[Page] [Page] FOƲ ƲRE SE­uerall Treatises of M. TVLLIVS CICERO: Conteyninge his most learned and Eloquente Discourses of Frendshippe: Oldage: Paradoxes: and Scipio his Dreame.

All turned out of Latine into English, by Thomas Newton.

Imprinted at London in Fleetestreete neere to S. Dun­stanes Churche, by Tho. Marshe.

Cum Priuilegio.

1577.

To the Righte Honora­ble, his very good Lord, Fraūcis Earle of Bedford, Lord Russell, of the Noble order of the Garter Knight, and one of her Maiesties moste Honourable priuye Counsel: Tho. Nevvton vvisheth the fer­nent zeale of God, vvith en­crease of much Honor.

EIghte yeeres a­goe (Right Ho­norable) some parte of these my poore La­bors escaped my handes, and rashly (by peecemeale) passed the Printers Presse, not wt ­out some blemishes and Eyesores: which, as my meaning was then to haue repolished and brought into order, so the poastinge speede and shufling vp of the same, without my presence, consent, and knowledge, [Page] quight defeated my purpose, and dashed my determination. But si­thens things passed be irreuocable, I haue thought good (vpō request) to take that direct course in the se­cond edition thereof, which seemed best to breede the Readers profit, and soonest to salue myne own cre­dite. And thereupon haue I pul­led all asunder agayne, and aduen­tured the same anew, adding ther­vnto one Booke more thē before I had done, because ye whole VVorke beeing by that meanes fully suppli­ed, shoulde come foorth vniforme, and in one maner of Style and or­der. VVhich being now throughly finished, I humbly present & offer vnto youre good L. not a whitte doubting of your honorable accep­taunce, [Page] if not for anye workeman­shippe of myne, which is (God kno­weth) verye rude and vnsauerye, yet for noble Cicero his owne sake, the Author & first writer hereof: whose onely name (much more hys learned workes) you haue (as they are well worthye) in reuerent esti­mation. For which verye cause, I deemed no worthier Counsay loure could be found to defend and pro­tect so noble a Senatour, then your H. whom in the watchful cares of the Common wealth, profounde VVisdome, graue aduise, and poli­ticke gouernmēt, he so neerely and liuelye resembleth. My part of tra­uaile in the Interpretatiō of whose Sayings, I hūbly submit vnto your Honourable censure, beseechinge [Page] God to continue and encrease hys blessinges spiritual and temporall vpon you, your honourable Lady, and Children, to the aduaunce­ment and setting foorth of his glo­rie, the weale of this your Coūtry, & to your own ioye & consolation.

Your good L. wholy at commaundement, Thomas Newton.

The Booke of Freend­shippe. Otherwise entituled, Lae­lius: written dialoguewise by Marcus Tullius Cicero, vnto his very freende T. Pomponius Atticus.

The Preface.

QVINTVS Mutius Scaeuola Augur was wont promptlye & plea­sauntly to reporte manye thinges of Caius Laelius hys father in law, and doubted not in all his talke to tearme him a wiseman. And I, assone as euer I entred into mans state, was in such sort by my father put to Scaeuola, that as nere as I might or coulde, I should not one whit steppe aside from the olde mans sleeue. And therefore I diligently noted and committed to me­morye many reasons, wisely by him dis­coursed, and many thinges brieflye and aptly by him spoken, and sought by hys wisdome to become the better learned. After that he was dead, I got me to P. [Page] Scaeuola, whom alone I dare boldlye cal (for witte and skille) the oddestman of our Citie. But of him we shal speake more at an other time. Nowe doe I re­turne to Scaeuola Augur.

Among his many other discourses of sundry matters, I do namely remēber, yt be (sitting at home in his halfe rounde Chayre as his cōmon wont was to doe) when as I, and a verye fewe of his Fa­myliers were presente, fell into that talke, whiche as then was almoste com­mon in manye mennes mouthes. For as I thincke (freende Atticus) you re­member well ynough, and muche the rather, because you were verye famyli­er with P. Sulpitius, what a won­dring and moane there was of all men when as hee beeinge Tribune for the Commons, was fallen at deadlye vari­aunce, with Q. Pompeius, beinge at that time Consull: with whome afore­time hee had lyued moste freendlye and louinglye. At that verye time there­fore Scaeuola entringe into talke aboute the same, declared vnto vs the Speache [Page 2] that Laelius had with him, and hys o­ther Sonne in Lawe C. Fannius, the Sonne of Marcus, a sewe Dayes after the Deathe of Aphricanus, touchinge Freendeshyppe. The chiefe pointes of whiche his Discourse, I faythfullye committed to memorie, and haue in this Booke set downe after mine owne phā ­sie and discretion. For I haue intro­duced them as it were speakinge one to an other, that these tearmes (Quoth I) and (Quoth he) shoulde not bee to often repeated. And for this purpose haue I done it, because the Treatise mighte seeme to bee had, as it were of persons present euen before your faces.

And forasmuch (freende Atticus) as you haue often times beene in hande wt mee, to penne some pretie Discourse of Freendshippe, I deemed the same mat­ter to be a thing both worthy the know­ledge of all men, and also the Familia­ritie that is betweene vs. I haue done it therefore at thy requeste, willinglye, to the ende I mighte benefite manye.

But as my Treatyse, entituled [Page] Cato Maior (which is written to thee of Oldage) I introduced Cato an aged mā [...] the elder. reasoning thereof (because I iudged no man fitter to speake of that age, then he, who had both bene a very long time an Booke of Oldage. oldman, and also in that his oldage had flourished aboue others) so now also for­asmuch as we haue heard of our elders, what notable familiarity was betwene C. Laelius, and P. Scipio, I haue deemed Laelius a very fit person, to discourse vp­on those points of Freendship, which my A Payre of perfect and faythful frends mayster Scęuola remēbred were discus­sed by him.

And certainelye this kinde of talke, set out by the Authority of auncient and the same right honourable personages, The vvise vvords of noble & annciente persons more re­garded & marked then the speaches of others. seemeth (I know not how) to cary with it more countenaunce & grauitye. And therfore I myselfe readinge mine owne woorkes, am sometime in that case, that I thincke Cato telleth the tale, and not myselfe.

But as I then beinge olde did write of Oldage to an old man: so in this boke, as a most faythful frend I haue written to my very frēd cōcerning Frēdship. Thē, [Page 3] did Cato reason the matter, who was ye oldest man almoste, & the wisest in those dayes. Now, doth Laelius, a man both wise (for so was he accoumpted) and in ye noblenesse of frendshippe peerelesse, vt­ter his opinion of Frendship. I woulde that for a while you shoulde not thincke vpon me, but suppose that Laelius hym­selfe speaketh. C. Fannius and Q. Mu­tius come to their father in lawe, after the death of Aphricanus. They speake firste: Laelius maketh answere: whose whole discourse is of Frendship, which thou thy selfe in reading shalt throughly vnderstand.

FANNIVS.

Your words be true, Laelius. For nei­ther better, or nobler hath there benanye then Aphricanus. But you must thincke that all men haue east their eyes vpon you, and that you onely, they call & repute wise. This title was attributed not long ago to M. Cato. We knowe yt L. Acilius in our forefathers dayes was called wise: but eyther of theim in a [...]ere [Page] maner. Acilius, because he was taken for a man skilful in the Ciuile Law: Cato, (because he was of great experience, & beecause manye thinges were reported to bee by him boche in the Senate, and also in the place of Pleas, and Iudge­ments, eyther wisely foreseene, or stout­lie atchieued, or wittely aunswered) purchased thereby now in his Oldage, as it were, a Sirname, to be called wise. But you, they call wise after an other sorte, not onely by nature, & maners, but also by studie and learning: and that not af­ter the cōmon peoples accoumpt, but as the learned sorte are wonte to call one wise, euen such a one, as in all the rest of Greece is not the like. For they that na­rowly rippe vpp these matters, doe not Seuen sa­ges of Greece. recken them in the number of wisemen who are called the Seauen wise sages, In deede, wee haue hearde of one at A­thens, Socrates onely ad­iudged vvise. & such an one as by Apollo his Oracle, was adiudged the wisest man in ye world. This wisdome men thinke to bee in you, yt you accoūpt al yt, which is your The true rycheste are the giftes of he minde own, to bee ledged win you, & that you thinke al worldly haps inferiour to ver­tue. And for this cause (I beleue) they aske me & Scaeuola here also, after what [Page 4] sort you take Aphricanus deathe: & the rather because these laste Nones, when we came into D. Brutꝰ Augurs gardein (as ye vsage is) to talke & reason of mat­ters, you were not therat, who were al­waies afore, wont to supply yt day & that charge most diligētly.

SCAE.

In dede Laelius, many do aske yt question, as Fā ­niꝰ hath already declared. But I shape to them this answere, yt I wel perceiue you did moderatly beare the sorow whi­che you cōceiued for ye death of so noble a Gentlemā, & so louing a frēd: & that you could not chose but be somwhat perplex­ed in mind: and yt of your natural clemē ­cte, you could not otherwise doe.

And as cōcerning your absēce frō our cō pany these Nones, I laid for youre excu­se, yt sicknes, & not sorowe was the cause therof.

LAE.

You say very wel Scaeuo­la. & truly. For neither ought I for anye losse of mine own, to be wtdrawen frō ex­ecuting yt charge (which so lōg as I was in health I alwaies performed) neyther do I thinke yt any such chaunce can hap­pen Constācy. to a constant man, whereby shoulde ensue any intermission of dutie.

And as for you Fannius, who say that [Page] the world doth ascribe so much vnto me as I neyther agnize nor require, you do therein frendlye. But me thinckes you iudge not rightly of Cato: for eyther no Cato a vviseman man (which I rather beleeue) or if anye were, certes he was a wiseman. For (to passe ouer all other thinges vntouched) how tooke he the death of his sonne? I remēber Paulus, and I haue seene Cai­us. But these maye not seeme to bee cō ­pared to the worthy and noble Cato.

And therfore beware how you preferre anye before Cato, no, not him, whom A­pollo (as you say) adiudged ye wisest: for of this man, his deedes, & of that other, his sayinges are commended.

But nowe (to aunswere you bothe at once) as concerning mine own self, thus stādeth the case. If I should flatly deny, that I am nothing at al greeued for the losse of Scipio, howe well I shoulde doe therein, let wisemen iudge: but truelye, I should tell you a stout lye. For I am Death of freendes greeuous. plunged in heauines, being bereft of su­che a frend, as (I thinke) neuer shalbee the like, and as I can well approue, ne­uer hath any bene. But I neede no Phy­sicke. [Page 5] I comfort my selfe, and chieflye wt this kinde of comfort, that I am not in yt To be o­uer sorovvful for the death of them that dye vvell, is to repy­ne at their vvelfare & better state. error, wherwith the more sort of men at the death of their frendes be commonly encombred. For I thincke that no man­ner of hurte is happened vnto Scipio: myne is ye harme, if any be. And for a mā to pine away wt sorow for his own losses, is not the propertye of one yt loueth hys frend, but of one rather that loueth himselfe. As for him, who can deny that he is not in blessed plight and estate? For, vnlesse hee woulde haue wished to haue lyued heere for euer (which thing surely was most farre frō his meaninge) what thing hath hee not obteined that was re­quisite and lawfull for a man to wishe? Who presentlye at his entraunce into mans state, farre surmounted with hys singuler vertues, that great hope which the citizens had already cōceiued of him being yet a childe. Who neuer sued for the Consulship, and yet was twise made Consul: first, before his time: seconde­ly, When he vvas but 22. yeares of age. in respect of himselfe, in due & cōueniēt time, but in respect of ye cōmon wealth [Page] almost to late. Who by subuerting two Citties, most bitter & deadly enemies to this Empire, not only eased vs frō broi­les Carthage and Nu­mantia. presēt, but also rid vs frō warres to come. What shal I say of his most cur­teous manners? of his naturall zeale to­wardes his mother? of his liberality to­wards his sisters, of his boūtie towards his frēds, of his vpright dealing towar­des al men? These things be wel knowē vnto you. And howe entierlye beloued hee was of all the Cittye, was testified by yt moane yt was made at his funerals. What therefore coulde the hauinge of a few yeres moe, haue profited him? For oldage, although it be not cōbersome (as I remēber Cato a yere before his death Oldage. discoursed wt me & Scipio) yet it taketh a way that gallantise, wherein Scipio as then was Wherfore his life was such, either throughe Fortune or glory, yt no­thing could be therūto added more. And his quicke departure quight toke away, al paine or sense of Death: of which kind of dying, it is an hard point, to determin any certeinty. What men do iudge, you know. Notwithstāding, this may I safe lye say, yt among al the famous & ioyful [Page 6] dayes, whiche P. Scipio in his life time saw, yt day of al other was ye noblest, whē as anone a [...]ter the breaking vp of ye. Se­nate, Scipio brought home frō the Senat house honorablye. the day before he departed this life, he was honorably brought home in the euening, by the Lords of the coūsel, by yt League frends of the Romaines, & by yt Latines: so yt frō so honorable a steppe of dignitie, he seemed rather to haue moū ­ted vp to heauen, thē to haue gone down to hel. For I cānot in anye wise agree wt thē in opiniō, which of late brought thes matters into questiō, yt the soules died wt the bodies: & that death played swoope­stake of al together. I make more accoūt then so, of the aucthority of aūcient per­sons Immortality of the soule. in thold time, & of our Elders, whi­che appointed such reuerent lawes for ye [...]ead: which thing (doubtles) they would not haue done, if they had thought yt no­thing had concerned thē: & of thē which dwelled in this land, & instructed great Greece (which then florished, but now is quight destroyed (wt their good lessōs, & precepts: & of him, yt was by Apollo hys Oracle demed the wisest mā aliue, who did not affirme nowe one thinge, and now another (as manye doe) but con­tinued alwayes in one Opinion, that [Page] mennes soules were deuine, and that as­sone as they be departed out of the body, the mindes of euery good and iuste man haue a very ready and spedy passage in­to heauen. Of which opinion also Scipio was: who as though he should by inspi­ration foretell a thing, a very few daies before his death (when both Philus and Manilius & diuers other were present, and when you your selfe, Scaeuola, com­muned with mee) discoursed three whole Immortality of the soule. dayes together of the common wealth: ye last knitting vp of al which discourse, was in a maner concerning the immor­talitie of the soule: all which (hee saide) hee hearde in his sleepe by vysion of A­phricanꝰ. If this be true, that the Soule of euerye worthy wighte, at the time of death doth easely mount into heauen, as being deliuered out of yt prisō, & Gieues of the bodies: whom shall we thinke, had an easier passage to God, then Scipio? Wherefore to bee sorye at this his good hap, I feare, were rather the part of an enuious, then of a frendlye person. On the other side, if I were doubtful of this, that the Soule dyed together with the [Page 8] body, & that there remayned no feeling either of weale or woe: then trulye, as in Death ther is no goodnes, so neyther is there any euilnes. For when Sense & feelinge is once gone, hee is become as though he had neuer bene borne: and yet that hee was borne, bothe wee doe re­ioyce, and all this Cittye, (as longe as it standeth) shalbe glad. Wherfore as (I said before) hee is verye well, and in better case then I am: whō reason wold yt as I came before him into this world, so I should haue gone before him out of this life. But yet I take such an inward ioye at the remembrance of our Friend­shippe, that mee thinckes I lyued bles­sedlye, What frendship is. because I lyued with Scipio: wt whō I had a ioynt care of matters both publique & priuate: wt whō both in peace & warre I toke like part: & (yt wherin ye whole summe of Frēdshippe consisteth) there was betwene vs a most persect a­greement of willes, desires, & opinions.

Therfore this fame of wisdome (whi­the Fannius ere while rehearsed, dothe not so much delight me (specially being false) as that I hope, the memorie of our [Page] Frēdship shalbe euerlasting, & the grea­ter hartioye is it to me, because in so ma­ny hūndred yeres passed, ther cā be rec­kened scarcely iii or iiii. couples of Frē ­des: There ha­ue not ben found a­boue thre or fovver couples of perfect frends in manye hundred yeres spa­ce. in which sorte I see there is hope yt the Frēdship of Scipio & Laelius shalbe renowmed to posterity.

FAN.

It cānot chose (Laelius) but be e­uen so as you say. But because you haue made mētion of Frēdship, & wee be also at good leysure, you shal do me a singu­ler pleasure, & likewise I hope to Scaeuola if (accordingly as you are wōt of other matters whē they be demaūded of you) you woulde nowe make some prety dis­course of Frēdship, what you think of it, what maner of thing you accoūt it, and what good lessons you geue therupon.

SCAEV.

Certeinly yt hādling of this matter shal singulerly delite me: & euen as I was aboute to breake my minde to you touchinge the same, Fannius pre­uented me. Wherfore sir, you shal exce­dingly gratifie vs both.

LAE

Certes I would not sticke to do it, if I thoughte my selfe wel able. For the matter is both excellent, and we bee [Page 8] (as Fānius saide) at verye good leasure. But who am I? or what ability is therin me? This is the fashion of learned mē & that among the Grekes, to haue a matter propounded vnto thē, to reason vpō, although vpon the sodain. It is a great piece of worcke, & hath nede of no small exercise.

Wherefore I thincke it beste for you to Frēdship to be este­med more then all vvorldlye thinges. seeke those pointes which may be dispu­ted of Frendship, at their handes which professe these things. I can no more but exhort you to preferre Frendship before al worldly matters. For nothing is so a­greable to nature, nothing so fitte either for prosperity or aduersitye.

But first and formost this do I think, that Frendshippe cannot be but in good men. Neither do I searche this matter to the quicke, as they which ryp vp this geare somwhat more preciselye: and al­thoughe perchaunce truly, yet little to common profite. For they denye that a­nye Frēdship onelye a­monge good mē. mā is good, sauing him that is wise. Admit it be so. But they expound wyse­dome to be such a thing, as neuer yet any earthly man attaigned.

But wee muste hope for those thynges [Page] whiche bee in vre and common practise: not for those thinges, which be feigned or wished for. I wil neuer saye that C. Fabritius, M. Curius. & T. Corūcanus, whō our elders deemed wisemen, were wise, after these mens rule. Wherefore let them kepe to themselues their name of wisdome, beinge both liable to muche enuy and also vnaccoumpted of, and let them graunt that these were good men. But they will neuer so do: for they will denye that that can be graunted to anie, sauing to him that is wise. Let vs ther­fore goe euen bluntly to worcke, and (as ye Prouerbe is) in termes, as plain as a packe staffe. They that so behaue them­selues, and so lyue, that their faythful­nesse, honesty, vpright dealinge and libe­ralitie is allowed, and in whom is ney­ther any couetousnes, lust, or rash bold­nesse, who be also men of great constan­cie (as were these whom I erewhile na­med) those (as they were accoumpted Nature the beste guide to frame our lyues by. good men) so lette vs thincke them well worthy to be called: who do follow na­ture the best Guyde of wel lyuing, so far forth as mannes power can reache. For [Page 9] thus much me thinkes I espye, that we are so borne, to then de there shoulde bee a certaine felowshippe amonge vs all: & the nearer that euerye one commeth to other, the greater should the felowship Order of Frēdship be. Therfore are our own Countrimen better beloued of vs then straungers, & our kinsfolke dearer to vs, then frenne­folke. For, towardes these, hath Nature herselfe bred a frendlinesse: but in this there is not such durable surenesse. For herein doth Frendshippe excel kinred, in that, kinred may be without goodwill: but Frendshippe in no wise can lacke it. For take awaye Goodwill, and the na­me of Frendshippe is cleane gone: but the name of kinred may still remayne.

Now, of what vertue and strengthe, Frendshippe is, may hereby namely be vnderstode: that of the infinite societies of mankinde whiche Nature herselfe hath knitte together, the whole matter is so abridged and brought into such na­rowe rowme, that al perfect Frendship is eyther betwene twain, or els betwene a verye fewe. For Frendshippe is no­thinge elles but a perfecte agreemente [Page] with goodwil and hearty loue in al mat­ters, both diuine and humaine. Then What frendship is. the whiche I knowe not whether anye better Gift (Wisedome onely excepte) were geeuen by God vnto men. Some Frēdshyp the beste thig next vnto vvisedome, rather preferre Rythesse: some health: others Honour: many also vaine pleasu­res. But certes this laste is for Beastes: the other afore are transitorye and vncertayne, consistinge not so muche in our owne apoyntmentes, as in the fic­klenesse of Fortune.

But they whiche repose the chiefeste goodnesse in Vertue, doe therein excel­lently wel: and yet this same Vertue is Frēdshyp cannot be vvhere vertue is not. it, whiche engendreth and vpholdeth Freendshippe: neyther can Freende­shippe in anye wise bee withoute Ver­tue.

Now let vs iudge Vertue by the or­der of our lyfe and talke. And let vs not measure it (as some vnlearned doe) by the statelynesse of Woordes: and let vs accoumpte them Goodmen, who are so reputed, that is to witte, the Pau­les, the Catoes, the Caians, the Scipions, and the Pniloes.

[Page 10] These helde themselues contented with this common kinde of lyfe. And let vs passe theym ouer, whiche are not anye where at all to bee founde. Amonge suche manner of persons, Frendshyppe hath so greate Commodities, as I am scarce able to expresse. Firste and fore­moste, [...]Co [...] diti [...] [...] Frēd [...]. what man can haue anye Ioye to lyue in this lyfe (as Ennius sayth) whi­che delighteth not in the mutual Frendshippe and goodwill, of some especiall Freende? What pleasaunter thynge can there bee, then to haue one, with whom thou darest as boldelye talke, & breake thy minde, as with thine owne selfe? What greate Ioye shoulde a man haue in his Prosperitie: if hee had not some to reioyce and take parte of the same with him, aswel as himselfe?

And as touching Aduersitie, it were a verye harde matter to beare it, wyth­out some, that would take the same, euen more greuouslye then thou thy selfe.

To conclude, all other thinges whyche are desired, do (in a maner) al seueral­lye serue to seueral purposes: as Riches [Page] for vse: wealth for worshippe: Honour, for prayse: Pleasure for delight: Health to want griefe and to execute the offices of the bodye. Frendshippe compriseth many thinges moe. Which way soeuer thou tournest thee, it is at hande: in no place is it excluded: it is neuer oute of season, neuer troublesome.

Therfore we doe vse neyther water, fi­er nor ayer (as they saye) in mo places, then wee do frendshippe. Neither do I Frēdship no lesse necessarye then the Elements speake of the vulgare or meane sorte of Frendshippe (whiche notwithstandinge both delighteth & profiteth) but of true and perfect Frendshippe, such as theirs was, who are very fewe and sone recke­ned. For Frendshippe maketh prosperi­tie bothe more glittringe and glorious: and aduersitie (by partinge & cōmunica­ting of grieues) it maketh lighter, and easier. And whereas Frendshippe con­teyneth in it very many and great com­modities, this (doubtlesse) passeth al the rest, in that, it comforteth vs aforehande with a good hope of yt whiche is to come, and suffreth neither the heart to quayle nor the courage to be abated, For hee yt [Page 11] eyeth and looketh vppon his faythfull Frend, doth (as it were) behold a certen A true faythfull frend is as mannes ovvnse pattern of his owne selfe. And therefore although absent, yet are they present: & beinge needye, haue store ynoughe, and beinge weake, are strong: and (whiche is a straunge matter to bee tolde) beinge dead are aliue. So great is the honour, remembrance, and zeale, that is bredde in freendes one towards an other, By reason whereof, the death of the one see­meth blessed, & the lyfe of the other cō ­mendable.

Now, if you take out of the world the knot of Frendship, certes, neyther shall any house be able to stand, ne City to en­dure, no, nor yet any tillage to continue. And if hereby it cannot throughly be cō ­ceiued, howe great the force of Freend­shippe and concord is: yet at least by dis­cord and diffention, it may well be per­ceiued. What house is there so well Withoute Frēdshyp al things goe to hauocke and decaye. staid, what City so strong, that through hatred, and discorde, may not be vtterly subuerted? Whereby, what goodnesse resseth in Frendshippe, may easelye bee iudged.

[Page] Men saye that a certayne Learned Empedo­cles affir­med that the vvor­lde and al thinges consisted of Frendeship. man of Agrigent, displayed in Greeke Verses, that all thinges whiche are in this World, and haue mouinge, are knit together by Frendshippe, & that by dis­corde, they are disseuered. And this doe all men both vnderstande, and by proofe do finde to hee very true. Therfore if at any time there hath bene kindnes shew­ed by one frend toward another, eyther in aduenturinge, or in participatinge of perils, what is hee that wil not highlye commend the same? What a shout was there of late made by al the whole Sta­ge, at the newe Enter lude made by my host and frend M. Pacuuius? when as the kinge not knowinge whether of the twayne was Orestes: Pylades affirmed Pylades & Orestes. himselfe to be Orestes because he would haue suffred death for him: Againe, O­restes (as the truthe was) stiffelye ad­uouched that hee and not the other was Orestes. The standers by clapped their handes together for ioye thereat. And this being done in a feigned tale, what thincke wee woulde they haue done in a [Page 12] true matter? Here did Nature herselfe vtter her force, when as men adiudged that thing to bee well done in an other, which they themselues could not doe-Hytherto as mee thinckes I haue euen throughlye spoken my full mynde and opinion of Freendeshippe. If there bee anye more to bee saide (as I thincke there is a greate deale) seeke it (if ye thinke it good) at their handes whiche dispute these kinde of matters.

FANNI.

But wee had rather heare it of you. Albe it I haue oftenti­times soughte the same at their handes, and haue hearde theym also, and that not vnwyllingelye. But wee looke for an other maner of Veine and Style at your handes.

SCAEVOL.

You woulde much more haue sayd so, Fannius, if you had bene present with vs in Scipio his Gar­deine, at what tyme there was reaso­ninge of the Common wealthe, what a Patrone of Iustice hee was agaynste a certain curious Oration that Philus made.

FANN.

That surelye was an easye [Page] matter, for a iust man to defend Iustice. SCAE. And what say you of Freende­shippe? Shall it not bee alike easye for him to doe therein semblablye, who for faithfully, constantlye, and iustlye kee­pinge the same, hath gotten greate re­nowme?

LAEL.

Thys (truly) is euen to force mee to speake. For what skilleth it, by what way you do force me? This am I sure of, that ye force mee. For to wyth­stand the earnest requestes of a mannes Sonnes in Law, and namely in a good matter, partly it is an hard case, & part­lye it standeth not with reason.

Manye times therefore as I debate wt my selfe of Frendshippe, I am wonte to thincke this one thinge therein worthye of speciall consideration: whether men ought to seeke for Frendship onely for a stay to their weakenesse and neede, that in doing and taking good turnes, a mā vvherefore Freendes be sought for. might receiue that of an other, which he coulde not compasse or attaigne vnto by himselfe, and enter chaungeably requite the same: or whether this were (in deede) one propertie belonging to Frendship, [Page 13] but yet that there was an other cause more noble more cōmēdable, & more pro­cedīg frō nature itselfe. For loue (wher Loue. of frendlye loue or Frendship is named) is ye chiefest cause that fastneth goodwil together. For profite is oftentimes got­ten euen at their handes, who vnder the coūterfeit shew of Frendship are sought vnto, & as ye time serueth, are wayted vpō at an inche. But in Frendshippe there is no glauering, no dissemblinge: what soe­uer is in it, the same is true and volun­tarye.

Wherfore me thinkes Frendship had Frēdshyp natural. his first beginning rather of nature thē of imbecillitye: & of castinge ones phan­sie towards another, with a certaine fee­ling of Loue, rather then by considering how much profit might eniue therupon. The which surely, what maner of thing it is, maye euen in certeine Beastes bee perceiued: which for a certen time so tē ­derlye loue their young ones, and bee a­gain so loued of them, that their feeling therof easely appeareth: which thing in man is much more euident. First by yt deare loue that is betweene Children, & [Page] Parentes which cannot without dete­stable bill anye bee disseuered.

Secondarilye, when as there is a like feelinge of Loue againe: as when wee haue found one with whose Manners and Nature wee well agree: (because to oure owne thinckinge) wee espye in him (as it were) a certeine Lighte of Honestie and vertue. For nothinge is Vertue. more louelye and amiable then Vertue, nothinge that more allureth men to loue one another: Insomuche that for Vertue and honestie we doe after a sort, loue euen them whom wee neuer saw. Who is hee, that doeth not with a cer­ten singuler Loue, and Goodwyll to­wardes the parties, vse the remem­braūce of C. Fabritius, and M. Curius, whom notwithstanding hee neuer saw? Who againe dothe not hate Tarquini­us the proude, Sp. Cassius, and Sp. Me­lius? Wee stroue for the Empire, in Italye with two Capitaines, Pyrrhus, and Hannibal: and yet from the one of Pyrrhus. Hannibal them, because of his honest name wee did not altogether estraunge oure har­tes: The other for his crueltie, this Ci­tie [Page 14] of oures will for euer deteste.

Nowe, if the force of Honestye bee so greate, that wee loue the same, yea, in those, whom wee neuer sawe, and (whi­che is more) euen in oure Enemies: what meruayle is it, if mennes hartes bee mooued, when they seeme to per­ceiue and see Vertue, and goodnesse in them, with whom they maye bee ioy­ned in acquaintaunce and cōuersation. Albeit Loue is confirmed by benefites receiued, by Goodwyll approued, and Loue con­firmed by Benefites by acquaintaunce adioyned: All whi­che thinges beinge layed together to that firste motion of mannes mynde and Loue, there is enkindled a wonderfull greatenesse of Goodwyll, and Freend­lynesse. Whiche if anye doe thincke to proceede and come of Imbecillitye, as thoughe it shoulde bee but to serue euerye mannestourne, thereby to gette the thynge whyche hee desireth: suche men surelye doe make a verye base and (as a man shoulde saye) no Gentleman-like Base peda grevv of Frēdship race vnto Freendeshyppe, if they woulde haue it to descende and haue [Page] his beginning from needines and want. Which thing if it were so: then, as euery man felt himselfe of smallest abilitie, so should he bee most fittest for Frendship: which thing is farre otherwise. For as euery man trusteth moste to himselfe: & as euerye man is with vertue and wise­dome so singulerlye furnished, that hee standeth not in neede of anye other, and thincketh that al which is his, resteth in himselfe: so in seeking and mainteining Frendship doth he especially surmount. For what? Had Aphricanus any neede of me? Neuer a whit surely. And I nei­ther of him. But I throughe a certeine Scipio & Laelius, ij perfecte frendes. admiration that I had of his vertue lo­ued him: and againe, he, for some opini­on perchaunce, that hee conceiued of my maners phansied mee: and our dayly cō uersation together, encreased our good­willes. But although many and greate commodities ensued thereof, yet did not the causes of our loue one to the other is­sue from any hope of suche thinges. For as wee bee bountifull and liberal, not of purpose to get thanckes therefore (for wee do not lay out our benefites to vsu­rye, [Page 15] but are by nature enclineable to ly­beralitie) Good turnes & plesures laid out to vsurye. so likewise do we thincke that Freendship is to be desired of men, not ledde thereto with hope of rewarde, but because all the fruicte thereof resteth in very loue itselfe. Frēdshyp must not be desired for profit.

Wee farre disagree in opinion from them whiche after the manner of bruite Beastes doe referre al thinges to Plea­sure & Sensualitie. And no meruayle. For why? They that haue abased & caste al their cogitations vpon a thing so vile and contemptible, cannot haue anye re­garde to any high, noble, and heauenly thinge. Wherefore let vs set aside suche maner of persons from this talke: and let vs vnderstand yt the feelinge of Loue and perfecte goodwill is engendred by Nature, with hauinge some significatiō or proofe of honestye. Whiche honestye they that desire and seeke after, applye themselues, and draw neerer thereunto: that they may enioy both the companye, and also the maners of him, whom they haue begon to loue: and that they may be Mates, and alike in Loue, readier to doe a good turne, then to seeke for anye. [Page] And let this bee an honest kinde of strife betweene them.

Thus shal verye great commodities bee taken of Freendship, and the firste beginninge thereof, beinge of Nature and not of Imbecillitie) shall bee bothe waightier and truer. For if Profite shoulde fasten and knitt Freendshyppe, Nature cā not bee chaunged ne yet Frendship then the same beinge chaunged, shoulde dissolue and lewse it agayne. But bee­cause Nature cannot be chaunged, ther­fore true Freendshyppes are euerlast­inge. Thus you see the beeginninge of Freendshyppe: excepte peraduenture there bee some thinge elles that you would demaunde.

SCAE.

Naye Laelius, I praye you proceede in your matter: for, as for him heere that is my younger, I dare vpon myne owne warrant aunswere.

FAN.

In deede you say wel: wher­fore let vs heare further.

LAELIVS.

GEeue eare then Gentlemen to those things, whiche manye times and [Page 16] often haue beene reasoned betweene mee and Scipio, concerninge Freende­shyppe: Howbeit his sayinge was, that nothing was harder, then for Freende­shyppe to continue vnto the laste houre of Death. For hee woulde saye, that it oftentimes happened, eyther that one and the selfe same thinge shoulde not be Conti­nuance of Frēdship. expediente for bothe parties: or elles that they woulde not alwayes bee of one mynde in matters of the common wealthe. Hee woulde also saye, that mennes maners did often chaunge, som­times by the worlde goinge awrye, som­tymes by growinge forwarde in age.

And of these thinges hee woulde bringe an Example by a comparison made of Boyes age, because the hoattest loue that Children had, was oftentimes de­termined Children in Freendshipp and lo [...]e nevv fangled. and ended, at the age when theire voyces c [...]aunge: And albeit they continued it till the age of their A­dolescencye: yet hee sayde, that their Freendshyppe was oftentimes broken of, eyther throughe some contention, or by reason of Ryotte, or some other [Page] profite because both of thē could not ob­teyn one selfe thinge. Insomuch that if anye of them, by longer time continued in Frendshippe, yet that they often ti­mes iarred, if they happened to sue for Preferrement and Dignitye. And fur­ther hee sayde, that there was no grea­ter Coue­tousnes a great pla­gue to Frēdship. plague in Freendshyppe, then in the moste sorte of men, Couetousnes of monye: and in the beste sort, striuing for aduauncement and glorye. Whereup­on manye tymes greate enemitye hath happened betwene ryght deare frends. Also hee recoumpted, that greate vari­aunces, and the same many times vpon good causes, did arise, whē as any thing was required of frendes, that was not honest: as eyther that they should be mi­nisters of Luste to others, or helpers to thē in doing of wronge. Whiche thinge they that refused to do, although in so do iuge they did but righte honestlye, yet should they be reproued as forsakers of the law of Friendshippe at their hands whose requestes they would not accom­plishe. And that they whiche had the face to request any thing whatsoeuer, at [Page 17] their frendes handes, did by suche their demaunde professe, that they for theire Freendes sake woulde do all thinges. And that through their inueterate suuf­finge one at an other, not onely their fa­miliarities was wont to be extinguished but also greate and endlesse hatred to growe betweene them.

These so many thinges (sayde hee) o­uerthwarted & hanged (as who shoulde say) by destenie ouer Freendshippe: in so much that to escape all these, seemed to him (as he saide) not onelye a parte of Wisdome, but also of very Happinesse.

Wherfore if it please you, let vs first Hovv far the boūds of frendeshyp stretche. see, howe farre Loue ought to stretche in Freendshippe. As if Coriolanus had frends, whether they ought to haue ioyned sides and borne weapon with the Cōmotiō of Corio­lanus. same Coriolanus against their country? Whether Becillinus his freendes ought to haue holpen him, when hee aspired to Soueraigntie? whether Sp. Melius his welwillers ought to haue taken part wt him or no? Wee sawe that Tiberius Gracchus when hee disquieted the Common wealth, was cleane forsaken of Q. [Page] Tubero, & other frendes yt were his cō paigniōs. But Caius Blosiꝰ ye Cumane, (a Guest of your family Scaeuola) when A manne must not for his fredes sake do anye thing that is eyther vnlavvful or vnhonest. hee came and made sute to me (sitting in counsayle with Lenas and Rutilius the Consuls) alledged this as a cause why I shoulde pardon his trespasse: because (for sooth) he made such special accoūpte of Tiberius Gracchus, yt if hee had but said the word, & cōmaunded any thing, yt same be thought himselfe bounde in du­tie to doe. Sayye so (quoth I?) what & if hee had bid thee to set the Capitol on fier, wouldst thou do it? Hee would ne­uer Capitol. (said he) haue willed me to do any such thinge: but if hee had, truly I woulde Blosius desperate aunsvver haue done it. You see what a villanous saying this was. And in deede so he did: or rather more then he saide: for hee not only folowed the heady rashenes of Ti­berius Gracchus, but also was a Ring­leader: and shewed himselfe not onelye a compagnion of his outrage, but also a Capitain. Therfore in this mad moode being afrayde of a farther examination, hee fledde into Asia, and gotte him to oure Enemies, and in the ende for his [Page 18] trayterous attemptes against our City, receiued a greuous and well deserued Such a [...] vnexcusable as do attempte any thing vnlavvful to pleasure their frendes. punishmente. No excuse therfore will serue for an offence, if a man offende for his freendes sake. For sithens the opi­nion of Vertue is the breeder of Frend­shippe, it is harde for Freendshippe to remayn, if a man swerue from Vertue. Nowe if wee doe agree that it is honest and reasonable, eyther to graunt to our Reques [...] of frend [...] to frend. Freendes, what soeuer they wil haue, or to obteyue of oure Freendes, what so euer wee desire, therein (trulye) we bee of a righte tryed wisedome, if there bee no fault cōmitted in our dealings. But we speake of those frēdes, which be dayly in our sights, whō we see or of whom we haue heard talke, or such as in common dealings of life are throughly knowen. Out of the nūber of such, must wee cull out examples, and namely of them, whi­che approached neerest vnto wisdome. We certeinly know that Paulus Aemi­lius was very familier with C. Luciniꝰ, (as wee haue heard our forefathers re­porte) and that they were twise Cōsuls together, & felowes in ye office of Cēsor­shippe. [Page] We finde also in Histories that at that time together with theym, M. Curius & T. Coruncanus were very great frēds. Therfore we cānot so much as one su­specte that anye of these did earnestlye requeste anye thinge of his frende, that was cōtrary to their faith, against their oth, or preiudicial to the cōmon wealth. For to what purpose should it be, to say that any suche thinges were in suche men as they were? If they had neuer so earnestly requested any such thing, I knowe they shoulde not haue obteyned their Sute, sithens they were men most vertuous. But let it be alike hey­nous to requeste our freend an vnreaso­nable As greate an offēce to graunt an vnlavv full sute, as to requeste it. sute, & to graunt the same beinge asked. But yet Caius Carbo fauoured Tiberius Gracchus. and so did C. Cato, beinge at that time no backefreende to Caius his brother, but is now his moste heauye enemie.

LET this therfore be the first decreed An vnhonest re­quest must be denied Law in Frendshippe, that wee ney­ther request thinges vnhoneste: neither beinge requested, do anye. For it is a shameful excuse and not to be dispenced [Page 19] withall, for a man, in any other faults, but namely in offences against the Common wealth, to confesse that be did it for his Freendes sake. For wee are pla­ced (O Fannius and Scaeuola) in that rowme and callinge, that it behoueth vs longe afore to foresee the chaunces, yt may happen to the common wealth.

For the custome that our forefathers v­sed, is now somewhat altered and step­ped There is not suche iuste dea­linges a­mong mē novv a dayes as was in the olde tim [...] aside out of his olde course.

Tiberius Gracchus wence aboute to v­surpe the kingdome: yea, he ruled as a King in deede for certaine monethes.

Hath euer the people of Rome heard or seene the like? His example also after his death did his freendes and kinsfolke folowe. What partes they played a­gainst P. Scipio Nasica, I am not hable withoute teares to declare. And as for Carbo (of whom I spake erewhile) wee did suffer and heare with him, because of the late punishment of Tiberius Grac­chus.

But what my minde geeueth mee, will fall out in C. Gracchus Tribune­shippe, I am not now disposed to vtter. [Page] for thence ye matter by litle & litle stylye By these tvvo lavves made by Gabimus and Cassius, the goods of certein good Citizens vvere vvholy forfeited & proclamation made that they thē selues vvhere euer they vver foūd mighte lavvfully be slaine and a revvard a pointed for the sleiar. creepeth forwarde, whiche fully tending to a further mischiefe (when it once bee­ginneth) wil mainlye runne beadlonge. You see already aforehande in the rolle of Attaintes, what dishonour hath enfu­ed, first by the * Law called Gabinia, and within two yeres after by the law Cas­sia. Me thinckes I already see the Cō ­mo [...]a [...]ie of Rome deuided from ye Se­nate, and the waightie affayres thereof to be ordered after the willes of the cōmon multitude. For moe will learne howe to doe these thinges, then home to withstand them. But to what end do I speake this? Verelye because no man goeth about any suche attemptes with­out mo partahers. * Therefore muste a Couent be geuen to yt honest sort, that if by any chaunce they light vnawares in­to such Frendeshippes, they should not thincke theymselues so tyed thereunto, If our frē des conspyre against the cōmon vvealthe vve ought to forsake them. but that they may lawfully geeue their frends the slip, namely when they prac­tise any great matter, to the hurt of the cōmon wealth. And vnto the euil dispo­sed persōs, must a punishmēt be deuised: & no lesse for thē yt partake wt others, thē [Page 20] for those yt bee the verye Ringleaders, & Capitaines of mischiefe themselues.

What Noble man was there in all Greece more renowmed thē Themisto­cles? Who was of greater power then We oug­hte not to seeke the spoyle of oure countrye, for anye iniury to vs done. he? who bring Generall in the warres againste the Persians, deliuered Greece from Bondage: and being afterwarde through enuy banished, could not digest and suffer that Iniurye of his vnkinde Country, whiche his parte was to haue suffered. He playd yt like part as Corio­lanꝰ did xx. yeres before, with vs. There was not one māfoūd yt would aid thē a­gainst Coriolanus. their coūtry: & therfore both of thē killed thēselues. Wherefore such cōspi­racy of naughty persōs is not only not to be cloked wt any pretēce of Frēdship, but is rather wt al extremitie to be punished: yt no mā may think it lawful to cōsent to his frēd yt warreth against his Coūtry: which thing (as yt world now beginneth to goe) I know not whether it will one day come to passe or no. Verely I haue no lesse care, in what state the Common A noble and moste worthye care. wealthe shalbe after my deathe: then I haue of the case it standeth in at this pre­sent day.

[Page] LET this therfore bee enacted as ye Lavvfull requestes, & graunts of frends, one to an other. firste law of Frendship, that wee re­quest at our frendes handes, those thin­ges that be honest: and that wee doe for our freendes sakes, al thinges that bee reasonnable: and that wee do not pinch curtesye in stayinge till wee bee reques­sted, but let vs euer haue an earnest good will to pleasure them: let all delayes be set aparte: and let vs bee glad in deede, freelye to geeue our freende good coun­sell. Frendes maye not flatter but freelye & boldlye aduertise & counsel one an o­ther. Let the Aucthoritie of Freendes (geuing soūd counsel) beare great sway and force in Frendship, and let the same be vsed to warne one another, not onely plainly, but (if occasion so serue) sharp­lye: and let suche aucthoritie so geeuen be throughly obeyed. As for those good felowes, whom (as I heare say) were ac­coūted ioly wisemē in Greece, I thinke they delited in some vncouth wonders. Epicures. But there is nothing wherupō they doe not deskant wt their quiddities: as part­lye that wee should eschew Frendshippe with too manye, least one man shoulde be driuen to be careful formanye: & that euerye man shoulde haue fully ynoughe [Page 21] to doe, to care for his owne matters: yt it is a great trouble to be ouermuch en­cōbred with other mens dealings: & that it is a iolye matter to haue yt Reynes of Frendship at wil, eyther to plucke s [...]reit when a man is disposed, or to let goe at large, at his own pleasure. And that the principallest point of happy life is Qui­etnesse: which the mynde cannot enioye, if one should beare al yt burden and as it were) trauaile with childe for many.

Another sort (they say) there be, whi­che holde a more beastlye opinion then these aboue (as I brieflye noted a little before) affirming that Frendship ought to bee desired for a stay and a helpe to be had thereby, not for any goodwil or har­tie loue. Therefore by this reckening, as euerye one hath of himselfe smallest staye & abilitye, so should he moste seeke for Frendeshippe. And by this meanes it happeneth that seelye women seeke the aide of Frendship more then men: and the needye more then the wealthye: and the miserablie distressed, more then they that be accoumpted fortunate.

Oh passinge braue wisedome. For they [Page] seme to take the Sūne out of the world, whiche would take Freendshippe, from among vs: then the which, we haue no­thinge Frēdship is as the shininge Sun in the vvorlde. eyther better or pleasaunter by the immortall Gods geuen vnto vs.

For what maner of Quietnes is this? forsooth, to see to: very pleasaunt: but in deede, in many respectes to be reiected. For it standeth not with reason, eyther not to take in hande, or beinge taken in hande, to leaue of, any honest cause or We muste euer bee doinge of good. deede, because thou wouldest not bee troubled. But if wee refuse care, wee must then refuse Vertue, which must of necessitye with some care despise and hate those things that be contrary to it: as for example: Goodnes must hate E­uilnesse: Temperaunce, Ryotte: For­titude, Cowardise. Therefore a man maye see the iust, greatlye greeued at matters vniuste, the stout at the weake: the modest liuers wt pranckes vngraci­ous. This therefore is the propertie of Propertie of a vvell staid mind a well stayed mynde, to reioyce at good things, & to be sory for the contrary.

Wherfore if griefe of mynde be inci­dēt to a Wisemā (as in very deede it is) [Page 22] excepte wee thincke that humanitie bee cleane dislodged out of his minde, what cause is there, why wee should vtterlye take away Frendshippe from the life of man, because we would take no paines, or troubles about it? For take awaye ye A man void of al affectiōs is like a logg or a stone. motions of the minde, and tell me what difference there is (I will not saye) bee­tweene a Beast and a man, but euen be­tweene a man and a Stone, or a Log, or any other such like thing?

Neyther are they to be geeuen eare vn­to, whiche holde opinion that Vertue is hard, & as it were pronlike: which sure­lye is in many things els, but especially in Frendship, tender, & tractable: in so much yt at ye weale of his frend, it sprea­deth itselfe abroade, and at his mishaps shrinketh in again. Wherfore this same trouble which must oftentimes be aby­den for our frends, is not of such force, yt it should quight take away Frendshippe frō amonge men: no more then Vertue ought to be reiected, because it bringeth sundrye cares and greuaunces. Seeing therefore yt Vertue causeth Freendship (as I afore haue declared) if any token or [Page] significatiō of vertue appeareth, wherū ­to a mind sēvlably disposed, may apply & ioyne itselfe: where this thing hapneth, ther (say I) nedes must Frēdship grow.

For what is so absurd, as to bee dely­ted with manye vayne things, as Honor. Glorye, Houses, Apparell, brauerye and deckinge of the bodye: and not to be ex­ceedinglye A prepos­terous & absurde delight. delighted with a Mynde en­dued with Vertue, suche a one as eyther can loue, or (as I may saye) afoord loue for loue againe? For there is nothinge more delectable, then is the requitall of good will: nothing more pleasaunt then is the mutual entrecourse of Freendli­nesse and curtesies. And if we adde this vnto it (whiche maye verye will bée ad­ded) Enter­chaunge­able re­quitall of curtesies. that there is nothinge whiche so greatly allureth & draweth anye thinge vnto it, as the likenesse of Conditions doth vnto Freendshippe: then surelye must this bee needes graunted true, that Likenes of man­ners and delights causethe Frēdship. goodmē do loue them which he good, & haunt together in company as mē neere ly ioyned together by kinred & nature.

For nothing is more desirous, nothīg is more eager & rauenous of his lyke, then Nature [Page 23] Nature.

Wherfore this in my iudgement is a One ver­tuous mā loueth an other. plaine case (Fannius and Scaeuola, that it cannot choose, but there must needes be amonge good men, one towardes an other, a freendly and hartie well mea­ninge: whiche is the Wellspringe of Freendshippe, appointed by Nature.

But this same goodnesse apperteyneth Vertue disdaig­neth no man. also to the common sort. For Vertue is not churlish, not exempted, not statelye, or proude: for her custome is to preserue all men in generall, and to doe the best for them that shee can: whiche thynge (doubtlesse) shee woulde not doe, if shee disoayned or thought skorne of the loue of the vulgar sort.

Furthermore, me thinckes that they whiche for profite sake feigne Freende­shippe, do take awaye the louelyest knot Good­vvill of a Freende, is more to be respected, then the gaine that may be gotten by him. that is in Freendshippe. For the profit gayned by a freende doeth not so muche delice, as doth the very loue of a freend. And then is that which commeth from a mans freende, pleasaunt, if it proceede of an hartie loue, and good will. And so farre of is it, that Freendshippe shoulde [Page] bee desired for needinesse, that they whi­ch beinge endued with wealth & Riches and speciallye with Vertue (wherein is most ayd) & not standing in neede of any other, are men most liberal & boūtifull.

And I know not, whether it be expe­dient and meete that frendes should ne­uer A frend is best knovven in time of necessity. want any thing at all. For wherein should my hartie goodwill haue appea­red, if Scipio had neuer stoode in neede, neyther at home in time of peace, nor a­broade in time of warres, of my fauour, True frēdship sekes not after gaine. coūsel, & assistaūce? Therfore Frendship prowles not after profit, but profit ensu­eth Frendship.

And therefore men yt slow in wealthe are not to be hearde, if at any time they dispute of Frendship, wherof they haue neither by Practise, neyther by know­ledge, anye vnderstandinge. For what Al vvorldly treasu­re vvith­out a frēd is to no purpose man is hee (I pray you in good sadnesse) yt would desire to wallowe in all wealth and liue in all abundaunce of worldlye Rychesse, and neyther hee to loue any body, nor any to loue him? For this were a life, such as Tirantes lyue: to witte, A Tyraūts lyfe. wherin there can be no fidelity, no harty [Page 24] loue, no trust of assured goodwil: al thin­ges euermore suspected & ful of care: & no place at al for Frendship. For who cā We cānot loue them of vvhom vve stand in feare, either loue him, whō hee feareth: or him of whō he thīketh himselfe to be feared: Notwtstanding such persons be honored & crowched vnto, by a coūterfeit shew of Frēdship, only for a time. But if it hap­pen (as oftētimes it doth) yt they haue a downfal, thē is it wel perceiued, how ba­re & naked of frendes they were. Which Aduersi­tie tryeth Freends. thing ye report goeth yt Tarquiniꝰ said, yt at suche time as hee was banished, hee throughly vnderstood what faithful frē ­des he had, & who were vnfaithful, whē as he was not able to require or gratify nether of thē. Howbeit I do meruaile, if in ye his proude & insolent life, hee could haue any frend at al. And as this mans maners, whō I last mētioned could not procure any true frēds: so yt great welth of mē set in high power & authoritye do quite shut out al faithful Frēdship. For Riches blindeth men. Fortune is not onely blinde, but for the most parte also, shee maketh thē starke Fortune. blinde, whom shee fauoureth.

And therfore commonly they are puffed [Page] vp with disdaynfulnesse and selfe will: and there is nothinge so wearisome as a wealthye man, beeing foolishe.

And this may we see, yt some which afore time were of manners gentle & nothing squeimish, if they bee reysed to rule, au­thoritye and wealth, are cleane chaun­ged: and vtterlie dispisinge their olde Frendshippes, cleane vnto new.

But what foolisher thinge is there, then for a man (to thende he maye beare greate Porte and Swaye throughe hys wealth, rychesse, and reuenues) to get Frendes the beste treasure. other things that are sought for, as mo­nye, Horses, Seruauntes, Apparayle, Worshippe and costlye Plate: and not to gette freendes being the best and (as I may say) the goodlyest furniture that can bee in this lyfe? For other thinges when they are gotten, they know not for whō they haue gotten thē, nor for whose vse and behoofe they labour. For eue­rye whit of all these, is his, yt can winne it with maine strengthe: but the pos­session of Freendshippe once gotten, re­mayneth and continueth vnto euerye man stedfast and assured: and although [Page 25] these other thinges should continue, whiche are but as it were the Giftes of Fortune, yet a clownish life, deuoide of freendes cannot be pleasaunte. But of these matters hytherto.

Now must we set down the Bounds that are in Frendshippe, & (as it were) Bounds of Frendship. Three opinions of Frendshippe. the Lymites, or Buttinges of Loue: whereof I doe see three opinions: of the which, I do allow neuer a one.

One is, that wee shoulde in the very same sort be affected towardes our frēd, as wee be towardes our selues. 1

An other is, that oure goodwyll to­wards our frendes, be likewise equally 2 correspondēt to their good wil towards vs.

The thirde, that so much as euerye man setteth by himselfe, so much hee 3 should be set by, of his frendes.

To none at al of these three opinions do I agree. For the firste is not true: that as euery man is towardes himselfe, so also shoulde hee bee affected towardes his freende. For how many thinges do wee for oure Freendes sake, which wee woulde neuer doe for our owne cause? [Page] As to crouche & sue in oure freendes be­halfe to an vnworthye man: to bee sore bent against any body, and to rattle him vp very sharpely: which things to do in cases of oure owne, standeth not well wt honestye: but in our frendes behalfe, are most honest & cōmendable. And manye things there be, wherein honest men do abridge themselues somewhat of theire owne gaines, and are well contented yt it should so be, that their frendes rather then themselues might enioy them.

The second opinion is it, which defineth Frendeship wt equal Curtesies, & wills: but truly this were too strict dealīg to cal Frendshippe to accoūt, & reckning, how many pleasures haue bene done, to thintēt so many may again be receiued. Me thinkes, that true Frendshippe is a greate dease richer and plētifuller, and doth not so strictly see to his recknings, that he graunt no more thē he receiued. For there is no such feare to bee taken, least there be any thinge lost, or leaste it We cānot do to mutch in frēdshyp. should be spilt vpō the groūd, or least we heap vp too much measure in Frēdship. [Page 26] The third Bound or End is worst of al: whiche is, that howe much euerye man setteth by himselfe, so much hee shoulde be set by of his frends. In some there is manye times eyther a quayled courage, or a comfortles hope of amending their estate. Therefore it is not a freendes parte, to be suche vnto him, as hee is to Comfort & chee­ring of Frendes. himselfe: but hee ought rather to study and deuise which way hee maye recom­forte the appalied mynde of his freende, and to put him in good hope of a better amendement.

Wee must therfore prescribe an other kind of true Frendship: but first I wyl tel you, what thing it was yt Scipio was wont most to find fault withal. He sayd that there coulde not bee deuised anye worde more directlye againste Freend­shippe: A saying repugnāt to frend­shyp. then his was, which sayde that a man oughte so to loue, as thoughe hee should one day againe hate. And that hee could not bee perswaded to thincke that this was euer spoken (as it was supposed) by Bias, who was accoumpted one of yt vii. wise Sages: but rather yt it [Page] was the opinion of some lewde and am­bitious person, or of one that would rule al thinges by his owne power and auc­thoritie as he lust himselfe. For how can anie man be frend to him, whose enemie hee thincketh that hee shall one day bee?

Furthermore, nedes must he desire & wish, that his freende might very often offend, to the end hee may thereby haue (as it were) the moe occasions to finde fault with him. Againe, he must needes frette, sorow, and spighte at his frendes wel doinges and commodities.

Wherfore this note (whose so euer it is) is ynough to take Frendship quighte a­waye. This Rule rather shoulde haue bene prescribed, yt wee shoulde employe such diligence in the gettinge of freen­des, that wee should not at any time be­ginne to loue him, whom at anye time wee might after hate. Yea, besides, if we haue not had good happe in the choosing of our frendes: yet Scipio thought, that men should beare wt that mischance, ra­ther then to seeke occasion to quarell, & fall out.

These bounds therfore I thincke are [Page 27] best to be vsed, that when the maners of freendes bee well qualefied and honest, there should bee among them, a commu­nitie or participatiō of al their gooddes Among honeste frendes al thinges should be cōmō. purposes and willes withoute anye exception. As if the case were so, that some dealinges of our freendes, beinge not verye honeste, were to bee holpen: which concerned either theire lyfe and death, or their fame and credite: wee Novv and then vvee must not sticke to step a little aside to saue our frendes life or credite. must straine oure selues a little to steppe awrye, out of the waye, so yt vtter shame and dishonestye ensue not therupon. For there is a stint, howe farre Frendshippe may be pardonable. Neither must we slightly neglect our fame. We must al­so thincke, that the good wil of the peo­ple is no smal furtheraunce to that chie­uinge Goodvvil of the people. of any dealinges: which with glaueringe & flatterye to get, is shameful & dishonest. Therfore Vertue hauing har­ty loue folowing it, is not to be despised. But he, oftentimes (for now I returne to Scipio, whose whoole talke was of Frendshippe) complayned, that men were in al other thinges more diligent: as, that euery man could tel how many [Page] Goates and Sheepe hee had, but that bee coulde not recken howe manye fren­des hee had: and that in compassinge and stoaring himselfe with the one, he bestowed greate care: but in the choo­singe of his frendes he was verye negli­gente and rechlesse: neither that they had anye Tokens or Markes whereby to iudge what persons were fitteste for Freendshyppe.

Wee muste therefore choose such as bee Sure, Stedfaste, and Constante: of which sorte there is greate scarsity: and an harde matter is it to iudge of them without tryall.

But we must in Freendshyppe make tryall: for so Freendshyppe precedeth oure iudgement, and taketh away the power of Tryall.

It is therfore a Wisemans parte, so to staye the vehement earnestnesse of his good wyll, euen as bee woulde stay his Tryal of Frendes. race in runninge: to the intent we may so vse oure Frendshippes, as men vse to assaye their horses: makinge somewhat a tryall of the manners of our frendes.

[Page 28] Some manye times in a small paul­tringe monye matter, are perceyued, Money. howe discreditable and vnconstant they bee. Some againe, whom a small portion coulde not tempt, are in a great Summe knowen what they are. Now, if there be some men found, which dee­me Money novv a dayes more set by thē Frēdship. it a berye beastlye thinge to preferre money before Freendeshyppe: where shall we finde them that do not esteeme Honour, Authoritye, Rule, and worldly wealth, more then Freendshyppe? and that when these thinges bee sette on the one parte, and the Vertue of Frendshyp on the other, had not leyfer choose the firste, then this latter? For mannes na­ture is frayle & weake to refuse Autho­ritie, the which if they maye attaigne vnto, (although without hauing any re­garde at all of Frendshippe) they thinke themselues to be excusable: because thei neglected and despised Frendshippe not without cause.

Therfore true Frendshippe is verye harde and rare to be found among them True frēdship hard to befoūd amonge great mē. whych are placed in Honour, and beare rule in the Common weale.

[Page] For where shal a man finde one, ye prefer­reth and setteth more by the honoure of his freend, then he doth by his owne?

What? (to let these thinges passe) how greeuous and how painfull do ma­nye thinke it, to be partakers of others Men are loath to take parte vvith their freende in trouble calamities & miseries? wherunto there is none lightly found, that will willing­lye entre. Albeit Ennius verye wel say­eth: A sure Frend is tryed in Aduersi­tye: Yet (notwithstandinge) these two things do conuince most men of Incon­stancie and Lightnes: either if in Pros­peritie A faith­ful frende in vveale and vvoe. they dispise their frendes: or if in Aduersitie they forsake them. He there­fore whiche in both these cases sheweth himselfe a man discrete, constant, & sta­ble in Frendship: him ought we to iudge one of the moste rarest sort of men, & al­most as a God.

For the ground worke of that stablenes, & constancie, whiche we require & seke in Frendshippe, is Faythfulnes. For no­thinge is stable, which is vnfaythful.

Furthermore it is behoueful for vs, to Choise of a frende choose such a one to our frend, as is sim­ple and playne, good to agree withall, [Page 29] and such an one, as wil be mooued wyth the selfe same thinges that wee bee: all whiche thinges pertaine vnto faythful­nesse. Neyther can a running heade, or A rūning head. wauering witte euer be faythfull. For why? hee that is not affected alike with the same thinges, that his frend is: ney­ther is of the same minde with him, in A frend must ney­ther be a tale bea­rer nor a tale credirer. matters by nature: can neither be faith­full nor stedfast.

Hereunto must be added, that a freende must neither delight in accusing, nor be leeue any accusations, beinge broughte vnto him: which thinges do belonge to that Constancie, wherof I ere while en­treated. And thus, that falleth out to bee true, which I spake of, at the begin­ninge: that Freendship cannot be but a­mong good men.

For it is the part of a goodman (whō also we may tearme a Wise man) to ob­serue Good mē these two pointes in Frendshippe: First that there be nothing feigned nor Dissimu­lation. coūterfeited. For it is more honesty, euē openly to hate one, then vnder a glosing An open enemie better thē a dissem­blinge frende. coūtenance to hyde dissimulation: & not onely to shift awaye and cleare his frēde [Page] of accusations, layde to his charge by any other, but also that hee himselfe be Suspicion not suspicious, thinckinge alwayes that his frende doeth somewhat amisse.

There must also (besides this) bee a certaine pleasauntnes of talke and ma­ners, Pleasaunt talke. Curteous maners. whiche is (in deede) none of the worst Sawces in Freendeshippe. But lumpish sadnesse, and sullen sowernesse must in anye wise be abounded. Sullēnes.

Certes it hath in it a certayn grauitie, but Freendshippe ought to bee more at large, more at libertie, pleasaunter and to all curtesie and gentlenesse more dis­posed.

And here in this place groweth a some­what harde question, whether new frē ­des (being not vnworthy of Frendship) Whether nevv or olde fren­des be better. ought to bee preferred and more set by, then the old: as we vse to set more store by younge Horses, then wee doe by olde ones.

A doubt (doubtlesse) vnsemely for a mā to stand vpon. For there ought not to be saciety of frendship, as there is of other thinges. The oldest (like olde Wynes) ought to be pleasaūtest: & true is the old [Page 30] common Prouerbe, that wee must eate manye Bushels of Salte together with Prouerbe those, with whom wee shall throughlye perfourme all the partes of Freende­shyppe.

But newe Acquaintaunces, if there bee hope that they wyll (as younge to­wardly shootes, and fructifying budds) Nevv ac­quaintan­ce. Old Familiaritye. bringe foorthe fruict, are not (surely) to bee refused: but yet notwithstāding old familiaritye muste still bee continued in his due place and estimation. For the force of Auncientnesse, and Custome, is exceedinge greate.

And as touchinge the Horse (wherof I spake erewhile) if there bee no cause of lette to the contrary: there is no man but had leyfer occupie him whom hee hath beene vsed vnto, then one that is straunge to hym, and vntamed.

And not onelye in this which is a liuing Creature doeth Custome beare greate Swaye, but in thynges also that are Custome. without Lyfe, is it of the lyke force: For euen in Hyllyshe and Wyelde Countryes, wherein wee haue of a [Page] long dwelled, we haue a pleasure & de­light, still to continue.

But this is a very high pointe in Frēd­shyp, that the Superiour is equal with A chiefe point in frēdshipp the Inferiour. For there be oftentymes certain preheminences: as that was of Scipio, in our fraternitie. Hee neuer ad­uaunced nor preferred hymselfe before Philus, neuer before Rutilius, neuer be­fore Mummius, neuer before his other freends of baser calling. But Q. Maxi­mus his brother, a man (doubtles) right excellent, but yet nothing like him, bee­cause Reuerēce to our el­der. he was his Elder, he reuerēced as his better: and was willing that all hys freendes should fare the better by him. Which thing is both to bee done & to be imitated of all men: that if they sur­mount their freendes in any excellencye A nota­ble lesson of Vertue, Witte, and Fortune, they should imparte the same to theyr freen­des, and communicate it ioyntlye with their Familiers: as, if they bee borne of baser parētage, if they haue kinredde of smaller power and abilitie, eyther in mind or substaūce, thei ought to enlarge & encrease their wealth: and to be an ho­nour [Page 31] and dignitie to their estate. As we do read in Fables, of some, which hauīg continued for a certaine time in the state of meane seruauntes, because their lig­nage & Stocke was not knowen, but after that they were knowen, and found to be the Sōnes either of Gods, or of Kin­ges, did yet stil beare a zealous goodwil towardes the Sheepeheardes, whom many yeares they tooke to be their own fathers. Which thing surelye is muche Loue to­vvards parentes. more to be done towardes our true and well knowen fathers. For then speci­allye is the fruict of all witte, Vertue, & excellencie taken, when it is bestowed on him, that is neerest to vs alied.

Euen as they therefore which in the familiaritye of entier Frendshippe, bee superiours & higher in degree, ought to Inferiors, muste not repine at their superiors. abase & make themselues equal wt their inferiors: so ought not inferiors to be greued, if their frends either in wit, state, or dignity, do excell and go beyond them.

Of which sort, many either are why­ninge for somewhat, or els doe twighte & vpbrayde their Benefites, namelye, if they thincke they haue ought, that they [Page] may say, they haue done for their freen­des, curteously, freendly, and with some paynes and crauayle.

These vpbrayders of pleasures, are surelye an odious kinde of people: whi­ch Vpbrayding of pleasures. pleasures, he ought to remember, on whō they were bestowed; not hee that did bestowe them.

Wherfore as they which bee Supe­rioures and of higher calling, ought in We ought to remember a good tur­ne. Freendshippe to abase themselues: So after a force should Inferiours aduaūce and put foorth themselues. For there be some, which make Frendeshyp vnplea­saunt & yrkesome, when as they thinck themselues to be cōtemned; & not cared for. Which thinge happneth almoste to none, but to suche, as thinck themselues worthy to be contemned: whiche muste not only by words, but also by deedes, be reclaymed from that opinion.

And first, a man must doe asmuche for his frend as he is possibly able: & next, as­much as yt party whō he loueth & would further, is able to discharge. For a man A man cā ­not ad­uaunce al his frēds, cannot bring al his frends (though he be neuer in such high authoritie himselfe) [Page 32] to honorable aduauncemente: as Scipio was able to make Rutilius Consul: but his brother Lucius hee could not. Yea Respect in prefer­ment of freendes. admit, yt you could prefer your freend to what you lust: yet must ther be a respect had, how he is able to discharge ye pla­ce of his preferment.

Wee must also thinke, yt Frendshyp can not be, but in wittes & Ages, throughly stayed & fully growen. Neyther stādeth Frēdshyp to be iud­ged at ful grovven age. it vppon anye point of necessitie, yt they which in their boyes age, phāsied others for some common delighte whiche they had together in Huntinge, and Tenis playe: should still take them as their verye Playfel­lovves & compaig­nions in youth. deare Freendes, whom they then loued and fauoured, because they tooke pleasure in the same delightes, that thei themselues did. For so should Nur­ses, and ouerseers of Chyldren, by rea­son Nurses. Tutors. of olde acquaintaunce, chalenge ve­rye much: who (in deede) muste not bee neglecttd, or sleightly passed vppon, but yet are after an other sorte to bee loued and regarded. For otherwise Freende­shippe cannot long continue stedfast.

For vnlyke manners pursue vnlyke [Page] delightes: the dissimilitude whereof dis­seuereth Frendshippes. Neyther is it for any other cause, that goodmen cānot bee freendes, with the naughty and wic­ked, Vnlike maners dissolueth Frēdship then for that, there is such greate oddes, and difference in maners, & affec­tions, betwene them, as possibly can bee.

It may also be geeuen for a good les­son in Frendship, that no man through Wee must not be too fond ouer our frends againste their profite. a certaine intemperate and fonde good­wil, do binder (as many times it happe­neth) the great profices, that mighte re­dound to his freend. For (to come again to Fables) Neoptolemus should neuer haue wonne Troye, if hee wauld haue bene ruled by Lycomedes (with whō he was brought vp, going about with ma­nye Fond lo­ue [...] teares, to disswade and hinder him from that iourney.

And manye times there happen su­ch greate occasions of waightye affai­res, that Frendes must needes departe one from an other: the which, hee that would goe about to hinder, because (for­sooth) he can not wel forbeare his com­panye, is both a weakelinge & a Cocke­ney natured person: and consequentlye [Page 33] in Freendshippe is vniuste and vnrease­nable. And in al things, good considera­tion must be had, both what thou doest Requests must bee vvarely vvaighed. request of thy freend, and what thou suf­frest to bee obteyned at thy handes.

There is also somtimes (as it were) a certain calamity or mishap in the departure from frendes, euen necessary: for nowe I turne my speache from the fa­mlliarities, that is among Wisemen, to the Frendshippe, that is among the vul­gare Vulgare Frēdshyp sorte of people. The faultes com­mitted by frendes doe many times burst out, partely vpon the freendes themsel­ues, and partly vpon straungers: but y infamie & discredite redoundeth to their Freendes.

Such Frendshippes ther fore must be salued by lesse vsinge theire company, and (as I haue hearde Cato say) muste by little and little be cleanlye shifted of, rather then bluntly and grossely brokē, vnlesse there be so apparant euidence of some such vnsufferable iniurye, that we can neither with honestie, neither cre­dite, Hovv and vvhē vve must geue a frend ouer. neyther any way possible, other [...]se choose, but presently to make an aliena­tion [Page] and disseueraunce.

But if there bee a certaine chaunge in them of manners and disposition (as commonly hapneth) or if there chaunce any farring or variaunce in some pointe touching ye Cōmon wealth (for I speake Warines to be vsed. now (as I said a litle before) not of wisemens▪ Frēdships, but of vulgar a [...]ities) we must beware, least Frendship seeme not onely to be layde asyde, but Enemi­tie and mallice rather to be taken vp.

For there is not a more dishonest thing, then to be at warre with him, with whō A dishonest part. afore time thou hast lyued familiarlie.

Scipio, for my sake (as ye know) vntwi­ned himselfe from the Freendeshippe of Q. Pompeius: and by reason of the Dissention that was in the Common Wealth, was cleane aliened from our Fellowe in office Metellus. Hee did both these, discretely by authoritie, without Hovv clenly Scipio shifted himselfe from the Frendship of ij. that had bene hys freends. any bitternesse or offence of mynde, to eyther partye.

Wherfore we must take no smal beede firste that no dissention nor fallinge oute amonge. Freendes doe happen: but if any such thing do happen, that Freend­shyppe [Page 34] maye seeme rather by little and little to goe out and quenche of itselfe, then sodeinly and rashely to bee choaked and put out.

Wee must also beware, that Frendshippe turne not into greate hatred: out of which, chydinges, raylinges, and reproachfull tearmes are engendred: which (notwithstanding) if they bee any thynge tolerable, must be borne withal. And this honor is to be attributed to old Frendshippe, that the fault is alway in him that doth, not in him that suffereth wrong.

Now, of all these vices and discom­modities, A good caueat to be remembred. there is one caueat or Prouiso to bee considered: whiche is, that wee neither beginne to loue too soone, ne yet, the vnworthye. For they bee worthye Who bee vvorthy to be lo­ued. of Frendshippe, in whom, there is good cause why they should be loued.

It is a rare thing (for surely al excellent things are rare) & theris nothīg harder, then to finde a thing which in euery re­spect in his kinde is throughlye perfect. All excellent thin­ges are rare. But many ther be, which neither know any thīg, yt is good in this world, sauing [Page] that which is gainfull: and (lyke Bea­stes) The commō guise of the vvorlde novv a dayes. they loue those Freendes most, of whom they hope to receiue most profite.

And therefore they doe lacke yt most goodly & most natural Frēdship, which is of itselfe, & for itselfe to bee desired & sought: neyther do they showe in them­selues any example, howe greate and of what sort, the force of this Frendship is.

For euerye man loueth himselfe, not to thende to exact any rewarde of hym­selfe, for his tender loue towardes hym­selfe, but because euery man is beare vn­to himselfe. Which thinge if it bee not semblably vsed in Frendshippe, there cā neuer be found any true freend.

For he is a freend, which is (as it were Who is a frende. an other himselfe.

Nowe, if these thinges appeare so e­uident in Beastes, Birdes, Cattall, Fyshes, Swyne, and other Creatures, both tame and wilde, that they haue a loue to their owne selues (for this is na­turallye engraffed in all lyuinge Crea­tures) and also that they desire & luste after some other of the same kind wher­of they themselues be, to company with­all, [Page 35] and that with a certaine longing de­sire, and likenesse of humane loue: how muche more is the same apparaunt in Man, by nature? who both tenderlye lo­ueth himselfe, and getteth an other to whom hee may so francklye impart his mynde, as thoughe of two, hee woulde make (in a maner) but one.

But most men peeuishlye (I will not A peruers reckening say impudētly) would haue such frēdes as they them selues cannot bee: & such things do they looke for to haue at their freendes handes, as they themselues do not yelde and geeue vnto them. But it is fitte, that he himselfe should first be a A freende must bee a good man good man: and then afterwards to seeke for another, like himselfe.

In such maner of persons, maye that Stability of Frendship (which ere while wee reasoned vpon) be confirmed, when as men ioyned together with goodwil, shall first rule and maister those sensuall lustes and affections, whereunto others do serue and obaye: and when they shall delighte in Iustice and equitie: and the one to vndertake and attempt al things for the other: & neuer the one to request [Page] any thinge of the other, but that which No vn­lavvfull request must bee made to our frends shalbe honest and right: & shall not one­lye louinglye agree together, and loue one an other, but also as it were reuerēt lye feare & stand in awe one of an other.

For, hee that taketh awaye reuerent awe from Frendship, taketh awaye the Reuerent avve or modest bashful­nes in frēdshyppe. greatest Ornament that is in it. They therfore nozzle thēselues wt a very per­nicious error, which thinke yt in Frend­shippe, the gate is set wide open freelye to pursue all licentious lusts and lewdenesse. For Freendshippe is geeuen Frēdshyp an aide to vertue. by Nature to bee an ayde to Vertue, and not a Compagnion to vices: yt sith, Vertue being solitarye, & alone, could not reache to those thinges which are moste excellente, yet beinge combined and cowpled with an other, she mighte attaigne thereto: which felowshippe if eyther it bee or hath beene, or hereafter shall happē to bee betweene any, (I say) their felowship & cōpany is to be accoū ­ted (for the attainmēt of Natures chiefe goodnes) the best and happiest yt can be. The right felovvship. This very felowship (I say) is it, wherin are all those things, which men doe ac­count worthy to be desired, as Honesty, Glory, Trāquillity of mynd, & pleasant­nesse: [Page 36] so that where these bee, there is the lyfe happye: and without these, it Happy lyfe. cannot bee happy. Which thing being the greatest and the best thing that can be, if wee bee desirous to obteyne, wee must applye our selues to vertue: with­out the which, we neyther can attaigne to Freendshippe, ne any thing else yt is to be desired. For who soeuer (despising Vertue, do think thēselues to haue fren­des, do then perceiue their owne errour, when any waighty plunge of necessitye A vvyse & sententi­ous coūsel driueth thē to try thē. And therfore (for it is a thing often to be repeated) a man oughte to loue, when hee hath iudged: & not to iudge, when hee hath loued. But wheras we be in many things much pu­nished for negligence, yet namely & spe­cially in chosing & regarding our freen­des. For we go preposterously to worke, & (contrary to ye aduise of ye old prouerbe) we ouerthwartly doe & vndoe, & labour against the grain. For being enwrapped too & fro wt busines, either through som long familiarity & acquaintaunce or els through some kindenesse & curtesies, we sodēly in ye middest of our course breake of our Frendship, when anye small of­fence ariseth.

[Page] And therefore such carelesse negli­gence of a thing so principally necessary is the more to be dispraysed. For Frēd­ship Al men generally agree that Frēdshyp is moste profitable is the onely thing in this world, of whose profitablenesse all men with one mouth do agree: albeit Vertue itselfe is of many men set at naught, and is said to be nothing ells, but a bragguery and Vertue despised. ostentation.

Manye which holde themselues con­tented with a litle, and delight in slender fare and homely Apparel, doe vtterlye despise Rychesse. And as for Promoti­ons, Ryches. (with ambitious desire whereof some are greatly enflamed) how manye Promo­tion. mē be there, which do so much contemne them, that they thincke there is nothing vainer nor lighter? Likewise, other thin­ges which some doe euen wonder at, and bee in loue withall, there be very many which esteme euen as nothing.

But of Frendshippe al men general­lye haue one minde and opinion, aswell Frēdship, generally praysed those which are called to haue dealings in the cōmon wealth, as those that haue their whole delight in learning & knowledge of thinges: and those also whiche [Page 37] quietlye tende their owne busines. And finally euē they which haue wholly ge­uen themselues ouer to Sensuality, do thincke that without Frendshippe, lyfe is no lyfe: at leaste wyse if they meane any whyt orderlye to lyue.

For Frendship spreadeth (I wot not how) through the lyfe of al sortes of mē: Euery se­uerall mannes lyfe requireth frendship. neyther doth it suffer this lyfe in anye parte to be passed without it.

Furthermore if there bee any of that churlish and sauage nature, to eschue & hate the companie and Frendshipp of al men, (of which stampe and sorte we ha­ue heard say, that there was one Tymō (I know not who) at Athens: yet can­not Tymon a hater of al companie. he choose, but seeke out one, to whō hee maye vomite out the poyson of his ranckred mallice.

And this would especially be iudged, if any such thing mighte happen, yt God should take vs out frō this companying with men, and should place vs elswhere in some wildernesse: and there geeuinge vnto vs abundaunce and store of al thin­ges whiche nature desireth, should alto­gether take awaye & wholy debarre vs [Page] from so much as the seeing of any man: All plea­sure and plentye vvithout companie vnpleasāt who could be so stonye harted to abyde y kinde of lyfe? or from whom would not that same solitarinesse take awaye the fruict of al pleasures?

True therefore is that sayinge which I haue hearde our Oldmen tell, (and they Solttari­nes. of other Oldemen afore them) was wont to be spoken by Architas (I trow Architas Tarentinꝰ of Tarento: If a man should climbe vp into Heauen, and take a full view of the nature of the worlde, and the beautiful­nesse of the starres: the admiration therof, would be vnto him vnpleasaunt, whi­che woulde otherwise haue beene mo [...] pleasaunt, if hee had any to whom he [...] might make thereof relation.

Thus, Nature loueth no solytarines, and alwaies leaueth vnto some thing a [...] Nature loueth no solitari­nes. vnto a stayes which in euerye freendli [...] person is most delightfull.

But although the same Nature d [...] by so many signes declare what she m [...] ­neth, and seeketh: what she coueteth and desireth: yet do wee (I knowe not how waxe deafe, and geeue no care to thos [...] [Page 38] thinges, wherof wee are by her warned.

For the vse of Freendship is sundrye and manifolde, and manye occasions of suspicion and offences be geeuen, which partlye to eschewe, partely to extenu­ate, and partely to heare, is a Wisemās parte. And this one offence is to bee re­dressed, that both profitablenesse and al­so faythfulnesse in Frendshyppe, may be Wee must frendlye admonish and chide our frend. still retayned. For freendes must often times bee both admonished and chidden also. And this is to bee freendly taken, when it is done freendlye and of good­will.

But this is true (I cannot tel how) Flattrye getteth frendes which my verye Familier freende Te­rence set down in his Comedie, entitu­led Andria, that Soothing getteth Frē ­des, but truth purchaseth Hatred.

Truth is gallinge and greuous, for oute of it proceedeth Hatred, which is vnto Frendshippe a rancke poyson: but Soo­thinge Truth. or Flattery is a great deale more gallinge, which by wincking at his frē ­des faultes, suffereth him styll to runne on headlonge in his wilfulnes.

[Page] But the greatest blame is in him, who despiseth ye Truth, and is caried by soo­thing into such incōuenience & naughty­nesse. Heerein therfore we must bestow all care and diligence: first, that our ad­monishing be without bitternesse, & our chyding without spitefulnes.

But in soothinge (because I delight to vse Terence his worde) let there be Flattrye is to bee eschued. a curteous gentilnesse vsed withall, and let al flattery (the egger on of vices) bee set aparte, which (in deede) is vnmeett not onely for a freende, but also for anye honest man.

For after one sorte do men lyue wyth a Tyraunt, and after an other sorte wyth Truth must bee heard. a freend. But his recouery is to be des­payred of, whose eares frō the hearing [...] of truthe bee shutte, that hee cannot abyde to heare that is true, at his fren­des handes. For right wise is that same sayinge of Cato: that sharpe nippinge A vvise saying of Cato. Enemies do more good vnto some, then those freendes, which do seeme fawning Clawbackes. For they sometime, but these neuer tel the truthe.

And this is a very absurde matter, yt [Page 39] they which be admonished, finde not thē ­selues aggreeued at yt, which they ought but at that which they ought not. They An absur de reckening be not sory yt they haue done amisse, but they take it vnkindly to be chiddē, wher as cōtrarywise, they ought to be sory for their faults, & glad of their chidinge.

Therfore as to warne our freend and to bee warned againe by him is the pro­pertie of true Frendshippe: and the one to doe it freely, not roughly, thother to Propertie of true Frèdshyp take it patiently and not frowatdlye: so must we make this reckening, that there is no greater Plague or mischiefe in Frendship, then adulation, glauering, and flattrye. Albe it this vice must be for Flatterye the grea­test plage in Frendeshyp. many respectes noted to be the faulte of lewde and craftie persons, speaking all to pleasure, and nothing to Truth.

But wheras Dissimulation in all thinges is euill (for it taketh awaye the righte iudgement of truthe and corrup­teth it) yet namely to Frendshippe it is most repugnaunt. For it raseth out the truth, without which, ye name of Frēd­shippe Dissimu­lation. cannot continue. For sithens the force of Frendshippe standeth vpon this [Page] point, that there shoulde bee made as [...] were one mynde of many: how can tha [...] be brought to passe, if in one man there bee not one, and alwayes alike mind, but diuers; chaungeable, and wa [...]t­ringe? First what thinge can there be so mutable & so wādering out of course as is the mynd of yt man, which swaieth not only at euery mans phansie and wi [...] but also at euery mans becke and looke? Say who naye? Nay, saye I▪ Say [...] who yea? Yea, say I. Finally I haue enioyned my selfe, to holde vp all mens sayinges with Yea and Nay, as sayeth In Eunu­cho. the same Terence▪ but hee speaketh those woordes in the person of Gnato: Gnato. which to vse in the person of a Freend, were too too much lightnesse.

But forsomuch as there bee manye Gnatolike persons, in estate, wealth, & credite, aboue others: their Flatte­rye Hurtfull flatterye. is odious and yrckesome, when as authority ioygneth with vanity.

Now, a flatteringe Clawbacke (if good heede and diligence be taken) may euen aswell be discerned, and knowen, from a true freend, as all counterfei [...] [Page 40] and feigned stuffe may from things sin­cere and right. The assembly of the Commons, which standeth most of vn­skilfull and ignoraunt persons, is wone yet to iudge, what oddes and difference there is betweene a people pleaser (that is to say a curryfauour, & lyght person) and betwene a constant, seuere & graue Citizen. With which kinde of Flatte­ring, C. Papyrius ye Consul, of late stuf­fed the peoples eares, at what time hee Papyrius. made a law, for the restoring of the Ple­beian Tribunes. We disswaded yt mat­ter. But I wil not speake of my selfe: I wil with better will, speake of Scipio. What pythines (good Lord) was there in his talke, what a maiesty was there in his Oration? yt a man might wel haue Pithy O­ration of Scipio. sayd, he had bene the leader & chieftain of the people of Rome, & not a fellow cō ­paignion & comoner with thē. But you were present there your selues, and his Oration, is extant & abroade to be had. Therfore ye same populer Law was by ye peoples own voices disanulled & dashed.

And to returne againe to my selfe: you remēber whē Q. Maximꝰ ye brother [Page] of Scipio, and L. Mancinus were Con­suls, how populer and people pleasing ye lawe of C. Licinius Crassus touchinge Priestes dignities, seemed to bee. For yt election & supplie of Sacerdotall row­mes, was conueighed ouer to the dispo­sition of the common people: & hee was ye first of al others, that brought into the place of Pleas, an order, to make any O­ratiō to the people in verse. But yet the Religion of the immortall Gods (I de­fending the matter) easely defeated that smothing Oration of his, so painted out to the sale. And this was done, whē I was Praetor, fiue yeares before I was made Consul. Therfore that cause was defended rather by ye goodnes of yt mat­ter [...] itselfe, then by the authoritie of the Pleader that had it in hand.

Now if in Stage matters, that is to saye, in Populer Audience, wherein feigned & shadowed thinges be often in­troduced, yet the Truthe preuayleth & beareth away the Bel, if so it be opened and set out accordingly: what ought to be done in Frendshippe, which is consi­dered and waighed altogether by truth? [Page 41] wherein, except a man do throughly (as they say) see into the very bottome of his freendes hart, & likewise shew his own: bee cannot stand vpon any sure ground, for trust and tryall: nay, hee can neuer loue, nor be loued: sithens hee knoweth They most [...]oue flattry, vvhich be flatterers of them­selues not how it is done trulye.

Although this flattery be pernicious and hurtfull, yet can it hurt no man but him, that listeneth to it, and is delighted with it. And so it commeth to passe that he most openeth his eares to flatterers, who selfely flattereth himselfe, & moste delighteth in himselfe.

Vertue (surely) loueth herselfe. For shee best knoweth herselfe, and percei­ueth Vertue how amiable shee is.

But I nowe speake, not of Vertue, Manye vvoulde rather seeme ho­nest then be honest in deede. but of the opinion, had of Vertue. For, not so many are willing to be vertuous, as doe desire to seeme vertuous. These kinde of persons doth flatterye delight: They, when anye glosed speache is vsed to feede their humour, do streightwais Men that set by thē selues, are easy to beleeue flat­terers. thincke, that the same vayne woordes be a testimonye of their prayses.

This therfore is no Frendship, when [Page] as the one wil not heare the Truth, and the other is ready to lye: neither would the glauering flattery of these Parasits and Trencher Freendes in Comedies, be any whyt pleasaunt or mery, if there were not some glorious Souldiers.

What Syrrha, did Thais geeue mee great thanckes? It had beene sufficient Thraso. for thother to haue aunswered, Yea syr, Gnato great: but hee sayd: Yea syr, very ex­ceeding great.

Flattery alwayes encreaseth, and set­teth out to the most, that thinge, which Flatterye of a litle maketh a great deal the partye (for whose tooth it was spo­ken) would haue to be great.

Wherfore although this fawning vanitye bee most in vre and practise, wyth them whych do to thē allure & inuite it: yet are the Sager and constanter sort of mē to be admonished to take heede, that they bee not ensnared & mashed wt this kinde of fly flattery. For euery man can perceiue an opē Flatterer, except he be a very Sotte, or Ideot: but we must very carefullye take heede, that this crafty & fly Flatterer do not winde or close hym­selfe within vs. For hee is not easelye [Page 42] espied: by reason yt euen by contrarying one, he many times flattereth: & feig­ning himselfe to brawle and chyde, doth glauer: & in the ende yeldeth & suffereth himselfe to be vanquished, yt he which is flouted to his teeth, maye seeme to haue gottē ye victory. And what be astlier thīg cā there be thē yt? Which thing, yt it may not happē, we must take the more heede: as in ye Enterlude, entituled Fpicuraeꝰ: Today before almy old foolish Copesmates you haue coursed and flouted me very my­ntōly. For in plaies, ye persōs of old vnfor­castful & credulous mē, are most foolish.

But my talke (I cannot tell how) is digressed from speaking of the Frende­shippes of perfect men, that is to say, of Wysemen (I doe meane of such Wise­dome as doeth seeme maye bee in man) vnto slyghte and tryfelinge Freende­shippes. Wherefore let vs returne to that whiche wee spake of, and let vs cō ­clude at length vpon it.

I say (O C. Fannius, & you Q. Mutius) Conclusion of this matter. Vertue. yt Vertue both getteth, and also kepeth Frendship. In it, is al agreement of thinges, al stability, al constancy. Who, whē [Page] shee hath aduaunced herselfe & shewed out her light, & espied & knowē the same in an other, leaneth herselfe to that also, and taketh likewise that which is in an other. Whereupon breedeth betweene ech other, an exceeding loue and Frend­shippe. Amor & Amicitia, ab Aman do. For both these two wordes haue their names of this word, To Loue.

Now, to loue, is nothinge els, but to beare a goodwill vnto him, whom you To loue vvhat it is do hartelye fauour, not for any neede or any profite that is sought. Which profit (notwtstanding) springeth out of Frendship, althoughe you haue not pursued it accordingly. With this kinde of good­will, we (when wee were young Strip­linges) loued those worthy Oldmen. L. Paulus, M. Cato, C. Gallus, P. Nasica, & Tib. Gracchus, father in lawe to oure deare freend Scipio. This Frendshippe also more euidently appeareth, amonge Equalles and persons of lyke age, as betweene mee & Scipio, L. Furius, P. Ru­tilius, & Sp. Mummius.

Semblablye also, wee Oldmen take great pleasure in ye louingnesse of yoūg men: as for example, I for my part, am [Page 43] singulerly delighted in the familiaritye of you, and of Q. Tubero a very young Striplinge, and of P. Rutilius Virgi­nius.

For seeinge that the order of our lyfe and nature is so appointed, that one age must succeede after an other: it is verie Lyke de­lighteth vvith like greatly to be wished, that wee may liue with such, as be our Equalles in age: yt as wee came together into the worlde, much aboute one time: so also (as they say) wee might keepe together, tyl wee packe againe out of the world.

But because the state of the worlde is fickle and fading, wee must alwayes fynde oute some, whom wee maye both loue, and also bee of them loued againe. For once take away Loue, and goodwil: and all pleasauntnesse of lyfe is quighte taken away.

As for Scipio, although hee was ta­ken away sodeinly from among vs, yet The fame of a vvor­thy man neuer dy­eth (surely) to mee hee is still aliue, and al­wayes shalbee. For I euer loued the Vertue, of that man, which is not ex­tinct: neyther is the same playne & ap­paraunt before mine eyes onely, who al [Page] alwayes hadde the dayly feelinge of it, but also vnto all oure posterity, shall it bee noble and notable.

No man shall euer enterprise anye worthye attemptes, eyther in courage or hope, which deemeth not the memory or image of this noble personage, wor­thye to be set before him for a Paterne. A true frend is the surest possession I truly among al the thinges yt Fortune or Nature hath bestowed vpon me, ha­ue nothing comparable vnto Scipio his Frendeshippe. In it was a freendlye a­greement betweene vs, concerninge the Common wealth: in it, was our confe­rence for our priuate affayres: in it, was Effects of Frēdships my rest, full of delectation. I neuer of­fended him (not in the least matter that could be) that euer I could perceiue. I neuer heard anye thinge of him yt euer went against my minde. One house ser­ued vs both, one fare and that euen com­mon: Yea, not onely warfare, but also our trauayles, voyages, & soiourninges abrode, were alike common.

For what shoulde I speake of our ioynet studies, in alwayes siftinge out & learninge of somethinge: in the which, [Page 44] when wee were out of the peoples sight wee bestowed all our leysure and time? The recordation and memory of whych thinges, if they had dyed together with him, I could neuer possiblye haue borne the lacke of such a freendly and louinge mā. But yet these are not extinct. Nay, they are rather nourished & encreased by the cogitation and remēbraunce of thē.

And although I shoulde vtterly bee bereft therof, yet very Age it self would bring vnto mee singuler comfort. For I could not very long continue in this lā ­guishinge case. But all shorte thinges ought to be sufferable, although they be greate.

Thus much hadde I to saye concer­ninge Frendshippe. Now, am I to ex­horte you, to haue Vertue in such price, (without which Frendship cannot bee) that (it onely except) you deeme no­thinge more excellent, then Freendshippe.

T. N.
FINIS.

❧ THE BOOKE of Oldage: otherwyse entituled, the Elder CATO: written Dialoguewise, by M. T. Cicero, vnto Titus Pomponius Atticus.

The Preface.

O Titus, if I ease thee of that payne,
And heauy care, which doth thee nòw annoye,
And makes thine heart, ful pensiue to remain,
Shal I herein my labour wel employe?

FOR in speaking vnto thee (Freende Atticus) I dare bee bolde to vse the same verses, which that worthye* Poet, Ennius. (not greatly wallowing in wealth, but fullye fraught with faithfulnesse) vseth in spea­king to Flaminius: albeit I am well assured (frend Atticꝰ) that thou art not so disqui­eted night and daye, as Flaminius was: for I doe knowe the moderation, and quiet stay of thy mynde. And that thou hast brought home with thee from Athens, not onelye thy* Syrname, but curtesie also, and Pru­dence. Because he vvas called Atticus. And yet I suspecte, that nowe and [Page] then, thou art sore troubled in mynde, for the same* matters that I my selfe am.

The Cōsolatiō whereof is great & ther­fore For the Ciuile discension. to bee differred till another time. At this presēt, I thought it best to wryte some little Treatise vnto thee, cōcerning Olde­age: because I would haue, both thee & my selfe eased of this heauye burden of Olde­age, which is commune and indifferent to mee, aswell as to thee, and hath nowe ey­ther catched holde of vs alreadye, or else ere it bee longe, wyll come vppon vs.

Notwithstandinge, I well knowe that thou doest and wilt take the same modestly, and wiselye as thou doest all other thin­ges.

But when as I purposed with my selfe to wryte somewhat of Oldeage, thou camest into my remembrance, as a man worthy of such a gyft, which both of vs, might ioynt­lye and commonlye enioye.

As for my part I promise thee, the pen­ninge of this Booke, was such a delectati­on vnto mee, that it did not onelye cleane wype away all the encombraunces and dis­commodities of myne Oldeage from mee: [Page 46] but rather made myne Oldeage vnto me, pleasaunte, and delectable. Therefore Philosophy can neuer be suffyciently pray­sed: whose Preceptes and Rules, who so e­uer obayeth, may passe the whole time of his Age, without anye griefe or trouble. But of those other poyntes, we haue heretofore, and shall hereafter speake.

And wee doe attribute the whole dys­course, not to Tithonus, as Aristo Chi­us did, least as in a fayned Fable the whole Discourse shoulde carye the lesse credite: but vnto Olde Marcus Cato: to the ende the Treatise might carye the greater Au­thoritie. With whom wee doe introduce Laelius and Scipio, meruaylinge to see him so patientlye to tolerate his Oldeage, and his aunswere to them agayne. Whom if thou thincke more learnedlye heere to dispute, then in his owne woorkes hee was accustomed, impute the cause to his skil­fulnesse in the Greeke Tongue, whereof it is well knowen that in his Oldeage he was verye studious,

But to what purpose, shoulde wee make anye moe woordes? For all that wee haue [Page] to saye concerning Oldeage, the Discourse of Cato himselfe shall manifestly declare.

The Speakers Names.
  • Publius Scipio.
  • Caius Laelius.
  • Marcus Cato.
SCIPIO.

OFtentimes both I, & my freend Caius Laeli­us heere also, are wont much to meruayle at thy excellente & abso­lute wisdome O Cato, aswel in al other matters: as namely & specially, because I neuer yet perceiued thine Oldage to be burdenous vnto the: which to the most part of Oldmen is so odious, that they say they carye a burdē heauier then the Mount AEtna.

CATO.

It is no great hard matter, (Scipio and Laelius) which you seeme so much to meruayle at. For they that haue in themselues no helpe to lyue wel and blessedlye: vnto such, euerye Age is combersome: but vnto such, as seeke all thinges at themselues, nothinge can [Page] seeme euil, which commeth by the neces­sitie of Nature.

Of ye which sort is Oldage principally, whereunto to come, al men doe desire, and yet when they haue their wishe, doe accuse it: such is their vnconstancie, folly and ouerthwartnesse: They saie it cree­peth vpon thē sooner then they thought it would. First, who caused thē to ima­gin an vntruth? For why doth Oldage sooner steale vpon Adolescencie, then A­dolescency doth after Childhood? Fur­thermore, why shoulde Oldage be lesse troublesome vnto them, if they mighte reach to the Age of eight hundred yeres then it is when they be but eighty? For the age passed be it neuer so longe, when it is once gone, can with no maner of cō ­solation mitigate foolish Oldage.

Therfore if you be wōt to haue my wis­dome in admiration (which I woulde God were correspondent to youre opi­nion, and also aunswerable to my * Syr­name) surelye wee are in thys onlye For Cato by inter­pretacion signifieth a vvittye man pointe wise, because we follow Nature being our best guid, as a god, & obey her. Of whom, it is not like to bee true, whē [Page 48] al other parts of age are wel described & set out, yt the last Act of all should (as it were of a drowsy Poet) bee negligentlye handled. But in Age there must needes be some extreme or last End (& as in ber­ries of trees & fruicts of the earth) when they com to their ful ripenes) a drowpīg downward and readynes to fall: which euery Wisemā must patiently tolerate.

For what other thing is it, to warre To resiste againste Nature, is to keepe vvarre a­gainst the Gods. with the Gods, as the Gyaunts did, but to repugne and goe against Nature?

LAEL.

But you shall do a singuler greate pleasure vnto vs both, for I dare also in this case vndertake for Scipio (because we both desire, & also hope to lyuetyl we be Oldmen) if we might learne a good whyle before hand of you, by what means we may most easly suffer & beare out our olde Age when it cōmeth.

CATO.

I wyll (Laelie) with all my hart fulfill your request, especially if I shall thereby do such pleasure vnto you both, as you say I shall.

SCIP.

Right glad would wee bee, if it bee not too much paynes and trouble [Page] for you, O Cato, sith you haue (as it were runne a great race, & made a long iourney which path also we must go) to heare & vnderstand what kind of thing yt is, wherunto you are already arryued.

CATO.

I will doe herein O Laelie, what I am able: for I haue oftentimes bene in place where I haue heard ye cō ­plaints of my equalles & familiers (for, Like wt Like, accordīg to ye old prouerbe Like to like. will kepe cōpany & best agree together) when as C. Salinator, and Sp. Albinus, men of Consular calling, and in maner of the same age that I my selfe am, were wont greatlye to be wayle their cases, both because they lacked pleasures, wt ­out which, they accoumpted their life as none: & also because they were despised of those, of whom they had earste beene reuerenced.

But in myne opiniō, they blamed not that, which was blame worthy. For if ye cause and blame thereof, were in Olde­age, then should the same discommodi­ties, happen also vnto me, & to all other elderly mē besides: of whō I haue kno­wen a great mainye, that haue lyued in [Page 49] their Olde age without any whyning or complaint: who were wel pleased to bee loosed and deliuered, out of the yoake of their Sensuall Lustes: and were neuer despised of their Freendes and acquaintaunce. But the faulte of all this repy­ning, is in the Maners & not in the Age. For discreete & temperate olde men, be­ing not sterne and churlishe, doe lyue in their Oldage tolerably and well. But way wardnesse and inhumanitie is vnto euery Age tedious and yrkesome.

LAEL.

It is euen so, as you say O Cato: but there wil some peraduenture saye vnto you, yt your Oldage, seemeth vnto you tollerable ynoughe, because of your great wealth, riches & dignity: but many cannot haue such good hap.

CATO.

In deede Laelie, that which you say, is somewhat, but al thinges do not rest therin. As, the report goeth that Themistocles, nippinglye aunswered a Themistocles. certain Seriphian Paisaūt, obiecting, yt he had not gottē such great glory, and same by himselfe, but rather through yt renowne of his noble coūtry: thou saiest euen truth (sayd he) for neither should I [Page] euer haue bene ennobled. if I had bene a Seriphian, neyther thou renowmed, if thou hadst bene an Athenian.

Which thing may euen in lyke man­ner be said of Oldage. For neither in ex­treeme penurye, and want, can Oldage be easye, no not to a Wiseman: neyther can it bee but combersome to an vnwise persō, although he haue neuer so great plentye.

The fittest weapons for Oldage (O Scipio and Laelie) are Artes and exer­cises of Vertues: which beinge all the Fittest vvepons for Oldage. time of mannes age embraced, bring vn­to hym, when hee hath lyued a longe while, meruailous fruites & commodi­ties. Not only, because they neuer for­sake or start from him, no, not in the ve­rye last pushe of his age (which surely is a moste excellente thinge) but also be­cause the Conscience of oure former lyfe, well and vertuously led, and the re­membraunce of our many good deedes, is most pleasaunt.

Certes, I being a younge Striplinge, did so loue Quintus Maximus (euen be that recouered Tarento) being an Old [Page 50] man, as though hee had beene myne E­qual and of lyke Age vnto myselfe. For in yt worthy man, there was a certeyne Grauity, seasoned with Curtesy: neither had his Oldeage altered his manners: Albeit when I first began to honoure & reuerence him, hee was not verye olde, but yet pretily striken in yeares.

For I was borne a yere after that he had bene the first time Consull: And in that yeare that hee was the fowrth ty­me Consull, I being a very young man went with him as a Souldier vnto Ca­pua: the fifte yeare after that, I was made Treasorer at Tarento: Then I was chosen Aedile, & fower yeres after that, Praetor: which office I bare and ex­ecuted, when Tuditanus and Cethegus were Consulls. At that time hee beinge a very aged man, was a perswader of ye Law By this Lavv, professors of Rhetorik and plea­ders of lavve mi­ght take no monie for their labor, but do it of a certe [...] nobl [...]es of minde. Cincia, touchinge Giftes and Re­wardes.

And bee beinge a man farre growen in yeares, was both a lustye warriour, as though he had beene still young, and with his forbearing cooled the courage of Hanniball, being all vpon the hoigh, [Page] like a dapper yonker, whose commenda­tion our familer trend Ennius excellētly blazeth out, thus:

One man by protracting the tyme vvith delaye:
Hath saude our vveale-publike and restorde it agayne.
Ennius.
For hee neuer forced vvhat ill tongues did say
So that his country stil safe might remaine.
Therfore his renovvne and illustrious name,
For aye is enrollde vvithin the Booke of Fame.

What vigilancy and what wisedome vsed hee, when hee recouered Tarento? when as in my hearinge hee spake these wordes to Salinator (who after the losse of the Towne, fled into the Castle) ma­king his vaunt & sayinge thus: By my meanes (O Fabius) hast thou regayned Tarento: *Your Maistership saith euen true (ꝙ Fabius) to him again, smyling: A taunt pretelye reboūded backe again. for if thou hadst not loste the Towne, I could not haue regained it.

Neyther was hee any whyt excellēter in warres abroad then in peace at home. For being the secōd time Consul, while his fellowe in Office Sp. Caruilius, sate still & would do nothing, he withstoode asmuch as euer he coulde, C. Flamini­us ye Plebeian Tribune, sharing out to e­uery one, man by man, against the Au­thority [Page 51] of the Senate, al the ground called Novv called Marca Anconitana. Gallia Cisalpina, novv Lū ­bardy. *Picaenū & *Gallicum. And when he was Augur, hee durst to say, yt all those things were wt most fortunate luck takē in hand, which were done for the safetye and preseruatiō of the common wealth: & that all those things, which were pre­iudicially attempted against the cōmon­wealth, were vnluckely done, and enterprised.

Manye and sundrye notable qualities haue I knowen in this man, but none is more to be meruayled at, then howe bee toke the death of his sonne Marcus, a no­ble Gentleman, & one that had bene Cō sul. We haue extant abrode an Oration of the prayse of yt man: which when wee read, what Philosopher do we not con­temne? Prayse of Fabius Neyther was hee onely renow­med in the open sight of all men abrode: but domestically within his owne dores at home, he was more noble. What pro­found talke vsed hee? what worthye pre­ceptes? what great skil had hee in Anti­quity? what exact knowledge in the Art of Diuination? There was also in him, [Page] as in a Romane, very great learning: he perfectly remēbred & that by hart could recoumpt all the Warres, aswel Ciuile and Domestical, as forreine and exter­nall. Whose talke and conference I so desirouslye enioyed as though I had al­readye diuined and ghessed that thing, which afterwarde chaunced: that he be­ing dead, there would be none, at whose handes, I might learne ought.

But to what end speake I so much of Maximus? Truly, because you see that it is an horrible villany, to say that suche an Oldeage was wretched or misera­ble.

But al men cannot be Scipioes or Max­imi, to recoumpte what Citties they haue sacked? what conflictes they haue had, both by Sea, and Land: what war­res they haue atchieued: nor what Vic­torsouse Triumphes they haue solem­nized.

For when a man hath led his former lyfe quietly, vprightlye, and laudablye, Plato dy­ed as hee sate vvry­ting. his Oldage is mild & gentle, such as we haue heard that ye Oldage of Plato was, who in the Lxxxi. yeare of his age, died [Page 52] as he sate writing. And such, as was the Oldeage of Isocrates, who is reported, Which cō teyned the prayses of Mi­nerua her feastes at Athens, vvherein all lear­ned men shevved forth their Cunning that he wrate his Booke entituled *Pa­nathenaicus, in the ninety & fourth yere of his Age, and lyued fiue yeres after: whose Scholemaister Leontinus Gor­gias, lyued fullye an hundred and seuen yeares, and neuer faynted, nor gaue o­uer his studye and labour which he had in hande. And when it was demaunded of him, why hee woulde wishe to lyue so long: *I haue (sayd hee) no cause where A vvor­thy aun­svver. by to accuse or mislyke myne Oldeage. A notable aunswere and worthy to pro­ceede out of the mouth of a famous and learned man. For doltish fooles do laye all their owne faultes and blame vppon Oldeage: which thing the Poet Enni­us (of whom I ere while made mention) did not.

As Horse which at Olympian Games,
Ennius.
ful oft hath borne the Bell,
And won the Price: in aged yeeres,
now rests himselfe ful wel.

Lo, this man, whom you can very well remember, compareth his Oldeage, to [Page] the Oldeage of a valiaunt & Victorious borse. For the nynthe yeare after hys Death, these twaine, T. Flaminius, & M. Attilius were created Cōsuls, & hee himselfe died whē Caepio & Philip were ye secōd time Consuls, being Lxx. yeres old (for so long did Ennius lyue) at which time I being lxv. yeres old, wt a loud voi­ce & earnest sute was a perswader, yt the law By this lavv a mā hauing no Children but daughters, had his limitation hovv much hee ought at his death to bee queathe vnto thē, and al the rest of hys inheritāce & goods to descēd to the next Issue male of his kyn. Voconia might bee enacted.

Thus he caryed two such burdens as are supposed the greatest that can be: to wyt, Pouerty and Oldage, and that in such sort, that hee seemed in a maner to be highly delighted therein.

For as far as I do remember I finde Four principal causes, why Oldage se­meth wretched and miserable. One is, because it impeacheth and hindereth a man from dealing in matters: an other is, because it enfeebleth and weakeneth Four cau­ses vvhy old age semeth miserable. the bodye: the thirde, because it almost taketh away al pleasures: & the fourth, because it is not farre of from death.

Now let vs (if you please) see of what force, euery one of these causes be, & how iust, the allegation of euery of them is.

[Page 53] Oldage hindreth, and draweth a man * The j. dispraise of Oldage. Oldage is no let or hinderāce to a man from dealing in offices or functions in the Cō mon vvel the. backe (for soothe) from taking a charge or function vpon him: from what char­ge or function I pray you? from such as are by lustinesse of youth, & bodily strē ­gth acchieued? Are there no thinges ap­pertayning to Old mē, which although their bodies be weake & feeble, yet may by the minde be done, and administred? Did Q. Fabius (I praye you) nothing? Did L. Paulꝰ thy father, O Scipio, & fa­ther in Law to yt worthy mā my Sonne, nothinge? and a greate sorte of Oldmen Graue & vvise coū sellours the chiefe staye of a Cōmon vvealths. moe. The Fabritij, the Curii, the Corū ­cani, when they meinteyned and defen­ded ye weale publique, with their graue counsells, and authorities, did they no­thinge? Appius Claudius besides, his Appius Claudius Oldage, was also blinde: yet hee when all the Senate was of mynde to encline to a peace & league to bee made wt Pyr­rhus, was not afrayde to speake those wordes vnto them, which Ennius in his Verses recited:

Hovv are your mynds vvhich earst vvith vvitt vvere fraught
Thus fondly bent to bring all thinges to naught?

And much more right grauely: for ye Verses are knowen well ynough: And [Page] yet Appius his Oration is to be seene, which he made leuenteene yeares after his seconde Consulshippe: and betwene his two Consulships, there were tenne yeres, and he had borne the office of Cē ­sor before his first Consulate.

Whereby it is well to be perceiued, yt in ye warres which wee had with Pyrrhus, hee was a man well striken in yeares, & yet haue wee so hearde oure fathers re­porte.

Therfore their reasons are nothinge worth, which deny that Olde age is oc­cupied in exploiting affaires of great im­portaunce. And they doe much like, vn­to such as saye that the Pylote or May­ster of a Ship, helpeth nothing in Say­lyng, when as some climbe vp into the Maister of a Shyppe. Mast coppe, some walke vppon the Hat­ches, & some clense yt Pumpe: but he hol­dinge the Helme, sitteth quietlye in the sterne or Puppe: and although hee doe not the same things, which Youngmen doe, yet doeth he farre better & greater seruice then they.

For waightye matters are not done [Page 54] with the strength, nimblenes, and cele­rity of body, but with counsell, authori­tie & aduise: wherof Oldage is wōt not onelye not to bee depriued, but rather y better therwith encreased, & stored. Vn­lesse peraduenture you thincke, that I who haue bene both a Souldier, a Tri­bune, a Generall, an Ambassadour and a Consul, and throughly tryed in diuers brunts of Warres, do nowe seeme alto­gether to loyter, because I practise not the warres, as I was wont to doe.

But I do prescribe vnto the Senate, what thinges are most expedient to bee done, and geeue certeine information to them before hand, how warre maye bee made vpon Carthage, which hath borne a canckred stomacke a great whyle to­wardes vs: of whom I shal neuer cease to stand in feare, vntil I perfectly know it to be vtterly subuerted.

Which victorious conquest I pray ye Gods immortall to reserue for thee (O Scipio) that thou mayest fully fynishe & pursue that which thy Who made Car­thage Tributary to Rome: & this Scipi­o vtterly destroyed, it. Graundfather lefte behinde him vndone.

[Page] Since whose death, there are passed. 33. yeares: but the memoriall of that wor­thye man, God graunt that al posteritye maye embrace and receiue mindfully.

Hee dyed the yeare before I was Cē ­sor, nyne yeares after my Consulshippe, There vvere alvvayes 4. Consuls: 2. in Office for the yere present: & the other elected to succede the next yeare folovvinge. when he had bene created Cōsul the se­cond time, my selfe then beinge Consul. Thinke you that if hee had lyued tyl he had bene an hundreth yere olde, he wold haue bene wearye of his Oldage?

I graunte hee woulde neyther practize Skirmishing, nor nimble leaping, ney­ther tossing the pykes a farre of, nor sla­shing with Swordes, hand to hand: but hee would vse graue counsel, reason, and aduisement. Which points if they were not in Oldmen, our Auncestors wolde neuer haue tearmed their high & moste The Senate hath his name of Olde men. honorable counsell, by the name of Se­nate. And among the* Lacedemonians, they yt bare the highest Offices (as they bee) so also are they called Auncientes Lacedemonians. or Sages.

Now, if you be disposed, to heare and reade forrayne Examples, you shal find [Page 55] that noble and flourishing cōmon weal­thes, haue bene vtterly spoyled by yoūg youthful heades. And the same by Old sage fathers, to haue bene mainteined & recouered.

Tell mee this, howe came it to passe that you loste your mighty and noble common wealth in such a short space? for to one that moued this Question (as it is to be seene in the Booke of the Po­et Neuius, entituled Ludus) many aun­sweres were made and namelye this: Forsoothe, because there stepped into Offyce, new vpstart Oratours, foolish & light headed Yonckers. Lo, Rash­nesse is incidente to youthfull yeeres, but prudence and wisdome to Oldage.

But the Memory is empayred. I be­leeue Memorie not mini­shed in Oldmen. it wel, vnlesse a man do exercise it: or if a man bee of nature slowe and bloc­kishe. Themistocles perfectly knew the names of euery person in the Citye. Do Memorye of Themistocles. you thincke that hee, when he grew into yeres, vsed to call Aristides, by yt name of Lysimachus? Surely I do know not only them yt be yet aliue, but their Fa­hers & Graundfathers also.

[Page] Neyther feare I any whyt least when I read * Epitaphes vpō Tombes, I should A foolish persvvasi­on that vvas in people of old time. (as they say) lose my memory. For by the reading of them, I am brought in­to remembrance of them that are dead. Neither haue I heard of any * Oldman, that euer forgat in what place hee had layde vp his Treasure. They remem­ber No olde man so obliuious, to forget vvhere he layeth his purse. well ynoughe all such thinges as they make any accoūpt of: their Sure­tyshippes, & Obligations of apparaūce at certayn dayes: to whō they bee indeb­ted, and who to them.

What say wee to Lawyers? what to Byshoppes? what to the Augurs? what to Philosophers yt are Oldmen? How many thinges do they remember?

Their wittes still remaine in Olde­men, fresh ynough, so that their study & industrye continue still. And this not only in noble and honorable personages, but in priuate and quiet lyfe also.

Sophocles made Tragedies, euen tyll hee was a very Oldman: who being so earnestly vent to his studies, yt hee was supposed not to take anye care of his [Page 56] houshold affayres, was cited to appeare Sophocles accused by his ovvn sonnes, for do tag before the Iudges, by his owne sonnes. That, as our maner and custome is, whē any Parentes do negligentlye looke to their domesticall dealinges, to sequestre and defeact them, from the vse of theire goodes: so also that the Iudges should displace him from the vse and occupatiō of his owne goodes, as an Old doating Ideot. Then lo, the Oldeman is sayde to haue openlye recyted before the Iud­ges a certeine Tragedy, which he then had in hand, and had lately written, en­tituled Oedipus Coloneus: and after he had read the same, to haue demaunded of them, whether they thought yt Poeti­call piece of worke seemed to bee of anye doatinge fooles doinge? After the reci­tall whereof, he was by all the Iudges Sentences acquite and discharged.

Did Oldage cause this man, or He­siodus, or Simonides, or Sthesicorus, or (those whom I named afore) Isocrates, or Gorgias, or Homer: or the Prince of Philosophers, Pythagoras: or Demo­critꝰ, or Plato, or Socrates, or afterward [Page] Zeno, Cleanthes, (or him whom you also sawe at Rome) Diogenes the Stoicke, to be nonsuited, or to quayle and fumble in their matters? was not the practise of the studies in all these men, Equall to their lyfe?

Goe too: Let vs omit and passe ouer these deuine Studies. I can name vnto you, out of the coast of Sabine, husband­men my Neighbours and Familiers: whom being absent, there is neuer light­lye, any great worke of husbandrye done in their fieldes, neither in sowing, in reaping, nor yet in inninge of their fruicts. Albeit in thē, this thing is not so great­lye to bee meruailed at. For there is no man so olde, but thinketh that hee maye No man so old but hopeth to lyue one yeere longer. lyue one yeare longer. But they also toyle about such thinges, as they knowe doth nothing at all perteyne vnto them. They graffe Trees, which shall yelde Fruict, after a great whyle, to them that Men must do good for them that come after. shall come after them: as oure Statius in his worke, entituled Synephoebis, de­clareth. Neither would an Husband mā (be he neuer so old) stick to make this aū ­sweer [Page 57] to one, yt should aske him for whō hee planteth & soweth: I doe it for the Immortal Gods: whose pleasure it was, that I should not only receiue these thī ­ges, at the hāds of my Predecessors, but should also surrēder & deliuer the same agayn to my Successors. Better a great deale hath Cecilius spoken, of an Olde mā, labouring & prouiding for his Se­quele and posteritie, then he doth in this folowīg: Certes, although Oldage whē it cōmeth had none other incōuenience or mishap ioyned with it, yet is this one ynough, that by lyuing lōg, a mā seeth many things, which hee would not see.

Yea, and peraduenture hee seeth ma­ny thinges, which he is right willing to see. And Adolescency many times hap­neth to see such thinges, as it would not see.

But this nexte sayinge of the same Cecilius is a greate deale worse. Thys also (sayth hee) doe I accoumpte in Oldeage moste miserable, because in that Age, a Man doeth feele [Page] himselfe to be odious vnto others. Nay pleasaunt rather then odious. For euen Old men take de­light in tovvardly yoūgmen as Wise Oldmen take great delight in towardly and vertuous Young men: & their Oldage made a great deale easier, which are reuerenced & loued of Young men: so agayne Youngmen take greate An Olde mās good aduertise­ment, ve­ry profitable and pleasaunt to a yoūg man. ioye and contentment in the good lessōs and Preceptes of Oldemen, whereby they are induced to the studies of Ver­tue. Neyther doe I perceiue my selfe to be any whytlesse welcome and pleasaūt vnto you, then you are vnto mee.

But now you see, howe that Oldage is not only not saynt, sluggish, nor drow­sie, but is rather still busied & euer doing and deuising of some what: such things (I meane) as euery one his delyte hath bene vnto, in his former life.

Nay, how say wee to this moreouer? that they are euery day learning some­what. Solō vvaxed Olde, by lear­ning eue­rye daye somvhat As we haue seene by Solon, who glorying in certayne verses, sayed, that be waxed an Oldmā, by learning euery day somwhat: as I my selfe also did: for I learned the Greeke tongue when I Cato learned the [Page 58] was an aged man: which I did so gree­delye Greeke tong vvhē hee vvas an Oldmā rake and snatche vnto mee, as one desirous to staunche and quenche a long thirst: to the intent yt I might attaigne to the knowledge of those things, why­ch you now see me to vse for Examples. Which thing when I heard say that So­crates had likewise done in musical In­strumentes, I was (verily) willinge to haue done therein semblably: (for men in the old tyme learned to play vpon In­struments) but in Learning (doubtlesse) I tooke verye great paynes, and Dyly­gence.

NEither doe I now anye whyt more The Second dis­prayse of Oldage: alledged by them that saye Oldage is myserable, because it ma­keth the bodye vveake and feble desire or longe to haue ye lustines & strēgth of a yoūg mā (for this was yt se­cond point of ye discōmodities belōging to Oldage) then I did beinge a younge man, desire or long to haue the strength of a Bull, or of an Olyphant. For that thing which naturallye is engraffed in man, it is conuenient and meete for him to vse: & what soeuer he taketh in hand, to goe through stitche with it, & to doe it effectuouslye.

[Page] For what more contemptible worde can there be, then that of Milo Crotoni­ata? who beeinge now olde, and seeinge certeine Champions, & Wrestlers try­inge themselues, in the place or fielde of Exercise, is reported, that hee looked vpon his owne Armes, and spake these wordes, weeping: Ah las, these Armes of mine are now deade. Ah thou prat­ling Milo reprehēded because he bevvailed his lacke of strengthe in his old age. Foole: thy armes are not so much dead, as thou art thy selfe: for thou ne­uer gottest any renowne of thy selfe, but by thy stronge Sydes, and brawny Ar­mes. Sext. AElius neuer played the lyke part, nor manye yeares after that, T. Coruncanus: yea of late dayes P. Crassus, neuer shewed the like prancke: by which men, Lawes were prescribed to the Citizens: and whose Prudence continued with theym, euen till the last gaspe of their lyfe.

But I feare, least an Orator or Plea­der, An other obiection drowpe and faynte in Oldage. For why: to his Function is requisite, not onlye wytte, but durablenesse also, and strength. Assuredly, this same shrilnesse [Page 59] of voyce, doth gallantlye shyne and ap­peare (I know not how) euen in Olde­age: whych I my selfe haue not yet lost, and yet you see my boarye haires. But yet not withstanding, a quiet and mylde Speach is comelye in an Oldman: and the very neate and calme talke of an elo­quent Sage, doth oftentimes of itselfe, cause Audience and eare to bee geeuen vnto it.

Which thing if a man cānot through­lye doe himselfe, yet maye hee instructe and direct Scipio and Laeliꝰ. For what To instructe & teach youth is a necessary and excellēt Function thing is pleasaunter then Oldage guar­ded with the zealous affections of yoūg men? Shall wee not leaue vnto Oldage such strength and power as to teach and instruct Youngmen, and to trayne them to knowe euerye part of their Duties? Then which office, what can bee more excellent? Verelye, me thought that C. and P. Scipio. and thy two Graundfa­thers, L. Aemilius and P. Aphricanus were happye and Fortunate, throughe the attendaunce and company of young Gentlemen.

[Page] All Maisters of Liberall Artes, are Learned men. also to bee accoumpted happy, although their strength be decayed and gone: al­beit this same decay and fayling of the Youth in­ordinate lye ledde maketh a feeble & impotent Oldage. strength is oftener caused throughe the defaultes of Adolescency, then of Olde­age. For libidinous & dissolute Adoles­cencie, bringeth vnto Oldeage, a bodye feeble and impotent.

Cyrus in that talke which hee had vp­on his death Bed, being a very Did mā, Lusty Oldage of Cyrus. (as Xenophon wryteth) denieth that e­uer he perceiued or felt his Oldage, any whytte weaker then his Adolescencye was.

I my selfe beeinge a Boy, remember that L. Metellus, who was made hyghe Byshoppe foure yeres after his seconde Perfecte strength of Metel­lus in Oldage. Consulship, and executed that rowme of Priesthoode xxii yeares, was of such perfect strength in the very latter end of his Age, yt he neuer wished for his Ado­lescencye agayne, I neede not to speake anye thing of my selfe: albeit it is an Oldmans part so to do, & allowed vnto vs, by the priuiledge of our Age.

[Page 60] Do ye not see, howe often Nestor in Homer maketh vaunt of his owne ver­tues? Nestor lyued three hundred yeres. For he had now lyued three mens Ages, and therfore needed not to feare, least in telling of himselfe, yt, whych was true, he shoulde eyther seeme too arro­gant or too talkatiue. For there flowed from his tongue (as Homer saith) wor­des Iliad. j. Agamemnon. and reasons, sweeter then hony: vn­to which sweetenesse, hee needed not a­nye bodily strength, and yet that renow­med * General of Greece, neuer wished to haue tenne persons lyke Aiax: but hee manye times wished to haue tenne Wisdome excelleth strength. suche as Nestor. Whiche if it mighte so happē: he doubted not, but Troy should in short time be ruinated. But now I returne to my selfe.

I am now going on the Lxxxiiii. yere of myne Age: and glad would I be, if I might glorye and vaunte of that thinge which Cyrus did: but yet this can I say, that (in deede) I haue not that strength which I had at the * Punique warres, Betvvene the Ro­maines & the Car­thaginiās. or when I was Lieutenant in the same Warres, or when I was Consull in [Page] Spayne, or as I had iiii. yeares after, when as I beeing Tribune or Marshall of the field, fought a Battaile at* Ther­mopylę, A mountayne in Greece through vvhich is a verye streight and narrovv passage. in the tyme yt M. Attilius, and C. Labeo were Consulls. And yet as you see, Oldage hath not altogether soaked awaye my strength, nor weakened mee: the Senate house findeth no lacke of it in mee: the Iudicial place of Pleas misseth it not: my Friendes, Clientes, & Straungers, see no such want in mee.

Neyther did I euer assent vnto that olde and much praysed Prouerbe: whi­ch wisheth a man to beginne to be Olde Enoughe such Cockneyes novv a dayes. quickly, if he desire to be Old long. But I (truelye) had leyfer, not to bee an Old man long, then to be an Oldman before I were old in deede. And therfore there neuer yet came anye man to talke wyth mee, but I was occupied.

But (in deede) I haue not so much Strength, as eyther of you twain hath: And agayne, neyther of you haue the Strength of T. Pontius the Centuri­on. What then? is hee therefore bet­ter then you?

[Page 61] Let there onelye bee a measurable moderation of Strength, and let euerie Let euery man meddle vvith no more then hee can vvell compasse man attempt so much as hee is able to compasse: and then I warrant him, hee shall not feele himselfe greatly aggree­ued for the lacke of his strength.

It is sayde that Milo at the famous Games of Olympia, caried an Oxe aly­ue, Milo caryed an Oxe aliue, vpō his shoul­ders, the space of a furlong. vppon his shoulders, the space of a furlong. Now therfore, whether had­dest thou leyfer haue the Bodilye stren­gth of this Milo, or the notable fine wit and knowledge, that was in Pythago­ras?

To bee short: vse & take well in worth this gift of Bodily strength, whyle it la­steth: and when it is gone, seeke not af­ter it to haue it agayne: vnlesse perad­uenture, you wil say, that young Strip­linges should desire to bee in their swa­thing bandes and Childhood againe: or being somwhat further stepped in yeres, should wish to bee in their Adolescencye againe.

The course of Age is certaine, and yt Euery age hath his proper season. waye of Nature is one, and the same [Page] simple: and to euery parte of Age is his due tempestiuitie appointed.

For euen as weakenesse is naturally in young Childrē: wyeldenes in Yongmē: and Grauitie in full consistent age: so is there naturallye in Oldage, a certeine Rypenesse, which ought to bee taken in his due tyme and season.

I thinke Scipio, that you heare what youre Hoste Masinissa doth now dayes being 90. yeares old: who, if he begyn Masinissa kinge of Mauritani at a vvor­thye and a painfull Prince. anye Iourney on foote, will not in all yt Iourney come on horsebacke: and whē hee rydeth foorth, on horsebacke, will not alight: no Rayne, nor Colde can make him to couer his head: his Body is very dry: and therefore doth he in his owne person, execute all the offices and functions that appertayne to a Kinge. Therfore Exercise and temperaunce is able yet to cōserue in Oldage, somwhat of yt former strength, and youthful lusti­nesse.

In Oldage there is no great strēgth. Why: Strēgth is not looked for nor re­quired in Oldage. And therfore by the Obiectiō [Page 62] Laws and Ordinaunces, our Age is ex­empt and dispensed withall, from those affaires, & functions, which cānot with­out strength, be discharged. And there­fore, wee are not cōpelled to do yt thing, which wee cannot doe: nay, wee are not charged to doe so much as wee are able to doe.

But many Oldmen be so weake and feeble, that they are not able to execute Obiectiō any office or function, belonging to Hu­mane Dutie, or respecting mans lyfe. But surely this is not ye proper fault of Oldage, but the cōmune faulte of lacke of Health. How wearish & weake, was the sonne of P. Aphricanus, euē he, that adopted thee? what slender health or ra­ther none at all had bee? which if it had not so bene, he (surely) wold haue proo­ued the secōd Light of our citie. For be­sides his fathers haughtines and glory, he was also better furnished wt learnīg & Yoūgmē subiect to infirmities asvvel as olde qualities of the mynde. What meruaile is it therfore in Oldmen, if they be somtime weakishe and feeble, sithens euen Youngmen cannot escape it? [Page] Wee must resist Oldage (O Scipio and Laelie) and the faultes that bee in it, must by diligence be recompenced. And as wee would fighte against Sicknesse, so must wee also againste Oldage: wee must haue a special regard to our health wee must vse moderate Exercises: wee Good lessons to resist Oldeage. must take so much meate and drincke, yt the powers of the bodye maye be refre­shed, and not vtterly oppressed. And not onelye must wee haue this speciall care to our Bodye, but also to our Soule, & mynde muche more. For, these also The dyet of the bodye, aptly resēbled to a Lamp (vnlesse a man do obserue a measure, as in feedinge a Lampe wyth Oyle) are quēched by Oldage, & entinguished.

And the Bodies by defatigation and Differēce betvvene the povvers of the mynd and the bodye. Exercise, decaye and growe worse, but the Myndes by beinge exercised, are holpen and bettered.

For those, whom the Comicall Poet Caecilius calleth foolishe Oldmen, hee meaneth to bee such as are credulous, forgetfull, and dissolute: which are the faultes, not of right Oldage, but of such an Oldage, as is sluggish, slouthful, and drowsie.

[Page 63] And as Malapertnesse and Sensuality, is more incidence to Youngmen then to Olde: and yet not to all Youngmen, but vnto such as bee not of good disposi­tion: so this Oldmanlye foolishnesse Dotage. (whyche is commonlye called Dotage) is not in all Oldemen, but in them onlye which be lewde, and of small accoumpt.

Appius beeing both old & also blind, gouerned and ruled his foure tall Son­nes, Blind Appius a pa­terne of a noble Gētlemā and good houshol­der. his fiue Daughters, his familye & housholde, which was great, besides his Patronage of a greate maignye of Cli­entes. He had his minde bent as it were a Bowe, and neyther did he shrinke nor yelde to Oldage. Hee reserued and ex­ecuted not onelye Authoritye, but also an imperious cōmaundmēt ouer al thē, that were vnder his charge. For his ser­uauntes feared him: his Children reue­renced him: all men tenderly loued him: in that house of his, there was a perfect patterne of the auncient fashion, and dis­cipline of our Country.

For herein is Oldage honorable, if it defend & maintein itselfe if it stil retayn [Page] his authoritye, if it bee not in Bondage What maketh Old age, honorable. to any man: if euen to the laste breath, it exercise Rule and Commaundement o­uer them that depend vpon it.

For as wee commend that Younge man, in whom there bee some pointes of Youthful Oldage. an Oldman: so also doe wee praise that Oldman, in whom, there is any of ye pro­perties of an honest Youngman. Whi­ch Old yoūg age. thing who soeuer followeth, may be olde in Bodye, but neuer in mynde.

I am now in hande with my seuenth Booke of Originalles: I am collecting all the Monumentes of Antiquity: & now am I earnestlye busied with pen­ning the Orations of all such famous & notable causes as I haue in my time de­fended. I studye the Augurall, Canon, and Ciuile lawe: I geeue my selfe mu­che to the studye of the Greeke tongue: and (as Pythagoras his Scholers were wont to doe) to exercise my memory wt ­all, I recoumpt euery Euening, all that The cu­stome of the Pytha thagoriās I haue sayde, hearde, or done, daye by day.

These be the Exercises of the wytte, [Page 64] these are the feates, wherein the mynde is occupied. In these I paynfullye tra­uayling & studying, finde no great lacke of the strength of bodye. I am readye & able to helpe my freendes, I come often into the Senate house, and of myne own accord, I cary thither with me, matters throughlye debated and canuassed: and them doe I defend and mainteine wyth the strength, not of Body, but of Minde. Whych thynges if I were not able in person to execute, yet shoulde I take great delectation lying in my Bedde, to thincke vppon those matters, whiche I could not doe. But my age passed is su­ch, that I can doe them. For hee yt gee­ueth himselfe cōtinually to these studies and labours, feeleth not when, nor how Oldage creepeth vpon him.

Thus doth Age, by little and little, & without feelinge, waxe olde, and growe to an end: neyther is it sodeinly broken of, but by continuaunce, and tracte of tyme quenched.

NOW followeth the third dispraise The third Dispraise of Olage: alledged or faulte that is founde in Oldage: [Page] because they saye it lacketh Pleasures. by them that saye it is vvith out al plesures. Oh worthy gifte of Age, if it take that thing frō vs, which euē in Adolescēcy is most beastly. For geue ye eare (my good Gentlemenne) and marke yee well an Olde Oration or discourse of Architas Tarentinus, a right noble and excellent man, which was lent vnto mee, when I was a very yoūgman at Tarento with Bodilye pleasure notablye inueigh ed against by Atchitas. Q. Maximus. He sayde that there was not anye more pernitious plague, euer geeuen vnto men by Nature, then was this Pleasure of ye Body. Which Plea­sure, mēs libidinous lustes, inordinate­lye desiring, are rashly and vnaduisedly incited, and stirred to ensue and folow. Hence (said hee) spring all Treasons, & Trecheries against our Country, hence beginne all the euersions of Common wealthes: hence are hatched all secrete conspiracies, and priuye conserences wt oure Enemies. Fynally, that there is no villany, nor anye notable enormi­tie, which the inordinate desire of Plea­sure did not egge, and incense a man Pleasures the Wel­spring of al Mischieues. to enterprise. And that Whoredome, [Page 65] Adulterye, and all such kinde of detesta­ble deedes, were by none other lures, & enticementes, procured, but by Plea­sure.

And whereas eyther Nature, or some God, hath geeuen nothinge vnto man, of more excellency, then the mind, Dignitie of the minde. or reasonable Soule:, there is no thing so much against this diuine Gyfte and bountye, as is Pleasure. For where Pleasure beareth swaye, Tempēraunce hath no place at all: neyther can Ver­tue abyde within Pleasures kinge­dome.

For the playner vnderstandinge of which thing, hee willed, and bade vs to A man addicted to pleasure, moste vn meete for al vertuous actiōs ymagine & in mynde to presuppose some man, so greatlye plunged in this bode­lye Pleasure, as possiblye mighte bee: hee thought no man would doubt, but that so long as any such man, wallowed in this Sensualitye, hee should neither be able by witte, reason, deuise, nor cogi­tation, to cōtriue & compasse, any thing that were good. And therefore he sayd that nothing was so detestable & pestife­rous as Pleasure.

[Page] For it beeinge great and continuinge long, would sone marre, and extinguish all the light of the Minde.

Nęarchus our Host of Tarento (a mā who had still continued in Frendship wt the People of Rome) did then tell mee, that hee had hearde his Elders reporte, that Architas had al this discourse with C. Pontius, the Samnite, father vnto him, by whō our two Cōsulles, P. Post­humius, and T. Veturius were foyled & A shameful and reprochful ouerthro. ouercome in the Battaile at Caudium. At which Discourse, Plato of Athens was also present: who (as I finde) came to Tarento, when L. Aemilius. and Ap­pius Claudius were Consuls.

But to what ende speake I all this? Forsooth, to geeue you to vnderstand, yt if wee cannot by wisdome and reason, set Oldage qualifieth all il mo­tions. at naught and dispise Pleasure: yet that wee may saye Gramercy to Oldage, by whose meanes it commeth to passe that wee haue no lust to do that thing, which wee ought not to doe. For Pleasure be­ing a deadly Enemy to Reasō, hindreth Pleasure and Ver­tue are contraryes. consultation, and (as I maye saye) da­zeleth [Page 66] & bewitcheth ye eyes of the minde, neither hath it anye Felowshippe with Vertue.

Sore against my will was it, that I disgraded and displaced L. Flaminius, Vice pu­nished vvithout any parci­ahtie or respect of persons brother of yt right valiaūt T. Flaminius, out of ye Senate, seuen yeres after yt hee had bene Cōsull: but I déemed it con­uenient yt his inordinate Lust shoulde by such opē punishmēt be accordingly met wtal & reproued. For beinge Consull in Gallia, hee was at a Banket entreated A dissolu­te part cō ­mitted by Flaminius to fulfill an vvho­res request by a cōmon Brothel or Curtesan, to be­head some one of thē, which were in Pri­son, and condēned to dye. Hee, so longe as his brother Titus was Censor (whi­ch was next afore mee) escaped vnpuni­shed: But I and Flaccus could not in a­nye wyse allow of such a Villanous and lewd Lust, which besides his owne pri­uate shame, and reproche, emblemished also the Honor of our Empyre.

I haue oftentimes heard myne Aun­cestours tell, (who likewise sayde that they had heard the same at Oldemens handes afore) that C. Fabritius was [Page] wont much to meruayle: because being Ambassadour to Kinge Pyrrhus, be had heard Cyneas the Thessalian, reporte, that at Athens there was a * certeine fe­low, Epicure. professing himselfe to be a Wyse­man, who affirmed, that all thinges whyche wee goe aboute, oughte to be referred vnto Pleasure. Whyche tale, M. Curius, and T. Coruncanus hearing him report, were wont to wish that the Samnites, and Kinge Pyrrhus hymselfe, were fullye perswaded to be­leeue, and creedite the same: to thende they myght bee a greate deale more ea­selye vanquished, when as they once ad­dicted theymselues whollye to Plea­sures.

This M. Curius. lyued with * P. De­cius, This man valyantly died in the defēce his Coū ­trey. who in his fourth Consulshyppe, fiue yeares before the other was Con­sul, voluntarily offred himselfe to death for his Country. Fabritius knewe hym well, and so did Coruncanus: who as­well by their own lyues, as by the deede of this P. Decius (whom euen nowe I named) iudged yt there was somthinge [Page 67] naturallye good and excellent: whyche was to bee desired, euen for itselfe, and which euery good and vertuous person (abandoning & concemning pleasures) ought to ensue.

But, to what end speake I so much of Pleasure? because (forsoth) it is not only no Dispraise at all, nay rather a moste high praise & cōmendation for Oldage, because it greatlye careth not, for anye Pleasures. It lacketh dayntye fare, curious dishes, and sundry drinckes. It Obiectiō therfore lacketh Dronkennes, Indige­stion, and phantasticall dreames.

But if wee must needes yeelde some Hard to resist pleasures al­lurements what to Pleasure, because wee cannot easelye withstand her allurementes (for the Diuine Philosopher Plato calleth Pleasure, ye Bayt of all Mischiefe, because mē are ensnared & caught therwt, as Fyshes wyth the Hooke) I saye all though Oldage lack imoderat gluttīg Moderate Banquetting cōmedable and tolerable for Oldage. cheere, yet may it bee delighted in mo­derate Banquetting.

When I was a Boy, I oftentimes sawe C. Duillius, the Sonne of M. [Page] euen hee that firste vanquished the Car­thaginians by Sea) being an old man, comming home from Supper. Hee lo­ued manye tymes to haue a Torche or Lyncke caryed before him, and a Musi­cion also playing: which example or president, no priuate persō before him euer shewed: his Glory & renowme embold­ned him so farre, licentiously to deale. But what speake I so much of others? Now come I agayne to myselfe. First I alwaies had Cōpanye & Felowshyp. And Felowshippes were first instituted when I was Treasurer, at such time as wee receiued the sacred Rites of the Ladye* Greate mother of the Gods, out of Cybele Phrygia.

I banquetted therefore with my Ma­tes, but yet alwayes moderately. But there was in me then, a certayn galan­tise and heate of Age: which Age gro­winge Banquet­tinge and makinge merie vvyth honest cō ­panye. forwarde, all thinges are euerye daye, more and more qualified. For I neuer measured my delite in those Bā ­quets, for any pleasures of the body: but rather for the Companie sake and talke [Page 68] of my Frendes, and well willers.

And therfore our Auncestors dyd ve­rye wel, in tearminge a feastinge assem­blye of Freendes (because it bath a con­iunction of lyuinge together) by the na­me of Conuiuium: a great deale better Conuiuiū then doe the Greekes, who call the selfe same thing, somtime a *Compotation, [...] and somtime a * Concenation: wherein they seeme to allow of yt, which in thys kynde, is least of all to be made accoūpt of.

Verily I doe take delight in season­able Banquetting, euen for the delight that I take in the talking & confereēce: and not with my Equalles onelye, who are now very fewe, but with your Age also, & euē with you yourselues. And I hartely thanke Oldage, for that, it hath encreased in mee a greedinesse of talke, and taken away the desire of Meate and Drinke. Now yet, if any man take spe­ciall delight in these thinges (because I Oldage not alto­gether vvithout vulgare pleasures. wyl not seeme altogether to bee at open warre and defiaunce wyth Pleasure, whereof there is peraduēture a certaine [Page] measure Naturall) I doe not perceiue that Oldage lacketh a fruition and fee­linge, no not in these Pleasures them­selues. The Prerogatiues, and superi­orities at Feastes, instituted by oure Aūcestours, do wonderfully cōtent me: and those pointes or cases, which by an aunciēt custome amōg our Elders, are propounded at the Table by the chiefe Maister of the feast: and the Cuppes as in Xenophōs Treatise, entituled Sym­posiū) Xenophō prety, small, and clenly rynsed: & in Sommer season a pleasaunt cooling, & likewise in Winter, eyther ye warme Sonne, or a good Fyre, is vnto mee singuler delight. Which thinges when I lye at my Manor of Sabine, I am vsu­allye wont to put in practise: and euery daye I throughly furnishe my Boorde wyth my Neighbours: where we passe awaye the time together in talkinge of manye and sundrye matters, euen tyll it be farre in the night.

But there is not so great tickling, & Obiectiō. as it were an itch of Pleasures in Old men. I beleeue it wel: nay, there is not so much, as any desire thereto. For no­thinge [Page 69] is greuous or beauilye taken of a man, which hee neyther desireth nor ca­reth for.

Very wel did Sophocles aunswere a certayne man, which asked him beinge Sophocles aunsvvere touching carnal cocupiscēce now greatly striken in yeares, whether hee vsed Venereall act or Carnal com­pany with women? God forbid ( (que) he) that I should vse any such thing: for I haue willinglye renounced and fledde from all such lasciuiousnes, as from a beastly and furious Mayster.

For to them that are desirous of such thinges, the lacke and want thereof is peraduenture odious and greuous. But to them which are fullye glutted, and satisfied therewith, it is more plea­sure to want, then to haue them: how be it, he that forceth not for athing, lacketh He that careth not for a thig, cannot be sayde to lacke it. it not. And therfore not to care for it, I saye, is greater pleasure, then to haue yt fruition of it.

Now if youthful Age, delight & enioy these foresayd Pleasures, the reason is, first because it is more wylling to ensue small matters, & of light importaunce, [Page] as afore wee haue sayd: and afterwards such thinges as Oldage, if it fully enioy not, yet doth it not altogether lacke.

And like as hee which sitteth vppon the first and chiefest Bench, doth better behold and is more delighted to see* Ambiuius Turpio: An excel­lente player of Comae­dies and counter­feicter of mens ge­stures. and yet is bee also de­lyghted, whych sitteth vpon the hynder­most and last Bench of al: euen so Ado­lescency more néerely beholdinge Plea­sures, doth perhaps more frolicklye de­lite, and ioye in them. But yet Oldage beholding the same aloofe and farre of, hath as much delectation therein, as is sufficient.

But what a singuler commoditye is this, that the Mind being as it were fre­ed, and worne oute of the seruice & thral­dome of Sensualitie, Ambition, Con­tention, Quarrelling, and all filthy Af­fections, kepeth itselfe within his boū ­des, and lyueth (as the Prouerbe sayth) with itselfe? But if it be furnished & as it were nourished with the foode of some Study and learning: then truly is there What old age is plesauntest. nothinge more pleasaunt then is a quiet [Page 70] Oldage.

Wee sawe C. Gallus, the Familier C. Gallus Frend of thy father, O Scipio, continu­allye to applye, and as it were to dye, in Oldman studious his earnest study of measuring of* Hea­uen and* Earth: How often hath yt next Astrono­mie. Morning, come vpō him ere he had ful­lye finished that thing which he had be­gonne Geome­tye. to describe the night before? How often did nighte surprise him, when as hee had begonne anye thing in the mor­ning? What a singuler delighte was it vnto him, when as be long before prog­nosticated, and foretolde vnto vs, the E­clipses, both of the Sunne and Moone? What diligēce bestowed hee in lighter matters and of lesse importaunce, but yet verye quicke, and wittye?

How greatly did Naeuius reioyce in Naeuius. his Comedy, called the Punique VVar­res? How ioyed Plautus in his Comedy Truculentus? How in his Pseudolus? Plautus

I also, saw old* Liuius, who hauinge set foorth a Comedye, seuen yeares bee­fore Liuius Andronicus I was borne, when Cethegus, and Tuditanus were Consulles, lyued fyll [Page] I was a pretye Stripling.

What shoulde I speake of the pro­founde studie of P. Licinius Crassus, Licinius Crassus. both in the Canon, and also in the Ci­uyle Lawe? Or of this our P. Scipio, who was this other daye created highe Scipio. Priest? But yet all these whom I ha­ue named, wee sawe to bee Oldmen, & most earnestly enflamed wt these kynde of studies.

As for M. Cethegus, (whom Ennius doth verye well tearme the Marowe or Pyth of Lady * Suada) howe studiously The God desse of Eloquence and gallāt speach called in Greke Pitho. did wee see him busied in Oratorie, be­inge euen an Oldman.

What Pleasures therefore of Ban­quettes, or Playes, or Harlottes, are comparable to these Pleasures? And these are the studies of learning, which in men of wisdome, and good inclinatiō do grow, euen as they themselues doe, in Age: so that, that saying of Solon is verified, which hee vttered in a certaine Verse, as before I haue declared, That Wee vvax older by beeing vviser.hee waxed older and older by learning euery day more and more. [Page 71] Then which Pleasure of the mynde, there can none (doubtlesse) bee greater.

I come now to the Pleasures which Husbandmen haue, wherewith surelie Husbandrye. I am incrediblie delited: which neither are impeached, nor hyndered with any Oldage, and in my phansie, do approch neerest vnto the lyfe of a Wiseman. For their dealing & trade is wt the Earth, wt neuer refuseth to bee vnder their com­maundement & subiection: and euer re­payeth that which it afore receiued, wt asurplusage & vsury: albeit somtimes wt lesse, but for yt most part wt greater gain & encrease. Albeit (in deede) not yt fruits only, but yt power & nature of ye Earthe itselfe, is it, wt delyteth me: which when it hath receiued yt Seede cast vpō it, into her lap, being by tillage wel ploughed, & manured, doth first for a time keepe it closely couered ouer wt barowing, why­th is therupō called Occatio: and after­wards being warmed wt moisture, & her therishmēt, she maketh it to sprout and shoote vp. & bringeth out of it a greene blade, which being strengthned & staied wt the smal stringes at yt rote of ye stēmes [Page] doth by lyttle and little, grow vp to a cō ­uenient bignesse: and standing vpright vpon a knottye straw ful of ioyntes, is, when it draweth toward rypenesse, in­closed within Huskes. Out of the why­ch when it peepeth, it bringeth foorth ye Corne handsomelye set in thorder of an Eare: and to saue it from being pecked out by small Byrdes, it is rampyered & fenced with a Trench or Walle of the Awnes, or Beardes.

What shoulde I speake of the Graf­finge, springinge vp, and encrease of Vy­nes? I cānot be ynough delighted there­in: because I would you should know ye quietnesse and delectation of myne Old­age. I doe omit the force and Vertue of al these thynges, which the Earth brin­geth forth: how, out of one poore kernel of a Figge, or out of one seely grayne of a Grape, or out of the smallest seedes of other Fruites and Plantes, it doth pro­create and bring foorth, such great Bo­les, and Stemmes. The small twygs, the Gryftes, the Stalkes, the plātable Vynes, the platted stayes, for theym to [Page 72] runne along vpon, & the old Wyne stoc­kes, doe not these cause any mā to delite therein with a kinde of admiration?

The Vyne whiche naturallye is fal­linge, if it be not vnder propped, & shoa­red vp, lyeth flat vpon the ground: but the same, to rayse vppe itselfe, clas­peth and with his Tendrells (as it were with handes) holdeth faste what soeuer it catcheth. The which creeping and spreading itselfe sundrye wayes, yt Husbandmans skilfull Arte, doth with his pruninge toole restrayne and cut of, least it should with superfluous Braun­ches, be ouer growen & spread too much euery waye.

And therfore at the beginning of the Spring, in that which was lefte at the ioyntes where those twigges were cut of, there sprouteth out a young Burgē or Budde: out of the which, the Grape comming foorth, doth shew itselfe: whi­ch Buddes. encreasing in bignesse, partly with ye moysture of the Earthe, and partlye wt the heate of the Sunne, is at the firste very bytter in cast, but afterwards be­ing [Page] ripened, waxeth sweet & tothsome: and being clad and shrowded with lea­ues, lacketh neither moderat warmth, and also defendeth the too much parth­ing heat of the Sūne. Then the which what thing can there bee, either for the fruiet, pleasanter, or for the Eye, gor­geouser and trimmer? whereof, not the profite onely, (as before I sayde) but yt manuraunce and the selfe nature of the thinge highly deliteth me. The orders of the shoares or proppes, the tyinge & byndinge them together at the toppes, the shreadinge of the old Vines and the superfluous Braunches (which before I mentioned) and ye placinge of others in their steedes.

To what ende should I rehearse the wateringe of the Plantes, the Dyg­ginge and new renewing of the groūd, whereby the Earthe is made a greate deale rancker and fruitfuller? What Dygging should I speake of the profite that com, meth by the Dunginge and Compos­tinge of Land? I haue sayde sufficient­ly Dunging of it, in that Booke which I wrate of [Page 73] Husbandry: whereof the Learned He­siodus in hys Woorke which hee wrate of Tyllage, spake neuer a worde? But Homer who was (as I take it) manye hundreth yeaces before hym: in­troduceth and maketh Laertes, longing Odyss. [...] and languishinge for the absence of his Sonne, as an Husbandman, tylling yea & Dunging also of the ground.

Neyther are Husbandlye affayres Sundrye delightes of Husbā drye. onelye delectable and plentifullye stoa­red with greene Corne, Meadowes, Vyneyardes and Copsees: but with Orchardes also and Gardeines, Gra­singe of Cattall, Swarmes of Bees and varietie of all sortes of Flowers. And not onely Planting, but Engraf­finge Planting Graffinge also is delightfull, which are as wittie, and as fine posates, as any be in Husbandrye.

Many delites of Husbādry can I recken vp: but I suppose yt these which I haue already named, bee vnto you somwhat redious. But you shall pardon me: for yt great goodwil wt I beare to Husban­dry, hath caried me somewhat far in the [Page] discourse thereof: and also Oldeage is by nature, talkatiue and geeuen to ma­ny wordes: because I wil not seeme to cleare it from all faultes.

And therfore M. Curius after he had Noblemē haue delyted to spē de their time in Husbandrye tryumphed ouer the Samnites, and Sa­bines, and ouer Pyrrhus, spent the later ende of his Age in this kinde of lyfe. Whose Ferme or coūtry House, as oftē as I beholde (for it is not far frō mine) I cannot but greatlye wonder to consi­der eyther the continency of this noble Gentleman, or the Discipline that was in those dayes.

For vpon a tyme the Samnites brin­ging vnto this Curius sitting by the fier a huge summe of Golde, were by him A noble aunsvvere of a vvor­thy man Enemye to all bryberye. put backe and reiected; saying, he thou­ght it more honorable to haue domini­on and to be Lord ouer them that be ful of Gold, then to haue Gold himselfe. Coulde such a Noble mynde otherwise choose, but leade a pleasaunt Oldage?

But now come I agayn to Husbād­men, because I recken my selfe one of their order and felowshyp. Senatours, [Page 74] that is to saye, Sage Seniors and Did Senators Oldmen. men, were in those dayes Husbandmen. For as L. Quintius Cincinnatus was The highest office in the cō ­mon vvealth called al­so the Maister of the peo­ple: & for the time had the office of a king. holding the Plough in the field, newes was brought to him that he was made Lord * Dictator. By ye cōmaundment of which Lord Dictator, the maister of the Horsemen, C. Seruilius Hala, slewe Sp. Melius a spiring to be king, and go­inge aboute by intrusion to gette the Crowne.

Out of their Fermes and Countrye Houses, was Curius, and manye other Oldmen sent for, and called into ye Se­nate: wherupon they that went to Sō ­mon Noble Councel­lours cho­sen out of the coun­trye. and call them were named * Via­tores, Purseuauntes, or common Mes­sangers. Was therefore the Oldage of these men miserable, which thus de­lighted in Tyllage and husbandrye? Currours or Purse­uauntes. Certes in my iudgement. I doubt whe­ther there can bee anye blessedder lyfe then this is: and not onely for common Duties sake, because Tillage is expedi­ent and cōmodious for all sorces of men in generall, but also for the delectation [Page] (which I speake of) and for the plenti­fulnesse and abundance, which both for In Husbā dry is both profite & pleasure. the sustenaunce of men, and honoure of the Gods are requisitely belonginge. And sithens some doe desire this, let vs nowe reconcile oure selues vnto Plea­sures.

For a good and substantiall Husbād hath alwayes his Cellors for Wyne, Oyle, Honye, and houshold prouision, well stoared, and his whole House well furnished. Hee hath stoare of Hogge, Kydde, Lambe, Henne, Mylke, Cheese and Honye.

Now, Husbandmen themselues doe call and tearme a Gardeyne, by the na­me Hortus altera Succidia. of an other Larder: and Hawkinge and Huntinge beeinge superuacuous & vayne exercises, doeth season the same thinges a greate deale better, and ma­keth theym more toothsome.

What should I speake of the greene verdure and hue of Meadowes, of the orderlye settinge of Trees, or of the goodlye beautye, and fashion of their [Page 75] Vyneyardes, and Olyueyardes?

I wyll in fewe Woordes declare my mynde. I say there can be nothing, ey­ther profitabler for vse, eyther ttym­mer for shewe, then is Ground, well manured and tylled: from the fruition whereof, Oldage doeth not onelye not hynder a man, but also rather inuiteth and allureth him thereunto.

For where may that Age better, yea or so wel, warme itselfe, eyther by sit­tinge in the Sunne, or by a good fier: or concrarye wise as the Season of the yeere serueth, bee so holsomlye cooled either in shadye places, or pleasaunte waters?

Let younger folkes therefore take to themselues their exercises of deedes of Exercises for Yoūg men. Armes, of Horsemanshippe, of tossinge the Pyke and Speare, of handlinge ye Clubbe, and Ball, theire Practise of Swymminge and Runninge: to vs Oldemen, of manye other Games let theym leaue the Tables, and Chesse, Disportes for Olde men. [Page] (yea and that no further then a man is disposed) because Oldage without these may be happye.

The Bookes of Xenophon are very Xenophō his booke of Householde. profitable for sundrye purposes, yt why­ch (I pray you) viligētly peruse & read, as you do. How copiously doth he pray­se Husbādry in his booke of Houshold, entituled Oeconomicus? And that you may well vnderstand how that nothing seemeth vnto him so Princelye and fitte for a Kinge, as is the studye of Tyllage and practise of husbandrye, hee intro­duceth Socrates in that Booke, reaso­ning with Critobulus, and telling him that Cyrus the younger, King of Per­sia, Cyrus. (a Prince both for profoundnes of Wytte, and for glorious Soueraigntye of Empyre, renoumed) when as Lysan­der Lysander the valiaunt Capitayne of the La­cedemonians, vppon a tyme came vnto him at his Cittie of Sardis, & had brou­ght vnto him frō his confederates and freendes certeine Presentes and Re­wardes, did shew himselfe in al pointes generallye curteous and freendlye to­wardes [Page 76] the sayde Lysander, and name­lye that he shewed vnto him a certeyne enclosed fielde sette and planted with Trees righte orderlye.

Now when Lysander had through­ly viewed, and with admiration beheld both the heighte of the Trees, and the exact order, precisely obserued in ye pla­cinge and settinge of them in a perfecte * Quincuncie, the ground well manu­red and pure withall, and the sweete When Trees are so exactly set, that vvhiche vvay so e­uer a man loke they stand dy­rectly one againste another. smelles which the flowers yelded: hee told the king, that he wondered not on­lye at the diligence, but also at the fyne wytte of him, by whom those thyngs were measured out and described. Vn­to whom Cyrus thus aunswered. It is euē I my selfe, which haue by measure planted and set these Trees: the order of the Rowes wherin they stand, is my onely deuice, and no other mans: the platforme also & the description here­of is mine: yea manye of these Trees were planted and set with myne owne handes. Then Lysander well eyinge his purple Robe, and the rych Apparel [Page] of his Bodies, and the rest of his gallāt Brauerye after the Persian guyse, wrought & garnished with much Golde and manye pretious Stones further sayde this: Now do I well see (O Cy­rus) that for very good cause, thou art reported a Prince, Fortunate: be­cause vnto thy Vertue, Fortune also is Virtuti Fortuna comes. conioyned. This therefore may Olde men lawfullye enioye. Neither is age anye such lett or Obstacle, but that in other thinges also, and namely in Hus­bandrye and Tyllage, wee maye con­tinue oure Practise, euen tyll, the laste poyncte of our Oldage.

Wee haue hearde saye, that M. Va­lerius Coruinus lyued tyll hee was an Valerius Coruinus hundreth yeares olde: and that when hee was verye aged, hee dwelled in the Countrye, and fell to Tyllynge of hys Land.

Betweene whose First and Sixt Con­sulshippe, there were Fortye and Sixt yeares. Therefore so longe tyme of Age, as our Auncestoures appointed & [Page 77] would haue to the beginninge of Olde­age, dyd he beare Office and Aucthori­tye Authori­tye the chiefest honor and orna­mente of Oldage in the Common Wealthe. And herein was his extreeme and laste Age blessedder then his middle age, because it was honoured with more Authority: and of Laboure and Trauayle had lesse then afore.

The highest Tytle and Honorablest perfection of Oldage, is Aucthority. Oh, how great was it in L. Caecilius Metellus? how honourable in Attilius Calatinus? whose Prayse and commē ­dation is sounded oute in this Honora­ble Testification: Many Nations with one mouth do agre, that he was the chiefest man of all the Cittye. The Epi­taph yt was engrauen vpon his Tombe is well knowen. Worthilye there­fore and by good right was hee called a graue Personage, of whose Prayses all men by one consente gaue so good a re­porte generallye.

What a worthye man sawe wee P. Crassus, of late the highe Bishop to be? [Page] what a noble fellowe was M. Lepidus, who afterwardes was in the same Of­fice of Priesthoode? What shall I spea­ke of Paulus or Aphricanus, or (as a­fore) of Maximus? not onelye in whose discrete Counsels & Directions, but al­so in whose beckes there rested Autho­ritie?

Oldage (namelye that, which is reuerenced and honored) hath so great What maner of oldage is commendable Authority, that it is much more worthe then all the Pleasures of Adolescencie.

But in al this my discourse, remem­ber ye, that I praise that Oldage, whose foundation was layd and grounded in Adolescency. Whereupon that, which I wt all mens wel lyking haue so often spoken, is verefied: That the Oldeage which defendeth it selfe onelye wyth talke, is miserable.

It is not the graye hayres, nor the wrinckled face, that straightwayes can bring Authoritie & Estimation: but a former lyfe vertuouslye and honestlye spent, yeldeth the fruicts of Authoritye in the ende. For these thinges whiche [Page 78] seeme light and of small accoumpt, are (in deede) very honorable: to be saluted, to be desired into companye, to haue the wall geeuen, to bee reuerented and ry­sen vp vnto, to bee wayted on, home & from home, and to bee soughte vnto for counsayle: which thinges both among vs, and in all other wel gouerned & nur­tured Cities also, are moste diligentlye obserued.

The report goeth, that Lysander (of The best dvvelling for Olde age vvas at Lacedemon. whom I ere while made mention) was wont to say, that, The honestest Lod­ging & honorablest Mansion for Old age to dwell in, was in Lacedęmonia. For in no place els in the worlde, is so much reuerēce shewed to Age as there: in no place is Oldeage more honoura­ble.

It is also left in written Histories, yt Great re­uerence among the Heathen shevved to Old age. a certayne Elderly man comming into the Theatre at Athens to see a Playe, had no rowme at al allowed vnto him, to sit in, among his Coūtrymen in that great assembly: who afterwardes cō ­minge to the Lacedemonians (whych [Page] were there at yt tyme Ambassadours, and in respect thereof had a place accordingly appointed them where to sitte) it is sayd yt they all arose, and receiued the Oldman to sitte among them.

Whereat when as all the whole assem­blye for ioye, a greate while together clapped their handes, it is reported that one of the Ambassadoures spake these wordes * The Athenians knowe what is honest, but to doe the same, they wyl Too ma­nye of the same stāp novv a dayes. not.

Many excellent good orders haue we in our Colledge: but namely this, that as euerye one is in Senioritye and El­dershippe of Age, so hath he a preroga­tiue to vtter his mynde firste. For the Aunciente and Aged Augurs are pre­ferred and esteemed, not onelye before them which bee in higher Office then they: but beefore theym also, which beare the chiefeste Swaye, Auctho­ritye, and Office, in the Weale Pub­lique.

What Bodilye Pleasures are there comparable to the rewardes and ad­uaunce [Page 79] mentes of Aucthoritye? Where­in who so euer haue honourablye beha­ued theymselues, they in myne Opini­on haue notablye well played the Pa­geaunt of their Age: and not like bun­gling Stagiers, in the last Acte of al, to haue fumbled and geeuen it ouer in the playne fielde.

But many Oldmen bee wayward, Obiectiō carefull, testye and ill to please: and if wee throughlye siste the matter, coue­tous Faults of maners & not of age and nygardlye also. But these are the faults of Maners, & not of Oldage.

But yet this way wardnesse, and the other faultes before rehearsed, haue some colour of excuse, which althoughe not iust & rightful, yet such as seemeth may bee allowed of.

They thincke themselues to be con­temned, despysed, flouted and mocked: and furthermore in that frayle bodye of theirs, euery small Offence is odious & captiously taken. Al which (notwith­standing) throughe good maners & dis­ciplines are qualified and sweetened: which to bee true, maye bee perceyued [Page] aswell by the common course of Mans lyfe, as also by the two Brothers in the Comedie Adelphi. What churlishnes Terence. & rude behauioure is there in the one? what gentlenesse and curtesie in the o­ther? The case standeth euen so. For as euerye Wyne by Age is not sowred into Vyneiger: so neither is euery Oldage crabbed and eluish.

Seueritie in Oldage I well allow, but Seueritye in mesure alovvable in Oldmē yet (as I do of all other things) measu­rable: but spightfull bitternesse I can not in any wise broke nor away withal.

And as concerning Couetousnesse in Oldemen, I am nothinge acquainted Couetousnes in oldmen. ther wt, nether vnderstād I what it mea­neth. For can there be any thing more absurd, or more repugnaunt to reason, then the lesse way that a mā hath to go, the more prouision and costage to make and purueighe?

THE fowerth cause whiche seemeth most of all to greeue & disquiet our The iiii. dispraise of Old­age surmysed by thē Age, remayneth yet behinde to bee dis­cussed: & yt is, the neerenesse of Death: which (certes) cannot be farre of from [Page 80] Oldage. O miserable old Caytife, whi­ch vvhiche saye it is miserable because it is nere vnto Death in so longe a tyme as he hath lyued, hath not perceiued and learned that Death is to bee contemned: which ey­ther is vtterly to bee despised, if it alto­gether kill and extinguish the Mynd or Death not to be feared: & the reasōs vvhy Soule: or els is greatly to be desired, if it conducte and carye the same to some place, where it shalbe eternal. For (cer­tes) there can no * third be found.

Therefore what should I feare, if af­ter For eyther the Soule lyueth or els dyeth death I shall bee eyther not misera­ble, or els blessed? howbeit who is so foo­lishe, to a warrant himselfe (althoughe he were neuer so younge) that hee shall lyue till the next Eueninge?

Furthermore that same Age is sub­iect to a great maigny mo casualties of Yongmē more subiect to sicknesse thē Oldmen Death then oure Age is. Youngemen sooner fall into Sicknesse: they are so­rer sicke, and are hardlyer recured: & therfore few lyue tyll they come to Oldage: which if it were not so, wee should lyue together a greate deale better and wiselyer. For Discretion, Rea­son, and wise Aduice resteth in Oldmen: [Page] and therfore if there were no Oldmen, Cōmon vvealthes & Cities gouerned and mainteined by Oldmen. there would bee no Citties at all. But now come I again to talk of imminent Death.

What faulte of Oldeage is this, si­thens you see yt same also cōmō to Yoūg age? I my selfe by proofe haue felt, as­wel in that worthye man my Sonne, as also in thy Brothers (Scipio) of whom great hope was generally conceiued to haue seene them aduaunced to most ho­nourable Death spareth no Age. Dignities, that Death is a­lyke common to all Ages.

But a Youngeman hopeth to lyue a great whyle: which an Oldman maye Obiectiō not looke to do. Hee (truly hopeth foo­lishly. For what folisher thing is there, Ansvvere then to accoumpte thinges vncertayne for certayne, and thinges false for true?

An Oldeman hath nothinge to hope for. But hee is therefore in farre bet­ter Obiectiō case then a Youngeman: because Ansvvere hee hath alreadye enioyed and obtey­ned that, which the Yongmanne doth Old men haue already enioyed that but hope for. The one desireth to lyue longe: the other hath alreadye lyued [Page 81] long. Howbeit (O Lorde) what is vvhich younge men doe but hope for. there in Mans lyfe, long, or of any last­tynge continuaunce?

For admitte and graunt, that wee lyue euen tyll the vttermoste of oure Age. Let vs hope to lyue as longe as euer Argantonius liued 120. yeres did the Kynge of the Tartessians. For there was (as I fynde in Hystories) one Argantonius Prince of the Isles called Gades, who reigned Fourescore yeeres, and lyued an hundred and twē ­tye.

But to mee, there seemeth nothinge longe. wherein is anye Extreeme, or Ende. For when that Ende is once come, then is yt which is passed, quight gone: and nothing remayneth but only that, which a man hath by his Vertues and good deedes atchieued.

Houres passe awaye apace, and so do Dayes, Monethes, and Yeeres: ney­ther doeth the tyme once passed euer re­tourne: neither can yt, which is to come, Time passeth bee preciselye knowen.

Therfore, euerye one ought to bee con­tēted with that time, which is graunted [Page] him to lyue. For neyther needeth a Stageplayer, necessarily to play out ye Enterlude, tyl the very last end therof, We must haue a greater care to lyue vvell then to lyue long to bee cōmended therfore: but in what Act soeuer of the same he be, he must so hādle his part, that he may be praysed: neither should a Wiseman lyue till the Plaudite bee stricken vp.

For a short tyme of Age is longe y­nough to lyue well and honestlye. But if you continue yet longer, you muste no more be discontented thereat, then Hus­bandmen be, after the pleasauntnesse of the Spring season once passed, to haue Spring Sommer & Autumne to succeede. The Spring doth signifie and represent (as it were) Adolescencye, & sheweth what Fruicts are lyke to ensue. All the other times and seasons, serue to mow & ga­ther in, the fruicts.

Now, the fruit of Oldage is (as be­fore I haue often sayde) the remēbrance and stoare of Goods, before tyme got­ten. And al thinges which are done ac­cording Fruicts of Oldage. to the course of nature, are to be reckned in the number of good things. [Page 82] And what is so agreable to Nature, as for Oldmen to dye? which thinge hap­neth vnto Youngemen, euen Maugre Natures Goodwill.

Therfore Youngmen seeme vnto me so to dye, as when a raging flame of fy­er Yongmē haue greater payne in dyinge then Oldmen. is with the great quantitye of water quēched. And Oldmē deceasse, euē like as Fyer, when it is all spent, is extin­guished of it owne accorde, withoute v­singe any force thereto. And as Apples when they bee greene and vnrype, are plucked from the Tree with violence: but being rype and mellowe, they fall downe from the Tree: euen so, violent force and painfull strugglinge, taketh a­waye lyfe from Youngmen: but from Oldmen, a rypenesse and maturity.

Which is to mee so pleasaunt and com­fortable, that the neerer I drawe to Death, the sooner mee thinckes I doe (as it were) see yt land, & shall at length after a long Nauigation, arriue at the Hauen.

Of al other Ages, the certein terme is appointed how long ech lasteth: but of [Page] Oldage there is no certeine terme limited: Oldage hath no certen nū ber of ye­res a pointed hovv long to last. and in it doth a man lyue well and laudablye, so longe as hee is able to exe­cute and discharge his dutie and Func­tion: and yet to contemne Death.

Whereupon it hapneth that Oldage is endued with greater Courage and ani­mositie, then Adolescency and Youth is. Oldage stout and ful of courage. And this is it that was aunswered by Solon, vnto Pisistratus the Tyraunte, demaundinge of him, vppon what hope Solons ansvvere to Pisistr a­tus the Tyraunt. and confidence, he durste bee so bolde & presumptuous, so desperatelye to wyth­stand and disobey his proceedinges? E­uen vpon the hope (quoth he) of mine Oldage.

But the best Ende of lyuing is this: when as (the mynde beinge whole and perfect, and all the wyttes and Senses sounde & vnappayred) yt same Nature wt compacted and framed the worke toge­ther, doth lykewise dissolue and lewse the same. For as the Ship wright whi­ch made the Shippe, best knoweth how to vndoe and pull asunder the same a­gayne: and as none can better vnioynte [Page 83] down a house, then the Carpenter that framed it: euen so, Nature which ioy­ned and fashioned together the Bodye, doth best dissolue and end the same.

For euery Conglutinacion or glew­inge, when it is new glewed together is hardlye pulled asunder, but being olde and forworne, is easelye disseuered.

Thus, it commeth to passe, that this It is a vvicked thing for a man to murther or kil himselfe. small remnaunt of lyfe, is neyther gre­dilye to bee desired of Oldmen, nor wt ­out cause to be left and forsaken. And Pythagoras chargeth vs, not to depart out of the Garrison, and Wardhouse of this lyfe, without the commaundemēt of our high General, which is God.

There is a notable saying of ye Wiseman Solon, wherein he protesteth, that he would not haue his Death to bee vn­bewayled, and vnlamented of his Fren­des. Solon vvished to haue his death bevvai­led. His meaninge (I thincke) is, that he would bee entierly deare vn­to his Frendes. But I know not, whe­ther Ennius hath a greate deale better thereof iudged:

[Page]
Let no man at my death lament,
Nor weepe when I am laid in Graue:
Ennius.
For why? in lyfe aye permanent,
I sure am lastinge Fame to haue.

Such death in his opinion, is not to be lamented and bewayled, which is Death not to bee bevvailed. exchaunged for Immortality. Now, as touchinge the Griefe or Agonies of dying (if there be any) certes, they en­dure but for a small space, especiallye in an Oldman: and after Death the same Sense is eyther such as is blessed and optable, or els is it none at all. He that stil stan­deth in feare of Death can neuer haue a quiet mynde.

But Adolescencie ought to enure itselfe in this Meditation, still to dispise Death: without which Meditation no man can haue a quiet mynde.

For surely dye we muste, and vncer­taine are wee whether euen this ve­rye present daye. Therfore who is hee, Nothing more cer­taine then Death: Nothing more vn­certaine then the houre of Deathe. which euery hower standing in feare of Death, can haue his mynde in any reste and tranquillitye? whereof there nee­deth no very long discourse to be: sith I well remember not onelye L. Brutus [Page 84] who in the quarell of his Country was slayne: the two Decij, who gallopinge Valiaunt knightes which dyed for the honor & safegarde of their countrye their horses, voluntarily gaue themsel­ues to Death: M. Regulus, who wil­lingly went and yelded himselfe to pu­nishment, because hee woulde not for­swere himselfe, but keepe touch & pro­mise euen with his very Enemies: the two Scipioes, which stopped the pas­sage and way of the * Carthaginians, Vnder the cōduct of Ha [...]dru­ball. Terentius Varro. euen wt their owne bodyes: thy Graūd­father L. Paulus, who through the rashnesse of his * Copertner and fellowe in Office, was in that ignominious & dis­honorable ouerthrow at Cannas, slayne and manquelled: M. Marcellus whose dead Corps, his most cruell * Enemye suffered not to lacke honorable interre­ment: Hannibal but also how oure Legions and Not vvorthye and honorable Gen­tlemē on­ly, but cō mon souldiers & inferior persons haue despised Death. common Souldiers haue couragiously and stoutlye aduentured manye tymes into such places whence they neuer thought againe to returne alyue: as in my Boke of Originalles, I haue decla­red. Shall therfore Oldmen whych hee learned and skilfull feare that thing [Page] whych young Striplinges, and the fa­me not onelye vnlearned but rude and rusticall also, do contemne and sette at naughte?

But a sacietie of all thinges (in mine opinion) causeth a sacietie of lyfe.

There be some delightes peculier to Childhood: Shal tall Striplinges & Youngmen addict themselues thereun­to Euery age hath his peculier delite and studye. semblablye? There bee also some, appropriat vnto youthful Adolescency: Shall rype and consistent Age (whyche is tearmed the Middle Age of man) de­sire the same? And there bee of this sa­me middle Age, some Studies, which Oldage careth not for: And there bee some, last of all, peculier to Oldage.

Therfore as the delightes of these for­mer Ages do decay and come to an end, so do these of Oldage dye, and vanish a­waye also. Which when it happeneth then doth sacietye of lyfe, bringe a rype and conuenable tyme to dye.

For trulye I see no cause to the con­trarye, but that I dare bee bolde to de­clare vnto you, al that I thincke & iudge [Page 85] of Death: namely for that I seeme the deeper to see into it, because I now ap­proach & drawe somwhat neere vnto it.

And verelye (OP. Scipio & C. Laelie) A true lyfe. I do beleeue that, your noble Fathers, which were Gentlemen both right ho­nourable, and my most deare Frendes, are yet still alyue, and doe lyue such a lyfe, as (in deede) is alone to be accoūp­ted Lyfe.

For so long as wee are enclosed with in the Prison or frame of our bodyes we must needes discharge some actions euē The Body is the pri­son or Iayle of the Soule of necessitie, and are dryuen to doe some such Functiōs as are vnauoydable. For the mynd or Soule being heauenly, and inspired into Mā from aboue, is depres­sed, & as it were forcibly throwen down to ye Earth: being a place to Diuine na­ture, & Eternitie quight contrary.

But I thincke that the Immortall Goddes inspired Myndes into Hu­mane Why the mind vvas inspired into man. Bodies, to the ende there should bee some, to inhabite the Earth: who beholdynge the Order of the Bodyes [Page] Celestial, should imitate the same in the course of their lyues and in Constancy.

And not onely reason and disputatiō enforceth me so to beleeue, but the no­blenesse also and Authoritye of renow­med Philosophers.

For I haue beene in place where I haue heard yt Pythagoras and his Scholers Pythagoras. the Pythagorians, being dwellers here, & almost endenizoned among vs, (for they were once termed Italiā Phi­losophers) neuer made any doubt in the matter, but that we had our myndes or Soules, tipped, and deriued from the very vniuersall diuinitye of God.

There were moreouer shewed vnto mee, those pointes, which Socrates (e­uen hee which by the Oracle of Apollo was adiudged the Wisest man in the worlde) disputed and spake the last day of his lyfe, concerning the Immortali­rye of the Soule.

What needeth many wordes? I am thus perswaded, and thus do I thinke, Immortalitye of the soule sith there is so greate celeritye of mens Myndes, so good remēbrance of things [Page 86] passed, so great insighte and forecaste of thinges to come, so many Artes, so ma­nye Sciences, and so many inuentions, that the Nature which vnderstandeth & conteyneth the knowledge of al these thinges cannot bee mortall. And sith ye mynde is euer mouinge and hath no be­ginninge of motion (because it moueth itselfe) so shall it neuer haue anye ende of motion, because it shall neuer leaue nor depart from itselfe.

And sith ye Nature of the mynd is sim­ple, and hath nothinge annexed wyth it whiche is vnlike or discrepante from itselfe, that therefore it is indiuisible: & forsomuche as it is indiuisible, there­fore can it neuer dye. And that this ser­ueth for a greate Argument to proue yt men know sundry thinges, before they be borne, because young Children, learning hard Artes, do so quickly conceiue and apprehend the knowledge of innu­merable Plato his Reasons to proue the im­mortality of the Soule thinges, in such sorte, that they seeme not then first to learne them, but to renew them fresh againe, into memory. Al these in a manner bee Plato hys [Page] reasons.

In Xenophō also we read, yt Cyrus the Elder lyinge on his death Bedde, Lib. 8. de Cyri paedia spake these woordes: Do not thincke my deare chyldren, yt when I am gone frō you, I shalbe no where, or broughte to nothing. For in all the whyle that I haue beene with you, you did neuer see my Mynd: but yet by those noble Acts which I haue atchieued, you did well ynough vnderstand, that in this Bodye of myne, there was a Mynde.

Beleeue therefore that I haue the selfe same Minde stil, although visiblie with youre eyes you see it not. Neither would the honourable memorialles of noble Personages remayne after their Deathes, if their worthy mynds should atchieue no such notable enterprise, for the which we should the lōger celebrate the memorye of theym, when they bee dead and gone.

Trulye it woulde neuer sinke in my brayn, yt mens Mindes or Soules, only lyued whyle they remayned in mortall Bodies, and that beinge departed oute [Page 87] of them, they vtterly dyed. Neither that the mynde is Doltish and foolish, when it is set at libertye, and departed out of a foolishe Bodye: but when it beinge clerely rid, from all admixtion of ye Bo­dye, beginneth once to bee pure & sound, then is it wise. And when Mans Na­ture is by Death dissolued, it is appa­raunt and plaine ynough, whither eue­rye one of the other partes do goe. For All thin­gesreturn to that vvherof they had their first begining all thinges returne to that, frō whence at the first they had their beginning: but yt Mynd only, neuer visibly appeareth, neither whē it is in ye body, neither whē it goeth & departeth oute of the Body. Now, you see yt nothing is so like vnto Death, as Sleepe. And yet the Mindes of them that are a sleepe, do notably de­clare their Diuinitie. For when they be quiet & free, they forsee many things to come. Wherby it is to be vnderstanded how & after what sort they shalbe, when Sleepe an Image of Death. they bee clerelye dismissed out of ye Pri­son of ye Body. Wherfore if these thin­ges bee true, then reuerence & honour mee as a God.

But if the Soule or Mynde doe dye [Page] together with the bodye, yet you drea­ding the Gods, who maintein and go­uerne al the beautiful furniture of this world, shall godlye and inuiolablye so­lemnize the memoriall of mee. These wordes spake Cyrus, lyinge vppon his Death bedde. Now if you thincke it good, let vs suruewe and consider oure owne.

No man (Scipio) shal euer perswade me, yt eyther thy* Father Paulus, or thy Paulus Aemilius. Pub. Sci­pio. C. Scipio two Graundfathers Paulꝰ & Aphrica­nus, or the * Father of the same Aphri­canus, or * his Vncle, or many other ex­cellent men, which here neede not to be rehearsed, would euer haue enterprised such worthy aduentures and attemptes (onlye to leaue a paterne & memoryall therof to their posterity) if they had not wt the eyes of their mynds perceiued & seene that their Posterity and Sequele might apperteine vnto them. Do you think yt I (for I also must somwhat bo­ast & brag of my selfe as Oldmēs guise Noble mindes desire to le­aue a re­ is to doe) would euer haue vndertaken so manye painful labours, day & night, [Page 88] both in time of Peace & also of Warre if I had thought yt my glorious renow­me should extend no further then ye boū ­des of my natural lyfe? For if it should be so, were it not then much better for a mā to lead an easie & quiet lyfe, without entermedling in any labour or contenti­ous dealing of the world?

But the Mynd (I wot not how) ray­singe vp and erectinge itselfe, had euer such a carefull respect to Posteritye, as though when it were departed out of this lyfe, it should then, and neuer tyll then, lyue & flourish. For if it were not so, ye Soules were immortal, the mynd of euerye good & Vertuous man, would not so earnestly aspire to immortal Glo­rye. Further more euery wiseman doth right willingly and contentedly dye: cō ­trarywise, The God lye desire Death but the vvicked feare it. euery Foole, most vnwilling lye. Doe you not thincke yt the Mynd which seeth more and further of, doeth well percciue and knowe, that it goeth to a farre better state? Agayn, that hee whose insight is dymmer & duller, doth neither see nor consider so much?

[Page] But verelye I haue a great desire to see youre Fathers, whom I both reue­renced and loued. And not them onelye am I so earnestlye affected to see, whom I myselfe earst haue knowen: but them also, of whom I haue both heard, read, & also haue myselfe written.

Frō which my Iourney thitherward, no man shall (by my good wyll) bringe me backe, neyther rebound and rebutt me backward, as it were a Tenise Bal: This pla­ce is tran­slated ac­cordinge to ij sun­drye La­tine Tex­tes. yea although hee woulde vndertake to perboyle my old Bloud and renew my youth agayn as Pelias was.

Certes, if God would graunt to me be­inge now in this Age to bee a Childe a­gain, and as younge as a Babe yt lyeth cryinge in his Cradle, I woulde wyth all my hart, refuse the offer. Neither would I willingly (when I haue as it were runne the whole race) to bee pluc­ked backe frō the Gole or Endmarkes, to the Listes or place of first setting out.

For what Commoditie hath thys lyfe? Naye rather what moylinge This life ful of trouble and labour. and laboure hath it not? But admitte, [Page 90] it had some commoditie: yet doubtlesse it hath either some full sacietye, or some finall Ende.

For I meane not to bewayle and de­plore my lyfe past, as manye and yt same A vvor­thye and vertuous man is not borne in vaine. right learned, Clerks haue often times done. Neyther do I repent that I haue lyued: because I haue so lyued and led my lyfe, that I maye iudge of myselfe, that I haue not beene borne in vayne. This life is no dvvelling place of continual abode but as an Inne or lodgeinge for a tyme, And I depart out of this life as oute of an Inne, not as out of a dwelling house. For Nature hath lente vnto vs a place for to stay & abide in, for a tyme, and not to dwell in continuallye.

Oh noble and luckye Daye, when as I shall take my voyage towarde yt bles­sed Crewe, and companye of Happye Soules: & when as I shall departe out of this trouble some worlde, and cōmon Syncke of all mischiefe. For I shal not onely goe to those worthye men (of whō I spake before) but also to myne owne Sonne Cato, a man of such Vertue, & goodnesse, as none more, of such pietie and synceritie, as none better: whose [Page] Bodye was * Burned by me, whereas The fashion then among the Romains vvas to burne their dead Bodies. it had beene, more agreeable to Na­ture, that my Bodye shoulde rather haue bene burned and enterred by him. But his Mynde or Soule not clearlye forsakinge mee, but euer loooking back and expecting my comming, is assured­lye gone before into those places, why­ther he perceiued yt I also must come.

Whiche my happe and chaunce I haue seemed stoutlye to beare: not because I did take it so patientlye in deede: but I euer comforted my selfe, thincking that our absence and beeing asunder, should not continue long.

These hee the very causes O Scipio, (for you told me ere while, that you and Laelie were wōt much to meruaile ther­at) which make mine Oldage vnto me easie, and to bee not onelye without all greeueunce but rather verye pleasaunt and delectable.

And if I doe erre in this poinct, bee­cause I am of opinion that the Soules of men are immortal, verelye I am wel contēted, in the same errour still to con­tinue: [Page 90] neither will I recant this error (wherein I am so singulerly delighted) so long as I lyue. And if the case were so, yt when I am dead I should feele no­thinge (as certeine petite Philosophers hold opinion) I feare not a whit, least those Philosophers being dead, should flout and deride this mine error.

Nay, admitte, that we should not be immortal: yet is it good and optable for a man, in his conuenient tyme to dye. For Nature, as she hath of all other thinges, so also hath she her limitatiō & ende of lyuing. Nowe, Oldage is the finall ende or laste parte of Age, much like vnto ye Conclusion or last knitting vp of an Enterlude: the wearysomnesse whereof, we ought to eschue, speciallie when we are, euen cloyed with saciety.

Thus muche haue I had to saye tou­ching Oldage: wherunto (I pray God) that you may arryue: that those things which you haue heard of me by month, you may by deede and trial find true ac­cordingly.

Thomas Newton.
FINIS.

Sixe seuerall Themes of Stoicall Philosophie, written by M. T. Cicero, vnto Marcus Brutus: and Entituled Paradoxe.

The Preface.

SVNDRIE times (freende Brutus) haue I marked thine vncle Cato, that whensoeuer hee vttered his minde in ye Senate, he entreated of waighty matters ta­ken out of Philosophie, much dyf­fering from the Iudicial and pub­lique vse, which we vse in our cō ­mō Pleading. But yet not with stā ­ding, [Page] he preuayled so much by Ora­torious perswasion, that his wor­des seemed vnto the people proba­ble and allowable. VVhich was a thing farre harder and busier for him to cōpasse, then it is either for thee, or for mee: because wee are better enured and more vse that kinde of Philosophie, which bryn­geth copie of Eloquence, & wher­in those thinges are declared, whi­ch doe not greatlye disagree from the mindes of the People.

But CATO being (in myne Opinion) a perfecte Stoicke, doeth both thincke those thinges whych of the Vulgare People are not greatelye allowed: and is also of that Secte, which seeketh no [Page 92] braue gallantise of Speache, nor Flowers of Eloquence, neither dilateth their Argumentes: but with little briefe Questions, and (as it were short points) bringeth to passe that thinge which hee purposed.

But there is nothinge so in­credible, but by artificiall hande­lynge maye bee made probable: nothinge so rugged and rustye, but by Eloquence maye bee pooly­shed What learning and Eloquēce is able to doe. (and as it were glitteringly burnished.

VVhich thynge when I with my selfe considered, I aduentured somewhat further, and wente boldelyer to worke then hee, of whom I now speake.

[Page] For Cato his wont is, after the Stoickes guise, onelye to reason of Magnanimitie, of Continencie, of Death, of the whole praise of Vertue, of the immortall Gods, of the Loue that a man oughte to beare to his Countrye, without vsing a­nye colours or ornaments of Rhe­torique.

But I, as it were in sportinge sort, haue cōprised and brought in to Common Places those thinges which the Stoicks do scarcely per­mitt and allow in their Scholes of Exercise and priuate Studies.

VVhich poinctes because they bee merueilous, and contrary to the o­pinion of all men, are also by them called* Paradoxa: and thereup­on Paradoxa signifieth [Page 94] was I desirous to assaye, whe­ther they might bee published and Sentēces contrarye to the cō ­mon opy­nion of most men brought into the Light, that is to say, into the Forum or place of Iudiciall Pleas: and so to be hande­led, that they mighte bee allowed and liked: or whether I might vse a learned kinde of Reasoninge, proper to the skilful sort, or els an other vulgare, after the capacity of the Common People.

And the willinger was I to write these things, because these Conclu­sions and Pointes, which are cal­led Paradoxa, do specially seme in mine opinion, to bee Socratical, & most true.

Thou shalt therfore. receiue at my hands, this smal piece of worke [Page] by mee compiled by Candle lighte these short nightes: because that same * other VVorcke of myne, of Tusculane Questions greater peines and studie, was pu­blished and wente abroade in thy name.

And herein shalt thou haue a taste of those kinds of Exercises, which I customably vse, when soe­uer I transpose and bringe those Positiue Groundes and Argu­mentes, which in Scholes be tear­med Thetica, vnto this our Rhe­toricall kinde of Pleading and O­ratorie.

Howbeit, I do not desire that thou shouldeste publishe abroade this piece of worcke: (for it is not of any such excellencie, that it de­serueth [Page 94] to be set on some high Pin­nacle in the Castle, as that nota­ble Image of Minerua was, which Phidias made: but yet, that it may appeare, that it came out of the sa­me shoppe, whence that other did: and that the Authour of the one, was Authour also of the other.

The firste Paradoxe, wherein is proued, that nothing is good, but only that, which is honest.

I Feare, some of you wyll deeme, that this my Discourse is not deuised and inuented by mee of mine owne Brayne, but borowed and fetched out of the Disputations of the Stoickes.

Yet neuerthelesse I will francklye saye, what I thincke, and that in fewer wordes, then so great a thinge can well be declared.

Trulye I neuer iudged nor thought, yt these mens Money, Sūptuous Buil­dings, Wealth, Dominions & Bodilie Pleasures (wherein foolish Worldlin­ges sett their chiefe delight) were wor­thy to be reckned in yt nūber of such thin­ges, as are good and expetible. For I do see, that although they haue great plentie Mony, Riches, and such like, are not to and foison of such transitorie things, [Page 96] yet they bee euer coueting and hunting after more, lackinge euen these thinges bee reckened in the number of Good thinges. wherin they do aboūd: for neuer is their greedy thirst of couetousnes stēched: neither are they only afflicted with an in­warde lust and desire to encrease & aug­mente that Substaunce which they al­readye possesse, but also with a Dreade and feare of loosynge the same.

And in this point, I oftentimes find alacke of discretion, in our Auncestors, men of vertuous and continente lyfe: who by the bare and only name, demed and called this vncertaine Pelfe, and transitorie chaffer (which is commuta­ble betwene man and man: by the name of Good things whereas in very deede. and in their dealings, they thought far otherwise.

Can a thing that is simplie good, be in an euill man? Or can anye man, ha­uing great stoare of good thinges, be o­ther then a good man? But all these wee see to bee such, that both naughty men maye possesse them, and good men by them, may bee hurte and damnified. [Page] Therfore let him ye lust, mocke me and spare not: yet shall truth and sound rea­son with mee bee euer preferred before the rash iudgementes of the multitude. Neither wyll I say, that any man hath loste his Good things, when hee hath lost his Cattal or Houshold stuffe. Nei­ther can I chose, but oftētimes to praise and greatly cōmend the wiseman Bias, who (as I thincke) was reckened and accoumpted one the seuen wise Sages of Greece. For when his Cittie Priene was by the Enemie taken and ransac­ked, all the Inhabitauntes shiftinge for themselues, & carying with them much of theire Goodes & Stuffe, he also was aduised and counsayled by one of hys Freendes to doe semblably: I do (quoth hee) euen aswel as they. For I carye a­waye Bias his vvise aunsvvere. with mee, all such Goods & Pos­sessions, as are mine. This mā thought not that the worldly Pelfe and transito­rie Goodes, which are subiecte to varia­ble chaunce & hazard of blynd dalyinge Fortune, were any of his: which (notwt ­standing) we doe call and terme Good.

[Page 96] What is Good then (wil some say?) If whatsoeuer is don rightly, honestly, and according to Vertue, bee said to bee done well and laudablye: then it folow­eth, that whatsoeuer is righte, honest & accordinge to vertue, is (as I thincke) onlye Good.

But these thinges maye seeme to bee somwhat obscure, & not able to bee vn­derstoode of euery weake capacitie, for­asmuch as they are but coldelye and su­perficially disputed without any exam­ples: these therfore must bee illustrated and beautified, with the lyues and wor­thy acts of noble Personages, sith they seeme to bee disputed more subtillye wt wordes, then is thought sufficient.

For I demaund of you, whether you thincke that those noble and excellente men, which were the first founders of our Common wealth, & so left the same vnto vs, did seeme to haue anye care or mynde vpon the greedie and insaciable The vvorlde is novv chaū ged from that it vvas then desire of Gold and Syluer, which ten­ded only to auarice? or vpon pleasures, leruing onely to concent the phantasie: [Page] or vppon newe fangled trickes of house­hold stuffe, being instruments of nyce­nes? or vpon sumptuous fare and bellie Couetousnes in old time abhorred. cheare, being the ministers & occasions of voluptuousnes?

Set before your eyes euery one of the Kings: wil you that I shall beginne wt Romulus? Or els wt those valiaūt Gē ­tlemen which deliuered our City from miserable thraldome and slauery? By Romulus for his valiauncie & Vertue made a God. what degrees (I pray you) did Romulus ascend into heauen & become Deified? by such vayne Pleasures as these grosse Beetleheades call Good? or els by hys valiaunt actes and worthy Vertues?

What say wee to Numa Pompilius? doe wee not thincke yt the Goddes were Numa Pō pilius. aswell pleased with his homely * Cru­ses and earthen Pitchers, as wt the rich Wherein he offered Sacrifice. Goblets, & delicate Cuppes of others?

I omit the rest: for they were al egal one with an other, excepte Tarquinius Superbus.

But if a man should aske Brutus, what hee did, or whereabout he went, whē he restored his Countrye to libertie: if a man should aske the rest of his Felowes and Cōfederates, what marke they shot [Page 97] at, and whereunto they had respect in thenterprising therof: can it be thought that anye of thē did it for Pleasure sake, or for Ryches, or for any other purpose, otherwise thē became men of approued Fortitude & Magnanimitie?

What thing animated Quintꝰ Mutius Mutius Scęuola, priuily cō ueighing himselfe into Porsenna his campe, and mynding to haue slain the kinge missed him and killed an other in his sted to hazard his lyfe without al hope euer to escape, in geeuinge the attempt to ha­ue slayne King Porsenna?

What valiaunce caused Horatius Co­cles alone to defend the Bridge against all the armed rout of his Enemies?

What inuincible Courage made Deciꝰ the father, & Decius the Sonne, volūta­rily to bow & obiect thēselues to death, by preasing into the middle of their ene­mies hostes? What pretended the cōti­nēcy of C. Fabritiꝰ? What ment ye hom­lye fare & slender theere of M. Curiꝰ?

What say we to our ii. sure & inuincible Buttresses at ye Carthaginian warres, C. & P. Scipio? who sticked not euen wc their own bodies to stop ye passage of the Scipio. armie, yt came to ayde & succour ye Car­thaginians? What sought the younger Aphricanus? what desired the Elder? [Page] What coueted Cato, who lyued betwen these two mens times? and innumera­ble Cato. others? For wee haue store ynough of Domesticall examples.

Doe wee thincke that anye of these were euer in that opinion, to desire or seeke for anye thing in their lyfe, but on­lye that which they supposed & deemed to bee good, vertuous, and laudable?

Therfore let all such as mocke & de­ryde this opinion step foorth and shewe theyr faces: let them euen themselues Vertue much more to bee desired then all pelfe or vvorldlye Riches. iudge, whether they had leifer be lyke to some of these ryche & fatte Chuffes, which haue store of gorgeous houses & Buildinges, garnished with the finest Marble stones, burnished and beset wt Yuorye and Golde, beautified and ad­orned with Pictures, Cables, Plentie One vertuous mā more to be accoū ted of and esteemed then manye ryche and vveal thy Cobs that are euill. of Gold and siluer Plate, curiously cha­sed and engrauen, and other precious, & artificiall Corynthian worckes: or ells bee like to C. Fabritius, who neuer had neither would euer haue any of al these?

And these men commonlye are per­swaded to confesse, that these vncertain [Page 98] Goods, which are posted and turmoy­led ouer from one man to an other, are not worthye to bee reckened amonge those thinges, that are Good.

But yet this poincte they doe stiflye maintein and earnestly defend, yt Plea­sure is the greatest Goodnes, & chiefest Sensualitie & plesure. Felicitie. Which saying in mine opiniō seemeth rather to proceede oute of the mouthes of brute Beasts, then of Men

Wilt thou therfore so much abase & That is not to be reckened good vvhich bettereth not him in vvhom it resteth. cast away thy selfe, seeing that God or Nature (being the common Mother of all thinges) hath geuen to the a Mynd, (then which, there is nothinge more ex­cellente and diuine) that thou shouldest thincke no difference to bee betweene thee, and a dumbe Beast? Is any thing Most praise due to most Vertue. Good, that doth not make him that possesseth it to bee better? For as cuerye man is most endued and garnished with Vertue, so is hee worthye of most pray­se. A man maye ho­nestly re­ioyse and glorye in himselfe for good thinges. And there is no good thing, but hee that is therewith decorated, maye ho­nestly reioyse & glorye in himselfe for it.

But is any of all these in Pleasure?

[Page] Doth it make a man eyther better or more praisable? Is there any so shame­lesse to extoll his owne lewdnesse, or to attribute any honest praise to himselfe, for ensuinge Voluptuousnes, & Sensu­all No man of any honesty vvyl make vaūt and take pride in his ovvne filthy and leud lyfe. Pleasure? Seeing therfore yt Plea­sure (in defence wherof very manye doe stifly stand) is not to bee accoumpted a­mong Good things: but rather yt more that it is vsed, the more it doth alienate & remoue the Mynd, frō the state wher­in it was before: certes, to lyue wel and happily is nothing els, but to lyue vp­rightly, and honestly.

The Seconde Paradoxe declaring that in whomsoeuer Ver­tue is, in him there lacketh nothing els to the leading of an happy lyfe.

NEyther did I euer think Marcus Regulus to bee miserable, vnhappy or wretched. For his Marcus Regulus. Magnanimitie, and bautye Courage, was not tormented of the [Page 99] Carthaginians, neyther his Grauitie, neither his Faythfulnesse, neyther hys constācie, neither any of his noble Ver­tues: neither finallye could his worthye Mynde which was garded and fortified with a garrison of so many Vertues, & on euerye side enuironed and accompa­nied with such singuler qualities, be vā ­quished or made Captiue, although his Bodye was taken Prisoner.

As touching C. Marius, wee sawe in Marius a noble paterne of constancy and patience him such a rare paterne of noble Pati­ence, that when hee was af [...]ote in hys highest Prosperitie, he seemed vnto me, one of the happiest and fortunatest men in ye world: & in aduersity, one of the no­blest and stoutest hearted men that euer was: thē which, there can nothing hap­pen vnto a mortall Man more Blessed or Fortunate. Pa [...]t [...] l [...]lye in neighing against Antonius but generally al others of his disposition.

Thou little knowest thou foolish and brainsick man, thou litle knowest I say, what great power and efficacie Vertue hath: thou doest onlye vsurpe the bare name of Vertue, but thou knowest not the excellencie, & force of Vertue.

[Page] That man cannot bee but moste hap­pye, whose Mynde is wholye setled and accustomed to Vertue, and which put­teth and reposeth all thinges in him­selfe alone.

But he that putteth all his hope, cō ­sidence, He that leaneth altogether to biynde Fortune, and hap hazarde, hangeth in doubt­full bal­launce. reason, and cogitation in fic­kle Fortune, and altogether dependeth vpon vncertaine hazarde, can haue no certaintie of any thing, neither can hee assure himselfe, that hee shall haue the fruition of any thing, not so much as yt space of one daye.

Terrifie and affray such a one, if thou canst catch any such in thy daunger, wt Hee that is armed vvith vertue and a good conscience feareth not the threates of the vvicked. thy threateninge menaces, eyther of Death, or ells of Banishment: but for my part, what chaunce soeuer betydeth mee, in so churlish and ingrate Citye, I am fully resolued patiently to suffer it, and not to refuse it: much lesse not to repugne or resist it.

For to what Ende haue I employed all my trauaile, to what effecte are all my deedes, or for what purpose serue al my former cares, and studious cogita­tions, [Page 100] if I haue not gotten some what therby, & learned in such sort to lead my Learning comfor­teth a mā in al extremities, & armeth him aga­inst al as­sayes. lyfe, that neither the rashnesse of fickle Fortune, nor the enuious hartburning and iniurious hatred of mine Enemies, should bee able once to crushe, or dashe me out of countenaunce?

Is it Death that thou doest threaten mee withall, by whose meanes I shall departe out of this miserable world al­together from among Men: or ells it is Banishment, whereby I shalbe ryd out of the companye of Naughtie packes & Villaines?

Death is terrible to those, whose Death. life and cōuersation hath bene such, that when they dye, all other thinges dye, & take an Ende, with them also: but not to them, whose prayse & renowme can neuer dye, nor be forgotten.

As touching Banishment, it is terri­ble and dreadful to them which, thincke Banishe­ment. themselues to be circumscribed and en­closed within a certaine limite & place of Dwelling: not vnto thē, which think and accoumpt the whole World as one [Page] Citye.

Thou arte ouerwhelmed in all mise­ries, thou art plunged in Calamities, thou art enueigled & ledde in a Fooles Tormētes of a vvicked and guiltye Cōsciens. Paradise, thinckinge thy selfe to bee a man happye & in Fortunes good grace: thine owne libidinous Lustes do vexe & trouble thee: thou art Night and Day tormented: thou neither thinckest that sufficient and ynough, which thou pre­sētly possessest, & also thou stādest in cō ­tinual feare, least yt which thou hast, wil not long continue with thee. The Con­sciēce of thy wicked dedes pricketh the: thou standest in feare of Sessiōs, Iudgementes, and Lawes: which way soeuer thou glaūcest thyne eye, thy wrongfull dealings, like hellish furies, do occurre and resorte into thy remēbraunce, and wyl not suffer thee to take any rest.

Wherfore, as a naughty, foolish and dissolute person cannot be hapyye: so a A vertuous and vviseman can neuer bee miserable. good, wise, and valiaunt man cannot be miserable. Neither can his life be other wise then good and prayseable, whose Vertuous manners and honest conditi­ons [Page 101] are Godlye and commendable: nei­ther furthermore is his lyfe to bee dete­sted & eschued, which deserueth praise: which were vtterly to bee auoyded and fled, if it were wretched and miserable. And therfore I conclude, that whatsoe­uer is laudable, the same also oughte to seeme blessed, flourishinge and expeti­ble.

The Thirde Paradoxe, wherein according to the opinion of the Stoickes, hee proueth all faultes to bee equall.

THe thinge (will some man The Sto­ickes doe not consider and respecte vvhat is done, but vvith vvhat minde and entent it is done saye) is small and of lyttle value: But verily the Of­fence is great. For Offen­ces, and faultes muste bee waighed & considered, not by the euente of thinges, but by the vicious intent and naughtye disposition of the Parties.

One offence (I graunt) may be greater [Page] or lesse in value, then another is: but as touching the nature of the offences, and By negli­gence hee that drouneth a Shippe laden vvith Chaffe, is asmuch to bee bla­med in re­spect of his vnskilfulnesse, as though it vvere fraught vvith golde. respecting them simplie, which way so­euer thou shiftest and turnest thyselfe, they are all one.

A Pylote or chiefe Mariner whych negligently drowneth a Shyppe, whe­ther the same be fraughted with Gold, or with Chaffe, is asmuch to bee repre­hended & disallowed, for the one, as for the other. For, although there be some oddes and difference in the worth & va­lue of the thinges, yet his Ignoraunce and vnskilfulnesse is all one.

If a man through inordinate Lust, do deslour a woman that is vnknowen, and Adulterie and forni­cation cō mitted vvith a pore mayden as heinous in itselfe as vvith a Damsell of vvor­shipful parentage of pore estate and Degree, the griefe of that villayny doth not (in deede) apper­tayne to so manye, as if hee had lasciui­ously constuprated a noble Damoysel, descended of some honorable House, and Pedagrewe. But the offence was of itselfe neuer a whit ye lesse. For Sinne is nothing els, but a transgressing and passinge of the lymites & boundes of Ver­tue. Which when thou hast once done, [Page 102] the fault or trespasse is committed: and it skilleth not howe farre thou runneste forwarde in aggrauating or encreasing the same transgression wyth any more.

Certainly, it is not lawfull for any man to sinne.

And whatsoeuer is vnlawfull to bee done, is in this one poinct conteyned: in challenging it not to be lawful: which can neyther be made more or lesse: For if it be not lawful, it is Sinne: which is alwayes one, and the same: And there­fore the Vices that spring and procede out of them, must needes bee equall.

Also if Vertues bee equall one with another, Vices also must bee equall.

But it may most plainly & easily be per­ceiued & vnderstanded, yt Vertues are al equall one wt another: forasmuch as there cānot be any mā better thē a good mā: nor any more tēperate, then he that is temperate: neither any stouter & va­liaunter then hee that is stout and vali­aunt: nor wiser then he that is Wise.

Wylte thou call him a Good man, y whereas he might gayn clearlye and wt [Page] out daunger of Lawe, detaine to him­selfe Tenne poundes of Gold being cō ­mitted to his keepinge and custodye in secret, without any witnesse, yet fayth­fullye and trulye redeliuereth the same to the owner thereof: wouldst thou (I say) thincke him a good man, if he wold Asmuch right in a peny, as in a poūd. not doe semblablye in Tenne thousande poundes? Or woulde you repute and take him to be a temperate man, which can brydle his affections, from some one Lusts and affections must bee brideled not once but al­vvaies. licencious Lust, and letteth go the Rei­nes of al disordered outrage in another? Onely Vertue is agreeably with reasō and perpetuall Cōstancie. Nothing can be added therūto to make it to be more a Vertue: nothing can bee taken awaye Vertue a greeable vvith Reason & Cō stancie. from it, but the name of Vertue shall straight wayes be taken away & ceasse.

For if thinges well done, bee rightlye and vertuously done, and nothing can be Nothing can be better then good. anye thing bee found that is better then Good. It foloweth therfore, yt vices also are equall, sithens the naughtinesse and prauities of the Mind are aptly termed [Page 103] Vices. But sith Vertues are equal, Vertuous deedes also, (because they procede and come of Vertue) ought to be equal. Sēblably Sinnes because they spring and aryse out of Vices, must needes bee equall.

Yea sir (wil some say) you take & groūd this opinion vpō the Philosophers doc­trine. Obiectiō I was afrayde, least you woulde haue sayd, I had borowed & gathered it Ansvvere of Ribauds & Verlets, Socrates his vse and maner was to dispute after suche a Socrates. sort. Surely I am wel apaid therof: for aūcient Histories do record & witnesse, yt bee was a profoundlye learned, & also a right wise mā. But yet I demaūd this question of you (seeing we do quietly reason the matter wt gentle words and not wt sturdye Buffets) whether when wee Men of profoun­dest vvitt and learning fit test to decide controuersies in opiniō. dispute of good thinges, wee ought ra­ther to seeke the Mynd and Opinion of rude and ignoraunt Tāckerd bearers & drudginge labourers, or els of the ap­proued learned & famous philosophers especially, sith ther is no sētēce & opiniō, [Page] either truer or more auaylable to Mans lyfe then this. For what power or force doth more terrifie men, from commyt­tyng all kind of Wickednesse, then whē they know that there is no difference in offences, & that they doe offend asmuch and as heynously, in laying violent hā ­des Equalitie of faultes vpō priuate Persōs, as they should, if they did the same to Magistrates?

And what house soeuer they do pol­lute with bawdry and whoredome, that the dishonestie and shame of the leche­rous fact is equall and all one.

What? is there no difference (wyll some say) whether a man kyll his owne Father, or els some cōmon Seruaunt? If you meane these two comparisons barelye and simplye, it is harde to bee iudged of what sort they bee. For if it Who af­ter nyne monethes siege, and extreeme famine rather then they would yelde to Anniball and come into slauerye, burned all their ovvne goodes in the market place and slevvtheir ovvne fathers, vvyues and children. and last of al thē selues. Liuius. Lib. i Dec. 3. be of itselfe & simplie, an horrible of­fence, for one to kil his Father then the *Saguntines (who had leyfer their Pa­rentes should dye being free and vnbā ­quished, then to lyue in seruitude and slauerye) were Parricides. Therfore in some case the Sonne may vereue ye Fa­ther [Page 104] of his lyfe without offence: & many times a poore drudge or slaue, maye not be brought to his death, without great wrong and iniurye. The cause therfore and not the nature of the fact, maketh the difference herein: which when it is occasioned by the one, then is the same committed more readilye: but if it bee conioyned to both, then must the faults be needes equall.

Notwithstanding herein they do dif­fer, that in killinge a Slaue, if it be don iniuriouslye, there is but one single of­fence commited: but in killing & taking awaye the lyfe of a Father, there are many faultes: for therein is an vnnatu­ral dealing shewed to him that begatte thee, that fostered and brought thee vp, that instructed and taught thee, yt pla­ced Diuers r [...] sons to strike a reuerence in vs to vvardes our Parē tes. thee in good state, to lyue in the cō ­mon Wealth, and furnished thee wyth houses and necessaries. Hee is notory­ous for ye multitude of Offences, which taketh away frō his Father, yt, which hee himselfe, receiued of him, and therefore deserueth a great deale more puni­shmente.

[Page] But in the rare and course of our lyfe, wee oughte not to wayghe and consider what punishment is meete and due for euery faulte, but to looke and perpende what is lawful and permitted for euery man to do. To do that which behoueth To doe a misse is of fēsiue, but to do any thing that is expresly forbiddē, is heinous and detestable. not to bee done, wee ought to thinck to bee an offence: but to doe anye thinge which is prohibited and vnlawfull, we ought to iudge and accoumpt a detesta­ble and cursed deede.

Is this to bee so precisely taken, for euery light matter and small trespasse? Yea trulye, for wee cannot ymagine a meane of the thinges: but wee may bri­dle our affections, and keepe our Myn­des in a meane and measure.

If a Stage player do neuer so lyttle in his gesture misse and transgresse the notes of measure, or erre in pronoun­cing some one syllable in a Verse, long, which should bee short: or contrary wise that, short, which should be long, he is hissed at, and with clapping of handes driuen from the Stage: and wilt thou [Page 105] saye, that thou shouldest erre and offend so much as in one syllable, in thy lyfe, We muste bee so precise in the direction of our life that vvee should not trip so much as in a Syllable. which ought to be more moderate then anye gesture, and more inculpable, then anye Verse?

I cannot abide to heare a Poet make a fault in his Verse, though it be but a trifling matter, and shall I heare a Ci­tizen skanne vpon his fingers, his faul­tes, which in the societie of Lyfe hee hath committed? Which if they seeme to bee shorter, yet how can they seeme to bee lighter, sithence euerye offence and sinne commeth by the perturbation of Reason & order beeing perturbed, all vertue goeth to hauocke. reason and order? For Reason & Order being once broken and perturbed, there can nothing bee added, whereby it may seeme that the Offence may any whitte more bee encreased.

The Fourth Paradoxe, wherein is proued, that all Fooles bee madde and distraught frō their right myndes: co­uertly taunting Clo­dius, and by him all others of like maners and conditions.

[Page] BVt I will manifestlye & by necessary Argumēts prooue thee, not a Foole as thou art often: not a wicked Villayn, as thou art alwayes: but a franticke Sotte & a starke madde Ideot.

Shall the mynd of a Wiseman which is garded and on euery side fenced in, wt The mind of a vviseman, vn­conquerable. graue counsell, and aduice, patient bea­ring & suffering al such chaūces, as are incident to mā, contēpt of Fortune, & fi­nally wt al other Vertues (as it were) wt a Rāpier or a wall, bee vanquished and ouerthrowen, which cannot be so much as exiled and banished out of the Citie?

For what call you a Citye? Is it an whole assemblye of sauage and brutishe lyuers? or is it a rabbling rout & mul­titude of Rennegates, and Cutthrote Rome. Thieues, congregated into one place? Certes, you will say, no. Then verilye Where tyrannye oppression, and con­tempt of Lavves be practised no city nor Commonvvealth can right­lye be termed. was not it to bee called a Cittye, when as the Lawes were disanulled, and a­brogated, when Iudgementes were [Page 106] layed aside and contemned, when the aunciente customes of the Cittye were ceassed and extinguished, when the Ma­gistrates were with sweard and strong hand deposed and disfraunchised, and ye honourable name of Senate no more v­sed in the Weale publique.

Was that flocking rout of Theeues, and Ruffians, and that swarme of Rob­bers and Murderers, which vnder thy conduct were broughte and set in the *Forum, and the residue of the Conspi­ratours The com­mon pla­ce vvher Courtes vverekept and Lavv matters pleaded. which after the sedicious Fu­ries & trayterous vprores of Catiline, turned & cōformed themselues vnto thy vngracious villany & madnes, any city?

Therfore I was not banished out of the Citie, which was then none: but I was called home, & restored into yt city, when there was in the cōmon Wealth a Cōsul, which* then was none at all: & So longe as Clodi­us ruled the ro [...]t. when there was a Senate, which while thou barest the swaye, was quight de­cayed: when the people might franck­lye and freelye geeue their voyces, and consentes: and finallye, when the xecu­tion [Page] of Iustice, Lawe, & Equitie, which bee the Lincks and Bondes of a Citie) were reuiued and broughte agayne into fresh remembraunce.

But behold, how little I set by these weapons, where with thou mainteinest thy murderous and thieuish lewdnesse. I euer made accoūpt, that thou diddest meane great & mischieuous iniurye to­wardes mee: but I neuer thought that it euer raught or came neere to mee.

Vnlesse peraduēture when thou diddest beat downe the walles of my House, or when thou diddest moste wickedlye set my Mansion on fier, thou thoughtest yt some of such things as were myne, were spoyled ransacked and burned. But Worldlye pelfe and transitory goods are not rightlye to bee tearmed anye of ours. I doe recken nothing to bee myne, ney­ther can anye Man els, cal anye thinge his owne, whych may bee taken away or stollen, or by anye other meanes loste.

If thou haddeste berefte mee of my longe continued Constancy of Mynde, of my prouident cares, of my watchful paynes, and my sage counsayle, where­by [Page 107] the state of this publique Weale is and hath beene honourablye conserued and mainteined, or if thou haddest abo­lished Tyraun [...]es & bloud­suckers haue no maner of po­vver ouer the mind of the vertuous. & blotted out the immortal Fame that shall eternallye redound to me for these worthye benefites, or (which is more) if thou haddest bereft mee of that Mind, out of which al these Counsailes proceded: then woulde I confesse that I had receyued a Wronge, at thyne handes.

But forasmuch as thou neyther did­dest, neyther yet couldest do this: there­fore hath thy iniurious dealing toward Virescit vulnere virtus. mee, made this my retourne ioyful and glorious, and not my departure wret­ched and miserable.

Therfore I was euer a Citizen, and then especiallye, when the Senate dyd wryte to Foraine Nations for my safe­gard, and gentle intertainment, as for one that was both a worthy and a ver­tuous Citizen.

But thou euen now at this present, arte no Citizen, vnlesse peraduenture it bee possyble for one, and the same [Page] person both to be a deadly Enemy, and a friendlye Citizen.

Doest thou make the difference bee­tweene a Citizen, and an Enemie by Nature and distaunte of place, and not by inwarde wyll, and playne deedes of the mynde? Thou hast committed mur­der in the Forum, thou hast intruded in to the Temple, and forciblie kept yt pos­session thereof, with thy armed Cut­throates. Thou hast fiered the houses of pryuate menne, and holy Churches. Why is *Spartacus proclaimed a Re­bell A nota­ble Fen­cer, vvho gathering an host of Bondsla­ues, made vvarres against the Romains. and Traytour, if thou be a Citizē? Canst thou bee a Cytyzen, sithence through thy lewdnesse, the Citye was once no Citye? And doest thou call mee (by thyne owne name) a banished man, sith there is no good mā but he thought yt at my departure the Cōmon wealth was banished and departed also?

O thou foolish and franticke Dolte, wilt thou neuer bee reclaymed to good­nesse? wilt thou neuer looke about the? wylt thou neuer cōsider what thou do­est and speakest? Doest thou not know [Page 108] that Exile is the punishment of wycked and scelerous dealing? and that this my Iourney was takē in hand for my most notable and noble Actes, before by mee atchieued?

Al mischieuous and naughty persōs (of whom thou doest professe thy selfe Captayne and Ringleader) whom the Not the chaunge of soyle & Countrie vvhich maketh the bani­shed man Lawes will to be banished mē, are Va­garauntes and banished men in deede, although they neuer stirre foote oute of their natiue Countrye. When by all order of the Lawes thou art denounced an Outlawed & Banished person, wilt thou not bee a Banished man?

Is not he called an Enemie, that is found with Weapon about him, & bee­hold thy Falchion was takē euē before the Senate? Shal he that slaieth a mā bee punished, and thou escape, who hast murthered a great maignie? Shal hee that setteth fier on the Citie, bee adiud­ged an Enemie, and thou wincked at, which with thine owne hand hast bur­ned Cloisters and Churches, dedicated to the Nymphes? Shall he be punish­able, [Page] which forciblye surpriseth yt Tē ­ples of the Gods, and thou go skotfree, who hast pitched thy Campe euen in yt Forum?

But what meane I to recoumpte & declare the common Lawes, by al whi­che thou verily art a Banished man?

Thyne owne familier freende Cor­nificius made a speciall Lawe for thee, that if thou diddest presume to come in­to the secrete Shrowdes of Bona Dea, thou shouldest be sent into exile. But thou (notwythstanding) arte accusto­med to make thy vaunt, that thou haste done it. Seeing therfore thou art de­noūced a banished man, and throwen in­to exile by so many laws, doest thou not tremble at, and feare this odious name of a Banished man?

But I am here in Rome (thou wylt saye) and therfore how canst thou proue mee to bee a Banished man? Yea mary Sirre: and so were you in the Shrow­des also. Therfore a man is not demaū ­dable to haue the benefite and protectiō of the place where he rousteth and bar­boureth, [Page 109] if the Lawes doe not allowe him there to bee, and remayne.

The Fyfte Paradoxe, wherein hee inueigheth against the in­solencie & voluptuous liuing of Mar­cus Antonius, and proueth all VVisemen to bee free: and al Fooles to bee Slaues and Bondmen.

DEserueth this worthy ca­pitaine Antonius to be praysed, or to bee named & thought wor­thye of such an honourable name? How? Or what ho­nest Hee can ill rule another, that can not rule himselfe. Freeman can hee bee a ruler ouer, which cannot rule his owne affections? Let him first brydle his owne Sensuall Lustes, let him renounce and despise Pleasures, let him qualifie his furious and fumishe anger, let him forsake Co­uetousnes, let him vtterly expell & abā ­don al other corrupt & naughty vyces: & [Page] thē let him beginne to exercise his rule and Authoritie ouer others, when he Vices specially emblemish­ing there novvme of noble men and magistra­tes. himselfe hath ceassed to bee enthralled, as a Bōd slaue vnto two most vile may­sters, to wit, Shame and Dishonesty: For so long as hee is the Bondslaue of those two, hee shall not onely be accoū ­ted no Emperour, nor cōmaunder ouer others, but rather not so much as a fre­man.

For this is very excellentlye agreed vpon, amonge the beste learned, whose authoritie I would not vse and alledge if the case so laye, yt I should make this discourse before an audience of blunt & ignoraunt persons. But seeinge that I do speake vnto them, that are moste wise and discreete, vnto whose hearing these thinges are not straunge, why should I dissimule, and fayne yt I haue lost all the paynes and labour which I haue bestowed in these studies?

Therfore right learned men do hold opinion, that no man is Free, but onlye Libertie vvhat it is a Wisemā: For what is Libertie: For­sooth, a Leaue and power to lyue as a [Page 110] man luste. And who lyueth as he luste, but hee which embraceth and discretely frameth to lyue, in an orderly and pro­uident trade: who is obediēt to Lawes not for feare, but standeth in reuerente Honest men obey Lavves, not for feare but for loue of Vertue awe of theim, because hee thincketh it a thinge expediente, and holesome so to doe: who sayeth nothinge, doeth no­thing, thincketh nothing, but voluntarilye and freelye: whose whole counsels, and affayres, what soeuer they bee that A freemā described hee taketh in hande, doth procede from himselfe, and to the same are referred: neither is any thing of so great force wt him, as is his owne will and iudgemēt: vnto whō Fortune herselfe, who is re­ported to haue a meruailous great po­wer, Fortune. and to beare a greate swaye in all thinges, yeldeth and geueth place: ac­cordinge, to the sayinge of that wyse Poet: Shee is fashioned to euerye mā after his owne maners.

Therfore only a Wiseman hath this preeminence and good chaunce, that be doth nothing against his wyll, nothing grudginglye, nothing by compulsion. [Page] Which thing to be true, although wee must bee fayne in manye wordes to dys­cusse and declare, yet thys in fewe wor­des muste needes bee confessed, that no man is Free, sauing he onely, which is thus disposed and affected. And there­fore Who bee Free. all naughtye persons are Slaues, and Bondemen.

Neyther is this so inopinable & mer­ueilous, in deede, as it is in wordes. For they doe not terme and call theym Slaues, after such sort as they do Bōd men, who serue for drudgerye and vile seruice, beinge bound to their Maisters by Indentures and Couenauntes obli­gatorie, Who bee Bond or by some order of Ciuile law: But if the vile obediēce of an effeminat and abiect mynde, lacking any sure stay or Iudgement of itselfe, bee (as it is in deede) a Bondage, who will deny, but that all light felowes, Couetous per­sons, and finallye all naughtye Folkes, bee Slaues and Bondmen?

Shall I thincke him to bee a Free man, which is vnder the rule of a* Woman, submitting himselfe to her becke, Cleopa­tra. [Page 111] and Pleasure: ouer whom shee exerci­seth Authoritie, and vnto whom she en­ioyneth and prescribeth Lawes: com­maundeth and coūtermaundeth, at her owne pleasure? If shee commaunde anye seruice to bee done, hee dare none otherwise doe, but goe aboute it: if shee would haue any thing, hee dare not de­nye it: if shee aske or request any thing, hee must geeue it: if shee call, hee muste come: if she cast him of, there is no re­medie but to be packinge and trudging awaye: if shee storme and threaten, hee must tremble & quake for awe & feare. Verilie I iudge ye mā wc is in this case, worthy not only to be called a Slaue & Bondman, but a most wicked Passaunt & Drudge, yea although he were des­cēded of honorable stocke & Lignage. And as in a great Houshold of Fooles, some seruaunts bee (as they thincke in their own conceipts) brauer & coper, thē their other Felowes: as being Porters & Vshers of ye Hal, & yet they are no better but seruāts & fooleshaken, aswel as thou: so are, they also teinted wt ye like follye & [Page] Sott [...]ge, which are too too curious in settinge all their delighte in Pictures, Tables, Plate richlye engrauen, Co­rynthian Fond de­lightes. worckes, & sumptuous Buil­dinges.

But wee are (wyll they say) the chief Obiectiō heades of the Cittie. Truelye you are not the chief Maisters, not so much as o­uer your own felow Slaues. Ansvvere

But as in a great Family, they which handle and goe aboute Vyle offices of drudgerie, as Scowringe, Greasinge, Wyping, Brushing, Sweping, straw­inge Rushes & Flowers, haue not the honestest place of seruice: so in a Citye, they whych haue enthralled and addic­ted thēselues to y desires & lusts of these things, haue almost the lowest & basest rowme of al, in ye same Citie. But thou wilt say agayne: I haue valiauntly be­haued my selfe in battayles, & exployted Objectiō worthie aduētures in Martial affayres, and I haue had the Gouernaunce and chiefe rule, ouer great Empires & pro­uinces. Then cary about with thee, a Mynde garnished with such Vertues Ansvvere [Page 112] and Qualities, as bee prayse worthye. But thou art stupefied with some excellent An excellent pain­ter. A Cunning Image maker. Table of * Echion his workeman­ship, or els wt some Picture of * Polycle­tus.

I omitte to speake whence thou pur­loynedst them, and how thou camest by them. But when I see and behold thee so affectionately still to gaze and toote vppon theim, to meruayle and muse at them, & to make exclamations for wō ­der of them, truly I must nedes iudge thee to be the Slaue & Bondman of all Dotage and Foolishnes.

But are not these thinges prety and trimme? Yes mary are they: for we al­so haue learned Eyes, able to discerne thinges.

But I pray thee, let these be reputed and deemed fayre and beautiful, in such sorte, that they be not made as Gyeues and Fetters, to shackle and bynd Men: but taken as toyes and conceipts, to de­light Children. Who vt­terlye ra­zed Co­rynth and caried a­vvay all the pretious sevvels & costlye vvares thereof to Rome.

For what do you thincke, if * L. Mum­mius should haue seene any of these men [Page] greatly enamoured, and very desirous­lye delighted to handle the fine Pottes and Vrinalles of Corynthian woorke, whereas hee himselfe cared not for the whole Cittie of Corynth: whether would hee, thinke him to bee an excel­lent Cittizen, orels a diligent ouersee­ing Seruaūt? Suppose yt * Curius were aliue againe: or some of those worthye Who van quished the Samnites, and draue Pyrrhus oute of Italye. Personages, in whose simple Fermes & Coūtry Graūges, there was nothing gorgeously decked, glittering, & beauti­ful, but thēselues. If hee or any of these mē, should see one (which by yt election & fauor of the people, hath bene greatly benefited & promoted) catching younge Barbilles out of a Fishpond, or nicelye bādling thē: or reioysing in himselfe, for hauing stoare & abūdance of Lāprayes: woulde not hee Iudge this man to bee such a Slaue, that in a Housholde, hee would not thincke him worthy to inter­meddle in any greater Charge?

Doth any man doubt, but that they are in most beastly state of Seruitude, Vylest Slauerye. who, for couetousnes of worldly mocke, [Page 113] refuse no maner of most vyle Slauerie, Drudgerye, and Bondage?

What vnreasonable Bondage is that Person well contented to suffer, which gopeth for the Goods and Inheritance of an other man? When doth the Olde Gapers for other mens Death. Rych Childlesse Cobbe, eyther beck or nodde, but he is ready at his Elbow, & prest at an ynche, to doe his will & plea­sure? He speaketh euery word to please the old Churles humor: he knoweth ye right bent of his Bow, & how to please him: what hee willeth to bee done, hee doeth: he holdeth him vp with yea and nay: he sitteth by him and prayseth him.

What poinct of a Freeman is in any of these? nay rather, what poinct of a Seruile and drowsie Drudge is not herein?

Nowe, that same ambitious desire of Ambitiō and desire of Honor Honoure, Principalitie, & Prouinces, (which semeth to maske vnder a better shew of Honestie) what a hard and Ri­gorous Maystresse is it? Howe Impe­rious, how Stately, & how Vehemēt is it? This was it, yt caused the chiefest [Page] persons in the Citye, and those whiche were coumpted the beste, and moste substantiallest mē in Rome, to become Suters, and to crowch and kneele vnto Cethegus, (a man not of yt best honesty) & to be vnder him: to send him gifts: to Cethegus. come home to him in the night: to desire him to be good vnto theim: and finally, suppliauntlye to prostrate themselues before him, and beseech his fauour.

What calle you Seruitude & Thraldome, if this may be thought to bee Li­bertie and Freedome? What shall we say? when the rule and Domination of Affections hath exceeded, doeth there not enter into their harts, an other hea­uye Mayster, proceeding and growinge Feare and remorse of Conscience. of a remorse of Cōscience, for yt crymes before committed, which is Feare?

What a miserable and hard Seruitude is this? They must obey and folowe yt fancies of prating Young lings. All they that seeme to haue any shadowe of knowledge, are feared as thoughe they were Lordes.

As for the Iudge, what domination Iudge. [Page 114] hath he? In what feare of him, do guil­tye Persons stande? how do they whi­ch know themselues guiltye of anye of­fence, feare and dreade him? Is not all kynde of feare, a Bondage and Slaue­rye?

Therfore to what purpose serueth L. Crassus reproued for his dasierdlye feareful­nesse. that coptous, rather then wise Oration of that right eloquent man L. Crassus: Deliuer and ryd vs out of Seruitude. What Seruitude is this to such an ex­cellent and noble Man? For fainthar­ted, cowardly & abiect fearfulnes of the Minde, is Seruitude. What Slauery is

Let vs not (sayth hee) be in Bondage to any man. Desireth hee to bee enfraun­chised and restored to Libertie? No. For what doth he adde afterward? To none but onely to you all, vnto whom wee may and ought to shew our duty­full allegiaūce. He would but chaūge his Landlorde: hee desireth not to bee free.

But wee, if wee bee endued with a loftie and valiaunt Minde, garnished & fraught with Vertues, neyther ought, [Page] neither may bee in seruile Subiection. But say thou, O Crassus, yt thou canst doe so: for why: thou canst do it, and be as good as thy woord: but say not that thou oughtest so to do: because no man oweth any thinge, but that, which were a dishonestye not to paye.

But of this hytherto. Now let this iolye * Felow looke wel about him, and Antonius see, how hee can bee an Emperoure, or Commaunder, sith verye Reason and Truthe do moste plainly proue him, not to bee so much as a Freeman.

The Syxte & laste Pa­radoxe, wherein hee proueth none to be Rych but only wyse & Vertuous Mē: priuily nipping Marcus Crassus, who said, that none was worthy to haue the name of Rich, vnlesse with his Re­uenues, hee were able to fur­nish and mainteine an Armye.

[Page 115] VVhat an insolent bragging and ostentation is this that thou makest about the tel­linge of thy Money & Ry­ches? Art thou alone Rich? Oh immortall Gods, may not I reioyse in my selfe, that I haue hearde & lear­ned somthing? Art thou alone Rych? What wilt thou say, if I can proue the not to be rych at al? Nay, what wylte thou saye, if I proue thee to bee poore & beggarlye?

For, what is he, whom we call Ry­che, or vppon what maner of man maye wee bestowe this woorde? Verilye I Who may rightly be termed Rich. thincke that is best agreeth, and maye fitliest be applied to him, who possesseth so much, that he thincketh himselfe ve­ry wel & cōtētedly stoared with ynough to lyue vertuously and honestly withal, who seeketh & prowleth after nothing, coueteth and wisheth nothinge more then he hath.

[Page] For it is thy Mynde, that must exa­mine and iudge itselfe, whether it bee Rich or no: and not the rumour & talke of the People: neither thy Ryches and Possessions.

Hee which thinketh himselfe to lack nothing, and careth not for heapinge & boording vp of any more: but is satisfi­ed and well contented with his present Who is Rych. wealth, (I graunce) is Ryche. But if for filthye lucre and insaciable greedi­nesse of Money, thou thincke no maner of gayne dishonest and reprochfull, and carest not which way nor how thou get­rest thy goodes, (whereas no gayne at al, can bee honest and commendable in one of that order, wherof thou art one) if thou daylye defraude and vndermine thy Neighbours: deceiue & circumuēt them: exact vnreasonable demaunds of them: entangle and lap them in preiu­diciall bargaines and couenauntes: poll and pyll them: spoyle and vndoe them: Levvde shiftes togather vvealth. steale from thy felowes: robbe the common Treasury: gape & looke for Lega­cies to bee geuen the, by thy frendes in [Page 116] their last Testamentes: or perhaps, do­est not wayte and tary the tyme, but by forgerye and falsitie doest craftelye in­trude and put thy name in steede of an other: whether bee these, the tokens & pranckes of a rych wealthie Man which aboundeth, or of a needye poore person that lacketh?

It is the Mind of a man, that is wōt to bee called Rich, and not his Coffers. It is the mynde & not the full Cof­fers that make a man rich. Althoughe thy Coffers bee full stuffed with money & worldly pelfe, yet so long as I see thy selfe emptie & voyd of Ver­tue, I wil neuer thinke thee to be rich. For men do esteeme and recken ye mea­sure of riches, to consist in Sufficiencie. Sufficien­cie is vvealth ynough. Hath a man one Daughter? Thē hath hee neede of Money? Hath he two? He hath nede of more Money. Hath he moe then two? Hee hath neede of greater Hee that hath mu­ch to doe vvith Money, hath neede of much Money. store then afore. If he haue fifty Daughters (as the Poets do say that king Da­naus had) he must prouide so many Do­wers to geeue with them in Mariage, which wyll aske a greate masse of Mo­ney.

[Page] For according as euerye one hath nede, so is the measure of Ryches (as before I haue sayde) considerable and applia­ble. Therfore that man which hath not many Daughters, but (nathelesse) The Pursute of fōd Affectiōs and fleshly Lustes cōsumeth vvealth, bee it neuer so much. hath innumerable Affections, and an in­finite number of beastly Lustes, (which are able in short space to consume verye greate wealthe and foyson of Ryches) how shall I call him Rych, sithence he feeleth and perceyueth himselfe to lacke?

Manye haue heard thee saye, that no man was Rych, vnlesse hee were able with his Rents and Reuenues to maintayne What mā Crassus iudged to be called Rich. and furnishe an whole Hoste of Men: which thing the Romayne Na­tion hath of longe tyme beene scarcelye able with all their Trybutes and Ren­tes to doe.

Therfore thyne own Reason and Ar­gumente beeinge true, thou shalt ne­uer hee Ryche, vntill thy Possessions bee so augmented and encreased, that A Legion containes 12500. Souldiers therewith thou mayst be able to main­teine Syxe * Legions of Souldiers: be­side [Page 117] a greate number of Horsemen, and Footemen, which come to succour and ayde.

Now thou canst not choose, but cōfesse thy selfe not to be Rych, sithence thou lackest so much, that thou canst not ac­complish and fulfill thy wished desire.

Therefore thou diddest neuer dissem­ble and hyde thys thy Pouertye, or ra­ther Needynes and Beggerye.

For, as wee wel vnderstand and know that those Men, whych honestelye seeke to encrease their Wealth, by En­ter course and Traffique of Merchaun­dize, by Letting out Woorckemen for Hyre, by helpinge one an other: and by Ferming Customes, and Publique Tolles, haue neede of the thinges whych they seeke for: So hee that see­eth at thy House the Flockinge Com­panyes of Accusers, Complaynaunts, and Iudges, all at once: he that mar­keth the Defendauntes and Guyltye Persons, beeinge full of Money, go­inge aboute and Practisinge wyth Brybes, and Rewardes (which they [Page] (which they learned of thee) to peruert and defeate the due course of Iustice & Shiftes vvhereby Crassus gatte all his vvelth Iudgement: he that noteth thy Legier­demaine and craftye Bargaines yt thou makest with thy Clients: what reward thou shalt haue for thy Patrocinie and counsayle in their Causes: for what sū ­mes of Money thou doest indente wyth those yt bee Cōpetitours or Suters for Office in general assēblies: be yt calleth to memory, how thou sendest abrode & lettest out thy Slaues & Seruants for hyre, to shaue and exacte vnmeasurable gaynes by vsurye of the Prouinces: he that marketh how thou threatenest thy poore Neighbours & Tenauntes out of their Houses and Fermes: he that con­sidereth thy open Robberies abroade in the fieldes: hee that calleth to mynde how thou vsest to be partaker and Co­pertener with poore Slaues, Libertes and Clyentes, & al for money: Hee that beholdeth the Houses and Possessions left voyd and vnhabited, by reason that the poore Fermers bee expulsed: the Proscriptions, & Attendours of weal­thye [Page 118] Personages: the Slaughter and Ransacking of incorporate Townes: Hee that perpendeth, the lamētable ha­uocke & generall Spoyle, practised in Sylla his vsurped Principalitie: hee yt recordeth ye forged Willes and Testa­ments: & the great nūber of Persons cast away & manquelled: & finally how all thinges were then solde for Money: Mustring of mē: Decrees & Statutes: his owne, and other mens Senten­ces also: Iudiciall matters: his owne House: his goodword & Voyce: yea his sylēce & forbearing to speake: & al these sold for Money: who is he, but wil thīk, yt this mā must confesse, yt he hath neede of those thinges which hee seeketh?

And whosoeuer hath nede of that thing which hee toyleth to gette and gayne, who can euer truelye call him a Ryche man? For, the Fruicte of Ryches is in Plentie: which Plentie, the Sacietie of things, and Abundaunce of Wealth Hee that hath nede is not rych bringeth: the which for asmuch as thou shale neuer attayne vnto, thou shalt ne­uer bee Rich.

[Page] And because thou doest contemne my Substaunce & Wealth, and well too, (for it is after the Vulgar Peoples As­sessemēt, meane & indifferent: in thyne Opinion, in manner nothinge: in myne owne iudgement, competent and mea­surable) I wyl say nothing of myselfe, but speake of thee.

If wee shall throughlye waighe and cōsider the thing as it is, whether shall wee more esteeme the Money whyche King Pyrrhus sent to * Fabritius, or els Who beeing veryepoore refused greate Sūmes of Money sent in revvard to him from King Pyrrhus. yt Continencie of Fabritius, who would not receiue the same, being frely offred vnto hym?

Whether shall wee more waighe the great Masse and Summe of Golde, of the Samnites: or els the Aunswere of * M. Curius, to the Messengers that brought the same to hym? the Inheri­taunce of L. Paulus or els the liberali­tie Who refused agreat masse of Golde, sēt vnto hym from the Samnites. of Aphricanus, who gaue his parte and Portion of Lyueloode, to his Bro­ther Quintus Maximus?

Verilie, these notable Examples be­ing chiefe and principal points of most [Page 119] excellent Vertues, are more to be estee­med, then those that bee the Members of Wealth, and Money.

The cause therefore standinge thus, yt hee which possesseth yt thing which is most of all others to be esteemed, is cō ­sequentlye to bee accoumpted the Ry­chest and Worthyest Man: who doub­teth but that the True Ryches doe True Ryches consist in vertue. cōsiste onely in Vertue? For no Posses­sion whatsoeuer, no Masse of Golde and Syluer, is to bee preferred or so much No vvorldly treasure comparable to Vertue. to bee esteemed as Vertue. Oh immor­tall Gods Men do not perceiue and vn­derstād, what a great Reuenue & Rent, moderate Expences & Parsimony is.

For now wyll I leaue to speake of this Magnum vectigal Parsimo­nia. beggerlye Lickepeny yt prowleth al for Gaine, & speake a litle of prodigal Spē ­ders & vnmeasurable Wasters. There is some one, yt may yerely dispēd in Lands & Rents. 600. Sestertia: My Reuenues amount skantly to one hun­dreth: Euery Se­stertium is in value 25. Frēch Crovvnes to such one, gorgeously Seeling & gilting the roofes of his Manours & Coūtry Houses, & pauing his floores wt [Page] fine Marble, and still desiringe and infi­nitely couetinge Pictures, Furniture, Implementes, and gallaun: Apparell, Immode­rate expē ces & nede lesse charges, about the fedīg of affecti­ons. all the aforsaid Summe of Money wyl not only be too litle to discharge ye same, but also wil scanclye suffice to paye the Annuall vsurye, for the loane thereof.

I do so qualefy and brydle myne Af­fections vnder the Reynes of moderate Expences, that out of my finall yerelye Lyueloode, somwhat remayneth at the Measura­ble spen­ding best. yeres ende.

Whether of vs is ryther therefore? Hee that lacketh, or els hee that hath more then he spendeth? He that is nee­dye, or hee that hath plentie? hee whose possessions, the greater they be, the more is required to the maintenaunce of hys Ech man must spēd according to his de­gree and calling. Porte and state: or els he, that poyzeth his expences and charges, according to the rate of his habilitie?

But what meane I to speake of my selfe, who peraduenture also throughe the iniquitie and corruption of tymes & maners, am not altogether cleare from the infection of this Errour? Marcus [Page 120] Manilius who lyued of late yeares, e­uen in our Fathers dayes and remem­braunce (because I will not alwayes speake of such precise Felowes, as the Curij, and the Lucinij were) was a ve­rye poore man: for hee dwelt in a small A Rovv of houses so called because they vver built like to the heeles of shippes. Cotage [...], in the Streete called * Cari­nae, and had a little plecce of Ground in Lycopum. Are we therfore which ha­ue greater possessions, rycher then hee? Would God wee were.

But the measure and consideration of Money & Ryches, is not to bee made by the estimatiō and value of Wealth, but by cōueniēt Meate, Drinke, Cloth, and orderly lyuing.

It is a greate Fee and Pension, not to bee Greedye and Couetous of Mo­ney: and not to bee a Buyer, a Pur­chaser, or a Common Chapman, is a great Reuenue. But to bee contented wyth a mans Lotte, and Vocation, and Conten­ted lyfe is the Ry­chest life. to lyue quietiye and contentedly in hys Calling, is the greatest and surest Ry­ches in the Worlde.

For if these Lurkinge and Craftye [Page] Prycesetters of thinges doe set an high price vpon their Meadowes and Spare Roumes, because such kinde of Posses­sions, cannot lightlye take any harme: How much more is Vertue to be estee­med, Causes vvhy Ver­tue is chieflye to be esteemed. which can neither be forciblye ta­ken, nor priuilye stollen awaye from a Man: which also can neither be loste by Shipwracke, nor yet by casualtie of Fyre: and is neuer chaunged by any al­teration of Tempestes or tymes? wher with whosoeuer bee endued, are onlye Rych.

For they onely do possesse the things that are both Fructuous, Perpetuall and Permanēt: and they alone (which is the verye Propertie of Ryches) are contented with their Substaunce and State, whereunto they bee called. They thinke yt, which they presently enioy, to bee sufficient: they couet no­thinge: they lacke nothinge: they feele not themselues needye of anye thinge: they craue and require nothing.

But wicked Persons, and couetous Pinchpenies, because their Possessions [Page 121] are vncertayne and casuall, and are e­uer desirous to gather & scrape more: (in so much that there was neuer yet a­nye of them found which thought him­selfe contented and pleased with his presente Store) are not onelye not to be reckened Wealthy and Rich, but rather very Poore & garly.

T. N.
FINIS.

A Philosophicall Dis­course of M. T. Cicero: entituled, SCIPIO HIS Dreame.

AFter my cōming into Aphrique, beeing Marshal or Trybune to ye fourth Legion of Souldyers (as you know) vnder Anitius Manili­us the Consull: I desired nothinge so much, as to visite Kinge * Masinissa: a King of Nun. dia Prince for good causes & iust respectes, bearing most vnfayned goodwill to our House and Familye. Vnto whom whē I came, the good olde King embracing mee, fell into weepinge: and within a whyle after loking vp toward Heauen, sayed these Wordes: I render thanks vnto thee, O Soueraigne Sunne, and vnto [Page 122] all you other celestiall Creatures, that before I departe out of this lyfe. I doe Ioy of frē des at their Meeting. see within myne owne Territorie and Kingdome, yea, and vnder the Roofe of myne owne House, my deare Freend P. Cornelius Scipio, with whose verye name, I am singulerlye refreshed and comforted. For the remembraunce of yt most noble and inuincible Man, neuer departeth out of my Mynde.

Then began I to question with him, concerning the state of his Kingdome, and hee me of our Common wealth: & so, with much talke too and fro had, we spent all that Daye.

But afterwarde beeing entertayned with Princely furniture and Curtesie, wee continued our talke til farre in the night: ye old King speaking of nothing els, but of Africanus, & recoumptinge not onelye his valiaunte Actes, but al­so his wyse and pythye Sayinges. Af­ter this, we went to Bedde, where I beinge both wearye with my Iourney, & hauinge ouerwatched my selfe before, slept more soundlye then I was wont & [Page] accustomed to doe.

Here mee thoughte (and I verilye Dreames, cōmonlie represent to vs in Sleepe, those thinges vvee most ear­nestlye delighted in and deuised vvaking. thincke that it so hapned throughe the talke which we twaiue had afore: For it is commonly seene, that our Cogitati­ons and Talke, doe represent and cause some such thīg in our Slepes, as Enniꝰ wryteth of Homere, that is to say, such, as the Mynde wakinge vsed oftenest to thincke, & talke on) Africanus appea­red and shewed himself vnto me, in such a maner of Shape, whereby he was better knowen of mee, by his Image, then hee coulde haue beene by his owne Person. Whom after that I knew, truely I shynered and was sore afrayd. But (quoth hee vnto mee) bee of good Cheere, and lay aside all feare O Sci­pio, and committe well to Memory, such thinges as I shall tell thee.

Doest thou not see yōder * City, which hauing been once heretofore cōpelled by mee to yeld obeysaunce to the Romaine Carthage people, renueth old Grudges, seeketh new Warres, & cānot be quiet? & there wtal he shewed Carthage vnto me, frō an [Page 123] high & stelliferous, cleare & lightsome place: to ye Besieging & Conquest wher­of, Being not aboue 28 or 29 yee­res old. thou now comest, beeinge little more thē out of thy seruice or time of * Soul­dier. This same shalt thou being Cōsul subuert, & destroy, wtin these ii. yeeres, & shalt therby purchase & wyn a * Surna­me To be called Africanus. to thy selfe, which thou hast as yet of vs, by discent of Inheritaunce. And whē thou hast spoyled & ouerthro­wen Carthage, Solēnized a Trium­phaūt Victory, borne ye office of Cēsor, & bene Lieutenaūt General into Egipt, Syria, Asia, & Grece,: thou shalt beinge absent, be chosen & elected ye secōd time Consul, & shalt be ye victorious General of a mighty Battaile, & shalt Sacke, & Scipio vvon Carthage and Numātia. vtterly Ruinate Numantia. But when thou shalt at thy returne enter into the Capitol, ryding in a Chariot, thou shalt find yt Cōmon wealth merueilously fr [...] ­shed & disquieted through the ruflinge Styrre, and Procurement of my * Ne­phewe. Tib. Gracchus.

Herein O Africanus, it shalbe very expedient and needeful, that thou set to, [Page] thy helping hande, and shewe foorth for thy Countreys sake and behoofe, the haultie courage and vndaūted prowesse of thy Mynde, Witte, and Counsayle. But of that tyme, I do see (as it were) the way of Fate and Destinie to be ve­ry doubtfull. For when thou shalt come to bee Seuen times Eight Winters, & 56 yeeres olde. Sommers olde, and that these two nū ­bers (wherof both are accoumpted ful, the one for seueral cause frō the other) shall accomplishe and consummate the fatal terme of the Yeares, whych thou shalt lyue, with a naturall Reuolutiō: the whole Cittie shall leaue and repose her whole trust vpō thee only, and vpon thy name: Thee shal ye Honorable Se­nate reuerence: thee will all good Men A valiaūt & vvorthy Peere in a Realme is the sure Piller and stay thereof. honour: the will all Felowes and Con­federates of the Romaine People re­garde: thee, will the Latines, loue and obaye: in thee onely, shal the saue­garde and preseruation of the City con­sist. And to be short, thou being enstal­led in the office of Dictator, must nedes redresse the Abuses of the Common [Page 124] wealth, and set the same in good order: if thou mayest escape the cursed hands of thine owne kynred and Lignage.

At this last talke, Laelius with pity­full scritches, crying out, and all the re­sidue greatlye sorowing, Scipio myld­lye smyling, said: I pray you do not a­wake me out of my Sleepe, but be qui­et and styll, and heare the rest.

But to the ende (Africane) that thou shouldest haue the more wil and animo­sitie to defend ye Weale publique, make thy sure accoumpt of this: that vnto al those which haue beene Mainteiners, Maintey­ners and protec­tors of their coūtry▪ Ayders, and Encreasers, of their Coū ­try, a certaine and definite place is here in Heauen appoincted, where they in blessed state shall lyue euerlastinglye.

For there is nothing (namely done here on earth) which more pleaseth God (the most high Prince of all, who pro­tecteth and gouerneth all this World) then the Congregatiōs and Assemblies of men, lawfully linckinge and lyuinge together with faythfull societie & Bro­therly What a Citye is Felowshippe, one with an other: [Page] which are called by the name of Cities. The vprighte Magistrates, and Main­teyners whereof, departing thence, shal hither retourne.

Here, albeeit I was fore afrayde, & not so much for dread & feare of Death, as for the Treacherous Conspiracie, of some of myne owne Kinsfolkes: yet did I demaund of him, whether my father Vertuous and vvorthy persōs do lyue after death. Paul, were yet lyuing, and others mo, whom wee supposed, and thought to bee dead. Yea vndoubtedly (quoth bee) they are alyue, which hee ryd out of ye Ben­des of their mortall Bodies, as out of a Prison. But that which you call Lyfe, is Death. Yea, beholde where thy Fa­ther This Life is no lyfe Paul commeth towardes thee.

Whom when I sawe, certes, I shed greate Abundaunce of Teares. But bee embracinge and kissing mee, vadde mee surceasse my Blubbering.

Assone as I had lefte Weepinge, and was able to speake: I besech you, most holy and worthye Father (quoth I) see­ing this is the true Lyfe (as I heare A­fricane say) why do I linger and tarye [Page 125] on Earth, and not hasten & make speede to come byther to you? Not so (quoth hee) For vnlesse God, who is the Ow­ner We must not hastē our ovvn Deathes, before our apointed tyme. of al this Temple which thou seest, dismisse and discharge the from ye cus­todye of thy Bodye, there cannot bee a­nye Entry or Passage, open for thee to come hyther.

For Men be created to this ende and condition, that they should manure and Why men vvere created. inhabite yonder round Globe, or Ball, which thou seest in the Middle of this Temple, called the Earth. And to thē is infused and geeuen a Mynde out frō these euerlastinge Lightes, which you call Planets and Starres: which bee­inge perfect round, and Bowlewise, in­spired wt Diuine and heauenly power, doe finishe and execute their Reuoluti­ons, Quicke motion of the Celestial Spheres. Circles and Ordes, with mer­ueilous Celeritie and Quickenesse.

And therfore Public, it behooueth both thee, and all other godlye Persons to keepe styl your Mindes within the cus­tody or Wardhouse of your Bodies, & not to depart out of your mortal life, wt ­out the [Page] commaundement of him that firste gaue & inspired the same into you: least Til God apointthe time, vvee must not seeke to shorten the dayes of our life in so doinge, you should seeme to refuse and start from the Function & office yt is vnto you, by God, appointed & assigned.

But Scipio, see that thou embrace and mainteine Iustice, and Pietie: euen as thy Graūdfather here before thee, & I thy Father which begatte thee, haue done. Which, although in our Pa­rentes & Kinstolkes, it bee greate: yet namelye and especially is it greatest in Loue to our Coū ­trye. our natiue Country: for that Lyfe is ye right way into Heauen, and into this Felowshippe and Companye of them, which haue now alreadye finished their natural race on Earth, and beeing dis­missed out of their Bodies, do inhabite this place of Ioye which thou seest.

The place was a very white & shininge Circle, resplendaunt among Flames, The Milk vvay, cal­led novv adayes of some Watling strete & of some the vvaye to S. Ia­mes. (which you, as you haue hearde of the Greekes) doe terme and cal the Milkye Circle.

Whereupon I perusinge and view­inge ech thing, al ye residue seemed both [Page 126] excellent and wonderfull. And they were those Starres, which wee neuer sawe from this place: and the greatnes & Magnitude of them, was so bigge, as wee neuer thought they had beene. A­mong whom, * that was the least, which The Mo­ue hath no Lighte but of the Sunne. The least fixed star perfectlye seene is as big as the vvhole Earth. Alfraga­nus. beeing furthest of frō Heauen, and nee­rest to the Earth shyned with borowed Light. And the Globes of ye Starres were a greate Deale bygger then the whole Earthe. Now the Earth itselfe seemed vnto mee so small, that I was euen ashamed of our Empyre & Seig­niorye: beeing so little, that wee enioye & occupie, (but as it were) a small prick or poynt of it. VVhich when I had be­helde, and looked on more stedfastlye, I pray thee (quoth Africane) how longe wyll thy Mynde bee pooring & fixed to the Groundward? Markest and con­siderest thou not, into what Temples thou art come and arriued? Behold al thinges are compacted and framed wt Nyne Orbes, or rather Globes, wher­of one is the vttermost Heauen, which compasseth and contayneth al the other [Page] within it: the most Soueraigne & om­nipotent God, holding and contayning the others, in whome are fixed those Starres, which rolle about and are ca­ryed with perpetuall Reuolutions.

Vnder whom, are Seuen, whyche Saturne the high­est & slo­vvest of the 7. Planets finisheth hys course in 30 yeres. Iupiter in 12 yeres. make their Course backeward, wyth contrarye motion to the Heauen. Of whom, that possesseth one Globe, which on the Earth is named * Saturne

Then next vnto it, is that prosperous and luckye Brightnesse to Mankinde, which hath to name *Iupiter.

Next is hee, that is Ruddy & dread­full Mars in 2. yeres. to the Earth, whom you cal * Mars.

Then euen almoste vnder the middle Region, the Sunne raigneth as chiefe, The Sūne in 1. yere. the Guyde, the Prince, and the Gouer­nour of all the residue of the Lightes, yt Venus in 9. months Mercurye in 80. dayes Life geeuer, the Mynde and Tempera­ture of the World: beeing so great and so bygge in quantity, that it searcheth & filleth all thinges, with his Shyning. These ij, last bee alvvais nere vnto the Sunne

Hym as Wayters and Companiōs do stil follow, * Venus and * Mercury in their Courses.

[Page 127] And in the lowest Circle or Orbe, ye The Moone endeth hercourse in 28 daies and hath no Light but of the Sunne. Moone lightned wt the Rayes or Bea­mes of ye Sunne, hath her Reuolution. Beneath this Globe of ye Moone, there is nothing but yt, which is mortal, tran­sitorie, and corruptible, sauing onelye ye Myndes or Soules, which Almighty God hath geeuen & inspired into Man­kinde. Soules immortall.

Aboue the Moone all is Eternall & incorruptible. For the Earth whiche is middle and the Nynth, is not moued All hea­uye thin­ges do svvaye dovvnevvard. and is lowest of all others, and vnto it are all ponderous and heauye thinges, euen with their owne sway, caryed.

Which thing when I (as one great­lye astonied) much mused and meruey­led to see: after I was come to my selfe agayne: what sweete noyse and melodi­ous The svveete harmonye in the motion of the Cele­stiall Bo­dies. Harmonie is this, (quoth I) that thus delighteth and filleth myne eares? This is (quoth he) that Tune cōpact wt vneuen Distances (but yet according to yt rated proportiō of yt partes, distinct, & different) whiche is caused and made through the swift Reuolutiō & mouing [Page] of these same Orbes: which tempering Sharpes wt Flattes, proportionallye, causeth sundry tunes of Harmonie. For (trulye) such great and swyft Motions, cannot bee mooued and incited wyth Sylence: and natural Course & Order requireth, that the Extremes on the one side shoulde geeue a Flatte sound, & on the other, a Sharpe.

For which cause, the highest Course of the Starry Heauen, whose whirling aboute & Reuolution is swifter & quic­ker, Starry Firmament. is moued wt a Sharpe and Shrill sounde: But this lowest Course of the Moone is moued with a very Base and Flat sound. Moones heauen.

For the Earth beeing the Nynthe, is lumpishe and vnmoueable, and stic­keth Earth. fast alwayes in the lowest Seate, compassing and vecispping the middle place of the World. And those Eight Courses, in which is one selfe same Venus & Mercurye strength and time of * twayne, do make notes distinct with Seuen Stoppes & Distances, which* nūber is (in a ma­ner) The Sep­tenary nū ber hath tn it many and mysti­call con­clusiōs. Aul. Gel. the Knot of al thinges. VVhych, [Page 128] Learned men with Stringes and son­ges perceiuinge and imitating, haue o­pened a waye to theimselues to haue ac­cesse into this Place: as there likewise haue bene some others, who being men of most pregnaunt & excellent wyttes in their lyfe tyme, honored and applied di­uine Studies.

This sound so filled mens eares, that ther with they became dunch and deafe. Neither is any Sense in you blunter or duller: as it is in them which dwel neere where the Riuer Nilus at the place cal­led Nilus. Catadupa, falleth downe from very highe & stiepe Mountaynes with a most Catadupa violent and headlong fal, in such sort, yt the people which dwel and inhabit nere there about, forthe incredible greatnes of the noyse and sound, are generally al deafe. And this noyse of yt whole World, by reason of his most vehement & quicke conuersion and mouing is so great, that the eares of men are not able to conceiue and comprehend it: like as you are not able to looke stedfastly vpon the Sunne direct against you with your eyes: but wt [Page] the rayes & beames thereof youre sighte dazeleth and your Sense is ouercome.

Although I greatly wondered here­at, yet did I now & then caste myne eyes Worldlye things are to be con­temned, & heauenlie thinges to be desired toward the ground. Then spake Afri­cane vnto me, saying: I perceiue, that yu yet stil castest an eye towards yonder seate and habitation of Men: which if it seeme vnto thee (as it is in deede) very little and small, cast thine eyes alwayes towards these Heauenly thinges, & con­temne those mortall and humaine mat­ters. For what celebrity of fame canste thou obtayne by the talke and report of Men, or what Glorye canste thou there wynne, worthy to be desired? Thou see­est the dwellinges and habitable places which men haue on earth, be in sere pla­ces and narow corners: yea & in ye same also (which are but as it were certayne spots or prickes, where they do inhabit) thou seest great Desertes & wast Wyl­dernes to bee layed betweene and inter­iected. Also thou seest theym whiche Hovv the vvorld is habitable dwell vppon the Earth, bee not onelye so interrupted and disseuered in situatiō [Page 129] that nothinge betweene them can passe from one to another: but partlye they dwel awrye frō you, partly ouerthwart This is because of the roundnes & globosity of the earthe to you, & some directlye against you, at whose hands you can not loke to receiue any glorious Fame & Renowne. Thou seest also the same Earthe enuironed & compassed about, as it were with certen Gyrdles, whereof thou seest two, moste diuers, & contrarily distaunt, one from the other, lyinge vnder the * Poles, of Heauen, on both sides, to bee euer stiffe Arcticke and An­tarcticke. with extreme chilling & Froste. That which is in the middle, and is the grea­test, is broyled with continuall and ex­cessiue heate of the parching Sunne.

Two are habitable, whereof the one Antipodes vvhich in respect of the roundnes of the vvorld seeme to dvvel vn­derneathe vs, & to set their feete againste ours. is Southward, and they that dwel ther­in, do set their * feete against yours, and belong nothinge to your kinde. The o­ther whiche lyeth towarde the Northe wherein you dwel, marke how slender a Portiō therof cōmeth to your share. For al the Earth which is inhabited of you, being narow at the Poles, & broder at yt [Page] sides, is a little small Island enuironed with that Sea, which you on earth call the Atlanticke, the Great, & the mayne Nothinge deserueth to be cal­led greate in this vvorld. Ocean Sea. Which notwithstandinge these his glorious names and greate ti­tles, how small it is, thou seest.

From these inhabited and knowē Lan­des, was eyther thy name, or the name of any of vs, able to reache eyther beyōd The grea­test hyl in the vvorld called also Taurus. this hyl * Caucasus which thou seest, or els to swimme ouer yōder Ryuer * Ganges? Who in the reste of the vttermoste and furthest parts of the East, or West, North or South, shal heare tell of thy A ryuer in India viij. miles ouer in the narrovvest place, xx. in the bro­deest, & an 100. foote diepe in the shalo­vvest place name?

These beinge amputated and cut of, certes, thou seest in what narrow stray­tes your glory is able to extend & stret­che itselfe. As for them that shal speake of you, alas, how long shal they speake?

Furthermore if your Successours, & they that shal come after, were desirous and willing to blaze abroade and leaue to their Posterity the worthy prayses of euery one of vs, which they haue heard Worldlye fame, re­novvne, & glorye, is but vany­tye and to no purpo­se. of their fathers, yet by reason of the De­luges, [Page 130] and Inundations of waters, and the burninges of Lands which of neces­sitie must happen at a certayn time, our glory which we may attaine, shalbe not only not eternal, but also not so much as of any continuaunce.

And what skilleth it to be talked of & remembred by them, which shalbe born hereafter, sithens there was no reporte made by them which were borne before: who (doubtlesse) were neyther fewer in number, and certes, were better Men a great deale? Especially sith among thē vnto whō the report of our Fame may be hearde, no man is able to beare anye thing in memory, the space of one yeare. For cōmonly men do recken a yeere on­lye by the course and Reuolution of the Sunne, that is to wyt, of one Planet.

But in very deede when al the Sygnes & Starres of the Fyrmament are come agayne to the same point, from whence they once set out, and begin anew their former description of the whole Heauē, after long space and tract of time: then may that be truly named the Turning [Page] yere, wher in how many mens Ages are cōteyned, I dare scarcely report. For as the Sunne earst semed to be eclypsed & dimmed at that time, when the Soule of Romulus ascended into these Temples: so when soeuer the Sunne in the same part, and in that same tyme, shal agayne A ful and complete yere after Plato. bee obscured and darckned, then (al the Starres and Signes beinge reuoked back to their selfe same first beginning) accoumpt thou & recken it, for a ful, com­plete & perfect Yeare. And this knowe further, that the twentith parte of thys Yeare, is not yet expyred and runne out.

Therefore if thou dispayre of thy re­turne into this Place, wherein al thin­ges are for Noble and worthy Perso­nages, how much worth then is this fa­ding glory of Men, which can scarcelye last and reache, euen vnto a small parte of one Yeare?

Therefore if thou wylte lift vp thyne eyes on high, and view this Habitation The diepe considera­tion of heauen & heauenly ioy­es easelye dravveth a godlye man from the loue of this vvor­lde. & eternal Mansion, thou shalt neither be affectioned to geue thy selfe to the talke of the vulgar people, neyther repose thy [Page 131] hope and confidence in worldly promoti­ons, & aduaūcement. For it must be only Vertue herselfe, which muste with her allurementes draw thee to the true Ho­nour & renowne.

What others doe speake & talke of the, let they themselues looke: but yet talke True ho­nor muste be gotten by vertue onelye they wyll. But al their talke is both en­closed within the straites of yonder Re­gions whiche thou seest: neyther hath their talke talke bene of any man perpe­tuall: it both dyeth when the Men dye, and is vtterlye quenched wyth yt obliui­on of Posteritie.

When he had thus said, certes (ꝙ I) O Africane, if to the well deseruers of their Countrye, there lyeth as it were a path, open to thentry of Heauen, albeit from my childhood, walking in my Fa­thers steps & yours, I haue ven nothing behinde with my dutie, to atchieue, and further your renowne, yet now seing so great a reward set out & propounded, I wil eudeuour & bend my selfe therunto Honor is a spirite to noble mindes. farre more diligently.

Do so (quoth he) and make thy sure accoūt of this, yt it is not thou, which art [Page] mortal: but it is this Bodye of thyne: neyther art thou yt, which thy outwarde Forme & shape declareth: but the Mind A man is his Mynd. and Soule of euery Man is he: and not that figure & shape which may be poin­ted & shewed with the finger. Therfore knowe this, that thou art a God, if (for­soth) a God be that, which lyueth, which The mind ruleth and directeth the bodye feeleth, which remembreth, which fore­seeth, which doth so wel rule, gouerne & moue that Bodye ouer whom it is ap­pointed Ruler, as that most high prince God, doth this Worlde.

And as God beinge himselfe eternal, doth moue this World, beinge in some parte mortall: so likewise the Mynde being sempiternall, doth moue ye Bodie being frayle and transitorie: for yt which is euer moued, is eternall. But that which bringeth motion to another, and which selfe same, is mooued from else­where, when it hath an end of mouinge, nedes must it haue an end of liuing also.

Therfore that only which moueth itselfe, because it is neuer forsaken nor left of itselfe, neuer (trulye) ceaseth it not to [Page 131] be moued. Moreouer, this is the fountain and beginninge of mouinge to all other things that are mooued. And the begin­ning hath no originall: For all thinges proceede and spring from a Beginning, but itselfe can be made of nothinge.

For that which should haue genera­cion elswhere, could not be a beginning.

So therfore if it neuer spring and be­gynne, neyther doth it euer dye. For the Beginning being extinct, neyther shall itselfe euer grow again out of an other, neither shal it create any other of itselfe. For al thinges must nedes spring from a Beginning. And so it cōmeth to passe. yt the beginning of mouing is, because it is mooued of itselfe, and it can neither breede nor dye: or els the whole Heauen would fal down, and al Nature would of necessitie stand at a staye, and not ob­teyne anye force and power wherebye to bee mooued with his first impulse and motion. Sithens therfore it playnly ap­peareth, that what soeuer is moued of itselfe, is eternall: who is he that dareth to denye this Nature to bee geeuen to [Page] Myndes for that is without lyfe, which is moued wyth externall force and mo­tion: but that which is a Soule, is mo­ued with internall & proper mouing: for this is the nature and power that is pe­culier to a Soule. Which if it bee one & the alone thing of al, which moueth itselfe, certes it was neyther borne, & is also eternall. This see yt thou exercise in the best thinges.

And the best cares that a man can ta­ke, are such as tend to the auayle & pro­fite Best cares that aman can nexte after God employe his minde vnto. of our Country. In which cares the mynde being enured and practised, shall haue spedier accesse & arriuall into this Habitation, as into his proper Mansion place: and the soner shal it do so, if then, when it is enclosed in the Bodye, it sur­mounte abroade, and beholdinge those thinges, that are outwardly, doe great­lye withdraw itselfe, as much as is pos­sible from the Bodie.

For the Minds of them that haue en­thralled & geuen themselues to bodylye Pleasures, and haue made theymselues (as it were) the Bondslaues & ministers [Page 133] thereof: and by the egginge and procuremente of sensuall Luste and Appetite o­baying Voluptu­ous liuers. Pleasures, haue prophaned and violated the Lawes both of God & man: those men whē they be dismissed and de­liuered out of their bodies, are tumbled and tossed about the Earth, and doe not retourne into this Place, tyll they haue bene pursued & turmoyled manye hun­dreth yeres. He departed: and I im­mediatelye awaked oute of my Sleape.

Thomas Newtonus,
Cestreshyrius.
FINIS.

The Table

A
  • ACcusation. 29.
  • Acquaintaunce, nevv and olde. 30.
  • Adolescencie. 47. 55. 59. 61. 62. 63. 69. 75. 77, 80, 81. 82. 83. 84.
  • Adulterye. 65. 101.
  • Affection 102. must be brydeled. 104. 113. 116.
  • Agamemnon 60.
  • Age. 61
  • Agreement. 42.
  • Al thinges returne to that, vvhereof they had their first beginning. 87.
  • Ambition, a greate plague to perfect Frendshyppe. 26. 113.
  • Anger. 109.
  • Antipodes. 129.
  • Antonius. 109. 114.
  • Apollo. 3. 85.
  • Apparell. 119.
  • Appius Claudius beinge old and blinde, had a noble courage. 53. A perfect paterne of a no­ble Gentleman, and vvorthye householder. 63.
  • Archytas Tarentinus. 37. 64.
  • Argantonius liued 120 yeares. 81.
  • Astronomie. 70.
  • Athenians. 68.
  • Atticus, vvhy so named. 45.
  • Auncientnes in familiaritie. 30.
  • Augur. 78.
  • Aucthority, the chiefest ornament of Oldage. 77. 79. 119.
B
  • [Page 133]BAnishement. 99. dreadefull and terrible, to vvhom. 100.
  • Banished man, vvho. 108.
  • Banquetting moderately vsed, cōmendable. 67
  • Baibilles. 112.
  • Baudrie. 103.
  • Benefites, confirme loue and Frendshippe. 14
  • Best dvvelling for Oldage. 78.
  • Bias one of the vij vvise Sages. 26. 96.
  • Blosius his desperate aunsvvere. 17.
  • Bodye, the prison or gaole of the Soule. 85. 124 the vvardhouse of the soule. 125.
  • Bona Dea, her temple. 108.
  • Bondslaue to Vices. 109.
  • Bondslaue, vvho, 110, 111. 112.
  • Bondage vvhat it is properlye ibid.
  • Boundes of Frendship 17. 25.
  • Briberye. 73, 117.
  • Brutus 87. 96.
  • Budde. 72.
  • Buildinges sumptuous. 95. 111.
C
  • Coecilius. 62.
  • Care of ech noble and vvorthye man. 20. after a sort, incident to Vertue. 21. 22.
  • Care, rather to lyue vvel, then long. 81.
  • Carinae, a streate, or Rovve of houses in Rome. 120.
  • Carthage conquered by Scipio. 54. 122.
  • Catadupa. 128.
  • Cattall. 96.
  • Cato Called vvyse, vvhy. 34. 47. his vvise say­inge [Page] 38. learned the Greeke tongue in his old age. 46. 57. 63. his sundrye Offices and seruice in the common vvealth. 54. 64. a perfect Sto­icke. 91. 97.
  • Caucasus. 129.
  • Cethegus. 113.
  • Chaffe. 101.
  • Children in frendship, nevv fangled & fickle. 16.
  • Choyse of frendes. 26. 27. 28. 36.
  • Chydinge. 34. 38. vvhen and hovv to be vsed, ibid. & 39. 42.
  • Circles of the coelestiall motions. 125.
  • Citye. 105. 106. 107. 124.
  • Citizen. 105. 107.
  • Clavvbackes and dissēbling frendes, vvorse thē playne enemies. 38. hovv they may be knovv­en and discerned. 39.
  • Cleanthes. 56.
  • Cleopatra. 110.
  • Clovvnish life vvithout frendes, yrkesome and vnpleasaunt. 25.
  • Coffers stuffed vvith mony, maketh not the rich man, but a contented Mynde. 116.
  • Comforting & cheering of distressed frendes. 26
  • Cōmon vvealthes vpholden by graue oldmen, vveakened by yong & youthful officers. 55. 80.
  • Cōmunitie of al things among frendes. 27.
  • Comparison. 79. 82.
  • Conscience. 100.
  • Conscience of vertuous Lyfe, comfortable. 49.
  • Consenting to the request of frends, against the vveale of our country, vnlavvful. 20.
  • Conspiracy against the cōmon vvealth vvith al extremitie to be punished. 20. vvhence it pro­cedeth. 64.
  • Constancie. 4. 28. 29. 42. 85. 99. 102. 106.
  • [Page]Contented life rych. 115. 120.
  • Contention. 16.
  • Continuance of frendship: ibid.
  • Coriolanus, moued vvith the vnkindenes of his
  • Countrye, vvarred against it, and last of al kil­led himselfe. 17. 20.
  • Cornelius Gallus an Auncient & excellente A­stronomer. 70.
  • Corynthian vvorkes. 97. 111. 112.
  • Coruncanus. 8. 18. 53. 58. 66.
  • Courage. 98.
  • Couetousnesse a plague to Frendship. 16. in old men. 79. euer needy and neuer satisfied 96. 120. in the old time abhorred. 96. 110.
  • Counsaylours, graue & vvyse, the stayes of com­mon vvealthes. 53.
  • Crassus, 114. vvhom he accoumpted rich. 116. his shiftes to get monye. 117.
  • Currours. 74.
  • Curteous maners. 29.
  • Custome. 30.
  • Custome of such strict and vertuous lyfe, as vvas in the old time, novv cleane gone. 19.
  • Custome of the Pythagoreans, to debate & call into remembraunce euery Eueninge, al thinges sayd, done, or heard, the day before. 63.
  • Cybele, Lady great Mother of the Gods. 67.
  • Cyneas. 66.
  • Cyrus. 75. a prince vertuous and fortunate. 76. 86 87.
D
  • DAnaus. 116.
  • Death. 7. not to bee feared. 80. 83. not to bee bevvayled ibid. spareth no age. ibid. houre and time thereof vncertayne. 80. 83. the Hauen of rest 82. 99. Feare thereof causeth a [Page] troubled and vnquiet mynde. 83. despised e­uen of common persons. 84. desired of the Godly, and feared of the vvicked 88. terrible, to vvhom. 100. must not bee hastened before the appointed time. 125.
  • Death of frendes greuous. 4.
  • Decius, 66. 84. 97.
  • Delightes in husbandry. 71. 73.
  • Delightes peculier to euery seueral age. 84.
  • Democritus. 56.
  • Departure of frendes one from another. 32. 33.
  • Desire of honour. 113.
  • Destenie. 123.
  • Dictator, vvhat officer he vvas. 74.
  • Diet of the Bodye and mynde resembled to a Lampe. 62.
  • Difference betvveene the povvers of the bodye and of the mynde. ibid.
  • Digginge. 72.
  • Dignitie of the mynde and Soule. 65.
  • Diligence preposterous. 27. 38.
  • Diogenes Stoicus. 56.
  • Discorde. 11.
  • Dishonesty. 109.
  • Dishonest point, to fal out vvith him, that hath beene an old familier frend. 33.
  • Dissimulation. 29. 39.
  • Dotage. 63.
  • Dreames. 122.
  • Drudge. 113.
  • Drudgerye. ibid.
  • Dunginge of Land. 72.
E
  • EArth round lyke a Ball. 125. 126. lovveste, lū pish, and vnmoueable. 127. hovv it is habi­table. 129.
  • [Page]Earthly matters, contrary to heauenly. 85.
  • Echion a cunning Paynter. 112.
  • Eloquence. 92.
  • Empedocles opinion, that the vvorld & al thin­ges, consisted of Frendship. 11.
  • End of lyuing best. 82.
  • Enemie. 108.
  • Ennius. 10. 44. 50. 52 83. 122.
  • Epicures opinion of Frendshippe. 20. repose all felicitie in pleasure. 66.
  • Epitaphe. 55. 77.
  • Equalitye in frendshippe. 30. 31.
  • Equalite of faultes. 103.
  • Euery man meddle vvith no more then hee can vvel compasse. 61.
  • Euery age hath his proper season. ibid.
  • Excuse for doinge ill, to pleasure our frende not allovvable. 18.
  • Exercises for youngmen. 75.
  • Exercises for old men, ibid.
  • Exercises of vvytte, 63.
  • Exile. 108.
  • Expenses moderate, a greate reuenue. 119.
F
  • FAbius praysed. 50. 51. 53.
  • Fabritius. 8. 13. 53. 66. 97. 118.
  • Face vvrinckled not the cause of aucthoritie & credite. 77.
  • Faythfulnesse. 28. 99.
  • Fame of vvorthy men, neuer dyeth. 43. 107.
  • Familiaritie. 30.
  • Faultes in oldage hovv to be redressed. 62.
  • Faultes in maners. 79.
  • Feare is Bondage. 113. 114.
  • [Page]Feare of death vvhat it causeth. 83.
  • Feastinge. 67.
  • Fee. 120.
  • Felovvshippes. 35.
  • Fishpond. 112.
  • Firmament. 127.
  • Flattry & dissembling, vvorse then open enmity 29. getteth frendes novv adayes. 38. to be es­chevved. ibid. the greatest plague to truefrēd shippe. 39. vvhich kinde of it is moste hurtfull. ibid. vvho are moste hurt thereby, & vvho ly­sten most thereto. 41. of a litle maketh a great deale ibid. Slyly done, most carefully to bee taken heede of ibid.
  • Fond delightes. 111.
  • Forgery. 116.
  • Fortune. 24. 99. 110.
  • Four causes vvhy Oldeage seemeth miserable. 52.
  • Forum vvhat it vvas. 106. 107. 108.
  • Free vvho. 109. 110.
  • Freeman 109. described. 110. 113. 114.
  • Frend is as a man his ovvn selfe. 11. 34. best kno­vven in time of Aduersitie. 23.
  • Frendes perfect, very fevv 7. vvherefore they are are too be sought. 12. must not flatter one an other. 20. the best treasure of all other. 24. 4 [...]. vvhen, hovv and for vvhat causes, they may lavvfullye bee forsaken, and geeuen ouer. 33. must be admonished and frendly chidden. 38. effectes thereof. 43. vvhether nevv or old frē ­des bee better. 29. departure one from ano­ther. 3 [...]. 33. muste bee Good men. 35. reioyce vvhen they meete together. 122.
  • Frēdship vvhat it is. 7. 9. to be preferred before al vvorldly thinges. 8. agreable to nature, and [Page] fitte both for Prosperitie and Aduersitie. ibid. cannot be but among Good men. ibid. excel­leth kindred. 9. the best Gyft, next vnto vvis­dome ibid. can not bee but vvhere vertue is ibid. & 18. commodities therof. 10. 11. as neces­sary as the Elements. ibid. hovv farre it is per­donable 27. generallye profitable 36. property therof 3. 9. boūdes. therof. 17. 25. vvithout all cogginge and dissimulation. 13. natural, ibid. 15. 34. not to be sought for profite sake, but for vertue. 14. 21. 34. cōtinuance therof. 16. nevv fangled in children & not durable. ibid. pla­gues belonginge to it. ibid. hard to be found among great men. 28. best iudgemente of it, at ful grovven Age. 32. compared to the Sun shininge in the vvorld. 21. reioyseth at theire frends vvelfare, and sorovveth at their mishap 22. geeuen by nature for an ayde to vertue. 35 generally praysed. 36. moste plainlye appea­reth in men of equal and like age. 42.
  • Frendship of vulgar or common sorte 33. onely for gayne, and money novv adayes. 34.
  • Fruict of Oldage. 81.
  • Fruict of Witte and Vertue. 31.
  • Furniture. 119. 122.
G
  • GAyne. 119.
  • Ganges. 129.
  • Gapers for other mens Death. 113.
  • Gardeyne. 74.
  • [Page]Garrison of this lyfe must be kept, til God, oure Capitayne discharge vs thence. 83.
  • Geometrye. 70.
  • Giftes of the mynde, the truest Rychesse. 3.
  • Gyftes of Fortune. 25.
  • Glorye, 35. 88.
  • Gnato. 39. 41.
  • God. 125. 126.
  • Godly persons desire Death. 88.
  • Goddesse of Eloquent speache. 70.
  • Gold. 73. 97. 101. 102. 119.
  • Good for euerye man in his conuenient tyme & Age to dye. 90.
  • Good man. 29. 96.
  • Goodvvil and hartie frendlynesse among good men, 23. more to be regarded then profite. ibid to be desired. 27. 42.
  • Gorgias Leontinus his vvorthy Oldage. 51. 56.
  • Graffinge. 72.
  • Grape. 72. 73.
  • Grauitie, 50. 77. 99.
  • Graunting an vnlavvful sute, as great an offence as to request it. 18.
  • Grave hayres bring not straightvvayes Aucto­ritie and estimation. 77.
  • Griefe of minde incident to vvisemen. 21.
  • Grosse errour to thincke the soule to dye toge­ther vvith the bodye. 6.
H
  • HAnnibal. 13. 84.
  • Happye lyfe. 35.
  • Harmony, in the motion of the Coelestiall Bo­dies. 127.
  • Havvkinge. 74.
  • [Page]Heauenlye thinges onlye to be desired. 129.
  • Heauye thinges svvaye dovvnvvarde. 127
  • Hesiodus. 56. 73.
  • Homere. 56. 122.
  • Honest men obey lavves, not for feare, but for loue of vertue. 110.
  • Honour, vvealth, and ryches, chaunge maners. 24. hovv truly to be gotten. 130.
  • Horatius Cocles, a valiaunt Gentleman. 97.
  • Houshold stuffe. 96.
  • Housholder. 63.
  • Huntinge. 74.
  • Husbandrye. 71. 73. in old time the delighte and life of Noble men. ibid. a blessed kinde of life. 74. both necessary & profitable. 74. 76.
I
  • IL rulinge another, vvho cannot rule himselfe 109.
  • Image of Minerua. 92.
  • Immortalitie of the Soule. 6. 85.
  • Inferiours must not repine at their superiours. 31
  • Instructing of youth, an excellent and vvorthie function. 59.
  • Ioye of frendes at their meetinge. 122.
  • Isocrates his lustye old age. 52.
  • Iupiter one of the vij. planets, in vvhat time he fully runneth his course. 126.
  • Iudge. 113.
  • Iustice the lincke or Bond of all cities. 106.
K
  • KIlling himselfe, a thinge vvicked and horri­ble. 83.
  • [Page]Kinffolke. 124.
  • Knightes vvhich dyed for for the honor & saue­garde of their countrie. 84.
  • Knovvledge. 59. 86.
L
  • LAcedaemonians 54. most of al others, hono­red Oldage. 78.
  • Lacke of health. 62. 69.
  • Lacke of vvealth. 116. 117.
  • Laelius, & Scipio, ij faythful & perfect Frendes. 2. 7. 14. 43. A very vviseman. 3. 46.
  • Lamentation for the Death of Frendes. 5. 6.
  • Lampraye. 112
  • Lavv called Gabinia & Cassia, vvhat it vvas. 19.
  • Lavv called Cincia vvhat it vvas. 50.
  • Lavve called Voconia, vvhat it vvas. 42.
  • Learning and liberall Artes. 59. 92. comforteth and armeth a man againste all extremities and assayes. 100.
  • Learned men, fittest to decide controuersies. 103
  • Legacie. 52. 115.
  • Legion. 116.
  • Libertie, vvhat it is. 109.
  • Life, vvhich is only & truly vvorthye to be so called 85. in this vvorld, ful of misery & trou­ble. 88. not vvorthye to bee called lyfe, 124. compared to a Lodginge or Inne for a small vvhile. 89.
  • Lyfe contented, the rychest lyfe. 115. 120.
  • Likenesse of maners and delightes, causeth frēd­ship. 22.
  • Like delighteth, and dravveth to like. 43. 48.
  • Loue. 13. confirmed by benefites and mutuall curtesies. 14. vvhat it is. 42.
  • Loue to our Parentes. [...]1. 125.
  • Loue to our Countrey. 125.
  • [Page]Loue tovvard our frends, beeinge against theyr profite, is fond and foolish. 32. being taken a­vvaye, all pleasauntnes of this lyfe is taken a­vvaye. 34.
  • Liuius Andronicus. 70.
  • Liuelode. 119.
  • Lucre. 115.
  • Lumbardie, sometime called Gallia Cisalpina. 51.
  • Lust, 66. 101. 102. 109. 111. 116.
  • Lycopum. 120.
  • Lysander. 75. 78.
M
  • MAgistrate. 103. 106. 124.
  • Magnanimitie. 98.
  • Man vertuous and vvorthy, not borne in vayne. 89.
  • Man is his Minde. 130.
  • Man most happy, vvho. 99. created vvhy. 125.
  • Man voyde of all Affections, cōpared to a Log, or stone. 22.
  • Maners of men often chaunge. 16.
  • Manilius. 120. 121.
  • Marcellus. 84.
  • M. Curiꝰ. 8. 13. 18. 46. 53. 66. 73. 74. 97. 112. 118. 120
  • Many rather desire to seme, then to be vertuous 41.
  • Mainteynors of their countrye 524.
  • Marius, a paterne of noble constancie, and pati­ence. 99.
  • Mariner. 101.
  • Mars, one of the vij. Planets, in hovv many yeres he finisheth his course and reuolution. 126.
  • Masinissa a vvorthy and paynful prince. 61. 121.
  • Memorye. 55.
  • Mercury, one of the vij. Planets. 126. the time of his course. ibid. & 127.
  • [Page]Merchaundise. 117.
  • Metellus, strong and lustye in his oldage. 59.
  • Milo Crotoniata, his effeminate speach reprehē ded. 58. caried a lyuing Oxe vpon his shoul­ders the space of a furlong. 61.
  • Mynde vvhy inspired into man. 85. is onelye it vvhich maketh a man Rich. 115. 116. his dig­nitie and excellencie. 65. 98. immortall 86. in­uisible. ibid. chiefely liueth after it is rid out of the bodye. 88. 99. 111. 114. 125. 130. 132.
  • Mynde vvauering and mutable. 39.
  • Minde of a vviseman, vnconquerable. 105.
  • Minerua. 92.
  • Milke vvaye, or Milkie Circle, in heauen vvhat it is. 125.
  • Modest bashfulnesse. 35.
  • Money, 28. 95. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120.
  • Moone the leaste & lovvest of the planetes. 126. hath no light but of the Sunne. ibi. in vvhat time and space she runneth her course 127, be neath & vnder it, all is corruptible, mortall & transitorye, except Soules. ibid. aboue it, al e­ternall & incorruptible. 127: her heauen. ibid.
  • Most Frendship novve a dayes, for most money 34.
  • Motion of the Planets, & coelestiall bodies. 125.
  • Mummius vvanne Corinth. 112.
  • Mutius Scaeuola. his valiaunt enterprise. 97.
N
  • Naeuius. 70.
  • Nature the best Guide to directe our liues by. 8. cannot be altered. 15. loueth her like 22. loueth no solitarinesse. 37. hath her limi­tation, of lyuinge. 90.
  • [Page]Necessitie, tryeth a Frende. 24.
  • Negligence. 36. 101.
  • Nestor lyued. 300. yeeres. 60.
  • Nilus. 128.
  • Noble men, Husbandmen. 74.
  • Noble Natures desire to vvynne honor, and to leaue a fame and memoriall behynde theim. 87.
  • No man so Olde, but hopeth to lyue one yeere longer. 56.
  • Nothing euil vvhich commeth by necessitie of Nature. 47.
  • Nothing long or of continuance in this vvorld 81.
  • Nothinge better then good. 102.
  • No vnlavvful request, ought to be graunted. 18 19.
  • Nurse. 32.
  • Numa Pompilius. 96.
  • Numantia. 123.
O
  • Ocean. 129.
  • Offence. 101. 104. 105.
  • Oldage 5. no hinderer from dealing in publique offices and functions. 53. Surmised to be vvretched, because it is vveake and vvearish. 58. lacking strength. 61. dispenced vvithal, and priui­ledged from dealinges of mayne strength and labour. ibid. Sickelye ibid. Surmised to lacke pleasures. 64. Qualifieth all ill motions. 66. 67. allovved moderatelye to banquet. 67. hath pleasures ynoughe and competent, 69. vvhat kinde of Oldage is pleasauntest. ibid. & 73. most commendable. 77. Talkatiue and full of [Page] vvordes. 73. vvhat is the chiefest honour and ornament thereof. 77. testie and captious. 79. Mislyked because it is neere death. 80. Fruicts thereof. 81. hath no certayne number of yeres appointed hovv long to last. 82. stout and cou­ragious. ibid. bragging and praysing themsel­ues and their former dedes. 87. Lusty. 59. must be resisted. 62. vvherein honorable. 63. prero­gatiue thereof. 78. last parte or finall ende of this lyfe. 90.
  • Old betimes, vvho vvold be old long. 60.
  • Old young age commendable. 63.
  • Oldmen delight in the louingnes of youngmen 42. 57. vvrongfully charged to be obliuious, 55. forget not vvhere they lay their purses, or hyde their treasure. ibid. vvayvvard. 79. vvho, are called by Caecilius, foolish. 62. studious. 70 their exercises 75. vvhere the best dvvellinge for them vvas, and vvhere they vvere most re­uerenced. 78. seuere. 79. couetous ibid. endued vvith profoundnes of reason. good counsaile and graue aduise. 80. dye vvith lesse payne thē Youngmen, and more agreably to Nature. 82.
  • One good and vertuous man, more to be regar­ded, thē many rich Cobbes, being vvicked. 97.
  • Oppression. 105.
  • Oracle of Apollo. 3.
  • Oration of Scipio, pythye. 40.
  • Orbes of the planets & Coelestiall Bodies. 125. nyne. 126.
  • Order. 105.
  • Originalles, a Booke so entituled and penned by olde Cato. 63. 84.
P
  • Paysaunt. 111.
  • [Page]Papyrius. 40.
  • Paradoxa. vvhat it signifieth. 93. Socraticall and true. 94.
  • Parsimonye. 119.
  • Partaking vvith Frendes in trouble. 28.
  • Pelfe and vvorldlye vvealth. 96.
  • Pension great, not to be couetous. 120.
  • Phidias a notable Image maker. 94.
  • Picaenum, in Italy, hovv novv called. 51
  • Picture, 97. 111. 112. 119.
  • Pisistratus the tyraunt. 82.
  • Planets. 125.
  • Plantinge. 73.
  • Plate. 97. 111.
  • Plato hovv hee lyued in his Oldage, and hovv hee dyed. 51. 56. 66. 67. his reasons, prouinge the immortalitie of the Soule. 86.
  • Plautus. 70.
  • Playfelovves in youth. 32.
  • Pleasure. 15. beastly and pernicious. 64. 65. 132. Welspring of al Vices. 65. must be abandoned. [...]09. contrarye to vertue. 66. Bayte of mischief 67. hard to resist the allurements thereof. ibid in some respectes tolerable. 68. Ytch thereof. ibid. most in Youngmen. 69.
  • Pleasure of learninge and knovvledge, excelleth al other pleasures. 70.
  • Plentie. 118.
  • Prayse due to Vertue. 98.
  • Prauitie of the mynde. 102.
  • Principalitie. 113.
  • Profite by Frendshippe. 23.
  • Promotion. 36.
  • Propertie of a vvell stayed mynde. 21.
  • Protectours of their countrie. 124.
  • Prouerbe. 30.
  • [Page]Prison of the Soule. 85. 87.
  • Poet: 105.
  • Poles of heauenl. ij. 129.
  • Polycletus, a cunning Imagerer. 112.
  • Porsenna. 97.
  • Possessions. 119. 120.
  • Pouertie and Oldage ij. heauye burdens to be­are. 52.
  • Pylades and Orestes 11.
  • Pylote of a shippe. 53. 101.
  • Pyrrhus. 13. 53. 66. 73. 118.
  • Pythagoras. 56. 61. 83. 85.
  • Pythagoreans custome. 63. 85.
  • Punishment. 104. 108.
  • Purseuauntes. 74.
Q
  • QValification of vices. 109. of affections. ibid.
  • Qualities of the mynde. 62. 112.
  • Questions briefe & compendious. 92.
  • Quicke motion of the Coelestial Spheres. 125.
  • Quietnes. 21.
  • Quincuncie, vvhat it is. 76.
R
  • Rashnes, incident to youngmen. 55.
  • Realme, nobly protected by vvorthy Gen­tlemen. 1 [...]5.
  • Reason. 102. 105 Regulus Attilius. 84. 98.
  • Remorse of conscience. 113.
  • Request of one frend to another. 18. 20. 32. 35.
  • Requital of curtesies. 22.
  • Resistaunce against Nature. 48.
  • Respect in preferment of Frendes. 32.
  • [Page]Reuenue. 119. 120.
  • Reuerence to elders and betters. 30.
  • Reuerence to Parentes. 104.
  • Reuerent avve in Frendshippe. 35.
  • Reuolutions of the celestial Bodies. 125.
  • Right in a peny, asvvel as in a pounde. 102.
  • Ryches. 24. 36. 95. fruict thereof. 117. consisteth only in vertue. 119 vvhereby to be measured, 120. propertie thereof. ibid. possessed manye times by euill and naughty men. 96.
  • Rich man beeing foolish, very tedious and vvea­risome in companye. ibid.
  • Rich vvho. 115. 119. vvho not rich. 118.
  • Riot. 16.
  • Rome 105.
  • Romulus. 96. 130.
S
  • SAcietie of lyfe. 84. 90.
  • Saguntines. 103.
  • Saying most repugnaunt to Frendship, 26.
  • Samnites. 118.
  • Saturne the highest Planet. 126. in vvhat time. hee fully finisheth his course. ibid.
  • Scipio a vvorthy Gentleman. 5. 6. 23. a perfect & stedfast frende to Laelius. 2. 7. 14. 43. Subdued Carthage and Numantia. 5. 54. 70. 84. 97. 122. 133.
  • Sea Atlanticke. 129.
  • Senate and Senators vvhy so named. 54. delited in thold time in husbandrye, 74. 106.
  • Sensualitie. 15. 65. 98. 109. 132.
  • Septenarye number, mysticall. 127.
  • Sestertium, vvhat it is in value. 119.
  • Seueritie in measure, allovvable. 79.
  • Shame. 109.
  • Shiftes vnhonest to get vvealth. 115.
  • [Page]Shypvvracke. 120.
  • Short thinges sufferable. 43.
  • Shrylnesse of voyce. 59.
  • Simonides. 56.
  • Synne 101. vnlavvfull. 102. 103.
  • Sincke of al mischiefe. 89.
  • Slaue. 112.
  • Slauerye most vyle. 112. 113. vvhat it is. 114.
  • Sleepe, an Image of death. 87.
  • Socrates, the only vviseman of the vvorld. 3. 56. 85. learned to playe vpon musical Instrumen­tes in his Old dayes. 58. his manner of dispu­tinge. 103.
  • Sommer. 85.
  • Solitarinesse. 37.
  • Solon vvaxed euery daye older by learninge daylye more and more. 57. 70. his stout aun­svvere to a Tyraunt, 82. 83.
  • Sophocles. 55. accused by his ovvne Sonnes of Dotage. 56. his aunsvvere touching carnal cō ­cupiscence. 69.
  • Soothing and holding vp vvith yea and nay. 38
  • Soules. 85. Immortal. 88. 89. 90. 127.
  • Spartacus, a notable Ruffian and Rebel. 107.
  • Speach myeld & curteous, commendable in old men. 59.
  • Spending prodigallye. 119. measurablye & rata­bly to our gettinges. ibid.
  • Springe. 72. 81.
  • Stabilitie of Frendshippe. 34. 42.
  • Stage player. 104.
  • Starres. 125. bigger then the Earth. 126.
  • Starry Firmament. 127.
  • Statius. 36.
  • Stepping aside a little frō honesty, to saue there­by the credite or lyfe of our frend. 27.
  • Stesichorus. 56.
  • [Page]Studies appropriate to ech seueral age. 84.
  • Suada, Goddesse of Eloquence. 70.
  • Sufficiencie is vvealth ynough. 116.
  • Sullennes. 29.
  • Sunne the chiefest, greatest and most soueraigne light. 126. In vvhat tyme he perfourmeth his Reuolution. ibid.
  • Superiours, must helpe and relieue Inferiours. 30
  • Suspicion. 29.
  • Syllable in lyfe. 105.
T
  • TAbles. 97. 111. 112.
  • Talebearers and tale creditours. 29.
  • Talke. ibid.
  • Tarquinius. 13. hovv and vvhen he tryed his frē ­des. 24. 96.
  • Taunt rebounded. 50.
  • Terence. 79.
  • Terentius Varro, slayne. 84.
  • Themistocles. 20. 49. his excellent memorye. 55.
  • Thermopylae, a mountayne in Greece. 60.
  • Thetica. 93.
  • Things fayre and beautiful, hovv to be estemed 112.
  • Thinges excellent, rare, and hard. 34.
  • Thraso. 41.
  • Three supposed special opinions of frēdship. 25.
  • Tiberius Gracchus. 17. 19. 123.
  • Tyllage. 74. 75.
  • Timon, an hater of al companye. 37.
  • Torment of a vvicked and guiltie cōscience. 100.
  • Trāquillity of mynde. 35.
  • Tryal of Frendes. 27. 28.
  • Truth. 38. 40.
  • Treasure not comparable to Vertue. 119.
  • Treason. 64.
  • [Page]Treacherye ibid.
  • Tusculane Questions. 93.
  • Tutours to children. 32.
  • Tyme passeth avvay. 81.
  • Tyme rype and conuenient to dye. 84.
  • Tyraunt 23. 107.
  • Tyrannye. 105.
V
  • VAlerius Coruinus 76.
  • Vaunt of levvd lyfe, most beastlye and de­testable. 98.
  • Venerous copulation. 69.
  • Venus one of the vij. planets. 126. her course & reuolution, ibid & 127.
  • Vertue amiable and dravveth men to loue her. 13. vvel liked and loued, euen in our enemies, and them vvhom vve neuer savv, 14. 15. dys­daynful of no man. 23. not to bee dispised, 27. despised, 16. 41. getteth and keepeth Freende­ship, 42. 44. cannot be vvhere pleasure ruleth 65. to bee desired euen for herselfe. 67. more vvorth then all vvorldly treasure. 97. 99. agre­able to reason and constancie. 102.
  • Vertues equal. 102. prayse vvorthye. 112. causes vvhy most chiefely to be esteemed. 120.
  • Vertuous man, cannot be miserable. 100. lyueth after he is dead. 124.
  • Vnlavvful requestes of Frendes. 16. 17. 18.
  • Vnlike maners, vnfit for frendshippe. 32.
  • Vpbrayding of pleasures and benefites. 31.
  • Vrinalles. 112.
  • Vsury. 117. 119.
  • Vice to be punished vvithoute respecte of per­sons, 66.
  • Vices equall. 192.
  • [Page]Vyne. 71. 72.
W
  • VVAightye matters, hovv atchieued. 53.
  • Wardhouse of this lyfe. 83. 125.
  • Warynesse. 33.
  • Wayvvardnesse. 49. 79.
  • Wealth and vvorldly Ryches vvithout a Frend, vnpleasaunt. 23. 37. 115. 119. altereth maners. 24. are not rightly to be tearmed any of ours. 106.
  • Weapons fit for Oldage. 49. 54.
  • Whoredome 65. 103.
  • Whole Worlde as one cytty. 100.
  • Wycked lyuers afraid to dye. 88.
  • Wisdome passeth strength. 60.
  • Wiseman. 110.
  • Wise and sententious counsayle. 36.
  • Wit vvauering. 29.
X
  • XEnophon. 68. 75. 86.
Y
  • YEre, called the turning yere, vvhat it is. 130.
  • Younge head, rash and vnskilfull. 55.
  • Yoūge men subiect asmuch or more to sicknesse then Old men. 62. 80. their exercises. 75. dye vvith greater payne then Oldmen. 82.
  • Youth inordinately led, maketh a feeble and impotent Oldage. 59. delighteth in vayne Plea­sures. [Page] 69.
  • Youthfull Oldage, most commendabl [...] [...].
Z
  • ZEno. 56.
FINIS.

Imprinted at London in Fleetstrete by Thomas Marsh. 1577.

Cum Priuilegio.

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