some member, and perswadeth him to be ruled. Cotis king of THRACIA was very cruell vnto his subiects: and when one of his familiars told him, That is called furie not king­ly gouernment. But so it is, answered the king, that this furie of mine maketh my subiects wise and quiet. Of the booke against the strength of the bodie. Doest thou thinke the strength of the body to be so great a happinesse, that thou wilt conclude that nature which hath giuen more strength to beasts then to men, should be mother to them, and stepmother to the other? Doest thou think it is by reason of the massiuenes or waight, or by the swiftnesse or strength of the eyes? The true strength of men consisteth in discourse of the soule, by means wherof he hunteth in the forrests, and taketh the Elephants in a snare: he rideth horse and breaketh them, he bringeth oxen subiect to the yoke, he beateth downe birds with bolts, and catcheth with angles fish that lye hidden in the bottome of waters. There is his strength, which is seene much better, when he considereth at his ease, the roundnesse of the earth, the breadth of the Element, and the reuolutions of the stars. Such were the worthie exercises of Hercules. And who had not rather be Vlysses, then Polyphemus the CYCLOPIAN? Also when one spake much in commendation of a venturous and hardy man, as if he had bene some braue souldier: There is great difference, said Aratus the SICYONIAN, be­twixt esteeming vertue, and regarding life nothing. Of the booke of Deuination. It is most appa­rant that from the beginning Necessitie inuented and polished certain arts, which she doth keepe euen till this present. It is she that hath taught all things. For, is there any thing that necessitie hath not thought of? she hath brought foorth the occupation of weauing, of building, the art of Physicke, tilling of the ground, and all that belongs vnto it. There be other crafts also found out, I cannot tell by what pleasure: as Perfumers, Apothecaries, Cookes, and others that serue for ornaments of the bodie: also Painters. Againe, there are sciences which men seeke, learne, and teach, because of the probable and apparant reason which they discouer, and for the beau­tie of them: as Arithmeticke, Geometrie, and all others consisting in measures and proporti­ons, then Astrologie. And yet though we contemne them, neuerthelesse because of their excel­lencie, we are constrained in some sort to know them, saith Plato. Of the Treatie, That loue and iudgement are diuerse things. Some say, that loue is the facultie of the soule, which we call vnder­standing: others, that it is a concupiscence or voluptuousnesse: others, that it is a madnesse: and there are that thinke it is, I cannot tell what diuine agitation of the soule: and others that make it a God. This disputation hath made that some haue iudged, and rightly, that from the beginning, loue is a simple desire or lust: but if it exceed, it is furie. Also that friendship doth resemble it. If loue be despised, it begetteth melancholie: if it increase as wished, he that is pos­sessed withall hath a thousand conceipts and phantasticall imaginations, and doth imagine all the greatnesse and fauours of heauen and earth. And this is the reason why the Poets say, that loue is a Torch: and the Painters, Potters, and Statuaries do represent it in that estate. For that part of the fire which doth giue light, is very pleasing, profitable and commodious: but that which burneth, bringeth nothing but trouble and sorow. Like as it is a good thing to reproue and ad­monish our friends, and such as belong vnto vs, whilest they be in their right wits, and capable of iudgement and vnderstanding: so to the contrarie, if they be light headed and distraught of their wits, we do not vse then to reason and contest with them, but we rather do yeeld to that they say. So must we freely and liuely reproue them, that commit a fault through choler or co­uetousnesse: but as for louers, they must be excused because they be sicke. And therefore from the beginning, it were the best way not to suffer loue to take root in them: if it do, repaire then to the altars of the gods that giue remedy, as Plato saith, that is to say, keepe company with wise men. Driue this beast farre from thee, before his teeth and nailes do grow: if not, thou must fight with [Page 97] the euill when it is great and full growne, the which thou didst embrace in thine infancie and youth. But which are these teeth and nailes of loue? Suspition and Iealousie. Now some will say to me that there is also I know not what, a thing that draweth, and is pleasant. So had this famous Sphinx wings of diuerse colours, very pleasant to behold: for when he turned them to the beames of the Sunne, they shined like gold: and when he was against the cloudes, one would haue said it had bene azure mingled with yellow and red, like the rainbow in the Element. Loue after the same sort hath in it (I know not how) a gracious, gentle, and faire shew. But it destroyeth men, ouerthroweth houses, dissolueth mariages, and confoundeth great Captaines, without propounding of hard Enigmaes or questions to be resolued: but himselfe being so taken that he cannot be freed. For example. If one asked: What is that which at one instant loueth and hateth, flieth and pursueth, threatneth and prayeth, angreth and flattereth, taketh and leaueth, laugheth and weepeth with a breath? it is a knot which one cannot easily vndo. Furthermore, the Sphinx had many things deuised for pleasure, mingled in the midst of his Enigma. For though an old man go with a staffe, yet he hath not three feet: and the litle child is not a beast with foure feet, al­though he creepe of all foure, helping his weake legs with his two hands. But there be no such E­nigmaes in the passions of louers. They loue and hate, desire the thing absent, and feare the thing present: they flatter and do iniurie, they die and kill themselues for the thing they loue: they de­sire not to loue, and yet will not leaue to loue: they repent them and waxe blind: they become wise, and yet cast themselues away: they will command, & yet yeeld themselues slaues. And ther­fore it is that such a passion is holden for a pure rage: as also Eurypides doth confesse it. Now loue is not begotten vpon a sudden, nor doth not inuade all the person, as choler doth: but it kindleth by litle and litle, as a litle fire. It slippeth in softly, and when it hath possessed the soule, it dislod­geth not easily: but we see it somtimes lusty and fresh euen in old men that haue white haires. If it cease, and begin to coole by succession of time, or that it be dead by some accident: it doth not altogether leaue the soule, or the substance of his fire consumed, where the marks of his heate pas­sed are to be seene, as if lightning had passed thorow there. As for the sorow past and the choler after it is quenched, there is no spark left in the soule, but they perceiue that the inflammation of the passion which made a great noise is quiet: but the bitings of loue, albeit the beast be gone, do not therfore lose their venime, but the inward wounds do renew and refresh thēselues again. To be short, no man knoweth what such a passion meaneth, nor how it cometh, nor from whence it slipped into the heart. In the books where he disputeth for beautie. Are not men compounded of bodie and soule? Is the one enough for vs without the other? how could that be? for if the body were not gouerned by the soule, it would not liue, and the soule had need of a place to be kept and lodged in. Since then both the one and the other are adorned with gifts proper vnto them: the soule with iustice, temperance, and wisedome: and the body with force, beautie and health: were it not to be wondred at, if one despised that which cōcerneth the bodie, & that he made no reckening but of the goods of the soule? Corporall beautie is a worke of the soule, which maketh a present of this gift to the bodie. For when the soule is gone, there remaineth nothing good in the bodie. The strength, the colour, the sight, and the voice do vanish. To conclude, the body being abandoned of his auncient inhabitants, there is nothing left that is amiable. Thou there­fore that accusest beautie, vnwares thou speakest outrage to the soule, which is cause of this beau­ty. Aristotle to one that asked him, why a man did loue faire things? answered: It is for a blind man to aske such a question. Diogenes called faire Curtisans, Queenes, because many do execute that which they commaund. Of the Booke against Nobilitie. What do we thinke that Nobilitie is, but riches gathered together by auncestours, or some honour attained vnto long time before? whereof the one nor the other proceedeth not of our will: but the one cometh by vncon­stant fortune, the other proceedeth from the disorders of the world. So then this proud name of Nobilitie floweth from two straunge springs. Now riches maketh not those that are born like vnto them: but vertue proceeding from the sincere habitude of the spirit, is planted in the race of the vertuous, and doth make them truly noble. In this is true Nobilitie, to wit: the conformitie vnto vertuous manners. But I pray you, king Midas riches, were they more rich then the pouertie of Aristides? although he left not wherewithall to defray his charges of funerall. To the contrarie, king Midas tombe passed for magnificence all the riches of the world: but Nobi­litie is not inclosed in gold nor siluer. Vice is rightly compared vnto fire: for when neither the one nor the other wanteth nouriture, it goeth out. But the basenesse of the race of Socrates the [Page 98] Philosopher, the son of an Imagegrauer, and of a midwife: is it not more noble then the glorie of Sardanapalus? Thou shouldest not thinke Xerxes more noble then Cynegyrus, who had one of his hands cut off fighting for his countrey: since the other fled to saue his life, being a king enui­roned with cowardlines. Of the Treatie against riches. Hunger neuer gaue any man cause to be an adulterer: nor want of money hath made any man dissolute. Pouertie is a kind of temperance, and need may be called a summarie obseruation of the lawes. Arcesilaus said, pouertie was rude, no lesse then the Isle of ITHACA: but furthermore, a good nurse for children: because it did vse them to frugalitie and abstinence: and at one word, it is the healthfull schoole of vertue. Thus haue you some fragments of our Philosopher, of the which as of the rest of his workes, we desire that all may learne to be vertuous.

The end of Plutarchs life.



A knowledge that doth many errors flie:
A life resisting vices poisoned breath:
A death, in death, that conquerd death by death,
O Seneca, are fruits of thy Philosophie.

SPAINE is deuided by the Geographers into three principall parts, of the which, one of them abutting vpō the straights of GIBRALTAR and the Me­diterrane sea, called by Strabo TVRDITANIA, was in old time the best inha­bited. And albeit he doth confine it into two thousand furlongs in compasse, yet he saith that in his time they made account of two hundred towns with­in that circuite, which at this day is called ANDALVZIA, hauing taken the name of the VANDALES, which haue dwelt there since the ruine of the RO­MAINE Empire. In this part of SPAINE was (and yet is) situated vpon the riuer called of the aun­cients Baetis, and at this day Guadalquibir, (that is to say, the great riuer, by reason of his long course) the citie of CORDVBE, or CORDOVE: which was in old time one of the most famous cities of SPAINE, built by Marcellus, and inhabited with noble ROMAINES, as Plinie and Strabo The family & [...] of Seneca.do witnesse. This place amongst others was a seed-plot or garden of good spirits, and men gi­uen to studie. Among other honourable families of that time was that of the Annaeans, which [Page 99] besides their nobilitie loued learning, specially about the father of Seneca, whose life now we Senecaes fa­ther.write. He was a simple gentleman bearing no charge in the commonwealth, for that he had no spirit in him to embrace such burthens, and gaue himselfe most to learning, although other­wise he left not his sword, being a knight as many other PATRICIANS in the prouince where he was. With his armes he ioyned the profession of learning, but specially of eloquence, in the which he excelled the most in his time. He maried a Lady called Elbia, of whom he had three His brethren.sonnes, the eldest bearing the name of the father, to wit, Lucius Annaeus Seneca. The second, Annaeus Nouatus, afterwards called Iulius Gallio. The third, Annaeus Mella, father of Lucan the Poet. The father was very carefull to haue his children well taught and brought vp, but the eldest especially, who with time gaue himselfe wholly vnto Philosophie. For Gallio, besides his learning, he was raised vp to some publicke dignities at ROME. Mella on the other side, he cared not for aduancement, and therein he followed his father, as we will shew hereafter more at large. Seneca, of whom we haue presently to speake, was borne as it should seeme a litle be­fore In vvhat time Seneca vvas borne.the death of Augustus Caesar. For himselfe writeth in the hundreth and ninth Epistle vnto Lucillius, that he was a young man when by the commaundement of Tiberius the ceremonies of the straungers religions were driuen out of ROME: the which Cornelius Tacitus in the second booke of his Annales sayd to haue happened in the fift yeare of Tiberius. But of this we will speake more hereafter, treating of the writings of Seneca. Furthermore, the occasion why him­selfe and his brethren came out of SPAINE to ROME, was this. About the tenth yeare of the raigne of Tiberius Empire, matters began to be troublesome in diuerse parts of the dominion of ROME, by reason of the cruelties and insolencies of this Prince: who hauing about him Seianus, and some other dangerous counsellers, he shewed his disposition more then before. The sick­nesse of the head floweth into all the principall members: so that the prouinces were left with­out gouernours, or else were tyrannized by Praetors: whereupon followed great alterations. SPAINE amongst others, in many places liued as they listed: it was managed at that time by ex­actors, which caused people to rebell and enter into factions. It chanced amongst others, that L. Piso Praetor, was killed by a TERMESTAN, because he caried himselfe tyrannously amongst the people. This TERMESTAN being caught by the backe, and cruelly tortured, he shewed him­selfe The great con­stancy of a Spaniard.so stout notwithstanding, that they could not possibly make him confesse any of his asso­ciates. But being quickly dispatched by the hands of the hangmen, who would haue put him to a new torture, he knocked his head against a stone with such force, that he died presently in the field. Shortly after the cities began to be wearie of their yoake, and CORDOVE specially among others, which being of the principallest and of great importance, an army was sent thither vn­der the conduct of Cneus Domitius Aenobarbus, who hauing subdued CORDOVE, tooke a­mongst others Seneca, his two brethren, and Lucan his nephew, their father being dead some yeares before. Domitius knowing what men they were, he set them at liberty, and did so much that he perswaded them to leaue SPAINE, and go to ROME, as well to continue and to aduance their studies well begun, as to be knowne and honoured with publicke office. Now the state of SPAINE was such at that time, that Seneca and his were easily perswaded and won by him that had authority ouer them, and at the last they went into ITALIE. Some thinke that Annaeus Mella remained still in SPAINE, being a man that loued to liue priuately, and that made no account of the honour and vanity of the world. For his sonne Lucan, he was brought very young after his two vnckles, who did heare at ROME Pomponius Marullus, Iulius Hyginus, Cestius and Asinius His maisters at Rome. Gallus in Rhetoricke: and in Philosophie, Socio Alexandrinus, and Photinus a STOICKE, very fa­mous. Vnder which they all profited, and Seneca specially, who ioyning to the grauity of the do­ctrine of the STOICKES, a compendious and sententious speech, in short time made himselfe to be knowne.

Now hauing remained a space shut vp in schooles, or hidden in the companie of some lear­ned men whom he harkened vnto, and familiarly frequented: he was put forward at the be­ginning of the Empire of Caligula, by Cneus Domitius (who had maried Agrippina the daughter of Germanicus, & litle daughter of Tiberius, of whom Nero was borne, nine moneths before the death of Tiberius) and began to shew himselfe openly, pleading before the Senate with great grace: for from that time foorth he was esteemed for one of the wisest and most eloquent men of ROME. By meanes whereof his credite increased from day to day. But as prickes be hid­den vnder roses, and where men thinke to winne honour, oftentimes they get repulse and [Page 100] contempt: the reuolution of mens affaires flourishing, yet maruellous brittle and subiect to fall: So Seneca proued that his eloquence profited others more then himselfe: and that as sometimes it is a wiser part to keepe the sword in the scaberd, then in the hand: euen so

The hire of silence doth no danger threate.

The Emperour Caligula was a Prince that cared little for liberall sciences, yet he was very cu­rious to speake well, hauing words at commandement, and esteemed eloquent among others: specially if sometime he disposed himselfe to speake against any man, the words and whole sen­tences did increase in his mouth, with such an accent and gesture, that they heard him and knew him a farre off, and sometimes he threatned men with the force of his tongue. This quicknesse and vaine eloquence of his, made him (besides that he had an ill shaped head) wonderfull pre­sumptuous. For there was neuer a learned man and eloquent in all the ROMAINE Empire, but he would prefer himselfe before him. And those which directly or indirectly went about to crosse him, they did put themselues in manifest danger: witnesse that which happened to the Orator Domitius Afer, and vnto Seneca. Caligula bearing ill will a long time vnto Domitius for some light spite he had vnto him, Domitius was accused before the Senate: where Caligula made a long oration written, and therein layed open all his sufficiencie, to shew himselfe better able then Domitius, esteemed one of the best spoken men at that time. Now his purpose was to put Domitius to death, if he had studied to answer eloquently. But Domitius easily discouering this dangerous resolution, made no reply, nor excused himselfe, but sayd he was astonied at the ora­tion of the Emperour: and faining that the babling of Caligula had rauished him, he made a briefe repetition, as if he had come thither to hearken. Then hauing magnified his discourses, and being commaunded to defend himselfe: he began to lament, and to craue grace, and knee­ling downe besought Caligula, being more afraid of his word then of his hand. Caligula won­derfull ioyfull of this honour, and thinking to be Eloquence it selfe, receiued Domitius into grace. Seneca taking no heed otherwise to that matter, and hauing at that time the free spirit of the STOICKES: within few dayes after he fell almost into the like perill or greater daunger then Domitius: he knew that Caligula did beare him ill will, and did also speake euill of him amongst his friends: and did compare him in his talke to grauell or sand without lime, as if he would haue sayd, that there was neither good band or consequence in Senecaes discourse. And to conclude, that he was but a iangler. But Seneca being caried away with the glorie he had wonne, which pleased him well, continued notwithstanding to be in the Senate. Insomuch that one day hauing a cause to pleade before Caligula, he behaued himselfe with such a grace and vehemencie, that all that heard him esteemed him more then they did before, Caligula onely excepted: who be­ing vexed, and as it were pierced through with the eloquent words of Seneca, (he hauing in the meane time let fall no word to offend Caligula, but went on roundly with his matter) he was e­uen at the point to put him to death, and then had executed his thought, had it not bene for a wo­man he kept, who perswaded him not to do it, assuring him that Seneca had a disease that would soone dispatch him out of the world. But after that, Seneca forbare, knowing with whom he had to deale. And soone after Caligula being slaine by Charea: and Iulius Sabinus his vnkle (the sonne of Drusus and of Liuia) called Claudius, was chosen Emperour: at the beginning Seneca came againe into his former credite and fame, and continued it for some yeares: but at the last he was banished ROME for this cause. Claudius was a Prince of small iudgement, and caried by certaine minions and parasites of the court, and by his wife Messalina, one of the most shamelesse wo­men that euer was. This woman wholly possessing Claudius, caused men and women of all qua­lities to be put to death, and banished as she thought good: and those aboue all others that went about to hinder the course of her strange wayes. Among others she did beare Iulia the daughter of Germanicus ill will, (as Dion reporteth) because Iulia did not regard nor flatter her. Further­more Iulia was a very faire Lady, which made Messalina iealous, who by litle and litle, found the meanes to accuse this Lady of many crimes, and specially of adulterie: and made her be bani­shed, then put to death immediatly after. Seneca was caried away with this tempest, as culpable of the faults pretended against Iulia. Some thinke that Iulia is this Agrippina mother of Nero, whom Claudius maried after the death of Messalina, and that she was banished from the court but for a time onely. The which is very likely, as also Cornelius Tacitus seemeth to incline to that opinion. But for Seneca, it is not onely in one place, but in many, that Dion and others do accuse him, that he had bene somewhat bold with Agrippina, as if the credite he had in the house [Page 101] of the late deceased Cneus Domitius, had giuen him the boldnesse to defile the bed of his bene­factor, dead a little before Tiberius. Furthermore, he was banished into the Ile of CORSE, where he remained about two yeares: during which time he earnestly disposed himselfe to the studie of Philosophie, with a singular contentment and quietnesse of mind, as may be gathered out of the goodly discourse he wrote, and sent vnto his mother Helbia, who did hardly beare this banishment of his. But he did comfort her, and by liuely reasons shewed her that this entertaine­ment was not grieuous vnto him, but that Philosophie had strengthened him after an excellent fashion, against all the assaults of fortune. Whilest he was in this profitable solitarinesse, Mes­salina continued in her wantonnesse with such an impudent and hote furie, that without the testimonie of so many worthie historians, it were impossible to beleeue that the wife of an Em­perour durst once haue thought to haue committed the thousandth part of the villanies vnto the which she had giuen her selfe ouer to the sight and knowledge of all the world. In so much as in the end in the day time, within ROME, in presence of many persons of qualitie, & in the sight of all the people, Claudius being no further off then at HOSTIA: she maried with great pompe an adulterer called Sillius, a gentleman of ROME, with all accustomed ceremonies and solem­nities. Se made a feast, and held Sillius for her husband. Tacitus in his Annales reporteth these things at large. Now though Claudius was so foolish before, and then too, that he perceiued not that which all others saw so openly: in the end being wakened by Narcissus, one of his mi­nions, he put Sillius to death, and some others culpable of this straunge excesse. And for Mes­salina, she had almost come againe into grace: but in the end she was killed by the commaun­dement of Narcissus. After Messalina was executed, the three minions of Claudius, to wit, Narcissus, Calistus, and Pallas, they layed their heads together to giue their maister a wife. But in the end Pallas, that pleaded for Agrippina the widow of Cneus Domitius, litle daughter of Ti­berius, daughter of Germanicus, and neece of Claudius: he caried it from them, the reasons he propounded had so much more force, being accompanied with dainty sugred words: who vn­der the colour of a kinswoman, came often to visite her vnkle, and she flattered him so brauely, that she being preferred before others, and not yet maried, she did already vse the authority and power of a wife. And out of hand, immediatly after the mariage was solemnized with her vnkle Claudius, she aduanced Domitius Nero her sonne, and the son of Cneus Domitius. Furthermore by her practises, Octauia the daughter of Claudius, & of Messalina, betrothed vnto Sillanus, was pro­mised and afterwards giuen vnto Nero for his wife. Who being yet very yong when his mother maried Claudius (and but eleuen yeares old onely) it was in question to get him a good maister and tutor to teach him his booke betimes, and to traine him vp in affaires of estate. Agrippina, a woman of a maruellous spirit, and that plotted great things, as the effect shewed afterwards, as Tacitus hath wisely noted: she resolued to haue Seneca called backe againe, and immediatly obtained his grace of the Emperour. She did this to diuerse ends, the one was to haue a man of great authority and bringing vp about her sonne, to the end to maintaine Nero vnder the sha­dow of so great an apparance, vntill the time of his aduancement were come. The other, to make the remembrance of Messalina the more odious, who had bene the cause of the banishment of Seneca: to put backe Britannicus, the son of her, and brother of Octauia, & by that meanes to haue men at her cōmandement, litle affected vnto Claudius. So then Agrippina ouer-ruling Claudius at her pleasure, she did not only obtaine the repeale, but also the Praetorship for Seneca, whom they sent for quickly, & he returned to ROME with great honor, to the contentment of high and low.

Immediatly after he was arriued, Claudius receiued him graciously, made him a Senator, and installed him in his charge. Afterwards being called into the pallace of the Emperour, Domitius Nero is giuen him in charge, with great promises of Agrippina, who had two vices common to such persons. The one was, that she was set on fire with extreame couetousnesse to get money, vnder colour that she layd a foundation in store to helpe to maintaine her estate. The other, that she gaue largely vnto those whom she knew meete▪ for the aduancement of her sonne, whom she would raise vp to be Emperor what soeuer it cost her, yea were it her owne life: as appeared by her answer to a wise man whom she had asked what should become of the future greatnesse of her sonne Nero. For he hauing aunswered her, that he might be Emperour, but it should be to her vndoing: Let me dye then, sayd she, so he may raigne. Tacitus writeth that Agrippina thought the people would reioyce at the returne of Seneca, because of the great fame of his knowledge: and also procured this good, to the end that the infancie of Domitius might [Page 102] grow vntill his adolescency vnder such a maister, and she to vse his counsell, to attaine to the greatnesse of commaund which she hoped for: Seneca, in stead of continuing in his solitarinesse, and not remembring that

Who entreth tyrants houses, doth become
A slaue: though he a free man thither come.

He to the contrary, thinking he had found the meanes to shew the effects of a Philosopher (the wit of man, yea of the wisest, is so snared in darknesse vpon darknesse, when there is question of the troubles of this life) went and engaged himself in the seruice of Agrippina. And although for a time he bridled the youth of Nero, and did withstand certaine disorders: yet in the end he was constrained to leaue all, and suffer the fierce streame to runne, hauing desired (but too late) solita­rinesse: and with lesse goods and honours of the world, more libertie, and quietnesse of mind. Now, as he himselfe knew very well, and did excellently teach it vnto others, that so as migrims and paines in the head are not healed by a crowne or royal band, neither to the contrary is good health, nor the good state of a man lost, though he be not a great Lord: so this greatnesse in the which he saw himselfe highly lift vp in a short time, did nothing else but increase his cares, wher­with he found himselfe bound, as with strong chaines to the end of his life. And though he did shake them, and at times had proued to breake them, yet he could not possibly vnloose them: and in the end there was no way but he must perish vnder the waight

Of massie chaines, that of no iron were,
But such as shamefastnesse, did make him beare.

It is true that at the first this charge and gouernement seemed light vnto him. For Nero was a yong Prince of great hope, & in youth he shewed himselfe gentle, tractable, obeying his schoole­maisters instructions, who delighted to manure this plant, hoping all the world should haue ioy of him. But as the Emperors that were before, euen in their young age, had made some shew of that which might be expected of them in time to come: Seneca also perceiued through the good­ly apparance of his scholer, some part of his wild, naughtie, and vntoward nature, which he shewed within few yeares after. Also Cneus Domitius his father, as some came to gratifie him for that Agrippina his wife had brought him a sonne: he holding downe his head, answered, that that they should not thinke that of him and of such a woman should be borne an infant, but to the ruine and confusion of the Empire. This prediction was not noted. But when Agrippina her selfe felt by the losse of her life, what a child she had brought into the world, and aduanced by so many straunge practises, and by the degrees of incest, of bloud, and filthinesse vnto the Im­periall dignitie. Now whilest Seneca imployed himselfe to polish this spirit of Nero, and sought to princ in his hart the loue of vertue: Agrippina, carefull of the worldly greatnesse of her sonne, she followed her purpose, cunningly helping her selfe (as much as she thought fit to serue her turne) with the counsell of Seneca, whom she acquainted not but with the least part of the corruption of her intentions: for she being a cruell woman, and that neuer receiued those into fauour whom she hated: she caused Lolia Paulina to be put to death, that had reasoned against her for the mariage of Claudius. She caused Calpurnia to be banished out of ITALY. And hauing through Pallas credite, who priuatly gouerned her, and also kept her, made her sonne Nero to be adopted, who was preferred before Germanicus the right successour vnto the Empire: to the end she would haue her power and authority to be knowne to the friends and allies of the Em­pire, she caused a number of souldiers of the old bands and people to be caried to the place where she was borne, a towne of the VBIANS, at this day called CVLLEN, vpon the Rhein. So that this citie was afterwards, and is at this present called COLONIA AGRIPPINA. Afterwards, Caractacus a king of Eng­land and his Queene sub­mitted them­selues to Clau­dius the Empe­rour of Rome.for a new testimonie of this authoritie, Caractacus king of ENGLAND, was led prisoner vnto ROME, and presented with his wife and his brethren vnto Claudius: who in presence of the people and of his gards pardoned them: this king and his traine went the same time before A­grippina (who was set vpon a scaffold ioyning vnto that of her husbands:) they did her reue­rence, and thanked her with the same praises they gaue the Emperour. Which was found very straunge and new, against the custome and fashion of doing of the ancients: to see a woman set amongst the standards and ensignes of the ROMAINES. But she maintained that she was a companion of the Empire obtained by her predecessors. Now these were but slight approches in comparison of this that followeth. For hauing caused her sonne to be declared to be of suf­ficient age, in testimonie whereof he tooke the robe due vnto those that were come to mans [Page 103] estate, and obtained that he might receiue the Consulship at twentie yeares of age: she made him haue the power of Proconsull out of the city, and the name of Prince of the youth. Besides all this, there was great largesse made vnto the people in his name, and a summe of money gi­uen to euery souldier. Also Nero himselfe passing on to go to the playes of Circes, went ap­parelled with an Imperiall robe, and Britannicus as he was wont: who remembring so many outrages as they had done vnto him, could not containe but must shew some discontentment. But this serued Agrippina her intention: for she preuailed so much with Claudius, that she pro­cured him to banish or put to death all the gouernours of his sonne Britannicus. And worse yet: he committed him vnto men suborned by Agrippina; who passing further yet, discharged Lucius Geta of his Captaineship of the gard, and Ruffus Crispinus, seruants of the house of Mes­salina, and placed in their roomes, Burrus Afranius, a man greatly esteemed for a warriour, but who knew well inough by whose fauor he was aduanced. Such was the boldnesse of this Agrip­pina, a great Ladie in truth (for she was the daughter, sister, wife, and mother of an Empe­rour) but of a spirite compounded of all sorts of mischiefes. We haue touched these things passing by, vpon the occasion of Seneca: who being occupied about his pupill, was constrained to be partaker of many counsels, of the which he vnderstood not the depth alwayes. But so it is, that Agrippina serued her turne much by his authoritie, to aduance her businesse: the which Seneca perceiued well, but he could not remedie it, for he thought of it too late. Now touching Nero: although the free admonitions of his maister were barres to keepe him in or­der, yet the corruptions of that time, and the working of his mother also, began by litle and litle to appeare in him: so that by time he made it manifest, that the good instructions had bea­ten his cares a litle, and troubled his braine somewhat: but that euill had taken too deepe roote in his heart. Furthermore, whilest Nero remained so as vnder the rod, openly there could be noted in Agrippina nothing but seueritie and grauitie, no insolencies in her house, other­wise then she thought might serue for the aduancement of her affaires: for then, her selfe, as also all her traine, gaue themselues ouer to all dissolution. Now after she had aduanced a part of her intentions, Nero being sixteene yeares old maried Octauia the daughter of Claudius: and to shew that he had learned vnder Seneca, he pleaded many causes of importance vnto the Senate, with the praise of all men. Immediatly after, a matter happened, that compelled A­grippina to looke aduisedly vnto her affaires. Claudius hauing drunke well at a feast, let these words escape him, that his destinie was first to endure all the mischiefes of his wiues, and af­terwards to punish them. She being afraid to be preuented, determined to make hast, after she had first destroyed Lepida her cosin germaine, who wanne the heart of Nero by her kind­nesse and liberalitie. These troubles of Agrippina gaue Narcissus the alarme, and made him ioyne with Britannicus. But in these stirres Claudius was poysoned by a woman, an Eunuke of his, and his physition, practised of long time by Agrippina, who hauing disdained Britannicus and his sisters a long time, suddenly the gates of the pallace were opened, and Nero accom­panied with Burrus presented himselfe to the souldiers PRETORIANS, of whom being saluted Emperour, he was confirmed by decree of the Senate, and afterwards allowed by the Prouin­ces. Then Nero made diuerse orations penned by Seneca, who besides the contentment he had of the high dignitie of his pupill, wrote a pleasant discourse vpon the death of Claudius, and did intitule it, Apocolokynthosis, that is to say, immortalitie gotten by mushrommes: because the meate was sprinkled all ouer with mushrommes, whereof Claudius was poysoned. The which Nero afterwards called the meate of the gods, seeing that by that meanes his father in law was scraped out of the world, & made one of the gods after the fashion of the ROMAINES. Also Gallio Senecaes brother gaue Claudius a mocke, saying that he was drawne vp to heauen with a hooke, slenting at the custome in practise at that time: to draw the bodies of malefactors put to death in prison, with an iron hooke into the riuer. Such was the end of Claudius, rewarded for his incest, and for the iniurie he did vnto his sonne Britannicus, to aduance a son in law, for to please an ambitious woman, to wit, Agrippina. Nero being thus raised vp, his mother set vpon Iulius Sil­lanus Proconsull in ASIA, who was poysoned because she feared him, for that being the last son of Augustus, the people did greatly honor him, and sayd he should be preferred before Nero. On the other side Narcissus was hastily compelled to die, although Nero was very angry withall. To be short, the kniues were drawne, and this woman had shed much bloud, if Burrus and Seneca had not beaten downe the blowes. They being Neroes gouernours, and agreeing well together in [Page 104] this equall and common greatnesse, they had both alike power and authority, but by diuerse meanes. Burrus, he disposed of all matters militarie, and was a graue man, but had sower maners. Seneca with a pleasant and comely fashion taught this young Prince eloquence. They did care­fully helpe one another, and often conferred together what meanes they should vse to make Ne­ro loue vertue, whereof he seemed to haue great beginnings. To hold him in more easily, they let him haue his owne will in exercises and honest pleasures, and left him to his disposition to do as he thought good. This young man from his infancie vsed his wit, which was quicke to diuerse things, peraduenture better for a man of some other qualitie, to wit: to graue, to paint, to sing, to play on the citherne, to ride horses, and to make verses. That a Prince haue all these parts in him, and be furnished with others: is not a thing in it selfe to be blamed, so that the principall do alwayes go before, and that nothing be forgotten requisite for discharge of his gouernement receiued of God. Otherwise, as he was iustly reproued, that of a wise Phisition was become an euill Poet: and sometime a great Lord was blamed for that he was too good a Musitian. Also it was sayd to a king, that would contest against a player on the flute: that it was not his craft. So they may aunswer him that would describe the praises of a Prince: He was a good player at tennis, a cunning workeman, a braue fencer, a fine dauncer, a great talker: My faire friend, thou doest as if one being about to speake of a man and his contentment, came to tell vs that he handleth his feete and his hands finely, and that he hath fine shooes on, and weareth his hat gallantly: and thou forgest bodies without a soule, and men without vocation, and vocations ridiculous. Agesilaus hearing one call the king of PERSIA, a great king: Why, sayd he, is he greater then my selfe, vnlesse it be that he is iuster then I am? Nothing surely ma­keth Kings and Princes truly great but iustice. Other things how exact soeuer they are found, they shall oftentimes meete with more excellent in a poore crafts mans hand, hidden amongst the refuse of the people. The Prince therefore is not desirous of true honour, nor a man that deserueth praise, that is carefull to cloth his bodie sumptuously, and that glorieth to be a painter, a grauer, a cunning workeman, a singer, a player at tennis, a hunter, a dauncer, and that his house be richly furnished with houshold stuffe, and himselfe daintily serued: and all this while he giueth no order for his speech, his companie, and conuersation, that therein he be grauer and wiser then a base and common person, making no account to haue the pallace of his soule roy­ally apparelled and set foorth, as appertaineth to a royall magnificence. But how can a Prince be great, what power or authoritie soeuer he haue, if he be giuen to vile things, vnworthy of his true greatnesse: and worse then that, if he ioyne vice vnto these ridiculous things in him? Away with this trash, and take vertue from a great man in the world, you shall see him little in all other things. Litle in his gifts and presents: because he will not, or knoweth not how to dis­pose them. Litle in paines, because of his delicatenesse: litle towards God, because of his su­perstition: litle vnto the good, because of his enuie: litle vnto men, because of his cowardli­nesse: litle among women, because he is subiect vnto voluptuousnesse. For like as euill workemen, which set vp litle statues vpon great and large bases, do by measure shew the smalnesse of their statues: euen so when fortune lifteth vp to high estate a man of a weake and little hart, where he is to be seene of all the world, and in the place of the robe and staffe of iustice, he is seene apparelled like a crafts man, or an enterlude player: she doth discouer, descrie, and dishonour him, making it to appeare how he reeleth and stumbleth for his lightnesse. Let this be spoken to the purpose of Neroes pastimes: who shortly after left all such comedies, to play ter­rible tragedies. And for his small pleasures, although at the first Burrus and Seneca were warie that this young Prince liued modestly inough: yet we must confesse that sometime they gaue him libertie to entertaine women: which the estate of his court and of ROME did offer him at pleasure. But that which most troubled them, was the boldnesse of Agrippina: who being set on fire with all the passions that may be found in a wicked gouernement: had neare about her pal­lace an arrogant man, and that hauing forgotten with what condition he came to mount so high, braued all the world, and Nero himselfe: who, notwithstanding his youth, did very vn­patiently beare the insolencie of this minion. And yet he bare it, because he would not anger his mother, to whom he spared no reuerence, honour, and kindnesse amongst his Lords: also he called her his good mother, euen to giue this name otherwhile for a watch-word vnto the Captaine. In these beginnings Nero made many goodly and well penned orations, after the manner of Seneca, who had a gentle spirit, and meete for the eares of this time. These exercises [Page 105] fashioned Nero, kept vnder his wild nature, and framed it to the affaires of estate: in such sort, that the first fiue yeares of his Empire, he was so finely handled by Seneca, seconded with Bur­rus, that the affaires of peace and warre prospered, euery man hauing great hope of Nero, who shewed himselfe lowly, and giuen to vertue. Seneca reporteth wonders in his bookes he did de­dicate vnto him, where he treateth of clemencie, singularly of this gentlenesse of his. For at the beginning of the second booke he sayth, that Burrus desirous to hang two theeues, sued to the Emperour ot set too his hand, against whom, and for what causes this execution should be done. This being put off diuerse times, Burrus sollicited the dispatch, and being angrie, presented the paper vnto Nero: who with a discontented countenance, and doing it as a­gainst his will, he cried out: By my will, I would I could neither write nor reade. See to what end the instructions of Seneca serued: where I will tell you another storie, although it chaunced a long time after the first, to shew the credite of the maister towards his scholer. Nero hauing made a pauilion with eight panes wonderfull sumptuous, Seneca told him: Thou hast shewed thy selfe in this pauilion that thou art poore: for if thou loose it, thou shalt neuer haue the like a­gaine. As it came to passe: for the ship wherein this pauilion was, was cast away. And Nero re­membring Senecaes words, did beare the losse of it more patiently. Furthermore, Seneca accom­panied Nero in the assemblies of counsell, and oftentimes told him in the field what he should do, according to the occurrences: and in diuerse orations he procured that Nero made protesta­tion of his gentlenesse before the Senate. The which turned to the praise of Seneca, in such sort notwithstanding that the people perceiued it, and reioyced at it. So they report that the Emperor Traian was wont to say, that all the other Princes were farre from the first fiue yeares of the Em­pire of Nero: as Tacitus and others do testifie. In the meane time Nero shewed himselfe very li­berall vnto Seneca, and did esteeme him as much, or more, then any man in ROME at that time: for he made him a present of great summes of money, vnto three thousand Sestertium, which some thinke do amount vnto seuen millions and 50000 crownes, of the which part of it yeelded him great profite at vsurie: the other part was bestowed vpon sumptuous gardens, houses of pleasure, lands & possessions farre off and neare ROME: and furthermore, a pallace in the city, full of all sorts of precious moueables. For all this Seneca waxed nothing the prowder, but fearing fortune, and remembring his old state and condition, sought to keepe himselfe vpright in the middest of the great combats which were like to come, hauing vpon his armes the vnconstant youth of Nero, the which in sight began to runne to his destruction: on the other side, the am­bition of Agrippina to fight withall and beate downe: this woman being of such a spirit, that she could tarry in no place, but set her selfe and others on worke. But this credite of Burrus and of Se­neca, and their great riches also, especially of Seneca, made them to be enuied of many, that did blame and accuse them openly. Wherunto Seneca opposed the grauity of his maners, and sought by diuerse writings to strengthen himselfe more and more: as some of his workes, specially the discourse of a happy life, seemeth to be done by him during these alarmes.

Now the beginning of these griefes of Seneca, came partly for that he perceiued Neroes mind so corrupted, that he began to be very dissolute: and partly also for that he discouered that A­grippina and her minions would set vpon him and Burrus also, which with time would bring them into many daungers. And though for his owne part he was resolute against all accidents: neuerthelesse the charge and care he had of the affaires of the Empire, and the loue which he bare vnto Nero his scholer, troubled him exceedingly. Neuerthelesse as hope entertaineth vs in all daungers, attending better: he determined to keepe himselfe vpright as long as he could possible, and to expect some other issue in the affaires. Nero was enamoured with a bond woman called Acté, which his familiars did indure, alledging they must suffer one euill, for feare a worse should happen: and that so long as he should satisfie himselfe with her, he should not runne after the Ladies of ROME. But Agrippina that could not beare with this in­solencie, began to take vp her sonne roundly, thinking she could by her magistralitie reme­die this well inough. To the contrarie, this was to kindle the fire, and to embrace it altogether in this girle. Nero being waxen great, and counselled by Otho and Claudius Senecio, who made the messages of Loue: he snuffed at these reprehensions, and began to despise his mo­ther: who on the sudden came to change her subtilties. And she had not bene so sharpe be­fore in rebuking, but she was now as gentle in yeelding, and offered her closet to her sonne for the accomplishing of his desires. This sudden chaunge, made Nero and his minions [Page 106] thinke much of it, in so much as they prayed him to beware of the deceipts of this woman, that practised in her heart some villany. Nero countermining her, presented his mother with many rich iewels and apparell of great price. But she being suspicious as could be possible, gaue them iniurious words that brought them. Wherewith Nero being offended, and knowing that Pallas was the chiefe counsellour of Agrippina, tooke his offices from him which were committed to him by the Emperour Claudius. Agrippina began then to diminish in reputation, and to flye off the hookes: and comming to Nero himselfe, threatned him to take his Empire from him, and to establish Britannicus, the lawfull successour of Claudius: and hereupon detested in expresse termes the wickednesse she had committed to bring vp a sonne that was so vnthankfull vnto her: adding moreouer that she would go find out the armies with Britannicus: so long as they should see on the other side, this baggage fellow Burrus, and this banished pedanticall companion Seneca (so did she qualifie him) barking after he gouernement of the world. These threatnings were accompanied with such strange counte­nances and imprecations, that they troubled Nero, besides that Britannicus came now to be fourteene yeares old: and that one day playing, he could say aloud before Nero himselfe, that they had taken his Empire from him. Shortly after Britannicus was poysoned, and died suddenly, to the great astonishment of Agrippina and of Octauia also. Afterwards, Nero desisted to conuerse so priuatly with his mother as he did at other times: and began to giue eare vnto them that would set them further at oddes: so that a certaine foole called Paris, hauing told Nero one night that Agrippina conspired against him: he was resolued to make his mother be put to death, and to take from Burrus the charge of Captaine of the gards. But Seneca kept him from that, and after some reasons passed betweene them, Burrus being sent for, to put Nero by his choler, he besought him to let him haue the charge of this bu­sinesse, assuring him that he would put Agrippina to death, if she were conuinced of any villanie. Notwithstanding that euerie bodie should be heard speake in their defence, and aboue all, a mother: adding also that the accusers were not present, and that there was but one accuser suspected. And that he could not iustifie, that such an important delibe­ration should be made by night, and at the table: and that all that would shew his rashnesse and follie more then any other thing. Nero being somewhat pacified, they taried till day, that they might go to the mother, to know how these accusations fell out. Burrus was there by expresse commission with Seneca, and some others, to marke what should be sayd. But A­grippina could so well iustifie her selfe, that her accusers were punished: for one of them was put to death, and the rest banished. From that time forward Nero began to runne riot as is described by Suetonius, Tacitus, and Dion. But the beginning of new and horrible miseries, (the other that went before being but light in respect of them) was the falling in loue with Sabina Popea, the wife of Otho, who had taken her away from her first husband Ruffus Crispinus, a knight of ROME. Nero did the like vnto this Otho, and tooke from him this minxe that knew the trickes of the occupation. She hauing gained Nero in a little space, preuailed so much with him, that he determined to put his mother Agrippina to death. Who hearing of the ill will her sonne did beare her, sought by all meanes to get into his fauour againe: euen to present her selfe so shamefully vnto him, that I shame to be the re­porter of that which the historians speake of her. This notwithstanding he perseuered in his de­termination, and commanded Anicetus Generall of the galleys of MISENE, to see her drowned: the which was executed in some sort, yet Agrippina for that time escaped being hurt, and got to a house of pleasure of hers. Nero hearing these newes, more dead then aliue, thinking he was vndone: sent presently for Burrus and Seneca, to haue their aduice: and we cannot tell (sayth Tacitus) whether they were of counsell and priuie to this fact, or not. Both of them there­fore were a great while and spake not a word: being afraid they should loose time, if they should go about to disswade Nero from that which he was purposed to redouble vpon her: and they knew well that the day was come, that Nero must needs dye, if Agrippina were not preuented. Seneca, who vntill this present time was euer ready to speake, looked vpon Burrus, as to know of him if he thought good to commaund the men of warre to do this murther. Burrus answered, that the PRETORIAN souldiers were so affectioned to the house of the Caesars, and did so much reuerence the memorie of Germanicus, that they would neuer enterprise any thing against the life of his children: and that Anicetus was to performe his promise. [Page 107] Who without any further thought, demaunded and accepted the commission, which was foorthwith executed, and Agrippina put to death in her house, where she thrusting out her bo­dy to the Centener, who tooke his sword in his hand to kill her, she cried out: Ventrem fert, de­siring that the wombe which had borne such a fruit as Nero, should be first striken, and runne through. Nero defiled with this execrable murther, added thereto other infinite abhomina­tions, specially the putting away and doing his wife Octauia to death, a vertuous Princesse, and that deserued better. Now this is inough that we haue touched these things by they way, because they specially concerne the life of Nero, who payed his maister with an euill reward, entangling him in such wicked counsels. On the other side also it cannot be denied, that Burrus and Seneca yeelded too much to the cruell will of this Parricide. And as for the extre­mitie they feared, there were meanes inough to haue holpen it: and we must neuer do euill, that good may come of it. And what good could come of such an execrable abhomination? For though Agrippina deserued such a cruell punishment, for so many wicked deeds as she had done: yet should not her sonne haue had his hand in it, and his counsellers should not haue con­sented vnto it, nor Anicetus haue executed it. As all were much to be blamed for this deed, yet some more then other, so they had all their turne, as Tacitus and Suetonius do shew particularly.

Burrus dislodged the first, and as least to be blamed for so many disorders, he was spared, in that he saw not the other incredible confusions that fell out afterwards. His throate swelling within, by little and little, he died, his pipes being stopped that he could fetch no wind. Many affirmed, sayth Tacitus, that by the commaundement of Nero, making as though they would helpe him, the pallate of his mouth was rubbed with poyson, and that Burrus perceiued that wickednesse, & when Nero came to see him, he wold not vouchsafe to looke on him, but turned on the other side. And Nero asking him how he did, he aunswered onely, I am well. This man was wonderfully lamented of the ROMAINES, because of his vertue, and of the foolishnesse of one of his successours, and of the notable villanies of the other called Tigellinus, who was the vtter ruine of Nero. The death of Burrus much impaired the power and authority of Seneca: for that the meanes to do good were weake, as hauing lost the halfe part of their life: and be­cause that Nero inclined vnto those which held him vp in his wickednesse, against the which Se­neca opposed himselfe as time and occasion would suffer him. But his enemies hauing the Prin­ces eare, they failed not to set vpon this honourable person, because of his age and the seruices he had done to Nero. They did falsly accuse him, sayth Tacitus, for that he hauing great riches, and more then was fit for a priuate man, he did still increase them, and grew greater: and be­sides did gaine and draw the good will of the peoole too much vnto him. That he had goodlier gardens and more sumptuous houses of pleasure, then the Emperor himselfe. Furthermore, that he imputed all the honour to himselfe for knowing how to speake excellently well: and that he made verses oftener then he was wont, after that he perceiued Nero tooke pleasure to make them himselfe. That flatly condemning Nero his exercises, he mocked him, seeing him ride and ma­nage horses, and laughed at him hearing him sing. And all this was but to make men beleeue, that nothing was well done in the affaires of the estate, that proceeded not from his inuention. Now that Nero was come out of his infancie, and in the flower of his youth, that he should leaue his maister, considering that his auncestours should serue him well inough for great and good tutors: Seneca vnderstanding by the report of those that yet somewhat regarded vertue and ho­nour, how these lewd incensers did accuse him: perceiuing also that Nero withdrew himselfe more and more from his familiaritie, which he had shewed in times past: he besought him to heare him, the which hauing obtained, he sayd thus vnto him: My Lord, it is now fourteene Senecaes Ora­tion vnto Nero.yeres since I was first called to accompany the great hope that was had of your infancy, & eight yeares since you haue bene Emperor: during which time you haue heaped so much goods and honor vpon me, that nothing wanteth to my felicity, but to know how to vse them well. To this purpose I wil lay before you notable examples practised by men of your quality, not of mine. Au­gustus great father of your grandfathers father, licensed M. Agrippa to withdraw himselfe vn­to MYTILENE, to leade a priuate life: and to C. Mecaenas to liue at his ease within ROME it selfe, as in some pleasant remote place farther off. The one of them had accompanied him in his warres, and the other hauing bene beaten and tormented with great tempests in ROME, had bone both, to speake the truth, amply recompenced, as also the great seruice they had done well deserued it. As for my selfe, I brought nothing that deserued you should be so noble and [Page 108] liberall vnto me, but onely my studies nourished (if I may be so bold to speake it) in the shadow, and couertly, from whence notwithstanding all my reputation is proceeded, for as much as it seemeth I haue bene in your apprentiships: which truly is to me a great reward and rich recompence. But besides all this, you haue infinitely fauoured me, and presented me with innumerable goods. In so much that I often reason thus with my selfe: Is it possible, that I that am but of a simple house of Knights (also dwelling without ROME) should hold the place of one of the chiefest Lords of ROME? and amongst the most noble, and those that are noted to be of so great antiquitie, that a new come man as my selfe, hath dared to shew himselfe in place? Where is that spirit that contented it selfe with mediocritie? what meaneth he to haue so fine and goodly gardens? What? he walketh by such and such houses of pleasure, neare vnto the citie. His lands and possessions are of so great an extent, and his money bringeth him in such a commoditie many wayes, that he is full to the throate. For the which there is nothing to be offered, but a defence for my selfe: that I could not refuse your presents. Now we haue, both the one and the other, performed our duty: you, in giuing so much as a Prince could giue to him that he loueth: and I, in receiuing that which a man in great fauour might haue and take of his Prince. As for my honours and estates, Enuie looketh awry vpon me: howbeit (as all o­ther things of the world) she is vnder the feete of your greatnesse. Yet in the meane time she lighteth vpon me, and therefore I haue need of helpe. And as in warre, or otherwise in trauelling abroad, if I were wearie I would require rest: so finding my selfe in the trauell of this life now old and very vnmeet for the least office, since I can no longer support the burthen of my riches, I do desire to be discharged. Commaund therefore that your receiuers henceforth do take them and put them into your treasure. I shall not therefore become poore, but when I shall be rid of those things which blindfold me with their brightnesse, I shall bestow my time in studie, which I was wont to imploy in my gardens and possessions. You are young and lustie, and time hath established you in the greatnesse of your estate: but we that are your ancient seruants haue leaue as it were to repose our selues. It shall be also a great honour for you to haue raised those to Neroes ansvver to Senecaes oration.great offices, to whom meane things had sufficed. Vnto this Nero made aunswer, in manner as followeth: For that on the sudden I do aunswer your premeditate Oration, it is because I haue learned it of you, that haue taught me how I should deale, not onely in things seene farre off, but also in those which are presented vpon the sudden vnto me. Augustus my grandfather suffered Agrippa and Mecaenas to repose themselues after their trauels: but it was in such an age, that his authoritie might maintaine that, and any thing else by him graunted: and yet he did not take from the one nor the other any goods that he had giuen vnto them. They got it in the warres, and with daunger of their liues: for Augustus spent his youth in warres. I do assure my selfe that your armes nor hands would haue failed me, if I had gone to the warres: but as the estate of my affaires did beare, you haue by reason, by counsell, and by instru­ctions raised vp my infancie and youth. So will I remember all the dayes of my life the good seruice I haue receiued at your hands. That which you hold of me, your gardens, money in banke, houses in the countrey abroad: all that is subiect vnto diuerse accidents. And though all together seeme much, yet is it so, that many farre short of your deserts haue possessed more. I am ashamed to name bondmen made free, whom men see richer then you: and the cause that maketh me ashamed is, that you whom I should cherish aboue all others, do not passe them in riches and humane greatnesse. Furthermore, you are yet in good age, to gouerne your lands and reuenewes, and we do but now enter into managing the affaires of the Empire: but it may be that you esteeme your selfe lesse then Vitellius, three times Consull: and com­mend Claudius aboue me, as if I could not by my liberalitie giue you as much goods as Volusius by long sparing hath gotten. Moreouer, if our slippery and vnconstant youth sway on one side more then it ought, you reforme it, guiding by your aide and vigilancie that small direction we haue. If you bring your money into my coffers, If you forsake the Prince, they will not say it is because you are content with litle, and seeke your ease: but their talke shall be none other, but of my couetousnesse, and my cruelty. And although they should much praise your moderation in this action, yet it becommeth not an old man to seeke honor by doing any thing that should dishonor his friend. Nero added to this fine speech, many embracements and kisses, being made by nature, and brought by custome to couer his malice with false and counterfeit kind­nesse. Seneca (as it is the conclusion of a speech holden with him that commaundeth) thanked [Page 109] him: yet he immediatly changed his accustomed manner he was wont to vse during his for­mer greatnesse: gaue them leaue to depart that came euery morning in troupes to salute him: turned away from others that offered to follow and accompany him: very seldome times he went into the city, and stirred not out of his house, as if he had bene sicke, or troubled after his studie of Philosophie. This was the talke betwixt Nero and Seneca, who hauing leisure to bethinke himselfe better of the answer of Nero, knew very well that his fortune was changed, and that the disciple was become the master: yea and that so much more dangerous, for that his cruell courage was wrapped vp in so gracious words and countenances, the which a man was constrained to trust, or at the least to make shew of it.

Nero being as it were ouercome by Seneca, was as cruell and more then before, counselled by Tigellinus and Popea. First of all then he began to cut off the heads of Plautus and Sylla, honou­rable men banished before into ASIA & to MARSEILLES. He refused, confined, and finally put to death his wife, the Princesse Octauia, vsing an infamous and straunge manner in his procee­dings against her. He maried the adulteresse Popea, who brought him a daughter that died soone after. He counterfeited the player, alwayes intermixing some new cruelty with his pastimes. Af­terwards he being present at a banket made by Tigellinus, in the which were committed all sorts of villanies, and he himselfe being defiled with naturall and vnnaturall whoredomes and abho­minations, within few dayes after (a matter incredible, if so many graue historians, amongst o­thers Tacitus did not assure vs of it) he maried one Pythagoras as his husband, which was of the company of these villans, and was solemnly maried according to the custome of other mariages. The yellow veile of the maried couple couered Neroes head. Soothsayers were sent for, the ioyn­ter was assigned, the bed of the spouse prepared, the wedding torches were lighted: and to be short, they saw that openly which the night hideth, when the question of mariage is in hand with a woman. Thirdly, he set fire on a great number of houses in ROME, so as the most part were burnt. And to cleare himselfe of this wickednesse, he falsly layd it vpon the Christians, (being a great number at that time in ROME) that they were the authors of this disorder: in so­much that they were set vpon with a strange crueltie. And yet as they put them to death, they did a thousand mockeries vnto them, putting beasts skins vpon them to be torne in peeces with dogges, or else they were hanged vpon the crosse, or burnt with a litle fire: their wood-houses, or stackes of wood serued to giue light in the night. Now though the people of ROME were bloudily bent against these innocents, yet there were many that had pity of them, seeing honest men tormented, to satisfie the cruell insolency of Nero: who apparelled like a coach-man, and driuing the horse himselfe in the middest of these confusions, made the people pastime. Besides all this, he forraged and ransacked all ITALIE with impositions and excessiue lones, ruining the townes, and not sparing also the temples of ROME, of ASIA, nor of GRECE. It was giuen out abroad, saith Tacitus, that Seneca (whom Nero went oftentimes to visite, to keepe him in breath, and gently to lull him asleepe) to auoide the suspition that he had bene of counsell with this sa­criledge: had asked leaue to go to some house of his farre into the countrey. Which being de­nied him, he kept his chamber, faining to be sicke of the goute. Some haue written that a bond­man of his enfranchised called Cleonicus, did prepare to poyson him by the commandement of Nero: the which he auoided vpon warning giuen him by him, or for that he feared such a thing, liuing meanely, eating such fruits as were brought him out of the country, and being contented to drinke cleare running water if he were athirst. Such detestable wickednesse of Nero hauing of long time offended many honorable persons, which could no longer endure such a maister: they resolued to set themselues at liberty, and conspired to kill him one day when they saw opor­tunitie. The day being come, one called Millicus, an enfranchised bondman of one of the principall conspirators, went to discouer to Nero what they had complotted against him. This gaue a straunge alarme to the Emperour, who caused them to lay hands of one and other, a­mongst which number there was Lucan the nephew of Seneca, that was a party in this conspi­racie, for anger against Nero: who was the cause that his verses were not had in that estimation they deserued, and commaunded him not to publish them, thinking (but in vaine) that he could make as good. From that time forth they could see nothing in ROME but imprisoning of men of qualitie, and preparation for execution which followed.

Seneca, that stirred not out of the countrey, was not forgotten of Popea, nor of Tigellinus, which were the secret counsellors of Nero in his cruelties. And Nero also failed not to take hold [Page 110] of this occasion to make away his schoole-maister, whose shadow did torment him. It was not for that Seneca was partaker of the counsell with the conspirators, but Nero was glad to find the meane to dispatch him with a sword, since he could not do it by poyson. For one of the con­spirators called Natalis (whom Nero had pardoned) sayd nothing else of him, but that he was sent to visite Seneca being sicke, and to complaine because he thought not good that Piso (being the head of this enterprise, and should be created Emperour after the murther of Nero) should come to see him, and that he would confirme their friendship, frequenting familiarly together: but that Seneca had answered, that their talke and meeting would neither be profitable for the one, nor for the other: and moreouer, that his life depended vpon that of Piso. Grauius Siluanus Captaine of a band of gards, was commaunded to go to Seneca, to know if he would take any knowledge to haue spoken the words confessed by Natalis, and the answer that he made at that time. By chance, or wittingly, Seneca was come home that very day, and remained in a house of his two small miles from ROME. The Captaine came thither about night, and placed his soul­diers round about the house: and afterwards came in, and found Seneca at supper with his wife Pompeia Pau­lina the vvise of Seneca. Pompeia Paulina, and two of his friends. So hauing deliuered his message vnto him, Seneca answered straight being nothing moued, that Natalis was indeed sent vnto him to complaine in the name of Piso, for that Seneca would not suffer him to come and see him: and that for him­selfe, he did excuse himselfe as well by reason of his sicknesse, as for the desire he had to take his ease. And for those words: that his life depended vpon that of Piso, he sayd he had no occasion to preferre the preseruation of another priuate mans life, before his owne. And that further­more, he gaue not his mind to flatteries, whereof he would haue no better testimonie then Nero himself, who had oftner knowne that Seneca was a free man, then a slaue or a bondman. Siluanus returned vnto Nero, and made report in the presence of Popea and Tigellinus, who were very desirous to heare his aunswer: which being heard, Nero asked him, if Seneca made any shew to be willing to dye. The Captaine assured him that he perceiued no signe of feare nor of so­row, in the words, nor countenance of Seneca. Thereupon Nero commaunded this Captaine to returne to Seneca againe, and to commaund him to dye. Some thinke that this executioner returned not againe that way he was come, but went another way, to find out Fenius Captaine of the gards, whom after he had acquainted with Neroes commaundement, he asked him if he would execute this commission. Fenius, that was of the number of the conspirators, neuer­thelesse aduised him to obey the Emperours commandement, by a fatall cowardlinesse of as ma­ny as were of them. For Siluanus that had this commission to go to Seneca, was also one of the conspiracie, and yet his hand was readie to increase the wickednesse of Nero, of the which before he was desirous and procured to see the punishment. To hide his offence in some sort, he would not, or durst not returne into the presence of Seneca, nor speake to him: but made one of his Cen­teners go into the house to declare the Emperours commandement, which was, that Seneca must dye. At that time it was halfe a fauour vnto those that were condemned to loose their liues, to suffer them to be put to death, either by themselues, or by any of their acquaintance: which was done in diuerse sorts. Some pricked their veines and let themselues bloud, and then went into a hot-house where they ended. Others swallowed downe poyson: others stabbed themselues in with their daggers, or their swords. It is iudged this was done, that they should not fall into the hands of the hangmen: for when it happened so, the bodies of the condemned were not buried, and their goods were forfeited: whereas if they put themselues to death (of the which the most part following the doctrine of the STOICKES were nothing afraid) their bodies should be buried, and their wils and testaments good. Sometimes this choice did cut off the griefes of a more ignominious and cruell punishment.

Now to returne to Seneca. Hauing heard the message of the Centener, without changing countenance, and wholly resolued: he called for his booke of tables, in the which was written his will: which being denied him by the Centener, turning to his friends, he protested, that since he was let to acknowledge their merites, that he would leaue one onely thing (and not­withstanding the best) yet his, to wit, the image of the example of his life, the which if they re­membred, they would carie a commendable reputation of honest & vertuous men, for a worthy reward of so constant a friendship. And seeing them weepe, he sought to appease them, or to stay their teares, now with sweete words, by and by with vehemency, as if he would haue reproued them. To conlude, he did encourage them to remaine firme and constant, asking them where [Page 111] was the resolution they had learned so many yeares in the schooles and studies of Philosophie, against all the chances of the world. He added further, that euery one knew well what Nero was, what cruelties he had committed: and after that he had so wickedly behaued himselfe to his fa­ther in law, to his mother, to his brother, and to his wife: there was nothing left behind for the accomplishment of his cruelties, but to adde too the murther of his schoolemaister. After he had discoursed such or the like words before them all, and as in generall, he embraced his wife, and hauing a litle emboldened her against this blow, he instantly prayed her to moderate her griefe, and exhorted her also to remember how vertuously he had passed his life, and gently to beare (and with a heart worthy her selfe) the sorow of the death of her husband. She for her part assu­red him that she was resolued to die, and bad one of them giue her the blow. Then Seneca, not to depriue himself of that honor, and being touched with the loue he did beare her, was contented not to leaue to the mercie of the dissolution that then raigned, her whom he had most dearely lo­ued. I did set before you (said he) the sweetnes of life: but since your selfe hath chosen rather an honorable death, for my part, I shall not be sorie if you shew me the way. Let the constancie ther­fore of so coragious a death as ours, be alike to vs both: although the endof your life shal be more famous. Immediatly thereupon, they caused the veines of their armes to be opened: but because that Seneca had an old bodie, and thin by eating litle, there would no bloud come out but drop by drop: he made the veines of his legs and hams to be cut. Then wearie of such a cruell butche­rie, being affraid that his paines would make his wiues heart saile her, or that he himselfe should grow impatient for so many torments as he endured: he perswaded her to withdraw her selfe in­to another chamber: and for himselfe, hauing to his last gaspe his words at commandement, he caused his Secretaries that were wont to write vnder him, to come vnto him, and told them there many notable things in fine termes, the which were published after his death: but time hath ta­ken them from vs for want of storie-writers: although some thinke that that might be kept as well as other writings of Seneca. Others carying some enuie to the vertue of this man, haue kept it backe, being loth that the posteritie should enioy a table, where the visage of Seneca might be better knowne, then in other places of his works. Nero, that had men comming and going euery minute of an houre from Senecaes house to ROME, vnderstanding how euery thing passed, and bearing no particular hatred to Paulina, fearing also he should increase the blame of his crueltie: he commaunded they should keepe Paulina from dying. Wherefore his slaues and freed bond­men, warned by the souldiers themselues, bound vp her armes, and staunched the bloud, not knowing whether she felt any thing or not. For as there are alwaies among the people that take things at the worst, there wanted not men which thought that so long as Paulina stood in feare of Neroes anger, she desired to haue the report that she was a companion of the death of her hus­band. But afterwards whē there was a better hope offered her, she was contented to be won with the flatteries of life, vnto the which she added some few years with cōmendable memory, and so­row for her husband: being otherwise so pale of countenance, that she shewed to haue lost a great deale of bloud and her strength. On the other side Seneca seeing his death prolonged, he prayed Statius Annaeus (whom he esteemed much for his faithfull friendship he had borne him a long time, and for his skill in Phisick) to bring him of the like poison to that which they keepe by pub­like ordinance in ATHENS to put offenders to death, whereof he had of long time made prouisi­on. So when it was brought him, he swallowed it downe without regard, his members bieng cold, and his bodie constant against the force of the poison. In the end, he entred into a bathing tub of hote water, with the which sprinkling his slaues that were about him, he added to it, that he offered this liquor vnto Iupiter the deliuerer. After that being caried into a stoue, and hauing through the heat thereof yeelded vp the ghost, his bodie was burned without any solemnitie of obsequies. He had so appointed it by his will made at that time when he was very rich, and of great credit. It was reported that Subrius Flauius, one of the chiefest conspirators, had secretly determined with the Centeners (yet not without the priuity of Seneca) that after they had killed Nero by the meanes of Piso, they should also dispatch Piso himselfe, to the end to make Seneca Emperour, as an honest man, onely elect and chosen to that greatnesse for the fame of his ver­tues. Such was the end of Seneca, that had liued in honourable and publike charges, of Praetor, Quaestor and Consul vnder two Emperours, and was long in credit with the last: who seeing himselfe couertly despised of his maister, that could no longer endure such wickednesse: sought the occasion before mentioned, but with extreame iniustice, to rid him out of the way. Further­more, [Page 112] Dion thinketh that Senecaes two brethren were likewise put to death. But because he is contented to touch it but in a line, and that that which Tacitus saith is to be marked, set downe in particular, and with most likely circumstances: we will speake one word more. Shortly after the death of Seneca, he commanded they should put Annaeus Lucanus to death, the son of Mela: who feeling his feet and his hands cold whilest the bloud ran downe, and that by litle and litle his spirit parted from the extremities of his body, his heart being yet liuely and his vnderstanding good, calling certain verses of Poetrie to mind, in the which here presented a soldier hurt: dying of the same death, he recited the same verses, which were the last words he spake. Altitia, Lucans mother was left aliue, neither being pardoned nor punished. For Iunius Callio, who was a Sena­tor, he was so astonied at the death of his brother, that before all the Senat he fell down at Neroes feet, beseeching him to giue him his life. Whereupon another Senator called Alienus Clemens, set vpon him with iniurious words, calling him traitor and parricide. But the other Senatours with one consent made Clement hold his peace, telling him that he should not seeke common aduer­sities for to reuenge his priuate quarrell, or to draw on the Prince to a new crueltie, who had now by his clemencie quieted and forgotten all. Within a few moneths after Annaeus Mela was dis­patched: he was a knight of ROME, but of the dignitie of a Senatour. And although Seneca and Gallio his brethren were aduanced to greater honor, yet he would neuer purchase it by extremi­tie of ambition: but being come out of SPAINE to ROME, more for the loue of his brethren and of his sonne then for himselfe, he was contented to haue this honour, that a knight was euer e­qual in power and credit with a Consul. The name of his son Lucanus greatly esteemed of euery bodie, and specially of learned men: had gotten him great reputation. Immediately after his sons death, he seeking somwhat too eagerly after his sons goods, he raised against him an accuser cal­led Fabius Romanus, one of Lucanus chiefest friends. This man shewed counterfeit letters as done by Lucanus, which charged Mela that he was partaker with his sonne of the complot against Ne­ro. death of Annaeus Mela.Though this accusation was vtterly false and fained, yet Nero that thirsted after the riches of Mela, commaunded those letters should be caried to Mela: that was as much to say, he must die. The which Mela knowing well enough, made his veines to be opened, and followed the way of others. Seneca in his writings yeeldeth great testimonie of the constancie and vertue of his bre­thren: and I thinke he was a man that was not giuen to speake lightly. Notwithstanding, I haue simply recited that which Tacitus saith, who sufficiently sheweth in the example of diuers others, that it is not to be maruelled at if the cruelties of Nero, who least spared the great then the small: made the boldest hearts of them all quake sometimes.

Now there remaineth to tell you something of the Philosophie and writings of Seneca: for it is in those tables that we must looke to see him liuely, and speaking with that selfe vehemencie of spirit that followed him euen to the last gaspe of his life. It is true that the insolencies of Nero had oftentimes as it were stopped his mouth, and hindered that good soule to giue free passage to his discourses, yea and in some places they made him stumble. Yet he called himselfe backe againe to his first thoughts, and remained constant in the midst of the cruell raging stormes of his time. Now as it is easie for men that be on the land, where they do idly behold some master Pylot striuing with the force and furie of the wind and billowes, to say: That man there should guide his ship after another fashion: who if they were in his place, should without all compari­son find themselues more troubled, or at the least would make a sorowfull wracke. Euen so it happeneth, that Senecaes Philosophie is despised of many, that think he could speake Philosophy but by his booke, and that when he should come to shew it indeed, men would say he doth like the maisters of fence, who being in a schoole of fence with young youths, they do wonders, and giue mortall vennies at pleasure: but if they come to any priuate fight at the sharpe, where it stan­deth them vpon for their liues: assoone as they see the glistering of the naked sword, you may perceiue all their flourishes and trickes are gone, or changed into a flat running away. I will say at one word, that I thinke Seneca as much and more a Philosopher in deed then in name. His life and his death can say it, and in the last Chapter hereafter we must speake more at large. For this present let vs a litle consider his tongue. Life is a sweet thing, and all desire to liue, yea the beasts themselues seeme to haue a singular contentment, for that they haue a being and life. If life be a pleasant thing, yet is it much more pleasing and acceptable when it is well gouerned, and ten­deth to a good end. So then a quiet and contented life is much better, sweeter, and more excel­lent, then a life full of troubles and passions. This quietnesse is none other but felicitie and good [Page 113] fortune. Furthermore all men do not aspire to this end, but onely wise men, and the true friends of wisdome. For the most part of men whom the earth sustaineth, do run a strange course when they should set a foot forward to betake them to some course of life: and all in maner erre, when they should iudge what happie life is. Those that delight in money and to gaine, seeke feli­citie in riches. The idle and slouthfull thinke, that to make great cheare, to liue (as they say) in the shadow of tables, of pots, of curtaines, and at the ease of their bodies, is the onely soueragine good. There are another sort of men greedie of worldly honour, which establish an vnspeakable happinesse to commaund many, (in what manner, or how deare soeuer it be) taking themselues to be halfe gods, if they may see many men, or two or three go vnder their feet. But wise men e­stablish soueraigne good in vertue. And if they be asked, What is a happy life? they answer, That it consisteth in liuing vertuously, and seruing God. This was the Philosophie of Seneca in gene­rall. But because there are certaine clouds of opinions which darken humane felicitie, it is good we looke to examine them briefly. Nature hath dispersed in vs some seeds of vertue, and hath giuen vs some graines of knowledge and wisedome, which are borne with vs and take roote (if we may say so) in our hearts. This notwithstanding, we must manure it, and vertue hath his precepts which openeth the way to attaine to the soueraigne good, whereunto the Philosophie of the Stoickes doth summon vs. Foure things are enemies to that good, yea they obscure it, they corrupt and abolish it in an euill disposed heart. The first cause is death, that is to say, the feare and imagination to lose this earthly and corruptible life. For where there is feare, it cannot be said there is contentment and felicitie, but miserie: it is not a pleasant life, but a sorowfull life, and a torment of the mind. The second, is the bodily griefe, lingering diseases, cruell and sharpe in a thousand kinds, the torments and tortures: and briefly a thousand euils which hurt the contentment of the soule. For no man will say, that to be troubled in his mind with a burning feauer, to crie out night and day because of the gowte, or for paine of his teeth and the reines, or to be brought to any extraordinarie torment, and to be dismembred by the hang­man: is a thing where there is no apprehension that moueth the spirit. Besides all this, there are the griefes of the soule: mourning, losse of children, of kinsfolks and deare friends: for that af­flicteth and eateth our thoughts without ceassing, and giueth tragicall Poets ample arguments to write vpon. If the griefe of the bodie affecteth the rest and contentment of the mind: much more doth the inward griefe and anguish. And finally there are passions, as ioy and pleasure, which hinder and abolish the feeling of a happie life. Those that are possessed with an extraor­dinarie ioy, oftentimes both do and say many fond things and iestures, in wordes and workes. As if a man be told that land is fallen to him, or that he is raised to wished dignitie not looked for: ye shall see him play the foole and wanton like a child. There are some whose maners honor chaungeth in such sort, that from the day till the next morning you shall not know them by their face, by their countenances, by their words, nor by their apparell: they will straight dis­daine them that they called before seruants or louing friends. Now this vaine pride and foolish­nesse are in manner one selfe thing: and it may be said that all ambitious men are altogether be­sotted, or doubtlesse they will be so. If thou wilt make me see a proud man, one that presumeth to know much, and that looketh vpon his feathers, as they say, I will presently shew thee a foole furnished at all peeces. There is no surer signe of foolishnesse then pride: and who will say then Pride sheweth foolishnesse.that the life of such a one is happie? And as for pleasures, we see how a man is caried away, who then is no more himselfe: but to the contrarie, thinketh that the destruction of bodie and soule is his soueraigne good. Now amongst all the Philosophers which haue tried to remedie these troubles of the mind, and to maintaine a man in this contentment which they call soue­raigne: it may be said the Stoickes were the chiefe, and among the Stoicks Seneca. I will not here enter into examination of the doctrine of this sect, nor declare that which Zeno and Chrysippus haue written, as may be gathered of Laertius and of Plutarch: but simply to stay my selfe vpon my principall purpose, which is is of Seneca. And in this place to follow that which many lear­ned men haue gathered of his workes, to shew what was his Philosophie: vnto the which we will adde some Summarie of reasons with the which he helpeth himselfe, to fight with those pas­sions, and to make the soule at peace, asmuch as he himselfe could apprehend it. This is out of all question, that Seneca was one of the first and principall Philosophers of the Stoickes a­mong the Latines, as he himselfe doth boast in his owne writings. Furthermore, he exalteth this sect aboue all others, and saith, That the Stoickes do make profession of a Philosophy wor­thie [Page 114] of men: forasmuch as there is difference betwixt them and others, as betwixt males and fe­males. That the other kinds of Philosophies are made, to heare and to obey: but that the Stoicke is borne to teach and commaund. He being desirous to present some perfect Idea of a wise man, bringeth foorth Cato: and in the Treatie where he will shew that the wise man cannot be offen­ded nor outraged, he lifteth vp this man out of the rancke of all other men, and specially commē ­deth him in his death. If he speake of the Stoickes, he calleth them his, and doth make open pro­fession of their instructions. Now in many places he distinguisheth Philosophie into three parts, which he calleth Rationall, Morrall, and Naturall. But after the fashion of the Stoicks, he rested more vpon the morall, albeit that all his discourses shew that he had a maruellous veine in the ra­tionall. And the bookes of naturall questions shew that he had a deepe insight in the secrets of nature. So then his principal end was to frame good maners, and to bring men to the knowledge of the contentment of the mind, to desire and apprehend it. They saw him oftentimes exhort Lucilius to the studie of morall Philosophy, as in the end of his 89. Epistle: So set down these things, saith he, to others, that thou thy selfe maist take pleasure to comprehend them. Write, to reade afterwards thy writing, referring all things to the reformation of life, and to the meanes of appeasing the furie of passions. Study, not to be wiser then others, but to be better. On the other side, he turned the same Lucilius from the study of Logicke, and from his subtill disputations, in the which they please themselues that do but linger after sillables and words. Leaue (said he to him in the 71. Epistle) this occupation and sifting of letters, to those maisters that shut vp a thing so magnificent as Philosophy is in syllables: and do imbase, yea bring to nothing, and vtterly de­stroy the mind, in teaching things that are not worth the labour and study. I am content that thou resemble wise men that haue inuented letters, but not those that teach them. In some other places he laugheth at the subtilties of these schoole disputers, namely, where he setteth down one of their fashions of speech, to wit, in the 48. which is the 49. in the editions not well cor­rected, vpon these words: Mus (that is to say a mouse) is a syllable: a mouse eateth cheese, there­fore it followeth that a syllable eateth cheese. But it is not only that he setteth vpon Logicke, or rationall Philosophie, but also on the sciences commonly called the liberal sciences, and especial­ly when there is question of the Philosophie of manners. Witnesse that which he writeth in the fourescore and eighth Epistle worthy to be diligently read of all, but specially of them whom such sciences do puffe vp, & who for the rest do litle care to rule their life within the compasse of vertue. In sum, he declareth in a great number of places, that Philosophie consisteth not in the knowledge of these things, but that the end thereof is, to giue counsell against all the accidents of this life: and that men were wont to repaire vnto Philosophers, who do shew them in the midst of darknesse (wherwith humane society is snared) the way they must follow not to erre, shewing what things are necessarie and vnprofitable: how easie the lawes of nature are: how ioyfully we liue & at our ease, following of the same. And to the contrary, that there can be nothing but mi­sery in the condition of those, which suffer themselues to wander rather by opinion, then by na­ture and reason. I thinke therefore that all the Philosophie of Seneca looketh vnto that, to establish the mind all that may be: to attaine to the which it speaketh of the soueraigne good, to the end to draw vs to aspire vnto it. And because the accidents of this life, namely the causes before mentio­ned, do obscure this happines: he striueth with infinit discourses and reasons against them. Now it were to make a great volume, if all were put together that he speaketh, & it were better to leaue it to their liberty that shall reade the works of this Philosopher, of the which I will note here some heads or rules, on the which he reasoneth very amply to remedie the griefes before named. The intention therfore of Seneca aboue all in matters most important, is to beat downe first all corpo­rall and spirituall passions: to wit, opinion and apprehension. He discouereth the vanitie, sheweth the wrong which men of vnderstanding do, and the errour of their iudgement: who see things as in the water, and with a corrupt eye. Which done, he goeth further, and seeketh to shew, that when that which is called euill is arriued, the wise man feeleth it not: as also it is as litle trouble to him when one thinketh to touch him, as it is then when one threatened him a far off. For proofe of this, he sheweth that they cannot hurt a wise man any maner of way: and that no man is iniu­ried or hurt but by himself. That the wise man bending al his thoughts vnto vertue, cannot be of­fended, but rather ouercometh all humane accidents, as well for respect of himselfe, as for all o­thers. Hereupon he cometh to this point, to maintaine, that that which they call euill, is good to the wise man: who like a good husband maketh his profite of all in such sort, that there is nothing [Page 115] in the world but serueth his turne, and whereof he is not maister with a singular contentment. Of these rules and Maximes, there rise many Paradoxes dispersed in his bookes, the which if a man consider apart, are very strange and ridiculous withall: but being brought to their originals, they may receiue some exposition. Furthermore, to frame a perfect wise man, he will haue nothing pleasant vnto him but vertue, which consisteth in contemning all that the world admireth: and a loue of beautifull things which giue contentment to the soule. That all that which is earthly and corruptible, should be esteemed as much as nothing: that the wise man infolding himselfe in his vertue, seeth all the greatnesse of this world very low vnder him, and as it were troden vnder the feet of his heart. And that in the midst of all dangers, yea euen in the most fiercest death of all, and when heauen should fall vpon him: he remaineth merie and pleased with the felicitie which his vertue bringeth vnto him. Afterwards he reasoneth particularly against the apprehensions of death: and sheweth that it is as ineuitable, as it is also good and necessarie. That the greatest con­tentment of a wise man is, that he can breake in sunder the iron chaine that holdeth him, as often and when he thinketh good: and vpon this occasion treateth in some places of the immortalitie of the soule, as in the end of the seuen and fiftith Epistle, in the threescore and fift, threescore and sixteenth, and the hundred and seuenteenth, in his comfortable discourse vnto Martia, and else­where. Touching these corporall paines, he sheweth that they cannot turn a man out of the path­way of vertue, nor from the profession of constancie and truth, nor from the resolution to main­taine a iust cause. That there is no paine nor griefe so sharpe, that can let a wise man to thinke of his duty, and to acquit himselfe so far as his hands may reach. That these corporall griefes cannot eclipse the least of the beames of vertue, and the hope of the immortality of our soules, for the which we exchange in the day that our paines comes as it were to haue greatest strength, all the discommodities we apprehend in this transitory life. Furthermore, that the troubles which the e­state of this world doth spreade as a vaile before our minds, cannot blindfold them to see the per­fect beautie of vertue, and to heare the excellent comforts which she proposeth. Also that the wise man is sufficiently defended not to be ouercome by passions, which haue no power on him that is in the ordinarie safegard and protection of vertue, in possession wherof he is already so en­tred, that he still goeth forward euery day more then other, shortly to enioy her with perfection. To conclude, that there is no hinderance at all for him whom vertue pleaseth, and whom she bringeth to immortalitie. And this is a litle touch (me thinketh) which may be particularly no­ted in Seneca: in the beautie whereof, as in faces better formed, there are some spots discouered as in other Philosophers, namely the Stoicks. Aboue all, in his portraiture of this wise man, he i­magineth in this life a thing that is not to be found in a corrupt man giuen ouer to sensualitie, which is, vertue and perfection. But let vs refer that to the ignorance of true religion, and consi­der this Philosopher in the limits of his sect. For other Paradoxes, as of the world, of the spirit, of passions and affections of vertue, and some others borrowed of the schoole of his maisters, that Plutarch hath examined in his booke Of common conceptions, and in that which he entituleth, The contradiction of the Stoickes: that which is euill doth condemne it selfe, or excuseth it selfe vnder the questions and disputations, which permit a man to say somewhat. And for the other, forasmuch as Seneca made profession to forme maners, he seemeth therin to haue giuen way and free passage to some of his conceptions, and after the example of Painters, to giue some sha­dowes vnto his tables, the better to retaine the iudgement of the reader. That which I least allow in him, or rather which I cannot approue, is the excessiue praise he giueth to his wise man, lifting him vp, yea aboue the gods. And afterwards in diuerse places he would haue this wise man put himselfe to death, and of his authoritie and power dissolue the bands of this life, without leaue of the soueraigne Captaine, and with a testimonie of a straunge cowardlinesse and distrust of the doctrine of the eternall Prouidence: the which would haue vs keepe a stedfast hope and con­fidence, yea euen when things seeme to be most desperate. And that which he often applyeth vnto the death of Cato, whom he infinitly commendeth, hath bene by vs examined in the com­parison of Cato and of Phocion. Furthermore, Seneca stayed not vpon one or two in his discourses he hath left vnto vs, but hath culled out of all the Philosophers Greekes and Latines which were before him, all that he thought good to set downe for the rule and gouernment of our life, according to the end he looked vnto. And as for his writings, all that we haue left concer­ning morall and naturall Philosophie, with the pleasant discourse vpon the death of Claudius, is out of all disputation vntill this present: as the stile that is hard, short, sententious, and in apt [Page 116] tearmes for that time, and aster the manner of teaching of the Stoickes, doth shew it. But for the bookes entituled, Controuersiae & Suasoriae, that is to say, pleadings and orations, or declamations, I am of the same opinion that diuerse learned men of our time are, to wit: that these bookes are not of Seneca, but of the father of Seneca. And because many other learned men ancient and mo­derne haue thought the contrarie, we must needs say somewhat for proofe of the opinion which we follow. The authour of these collections saith, that he heard Ouid and Cicero declame, and that he was familiar with Portius Latro, Valerius Messala, and with others that were in the time of Au­gustus. When he heard Cicero, he could be no lesse then fifteene yeares old: how can that be at­tributed vnto Seneca, dead in the end of the Empire of Nero, wel-neare sixe score years after that time? Now, that which Tacitus speaketh in diuers places of the age of Seneca, reacheth not so farre: and Nero speaking to Seneca a litle before his death, said that he had yet strength enough to vse his goods, and gouerne his possessions. That could not be spoken of an old man of a hun­dred and twelue yeares old. Also Seneca speaketh otherwise of his age in one of his Epistles no­ted here before, where he telleth that about the fifth yeare of the Empire of Tiberius, he came out of his infancie, of the age of eighteene yeares. Furthermore, Seneca was Praetor, Quaestor, and Consull, as in his discourse to his mother Elbia, the Chronicles, and the Lawyers bookes do make mention. And to the contrarie, his father dedicating his bookes aboue named vnto Seneca, Iunius, and Mela, his three sons: and speaking to Mela in the Preface of his second booke of plea­dings, he exhorteth him to follow the inclination of his mind, and contenting himselfe with the state of a priuate gentleman, and a ROMAINE knight as his father, the better to warrant his life in the hazards and accidents of this world. That which made Seneca to be esteemed the authour of those bookes there, is, for that his father did beare that name: and that these three, Seneca, No­uatus, (surnamed Iunius Gallo) and Mela be brethren, and the sonnes of one selfe father and mo­ther, it appeareth by the historie of Tacitus, in the fifteenth booke of his Annales, and by the wri­tings of Seneca himselfe, specially by the discourse to Elbia, where he saith amongst other things: Consider my brethren, that being safe, you haue no cause to accuse fortune: you haue in thē cause to reioyce in a diuerse kind. For the one, through his good wit hath attained to honor, and the other hath wisely despised it. Tacitus plainely sheweth that, as we haue seene here before. And whereas commonly they alleadge the age of Seneca to be sixe score years and aboue, to giue the more authoritie to the pleadings and Orations of his father, that is to say, to the fragments which he seemeth to haue set foorth in the fauour of his children, to frame them betimes one day to practise that whereof he made profession, to wit, eloquence: there cannot be shewed a­ny sufficient or authenticke testimonie of that which is alleadged, that Seneca had three sonnes called, Nouatus, Seneca, and Mela. Touching the true bookes of Seneca, the dilgent reading and consideration of them will incontinently shew the profite that may be gathered by them. For a man to stand resolued against the diuers and troublesome euents of this life, to repose himselfe sweetly vpon the diuine Prouidence, to contemne death, and to desire the blessed immortalitie, for to represse the insolencie of strange passions which do often carie vs too high and too far, and for to enioy a great rest amongst so many tempests and wrackes as happen daily, I know not an Historian among the Painims, Philosopher, Orator, or author whatsoeuer, that I would preferre before Seneca: yea, there are few to be compared to him, and the most part do follow him farre off.

This bringeth vs to the consideratiō of some censures made of Seneca by diuerse learned men, as well auncient, as those of this latter age, to the end to induce them that behold Seneca, to looke nearely into him: for if there be any thing wherein humane wit doth giue scope and licence, let another iudge that. But that specially is as an ordinarie thing vnto them that make profession stu­diously to thrust their noses into bookes, to marke presently, and sometime too suddenly, that which is before them: to beare others in hand afterwards that things are such as they did imagine them to be. And although I do not acknowledge my selfe to be one of the number of them that reade and know passably something: yet for all that ere I beware, I am too often attainted with this disease, which possesseth those that make many bookes, reprouing and iudging others. But as I do not commend them in any wise vnto whom the bookes of sound erudition are not plea­sing, (like to weake stomackes vnto whom meats euill dressed and also hurtfull, seeme to be the most sauorie) but feedes themselues with their follies, vaine fancies and abhominations, where­with this latter age is miserably defiled: so would I wish that the excellent wits which are yet [Page 117] in EVROPE were on the one side better aduised in many respects, and in the others more carefull to discerne that which is commendable and blameable, certaine or vncertaine in good authors: to note them particularly vnto posteritie, with two conditions: the one, that it should be done by the sufficientest men, and as it were of purpose appointed to that end, by consent of fame and truth: the other, that all scoffes, spitefull and sinister passions, should be farre from such cen­surers. To come againe to Seneca: I see that some haue too much axalted him, as I thinke: and o­thers haue imbased him more then needed. Which being particularly considered, perad­uenture it will not mislike: and if it profite not, I hope it will moue the Reader to some thought higher then mine, both to search matters more exactly, as also to settle his opinion vpon mine with the compasse of truth, of mildnesse, and of vertue. Because Seneca speaketh amply in some places of the prouidence and maiestie of God, before whom he exhorteth vs to walke, and som­times prayeth Lucilius to liue with men as if God saw him: and to speake with God, as if men heard him. Also that he died in the end of the Empire of Nero, at which time S. Paule the Apo­stle was prisoner at ROME. Some haue thought that Seneca of long time had leaned vnto Christi­an religion, by reason whereof his writings were read as proceeding from a man aduanced in the knowledge of the true God. And otherwise he was contented to speake in general, and as vn­der a veile of the ignorance of his time, and because he would haue them no more enuied whom the world did altready hate. Briefly, that he was a secret disciple of Christ, in the schoole of his A­postle. In confirmation wherof, they shew certaine letters of Seneca vnto Paule, with mutuall an­swers: and they do adde also the testimonie of a great christian Doctor, who hath placed Seneca in the Catalogue of Saints, whose soules we beleeue are in glorie with their Sauior. Howbeit certaine learned men of our time haue spoken their opinion touching all that, to whom I do a­gree, to wit: that whether Seneca saw the Apostle and spake with him, whether he disdained to see him, or that he cared not, nor did inquire after him, as I thinke that he thought then of any thing else rather then of the doctrine taught by S. Paul: there is nothing in his life, in his writings, nor in his death, that cometh neare to the Christian beleefe and profession. But if we should call all those Christians, in whose writings we do reade goodly and true sentences of wisedome, iu­stice, and the prouidence of God: it would make a straunge mingling of Scripture with pro­phane bookes: and further, they wold dispute if the one should be put in the place of the other. As wee see that in the bodies of the bookes which for excellencie we call the Bible, there are two, in the which the name of God is neuer expressed: which notwithstanding are holy, and do containe infinit instructions and singular consolations. Seneca hauing written in some place, The Godhead is I know not what great thing, yea so great, that it passeth al mans vnderstanding. Our life is dedicated to his seruice. Let vs take order to be approued of the same: for a hidden consci­ence is good for nothing: God seeth vs. An auncient Doctour said thereupon, Any man that should know God, could he set foorth any more certaine veritie, then that which is spoken here by the mouth of a man, that knew not what true religion meant? For he representeth the maie­stie of God, saying that it is so great, that mans vnderstanding cannot measure it: and plainely, the fountaine of veritie: shewing that the life of men is not vnprofitable, (as some Epicurians think) since it is referred to the glorie of the Creator, when they follow iustice and pietie. Other discourses of Seneca might be alleaged touching the prouidence of God, against idolatrie, super­stition, and impietie: but the consequence is not stable. That he hath therfore knowne any thing of the doctrine of the Gospell, you shall not find one discourse in all his writings, and the do­ctrine of the Stoickes doth in nothing agree with that, which neither flesh nor bloud can re­ueale: and wherof it is not our purpose to speake in this place, which requireth not that we shold discouer the holy things, and much lesse that we should mingle them with the prophane. As for the letters published vnder the name of Seneca and of Paule: both the stile and the matter shew at the first sight, that it is the worke of some idle man that thought himselfe very wise, if he dissembled with those which did not sift it so narrowly. And we shall not need here to make a re­capitulation of the iust and learned censures that haue bene made: where you shall see the mad­nesse, repugnancies, and falshoods hidden in those letters, if they be conferred with the life and doctrine of them vnto whom they were attributed. We do not meet with any thing so much in the writings of Seneca, as the constancie and contempt of death: how commeth it then that you shall not find one word that sheweth him to be a Christian? That Nero hath not discouered or perceiued any thing to charge Seneca with, when he commanded him to die? For that had bene [Page 118] an ample discharge before the people that extreamely hated the Christians. Suetonius and Taci­tus, litle fauouring our religion, would not haue forgotten it. But how chaunceth it that in his death he remembred Iupiter, and not Christ? Now, in regard of the Catalogue which is alleaged for a buckler: I desire that learned men do consider, if they haue not wronged the person to whom it is attributed, mingling amongst his workes this scoffe, and others which are no better, forged vpon the like anuile and with the selfe same hammer, which the letters were before men­tioned. Now I thinke, (these are the words of a learned man that had well read Seneca) that it is best for the reader to take Senecaes bookes, as proceeding from a man ignorant of true religion. For if you reade them as a Pagane, he hath written like a Christian: but if you take him for a Christian, know that it is a Pagane that speaketh. There are many things that may inflame vs with the loue of vertue: they will pricke vs more nearely, if we remēber from whom they come. If we meet with any sentences that seeme to be drawn out of our fountains, they will be so much the sweeter vnto vs: and as for vncertaine and false opinions, they will offend vs lesse, when we shall say that it is a Pagan that hath set them out. Let vs come to the other point, and consider those that haue too much imbased him, either in respect of his life, or because of his writings. For his life, some (and Dion amongst others) haue accused him of auarice, of ambition, of dissoluti­on, of adulterie, and of other such like vices: vnto the which I will not vouchsafe to make answer, since so many learned men auncient, and moderne, and the life and death of Seneca do say the contrarie. And it were an easie thing for one that would cut Dion a gowne of his owne cloth, to discouer in him many things impertinent and euill beseeming the name wherof he maketh pro­fession. But it is better to confute euident slaunders by silence, then with long discourse. Some other speake not so plainely, but say that Seneca liued not after his owne precepts. On the contra­rie, the honour which he maketh often to Epicurus, seemeth to shew that he hath mingled the wickednesse of the Epicurians with the austeritie of the Stoickes. I graunt that Seneca hath not in all the parts of his life shewed this constancie which he requireth of a wise man, and I perceiue well that he hath dissembled too many things in the gouernment of Nero: the which the wise Thrasca would neuer haue allowed of the presence, nor of the word, nor of the deed. But mans infirmitie is such, that that which the mind seeth plainely enough, it cannot or dare not effect it, because of the resistance of reason and passions: or if it dare, it is staid with the least obiect through this naturall faintnesse that keepeth vs backe, when we should resolutely follow vertue. Now of this censure there followeth no more, but that the Eternall wisdome doth giue vs knowledge of many notable things vttered by the mouth and testimonie of this stranger: and in the mean time doth admonish vs in no wise to stay our selues vpon him that speaketh: which she doth well in her proper house, where she vnderstandeth that we lend our eares vnto those which go with o­ther feet then they should, so that they keepe within the bounds of their commission. And as a Sergeant or Herauld that had but one eye, or were lame, could notwithstanding deliuer a mes­sage of importance in the name of the Prince, and must be heard: euen so whatsoeuer he be that cometh to vs with the notes of chast and faire Veritie, he ought to haue audience, to be be­leeued and followed, so long as he containeth himselfe neare to her, and reiecteth all that is con­trarie, be it in words or in fact. For Epicurus, Seneca alleageth some notable matters of him, wherefore it followeth not that he doth allow of his faults, nor of his sect, as is also to be acknowledged in many places. And there can be nothing obserued in the life of Seneca, that sheweth him to be an Epicurian or a Libertine. For euen in the midst of the abundance and of the great riches he possessed by the liberalitie of Nero, they saw a great moderation witnessed, also in his death: not being forbidden to Noblemen to possesse gold, siluer, earthly goods, and moueables of great value, so that such prosperitie do not make them drunke, to cause them des­pise God and men. As for the last, be they auncient or moderne whose names I am not content to expresse, which very boldly do censure the writings of Seneca: and in agreeing to him in some excellent thing, they afterwards take licence to thinke him rude in his stile, too rigorous a Iudge of other mens labours, a foolish ieaster, affected in his discourses, troublesome by reason of his repetitions, without art, of small iudgment, forgetfull, trusting to his owne wit, curious of light things, and seeking I know not how to be particular, because he would not seeme to haue bor­rowed any thing of any man. These be accusers in the most part of such articles, and no compe­tent Iudges, sauing the honour due to their erudition. For proofe whereof we do exhort the rea­der to take one whole booke of Seneca which he liketh of best, and then to examine it all, if I [Page 119] speake euill, saying, that he had wrong to be so tossed and played vpon. I thinke that there is no­thing in his workes, be it in his stile, in the method, or in matter that could be better performed. Also if they consider what words he vseth, how he ioyneth them together, what is the end of his discourses, and what the matters are that he treateth of: they will be lesse rigorous vnto him. For conclusion, I desire that Senecaes life, referred to his writings, do teach foure things to my selfe, and to all others. The one, that being in meane or base condition, we neuer care to clime vp any higher. The other, that if we chaunge a meane estate with another greater, we do remember the former, to conuerse modestly with great and small. The third, that we neuer passe for any worldly prosperitie, but that we be alwaies afraid of it, vntill we be loosed by the meanes of a happie death. And the last, that in our publike and priuate conuer­sation, in our thoughts, words, writings, and actions, there shine in vs the loue and reuerence of true pietie and iustice.

The end of Senecaes life.


THE LIFE OF Miltiades.

MILTIADES an ATHENLAN, the sonne of Cimon, being one of the chiefest of his citie, as well because of the ancientry of his race, as for his modestie ioyned to the glorie of his predecessors, after he had attained to that age, which his citizens had occasion not onely to hope well of him, but also to assure themselues that he would be such a one as they iudged him after they knew him: it chaunced that the ATHENIANS re­solued to send a Colonie into CHERRONESVS. And because many men prepared themselues to go thither, and that there was great sute who shold leade them: they chose some to go to DELPHES, to inquire of the Oracle who should be their Captaine: forasmuch as the THRACIANS at that time did oc­cupie all those parts thereabouts, and they must be driuen out by force of armes. The Prophe­tesse enioyned the Commissioners expresly to choose Miltiades for chiefe of this people or Colonie, the which should prosper in this enterprise vnder his conduct. With this answer Mil­tiades accompanied with a chosen companie of men, sailed vnto CHERRONESVS, and when he came neare to LEMNOS to subdue the inhabitants of that Island, he summoned them without any compulsion. They mocking him, answered, That they would then yeeld themselues when Miltiades should come from ATHENS to LEMNOS with a Northrene wind, which was full in the faces of them that should come from ATHENS to LEMNOS. Miltiades hauing no leysure to ta­rie there, hoissed saile, and arriued in CHERRONESVS. And there hauing in a short time broken all the troupes of the barbarous people, he made himself Lord of the whole countrie, built vp some fortresses, placed his people in the countrey which he had brought with him, & made them rich, by diuerse attempts against the selfe same countreymen. Wherein he preuailed as much by his wisedome, as through his good fortune. For after he had through the valiantnesse of his souldi­ers ouercome the armies of his enemies, he established his affaires with great equitie, and resol­ued to remaine in CHERRONESVS. So he was there as king, although he had not the name, and attained to this degree of honour as much through his vpright administration of iustice, as for his sufficiencie in warres. This kept him not from doing his dutie vnto the ATHENIANS, from whom he was parted: the which was the occasion indeed, that as well those which had sent him thither, as those with whom he was imbarked, were content he should continue there alwaies Gouernor. CHERRONESVS being brought to this order, he came againe to LEMNOS, and accor­ding to the promise of the inhabitants, he demaunded that they would yeeld vp their citie vnto him: for they promised to giue him their hands when he should come vnto them from his countrey by the North wind. Now (said he) that his countrey was in CHERRONESVS. The CARIANS, who held LEMNOS at that time, seeing things go otherwise then they looked for, and taken not so much by their words as by the good fortune of their aduersaries, durst not make head, but went straight from thence. So all things prospering according to his desire, he brought all the other Isles called the CYCLADES, to be subiect to the ATHENIANS.

[Page 121] At the same time Darius king of PERSIA hauing passed all his armie out of ASIA into EV­ROPE, determined to make war with the SCYTHIANS, and made a bridge ouer Danuby to passe ouer his troupes: the guard of the which in his absence, was committed vnto the Lords which he had brought with him out of IONIA and AEOLIA, and vnto euery one of the which he had giuen perpetuall power and gouernment ouer their townes. Supposing by this policie, easily to bring into subiection all the GREEKES that dwelt in ASIA, if he gaue the guard of the townes vnto their friends and confederates, that could not escape by any meanes if he were oppressed. Miltiades was of the number of the guards of this bridge. Newes being brought by diuerse messages that Darius had but ill successe, and that the SCYTHIANS held him hard to it: he per­swaded the other guards not to lose the occasion that was offered to set GRECE at libertie, con­sidering that if Darius and his forces he brought with him were ouerthrown, all EVROPE should be in peace, and the naturall GREEKES remaining in ASIA should see themselues out of daun­ger, and freed from the domination of the PERSIANS. And this might easily be done, since that by cutting of the bridge, Darius should in few daies be cut in peeces by the enemies, or should die for penurie with all his armie. Many agreed vnto it: but Istiaeus MILESIAN brake the necke of it, saying, that the kingdome of Darius vpon whom their authoritie depended, made diffe­rence betwixt the good of the affaires of them that commaunded, and the people that was vn­der subiection and gouernment. That if Darius should happen to die, they should be driuen out and punished by their citizens: and therefore that he was of a contrarie mind to all the rest, thin­king nothing more profitable, then to see the kingdome of the PERSIANS established. The greater part of them being of his mind, Miltiades was affraid, for that there were so many wit­nesses, that the king should soone be aduertised of that which was propounded: wherefore he left CHERRONESVS, and returned againe to ATHENS. Now though his counsel tooke no place, yet he was highly commended, hauing shewed more regard to the good and libertie of all, then to his owne particular aduancement.

For Darius, he being returned out of EVROPE into ASIA, his friends counselled him to set vpon GRECE. Whereupon he armed a fleet of fiue hundred galleys vnder the charge of Datis and Artaphernes, giuing them two hundred thousand footmen, and ten thousand horse, saying that he would be euen with the ATHENIANS, because that the IONIANS had in fauour of the ATHENIANS forced the citie of SARDIS, and killed his garrisons. These two Lieutenants of Da­rius being arriued in EVBOEA with their galleys, they presently wanne ERETRIA, tooke all the inhabitants of the countrey prisoners, and sent them to the king in ASIA. From thence they went into ATTICA, and camped in the plaine of MARATHON, which is within fiue leagues or thereabouts from ATHENS. The ATHENIANS astonied at so great a number of enemies, and so neare vnto them, knew not of whom to demaund aide, but of the LACEDAEMONIANS, vnto whom they dispatched a very swift footman, a foote Post, called Philippides, to aduertise them that they had need to send them aide, and that presently. In the meane time they chose tenne Captaines to commaund and gouerne their troupes: Miltiades was one of them. So there was great disputation among them, to wit, whether they should keepe the walles of their citie, or they should go meete with their enemies to bid them battell. There was none but Miltiades that reasoned, that there was no delaying or protracting of time, but they must make a campe: and that that would lift vp the hearts of the ATHENIANS, when they should see and behold, that they had a good opinion of their vertue and valiantnesse: and that the enemies hearts would faile them, when they should vnderstand that so few men came resolutely to fight with them. At that time the ATHENIANS had no aide from any citie but from PLATAEA, which sent them a thousand men: who being come, the armie of the GREEKES was compounded but of tenne thousand men in all, who desired nothing but to fight: That was the cause that Miltiades coun­sell was preferred aboue all the other Captaines. For the ATHENIANS respecting his valor, cau­sed their troupes to march into the field, and they camped in a place of aduantage. Then the next morning hauing disposed their footmen at the foote of the mountaine, which they had in flancke, they gaue charge vpon their enemies couragiously, with a new and sure fashion of fight. For there were trees growing here and there, by meanes whereof they were vnder co­uert of the rockes, and the trees kept them from being enclosed by the multitude of the ene­mies horsemen. Now although Datis saw that the place did not fauour and affect him, yet be­cause he had so many men, all his desire was to fight, thinking he should win and obtaine much, [Page 122] if he could ioyne before the aide of the LACEDAEMONIANS came to them. And therefore he made an hundred thousand footemen and ten thousand horse to march against them. Then he went to charge the ATHENIANS, who made excellent proofe of their valiantnes, considering that they hauing to fight one against ten, they made the PERSIANS flie for life, and so astonished thē, that in stead of returning backe to their campe, they saued themselues in their ships. See, here was one of the brauest battels that a man can speake of: for neuer such a handfull of men ouercame so great forces. Peraduenture it will not be impertinent to shew what reward Miltiades had for ob­taining of so noble a victorie: to the end that all men may know the better, that all common­weales haue one disposition. As the honours of the people of ROME were in times past rare and simple, and by consequent more glorious & to be desired: and now to the contrarie more disor­dered and lesse esteemed: the very same we find to haue bene practised among the ATHENIANS. For all the honour they did vnto this Miltiades, the sauiour of ATHENS and of all GRECE, was, that the battell of MARATHON hauing bene painted ouer the porch called Poecile, his image was set vp the first in rancke of all the Captaines, with the countenance of a man speaking to his soul­diers, and going first to fight. The same people of ATHENS being come to be of greater power, and corrupted by the gifts of those which sued for charge and office in the commonwealth, cau­sed three hundred statues to be set vp for Demetrius the PHALERIAN.

After this battell, the ATHENIANS gaue a fleet of threescore and ten gallies vnto Miltiades, to make war vpon the Iles which had aided the PERSIANS. He cōpelled some by simple commande­ments, others by force of arms to yeeld thēselues. And not being able by any perswasiōs to bring the Ile men of PAROS to reason (proud because of their riches) he landed his forces, enclosed the town with trenches, and took from the besieged all meanes either to come by victuals or muni­tion of war: then hauing set vp his Gabions and Mantelets, he came neare the wals. He was at the point to win the towne, when one night (not knowne by what mischaunce) there was a great fire seene vpon firme land in a wood which they saw from the Isle. This flame made those that were besieged, and them that lay at the siege thinke that it was a signe of the fleet of the PERSI­ANS, to encourage the PABIANS, and to keepe them from yeelding vp their towne. Herupon Mil­tiades fearing that Darius army by sea was at hand, he set fire of his Mantelets and Gabions and hoissed saile towards ATHENS, where he arriued with all the gallies he caried out: wherwith the people were maruellously offended. They accused him of treason, that when he might haue won PAROS by assault, he had taken money of the king, and was returned without fighting, or doing any memorable act. At that time he was sicke of the wounds he had receiued at the siege of PA­ROS: wherefore not being able to defend himselfe in person, his brother Stesagoras pleaded his cause, the which hauing bene debated, he was quit for death, yet condemned to pay a fine of thirtie thousand crownes, to the which they valued the charge of the armie in that iourny. And being vnable to pay so great a summe, he was committed to the common prison, and there died. Now this matter of PAROS was but a cloke: and they speake of it thus for another reason. For the tyrannie of Pisistratus, who had altered the estate some yeares before, was the cause that the ATHENIANS were affraid of their citizens that were in any credit. Miltiades, that had had many great and honorable charges, seemed that he could no more be brought to liue as a priuate person, considering also that he was giuen to this desire to commaund alwaies. For all the time of his abode in CHERRONESVS there was no other Lord but he, and also they called him tyrant: but iust, because he had not gotten this authoritie by force of armes, but with the consent of his citizens, and caried himselfe very modestly. Now they take and call them tyrants, which haue a perpetuall power in a commonwealth that was free before. Furthermore, Miltiades was a very gentle person, wonderfull affable, and there was not so meane a man, but might easily come and speake with him. All the townes respected him, he was very famous, and they reputed him for one of the brauest Captaines of GRECE. The people of ATHENS considering these things, had rather condemne this innocent man in a fine, then to be longer in paine to take heed of him.

The end of Miltiades life.

THE LIFE OF Pausanias.

PAusanias LACEDAEDONIAN was a great man, but vnconstant in all the parts of his life, furnished with vertues, but ouerwhelmed with vices. It was he that wanne that so famous victorie of PLATAEES. For he being Generall of the GREEKE armie, this great Lord Mar­donius, a MEDE by nation, and sonne in law of the king of PERSIA, the most wise and valiant captaine among all the PERSIANS, folowed with two hundreth thousand chosen footemen, and twentie thousand horse: he was ouercome, the rest of all his troupes driuen out of GRECE, and himselfe slaine in the field. This victorie raised vp Pau­sanias heart to such a height, that he beganne to confound the affaires, and to deuise great chaunge in his braine. The first shame he receiued was, that he hauing offered a triuet of gold vnto the temple of DELPHES, of the bootie he had gotten vpon the enemies, with an Epigram containing in substance, that vnder his conduct the barbarous people had bene ouerthrowne before PLATAEES, and that acknowledging this victorie he made this present to Apollo: the LACEDAEMONIANS razed out these verses, and wrote no other thing but the names of the townes, through whose aide the PERSIANS had bene ouercome. After this battell they sent him againe with an armie by sea of the allies into CYPRVS and HELLESPONT, to expulse the garri­sons of the barbarous people thence. The which he hauing fortunately executed, he then grew to be more insolent and ambitious then euer.

For, hauing taken the citie of BYZANCE by force, and made a great number of gentlemen of PERSIA prisoners, among which were manie kinsmen of Xerxes, he secretly sent them to him, and gaue it out that they escaped out of prison. Gongylus ERETRIAN did accompany them ca­rying letters to the king, the effect whereof was this, as Thucydides sayth: Pausanias, Captaine of SPARTA, knowing that the prisoners of BYZANCE are thy kinsmen, he sendeth them vnto thee for a present, and desireth to be of alliance with thee, and prayeth thee to giue him thy daughter in mariage. If thou do it, he promiseth that by his meanes SPARTA and all GRECE shall be brought vnder thy power. Therefore if it please thee to giue eare vnto it, send him a man expressely with whom he may conferre. The king very ioyfull and glad for the deliuery of so many friends of his, sent Artabazus presently to Pausanias with letters, in the which he commendeth him, and prayeth him to spare for nothing to bring his promise to passe. If he do, that all shall be graunted which he demaundeth. Pausanias vnderstanding Xerxes mind, resol­ued resolutely to put his hand to this worke: which the LACEDAEMONIANS mistrusting, ha­uing sent for him home, they accused him of treason: whereof he was quit, and yet condemned to pay a fine. This was the cause that they sent him not againe to the armie: but shortly after he returned of his owne mind, and by a rash and euill grounded Oration, he easily discoue­red the thought of his heart. Furthermore, he did not onely chaunge his fashion of liuing after the LACONIAN maner, but also of his diet and apparell. For he had a royall pompe, trayning a long gowne after the fashion of the MEDES, followed with a troupe of the MEDES and AEGYP­TIANS for archers of his gaurd. His table did so abound in all kinds of dainties after the maner of the PERSIANS, that no man could away withall. He gaue no accesse vnto him but very seldome: to them that would speake with him, he answered very proudly: and commanded with all cru­elty, refusing to returne any more to SPARTA.

He went to COLONES, which is a place in the countrey of TROAS, and there plotted all his dangerous practises against his countrey and himselfe. When the LACEDAEMONIANS had vn­derstanding of it, they sent Ambassadors vnto him with the Scytala, in the which was written, after their accustomed maner, that if he came not into the city, they would condemne him to death. This letter astonied him. Yet hoping to escape this imminent danger by force of presents, [Page 124] and by reason of his credite: he went home into his countrey, where being, the Ephores made him to be apprehended, and cast into prison: for it is lawfull for one of the Ephores to take the king, and vse him so. Neuerthelesse Pausanias loosed himselfe, being notwithstanding suspected of euery man: for they had alwayes this opinion of him, that he had intelligence with Xerxes. There are certaine people there called ILOTES, and they are a great number of them, and they plow the lands of the LACEDAEMONIANS, whom they serue as slaues. It was supposed he did practise with them, vnder promise to make them free men. But because they had no pregnant witnesse to conuince him, they thought they must not condemne so noble a person as he by bare coniectures, but rather to tary till time did reueale it of it selfe. In these busi­nesses, a young man called Argilius, who in his infancie had serued Pausanius for a Page, hauing receiued letters of him to cary to Artabazus, he doubting least there were somewhat therein that might hurt him, for of all those that went into PERSIA about these affaires, not one of them came backe againe: he brake open the seale, and knew by the contents thereof that if he had caried them, he had died for it: also the letter mentioned matters whereof Pausanias and Xerxes were agreed. Agilius caried these letters, and put them into the hands of the Ephores. Here is to be noted the moderation and grauitie of the LACEDAEMONIANS, that would not yet take vantage of this detection, to lay hold vpon Pausanias: and resolued not to proceed with rigour, till he first discouered it himselfe. And therefore they taught Argilius what they would haue him to do.

At TAENARE, there is a temple of Neptune, the priuiledge whereof the GREEKES hold for sacred and inuiolable. Argilius fled thither, and sate him downe vpon the Altar: neare vn­to the which the Ephores made a caue vnder the ground, from whence one might vnderstand all that any bodie would say vnto Argilius. Some of the Ephores hid themselues within it. Pausanias vnderstanding that his man was in the priuiledge of the temple, went thither mar­uellously troubled, and began to aske him how this change happened. Argilius confessed he had opened the letters, and seene the contents of them. Wherewith Pausanias more trou­bled then before, began to pray him to say neuer a word, and not to betray him who had done him so much good: that if he would do him that fauour to helpe him out of this trouble, he would make him a great man. The Ephores hauing heard all this talke, they iudged that the surest way was to take him in the citie. Whither they being gone, Pausanias thinking he had ap­peased Argilius, and thereby assured his affaires, he returned home to his house: and as they were ready to catch him by the coller, he perceiued by the countenance ofone of the Ephores that called him as if he would haue spoken with him, that they went about to intrap him. Wherefore doubling his pace somewhat faster then those that followed him, he saued him­selfe within the temple of Minerua, called Chalciacos. But because he should not come out, the Ephores caused the Church doores presently to be mured vp, and the roofe of the temple to be pulled downe, that he might dye the sooner with aire. It is reported that Pausanias mo­ther, being a very old woman, liued yet at that time: and that she vnderstanding of the wic­kednesse of her sonne, her selfe brought the first stone to mure him in there. Behold, how Pau­sanias stained with a shamefull death the great glorie he had obtained in the warres. Being brought halfe dead out of the temple, he died immediatly. Some would haue had his bodie caried to the gibbet: others liked not that opinion, and buried him farre from the place where he died: from whence he was digged vp againe, by commaun­dement of an Oracle of DELPHES, and put in the same place where he died.

The end of Pausanias life.

THE LIFE OF Thrasybulus.

FOr Thrasybulus, he was an ATHENIAN, the sonne of one called Ly­cus. If we should consider his vertue a part, and leaue his fortune be­hind, it may be we should place him first of all others. And to con­fesse a troth, I know no man more faithfull, more constant, more no­bly minded, and more louing to his countrey, then he. For whereas many haue desired (and few executed) to free their countrey from the hands of one onely tyrant: it was his fortune to deliuer his countrey from the violence of thirtie tyrants. But it chanced, I know not how, that he which went before all others in vertue, was put downe by ma­ny others in chargeand dignitie. In the warres of PELOPONNESVS, Alcibiades did nothing without him, but he on the contrary did many things without Alcibiades, and wanne honour through the goodnesse and excellency of his nature. This notwithstanding, all the exploits of warre ought to be deuided amongst the Chieftaines, souldiers, and fortune: for when armies meet, that which hath bene demtermined in counsel, is executed by the force and valiantnesse of the souldiers that fight. Wherfore the souldier may pretend right to that which his General hath done: Fortune challengeth the better part, and may say that she hath in such a case stood them in better stead then all the wisdome of the Generall. Euen so then, this worthie act of Thrasybu­lus is proper to himselfe. For as the thirty tyrants established by the SPARTANS, that kept the city of ATHENS in subiection, had banished part of the citizens escaped from the warre, put some to death, and forfeited the goods of others: Thrasybulus was the first and onely man that began to make warre with them. He was gotten into a strong hold, called PHYLE, in the territorie of AT­TICA, hauing but thirtie men with him in all.

This was the beginning of the health of the ATHENIANS, and the foundation of the liberty vnto the goodliest commonwealth of GRECE. And for as much as the tyrants scorned him and his company, it was the cause of their destruction, and of the preseruation of Thrasybulus: and their not caring to set vpon him and his, made them stronger by the leisure they had giuen them. The which should teach all to remember this rule: that we must neuer despise our enemy. And so it is not spoken in vaine, that the mother of a coward doth neuer weepe. For all his fame that went of him, many did not ioyne with him: for then those that were best affected, made warre with the tyrants more with their toungs then with their hands. From PHYLE Thrasibulus went to the port of PYRAEA, and did fortifie the fortresse called MVNYCHIA: the which the ty­rants did assault, but they were repulsed with such shame, that they suddenly retired to the town with losse of armes and baggage. In this action, Thrasybulus shewed himselfe no lesse wise then valiant: for he commaunded his men to touch none that made no resistance, thinking it reasonable that the citizens should pardon one the other: and there was not a man of them hurt, but those that assaulted them. He would strippe none of the dead, nor suffer any thing to be taken from them, but their armes and victuals which he needed. Critias, the chiefe of all the tyrants, hauing fought very valiantly against Thrasybulus, was slaine at the second assault. After he was dispatched, Pausanias king of SPARTA came to the aide of the ATHENIANS, and made peace betwixt Thrasybulus and those which kept the city: with these conditions, that the thirtie tyrants, and the ten new gouernours, which had committed as many cruelties as the tyrants themselues, should be banished, and their goods forfeited, without touching any other citizens: and that the soueraignty and gouernement of the estate should be resto red a­gaine vnto the people.

It was another fine deuice of Thrasybulus, that after he had pacified all matters, and ob­tained great credite in the citie, he made a law that no man should be called in question nor troubled for things that were past, and that was called Amnistia, or law of obliuion. But he [Page 126] was more carefull to keepe it, then to publish it. For some of his followers in his exile, com­plotted to kill some that were pardoned: but he stopped it by open proclamation, and kept his promise. To recompence these so many good deeds of his, the people gaue him a Crowne of two branches of Bayes, the which got him no enuy, but great glory: because he had obtained it through the good will of his citizens, and not by force. It was wisely spoken of Pittacus, one of the seuen Sages: when the MITYLENIANS gaue him many thousand of daies worke of lands, I pray you, sayd he, giue me not that thing which is enuied of many men, and desired of all the world: of all those I will onely take but a hundred dayes worke, which shall make proofe of my moderation, and of your good affection: for small presents do continue long, but we are no long time owners of great riches. So then Thrasybulus contenting himselfe with this Crowne, he sought for no more, and did thinke that no man was more honored then he. Shortly after he being arriued in SICILIA with a fleete the which he commanded, his souldiers were not care­full to keepe good watch in his campe: vpon which occasion, the barbarous people that were besieged, hauing by night made a sally out of the towne vpon him, they surprised him, and kil­led him in his tent.

The end of Thrasybulus life.


DVring the warres of PELOPONNESVS, Conon ATHENIAN began to deale in the affaires of the common wealth, and did great seruice: for he was chosen Colonell of the infanterie, then Admirall, in which charge he did many goodly exploits. By meanes whereof he grew to be of singular reputation amongst all men, and had the gouernement of all the Iles: during which time he wanne PHARES a Colony of the LACEDAEMONIANS. Towards the end of the warre of PELOPONNE­SVS, at what time Lysander ouercame the army of the ATHENIANS v­pon the sea coast which they call the riuer of the Goate, he had then charge of certaine galleys: howbeit he was not at the battell, which was cause that all came to naught, for he was a wise and valiant Captaine: in so much that it was in euery mans mouth, that if he had bene there, the ATHENIANS had not sustained such a losse. He seeing things brought to so poore an estate, and vnderstanding that his citie was besieged: he sought not to hide himselfe to liue I safety, but thought how he might helpe his citizens. For this purpose he went to Pharnabazus, a kinsman and sonne in law of the king of PERSIA, and gouernour of IONIA and of LYDIA, into whose fauour he insinuated himselfe, but with great trouble and much danger. Now when the LACEDAEMONIANS, after they had subdued the ATHENIANS, in stead of maintaining the alliance made with Artaxerxes, had sent Agesilaus to make warre in ASIA, through the perswasion of Tissaphernes, which had forsaken the king (of whom hereto­fore he was greatly beloued) and ioyned with the LACEDAEMONIANS: Pharnabazus was ap­pointed Lieutenant generall of the armie of the PERSIANS to make head against Agesilaus. But in truth Conon commaunded all, and nothing was done without his aduice and counsell. It was he that brake the most part of all the intentions and attempts of this great Captaine Agesi­laus, being a thing certaine inough, that if Conon had not opposed himselfe, the LACEDAEMO­NIANS had taken all ASIA from the king, vnto the mountaine Taurus. Hereupon Agesilaus be­ing sent for home by the Ephores, because the BOEOTIANS and ATHENIANS had proclaimed warre against SPARTA: Conon left not to be euer neare to the Lieutenants of the king of PER­SIA, and did them great seruice.

Tissaphernes withdrew himselfe from the court of PERSIA, the which all men perceiued well [Page 127] inough but the king, with whom he was in great credite and estimation, though he was no more his seruant. And it is not to be maruelled at if Artaxerxes could beleeue nothing, remembring himselfe that by Tissaphernes meanes he ouercame his brother Cyrus. Conon being sent by Phar­nabazus vnto the king to accuse this Tissaphernes: he being come to the court, came first to the Captaine of the guard, called Tithraustes, according to the custome of the PERSIANS. He is chiefest of all the officers of the kingdome, and no man can be suffered to come neare the king to speake with him, without his leaue and licence. He being intreated by Conon to let him go vnto the Prince: I am contented, sayth he, but consider first if thou be determined to speake with him thy selfe, or to deliuer thy mind by writing that thou wouldest say vnto him. For if thou come to his presence, thou must kneele to the king: and if thou thinke that grieuous vnto thee, thou maiest execute thy commission by my meanes, as well as by thine owne mouth. As for me, answered Conon, it shall be not troublesome thing to me, to do the king that honour that shall please thee: but I am afraid to do my city dishonor, if I do a thing proper to the barbarous people, & vnfit for that city which was wont to cōmand other nations. So then he deliuered his message in writing: which when the king had seene, he was so moued with the report of so great a person, that he iudged Tissaphernes his enemy, decreed warre against the LACEDAEMONIANS, and suffered Conon to make choise of such a man as he would, to distribute the money necessary to defray the charge of this warre. Conon made this answer, that this election pertained nothing to him, but to the king, that knew his seruants best: yet in his opinion, this charge should be best bestowed vpon Pharnabazus. He was sent backe with great presents to the maritime townes, to commaund the CYPRIOTS, PHENICIANS, and others dwelling vpon this coast to put galleys in readinesse, and to arme a fleete that might keepe the seas the next Sommer, vnder the conduct of Pharnabazus and of Conon, who had so required it.

The LACEDAEMONIANS being aduertised thereof, were amazed, perceiuing well that they were to make another maner of warre then with the barbarous people. For they saw that they must needs come to fight against a valiant and wise Captaine, hauing the kings treasure in his hands, and that had asmuch & better direction and forces then they. With this thought they ga­thered together great store of shipping, & imbarked themselues vnder the conduct of Pisander. Conon met with them neare vnto CNIDOS, gaue them battell, made them flye, tooke store of galleys, and sunke a great number of them. By meanes of this victory, ATHENS and all GRECE subiect to the dominion of the LACEDAEMONIANS, were set at liberty. Conon returned againe to his countrey with part of these galleys, built vp againe the wals of ATHENS and of the hauen of PIRAEA, which had bene ouerthrowne by Lysander, and presented his citizens with 30000 crownes which Pharnabazus had giuen him. But that which happeneth oftentimes vnto other men, chanced also vnto Conon, that is, to haue lesse courage in prosperity, then in aduersitie. For now that he had ouercome the fleete of the PELOPONNESIANS, thinking he had taken suffici­ent reuenge of the wrongs receiued by his country: he began to embrace in his mind imagina­tions too high for his cariage: although this was good and commendable in his enterprise, that he had rather make his owne countrey great and rich, then the king of PERSIA. Therefore he being now growne into wonderfull credite, not onely amongst the barbarous people, but also amongst all the cities of GRECE, after this battell of CNIDOS, he began vnderhand to practise the meanes to restore IONIA and AEOLIA to be subiect againe to the common wealth of the A­THENIANS. His practises being discouered, Tiribazus gouernour of SARDIS, sent to pray him to come to him, to be sent in Ambassage to the king. Conon straight obeying his commaunde­ment, he was no sooner arriued, but he was straight clapt vp in prison, where he remained some time. Some write that he was caried to the king, and died in PERSIA. But Dinon the historian, to whom we giue great credite in that he treateth of the affaires of PERSIA, reporteth that Conon saued himselfe, leauing it in doubt whether Tiribazus was priuy to it, or that he knew not of it.

The end of Conons life.

THE LIFE OF Iphicrates.

IPhicrates the ATHENIAN was famous, not so much for his diuerse exploits or for the greatnesse of them, as for his military discipline: for he was such a Chieftaine of warre, that they compared him vn­to the brauest men of his time, and they did not set him behind any of those that had gone before him. He had bene in many warres, had commanded armies oftentimes, he neuer had misfortune by his owne fault, he euer ouercame by wisedome: his vnderstanding reaching so farre, that he brought in many good things neuer seene before in the art military: and made some of them better that were in vse. He altered the armes of footmen: and where before him the Captaines did vse great tar­gets, short partisans, and litle swords: he to the contrarie brought in light bucklers, to the end his men should be lighter to remoue and to runne to giue charge. He made the partisans greater by halfe, and the swords longer. He changed also the corslets, and in stead of iron and copper, he made them of canuasse well wrought together, which made the souldiers much lighter: for being eased of that waight, they had meanes to defend themselues nimbly against blowes, and were ready besides to giue charge vpon the enemy. He made warre with the THRACIANS, and reestablished Seuthes againe in his kingdome, an allie of the ATHENIANS. Being at CORINTH, he obserued so good discipline in his armie, that they neuer saw any souldiers in GRECE better disposed, nor more obedient to their Colonell then they were. To be short, he did vse them to ranke themselues so well in battell, without helpe of the Captaine, so soone as euer the Ge­nerall had giuen them the signe to fight: that it seemed expresly as if the most expert Chief­taine of warre had imbattelled them.

With such an army he assailed the LACEDAEMONIANS, which was a most famous act through all GRECE: and in this warre he put all their forces to flight, which wanne him great honour. And as Artaxerxes was ready to set vpon the king of AEGYPT, he demanded of the A­THENIANS Captaine Iphicrates, to be the chiefe leader of all the strangers troupes, to the num­ber of twelue thousand men. Whom he so well trained and disciplined, that as the FABIAN soul­diers had bene famous among the ROMAINES, so in GRECE they spake of none but of Iphicra­tian souldiers. Afterwards being gone to aide the SPARTANS, he stayed Epaminondas roundly: and had not he come, the THEBANS would neuer haue returned backe before he had taken and burnt the citie of SPARTA. He was a man of a stout heart, and of a high stature, hauing the port and countenance of a Soueraigne captaine, so that he made all men wonder at him that saw him: but he was slouthfull and impatient, as Theopompus sayth, but otherwise a good and faithfull ci­tizen, whereof he made proofe among others, especially in keeping Perdiccas and Philip the son of Amyntas MACEDONIAN safe. For Euridice their mother comming with them for refuge vnto Iphicrates, after the death of Amyntas: he spared no meanes of his owne to defend them. He li­ued a long time, being in good credite with his citizens: sauing that on a time during the warres of the allies he was criminally accused with Timotheus, howbeit he cleared himselfe, and was quit by iudgement. His wife was Thressa, daughter of king Cotys: and of her he had a sonne cal­led Menestheus: who being asked which he loued best, either his father, or his mother? My mother, sayd he. Whereat euery man musing: Maruell not, answered he, I haue reason to say so. For my father, as much as was in him, begat me a THRACIAN: and my mother to the con­trarie, she made me an ATHENIAN.

The end of Iphicrates life.

THE LIFE OF Chabrias.

CHabrias was an ATHENIAN, and was placed in ranck of excellent Cap­taines. So hath he done many things worthie of memorie. Amongst others, his stratageme he shewed at the battell of THEBES is famous, where he was to aide the BOEOTIANS. For, that great Captaine Agesi­laus reioycing because of his victorie, and that he had made all the troupes at the THEBANS pay run away: Chabrias stood still with them that were left of his battalion, teaching the souldiers to resist the charge of the enemies, casting downe their pikes, and couering themselues with their bucklers vpon one knee. Agesilaus moued with this nouel­tie, durst not runne in to them, and made them found the retreat, to keepe his men they should passe no further. This act was so renowmed through GRECE, that Chabrias caused a statue to be made of him in the state aboue mentioned, the which the ATHENIANS set vp for him in the great market place. Afterwards the wrestlers, and other such kind of people followed this fashion of e­rection of statues, which they deserued for their victories. To come againe to Chabrias, he made many warres in EVROPE, in the qualitie of Generall of the ATHENIANS, and went also of his voluntarie will to make warre in AEGYPT, in the seruice of Nectanebos whom he did set againe in­to his kingdome. He did the like in CYPRVS, whither the ATHENIANS sent him of purpose to helpe Euagoras, and would not depart thence, before he had first subdued all the Isle: for the which the ATHENIANS wan great honour. In these businesses, warre fell out betwixt the PER­SIANS and AEGYPTIANS. They of ATHENS were allies of Artaxerxes, and the SPARTANS tooke part with AEGYPT. King Agesilaus did greatly inuade the PERSIANS, and caried great booties a­way. Chabrias considering that, and giuing no place to Agesilaus, went of his owne head to aide the AEGYPTIANS: who made him their Admirall, and gaue the charge of the armie by land vnto Agesilaus. Then the Lieutenants of the king of PERSIA sent vnto ATHENS, to complaine that Chabrias made warre with the AEGYPTIANS against their king. The ATHENIANS sent for Cha­brias immediatly to appeare in person, threatning him to condemne him to death, if he were not there by the day appointed. This message made him to come againe to ATHENS, where he taried no longer then needes he must. For the Citizens bare him no great goodwill, because he caried himselfe so stately, and would be so merie, that the people enuied him. This vice raigneth commonly in those great and free townes, that glorie is euer accompanied with enuie: and they willingly speake ill of them whom they see to be great. And to be short, the poore cannot abide wealthie and rich men. Therfore Chabrias did absent himself out of the citie as much as he could possible, and he was not alone in that, for almost all the chiefest of the citie did the like: thinking themselues safe from the teeth of the enuious, so long as they were far off from the sight of their citizens. Therefore Conon liued for the most part of his time in the Isle of CYPRVS, Iphicrates in THRACIA, Timotheus in LESBOS, Cares in SYGEEA. As for Cares, he was not to be likened in a­ny respect vnto the others, in exploits, nor in maner of life: and yet he was honoured in the citie of ATHENS, and had great meanes.

As for Chabrias, he died in the war of the allies in this maner. The ATHENIANS made war with the Islanders of CHIO, at what time Chabrias had no charge in the armie by sea. Notwithstan­ding he had more authoritie then all the Captains: and the souldiers did esteeme him more then any other of the commaunders. That was cause of his death. For striuing to enter the first into the hauen, and commaunding the Pylote to row right thither, it was his destruction: for being moored there within, the other ships followed him not. Whereupon the enemies compassed him in: but as he fought valiantly, his galley being beaten with the spurre of another vessell be­gan to leake, and to sinke to the bottome. He seeing there was no way for him to escape, because the fleet of the ATHENIANS was too farre off to receiue him in, if he should haue attempted to haue swomme: he had rather die then leaue his armes, and forsake the galley which caried him. [Page 130] The others, they tooke another course, and saued themselues by strength of their armes. But he esteeming an honest death to be more excellent then a shamefull life: fighting very neare, was killed by the enemies with darts.

The end of Chabrias life.

THE LIFE OF Timotheus.

TImotheus the sonne of Conon, a Captaine of ATHENS, did by many ver­tues amplifie the glorie receiued of his father. For he was an eloquent man, diligent, painefull, expert in militarie discipline, and a great Poli­tician. He hath executed great things, whereof the most notable are these, to wit: he subdued the OLYNTHIANS and BYZANTINES: he wanne the citie of SAMOS, the siege whereof in the former warres had stood the ATHENIANS in the summe of twelue hundred talents. He deliuered it vnto the people freely without any charge to them. He made warre with king Cotys, and brought of the bootie he had gotten there vnto the Treasurie, the like summe of twelue hundred talents. He also raised the siege that was before CYZICA, and went with Agesilaus to the aide of Ariobarzanes, of whom hauing re­ceiued money, he had rather his citizens should buy townes and lands, then to carie it home to his lodging. Therefore he ioyned ERICTHONE and SESTOS to the signiorie of ATHENS. After­wards hauing charge of the armie by sea, he inuaded PELOPONNESVS, spoiled all the territorie of SPARTA, and had all their ships in chase. He brought the CORCYREANS vnder the subiection of the ATHENIANS: and drew into their alliance the EPIROTS, ATHAMANES, and CHAONIANS, and all the people vpon that sea coast. The which made the LACEDAEMONIANS leaue their so long old quarrell, and of their owne goodwils let the ATHENIANS haue the principalitie of the sea: treating peace with these conditions, that the ATHENIANS should be Generals vpon the sea.

This victorie did so please the ATHENIANS, that there was then first of all an altar built to the common peace, and they did ordaine a pillow should be made for that goddesse. Furthermore, that such a glorious act should remaine for perpetuitie, they raised vp a statue vnto Timotheus in the market place, by ordinance of the people, which was an honour that neuer man receiued be­fore, to wit, that the people hauing graunted a statue for the father, they should also giue one to the sonne. By this meanes the statue of the sonne so freshly set vp, renewed the memorie of the father. Now Timotheus being very old, dealing no more in affaires of the commonwealth, they began afresh to torment the ATHENIANS of all sides. SAMOS and HELLESPONT shrunke backe and reuolted. Philip king of MACEDON, who began to waxe great, plotted wonderfull things in his head. Chares was sent against him to make head. But they thinking him not sufficient to re­pulse Philip, they therefore sent Menestheus the sonne of Iphicrates, sonne in law to Timotheus, and made him Colonell, gaue him the charge of the affaires of the warres, hauing for his coun­sellers, his father, and father in law, braue Captaines, wise and expert men to direct him with their counsell: their authoritie being so great, that euery man hoped that all that was lost, should be recouered againe by their meanes. They pointing for SAMOS, Chares that had heard newes of it, sailed vp and downe that coast, to the end nothing should be done in his absence. Draw­ing neare to the Isle a storme rose, and to defend themselues against it, the two old Captaines strake saile, and hulled, going no further into the sea. Chares to the contrarie vpon a head, not re­specting them that had seene more then he, held on his course, thinking to haue found an occa­sion as he wished, and sent as well to Timotheus as to Iphicrates, that they should follow him. But hauing had euill successe, and lost many of his shippes, he fell backe againe to that very [Page 131] place frō whence he came, & sent letters to the people of ATHENS of this effect, that he had ea­sily taken SAMOS, if Timotheus and Iphicrates had not forsaken him at his need. Vpon this accu­sation they were summoned to appeare in person by this bold people, suspitious, vnconstant, e­nemy and enuious of another mans greatnesse, and are charged to be traitors vnto the common­wealth. Timotheus was condemned, and a fine set vpon his head of sixty thousand crowns. Iphi­crates constrained by the importunitie of his vnthankeful citizens, went for a time to CHALCIS. After Timotheus death, the people repenting their sentence, abated nine parts of the sum aboue named, and commaunded Conon, the son of the deceased, to furnish sixe thousand crownes for the reparation of a pane of the wall. Here is to be noted a wonderfull reuolution of the affaires of this world: for the young sonne was constrained at his owne charges (to the great dishonour of his house) to repaire the wals, the which his grandfather Conon had made vp with the booty got­ten of the enemies. We could alleadge many examples of the modestie and wisedome of Timo­theus: but we will adde for the end a matter whereby may be easily coniectured, how much he was esteemed of the GREEKES. Being young he was accused, and brought before the Iudge: whereupon his friends and familiars came out of all parts into ATHENS to defend him: and a­mongst others the tyrant Iason, who was at that time the mightiest Lord of all GRECE. This ty­rant was neuer assured in his owne countrey without his guard: and yet he came without any traine to ATHENS, esteeming so much his host Timotheus, that he had rather hazard his life, then faile his friend in time of necessitie. Notwithstanding this, shortly after Timotheus made warre with Iason, by the commaundement of the people: thinking that to obey his countrey, and to maintaine the right of the same, is a more deuout thing, then to fauour a priuate friend. After this last age, which tooke away Iphicrates, Chabrias, and Timotheus, Captaines of A­THENS: they could neuer find in the Commonwealth after their death, any Chieftaine of war, that deserueth any memorie of them.

The end of Timotheus life.

THE LIFE OF Datames.

I Presently enter into the life of a most valiant and wise Captaine, a­mong all the barbarous: Hamilcar and Hannibal of CARTHAGE ex­cepted. We will speake somwhat more amply of this man, for that the most part of his exploits are litle known, & because also that he had ob­tained his victories not so much by force of armes, as by his wisedome: a vertue in the which he did surpasse all the men of his time. But this cannot be iudged, vnlesse we make him knowne in all particulars. Da­tames the sonne of Camissares a CARIAN and of a SCHYTIAN, was at the beginning a souldier of the guard of the pallace of Artaxerxes. His father Camissares, because of his valiantnes and direction in the warres, and for that he had done many good seruices vnto the king, was made Gouernour of CILICIA, neare vnto CAPPA­DOCIA, where the LEVCOSYRIANS dwell. As for Datames, following the warres, he made proofe of his valour in the warre which Artaxerxes had against the CADVSIANS: where ma­ny men being slaine on both sides, he fought so valiantly, that his father being killed, he had his authorie and place of Gouernour of CILICIA. He shewed himselfe no lesse valiant in warre, then Antophradates did by the kings commaundement vnto those that had rebelled. For, by the direction of Datames, the enemies that were now entred into the PERSIANS campe, were repulsed, and all the armie of the kings in saftie: the which was the cause of his calling and aduauncement vnto higher charges. There was at that time in PAPHLAGONIA a Gouernour called Thyus, descended of an auncient race of one Pylaemenes, whom Homer saith, was killed by Patroclus in the warre of TROIA. He not regarding the kings will and commaundements, [Page 132] who therefore resolued to make warre with him, and gaue the charge of it vnto Datames, cousin germaine to Thyus. By reason of kindred, Datames would prooue by all means he could to draw his kinsinan to some conformitie before he tooke armes: he went vnto him without any traine, litle thinking that his friend would haue laid any ambush for him: but he had almost bene taken tardie, for Thyus sought to surprise him, and to cut his throate. Datames mother, Aunt vnto Thyus, being told what was practised against her sonne, she did aduertise him in so good time, that he escaped with speed, and proclaimed warre against his aduersarie. And although that in the pursute of this warre, he was forsaken of Ariobarzanes, Gouernour of LYDIA, of IONIA, and of all PHRYGIA, yet he let not to go further: he tooke Thyus prisoner with his wife and children, and then very carefully tooke order that no man but himself should carie newes of it to the king. So following that purpose, without any mans priuitie he arriued at the Court, and the next mor­ning apparelled Thyus (a tall man and of a terrible grimme looke, being blacke haired, and wea­ring his haire long) with a rich robe, such as great Lords vse to weare. He apparelled himselfe like a countrey man, in a Lion tawnie coate, with a cloke of diuerse colours, and a hunters hat, hauing in his right hand a club, and in his left hand a leace, vnto the which Thyus was tyed, who went before, as if he had led some sauage beast he had taken in the chase a hunting. They all ran to see this new monster thus disguised: and those which knew Thyus went presently and told the king of it: who at the first would beleeue nothing, but sent Pharnabazus to see what it was. So when he had told him all what had happened, he made this pompe come in presently: and the king tooke great pleasure to see it, but specially to see so mightie a Prince beyond all hope so subdued.

Therefore after he had giuen sumptuous presents vnto Datames, he sent him vnto the armie that was leauied vnder the conduct of Pharnabazus and Tithraustes, to make warre in AEGYPT, and ordained that he should haue as much authoritie as they. Now after that the king had sent for Pharnabazus, all the charge of the warres was committed to Datames. Who being greatly oc­cupied about leauies of men to go into AEGYPT, he receiued letters from the king, commanding him to inuade a Lord called Aspis, who held CATAONIA, a prouince ioyning neare to CAPPA­DOCIA, beyond CILICIA, a mountaine countrey well furnished with fortresses, that despised the king, and made inuasions vpon the Prouinces thereabouts, spoiling victuals and all things else that were caried to the king. Though Datames was farre from that place, and had other af­faires of greater importance in hand: yet he determined to obey the king, and suddenly imbar­ked himselfe with a small number of resolute men, thinking (that which came to passe) that with a few men he should sooner surprise a man not dreaming of any such matter, then with a great ar­mie to go and assaile him. He being arriued in CILICIA, landed, then marched day and night ouer mount Taurus, and came to the place where he would be: he inquireth for Aspis, and vn­derstandeth that he was not farre off but a hunting. But as he stayed for his comming, Aspis knew that he was come, and immediatly disposed of his PISIDIANS and others of his traine to make head. Datames knowing this resolution, takes his armes, made his men march, and galloped to the place where Aspis was: who seeing him come with such a furie, he lost his courage to defend himselfe, and presently yeelded. Datames made him to be bound, and sent him by Mithridates to the king. Hereupon Artaxerxes considering better what he had done, drawing his Lieute­nant farre from his armie, to send him in commission about a matter of lesse consequence, being angrie with himselfe, sent a messenger to the campe, thinking Datames was not yet gone from thence, to tell him that he should not go. But before this messenger came to the armie, he met them by the way that brought Aspis. This so sudden execution wanne Datames the kings good fauour, but made him very much hated of the Courtiers, seeing one onely man more made of then all the rest: which was the cause that they all ioyned together to destroy him.

Pandates Treasurer of the spare, and Datames friend, did aduertise him by expresse letters, that he stood in great daunger, if any sinister fortune happened, whilest he should commaund the ar­mie in AEGYPT: that it is the custome of kings to impute all misfortunes to their seruants that chaunce in their affaires, and to attribute the good successe vnto themselues. And this makes them very easily incline to the extermination of them, of whom report is made; that they haue not done that which was committed to their charge. And as for him, that he should so much more stand in feare, because that those which could do most with the king, were his greatest e­nemies. Datames hauing receiued these letters in his campe, and knowing that they caried truth [Page 133] with them: he resolued to forsake the king: which doing notwithstanding he committed no breach of his fidelitie. For he left Androcles MAGNESIAN Generall of the armie. And for himselfe he went with his men into CAPPADOCIA, afterwards he wan PAPHLAGONIA which was hard by it, without shewing himselfe either friend or enemie of the king. He secretly contracted friend­ship with Ariobarzanes, assembled forces, and gaue the guard of the townes of warre vnto those he trusted best: but the winter did let him that his affaires went not forward. He vnderstandeth that the PISIDIANS did leauie some troupes to set vpon him: which caused him to send his sonne Aridaeus before with an armie. The young man being killed at an encounter, the father marched right thither with his men, hiding his griefe as much as he could possible, because he desired to meete with his enemies, before those that followed him should heare of his losse, being affraid lest the newes of the death of this yong Lord should kill their hearts. So being come to the place where he pretended, he camped in such sort that the multitude of his enemies could not enclose him, nor keepe him from comming to fight when he thought good. He brought with him Mi­throbarzanes his father in law, who was Colonell of the horsemen. He perceiuing the affaires of A fine strata­geme.his son in law in so poore an estate, forsooke him to go yeeld himselfe to the enemies. Datames being told of it, iudged that his souldiers if they once perceiued that his father in law had forsaken him, they would also follow his example: wherfore to preuent all, he gaue it out that Mithrobar­zanes was gone by his commandement, pretending to yeeld themselues to the enemies: to the end with more ease and aduantage to cut them in peeces. And therefore that there was no reason to leaue such a man so far from them, but they must needes follow him with speed. So that they standing to it lustily, the enemies could not resist, considering they should be charged within and without their campe. So hauing thought that the best way in the world, he marcheth into the field with his troupes, and followeth Mithrobarzanes: who did but newly yeeld themselues to the enemies, when Datames appeared, who put out the signall of battell. The PISIDIANS troubled with this straunge sight, did suspect that Mithrobarzanes and his would betray them, and that they were come of purpose to do them some mischiefe. Thereupon they vehemently gaue charge vpon these traitors, who not knowing what to think of such a charge, were constrai­ned to fight against them, vnto whom they had yeelded themselues: and to returne vnto them whom they had forsaken. But the one and the other not knowing them any whit, in a short time these wicked men were cut in peeces. So withal Datames setteth vpon the PISIDIANS who made head against him, passed through them, and brake them at the first charge: pursued them that fled, killed a great number of them, and was master of their camp. Note here how wisely (and all done at one time) he punished the traitors, and put his enemies to flight: turning that to good, which was deuised for the ouerthrow of him and his. This is the most brauest and most speediest executed stratageme of a Chiefe in wars, that can be found in histories.

The son betray­eth the father. Notwithstanding that, this great person was forsaken of his eldest son Scismas, who went to the king to aduertise him that his father was reuolted. This troubled Artaxerxes greatly, knowing that he had to deale with a valiant and a wise Captaine, who boldly did set vpon any enterprise with discretion. Thereupon he sent Autophrodates into CAPPADOCIA, whom Datames tooke paines to go and meete, to preuent him that he should not win the straight of CILICIA. But be­ing long assembling his forces, and that hope being frustrate, he chose with those few men that followed him such a place, that his enemies could not enclose him, nor passe, but that he should shut them vp in very vnwholesome places, nor hurt him when he liked to ioyne in fight. Now though Autophradates vnderstood somwhat of that, yet he made account that it was more expe­dient for him to ioyne then to flee from the list, hauing so great forces. He had 20000 horse, and 100000 footmen, which they call GARDATES, with 3000 slings of the same name. Furthermore, he had 8000 CAPPADOCIANS, 10000 ARMENIANS, 5000 PAPHLAGONIANS, 10000 PHRYGI­ANS, 5000 LYDIANS, and about 3000 ASPENDIANS and PISIDIANS, 2000 CILICIANS, as many CAPTANIANS, and 3000 GREEKS in pay: besides a great nūber of men light armed. Against this world of forces, Datames could hope no more but in his direction, and in the commodity of the place where he camped: for he had not the twentith part so many men. Yet trusting to himselfe, to the place, and to the valour of his men, he came to fight, and put to the sword many thousands of his enemies, hauing lost of his side but one thousand of his men. For this cause he set vp the next day in the field a signe of triumph where the battell was fought. So being remo­ued from thence, as he was the weaker in number of men, he to the contrarie remained victor in [Page 134] all skirmishes and fights, and neuer came to hands, but he put his enemies to the worse: in the which he had oftentimes very good successe, because he knew all the waies, and did wisely con­sider his affaires. Antophradates seeing the king lost more in these warres then he got, he perswa­ded Datames to fall to agreement, and to make his peace with the king. Though Datames had no great trust in that, yet he accepted the condition, and said he would send ambassadours vnto Ar­taxerxes. And thus the warre of the king ended against Datames. And for Antophradates, he re­tired into PHRYGIA.

But the king being vexed [...]o the heart against Datames, considering that he could not preuaile against him by armes, sought to make him away by treason. Datames looked warily to his wayes, and auoided many ambushes. As on a time, hauing vnderstanding that some pretending to be his friends, had laid a plot for him: although his enemies had giuen him intelligence of it, yet he thoght that as it was not a thing lightly to be beleeued, so was it not altogether to be discredited: wherupon he resolued to trie whether it was a true or false report brought him. Therefore he set forward to the place where it was told him this ambush was laid: but he chose amongst his men one that was of his height, he gaue him his furniture, and made him march in the ranck which he was wont to hold. He on the other side apparelled like a souldier, went with the archers of the guard. Those which lay in ambush deceiued by the order and furniture, assoone as they saw their time, they began to set vpon the supposed Datames. But the right Datames had warned them be­fore with whom he marched, to be readie to do all as he did. He seeing then these traitors run­ning, he threw darts at them, and so did all those that were in his companie, so that the other fell to the ground, before they could come neare him whom they would surprise. Now notwith­standing all this, this so warie and subtill Captaine was in the end betrayed by the deceipt of Mi­thridates Mithridates stratageme against Da­tames.the sonne of Ariobarzanes, who promised the king to do the deed, so that he would af­terwards suffer him to do what he thought good, without being called in question any maner of way. The king consented vnto it, and gaue his hand vpon it after the custome of the PERSIANS, to make him more assured. Mithridates hauing the kings word, made shew to be sworne enemy The maner of Mithridates [...].vnto Artaxerxes, he gathereth troupes together, and by meanes treateth friendship with Data­mes, he entreth with a maine armie into the kings country, besiegeth and taketh fortresses, carieth away great bootie, he giueth part of it to his souldiers, he sendeth the rest vnto Datames, and de­liuereth many fortresses and holds into his hands. So hauing continued his course a reaso­nable time, Datames began wholly to beleeue that Mithridates had vndertaken a warre which he would neuer leaue, and this traitour gaue him great occasions to thinke so. For fearing lest Da­tames would mistrust some ambush, he sought not to speake with him, nor went about to meete together: but without enterview he entertained his alliance so finely, that these two men seemed both one, not so much for mutuall benefite, as for a common hatred conceiued against the king. When he saw his snare well laid, he wrote to Datames that time required they should assemble greater forces to make warre against the king: and if he thought good, he would appoint a place where they might one see another, and conferre together. Datames found this aduice good, and Tim & place appointed for enterview to­ther.so they appointed a day to meete together, and place where they might speake personally one with the other. Some daies before Mithridates came to the place, seconded with another in whom he put great trust: he hid poigniards separated in diuerse places, and did carefully marke the places where they were laid. The day being come of their talking together, both of them sent men to discouer the place, and to search one the other, because they should be without wea­pons. That being done, they enter into talke, and after they had spoken some time together, they departed: so that Datames was gone a good way off. And as for Mithridates, before he went to his men (to giue no occasion of ill thought) he cometh to the same place againe where they had spoken together, and sate him downe in a place where there was a poigniard hidden, faining to be wearie, and to refresh himselfe a litle. Then he sent for Datames vnder colour that he had for­gotten to tell him some thing. In the meane time he tooke the poigniard out of the place where it was hidden, drew it, and put it naked vnder his robe. And seeing Datames, told him they must go a litle aside, and that he had discouered a place directly ouer against them very fit to campe in. Datames trai­terously mur­dered by Mi­thridates.He began to shew him the place with his finger: and as Datames turned to see what it was, this traitour stabbed him with his poigniard, and made an end of killing of him before any of his men could come to helpe him. See here how through pretence of friendship he was surprised, who had entrapped so many others by his valiant direction, but none by treason.

The end of the life of Datames.

THE LIFE OF Hamilcar.

HAmilcar the sonne of Hanniball, surnamed Barcas, a CARTHAGINIAN Captaine. being very young began to commaund an army that was in SICILIA, in the end of the first warre of AFRICKE. Before his com­ming thither the CARTHAGINIANS had very ill successe both by sea and land: but so soone as he led the army, he neuer gaue place to the enemy, and gaue him no aduantage to hurt him. But to the contrary he found many an occasion to draw them to fight, wherein he had the vantage. Which being done, although the CARTHAGINIANS had well-neare lost all that they held in SICILIA, yet he kept the city of ERIX so well, as it seemed that there had neuer bene warre made in that quarter. In the meane time the CARTHAGINIANS hauing lost a battell at the sea neare vnto the Iles AEGATES, against Catulus Luctatius a ROMAINE Consull: they determined to leaue armes, and gaue all the charge vnto Hamilcar to treate of peace. For his part he desired nothing but warre: yet seeing his towne in want of money and meanes, and in danger to sinke vnder their burthen, he concluded that they must make peace. Yet so notwithstanding he resolued with himselfe, that as soone as all matters were pacified, he would make warre againe, and set vpon the ROMAINES, either to make them Lords of all, or else to compell them to be subiect. With this mind he entred into parley of peace, where he shewed himselfe so stout: that as Catulus declared he would agree to nothing, before Hamilcar and his souldiers which had kept ERIX had layd downe their armes, and were gone out of SICILIA, he made answer that he would rather dye in the ruines of his countrey, then to returne home with such shame: and that honour would not suffer him to yeeld vp his armes to his enemies, which his countrey had put into his hands to be imployed against them. Catulus let him go with this obstinate resolution.

But when Hamilcar was arriued at CARTHAGE, he saw matters go farre otherwise then he hoped for. For during the long wars against the enemies abroad, there was mischiefe sprung vp among them within: which went on so fiercely, that GARTHAGE was neuer in so great danger but when it was altogether destroyed. First of all, the mercenarie souldiers that had bene in the warres against the ROMAIMES, to the number of 20000 they rebelled, they made all AFRICKE rise, and they besieged CARTHAGE. The CARTHAGINIANS being greatly afraid of so many e­uils, they demanded aide of the ROMAINES, which they granted. But in the end, when all was thought to be in a desperate case, they chose Hamilcar their Captaine generall: who did not onely driue the enemies farre from the towne, which were in number aboue a 100000 fighting men: but he did also shut them vp in such straights, that the most part of them died of famine, and the rest were slaine. Furthermore, he brought the cities which had reuolted, vnder the o­bedience againe of CARTHAGE, and amongst others VTICA, and HIPPONA, two of the stron­gest cities of AFRICKE. But not staying there, he extended the limites of the signiory of CAR­THAGE, and pacified all AFRICKE in such sort, that it seemed there had bene no warre of long time.

Now hauing done all things according to his mind, he bearing ill will to the ROMAINES, and hoping to be reuenged: to find a more easie way to daw them to warre, he practised so well that he was chosen Generall, and they sent him with an army into SPAINE, whither he ca­ried with him his sonne Hanniball nine yeares old, and another faire young gentleman called Hasdruball, whom many iudged to be loued of Hamilcar otherwise then was fit for honest men. For there were many alwayes that could not containe themselues from speaking euill of this great Captaine. Which was the cause that the gouernour of Hasdruball did forbid him to come no more to Hamilcar, who afterwards gaue him his daughter in mariage, so that they began a­gaine to meete together. For by the custome of the countrey they could not forbid a sonne in [Page 136] law, to frequent with his father in law. We haue made mention of Hasdruball, because that af­ter Hamilcar was slaine, he was made chiefe of the army, which did great exploits vnder his conduct. But so he was the first, that by presents and gifts corrupted the ancient maners of the CARTHAGINIANS. After his death, Hanniball had the charge of the army, with the consent of all the men of warre. As for Hamilcar, he hauing passed the sea, entred into SPAINE, and did great things there with good successe. He subdued many warlike nations, enriched all AFRICKE with horses, with armes, with men, and with money. As he had thought to haue transported the warre from thence into ITALIE, nine yeares after his comming into SPAINE: he was slaine in a battell against the VECTONS. The deadly hate he bare vnto the ROMAINES, seemeth to haue kindled the second warre with AFRICKE. For his sonne Hanniball was brought to this passe, by the continuall adiurations of his father: that he had rather destroy himselfe, then to faile his helpe against the ROMAINES.

The end of Hamilcars life.

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