❧ A Dyall for dainty Darlings, rocktin the cradle of Securitie.

❧ A Glasse for all disobedient Sonnes to looke in.

A Myrrour for vertu­ous Maydes.

A Booke right excellent, garnished with many woorthy examples, and lear­ned aucthorities, most needefull for this tyme present.

Compiled by VV. Auerell, Student in Diuinitie, and Schoolemaister in London.

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Imprinted at London for Thomas Hackette, and are to be solde at his shoppe in Lumbert streete, vnder the Popes head. 1584.

To the right vvorship­full, and his singuler good freend, Maister William Wrathe, Warden of the Worshipfull Company of the Mercers, W. Auerel wisheth health of body, happinesse of soule, and continuall prosperitie, both in this life, and in the life to come.

HAuing long tyme studied (well beloued Syr) which way I might shew the fr [...]ies of my good will, by gratifying your worship, with some signe of my affectionate heart, and hauing by opportunitie this booke ready finished, I could not tell on whome I might better bestowe it then on your worshippe, whose affabilitie, gentlenesse, courtesie, vertue, and other commendable giftes, I haue not onely heard with mine eares, but iudged by mine eyes, as hauing had experience thereof from the beginning of my remem­braunce, whome therefore I haue made the sole supporter of my labour, in bestowing this handfull of paper vppon you, knowing that you will courteously take it, thankfully accept it, and freendly defend it, being a matter vertu­ous, against all the scoffes, and girdes of the vicious, whose enuie and ignoraunce, so dimmeth the seate of theyr affec­tions, [Page] that being blinded with follie, they lothe wisedom, and euerie vertuous exercise, for which cause I studie not to please them, nor care not to content them, consi­dering that to please the wicked, is to displease the godlie.

I haue rather selected you out as a patrone of my paynes, then any other, for that I hope you wyll more gratiouslie take them, then accustomablie the greater sort doo in these dayes, whose ingratitude is growne so great, that the studdies and toyles of menne, which in tymes paste were in great fauour regarded, and with lyberallytie rewarded, are nowe so coldly esteemed, and so vnthankefullie receyued, that the learned are nowe a dayes, rather bent to studdy for theyr owne gaine, then by writing, to procure the publique profyte of others.

By meanes whereof, learning groweth in contempt, and men wexe colde in the studdie thereof, seeing ver­tue lacketh her reward, and learning looseth a freendly countenaunce.

Yet I knowe there are that fauour good letters with cheerefulnesse, take the giftes of the good Studentes, that both receyue theyr labours., and reward theyr ver­tues, and such are truelie vertuous, and duelie noble, how inferiour a calling soeuer they possesse, for vertue is true Gentillitie, and the onelie badge of renowmed Nobillitie, which dooth more nobillitate the name of a Gentleman, then treasure, and more aduaunce his fame, then ritches.

Among whome I account your vvorshippe, hoping [Page] that you wyll with a good countenaunce accept my tra­uailes, and with freendlinesse esteeme my labours, which if you doo, then am I as fullie satisfied, as if I had rea­ped a greater benefite, accounting your good wyll my suffycient recompence, and your fauourable acceptation, a freendlie requitall: And thus committing you and yours to the gouernement of the Almighty, I ende, desiring God to blesse you in this lyfe with all happinesse, and in the lyfe to come, sende you perfect felicitie.

Your poore freend and well willer. VV. A. Schoolemaister.

Amen.

To the freendlie and courteous Reader.

GEntle and freendlie Reader, if thou thinke him to be thy freend that besto­weth vpon thee frankly, and with a lyberall heart, some costly iewell to delight thine eye, or some golden gyft to pleasure thy minde: then thinke me no lesse, that giue thee not a materyall thing alone to feede thy fancy, but a costly comfort for thy hearts delyght, which albeit it seeme small in shew, and beare a slender bulke, yet mayst thou, of what condition soeuet thou be of (if with iudgement thou reade it) picke out such wholsome lessons, as may pleasure thy minde, and profite thy life. Heere shalt thou learne in prosperitie, to beware of pride, and to auoyde security: if thou be a Father, how to bring vp thy chyldren with discretion: if a Sonne, how to reuerence thy Father with wisdome: if thou be single, how to choose thy wife, so that thy lyfe may be happy, and thy tyme spent in quietnesse: if married, how to gouerne thy selfe and thy mate in all seemelynes and vertue: heere may wiues learne wisedome, and maydens gather modesty. To con­clude, the commodities are many, the examples plea­saunt, [Page] and the practise thereof profitable, and there­fore, to the ende that thou mightest be pertaker of that which may be thy future profite, I haue com­pyled this small Booke, not wearying thee with long discourses, least thy minde should (being quea­sie) wexe lothsome, and so disdaine it before thou reade it: but in short and breefe Treatise, I haue pac­ked together that which if thou can rightly vse it, shall be as gaine some as pleasaunt, wherfore, if thou bring with thee a thankfull heart, and a vertuous minde, thou wylt thankefully take that which I haue freendly written: but if thou haue an enuious eye, thou wylt soone carpe at that by enuie, which the Printer by ouersyght, and I by infirmity haue committed.

Learned Homer sometime sleepeth, and the fastest foote somety me slyppeth, the wisest tongue maye catch a tryp, and the wariest penne committe a fault, errour is as naturall, as the correction thereof com­mendable.

VVherefore that which remayneth is, I commit my selfe and my labour to thy good lyking, if thou lyke it, commend it and vse it, if thou dislyke it, a­mend it, or refuse it, do not Nodum in scirpo querere, seeke a knotte in a ryshe: For many will finde fault, that cannot amend a worke, and some disday ne o­thers labours, that are themselues loytering ydle ly­uers, that eyther cannot doo any thing woorthy commendation, or if they be able, consume theyr tyme in scoffing, or else in ydle liuing. But knowing [Page] I shall not be so fortunate as to escape some such al­together, seeing that vnder euerie Stone lyeth a Scorpion, I commend me to the vertuous, despi­sing the enuious, and so gentle Reader, wishing thy well fare, I ende, com­mitting thee to him, whome I beseech graunt thee to reade with profit.

Farewell.

❧ A Dyall for daintie Darlinges, that are rockt in the Cradle of Securitie.

HErodotus sayth, that Hugo in li­bello ad so­cium volea­tem nubere. when a Woman putteth off shamefastnesse with her gar­ment, and that shee walketh without her vesture, shee wal­keth naked, forgetting her selfe to haue doone any such thing: so that shamefastnesse once lost, shée drowneth her selfe in the Charibdis of all vices, & falleth into the Scilla of all outra­gious mischéefes. And therfore sayth Cicero in his booke De oratore, Custos omnium virtutum verecundia est, Shame­fastnesse is the preseruer and keeper of all vertues. And Valerius Maximus sayth: Ʋerecundia parens est omnis ho­nesti consilij, Shamefastnesse is the mother of all honest counselles. But where shamefastnesse remaineth not, there entreth pride, whoredome, vntemperaunce, and the sinke or puddle of all pestiferous vices: so that beholding an vnshamefast woman, we may iustlie imagine, we see a naked strumpette, openly shewing her close and hidden secretes. This vice of vnshamefastnesse, is continuallie matched with pride, yea, they are so vnited and ioyned together, that euermore they walke arme in arme, lyke sister and germaine, and are neuer found to be seperated a sunder: after pride, followeth forgetfulnesse of God, con­tempt of man, and vtter disdaine of all vertue. But espe­ciallie pride so transformeth the inward ornaments of the [Page] minde, that it leadeth the body to all abuse, and bringeth the soule to vtter ruine, inchaunting the wittes with such vnnaturall passions, that it altereth the shape, as it were with Circes illusions, the spectacle of this outragious fu­rie: you may euidently beholde, in the example of a Cap­taines wife of Constantinople, whose detestable pride, was so lothsome in the eyes of the Lord, that it procured his iustice to worke reuenge vpon her stincking carcase. The report whereof as I haue bréefely read, so the dis­course thereof, I will shortly write, trusting that all these in whome the sparkes of vertue are kindled, will by her example growe into a greater increase of vertue, and they whome the water of follie hath quenched theyr good de­syres, will warme themselues at the flames of wisedome, to drie vp the moisture of theyr vicious mindes.

¶ A notable and excellent example of Gods iudge­ments, in his most seuere punishment, of the rare and straunge pride, of a Captaines wife of Constantinople.

THere was within the famous Cittie of Constan­tinople, a Captaine ouer a certayne bande of Ve­netians, whe, if he could as well, by wisdome haue gouerned his wiues infirmitie, as he could by pollicie con­duct and rule his armie, his memorie had béene obscured, with blotte of obliuion, and his wiues example drowned in the suddes of silence.

But there is no arte can chaunge the spottes of the Leo­parde, no labour washe off the colour of the Morian, nor force of the hammer breake the Adamant, nor no Art nor strength resist a wicked woman, but that if shée once let loose the raines to pride and pleasure, shaking of the grace [Page] of God from of her carelesse shoulders: If the feare of her creator▪ can not reduce her from sinne, nor the worlds report conuert her to shame: it is neither wisedome nor pollicie, perswasion nor counsell, force nor fortitude, can alter the course of her corrupted nature.

But returning to the discourse of this Venetians wife, so tenderlie, so delycatelie, or rather so dyssolutelie, shée spent the course of her vngratious lyfe, delighting her selfe so supersticiouslie with artificiall pleasures, that shée disdayned to washe her soft and dainty skinne, with the necessary vse of common Conduite water.

Lyke to a number of our curious Dames, that are more wanton then wise, more prettie then profitable, and more finishe, then eyther wisedome wylleth, or the state of theyr husbandes alloweth, not contented with thinges necessarie, but alwayes séeking that is super­fluous.

Thus lothing the licquor ordayned by Nature, shee sought to procure her some other by Arte, and therefore caused her seruauntes, by theyr continuall toyle, to gather for her, the dropping deaw of Heauen: by the which theyr no small labour, they procured for her, a bathe to washe her tender lymmes.

O monstrous Pride, O vnsatiable nature, O execrable furye, that not contented with Natures symple vse, would seeke for thinges of dainty artes deuice.

But as the Myrre, though it be swéete in smell, yet is it bytter in taste, or as the Water in Leontinis, though it quenche thyrste, it presentlie kylleth, so her pre­sent vse of pleasures, though a whyle they were swéete, yet at last they were sowre, when the anger of God was kindled against her pride.

If the Lion bite of ye woorme Leōtophon, incōtinently he [Page] dyeth: if a man drinke of a certaine redde water in Ethi­ope, he wereth madde: and certainly, who so tasteth of this detestable vice of pride, it leadeth them eyther pre­sentlie (without grace) to euerlasting death, or bringeth them in short tyme to such madnesse of minde, that they vtterlie forgette whereof they are made, from whence they came, and wherevnto they shall.

This impe of Venus, or rather companion of Lucifer, was so rooted in pride, being Lerna malorum, The dung­hill of mischeefes: that shée continuallie deuised to sa­tisfie her luste, and disdained that which was common to natures kinde, acquainting her selfe with such contemp­tible quallities, that shée lothed to touch her meates with her white and delycate fingers, and therefore found out a rare and straunge inuention, to satisfie the appetite of her queasie stomacke, causing her Eunuches (being certayne gelded personnes) to minister vnto her in little morselles, her necessarie vse of her néedefull nourishmentes, which shée receyued not at theyr handes, which scorned to touch them with her owne, but from off a golden fleshe hooke, with her two foretéeth, she daintelie conueied the same in­to her mouth.

But as eche disease, if it be not taken in time, créepeth by continuaunce into euerie part of the body, or as the water that breaketh out of his boundes, if it be not quick­lie stopped, gathereth at length into a mightie flood: So this malladie of her minde, being let at lybertie, ouerflo­wed the bankes of reason, and drowned her quite in the swallowing gulfe of surquedrie.

Her bed chamber was garnished with such diuersitie of swéete hearbes, such varietie of fragrant flowers, such chaunge of odoriferous smelles, so perfumed with swéete odours, so stored with swéete waters, so beautified with tapistrie, and decked so artificially, that I want me­morie to rehearse it, and cunning to expresse it, so that it [Page] séemed, her Chamber was rather some terrestriall Para­dise, then a mansion for such a matelesse mysteresse, rather a tabernacle for some Goddesse, then a lodging for such a lothsome carcase.

But the stroke the higher it is fetcht, is of greatest force in falling, the wound, the longer it corrupts, brings grea­test smart in curing, and the iudgements of God, the lon­ger deferred, are the more seuere in punishing, for though his patience procure sufferaunce, yet his iustice yéeldeth vengeaunce, though he haue leaden féete, yet hath he yron handes, though it be long or he come, yet at last he payeth home, as may euidentlie appeare in the myrror of this womans miserie, vpon whome the Lord shewed the seue­rity of his Justice, as an vpright reward of her vnshame­fast offences.

Draw néere you wanton woorms, that leane your lofty heades, vpon the dainty pyllowes of pride, you that haue periwigs to curle your heaire, colours to paint your face, art to square your shoulders, bolsters to fashiō your wast, inuentions to chaunge nature, and deuises to alter kinde, consider what Cyprian sayth: De habitu virginis, quod na­tum est, ex Deo est, quod mutatū est ex demone: That which is borne, is of God, that which is chaunged, is of the de­uill. Your washing in swéet waters, your anoynting with swéete odours, your muske, your ciuitte, your baulme, and a number of deuises, to make the body swéete, when your pride and whordome, with the rest of prides companions, do make your soules to stincke, as the Poet Martial sayth: Non bene olent, qui semper bene olent, They smell not well, that alwayes smell well. Beholde how the Lord punished the pride of this woman, which had solde her selfe to vn­shamefastnesse in his sight, for with the shyning sword of his diuine iudgement, he rotted euery parte of this her pampered body, so that no member, no ioint, nor part ther­of was frée, from the mouldred plague of putrifaction.

[Page]Her Chamber was filled with such an intollerable stincke, that no man could abide the smell thereof in his nostrelles: thus was she hatefull to God, disdainefull to man, and lothsome to her selfe, but that most might in­crease her gréefe, vtterlie forsaken of all company, her Eu­nuches which had fedde her daintelie, disdainde to cherish her simplie, her Maides which had serued her curiouslie, refused to nourishe her poorelie, scarcelie one Maiden ser­uaunt, who by her flatterie and fayre perswasions, by pro­mises and fayre allurementes, intised with hope of gaine, and assisted with swéete perfumes, ministred to her want and supplied to her necessitie, tyll the twisted lyne of her myserable life, wasted with the corruption of weakenesse knapped in sunder, and the full tyme of her fatall Glasse expyred, she yéelded her selfe to the wonted course of na­ture, and finished the race of this her ruthfull pilgrimage.

Quicklie was this languor digested of her fréendes, the end of whose gréefe increased theyr gladnesse, her complet mone, procured theyr myrth, and her finished sorrowe brought vnto them swéetenesse of contentation, rather re­ioycing at her deliuerie, then sorrowing at her departure, who in her lyfe time was a myrror of miserie, and at her death a glasse of ignominie, in her prosperitie the praye of pride, and the vewe of vanitie: and therfore iustlie in ad­uersitie, the play of Fortune, and the blotte of Infamie.

Beholde héere deare Dames, the ende of prides pre­sumption, and in this myrror conceyue her last conclusion: learne by this example to auoide curiositie, and craue of God with teares, for true humilitie, the which shall make you most acceptable to God, most lyke vnto Angelles, and best beloued of earthlie creatures. Where contrariwise pride, as it is the greatest miserie, so dooth it transforme men to monsters, Angelles to deuilles, and reasonableAugust. ad quendam comitem. creatures, to internall furies. To which purpose Augustin sayth: Humilitae homines sanctis Angelis similes facit, et su­perbia [Page] ex Angelis demones facit, &c. Humility maketh men like to holy Angelles, but pride of Angelles maketh men deuilles. And as I may plainly say, she is of all sinnes the beginning, the end and the cause, for that not onely pride it selfe is sinne: but also no sinne hath béene, or can be, orGregory▪ in moralibus. shalbe without pride. Gregorie sayth, Radix cuncti mali▪ et regina omnium vitiorum superbia est, &c. Pride (sayth he) is the roote of euerie mischeefe, and the princesse of all vi­ces: Of which the Scripture witnesseth, saying: Pride isEccle. 10.the beginning of all sinne. Seuen principall vices spring from the venemous roote of pride, namely, vaine glory, enuie, wrath, sadnesse, couetousnesse, glutteny, and lecherie, with the which seuen vices of pride, the deuill often holdeth vs captiue. I remember, Hugo Victorinus maketh a notable description of pride, saying: Quatuor Hugo, vic­tori. in lib. de claustro, animae. sunt quae trahunt elationis currum▪ &c. There be foure hor­ses (sayth he) that drawe the wagon of pride (Videlicet) desire of rule, loue of proper prayse, contempt, and diso­bedience: the wheeles therof are boasting of minde, and arrogancie, gloriousnesse in speeche and leuitie: the dri­uer of this wagon is the spirite of pride: they which are borne heerin, are the louers of this world: the horsses are vnbridled, the wheeles easily turned, the carter frow­ard, and they weake which are caried. Verie well there­fore was it said in Ecclesiasticus, that the original of all sin is pride, so hateful in the sight of the Lord, hath it alwaies béen, that in all ages and all persons, it neuer went vnpu­nished: how proude was Nabuchodonozer, which in theDani. 4. middest of his glory cried out: Is not this great Babylon, which I haue built for the house of the kingdome, by the might of my power, and for the honour of my maiestie. But ye same hower was he punished, for he was cast out of mens company, & did eate grasse like Oxen, and his body was wet with the deaw of Heauen, tyll his heaires were growne as Eagles feathers, & his nailes as birds clawes.

[Page]O howe many hath pride béene the destruction of, which haue suffered themselues to be carried away thereby? yea and what mischéefe is there, which hath not béene through pride prouoked? héereby was Absalon intised to expell2▪ Sam. 15. his Father foorth of his kingdome, by this Romulus slew his brother, that hee alone might rule as King, through this Iulius Caesar pursued Pompei vnto death, with whome he had many battailes, and all through pride and couetousnesse of rule. Of this, Marius the Romaine not contented that he had sixe tymes béene Consull of Rome, would violently kéepe the same the seuenth, wherby came a great slaughter betwéene Marius and Silla, who with­stood him therein: through this, Alexander the great mo­ued battayle, & vexed all the Orient with warres, through his vniust pride and ambicious desyre.

But to turne againe to examples in Scripture, because vpon the trueth thereof we builde our beleefe: Lucifer, through pride was thrown out of Heauen, Adam through pride, was thrust out of Paradise, the tower of Babel was thereby ouerthrowne, Goliah the Phylistian was thereby slaine, Aman was hanged, Nichanor kylled: And to re­semble the Historie whereof I intreate, Antiochus for his pride was so plagued, that his bowelles by Gods iust iudgements rotted, yea, and from thence issued woormes in such aboundaunce, that the smell of his carcase was to euerie man annoyaunce. Herode aduauncing himselfe in his royall estate, would for his glorie be estéemed a God, but the power of the Lord suppressed his pride, that the stincking woormes consumed his carcase. Thus maye we sée, how pride hath caused the wrath of the Lord to be kind­led, so that in men, nay, in Angelles, it hath not scapte vn­punished: and to question against the vaine pride of some women, what became of Eues presumption, what of Ieza­belles pride, the one desyring to be as God, was thereby to the deuill subiected, the other for her wickednesse, was [Page] of filthy Dogs deuoured. O vanitie of vanitie, O fond and fickle beautie, nay, O stinking fleshly glory. Inquire of an olde & wrinckled creature, what is become of her wonted giftes of Nature by age defaced, by sicknesse chaunged, by sorowes and cares altered, and by times continuaunce wa­sted: why then art thou proude, earth & ashes, where is He­len of Greece? Polixena of Troy? Dido of Carthage? Aroto­nica of Syria? Venus of Cypres? Cleopatra of Egipt? Lucrece of Rome? with Faustin & the rest: Where is theyr beauty? Where is theyr pompe? Where is theyr Princely appa­rell? Theyr costly chaines? Theyr precious iuels? Theyr ringes? Theyr bracelettes? And the rest of all theyr glo­rie? Is it not in the earth? Is it not forgotten? What re­mayneth thereof to them? But as a certayne man had written on his graue, Hoc solum mihi super est Sepulchrum, Onely this Sepulchre remaineth vnto me. Euen so, of all your pride, of all your beautie, and of all the rest of your worldlie pleasures, wherein you fixe your chéefe felicitie: nothing but earth remaineth to your delycate body, and for your naked soule, the ritchesse of Gods mercie: cast a­way therefore these fading shaddowes, and cleaue to the substaunce of assured thinges: consider with your selues, that whatsoeuer you possesse, or whatsoeuer you vse in this lyfe, it is but a vapor that swiftlie slydeth, and a false flame that quicklie fadeth, onely your good conscience shal­be a brasen wall, and a tower of defence for you, at the daye of iudgement, before the presence of the omnipotent God, vnto whome if you will liue wel, account all world­ly thinges but smoke, so shall you not be pressed downe with the vanities of this lyfe, but that you may without feare of conscience, lyft vp your eyes, to beholde the presence of your redéemer, and raine with him in that euerlasting place of pleasure.

❧ The punishment of disobedi­ence, shewed vppon an obstinate and stubborne Sonne, who most miserablie and vnnaturallie, withheld from his Parentes, the needfull noutishmentes, of theyr necessarie sustenaunce. A notable spectacle for euerie disobedient childe, to see therein the plagues of God, vpon vnnaturall chyldren, that withdrawe from theyr aged Parentes, the duetie and loue that they ought to showe.

A Mongst the workes that na­ture hath framed, we count it great deformitie, for any thing to be repugnaunt to the kinde, whereof it tooke increase, in as much as in those sensible Crea­tures, seperated from rationall vnderstanding, and being but led by sensuall gouernement, we sée an inward duetie and se­crete loue, that causeth the roote of thankfulnesse, to yéelde foorth liuelie fruites of plentifull good will, to repaye the passed paines of theyr séellie Parentes. Both byrde, beast, fishe, or whatsoeuer receyueth life, is in some part endued with a certaine knowledge, and loue of those, from whom they had theyr being, or essenciall substaunce: and there­fore those children, vnto whome so little regard of natu­rall loue remaineth, that they not onely derogate that du­tie from theyr Parents, which God and nature hath com­maunded, but also pursue the lyfe of theyr progenetours, euen to their graues, being led on with a couetous desire, rather of theyr substaunce, then any willing wish of theyr [Page] liues assuraunce. I knowe not wherevnto I may re­semble them by similitude, but to the Vipers broode, most full of ingratitude, who not tarying theyr timelie ma­turitie, eate out theyr Mothers sides most cruellie, pre­paring theyr timelie passadge, to the vntimelie death of theyr miserable mother: and as both the Male and Fe­male receiue theyr death, by the increase of theyr vnnatu­rall séede, (the one by bearing, the other by ingendring) so fareth it with a great many impious children, (that like these Vipers, vnthankefull to theyr Parentes for theyr being) desire not onely the death of theyr Fathers, but, (if any richesse or substaunce, is growing to them by theyr Mothers departing) like detestable séede, doo also procure the death of both, to the ende (that lyke the Vi­pers) they may procure theyr present being, though it be to both theyr Parentes vndooing: Example of this you shall perceyue in the sequell of this discourse, as also the vengeaunce of God, vppon the vice of disobedience, being left as a clappe to dismay the mindes of such rebel­lious persons, before the bolt of Gods vengeaunce, be shot to their further punishment.

In the partes of Normandie, there dwelt a man, more renowmed for his ritchesse, then fortunate in his issue, who, though by byrth he was to some inferiour, yet for substaunce, to many men superiour: so that, I knowe not whether he were more happie in his wealth, or vnhappie in his Sonne, such contrarietie was there, in both these giftes of fortune: that for the one, he was to her beholding: for the other, to accuse her of disdaine. But such is the vnconstauncie of fortunes giftes, that amidde many pleasures, the aucthour of fortune, sen­deth some displeasures, least the forgetfull nature of man should decline from the remembraunce of his omni­potencie.

[Page]This man had but one onely sonne, whome therefore he tenderly and delicately brought vp to mans state, not ben­ding the wyeth while it was gréene, nor propping the plant while it was young, by reason whereof the wyeth grew stiffe, and the trée croked: so that it passed Artes in­tegritie, to alter the course of natures deformitie, Quo semel est imbuto recens seruauit odorem: The vessell being new, was at first seasoned with stinking lothsome licquor, so that it was to harde afterward to remoue thereof the sauour: they that will haue fine Spanielles, teach them being small: they that will haue good horsses, bridle them being young: and they that will haue vertuous Children, doo correct them being Infants: otherwise the dogge will not hunt, the Horse will not beare, nor the Chylde liue in honest behauiour: but the one will snarle, the other will kicke, and the thyrd will stubbornelie spurne at his due­tie.

There was adioyning to this man, a certaine Knight, who noting the wealth of this vnfortunate Father, to re­turne to the possession of this his onely Sonne: thought that such a masse of money, as he possessed, would counter­payse the simplicitie of his stocke, and beare out the base ignobillitie of his byrth: and therefore hauing a Daugh­ter of comelie countenaunce, adorned with the giftes of natures lyberalitie, purposed to contriue a match, betwixt this ritch mans sonne, and his fayre daughter: and way­ting oportunitie, brought certaine of his fréendes, to per­swade this seelie man to an vnprofitable match, and thus he framed vnto him his spéeche.

Syr, muse not at my wordes, but fréendly waye my meaning, which I intende to vtter, the ende whereof tendeth to the aduauncement of your stocke and kindred: So it is, that fortune hath giuen vnto me a Daughter, of byrth well borne, of beautie sufficient, and of goodes and vertuous gouernement, her will I bestowe in marriage [Page] vpon your sonne, which if you like, shall (as I hope) not onely redound to your great comfort, and further helpe while you are héere, but also héereafter exalt your posteri­tie, and bring your stocke vnto high renowne and gentry: This will I doo conditionallie, that you will make a pre­sent deliuerie of all your possessions, into the handes of your onelie sonne, who though by nature he shall be moo­ued, to your sufficient maintenaunce, yet will I sée, that to your necessitie shall be ministred aboundauntlie, the commodities are diuers that may induce you héere vnto: fyrst consider, that your age requireth rest, which you may take, hauing once accomplished this thing, then what ioy maye it be vnto your aged minde, to beholde with your eies, your sonne assured lie placed in your possessions, who though he be your onely heire, to succéede you in the same, yet may be thereof preuented by death, or by accident of aduerse fortune.

This simple man, heard attentiuelie this sugred tale, not considering, that in smothest streames, is most daun­gerous wading, in shallowest waters, most perillous say­ling, and in greatest places, most hurtfull sléeping: the Bée carrieth honny in her mouth, and a sting in her tayle, the Sirens sing swéetly, but theyr song is the Saylers sorrow. So this flattering Knight, though in his spéeche appeared an outward showe of trueth, yet was it but the hooke to catch this séelie fishe with all, to the ende that his Daugh­ter might come to the possession of his wealth. And there­fore I may liken the simplicitie of such men (that cast not the disprofite of eche cause, as well as the commoditie) to the follie of the fishe Sargus, whereof Aelianus speaketh,Aelia. in li. 11. cap. 19. de nat. ani­mal. which so vehementlie loueth the Goate, that the fisher­man when he purposeth to take her, putteth on a Goates skin ouer his head with hornes, prepareth his nettes, the Sunne shining at his backe, and dispearseth in the Sea: Wheate sodden in porrage, made with Goates fleshe, the [Page] sauour thereof when the Fishe perceyueth, she draweth nie, delighting in the sight of the fained Goate, and so is taken in the nette to her owne annoyaunce: euen so, these men delighted in the shaddowe of outward trueth, are deceiued with substaunce of inward deceits.

Thus this olde man, trusting to the glorious wordes of this wilie Fisher, was caught in the nette of vaine beléefe, that such ease and contentation should redounds to his desyre, as should cause the small course of his fu­ture lyfe, to be spent, in fulnesse of all delyght, and therefore (though lothe to depart from that hee firmelie loued) yet perswaded thereto, by the professed fréendes of this glorious Gentleman, was induced to condiscend to theyr desires.

The marriage daye therefore appointed, the solemni­ties thereof were shortlie accomplished. The Sonne and the Daughter the first yéere, ministred to the necessitie of theyr aged Parentes, plentie of all thinges: the second more sparinglie: but the thirde most vnshamefastlie: the fowrth yéere, through the suggestions of his Wife, he pre­pared for his wofull Parents, a lyttle lodging, opposite a­gainst his statelie building, where he might yéeld vnto them, a bare scantling of necessary sustenaunce.

Thus these odious children, as time increased, beganne to immitate the nature of the Pellicanes younglings, who after theyr mother hath brought them vppe to some byg­nesse, beginne to strike and pecke her in the face, for which she being vexed, in her furie kylleth them, and af­terward being sorie therefore, she pearceth her sides with her boysterous beake, tyll the warme blood issuing from her breast, renueth her younglinges to newnesse of life: In which similitude, is comprehended the entyre affecti­on of a mother to her children, and the small requitall of children to theyr Parentes.

[Page]This aged and vnfortunate Father, with his croaked olde Wife, suffered in this state no lyttle néede and ne­cessitie, yea, scarselie durst they set foote within the doores of theyr vngodlie Sonne: but commaunded those things, yea, and requested the same, which they could not want, from the handes of a household seruant. O myserable seruitude, nay, O vntollerable slauerie, that he which had aucthoritie to commaund the sonne, was now at the plea­sure of a seruaunt.

In this case, these two croked Creatures, passed a great part of theyr toylesome time, vntyll, it fortuned the aged Mother, out of her cottage windowe, espied one daye, in the house of her Sonne, meate spitted, and layde to the fyre, ready to be roasted: the sight whereof, procured vnto her some hope of better fare, then accusto­mable vse did yéelde vnto her. But séeing that delaye of eyther sending for her, or to her, did driue her in doubt of the least parte thereof, shée came vnto her aged hus­bande, the onelie copartner of all her gréefe, saying vnto him.

O my well beloued husbande, the auncient companion of all my paines, thou séest in what hungerie state, we spend our withering time, which requireth greatest sappe of nourishment, as for me, I am but a myserable mother, and an vnhappy woman, whome fortune hath taught, to be with fewest things content. But goe thou to the house of our Sonne, where it may hap thou shalt fyll thy hun­gerie bodie, with part of that meate, which mine eyes by chaunce espied.

The olde man hearing these wordes of his fréendlie Wife, leauing his aged lymmes vppon his staffe, hasted to the house of his vnnaturall childe, hoping to finde that fare, that his hungerie heart did wishe.

But this wretched and accurssed childe, hauing intelli­gence of his Fathers approche, caused the meate to be [Page] taken from the fyre, and priuilie conuaide the same into a secrete place, least the eyes of his aged Syre should, but be fedde with the sight thereof, and hastelie running to méete his croaked Father, in steede of reuerent spéech, gaue him froward language, and for honour to his siluer heaires, obstinatelic shewed him a frowning countenaunce.

Which when the séelie simple man perceyued, how fru­strate he was of his longed hope, dissembling the matter, he presentlie returned to his former abode, whose sorrow­full heart, I referre to the milde consideration, of euerie lenious and gentle Parent, that haue felt the discourtesie of such bastards and vnnaturall slips: which degenerate from the vertue of theyr auncient roote, from whence they tooke theyr off-sppring.

Sée héere the nature of a dunghill byrd, once matched in alyaunce with the noble Eagle: beholde the nature of this crabtrée slippe, being once grafted into the daintie Pearetrée stocke. Marke well the nature of this carren Kite, being entred in societie with the fléeing Faulcone, & consider the quallitie of this vpstart Gentleman, matcht in affinitie with this new alyaunce: Set a begger on horsebacke and he will gallope, set a foole on a bench, and he will knocke his héeles, make a cobler a Courtier, and who more scornefull, make a iauell a Gentleman, and who more disdainefull. This yong youth, aduaunced to this state, forgot the place from whence he had his origi­nall, disdaining his Father, contemning his Mother, and withholding from them sustenaunce and reuerence, which had giuen vnto him substaunce & essence. But behold, the punishment of God vpon disobedience, how seuerelie he reuenged, this lacke of earthlie duety, which by his word he hath commaunded, and let it be a myrror to all vertu­ous chyldren, that they withholde not from theyr aged pa­rents, that loue and affection, which nature hath required: This haggard sonne, his father being gone, commaunded [Page] the meate to be laide againe to the fyre, the which was no sooner doone, but suddenlie a monstrous [...]uglie Tode, vio­lently leaping vp and downe the Chamber, approched the fire side, and hastelie shipping vpon this accurssed meate, cleaued to close to the same, that force nor strength could beat the same away. The maide crying to her young mai­ster, with a shriking voice, caused him quicklie to discerne the matter, who assaying by stripes to repulse the same a­way, wrought (by Gods iust iudgement) his owne punish­ment: for this filthie Tode, contrarie to natures teme­ritie, which hath taught the same to flie the sight of man, with forcible strength, reuerted from the meate, and re­springing from the same, leapt suddenlie into the face of this Lordlie sonne, cleauing so fast therevnto, that no art nor councell, no force nor fortitude, could driue the same from his accurssed fleshe, but that sticking thus vnto his face (many yéeres) punished the wickednesse of this vn­gratious impe, that contrarie to lawe & nature disdayned the duetie due to his withered Parents. But that which is most myraculous, when any man touched any part of this hateful monster, or endeuored to driue the same from of his face, the terror of torment so assaulted his heart, that it pinched the same with most vntollerable paines.

The fame of this woonder, was spread throughout all the vttermost endes of Normandie, and Fraunce, the straungenesse whereof, did amaze as many as heard the same, causing in many children some feare and duetie to theyr Parentes, and in many Fathers more carefull re­gard of theyr children.

Yet as there is no offence so bainous, but by contrition auoideth Gods vengeaunce, so is there no sinne so grée­uous, but is pardoned by repentaunce, for though the fire of Gods wrath, be often kindled against our transgressi­on, yet the waterie teares of submission, quencheth the consuming coles of his anger, and obteineth present re­mission, [Page] and so though this obstinate sonne had both offen­ded his earthly Father, and also incensed his heauenlie Creator, yet his minde melting in humility, prouoked the Lord to accustomable pittie, so that after long, patient, and sufficient sufferaunce, the Lord sent vnto him spéedy delyueraunce.

Drawe néere you dallying Daddes, that marre the mindes of your children, by excessiue and ouermuch coc­kering: beholde the iudgementes of God, that punisheth you in those thinges that you chéefely loue, because you make them your Gods, who ought to be theyr guides, you adore them lyke Saintes, which should serue you lyke Sonnes, you let them run at lybertie, which you ought to kéepe in straightly, you minister to theyr néedlesse youth, which should labour for your néedfull age, you giue them all things, and deny them nothing, and yet you complaine that your children are gracelesse, when you your selues are not therein blamelesse.

O Fathers, remember you haue béen children, remem­ber that in your childhood, the flesh did assayle yée, letchery dyd burne yée, lust dyd inflame yée, the world dyd prouoke yée, and the deuill dyd tyse yée, and sith thou art a Father, and hast béene a sonne, sith thou art olde, and hast béene young, let not thy chylde liue so in youth, as maye make thée wéepe in age, neyther let him so follow his affection, as maye cause thee wayle thy want of discretion. Harke what the Wise man sayth: If thou bring vp thy sonne delycatelie, he shall make thee afraide: and if thou playeEccle. 20.with him, he shall bring thee to heauinesse: laugh not with him, least thou weepe with him also, and least thou gnash with thy teeth at the last: giue him no lybertie in his youth, and excuse not his follie, bowe downe his necke whyle he is young, hye him on the sydes, whyle lie is but a childe, least he waxe stubborne, and giue no more force of thee, and so shalt thou haue heauinesse of soule.

[Page]Saint Augustine reciteth a notable example of Cyril­lus Aug sermo. de d [...]testa­tione [...] ­tatis. [...]. [...]3. a Cittizen of Hiponenses, who hauing a Sonne, which he superfluously loued, for that he was his onely sonne he possessed, he brought him vp so delicately, that he wanted nothing, but had it of him willinglie, denying nothing that he demaunded, but graunting him all things that he requyred, being as slowe to correct him, as he was loth to displease him: this youth consumed a great part of his fa­thers goodes, in luxurious lyuing, (as a number doo with vs in these dayes, which frequent the Tauerne before the Temple, visite theyr harlottes with letters, before theyr redéemer with teares, delyte rather to sippe the cuppe of theyr concubine, then to taste of the comfortable cuppe of Communion:) but beholde the glorie of foolish Fathers, and marke the fruite of vnbridled children: for being one day dronken with as much wine, as his Syre was with superfluous loue, he kylled his Father weake with age, oppressed his Mother great with childe, would haue defy­led his sisters, and wounded two of them vnto death.

O myserable and detestable impe of the deuill: but sée héere, O fathers: what cōmeth of your too too foolish affecti­on, & superfluous loue, which blindeth your iudgement, that you cannot, & will not correct the faultes of your chil­dren, as the Philosopher sayth: Amor et odium sepe faciunt 1. Rh [...]. iudicium non cognoscere, Loue and hatred oftentimes per­uert iudgement. The cause of which maketh you to nussel them in such nicenes, that they are vnfit for labor or study, through corruption of idlenes: the Emperor Octauian, setPolicra. in lib. 6. cap. 4. his sonnes & daughters to labor, to the end yt they might if fortune failed, obtaine a meane to liue in honest behauior: he taught his sonnes the exercise of chiualrie, & his daugh­ters to worke in wooll painefully. Licurgus, taught hisCicero in lib. Tusen­lan. quest. yong children to suffer harme patientlie, & to doo good wil­lingly. Many examples may be héerin inserted, in which I should séeme too tedious, if I should prosecute them with [Page] prolixitie, but because I will not be too long, I will there­fore conclude with breuitie, shewing how this want of correction, and this too fond affection, hath caused Parents to be punished in theyr children.

Dauid, for as much as he was too slacke in correcting his childrens abuses, was therefore plagued in theyr oppressi­ons, how was he expulsed by Absalon? How was he sha­med in Amon? And to be short, Hely for his negligence in not correcting the offences of his children, was punished1. Reg. 4. of God, so that in one day his sonnes were slaine, he brake his necke, and his daughter in lawe for sorrowe thereof, trauailed with childe and died.

Boetius reciteth a History of Lucretius, that was nou­rishedBoe. in lib. de doctri. scolarim. vp of his father without discipline and correction, vntyll mans state, who consumed his money at dice and harlottes, and being many times redéemed by his Fa­ther out of prison, fell notwithstanding to ill company and conuersation, tyll on a time being taken for some great of­fence, and led vnto the gallowes, his father folowing him, he requested at the place of execution, that he might speake with his father, and that he might but kisse him before his departure, and fayning the same, most sharplie bitte of his fathers nose, saying: Father, iustlie by thy meanes doo I suffer this, for hadst thou but corrected me, I neuer had come to this miserie.

Beholde héere O fathers, the fruite of slacke correction, what foolishe pittie procureth in gracelesse children, what lyttle lacke of vice, and what great want of vertue, cor­ruption hath sowne in the hearts of your younglinges, bring not your selues therefore vnder the yoake of your children, for your shall finde it a painefull burthen. The Wise man sayth, Trust not to their lyfe, nor regard notEccle. 16.their labours: For common experience teacheth vs in these dayes, that the loue of Fathers to theyr children is verie great: but the affection of children to theyr Parents [Page] verie small: we sée what care Fathers haue ouer the state of theyr children, and what negligence children haue euer theyr Fathers: and therefore it may be saide verie well, that loue by nature dooth descend, but not ascend, it descen­deth from the Father to the Sonne, but it ascendeth not from the sonne to the Father, wherein the loue of the Fa­ther appeareth more, and the loue of the childe lesse: but what is the cause, that the loue of the Father is more ef­fectuall to the childe, then the childes good will to the Fa­ther? the reason is, Quia radix citius putresceret quamque, ramus remitteret sibi influentiam, Because the roote shall sooner rotte, then the braunch shall send backe his influ­ence vnto it.

But somewhat to amplifie, as well the duetie of chil­dren, as to quallifie the vaine affection of Parents. I wish all children, to print this passed patterne in theyr hearts, and to write the same in the table of theyr thoughts, that they may learne thereby, to honour theyr Parents, and to cherish them in theyr latter yéeres: The Wise man saith, My sonne, make much of thy Father in his age, & greeueEccle. 3.him not as long as he liueth. And againe: Honour thy Father from thy whole heart, and forget not the sorrow­fullEccle. 7.trauaile thy Mother had with thee. It is written in the booke of Tobias: Honour thy Mother all the dayes ofTob. 4.her lyfe, for thou oughtest to remember, what and howe great perilles she suffered for thee in her wombe. This did that Heathen man Coriolanus remember, of whome Valerius maketh mention, who being Consull of Rome, Valer. in lib. 5. cap. 4▪ and depressed thereof, being driuen into exile by the Ro­maines, went vnto the Volscans, of whome being fréendly entertained▪ he was made theyr Captaine against the Romaines: and after many Citties taken, he approched vnto Rome, and comming within a thousand paces there­of, they sent vnto him Orators from the Senate, to in­treate of peace, but he would not heare them: againe, they [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] sent their Priests with their Insignes adorned, but he re­fused them: at the length, his Mother named Veturia, cō ­ming to the campe, & being suddenly espied of her sonne, he cried out. O mater, vicisti iram meā, scio quid vis, O mother, thou hast (sayth he) ouercome my anger, I knowe what thou wouldest haue: wherof hapned peace, onely through the loue of his mother, insomuch as he said, more hath the loue of my mother doon, then the strength of the Romains. The Philosopher Aristotle sayth: Dijs, parentibus et magi­stris, Arist in lib. Eth. 9. non potest reddi equiualens: To God, to Parentes and masters, no man can yeeld recōpence. Valerius rehearseth a notable history, of a mother in Rome, which had a daughterVale. in lib. de subuen­tione filio­rum ad Pa­rentes. married, the mother had committed a fault, for which she should be burned, her daughter came to the Emperor with her little child, & bowed her knée, desiring life for her mother: the Emperor sayd, the case committed required death, & that she was worthy the same: the daughter re­plied, O mightie Emperor, Princes should be mercifull, not suffering their suppliants to depart without comfort, yet, I beséech thée, O Emperor, let not my mother be pub­liquelis put to death, for how filthy will that be, & how ful of confusion, so to die before the people: but if that no par­don may redéeme my mothers life, yet graunt I beseech thée, that she may be condemned to perpetual prisonment, there to finish her last farewel. The Emperor considering ye meeknes of the daughter, gaue sentence that the mother should be condemned to die in prison, without any nou­rishment to her giuen: the daughter yet craued, that she might naked descend vnto her mother in the dungeon, which being graunted, she visited her mother in this wise, O mother, I came naked out of thy wombe, & naked vnto thee I doo descend, to bring thee bread or foode, was not to me permitted, but as I being young did sucke thy breast to maintaine me, so thou being old, sucke mine to sustaine thee, thus liued the mother eight dayes with the milke of her mild daughter: this being showne to ye Emperor, how [Page] that she was yet liuing, moued him to wrath, in somuch yt he would haue slaine the Jayler, for that he suffred not her to famish with hunger, who sware that nothing was by him administred to her, the Emperor therfore marked se­cretlie the egresse of this kinde and louing daughter, and heard her sweet and mild cōmunication, and séeing her gi­uing vnto her mother her breasts to sucke, cōmaūded this daughter to be drawne foorth of prison naked & wéeping, & séeing the compassion of the daughter to her mother, said; daughter I giue vnto thee thy mother, whose tender & in­tyre good will hath deserued her deliuerance. A most wor­thy & rare example, for children in these daies to immitate and folow For as saith Rauen, Auelle à sole solis radium, et Peter Ra [...]i [...] ▪ quodam sermo. nō lucet, rinum à fonte et arescit, ramū ab arbore et exiccatur, membrū à corpore, et putrescit, separa filium à deuotione pa­terna, et iam non est filius, sed frater et collega illorum de qui­bus dicitur, vos ex patre diabolo estis. Take away from the Sun his beames, and it shineth not, from the fountaine his riuer, & it waxeth dry, from the tree his bough, & it wil wither, from the body his member▪ & it will rot▪ so sepe­rate a sonne from fatherly loue, and then is he no sonne, but a brother, and a fellowe of them of whome it is sayd, Ye are of your father the deuill.

To conclude, let all children, or they (of what age, state or calling so euer) which haue Parents thinke them wor­thy of all honor, reuerence, loue, & feare, endonoring to re­quite as much as in them lyeth (though fully they cannot) the labor & trauaile, the cost and care, the loue & losse, that theyr Parents haue passed for theyr preseruatiō, that they may say, they haue nourished vp, no Woolues to worrie them, but well-willers to cherishe them: that beastes in theyr nature, exceed not theyr loue, whom reason hath fra­med,Ambrose in exame. hom. 5. to excell all creatures: As the Storke [...] that succour theyr parents in theyr aged time, recouering them with theyr winges, supporting them in flying, and also admini­string to theyr noriture and necessitie.

[Page]Moreouer, let them consider but the tender nature and kinde affection, that they ought to beare vnto them, being stronglie vrged thereto by reason of theyr being, for by theyr Parents they haue the same, without whome they had not béene. And héerein let them consider the carefull loue, and the notable thankfulnesse: but of Aeneas (whichVirgill. [...]. Aenid. may onely endure them to carefull kindnesse) who being a noble Prince of the Troyans, disdained notwithstan­ding (at the subuersion of the Cittie, wherein he might haue prayed vpon great substance) to carrie his aged Fa­ther, whome (as he was) he counted his greatest treasure, vpon his shoulders, and bearing him through the middest of his enimies, from flaming fire and bloody weapons, he cried: Parcite nunc ô Graeci nulla enim erit vobis ado­ria, si decrepitum senem interfeceritis, mihi vero maxi­ma, si parentem carissimum liberauero: Spare now, O you Graecians, for no glorie shall you gette, if you kill a croked olde creature, but vnto me great glorie remay­neth, if I shall deliuer my deerest Parent. Whose Christian example procéeding but from an Heathenish heart: if chil­dren followe; they shall obtaine that reward which God hath promised the obseruers of this commaundement, namelie, long lyfe vppon earth, the which though it be abreuiated in this life (as sometime it happeneth by Gods appointment) shall be prolonged and per­formed in the true life euerlasting: in respect whereof, this is but a death, and a conti­nuall threatning the chaunge of our mortallitie.

❧ The rare vertue of a Maiden, and the singular discrecion of a young man, the one in her good and godlie gouernment, the other in his wise and prudent choise of his Wife. An excellent example to all Maidens, how they should exercise their golden tyme: and a perfect platforme to young men, not to runne rashlie to the bayte of theyr pleasures, least they be caught in the hooke of follie, to their owne harme and hinderaunce.

IN no one action that per­taineth to the life of man, ought there to be so great care, studie, or foresight, as in the choise or election of a Wife, because that therein consysteth, eyther the pleasure or paine, the gaine or gréefe, of him that endeuoureth to enter that state of lyfe, nei­ther may the same once taken in hand and accomplished, be reuoked, except by the disso­lution of that bonde, the destruction (or at least the conti­nuall gréefe) of eyther part be procured: And therefore, as he that betaketh himselfe to the Seas, must abyde the stormes or tempest: or he that entereth warres sustaine of lyfe the daunger, without reuersion, tyll fortune finishe theyr trouble in bringing a happie ende to theyr taken enterprise: So, who so attempteth marriage without ad­uisement, running rashlie vpon the reckes of theyr owne ruine, and entring the combersome conflict of cares, where the gunshotte of calamitie shall batter theyr braines, and the assaultes of sorrowes ouer maister theyr mindes, such [Page] must patientlie beare the brunt of theyr owne breeding, abiding the bitter blastes of vnquiet brawling, tyll death make a deuision of theyr fortunes, by disioynting of theyr bodies, conglutinate together by the free consent of theyr headdy mindes: To auoiding therefore of such daungers, as maye be the vnsauorie sance of the whole life, it beho­ueth eche wise man to enter the garden of discretion, there to picke out the purest hearbes of wisedome, which maye serue him as preseruatiues of knowledge, before choyse to make right election, or as plaisters of remedie in choyse to heale the heart with contentation.

And that example of right choosing, might appeare vnto those vnskilfull in choosing, whose tender yeeres, or hastie heades driueth foreward theyr posting mindes, to experi­ence of marriage, before wisdome haue taught them what it meaneth: I haue bréefely, though bluntlie layde a plat­forme thereof, in the consequent that followeth vnto their open construction.

There was sometime a ritch man, of great possessions, of large reuenewes and ample substance, hauing a sonne, whose wisedome surpassed his fathers wealth, whose rea­son, his ritchesse, and whose good gouernement, his fathers hereditament: so that if the Father were fortunate in his wealth, yet his good happe succeeded in his heyre, which more adorned the lyfe of his Father by his vertue, then the same was garnished by his treasure, so that if the same were luckie by the inheritaunce of the Father, yet was the Father more renowmed by the vertue of his sonne: a great contrarietie in the giftes of fortune, for as much as where she cōmonly giueth wealth, there she withdraweth wisdome, where she yeeldeth vsually beauty, there she wi [...] ­dome placeth continencie, and where for the most part, she lendeth strength, there many times she withholdeth humilitie, yet héere it pleased her to bestowe both the one and the other, as a large mystrisse of her heauenly gifts.

[Page]But as the vnchast minde is neuer satisfied, nor the drie ground neuer suffised, so is the minde of the ritch and co­uetous neuer contented, but that he daily contriueth how to encrease his stocke plentifullie, how to marry his chyl­dren wealthily, and how to aduaunce his kindred ritchly, as this Father, that albeit his owne landes and substance were sufficient, to the maintenaunce of his successiue heire, yet his musing minde continually compassed, howe to accuimulate and heape vp riches for his sonne, by in­sinuating this braunch of his body, into the stocke of some noble kindred of affinitie, rather regarding the vallour of the presence, then the vertues of the personage, more estéeming the wealth, then the wisdome, the dowrie, then the déeds, the ritches, then the renowne: and hauing espi­ed a match meete to his minde, for mucke, though not measured at the meatwand of wisdome, for womanhead, namely, the daughter of a ritch Knight, whose pulchritude so pleasaunt, whose beautie vnblemisht, whose feature well framed, but chéefelie, whose dowrie delightfull, he thought might content as well the fantasie of his sonne, as it lyked his couetous appetite: brake therefore vppon a tyme with his sonne, as concerning the same, laying fyrst the beautie of her bodie, as a baite to allure him, and afterward her treasure, as a trap to traine him.

But hee, whose wisedome ouerwaide his Fathers gréedie will, considered that the sweetest Cedar in smell, is bitter in sent, that the fayrest fruite in touch, is not the best in taste, that the goodliest Oke in sight, is not most sound and safe, nor the ritchest state, on vertue chéefest stayed.

But that the Spider may lurke in the Rose, the rot­ten woorme in the fayre fruite, the stinging Adder in the gréene grasse, and heapes of vice in high Estate. And therefore discretelie aunswered his Father, that as due­tie dyd driue him to esteeme his good will, so reason [Page] reuokt [...] him from his vnséemelie choise, which his fancie grounded on vertue misliked, for that he sawe not in her actions, the things that might drawe his déere affections. And albeit she were endowed with temporall treasure, concordaunt to her corporall beautie, yet vertue being a habite of the hidden minde, appeared not in her externall déedes, the valure whereof, he estéemed aboue the masse of mouldred muck, for as much as it so farre excéeded wealth, as the minde surpasseth the body, and as the superior ele­ment, the inferior creature.

But as the Mole, vnto whome the whole meddowe is scarcelie sufficient, rooting vp euerie furrowe of the féeld, to satisfie her gréedie nature, therein destroying the earth, hindering the owner of the grounde, and lyttle profiting her selfe, except in contenting her wastfull minde. So this couetous father, not content with aboundaunce, ha­uing his minde as much vppon gathering money, as the Mole in rooting the meddowe, increasing his ritches per­aduenture by the decay of others, hauing no profite there­by, except in beholding the same, to suffise his couetous hart: was incensed against his sonne, in that he condiscen­ded not, to the conclusion of his choise which he had made, as much and more to the pleasure of himselfe, then the af­fection of his sonne, considering he had determined the same with the father of the Maiden, the consent of the vir­gin, but most especiallie, the agréement of her dowrie, the quantitie whereof so tickled his hoording heart, that vppon the refusall thereof, he cast his sonne out of his fa­uour, willing him to auoide his sight, with most bytter threates of his displeasure, losse of his heredetaments, but chéefelie, the lacke of his blessing.

Yet this sober youth, giuing place to the passions of his Father, and ouercomming his anger with quiet suffe­raunce, knewe that though the impatience of his Father, was for a time somewhat troublesome, yet time might [Page] both appease the same, and yéeld better fortune vnto him, that his Fathers couetous minde did wishe.

He well remembred that the herbe Scamone, although it be venemous, yet it purgeth coller, though Southern­woodde be vnsauorie, yet it expelleth venime, and though Rew be bitter, yet it cleanseth the braine, cleareth the sight, purgeth fleame, and bringeth many commodities to the body: So thought he, that albeit the auoyding of this match, and the abiding of this brunt be bitter, yet fu­ture profite, may repaye the same with double pleasure, and therfore to auoide the coller of his Father, to dissipate and make voide the deuise of his braine, and to accommo­date vnto himselfe some better fortune, he fled the sight of his aged Syre.

And tracing his iourney through many a wilde wilder­nesse, walking through vnknowne woods, vncouth pathes and wearie wayes: the Sunne withdrawing his lyght­some beames, and the night approching with his duskishe clowdes, he declined into the house of an aged man, to rest himselfe after his taken trauaile.

And entring into the doores thereof, he found the daugh­ter of the olde man (being his onely childe) with lyfted handes, bended knées, and open mouth, yéelding prayse vnto the Lord, for his great benefites bestowed vpon her, and making her prayers vnto him from the bottome of her heart, to graunt her his grace to liue in his feare, to the reuerence of her Father, the discharge of her duetie, and the quiet contentation of her owne conscience. A woorthy president to fire before the face of all modest Mai­dens: shée was not héere occupied, neither in trimming her head, in glaring in the glasse, in fingering her Lute, in singing of Sonnets, in denising of Letters, in daunsing with her Louers, nor in any such lewde and vnséemelie pastimes, but like a chaste Virgin, a milde Maiden, and a good Christian, was occupied in heauenly contemplation.

[Page]This routh musing at the rare exercise, and no lesse ad­myring at the godly praiers, stepped vnto her with fréend­lie salutations, requesting to know whether these diuine orations, were her continuall study and frequentations, and considering her pouertie (which appeared in outward showe) how and for what cause she yéelded such thankes vnto God, for great receyued benefites.

The Maiden méekely beholding him a while, although at first abashed with his suddaine sight, yet at last, she wiselie and discretelie framed vnto him this aunswere. Syr, I see you meruaile, that my pouertie should not be an obstacle to my prayers, for as much as to your iudge­ment, it conteineth few worldly benefites: consider with your selfe, that as a simple medicine, dooth more often cure great diseases, then large compoundes curiously framed: so pouertie, though in apparaunce simple, yet to a conten­ted minde, the very schoolemaister of vertue, and the per­fect path vnto perpetual pleasure, more excellent to ye god­lie, then the glistring state of golden ritches, which though in outward appearance it séem glorious, yet is it the hooke of hurtfull securitie, couered with the baite of worldly fe­licitie, a log to vertuous life, a stop to quiet state, and the verie blocke, whereby worldlinges stumble into the pric­king perils of choking cares. And although I am not in­dewed with aboundaunce of worldly treasures, yet doo I thinke that the Lord hath left vnto me great ritches, in as much as he hath graunted me the onely company of my a­ged Syre, vnto whome (as in youth) he shewed me loue, so in age I may yéeld good will, being vnto him in age a staffe, that was to me in youth a staye. And thinke you good Syr (quoth she) that I haue receiued but small bene­fites at the hands of God, who hath made me a reasonable creature, that might haue made me a sencelesse thing by nature, who hath giuen to me a soule, that might haue cō ­stituted me onely of a body: who hath made me a christiā, that might haue made me an infidel, redéeming me by his [Page] blood, that might haue perished in mine owne, & sanctify­ing me by his spirite, that might haue béen possessed by the enimie: These caused considered, I doo twise euerie day make my praiers vnto ye Lord for my soule, as I doo twise euerie day féed my body, lest if I should cherish my body, & not nourish my soule, the one might grow disdainful, and the other sinfull, and if I should not thus repay him with thankes, that hath fed me with benefits, I might appeare more vngratefull to him for his mercies, then he benefi­ciall for mine vndeseruinges.

O myrror of maidenhood, O glasse of true virginitie, O mind endued with modesty, O hart fraught with true hu­mility: Sée héere you gadding girles, that gape after euery gaude, and prease after ech peeuishe pastime, you that can daunce with the daintiest, smile with the smothest, & laugh with the leudest, you that wāder to weddings, thrust in at Theaters, & trip into Tauerns, you that take more care to trick your bodies to the pleasure of men, then to deck your soules to the will of God, you that had rather spend two houres at ye glasse, then a minute at the bible, taking more delight to vew your faces, then to behold your consciences, rather hardning your héels with daūcing, then your knées with praying. Behold the exercise of this virgin, note her life, and follow her example, begin in vertue, & end in the same, be not like a number of foolish damselles that begin hotlie, after a while are luke warme, but in the end stark cold: like to the monster Chimera, whose vpper part was a Lion, whose midle a Gote, but her neather part a Ser­pent. Be not like to the Jewes that bowed theyr knees vnto Christ, and yet buffeted him in the face, neither him that prayseth a man now, and yet slandereth him by & by after: folow not the example of the vsurer, who on the one side prayeth, and on the other side notwithstanding taketh vsurie: but if you will be true prayers, and perseuerers in déede, follow this virgins example, plucke out the rustie yro [...] out of your wound, before you proceede to take a [Page] plaister, and purge your soules of corruption, that you may be healed, and perseuere.

But to returne to the sequell of this Historie. The yong man hauing impressed in his memorie, the wise and ver­tuous aunswere of this rare and godly Virgin, thought that time thrise happy, that he directed his steppes into the doores of this olde man, and passing the tyme with her in common conference: found her wisdome such, and her go­uernement so godly, that his affections which before were his owne, were now alyenated and estraunged from him so farre, as his whole delight was fixed how to drawe vn­to him her good lyking, purposing not to passe any fur­ther, tyl he had made a tryal of her good will: and although the consideration of her pouertie, might some what discou­rage him from his pretended choyse, yet thought he, that greater ritches could not remaine in any, then the true possession of a vertuous minde, the which he found to be so aboundauntlie placed in the breast of this young Maiden, as he thought it as harde to finde her match, as to gette a blacke Swan.

By this her father (who vsually after supper, walked abroade into the féeldes) returned home, and finding a guest in his house more then either he knew or expected, was not a little abashed, for as much as through the suspi­tion of his pouertie, his poore cottage was but smally fre­quented, yet being wise and well acquainted with cour­tesie, bade him welcome: vnto whome this young man, after humble thankes for his good entertainement, reque­sted of him that he might but finde so much fréendship at his handes, as for his money to tarry and refresh himselfe in his house, tyll he were more apt and able to passe foorth the rest of his vnknowne iorney.

Vnknowne iorney (quoth the old man) why, are you out of your way good Sir (sayth he) or know you not the name of the place wherevnto you are bent, eyther haue you for­gotten [Page] the same, or dyd you neuer héeretofore trauaile this wayes.

Good father (sayth the yong man) for so both your age and state requireth, I am not out of my way, but rather in the same, & thrise happy doo I thinke my selfe, that fortune gui­ged me into this pathe: the name of this place I neuer knew, and therefore haue I not forgotten the same, neither did I euer before trauaile this way, but I so bide mine vn­knowne iorney, in as much as I am ignoraunt, whether it will please you to graunt me abyding within the compasse of your cottage, which if you doo, then is not my iorney vn­knowne, but at an end, for as much as since my arriuall at your house, I haue found the place, which I hope fortune decréede I should atchieue.

Gentleman (quoth the old man) what good happe is that, that you harpe on so much, that hath guided you hither, I know not, but if you shall receyue any good by the meanes of your comming hyther, I shalbe right glad of the same, as for the vse of my poore cottage, although it be but simple, & not woorthy your entertainement: yet least I should séeme to deny you the same, vse both it and me I beséech you at your pleasure, taking such fare as you finde and see, agrée­able to my poore state and calling.

Good father (quoth the other) the good I haue got, and the lucky hap I haue had since my comming, I shall in time to come (I hope) make knowne vnto you, in the meane while, I am to yéeld you most harty thanks, that being a stranger altogether in these parts, you haue notwithstāding deined to proffer me such courtesie, as greater can I not find amōg my best acquaintaunce, and as for your fare, were it neuer so simple, if I should mislike the same, procéeding from a franke and willing heart, I might be counted an yl guest, that would estéeme more of the meat then the man or more of your fare then of your faithfull hart, I account the dwel­ling good, that is not daungerous, and the chéere great that is willingly bestowed.

Gentleman (sayth the olde man) the good behauiour and [Page] courtesse that I sée apparaunt in your outward habite, ma­keth me to iudge therby, the maners of your inward mind, and therefore your none acquaintaunce, is quitted by your modest demeanor, for vertue maketh a straunger vnto eue­rie wise man a familliar, neyther haue I euer séene that young man héeretofore, vnto whome mine eye, vppon so small acquaintaunce, hath drawne my heart more néerer, and therefore I & my poore cottage are to vse at your plea­sure, tarry your time, and depart at your leysure.

Thus taried this youth in the house of this olde man, no­ting the outward pouertie of the Father, and the inward vertue of the Daughter, no lesse musing at the one, then meruailing at the other: but especiallie, the Virgins godly gouernement, her modest manners, her words placed with wisedome, her lookes without luste, and her déedes ruled by discresion, so that it séemed vnto him, that her life was a lampe to the lende, a lantorne to the loose, and a light to the laciuious, gouerned by grace, ruled by reason, and bridled with the bytte of Gods holy word, wherein he sawe her so continually occupied, that her whole delight séemde to be placed in the meditation thereof.

On the other side, the old father marking the godly life of this young man, noting his courteous iesture, his wisdome, his humility, his sobriety, his spéeches familiarly spoken, yet wisely placed, his minde stored with myrth, yet vsed with modesty, his contentiue minde, his patient sufferaunce, his earnest praiers for his Father, though he might haue grud­ged at his vnkindnesse. And knowing his Father, his kin­dred and fréendes, yet more regarding his vertue, then his fortune, or any part of his hoped wealth, was wunne vnto such an inward affection towardes him, as he studied howe to bring that to passe, which the young man did most secret­lie desyre.

Noting also, the honest and mutuall fréendship, the ver­tuous and faithfull loue, that daylie increased in the minds of these two younglings, he thought that match could not be made a misse, where loue was the beginning, and ver­tue [Page] was the ende, and therefore breaking one day the mat­ter vnto his daughter, was desyrous to know the affections of her minde, at which he aimed by ye dispositions of her bo­dy, and she whome simplicity had nourished with the milke of truth, hauing her face stained with the vermillion of ver­tue, with blushing countenaunce reuealed that loue, which her outward iestures could not conceale, desiring therin the consent of her fathers mind, from whose body she had recei­ued the substaunce of her being, shewing him that she was more drawn to loue him by the view of vertue, then any af­fection dimmed with the vaile of vanitie, requesting him, that as he had béene a Father of her body, in giuing to her those thinges necessarie for her vse, so he would be also a go­uernor of her life, in not denying her him wheron her ioies did rest: which the good olde man did as willingly graunt, as she did heartely desire, perswading her that as she had béen a comfortable staffe to staye vp the weight of his aged lymmes, so he would be a carefull father in prouiding her a mate agréeable to her minde, as soone as tyme would per­mit the accomplishment of the same.

Shortly after the old father espying an apt occasion to per­forme his promise, brake with the young man in the de­maund of this match, requesting of him to know, how he li­ked the rude demeanor of his daughter, and for as much as he had moued the question of mariage vnto her, of which she had certified him at large, was desyrous to know what he sawe in her, that should drawe him to lyking of so vn­séemelie a choise, perswading him, that if he shot at wealth▪ in stéede thereof he should finde want, for as much as his state could yéeld no supplie to his necessitie, but if he aimed at vertue, he thought her able to bring him a sufficent dow­rie, in that his study had béene, to make her therewith suffi­cientlie endued.

The young man replied vnto him, that he gaped neither after gold nor goods, for as much as he saw by sufficient ap­pearaunce, that there was no such gaine to be gased after, within the compasse of his cottage, but that he had found [Page] already an inestimable treasure, in an obscure corner, the possession wherof, if it pleased him he might quietlie enioy, he acknowledged himselfe ritcher then Cressus, and his sub­staunce more then all the golden sandes of Pactolus, or the siluer streames of Ganges, more happier in his conquest then Alexander, and farre more more fortunate then Po­licrates.

This good old man (espying the vertuous end of this yong mans desyre, and seeing that vertue was the onely marke whereat he did Jeuell the shotte of his affections) could not any longer dissemble his hidden state, neither the good will that he bare to his vertuous minde, & therefore taking him apart into a priuie corner of his cottage, he shewed him a huge summe of gold & siluer, not gathered by his care (who was rather addicted to contemplation, then to heaping of treasure,) but bequeathed by the death of her Vncle, a man of great substaunce, who noting the hope of her vertuous heart, that shined foorth in the image of her face, deliuered to her Father to kéepe for her vse, a homelie coffer in out­ward showe, farced within full of gold and siluer, all which (for so much as he saw, he desired not wealth, but wisdome, nor the body of his daughter, but her minde) he gaue him, calling vnto him his onely child, and ioyning theyr handes with the frée consent of theyr ioyful hearts, he blessed them, praying God, that as vertue was the beginning of theyr loue, so it might be the ende of the same, that they might liue together héere in all godlinesse and felicitie, and ende theyr dayes in peace and tranquilitie, that such issue might spring of their séede, as might be the common wealths com­moditie, to theyr comfort and Gods glorie.

Thus liued they together in all honestie, godlinesse, and quietnesse, breaking all brawles with humilitie, & quieting euerie discorde by loue, the one not being proude through rule, the other not checking her husband for wealth, looke what he lyked, she loued, looke what he loathed, she lusted not after, in pleasure she would be his partner, in sorrowe his companion, her honest myrth was his mellody, and her [Page] fréendly hart his harmony, in health his delight, and in sick­nesse, his Phisitian, and in bréefe, the piller of his life, and the onely patterne of a vertuous wife.

O how many wiues haue we in our Citie, that follow not the example of this Damsell, but rather runne with maine strength the contrary way, whose liues if they were noted, would rather deserue a sharpe inuectiue, then a plausible prayse, against whome I will not inueigh, least I might be rather vniustlie accused of some of enuie, then thought to write of iudgement and experience. I will therfore strike sayle in such a tempest, rather then striuing with contrarie windes, runne against the rockes of womens venemous tongues, and so put in perill the ship of my safetie, accoun­ting this only example sufficient to encourage the good, and to gaule the wicked, the one burning with the praise of ver­tue, the other blushing at the want thereof.

Wherefore, let all Maidens learne by this Virgins ex­ample, how to weare out theyr golden time of virginitie, not by spending the same in wantonnesse, wildnesse, l [...]se­nesse and libertie, but in shamefastnesse, discréetnesse, chast­nesse, and sobrietie, which as Valerius sayth, is, Custos casti­tatis, The preseruer of chastitie. Moreouer, let them be si­lent, not coueting by wordes rather to be séene, & so to shew their eloquence, then by shamefastnesse to declare theyr ho­nest silence, as a number doo in these daies, who make their tongues swéete instruments, to delight the eares of trifling talkers, & count it a great gaine to florish in glorious speech, so that if nature had made them for that vse, I thinke some of them would prooue gallaunt Orators to pleade, and as sutle Sophisters to deceyue.

Let them learne also to kéepe theyr féete from gadding, and to exercise themselues at home in vertuous dooing, of which, the one will blotte theyr good name with infamie, but the other adorne theyr life with glorie.

This Maidens modesty may be theyr myrror, and her go­uernment a glasse for theyr behauior, how to consume their time in godlinesse and praier, and to bridle theyr loose affec­tions [Page] from vicious demeanor, whose example if they immi­tate, they shall finde more faithfull louers of theyr vertue, then foolishe doters on theyr beautie, more suters for theyr honestie, then lykers of theyr braucrie: and aboue all, they shall be sure that God will prouide them such husbands, as shall be trusty louers, and honest lyuers.

But for so much as I promised in the Exordium of this hi­storie, to set downe somewhat, whereby the vnskilful youth may be warned, how to make a right choise in the chosing of a Wife, or hauing chosen, how theyr life may be spent in quietnes, I wil bréefly performe it, and so drawe to an end.

Chrysostome, perswadeth him that will marrie, to cen­siderSuper. Math. whether the Parentes be both good, or both euill, or whether the one be good, and the other euill: if they be both good, then may he safely make choise of her, if both euill, then to refuse her: if the one be good, & the other euill, then may he be doubtfull what to doo: yet if the Father be good, and the mother dishonest, vnquiet, or without gouernment, he ought rather to feare, then contrariwise: and the reason is, because Maidens haue béene more accustomed to be con­uersaunt with theyr Mothers, then with theyr Fathers: and therfore more inclined to follow their manners, wher­vpon rose the prouerbe, Qualis mater talis filia, Such a mo­her, such a daughter.

But especially let him beware that intendeth to marrie, that these things concurre and méete together, namely, that in theyr states there be an equallitie, for where there is no equallitie of condition, there can be no quietnesse of life, for as much as two contraries are neuer found in one subiect, nor one hart in two contrarie fortunes, for wealth in a wo­man without wisdome, & pouertie in a man without great gouernement, doo neuer make vp a quiet marriage.

Moreouer, let there be a lykenesse in theyr manners, and a vnitie in theyr mindes, least if there affections be vari­able, they become seperable: for where there is no likenesse in manners, there can be no soundnesse in fréendshippe: where is no soundnes in fréendship, there is no faithfulnes [Page] in loue: where is no faithfulnes in loue, there may be no quietnes of lyfe, and where the lyfe is vnquiet, there is the lyfe but a death, and the mariage a myserie.

But aboue all, séeing that Natura nihil solitarium amat, And that those that haue not the gift of continencie must marrie, (albeit that in marriage are many discommodities, yet of euils the least is to be chosen, For better it is to mar­rie, then to burne in fleshlie desires:) let euery wise man haue a speciall regard therefore, that her Parentes be ho­nest, she vertuous, and therewithall Religious, séeing that the lacke of Religion is the want of good lyfe, and the open gappe to all vngodlinesse, and surely, this lacke of foresight in choyse, leadeth many a man to yll chaunce, making the whole lyfe vnsauerie, that else might be spent in swéete and pleasaunt quietnesse, and ended in myrth, ioye and happinesse.

In breefe therefore, good education is better in a Maiden then ritches, albeit I will not disswade any man from pro­fite, so it be not wholie respected: for I deny not, but that wealth & wisdome may be coupled, and vertue and ritches conioyned, that there may be as much vice in néedy pouer­tie, as pride in glistering ritches, for Marcus Cato had a wife, who although she were poore, yet was she proude, pō ­tifical & péeuish: yet is a poore Maiden vertuous, better then a ritch that is vicious, and pouertie with glorie, is better then ritches with infamy.

But now to vse Apostrophe, to those that are married, as in the choyse of a wife, there is to be vsed discretion, so must thou gouerne her by mildnesse and wisedome, austeritie of wordes, must be mingled with gentlenesse of spéech: feare must in her be turned into loue, and bitternesse in thée, into swéetnesse of behauiour, seeing that she was not made of the head nor the foote, but of the ryb and side of man, which sheweth, that as she may not be a mystresse, so must she be no maide, as no soueraigne, so no seruaunt, but an equall companion, and a freendly fellow, to participate with thee of euery fortune.

[Page]With this mildnesse of gouernement, must be matched, secrecie of chastisement, that euery fault be not openly cor­rected, nor euery offence publique detected, euery light fault must not be found, nor euerie infirmity sharply noted, for as a discord in musicke, being a harshe and vnpleasaunt stroke of mixed soundes, sharpe and flat, is unpleasaunt to the tuneable eare: So the publique disagréemēt of cooples, being an vnsauerie noyse of iarring wordes, is gréeuous to the honest godly minde, therefore if any occasion of offence fal out, (as it cannot chuse but euen among the best, it may sometimes happen, for, Ʋnicuique dedit vitium natura crea­to, To euerie one that liues, hath nature giuen a fault,) there ought to be great cyrcumspection, that it be not onely reprooued, least a small offence vnwisely handled, bréede a gaule in the minde, and a gréefe in the heart.

Last of all, accustome thy selfe to fréendlinesse in spéeche, and louingnes in cōmunication, to honesty of life, and ver­tuousnesse of manners, that going before in gouernement of life, she may follow in obedience of behauior, let thy life be a lantorne to light her, and a guide to leade her, an ex­ample of vertue, and a patterne of honest demeanor, that she beholding thy vertue, may immitate thée in euery god­ly action. These notes duely obserued, will profite thée in singlenesse, and ease thée in wedlocke, make thy whole life delightfull, and thy death ioyfull, that departing from the shaddowe of this short life, a good conscience may accompany thée to the life eternall, and a good name remayne for thy eter­nall memorie. Amen.

FINIS.

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