THis piece of Tacitus, which I make the foundation of this Discourse, and to which I haue here confined my selfe, containeth 1. The enumeration of the seuerall formes of the Roman gouernment. 2. The Authors digression touch­ing the qualitie of one that is to [Page 224] write a History. 3. The meanes Augustus vsed in acquiring and cōfirming to himselfe the supreme and Monarchical authoritie. 4. The prouiding for succession. 5. The plotting of Liuia for the aduance­ment of her children. 6. The estate of the times after Augustus was ful­ly settled. And lastly, the censure of such as (when Augustus began to grow weake and toward his end) might probably be thought to suc­ceed him. And therefore in this or­der I begin with my Author.

1 [Vrbem Romam à principio Re­ges habuere. The Citie of Rome was at the first gouerned by Kings] The first forme of gouernment in any State is accidentall: that is, accord­ing to the condition the Founder happens to be of. If one man of absolute power aboue the rest, bee [Page 225] the Founder of a Citie, he will like­wise be the Ruler of the same; if a few, then a few will haue the go­uernment; and if the multitude, then commonly they will doe the like. And it is but iustice, for eue­ry man to haue his owne worke subiect to his owne will. So here Romulus built, and ruled; was the founder, and was the King. The building of this Citie was about 800. yeeres before the Natiuitie of Christ; and consequently from that time to this present, about 2420. The Contemporaries of Romulus reigning in Iuda, were Iotham; in Israel, Pekaiah; amongst the Medes, Artycas; in Macedonia, Thurimas; in Athens, Charops, who began the ten yeeres gouernment there insti­tuted; in Lacedemon, Polidorus; and in Italy there were many petty [Page 226] States, of might not much vnequal, whereby this new Citie might the safelier grow vp amongst them, and bee the soonerable to match the most of them. For if any of those States had been of eminent power aboue the rest, it is likely, Rome should not haue beene suffe­red to haue encroched so fast on her neighbours.

Now we haue seene the times in which this Citie was built, let vs next view how many Kings suc­cessiuely reigned ouer it, and how long this gouernment continued. [...]r [...]t, Romulus began, and there succeeded him, after one yeeres in­terregency, Numa Pompilius, then Tullus Hostilius, after him Ancus Martius, his successor was Tar­quinius Priscus, next to him, Serui­us Tullius, and last of all, Tarquinius [Page 227] Superbus. All whose reignes being gathered together, amount to the number of 240. yeeres, and hath beene compared by Florus, to the infancy of a man, and commonly accounted the infancy of Rome, though I cannot finde that they were much vnder the Rod, till this last Kings Reigne, who, to his cost, found them already growne too stubborne.

The next gouernment of this State, was Consulary. [Libertatem & Consulatum Lucius Brutus insti­tuit. Liberty and the Consulship Lu­cius Brutus brought in.] Euery one that hath read the Roman Histories, can tell how much this act of Lu­cius Brutus hath beene magnified, insomuch as they instituted in the honour of it, an Holiday, by the name of Regifugium: and how the [Page 228] imitation of it drew another of the same race, and name, into such another action, who came not off with the like applause, though o­therwise with the like fate. But I shall neuer thinke otherwise of it then thus; Prosperū & foelix scelus Virtus vocatur. For it was but a priuate wrong, and the fact not of the King, but the Kings Sonne, that Lucretia was rauished. Howsoeuer, this, together with the pride, and tyranny of the King, gaue colour to his expulsion, & to the alteration of gouernment. And this is by the Author entitled, Liberty, not be­cause bondage is alwayes ioyned to Monarchy; but where Kings abuse their places, tyrannize ouer their Subiects, and wink at all out­rages, and abuses, committed a­gainst them by any either of their [Page 229] children, or fauorites, such vsur­pation ouer mens estates, and na­tures, many times breakes forth in­to attempts for liberty, and is hard­ly endured by mans nature, and passion, though reason and Religi­on teach vs to beare the yoke. So that, it is not the gouernment, but the abuse that makes the alteration be termed Liberty. This Consula­ry gouernment began about Anno Mundi 3422. not long after the beginning of the second generall Monarchy, which was of the Per­sians, amongst whom reigned Cambyses, Xerxes, and Artaxerxes, all within the space of fiftie yeeres, or thereabouts. And in the Athenian State liued Themistocles, and Aristides, in those dayes fa­mous.

Now during this Consulary go­uernment, [Page 230] there were others inter­mixt. [Dictaturae ad tempus sumeban­tur. Dictators were chosen but vpon occasion.] This Magistrate, for pow­er, was limited onely by his owne will. For time, hee had limits from the Senate, and those so short, that their power could doe little hurt, and bred little ambition. They had now authoritie like absolute Kings, and by and by had no more then a King in a Play. But when it came to the hands of such as could not easily be constrained to lay it downe, they found it of that power, that by the colour thereof the people were bereaued of their liberty, and enthralled to Sylla du­ring pleasure, and to Caesar during life. But the Dictatorship is not to bee accounted another forme of gouernment, but onely an Office [Page 231] in the Common-wealth, though for the time supreme.

[Neque Decemviralis potestas vltrabiennium. The Decemviri pas­sed not two yeeres.] After the peo­ple had deliuered themselues from the authority of Kings, and came themselues to vndergoe the cares of gouernment, they grew per­plexed at euery inconuenience, and shifted from one forme of gouern­ment to another, and so to ano­ther, and then to the first againe; like a man in a feuer, that often tur­neth to and fro in his bed, but finds himselfe without ease, and sicke in euery posture. They that could not endure one King, were soone weary of ten Tyrants, and for their extreame ambition, vexa­tion, and cruelty, as also because of the licētious and barbarous lust of [Page 232] Appius Claudius, one of the number, (who for the satisfying of his appe­tite, had iudged a free womā to sla­uery) they soon extirped that autho­rity: but indeed the thing they most feared, was, that they saw those who possessed the power for the present, would not giue it ouer, but sought to make it personall, and perpetuate it to themselues. They were iea­lous of their liberty, and knew not in whose hands to trust it, and were often at the point to lose it: but at this time licentious and inordinate lust gaue them once more an oc­casion to shake off the yoke. As a­fore the Tarquins, so now the De­cemviri suffer for the same offence. They for the rauishing of a Wife; these for the intended deflowring a Virgin: the first acted, and her selfe reuenging it on her selfe by [Page 233] her owne hand; the second pur­posed, but preuented by a Fathers hand, in the murther of his owne Daughter. This alteration in go­uernment began 58. yeeres after the expulsion of Kings, about Anno Mundi 3500. And 19. yeeres after this time, began the Peloponnesian warres. In these times liued Pe­ricles, Alcibiades, and Thucidides in the State of Athens.

[Neque Tribunorum militum Con­sulare ius diu valuit. Neither did the Consularie authority in Tribunes of the Souldiers remaine long in force.] After the Decemvirate, they retur­ned againe to Consuls: they were not long content with them, but bestowed the same authority on Tribunes of the soldiers; and weary of these, they had againe recourse vnto the Consulship. For the State [Page 234] at that time being young and weake, loued change & variety of gouernments: but the emulation of the Commons, to equalize the Nobility, did giue the principall oc­casion to these alterations. For on whomsoeuer the commons conferred the supreme autho­rity, the Senate and Nobility still gained in all suites and offices to be preferred before them, which was the cause of most of the sediti­ons and alterations of the State.

[Non Cinnae, non Sullae longa do­minatio The domination of Cinna & Sulla did not long endure.] It is true that these men attained vnto su­preme power by violence & force, but yet I cannot think that to haue beene the cause why their power was so soone at an end. For though violence cannot last, yet the effects [Page 235] of it may; and that which is got­ten violently, may bee afterwards possessed quietly, and constantly. For Augustus also tooke vpon him the Monarchy by force, and yet he so settled it, as the State could neuer recouer liberty. These tooke no order, and it may be, had no inten­tion to reduce the State of the Commonwealth to a Monarchy, more then for their owne times, else they might peraduenture haue found waies how to haue molli­fied or extinguished the fiercer, al­lured the gentler sort, prepared the whole State to a future seruitude, and what they had obtained by armes, haue assured to themselues by politike prouisions: which not doing, was the cause that their authoritie came the sooner to an end.

[Pompeij, Crassi (que) potentia, cito in Caesarem. The power of Pompey and Crassus soon passed into Caesar.] This was an authority, in the Ro­mane State, exercised without pub­like permissiō only out of their own priuate strength. Of these Crassus was the most wealthy, Pompey the best beloued of the Senate, and Cae­sar of most power in the field. Their ambition was equall, but not their fortune, nor their wise­dome. For Crassus was slaine in the Parthian warre, the which hee vndertooke onely out of auarice. Pompey, though hee affected the Monarchie, yet hee tooke not the course that was fittest for it; for he then courted the State; when hee knew his Riuall had a purpose to vse violence, and to rauish it. But Caesar knew the Republique to be [Page 237] feminine, and that it would yeeld sooner to violence, then flattery; and therefore with all his power assaulted and ouercame it: and so in him alone remained the strength of all the three till his death.

Likewise after the death of Iuli­us Caesar, [Lepidi & Antonij ar­main Augustum cessere. The forces of Lepidus and Antonius came into the hands of Augustus.] This was the last change of the Romane go­uernment, and was permanent; for now Rome vtterly lost her libertie. For Antony by occasion of Caesars slaughter, beeing himselfe then Consul, hauing taken armes, which the State feared he would make vse of to serue his owne ambition, and to set himselfe vp in Caesars roome: the Senate gaue authoritie to Au­gustus [Page 238] to leuy an Armie, and make head against him. Which he did, & within a while after agreeing with Antony, and taking Lepidus in for a stale, established this Triumvirate, which in the end was also wholly reduced to Augustus. So that hence may appeare, that it is a most dan­gerous ouersight, to put Armes in­to such a mans hands for our de­fence, as may aduance himselfe by conuerting them to our destructi­on. To which purpose the Fable is also applyed of the Horse, who suffering a rider and the bit, for his assurance against the Hart that fed with him in the same pasture, could neuer after recouer his former li­bertie.

[Qui cuncta discordijs ciuilibus fes­sa, nomine Principis sub imperium ac­cepit. Who when the whole Sate was [Page 239] wearied with ciuill discords, receiued it vnder his gouernment with the Title of Prince.] The manifold mi­series that doe accompany Ciuill Warres, and the extreme weaknesse which followeth them, doe com­monly so deiect & expose a State to the prey of ambitious men, that if they lose not their libertie, it is one­ly for want of one that hath the courage to take the aduantage of their debilitie. And when a migh­ty and free people, is subdued to the tyrannie of one man, it is for the most part after some long and bloudie Ciuill Warre. For ciuill warre is the worst thing that can happen to a State: wherein the height of their best hopes can come but to this, to venture & haz­zard their own, to ouerthrow their friends and kindreds fortunes. And [Page 240] they that are at the worst, haue rea­son to bee content with, and wish for any change whatsoeuer. This was one occasion which Au­gustus laid hold of to establish the Monarchy, they were weary, their strength abated, and their courages foyled. Yet he would not presently take vnto him the Title belonging to Monarchy, especially not the name of King, but [nomine Princi­pis sub imperium accepit.] Euery man that hath an office of com­mand, though neuer so meane, de­sireth a name that may expresse the full vertue of his place, and most men receiue as great content from Title, as substance. Of this humour Augustus retained onely thus much at this time, that hee tooke a title which signified not authoritie, but dignitie before all the rest: as if [Page 241] the people of Rome had beene to be numbred one by one, hee thought himselfe worthy that they should begin with him. Also hee knew that the multitude was not stirred to sedition so much, with extraor­dinarie power, as insolent Titles, which might put them to consider of that power, and of the losse of their libertie. And therefore hee would not at the first take any of­fensiue Title, as that of King or Dictator, which for the abuses be­fore done, were become odious to the people. And in a multitude, seeming things, rather then sub­stantiall, make impression. But ha­uing gotten the mayne thing that he aspired vnto, to giue them then content in words, which cost him neither money, nor labour, hee thought no deare bargaine. And [Page 242] this was but for the present neither. For he doubted not but that the power which hee had in sub­stance, would in time dignifie any name hee should take aboue the name of King: and in the meane space hee should keepe the loue of the people, which is the principall pillar of a new soueraignty.

Hitherto, the seuerall changes and alterations in the state of Rome, and how the sway thereof, after the space of almost 800. yeere, be­ing now arriued at her greatest strength, remained wholly in the person of Augustus Caesar. He there­fore after much deliberation had, whether he should restore it againe to the former libertie of a Com­mon-wealth, or conuert the go­uernment into a Monarchy, at length resolued on the latter. The [Page 243] meanes he had, and the deuices he vsed to bring the same to passe, are now by the Author likewise tou­ched, and should follow in order. But because Tacitus here digresseth, to shew the faults of Historiogra­phers, and the vprightnesse he pur­poseth to vse in his owne story, I will also take his words as they lye in my way, and afterwards pro­ceed with the History it selfe.

2 [Sed veteris populi Romani pro­spera vel aduersa claris Scriptoribus memorata sunt. But of the ancient peo­ple of Rome, both the prosperous, and aduerse estate, hath beene recorded by renowned Writers.] It is a signe of too much opinion, and selfe-con­ceit, to be a follower in such an Hi­storie, as hath beene already suffici­ently atchieued by others. And therefore Cicero said well of the [Page 244] Commentaries which Caesar wrote of his owne acts, and intended should bee but the notes, and the ground of an History, to bee writ­ten by some that should afterward vndertake that taske, that though that were an acceptable, and wel­come worke to some arrogant per­sons, yet that all discreet men were thereby deterred from writing. So, that as it was here to Tacitus, it should also be cause enough to any man else to abstaine from the wri­ting of those Histories, which are already wisely, and perfectly rela­ted. The reason why the times of the Commonwealth haue been better Historified, then those that came after, seemeth to be the liberty that such a gouernment affordeth. For where the gouernour (who is al­wayes the mayne subiect of the [Page 245] Annales of a Citie) is not one man, but a great many, there personall tax breedeth not so often publique offence.

[Temporibus (que) Augusti dicendis non defuere decora ingenia, donec gliscente adulatione deterrerentur. And there wanted not good wits, to write Augu­stus his time, till by the preuailing of flattery they were deterred.] Also vn­der Monarchs, so long as their deeds be such, as they can bee con­tent to heare of againe, the Histo­riographer hath encouragement to follow the truth in his writings; but when they be otherwise, men must dissemble, if they will please, and must please, if they will haue their writings passe vnsuppressed. Therefore the knowne Law of Hi­story, which is, Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, neque vere non audeat, that a [Page 246] man should not dare to say a falsi­tie, nor not dare to speake the truth, must needs be abrogated, where Flatterie hath admittance. For there it is more needfull to haue regard to the acceptance, then to the sub­stance of our writings. And hereby Flattery in time commeth to weare out, and consume the able writers in a Kingdome.

[Tiberij, Caij (que), & Claudij, ac Neronis res florentibꝰ ipsis ob metum falsae; postquam occiderant, recenti­bus odijs cōpositae sunt. The occurren­ces of Tiberius, & Caius, and Clau­dius, and Nero, whilest themselues flourished, were for feare, and af­ter they were dead, out of fresh ha­tred, falsely written.] It is the condi­tion of most men, hauing been re­strained from moderate libertie in any thing whatsoeuer, when that [Page 247] restraint is taken away, to become immoderate in the same. For their desires swell, and gather strength at the stoppe, which when it is remoued, they runne more vio­lently then if they had neuer beene hindred at all. Hence it is, that hee which flattreth during the danger, slandereth when it is past, when the truth lyeth betwixt both: so that the same men that would be­fore for feare most haue blanched, are they that when they may doe it safely, will most detract. And from hence it is, that the latter end of Augustus, together with the reignes of the foure here named, had not as then found a faithfull relator.

[Inde consilium mihi pauca de Au­gusto & extrematradere, mox Ti­berij Principatum & caetera, sine ira, [Page 248] & studio, quorum causas procul ha­beo. My purpose therefore is to deli­uer to posteritie a few, and those the last things of Augustus, and then the principalitie of Tiberius, and the rest, without spleene, and partialitie, the causes whereof are farre from me.] The defects aboue mentioned, and want of a true History of these last times, caused the Author to take this taske in hand, wherein to auoid the suspition of the same faults hee hath before taxed in others, he put­teth in to our consideration that the causes both of spleene, and af­fection, are farre from him. These causes must bee either feare, or hope, of future good or euill, or else some benefit, or iniury for­merly receiued, which euery wri­ter of History should doe well to shew himselfe voyd of, if he can; [Page 249] because most men measuring o­thers by themselues, are apt to think that all men will not onely in this, but in all their actions more respect what conduceth to the aduancing of their owne ends, then of truth, and the good of others. Thus much of the digression: now followeth the History it selfe.

3 [Postquam Bruto & Cassio cae­sis, nulla iam publica arma. After that Brutus and Cassius being slaine, the Commonwealth was no longer in armes.] Though Cremutius, that cal­led Brutus and Cassius the last of the Romans, writing it in a time which would not permit a man so much as to looke backe at the for­mer state of the Commonwealth, was perhaps worthily punished; yet this may be truely said of them, that they were the last Champions [Page 250] of the Roman libertie. For after them no man euer bore Armes for Recuperation of that gouernment. What an aduancement then was it for Augustus that these were slaine? For now the Commonwealth re­linquished her liberty, and confes­sed her selfe subdued. So that his strongest aduersarie yeelding, hee might the easilier deale with the next.

[Pompeius apud Siciliam, op­pressus. Pompey defeated in Sicily.] This Sextus Pompeius being the re­liques of the Pompeian faction, was defeated neere Sicily, by Agrippa the Lieutenant of Augustus, in such manner, as of 350. sayle, hee fled away onely with 17. So that this was another step to the quiet establishing of his Empire. The first Ciuill warre was betweene [Page 251] the Caesarean faction on one side, and Pompey with the Republique on the other, and Caesar preuailed. The next will bee a subdiuision of the Caesareans, that Augustus stand­ing on one part, and Antony on the other, the authoritie may at length settle in the indiuiduall person of Augustus, who hitherto hath had to doe against the faction of the Commonwealth and Pompey, in the warres against Brutus, and Cas­sius, and against Sextus Pompeius. How hee will now diuide from himselfe the other heads of his owne faction, is next to follow.

[Exuto Lepido, interfecto Anto­nio Lepidus being put out, and An­tony slaine.] Lepidus if hee had re­mained in the Trium virate, might haue hindred the contention of the other two, by keeping them in [Page 252] doubt to whether part hee would encline. Wherefore, as if they desi­red to try the mastery betweene themselues, they won Lepidus, whose authoritie was least of the three, to dismisse the Legions that were vnder his command, and to lay downe his office. That done, the desire of soueraigne rule would admit no longer friendship in the other two, so they fell to warres: and Augustus following it with all his power, brought Antony (who was already vanquished with effe­minate passions, and had his heart chained to the delight of a wo­man) quickly to destruction, and himselfe remained sole heyre of all their claimes, and interests.

[Ne Iulianis quidem partibus, nisi Caesar dux reliquus. There remained not another Commander, no not in the [Page 253] faction of Iulius, but onely Augustus Caesar.] This faction did not di­uide as long as Brutus and Cassius were aliue, for then they had soon come to nothing, and the vertue of Brutus might haue had as good for­tune, for the maintenance of liber­tie, as that of his ancestor. But when they had made vse one of another, to aduance both of their hopes, then they parted, and con­tended who should bee the sole gainer. Which happening to Au­gustus, hee had afterwards no more to doe, but onely to keepe what hee had gotten; which hee might easily doe. For first hee was alone, and when a mans power is singular, and his intentions are one­ly of his owne free election, hee is then most likely to reduce them into act. Companions in such af­faires [Page 254] can seldome be content, that all counsailes, nay almost that any, should tend to the others profit; so constant is euery man to his owne ends. This Augustus foresaw, when he secluded from him those two, that were equall in authoritie and power with himselfe; Antony by force, and Lepidus by deceit. And now hauing power ouer the bodies of the people, he goes about to ob­taine it ouer their minds, and wils, which is both the noblest and su­rest command of all other.

[Posito Triumviri nomine. Laying away the name of a Triumvir.] Hee had three reasons to leaue that Ti­tle; the first is of lesse weight, (ex­cept in Grammar) and that is the impropriety of that word applyed to him that hath charge alone, be­ing proper onely to such as be three [Page 255] in Commission. The second is, be­cause the name was too meane. For till this time, the Triumviri were ra­ther for ouerseeing, then gouer­ning; sometimes appointed to looke to one businesse, sometimes to another; but neuer had any whole charge of gouernment of the Commonwealth, till such time as Augustus, Antony, and Lepidus, be­ing three men, equally interessed in the State, gaue themselues that Ti­tle. But the chiefe cause was this, that the name carried with it a re­membrance and rellish of the ci­uill warres, & proscriptions, which were hatefull to the people. And a new Prince ought to auoid those names of authoritie, that rubbe vp­on the Subiects wounds, and bring hatred, and enuy, to such as vse them.

[Consulem se ferens, & ad tuen­dam plebem Tribuntiio iure contentū. Calling himselfe Consul, and content with the authoritie of a Tribune to maintaine the right of the Commons.] This officer of Tribune was ordai­ned anciently, & so alwaies cōtinu­ed, for a protector of the people, and a defender of their rights, immuni­ties, and priuiledges against the vio­lence, and incrochment of the No­bles. The authoritie therefore of this officer, together with the Title of Consul, Augustus tooke to him­selfe, that euen of the old offices he might haue those, that were both for name, and effect, of greatest consequence. And for authoritie, there was none now greater then that of Tribune of the Commons. Insomuch as Tacitus saith in an­other place, Id summi fastigij voca­bulum [Page 257] Augustus reperit, ne Regis aut Dictatoris nomen assumeret, ac tamen appellatione aliqua, caetera imperia praemineret. Augustus found out that name of chiefe dignitie, that he might auoid the name of King, & Dictator, and yet haue a Title of preeminence a­boue other Magistrates. But the main cause why hee affected the Title of Tribune, was this, because hee thought it best to make his faction sure with the Commons, who at that time were the strongest part of the State, by hauing the Title and Authoritie of their Protector. And seeing it is impossible to please all men, it is therefore best for a new Prince to ioyne himselfe to, and obtaine the fauour of that part in his State, which is most able to make resistance against him. This Augustus neglected not. But rather [Page 258] vsed all meanes to draw all men to bee contented with his present go­uernment.

[Militem donis, Populum annona, cunctos dulcedine otij pellexit. He al­lured the Souldiers by largesse, the people by prouision of corne, and all men by the sweetnesse of ease, and re­pose.] Souldiers are most common­ly needy, and next to valour, they thinke there cannot bee a greater vertue then liberalitie, from which they thinke all Donatiues proceed; when, if the truth were examined, it would appeare that such gifts came not from the vertue Libera­litie, but were meerely the price of their Countries libertie. But, this the Souldiers were too rude to examine. An open hand drawes their affections more then any thing else whatsoeuer. The same [Page 259] effect in the minde of the people is produced by prouision of corne, which if they can buy at a lower price then formerly they could haue done (though peraduenture the measure be as much lessened as the price) they thinke then the State to bee excellently gouerned. How effectuall this kind of libe­ralitie hath beene, appeared long before this in the same State, when as Spurius Cassius, by distribution of mony, and Spur. Melius, by largesse of Corne, were very neere obtaining to themselues, an ab­solute soueraignty, and tyrannie ouer the Commonwealth. This is also one of Augustus his de­signes. Hee steales the peoples hearts by sustenance, and re­liefe, as hee did the Souldiers by his mony. Further he pleaseth them [Page 260] all with the sweetnesse of ease, and repose. They saw that to beare the yoke of Augustus, was to bee freed of other vexation; and to re­sist, was to renew the miseries they were lately subiect to. When they were much stronger, they could nor make sufficient resistance, now they are weake, they can much lesse doe it. Therefore being weary, they could not but be much wonne with the present ease, and vacancy of Warre, especially ciuill warre. So Augustus tooke in this, the best order that can be, to as­sure a new soueraignty, which, is to to afford the Souldier money, the Peo­ple a good market, and all men ease, and quietnesse.

[Insurgere paulatim, munia Se­natus, Magistratuum, legum in se trahere. Hee beganne by degrees to [Page 261] encroach, to assume the businesse, and charge of the Senate, of the Magi­strates, of the lawes to himselfe.] Augustus hath hitherto dealt with the State, as one that tameth wilde horses; first, he did beate and wea­rie them; next, tooke care not to frighten them with shadowes; then, shewed them hope of ease, and made prouision of corne for them; and now he begins gently to backe the State. Hee gets vp by little and little. For it is not wisedome for one that is to con­uert a free State into a Monarchy, to take away all the shew of their libertie at one blowe, and on a suddaine make them feele serui­tude, without first introducing into their mindes some preuiae dispositiones, or preparatiues where­by they may the better endure it. [Page 262] Hastinesse in any action, espe­cially of importance, is most times the ouerthrow of it, and to doe that at once, which must bee done successiuely, is an ar­gument of a rash, and intempe­rate man, that cannot containe himselfe, and stay for his de­sires. Also to a people so long weaned from a Monarchicall go­uernment, it was most probable hee might gaine by degrees, insi­nuation, and continuance of time, more then on any sud­daine hee could. Therefore hee takes vpon him the businesse, and charge of the Senate, of the Ma­gistrates, and of the Lawes, and begins now to assume, what hee had long looked for, and ex­pected. For whereas all the plots and policies hee had before vsed, [Page 263] were to this end, if hee had not also come to fruition, hee might haue beene iustly condemned of leuity, and his actions to haue proceeded from a vaine-glorious, and vnconstant braine, and his authoritie would haue in time come into contempt. For action and continuall managing of bu­sinesse, is the onely thing that preserueth the life, and vigour of authoritie. And all men giue their respect, and thinke it due to those, to whom they haue recourse in the dispatch of their weighty af­faires.

[Nullo aduersante; cum ferocissimi per acies aut proscriptione cecidissent. No man now opposing him, the stoutest men being falne either in battaile, or by proscriptions.] This encroching on the libertie of the State, in former [Page 264] times, neuer wanted opposers: but now the stout Patriots were rooted out. For such men being forward­est, and busiest in Armes, must needs waste sooner then the rest, and finding too much resistance, must therefore breake, because they were of a nature vnapt to bend. And againe, in the proscrip­tions these onely were they, that were aymed at, whereas the lesse violent aduersaries found safety in contempt. The Proscription here spoken of, being that of the Trium­viri, where the heads of the facti­ons ioyning, abandoned, and as it were sacrificed their old friends to this new friendship, it could not be, that almost any stout, and dan­gerous man, of what faction so euer, should bee left aliue. And it may bee it was no lesse aduantage­ous [Page 265] to the designes of Augustus, that some of his own faction were slaine, then was the slaughter of those that tooke part with Anthony, and Lepidus. For they might haue expected, for the requitall of their seruice, to haue been paid with par­ticipation of his authority, which hee might not suffer, or else haue growne auerse, and haue pluc­ked him downe, though they had with his fal crushed themselues to death. But Augustus was now rid of those stubborne compa­nions.

[Caeteri nobilium quanto quis ser­uitio promptior, opibus, et honoribus, extollerentur; ac nouis ex rebus aucti, tuta et praesentia, quam vetera & pe­riculosa mallent. The rest of the Nobi­lity, as any one of them was most ready to serue, so hee was exalted to wealth [Page 266] and honour, and being enriched by the change, liked rather the present State of things, and that which was safe, then the former, and that which was dange­rous.] It is both iustice, and good policy, to reward with preferments those that yeeld their obedience readily, and willingly; for it stir­reth emulation in men, to exceed each other in diligence. And on the contrary, to heape benefits on the sullen, and auerse, out of hope to win their affection, is vniust and preiudiciall. For first, they shall lose one benefit after another, through vaine hope of winning them, and not losing the thanks of their first benefit; and then also others will learne, and thinke it wisdome to bee auerse and stubborne, by their example. Also those that were rewarded for their seruice, must [Page 267] needs striue to maintaine the pre­sent State, and helpe to keepe off the Ciuill warres. For times of tranquillity bee alwayes best for the rich men. In warres and trouble they pay for all, and in desolation their losse is greatest. For Ciuill warre is commodious for none but desperate vnthrifts, that they may cut their Creditors throats without feare of the gal­lowes; men against whom the Law, and the sword of Iustice maketh a fearfull warre, in time of peace. But the rich, and such as were in loue with titles of ho­nour, found more ease and con­tentment heere, then they could expect in the Ciuill warre, and did accept the present with securi­tie, rather then striue for the old, with danger.

[Neque Prouinciae illum statum rerum abnuebant, suspecto Senatus po­pulique imperio, ob certamina poten­tum, & auaritiam, magistratuū; inua­lido legum auxilio, quae vi, ambitu, postremo pecunia turbabantur. Nei­ther did the prouinces dislike this state of things; for they mistrusted the go­uernment of the Senate and people, be­cause of the contention of great men, and couetousnesse of the Magistrates for the ayd of the Lawes was weake, being infringed by force, canuassing, and lastly by mony.] The Romane State did not consist in the magni­tude of that one City of Rome, or in the extent of Italy alone, but in the multitude, & greatnesse of Prouin­ces, that were subiect vnto it. And therefore it much concerned the surety of Augustus his gouernment, to haue also them content with this [Page 269] alteration: which they were for two causes. First, a Popular State, if the great men growe once too mighty for the lawes, is to the Pro­uinces not as one, but many ty­rants; so that not knowing to which faction to adhere, they pro­cure the enimitie alwayes of some, and sometimes of all, and become subiect to the rapine of whosoeuer first seazeth it, and to be the prize of their contention. At home they are commanded by contrary factions, contrary Acts, so that they can nei­ther obey, nor disobey without of­fence: but are hurried, and haled, somtimes to this faction, and some­times to that. Those that were de­puted to do iustice amongst them, must not administer the same ac­cording to the Law, but according to the humour of him, whom him­selfe [Page 270] followeth; which may bee now one, and anon (fortune chan­ging) another. At Rome, if they sued for any thing, though they could all bee content their sute should passe for the matter it selfe; yet the furtherance that one facti­on should giue it, would stirre vp contradiction in the other, and so crosse it. Therefore it is better for a Prouince to bee subiect to one, though an euill master, then to a potent, if factious, Republique. Next, they found couetousnesse in the Magistrates. For when they ex­pected, that hauing truth, and e­quity on their sides, their causes, and sutes should not goe amisse, they found contrarily, that by that, their iudgements were not ballan­ced, but that they distributed iu­stice rather by weight then mea­sure. [Page 271] That purse that was heauiest, that bribe that was greatest, car­ried the cause Iustice was not seene, but felt; a good bribe was their best Aduocate. Such in those times were the Magistrates, and Iudges. Euery thing was carried by might, ambition, and corruption. He that was not ambitious, was neglected: and he that was not corrupt, was e­steemed vndiscreete. In this time the Prouinces would haue beene cōtent with a Monarchy, or tyran­nie, rather then to be troubled with so different, and ill humours of di­uers men. But there may also be co­uetousnesse in Magistrates, when one hath the soueraignty, being a fault of the person, and not of the forme of the gouernment. Indeed, there may bee bribing in such a State; but in a factious, and diui­ded [Page 272] Commonwealth it cannot bee otherwise. For where the State is vnited, the Magistrates will haue some respect vnto that; but being diuided, euery one is for himselfe, and must looke to strengthen and enrich himselfe by any meanes how ill soeuer. For faction hath no strength, but from Iniustice, and Rapine. One remedy there is for such an inconuenience, and that is, if the Lawes bee strengthned with authoritie; which also wanted in the former times. For force, friends, and mony ouerthrew their validi­tie. For what Law was so strong, that the force of Cinna, Sylla, Ma­rius, Iulius Caesar, and others, in their times could not haue broken tho­row? Nothing is more prouerbiall, then that Lawes are like Spiders webs, onely to hold the smaller [Page 273] Flyes. Then, fauour and friendship, made way euen for the weake men to breake thorow. And lastly, mo­ney gaue the easiest passage of all. Wherefore the Prouinces, concei­uing better hope of the rule of Au­gustus, could not dislike, but were rather glad of the alteration. Thus farre the acquist and assurance of the Monarchy to Augustus: now, his wayes to perpetuate the same, and deriue it to posterity; are to be considered.

4 [Augustus subsidia dominationi Claudiū Marcellum, sororis filium, admodum adolescentem, Pontificatu & curuli Aedilitate extulit. Augu­stus, to streng then his gouernment, pre­ferreth Claudius Marcellus, his Sist­ers sonne, one as yet very young, to the Pontificall dignitie, and office of Aedile.] A Prince that hath raised [Page 274] himselfe to the Soueraignty of a State, and is once quietly settled in it, will for the most part haue a de­sire to make the same successiue, and will take all opportunities that may further such his intention. So Augustus doth now, and adorns with offices, and dignities, all those vpon whom, he thought, he might make the Empire to discend. Proui­sion of successors, in the life time of a Prince (besides that it is a kinde of duty they owe their Country, thereby to preuent ciuill discord) hath this vertue, that it nippeth in the head, and killeth the seedes of ambitious, and traiterous hopes in those that thinke of alteration: whereas the vncertainty of the suc­ceeder, breedeth, and feedeth Trea­son in aspirers for many yeeres to­gether. If any man therefore had [Page 275] any hope aliue in him, that when Augustus should dye, the State might againe struggle for liberty, or a new forme of gouernment might arise better to their own li­king, this prouidence of Augustus doth vtterly extinguish it. First therefore, he putteth his Nephew into these two places of great com­mand, that of Pōtifex, & the Aedile­ship: whereof the former, in mat­ters of their Heathenish religion, was of supreme authoritie. In pla­ces of authoritie, and subordinate command, it is no small policy in the supreme gouernours, and espe­cially in the principall offices, to place such as are either tyed in na­ture, or necessitie vnto them; that as they themselues haue suprema­cie in command, so all their vnder­ministers may bee so fast vnto [Page 276] them, that their actions may bee alwayes limited according to the will, and affection of their Soue­raigne, by whom they were en­stalled, and ordained for that pur­pose, to the places they hold. This was one stay and strength of his gouernment, to put into the hands of his Nephew (as I may so say) the Supremacy in matters Ecclesia­sticall, which is one of the chiefest guides of a Commonwealth.

[Marcum Agrippam ignobilem lo­co, bonum militia, & victoriae so­cium, geminatis Consulatibus extulit. Hee makes Marcus Agrippa, one descended meanely, but a good Soul­dier, and companion with him in his victories, twice together Consul.] After hee had aduanced his Ne­phew, the next that he exalteth to dignity, was his friend. Wherein [Page 277] we may perceiue, that in the opini­on of Augustus, when a Prince hath a Minister of valor, and worth, which may make him capable of great place, the meanenesse of his birth ought to be no barre to his ri­sing. Againe, in raising him, first he should not neede to feare that hee might endāger him, being one that could presume so little of his Nobi­litie. For a man that by his ver­tue raiseth himselfe from out of the common people, shall more often get enuy from the multitude, then any popular applause, and consequently cannot be very dan­gerous. So Augustus conferred that honour safely. Besides, Agrippa, in that hee was a good Souldier, deserued to haue the reward of his vertue, which is honor. And lastly, as the companion of his Victories, [Page 278] he deserued to participate of some fruit thereof. Which Augustus might also cōsider, not so much for his company in the warre, as in the Victory. For men reward the suc­cesse of actions done on their be­halfes, rather then the labour, and vertue, or the danger which they expose themselues vnto in the same. The office of Consul was a great place, and had beene in for­mer times of supreme power in the Commonwealth: yet Agrippa be­ing a man, of whose faith, loue, and worth, he had had long expe­rience, and for the reasons before recited, he doubted not to bestowe the same vpon him twice together: and more then that, intends to make him another stay, and hope of the succession.

[Mox defuncto Marcello gene­rum [Page 279] sumpsit. Shortly after when Mar­cellus was dead, hee makes him his son in law.] The greatnesse of this bene­fit, bestowed on one that could no waies exact, or extort it frō Augustꝰ, giueth here an occasion to enquire into the minds of all men in the matter of giuing and receiuing be­nefits. Tacitus in the first booke of his Histories, saith, Beneficia eo vsque esse laeta, dum exolui possunt. That be­nefits receiued are pleasing so long as they be requitable. When once they exceed that, they are an intolerable burthen, and men seldome are wil­ling to acknowledge them; for who but a man of desperate estate will set his hand to such an obliga­tion, as hee knowes hee neuer can discharge? This is the reason that Princes are so slow in aduancing some men, that haue deserued it; [Page 280] because they cannot easily doe it according to their full merit, or else they thinke it will not be so taken: So that they should, by rewarding them, both pay, and yet remaine in debt. And generally all men, but Princes most of all, hate acknow­ledgement, & like not to haue such great Creditors in their eye; but will rather bee content to take ad­uantage against them, as against so many vpbraiders of ingrati­tude: So that great seruices pro­cure many times rather the ha­tred then the loue of him they are done vnto. On the contrary, when men can, without lessening of themselues, reward those to whom they haue been beholding, so as to satisfie them according to their owne estimate, they will then ouer-doe it, and heape one fauour [Page 281] vpō another, thinking by shewing their affection to them, to gaine theirs in the same proportion: but it falls not so out in humane nature; for benefits encrease the loue of the bestower, more then of him that receiueth them: for as it is proprium humani ingenij odisse quem laeseris, the propertie of humane nature, to hate those they haue wronged; so also is it on the contrary, to loue those to whom they haue beene beneficiall. Agrippa had done great seruice to Augustus; but Augustus was now able, without diminution of him­selfe, both to requite and surmount him; and therefore leaues out no­thing that may expresse his grati­tude, but makes him his Sonne in Law, whereby his children might become heyres euen to Augustus [Page 282] his owne power, which was the absolute soueraignty of the whole Empire. Which act of Augustus, as it proceeded out of affection, so it also agreed with good policy; for whom should hee more trust, then one whose loue had beene so much shewed, whose fidelity so much tryed? And therefore he sets him neere himselfe, and (Marcellus being now dead) bestowes on him the widdow Iulia, his onely childe.

But heere I must haue leaue to transpose these few lines of the Au­thor, to the end that that which touches the aduancement of the children of Liuia, may afterwards be ioyned together.

After this, hee aduanceth the Children that Agrippa had by this match. [Genitos Agrippa, Caium [Page 283] & Lucium, in familiam Caesarum induxerat, nec dum posita puerili prae­texta, Principes inuentutis, appella­ri, destinari Consules, specie recu­santis, flagrantissimè cupiuerat. Hee receiued Caius and Lucius, the chil-of Agrippa, into the Caesarean fami­lie, and seeming to refuse, most ardent­ly desired to haue them, while they were yet but boyes, to bee called Princes of the youth, and to bee designed for the Consulship.] His sisters sonne Marcellus being dead, and hauing now of his own off-spring to suc­ceed him, hee desires that the peo­ple would be pleased to take notice of them betimes, and in his life time, to put them into some posses­sion of their future dignity. Hee would therefore now, whilst they were in their minority, haue them honoured first with the title of [Page 284] Princes of youth. This title, did im­ply as much as Heyres apparant of the Empire. And to giue it, was to admit and openly consent, that the State should be, not only the posses­sion of Augustus, for his owne life, but also the inheritāce of his descē ­dents for euer. Secondly, with being Consuls elect, that they might haue some command of importance, as soone as their age could beare it. Though Augustus had force to bring this to passe, yet hee was loth againe to irritate the minds of his new subiects; and therefore hee would not openly so much as make shew of this his desire touch­ing his Grand-sonnes, lest they who were content to obey him for his owne time, vpon this offering them a Successor, as the perpetuation of their seruitude, might turne despe­rate, [Page 285] and do some such act as might displease him. But he turnes to dis­simulation, which was in those times held an inseparable accident of a politique Prince. Hee makes shew of refusing, and yet most ar­dently desires it; and that desire must also appeare by the refusall. And those that saw him thus re­fuse, durst doe no other then force his consent, and put these honors on his Grand-sonnes, whether hee would, or not.

5 [Tiberium Neronem & Clau­dium Drusum priuignos Imperato­rijs nominibus auxit, integra etiam dum domo sua. And his owne house not yet failing, hee adornes with impe­riall titles Tiberius Nero, and Clau­dius Drusus, his wiues children.] Augustus, to make the succession certaine, and not to haue it depend [Page 286] vpon the liues onely of two, and those but young, aduanceth also the sonnes of his wife, men of mature yeares, and seene in the warres, and honoured them with imperiall ti­tles, that if his owne issue failed, hee might leaue a succeeder, such as his owne affection should make choyce of. This course in the ge­nerall, is to be esteemed in a Prince both a prouident one for himselfe, and also in a manner necessary for the publike good of his subiects, considering the bloudy and fear­full warres, that haue followed vp­on the death of such as haue not prouided a successor before their decease. But yet it falleth out other­wise in some particulars, then ac­cording to the intention of him that so nominateth his succeeder; as it did in this: for had Augustus [Page 287] thought it should so much haue preiudiced his owne bloud, to ad­uance those of his wiues, he would I thinke haue left them in obscuri­ty. Therefore it is not good for a Prince in appointing his succee­ders, to leaue the reuersion of the State to such as may haue power and meanes to subuert the first heyres thereof. Thus farre he hath beene tying the knot of succession, which now Liuia his wife begin­neth on one part to vntye, or rather cut asunder, for the strengthening of the other.

[Vt Agrippa vita concessit, Luci­um Caesarem euntem ad Hispanien­ses exercitus, Caium remeantem Ar­menia, et vulnere invalidum, mors fato propera, velnouercae Liuiae dolus abstulit. Assoone as Agrippa was dead, Lucius Caesar going to take [Page 288] charge of the Army in Spaine, and Caius comming from Armenia, vn­timely Death by fate, or else by the trechery of their Step-mother Liuia, tooke away.] As the watchfulnesse of a faithfull, and wise Counsellor about a Prince, often checketh the very thoughts towards treason; so on the contrary, the death of such a one wonderfully facilitates the designes of a traytor. When Agrippa was dead, his sonnes did not long out-liue him, and though Tacitus heere doth not accuse Li­uia directly of their death, yet there may bee gathered these presumpti­ons against her. First, her ambiti­ous and plotting humor. Then their hasty and opportune death; as if fate, (if their death were meer­ly naturall) had beene of Counsell with her. And lastly, the benefit [Page 289] which thereby accrewed vnto her owne sonnes. This last is of much importance in the iudgement of men: for to whomsoeuer comes the profit of strange and vnexpec­ted accidents, to him also, for the most part, is imputed the contri­uing, and effecting of them, if they be thought able. To Liuia apper­taineth the suspicion of their death, because it was good for her that they should dye when they did, and shee was also generally sus­pected in that kinde of euill.

[Druso pridem extincto, Nero so­lus è priuignis erat. Drusus being be­fore dead, Nero was onely left of his sonnes in Law.] This was the fruit reaped by the death of Augustus his Grand-sonnes; for hereby her sonne Nero remained the onely man that was likely to succeed in [Page 290] the Empire. For his brother Dru­sus dyed of a fall from his horse two yeares before. So that now hee had no competitor neither of his owne kindred, nor of the house of Augustus to oppose him, saue onely Agrippa Post­humus, who for causes hereafter to be mentioned, was not of much respect.

[Illuc cuncta vergere, filius, Col­lega Imperij, Consors Tribunitiae▪ potestatis adsumitur, omnes (que) per ex­ercitus ostentari, non obscuris vt an­tea matris artibus, sed palam hortatu. All enclined that way, hee is made his sonne, his Collegue in the Empire, his companion in the Tribunitiall power, shewne to all the Armies, not by the secret artifice of his Mother, as be­fore, but by open perswasion.] Euery man that followed Augustus in his [Page 291] strength, now in the declining of his age turne their eyes vpon the next change: for those who had fortunes vnder Augustus, desired the conseruation of them at the hand of the next; & those that had none, began now to hope for estates and honors, vnder his Successor. All men being of this conditi­on, that desire and hope of good more affecteth them then fruition: for this induceth satiety; but hope is a whetstone to mens desires, and will not suffer them to languish. It was wisdome in Augustus to make manifest one certaine suc­cessor, thereby not to giue occa­sion to the ambition of many. But that Tiberius should bee the man rather then his owne Grand­sonne, that was certainly the wis­dome of his Wife: for not ma­ny [Page 292] men would depriue their owne off-spring of so faire an in­heritance, without greater cause then is expressed, to conferre it on the issue of another. If Li­uia had loued her owne no bet­ter, the house of Caesar might haue continued much longer then it did. The honour Augustus gaue to her sonne, was to adopt him for his; which was to giue him sole power for the future, after the death of Augustus, and make him Colleague of the Empire, and partaker of the authority of Tri­bune, which was authority equall to his owne for the present; and then, to cause the armies to yeeld him their respect, and acknow­ledge him for their next Lord. These fauours Liuia had beene long solliciting for, by insinuation, [Page 293] detraction, deceit, and whatsoeuer Art else is requisite to the supplant­ing of a Riuall in a Princes affectiō. But now the way was so cleere, by reason of the Emperours age fit to be wrought on, and the rudenesse of Agrippa, that shee durst open­ly moue Augustus to dis-inherit his owne issue, and preferre hers. But the fauour that Liuia shewed to Augustus children, besides the suspition of causing the death of two of them, was cleane con­trary.

[Nam senem Augustum adeo de­uinxerat, vti nepotem vnicum A­grippam Posthumum in Insulam Planasiam proijceret. For she had so tyed vnto her Augustus, who was now an old man, that hee confined his onely Grand-sonne Agrippa Posthu­mus into the Iland Planasia.] I haue [Page 294] not found so great a defect in Au­gustꝰ his iudgemēt, in al his former actions, as in this, so farre to follow her will, as to banish and confine his owne bloud, for the aduance­ment of hers. But, as Tacitus saith, hee was now growne old, and so the weakenesse that accompani­eth old age may excuse that fault, which in his younger, and more mature iudgement, peraduenture hee would neuer haue committed. It was hard for him, being now in yeeres, to want the comfort of his Wife; to liue with her, and not to haue her pleased, intolerable, and a­gainst the dignity of an Emperour; and to extinguish her ambition, im­possible. So that if he had seene her drifts, vnlesse they had broken out into some violent actions, hee must in a manner haue beene for­ced [Page 295] to dissemble it. For it is contra­ry to the dignitie of a Prince, to take notice of that fault which he is not able to amend. But hee saw them not: for what cannot the craft of some wiues, through opportunitie, continuall flatterie, and arguments framed with all the Art that can be vsed, worke vpon the weake iudge­ment of an old man? The place of Agrippa's exile, being a small, and vninhabited Iland, where hee was rather imprisoned, then banished, was in a manner, a sure argument, that hee should not long out-liue his Grandfather: for as the feare of Augustus kept him now aliue, so the feare of his owne Title, would make Tiberius neuer let him escape out of his fingers.

[Rudem sane bonarum artium, & robore corporis stolidè ferocem, nul­lius [Page 296] tamen flagitij Compertū. Ignorant (to say the truth) of good Arts, and bearing himselfe foolishly fierce of his strength of body, but not detected of any crime.] These are the causes, for which Agrippa was put by the right of his succession, and wanted the respect which was otherwise due vnto his birth. Hee had not good education. That vvas the summe of all his faults. And in a State which might freely elect their Prince, the same had beene a iust cause to passe by him. For it is a great misfortune to a people, to come vnder the gouernment of such a one, as knowes not how to gouerne himselfe. For where it is said, hee was vnfurnished of good Arts, it is not ment of letters, though that also be good in a Prince, and of ornaments the chiefe; for hee [Page 297] may want these, rather then iudge­ment, valour, or goodnesse of na­ture. But the Art that hee is princi­pally taxed to want, seemeth to haue beene the Art of conforming to times, & places, and persons, and consisteth much in a temperate conuersation, and ability vpon iust cause, to containe and dissemble his passions, and purposes; and this was then thought the chiefe Art of gouernment. And whereas he is said to be vndetected of any crime, that made not much for the matter in hand; for though he might proue no ill man, hee might bee neuerthe­lesse an ill gouernour. But Agrippa's defects were not the sole cause of his dis-inheriting, though they were the sole iustification of it, when it was done. The hope of succession, notwithstanding the [Page 298] care of the Emperour, being redu­ced by the Art of Liuia, to one on­ly man, Augustus againe takes or­der for the bringing in of one more.

[At hercule Germanicum Dru­so ortū, octo apud Rhenū legionibus imposuit, adsciri (que) per adoptionem à Tiberio iussit, quamquam esset in do­mo Tiberij Filius iuuenis; sed quo pluribus munimentis insisteret. But yet hee made Germanicus the sonne of Drusus, Commander of eight Legi­ons vpon the Rhine, and commanded Tiberius to adopt him, although Ti­berius had a young sonne of his own: but this he did, to haue the more sup­ports.] Augustus is still of this iudge­ment, that the succession ought not to depend on the life of one man, and therefore wil haue more props to establish it. But as the aduancing [Page 299] of Tiberius, was thought to bee the ruine of Caius, and Lucius: so now the making of Tiberius to adopt Germanicus, might haue proued the ruine of Tiberius, if the Ambition of Germanicus had beene answera­ble to his power. For Augustus put eight Legions into his hand, the which afterwards would not only haue beene ready to haue giuen him the Empire, but also went a­bout to put it vpon him by force. Therefore if a Prince raise many to the hope of reigning, he ought to prouide against the emulation, am­bition, and mutuall iealousies that ordinarily arise thereof. For else he shall hardly bring any of them to the fruition, or if one, then all the rest to vntimely ends. Augustus here gaue Liuia indeed no occasi­on to worke against this last choise [Page 300] of his, being one of her owne Grand-children; but yet to com­mand Tiberius, who had a sonne of his owne, to adopt another, must needs breed a hart-burning in him, because he knew by himselfe, how much rather men desire to possesse, then expect such authoritie. And fearing therefore; that Germanicus might beare the same minde, he af­terwards, as is thought, tooke a course to bring him to his end, wherby may be perceiued in what danger an honest man standeth, being neere vnto one that is am­bitious, either before or behinde him, whose nature is to destroy be­fore him, out of hope; and behinde him, out of feare.

After that Augustus had maste­red, quieted, & taken order for the succession of the Empire: the Au­thor [Page 301] sheweth next the state of the present times. 6 And first for matter of warres abroad. [Bellum ea tem­pestate nullū, nisi aduersus Germanos supererat: abolendae magis infamiae ob amissum cum Quinctilio Varo exer­citum, quam cupiditate proferendi Imperij, aut dignum ob praemium. There remained at that time no warre, sauing against the Germans, and that rather to wipe off the disgrace for the losse of the Army with Quintilius Varus, then out of any desire to enlarge the Empire, or hope of worthy recom­pence.] Warres are necessary onely where they are iust, and iust onely in case of defence First, of our liues, secondly, of our right, and lastly, of our honour. As for enlargement of Empire, or hope of gaine, they haue beene held iust causes of warre by such onely, as preferre the Law of [Page 302] State before the Law of God. But this warre against the Germans, was to defend the reputation of the Romane Empire, and was necessary, not for the curiositie alone, and nicenesse, that great Personages haue alwayes had, in point of ho­nour, much more great States, and most of all that of Rome, but also for the reall and substantiall dam­mage (for some man might ac­count the other but a shadow) that might ensue vpon the neglecting of such shaddowes. For oftentimes Kingdomes are better strengthned and defended by military reputati­on, then they are by the power of their Armies. For there is no man that doth an iniury to another, and scapeth with it, but will attribute his impunity to want of power in his aduersary, (for there be few that [Page 303] want wil to reuenge disgraces) and thereby be the more emboldned to doe him another, and so another, as long as they may patiently bee endured; whereas, when they deale with one whose sword is out at e­uery contempt, they will bee very wary not to doe him wrong. And besides this, Augustus might finde commoditie in this warre, by em­ploying therein the great & actiue spirits, which else might haue made themselues worke at home, to the preiudice of his authoritie.

[Domires tranquillae. Eadem Ma­gistratuum vocabula. Iuniores post Actiacam victoriam, etiam senes in­ter bella ciuium nati. Quotusquis (que) qui Rempublicam vidisset? In the Citie all was in quietnesse, the same names of Magistrates. The yonger sort were all born after the victory at Actium, [Page 304] and euen the old men in the time of the ciuill warre. How few were left that had seene the Commonwealth?] After the violent stormes of ciuil warres, succeedeth now the calme of Au­gustus his gouernment. For it fareth with the body of a whole State, as it doth with the body of one man, that when a Feuer hath spent the matter, and bilious humour, wher­by it selfe was nourished, the body commeth afterwards to a mode­rate temper. Whatsoeuer might haue caused a desire of returning to their former libertie, and bred a grudging of the old disease, was now remoued. Few remained that had seene the ancient Republique. And there is neuer in men so strong a desire of things they haue not seene, as of those things which they haue. And a mans nature is to stirre [Page 305] more for the recouery of a good, which they once enioyed, then for the acquisition of what they are ig­norant of. As for the longing which might arise in them, through relati­on, and report, they had therein al­so some satisfaction. For where­as they might haue heard of the names of Consuls, Tribunes, Cen­sors, and the like, the same they found also in the present State; though the authoritie of them all, remained onely in Augustus.

[Igitur verso ciuitatis statu, nihil vsquam prisci & integri moris: omnes exuta aequalitate, iussa Principis aspec­tare. So that the State of the Citie be­ing changed, nothing remained of the old, and vncorrupted customes, euery one (equality laid of) attended the commandement of the Prince.] In vi­ta hominum perinde accidit, vt si lu­das [Page 306] tesseris, &c. Terent. It falleth out in a mans life, as in a game at Ta­bles, wherin when one cannot cast that which is the best, hee must mend the matter as well as he can, by good play. The change being now fully settled, and the ancient customes no more hoped for, they finde, that striuing for equality, is not the best of their game, but o­bedience, and waiting on the com­mand of him that had power to raise, or keepe them low at his plea­sure. For though other vertues, espe­cially deepe wisedome, great, and extraordinary valour, be excellent ones vnder any sort of gouern­ment, and chiefly in a free State, (where therefore they thriue best, because they are commonly ac­companied with ambition, and re­warded with honour) yet in the [Page 307] subiect of a Monarch, obedience is the greatest vertue, and those be­fore mentioned as they shall serue more, or lesse vnto that, so to bee had more or lesse in estimation. Therefore they now studie no more the Art of commanding, which had beene heretofore neces­sarie for any Romane Gentleman, when the rule of the whole might come to all of them in their turnes; but apply themselues wholly to the Arts of seruice, vvhereof ob­sequiousnesse is the chiefe, and is so long to bee accounted lau­dable, as it may bee distinguished from Flatterie, and profitable, whi­lest it turne not into tediousnesse

[Nulla in praesens formidine, dum Augustus aetate validus, seque, & domum, & pacem sustentauit. There being at that time no feare of trou­bles [Page 308] as long as Augustus vnde­cayed by age, sustained both himselfe, and his house, and the Publique peace.] Although that the princi­pall strength required, to the ma­naging of an Empire, be that of the minde, yet ability of the body is al­so of such necessitie, that without it a Prince runneth the danger of suf­fering many disorders that hee would else remedy. The cause here­of is obuious to euery man, name­ly, that when for weaknesse of age, or want of health, hee cannot be present at the consultations of those he vseth in matters of estate, hee must bee forced to relye on the relations of diuers, and so bee subiect to distraction, or else whol­ly trust vnto some one, & become lyable to abuse. And in the meane time euery great man, hoping to [Page 309] make his priuate benefit out of the publike remissnes, seuerally oppres­seth the cōmon people, & withall, keep off their complaints from the Princes care; and thereby draw on the danger of sedition & rebellion.

[Postquam prouecta iam senectus, aegro & corpore fatigabatur, aderat (que) finis & spes nouae: pauci bona liber­tatis incassum disserere, plures bellum pauescere, alij cupere, pars multo max­ima imminentes dominos varijs rumo­ribus differebant. But now that hee was growne very aged, and wearied with his sickly body, and that his end and new hopes were neere at hand: some few there were that discoursed in vaine of the commodities of liberty, more feared warre, some desired it, but the greatest number by farre, with diuersity of rumors did descant on those that were to bee their next [Page 310] Lords.] When a Prince draweth neere to his end the peoples minds are all set vpon new hopes, and discourse of nothing that is present, but onely of what is in expectancy. The reason hereof is this, the hopes of Subiects being much built vpon the life of their Prince: whē he dyes, they are of necessity to begin a­gaine, and lay their foundation a­new in the next. Augustus there­fore being ready to leaue his room to another, there could not choose but bee much discourse of the pro­bability of the succeeder. One of these three was of necessity to come in place: Liberty, Ciuill warre, or a new Monarch. If ano­ther Monarch then either Agrippa, or Tiberius. For Liberty they had no hope at all, but yet that was also talked of: for men haue generally [Page 311] this infirmity, that when they would fall into consideration of their hopes; they mistake, and en­ter into a fruitlesse discourse of their wishes; such impression doe plea­sing things make in mans imagi­nation. As for warre, it was both feared, and desired by many, ac­cording as their fortunes required it; for without doubt, those whose estates were whole, would bee a­fraid, though such as had not a for­tune able to sustaine their inordi­nate expence, thereby to seaze the wealth of other men, would much wish for it. Lastly, touching a Mo­narch, as it was most credible to come to passe; so which of the two it should be, was now become the cōmon talke of the greatest part of men, who censuring their persons, gathered arguments thence of their [Page 312] succession, and of the wel-fare of the estate vnder them; and vsed li­berty in their speech of them, more boldly (though neuerthelesse pri­uately) then in the times that came next after, they could safely haue done. Thus farre the state of those times, wherein Augustus was come to the last Scene, and ready to quit the Stage of this great Em­pire. And now Tacitus comes to the opinion conceiued of those that were next to enter.

7 [Trucem Agrippam, at (que) ignomi­nia accensum, non aetate, ne (que) rerum experientia tantae moli parem. That Agrippa was cruell, and kindled with his disgrace, and neither of age, nor experience sufficient for so great a burthen.] By the weight of these censures, I should hardly thinke they proceeded from the common [Page 313] people, but rather that they sprung out of the Authors owne medita­tion, or else that he means by [pars multo maxima] the greatest part of the Nobility, and men of know­ledge in great affaires. Age and experience are necessary for the go­uernment of a great Empire; there­fore the want of these in Agrippa, was of much importance against him; so also was the fiercenesse of his disposition, the absence of which fault is more desired by sub­iects in their Prince, then of any o­ther vice whatsoeuer, that concer­neth onely morality. But that o­ther note giuen to Agrippa, that hee was ignominia accensus, is a farre greater exception against him then all the rest. The great men had most of them no doubt approued his banishment, and he liued there­by [Page 314] in contempt of them all; so that he could not choose but hold him­selfe generally iniuried, though his ignominie proceeded but from a few: and opinion of contempt is a frequent cause of cruelty and ty­ranny. If now therefore they had chosen him for their Prince, they had then giuen him full power to make his reuenge according to his owne cruell inclination, and done contrary to the custome of hu­mane nature; for men more wil­lingly trust him with their liues and fortunes, that hath done them iniury, then one that hath beene or holds himselfe iniuried by them: for from these they can expect no­thing but reuenge, from the other they may hope for amends. But this is not alwayes the best course, considering on the other side ano­ther [Page 315] generall disposition of man­kinde, which is apter to remit to such as are vnder their power an in­iury receiued, then to make satis­facton to them for one committed; because for the first they shall haue thanks, and the second is held but for a debt.

After the censure of Agrippa, fal­leth in that of Tiberius. [Tiberium Neronem maturum annis, spectatum bello, sed vetere at (que) insita Claudiae familiae superbia, multa (que) inditia saeui­tiae, quanquam premantur erumpere. That Tiberiꝰ Nero was of ripe years, and of reputation in the warres, but he had in him the old & hereditary pride of the Claudiā family, & many signes of cruelty brake forth in him, though he stroue to smother them] Ability to gouerne is not all that is to be wisht for in a Gouernour; Tiberius was [Page 316] heere thought too able, that is, like­ly to hold the reynes of gouern­mēt too hard, especially ouer a peo­ple so lately weaned from liberty: for such are euer more sensible of e­uery restraint and pressure of Mo­narchicall rule, then others are that haue beene so accustomed. There are not two more tyrannicall qua­lities in the world then pride and cruelty; whereof the former impo­seth intolerable commands, & the later exacteth immoderate punish­ments. They argued Tiberius his pride both from his ancestors and education, and of cruelty himselfe made demonstration. Men deriue their vertues and vices from their ancestors two wayes; either by na­ture or imitation. By the former are deriued all that depend on the tem­per of the body; the rest are by imi­tation, [Page 317] and do seldome faile. For the reuerence that naturally men doe beare to the qualities of their ances­tors, begetteth a liuely imitation of thē, in their posterity. And so pride may passe thorow a Stock by imi­tation, not that men would imitate that, but by error vnder the name of Magnanimity. Then for his cru­elty, by how much the more he en­deuoured to hide it, and could not, by so much the more it was feared and abhorred in him. For a passion that can be mastered, is nothing so dangerous as one that cānot; especi­ally in Tiberiꝰ, that knew best of all men how to dissemble his vices. Those things that Tiberius would dissemble, were euil, and those euils he could not dissemble, were great ones; therefore for such cruelty as himselfe was not able to couer, hee [Page 318] was iustly to be feared. And yet it is no easie thing to dissemble ones vi­ces, I mean, if the dissimulatiō must be of long cōtinuance; for, for once a man may ouercome the most vi­olent passion that euer was: but dif­ficile fictam ferre personam diu. Seneca Trag.

[Hunc & prima ab infantia eductū in domo regnatrice; congestos iuueni consulatus, triumphos. That the same man was brought vp from his infan­cy in the house of Soueraignty; that be had Cōsulships, & triumphs heaped on him while he was yet but a youth.] This is another argument of the haughtines of Tiberius, drawn from his education Honors somtimes be of great power, to change a mans manners and behauiour into the worse, because men cōmonly mea­sure their own vertues, rather by the acceptance that their persons find in [Page 319] the world, them by the iudgement w^ch their own cōscience maketh of thē, & neuer do, or think they neuer need to examine, those things in thēselues, w^ch hath once found ap­probation abroad, and for w^ch they haue receiued honor. Also honor many times cōfirmeth in men that intention wherwith they did those things w^ch gained honor; w^ch inten­tiō is as often vicious as vertuous. For there is almost no ciuil action, but may proceed as well frō euill as frō good; they are the circūstances of it (w^ch be onely in the mind, and cōsequently not seen & honoured) that make vertue. Out of all these things, I suppose, may be gathered, that honor nourisheth in light and vain men a wrong opinion of their own worth, & consequently, often changeth their manners into the [Page 320] worse, but especially that it encrea­seth their pride & insolence. As for his educatiō in a house of souerain­ty, that might put into the heads of these censuring subiects thus much: (for certainly they liked neuer a iot the better of Tiberiꝰ for hauing bin brought vp in so high a Schoole of soueraignty as the house of Augu­stus) First, that what seeds soeuer of haughtines and pride were in him hereditary, and w^ch he possessed by vertue of his bloud, were now also through long custome sprung vp, & wanted but the season of reign­ing to bring forth their vnpleasant fruit. Secondly, that hauing by ex­perience, vnder so learned a master in the Art of gouernment beene taught how to hold them vnder as much as himselfe should please, they could not looke for any re­missenesse [Page 321] to proceede from want of knowledge how to keepe them low, and consequently were sure to find his gouernment euery way vneasie.

[Neijs quidē annis quibꝰ Rhodi spe­cie secessꝰ exulem egerit, aliquid quam iram, & simulationem, & secretas libi­dines meditatum. Neither those yeeres that he liued vnder colour of retiremēt in exile at Rhodes, did he meditate a­nything but wrath, dissimulation, & se­cret lust.] It is reported of Tiberius, that at the first hee trauelled volun­tarily to Rhodes, but being there, he was cōmanded to stay. Howsoeuer it was, he obtained the fairename of retirement, to couer the ignominy of banishment. A man would per­haps thinke, that aduersity should rather quench, or at least asswage those passions, which haue their life [Page 322] especially from great prosperity, as wrath, & dissimulation, & lust. And so it doth, when the aduersitie is so great, that the hope is lost of redu­cing their meditations into act. But otherwise it worketh a cleane con­trary effect. For wheras anger com­monly dyeth, where reuenge is des­paired of; dissembling is laid aside, where the labor of it is vain; & ima­ginations of lust diminish, where they can neuer be accōplished; whē aduersity is but such as they expect to ouercom, it often falleth out, that the hope w^ch nourisheth such ima­ginations is enflamed thereby, and men please their vicious fancies for the present, with the cōceit of what they wil execute with effect hereaf­ter, when they shal haue the power. This was the case of Tiberius, and a cause of feare, & cēsure in those that [Page 323] were to liue in subiectiō vnder him. [Accedere matrem muliebri impoten­tiâ: seruiendū foeminae, & duobꝰ insu­per adolescentibꝰ, qui Remp. interim premant, quando (que) distrahant. That besides this, there was his mother offe­minine impotence: that they were to serue a woman & two yong men, that would for the present oppresse the Com­monwealth, & might hereafter rend it.] Next to the person of Tiberius, they considered in him those of his Fa­mily, that would also looke for ser­uice, and obedience at their hands, namely, his Mother & two sonnes: Germanicus by adoption, and his owne naturall sonne, and thought them no small grieuance to the Commonwealth. For it is a hard matter to serue and please well one Master: but to please two, or more, when there is, or may be, betwixt [Page 324] them competition, or iealousie (lea­uing out that one of them, is a wo­man) is altogether impossible. The cause hereof is not, because the di­ligence and dexterity of a man can­not suffice for the quantity of ser­uice, but because the quality of it will not permit: for the seruice that the one will expect from you, is most times this, That you displease the other. And this proceeds from the emulatiō of those that are in the way to autority, that oftē labor not so much to outrunne each other in the course, as they do to trip vp one anothers heeles. And the same emu­lation, when they once draw neere the races end, makes them snatch at the prize, and fall to violence, and warre, and to distract, and draw the Cōmonwealth into facti­on and sedition.

IN the sight of any place there bee two especial Obiects, An­tiquitie, and Great­nesse; both which none can sooner challenge then Rome: in the very beginning no­ted for Soueraignty. The continu­ance of which, in such diuersity of gouernments, as Kings, Consuls, Tribunes, Dictators, Emperors, can­not but shew a diuine power; for [Page 326] otherwise so many changes might in all likelihood haue bred confu­sion, and so consequently suppres­sed their rising to so great an Em­pire: which as the last, so it may be truely stiled the greatest that yet the world euer knew, or heard of; obtained onely by the valour of this one Citie, no Commander, and for a long time no Souldier, that came not out from thence. So that it may bee said, the people of this one place, made themselues masters of the rest. Wherevpon they might haue iust cause to e­steeme Orbem in vrbe, the world confined in their Citie.

In the height of whose Imperi­ality, which was in Augustus raigne, Christ came into the world. This as then the chiefe Commandresse of the whole, was the place where [Page 327] holinesse, and religion, aymed to haue their principall plantation; where, during the time of the infi­delity of the Emperours, till Con­stantine the great, who was the first that maintained the faith, it is infi­nite to comprehend the tyranni­zing ouer Christians, the mar­tyrdomes they endured, so ma­ny, that it is hard to name any who sealed not his faith with his bloud.

But now Constantine was con­uerted, to see the ill effects so good a cause produced, cannot but breed admiration. For the Ambition of the Bishops of Rome made this their first step to greatnesse, and subuer­sion of the Empire. How grounded vpon this donation, I cannot ima­gine, nor I thinke they yet well de­fend: but this was the true Origi­nall, [Page 328] by which in succession of time the Empire was translated. The zeale of this, and some succeeding Emperours, was so well taken hold of by the Prelates of Rome, that by degrees they assumed more authority to themselues then was due; the other in a manner before they were aware, losing all at Rome but the title. From which preten­ded power, the Popes now take to themselues supremacie in all causes, through all Kingdomes in the world, and those which were before, their superiours, to bee as it were subiect, and created by them that were their creatures. Which shewes a great contrariety to the pretended arguments of Romanists, for superiority, and rather may bee returned vpon them, that this their greatnesse hath more risen by en­croachment, [Page 329] then right. Why there­fore Princes haue beene so blinded with their pretences for greatnesse, I cannot tell wherevnto to attri­bute it, except to the fate of this place, that hath euer beene, or aymed to bee the Mistris of the world. First, by their wisedome and power, and then vnder co­lour of Religion and Saint Peters Keyes.

And now to the description of Rome, as I saw it. In which I will neither goe beyond mine owne knowledge, and fly to the reports of others, nor yet so strictly tye my selfe to a bare description, but that I may vpon the occasions of those particulars I saw, set downe my obseruations, and the conceits I then had; which consist, first, in the situation. Secondly, the Eth­nicke [Page 330] Antiquities. Thirdly, the Christian Monuments. Fourthly, the moderne Buildings, Gardens, Fountaines, &c. Fiftly, the Col­ledges, Churches, and Religious Houses. Sixtly, the present strength of the City and Pope, with the de­scription of his and the Cardinalls Magnificence. And lastly, the safe­ty and danger for an English man to trauell to Rome.

1 If you obserue the situation, it stands in a place that could neither afford pleasure nor profit to the dwellers, other then that which is forced. Though not so seated, as it may bee said to stand in the Ap­penine, yet amongst those Moun­taines. All the Country about is so barren, except some little, neere the City, which is by labour brought to fertility, that the wildest Forrest [Page 331] of England may be esteemed good ground, in respect of this. In some places heereabout, I saw where corne had beene gathered, but by the stubble might perceiue had beene so thinne, that a man would thinke one stalke had beene afraid of another. The wayes thereabout both comming downe the Appe­nine to Rome, and from thence to­ward Naples, so vnpassable for a Coach, that a man may think him­selfe well blest, if hee breake not his necke from horsebacke.

The sight of this so miserable a Country, wonderfully distracted my thoughts, to thinke how the inhabitants of so wilde a place could euer come to such a great­nesse. And from thence proceeded these cogitations. First, that ease and delicacie of life is the bane of [Page 332] noble actions, and wise coun­sels. A man that is delighted, and whose affections bee taken with the place wherein hee liues, is most commonly vnapt, or vn­willing to bee drawne to any change, and so consequently vn­fit for any enterprise, that may ei­ther aduance his owne honour, or the good of his Country. Any actions that reach farther then their owne priuate contents, in their estimation bee needlesse and vnprofitable Labours. And it hath many times happened, that whilst men liue in this Lethar­gie, that Countries, Cities, their owne fortunes and all, haue beene lost through their negli­gence.

Againe, a life of pleasure doth so besot and benumme the [Page 333] sences, and so farre effeminate the spirits of men, that though they bee naturally prone to an actiue life, yet custome hath brought them to such a ha­bit, that they apprehend not a­ny thing farther then the com­passe of their owne affections; thinke nothing beyond their pre­sent enioyments. A strange Epi­curean opinion, that men, who were borne to haue dominion o­uer all creatures; should be now subiect to them, and vnder their rule. A meere inuersion of the prime ordinance.

From this consideration I decli­ned to the contrary, that a place of hardnesse, and a life exercised in ac­tions of valour and not idlenesse, hath euer produced the brauest men, & arriued at the greatest for­tune. [Page 334] Let but the Romane Story be a mirrour to you in this kind, you shall hardly, I thinke, finde in the first times any enterprize of great worth, that the cause of it might not be drawne from this head. For their first pouerty, being men brought to this place by fortune, and rather by forced, then desired election, not knowing where else to settle, in despight of want, their ambitions put them forward; first, to encroach vpon their neigh­bours, and then, as their fortunes were enlarged, to goe on in acti­ons of greater consequence and more difficulty. Being a race of such men, as could not con­fine and limit themselues to one place, but successiuely from fa­ther to sonne, you shall scarce reade of any, that was not ei­ther [Page 335] a man of action or directi­on, though some peraduenture naturally vnapt for the one, yet exquisite in the other: and abilitie to giue counsell, is at least, not infe­riour to the former.

To prepare a man fit for both, nothing so much preuailes, as a hard and weary life, such an agita­tion as will not permit idlenesse, nor the minde to settle too much vpon priuate ends, which being so, could neuer be aptly applyed for Publique. Besides, a continuall working of the mind, which in an actiue spirit, will still grow and la­bour in production of good ef­fects, if it should be suffered to rest, would soone degenerate. For if a man giue ouer himselfe to an easefull life, the sharpnesse of his sences will be dulled, and grow re­tyred, [Page 336] applying himselfe to his owne contents, and then, can neuer haue sufficiency, nor will to pre­uaile for the publique, once being confined to his own particular in­terest, and looking no further. Ma­ny men are naturally giuen to such a life, and some by accident fall in­to it, but certainly their memory dyes with them: for no man is borne onely for himselfe. This is so well knowne, that I will not seeke farther to illustrate it.

A third consideration that came into my minde, at the sight of the place, was to wonder at a sort of men (but either ignorant, or mali­cious) who from the spirit of de­traction thinke to calumniate, the valours, and vertues of men, in dis­gracing their Country for barren­nesse, for pouerty, or the like. These [Page 337] men, if they had euer seene this place, and known the story, would neuer haue imagined this a good argument. Cannot vertue and po­uertie be together? cannot an vn­fruitfull Country yeeld men full of worthinesse, and Valour? a strange marke of an enuious dispo­sition, to taxe the mens vertues, for the vnpleasantnesse of the soyle; as if vertue and plenty could not bee seuered, or that of necessity a hard Country must produce soft and ignoble spirits: but if they would truely looke into themselues, they could not choose but see a won­derfull imperfection, and igno­rance, who iudge vertue by means, and men by places. If Noble and worthy Spirits had consisted in these outward respects, the men of this place would haue beene won­derfull [Page 338] ignominious; but you may plainely see, by the example of them, that a poore and hard life, a desolate, and almost vninhabitable place, brought forth such men, and they performed such actions, as in this age (we are most of vs so much degenerate) we can hardly heare of without incredulitie. So I wil leaue the place it selfe, and speake of the Country about it.

Not farre distant from the Citie, is the Mediterranean Sea, and the principall Port now is Ciuita vec­chia, where since the Church hath had dominion, the Nauy is very small, and chiefely consists of Gal­lies. But certainly, this was a great helpe, in the time of the ancient Ro­manes, as well to encrease their do­minion, as to fortifie themselues a­gainst forraine inuasions: for by [Page 339] this meanes men were more easi­ly, and with lesse charge transpor­ted to those parts of Africa, and Greece, where they made great conquests, which otherwise could neuer haue been compassed, and they themselues much strengthe­ned against all enemies that could come from those parts, seeing it a matter of great difficultie to sur­prize, or take any place, that hath so good a defence as the Sea. And to a people who bee strong, and of great power, it is not difficult to de­fend themselues from the enter­prize of any assaylers; and experi­ence hath euer shewn, it is harder to conquer Ilands & places well fen­ced with the Sea, thē the Continent.

Thus much for this, and now I will confine my selfe within the walles, which bee the ancient ones, [Page 340] adorned in former times with ma­ny towers, but now the most de­cayed, and not very many left. The Riuer Tyber runnes thorow the towne, and within this compasse are those seuen Hilles so famously knowne, all of one side the Riuer, vpon which old Rome was built. And still there bee some Palaces on them; but the Citie, as it is now, is more built in those spaces, as Campus Martius, &c. which be­fore were left vacant.

2 But I will now take a view of the ancient Antiquities; and first, of the famous Capitoll vpon one of the seuen Hils, called Mons Capitolinus, whereof almost nothing remaines but the memory. The place where the Senate sate, is now plaine, and couered with earth, onely some steps you may see where they went [Page 341] down, & it is said to haue been fra­med in the form of a Cock-pit. The houses now about the Capitol are assigned for the place of Iustice. Three seuerall ascents there be by staires vnto it; and I haue heard those Romanes, who are descended from the Ancient, doe (though at any price) desire to haue their dwel­ling hereabouts. The principall of them bee of the Scipioni, and the Camilli. From this place Nero made a Gallery to his Palace vpon Mons Palatinus, whereof there is now nothing remaining, but some few Pillars which bore it vp, very great ones, and of Marble. This place is adorned with many choise Statues, both in the open place, and buildings about it. In the opē place you shall see a Statue, lying vpon a Marble stone in a fountaine, called [Page 342] Marforius, (Pasquins Intelligen­cer.) There is also the Statue of Marcus Aurelius in brasse, and vp­on horsebacke, not anciently here, but remoued hither from a more obscure place, by Paulꝰ III. P. M. Besides, there is the Statue of a wo­man Comedian, represented as if she were speaking, and two Audi­tors listning vnto her, so liuely ex­pressed, that a man not instructed, may easily know they were made for this representation. In the buil­dings there be also many principall Statues, as one of a Scolding Woman, so well done, as it would almost feare one to looke on it. A Hercu­les in Brasse. Iulius and Augustus Caesar in Marble. Romulus and Rhe­mus sucking a Wolfe, in Brasse. Quintus Curtius on horsebacke, in Brasse, and Iupiter in Marble. Of [Page 343] Romulus and Rhemus sucking a Wolfe there be many in Rome, and not defaced, being euer left by them that sacked it, to put the peo­ple in minde of their base begin­ning. But it seemes, in this respect, they neuer thought the worse of themselues, seeing they haue in so many publike places made repre­sentation of this. There is besides, the Statue of Nero's Mother, wher­in her countenance of sorrow is expressed, when the newes of her sonnes vnnaturalnes meant to her was told. There is another in brasse, of a Boy, taking a thorne out of his foot, looking so earnestly, & pitifully, that a man would thinke he had some sense of paine. There be in this place many other Anti­quities of this kinde, which to a­uoid prolixity, I omit to name.

Descending from the Capitol, there be three or foure Triumphant Arches dedicated to the honour of Emperours, as to Augustus Caesar and Constantine, where be engra­uen their principall Acts, & victo­ries: but the most remarkeable of these, is Vespasians erected vpon his returne from Ierusalem, where you shall see the ouercomming of the Citie, liuely set forth, and the holy things which hee brought away from thence in triumph, as the Candlesticks and the rest singularly expressed. Here is also the great Amphitheater, but now extreme­ly ruinate, where the most pub­lique shewes and sports were vsu­ally shewne. Vpon Mons Pala­tinus, where Nero's magnificent house was built, there is nothing to be seene but decayes, and now [Page 345] employed to a Vineyard, which is bestowed vpon the English Col­ledge. At the foot of the farther part of this hill is the place, where, vpon great Feasts, the Nauall Battailes were wont to be presented. Not far from thence is the Pantheon or Rotonda, in Campo Martio, a place built round and high: at the en­trance are many Marble pillars of great thicknesse, and height, hauing one onely light in the top like a Louuer. This anciently was a Tem­ple dedicated to all the Gods, and now conuerted to the honour of all Saints. The two Pillars that be erected as Triumphs to Traian and Antoninus, are of a great height, and exquisitely engrauen vpon the sides, with their acts and vic­tories. Vpon the toppe of Tra­ians, his ashes are said to bee in a [Page 346] ball of gold. In the house of Al­fonso Suderetti, is the place where Caesar made his Tombe, whereof now almost nothing remaineth but the ruines: this he purposed not onely for himselfe, but his Family; it is a great compasse, built round, and some old pieces of the Tombe yet remaine. In many places of this Citie, there are to bee seene the ruines of the ancient Emperours Baths; amongst which, the most principall are those of Dioclesian, of a wonderfull great compasse. Vpon this, it is said, that for twelue yeres together, multitudes of Chri­stians were condemned to conti­nuall working. Some part of it now is conuerted to a Church and Monasterie. Without Porta Pincia­na, there is the Temple of Bacchus, which stands vpon Marble pillars, [Page 347] and it is a faire Rotonda. Here his Sepulcher is set about with pillars, and the tombe it selfe is of Por­phyry curiously grauen. This tem­ple, is now diuided into two parts, and dedicated to two Saints, Saint Agnes and Saint Constanza, whose bodies haue beene there lately found, and that of Saint Agnes is said to be vncorrupt. This Temple was of late all couered with earth, and but newly discouered. By Por­ta Ostia there is a Tombe of one Cestius an Aedile, which was an an­cient office amongst the Romanes, principally to looke to burialls. This is built in manner of a Pyra­mis, all of great and broad Mar­ble, halfe in the wall and halfe out. In many places there be Pyramides set vp, which are said long since to be brought out of Aegypt: of these [Page 348] you shall see at Santa Maria Mag­giore, Saint Peters, and other places. There is moreouer no house of a­ny worth, that is not replenished with infinite numbers of ancient Statues; so that a man might think, in respect of the number, that in ancient time the inhabitants were employed about nothing else. Courts, Galleries, euery roome is adorned with them, and in many roomes heaped one vpon another, there bee so many. And yet, for all this multitude, it is a strange thing to see at what inestimable prices they hold euery one of them; nay, it is almost an im­possibility, by any meanes, or for any money to get one of them away, they hold them in so great estimation. Neuerthelesse, euery day amongst their Vineyards, and [Page 349] in the ruines of old Rome, they finde more, which, in whose ground soeuer they be found, at a certaine price, doe now belong to the Popes, who distribute them in their own Palaces, to their fa­uorites or kinsmen, and somtimes as presents to Princes. And this is the cause that the houscs of such as haue beene Nephewes or fauorites of the Popes; bee best furnished with these orna­ments.

If a man should make an exact relation of the Anticaglie in this kinde, he must haue seuen yeares time to view, and two mens liues to write them. But for a tast and so away. At the Popes Palace, at Saint Peters, the Statues of Commodus and Antoninus, the Statue of Laocoon, which is written of by Virgil in the [Page 350] second booke of his Aeneads; and they say that his very seeing of that Statue, was the cause of those ver­ses: the Statue of Apollo: and in the middest of this place the thigh of a man done in Marble, which the best workmen haue iudged ad­mirable in the true proportions; and they say that Michael Angelo stood two dayes by it in contem­plation, and the artifice was so ex­cellent, and beyond his apprehensi­on, that he had like to haue gone mad with the consideration of it. In this place there bee many more Antiquities, the great Pine Apple of brasse, wherein were found A­drians ashes. At the Popes other Palace vpon Mons Quirinalis, be­fore the Gate, there be two other Statues done in full proportion, of Alexander, taming Bucephalus, [Page 351] made by those two famous men Phydias and Praxiteles, one in e­mulation of the other. And from these two Statues being set heere, this place is called Monte Caualli. In the Garden of Cardinall Borghese without Porta Pinciana, there is a Tombe which is said to be Alexan­ders. In the Palace of Cardinall Fernese, amongst an infinite num­ber of other Antiquities, there be the Statues of the twelue first Em­perours, two Tables of the Greci­ans Lawes, which the Romanes brought from thence, one of the gods which is said to haue giuen answers in the Pantheon, a Statue of the two sonnes of a King of Thebes, after the death of their fa­ther, tying his Concubine to a Bull, in reuenge of those wrongs shee had done their mother, (this [Page 352] Story is said to bee related by Pro­pertius and Pliny) brought to this City by the ancient Romans out of Rhodes, found in the time of Pau­lus, III. of the Fernesian family, and by him left as a relique to this house. Heere are besides the an­cient Statues of the Horatij and Curiatij, & such another of Neroes Mother as I haue mentioned to be in the Capitoll, but better expressed. In one of the Palaces of Cardinall Borghese, which in former times hath beene the Kings of England, and giuen by Henry the 8. to Car­dinall Campeio, at his being heere; now enriched by the best hands of Painters, and the most ancient Sta­tues: you shall see amongst the rest a Gladiatore (or Fencer) admira­bly described in Marble, and a Sta­tue of Seneca in brasse, bleeding in [Page 353] his bath to death, with whom this part also of the Romane Antiquities shall dye.

Now from these ancient ruines of Temples, Trophies, Statues, Ar­ches, Columnes Pyramides, & the rest, there would be required in a curi­ous pen a particular obseruatiō, but I will only prescribe vnto my selfe some generall notes. How venera­ble Antiquities both bee and haue been in all mens esteem, is so gene­rally known and receiued, as I will not enter into a Laudatory there­of, further then to shew the sin­gular vse and profit that may bee gathered from the knowledge of them.

First, they much illustrate Story, and in some cases illuminate the vnderstanding of the Reader, and serue as a confirmation of that he [Page 354] hath read. When actions of note bee registred, the bare after-rea­ding of them, without seeing the place whence they proceeded, is by many men not so constantly retained in memory. For euery man knowes, that if in reading an History (onely by a Mappe) the place bee obserued as well as the action, ones iudgement is better strengthened, and consequently much more when a man sees that which others haue but by descrip­tion. They that haue read of Antoninus, Traian, and Vespasian, and finde their acts which they haue read, engrauen in Arches, Pil­lers, and the like, it is hard to ex­presse what credit they giue to the History, and satisfaction to the Reader. And if in this respect, a­ny place in the world deserue see­ing, [Page 355] none can sooner claime it then Rome.

Secondly, the ancient Statues of the Romanes, do strangely immor­talize their fame; and it is certaine that the men of those times were infinitely ambitious, to haue their memories in this kind, recorded; & such was the benignity of that peo­ple, that they willingly yeelded to honour their acts, by publique ex­pression, and in a kind, to Deifie the persons of their worthiest men, w^ch industry of theirs may bee ga­thered by the numbers of Statues of Cicero, Seneca, Brutus, Cassius, the Horatij, and Curiatij, Cato, and ma­ny more, whose vertue, more then their greatnesse, made them fa­mous. Otherwise if I had onely seen the Statues of the most power­full men, and ancient Emperours, I [Page 356] should haue thought there had been in those times as great Time-seruers, as there be now, where power & authority is more estee­med of, then vertue, or valour. Yet I think, if euer men of any place, in any time desired to haue their names and actions to continue to Posterity, not knowing any farther immortalitie, these were they, and this one consideration produced better effects of vertue and valour, then Religion, and all other res­pects doe in our dayes. Certainly, therefore, if they had been as well instructed in Diuine, as Morall precepts, no man of any age had euer exceeded them.

Thirdly, the multitude and ri­ches of these Statues, and other An­tiquities, do wonderfully argue the magnificence of those times, wher­in [Page 357] they haue exceeded all that went before, or followed after them; and yet this sumptuousnesse nothing diuerted their minds from a generous and actiue life, but ra­ther instigated them; which now we most commonly finde contrary. For greatnesse and good­nesse doe not alwayes agree toge­ther.

Fourthly, the Architecture of many ancient Temples, and Sta­tues, is so singular and rare, that they that euer since haue beene e­steemed the best, durst neuer as­sume, or vndertake, to equalize them in that kinde of singularitie, especially of the Statues, which are so done, that neuer any could come neere the originall for exquisite­nesse in taking the Copie: so that a man cannot but gather, that in this [Page 358] place, and those times, there were conioyned all singularities toge­ther, best workmen, best wits, best Souldiers, and so in euery kinde Superlatiue.

But it may be there are some, who will drawe ill conclusions from these Antiquities, either tend­ing to Atheisme, or Superstition. For Atheisme thus. If men desire to im­mortalize their memories in this kind after their death, it may seeme the onely happinesse (being dead) they can expect, is by this meanes to continue their fame for those acts which liuing they performed, and haue thought of no other im­mortalitie then this sort of conti­nuing their memory: and this may seeme to be the end of such as in these moderne times make Monu­ments, or haue left order for some [Page 359] to be erected after their death in their memory.

To this I will not deny, but that these peraduenture might bee the farthest ends the Romanes aymed at. But amongst vs the erection of them is free from the corruption. For first, where the end is out of a religious care to constitute some place for our bodies to remaine in, till the day of the general account, I cannot see what more blame can bee ascribed to any, for adorning these, then their habitations whi­lest they liue. And besides, in re­spect that these bee vsually set in publique places, which is an orna­ment to them, they are therefore the more allowable. Again, in res­pect of the benefit and vse to such as liue, they be not vnnecessarie; for if they be of such, whose ver­tues [Page 360] haue deserued perpetuity in our memory, they breed a kinde of emulation to imitate; if otherwise, their liues haue deserued cōtempt, it is an expression of Gods iustice, who hath suffered such men, who haue liued scandalously all their liues, so farre to bee blinded, that they perpetuate their shame to po­steritie, and by such mens Monu­ments, those who haue heard of their vices, seeke to auoid them.

Againe, there be others, who to set a glosse vpon their Atheisticall o­pinions, argue thus. If the Romans of that time, who were euer repu­ted men of most acute iudgement, and reuerenced for their grauity, & vnderstanding, thought their chie­fest happinesse after death to con­sist in those outward respects, why should it bee thought in this de­clining [Page 361] age of the world, where men for learning, and height of wit, come short of those which preceded, that we should find new wayes of immortalitie, which the elder world neuer dreamt of, and charge those who haue euer beene so much esteemed for their wise­dom, with so grosse an ignorance? To this it may be answered: First, that these Romanes had some sence of the immortality of the soule, but in what maner, & way, being only guided by naturall reason & lear­ning, they were vtterly ignorant. For there is none but the foole that hath said in his heart, that there is no God. Again, it is not all the learning or wit of man, can find out the my­stery of true religion, without Gods blessing, & holy Spirit to assist thē. But to such as these, who are onely [Page 362] learned in naturall sciences, and had no inspiration from aboue: how can they but (as the Apostle saith) count the manifestation of Re­ligion foolishnesse? So that this argu­ment must bee no derogation to the truth of Religion, for that lear­ned men heretofore vnderstood it not.

For the other errour that may be drawne from these Antiquities, enclining to Superstition, which may be defined to be a Religion ex­ercised in false worship. In those times, these durable Monuments tended that way: for either men were so ambitious to expect Deifi­cation, or people so foolish to giue it them, ascribing miraculous o­peration to their dead Images. Which errour needs no confu­tation: for all men see the Ar­rogance [Page 363] of them that desired, and simplicity of such as gaue be­leefe to these vaine imaginations. And yet I cannot but admire at the strange blindnesse of such, who in this cleere Sun-shine of Christianity, haue such a mist be­fore their eyes (imaginary not reall) that they will still turne the image of the incorruptible God, in­to the likenesse of a corruptible man, which in any naturall vn­derstanding, seemes foolish, in a re­ligious, profane. I dare walke no farther in this Labyrinth, for feare of growing too infinite, only this, it is the wonder of the world, that men should bee so farre carried a­way with this Ideotisme, which is both against Reason and Religion.

3 Now in the next place after pro­fane, the religious Antiquities of [Page 364] this place deserues cōsideration, in which, I professe a greater breuity, then in that which is past. Of the seuen Churches, to which men goe vpon extraordinary deuotion, the first is Saint Peters, now in re­edifying, of a great length, with an answerable breadth. You ascend vnto it by many stayres, where, at the first view, is presented the most goodly Facciata, or forefront of the world, supported with ma­ny great pillars of Marble. This Church is very high, and vpon the toppe of the Coppola, or circumfe­rence, is a Ball of brasse, which to them below seems no bigger then an ordinary Bowle, yet is of that capacity, that it will receiue at least forty persons. The inside of this Rotonda within the Church, is most curiously painted with the [Page 365] acts of Christ and his Apostles. The finishing of the high Altar is vndertaken by the King of Spaine. The lower part of this round is a­dorned with Mosaique worke, and the Altar compassed about with those pillars of Marble which are said to haue been in Salomons Tem­ple, they being curiously carued & fashioned in the forme of wreaths. On the left hand in a Chappel where the Chanons sing their Office, is the Statue of our Lady, and Christ in her armes, cut in Marble by the most famous Pain­ter and Statuist in the world, Mi­chael Angelo. Within a vault of this Church be the bodies of Saint Pe­ter and Saint Paul. Heere also bee seuen Chappels resembling the se­uen Churches which be vsually vi­sited. Adioyning to this Church is [Page 366] the Popes Palace of Saint Peters, and from thence a Curridore, or priuate way, to his Castle of Saint Angelo. In this Palace the Consistories vsually assemble, and here is the Conclaue where the Popes be elected. There is also a priuate Chappell of the Popes, where the high Altar is set out by Michael Angeloes curious descrip­tion of the day of Iudgement. Be­sides, in this Palace is the Vatican, or famous Library of the Popes, which consists onely of Manu­scripts, but of great antiquitie, as well prophane, as diuine. Besides, all correspondencies, & matters of State, that are and haue beene be­twixt the Pope and other Princes be here registred. This Palace hath been sundry times enlarged by di­uers Popes.

The second of the seuen Chur­ches is Santa Maria Maggiore, seated vpon one of the seuen Hils, called Mons Esquilinus; vpon which goes this Story, that in the time of the Primitiue Church, there was a vi­sion appeared to a man and his Wife, that very night the same also appearing to the then Bishop of Rome, that presently in that place where that good man and his Wife lay, there should bee a Church built and dedicated to our Lady: and this they say is that Church which was erected for that dreame. This Church is famous for these reliques. The bodies of Saint Mathew, and Saint Ierome, which lye here buried, The Cope of Saint Tho­mas Becket, which he wore at his death, and sprinkled with part [Page 368] of the bloud which hee then lost. And the picture of our Lady drawne, as they say, by Saint Luke. But that which makes this Church now so remarkeable, is the two splendid Chappels, the one built by Sixtus Quintus, where he lyes bu­ried, and the other ouer-against it (but more beautifull) by this Pope Paolo V. where he is to be buried. In that of Sixtus Quintus, there be carued all his Acts, during his Pa­pacy, but especially the expedition of Ferrara, and in the other, be­sides his owne actions, and Statue, the whole Chappell is most richly and curiously painted, the high Altar standing vpon pillars of brasse, inlayd with Agate, and be­sides, in many places adorned with stones of inestimable price. To re­late particularly, the magnificence [Page 369] of both these, would aske a longer Narration then I purpose.

The third of these Churches is Saint Pauls, without the towne, a­bout a myle and a halfe in Via O­stia: here is vnderneath, the grottes or Caues, wherein, as in others a­bout Rome, the Christians in time of persecution were wont to con­ceale themselues, and make their priuate conuentions.

The fourth in this way also, and without the towne, is consecrate to the memory of Saints Sebastian and Fabian. In one of the Altars here made of Marble, and about a foote thicke, you shall see a little hole, in compasse about the bignesse of a twenty shillings piece. Of which there goes this Tale, that a Priest in the celebration of Masse, and at the time of the consecration, had [Page 370] an imagination of the impossibili­ty, how vpon the saying of the words vsed in the consecration, the hoast should be conuerted really into the body of Christ: where­vpon the hoast suddenly and mi­raculously vanished out of his hand, and made this way spe­cified, proportionable to that big­nesse.

The fift without Porta Esquili­na, is that of Saint Lawrence, where his body is interred. This Church was built by Constantine the Great, and those instruments wherewith they were wont to sacrifice Chri­stians, be here to be seene, and more particularly, the Gridiron where­vpon it is said Saint Lawrence was broyled.

The sixt is Santa Croce, one of the principallest Churches of de­uotion, [Page 371] built by Helena, mother to Constantine. The ground vpon which this Church is built, is of the holy earth brought by her from Ierusalem. Amongst other Re­liques, there is a part of the Crosse, from whence it tooke the name, and one of the thornes of that Crowne, which was in derision set vpon our Sauiours head.

Now the last of these is that of Saint Iohn de Lateran, where the Lateran Councell was held. The heads of Saint Peter, and Saint Paul bee heere retained for Reliques. The pillars that support the Altar in this Church, are said to bee brought from Ierusalem to Rome by Vespasian. Heere is the Font where Constantine was baptized by Pope Siluester. Besides, the pillars are thought to haue beene taken [Page 372] out of Pilates house, and that vpon one of them stood that Cocke, which by his twice crowing gaue Peter warning of his sinne. Heere in the Sanctum Sanctorum, (where women cannot enter) is also con­serued the Arke of the old Testa­ment, Aarons Rod, The Sudatorium, which is a Napkin, with which in the way to the Crosse Christ wiping his face, there remained in it his pic­ture, The Table vpon which Christ celebrated his last Supper, and one little Glasse of his Bloud. At the en­trance of this Church bee those Stayres, brought from Ierusalem, by which Christ ascended when hee entred Pylates house, some twen­ty in number, wherevpon dayly many people goe vp, vpon their knees for deuotion, vpon euery one saying a Pater noster, and an Aue [Page 373] Maria, and then kissing it. Some also whip themselues as they goe vp. And this Church was also built by Constantine the Great, at the in­stance of Pope Syluester.

To goe more particularly in the narration of the holy Reliques, and Monuments of Rome, after the de­scription of the seuen Churches, they are so infinite, that I should be too prolixe. This may serue as a­view to the rest, onely I will re­member one strange tale in the Church of San Pietro ad vincula: Saint Peter comming to Rome, was cast in Prison, and bound with a chaine, which after his death was kept as an holy Relique: sometime after this, the chaine wherewith he was bound in his imprisonment at Ierusalem, being by Christians brought to Rome, and into the [Page 374] place where this other was kept, they, as it may seeme, for ioy, being a good distance asunder, leaped to­gether and ioyned themselues, and still remaine so: so was this Church builded in remembrance of that miracle, and herewith I will end this part of my Discourse. Now for my other obseruations, that I ga­ther from these holy Antiquities:

First, I must professe for my selfe, that I am not so credulous, as to tye my beliefe to these miracu­lous reports; nay, I am so far from it, that I esteeme most of them ra­ther fayned then true; yet such is the Artifice of these popish traders, that they are faine to sell their com­modities by this false light, and to set a glosse vpon their Religion, by these and such like Illusions.

So that heere in the next place [Page 375] wee are to consider, how easily men are drawne by circumstan­ces, to thinke they embrace certain­ties, by shadowes to conclude truth, and by outward shew of zeale and Religion, to imbrace im­piety. Such is the flexibility of our nature. And by way of digression there can bee nothing more obser­uable, then the variation of minds, as well as faces. Some haue such stony hearts and leaden heads, that they cannot conceiue (beyond themselues, and nature, as they terme it) any supernaturall, or powerfull gouernment in their life and actions, nor any heauen, be­sides their sensuality. Others so beleeuing, and vncertaine, that euery tale, or imagination cre­ates in their braines a new Cre­ator, and forces a false worship. [Page 376] Such are these which I now speake of. A false miracle preuailes far­ther then the written verity, a Mo­nasticall, and seuere-seeming habit more perswades, then sincerity in life and manners; the representati­on of an image strikes deeper in­to their affections, then that way whereby God hath made himselfe manifest in the Scriptures. So that they are carried away with euery winde: so great is their corruption, so stupid their sences, so monstrous their ignorance.

By this you may see, it is no diffi­cult matter to perswade these mens consciences to ones owne fancy, and to serue ones owne turne. A­lasse, an outward shew of deuo­tion, and a few good words car­ries them into admiration, and to imagine that God is better pleased [Page 377] with ceremony, then truth, with forme then substance. This trade hath beene so long, and this deceit so customary, that many, though otherwise of strong capacities, are blinded with the same ignorance as it were by prescription: but if they would but giue themselues leaue to review the grounds, vpon which they retaine these opinions, and search to the originall from whence they sprung, they would quickly discouer the deceit. But if men will beleeue impossibilities, and for no other reason, but be­cause other men doe so, and their Fathers did so before them; I can thinke no otherwise of such, then as of blind men, who are to follow their leaders, and may be somtimes drawn into the ditch. A man might spin out a long Discourse of such a [Page 378] subiect: but thus much shall serue for this obseruation vpon the Re­ligious antiquities, and Reliques of Rome.

4 Now in order, but very briefe­ly, as before, Antiquities profane, and then Religious were conside­red; so now the present buildings, and pleasures, and next the more moderne houses of Religion be to be discoursed of.

For the first, I will onely for a taste, name some few places, by which you may ghesse the rest. There be in this towne multiplici­ty of Palaces, which for Architec­ture, and curiositie, may compare with any Citie of the world, of which, I will but nominate two. The first is a house newly built by this Pope, at the foote of Monte Quirinale, or Caualli, giuen to his [Page 379] brothers sonne the Prince of Sul­mo (a Principality in the Kingdome of Naples) built round, and stand­ing vpon Pillars of Marble, diuided into three heights, separated by Tarrasses, and euery one standing alike vpon Pillars. The Court, Tarrasses, and particular Cham­bers adorned with antique Statues, many of the roomes being most curiously painted both vpon the top, and sides, and equall roomes in all three heights, both for plea­sure, and vse.

The second is a Palace beyond Porta Pinciana, built by Cardinall Borghese, this Popes Sisters sonne, a house full of pleasure, and spaci­ous, where about the middle, from roome to roome, the doores being open, you may see in a direct line, the whole length of the house, as [Page 380] it were a prospectiue, a kinde of curiositie very much followed in the best buildings of Italy.

Now for houses of pleasure, gar­dens, water-workes and the like; there is that Garden-house (as I may terme it) of Burgheses, neere Monte Quirinale, built in that place where Propertius the Poet liued. This is very pleasant, not many roomes, but three or foure Gar­dens, enriched with diuers Statues, and Fountaines. Then there is that of the Beluedere by Saint Peters, which is the Popes, and another garden rare for Fruits adioyning to it. That Garden of Cardinall Bandinoes, by the Nouiceship of the Iesuites, towards Santa Maria Mag­glore, hath Statues & Fountaines in it, & is all vaulted, the better to take the fresh ayre in the heat of Sum­mer. [Page 381] Then the Garden ioyning to the Popes Palace at Monte Cauallo, is very splendid: but amongst those, and all the other Gardens of Rome, which be most remarkable, those of Montalto, Maffei, and Lan­franke, be the three rarest for plea­sure, beauty, store of banquetting houses, Fountaines, and other deli­cacies, that can adde ornament to such places: and thus much of this diuision.

From hence I obserue, that as mans life ought to bee sustained with those necessities which most vphold it; so there may be an ad­dition of lawfull delights, and pleasures, to comfort and refresh it. For there is no man, or minde, so retyred, but requires some delight, and pleasure: otherwise the sharp­nesse of our apprehension would [Page 382] be tyred, and the progresse of our life, solitarie; it being an impossibi­litie, and Solaecisme in nature, for a man continually to trauell with­out intermixture of recreation, be­cause wee be so subiect, as well in body, as in minde, to variation.

And in this kinde I know few recreatiues that possesse vs more, then the humour of building, in respect they both satisfie our owne present inuention, and serue to our posteritie, as perpetuall remem­brances, and memorials of their progenitors, adding present con­tent to our selues, perpetuating re­putation in the world, remaining as liuing Monuments of our mag­nificence, and beneficent expressi­ons of our greatnesse.

And although munificency in this kinde, be by many esteemed [Page 383] superfluous, I rather hold it con­uenient, so it bee of our aboun­dance, and diminish nothing of the competencie of our estates. If it should doe so, it were too great an argument of our folly, to propose vnnecessary charges. O­therwise these respects might make it allowable.

First, this Art of Architecture is honourable in all mens esteeme, and profitable to our selues. Next, it keepes vs busied in thought, and action, and so diuerts vs from de­lights more dangerous. Then vp­on occasion it enables vs in the vse of fortification. Fourthly, it giues a kinde of extraordinarie delight to our selues, when wee see those things, which before we had but formed in conceit, made visible. Next, it is an addition [Page 384] of repute to the Citie where we liue. And lastly, it makes a mans fame to spread both at home, and abroad.

But to descend more particular­ly to the pleasures of this place, the delicacie of Gardens bee of inesti­mable consideration, where a mans mind may receiue such con­tent, and his eye such diuersitie of obiects, as in nothing more. If a place of delight and pleasure con­tent our minds, it may here be sa­tisfied with the beauty of walkes, sweetnesse and diuersitie of Flow­ers, melody of Birds, and the like. If sometimes a man be enclined to melancholy, the priuacy and soli­tude of this place, the murmuring of the waters, fils vs with a strange kinde of satisfaction. If one would contemplate the wonders of na­ture, [Page 385] here hee may finde all things necessarie, and pleasurable; health­full, or hurtfull for man. If wee be enclined to any serious study, or meditation, here is the place where our thoughts cannot be perturbed, nor diuerted, nor our sences vn­sharpened, because they continu­ally meet with such variation. If you meditate, sit by the fountaine, or walke in the most remote and obscure places. When you would read, or write, then is there Arbors and Banquetting-houses to repose in. And to conclude, if at any time a man would desire to giue him­selfe, & some few of his friends, the height of ciuill entertainment, no place can be more apt then this, e­specially in the heat of Summer, in a Country so subiect to the vio­lence of it as Rome is.

If a man were Poeticall, then this discourse, he could not finde a better field to exercise his wit. The Houses of these places be adorned with many rarities, but especially painting, the praise and excellency whereof is sufficiently knowne; so that I will forbeare the repetition: and thus I conclude this conside­ration.

5 In the next place, the present Colledges, Churches, and religi­ous Houses come in turne, in which of late yeares, those of the Iesuits be of principall reputation, where in their chiefe Church lyes buri­ed their founder Ignatius, and his Tombe is there to be seene. There be besides diuers Churches appro­priate to seuerall nations, as that of Saint Apolinarius, to the Germans, Saint Iames, to the Spaniards, Saint [Page 387] Stanilaus, to the Polackes, a Church dedicated to the holy Trinity, built by Lewis the eleuenth King of France, to the French, and another dedicated to the holy Trinity, for the English.

There is their Colledge, and in the Church be the Tombes of Cardi­nall Allen, and Parsons; vpon the walles wherof be set forth in pain­ting, the Martyrdomes (as they call it) of such as suffered persecution, and death, for their Religion in England. And in this, now amongst the rest are Campian, and Garnet, and the Hangman, and Tyborne, as perfectly described, as if they were better acquainted with the place, and person. Here is also a Li­brary consisting most of Contro­uersies. To the maintenance of this Church, and Colledge, there bee [Page 388] some lands appointed, besides o­ther pensions that they receiue from the Pope, and King of Spaine. The persons here bee all English, and were gouerned by a Rector of the Iesuites order, called Father O­wen, lately dead. They are al Priests, and yong Youths, sent thither out of England, to bee brought vp in Philosophy, and Diuinitie, in num­ber about 120. all going in the ha­bit of Schollers, and no sooner come thither, but they take vpon them false and supposititious names, as the Rector himselfe told mee.

This towne is full of Monaste­ries, and Religious houses, many pub­lique Schooles, where Diuinitie and Philosophy are read in Lectures, and many publique Libraries. Besides, there be sundry Hospitals for stran­gers, [Page 389] maymed, poore, sicke, and madde folkes. The number of the Chur­ches be about 140. And so I will leaue this part.

Now for my obseruation, it is this, to shew the Policy that they vse for confirmation, and establish­ing of their Religion, and consists, first, in an outward shew of deuo­tion, with strange expressions of humility, set forth in the poore and austere life of many orders, in their sundry acts of penitence, in their dayly visitation of their Churches, in their outward actions of griefe, and repentance at the celebration of Masse. Wherein is inserted all possible inuentions, to catch mens affections, and to rauish their vn­derstanding: as first, the glori­ousnesse of their Altars, infinit numbers of images, priestly orna­ments, [Page 390] and the diuers actions they vse in that seruice; besides the most excellent and exquisite Mu­sike of the world, that surprizes our eares. So that whatsoeuer can be i­magined, to expresse either Solem­nitie, or Deuotion, is by them vsed.

Their next way, is in their acts of Charitie, wherein they exceed, and imagine this a great argument to make the world beleeue the truth, & certainty of their Religion.

The third is, their boasting of miracles, with which they make such a noise, and would haue them infallible arguments, to vphold their faith: but when a man sees the ridiculousnesse, and finds pro­ued the falsitie of them, they are of great force to perswade the con­trary. For example, if a man going down a payre of stayres, by chance [Page 391] his foot should slip, he would pre­sently make a miracle of it, and say, that in that instant he called vpon Saint Francis, or San Carlo, or some other Saint, by whose prayers hee was relieued, that otherwise he had maymed himselfe, or lost his life. Or if in riding in a Coach, it by chance be ouerthrown, he present­ly attributes to some Saint whom he then inuoked, the liberation of him frō an imminent danger: and with the expressions of these mira­cles, all the Churches be hung full. But for others that be more strāge, it is certaine, & hath been proued, that many of them are false, and broached onely to delude the peo­ple, which may giue a great suspiti­on to the rest. But more, it is the Ie­suites doctrine, and they labour to proue it lawfull, to forge a miracle [Page 392] for the furtherance of their Religi­on. By which Position, if any thing happen, which may seeme a won­der, as in the recouery of some des­perate sicknes, wound, or the like, in the attribution of it to some par­ticular Saint, or extraordinary ope­ration by their meanes, they di­minish the power and glory of God. And if any signe should happen to confirme it, of which they will nominate thousands, as the bleeding of a Crucifix, the spea­king of an Image, &c. It may as well shew the now delusiue pow­er of the Diuell, still blinding the eyes of the world in this kinde, as hee hath formerly done by O­racles.

Now the last policy is, in the course of their teaching, and disci­plining, which I will onely ex­emplifie [Page 393] by the practice of our English there. First, there shall no scandall passe, that they will not be sure to lay vpon our Religion. And this at the first they beate and insinuate into the eares of their Nouices. Next, they vse all pos­sible Art to magnifie their owne: in the meane time, barring the reading of any defence of our parts, and put them to studie such bookes as bee written a­gainst vs; so that they will con­clude a Iudgement, before both parts bee heard. But when they haue them more strongly groun­ded, and they bee sure that their opinion is preiudicated, they will suffer them then to reade some of our bookes (but by the way, this libertie is seldome giuen to Italians) and then for our selues, [Page 394] that be so strongly instructed of one side, and strangely opini­onated of the other, hee is a rare man, and receiues from God a great blessing, that euer findes the true difference. And thus being wouen in their nets, they be in a manner destitute of all possibility of reco­uery. And so much for this.

6 Now next in order it followes, that somthing be said of the pre­sent strength of this place, and of what force it is against forraigne, or domestique enemies. And in my opinion it is of no great power. For examples haue shewed, that it hath suffered diuers surprizes; so that of necessity it must be of lesse ability now to withstand then before. For place of strength, it hath onely the Castle of Saint Angelo, and that al­so very weake, to withstand any [Page 395] strong assault. But the truth is, there be so many Princes in league with this Sea, and [...]yed in so diuers obli­gations vnto it, that it is free from danger, without the Turke should make a warre; and then there is so strong opposition like to be made by the Princes of Italy, and other forraigners, that it will be hard to preuaile against it, if the Emperour, Italy it selfe, the King of France and Spaine, should not cast off their yoke and subiection: if so, then it were impossible for the Bishop of Rome by his owne strength, to op­pose, or subsist.

Now for the gouernment of this place, it is wholly subiect to the Pope, which hee holds as a tempo­rall prince, but solely guided by spirituall Ministers; all causes of iudgement in matters diuine are [Page 396] brought hither, as to the last Court of Appeale for finall sen­tences.

For the Popes Reuenue: that which hee receiues from his own principalities, is the least part; the rest consists in the Fayre of Indul­gences, liberation from Purgatory, conferring of Church-liuings, sale of Offices, Pensions from other Princes, and the like. The treasure is neuer great, in respect of the changes of their Gouernours, who for the most part haue employed all the Reuenue of the Church to their owne priuate families, and friends. If vpon occasion they bee forced to make any great, and sud­daine supply, they make bold with the treasures and ornaments of Churches, which be in Italy of ve­ry great value.

Now to the person of this Pope: he is descended of no great fami­ly, an Italian borne, and exercised the former part of his life, before his Papacie, in the office of a Iudge. He was made Cardinall by Clement the eighth, and Pope by the diffe­rence of the two great factions, in that conclaue of Montalto, and Aldobrandino; both striuing to make one of their owne creatures, yet finding the other opposition too strong, were in the end forced to make a neutrall. And so by this fortune it lighted vpon this man. His Court is not great (some small guard of Swizers excepted) but hee rather liues a kinde of re­tired life; the chiefest of his acti­ons tending to the aduancement of his Kindred. He is most gouer­ned by his Nephew the Cardinall [Page 398] Borghese, but for matter of great­nesse in correspondency with the greatest Princes, he is behind none, hauing Embassadors from, and sen­ding to them, more then any other temporall Prince whatsoeuer. And when he shewes himselfe, it is in as great maiesty, and with more cere­mony then is vsed to any other Prince, which for exemplificati­tion shall bee shewed in the cu­stome that is vsed of kissing his feet, and the manner of his car­rying in a chayre when he goes publiquely.

For the first, vpon his Pantofle there is a crosse, which people in shew of their reuerence and deuoti­on, kisse at the time of his giuing au­dience to Embassadors, or some other publike assembly: and this is to shew the peoples reuerence to [Page 399] his person, and to set forth his owne dignity. And the signe of the Crosse vpon it, is to declare that in that action, the peoples de­uotion to our Sauiour, as well as honour to him, might be expres­sed, and in a kinde, for acknow­ledgement, that Religion is vnder his gouernment, and subiection. For his being carried in a chayre vpon mens shoulders, they vrge this to be vsed as an argumēt of his sanctity, and holinesse, to stirre vp reuerence in the beholders, and de­uotion in their hearts, and that as all outward respects be vsed to ho­nour the Princes of the world, so there ought to bee much more to the Pope, beeing head of the Church. In this kinde he is vsual­ly carried, when he goes to Church or Consistory.

Now to end this part with the Cardinals: it is strange to see their pride, euery one esteeming him­selfe of equall ranke with any Prince, and are serued with a kinde of extraordinary pompe, vsing in their roomes of audience, cloathes of estate, as Princes doe, and when they goe to Consistory, you shall haue one of them attēded by their friends and followers with 20. or 30. Coaches, and at least 200. or 300. Staffieri or footmen. Some in this kinde exceed other, but the principall bee Montalto, that was Sixtus Quintus, and Aldobrandino, that was Clement the eighth, and Borghese, that is this Popes fauou­rite. Some others liue more retired, of which ranke Bellarmine is chief­ly noted. Most of them bee in faction Spanish, and all receiuing [Page 401] bribes and pensions from him. Their creation comes either from the Popes particular fauour, or some great Princes intercession; younger brothers of great fami­lies, and all in a manner by the way of the present fauourite, who en­riches himselfe, and makes his fac­tion great, by the distribution of these honours. I onely saw them once assembled together, and that was in the Popes priuate Chappell, at Saint Peters, vpon All-Saints e­uen, when the Pope sang Vespers or Euen-song: there were in num­ber of them about some 30. I thinke, all that were then in Rome.

Where I obserued 3. things; first, their places, all sitting round about the Chappell; secondly, their habits, of Scarlet; thirdly, their reuerence to the Pope, in the time that the [Page 402] Antheme was sung, euery one in his ranke, one after another, rising out of their seates, and going to his chayre, which is by the Altar, where they adore him in this kind, by bending their bodies, kneeling, and kissing his garments.

Amongst these Cardinals I prin­cipally obserued two: one for his learning, and that was Bellarmine, a little leane old man; the other was Cardinall Tosco, & he, at the Conclaue when this Pope was chosen, was so neere being chosen, that many yet thinke the election went on his side. For of 60. hee had 45. voices. But when he was set in his Chayre, and they comming to adore him, Baronius came in, & said, Will you choose him head of the Church, that cannot speake a sentence with­out that scurrilous by-word of the [Page 403] Lombards (Cazzo) what a shame will this bee in our election? and vpon this diuers of his voyces fell from him, & he lost the Popedome.

Now for that I gather from this place, which shall be very short, it is this; That the sumptuousnesse of the Pope, and the pride of his go­uernment, is one token of the fal­sity of their doctrine; seeing they which pretend to haue rule ouer, and to giue direction vnto others, are tainted with this leprosie. For it is neuer seene that the body is sound, when the head is corrupt, & it is impossible for any to guide another, that stumbles in his owne way, or to bee a directer to others, that stands in his owne light.

More particularly for these Pre­lates: it is quite contrary to the or­dinance [Page 404] of God, and different from the example of Christ, and his Apo­stles, to challenge temporall iuris­diction or superiority, when their charge is onely to instruct. And they who should be examples for others to imitate, in life and con­uersation, and in that kind to teach as well by example as precept, what instruction can wee gather frō them, but ambitious thoughts, and vnsatisfied desires after the wealth and glory of this world?

Againe, their excesse in this kind is vnnecessary; for what can bee pretended for these Popes and o­ther Ecclesiasticall persons, that they should so violently desire ho­nour, and superfluity in wealth? Are they not, by their owne rules, in a manner, separated from the world, and bard from any [Page 405] hope of succeeders in their owne posterity? Therefore one should imagine these so immoderate de­sires, impertinent. And it could be no diminution either to the glory or progresse of Religion; for the ve­ry function it selfe is honourable, and reuerenced; and moderate at­tributions both of dignity and li­uing ought to be ascribed them. But why all should bee included within this center, and wholly re­ferred to the person of the Pope, I neither see for it Reason, nor Re­ligion.

But lastly, this extremity of their pride is aduātageous against them, and giues dangerous examples e­uen amongst themselues. When the People be taught moderation and sobriety, and see excesse and liberty in their teachers, none is [Page 406] so blinde but must see their deceit. When they are instructed in acts of charity, and perswaded to im­pouerish themselues to enrich a Priest, who can shadow their co­senage? When they pronounce In­dulgences, and we pay for them; what man can think the Pope hath so much interest in God, as to make him pardon vs, for his profit? When they professe sanctity and strict­nesse of life; who will beleeue him, when, after he hath gotten to be a Bishop or Cardinal, he is found to be as proud, seditious and couetous as the rest? When the Pope profes­seth pouerty, and as they say in his procession, when he is elected, be­ing carried publikely to shew him­selfe to the world, hurles brasse a­mongst the people, and vses these words of Saint Peter, Gold and siluer [Page 407] haue I none, but that which I haue, I giue vnto thee, what man per­ceiues not their abusing of the Scripture, and mocking of the people? When the Pope, to shew his humility vpon the Maundy Thursday, washes the feet of the poore, and in the meane time is at­tended with Cardinals, and Em­bassadors, some giuing him water, some the towell, others holding his traine, himselfe carried into, and out of the roome, as if he were too good to tread on the earth; what man can bee so stupid that dis­cernes not his pride? Thus you may see what contrarietie there is betwixt their profession and prac­tice. And so I will leaue this obser­uation.

7 And now to draw to a conclusi­on: after this description I doe not [Page 408] thinke it vnnecessary to say some­thing of the safety and danger for an English man to trauell thither. And I am the rather induced vnto it, because I haue heard from many that haue beene there, such strange tales, and such wonders of their escape, as if they meant to scarre vs with Rome, as children be heere with Hobgoblins.

It is true, that for some persons there can be no place in the world so dangerous for them to come in, as this; and they are such, as haue beene noted either to be extreme persecuters of them, violently ad­dicted against them, or such as haue opposed them by publike dis­putation, or writing, in matter of Controuersie; for these, it is certaine, if they be found, they shall be ei­ther brought into the Inquisition, or [Page 409] forced to bee reconciled to their Church. And yet I do not thinke it impossible for any of this sort to make a Voyage thither, and neuer be surprized; but then they must neither publish their purpose nor time; for the English there, haue eyes and eares in all places, and such a man is no sooner gone, or purposes to go out of England, but they heare of it, and he can liue in no place of Italy, but they haue in­telligence of him. Therefore the safest course for such a one, is to passe that, before hee settle in any other place, and in the meane time neither to make himselfe, nor intention knowne to any body li­uing, for then there may bee a pos­sibility of discouery. And be­sides it is necessary, that he haue some other Language besides his [Page 410] owne, that hee may passe for that Country-man: and a­mongst some of them hee should troope himselfe, and bee care­full also, that with them hee ne­uer shew any dis-affection to the Religion; for then they may grow iealous, and discouer him. Besides, I would not haue him stay there too long, nor con­uerse with any of his owne Na­tion.

There bee some others also that may not come hither safe­ly; and they are of this sort, who though themselues haue in no action giuen them cause of offence, yet some of their name or Kindred, either were, or bee professed enemies against them. Others also are endan­gered heere, if they haue any [Page 411] particular enemy, that is great in, or hath interest with any of the Colledge (for no Englishman is put into the Inquisition, vnlesse hee giue some publique offence but by their meanes) then perad­uenture he may be brought into trouble, onely vpon reuenge and malice.

But for others, and specially men of Quality, their comming hi­ther may bee with as much free­dome, as to any other part of Italy. I my selfe haue, and haue met with diuers that do finde it so, and there­fore, I beleeue it, whatsoeuer other men say to the contrary, to grace, or make wonderfull their owne Trauels.

Now after the person, those acti­ons which may bring a man into danger, ought to bee auoided. If a [Page 412] man, in his going thither, or being there, conuerse with Italians, and disclose, or dispute his Religion, he is sure, vnlesse hee fly, to be com­plained on, and brought within the Inquisition. For they hold it an act of merit, to discouer an Heretique (as they terme vs) thinking that by this meanes wee may be drawne from our Religion, and the honour of our conuersion (as they call it) must be attributed to them.

Next, when you are in the Church, or neere any Relique, Crosse, or Procession in the street; you must giue no scandal, nor seeme to to be singular from the actions of other men: but if you be desirous to auoid their superstition, you must forbeare cōming into their Chur­ches, at Masse-time, or Vespers, and bevvare of their street-encounters.

Thirdly, in the place where you lye, you must bee carefull to ob­serue their Fasts, & not be curious in desiring, or seeming to desire such fare as those dayes will not admit.

Besides, it ought to be one of our principall cares, lest in any place where we should reside, before our comming thither, wee shew our selues too bitter and violent against our Nation there, especially in their persons; for that may exasperate, if it come to their knowledge.

Fiftly, it is a meere folly in any man that hath liued publiquely in any town of Italy, before he come thither, to hide and conceale him­selfe there, for hee cannot liue vn­discouered: and peraduenture this iealousie of ours, and distrust of them, may produce some mischiefe [Page 414] against vs, which otherwise they would neuer dreame of. But some will bee so quicke, that they will come to Rome, and away before they haue halfe slept. And certain­ly, such dispositions, I thinke, they had euen as good liued in England, with their Nurses, and would haue there got as much experience, I am sure, as much wit.

Sixtly, I hold it very dangerous, for a man that is knowne to bee there, to goe about to cosen the Colledge, and make them beleeue he is a Papist, when there is no such matter. For this dissimulation may cause them to force him to expresse that which he affirmes, by some act, that may foyle his Religiō. And therefore, methinkes, it is a strange Arrogance in those people, to goe about to deceiue them, that know [Page 415] their Religion, and Character, as well as themselues.

Next, in your conuersation, shew (and so peraduenture you may haue cause) to expresse a thankeful­nesse for those courtesies you re­ceiue: and though they giue you cause to speake something in the defence of your Religion, shew no violence, nor reply not too much, by which you shall argue your owne temper, and giue them lesse cause to vrge you. For heate in dis­putation, especially where a man comes with disaduantage, shewes folly in vs, and stirres malice in them.

Now the finall caueat is, that by no meanes you goe about to per­swade any from thence, though formerly your friend, and neere acquaintance. For you must be­leeue, [Page 416] that they who dare let him conuerse with you, be sure that he will discouer whatsoeuer you say, and there is not any one thing, will sooner breed a mischiefe against vs, then the attempting to diuert one from their societie.

The last point that a man is to enter into consideration vpon, when hee trauailes to Rome, is the time. First, those times of publique hostility, as in the Raigne of Queen Elizabeth, when the Pope thunde­red excommunications, and pro­fessed himselfe an open enemy to the State, as he did then, it is dange­rous. Next, if the Gouernour of the English there, were of so violent and malicious a disposition as Par­sons was, there were little safety. Thirdly, in the time of the holy weeke, because then there is an ex­act [Page 417] view, and euery housholder is to render an account of those strangers he entertaines, that they haue confessed, communicated, and the like. Fourthly, if a man should enter into any quarrell, and be apprehended by the Temporall Magistrate, the Inquisitiō also takes hold of him, and he cannot be de­liuered till he be reconciled to the Church. And lastly, if a man should fall sick, during the time of his be­ing there, within three dayes the Physician is to take his oath, that his patient hath confessed, & com­municated, otherwise hee must leaue him, and the party be deli­uered ouer to the Inquisition be­fore hee depart. And thus haue I briefely, and sincerely disco­uered my knowledge of this place.

FLATTERIE may be described to be a kinde of seducing, or deceiuing by a counterfet, or fained commendation, whereby men are drawne to haue an ouer-good o­pinion, and liking of themselues; through this false glasse, making an vndue and too great estimate of their owne parts, and actions; [Page 420] which, though peraduenture en­creased by the subtiltie of Flatte­rers, yet is nourished, and enlarged by their owne selfe-loue.

Flatterers doe not onely dazle, and deform our Intellectuall parts, but are meere moths in our estates, and liue vpon our spoile, by con­forming their words; and acts, to our wils and inclinations; where­by insinuating themselues into our fauour, they draw from vs our vn­derstanding, and so reduce vs to be either the scorne of other men, or Tributaries to them; one of which, Malice, or Gaine, must needs be their ayme; the first the more dangerous; but the second more common.

And therefore Chrysostome de­sines Flatterers to be those, Qui co­lunt aliquem, vt auferant ab eo aliquid [Page 421] boni temporarij. For when they commend any, for that he deserues not at all, or more then he deserues to be praised, for any priuate end, or gaine to themselues, I can call this excessiue pleasing others in words and deeds, nothing else but Flatterie. By that insinuation, they winde themselues into the familia­ritie of those, whose fortunes and dispositions appeare to be such, that with probabilitie they may hope to worke and prey vpon, by this sweet infusion of Flattery; all men being naturally inclined to thinke the best of themselues, & to heare of it too.

Now the humorist, that must please, and tickle our fancies, is a smooth and sly enemie, a Wolfe in sheepes cloathing, and so much the more dangerous, and necessarie to [Page 422] be obserued, and auoided, fishing with a subtill, and vnseene▪ bayt, Mel venenatum, or venenum melli­tum, sweet poison, or poison sweet­ned; as colouring treason, with the shew of friendship; disguising dis­simulation, with the pretence of li­bertie, and freedome in speech, and the like. And this seldome but in presence, and commonly to such, out of whom they hope to sucke some commoditie. Wherefore I may say, Quod diuitum sunt asseclae, a man of meanes seldome wants such followers, such shamelesse and fawning creatures, that force can hardly repell them. And I think this to be the reason why Diogenes gaue the Epithete to Aristippus, of Canis Regius, the Kings Dogge, in respect of their course of life, more sit to bee compared with the faw­ning [Page 423] nature of Dogges, then wor­thy to be honoured with the title of men.

I take Flatterie to be that which the Prophet allegorizeth in the Psalmes, vnder the terme of Oleum Peccatoris. Emendabit me iustus, & arguet me: Oleum autem peccatoris non impinguet caput meum, distingui­shing betweene the reproofe of a Friend, and commendation of a Flatterer, choosing rather the seue­rest correction of a good man, thē the smooth and pleasing praise of Flatterers, who tell vs we are hap­py, in the middest of misfortune, and make vs thinke our selues to be well, when we are most despe­rately infected. Those therefore that be made proud, and insult, and swell, by the praises of these Dis­semblers, and Sycophants, of such [Page 424] a one it may be well said, Creuit caput, Impinguatum est oleo peccato­ris; a fat and swimming head in­deed, when it flowes, and is full of this kinde of oyle.

Flatterie, and Dissimulation be of neere kinred; for all the Art of a Flatterer, is to seeme that he is not: marke but the difference betwixt his outward apparance, and inward desires; his words, & his thoughts; his speech, & his meaning. Before your friends, or your selfe, they giue a Plaudite to al your actions, with a shew of much loue, & respect: but in priuate with your enemies, or such as they may hope to make so, by doing you iniuries, they depraue & detract you with a great deale of libertie, and scorne: in the meane time, peraduenture taking occasion vnder the colour of abusing you, [Page 425] and lessening your merit, to fall comparatiuely into their praises, and so at one time, and with one tale, play both the parts of a Censu­rer, and Flatterer. Such men as these, it were not hard to shew you euery day, whose continuall trade is to abuse the company they were last in, and to praise those they are now withall: such as appeare with the face of friēdship, but haue their hearts fraught with more malice & venom thē the stings of Scorpions: such as would make the world be­leeue (and so euery man, whom by their close and cunning Flatterie they surprise, doth) that they be the only men that giue good and ho­nest aduice, and discreet cautions, charitable in peace-making, and all other good offices of that kinde: whereas indeed they be the closest [Page 426] breeders of mischiefe, malice, and detraction that do vnworthily liue.

These mens minds be truely Hermaphroditized; these be Plinies Androgyni in minde, though not in nature, whose sexe resemble both Male and Female: for you shall haue them vary and change as of­ten as thought. And as the par­ties with whom they haue to doe, or as their fortunes alter, so doe they. Sometimes also they be so grosse in their Flattery, that they become ridiculous. As for instance; the Flattery of Carisophus to Dio­nysius, who seeing Dionysius in com­pany laughing and merry, he smi­led for company, though he knew not the cause. Dionysius seeing him smile, asked him why he did so? Be­cause (said he) I thinke that which moues you to laugh, is worth [Page 427] laughing at. And this kinde of imitation is commonly the note of a Flatterer; but sometimes also the badge of a Foole. And so Clyso­phus the Parasite in Philip of Ma­cedons Court, when his master hal­ted because he had the Gout, hee counterfeited lamenesse too; and whatsoeuer his Master was forced to by necessity, hee would alwayes affectately imitate, according to Ouids description of a Flatterer, what you denie hee forsweares; what you affirme hee iustifies; if you weepe he is sad; if you laugh he is merry.

So that a Flatterer is a Monster vgly to behold, if visible; dange­rous to trust, if discouered; hath the heads of Hydra for any mis­cheuous inuention, the hands of Briareus for any base or dishonest [Page 428] action, the eyes of Argus for any lewd or false intelligence; legs swift as Thalus for any trecherous or wicked designe. This is hee wee dare (and it is a wonder wee dare) admit into our priuacies, ap­pearing with a tongue as sweet as honey, though his heart be as bit­ter as gall; whence groweth that old description allotted to them, Melin ore, verba lactis, fel in cor­de, fraus in factis. Yet for the most part, these kind of men ouerweigh, and sway downe the most faith­full and honest friends and Coun­sels. Aristippus flatterie with Diony­sius, out-ballanced the honest free­dome and endeuours of Dion the Syracusan. Cleo wrought more into the fauour of Alexander by his Flat­tery, then Calisthenes could preuaile by his free and honest Counsell.

Of this tribe and generation were Achabs false prophets; they assured and promised him to bee free from all dangers, certaine of prosperitie and good fortune; but it fell out otherwise, and his For­tunes (which they onely serued) were decayed and lost. Euen so the Flatterers of this age play the false prophets, and alwaies progno­sticate of faire weather and good fortunes to attend vs, in the meane time, passing ouer with silence those plaine, obuious, and present errors, that be manifest Symptomes of our certaine ouerthrow, if not suddenly altered and amended. So you may see what a weakenesse it is for any man to trust these vncer­taine windes, to build vpon these sands.

Adulatoris verba, saith Trisme­gistus, [Page 430] sunt iniquitas & dolus. The words of a Flatterer bee iniquity and deceit, ouer-growne with canker and rust, incroaching vpon vs: at the first, intruders of small appa­rance, and by that meanes taking the surer hold. These bee they that with their Syrenicall charmes throw vs vpon the vnauoidable dangers of Scylla and Charybdis. These be those Infernal Spirits, that disswade from all good purposed or intended, and from any thing that hath affinity either with ho­nesty, or goodnesse. But on the contrary, prouokers of all vnclean­nesse, corruption, wickednesse and obscaenitie, and as Theodoret notes, Incipiunt a Placebo, sed in fine sepeli­unt in peccatis.

Some there be of this damned crue, who, so they may please you [Page 431] with praises, care neither why nor wherefore they doe it: against which kinde of men, Salomons cau­tion Pro. 27. v. 6. to vs, is worthy the obseruing. The wounds of a Lo­uer are faithfull; but the kisses of an Enemy be to bee shunned. And a­gaine, his malediction to them should serue as a bridle, Pro. 27. v. 14. Hee that praiseth his friend with a loud voyce, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted vnto him as a curse. And for the most part these traders practise this Art, ei­ther in hope of fauour or gaine; and that is the reason why they presse into the company of such as be men of dignitie and place. For as no vermine will breed, where they finde no heate; no Vulture haunt where they finde no prey; no Flies swarme where there is no [Page 432] flesh: so no Flatterer lurkes where he findes no gaine.

A man may oftentimes finde out a Flatterer by this, that their praises, if you well obserue them, doe oftentimes fall vpon con­trarieties. So, it is plaine, that they speake ficte, non vere, fainedly, not from the heart; and that manifesteth their dissimulation and deceit; and their praising of such actions as we know and ac­knowledge to be naught, argues their ayme to be directly for pri­uate ends, neither for the benefite of him they praise, nor good exam­ple of others. Wherefore I could wish, that all men were of Achilles his minde, who, as Homer reports, Hated not the gates of Hell so much, as hee did those that spake otherwise then they thought. And wee had [Page 433] need bee very well fortified and constant in this resolution: for they bee of so seruile a condition, that though you reiect them, they will still obserue; though you ba­nish them your companie, yet they will attempt entertainment a­gaine.

But they wait onely vpon our good fortunes, and the least winde of aduersitie disperseth them; when our meanes fall, they faile; which plainely sheweth them to be of a most base condition. Of this ranke were 2. Kings ch. 9. v. 35. Iezabels Eunuches, who in her prosperitie serued and followed her with all diligence and obseruance: but when fortune turned the wheele, King Iehu had no sooner said the word, Cast her downe, but they did cast her downe. They are most [Page 434] diligent obseruers of the time, then to vent their Flattery, when men bee most likely to giue eare vnto them: therefore wee ought at all times to bee very watchfull ouer them; for if once they cast anchor in our affections, they will hardly loose their hold.

Dolus, saith Saint Augustine, du­plicat cor, adulatio duplicat lin­guam. Deceit doubles the heart, Flattery the tongue: these two bee mixed together; for when the tongue saith one thing, and the heart thinketh another; when the thoughts go South, and the tongue North, there is the disease. So that Flattery cannot subsist without dis­simulation. And seeing they bee so subtill and cunning to deceiue and entrap vs, wee cannot be too carefull in the choyce of our com­panie, [Page 435] our friends, and aduisers to choose such as loue goodnesse and truth, and such as so desire to please and commend their friends, that they may encourage their constan­cie and continuance in vertue, not to puffe them vp with ouer-great thoughts of themselues. But seeing such a one is hard to be found, and not easily discerned, this aduice of Ciceroes is worthy the obseruing, who sayes, Amici tibi sint multi, Con­siliarius autem vnus. Our friends may bee many, but one Counsel­ler, and hee such as hates this de­testable vice. Diogenes calls it Le­thale mulsum, poyson in a cup of gold; though outwardly beau­tifull, yet full of hidden cor­ruption, Masters of that Art which Tully calls Mercenarium praeconium.

Flatterers by Symonides are com­pared to Cookes; for as they doe sweeten with sawces such kinde of meates as of themselues bee bitter and sharpe: so Flatterers, Verbis Coquinarijs (that I may vse the Pro­uerb) sooth vs in those things for which wee ought to be reproued, and with their cunning Cookery settle and infuse so good an opini­on in vs of our selues, that in after­time our iudgements be so subuer­ted, that we esteeme our worst acti­ons worthy praise, and our vices vertues.

Quintus Curtius opinion was not without ground when he said, that More Kings and Kingdomes were o­uerthrowne by the means of Flattery, then by publike Hostility. How plen­tifull Stories be to iustifie this Para­doxe, euery man that will take the [Page 437] paines to reade them, may know; for there was neuer yet treason closely attempted, but disguised with Flattery. A few examples I will giue you. Caesar had not been so easily murthered in the Senate, if Flattery and faire words had not assured him of his safety. Alex­ander the Great, who was poyso­ned in the midst of his triumphes at Babylon, receiued it not at the hands of a stranger or enemy, but those hee most trusted, his Cup­bearer Iola, and Kinsman Antipa­ter. Who could be more caute­lous then Cicero? and yet vnder colour of friendship, he was disco­uered and betrayed by his friend Popilius, in whose defence hee had formerly pleaded, and saued from an ignominious death. But not to weary you with many more [Page 438] examples: Was not Iudas his Flat­tery the apparant and visible means of effecting his treason against Christ, when his embracements and kisses pointed him out to bee apprehended? And lastly, the o­riginall fall of Mankinde may bee referred to the insinuating Flatte­ry of the Diuell in shape of a Ser­pent, that so hee might become more lowly and humble to dis­guise his dissimulation, when hee meant to worke vpon the weake­nesse and credulitie of the wo­man; for you shall alwaies finde this way of deceiuing, shadow­ed with courtesie, treason vnder trust.

But although the infection of this pestilence bee dangerous to all men, yet in respect of the consequence, farre more pe­rilous [Page 439] to men of great and emi­nent place. For as diseases bee euer more violent, where they meete with full and abounding bodies, and the cure more vn­certaine: so (the application is at hand) when persons of quality bee tainted with the poyson of Flatterers, besides their owne losse, that folly of theirs, to bee gulled by these Impostors, aduanceth the trade of Flattery, and encreaseth their breed. For all those that serue and depend vpon such, if they hope to obtaine any thing by their fauour, or doe desire to continue in grace, they must worke it by soothing them in all their ridiculous affections, and so slaue them-selues to Flat­terie; which, to any honest [Page 440] minde is a vice as odious, as truth is a vertue superlatiue; for it is the subuersion of truth, a reprochfull vice, as ill becomming a man, as impudencie a woman, which shamefull and lasciuious behaui­our, as you shall find some strange compositions of men delighted withall; so Flattery bewitcheth and benummeth other mens sen­ces, against all probabilitie of rea­son; acting a worse part then that of a false witnesse; for hee cor­rupts not, but deceiues the iudge­ment, producing an ill opinion or sentence against our will & know­ledge: but Flattery corrupts the iudgement, inchants the vnder­standing, and makes a man vnca­pable to take the least impression of any good or honest aduice. So that you see this domesticall enemie of [Page 441] ours hath a sting, though hid, and many times hurts vs most, where least doubted.

The credit these Flatterers gaine to themselues, is commonly vn­der the title and pretence of friend­ship, and in stead of withdrawing vs from ill, confirme vs in it: like those of whom Ezechiel speakes, Cap. 13. ver. 18. that sow pillowes vnder our armeholes, so commen­ding our vices, that we may sinne with more securitie, and delight, nourishing and increasing our er­rours, as oyle addes flame to fire: wherefore it is very dangerous to giue credit to such, who in the per­son of friends, proue so dangerous enemies, confirming and encrea­sing all our corrupt affections, by consent, either in conformitie, or application of themselues to the [Page 442] same actions, by approbation, in al­lowance, though not imitation of their precedent, or by extenuation, or rather iustification: as terming anger, seueritie: fury, zeale: rash­nesse, boldnesse: pusillanimitie, hu­militie: lauish expences, liberality: couetousnesse, parsimonie, or the like. And these be those deceiuers, that in the frontispice, or outside, proclaime the name of friend; but this is only in outward apparance, not inward affection: like those spirits of darknesse, that can trans­forme themselues into Angels of light.

It is the common practice of Flatterers, to counterfet, rather thē not imitate, the passions & formes of those they apply themselues vnto, their sullennesse and mirth, as they haue their different varia­tions: [Page 443] so they sometimes with the Crocodile of Nile will nothing but weepe and lament, and imme­diately change that tune, to the mirth and songs of Syrens: now with ioy, sometimes with griefe conforming themselues to that humor, which at that instant they doe think to be most predominant in vs, making themselues volunta­ry slaues to anothers inclination; in the meane time not caring how vntruely, so plausibly they may speake. So base is their minde, so mercenary their tongue. But when the tide turnes, there is no danger in their power that they will not cast vpon vs, in laying vs open to our enemies, disclosing those se­crets they haue formerly by their Flatterie stolne from vs, and the like: supposing by this dishonest [Page 444] meanes to stand vpright, though his titular friend be declined; or else expecting no more aduantage from him, hope vpon the ashes of his ruine, to build a new fortune with him that caused his ouer­throw. For as Acteon was murthe­red by his own dogs: so they, who aduance and cherish Flatterers, are commonly by them ouerthrowne and vndone: all which, by this po­sitiue prouerbe of Salomons, Prou. 26. ver. 25. is confirmed. A false tongue hateth the afflicted, and a flat­tering mouth causeth ruine. And ther­fore it is good to follow his ad­uice, Prou. 26. ver. 29. Though hee speake fauourably, beleeue him not, for there are seuen abominations in his heart And as Saint Bernard speakes of it, Bla [...]da est, sed aspera; dulcis, sed amara.

Where Flattery beares sway, ho­nestie is thrust out of doores; where Flattery is aduanced, there truth is banished & oppressed: and where Flattery obtaines friend­ship, there truth findes hatred. See­ing then, in a manner, the differen­ces be as great betwixt this and truth, as truth and lying, wee had need to pray with Dauid, Psal. 28. ver. 3. That we may not bee drawne away with the wicked and workers of iniquitie, that speake friendly to their neighbours, when malice is in their hearts. Yet now adaies it hath got­ten so much the vpper hand of the world, and is growne so common, that he who scornes to Flatter, wil generally be thought to bee either enuious, or proud: for it hath now, in a manner, quite left the name of a vice, and gotten the reputation of [Page 446] a vertue. It hath shaken off the old name of deceit, and is now coue­red with the title of wisedome: it hath quite lost his ancient attribute of cosenage, and hath gotten it selfe graced by the name of Policy. It is necessarie therefore, to reduce it to the former colours, lest the outside deceiue.

Be therefore so farre from it, as to esteeme better of a friends re­prehension, then of all the praises a Flatterer can giue you, whose end is to confirme and fasten you in your errours, by his fained com­mendations, dissembled loue, and affection; subuerting and subdu­ing your minde from any tincture of goodnesse, which iustifies that speech of Saint Augustines, where he sayes, Quod plus persequitur lin­gua adulatoris, quam manus persecu­toris. [Page 447] For if the hand of an enemy hurt not so much as the tongue of a Flatterer, much lesse the rebukes of a friend, which will be able to abide all tests: agreeing with Salo­mon, who saith, Pro. 28. ver. 23. He that rebuketh a man, shall finde more fauour at length, then hee that flatte­reth with his tongue. Crossing that passage of the Comicall Poet, Ob­sequium amicos, veritas odium parit. Flatterie, procures friendship; but truth, hatred.

But this you may be sure of, that though these disguized and deceit­full praises of Flatterers, presse more vpon the confirmation of our ill, then of our good parts; yet our nature is so fraile, that we are commonly better pleased with the couerers, then the discouerers of our ill affections; not so much [Page 448] considering with our selues what we are indeed, as what wee seeme to be to others, carried away with a selfe-opinion, requiring, as it were, the Testimonial of our good parts, not from our owne consciences, but the vaine report of others; nay, though our consciences accuse vs, that those things we be commen­ded for, deserue nothing lesse; yet the Flatterer so surprizeth vs, that we no sooner begin to condemne our selues, but his dissembling prai­ses, & glorious glosses, choake that good meditation. Liking therefore so well, to heare well of our selues, we should endeuour to deserue it. Whence proceeded all those ridi­culous and vnnaturall vices of Do­mitius Nero? whose beginning of Soueraignty, whilest he gaue eare to good counsell, is compared to [Page 449] the times of the best Emperors; but when once the reynes of his affec­tions were let loose, what absurd, what cruell, what vnnaturall acts did he sticke at? and yet the vici­ousnesse of the time so obserued and praised him, that they turned his beliefe into an imagination, that his grosest vices were reputed for principall vertues. Witnesse the thanksgiuing of the Senate to the gods, for the murder of his Mo­ther, and the vaine Plaudites hee expected for his ridiculous Rimes, and foolish affectation, or rather e­mulation vpon the publike Stage of the part of a Minstrel, & Player; which simplicities of his were by Flattery so wound in him, that when he was, in a manner, certaine of his destiny, yet some flashes of these vanities did still remaine.

Now the reason, why men a­gainst all reason be so strangely o­uertaken and blinded with the praises of Flatterers, is, though common, yet vncertaine to ghesse; sure it must be either such a malig­nitie and disease in our affections, as cannot abide to be remoued, or else a strange and greedy appetite to heare our selues commended for whatsoeuer we doe: or otherwise, a superabounding opinion, and selfe-conceit of our owne abilities and parts, that we can doe nothing so ill, we shall not thinke commen­dable, and worthy of praise: and so from all, or some of these, it comes to passe, that wee despise friendly admonitions, and are so subiect to the snares of Flattery, by which our vices, if neuer so notori­ous, be at the least disguized with [Page 451] the resemblance of some vertues that be neere vnto them. Where­fore if we stop not the beginnings of this dangerous and vnseen mis­chiefe, the poyson will grow past recouery, & wholly bereaue vs of the true knowledge of our selues. For it is not the present Flatterie that doth so much hurt, as the re­liques and remaines of it in our minds; for though the Flatterer be gone, yet the infection still conti­nues, as for instance, those who heare Musick, though that bee done, yet the harmony, sweetnesse, and sound, doth afterwards possesse & make impressiō in their minds: so these kinde of praises remaine longer with vs, then the instant of hearing them. And as a sweet and pleasing sound is not easily expel­led our fancies; and though wee [Page 452] chance sometimes to forget it, yet it oftentimes returneth into our i­magination again: so fareth it with the pleasing discourses of Flatte­rers. Therefore we should be deafe to their voices, & auoid thē at first.

Yet this seemes most strange to me, when I see men of apparant wisedome, and great parts, such as are able to discerne and enquire of matters of the deepest cōsequence, to bee notwithstanding surprized by the cunning of these dissem­blers: but certainly any man that thinks well; and loues to heare well of himselfe, can hardly auoid this trap: for they that Flatter, will shadow it vnder the colour of friendship; as in affabilitie, aduice, free discourse, seeming reprehensi­on, officiousnesse in our businesse, conformitie of manners, and the [Page 453] like. All which, though in a true friend, they bee the very tokens of friendship, and loue; yet in a Flat­terer they haue onely the represen­tations of it, that thereby they may more cunningly and craftily de­ceiue such as they haue to do with­all. The reason now why this kind of Flatterie is so dimme and vn­discernable, is because that in eue­ry motion of the minde, it is so closely intermixed with friend­ship, that it can hardly be discoue­red from it, though if once vn­maskt, it hath no manner of affini­tie with it, nor comes neerer it, then as glasse which is dull and brittle, resembles Christall, which is solid and transparent: so this Flattery is onely the Ape of Friendship. Ther­fore these kinde of men bee farre more dangerous to trust, then pro­fest [Page 454] enemies, for from them men expect nothing but the fruits of malice & ill will, whilest the other sort, vnder pretence of loue and friendship, do sooner & more dan­gerously worke the effect. And the difference of the dāger, I put, as be­twixt those that assault vs prepared, and such as take vs vnprouided, or strike when our backs be turned.

But seeing from meane fortunes expectancies cannot be great, they are not much subiect to this kinde of battery; the siege is laid to such as be men of great meanes & place in the world, thence they hope for fortune, for credit, for preferment; and commonly men of this high ranke doe seldome descend to the true knowledge of themselues, that whatsoeuer they do, it is in such an assured & imperious fashion, that it [Page 455] must passe vncontrouled, & what­soeuer they doe but thinke, or wish to do, must be presently put in act, and whatsoeuer by them is perfor­med, shall be sure to finde whole vollies of praises; and that they doe so certainly looke for, and thinke they deserue, that it is dan­gerous for any, with such to ex­presse the true parts of friends. And so it comes to passe, that all about them are professors of this myste­ry: and to say truth, I see not how this fault, though vsed, can be very much pressed against such as bee followers of these men. For this kind of Flattery is not so much af­fected, as forced: yet surely an ho­nest mind would be loth to subiect it selfe to so base a trade. And these great men that haue so inured thē ­selues to to be pleased with the ap­plause [Page 456] of Flatterers in all their acti­though neuer so bad, can hardly weane themselues from that habit, custome hath so wrought it into them; and notwithstanding some­times vpon better thoughts & con­siderations, they oppose themselues against it, yet that hath not long cō ­tinuance, but for the most part it returnes againe with greater force. Vnde saepe exclusa, nouissime recipitur. Wherfore the danger is the greater at the first, to giue way to this hu­mour which is so hardly repelled.

Now if the danger of this be so great, and the auoiding of it so ne­cessary for all sorts of men, then no doubt, but women, as the weaker vessels, had need to be very careful, and circumspect of giuing enter­tainment, or hearkening to any of this condition. For besides the ge­nerall [Page 457] danger, which is common to them with all others, more parti­cularly it doth often precipitate them into worse straits. For there is not an easier, or more ordinary way to corrupt & subdue their af­fections, then by this meanes, with entertaining & feeding them with the commendation of their person, beauty, behauiour, comlinesse, dis­course, or the like; being generally of their own natural inclination, so full of vanity, & desirous of praise.

That which I haue hitherto written of the danger of Flatte­rie, is, when it is seuerally applyed to particulars: there remaines one other sort which I cannot omit, and that is the popular man, that insinuates and windes himselfe in­to the loue of the multitude, by pleasing and praysing them in all [Page 458] their desires, and by application of himselfe vnto their humours. The end of which obseruance must needs bee, to strengthen himselfe in their good opinions; by that meanes hoping, that in any de­signe of his against the Prince or State, they would second his at­tempts. This is the common end of affected Popularity, and that thousands of examples can iustifie. If there bee any other inducement, it must bee referred to a vaine glo­ry. I will onely instance two or three examples of the dangerous effects of this popular Flatterie. The change of gouernment a­mongst the Romanes proceeded from the fauour and grace that Caesar had obtained amongst the soldiers; and so the way was made plaine and easie to him, for the sub­uersion [Page 459] of that state, and making of himselfe absolute Monarch. And so in all, or most of the chan­ges of the succeeding Emperaurs, popularity with the multitude was the way by which they entred. In our owne Stories, H. Bullinbrooke, whom Richard the second did well enough foresee, was cūning in the Art of winning the hearts of the people, and so sought meanes by his banishment to preuent the dan­ger; yet vpon his returne, hee was so strengthened by that meanes, that without all colour of right, he acquired the Kingdome, and assu­red it to himselfe by the death of the former King. So now, this point I wil conclude with one Sto­ry of the Bible, and will onely re­late the words of the text. The way which Absolon proposed to him­selfe [Page 460] in the treason against his fa­ther, was to make himselfe popu­lar by flattering of the people. Marke but the Story, 2. Sam. 15. 2. 3, 4, 5, 6. 2. And Absolon rose vp early, and stood hard by the entring in of the gate, and euery man that had a­ny matters, came to the King for iudg­ment: him did Absolon call vnto him and say, Of what City art thou? And he answered, Thy seruant is of the tribes of Israel. 3. Then Absolon said vnto him, See, thy matters are good and righteous, but there is no man deputed of the King to heare thee. 4. Absolon said moreouer, O that I were made Iudge in the Land, that euery man which hath any matter or controuer­sie might come to me, that I might doe him Iustice. 5. And when any man came neere vnto him, and did him o­beysance, hee put forth his hand, and [Page 461] tooke him and kissed him. 6. And in this manner did Absolon to all Israel that came to the King for iudgement. So Absolon stole the hearts of the men of Israel. The steps of this popu­lar Flattery (I thinke) cannot bee more punctually described then in this narratiue. You finde his dili­gēce, He rose vp early; his purposed shewing himselfe to the multitude, He stood hard by, &c. his affability, And euery man that had; his finding fault with the present gouernment, Thy matters are good and righteous, but: a promising of redresse, if power were transferred to him­selfe, Oh that I were. A shew of ex­traordinary respect and loue to the people, And when any man came neere. And this course hee tooke, not with any particular; but ap­plyed himselfe to all the people. [Page 462] And in this manner did Absolon to all Israel. And so it came to passe, saith the text, that, hee stole the hearts of the men of Israel. Thus hauing dis­coursed of the deformitie of this vice, & dangerous consequence of it both applyed to particulars, and to multitudes, I will descend from this point, and giue you some rules and directions how to auoid so great a danger, so dangerous an e­nemie.

Knowing the ill effects which proceed frō so dangerous a cause, a man would thinke reason, suffici­ent to auoid the occasions of being surprised with the false and deceit­full baits of Flatterers; but experi­ence daily shewes so great a weak­nesse in our natures, that wee are apt to fall in loue with our prayses, though farre from our merit, and [Page 463] giuen but for priuate respects. See­ing therefore, in this case wee can­not be too surely fortified, it will bee necessary to adde some cauti­ons, to strengthen our resolutions in the auoiding of so great a mis­chiefe. And the first must be, not onely a professed, but an inward a­uersenesse, from giuing encourage­ment to any to thinke they may any way possibly euer hope to catch vs in this snare. For if wee bee found to haue an open eare, the disease is so catching that it wil be hardly auoided. There are few resolutions so constant, that can auoid the mischiefe, if they admit the discourse of Flatterers. The first temptations therefore must be suppressed; which if we doe not in time, will so encrease, that when we would we cannot. For if we be [Page 464] content to haue men thinke well of, and praise vs for those things which in our owne cōsciences we doe not deserue, wee shall in time bee so besotted, as to thinke our selues worthy of those prayses, so vniustly layd vpon vs by these im­postors, who as Salomon saith, Pro. ch. 20. v. 19. Goe about as slande­rers, and discouer secrets; therefore meddle not with them that flatter with their lips. And this may be a second reason to auoid the insinuation of Flatterers, in respect of these two abhorred crimes, of standering, and disclosing of secrets.

Againe, as their cunning, so our care in auoiding them, should en­crease; for they bee come to that height and excellency in their pro­fession, that they will colour their Flattery with the shew of Friend­ship, [Page 465] vsurping the offices, behaui­our, nay euen carrying the name & counterfet of amity so artificially, in taking vpon them the highest part of friendship, w^ch is free repre­hension, that the shadow is hard to be distinguished frō the substance. Their loue will seem so farre to ex­ceed, where in truth nothing is more cōtrary vnto it, not iniury, not professed enmity, not detraction.

Seeing therefore the only comfort of society, (w^ch is in the assurance of true friends) is so corrupted by the intrusion of Flatterers, who would vsurpe a place in estimatiō so high, deseruing one so low, concealing so dangerous a poyson vnder so wholsome an apparance, wee need discerning spirits to exclude such frō our cōuersation, & not to mea­sure our vertues by most voyces, [Page 466] but by most desert. So presuming euery man to know his owne me­rit in those things for which he is commended, we must not esteeme our happinesse to consist in ha­uing praises, but in deseruing them.

But in these cases of perswasiō, ex­amples many times mouing more thē precepts, it will not be amisse to view the care that men in former times haue had to represse the en­crease & rising of Flatterers. Augu­stus Caesar, & Alexander Seuerꝰ are re­ported to haue been so strict against Flatterers, that if any did but extra­ordinarily bow himselfe, or shew but the least signe of Flattery to­wards thē, they were presētly bani­shed & expelled their Courts. The Emperour Sigismōd perceiuing one to flatter him grossly, in stead of re­ward, gaue him a blow. Why strike [Page 467] you me, said he? Why bite you me? saith the Emperor. There is a Story of a Nobleman of Muscouia, who being imprisoned, & desirous of in­largemēt, fained to dream, the K. of Pole was takē prisoner, & brought captiue to the D. of Moscouia. This dream was told the Duke, who per­ceiuing it to proceed frō an intentiō to flatter, cōmanded he should bee kept more close, til he saw the euent of his dream. Suetonius reports, that Caligula recalling one that was ba­nished in the time of Tiberiꝰ, & re­grating his liberty, asking him how he spent all the time of his banish­ment; he answered, he did nothing but pray that Tiberiꝰ might dye, & Caligula succeed: for w^ch kind of de­uotion the Emperour cōmanded hee should bee put to death. And after this sort was the youngman [Page 468] punished by Dauid, who hoping to please him, brought newes of Saul and his childrens death.

So that the neerest way to auoid so bad companions, is so to behaue our selues, that it may appeare to the world how little wee desire, how much we scorne, what small confi­dence we put in the praises of Flat­terers. This course Canutus, once a King of this Iland did take; who as Polidore Virgil recites, walking vp­on the shore neere Southhampton, the soldiers that were about him, did palpably, in magnifying, flatter him, calling him King of Kings, & Commander both of Sea & Land; whereat the King being amazed, he resolued demōstratiuely to shew how grosse their Flattery was, and how little hee was moued with it; for which purpose commanding [Page 469] himselfe to bee stript, sate downe close by the water, seeming to speak to the waues in this māner: I com­mand you that you touch not so much as my feet; they keeping their ordinary course, beat vpō the shore, and notwithstāding his charge, vp­on him too: so presently retyring, he returned to his soldiers, & said; You called me King of Kings, and Lord of Sea & Land, yet you see I could not command these waues from touching me: therefore learne, that these titles belong not to mortali­ty; but onely to him by whom all things are gouerned And this was his coūterpoyson to their Flattery, agreeing with the translation of a verse of Homers,

Alexander, who somtimes was am­bitious to be thought the sonne & [Page 470] heyre of Iupiter, and wanted not those Flatterers that would indeed haue made him beleeue to haue been so. A hurt brought him back to the knowledge of himselfe, and fall into this speech, Omnes iurant me esse Iouis Filium, sed hoc vulnus me hominem esse clamat. Alsweare that I am the son of Iupiter, yet this wound proclaimes me to be but a man. So ex­perience daily shewes, that where they can get audience & gain, they neuer care how absurd their praises be, laying most cōmendations vp­on those vices that deserue greatest reprehension. If we run into ryot, they commend our temperance; when wee expresse our follie, they praise our wit: w^ch if we did but wel obserue, how our vvorst faults by them are applauded for principall vertues, our own cōsciences would [Page 471] tell vs, they bee but Impostors and deceiuers, discerning with Seneca, Vos dicitis me esse prudentem, ego autem scio quam multa inutilia con­cupiscam, nocitura optem. You say I am wise, and yet I finde, that I haue many vnprofitable desires and hurtfull wishes. Which if wee bee as willing to practise, as capable to know, if our affections abound not aboue our reason, discoue­ring their Flatterie for such things as wee merit not, wee should quickly abandon them our so­cietie.

And hence it will fall into our consideration to obserue the causes and reasons for which wee bee praised, whether they bee for such vertues wherein we haue a part or not, or whe­ther they honour vs for that wee [Page 472] doe not deserue, for their owne profit: and this must bee done by the true contemplation of our selues; not suffering our iudge­ments in our owne persons, to de­pend too resolutely vpon the opi­nion of others; but without parti­ality look your selfe in your owne glasse, and if you meete with any other that bee false, or flatter you, trust them not, but let your owne conscience be your owne prayser, and be not so simple as to be car­ried away with things that be not, neither bee too peremptory in your owne iudgement; but take so much as your conscience as­sures you may bee iustly attri­buted, and no more; for as Se­neca sayes, Si vera sunt coram mag­no teste laudatus es, si falsa sine teste derisus es.

The way then to prepare & recti­fie our iudgements in the know­ledge of our selues, is to loue, to de­sire, to be pleased with the hearing of truth, though it search deep into our own wounds: and if we come once to endure so sharp a corrosiue, it is certaine we shall neuer be de­lighted with the praises of Flat­terers. But it will bee necessary to foresee (which I haue enlarged be­fore) that a Flatterer creepe not in, in the habit of a friend, & somtimes take the liberty to finde fault with our errors, by that meanes to giue a better glosse to the insinuation of their Flatterie: but these, if truely obserued, will bee found like false gold, which onely hath the repre­sentation of true, and such as if throughly tryed, cannot possibly a­bide the touch, notwithstanding [Page 474] the ring of the piece be of the pu­rest metall: but if it be not through­out good, the deceit is greater, then if it were plainely counterfet. Let vs count then of friends, as of the salt commanded in the ancient sacrifi­ces; and of Flatterers, as of the hony forbidden in them: for the salt of sound and faithfull reprehensi­on, is the true rellish and best part of a friend, whereas sweet honyed Flatterie, though for the present pleasing our fancies, yet is of a most loathsome and dangerous consequence.

But a mayne impediment that blinds & choakes our vnderstand­ing, from receiuing any aduice and premonition that can be giuen a­gainst the subtilties, and insinuati­ons of Flatterers, is the too great confidence, and too permanent as­surance [Page 475] of the prosperitie and con­tinuance of this transitory and va­nishing life. Thoughts so low, so short, be the grounds vpon which these men do lay their foundation. How can any man Flatter vs more extremely then we doe our selues, relying on, and delighting onely in the pleasures & vanities of this pas­sing world? This Lethargy both Stories & Scripture manifest, to the ruin of multitudes, who liuing in al maner of sensuality, yet discerned it not till all hope and remedy were past, continuing the course of their life in pleasure and idlenesse, neuer considering, how that in the mean time, their arraignment was a ma­king in heauen.

We need therefore to get the vic­tory ouer our selues, and the Art of subduing our own affections; for [Page 476] otherwise this selfe-louing inclina­tion wil so stirre, and moue our ap­petites, & desires, to haue our iudge­ment concerning our selues, secon­ded by the applause of others, that it will be impossible for vs to resist their snares, being so desirous of praises, and so willing to receiue them; which is the only aduantage a Flatterer can get, when a man striues to acquire reputation for those vertues of w^ch he neuer parti­cipated, & is most impatient to re­ceiue the least checke for any vice, though knowing it to bee inhabi­tant within him; a kinde of fancy, which is most certainely neither guided by iudgement, nor reason. And this is it w^ch layes vs so opē, & makes vs so subiect to the practice of Flatterers; which if for any thing before said, we desire to auoid, that [Page 477] it should neither entrap nor endan­ger vs: let vs looke diligently into our selues, & make a true Charact­er of our own dispositions, not par­tially, but really: and then we shall finde so infinit a number of vani­ties, imperfections, & faults, mixed in our words, deeds, and thoughts, that we cannot choose but see the falsity and deceit of such as haue praised and flattered vs for those vertues, wherein we haue had no manner of share. And so leauing this part, I come to some differen­ces, and limitations, lest in the ge­nerall inueighing against Flattery, it may sometimes be misapplyed.

A man is not bound to be so cen­sorious a Criticke, as to take vpon him the disciplining of euery body for their errours & imperfections. The error is in defending or prai­sing, [Page 478] not in cōcealing them. A man may be too busie, and where there is no obligation of duty, or respect, too narrow an Inquisition may be impertinent. If wee smother the faults of those that trust and rely vpon our aduice, that cannot be exempted from the imputation of Flattery; but to such as we be meere strangers, & tyed to in no manner of obligation, there as it is most base to praise their defects, so it is not necessary at all to finde fault with them.

Besides, in cōmon ciuility & con­uersation, to men though knowne yet aboue, or equall with vs, to whom we haue no bond but ac­quaintance; as we do not cōmend, so we are not bound to take notice of what we know of their errours. Far be it from vs to vse any meanes [Page 479] to settle them: but on the other side to take vpon vs the assurance of re­mouing them, vpon the strength of our oratory, and perswasion, is ma­ny times too high a hope, and de­creaseth friendship. Men loue not to haue their faults seen or known, and there is no ground of aduice or direction, when those we con­uerse withall, do seeke to conceale their infirmities from vs.

Againe, seeing praising is the Flatterers weapon; it may be de­manded whether it bee vnpossible to praise a man, without Flatte­ring him, as hauing a consequence and dependancie the one of the o­ther? Without question no. For if wee doe truely and moderately commend those things in another which they iustly deserue, that tends to their good, encouraging [Page 480] them in those vertues for w^ch they be commended, to the end they may encrease, and that others may be animated by their example, to the imitation of the like. This kind of praising, without any priuat end or respect to our selues, can in no sence be termed Flattery, but Cha­ritie, which is the marke of true friendship, and not of fained loue.

There is now one question to be resolued, whether Flattery can bee reckoned in the number of sinnes, or no. For if it be one, how comes S^t Paul to say, 1. Cor 10. 32. Giue no offence, &c. 33. Euen as I please all men in all things. Seeing that to please all men in all things, cannot bee without Flattery; for so our praising, and pleasing, may bee re­ferred to the Catalogue of our im­perfections. To this, I resolue, that [Page 481] neither to praise, nor please, in thē ­selues can be termed Flatterie, but may be made so by their ends and circumstances. And so Paul in the end of the 33. ver. expounds him­selfe, meaning that he would haue vs please all men, so as we seeke not thereby our own glory, and profit, but the good of our neighbour. And so neither pleasing, nor prai­sing can be called Flattery, more then the iust reprehension of him that is faulty, can be called detracti­on. And now I am arriued at the last part of this discourse, wherein I will lay down some distinct rules, and notes, wherby a Flatterer may be discouered.

In such a man you shall alwayes see a strife & ambitiō, to steale into the affection of those they depend vpon, with more then an ordinary [Page 482] pace, too assiduous care, and seruile obseruation, by all meanes, ende­uouring not onely to get the start, but to keepe others backe in the good opinion of those they follow, by diligence on their parts, and lay­ing imputations vpon others, so en­grossing their affections; that wil­lingly they will suffer none else to be inward, or about them, but such as fight vnder their banner, and be of their own stamp. And then as a shadow continually follows a man wheresoeuer he goeth: so they will imitate and affect whatsoeuer it be that their patrons apply themselues vnto; and there is no vice in them, which from these, will not haue their colour, approbation, and al­lurement.

And the principall part they act, is either to further ill actions, or so [Page 483] to conceale them, as a man shal not see his own imperfections. Arro­gance, and Pride, they seek to incor­porate in our affections: they will sweare we be the men of only emi­nency and marke; That those to whom we shew fauour, & respect, are sufficiently honoured, and so praise vs to a kinde of dotage, that we thinke all those who doe not e­qually obserue, and commend our supposed abilities, neglect it out of ignorance, or enuy; whereas the Flatterer yeelds to, & approues of all his actions, though such as in his own conscience and beliefe be manifestly worthy of reproofe and scorne.

Then if you mark the persons to whom their praises be applyed, you shall seldome heare them giue a good word of any man, but before [Page 484] his face, except it bee to such by whom he thinks his praises may be related, and that is his cunning; o­therwise slandering & backbiting is as common a trade of a Flatte­rer, as commending of one in his presence. For in detracting from o­thers, they either hope to please those they now apply themselues vnto, or else take occasion compa­ratiuely by casting aspersions vpō them, to magnifie the contrary ver­tues of those they be withall: but whether deseruedly, or no, that with them is not materiall.

Againe, you shall find that those actions which they seeme so much to approue, and commend in vs, their owne iudgement and vnder­standing will not allow of: for if a stranger, or a man, whom they pur­pose not to obserue, shall by way [Page 485] of argument, fall into discourse of such & such vicious actions, as they haue formerly allowed, in the per­son of their Patron, their reason wil force them to disauow and dislike them, except they imagine, this dis­course is vpon designe to conuince them of Flattery.

And but obserue whether those praises they bestow vpon you for any action, they onely giue to you, and no other; or to you, and all others; and you shall general­ly finde, that their praises goe not according to the merit of the action, but affection of the par­tie: for those things they do now commend you for, they will im­mediately discōmend in another, and those things they commend in another, they will as quickly dis­like in you.

Besides, you may note that how­soeuer our actions and affections doe vary and alter, yet their prai­ses be constant, and their opinions will seeme to be the same, though in contrarieties, which is a kinde of Paradox; for let vs but now say or doe one thing, wee shall haue their Plaudites for it: some distance af­ter, if our opinions, and actions chance to change to the contrary, they alter not their praises, they be still the same they were before, they lye as the winde goes; if you change into formes neuer so con­trary, they doe so too. For there is no vniforme equalitie in all their actions, and intentions, because they haue no permanent place, or person, to apply them to. Their o­pinions can in no kinde be settled, because they haue wholly giuen [Page 487] ouer themselues to content and please others, and the course of their life is vncertaine, being neuer like themselues, but changeable, and varying from one forme to another.

And if a man would but examine the beauty and deformitie of his actions, by the rule of his own con­science, he shall finde those things, for w^ch many times hee is so high­ly commended, to be naught, and of dangerous example; and such vices, as notwithstanding their cō ­mendations, his owne conscience hath often accused him of, and ma­ny times he hath been ashamed of.

Now those that be diligent ob­seruers, are to be discouered also by their inconstancie: for allow them now the followers of one that is great in fortune, and place, if they [Page 488] chance to decline; and peraduen­ture by the plot and malice of an enemie, or competitor, their ser­uice fals off too, their expectancies being frustrated, and are of a con­dition so base, as to apply them­selues to the ouerthrower of him they haue haue beene so much boūd vnto; & peraduenture them­selues too haue been instruments of his destruction. But with their new master, whatsoeuer he likes, or dis­likes; approues, or disauowes; loues, or hates, they are of the same mind that they seemed to be w^th the for­mer, & in a maner do like the Ora­tor, who amongst many other flat­tering speeches, to Augustꝰ, said that they, who called him Caesar, knew not his greatnesse; and they that called him not Caesar, were igno­rant of his humanitie.

Also in publike assemblies, as Parlaments and the like, some of this sort doe often crowd in, the grosnesse of whose obseruance cannot possibly be concealed; for you shall neuer heare them, but you may see a farre off, their aime is for priuate respects, not publike good; either through Flattery or feare of some person there present, whom they wish may alwaies speake before them, that they may bee sure not to differ from his o­pinion, and whatsoeuer it be, good or bad, it is by them sure to be se­conded. And if speaking before, a­ny thing hath chanced to slip from them that they see is disliked, they then fall to shifts and excuses, to purge themselues, by interpreting their words; or if that wil not serue, acknowledging their ignorance, [Page 490] and altered iudgement vpon bet­ter information, and so their note is quite changed; but these sorts of Flattery being plaine and palpable, easie to be found out, and so auoy­ded, are the lesse dangerous; for plainly to affirme, or denie as ano­ther doth the same, the grossnesse of that Flattery is easily discerned; whereas they that are more cun­ning in their trade, are hardly visi­ble, if not vn-vizarded, which is my now endeuour to doe.

You shall finde some to flatter, when they seeme to reproue, and flatter most, when they shew to be most opposite against it. Of this sort of Flatterers was Agis Argiuus, who seeing Alexander liberall in gifts and rewards to a certaine ri­diculous fellow, murmured that Alexander would shew such boun­tie [Page 491] to so vnworthy a fellow. Alex­ander hearing him mutter, asked him what he said. Indeed, saith he, I must confesse that I cannot with patience endure to see, that all you that are descended from Iupiter, should be so delighted and pleased with Flatterers. For as Iupiter kept Vulcan for his mirth, and Bacchus tooke great delight in Sylenus: so such as these, be of account and e­stimation with you. Tacitus also re­cites an example, though somwhat more grosse, that may bee referred to this sort of Flatterers. When the Emperour Tiberius was in the Se­nate, one rose vp and said, It was fit that euery man should speak freely, and in matters belonging to the Common-wealth, no man ought to hold his peace: Tiberius and all the Senate were in expectation [Page 492] what so bold a preamble would produce, and then with the Pro­uerbe, Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus, saith he, Caesar, there is a fault wee all blame you for, though none dare take the hard­nes to tell you of it, you spend your selfe too much in caring for vs, wearing your body both day and night in labours for the Republike, not valuing your owne safety and health, in regard of our happinesse and prosperity. This kinde of Flat­tery that goes in the habit of frank­nesse and libertie of speech, is ve­ry obscure. And if this, which ought to bee a remedie, proue the way and meanes more colou­rably to flatter, without good cau­tion and obseruation, we shal hard­ly discouer their ayme.

Some againe not vnlike these [Page 493] will, by another way of repre­hension, lay the ground for their Flattery; as if by chance they spye in vs any small and petty er­rors, they will declaime with ve­hemencie and earnestnesse against them; so that their encourage­ment to, or conniuencie at our great and monstrous deficien­cies, by this their seeming seue­rity, may in a manner bee ec­clipsed. Which kinde of cunning, as Plutarch notes, may be com­pared to Hercules his club in a play, that seemes weighty, though in­deed light, and filled with wooll or feathers. So this reprehen­ding libertie, which a Flatterer vseth, will vpon examination be found weake, and of small force to giue a blow. For instance, if your clothes bee not of the new [Page 494] fashion, your beard not of the late edition, your hat not of the last block or the like; from hence, for these they will take occasion with a kinde of seueritie to censure and correct you. But admit you should despise your parents, abuse your wife, neglect your children, scorne your kindred, consume your estate, or fall into numbers of notorious vices, these they will neither moue nor stirre, these they will neither take knowledge of, nor regard.

Others somtimes you shall note, the better to disguise their Flattery, will, by reprouing of men for con­trarie vices, confirme those they haue. As if a couetous man once in his life shew a little liberality, or if you wil, inclining to prodigality, (for the Prouerb saith, Whose feast is so great as a mizers?) they will [Page 495] vpon this single occasion, seem out of their loue to be much grieued at the vastnesse of his expence, and carelesnesse of his state. And if an enuious slanderer, that neuer loued to speake well of any body, by chance bee so conuinced by ano­they mans merit, that hee speake a few words in his commendation, they wil presently impute this for a fault, and an argument of facilitie, for commending of one rather out of easinesse, then desert. And after this manner, those vicious affecti­ons which wee haue inhabitant in vs, they doe seeke to confirme, and settle for euer remouing, not by ap­prouing their vices, or alone repro­uing the contrarie; but sometimes also by discommending the con­trarie vertues: as calling zeale, hy­pocrisie; liberality; prodigalitie; [Page 496] parsimonie, couetousnesse; and so forward: vsing the same Art to­wards the maintaining of any vice that they thinke a man hath a minde to.

If they happen to meet with one that suspects all praises that be for­ced or thrust vpon him, such a one they will not commend as from themselues, but inuent some good reports they heard of him abroad, and expresse how glad they were to heare so well; heerein imitating the Rethoricians, who often in their Orations vse the third per­son for the first. Or, on the con­trary, accuse him of some ill they haue heard layd to his charge, which hee knowing to bee vntrue, and so denying, they will finde matter to fall into a laudatory of his abilities, by shewing how in­nocent [Page 497] he was of those vices that the world had taxed him withall. And if these wayes serue not to make him thinke too well of him­selfe, they will not in words com­mend, but in a silent kinde of ap­prouing and good opinion of his parts, will expresse it by seeking his opinion, or relying and trusting to his iudgement and discretion in some things that may concerne themselues; which when deliue­red, they will seeme to admire, and preferre before any opinion or Counsell they haue receiued from any other bodie. But if a man could suspect this before-hand, giue them but some absurd Coun­sell, and so you shall discouer them. For they are prepared to commend it whatsoeuer it be. Seeing then by this before, that the colours of [Page 498] Friendship and Flattery be so like, and hardly discerned; I will in the last place shew some maine diffe­rences betwixt them both, and so conclude.

A friend will neuer be employ­ed in ill, or dishonest actions: but in such as may turne to the good and profit of him he loues, none is more willing then hee: where, on the contrarie, a Flatterer seekes to gaine our good opinion, by being employed in actions of the worst sort, and most dangerous conse­quence, in respect of our good ei­ther fortune, or name; not caring for the euent, so they may raise themselues by our ruine, louing our meate and meanes more then they doe our selues, continuing friends vnto vs, no longer then our purse perswades them therevnto. [Page 499] And whereas a true friend imitates our actions in nothing but that which is good; the Flatterer, like a Camelion, that turnes himselfe into all colours but white, can frame himselfe to any likenesse but good; ordering all his actions, not to the good of his friend, but his owne priuate respect, and turnes all to his owne particular benefit; whereas Friendship seekes not so much the good of it selfe.

A Friend reproues his friends vices, and commends his vertues rather to another, then himselfe; whereas on the contrary, a Flatte­rer alwayes prayses him in sight, as well for his vices as vertues, and behinde his backe, is as liberall in blaming and defamation of him; saying, that hee possesseth him wholly, gouernes him at his plea­sure, [Page 500] and makes him doe what hee list. So, whereas a true friend pre­serues the good name and fortune of him he loues, the Flatterer pre­cipitates him to all manner of dan­ger and ruine.

A Friend is alwaies constant and settled in his opinions; the iudge­ment of a Flatterer being diuers, like waxe, or a looking-glasse, re­ceiuing different formes, praising or dispraysing, euer applying him­selfe to the minde and inclination of him that hee flattereth, vexing himselfe too violently in whatsoe­uer he doth, in the knowledge and view of him that he obserues; con­tinuall in prayses and offering of seruice. Non imitatur amicitiam, sed praeterit, hauing no moderation in his outward actions, and con­trarily no inward affection, which [Page 501] is a condition quite different from the nature of a friend.

A friend will neuer commend and approue any actions of ours that be vicious, but friendly and freely disswade vs frō them, where­as the Flatterer doth alwayes giue the victory, applauding whatsoe­uer we do, ayming no further then to please; whereas a true friend doth not respect so much how hee may please, as profit.

A Friend endeuours alwayes to procure in vs a loue of those things that be reasonable and honest: a Flatterer rather desires to confirme vs in libertie and pleasure. And where all men haue these two de­sires within them, the one giuen to vertue and goodnesse, the other to licentiousnesse and passion: the true friend alwaies assists the better part, [Page 502] in giuing counsell, and comfort; and the Flatterer applyes himselfe to the other, which is voyd of rea­son, and full of passion; so feeding our affections by deuising of some vicious and dishonest pleasure, that they quite diuert vs from the rule of reason; like some kinde of meat, that neither breeds good bloud, nor engenders spirits, nor ads vi­gor or strength, but onely breeds fogs and rotten humours that bee neither fast, nor sound: so, if a man looke narrowly into a Flatterer, all the good he shall finde to come from him, is onely the encreasing and settling of our worst and ba­sest affections, wherevnto we seem to haue but the least inclination.

So that, as it is plaine, a true friend alwayes respects the good of another, more (which is the [Page 503] ground of his loue) then any par­ticular purpose or designe for his owne aduantage; on the contrary, the ends of a Flatterer bee Antipo­des to the desires of a Friend, who will no lesse bee willing to partici­pate of his calamity, then prospe­rity; whereas the other doth ob­serue and follow him onely in his prospering euill. By which you see, it cannot possibly stand toge­ther, for one man to bee both a Friend, and a Flatterer, which is as much as if I should say, a Friend, and no Friend: or rather an ene­mie then a Friend.

THe nature of all sorts of Lawes, whether they concerne God, and Religion, and so haue reference to di­uine Lawes, or whether they con­cerne societie, and conuersation, and so be meerely Humane, is properly this, to be the straight and perfect rule, by application wherevnto, right and wrong are discerned, and distingnished one from another: [Page 506] and the knowledge, and practice of them, bring a double benefit, ei­ther Publike, which is the generall good, & gouernment of the State; or Priuate, which consists in the quiet, and peaceable life of euery one in particular. So the true end of all Lawes is to ordaine, and settle an order, & gouernment amongst vs, the Iurisdiction whereof we are rather bound to obey, then dispute; Lawes being, as it were, the Princes we ought to serue, the Captaines we are to follow, the very rules, by which all the actions of our life be squared and disposed. They are the peoples bulwarks, and defences, to keep them in safety, and peace, that no vniust thing bee done against them; that by the Lawes men may be made good, and happy; and that the punishmēt of offenders should [Page 507] appeare to proceed from a necessi­tie forced, rather then a will volun­tarie, and that by the example of punishing some, others might bee made the better; that by the feare, and terrour of them, mens audaci­ties might be repressed, and their innocencie, & peace, secured from force and oppression.

If men were not limited within certaine rules, such confusion would follow in gouernment, that the differences of Right & wrong, Iust and vnlawfull, could neuer be distinguished; and that would cause such distraction in the peo­ple, & giue so great an ouerthrow to conuersation, and commerce a­mongst men, that all right would be peruerted by power, and all ho­nestie swayed by greatnesse: so that the equall administration of [Page 508] Iustice, is the true knot that binds vs to vnity and peace amongst our selues, and disperseth all such vio­lent and vnlawfull courses, as o­therwise libertie would insinuate, preseruing euery man in his right, and preuenting others, who if they thought their actions might passe with impunitie, would not mea­sure their courses, by the rule of Aequum and Iustum, but by the square of their owne benefit, and affections: & so not being circum­scribed within reasonable bounds, their reason becomes inuisible; whereas when they finde that Iu­stice hath a Predominant power, they are deterred from proceeding in those acts, that otherwise their owne wils, and inclination would giue them leaue to effect.

Plato affirmes the necessitie of [Page 509] Lawes to be so great and absolute, that men otherwise could not bee distinguished from vnreasonable creatures: for no man naturally is of so great capacitie, as completely to know all the necessities, and ac­cidents, which bee required for a common good: and then if a man could suppose in any so perfect a knowledge, yet is that mā not to be found, that either absolutely could, or would doe all that good which he knowes: so that in an Vtopia of such men as be not, yet the necessity of lawes are absolute. But where mens affections and manners are depraued, and giuen ouer to vnru­ly and vnreasonable desires, there Lawes be so necessarie; that Hera­clitus said, A Citie needed rather to defend their Lawes, then Forts: for without Lawes no people can sub­sist; [Page 510] without defences, it is possible that they may: agreeing with De­mosthenes obseruation, who suppo­sed Lawes to bee as the soule of a Commonwealth; for as a bodie without a soule, remaines not; so a People without due administrati­on of Lawes, doe wholly decline: but take people, as they are com­monly mixt of the good, and wor­ser sort, nay rather, more of the bad, then better composition, yet it wil euidently appeare, that Lawes are so absolutely necessary, to re­straine from ill, to confirme in good, to make a happy concord, and vnion in our ciuill conuersati­on, to make such a distinction be­twixt lawfull, and exorbitant de­sires, as vnlawfull affections may not be coloured with good appa­rances; that it can not be denyed, [Page 511] that Lawes bee the onely sinewes of contracting people together, and not meerely vsefull, but ne­cessarie.

But in the exercise, and executi­on of Lawes, such moderation is euer to be held, that it may appeare rather to to be vsed, as a preuenting Physicke, by way of example to warne others, that they fall not in­to the like danger, then out of a desire to afflict, or make miserable any priuate person: and therefore the conclusion of Tacitus is very obseruable, Pauca admodum vi tractata, quo caeteris quies esset; In some few matters seueritie was vsed, by that meanes to cause quietnesse in the rest. So that it is necessary in e­uery Commonwealth to cut off offenders, as well for present safe­ty, as preuention of further mis­chiefe, [Page 512] which wil be plain, if we wil but obserue the benefits that fol­low, and inconueniences that arise, if this exemplary Iustice bee not executed.

First, when any fact is vn­lawfully committed, there is no other satisfaction left to the world, or the partie offended, then the pu­nishment of the offender; vvhich if it bee not executed, Iniustice vvere as vvell offered to the Pub­like State; as to the priuate person of him who hath suffred the iniury.

Next, as it incourageth ho­nest men in their iust and law­full actions; so it abates the inso­lency of others, who bee onely bridled with the feare of punish­ment; for otherwise the vvorst men by wickedest courses, were most likely to make great fortunes, [Page 513] and to carry the greatest sway; w^ch vvould so discourage men honest­ly disposed, that they would nei­ther haue will, nor power, nor con­fidence, to labour for the publike.

Thirdly, it banisheth all pre­sumption from such as thinke, that their reputation & wealth, Riches, or Offices, can presse down Iustice, or make it encline to their purposes: for if these respects should preuaile, iudgement were meerely inuerted, and would not looke vpon the cause, but the Bribe; the right, but the power; the truth, but the great­nesse of the greater Aduersary.

Again, it addes confidence to the poorer sort, whē they see that equi­ty, & not fauour, procures the sen­tence, and so by this means are con­serued frō oppressiō. And if it were not for this, in what a miserable [Page 514] case were these lower degrees of mē subiect to be trod vnder feet by their imperious Aduersary, & then to haue no means left for redresse.

Fiftly; it is the greatest honor, and reputation, a Kingdom, or cōmon­wealth can be ambitious of, & en­ioy, to haue Iustice iustly distribu­ted, and people obedient to Lawes; Iustice guarding the people, by cor­recting & cutting off such as giue ill example to the rest. And in what Commonwealth soeuer this is neg­lected, it breeds cōfusion amongst thēselues, giues aduantage to their enemies, & causeth their disreputa­tion to spread through the world.

Next to the honor of a Kingdome, it is the safety of the King, who be­ing reputed to be as the fountain of justice, so Iustice keeps the fountaine free from corruption, infection, or [Page 515] danger, prescribing rules for feare it corrupt, ascribing Antidotes for feare of infection, & preseruing his person, & reputation both frō sen­sible, & insensitiue danger: wheras if Lawes bee neglected, his person is more subiect to the attempts of Traitors, his life to the tongues of malice and detraction, & his repu­tation to perpetuall infamy.

And lastly, this is it, that enriches and secures the subiect in all King­domes, giues him his right, protects him from wrong, increaseth com­merce, and proclaimes traffique throughout all the world: whereas if Iustice were not duely admini­stred, there would follow a dimi­nution of our substances, a generall disconsolatiō in our life, & a certain separation frō all trade with stran­gers. And mark but narrowly, and [Page 516] you shall seldom find that God euer blessed that Coūtry, where Iustice was either neglected, or abused.

Those therfore (if any such insen­sible creatures be) that dislike there­straint, & striue, & declaime against obedience to Lawes (which may be truely termed the wals of gouern­ment, & nations) they make them­selues so cōtemptible, as no obiecti­on of theirs can be worthy the an­swering: for a generall dissolution of Lawes in a ciuill body, is the same with the conuulsion of the sinnewes in a naturall; decayes, and dissolution, being the immediate, and vnauoidable succeeders. And yet a man had better choose to liue where no thing, then where all things be lawfull: which is the rea­son why all men haue thought it more dangerous, to liue in an Anar­chy, [Page 517] then vnder a Tyrants gouern­ment: for the violent desires of one, must necessarily bee tyed to particulars, in a multitude they are indefinite.

The first degree of goodnes is o­bedience to Lawes, w^ch be nothing else but vertue, and good order of life, reduced vnto certain rules: and as reason hath the predominant power in our naturall bodies, so the body Politick cānot subsist w^th out soule to inanimate, to gouerne, to guide it, & that is Law, proceeding from the reason, counsels, & iudge­mēt of wise men. For where Lawes be wanting, there neither Religion, nor life, nor societie can be maintai­ned. There be three branches that mens Lawes do spread themselues into, euery one stricter then other. The Law of Nature, w^ch we enioy in [Page 518] common with al other liuing crea­tures. The Law of Nations, which is common to all men in generall: & the Municipall Law of euery Na­tion, which is peculiar and proper to this or that Country, and ours to vs as Englishmen.

That of Nature, which is the ground or foundation of the rest, produceth such actions amōgst vs, as are cōmon to euery liuing crea­ture, and not only incident to men: as for example, the commixture of seuerall sexes, which we call Mar­riage, generation, education, & the like; these actions belong to all li­uing creatures, as well as to vs. The Lawes of Nations bee those rules which reason hath prescribed to all men in generall, & such as all Na­tions one with another doe allow and obserue for iust. And lastly, the [Page 519] Peculiar Lawes of euery Country, w^ch mixe with the generall Lawes of all places, some particular ones of their own: & this is that which the Romanes called amongst thēselues, the Ciuill Law of their City, and is in­deed in euery Nation: the Municipall Lawes of that Country, as it were Lawes onely created for those Cli­mates, for those estates.

Take away the power of Lawes, and who is it that can say, This is my House, or my Land, or my mo­ney, or my goods, or call any thing that is his, his owne. Therfore eue­ry mans state and fortune is more strengthened and confirmed by Lawes, then by any will or power in those from whom wee receiue them; for whatsoeuer is left vnto vs by the Testament of another, it is impossible we should euer keepe it [Page 520] as our own, if Law restrained not o­thers claimes, & confirmed thē not vnto vs. In which respect, Lawes be the strongest sinewes of humane societie, helps for such as may be o­uerborne, and bridles to them that would oppresse. So that we receiue much more benefit from Lawes in this kinde, then from Nature; for whereas men be naturally affected and possessed with a violent heate of desires, and passions, and fancies, Lawes restrain & draw them from those actions, and thoughts, that would precipitate to all manner of hazzards and ill, which naturall inclination is prone enough vnto; and do gouern, direct, alter, dispose, & as it were bend them to all man­ner of vertuous & good actions.

Wherfore Lawes be the true Phy­sicions and preseruers of our peace­able [Page 521] life, & ciuill conuersation, pre­uenting those il accidents that may happen, purging and taking away such as haue broken forth, & sow­ing peace, plenty, wealth, strength, and all manner of prosperity a­mongst men. And for those things that be ill, but yet introduced by custome, seuere and iust Lawes will readily correct; for the force and power of Law doth easily dissolue an ill custome, though it haue been of long continuance: the excel­lency and praise of which Lawes can neuer be better illustrated, then in that saying of Salomon: Manda­tum lucerna est; lex, lux, & via vitae, increpatio disciplinae. The com­mandement is a lampe; and the law is light; and reproofes of instruction, are the way of life.

The dispensers and interpreters [Page 522] of the Law, be the Magistrates and Iudges, and all sorts and degrees of men whatsoeuer, be tyed & bound to the obseruance of the same. To this purpose, Solon being demāded, What City was best gouerned? an­swered, That, wherein the City obeyed the Magistrate, and the Magistrate the Lawes: and certainly that go­uernment is better, which vseth set and firme Lawes, though not all of the best sort, then that where the Lawes bee most perfect and exact, and yet not obserued. Lawes there­fore ought to be the rulers of men, and not men the masters of Lawes.

There is no doubt but that Lawes were at the first inuented, as well to giue rules to the good, that they might know how to liue peacea­bly & regularly one with another, as to represse the audacity of those [Page 523] vnbridled spirits, who, in despight of discipline and reason, doe thrust themselues into all kinds of out­rage and disorder; from which bad cause notwithstanding, according to the old rule, a good effect is pro­duced: Ex malis moribus, bonae leges oriuntur. But the particular intro­ducements of Lawes, arise either from a pressing necessity, or a fore­seeing and prouisionall carefulnes of those that make them; these pro­ceed from prouidence, the other from some sence of euill. The im­pulsiue causes in the making of prouisionall Lawes, are either loue of their Coūtry, or desire of glory, or affectation of popularity, or somtimes particular interest, and priuat respect; for it often happens, that a priuate good may haue con­nexion with the publike. And the [Page 524] sence of ill, decaying either by the encrease of it, or a seeming to bee destitute of remedy, is the cause, that where Lawes are once forced, out of the sense of mischiefe, & in­conuenience, they be for the most part grieuous and immoderate; as on the other side, such as reason & prouidence do produce, are many times more specious then vsefull. In the first, take away the spur and sense of ill, and it makes men in the constitution of Lawes, to bee care­lesse and vnwary; and in the other, if there bee not continued a strong and constant affection, they com­monly faint in the execution of them.

But in the meane time there is no doubt, that there are certaine fountaines of naturall Iustice and e­quity, out of which hath beene ta­ken [Page 525] & deriued that infinite variety of Lawes, which seuerall people haue apted to themselues: and as seuerall veines and currents of water, haue seuerall qualities and tasts, in respect of the nature of that ground and soyle, thorow which they flow and run: so these Lawes and the vertue of them, which bee fetched frō an originall fountaine, receiue a new kinde of application, and tincture, in respect of the sci­tuation of the Country, the genius and nature of the people, the fashi­on and forme of publike actions, diuers accidents of the time, and sundry other occurrences, I will not stand to repeat. And in the ma­king of Lawes, wise men haue al­wayes had these things in conside­ration. First, the Common-good, and benefit, for w^ch they intend them, [Page 526] and that requires that they should be both iust and profitable: now no law can bee profitable, nor yet iust; w^ch is made for priuat & particular respects, & not for the publik good.

2. The persons to whom they be to be applyed; that for the executiō, & application of them, they be such as may be possible to be obserued, & apt for the customs, places, & time, where, & when they be to be vsed.

3. The present course of the State; what Lawes there haue beene vsu­ally receiued, by what speciall ones it hath beene conserued, and by what new ones it may be assured: for one kinde of care is not fit for all places, and Countreys.

But Lawes, when they are once made, ought very rarely to be chā ­ged: to w^ch purpose the ancient po­sition of wise men is not vnworthy [Page 527] the obseruing, that nothing is to bee changed in the Lawes of a Common­wealth, which hath a long time by these Lawes preserued it self in good state & gouerment: & as Isiodor' wel noteth, after a Law is once made, we ought not to iudge of it, but according to it. And yet in these two cases the alte­ration of Lawes may turne to the better. 1. When by the changing of it the Law is made more perfect, more cleere, more positiue, more profitable. 2. When the condition of subiects & gouernment is chan­ged, there of necessity the Law must vary, according to the difference & diuersity of the times and persons: for change & variatiō of Lawes, are either by occasion of entertaining forraigne customes, or some inter­nall deficiences, or excesses, accor­ding to the alteration of time. One [Page 528] of these is so far from innouation, that it is altogether necessary: but that is not introducing of Lawes by way of imitation of other people; it argues a desire of change, rather then any cause that is ma­teriall. But on the other side, old and ancient customes, in respect of their very antiquity, doe induce a kinde of harshnesse, and breed saci­ety; for the wilfull retaining of a custome against the present reason of the time, is altogether vnequall.

This is to be vnderstood of tem­porary Lawes, made and applyed to new and seuerall accidents. For the fundamentall lawes, vpon which the fabricke of a common-wealth and people be grounded and built, they in no case will admit innoua­tion; neither are the other sort to bee lightly altered, but where the [Page 529] present custome of the time finde them impertinent, and the State thinks them vnvseful. To illustrate, in the same times, sometimes we see Lawes mutable, & fit to be so: such as are made in time of warre, peace doth extinguish, and so on the con­trary; agreeing with Liuie speaking to this purpose: Quae in pace latae sunt, plerunque bellum abrogat; quae in bello, pax; vt in nauis administra­tione, alia in secunda, alia in aduersa, tempestate vsui sunt. And although change of Lawes be sometimes ne­cessary, it ought notwithstanding to bee done with a great deale of caution: but yet it must be confes­sed, that time, of all things is the greatest innouator, and therefore wilfully to prescribe the continu­ance of an old Law, in respect of antiquity, the face of the world [Page 530] and affaires being changed, is in­deed an introducemēt of nouelty; for the pressure of the vse of it, vr­ging and setting it only forth with the grace of antiquity, if notwith­standing it bee opposite or incon­gruous to the present times & go­uernment, makes that old Law, if practised, to fall, and bee con­uerted into a new and vnreasona­ble custome.

Now for my iudgement con­cerning the vse of Lawes, I thinke this, that as the vse of much Phy­sicke and diuers Physicions, argue the aboundance of humours, and diseases; so the multiplicity & num­ber of Lawes, be manifest signes of a diseased & distempered Common­wealth. And therefore to follow the similitude, as in diseases new expe­riments be dangerous, where those [Page 531] that be ancient and approued may serue; so new Lawes bee needlesse, when the maladies of the Repub­lique may be cured by the old: for it is a thing both vnequall and vn­iust to insnare the people with mul­titude of Lawes.

Law and Reason are twinnes, the absence of one, is the deformity of the other; being in a kinde conuer­tibilia, and inseparable. That com­mon reason we haue ingrafted in­our natures, is a Law, directing what we are to doe, forbidding the contrary, according to Cicero: Ea­dem ratio cum est in hominis mente confirmata, & confecta, lex est. For Law is nothing but reason dilated and applyed vpon seuerall occasi­ons and accidents, the comprehen­sion of reason and Law, as of pub­like enormities, and necessities, for [Page 532] which they be seuerally, at seuerall times made, being infinite. The disease commonly in our know­ledge, hauing the prioritie of the remedy. And thus the reuerence, and duty wee owe to Lawes, is no­thing else but obedience to reason, which is the begetter, correcter, and preseruer, of the very Lawes themselues: those therefore who will not obey them, do come more neere the nature of Brutes and Sal­uages, then men indued with rea­son: but I goe on.

If a reason be demanded why all Countreys doe differ, and vary so much in their customes, and Lawes, I answere, that it proceeds from the custome of the first inhabitants. As we may see where there are seueral plantations by one people, they se­uerally giue different orders, & cu­stomes, [Page 533] according to the intent and purpose of the first Planters, and according to the necessitie, and end of the present Plantation, as may bee obserued in the different Constitutions, & Lawes, in our two late Plantations, of Virginia, & the Bermuda's. And though, I confesse, that these originall customes, may in time bee altered, vpon seuerall occasions, diuers changes of go­uernment, as in the Roman State, or vpon conquest, as with vs; yet I doubt not, but that some reliques of the old customes would remain to perpetuitie, if a people be not wholly extirpate. I should now punctually search the seuerall Au­thors, and Inuenters of Lawes, a­mongst different Nations, toge­ther with their diuers oppositions, and emulations, one with another, [Page 534] but that would bee too long, and vncertaine: I will therefore onely in a word touch the originall, and growth of Law amongst the Ro­manes, as being more certainely knowne, and of larger extent.

You must vnderstand that at the first they had no other set Law, then the will, & cōmandements of their Princes. That gouernment being changed, and so their constitutions extinct, the people were thē gouer­ned by precedent, & custome, with­out any direct, & written Law; but that continued not many yeeres. Then the law of the 12. Tables suc­ceeded, w^ch the Romans, in respect of their own defects, had borrow­ed from the Grecians: & these, as in Lawes it commonly happens, being subiect to dispute, were forced to be reconciled, and decided, by the [Page 535] authority, and arguments of the most great, graue, & learned men, which afterwards being collected, & gathered together, became a kind of volume, & body of Law, and so afterwards, before the Common­wealth was subuerted, receiued by diuers men, in sundry ages, seuerall additions: but after the gouernmēt was Monarchical, the present Empe­rors did adde to the old, or confirm or abolish them, according to their own will, and power. And all toge­ther is that which is commonly knowne by the name of the ciuill Law; & because it continues to be the most practical, & generally re­ceiued Law of the world, and that though all Countreys haue Muni­cipall Lawes of their owne, yet this Law in euery place carries some sway, and authority, in some places [Page 536] more, and in some lesse, and that an aspersion is cast vpō the ground, & foundation of our Lawes, in being different & contrary to the original beginning of the ciuill Law, I will briefely parralel them together; wherin if any do not find so punc­tuall an agreement as hee expects, let him remember that the nature of a cōparison, implyes but a simi­litude, and affinity of one thing to another, and not a totall and abso­lute agreement.

The Law which the Romans vsed, and so we, is either written, or not written. Those that were written, saith Iustinian, were of these kinds. 1. Lex, and that is such a Law as was made by the people, but first propounded by the Senat. Such are those Lawes with vs, as are confir­med by the lower House of Parlia­ment, [Page 537] & propounded by the higher. 2. Plebiscitum, and such were the Lawes made by the whole people (the order of Patritians excepted) & offered to their cōsideration by the Tribune; like those Lawes that be approued by the Cōmons in our Parliament, and propounded by the Speaker. 3. Senatus consultu, & those were such Lawes as were ordained by the power and authoritie of the Senat, to w^ch we may resemble the consultations & directions of the Kings Councell, and the Decrees of the Star-chamber. 4. Principum Placita, which were Constitutions appointed by the Soueraign power of the Prince; some of them being personall, & not exemplary; others more publike; of which kinde with vs be al the Kings Edicts, & Procla­mations, of what kind soeuer. 5. Ma­gistratuum [Page 538] Edicta, as the cōmande­ments of the Generals in the Field, Gouernors of Prouinces, and the prime Magistrates in great Cities: like as with vs is that power which is deputed to the Deputy of Ireland, the Presidents of York, & Wales, the Lieutenants of euery Shire, and the Iurisdiction of Magistrates, accord­ing to their particular customes, priuiledges, and immunities, in the great Cities, & Corporations of this Kingdom. And lastly, Responsa Pru­dentū, which were the Iudgements and opinions of such as were ap­pointed to be Iudges, and expoun­ders of the Law: and iust of that kinde bee the resolutions of our Iudges, which in writing bee deli­uered vnto vs, by the name of Re­ports, and Cases.

Lawes vnwritten (amongst the Ro­mans, [Page 539] were such as custome had in­troduced, & yet neuer suffred con­tradiction by a Positiue Law. Such Traditions as they had receiued touching the ancient manner, and forme of gouernment of their An­cestors, in precedent times; and of this nature with vs is our common Lavv, grounded much vpō custom.

And the reason why these anci­ent customes may bee collected to be of so great force, is, because al­wayes before their approbation it is to be conceiued, that they had passed al censures for necessary, and to be without offence: and so ha­uing receiued this facile approba­tion, are allowed, and most religi­ously kept; for Lawes of the grea­test weight, & consequence, which occasioned Cicero to write ante su­am memoriam, & morem ipsum pa­trium, [Page 540] praestantes viros adhibuisse, & veterū morem, ac maiorum instituta, excellentes viros retinuisse. And beleeuing Dionysius testimonie, Romulus in the first foundation of the Republique, did thinke to strengthen, and confirme it more, with Lawes vnwritten, then writ­ten; peraduenture beeing of the same opinion Demosthenes notes of Licurgus, who would not write his Lawes, but to haue them more publike, and better knowne, would leaue them onely ingrauen in the memory of his Citizens.

But more precisely to distin­guish betwixt Law and Custome, that the tearmes, as well as matter, may be vnderstood, you must vn­derstand, that where any forme, or Law, hath had any long continu­ance in practice, without any [Page 541] knowne Author, it then receiues the name of an ancient custome, or mos Maiorum: which though in name, and Title it differ from a Law, yet in power, and autho­ritie, it is the same: which Vl­pian confirmed when hee said, Diuturnam consuetudinem, pro Iu­re, ac Lege, in jis quae non ex scripto descendunt, obseruari solere. And there is great reason for it, because Lawes are in esteeme, and authoritie with vs, for no other reason, but in respect they haue had the reputation to bee allowed, and made by the Iudgement of the people. Then full as meritoriously doe those Lawes deserue esteeme, which all men haue approoued for necessarie, without any pre­script, or rule; and this is the reason which makes our common Law o­riginally [Page 542] grounded vpon ancient customes, of equall power and authoritie with our Statutes.