A philosophicall discourse, entituled, The anatomie of the minde. Nevvlie made and set forth by T.R.

❧Of Morall ver∣tues. Lib. 2. (Book 2)

¶Of the chiefest felicitie. Chap. 1.

WE haue alreadie declared how a man may easely subdue his coltishe affections, and make them to abyde vnder the yoake of reason, so that he knoweth what to auoide as capi∣tall and deadly enemies to his good en∣deuours. It wyl not therefore be a misse nowe to prescribe what he shoulde with tooth & nayle, with all care and diligence seeke to attaine, and in them as in a sure hauen rest himselfe, where he may bée saulfe from the troublesome tempestes, which this wretched worlde shall rayse to his destruction.* 1.1 Many men according to theyr diuers mindes (for euerie man hath his opinion) haue diuersly thought hereof. Some men haue supposed this

hauen to be the delight of the minde, as dyd the Epicures:* 1.2 others the beastly plea∣sure of the boddie, as dyd Aristippus: o∣thers a good constitution of the boddie, and perpetuall health, without sicknesse, as dyd Metrodorus:* 1.3 some haue thought honestie linked with pleasure, as Calli∣phon and Dinomachus:* 1.4 some to be frée from sorrow and griefe of mind, as Dio∣dorus and Hieronimus: some learning, and profounde knowledge, as Herillus: some to liue honestly, and to follow ver∣tue, as the Stoikes: some not to decline from the lawe of nature, as Zeno: some in the goodes of nature, fortune, and the minde,* 1.5 as dyd Aristotle, and the Peri∣patecions. So that howe many sectes, so many sentences, and howe many men, so many opinions. But in this diuersitie, we wyll chiefly allowe the iudgement of the Peripatecions, and so neyther thinke with Aristippus and Metrodorus, that the boddie, and delight thereof is the chiefest thing, and most to be desired: neyther with the Stoikes and Epicures, that good qualites of the minde onely, but ioyntly in the externall, cor∣porall, and mentall goodes: and then is a

man most happie in this life, when per∣fectly he enioyeth all those.

This felicitie is defined of Aristotle to be eyther a vertuous prosperitie:* 1.6 or a florishing estate, ioyned with an honest conuersation: or else a waye sufficiently of it selfe, teaching howe to lyue well: or a lyfe endued with all kinde of pleasure, quiet, and glorious: Finally hée is thought and defined, in this worlde to bée happie and blessed, which for his sub∣staunce is riche, for the constitucion of his boddie is healthfull, and wanteth not those thinges whiche both may kéepe the same when he hath it, or recouer the same, when he wanteth it.

Out of those definicions,* 1.7 maye easely be gathered, the partes of which feli∣citie consisteth, and they are eyther in respecte of the boddie (as we sayde be∣fore) corporall, or naturall: or of For∣tune externall: or because they are in a man, mentall, and of the minde. So that they are thréeforde.

Hee that is desyrous to haue a full vnderstandinge of euerye one of these, ought to make recourse to the greate

volumes of lerned Philosophers, which haue at large explicated them. Yet wyll we not altogeather let them passe, but of euery one speake somewhat orderly.

¶Of the goodes of Fortune. Chap. 2.

THe Philosophers, & other vnfaithfull heathens, considering the mutability of all thinges, and the small assuraunce that man hath of any thing, haue suppo∣sed this world to bee gouerned by some blinde or beastly God.* 1.8 And hereof came the fiction of Fortune, which is of aunci∣ente, both Poets and painters fai∣ned to be blinde, brutishe and frantike, and so to stande vppon a rounde stone, distributing worldly thinges. She is thought to be blinde, because she besto∣weth her gifts without consideration of Persons: Brutishe, because she rewar∣deth most commonly, the most vngodly: without iudgement, Mad, because she is waywarde, cruell and vnconstant: stan∣ding not vpon a square stone, for that a∣bideth, but vppon a rounde one, for that slideth continually. And therefore she is compted as brittle as glasse, and nothing

or more vnstable. And yet notwithstan∣ding, at her pleasure she bestoweth all thinges: which Virgill confirmeth, for he ascribeth vnto her this lytle Omni∣potent: and Saluste sayeth, that in all thinges Fortune beareth swaye. But let them as Heathens, and without the knowledge of the true God, imagine what they liste, yet let vs thinke, and be∣leeue none to bee Omnipoten, and to dis∣pose the worlde, and that which is in the same, but onely our God, not Fortune: and that he doeth all thinges, not rashly without reason, but prouidently to our preseruation: and that he is not mad in his doings, but mightie and maruelous, and doth all thinges to the comfort of his electe. For if the vertuous be pinched with pouertie, or plaged with any kinde of aduersity, they ought with Christe to saye, Their kingdome is not of this worlde: if the vitious be puffed with plentie, or placed in all kinde of prospe∣ritie, the good shoulde perswade them selues, that though they florishe, yet a tyme wyll come, when a straighte ac∣coumpt shall be asked, and those wicked stewards shal be throwne headlong into

that lake which burneth cōtinually with fire and brimstone, where is weeping & gnashing of teeth. Yet wyl we somwhat follow the Philosophers (& yet so as our opinion shalbe that there is a God, & that nothing happeneth by chaunce, or for∣tune vnto man, but by the espetiall pro∣uidence of almighty God) and with the ruder sort we wyl consider what are the goodes of Fortune: which are in num∣ber infinite. For they are all such earth∣ly things,* 1.9 as are geuen of God to the vse of man, or those things which are not in man, but are gotten by man, as Riches, Good wyll of men, Nobilitie, Fame, Aucthority, Honor, many, and vertuous children, and such lyke. Those which I haue recited are much spoken of, & ther∣fore I wyll speake somewhat of them. Vnder the name of riches are cōprehen∣ded plate,* 1.10 money, iewels, houshold stuf, landes, possessions, store of shéepe, oxen, horses, & other beasts. I am not ignorant what hath bene the iudgement of wyse & learned men, concerning riches, as that of Isocrates,* 1.11 where he sayth, That riches do rather styrre to vices, then pricke to vertue▪* 1.12 or that of Plato, where he sayth,

that he is a mad man, which can iudge a rich man, to bee an happie man: or that of another, which accoumpteth that e∣state miserable, whereas riche men are honorable. I know lykewise that Phi∣losophers haue contemned,* 1.13 & cast them awaye, as did Crates of Thebes, which thought he could not, possesse riches, and reason at once: as did Moninus, which scattred money in the streetes,* 1.14 & nothing at al cared for this life:* 1.15 as did Aristippus Democritus & others. And yet I am not ignorant that Isocates counsayle is, we should gather wealth, both to relieue our owne want, and also to succor the neces∣sity of others: That Terence saith, riches are according to their vse, good,* 1.16 if they be well vsed: bad, if they be abused: I know also that Lactantius, called Democritus a foolishe man, for leauing his patrimo∣nie, and substance at sixe and seuen: and that he iudged Crates (and such lyke) a mad man, for flinginge his substaunce and treasure into the sea, with whiche he might haue relieued manies want.

Of this point, because my desire is to be short, I wyll speake no more, but wyl leaue the sentence to the iudgement of

the wyse,* 1.17 onely with Callimachus I say, that Riches without wisedome, to vse them, can not honest a man, much lesse exalt him: and vertue or good quali∣ties without Riches, are as it were a candle vnder a bushell, & obscure: & with learned Sappho, I saye, Riches without vertue do lytle profite,* 1.18 but ioyned with good qualities, doo beutifie and set out a a mans vertue very much. Aristotle de∣fines him to be a true friend,* 1.19 whose care is to pleasure his friende in all honest things, moued thervnto, by a méere good wyll, which he beareth vnto him. Now he which hath many such friendes, is coumpted to bée lykewise in Fortunes bookes. But of true friendship, we shall haue occasion to speake more, when we shall describe the nature of Iustice. Thirdly, he is sayd to haue good Fortune which is borne of a noble house,* 1.20 or by his owne vertues rayseth to his posterity, great fame and glory. Aristotle doth di∣stinguishe noblenesse of birth, & sayth if is eyther vniuersall or particular. Vni∣uersall, as to be borne in a noble and fa∣mous countrey: particular to come of noble progenitors. Both truely illustra∣teth

a man very muche, as long as his vertues doo answere to the fame, eyther of his countrey, or parentes: otherwise more shame he getteth thē glory. For no∣table is the aunswere of Themistocles to Tymodemus,* 1.21 which obiected to him that were it not, that he were an Athenian, his name would be obscure. Thou sayest true, aunswered he, for if I were thy countreyman, my vertues should neuer be rewarded, and if thou wert my coun∣treymā, thou shouldest neuer be so much as talken of, for thou hast no good quali∣ties. Whereby he seemeth to infer that an obscure countrey bringeth no credite to a man, be he neuer so vertuous: and a noble coūtrey illustrateth no man, which is not of good behauior. On the other part to come of noble parentage, and not to be endued with noble qualities, is ra∣ther a defamation, then a glory. And therefore true is that sentence of Cicero,* 1.22 Noble men, except they be vigilant, ho∣nest, valiant, and mercifull (notwithstā∣ding their byrth) must néedes geue place vnto them, which are adorned with these goodly vertues. And to the lyke purpose, enueighing against Catiline, he sayth,* 1.23

Thy naughty life Catiline, hath so obscu∣red the glorie of thy predicessors, that al∣though they haue bene famous, yet by thee they wyll come into obliuion, and neuer be spoken of, wherefore neuer cast mee in the teeth, of my basenesse of byrth, for better is it by vertue and good deedes to get renowme both to mée and my posterite, than as thou doest, to de∣pende vpon the opinion of a noble house, and so by idlenesse, and wicked liuing, to shame both your selfe, and to extinguish theyr fame. So Cicero. By which it appeareth howe foolishe, and fanaticall they shew them selues, which wyl boast of theyr gentiltie, and thinke others in respecte of them selues, no better then slaues, or abiectes of none accoumpte, when as in déede none are more abiects then them selues, because depending vp∣pon their pettie gree, they neglect those thinges which are the tokens of a true gentleman. Nobility therfore of birth to a vertuous man, bringeth great glory: to a vitious, rayseth perpetuall reproche: other Nobilitie in this lyfe by vertue at∣tained, is to be supposed no small token

of an happie life.* 1.24 Another part of good Fortune is to be well reported of, and to haue a good name. The reddiest waye to purchase a good name, is by our good deedes to shewe our selues suche, as our desire is to be accoumpted.

It is written of Dionysius,* 1.25 a most cru∣ell tyrant, that as long as he perceiued him selfe to be well reported of, he was a good man, but when the priuie talke to his defamation came to his eares, he then began to leaue his good nature, and to exercise all kinde of crueltie towarde his subiectes, and became the most cruel Prince that euer was.* 1.26 The considera∣tion of which made Erasmus to saye, that it was no small treasure to haue a good name: and yet is it more frayle then any glasse. For nothing is soner lost, and nothing harder to be recouered. And most commonly, he whiche by good be∣hauior deserues to bée best thought of, it falleth out, that he is most defamed.

But true is that of Tullie:* 1.27 Euen as fire cast into the water, is quickly quenched, & put out: so a false and hote accusation a∣gainst an honest lyfe & conuersation, doth

not long continue, but is extinguished. And a rumor raysed of nothing (sayth E∣rasmus) sone of his own accord vanisheth:* 1.28 and the ende of it is nothing else, but to make the innocencie of him whiche is slandered to be more wondred at, and commended. Cicero lykewise writeth very notably hereof,* 1.29 and sayth: That if a mans good name be not polluted, though he haue nothing else, yet that stands him in more steede, then the possession of great riches Wherefore we may very wel say, that he hath good fortune, which is free from the slanderous tongue, and whose good name is not called into re∣prehension, by the wicked endeuors of malicious persons. A man is lykewise saide to be happie, when he is honored of men. This honor is called the reward of vertue. M. Marcellus building a temple, which he called the temple of Honor,* 1.30 dyd so place & situate the same, as none could haue entraunce therevnto, except first he came through Vertues temple. Signi∣fying thereby, that the way to honor, is by vertue only, not by fauor, money, nor other meanes. And hereof it is that in déede we honor only such as either haue,

or maye doo vs some great benefite. And therefore the Athenians honored Aristi∣geton, and Harmodius,* 1.31 for kylling a ty∣rant: and the Romanes dyd erect images to all suche as had gotten renowme to theyr countrey: and generally all such are honored of euery man, which haue or may doo him good. Cicero sayth,* 1.32 that those haue excellent wittes, which are pricked with the desire of glory. And we finde it most true, that none haue proued excellēt in any thing, except first he were styrred therevnto by a burning desire of Honor.* 1.33 For (that I maye ommit all ly∣berall artes which would be of no price, except their were a preferment) who is he whiche in other thinges can prosper without an hope of attayning honor▪ and praise of men? Great and exceeding be the prayses of Themistocles, and Fabius Maximus,* 1.34 but such commendation was geuen them, when the studie of Honor had entred into their mindes, not before. For they were afore of most wicked con∣uersation, but when the shame of the world had troubled them, and they were pricked with desyre of glory, they proued two such fellowes, as in Athens was

none lyke vnto Themistocles, and Fabi∣us by his vertues got vnto him another name,* 1.35 and was called not Gurges (as before) but Maximus, both verie hono∣rable, and very well esteemed in their contrie. This Honor, as the rewarde of well doing, ought not onely to be desired, but sought for, but yet not by al meanes, or yll meanes, but we must come to the same (as I saide before) by vertue, shee must be our guide, and bringe vs to the place of honor. It hath bene sought for of manye, and yet none purchase the same, and are truly honored of the wise, but onely the vertuous. For when as they hunt after the same immoderatly,* 1.36 not according to the rules of wisedome, they are counted ambitious, and pric∣ked therevnto because they woulde be in the eyes of men gratious, not for any good they meane to the common weale. Such are knowne by theyr fruites, and are honored of flatterers, or other men, because they woulde reape some profite. To haue the true Honor, and to be re∣uerenced among men, for the sake of vertue, is an espetiall gifte, and one of the chiefest goodes of Fortune.

Another of the goodes of Fortune,* 1.37 is to bee blessed with children, & those in num∣ber many, of nature honest. There was a lawe among the Spartanes,* 1.38 that he which had begotten thrée men children, should neyther watche nor warde: and if any had fiue sonnes, shoulde be set free from paying any common fyne, & neuer be troubled with bearing any publyke office, but lyue at his hartes ease, quiet∣ly. And the Romanes had a company of men called Proletaries,* 1.39 vppon whome was neuer any task or fyne set, but they dyd benefite, and pleasure theyr coun∣trey with begettinge children. And cer∣tainlie, the getting of children is one of the chiefest benefits that can be in a com∣mon weale, without which mankinde woulde soone perish and come to naught. And who is he that wyll not iudge that man to bée greatly in Fortunes fauor, which is adorned with many goodly chil∣dren? Or who wyll reprehende that noble Cornelia,* 1.40 whiche counted her children to bée her treasure and ri∣ches? God hath promised that he which serueth him shall haue a wife, as fruit∣full as the vine, and that his children

shall stande lyke Oliue braunches round about his table. Finally what a blessing it is to haue children, let them iudge which want. I haue heard that the chie∣fest cause of debate, among many folkes is most commonly barrennes: and some are so desirous of them, that many thou∣sandes they woulde geue, to haue but one. By whiche it appeareth what a great blessing it is to haue many chil∣dren, espetially if they be vertuous: else were it better to haue none. For, as we commonly saye, Better vnborne, then vntaught. To haue them well manne∣red, consisteth in the power of parentes, for if they wyll, they maye be endued with all vertues. Which made So∣lon to enacte that those parentes in their olde age,* 1.41 shoulde not be relieued of their children, which cared not howe they practised good manners, or profited in o∣ther humane literature. And therefore Cicero doeth sharply rebuke Timarchi∣des,* 1.42 for that being of wicked lyfe, and conuersation him selfe, yet he was not ashamed, to haue his sonne of tender yeares to be a viewer, and a witnesse of his wicked lyuing. And as vehemently

he doeth inueigh against Verres for the same faulte,* 1.43 because he cared not howe his sonne spent his tyme, whether a∣mong harlottes, or honest persons. Notable is the example of Iulia, daugh∣ter vnto Augustus the Emperour,* 1.44 and maye be a good example to all well dispo∣sed parentes, howe they bring vp theyr children. For she being on a tyme coun∣sayled by a deare friende, to leaue her light behauior, and to imitate the ver∣tues of her noble father, aunswered con∣temptuously, My father hath forgot that he is an Emperor, and I doo not remem∣ber that he is my father. And surely the readiest waye to make children forget them selues and their friendés, is not by instructing them in good manners when they are yonge. I wyll recite no forraine examples, for Englande can minister mater inough, and euery iayle can beare mee witnesse, howe lytle care parentes haue of theyr childrens good behauior. The cause of Iulias wickednesse, was her fathers too much pampering her, and the cause of al wickednesse not onely in this lande, but else where, is the carelesnesse

of parentes. For if they, while they are yonge, eyther did punishe them, or suf∣fer them to be punished, they would not without great feare and trembling of∣fende, yea in smallest matters. Nowe (I may very well reason from a contra∣rie) If the hauing of no children be such a griefe and miserie, not onely to maried folkes, but also to the common weale, then the hauing of them is a great com∣fort to parentes, and commoditie to a common weale: and againe, if careles∣nesse of bringing them vp in the studie of vertue, be not onely to them selues a shame and vexation, but vnto theyr neighbors & countreymen hurtfull, and pernicious, then must it néedes be con∣fessed, that to haue children well nurte∣red, bringeth no small praise to their pa∣rentes, and profite to mankinde. And thus much concerning the goodes of For∣tune, which do illustrate euery man ve∣rie much, and cause them to be accomp∣ted of all men blessed: But the vertuous they doo place almoste in the highest de∣gree of Felicitie.

¶Of the goodes of Nature. Chap. 3.

BEfore I recite which are the goodes of Nature, I wyll first shewe, what is signified by this worde Nature: else wyll my wordes rest in great ambigui∣tie, and my meaning wyll hardly be perceyued. The Philosophers take the same diuerslie.* 1.45 And sometyme vnder that they comprehende the essence of e∣uery thing, whether it be substance, or qualitie, sensible, or not to be perceiued: and in this taking of it, it is nothing [ 1] but that which we call Essentia in Latin, the essence of any thing: sometyme it is [ 2] taken for euery substance, whether it haue a body, or be incorporate without one, and so is it another name of the first predicament called Substance, and so maye be called sometyme the predica∣ment of Nature, sometyme of Sub∣stance: sometyme by this word Nature [ 3] we vnderstande the vertue, force, and propertie of euerie thing, whether it be spetiall, or particular: a substance, or an

accident: of the minde, or pertayning to the bodie, as we saye in common speach, it is the Nature of the Adamant to draw iron vnto it: it is the Nature of the fire to beate: of a Lion to be mercifull: of a Tiger to be cruell: of a Man to be desy∣rous of noueltie: of a Woman to be fall of wordes. But these acceptions make nothing to our purpose.* 1.46 Sometyme they distinguishe the same, and saye there is a Nature which is endlesse, infinite: and there is a finite, a nature which hath an ende. The endlesse nature is that which of it selfe,* 1.47 makes and createth all thing, and very darkly they call it Na∣turam naturantem, a Nature natura∣ting, that is, creating all thinges: which in deede is nothing else but God. Here do the Philosophers shewe great follie, and defile them selues with vnspeake∣able blasphemie,* 1.48 when they wyll ascribe the name of Nature vnto him, which is aboue Nature. For if Nature be deri∣ued of nascendo (as the learned do saye) from springing or being borne, howe can he be called Nature, which is without beginning, and was neuer borne? for in so doing, by name they confesse him to

haue a begining, & so consequently shall haue an ende, which in deede hath bene from euerlasting, and shall continue for euer, then which, what can be more wic∣ked? The finite Nature is that which hath an ende, and may be comprehended.* 1.49 Againe, they say Nature is of two sortes Vniuersall, and Particular.* 1.50 The vni∣uersall they diuide, and saye it maye be taken Logically, or Physically: Logical∣ly from an vniuersall comprehension in the minde of particular thinges, as by this generall word, Creature, I vnder∣stande all men endued with reason, and boasts: and by this spetiall worde, Man, I vnderstande all particular men, this man, or that man, by what name so euer he bee called. Physically vnderstoode, the vniuersall nature is againe distin∣guished, and taken eyther for a celestiall influence, equally comming into euery thing, according to his nature, and is of suche power, as it preserueth all thinges from destruction: of this cele∣stiall nature, springes all seconde cau∣ses, and singular effectes:* 1.51 or else it is taken not for the influence which com∣meth from the heauens, but a secrete

working in all kindes, ingrafted into them of God, for continuaunce. Of this it commeth that euerie kinde is preser∣ued by his kinde, and mankinde by man: the nature of horses, by horses: of corne by seede, and that necessarily. For if by chaunce any thing bringes forth, which is not of his kinde,* 1.52 it is iudged a monster: as for a woman to bring forth no man but a beast, is monstrous: and against Nature, horrible & out of course. This vniuersall nature altogether con∣sisteth in imagination, and is nothing without conceipt of minde. And this concerning the diuerse vnderstandings of vniuersall nature.

* 1.53The particular nature, is that vertue which is in any one thing, without con∣sideration of a multitude, or many thinges vnder one generall: as the nature of this hen is to haue chickens: these apples to spring out of this trée: so that euery particular thinge, a particu∣lar nature: and without this there can be no vniuersall or common nature, ex∣cept only in the minde of immortal crea∣tures. This being briefly spoken con∣cerninge the diuerse acceptions of this

worde Nature, we may the better pro∣secute our purpose. For none of these natures which wee haue recited accor∣ding to the minds of the Philosophers, is y^t which maketh to our matter: although the two latter come very nigh. For that infinite, and endlesse nature may seeme the bestower of all goods and goodnesse, & so (in déede largely, & as we saye all good∣nesse to spring, & procede from God) it is. For al things are the goodes of this end∣lesse: euerlasting, and incomprehensible nature: but commonly, & with the rude multitude to speke, Nature in this place, is vnderstoode a particular nature,* 1.54 a na∣turall thing, and yet not euery thing, but endued with sence: & yet not beasts, but reasonable creatures. The goodes of this nature, which this natural man is ador∣ned with all, are many, as those which I haue spoken of before, externall: and those which I shall haue occasion to ma∣nifest hereafter, all good qualites of the minde, but in this place the goodes of Nature be vnderstoode, all such thinges as are in the boddie of man, not pene∣trating into the moste internall parte, and minde of him.

* 1.55Aristotle deuides all goodnesse into two sortes, and calles them eyther external, or internall: externall he sayth are those which we haue spoken of alreaddy, the goodes of Fortune: internall the goodes of the minde and of the bodie, or nature. These laste goodes are these,* 1.56 Health, Strength, Beutie, & Bignesse. Without eyther of these, one can not be accompted happie in this life. For first let a man be for his substance welthie: for honor princely: naye, let him be for his rare & wonderful vertues, glorious, and if you wyl peereles: yet if he be troubled with a quotidian feuer, or tormented with some greuous disease, I praye you is not his case miserable?* 1.57 What a blessednesse it is to haue health, I refer mée to those, which eyther are, or haue bene afflicted with disseases. The cause of a thing, bringes knowledge. None can better tell what it is to possesse riches, then h•• which is pinched with pouertie: and none can better reporte the benefite of libertie then he, which is in thraldome. By sowre thinges, we knowe what are sweete. And in aduersitie we wishe a∣gaine to be in prosperitie. It is sayde,

that a poore laboring man hauing helth, is happier, then a King in sicknesse. The reasons are, because the one kée∣peth vs as it were in prisō, that we may not stirre, the other geueth vs libertie to goe about our businesse: one troubleth the minde, and takes away vnderstan∣ding, the other confirmeth the wit, and makes vs readdie to all good exercises: briefly the one bringeth all things back∣warde, by the other all thinges prosper and come forewarde.* 1.58 Although it be sayde that sicknesse is necessary to bring a man to the mindfulnesse of him selfe, when as health hath brought forgetful∣nesse: which hath bine confirmed by ma∣ny examples, as of Hieron a king of Si∣cilia,* 1.59 which then began to fauor good li∣terature, when he was pinched with sicknesse: of Ptolomie the seconde, which proued excellently well seene in all hu∣mane learning,* 1.60 when he had bene pla∣ged with great sicknesse: of Straton, which neuer woulde practise any com∣mendable thing,* 1.61 before he had bene gre∣uously afflicted with contagious disea∣ses: and Plato is reported neuer to haue fauored Philosophie,* 1.62 before sicknesse

made him to knowe him selfe: which though they are noted of a nomber, to haue proued famous, by reason of sick∣nesse, yet for one of them a thousande, maye be recited, which in their health haue accomplished that, which sicknesse could neuer cause thē to enterprise. For what doth more consume the liuely blood in man? what doth more extinguish the naturall heate which is the cause of life, and promptnesse to euery good exercise, then doth melancholike passions, wher∣with sicke folkes are assaulted? So that lesse able they are to goodnesse then, then at any tyme. Although sometyme it falles out (as in those which I haue re∣cited) that they haue come from vngra∣tiousnesse to goodnesse: and from wic∣kednesse to vertue, by reason of the af∣fliction of the boddie: yet better he may (if he be endued with reason and grace) bende him selfe to a good conuersation in health, then troubled with sicknesse. And with Lactantius I saye, that neces∣sarie it is for him that is insolent,* 1.63 to bée brought to the acknowledginge of him selfe by sicknesse, or other miserie: but

for a wyse man not so. Which, if it were not, to what end should so many, euen of the wysest, seeke so many meanes, and so learned counsayle, eyther to preuent sicknesse, when they are proane there∣vnto, or be cured, when they are disea∣sed. Whervnto should such great heede▪ eyther of misdiet, or distempering of the boddy serue? Why doth not euerie man eyther ingurgitate him selfe, that he breake euen his hart vaines with swyl∣ling, and good cheere: or passe all mode∣stie in all his exercises, if sicknesse be so commodious? But the lerned counsaile, and those which haue bene sicke, doo crie Principiis obsta, Preuent a disease, and when sicknesse is a growing, in tyme cut it of. So that if theyr counsayle be to be regarded, who both know & feele the discommodities of an afflicted bodie, we ought to iudge thē in no smal happinesse, which are free from all disquietnesse of bodie & minde. Croton, that citie was so commended for the healthfulnesse of the place where she is situated, that of her came this adage, more healthfull then Croton.* 1.64 This healthfulnesse of place

caused the Athenians to excell the other Grecians in excellencie of wit.* 1.65 The Aegyptians were the most profounde in all knowledge that euer were,* 1.66 and no other reason is geuen, but because they dwelled in a most healthfull coun∣trey of all others. The first precept which those geue that write of building is to chuse a good and healthful place free from corrupte, and noisome ayres. Were it my minde to make any long & large discourse of this matter, I woulde prescribe rules concerning the kéeping of health, when we haue it, but I leaue the same, those which are desirous of it, maye bestowe their labour very well in perusing of Plutarch, Mar∣silius, Ficinus and others (if they vnder∣stande the Latin tongue) which haue written at large, and learnedly thereof. Another of the goodes of Nature, is the strength of bodie.* 1.67 A thing verie good in tyme and place. Vincentius, a studious and very learned man,* 1.68 makes three kindes of stoute and valiant men, stoute in knowledge, stoute in bodie, & stoute in minde. Those he calleth stoute in knowledge, which (notwithstanding

they haue not that couragiousnesse of minde which valiant men should be en∣dued withall,* 1.69 yet) through a certayne shame of neglecting their duetie, they take harte of grace, and compell theyr boddie to take that in hande, which ap∣pertayneth to the profite and commodi∣tie thereof.

Stoute in boddie, are such to whome nature hath geuen bones and strength,* 1.70 easely to ouercome many labors, and they are of thrée sortes. For some of them can doo many thinges, but wyll not: some can and wyll: others wyll doo more then they can. The same Vin∣centius calleth all such which are stoute in bodie, and yet are cowards in minde. no better then théeues, and dissemblers with God and man: with God, because they maye doo good, and wyll not: with man, because they séeme to bée, and are not stoute. In minde some are stoute, some stouter, and some stoutest.* 1.71 Hée confirmeth it with examples, and sayth, Thobie was stoute, Iob stouter, stoutest Abraham. Thobie committed,* 1.72 Iob loste, Abraham lefte. This mo∣ney, the other substance, the last house,

landes, and kinred. On•• in hope, an••••ther in patience: the other wyllingly. The first by taking compassion of the poore: the seconde by suffering the perse∣cutor: the thirde, by obeying the com∣maunder.* 1.73 Fortitude is proued two wayes, by desire and carnalitie. None of these gaue place to desire (which consi∣steth in three thinges,* 1.74 in desire to get, in carefulnesse to keepe: & vnwyllingnesse to forgoe) but expelled it all together, be∣cause euerie man should haue his owne. They gaue not place vnto carnalitie, or natural affectiō. For Tobias did not loue his sōne more then he ought: Iob dyd not vexe himself for the death of his sonnes▪ more then was needefull: Abraham dyd not onely banishe Ismaell, but also would haue offred Isaac wyllingly vn∣to the Lorde. Hetherto Vincentius▪ Three rare examples of true Fortitude. Of the strength of the bodie might much be spoken: but I wyll be briefe. Onely with that sentence of Lactantius I wyll conclude and saye,* 1.75 that he is not valian∣ter which kylleth a Lion, then he which mortifieth his wyld concupiscences: that

he is not stouter which bringeth vnder foote rauening fowles, then he which bridleth his raginge affections: nor hée whiche ouercommeth a mightie Ama∣zone: then he which vanquisheth his outragious lust fighting against his good fame and honestie: nor that he is more couragious, whiche subdueth wilde coltes, then he which expelleth wilde concupiscence, and vices out of his harte, which are more hurtfull, because they are domesticall, then those which may be shunned and eschued.

By whiche it appeareth, that be onely is to be accoumpted valiant, which is temperate, moderate, and of good con∣uersation, be he notwithstanding of no great strength. And this in comparison, (for in respecte of this conqueror of his internal, and infernall foes, the other a∣gainst forraine enemies) is not so much as to bée accoumpted worthy of praise: For strengthe without a stomache, is nothing, and he which hath it, is iudged but a babler. Both going together, bringeth a good opinion.

As to haue health and strengthe of boddie, so to bee of a good stature, is

nombred among the giftes of Nature.

* 1.76This bignesse or stature consisteth in bredth, and height: He is of good sta∣ture, that is not to long, nor to short: to grosse, nor to slender. A meane in all things, so in this, is best. This come∣lynesse of stature is no small thing, and maketh him well to be accompted of, espetially when to the comlynesse of person, commendable qualities of the minde doo aunswere. Another of Na∣tures goodes, is forme and beutie of bod∣die.* 1.77 The prayses of beautie are many, and wonderfull. We see those which haue the same to be fancied of all men, againe, who can fauor a deformed per∣son? And it is a great deale the more commendable, because of all creatures none is beutifull, but onely man. And as nothing is adorned therewith, but onely man, so nothing is delighted there∣with but onely man. And as it is com∣mended for a notable gifte, and great blessing, so is it dispraysed for a wicked thing, and cause of much wickednesse. Hereof it is sayd that beuty, riches, plea∣sure, and prosperitie, causeth forgetful∣nesse of our selues. But to speake the

same simply without consideration, is a mad thing.* 1.78 And as Aristotle sayde to them which inueighed against eloquēce (because many abused the same) that can not bée nombered amonge wicked thinges, which maye he well vsed to the benefite of others: so doo I saye to them which accompte beutie, riches, and pros∣peritie among euyll thinges, that those thinges ought not to be demed naught, which maye be well vsed. And who is he so deuoyde of reason, that wyll not confesse that all these maye be well be∣stowed? But if we shoulde confesse the trueth, we shoulde saye the beutie of the face of all apparant thinges is most ex∣cellent, and a most euident signe of a good nature. It is caused of a good and pure blood, which appearing in the face, bringes a delightfull color. The beuti∣full complexion is the sanguine: and the sanguines are of the best nature,* 1.79 and geuen (by theyr constitution) to al com∣mendable exercises. The most defor∣med is the Malancholike,* 1.80 a swarte and ill fauored: and who are more wickedly bente, who are the causes of mischiefe

euery where, then (most commonly) are suche? If I shoulde recite the iudge∣ment of those which write of complexi∣tions, and commende the bewtifull, I shoulde not ende this matter in muche paper, it shall suffice therefore that by the waye, I haue touched the same.

Sturmius describeth a man verie no∣tably,* 1.81 and sayth, That he maye rightly be named a man, in which are these fiue things. Whereof the first is, a cleare cō∣plexion, not pale, swarte, or of duskie co∣lor▪ The second, a good stature, and to be wel set▪ not lytle, for that is cōtemptible: The third, a boddie well proportioned in euerie respecte: The fowrth, Agility of ioyntes, and nimblenesse to goe about any thing: The fift, and last, vertuous qualities.

Of all these, except the last, we haue spoken, and therefore because without them, all other thinges are nothing: all other Goods are Euyls, we wyll imme∣d••atly make manifest the Goodes and giftes of the minde.

¶Of the Goods of the minde. Chap. 4

NOwe are we come to the goodes of the minde, which in deede are onely good, and sufficiently good of them selues. The other to wit, the Goods of Nature & Fortune, are so far good, as when they serue to good purpose: and are hande∣maides wayting vppon vertue, not mi∣nisters to vices: and therefore they are not simply & sufficiently of them selues good, but by reason of theyr good vsage.

Cicero tels howe there appeared vnto Hercules two maydens diuersly appa∣relled, of diuers nature:* 1.82 the one plaine & simple: the other gorgeously decked and very fine. Each of them promised accor∣ding to their hability rewards vnto him▪ if he chused according to their mindes: The plaine and simple sayde: if hee would entertaine her, he shoulde in this worlde bée wretched, and of small ac∣coumpte, but afterwarde his felicite should be great, & his same euerlasting.

The other braue Dame sayde,* 1.83 if he would thinke well of her, and make her his owne, he shoulde not lacke, as long as he liued, any thing, whiche coulde be to his delectation, his riches shoulde be infinite, his pleasures vnspeakeable, ac∣cording to his desires euery thing should happen, so that in this worlde, as long as he lyued, he should be glorious: paines he shoulde take none, but liue at ease: but afterwarde she was not to promise any thing. Hercules perceyuing her to be vaine pleasure, forsooke her, and embraced the other, simple and rude ver••tue. Whereby he shewed him selfe more to estéeme vertue, bare, and voyde of all ornamentes, miserable: then de∣lightfull pleasure accompanied with all the goodes of Nature and Fortune. Democritus was of his minde,* 1.84 and ther∣fore, because the pleasure of this worlde shoulde not carrie him from contempla∣tion, he plucked out his owne eyes. Spurina lykewise, a rare example of a vertuous yonge man,* 1.85 rather woulde mangle, and deforme his beutifull face, then be an occasion that others shoulde by his fayrenesse offende. And certainly

there was neuer any desirous of a good name, which dyd not prefer celestiall before earthly thinges, eternall before transitory, vertue before vanitie. So that the true felicitie is attayned by the good qualities of the minde. Cicero con∣firmeth the same, and sayth,* 1.86 that Swee∣t••r and more comfortable are the plea∣sures of the minde, then the delyghts of the fleshe. To declare the excellencie of this Vertue, the auncient Romanes cal∣led theyr Iupiter, Optimus, Maximus:* 1.87 the best, and the greatest: and we call our God so, to signifie that for vertue and power hee is peerelesse. And first he is called Optimus, afterwarde Maximus, to shewe that his diuinitie is before his Omnipotencie.* 1.88 And againe Plutarche sayde, that for thrée thinges God is iudged most glorious, for his im∣mortalitie, for his Omnipotencie, & for his Vertue: & yet sayth he, of all these his vertue is most to be wondered at. And so we maye saye that man is adorned with three thinges, with the Goodes of Nature, Fortune, and the Minde, and yet of all these the Goodes of the minde are moste excellent. And he which is

Optimus, the best man, shall excell him which is Maximus of greatest power, riches, and aucthoritie. So that he which cōmeth nighest vnto God in ver∣tue, is the most happiest of al others: and the fardest from vertue, the fardest from felicitie.* 1.89 Here I haue to distinguishe mankind into two sortes espetially, the one are such which forsaking this world and the glory thereof, altogether addicte them selues to the contemplation of ce∣lestiall thinges (supposing all the cares and cogitations of man, should onely be referred to the studie of him which hath created all thinges of nothing most my∣raculously: and that in token of thanke∣fulnesse, he shoulde onely serue him in true holinesse) and for the better dischar∣ging theyr dueties, be altogether care∣lesse of worldly matters. The other be such, which considering they are aswell compounded of boddie as of soule, thinke it good, that a care shoulde be had aswell of boddie, as of the soule: & yet so, as the care of the soule should be greater, then of y^e boddie. These are called Ciuile, the other Contemplators, or as we saye di∣uines. These Contemplators, although

they serue not altogether to our purpose, yet shall be mentioned, because that wel we can not expresse the one without speaking of the other.

¶ Of Contemplation. Chap. 5

OF the two felicities which the Phi∣losophers defende,* 1.90 one doeth as it were imitate the diuine & celestiall na∣ture, the other consisteth in ciuile actiōs: One by so much the more perfecte then the other, by howe much their obiecte is more excellent. The better felicitie is called in Gréeke 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, in Latin Contemplatiua, a contemplatiue: the o∣ther 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Actiua, a ciuile and ac∣tiue felicitie.* 1.91 The contemplatiue hath three degrées. The first is of such men, which bending them selues to the see∣king of celestiall, and supernaturall thinges, doo chuse vnto them selues be∣fore earthly thinges, heauenly: and doo labor with all studie to segregate, and purge theyr mindes from the filthy de∣sire of worldly thinges, that so al world∣ly cares set a parte, they maye spende theyr tyme in deuoute meditations.

This degree doo all such attaine, which iudge and suppose wisedome onely to consiste in the acknowledginge of that which is supernall: and those onely to be wyse, which bende them selues to the searching out of all celestiall matters, and in theyr lyfe and conuersation, stu∣die to expresse that which is onely be∣longing vnto the diuine nature. In this felicitie are all the fowre principle ver∣tues perceiued to bee. Prudence in chusing celestiall, refusing that which is earthly.* 1.92 As dyd Anaxagoras, which being demanded (after he had bestowed all his goodes vppon his friendes) why he dyd no more esteeme his countrey?* 1.93 aunswered, that the greatest care which he had, was of his countrey, and poyn∣ted his finger towardes the heauens: thinking him selfe but a stranger in this worlde. Temperaunce in seeking for thinges necessarie,* 1.94 eschuing superfluity. As dyd Diogenes, which sayde, that hée studied not for dignity, and serued vain∣glory (as dyd other barbarians) but that he obeyed nature onely,* 1.95 contempning all other worldly pompe. Fortitude,

Fortitude,* 1.96 in being of an inuincible cou∣rage, which is declared by not submyt∣ting them selues lyke slaues to fleshlye desires: as dyd many Philosophers which mortified them selues, that so they might the better profite in the studie of wisedome. Iustice in worshipping one God, aucthor of all Iustice, protector of all such as put their trust in him.* 1.97 As doo all such as worship one God in hart, and worde. The seconde, is not to flee the worlde, and vanities thereof, as hin∣derances, and stayes to good endeuors, as though he knew them, but as it were in deede to perticipate the diuine nature here in this earth, and to thinke of no∣thing but God and godlinesse. So that the first degree seemeth to be but an e∣lection, and chusing good before euyll: the latter is as it were an habite, and enioying thereof in deede. In those which haue this felicitie, is also percey∣ued the vertues, Temperance in not thinking,* 1.98 or forgetting al motions whi∣che spring out of the fleshe: Fortitude in that they are so farre from ouercom∣ming the desires,* 1.99 that they are altoge∣ther ignoraunt, that they are subiect to

any assaults of the Perturbations: Iu∣stice in that they are so mindfull of their duety towardes God, as they seeme by theyr conuersation, not to be clad with an earthly boddie, but to haue the sub∣staunce of God him selfe, pure and free from all swelling motions, which ryse from the fleshe. But haue we any such contemplators? Or was that Ephesian Heraclitus such a one, which made this prowde aunswere vnto Kinge Darius,* 1.100 (which by letters desired him to leaue his solitary & sauadge lyfe, and to spende his tyme in his courte) that all mortall men were dissemblers, none cared for trueth and Iustice, and therefore he woulde enter no familiaritie with any man? The last step or degrée of con∣templatiō, is called in Latin Exemplaris: which consisteth altogether in the minde of man••,* 1.101 from which the expresse, and true example of all vertues doo flowe, as out of a spring. For in the mind all good qualities be imprinted, which impres∣sion the Platonistes call Ideas, which are nothing but certaine inwarde concepti∣ons of thinges.* 1.102 These kindes of con∣templations, haue all the vertues surely

rooted in theyr mindes. So that euery degrée hath his diuers, and sundry ta∣king. The first rooteth all Perturba∣tions out of the mind of man: the second doth altogether forget them: the last knoweth them, but eyther to exercise or name wickednesse, it iudgeth sacriledge. The commendations of this felicity are infinite. Theophrastus extols the same to the skyes, whose praises, if it were my purpose at large to discourse hereof, I would recite. But hauing another ende of my talke, I come to the actiue felicitie.

¶Of Ciuile or actiue felicitie. Cha. 6.

PLato, séeing Archytas Tarentinus bent altogether to cōtemplation,* 1.103 and comparing that with ciuile vertues, dyd dehorte him from the same, His reason which he vsed was, because no man was borne to him self, but a péece of his birth, his countrey, a part his parents, & a part his friends, and neyghbors callenged, so

that if he considered his estate thorough∣ly, and discharged his dutie as he ought, very lytle tyme he shoulde finde, which he might saye was reserued to him selfe alone.* 1.104 Aristotle lykewise to the same purpose sayeth, that a man shoulde not lyue to him selfe, but shoulde haue a care of his parentes, of his children, wife, neighbors, and countreymen. And ther∣fore is a mā called Animal sociale, a felow creature, because of all other thinges he is or shoulde be delighted with compa∣ny. Which made Cicero to saye, that no∣thing was more acceptable before God,* 1.105 then are the companies of men, and as∣semblied linked by a lawe, which being so gathered together, all are called a cit∣tie. Those which flie the company of men, are called by an odious name 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 haters of men. Those contemplators haue bene, as I sayde before, not onely odious, but also ridicu∣lous vnto many. As was one of the se∣uen wise men of Greece, Thales. Which being earnestly geuen to the beholding of the starres,* 1.106 not seeing that which was before his feete, fell into a great hole. Which when an olde woman sawe, she

brake into a great laughter, and sayde, you in deede are a wyse man Thales, which wyll geue your selfe to contem∣plation, and neglect thinges before your eyes: who wyll not exclame against E∣pimenides,* 1.107 which being in harde con∣templation, was not so much as moued, when his countrey, and cittie where he dwelt, and also his owne house was consumed with fire?* 1.108 Or that Meton the Astronomer, which dyd not onely faigne him selfe to be frantike, but also burnte, house, bookes, and all his sub∣staunce, because he woulde not breake his studie, in defence of his countrey, to goe a warfare? A man in my iudge∣ment, vnworthy to reape any commo∣dity of his countrey, which was so vn∣wylling to bestowe his paines in kee∣ping it from seruitude. And therefore write they verie well, which saye, that he is a right good man whiche serueth God deuoutly, and dealeth vprightlye with all men. Suche a man is called rightly▪ a ciuile man,* 1.109 and he is adorned with all vertues. And this is he which obeyeth not the affections of the minde, otherwyse then honestly he maye, but

embraceth vertue with all his hart: and so it commeth to passe, that because of his good disposition and honest behauior, he is sayde by vertue to be brought into an happie estate and hauen, or heauen of ioyes. Here it is necessary that I declare what this vertue is, and of howe many partes it consisteth.

¶The definitions of Vertue, and her partes. Chap. 7.

PYthagoras defineth vertue to be a na∣turall harmonye to which all honeste thinges do aunswere.* 1.110 Manie of the Stoikes according to the opinion of So∣crates do define vertue to be a knowledg of those thinges which are agreable to nature: which opinion caused Herillus to suppose knowledge to be the chiefest good.* 1.111 Of his minde was Possidonius, which sayde, that to lyue honestly was nothing but a perfecte vnderstanding of those thinges which accompany nature. Horace by a contrary defines the same, and sayth that Vertue is nothing but an

auoyding of wickednesse. Cicero defines it in two sortes: for sometyme it is a per∣fection of reason: sometyme an habite of the mind agreeable to reason. Cleanthes sayde, it was an election of the minde, obeying to nature, which of it selfe was able to bring an happie estate. Aristotle sayde, It is a chosing habite of the mind, consisting in a meane, betweene two ex∣tremes, of which one excéedeth, the other wanteth much: as Fortitude when it excéedeth, falleth into rashnesse, when it fainteth, into chyldishe fearefulnesse: and Liberalitie, when it lauisheth out of reason, is called prodigality, when it is not extended any whit, purchaseth the name of couetousnes. And therof came this prouerbe: That in good things no∣thing is eyther wanting or superfluous. The consideration of whiche made the Pythagorians to saye,* 1.112 that wickednesse coulde not be comprehended, but godly∣nesse might. And therfore much easier is it to become wicked then vertuous. For the wayes to wickednesse are many, plaine, and common: but to goodnesse are not many, but one, & that same is harde to finde, because it is but little troden.

Nowe séeing we know what is vertue let vs learne of howe many kinds it is.* 1.113 Aristotle deuides them into two sortes, and calles them eyther morall, or intel∣lectuall: he calleth all such intellectual which by nature are ingrafted in vs,* 1.114 as Heede, Warinesse, Wisedome: Morall, are suche which by custome, and ciuile conuersation we attaine: These flowe from the manners of men, and vse makes them perfecte: the other out of the mind: for many men may be found whiche are (although not in lyke man∣ner) wyse, and haue discretion to knowe good from euyll, although not perfectly and fully, for wisedome per∣fecte, is gotten by long exercise, and ma∣ny yeares. Some call those, as dyd Panetius, eyther contemplatiue, or ac∣tiue. Againe, some into three kindes deuide them, and call them eyther natu∣rall, rationall, or morall.

* 1.115But Plato best of all sayeth plainely, that vertue is diuided into fowre parts, the first is Prudence, the seconde Tem∣perance, the thyrde Fortitude, and the laste Iustice, and he calleth them the fowre principall vertues, because that

out of them doo spring all the other ver∣tues. Nowe seeing we knowe which are they, let vs also tell what they are.

¶Of Prudence, and her partes. Cha. 8.

PRudence or wisedome, according to the mindes of diuers Philosophers,* 1.116 is diuersly defined, and yet in sense they all agree. The Stoikes say it is a know∣ledgd of good thinges, bad thinges, and thinges indifferent. Cicero is of theyr minde, and geueth the very same defi∣nicion: and sometyme he calleth it the mystresse of this lyfe, sometyme the art teaching howe to lyue well. Aristotle sayth, it is an habite of the minde, whose office it is to shew what things are hurt∣full, or profitable vnto man. Socrates was of that opinion,* 1.117 that he thought all vertues should be called by the name of Prudence. But Aristotle (as being out of the waye) reprehended him, and sayd, that his opinon had beene good, if he had thought no vertue could haue bine with∣out

Prudence, but he coulde not saye rightly, that euery one was Prudence. Many and great haue bene the prayses of this vertue. Apollophanes a Stoike stoode in such admiration thereof,* 1.118 that he iudged all other vertues in respecte of wisedome nothing worth, that shee was to the rest as a prince to her handmaids. Another Philosopher whose name was Bion, thought aswell of her, and sayde, that shee dyd as farre excell the rest of the vertues,* 1.119 as the sight is better in dig∣nitie then other senses. Another Phi∣losopher, whose name was Epicurus, (which though concerning the chiefest happinesse he erred,* 1.120 yet in this thing) fayde very well, that the very cause of all goodnesse was onely wisedome. For by that we knowe, what to eschue as hurtfull to our selues, and againe what to chuse as profitable. Hipparchus, and other Astronomers doo affyrme,* 1.121 that wisdome can preuent future mischiefes: and nothing is so hurtfull, and perniti∣ous, but by wisedome it maye be auoy∣ded. For (that I maye laeue other examples, vntyll I declare the partes of wisedome in order) it is reported of

Socrates,* 1.122 that being (according to the iudgement of the Physiognomers) ge∣uen to all wickednesse, by wisedome he reformed him selfe, and became a good example of a godly man.

The Poets,* 1.123 to declare the excellencie of this vertue, faine wisedome to bee a woman, and to be borne not of any mor∣tall wight, but euen of Iupiter him selfe: and not of the vilest part of him (as Ve∣nus was of Neptune) but of the beste:* 1.124 and to springe out of Iupiters braine, thereby to shewe, that wisedome is no base, but a diuine thing. And certainly (to leaue all fictions of Poets) if wee consider the place, from whence our wisedome comes, we shall confesse that it is a most excellent thing. The place from whence it floweth, is not the beastly part concupiscence, but the best, the minde which is immortall. As the Philosophers & Poets say theyr minde, to the extolling of wisedome, so doo the painters discribe what they think of her. They for wisedome painted Minerua, & they dyd so set her forth, that wheresoe∣uer one stoode, eyther before her, or be∣hinde, shee had a full sight of him.

Thereby to shewe that the Nature of wisedome is such as it beholdeth,* 1.125 and noteth euery place, and person, neyther doth shee commit, and doo any thing for which shee may afterwarde saye, Non putaram. Nowe all these prayses of all these men, maye easely be perceiued in the office of wisedome. For it is the part of a wyse man to measure all thinges by the rule of reason, to doo nothing but that which is honest and good: to bende all his thoughtes to the encrease of god∣lynesse.* 1.126 All this maye easely be per∣ceiued to be true, if we consider the parts of which Prudence dependeth, which are in momber eleuen: namely, Reason, Iudgement, Circumspection, Proui∣dence, Docilitie, Héede, (all which Plo∣tinus a Platoniste, affyrmeth to be the parts of Prudence:) but Aristootle doth not onely confesse those to he her partes, but also adioyneth, Warynesse, Wyly∣nesse, Craftinesse, Subtiltie, and righte∣ousnesse. What eache of these are, accor∣ding to our skyll, and hability, shall be manifested.

¶Of Reason. Chap. 9.

THe firste and moste principall parte of wisdome is reason,* 1.127 whiche (accor∣ding to the sentence of Cicero) is an or∣der to do all things, by the consideration of things to come.* 1.128 And he prefers the same aboue all other gifts which man is endued with all, and that worthely: Es∣pecially in his bookes de Finibus he hath a notable place in the prayse of Reason, his wordes are these: Men, although by many other thinges, yet chiefly by this one, doo most differ from beasts, for that they haue Reason of nature, and a mind geuen them which is sharpe, liuely, and noting many thinges at once most rea∣dely, which doth beholde, both the cau∣ses, and euent of thinges, it compareth one thing with another, and ioyneth that which is separate, and tyeth that which is to come with thinges present, and doth consider the state of our lyfe, which we haue to lyue: the same reason makes a man to loue men, and to lyue

with them charitably, not in worde or deede to disagree, that so from a domisti∣call friendship they may step to a ciuile, to a general good wyll towards all men: and as Plato writ vnto Archytas, the same Reason makes a man to remem∣ber that he is not borne to himselfe only, but also for his parentes, friendes, con∣trey, and for other mens causes, so that lyttle tyme he hath to bestowe for his priuate profite, but all his labors, and studie, shoulde be conferred to the profi∣ting of others. Much more Tullie brin∣geth forth in praise of Reason, which for breuity sake I passe ouer, and the rather because his words are not so fit & proper for this part, for here we vnderstande not reason so largely as it shall be that thing, whereby a man differeth from a beast, but rather more stricktly for a reasoning of the minde, as it were pro and con,* 1.129 whether this be good or to bee embraced or bad, and to be auoyded. And so doeth Aristotle take the same in that place of his Ethiks, where he talks of Prudēce. And so is it of Cicero so be a diligent & heedeful considering of things

to be done or no. Whose definition is good. For if wisedome be perceiued by chusing thinges good or euyll (which all men doo graunt) then is it the parte of a prudent man, well to consult before he begin, and that must be had in all which he goes about. Which consultation is the reasoning of the minde. which rea∣soning doeth spring from reason. And when we haue wel pondered any thing in our minds, reason must be iudge, and geue sētence whether it ought to be done or no. Hereof is that of Salluste, Prins∣quam incipias consulto, & vbi consulueri•• maturè facto opus est: Before a man be∣gin any thing, consultation shoulde be had, but hauing deliberated, speedy exe∣cution.

¶Of Vnderstanding. Chap. 10.

VNderstanding, which otherwise may be called Iudgement, or discretion consisteth in two thinges, in discerning trueth from falsehood, & in taking heede lest the mind he ouermuch delighted, & so deceiued by vaine pleasures of the body.

Nothing weakneth this vnderstanding,* 1.130 so much as idlenesse, slothfulnesse, euyll affections, corrupte manners, for they are as it were sworne enemies, not on∣ly to our wittes, but also to our good en∣deuors. Of Idlenesse it is sayde, that by doing nothing,* 1.131 men learne to lyue naughtily. And if we consider truely thereof, we shall finde, the causes of all mischiefes in euery common weale, to spring of idle persons, they are the fyre∣brandes of sedition, the causers of all ciuile dissention. And therefore notable was that custome among the olde Indi∣ans,* 1.132 for there manner was euery night before supper to examine euerie man, howe he had bestowed that daye: nowe, if any could not proue that he had bene about some good exercises, theyr vse was to expell him out of theyr company. Which they dyd by the example of the Bee,* 1.133 which can abide no Droans among them, but as soone as any beginnes to bée idle they fall vppon them, and kyll them. But the Aegiptians came nigher vnto theyr nature,* 1.134 for they had a lawe, by which they woulde compell any man

to geue an accoumpte of the spending of his tyme: and if any were founde to lyue idly, hauing no trade or occupati∣on, by the lawe he was condemned to dye.

Ouid sayeth,* 1.135 that the waye to extin∣guishe the burning passion of loue, is to beware of idlenesse, as the very thing which ministreth matter to the encrea∣sing of that hote affection. And Cicero sayeth, that idlenesse is the nource of all wickednesse. Well, as idlenesse, and slothfulnesse doo make the braine vnfit for the meditation of that which is good,* 1.136 so also when a man wyll subiect himselfe to his carnall desires, and wicked affec∣tions of the minde, he doth as much de∣bilitate▪ and cut the stringes of his vn∣derstanding. It is very well sayde of Iouianus Pontanus, that he which ru∣leth others,* 1.137 ought to be frée from all af∣fections: for Anger suffreth not a man to see that which is expedient: Hatered hasteneth to vniustice: Loue weakeneth the iudgement: Luste offereth wrong: Greife styrreth to reuengement:* 1.138 Enuie ouerthroweth a man. And as he thought

a prince, and one in aucthoritie should be cleare from the contagiousnesse of the immoderate and beastlye Perturbati∣ons, so doo we thinke it the part of euery man to quench them, when they inflame him too much, and prouoke him to that which is vnhonest. What are these wicked affections, and when to be brid∣led, we haue declared sufficienlly in our former booke. Now of manners.

Euill manners come by euill compa∣ny.* 1.139 The nature of euery man is per∣ceyued by those whose familiaritie hee delighteth in: so that if he frequent the company of the good, he is compted ver∣tuous, if of the wicked, he may very wel take his denomination from them. Like∣wyll to lyke.

Isocrates counsayleth Demonicus, whose felicitie hée wished as his owne,* 1.140 that he shoulde to all men shewe a good countenance, but he should enter fami∣liarity with none, but such as were of good conuersation. For the cōpany of the wicked wyl contaminate a man, & make him bolde in naughtinesse. True is that saying, He which toucheth pitche wyll

be defiled therewith. Nowe how much euyll company weakes our vnderstan∣ding, it is no hard thing to perceyue. For howe can the wit be sharpned by them, whose onely tyme is spent in banishing out of minde all shamefastnesse? Howe can they iudge of vertue and godlinesse, which chuse to lyue in al vngratiousnes, and refuse, & that wilfully all counsayle of the minde, and wyllingly confirme them selues in naughtines. Therfore to haue a good vnderstanding, it is necessa∣ry that we auoide, and that carefully all impedimentes to the same, idlenesse, e∣uyll affections, and wicked company: and so shall wée finde that Minerua, which is reported to springe out of Iupi∣ters braine.* 1.141 The which Minerua is fai∣ned of Poets to appeare somtime armed in all parts, sometyme without armour. Which fictiō declareth the euents of our vnderstanding. Those weapons of Mi∣nerua hurteth two wayes, eyther in coū∣sayling wickedly or rashly. Of wicked counsaile it is saide, y^t it is most hurtfull to the geuer. Rashe counsaile (although sometyme it maye haue good euent: yet

that is rather by chance then otherwise) hath euyll successe, and is the cause of infinite hurtes both priuate and pub∣like. And therefore it is sayde, that so∣daine counsayle, bringes speedy repen∣taunce. Wyse men of deepe vnderstan∣ding, and iudgement, because they counsayled well, and to the profite of the common weale of the Romanes, were called Consuls, of whiche there were a certaine number:* 1.142 to whome was committed the gouernment of Rome. But it seemeth that Nature hath shewed her selfe a stepdame vnto vs, rather then a mother. For euerie man hath a better iudgement in other mennes af∣fayres then his owne. We haue a clere sight in others businesse, but in our owne matters, wee are eyther starke blinde, or at the least poore blinde, and can not so well foresee inconueniences comming towardes our selues, as wée can counsayle our friende to preuent a mischiefe. And herein we are like Phy∣sitians which being sicke, doo seeke ease at anothers hande.

¶Of Circumspection. Cha. 11.

CIrcumspection followeth, which is defined to be an espetiall care of the minde,* 1.143 to bring those thinges which wee haue in hande to a good passe. This cir∣cumspection at al tymes, and for all per∣sons is necessary: as that whiche in warre is the cause of escapinge many dangers, in peace doth all thinges to the increase of vnitie among men, that so they maye spende theyr tyme ioyfully, secure from al feare of forraine assaults. And as a skylfull marriner, beholdeth all the partes of heauen continually, that so at all tymes he may accordingly guide his shippe: so a wyse Prince con∣tinually prepareth him selfe against all troublesome tempestes, and in warre and also in peace, he by Circumspection preuenteth all inconueniences, which without this vertue woulde bring him into miserie. As dyd Q. Cepio,* 1.144 which neglecting the good counsayle of his fel∣lowe

in office Cn. Metellus,* 1.145 cast awaye of the Romanes in one battaile .80. thou∣sande. But for his labor he was con∣demned to perpetuall imprisonment. C. Flaminius,* 1.146 also by the request of the people created Consull, was so puffed and swolne with pride, that all his stu∣die was to seeke occasions of warre: and hauing attayned his desire, and was e∣lected chiefe captaine of the Romane soldiors, became so carelesse and voyde of circumspection, that by the snares of Hanniball he was entrapped, and all his men eyther taken▪ or put to slight. But as rashe captaines voide of circum∣spection, haue brought shame to them selues, and defamation to theyr coun∣trey: so wyse and circumspecte haue brought as much honor to them selues and countrey. As we reade of Fabius Verruscosus (whiche for his vertues was called Maximus) which by circum∣spection,* 1.147 dyd so abate the hauty courage of that victorious Hanniball, as among his friendes and companions he woulde saye, that he neuer knewe what warre ment, before he had occasion to encoun∣ter

with Fabius. Afterwarde was by the Romane Senate sent vnto Fab. Maxi∣mus, Marcellus which lykewise was a terror vnto Hanniball.* 1.148 And therefore as he acknowledged Fabius to be his mai∣ster, and to teache him to guide an ar∣mie, so dyd he confesse him selfe to stand in feare of Marcellus. Whose wisdome and circumspection was of the Romanes so wel noted as one of them, Fabius was called the buckler, the other Marcellus the sworde (to cut of the enemies) of the people of Rome. So that as Cepio and Flaminius, for theyr temerity, haue bene odious: so Fabius, and Marcellus for their circumspection haue bene glorious in the eyes of all men. And as to them, so hath it, or maye happen vnto others.

The causes bringing circumspection are fowre: to wit Feare: Care,* 1.149 Ne∣cessitie, and Affection. Feare afflicteth, Care compelleth, Necessitie byndeth, Affection woundeth, Feare afflic∣teth, because the griefe of comming into troubles causeth a great circumspection in a man. Hée which hath a care of his businesse, wyll by all meanes

labor to haue his desire: and therefore it is sayde, that care compelleth a man to bee circumspect in his doinges. When there is no waye to auoyde a mischiefe, then is he bounde by the lawe of reason to seeke those wayes which best may be to his profite. And when a man hath a desire to a thing, and that the same is continually in his minde, that affection so woundeth him at the harte, that he wyll be carefull to get it, and circum∣spect in the getting.

¶Of Prouidence. Chap. 12.

AN espetiall parte of Prudence, is Prouidence,* 1.150 which is defined to bée a certaine vertue and force of the mind, by which wee foresée a thing before it comes to passe. Chilo a Lacedemon sayd that the foresight of things to come,* 1.151 was proper to a prudent man, by that same vertue of which he is denominated. And therefore some thinke that this ver∣tue of which Prudence is a part,* 1.152 should

not be called Prudence, but Prouidence, because that her office consisteth espeti∣ally in foreseeing thinges, or in preuen∣ting a mischiefe before it come. And therein doo we differ from brute,* 1.153 and vnreasonable creatures, which haue no forecaste, but serue the tyme present. And yet we reade that there is a certaine Prouidence in some beasts, as in Myce, and Antes.* 1.154 It is reported that by nature this prouidence is geuen to Myce, that before any man,* 1.155 they wyll foresee the de∣struction of an olde house, and therefore before the ruine and fall thereof, wyll leaue the same, and séeke a newe habita∣tion. And certaine it is that Antes haue knowledge, or foresight of imminent miseries which are not come, and ther∣fore before any famine they labor, and that diligently for prouision: and in som∣mer they store them selues, that in win∣ter they may not want. But let vs leaue the examples of beasts▪ and come to men againe, whome, this Prouidence makes to séeme in respeect of others, Gods,* 1.156 and to haue a diuine nature, as were Minos, Rhadamanthus, Lycurgus, Numa Pom∣pilius

and others, which by a singular foresight, brought the rude multitude vnto a ciuile kind of lyuing. For percei∣uing that of them selues they were but men, and that mans aucthoritie among the ignorant was lytle worth, fained eache of them to haue had familiaritie with some God: and therefore Minos affirmed that he had consulted with Iu∣piter:* 1.157 Rhadamanthus with the same Iu∣piter: Lycurgus with Apollo: Numa Pompilius, with Egeria Nimphe: A∣molpis with Vesta: Minyas with Mer∣curie, and by theyr counsayle had geuen lawes to theyr profite, if they obeyed them. Which prouidence of theyrs pre∣uailed, and made the people to come vnder lawes, when otherwyse they woulde not. Great and many haue bene the praises of this Prouidence, and cer∣tainly too much in commendation there∣of can not be spoken Epicurus standing in admiration of this vertue▪ thought the same worthy of honor and veneration, as the mistresse, and commander of the well ordering of this worlde.* 1.158 The Po∣ets doo saye that the cheifest of Iupiters

daughters was Prouidence.* 1.159 And for the excellencie hereof, Kinges aforetyme, haue as it were professed the art of Pro∣uidence: supposing that it was a princely thing to haue the knowledge of future things. Among the Romanes was a col∣ledge of wyse men called Augures,* 1.160 by whose authority the state of Rome was gouerned oftentymes. In France there were a kinde of men called▪ Druidae,* 1.161 which foretolde that shoulde happen. Among the Persians those kinde of men were called Magicians:* 1.162 whose aucthoritie was such as none of the Kinges of Persia, at any tyme was created king, except he was knowne to bee profounde in arte Magike. But prouidence and diuinations, gotten by such wicked meanes, is not onely odi∣ous to honest persons, but also perniti∣ous to the practisers.

Epaminundas,* 1.163 a notable captaine of Thebes was of y^e minde, that he thought all diuinations & Oracles to be nothing else but the occasins of cowardnes, that so oftē as any man were loth to encoun∣ter, he might saye, that there appeared a

vision vnto him in his sleepe, which wil∣led him not to fight: or that by the oracle he was appointed for some other pur∣pose: or by some other signe eyther of b••ast or byrde, was terrefied from bat∣tayle. Accius also gaue his verdite of these diuiners and sothsayers,* 1.164 his words are these: I geue no credite vnto these wyse men, which sell wordes for mo∣ney, and fyll mens eares with vaine talke, so to enriche them selues, and no whit pleasure those whiche come vnto them.

But certainly to haue a prouidence, to tell thinges to come, by a secreete gift of nature, is a goodly thing, and such men aboue others ought to bee admitted into the consultation of great matters: Mar∣ry these blinde Sothsaiers,* 1.165 as we com∣monly call them, wyse men, are of all men most to be abhorred, as those which eyther haue entred league with the au∣thor of lyes the deuill, and so perticipa∣ting his nature, can tell no trueth: or els depende vppon thinges vncertaine, and so for one trueth, tell a hundered false∣hoods.

¶Of Docilitie. Cha. 29.

DOcilitie or a good capacitie is a cer∣taine vertue of the minde,* 1.166 by which we quickly conceaue, and easely vnder∣stande those things which are taught vs of another. A good wit may diuersly be knowne according to three degr••es which it hath. The first is of hope:* 1.167 the seconde o•• practising: the last of perfection. That of hope is in children▪ and infants, which in theyr cradles geue a signe of theyr wit•• that of practising appeareth in yong men in learning, which is perceyued three wayes, eyther when they haue a desire to learne, and are studious: or when they quickly conceaue which are vttred: or when they faithfully commit th••m to minde. These be apparent, and ••••••••ly tokens of a good wit▪ the other which ••e in yonge ones are mute, and geue a dumme showe, so that certainly we cannot saye they haue good wits, but onely in hope, and by coniecture: That of perfection is in the elder sort, when they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not onely quickly conceaue, and

faithfully remember, but also fruitfully put in practise those thinges which dili∣gently they haue learned. In all per∣sons, an excellent thing. The praises of Alcibiades were many,* 1.168 and yet espe∣tially he was cōmended for that where∣soeuer he were, and in what contrey soeuer he soiorned, he could easely frame him selfe to theyr manners. If he were in Lacedemonia, he could be a right La∣cedemonian, and could séeme as graue, as painfull, & as valiant as the best: In Thracia he woulde be a Thracian: In Ionia, he would be as nice, delicate, and wanton▪ as who was wantonnest.

* 1.169Such another was M. Antonius. For at Rome, he woulde lyue lyke a Ro∣man▪ and woulde séeme a right senator: In Aegipt, who was more licenciously bente? or coulde playe his parte in wic∣kednesse more kindly then he? But this kinde of capacitie can not be commen∣ded. For we coumpt not that a go••d wit which wyll easely attaine to the perfec∣tion of wickednesse (for that shoulde bée verie harde to learne) but vertue and godlinesse. Vice, and vngratiousnesse is

quickly learned, and should not be lear∣ned: as that wherevnto the dullest is readdiest to engrafte: Vertue and god∣linesse is hardly learned, and shoulde be learned: and that the sharpest of wit, is very dull to conceaue. Wherefore as Themistocles aunswered one which pro∣mised a thing to confirme his memory:* 1.170 Naye sayde he, my memory is good i∣nough: & something I had rather learne to forget, then alwayes remember: so should we say, that to some thing we are by nature too prone, & can sone conceaue, so that we should rather seeke to forget, then studie to remember them, as are al kind of vngratiousnes & impietie. Some haue this Docilitie of nature: some get the same by diligence. They which haue it by nature, are not alwayes of the best memory. On y^e other side, Docility gottē by industry, though it be hard in concei∣uing, yet is it not hastie in forgetting. It is an easie matter to imprint a thing in waxe, & it is more easie to put it out. It is a harde thing, and requireth tyme to engraue any thing in marble, and it is more harde to take awaye the same.

Examples we▪ haue of either parte ma∣ny: and the best learned haue not con∣ceaued a thing soonest.* 1.171 Then Demades who had a better gifte quickly to con∣ceaue? Nature was beneficiall. And yet in writing who was more foolish? he lacked diligence. Then Demosthenes in conceauing,* 1.172 who was more harde▪ Nature neglected him. And yet in wri∣ting, who was more excellent? His paines was wonderfull. And so it fal∣leth out most commonly, to whome na∣ture hath geuen sharpnesse of wit, they are most carelesse, and least commended in theyr exercises: againe, whome na∣ture hath done leste for, and haue the worste capacities, they proue by ••eason of theyr paines, most profounde. Then Demosthenes,* 1.173 none was more famous among the Grecian orators, and yet ex∣tempore he was lest ingenious. Then Cicero none was more notable among the Romane orators, and yet to speake vpon a soddaine▪ none was more vnwil∣ling, more vnfit. It is reported of him, that among all the orations which hee made, but one of them was made ex

tempore without premeditation. Which he dyd eyther because he coulde not, or woulde not. Certainly he would not, because he could not: and his vnwilling∣nesse arose of his vnfitnesse. Howe vn∣fit he was it appeareth by most of his o∣rations, where hée telleth with what feare he came to speake before a multi∣tude. But that is the part of an orator to vse a modest excusinge of him sel••e, (some wyll saye) and that we maye not think such a patrone of eloquēce, so bare of inuencion, & matter, as that he is not able at all tymes to make, yea ex tem∣pore, an oration. Certes he was such a one. And though by studie he was peere∣lesse in his arte, yet otherwyse he coulde perswade very lyttle, and abiect orators passed him as farre, as Demades passed Demosthenes. He shoulde once haue spoken vppon small warning, but by an occasion, it was differred vntyll another daye: which newes his seruant Erotes brought vnto him:* 1.174 and it so reioysed him at the hart, that for those newes he made Erotes of a bond man, free, and of a slaue a ci••••i••en of Rome. Whereby it is eui∣dent,

that vppon a soddaine to speake he was no man: and that those his wordes, in many of his orations procéeded of an imbecillity, which he knew was in him selfe. So that it appeareth of two wits (whereof one is naturall, the other got∣ten by studie) the better in a simple con∣sideration of either of them) is that whi∣che by diligence wée attaine. Marrie when to that gifte of Nature we ioyne diligence, and make that fully perfecte, which otherwyse is not, then certes without comparison, it is by many de∣grées the better.* 1.175 Cicero hath a notable place, in which he sheweth that noble persons haue the best capacities, his wordes be these: Noble men, whether they geue them selues to goodnesse,* 1.176 or vngratiousnesse, in eyther of them doo so excell, as none of our calling (meaning the baser sort) come any thing nigh them. He spake by experience. God graunt that all noble, and gentlemen maye repell from theyr hartes all vaine cogitations, and embrace vertue, for certainly (by an espetiall gifte of God) theyr wits are more quicke to conceaue any thing then

are the ruder, & baser kinde of men. For if they folow the coūsayle of the learned, and entertaine godly motions into their mindes, they are notable examples of blessed men: contrariwise, when they depart from reason, and neglect good let∣ters: they doo not onely excell inferior men in wickednesse, but euen the very beasts in all beastlinesse, & proue deuils incarnate. For they haue not only a wil, but also a power to bring all y^t to passe, which they are desirous: now both ioy∣ned together, doth either profite much, or ouermuch plage a cōmon weale. Wher∣fore God graunt that they maye tame and bridle all vnruly affections, and ear∣nestly treade that pathe which bringeth to felicitie. I may not stande long vpon any part, neyther is it my minde fully & at large to discourse euery thing, wher∣fore hauing geuen a lyght to the vewing of this part of Prudence, and haue as it were by poynting, shewed what is Do∣cilitie, and who are most Docile, learne, and conceaue a thing sonest, I come to the next part of Prudence.

¶Of Heed••. Chap. 14.

NOwe are we come to another thing without which none may be eyther named or iudged a wyse and prudent man.* 1.177 * 1.178 It is named in Latin Cautio, in our tongue we call it Heede. Whose na∣ture is (according to Cicero) with iudge∣ment to decline from thinges hurtfull. Wherefore this is a moste necessarie thing, as for all men, so espetially for him whose profession is by fortitude of minde to defende his countrey▪ I meane a captaine. Examples we haue ma∣ny, and that of most triumphant and victorious fellowes, which haue embra∣ced this as an espetial thing, most méete for him, in whose prudence remaineth eyther the sauing or destroying, not one∣ly of many a thousand valiant soldiors, but also famous and noble townes, ca∣stels and contreys.

And therfore we reade that Caesar was alwayes so heedefull,* 1.179 and fearefull of af∣terclaps,

that he alwayes woulde haue two legions of soldiors well armed in al pointes, lying before his tentes, which should vpon a soddaine set vpon his ene∣mies, if soddainly, or in the night they would seeke his ouerthrow. Such ano∣ther was Sertorius, & therefore he tooke vp his fellowe Pompey very much,* 1.180 for that he was so rash, and heddy not héede∣full in his doings, and therefore he sayd that ere long was, he would knowe (for then he was but a yong warrier) that it was the office of a captaine, to haue as great a care of thinges which might happen, as that which he knewe had come to passe. C. also Marius in all his doinges was most heedefull,* 1.181 and by no snares of the enemie, would be brought from a thing once determined. Often∣tymes he was prouoked of his enemies in such sort to ioyne battayle, as had he not bene of a confirmed iudgement, he woulde haue satisfied theyr mindes. On a tyme he was sent by the Senate, to fight against one Biorex, a King of the Cimbrians,* 1.182 and perceyuing himselfe to weake, so prepared him selfe, as hee

was out of his enemies daunger. The King perceyuing he coulde not encoun∣ter, sent vnto Marius, and wylled him to bring his armie into the open fielde, that so they might finish their cōtention. Marius aunswered, that it was not the manner of the Romanes to encounter at the pleasure and tyme appointed by the enemie, but rather to staye vntyll a fit opportunitie were offred. But sayde he, signify vnto your King, that by this tyme to morrow, I wyl méete him. And so by great heede ouercame the huge ar∣mie of the Cimbrians. Againe at another tyme he went against Popilius Siloe, (which for his great prowes was so ter∣med of his enemies) and hauing placed his armie vppon the top of an hyll,* 1.183 and lyngring because of his weakenesse, Si∣loe cryed vnto him and sayde, If thou beeste a man of thine hands Marius, and hast any harte, come downe, and fyght with mée. But that callenge nothing preuayled with Marius, for he aunswe∣red: If thou art such a fellowe as thou art accoumpted to bée, compell mée per∣force to come downe, otherwyse I pro∣mise

thée, it is not my minde vntyll I see tyme and place▪ as I desire to fight and encounter. Which heede of his made Siloe and all his crue, to come vnder the subiection of the Romanes. Not lyke those mad braines, whiche thinke theyr ••••edite is crakt, and that a∣mōg men they are déemed but cowards, if when they are chalenged, they goe not into the field. And therfore contrary vnto Héede is Temerity,* 1.184 a foolishnesse which runneth all vppon the hed, and neyther obeyeth reason, nor the perswasion of friendes, nor the wholsome counsayle of any man. As the other rayseth a good opinion of him whiche is heedefull, and causeth all men to reuerence and regarde him for his wisedome: so this makes a man to bee coumpted but a lyght braine, and no man esteemeth him for his temeritie and foolishnesse. And therefore to those which I haue al∣ready spoken of C. Caesar, Sertorius, and Marius, are opposed Otho an Emperor, C. Curio & others no lesse defamed for their temerity,* 1.185 then they were mightily extolled for theyr Héede and wisedome.

Otho by his greate rashnesse so foyled him selfe, & defaced the glory of the Ro∣manes, that it was almost extinguished. And therfore being ashamed of himself, desperately dispatched himself▪ & had ra∣ther die in such sort, then liue in shame. Curio by his hastinesse, dyd not onely himself to be slain, but his whole armie also to bée vtterly destroyed. For figh∣ting against Vtica, which was defended by Accius Varus,* 1.186 an embassador of Pompey, worde was brought him that king Iuba was comming against him with an huge armie,* 1.187 by reason of which newes, he brake vp his siedge, and re∣moued his tents: by and by came certain r••ages, and runawayes (by great policie sent from his enemies) which tolde him that he néeded not feare the comming of Iuba, for he was returned backe into his contrey, and meant nothing lesse then to come against him. To which he straight gaue credite. But in the ende it proued nothing so, for Iuba hastning soddainly, set vppon him, kylled him, & ouercame his army. If Curio had looked about him carefully, and not rashly geuen credite

vnto the vaine words of subtile felowes, happely hee might haue gotten Vtica, and atcheiued great renowme vnto him selfe, beside the▪ salfegard of so many va∣liant Romanes. Wherefore great care ought to be had both howe to attempte any thing, and whom we beleeue. Faire tongues, oftentymes worke mischiefe. In all tymes & chances, too much heede can not be had, least by the example of those recited men, we fall into reprehen∣sion. And not onely warned by others peryls and calamities, but by the ex∣ample of brutishe creatures, we shoulde learne to be heedefull, which by nature haue thi•• geuen them, as an espetiall gifte, that they doo beware of mischeife, and defende them selues, and theyr yonge ones from the inuasions of ene∣mies. Nowe to the rest.

¶Of VVarynesse. Chap. 15.

THe Perip••tecions, and also the aun∣cient Academikes to those aboue re∣cited parts of Prudence, ad fiue more,

to wit, Warynesse, Craftynesse, Subtil∣tie, and Equity, so that it consisteth in e∣leuen partes, which orderly shalbe ma∣nifested. And first of Warynesse, which in Latin is called Sagacitas.* 1.188 This is the scholemaster of vpright vnderstanding•• And therfore the Philosophers doo say, y^t as it is the part of a wyse mā, wysely to consult & geue counsayle: so is it the due∣ty of a wary m••n well to conceaue, & vp∣rightly to iudge. For Sagire (frō whence ••omes Sagacitas) which is called Sagenes,* 1.189 o•• warynesse) signifieth to be of quicke iudgement of sense: whereof commeth this phrase Sagae anus: and Sagaces canes, because they can smell out a thing, & that quickly. Also, he that telleth of a thing before it happen is sayde to presage.* 1.190 And therefore by diuine inspiration, to many is geuen this parte of Prudence, so that they are sayde to presage, and for the same are highly accoumpted of a∣mong men. Cicero sayth, that the nature of this vertue is by the senses of the bo∣die to smel out a thing, euen as dogs doo▪ whereof they are called Sagaces canes, as I sayde before. So that a wyse man is then coumpted sage, and wary, when he

rightly doth iudge of thinges which are to be done hereafter. For Sagacitie per∣tayneth to those thinges which we are about to doo, by smelling them out. Those which haue this gifte of smelling out thinges imminent, are much to bee reuerenced.* 1.191 And therefore notable is that saying of Minutius a Romane cap∣taine vnto his soldiors. Oftentyme, I haue hearde, soldiors, that he is the best and most excellent man, which is endu∣ed with that discretion, that in all extre∣mities, he can geue him selfe that coun∣sayle which is profitable▪ The nexte is he which wyllingly receaueth good coū∣sayle▪ But he which can neyther geue, nor take counsayle, he is to be iudged most vnhappy. We therefore because we haue not that wisedome, that we are able to counsayle wisely, wyll embrace the meane: and though we haue not dexterity of wit wis••••y to iudge: yet did we not lacke wyll, gladly to obey good coūsayle. A saying worthy to be folowed of all those which haue neyther wit in showing daungers at hande, nor wyll to embrace that is profitablie spoken of theyr friendes.

¶Of VVylynesse, Craftynesse, and Subtiltie. Chap. 16.

HAuing declared y^e nature of Wary∣nesse, we are now come to y^e rest. Of which because they haue great affini••ie, and séeme to haue but one, and the same significatiō, we wyl but m••ke one chap∣ter. The difference betwee•••• Crafty∣nesse, and Wylynesse, is, because the one is in dexteritie of wit,* 1.192 natur••ll•• the other is gotten by experience. Tho first is called Versutia,* 1.193 and those Versuti, which can easely conceiue, by reuoluing thinges in theyr minde: the latter is called Calliditas, and those Callidi, whose mind by practise is so hardned, euen as the hande of a workman by great labor, and hath gotten as it were another skin by continuall occupying. And so sayth Cicero▪ But more properly to speake Wylynesse in darke speache:* 1.194 and Craf∣tynesse in counsayling, and in our af∣faires is perceaued. Example of the

firste we haue many, as are all doubtful speeche of men, and all the oracles of Apollo, which diuersly might be vnder∣stoode. As was that of Apollo,* 1.195 to Craesus which consulting whether hee mighte passe the riuer Halys or no, this aun∣swere was made him that hée passinge Halys, should make shipwrack of much welth: (which being doubtfull, and might be vnderstoode eyther of the losse of his owne or enemies wealth) perswa∣ded himselfe that he might safely aduen∣ture, and that his going should bée the cause of the losse of his enemyes goods: but hée was deceaued, and throughe a vaine confidence sustained the damage of all his wealth, his enemies being saulfe. Of the latter, may Rhascus, and Rhascopolis two brethren,* 1.196 bée exam∣ples. For when the Romane armie (wherof part was conducted by Cassius, the other by Antonius) would come through their dominions,* 1.197 doubting the worst for faufegard of them selues, they consulted howe they might with the fauor of the Romanes, haue the rule of their contries: their consultation tooke

this effecte, that they should faine them selues deadly foes, and sworne enemies eache to other, yea, and gather eache of them an armie: and one of them to take parte with Cassius, the other with An∣tonius, that so he that was vanquished shoulde be saued by his brother.

There is another which hath a great affinitie with these former.* 1.198 and laste mentioned parte of Prudence, which is called Subtiltie, in Latin Astutia. It is called Astutia,* 1.199 from a cittie which was called Astu: whereof it commeth that Astutia,* 1.200 which we call in our tongue Subtiltie, shall be a certaine ciuile craf∣tinesse. And therefore it is defined to bée a certaine craftie wisedome, gotten by dayly practise in ciuile matters.* 1.201 Hanni∣ball maye be an example hereof. On a tyme being ouercome by Iulius a consull of Rome▪ sent worde secreetely to the se∣nate of Carthage to know theyr minds, whether it were best to set vppon the Romanes or no, worde was returned, that they thought it best, with all speede to gather his men together, and againe ••o wage battayle. Hanniball by long

pra••••ice & great experience, knewe (not∣withstanding his coloring) what was ••est to be done, and therefore he thought good to staye for a tyme and not sodainly geue the onset. The Senators pondring his wordes, dyd not so muche, as in countenance contrary him, but wyl∣lingly went into his opinion. This ciuile wisdome d••e••h not onely bewtify a mans honestie, and makes him in all things which he takes in hand heedefull and circumspect, but also encreaseth our eloquence, and maketh vs to speake with great attentiō of these which heare vs: and then it leaueth the name of Subtiltie, and is called Ciuilitie, be∣cause that by a ciuile accompanying of our neyghbors, we attaine by custome, a certaine kinde of pleasant talke. But to come nigher to our purpose. It maye seeme straunge, that wee a∣scribe vnto Prudence, the most prin∣cipall of the vertues, Wylynesse, Craf∣tinesse, and Subtiltie, whiche are coumpted vices, vnsitting for a wyse man▪ For who doeth not execrate and abhorre him, whose dealinges are not

plaine, and simple, but craftie and subtile?* 1.202 Or compare all the behauiors of euerie man, and tell howe many ver∣tuous and godly doo delighte in those names, or would seeme wyly, craftie, and subtile? Againe what wicked man is there which cloaketh not his knaue∣ry vnder some shift or other? So that it seemeth odious to a good man to haue this name of subtilty. &c. And therefore howe can these parts bée comprehended vnder Prudence, when as none taketh any pleasure in them, but only persons vngratious? But certainly as they are to be abhorred when they are vsed to wicked purposes:* 1.203 so are they to be em∣braced as euident signes of an excellent wit, when they be referred to honest ends. For who doth not commend that subtile pollicie of Apelles,* 1.204 which pain∣ting the image of Antigonus (whiche had but one eye) because the deformitie of his blindnes should not be perceiued, he made him to stand of the one side, and & so by art seemed to be a worthy person, to want no gift of nature? Or who doth not like of those craftie deuises which

Physitions oftentimes doo vse,* 1.205 & vnder the shewe of honny, wyll giue their pa∣tients gaule, and so vnder such shiftes for their helth sake defend them: wheras if they went plainly to worke, the sicke woulde neuer take that whiche were wholesome, if vn••othsome? Or that of Zeno who to deliuer his fellowe citti∣zens from thraldome,* 1.206 deuised a notable pollicie? for being after his conspiracye taken, was by tormentors most cruelly afflicted, that so by pains he might con∣fesse all such as were of his counsayle: whereby fyrst he accused the tyrantes most deere friends, and caused them pre∣sently before his face to be executed lyke traitors: afterward telling the tormen∣tors that hee had some waighty thing to enforme the king of, desired that hee might speake a word or two in▪ the kings eare, who comming vnto him, and liste∣ning what he would saye, by the byting of Zeno lost his eare, which Zeno spit in his face. Whiche deuise of his made a gap to Zenos contreimen, to set them selues free from seruitude and sla∣uery. And so they did, for seeing the

tyrant to haue done to death his dée••e friends set vpon him, and with stones in the market place killed him. Againe who doth not abhor those persons which beate their braines to the encrease of wic∣kednesse, & by subtile sleight bring many into misery? And therfore they are much to be praised, which would neuer seeke y^e ruine of any town, armie or contrey, but onely by méere fortitude, not by snares, shifts, and subtiltie. And as greatly is Alexanders praise,* 1.207 which being coun∣sailed by Parmenio his seruaunt, by snares and subtiltie to séeke the subuer∣sion of his enemies,* 1.208 saide na••e Parme∣nio, My estate wyl not suffer me so to do, but if I were Parmenio, I might do so. Anotable aunswere.

¶Of Equitie and Righteousnesse. Chap. 17.

THe last part of Prudence is called Equitie.* 1.209 Which is a right iudgment of that which is good and honest: Or els it is a more gentle sētence geuen to ma∣lefactors,

then commonlie the lawes doo geue. For this Equitie iudgeth with lenitie: the lawes with extremity. But some wyll saie heare is no place to talke of punishing or pardoning, of Iustice, or Equitie, for that belongeth to Iustice, whereof no mention hath bene made. Certes it maie seeme so.* 1.210 But herein I follow the iudgement of the best lerned, which distinguish Iustice, and saie there is a Iustice naturall, and there is a Iustice legall. The legall Iustice is that written law according to which cōmon iudges geue sentence: the naturall iustice is that discretion, which euerie prudent and wyse man, is endued with∣al, wherby he driuen therevnto through consideration of circumstances, doeth oftentymes make things bitter, sweete, great and daungerous, easie: haynous and horrible, eyther not so at all, or not so horrible as they are supposed to bée. This naturall iustic•• (as I sayde) is in the minde of euery wyse man: and therefore the Peripatecions nomber it among those thinges, without whiche none maye he called a Prudent man.

To this equitie some ioygne Equanimi∣tie,* 1.211 which is called of the Grecians 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, which is a certaine tranqui∣litie of the mind, by which in aduersitie, we doo not through griefe and thought hurt our selues: nor in prosperitie exult and reioyce ouer much. For this vertue haue many heard well, espetially Socra∣tes,* 1.212 and Antonius an Emperor, that I may leaue others. Xantippe, the wife of Socrates, sayd that her husband alwaies kepte one countenance, shée could neuer sée him by his countenance at any tyme ouer sad, or exceeding merry. The lyke is reported of Antonius Caesar.* 1.213 There was a sect of Philosophers named Scep∣tici, which in the quietnesse of mind put the greatest felicity, & thought him to be most happie, which in a constant sober∣nesse, excelled other men. But I leaue to speake any more hereof, because I haue touched it in my discourse of Perturba∣tions, where I spake of Pleasure, & shal talke more of this hereafter among the vertues, when I shall explicate the na∣ture of true Fortitude. And thus much brieflye of Prudence, iudged of the

Philosophers the most excellent vertue, and therefore first placed, the next is Temperance, whose nature shall nowe he described.

¶Of Temperance, and her partes. Chap. 18.

NOwe are we to describe,* 1.214 what is Temperance, as we haue already showne what is Prudence. Therefore generally first we wyll speake thereof, particularly afterwarde euery parte of Temperance shall be declared.* 1.215 Cicero deuideth all vertues in two sorts, and calleth them eyther vertues of know∣ledg, or of conuersation. Those of know∣ledge he calleth Prudence, & Wisdome: wisedome hee sayeth onely consisteth in contemplation: Prudence in the know∣ledge of common matters. And that he calleth in diuerse considerations Do∣mesticall, and ciuile. Domesticall when euerie priuate man doth prudently con∣sider of his owne affayres: and Ciuile when we bende our selues to the pro∣fiting of the weale publike. To our con∣uersation

he sayth, doeth belong Tem∣perance, onely vnder which he compre∣hendeth Iustice, and Fortitude, as bran∣ches of the same Temperaunce, and vnder those he containeth all those ver∣tues of which hereafter we shall speake. But mée thinkes he doeth not properly talke of Temperance, as one of the fowre principall vertues, but rather as they doo consist in a meane, betwéene two mischiefes. But Temperance is otherwyse to bee vnderstoode. For the learned haue deuided vertue into fowre partes principally, to wit, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Iustice, whiche they woulde neuer haue done, had not Temperance some espetial con∣sideration as the other haue. And this is gathered by the definitions, and due∣ties of Temperance. It is defined to be a vertuous habite of the minde,* 1.216 where∣by we abstaine from all vaine and pe∣stilent pleasures, both of minde and boddie. And this doth agrée with that definition of Cicero, in his offices, where he sayth, Temperance is the ruler of all troublesomnesse of minde, and a strong

subduer of al vaine pleasures. Wherby it appereth, that as it is the part of Pru∣dence iustly to discerne good from euyll:* 1.217 so is it of Temperance to abstaine, and that alwayes from hurtfull things. Ari∣stotle sayth, It is the propertie of Tem∣perance, to consist in those things which belong to the keeping of life in mans bo∣dy, and vsing the pleasures thereof mo∣deratly. And therfore he sayth it is a cer∣taine meane about things belonging to the pleasures of the boddie, as tasting, féeling, hearing, smelling, & seeing. And therfore sayd Plotinus very well, that it was the office of Temperance, to couet nothing whereof it shoulde afterwarde repent her, and in no case to goe beyond the boundes of wisedome prescribed. If I shoulde recite the prayses which are a∣scribed vnto this vertue, I should make a volume thereof, but hauing another thing in hand, I wyll plainly without a∣ny Rhetoricall discourse talke thereof▪ leauing her commendations vnto them which haue the leasure of a Philosopher, and the wit of an orator: but this I say, to much to her praise cannot be spokē: as y^•

which is enemie to all pestiferous plea∣sures, and a friende to all vertuous ex∣ercises. Which is gathered from the etymologie of this worde Temperance. For it is called Temperance, because it keepeth a meane in all those thinges whiche belong to the delighting of the boddie. And he is called a Temperate man,* 1.218 which desireth nothing but that he ought, when he ought, and as he ought: and in all his doings setteth honestie be∣fore his eyes, as a marke to leuell the bowe of his cogitations, and shote the dartes of his desires vnto. Therefore Temperance is contrary to pleasure, if it be not honest: and Temperate men are contrarye to those, who set theyr whole delight in the vaine pleasures of the beastly boddie. This Temperance by the mouth of Prudent Solon cryeth, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉,* 1.219 Ne quid nimis, Nothing to much, nor to often. We haue a pret∣tie saying in our Englishe tongue, too much of one thing, is good for nothing. Obserue a meane, and then shall you be that Temperate man, of which we doo here talke, a notable member in a

common weale, for by Temperance he embraceth Modestie, Shamefastnesse,* 1.220 Abstinencie, Continencie, Pudicitia, Honestie, Moderation, Sparingnesse, and Sobrietie: without which Tem∣perance can not be. And that he maye the better entertaine them. I wyll de∣clare the properties of them all.

¶Of Modestie. Chap. 19.

MOdestie is a vertue, teaching a man howe to rule his affections, and in all his actions to keepe a meane.* 1.221 And therefore is it called Modestie, because it keepeth a meane, and doeth neyther want, nor excéede in any thing. It is perceiued by the lookes and countenance of a man, for by the same we waye ga∣ther oftentymes the disposition of any. Againe as in our countenance, so in all our conuersations, Modestie should bée seene. For this vertue haue many in

all ages béene greatly commended, and because theyr examples maye continu∣ally remayne in minde, I wyll recite of infinite certaine, and a fewe of a great number, aswell princes as pri∣uate men, which by theyr vertue haue got immortall and euerlasting fame. Such a one was Philip the father of A∣lexander the great:* 1.222 For by this vertue he tooke in good part those bytter words of dogged Diogenes,* 1.223 which sayde vnto king Phillip, that he came therefore into his campe, because he would marke the behauior of him, and note his vnsa∣tiable couetousnesse. For had he not bene of great modestie, he woulde haue torne in peeces Diogenes, for his bolde, and presumptuous talke: but compa∣ring the sayinges of Diogenes, with his owne cogitations, supposed hée spake of good wyll, and dyd beare with his boldnesse.

Of no lesse modestie was the sonne of the same Philip, Alexander the great, for hauinge louingly desired the same Diogenes,* 1.224 to leaue his kinde of lyfe, and to come to his court at Macedonia:* 1.225

Diogenes wrote backe after this man∣ner: Diogenes to Alexander, the King of the Macedonians, wisheth good lucke: you dyd very well to wryte your selfe King of the Macedonians, for you knew verye well that Diogenes oughte you none obedience: you wryghte that I shoulde come vnto you. But where∣fore? If because you woulde see mée, surely you can take no pleasure in be∣holding mee, for I am no suche man of person: But if you doo because you woulde profite in good manners, you maye verye well bestowe your paines in comming to mée. For knowe Alex∣ander, that it is no farther from Ma∣cedonia to Athens, then from Athens to Macedonia. Fare well.

What wyse man woulde thus aun∣swere a noble Prince, desirous to pro∣fite in the studie of vertue? Or what man of power woulde patiently beare such contemptuous wordes, of so vile an abiecte? And yet suche was the rare modestie of good Alexander, that he bare with his rudenesse, and sayde nothing.

Greater then Alexanders, was that of Antigonus: for after that he was by Q. Scipio, depriued of his kingdome, and placed ouer a very lyttle Nation,* 1.226 was so farre from troubling him selfe, with remembrance of his former dignitie, that he sayde that the Romanes dyd then seeke his profite, when they committed a small people to his gouernment. For sayde he, the greatest kinges, haue the greatest cares: and the remembrance of theyr peoples complaintes, wyll not suffer them quietly to rest. Againe, the lesse charge, the lesse care: and therefore he could not sufficiently thanke the Ro∣manes, for geuing him the gouernment of so fewe people, and if they had alto∣gether spoyled him of all aucthoritie, he would haue geuen them greater thanks. A notable example. And was not that Modestie of Tiberius the Emperor wor∣thy imitation? which being counsayled of his friendes,* 1.227 to set great taskes, and to demaunde many subsidies of his sub∣iectes, Naye sayde this good Emperor, It is the parte of a good shephearde, to shere his shéepe, not to sley them, and

so to sley them. He was of that modest nature that he would not, no not at the sute of his freinds violate the office of a prince. Being in so good a matter I wyl proceede in reciting a fewe more exam∣ples of those which by this vertue haue purchased goodwyll of men by report of good wrighters. Who doth not won∣der at (but who wyll imitate) that ex∣ceeding modestie of C. Marius,* 1.228 which by the people of Rome (in reward of his vertues) being appoynted twise to tri∣umph would not so do alone, but diui∣ded the glorye betwéene him and Catu∣lus fellow officer with him?* 1.229 Contrarye to all the ambitious,* 1.230 Hanniball for hys goodnes of nature was much commen∣ded especially because hée vsed gentell speeche and shewed frendelye counte∣naunce vnto all men: and also because in his fare he did not excede. Dio likewise the Syracusane,* 1.231 by modestie hath got immortalit••y. It is reported of him that he was of so good a nature, that after hée was placed in the throne of a king, and ruled the Syracusans: he woulde neuer change, his accustomed fare and appa∣rell

which he was wont to were being a student in the vniuersity. To kepe him in the same vertuous mind, his master Plato wrote vnto him, That it was his part and office to thinke him selfe so long to be glorious in the sight of all men, as long as he was gratious vn∣to Philosophers, which only addicted them selues to the knowledge and con∣templation of good things,* 1.232 which would counsayle him to nothing but that were profitable to him and his: and commend him for nothing but for his vertues: they would not flatter him for preferment, nor fauor him in wickednes: sworne enemies to common courtiers. Such was the modestie of Cato (which for the deadly hatred hée bare to wickednesse was called Seuere) that comming to a common plaie (where many immodest examples to the corrupting of well dis∣posed persons,* 1.233 are shewed) a harlot, be∣ing before his comminng naked in the sight of all the standers by, sodainly co∣uered her bare and woul•• not gesture it any more: and being demaunded why she was so ashamed, sayde, Cato

is in presence. By which it appereth that the true modesty of an honest man, striketh more shame, then the sight of many wicked & immodest persons can stir to filthynsse. To conclude this part of Temperance (because I haue more to speake of, and may not stand much vpon one thing) the Persians to imprint a deepe consideration of modesty in their childrens minds,* 1.234 made a lawe that once euery daie the boyes should shewe them selues before the seniors, and rulers of theyr contrie, that by theyr graue lookes, they might be terrefied from light be∣hauiour, & should the better learne to be modest in all theyr doings. And thus much of Modesty.

¶Of Shamefastnesse. Chap. 20.

THe next part of Tēperance is Sham∣fastnes, whiche is a ceraine natural

Blushing,* 1.235 by which we are afraid, and a••hamed to commit any thing which is not honest. Betweene Blushing and Shamefastnesse there is a certaine dif∣ference,* 1.236 although they maye seeme to haue one & the same nature. For Blu∣shing commonly is iudged to be a feare comming of a guiltye conscience: but Shamefastnesse of honest thinges: and therefore by this we flie the company of our betters, not because (as it is com∣monly sayde, Qui malè agit odit lucem) they are not of our disposition, but through a certaine reuerence: Againe▪ [ 2] by it we can not abyde to see that which is vnseemely, or to heare any dishone∣stie: not because our conscieence doo per∣swade vs that we are guilty of those vi∣ces, which we heare and sée, but because it stryketh a terror vnto chaste eares to beholde that which is odious, or to heare that which wyll corrupt good manners. Such a one was Socrates, which coulde abyde no filthy talke,* 1.237 or any rybaldrye: but as oft as he heard the same, he would stop his eares. And therefore it maye verye well bee called the maker of good

manners. Againe, it is the thing which causeth vs to bée vigilant in all our af∣fayres. For by it we had rather doo any thing, then he surpassed in any vertuous exercise. And oftentymes it commeth to passe, that such as neither by the coun∣sayle of theyr friendes louingly adhor∣ting: nor by the perswasion of prudent men, diligently prouoking: nor by the admonitions of Magistrates, sharply rebuking: nor by the threatninge of lawes, most seuerely foreshewing cruell punishment for loosenesse of behauior, it commeth to passe I say, that with whom none of these can preuayle, and bring into good mindes, by feare of perpetuall disprayse of the world, which we thinke to be Shamefacenesse, are called from vice to vertue: and from a dissolute be∣hauior, to discrete conuersation.

Wee reade of Theseus,* 1.238 that through this vertue, he bent all his cogitations to the imitation of Hercules, and for feare of shame of the worlde, became first in∣dustrious, afterwarde glorious. The like is reported of Themistocles, whome nothing coulde put in minde of his loose* 1.239

behauior, no not the counsayle of well wyllers: nothing coulde bring from pernicious company, no not the louing wordes of her which brought him into this world, no not y^e death of his mother procured by conceite of his wicked beha∣uior: and yet when none of these could preuayle, shame of him selfe made him forsake impietie, and embrace vertue, & so became the most excellent in all good qualities, that was among the Atheni∣ans. What made among the Grecians, Demosthenes.* 1.240 Cicero among the Ro∣man orators so excellent, but onely this vertue? for knowing well enough what they might attaine vnto, if they would be studious, and againe considering that to neglecte those giftes wherewith they were endued withall, was altogether impious, hauing this in minde, I saye, euen with conscience moued, and shame of them selues, dyd with tooth and nayle, endeuor to amende those faultes which were in them, and lykewise to adorne those vertues wherewith they were en∣dued withall: and so proued by paines,

perfecte patrones of pure eloquence.

Tarquinius Priscus prince of the Ro∣manes,* 1.241 began suche a péece of worke, as the lyke for magnificall buyldinge, was not extante in all the worlde, nor hardly coulde he conceaued in the minde of man. This worke was so long before it coulde be finished, and so daun∣gerous in doing, as many werryed with turmoyles, desperately cast•• violent handes vppon them selues, and so had rather to ende theyr liues, then with suche a endlesse, and infinite labor consume them selues.

When Tarquinius hearde thereof, hée caused the dead carkasses of those despe∣rate men to be set vppon gibbets, to the vewe of all commers bye, in the market place. Which pollicie of his, turned the mindes of his workmen, and through thinking least their bodies after theyr death should be made spectacles to their brethren, and a praye for birdes, al∣tred thyr minds, and refused no paines afterwarde to the hastening of his buil∣ding foreward. But of this no more, be∣cause of the same, in my former booke of

Perturbations were I spake of Blu∣shing, I made mention.

¶Of Abstinencie, and Continencie. Cha. 21.

OF the two next vertues (Abstinen∣cie, and continencie) we wyll make but one Chapter, because they seeme to haue small difference in sense, though in sounde they haue, and yet both in sound, and sense they differ somewhat.* 1.242 For Abstinencie is a kinde of Temperance, whereby we subiecte vnder the power of reason our appetite, when it is allu∣red vnto vnlawfull delectation, by the inticement of those thinges whiche are in our possession.

Continencie is a kéeping of our selues from those thinges which are not to bée coueted.* 1.243 The difference betweene them is. The one Abstinencie consi∣steth in the hauing our appetite: the o∣other

Continencie, in tempering our lustes of the fleshe. Examples we haue of eyther, many: espetially of Absti∣nencie, Paulus Aemylius, and L. Mum∣mius:* 1.244 of Continencie Amabaeas a Musi∣con, Bellerophon, Xenocrates, and Sci∣pio. The abstinencie of P. Aemylius, was perceyued when hée had subdued citties. For notwithstanding, he had in his handes the possession of many fa∣mous citties, and might doo with the substance in them what he woulde, yet dyd hée conuert none of those goodes to his priuate commoditie, but gaue com∣maundement vnto his men, to conueigh them to the common treasure house of Rome, and there shoulde remaine read∣die, to supply the wante of his natiue countrey, if necessity requyred.

L. Mummius for the same qualitie,* 1.245 is lykewise commended. And that this was truely reported of him, it is mani∣fest, because that in Delos, being a ba∣nished man▪ he dyed most poorely: which he woulde haue séene vnto, had he not bene right abstinent, and contemned all worldly mucke, in respecte of his

honestie. Againe of the other side, as these are notable patrones of Abstinen∣cie, so those before recited are as famous for theyr Continencie, in contayning from the sinfull desires, of the rebeli∣ous fleshe. Wonderfull and strange (I wyll not saye to be imitated) was that Continencie of Amabaeas,* 1.246 which hauing a wyfe of rare and surpassing bewtie, woulde neuer haue cop••lation with her. But more worthy to be fol∣lowed (although lesse worthy to be won∣dred at) was the Continencie of Belle∣rophon, whiche being not a lyttle by strange meanes allured by Antea,* 1.247 the wife of Kinge Pretus to lye with her, dyd altogeather refuse the same, and contayned him selfe from violating the bed of his Lorde, at whose handes hee had founde much curtesie. The lyke is reported in the holy scripture of Io∣seph. But feare of death caused that Continencie.* 1.248 I thinke not, but rather care of a pure, and vnpolluted consci∣ence,* 1.249 whiche neuer wyll he purged without a strange and vnfained repen∣tance, from the filthinesse of the facte,

which would continually haue bene ob∣iect to their eyes, so y^t they should a thou∣sād tymes haue wished that it had neuer bene committed. For the pleasure pas∣seth, the paine pincheth cōtinually. But if the feare of punishmente were the cause, it cannot be misliked: but they are to be commended therefore, and may strike a shame to those, which without all feare (I do not saye of God, for that is least in our mindes, and should ne∣uer be forgotten) of punishment in this worlde, care not whome they pollute, bee they for aucthoritie neuer so highe, for consanguinitie or friendship neuer so nighe vnto them.

But let vs proceede, (for of this mat∣ter we spake before when we talked of Luste, in our former booke) If so rare examples, not onely of true and faith∣full friendship, but of pure boddies, and vnpolluted mindes were Ioseph and Bellerophon, for not corrupting theyr Quéenes, and wiues to theyr friendes, then how much are Xenocrates & Scipio to be extoled,* 1.250 which cōtained themselues

from committing fornication with their inferiors, when they might haue vsed them at theyr pleasures?* 1.251 For Xenocra∣tes being placed in bed by a fayre womā (but of surpassing bewty) and shée with many toyes (incident to harlots) inty∣cing him to enter league with her, was so farre from satisfying her minde, that the more earnest shee was in desiring, the more vigilante hée was in contay∣ning: and the more luste shee declared to Venerie, the more lothe he was to commit such Villanie, but laye beside her as hote as a marble, in the coldeste tyme of winter. Yea, but hee was a Philosopher, and therefore lesse mar∣uayle, though he were continent. Trueth it is, and therefore a shame to all wyse, and learned men which are in∣continent. And I saye, he was an infidell, and yet by philosophy and rea∣son, he perswaded him selfe that for∣nication was hurtfull to the boddie, and damnable to the soule, and therefore at the daye of iudgement shall ryse to theyr confusion, which are Christians, and yet neyther by diuinitye, nor reli∣gion,

wyll be in that minde, to thin••e that eyther fornication, or adultery, is eyther hatefull to God, or shall be hurtfull to them selues in the tyme of vengeance.

Well, Scipio was no Philosopher, by profession, but a warri••r,* 1.252 (a strange thing, that one of that sorte, shoulde bee so pure from vnchaste cogitations) and yet being of the age of three and twenty yeares, and hauing brought vnder the subiection of the Romanes, a cittie in Spaine, a certaine Damosell without comparison amonge all the captiues, most bewtifull, was brought vnto him, for delectation, after all his troubles. But Scipio, before he woulde receaue any recreation at her handes, demaun∣ded what shee was: which, when hée vnderstoode her to bee espowsed vnto a young man called Luceius,* 1.253 he thought it a shame for him to vse her company, beyonde honesty: and so with many precious gyftes and iewelles, sent her saufely conducted to her husbande, that should bee.

This continencie of Scipio, passeth

all the rest. For who woulde thinke that a warrier, from a woman: a lustie young man, from a bewtifull mayden: a conqueror, from a captiue hauing tyme, place, and permission (so that without controlement of any man, he might haue vsed her) woulde containe him selfe, all thinges falling so in the nicke? And yet this noble warrier, lustie youth, and victorious conqueror, entred not familiaritye with this wo∣man, this bewtifull mayden, and cap∣tiue, because shee had geuen her troth to another. O vnspeakeable vertue, and most wonderfull continencie of this noble Scipio, whiche so preferred ho∣nestie before lecherie: chastitie before incontinencie: and a faythfull promise, before sinfull pleasure. I maye not in Rhetorical manner enlarge this mat∣ter (and yet too muche can not be spo∣ken to his prayse) and therefore I leaue it.

By this then it appeareth, that be∣twéene Continencie, and Abstinencie▪ there is great similitude,* 1.254 and that they haue so, it is euident by theyr contrary.

For Incontinencie is indifferently re∣ferred vnto eyther of them. Wee call him incontinent which eyther kéepes no measure in the coueting of worldly thinges, or can not contayne him selfe from the effectes of fleshly desires. Nowe because I haue illustrated the for∣mer parte with examples, I wyll also make this parte confirmed by the lyke. And therefore opposite to th••se men a∣boue recited, are these women (for most commonly women are worste bent, and we finde of all the best historiographers, least spoken to theyr prayse) most in∣continent which followe, namely Mes∣salina, wife vnto the Emperor Claudi∣us, and Popilia daughter of Marcus. Messalina was so incontinent, that shée coulde not content her selfe (I wyll not saye, with her husbande,* 1.255 whome shee cared leaste for) with her youthfull gentlemen of her chamber, about the courte, but shee woulde goe to common houses, where moste whordome was commytted, and there contende with moste shamelesse harlottes, in theyr abhominable exercise.

If I shoulde recite what I haue red of this notorious and notable strumpet, I shoulde not obserue the preceptes of those two virtues Modesty and Shame∣fastnes, immediatly in the former chap∣ters declared. But Temperance wyls me to stay my hand, and tels me it is a sinne to wright that whiche with out shame she did commit. The inconti∣nencie of Popilia also was such,* 1.256 as be∣ing tolde of her vnsatiable lecherie, and that it might strike a perpetuall terror into her minde, for one of her calling, which should geue good example to infe∣rior persons of honest conuersation, yet without respect of tyme, place, or persons would prostrate her selfe before those, of which, if for no other cause, yet be∣cause of her birth, and their basenes she might be ashamed: Being thus louingly by a faithfull freind admonished did aunswere, that she did but according to her kind, and that nature had geuen that power vnto man (not so vnto other crea∣tures) that they might at al tymes come together at their pleasure: and therefore considering it was natures wyll she ac∣coumpted

her selfe, and woulde bee iudged a beast, if shee dyd not as ofte as shee coulde satisfie her luste. But we wyll omit particular persons.

The Corinthians for this Incontinen∣cie, haue bene euyll spoken of.* 1.257 For they cast all honestie so behinde theyr backes, that they would take their owne daugh∣ters, and make them harlottes to mar∣chantes and straungers in theyr coun∣trey, that so they might enriche them selues, and theyr countrey. Hereof came this prouerbe, It was not for eue∣ry man to goe to Corinthe: for they payde well for theyr pleasure.

The Babylonians also were greatly spotted with this vice of Incontinen∣cie:* 1.258 for once in a yeare they licenced theyr wiues, daughters and maidens, to goe vnto the temple of Venus, which stoode by the sea coaste, and there should refuse none which offered them selues, and woulde vse them.

The Tyrrhenians are more inconti∣nent then any.* 1.259 For they wyll not onelye haue to doo with theyr wiues o∣penly, and lye in the common streates,

but as though they were vnmaried like brute and sauadge beastes without all reason turned one to another. The like is reported of the Messagetans.* 1.260

But what stande I vppon this pointe? Or what good nature can abide to heare them recyted without blushing? and therefore I contayne my selfe from speaking any more of Incontinencie.

¶Of Chastetie. Chap. 22.

IN this chapter we meane to talke of Chastety, and that which is called in Latin Pudicitia together, because in signification they are almost one, and therefore not seldome they are confoun∣ded. Such affinitie they haue that howe to expresse this worde Pudicitia in English otherwise I knowe not, then by the name of Chastety. Hereby is perceaued the barrennes of our toung

whiche oftentymes geues to many thinges one appellation. Well, in sense there is a difference. For by Chastety is vnderstoode a generall chastisment of all the troublesome perturbations.* 1.261

And therefore doth Varro take a chaste man, both for him that is reli∣gious, and godly man: and also for him whiche is an abstinent man, and him which is of good conuersation.

Againe, we take him or that to be chaste whiche is pure and vncorrupte. And therefore we say him to haue chast eares, which cannot abide to heare that which is dishonest. And he is saide to to talke chastly which talketh properly of any thing, whose wordes are pure without affectation, or vsuall in com∣mon spéeche, or approued of the beste. Nowe, Pudicitia is more stricte,* 1.262 and dothe not stretch, so farre because it is referred onely to the vnpollutinge of the boddye, as the thinge whiche in no case wyll suffer the boddye to be de∣filed. So that it séemeth to be a kinde of Chastety. For Chastety is the rule

or patrone howe a man maye leade an honest and vertuous conuersation. But Pudicitia is onely about Veneriall matters. Bothe of these vertues haue brought greate renowne to men, as women: but espetially they adorne women, and in tyme paste to bee en∣dued with Chastitie, (for that shall com∣prehende the other) hath bene thought no small commendation.

Which appeareth by the great care, whiche in tymes past women haue had of keeping theyr good name, supposing them selues, hauing that to be well e∣nough, though they had nothing, and againe without that, though they had all thing, yet was it coumpted of them as nothing.

This made Lucretia not for to care for this worlde,* 1.263 after that her boddie was once defiled. We reade of cer∣taine Spartane Virgins, in nomber fif∣tie,* 1.264 being sent for theyr health sake, to the Messanians, among whome af∣ter they had soiorned a whyle, they were marueylouslye prouoked vnto whore∣dome, but they calling into minde the

pretiousnesse of Maidenhoode, rather choase to bée slaine, then once would, condescende to theyr desires: so that of those fiftie, not one was founde which woulde yéelde her selfe to the luste of the Messanians. We reade also of a The∣ban mayde, which being much allured vnto copulation by Nicanor,* 1.265 in whose power she was, for he had brought The∣bes and all the inhabitantes thereof into seruitude, rather then she would graunt vnto his wicked request, tooke a sworde and slewe her selfe.

Methridates a king of Pontus, being o∣uercome of the Romanes,* 1.266 kept him selfe cloase from the sight of all men, and be∣cause his daughter named Diripentina, was troubled with sicknesse,* 1.267 and there∣fore coulde not depart with him, he com∣mitted her vnto the custodie of one Me∣nophilo an Eunuche,* 1.268 which kept a castle named Gynorium. It happened that by the carefulnesse and diligence of Meno∣philo, she recouered her selfe. Nowe the Romanes persecuting Methridates, came and besieged his castle, gouerned by the Eunuch: which perceyuing that

his power was not long to kéepe the castle from his enemies, and againe callinge to minde the vnmercifulnesse of his aduersaries, whiche without all pittye woulde misuse all suche as came in theyr clawes, espetially those of whome Methridates did make most acoumpte: and aboue all tendringe the honestie of Diripentina, was in minde, that of them the Romanes should neuer haue theyr wyll. And therefore tooke a sworde, and killed her whose Chastetie was his care, and after∣warde berefte him selfe of lyfe.

* 1.269The chastety of the wiues of the Ten∣torians was wonderfull, for after that C. Marius had subdued and slaine theyr husbandes, and they by theyr sute could not obtaine to bée ascribed among the Vestall virgins, shortly after, eache of them tooke anhaulter, and so (doub∣tinge least they shoulde not kéepe them selues frée from the assaultes of carnall men) honge them selues.

Pythagoras had a daughter excellent well learned,* 1.270 which dyd not onely pro∣fesse chastetie in common scholes, but

also all her lyfe tyme most chastely be∣haued her selfe, and neuer knewe man. Great was the modestie of Armenia, wife vnto Tygranes.* 1.271 For being once at a banquet with her husbande, at the house of King Cyrus,* 1.272 where euerye boddie much commended Cyrus for his comlynesse of person, her husbande after they were returned home, asked her what shée thought of Cyrus maie∣stie in countenaunce. Truely aun∣swered shée, I am able to saye no∣thing, for I neuer caste mine eyes from you all the banquet whyle. But that example whiche followeth is more strange. Hiero a Syracusane king, reprehended of one of his acquaintance,* 1.273 because of his stinking breath: aunswe∣red that before that tyme, he neuer knewe so much: being returned home, be fell a chiding with his wyfe, because shee neuer woulde séeke remedie there∣fore, or at the least geue him to vn∣derstande of the same. His wife aun∣swered him in this manner. Haue pati∣ence my husbande, for truely, I alwayes

dyd perswade my selfe, that all men had the same disease, else be assured you shoulde haue had intelligence, and also be cured therof.

* 1.274The effectes of chastitie haue bene ve∣rye strange. Aemylia a virgin was iudged of the Romanes to be scarce ho∣nest, which when it came to her eares, shée prayed vnto Vesta after this maner: Vesta, thou preseruer of this noble cittie Rome, if I for this thirtie yeares, which tyme I haue geuen mine attendance a∣bout thy rites, and ceremonies, If I saye, I haue bene faithfull vnto thée, as becommeth a virgin, geue some token of the same, that all the Romanes maye witnesse what I am. When she had thus prayed, she cast one of her gar∣mentes, bounde vp together vppon the altar, which without any fyre was en∣flamed and burnte, so that afterwardes they neuer brought newe fire, but they founde some continually vppon the al∣tar. Claudia lykewise, another of the virgins of Vesta,* 1.275 being supposed to bée incontinent, and by any meanes could not bring the rude multitude from

iudging sinisterly of her, by the lyke miracle purged her selfe, and proued that she was for conuersation honest. For on a tyme a ship loaden with hollye things, pertayning to the goddesse Idea, so was grounded in Tyber, that by no strength it coulde be set a floate. Claudia hearing of the same, with speede came to the riuer, and there, with bended knees and humblenesse of harte, besee∣ched Vesta, that as shee knew her cleare from all fellowship of man, so it might be knowne to all men, that shee was a pure and vnspotted virgin. Her prayer tooke effecte. And that ship which by the force of many could not be remoued followed her, and shee drewe the same with great facilitie out of the riuer. So that her accusers were ashamed of them selues, and shee was obeyed as a princesse, & reuerenced as a goddesse all her life tyme. Such hath bene the force of this vertue. We wyll recite one ex∣ample more, as much talked of as the other. Tuscia, one of the same order of Vesta,* 1.276 heard very much to her defa∣mation: and therefore shoulde be ex∣pelled

the colledge of virgins (for none might sacrifice vnto Vesta, but such as were knowne to bée of good conuersa∣tion) which dyd not a lyttle trouble her. And because her conscience bare her witnesse, that the rumor raysed was false (as the other aboue recited Aemylia and Claudia) shée beséeched Vesta in pittifull sort, that her innocencie might by some way or other, be made knowne vnto all the worlde: espetially, that if to her profession, shée had behaued her selfe, shée prayed that without spylling one drop, she might carrie a fyue full of water from Tyber vnto Vestas chap∣pell: which thing shée obtayned, and not shéeding so much as one droppe in a thing full of hoales shée carried water. So that these women, these chaste wo∣men maye aunswere vnto those conti∣nent men brought forth in the former chapter. Yet wyll I ad vnto those vir∣gins the example of one or two men, whiche haue bene no lesse wondered at then the former.* 1.277 Scipio for his chasti∣tie was so praysed, that euen the moste wicked, and fardest from all considera∣tion

of honestie, namely pirates, came a long, and a perilous viage to honor him, which all the worlde dyd so com∣mende. Such as he was, such was his friendes. And therefore that made his déere friend and familiar Laelius so to be praysed.* 1.278 It is reported of him that in all his lyfe he neuer knew but one wo∣man, and that was his wife. A strange thing in those dayes (I wyll not saye in our tyme.) The chastitie of Ptolomeus Tryphon was such,* 1.279 that he woulde not so much as talke with a woman, least by her bewtie hée should bée allured vn∣to Venerie. And therefore on a tyme perceauing a bewtifull dame to come towardes him, for communication sake: Hée sayde vnto her, that his sister warned him from speaking vnto any fayre woman, and therefore desired her to holde him excused. He might bée iudged, by his wordes of some not to bée very wyse: but whatsoeuer his wordes séeme to bée, his meaninge was good, and woulde as muche as in him laye, shunne all occasions of future griefe. And thus muche for

this part of Temperance.

¶Of Honestie. Cha. 23.

HOnesty, or that which is Honeste is diuersly defined of diuers men.* 1.280 For Aristotle supposeth that for to bée ho∣nest of whiche our good name depends, by which wée purchase credite among men. And that agréeth to the saying of those, whiche saye, that that is honeste which by popular, or common spéeche is praise worthy. Plato and those of hys opinion call that honest, which of it selfe without any other externall thing what soeuer, is commendable. Cicero is of their minds,* 1.281 and geues the same defi∣nicion. By which it is euident, that ho∣nestie is eyther vertue it selfe or a thing done by vertue altogether. And there∣fore we define Honesty in this wise, and say, that it is a free election of the minde

to doo those things which are agréeing to the rule of vertue. Contrary to this Honestie, is fylthinesse or dishonestie. Cicero sayeth,* 1.282 that nothing can make men so miserable, as wickednesse and impietie. And therefore applying the same his wordes vnto himselfe, in ano∣ther place he sayth,* 1.283 That he doth no∣thing but warre against dishonest and wicked persons. Whereby he seemeth to preferre Temperance before Pru∣dence, spirituall matters before corpo∣rall, and the consolation of the soule, be∣fore the commodities of the boddie. And therein hee doeth not swerue from that which God in his holy scripture com∣maundeth, and Saint Paule earnestly doth exhort vnto. Quintilian also in this point sheweth him selfe to be the faithful seruaunt of God: for he sayth,* 1.284 that the diuine prouidence hath geuen this gifte vnto man, that by honestie he maye best profite. Nowe if any be delighted with honestie, let him geue eare as to these nowe mentioned, so to heathen (I had almost sayd heauenly, and I maye saye very well heauenly) Isocrates. (For I

haue exhortations out of Gods booke: For it were a labor infinite to recite them, & pertaining to a professed diuine, not to mee in this matter, which depend only vpon those things wherewith man by nature is adorned, and therefore the exhortations, and examples of wise Phi∣losophers, endued onely with naturall reason I meane to recite) who writeth in this wyse:* 1.285 To honestie you shall be maruelouslye bent, if you doo but re∣member the pleasures cōming from the same to be continual, not transitory: and againe, if you consider the pleasures springing from dishoneste thinges to be mingled with griefe and vexation. The pleasure passeth, but the paine abideth. This honestie of the auncient Grecians was had in such price, that they dyd flie all occasion of euyll, and that by publike aucthoritie. And therefore they banished out of theyr citties all Poets and Play∣ers, because that in theyr Enterludes they did both speake that which was not seemely,* 1.286 and by gesture shewed that which was dishonest. The lyke we reade was done of the Romanes.

Contrary to those are the deuillishe and detestable Corinthians which so bende them selues to all impuritie of lyfe,* 1.287 that they worship, and geue honor vnto the president of all impietie, named Cotys,* 1.288 her they worship, to her they doo sacri∣fice, euen as though all those sparkes of vertue which Aristotle sayeth are natu∣rally in all men, were altogether quen∣ched in them. But let vs abhorre them as odious to good men: and accursed be∣fore God, and geue eare vnto those wor∣thy sayinges of Cicero, Quintilian, and Isocrates, and with the auncient Greci∣ans flie all occasions of dishonestie. There was sometyme a pretie dialogue betwéene Socrates a Philosopher, and Callistes an harlot. Callistes woulde proue that shée excelled Socrates.* 1.289 Her argument which shee vsed, was because that shee, when shée was disposed coulde drawe from him all his auditors, but so coulde not Socrates from her. To whome thus aunswered Socrates:* 1.290 And no maruaile Callistes, for thou allurest vnto wickednesse, to which the waye is readdie: but I adhorte to vertue,

whose waye is harde to finde.

* 1.291This point wee wyll not prolong but with the saying of Lactantius conclude the same. His words be these: He whose desire is to lyue well (in the worlde to come) for euer, shal for a time liue wret∣chedly, and be troubled with many molestations, as longe as he shall be in this earth a pilgrime, that so hee maye receaue a diuine, and euerlas∣ting comfort. And he which choseth to lyue well for a tyme shall for euer lyue vnquietly: for he shalbe damned by the iudgement of God. His words are plaine, and showes that honesty is ioy∣ned with misery, wickednesse with all kind of felicity: but misery which for honesty we suffer, shalbe turned to e∣uerlasting comfort, and that felicity gotten by dishonesty, into perpetuall

¶Of Moderation. Cap. 24.

A Companion of Honestie is Mode∣ration,* 1.292 which dooth so measure all our actions, that it will not suffer vs to passe the bounds prescribed by Honestie, or come short of them, for as in running to go beyond the mark is great rashnes: so almoste not to passe the standing, is as much faintnes. Antomedon,* 1.293 Achilles wagoner, is therfore much commended, because he droue the same not ouer ha∣stely, nor yet ouer slowly, but with a mo∣derate swiftnes, all was euē from y^e best to get the praise. But nigher to our pur∣pose Pomponius Atticus abooue al men is praised,* 1.294 for his singuler moderation in all his matters. Especially because in all the ciuill dissention betwéene Caesar and Pompey, he alone as ignorant, or at the least was not troubled. He tooke no parte and therfore was wel liked of the Conqueror. Whose rare moderation if o∣thers in his time had set before their ey∣es, their perils had not béen so great, nor the common wele of Rome so ouerthro∣wen. This vertue bringeth with it ano∣ther vertue whiche is called Suffering,* 1.295 a notable vertue méet for a prudēt man,

for by moderatnig our selues, we learne to forbeare when we are iniured: accor∣ding to that of P. Syrus,* 1.296 a mā shuld bear and not blame, which cannot be auoy∣ded: and y^t of Epictet{us}, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 beare and forbeare.* 1.297 For this Vertue were praysed two noble wights Hanni∣ball and M. Bibulus,* 1.298 one of Roome, the o¦ther of Carthage. Hanniball by Mo∣derating him self got such an habit, that notwithstanding his armye was com∣pounded of men of many Countries, yet did he so guide and gouerne them, that to sée them chide amōg them selues was a great wunder, and (as we say) might be cronicled: the like for moderatiō and wel guiding his armie, we shall not read of any as we doo of him. Again M. Bibu∣lus was of that moderation y^t he would neuer be mooued: his nature was then moste of all made manifest vnto y^e world when he without rash reuenging, tooke the death of his two Sonnes against all equitie murthered. For when Cleopa∣tra had sent the murtherers of his son∣nes vnto him, willing him to vse them as he would, refused it, and sent them back, saying, that his priuate cause he ought not for to reuenge, neither did it

pertain vnto him, and therfore disired that they might be sent vnto the Senate of Roome, which might according to law pronounce Iudgement. One example I wil bring foorth more, because of the wor¦thynes therof. It is reported of King Phi¦lip gouernour of the Macedonians,* 1.299 that he was of a most gentle nature, and that is euident by this fact of his: beséeging a Cittie of Melibea called Mathona, a Ci¦tizen of the same sent a Dart at Philip,* 1.300 and therewith depriued him of his eye, and yet the losse thereof made him ney∣ther the more fierce in his affaires, nor more frantick towardes his foes. And though with his great pain it was pluc∣ked out, yet did it not incense him any whit the more against his enemyes, but vnto resonable requests of theirs did con¦discend, which moderating of him self, and gentle handling of them made them of deadly fooes his faithful fréends.

Of Sparingnes or Hardnes. Cap. 25.

NExt vnto moderation is Sparing¦nes,* 1.301 whiche more properly we call Hardnes. By which we may vnderstād not that wicked vice Couetousnes, al∣though

it may séeme that we doo, wher∣fore we ought to haue greate care lest a∣ffections blinde vs, and so take one thing for an other. It is y^e cōmon vse of moste men, vnder the showe of one thing to en∣graffe in our mindes an other. And ther∣of Prodigalitie is called by the name of Liberalitie: crueltie of Equitie: foolish boldenes,* 1.302 of Fortitude: & to come to our purpose, couetousnes, of sparingnes. And therfore as Tullie saith, we ought to be very careful lest those vices deceiue vs, which séeme to accompany the vertues, and so take one thing for another. Wher¦fore we wil shew the great ods, whiche are betwéene these two things sparing∣nes and Couetousnes, their difference in their names and signification may be es∣pied:* 1.303 for Auere (from whence Auarus and Auaritia, as Cōiungata, & eche sig∣nifieth beyond all reasō to couet a thing. And therfore a couetousman is he, which out of reason coueteth. Now Parcere to spare (is deriued frō Parcitas sparīgnes) is like a good husbād thriftely to kéep,* 1.304 not vnfrutefully to spend, wherby it is plain that one (couetousnes) is a vice and well may be numbred among such things as a man should withall indeuour flye, as

hurtful to the common wele and dange∣rous to his soule. And th'other (Sparing¦nes) is a vertue, teaching how to play the good husband, and so profit his Coun∣trie and pleasure his posteritie. By this we flée Prodigalitie, and yet we spare not when we may profit, and therefore it was an olde saying that a maide then had a good sauour, ••hen she sauoured no∣thing at all: and a man was then right wise, when he neither smelled of the stink of Couetousnes, nor yet was dis∣cried by the filth of Prodigalitie. The elder Cato was wunt to say that by two thing{is} he encreased his welth,* 1.305 y^t is to say by tilling his ground, and good husban∣dry. One of which brought abundance of all frute: the other taught how to vse it. Which Cato, though he had many vertues, whiche made him to be well thought of, among the Romaines, yet by none he got so much commendation, as by good husbandry, and sparing from idle and vain expences. Againe, for this vertue was the lesser Scipio much com∣mended,* 1.306 and he that reades the life of Pomponius Atticus, shall finde most of his praises to spring of his sparingnes,

which neuer would haue béen ascrybed vnto him and the rest, were it a vice and to be eschued,* 1.307 for we neuer commend a∣ny for his vice, but vertues: and pray∣ses are annexed vnto wel dooing.

But as these for their sparing haue béen wel reported of, so for immoderate spending haue others especially, Lucul∣lus,* 1.308 and Marius among the Romains béene discommended. Lucullus did so la∣uish in sumptuous expences, and so desi∣red in all his buildings to séem magnifi∣call, that he came into contempt among the common people, and was called a Ro¦main Xerxes, because he would appéere more magnificall then became a priuat person. Pompey hearing of his goodly buildings, was desirous to sée if it were as the common reporte was, and béeing come where Lucullus dwelt, and séeing the same to excéed the common voice, said vnto Lucullus in contempt: These your houses for Summer be pleasaunt, they haue so many storyes, and so goodly win∣dowes, and so open aire, but in Winter they are not to be inhabited. Then an∣sweared Lucullus what Pompey think you that Cranes shall excel me? can they according to chaunge of time alter their

dwellings, and thinck you Lucullus wil not haue his places of pleasure, and ac∣cording to the alteratiō of time, remooue from one house to an other? It was a straunge thing among the Romains to haue one so to florish abooue other his fel∣lowe Citizens.* 1.309 Marius was euen suche an other. Many things he had begun which were very magnificall, and more sumptuous then would beséeme his per∣son, his buildings were great and many (so that he was thought to haue studied to brīg all y^e glory of Roome to his house) which in his olde age he wēt about: and seeing death would cut him short, so that he should not sée y^e finishing of that whi∣che he had in hand, he began to raile vp∣on Fortune, and to accuse her of greate partialitie, because he might not sée the effect of that whiche in minde he purpo∣sed. But that ouer lauishing expences of his made him (after his great glory) whē he had béene seuen times Consul, to be a laughing stock euen to the abiect multi∣tude, and contemned of his fellowe Se∣nators. Wel, these fellowes I haue re∣cited to make lauishing prodigalitie the more odious, & to illustrate this Sparing vertue, or vertuous Sparing which we

haue in hand: which is opposite bothe to insaciable couetousnes and vnreasona∣ble spending,* 1.310 and differeth somewhat from liberalitie whose office consisteth in giuing with iudgement: but this in sauing like a prudent man, and much di∣sagréeth from nigardnes and vnmerci∣ful pinching.

The Office of this sparing fellowe is to obserue a measure in his dooings,* 1.311 not wastefully to spend, but warely to spare: not wickedly to get, but vertu∣ously to inriche him self. It is reported that Aesculapius béeing the Sonne of Apollo (which one would thinck would not suffer his sonne to be handled in such sort) was for his insaciable desire of ri∣ches,* 1.312 by fire frō Iupiter sent, consumed and killed with thunderboults, and after wards cast hedlong into the bottomlesse Barathrum where y^e Deuils haue their habitation. For béeing a notable Phisi∣tion, he was sought vnto of all men, and he did spare neither tung nor laboure to pleasure afflicted persons, but rather for looue of money then for any good will to men, whiche béeing knowen to Iupiter (from whome nothing is hid) he was in

such straunge manner tormented. So that if Auarice be shunned of this tempe∣rate man, no dout he sparethe to his pro∣fit, and the pleasuring of his posteritie, which no dout wil wel kéep that so wise∣ly gotten. On the other side, goods euill gotten by couetousnes, are as madly con¦sumed, and (as we commonly say) the third heire neuer fare the better.

¶Of Sobrietie. Cap. 26.

THE last, though not the least of all the partes of Temperaunce is called Sobernes:* 1.313 which is as ne∣cessary as any of the abooue mentioned, and more a greate deale then some of them. It appéereth by the contrary vnto it called Drunckennesse, whiche is in the sight of all men so odious and loth some,* 1.314 as we count them whiche are sub∣iect vnto it, little better then brute and beastly creatures. And therfore (accord∣ing to the opinion of Nonius Marcellus)

we call him a sober man, whose minde is not ouercome, but hath the vse of wit and senses, & contrarywise we call him drunken whose hed, hands nor feet can∣not discharge their dutie. This vertue is called in Latin Sobrietas quasi sine ebri••tate,* 1.315 a thing opposit vnto drunken∣nesse. By drunkennes I vnderstand im∣moderate swilling or drinkīg more then dooth a man good, by Sobrietie a mesura∣ble taking of drinck. What a worthy and excellent gift is this Sobrietie, it may appéere no way better then by the examples of them which haue least estee¦med therof.* 1.316 Alexāder Magnus thought he could not better celebrate the memo∣ry of Calanus (whōe he looued entirely) then by appointing games for drinking.* 1.317 In which was iij. degrées, for he whiche drank most, had a Talēt of siluer for his paines: the next had thirtie pounds: the third ten pounds. In this contention one Promachus bare away the Bell,* 1.318 but his vnmesurable drinking cost him his life: for within three dayes after he dyed mi∣serably. What honor Alexander got by his new deuice, I leaue it vnto others to repor••e: what he might haue got by put∣ting that his money to the reléefe of his

poore Subiects it is euident. The like vse we read of, at the feasts of Bacchus,* 1.319 where it was lawfull for euery man to tosse the pots merily, and he which drūk moste had a Crown of pure Golde giuen him, which Xenocrates did once obtain.* 1.320

To these I wil ad one Micerinus an Egiptian, whiche béeing certified by the Oracle that his dayes were but fewe which he had to consume in this worlde, thought to disapoint the determinate pur¦pose of the almightie Gods, and therfore béeing before a great drincker, after∣warde tooke more pleasure in y^e same, but the end of this wretch was miserable.

Cicero the Sonne of that famous O∣rator took such delight in drunkennesse,* 1.321 as he was ashamed if any passed him therin, and because he was not of power to reuenge him self for the death of his father vpon M. Antonius, he thought by emulating Antonies drunkennes,* 1.322 and excelling him therein, he had brought him into contempt among the people, as Plinie writeth of him. Besides these haue bèen celebrated of historiographers for their drunkennes, Dionysius which by ouermuch drink lost his eyes,* 1.323 & there∣fore became a laughing stock vnto all

men.: and Nouellius, which because of that qualytie,* 1.324 was called Tricongius, and by Teberius Caesar preferred to a Pretorship, for no other thing but be∣cause of his excellencie in drunkennes.

Now séeing we haue shewed some which for their excessiue drinking haue béene famouse, let vs also shew some dis∣commodyties therof to make it the more odious. It is writ••en that this vice droue all consideration of Iustice out of the minde of Phillip King of the Mace∣donians,* 1.325 whereby he often times pro∣nounced sentence against the innocent, and condemned the vngiltie. One wo∣man hauing sustained iniury by wrong sentence giuen of him in his drunken∣nesse, with opprobrius woords railed vp∣on him & said, she would not stand to his iudgement but appealed farther. Then some asked to whome shée would ap∣peale (for in greater authoritie then Phi¦lip none was) she answeared, I appeale from Philip béeing drunck, to Philip bée∣ing sober. Which when it came to Phi∣lips eare, he called back his Iudgement against her, and afterwardes in drunc∣kennes he commaunded that he should not he brought to the seate of Iustice, but

with great care pronounced sentence. Again by drūkennes Spargapises,* 1.326 sonne vnto Thomiris the Queene of Scithia, fel into the hands of his capitall foes and lost many goodly Souldiers. And Babi∣lon whiche otherwise was inuincible, by this horrible vice fell into the handes of her enemyes. Now seeing the exam∣ples and knowing the discommodities whiche haue happened by drunkennes, let vs harken vnto the counsaile of wise men and obey the lawes made against this vice by prudent Magistrates.

Anacharsis was wunt to say that no∣thing could make this vice more to be abhorred,* 1.327 then to beholde those whiche were ouercome with drinck.* 1.328 The Lace∣demoniās were of this minde, and ther∣fore to make their children altogither to detest the same they would carry them to banquets, where if any of seruile con∣dition or others were ouercome with drink, they should sée them derided of all mē, that so by their exāple they might be ware how they fel into y^e fault.* 1.329 The Ro¦mās liked y^e same order very wel, & ther∣fore to bring Musiciās in cōtēpt,* 1.330 they de¦uised no better way thē at cōmō feast{is} to make thē drūk, & so to carry thē in carts

into the Markette place, where all the town might laugh at them, and terrifie others from immoderate drinking, lest in their drunkennes they were so vsed, the lawes which haue been made agaīst this vice are many & wūderful straūge. Pittacus one of the seuen wise men of Gréece,* 1.331 decréed that all offences should be punished, but drunkennes with a dou¦ble punishment.* 1.332 The Messalonians did so mislike this vi••e, that they would not suffer a woman to drink Wine. If they would not permit a woman so much as to drinck wine, what punishment thinck you would they haue set vpon her, if she had béen ouercome therwith? Truely I suppose that whiche by the law of Ro∣mulus was decréede,* 1.333 that if a Woman were foūd or seen drunk, she should leese her life therfore. For he supposed drunc∣kennes to be the beginning of dishone∣stie and whordome, and therfore did ap∣point so cruel a punishment, that by the auoyding of that, whordome might not be exercised among his people. Faunus a Romain was an executor of this law,* 1.334 for séeing his wife to haue broken the law, with his owne hands killed her.* 1.335 By another law of the Romains it was

enacted, that none borne of a noble house from his childhood vntil he came to man{is} age and was thirtie yéeres olde, should not so much as drink (much lesse be drun¦ken with) Wine. And I think if any which were forbidden to drink, had been drunck with Wine,* 1.336 the Law of Solon would haue béene executed vpon him, he should haue béen put to death, or at least banished. But doo I say that only yung noble men of Roome were forbidden to drink Wine? Nay it was not lawfull neither for bound nor frée, for slaue nor soueraine, to vse y^e same vntil they were thirtie yeeres of age. Nay I wil ad fiue mo for so affirmeth Aelianus.* 1.337 But of their minde we are not, but would haue men to vse y^e same somtime, & that mode∣rately. For as Anacharsis was wunt to say, the Vine hath thrée Grapes,* 1.338 one of pleasure, th'other of drunkennesse, the third of sorrowe: we would haue him taste the first, but the other two hee should not so much as handle, lest he fall into drunkennes, and so to repentaunce. For as Wine if it be taken to often or to abundātly bringeth many dangerous diseases, besides the lothesome vice of drunkennes: so taken seldom and mode∣rately

it reuiueth the Spirits and expel∣leth cares, whiche otherwise would con∣sume many of vs. For this vertue Sobri∣etie many haue béen cōmended especial∣ly Caesar & Vespasian.* 1.339 Of Caesar, Cato said, that of all those which sought the o∣uerthrowe of Roome, neuer any sober man went about the same but only Cae∣sar. And Vespasian the Emperour was of such sobrietie, that he would drink nor eate but once in a day, & that with great modestie. This sobernes of dyet brings commodities,* 1.340 for it dooth not only kéepe our bodyes frée from grose humors, whi∣che spring of il dieting, but also prolongs our dayes very much, and makes vs liue a helthful olde age. To prooue the same we haue many examples, as of Socrates which by his great sobrietie,* 1.341 liued all his life time without any sicknes.* 1.342 M. Vale∣rius Coruinus (so called. I suppose be∣cause he liued y^e yeeres of a Crowe, whi∣che is reported by those which write the nature of Birds, to liue an hundred yée∣res) also liued frée from sicknes an hun∣dred yéeres, the cause of his great felici∣tie is thought to be his good dyet whiche he kept, and great sobernes which he v∣sed whersoeuer he came. But he whiche

passed all men (that euer I read of) for his vertue was Masinissa King of the Numidians.* 1.343 His manner was neuer to sit at his meate, neither would hee sauce his meate at any time, he was content with common fare and house∣holde Bread which he allowed vnto his Souldiers. His great sobernes & good dye¦ting of him self brought a lustie olde age and so helthful, as after 86. yéeres of his age he had a Sonne (the like I thinck hath seldome béene hard) of his owne be getting, and béeing of 92. yéeres, he went against the Athenians, because they vi∣olated their faith giuen to him, and ouer came them valiātly. In which war it is reported that he behaued him self as cou∣ragiously as the best, & differed not from a common and hired Souldier. Now to Fortitude.

¶Of Fortitude and her partes. Cap. 27.

NOw are we to speake of Fortitude whose prayses are no fewer then those ascrybed vnto Prudence and Tem¦perance. And that deseruedly,* 1.344 for (as Tully Prince of Eloquence dooth say) there is no vertue, but either Swoord, strength, or threates will weaken

the same, but to banquish affections, to re¦sist anger, is only the parte of a moste va¦liāt man, which thing{is} who soeuer dooth: he may not onely be compared with the moste excellent and famous men, but ought to be made of as a God. And ther∣fore no meruail though y^e Romains flou∣rishing by this onely vertue, ascribed the name of vertue vnto fortitude, sith with out the same are all other as it were lāe and imperfect, without their limmes.

And therefore more commendations, glory, and triumphing hath been ascry∣bed vnto those indued with this vertue, then any of the others. But why doo I make comparison? who for Temperāce? who for chaste modest abstinence,* 1.345 honest and sober life was euer out of the com∣mon treasure house of any cōmon wele rewarded? Iustice and innocent, vertu∣ous,* 1.346 godly, loouing & faithful harted men where be they preferred or greatly made of?* 1.347 Prudente and wise, circumspect, héed¦ful, wily and craftye men are made of, who can deny? But in such sorte, as for Fortitude,* 1.348 bolde, patient, constant, stout harted, and valiant defenders of their contrie, who wil affirme? Of one or two or a few, whiche for other vertues haue

béen wel thought of and preferred, men∣tion may be made: but none can tel me of an vniuersall reioysing of an whole Contrie for any of th'others at any time: but for this valiant man euery man re∣ioyseth, his sight is grateful to euery mā, and all men delight in him. Héereof it came that tokens of Nobilitie were gi∣uen to those kinde of men in times past: as may witnes their bracelets, chaines,* 1.349 Pictures, armes and triumphs, appoin∣ted them in token of honor, and now the goodly orders and lawes which generall Captains haue, to prefer to the order of Knighthood any stoute and noble harted man. In olde time, to euery couragi∣ous fellowe, was giuen a péece of a vine in to•••• of his prowes, also noble wariers for their valiancy had bowes giuen thē in token of honor. The ancient Greciās to preserue the memory of those whiche had by valyantnes profited their Coun∣trie, did erect certain greate Pillers, in which was grauen the names of such as had showed thē selues noble harted and faithful defenders of their Contrie. As were those Pillers erected at Thermo∣pylas in the honor of Leonidas,* 1.350 whiche with a few Lacedemonians, and a small

crew of the Locresians, did withstand a number almoste infinit of the Persians; so long as he and all his Souldiers were bereft of life, whose names togither with Leomidas, were grauen in marble pillers to be séene of all posterities. It were a long and a very great laboure to recite the triumphes in number many, in sight straunge, for cost sumptuous, ap∣pointed to valiant and victorious Cap∣tains. Nay some haue stood in such admi∣ration of them, that they haue thought them worthy not only suche honor as we haue recited, but also immortalitie. And therfore the Athenians,* 1.351 Castor and Pol∣lux, Thebans, Hercules, Indians, Bac∣chus, only for their noble hart{is} and stout courage are numbred among the Gods, and so called them: and also did appoint alters, and sacryficed vnto them euen as if they had been borne of immortall séed because they shewed them selues vigilāt in seeing to them selues,* 1.352 valiant in de∣fence of their Contries, victorious in sub∣duing their foes and vertuous in al their dooings. But we hauing somwhat offen∣ded in praysing a thing before we expre∣ssed by definitiō what it was: I wil now define what is Fortitude. Many are the

definitions. Socrates said it was a knew∣ledge instructing a man how with com∣mendation, to aduenture daungerous, troublesome, and fearful things, and in the taking of them in hand to be nothing terrified. Chrisippus gaue two definiti∣ons therof, and said that Fortitude was either a science teaching how to suffer things: or it was a vertue of the minde, obeying vnto reason without all fear, ei∣ther in patiēt bering, or aduēturing any thing. The Platonists define it in this maner, and say that Fortitude is a kée∣ping of a stable iudgement in repelling those things which séeme fearfull and ter¦rible in mens eyes.* 1.353 Aristotle in a cer∣tain place, calleth it a meane betwéene feare and holdenes, and therfore he say∣eth it may séeme to be a knowledge of dreadful things, whiche may terrifie a man without this knowledge. In a no∣ther place he calles it a vertue by which many and meruailous things are doone, not rashly without discretion, but accor∣ding to lawes, & as far foorth as they will permit.* 1.354 Cicero defines Fortitude to be an affection of the minde in labours, troubles, and torments, frée from feare at all times.

All which definitions wil nothing els, but that Fortitude shalbe a vertue of the minde, aduēturing nothing rashly with out consideration, neither fearing any thing in a good cause whether it be death or any thing els, séeme it neuer so terri∣ble. By which it appéereth that Forti∣tude consists betwéen two extremities, fear, and folishboldenes, which doo either make a man to doo that which he should not, or not to doo that whiche he should. For feare wil not let a man doo what he should,* 1.355 a good occasion béeing offered: and by boldenes he passeth the bounds of the law,* 1.356 and in a hed, for no occasion or very little, will slay God almightie. Wel, this Fortitude, this vertue boldenes frée from foolish and childish fear, hath many partes (and without any of them none can truely be named a valiaunt man) which are in number eight, & are these Magnanimitie,* 1.357 Trust, Securitie, Mag∣nificence, Constancie, Suffering, Stabi∣litie & Patience, whose properties shal∣be declared.

¶Of Magnanimitie. Cap. 28.

MAgnanimitie is a certain excellen¦cie of the minde,* 1.358 placing before her eyes at all times vertue and honor, and to the attaining of them bends all her co¦gitations and studyes: which exposition sheweth that none can truly be Magna∣nimus, but he whiche is an honest & good man, and only by vertue desireth to cōe to honor and estemation. Whiche M. Marcellus (of whōe before I made men∣tion) declared by the erecting of the tem∣ple of honor,* 1.359 vnto which none could haue entraunce, except first he came through Vertues Temple. Now the better to knowe this fellowe, it is good to consider the partes of which Magnanimitie de∣pend{is}, and what be the properties of this Magnanimus. First his nature is in a good cause, and for the looue of vertue on∣ly without hope or desire of recompence,* 1.360 to doo euery thing. He is delighted in a good conscience, and therefore if he be in aduersitie he mourneth not, in prospe, ritie he insulteth not: and in troubles he pyneth not away. Besides the excellen∣cie of the minde, he stands in admiration of nothing, neither dooth he thinck any

thing to hard to be brought to passe, tho∣rowe that stomack whiche vertue hath brought vnto him, he is constant but in a good cause, neither will he go about any thing, but that which is honest and wil bring him credit. He is no hipocrite nor flatterer, he cannot abide to curry any mans fauour, and he wil tel the troth at all times boldely without fear. And to be found with a false tale, it gréeues him at the hart. Such a one was Romain Atticus,* 1.361 for he would neither tell a lye, nor could abide to hear a lye at any mās mouth. He cānot abide to dissemble with any man, but is open vnto al, that euery man may testifie what he is. And ther∣fore if he hate a man he shall knowe it, if he looue one he cannot keep it secret. He wil not speak one thing and think an¦other.* 1.362 He cannot be likened vnto those pictures of Alcibiades, fair without, and filthy within. He wil not be compared to the mermaid{is}▪ which sing swéetly, but for a pray.* 1.363 He is righteous in his dooings. If any offend wilfully and of set purpose, he wil not fauoure but punish seuerely, if a∣ny by compulsion, through feare violate the lawes,* 1.364 he sets th'example of Caesar before his eyes, and is to nothing more

redy then to mercifulnes. All his care is to be good vnto all men, and he thinks it a shame for him, if any excel him in li∣beralitie. And therfore he neuerlets out of his minde that sentēce of King Anax¦ilaus,* 1.365 which béeing on a time asked what was the best propertie in a King, answe∣red. to let none excel him in Liberalitie. He is alwaies more willing to giue then to receiue a benefit, for he is ashamed by a benefit to be bound vnto any man, as he whose care is to passe all men in well dooing, for he thinks him to be a conque∣ror which bestoweth a good turn, & him whiche receiueth he numbreth among them which are vāquished.* 1.366 If he receiue any thing, he is neuer wel vntil he haue requited the same with greter measure.

He is easely intreated either to run or ride to pleasure his freend. If any man sue vnto hī he is not straūge, or wil not he with in, but spéedyly satisfie their de∣maunds. He thinks he should not be de∣sired vnto any thing, neither dooth hee looue to request a thīg at any bodies hād. He knowes well inough y^t to beg a thing at a frēd{is} hād, is to bye it, neither dooth he forget y^e sentēce of Euripides, that it is no smal gréef to a good nature to try his frēd.

And therfore he is more prepared to bestowe, then his fréend is to beg, conside¦ring with the rest this of Seneca, y^t how much the longer we are in pleasuring, so much we loose of good wil. In exacting a dutie he is neuer hastie, for it is a plea∣sure vnto him to haue men in his det. He looueth to emulate the best, as for o∣thers he wil not so much as put them be∣fore his eyes. If he be surpassed in any good thing, he is ashamed. He is of y^e best nature, and therfore as nigh as he can, hee will be the best man. He will for get an iniury offered no man sooner, per∣swading him self that more honestie he shall get by forbearing, then by reuen∣ging. And therfore he dooth apply y^e coun∣sail of Cicero vnto Lentulus to him self, where he saieth, that iniuryes of men wil illustrate his innocencie, and all good sayings of prudēt men giuen to the like purpose, he carefully committeth to his remembrance. Again if he be fallen out with any man, he is not wel vntil he be reconciled again, and therfore if he haue molested any man willingly or other∣wise, with spéed he wil submit him self and craue pardon, if any man trouble or misuse him, he is redy to forgiue. He will

hurt no man wilfully, either by woord or déed, for he iudgeth it the parte of a ser∣uile minde and beastly, not of a man, to offer an iniury or disquiet any mā with out a cause. He wil not backbite,* 1.367 ne he wil not rail at any persō, nay he is so far from rayling at any man, that he can∣not abide such kinde of men: but euen as Memnon a generall Captain (institu∣ted by King Darius to fight against A∣lexander) hearing an hyred souldior bit∣terly to backbite Alexander,* 1.368 could not a¦bide his talke, but strooke him therfore, and with sharp woords rebuked him say¦ing. I doo not nurish thée to backbite, but for to fight against Alexander (he could not abide to heare his deadly soil spoken of) so he, as he wil speake wel of all men him self, so cannot he suffer any to speak railingly, no not of his deadly enemye. He is no boster of him self and of his doo¦ings.* 1.369 But if he haue doone any thing worthy commendation, he had rather a∣ny should reporte the same then he, for he thinks that by repeting what he hath doon, he should but raise an opinion of foo∣lishnes, among y^e wise to him self. And to auoide that fault the better, he calleth in to minde continually (when he is moo∣ued

to speake of his owne matters, the examples of others whiche he knoweth haue beene (as that glorious Souldier whome Terence maketh mention of) and are odious for the same. He cannot abide to medle with other mens mat∣ters, but all his care is to liue wel in his owne calling, and therfore the manners of other men he dooth not greatly note ex∣cept it be their good behauiour, therby to increase good motions within him selfe. and therfore as Plato answered Dioni∣sius,* 1.370 so dooth he all men which demaund of him the same. Dionisius hauing euil intreated Plato (whiche came for méere good wil vnto him) and letting him de∣parte,* 1.371 said O Plato how wilt thou amōg thy fellowes, whersoeuer thou commest reporte of me to my defamation? how wilt y^u blase thy misusage at my hands▪ Nay answered Plato, God forbid that I should haue so much time from study y^t I should speake euill of any man: and so dooth this valiant man say. God forbid, that he should haue any leasure at all to speake il of any man. This vertue al∣though it should be sought for studiously of euery man, yet especially is it moste séemly in a Prince, for without the same

it is impossible that any should reign glo¦riously, for many things come dayly be∣fore them which beeing without care let passe, may trouble y^e body of his Realme: without this vertue which bringeth vn∣to him an inuincible courage.* 1.372

Of this vertue was Alexander cal∣led Magnus, and we call him Alexan∣der the great. And he is said to haue ver∣tue, and to reigne in deede, whiche in his countenaunce beares a maieste, and in all his dooings dooth so behaue him self, as none without great reuerence dare demaund any thing at his hands, and wil admit none into his familiarity, but such as are of greate wisdome and per∣fect good behauiour. The want of this vertue woorketh much mischeefe, when a Prince hath not this maiestie and magnanimitie,* 1.373 but wil (through an im∣becillitie of minde) admit, he cares not whom into his coūsail. Examples héerof we haue many, as are all euill gouerned Cuntryes and common weles.* 1.374 Verres could say, that he had neuer cōe into such misery, had he not béen ruled by dissolute felowes which be vsed familiarly,* 1.375 y^e cause of Galba the Emperors destruction was because he lacked this Magnanimitie

and suffred him self to be gouerned accor∣ding to the minds of thrée wicked men in whose company he did muche delight which brought shame to him, & confusion to his people. Therfore is it the praise of euery Prince studiously to laboure to get this excellēt vertue Magnanimitie, con∣trary to this vertue is weaknes of mīde, whiche the Gréekes call 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, whose nature is clene opposit vnto that which we haue now spoken of, which a∣gain to reporte were vain and superflu∣ous, and therefore we leaue it. Now to the next.

¶Of Trust or Hope. Cap. 29.

TRust or Confidence is a certaine presaging or perswasion,* 1.376 rather of a prosperitie to come, then at hand. The cause therof is Hope, springing from a good consideration, and casting all douts which we haue pōdred out of our mind{is}. Again the causes of this confidence may be two, either former good luck (when we call into minde how happyly all things went with vs) there spring{is} a cōfortable courage, and in hope of the like good luck

wee are animated to take any thinge in hand seeme it neuer so dangerous: or the authoritie of some person. Bothe of these we meane to illustrate with examples. Of the former we haue many, as Nero an Emperor borne to all crueltie,* 1.377 which got such a confidence by a continuall good successe of euery thing which he tooke in hand, that when by Shipwrack he had lost many rich and precious iewels, he said boldely that he did not dout, but that the very fishes would be takē, and so his iewels,* 1.378 (as was y^e Ring of Gyges) should be brought vnto him again. Also a cer∣tain Centurian of C. Caesar beeing sent of him to Roome to vnderstand how all things went with him,* 1.379 went to the Se∣nate house, and there by common voice hearing that his Captains time of dicta∣torship was expired, and that his gouern¦ment was no longer proroged, striking the pommel of his swoord, with great con¦fidence boldely said. If so it be, then this swoord shall prolong the same. The confi∣dence of C. Castrinus another Captain of Caesars was wunderfull,* 1.380 for when the Pharsalian fight was at hand, and the time appointed that Caesar and his ene∣myes should incoūter, he came vnto Ca∣strinus,

and demaunded of him what he thought of that battaile, whether he ho∣ped they should vanquish or no. Then Castrinus giuing foorth his hand vnto Caesar said. Take hart vnto thée Caesar for thou shalt foile thy foes, & shalt com∣mend me for my valiantnes, either a∣liue or dead, whiche fel out as Castrinus did say. For bothe Caesar did get the bat∣tail, and in a solemne oration did great∣ly commend Castrinus for his valiant death. Notable was the stomack and the confidence of Androclidas,* 1.381 for bée∣ing derided of one because that béeing lame he would be a Souldier, answered merily like a worthy fellow, I come not to flye but to fight, and hope to haue the end of my comming and see the confusi∣on of my foes. As notable was the an∣swer of Leonidas to his bosting aduer∣sary,* 1.382 which cryed to the Spartaines that their laboure was lost, and that the next morrowe he & his fellowes would strike them down euery one, and that for the multitude of darts, they should not be∣holde the Sun. Wel, said Leonidas, if it will be as you say, we shall fight the better vnder the shade. This confidence hath béene said of Pindarus & the Stoiks,

to be the beginning of victorie to come, and to presage the same.* 1.383 Héere we wil a little digresse, and speake somewhat of presaging (of whiche we spake afore in this book, declaring what was Prudēce) The lerned wrighting of the same haue thought wise men, and those whiche are moste frée frō earthly cogitatiōs, to haue that gift that they can tel aforehād what wil happen: and that by certain family∣ars (for they haue thought euery man to haue two) which in latin they call Geni∣os, one good which is called Bonus Geni∣us, and th'other euil called Malus Geni∣us:* 1.384 by which they say that a man may e∣ther liue wel and vertuously, or euil and wickedly: vertuously by listening to the good angel (for so also haue they béen cal∣led) wickedly by obeying y^e suggestiās of the naughtie familiar.* 1.385 Of whiche minde hath Plato been: for in his Symposio he saieth that euery man hath his familiar giuen him of God to reueale the will of God vnto him.* 1.386 Socrates was said by this to haue presaged the death of that moste cruel of all other Tyrants Critias.* 1.387 For when Critias had sent vnto him a Cup filled with Poyson (whiche he was, béeing condemned by the lawe, enforced

to drink) he tooke the same, and drank vn¦to Critias whiche very shortly after the same sorte, dyed miserably. Now to re∣turn. Homer dooth oftentimes make mention of this familiar animating and imboldning Souldiers to fight couragi∣ously, and foretelles them secretly what shal happen, by which ariseth this Confi∣dence which is in many valiant youths.

But noble youths ought to take greate héed lest by to much Confidence they fall into perils, and hurt them selues, which confidence is then called by the name of Ouerboldenes, & is an extreme enemy to Fortitude, aswel as fearfulnes on the other side.* 1.388 If that Alexander the great had not had this ouer boldenes, his day∣es had béen prolonged. For béeing coun∣sailed by the Chaldeans not for to take his iorney to Babylon, for if he did they said his daies should be shortned, because of contemning their woords: And again béeing come nigh vnto Babylon, & seeing the Crowes & Rauens in the aire figh∣ting before his face, of which some fel at his feet prognosticating his end, and put¦ting him in minde of that whiche was tolde him by the Chaldeans, yet did not the fight and sight of them any whit ter∣fie

him, but boldely in contempt of words and wunders entred the cittie, where af¦ter few dayes he perished by poyson, gi∣uen vnto him by those whome he took for his déer and frusty fréends. By whose example we haue to learne not to muche to hope for continual prosperitie alwaies but to listen and obey the good counsail of graue men.* 1.389 Caesar likewise béeing ouer bolde and cōtemning the woords of those which wished him well came to a moste miserable end. For oftentimes he was warned and foretolde of the conspiracies of his foes to bring him to death He was coūsailed to sée to him self, & to garde his body, lest at any time his enemyes vpon the suddain should set vppon him, many promising their seruice willingly. But he contemned all their woords and wold none of their seruice, saying that he was a miserable Prince that would haue a Garde about him. But his contempt hastened his end, for as it was tolde him afore, his death was sought & he murthe∣red of his senate in their house of cōsul∣tation, with penkniues. If he had not so trusted to his good luck, and had suche a confidence that he could haue withstoode all the assaults of his foes, and harkened

to the wholesome admonitiōs of his faith¦ful fréends, his dayes might haue béene prolōged, and in time he might haue tur∣ned the harts of those whiche then were his capitall and deadly enemyes. Of the latter also we haue many examples of which we meane to recite some. In A∣thens on a time one of y^e tragedies of Eu∣ripides was plaied, which muche deligh∣ted y^e multitude,* 1.390 but one sentēce did not please them wel, and therfore they reque¦sted Euripides that it might be takē out and that they might heare it no more. But he stomaching their woord{is} came be¦fore them on the stage, tolde them that he made playes to instruct the people, and not to be controlled of them: whiche holde spéech of his so astonished them, that neuer after they would so much as mur∣mur against him.* 1.391 Scipio likewise (for his vertuous and good nature called Sci∣pio the good) in y^e time of a greate dearth which was at Rome, hearing the people much to complain of the want and penu∣ry which they were in, cryed vnto them and said: Maisters be content and holde your peace, for I knowe what is for the commoditie of the common weale better then you all (his experience brought him

suche a confidence.) The people were straight quieted, and altogither, without secret complaininges, depended vppon his wisdome, doubting not but that he bothe knewe how to ease them, and also would speedyly get a remedy. And as the people of Athens took the woords of Euy¦ripides, and the people of Rome the sa••e¦ing of Scipio quietly without concei•• of gréef: so did Iulius Caesar the behau••¦or,* 1.392 the straunge behauior of the Poet Ae¦••ius towards him. For whē Caesar came into the Colledge of poets, and euery on∣rose out of their places in token of obedy••¦ence to his person, onely Accius sat stil and would not rise: but Caesar not a whit stomached him therfore. For he knew very well that he did it not in contempt of his maiestie, but only through a cōceit of excellēcie. For he thought himself chée∣fest among the Poets and in that place as good as Caesar.

That confidence gotten by an opinion of excellēcie,* 1.393 made Apelles to take vp king Alexander as short. For Alexander cōming oftentimes into his woorkhouse, would finde much faulte w^t one thing or other, which Apelles marked very well

and was not a little mooued so to be re∣prehended of an ignorāt man, one which could not iudge of coulors, and therefore on a time he said vnto him. I meruaile Alexander how you wil continually be finding faulte, when you see my boyes laugh you to scorne for your vndiscrete woords. Which Alexander tooke patient¦ly and considered that Apelles spake not without a cause. But this confidence ex∣cept it be guided by modestie, and pro∣céede from iudgement, it runnes into a foule vice and is then called Arrogancy.

* 1.394For this Arrogācie haue many come into the hatred of men. As Chrysippus which to raise an opinion of knowledge vnto him self,* 1.395 would set foorth Bookes in his owne name which were the dooings of other men, in so much as he was open¦ly cryed out vpon. And therfore Apollo∣dorus an Athenian saide, that if other mens woords were taken out of y^e woork{is} of Chrysippus, there would nothing in his Books be séen but bare and white pa∣per This vice made Hyppocrates vndis¦cretly to answere the king of Persia (whi¦ch ernestly desired him to come and pro∣fesse physick in Persia) after this maner▪* 1.396 I am not so mad as among barbarous

men, foes to the Grecians, to practise my science and pleasure them any whit.

The like arrogancy was in that nota∣ble Painter Zeuxes,* 1.397 whiche through an opinion of excellencie, said moste foolish∣ly, that he had in minde suche a péece of woork, & so would set foorth Helen in her liuely coulors as neither Homer by elo∣quence, nor any man by imagination should conceiue the like. But for to root•• this vice out of the mind{is} of men, the Po¦ets fained a notable example of Thamy¦ras, whiche they say,* 1.398 because he would take vppon him more then he could dis∣charge, and would séem to contend with them, with whome he was not in any respect to be compared, and chalenged the Muses them selues (he béeing a Con¦trie fidle••) into the contention of Musick, was depriued of his sight, and became a laughing stock to all men.

¶Of Securitie. Cap. 30.

SEcuritie is an other parte of Forti∣tude,* 1.399 by which (after we haue cast in our mindes all inconueniences & knowe the wurst that can happen) we are quiet and without care. A notable vertue, and

and enemye vnto all those things which may strike a terror into the minde of mā. No cowarde or faint hart can possesse the same, and haue the quietnes of minde, whiche it brings, because that with the least blast of any sharp winde of aduersi∣tie, he is so out of hart, as he hath not po∣wer to go about any thing. Straungely haue the Philosophers written of this vertue. Cicero saith that those which are secure indeed, are in that same case whi∣ch they were in before their birth. They are so far from béeing troubled at any thing, that they are not which they séem to be, that is, though in body they are on the earth, yet their mindes are in heauē. In this Securitie of the minde haue ma¦ny Philosophers thought an happy life to consist. Democritus was the author of this opinion:* 1.400 whiche indéede is nothing els but that contemplatiue felicitie of whiche we made mention in the begin∣ning of this Book. Homer to expresse the excellencie of this vertue, faigneth those Elysian féeldes where the soules of the righteous abide,* 1.401 and he saith they are in the Ilands of Atlas, whiche we call the Fortunate or happy Ilands. Sertorius the Emperour hearing the fame of those

Ilands, was altogither minded to leaue his Empire, and consume his dayes in them: in whiche minde if he had remay∣ned,* 1.402 he had not so traitorously béen mur∣thered of Perpenna beeing inuited to a banquet.* 1.403 Sylla did prefer securitie of minde before princely authoritie, and therfore to leade a life frée from trouble, of his owne accorde gaue ouer his Dicta∣torship and became a priuate person. If Pompey the great had not beene more bent to y^e troubles of the world, thē y^e tran¦quilitie of minde,* 1.404 neither so much Ro∣man blood had béen shed nor had he dyed so miserably. Alexander one a time as∣ked of an Athenian Oratour what he could wish him to take in hand,* 1.405 or what was moste meet for his person to doo: the Orator (whiche I think was Phocian) answered that hee could wish him to di∣misse his men, breake vp his armie, and lede his life in securitie not to breke his braines about the taking of Castles, and bringing nations into seruitude. But A¦lexander would not hear that▪ yet if he had obeyed that counsail, his dayes had béene prolonged, and his death had not so tratourously béene sought of his fami∣liar fréend Antipater.

Therfore is it the parte of euery man to séek this vertue and part of Fortitude, if we desire to haue the good wil of men, and be glorified after this life.

¶Of Magnificence. Cap. 31.

ANother notable parte of this For∣titude is Magnificence,* 1.406 a vertue proper only vnto Princes, priuate per∣sons of this Magnificence cannot be cal∣led magnificall: because their substance is not such, as perfectly they cannot fulfil the function of liberalitie. The differēce betweene these two vertues is this. The one is aboute priuate thinges (and hee is called a liberall man which according to his reuennues giueth freely,* 1.407 when, where, and to whome he should) th'other is about great and publike matters (and he is magnificall whiche bestoweth his goods not regarding any cost or charges at all, but how worthy a thing it is wher vppon he bestoweth the same) so that •• priuate man if he should so spēd his goods he would quickly be consumed▪ Isocrates adhorteth Nicocles vnto the imbracing of this verrtue.* 1.408 In apparel he wold haue him to be moste glorious, but he would

haue him to shew foorth and declare his magnificence, in bestowing his good{is} and riches vpon those things which bring a perpetuall commoditie, but his munifi∣cence in purchasing and procuring faith¦ful freends. And these two things magni¦ficence and munificence are supposed to be the two speciall vertues of a Prince. And to th'attaining of either of thē, and bothe of them haue many labored. Iu∣lius Caesar to be counted magnificall,* 1.409 made many and sumptuous Libraries,* 1.410 and gaue M. Varro in commission to go throughout the dominions of Roome to prouide the woorks of the best learned to fornish them. But that famous and right magnificall péece of woorke afterwarde was by fire consumed. Then afterwarde the Emperor Domitian caused to be re∣dyfied and new builded.* 1.411 The Caues and conduct{is} finished by M. Agrippa, began by Tarquinius Priscus▪* 1.412 were so for cost magnificall, for labour endles, as many beeing weried with intollerable paines, ended their liues with halters (wherof also we made mentiō in the second part of Temperance called Shamefastnes.) He also erected a Temple vnto Iupiter and many things els did he of great mag¦nificence.

But those Caues whiche he made,* 1.413 passed all other things. Sylla to declare his princely mīde made a Stage in Rome of great sumptuousnes, & was one of the moste magnificall things in Roome. Many roman Consuls also made many goodly things for the commoditie of all the inhabitant{is} of Rome, and called them by their proper names. And heérof came the market place of Liuius,* 1.414 of Iuli∣us, of Pompilius, of Cornelius, of Sem∣pronius, and other woork{is} right wunder¦ful for cost and woorkmanship. But in all the world there was seuen things which for stately building passed all others, and therfore were called the vij. wunders of the world.* 1.415 The first was Thebes a Cit¦tie in Aegypt, for bignes and building so magnifical,* 1.416 as not vndeseruedly it is coū¦ted the first and chéefest of the wunders: it is reported to haue an hundred gates, set out very stately.* 1.417 The second was the walles of Babylon, made by the Quéen Semiramis, they were in compasse thrée hundred, foure score and fiue fullong{is}, and euery fu••long was 125. yards.* 1.418 The third was the sepulcre or tumb of Mau∣solus, which his wife Artemesia did erect for the great loue she bare vnto him. The

excellēcie of this monumēt did Satyrus & Pythius ancient and cunning builders,* 1.419 moste learnedly celibrate in many euo∣lumes. The fourth were the Pyrami∣des in Aegypt,* 1.420 which were Towers of such hight as to reporte it, it would séem almoste incredible. The fift was Colo∣ssus (I think the picture or Image of A∣pollo as some say,* 1.421 or as others of Iupi∣ter.) The sixt was the Capitoll of Rome whose statlynes passeth my skill to set foorth.* 1.422 The last was the Sepulchre or tumb of Adrian{us} builded in Cyzicus, a woork so magnificall, as, except those before mentioned it was a gasing stock to all other buildings in the worlde. It were an infinit thing and a vain labour to recite the sumptuous and magnificall buildings, which are celebrated by y^e elo∣quence of learned men. It shall suffice therfore that I haue some what declared what Princes and others in fore time haue had to be counted magnifical, & such waies to get a perpetuall name among all posterities. But no way to be spoken of among men is better, then to be in fa∣uour with learned men, whose writings can raise a more credit then any raising of building or magnificall péece of woork.

And therfore shall a Prince be more fa¦mous by getting trustie freends, then building goodly houses, and by Munifi∣cence then by magnificence.* 1.423 For the one is for a time, the other continuall: The one makes a fewe in a Countrie, the o∣ther causeth all the worlde, not a while but for euer to reporte of him. And that hath made so many Princes, so to esteem of learned men as Alexander of Aristo¦tle,* 1.424 Dionysius of Plato, and other grati∣ous Princes of other good men. It is re∣ported that the greatest care whiche A∣lexander had was to get him the good∣wil of many, if he could of all. He had once fallen out with one Protheas a Ie∣ster, but by intreatie of fréends, was con∣tent to banish all malice out of minde, and be reconciled.* 1.425 Now when Prothe∣as vnderstood the same, he came vnto A∣lexander and merrily demaunded what token he should haue,* 1.426 whereby he might knowe & surely perswade him selfe that he was not angry with him. Then Alex¦ander willed v. Tallents of siluer to be giuen him, and said, beholde a signe of my good wil, and heereafter vse thy selfe wel towards me. Again the same A∣lexander, to make his very freends re∣porte

wel of him, gaue vnto a yung man (sonne vnto Mazeus which was in fauor w^t Darius) after y^e death of his father (be∣sides that which alredy he inioied) a Pre¦torship, whiche made the yung gentle∣man to say, My Prince Darius was ne∣uer but one man, but thou by thy muni∣ficence and great liberalitie makest ma∣ny Alexanders. Meaning that so many Alexāders there were, as he had fréend{is}•• and fréends hee purchased by gifts con∣tinually. Scipio Africanus (whose ver∣tues we haue somewhat spoken of be∣fore) did not a little indeuor to haue this vertue,* 1.427 nay he bent all his cares so to the attaining thereof, as he would be sure, as often as he went abrode to the mar∣ket place, to make some one or other his fréend of his foe, by gifts and liberalitie. And the Emperor Titus,* 1.428 sonne to Ves∣pasianus, was of such magnificence, as, if, béeing at supper or otherwhere els, he had remembred him selfe to haue giuen nothing that day, he would say in pitiful sorte, My fréends, this day haue I lost and doon no good at all. All which did ve∣ry wel remember y^e only in Magnificēce they did excel the multitude, and could at all times either profit or displeasure

euen whome they would and as they wold thē selues. Anaxagoras instructing Pericles,* 1.429 said, that the onely way to be gratious with the rude multitude was by this vertue Magnificence: by which he should not onely with benefits bynde men vnto him, but also liberally reward euery one which any way had pleasured him. And thē is he a grateful person: con∣trariwise in neglecting those to whome he was (in some respect either for their diligence or benefits) bound, he runneth into ingratitude, then whiche vice no∣thing is more hurtful to a good estate and common wele.* 1.430 And therfore the Persians punished vngratefull persons moste se∣uerely. And the Athenians did erect the temple of the Graces in the middest of their Citie,* 1.431 to showe that nothing shuld more often come into our memory, then benefits bestowed vpon vs.* 1.432 And therfore Cicero did say, that though he were desi∣rous to be endewed with all vertues:

Yet none of them did he more hunt af∣ter then to seem,* 1.433 and be accounted thank¦ful. For that sath he is not only the grea∣test, but also the mother of all vertues. Chilo one of the vij. wise men of Gréece was wunt to say.* 1.434 That no man liuing

could accuse him of vngraetfulnes: for their was none that euer did him a good turn, but he did requite the same.

Also for this vertue did King Pyrrhus passe all the other of his time (as those which write of him doo say) for all his di∣ligence was chéefely imploied in rewar∣ding them to whome he was any thing bound.* 1.435 Héerof it was that hearing the death of Aesop,* 1.436 he wept bitterly (not be∣cause he was dead, for he knew the na∣ture of all mē to be such, as alwaies they should not liue) because he was so negli∣gent in rewarding his paines taken for his profit. And beeing of one of his fréend{is} demaunded the cause of his gréefe, hee gaue that reason before mentioned, and added that it was not one thing to owe goods and good wil. For he which oweth goods vnto any manne, though he dye to whome it is due, yet wil it be as welcōe vnto his heires, as if it had been sooner re¦paied: but he which oweth goodwil if it be not requited before his death, it can no waies be repaied. Wel this Magnifical, cannot cōmit y^t he be founde either negli∣gent in requiting, or forgetfull of recei∣uing a good turn. But heerof heerafter.

¶Of Constancie. Cap. 32.

NOw that we knowe what is good and to be desired, and also what is it and to be despised,* 1.437 it is méete that in that good purpose taken, we perseuer and continue. The vertue which teacheth vs how to doo so is called Constancie. There he which confound this vertue with Con¦tinencie.* 1.438 But Aristotle dooth distinguish them properly, and saith it is the dutie of Constancy to resist dolors of minde, and of Continencie to repell all foolish pleasure. So that the one maketh a man chaste in body, the other continuing in a thing wel deliberated. Cicero saith that Cōstancie is y^e helth of the minde, so that by the same he vnderstands the whole force and efficacie of wisdome, and that appéereth very wel by her contrary. For Foolishnes is nothing but a lightnes and inconstancie of minde.* 1.439 Wherfore this constant man cannot be to much praised seeing that either whole wisdome, or the very force of wisdom is in nothing more apparēt then in Constancie. The which wil the better appéer by the examples of true Constancie. Who will not highly cōmend and hartely desire that he were

that Pomponius Atticus,* 1.440 so praised for his great constancie. For he vnder the conduct of Lucullus fighting against Mi¦thridates, & béeing sorely wounded was taken and brought before the King:* 1.441 whi∣ch séeing Pomponius said vnto him in this wise: Tel me Pomponius, if I so prouide that thou be healed of thy woūds and brought to perfect helth again, wilt thou not looue me therfore, & afterwarde be true and trustie vnto me? I cannot chuse but looue, answered he, if you for your parte will reconcile your self to the Romans: if otherwise you wil, I neither can nor wil cōe into freendship with you. Whose Constancie when Mithridates perceiued, he did not only prouide for his helth, but estéemed him as one of his Princes about him. Or that Fabricius who wil not desire to be? whiche,* 1.442 beeing sent of the Romans Embassador to king Pyrrhus, to will him to leaue afflicting them with war, would neither be corrup¦ted with bribes, nor terified with the hor¦rible cry of a huge Elephant, from dooing his message faithfully. But we wil bring forth examples of more straunge & wun∣derful Constancie.* 1.443 Zeno the Stoike bee∣ing cruelly tormēted of a King of Cypres

to vtter those things which the king was desiro{us} to know, at lēgth because he would not satisfie his minde, bit of his owne toung, and spit the same in the tormen∣tors face.* 1.444 But the constancie of Anax¦archus was more straunge, for béeing ta∣ken of Nicocreon, a moste cruell of all o∣ther Tyrants, and afterwarde hearing that by the commaundement of the Ty∣rant he should in a morter he brused and broken into péeces, said moste constant∣ly vnto him in this manner: Bruse and breake this body of mine at thy plea∣sure O Tyrant, yet shalt thou neuer di∣minish any whit of Anaxarchus. Then the Tyrant because he could not abide his bolde spéech, commaunded that his tung should be cut out of his mouth. But Anaxarchus laughing at his madnes, thought he should neuer haue his minde, and therefore he bit out his owne toung▪ and spit the same by mamocks vppon the tyrants face. How wunderful was the Constancie of C. Marius, which to reco∣uer his helth did not only giue him selfe to be sawed a sunder,* 1.445 but stood so quietly while it was a dooing, as if not he but an other man had felt the pain. What shuld I heer make mention of Leena that Har∣lot,* 1.446

whiche was so commended of the A∣thenians, that for her constancie she was honored, & to kéep her in remembrance, a brazen Lionesse was erected and y^e with∣out a tung: because that she béeing moste cruelly tormented, and by all diuilish de∣uises tempted to vtter those which with her did conspire against the tyrant, wuld for all their tormentes speake neuer a woord, but remained dum? Or to recite the maner of Epicharius cōstancie were a long thing:* 1.447 which béeing apprehēded for conspiring the death of Nero, and on the rack drawen, and euery way hailed and pulled to confesse, who with her went a∣bout the murthering of him, would not speake one woord, but took all punishmēt{is} patiently: and therby shewed her self to haue a more manly courage then many graue men, whiche through pain did ac∣cuse their fellowe conspirators.* 1.448 Héere I must leaue out the example of that mo∣ther whiche séeing her Sonnes tormen∣ted before her face, was so far from lamē∣ting their death, or coūsailing thē to saue their liues, y^e she willed them boldly to go into y^e hands of the tyrant, & hauing so a∣nimated them, her self after that man∣ner was with fire and fagot consumed.

This vertue was so highly commended of Cicero,* 1.449 that he was perswaded that a mā might atchiue immortalitie therby, as did M. Regul{us}, which he said was not so commended because he had béen twise Consul & once had gloriously triumphed,* 1.450 as for keeping his faith giuen to the Car∣thagenians, & suffering his eye lids to be cut of, and so to stand against the Sun vn¦til he dyed. But of this no more only for the better knowing of this vertue, with Lactantius we wil say that Constancye except it be in trueth,* 1.451 and in a good cause is impudencie. Now to that which folow¦eth.

¶Of Suffering. Cap. 33.

OF Suffring we spake before whē we spake of y^e parte of Tēperance, which is called Moderation, & therfore in the ex¦plicating therof, now we wil be y^e more bréef.* 1.452 Suffring is a notable vertue & tea∣cheth vs to go forward in an honest mat∣ter without greef and grudging. For this vertue are all good Captaines commen∣ded, for without the same, euery labor wil be lothsome, & euery thing wil strike a terror. And therefore their names

which especially haue excelled héerin are wunderfully celebrated of all Historio∣graphers.* 1.453 C. Marius is reported very quietly without any signe of a troubled minde to beare the labors which belong to a Captain. In all things sauing autho¦ritie he would be like a common Soldi∣or: he would fare no better then they did, his bed was no easier then the rest of his men: in all paines that should be taken he would be formoste. By whiche his fa∣milarnes, humblenes, and quiet bearing of thing{is}, he so did win the harts of the common people, as it was cōmonly said in euery mans mouth, that the Romans should neuer end their war begun, except C. Marius were made general Captain: whiche beeing blazed at Roome, from a bace condition he was created Consul. The like vertue had Sertori{us}, for he culd so wel away with the warriers life,* 1.454 that the Celtibrians noble fighters, and cou∣ragious fellowes did prefer him before all the Captaines that then were liuing, and commonly called him another Han∣niball. As these haue béene famous, for this vertue, so (others whiche to recite were long,* 1.455 and for breuitie sake I omit) especially Fabius Maximus could suffer

best. He was wunt to say that it was his parte which gouerned others, not with woords and whips to wax cruell against male factors, but with suffring and gen∣tlenes to draw them to his minde. For he said it was an absurd thing to doo that vnto men whiche hee woulde not doo to beasts.* 1.456 And again he said it was not to be hoped for, that a man indued with re∣son, wil be called to the imbracing of ho∣nestie, rather by seuere punishment, then by gentlenes, when as we sée wilde beasts by crueltie cannot be tamed, but by gentle handling. Moreouer he said it was not the part of Iustice to shew more fauour to Beasts then to men: or not to doo vnto men, whiche we are commonly and continually wunt to doo vnto beasts: to giue bread vnto beasts and blowes vn¦to men, to cherish vnreasonable crea∣tures, and correct moste cruelly a reasona¦ble man. By these reasons he armed him self bothe to aduenture all things with his soldiors fellowly and patiently, and also to vse no seueritie towardes them whiche did sometime violate his lawes. But of this latter parte we shall haue oc∣casion to speake heerafter when we come to Iustice.

Of Patience. Cap. 34.

PAtience is defined of Cicero to be a voluntary aduenturing of hard thin∣ges for the desire of vertue.* 1.457 The excellen¦cie héereof is knowen and perceiued no way better then by her contrary whiche is Impacience, what a foule vice Impa∣tience is,* 1.458 they can tel which haue the ad∣ministration of things & here the swoord in common weles. Socrates beeing on a time kicked at,* 1.459 by a dissolute fellowe was asked of the standers b••, how he could suffer him selfe so to be misused: he asked them, what they would haue him to doo? Marry said they take the aduan∣tage of the law. Then said he, you haue made a good reason I pray you if an Asse should kick me, would you counsaile me to call him before the Iudges. Socrates thought no difference betweene suche an vndiscrete fellowe, and an Asse: and a∣gain he thought he should run into great reprehension, if he should suffer a Beaste and not suffer a man

Xenocrates also for his patience was* 1.460

much commended: for though he were of his maister Plato vniustly accused of vn∣gratefulnes, yet was he nothing mooued therwithal. And beeing asked why he did not answere Platoes defaming of him, made this answere, That whiche I doo is good, and profitable for me. Rare was that patience of Eretricus a yung man to∣wards his father.* 1.461 For comming from Zenoes schoole (where he had of lōg time béen taught) hōe to his fathers house, his father asked him what he had learned. The yung man said he would tel him by and by. But his father beeing cholerik, was very angry, and gaue him a blowe or two. His sonne hearing those patient∣ly said, This haue I learned of maister Zeno, to beare quietly the woords and blowes of my father at all times. The pa¦tience also of Lycurgus is muche spoken of:* 1.462 for after y^t he had lost his eie by y^e mis∣use of Alcander, and that the Citizens had brought Alcander vnto him desiring him to appoint what punishmēt he wuld vpon him:* 1.463 would not doo as they reque∣sted him, but let his enemie go quietly without molesting him, whiche patience was profitable. For he afterwarde proo∣ued a good and honest Cittizen. The like

is reported of Eusebius. For when a wicked woman infected with the here∣sies of Arrius,* 1.464 had wilfully throwen a stone at him, and ther withall had woun∣ded him to death, he was so far from ta∣king reuenge, that he sware his freend{is} vppon his death bed, not to punish her therfore. Notwithstanding these exam∣ples of so godly men, and the manifolde exhortations of the best to patience, yet haue their beene some of that opinion as they haue thought it méeter (I will not say honester) to reuenge, then to forgiue: and that it is a part of iustice w^t iniuries to requite iniuryes.* 1.465 Of which opinion A¦ristotle is. And Cicero in his offices de∣fines him to be an honest mā, which will profit as many as he can, and will hurt none except he be iniured hī self. Whose woords Lactantius dooth very notablely refute in this wise.* 1.466 O what a simple and true sentēce hath Cicero corrupted with adding but of two woords: for what need was there to ad, except he be iniured? but only to ingraft wickednes in the minde of an honest man, and to make him be without patience, whiche is the greatest of all vertues? He saith a good man may hurt, if he be iniured. But when he dooth

hurt it must néeds follow that he lose the name of a good man. For it is no lesse e∣uil to requite thē it is to offer an iniurie. For from whence doo fraies, fighting and contentions arise, but only because that wicked men laying aside all Patience, séeke occasion to mooue troubles and tu∣mults? Now if against their madnes, a man wil set patience (then which vertue nothing dooth better become a man) all troubles wil easely be extinguished, and quencheth the same euen as water put∣teth out fire. But if Impatience be set a against misuse, it is so far frō beeing quen¦ched, that it ministreth matter of conti∣nuall debate, and euen as it were Oile poured into fire it raiseth such a flame, as not a riuer, but y^e effusion of much blood can extinguish the same. And therefor ve¦ry necessary is patience, whiche prudent Cicero would take from a vertuous mā. This only vertue is the cause that no e∣uils be doone: and if euery man had this gift, no wickednesse nor deceit would be in the world. And therefore what can be more contrary to the nature of an honest man, then to submit him selfe to Angre that can dispoile him not onely of the name of a good man, but also will not

suffer him to be called a man. For as Tullie him self saith, and truely, to hurt another,* 1.467 is not according to mans na∣ture. For bothe beasts if you mooue them ether with heele or horne wil set against you: and Serpents and sauage Beasts wil not trouble you, except they perceiue you persecute thē to slay them, and (that we may return to the examples of men) ignoraunt and foolish men, when they are hurte and iniured, are led with a blinde and vnresonable fury to hurt and requite iniuries doon vnto them. And therefore in what shall a wise and good differ from a foolish and wicked man, but onely that he hath a singular patience which fooles want: but onely that he can asswage his anger, which those whiche haue not grace and goodnes cannot bri∣dle? But forsooth this thing deceiued him, because when he speake of vertue in what quarrel soeuer he ouercame, he supposed that same to be vertue, and could not perceiue that a man submit∣ting him self to Anger, and fauouring those affectiōs which he should withstād, and so rushing in to what parte so euer wickednes did prououke him, did vio¦late the office of vertue.

For he which bendeth him self to reuēge dooth prepare him selfe to imitate his dooings of whome he is moles••ed. So he whiche imitateth an euill man cannot be a good man in any sorte. And therfore by these two woord{is} he take{is} from a good man two of the chéefest vertues, and will not haue a wise man to haue Innocen∣cy and Patience. Hetherto Lactantius, whose woords togither with those afore mentioned examples, may sufficiently set foorth bothe the very nature of this vertue, and confute all those whiche wil not alowe of Patience.

Of Stabilitie. Cap. 35.

THe last of the partes of Fortitude, is Stabilitie, a vertue moste méet for him which would be a valiant man.* 1.468 It hath a greate affinitie with those thrée immediatly mentioned partes of Forti∣tude. It is a continuing in that which is wel begun. And therfore it is called som∣time Perseuerāce, because it dooth perse∣uer and continue in a good thing▪ & som∣time Pertinacie.* 1.469 And héerof proceeded that saying of Hanniball to his Souldi∣ors, Pertinax and stable vertue ouercom¦meth

all things. And that Pertinacie is somtime taken for Stabilitie it may ap∣apéere by the common voice of the people of Rome, for they called Seuerus y^e good Emperor because of his stable wit and iudgement Seuerus Pertinax, which ne∣uer they would haue doon had not y^e same béen a good woord.* 1.470 And yet those Lati∣nists whiche write of the true nature of woords, take the same in the wurst parte for an obstinate cōtinuing in a naughtie matter, or for a depending of ones brain in an error against the minde of many.

So that Pertinacie shalbe one of the extremes of Stabilitie, and the other is Leuitie. Wherof one teacheth how to be to firme in a naughtie cause,* 1.471 the other to fickle in a good: bothe vnméet for a man, and for bothe haue many béene disprased.* 1.472 As A. Vitellius a moste victo∣rious Emperor of all others. Hee would say and vnsay with one breath, as waue∣ring in all his dooings as a wethercock.

Also Sextus Pompeius, for this vice was much defamed.* 1.473 It is written of him that he was lucky in ouercomming his foes. But as often as he perceiued his e∣nemyes to be put to flight, then was he carelesse and would not perseuer in that

which he had well begun, and therefore sometimes he was plagued: for his con∣quered enemyes gathering them selues togither would vnwares set vpon him, and so take reueng of their former foile. Pyrrhus for many vertues was extolled with diuine commendations,* 1.474 yet one thing he lacked whiche obscured the rest of his glory. For he was excellent in get∣ting, but in kéeping he was the wurst of a thousand. And therefore as oft as he brought vnder his subiection any Cittie, in hope still to subdue, lost the former. Which made King Antigonus to com∣pare him to a dice pla••er,* 1.475 whiche in hope to gain, dooth oftentimes leese not onely that which before he wan, but also his owne proper goods. And such was the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Pyrrhus, all his care was to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and neuer to keep that whiche alre∣dy he had gotten: so that hope of victorie and good Fortune clene ouerthrewe his iudgement which should haue tolde him that it was no lesse vertue to keep things gotten then to be desirous of new. Heer wil we leaue speaking of Fortitud•• and her partes, & descend into iustice whose nature, partes, and excellencie shalbe de¦c••a••ed.

Of Iustice. Cap. 36.

WE are now come to y^e last enemie of wickednes, whiche is Iustice.* 1.476 A vertue so necessarie, as without the same all other are lame and imperfect.

For as the Poets by the name of one of the Muses vnderstand all: so at∣taine one of the vertues perfectly, and you knowe all:* 1.477 for what is Fortitude without wisedome, but rashnes: or wise¦dome without Iustice, but craftinesse: or Iustice without Temperance, but cru∣eltie. or Temperance without Forti∣tude but sauadgenes? So that none can haue one, except he be adorned withall. And amongst them, this last for worthy∣nes is not the least.* 1.478 Nay (if Plato may in in this thing be credited) of all the gift{is} of God Iustice is principal. And therfore in many places he calleth God the author, cause, and beginnīg of Iustice. This Iu∣stice was fayned of the Poets to be a virgin, and to reign amōg men, to whose precepts as long as they listned, they po∣ssessed all things quietly, and a golden worlde.* 1.479 But when they began to be re∣bellious, to follow wickednes and to con¦temne her Lawes▪ then

Deseruit properé terras iustissima virgo Et Iouis in regno caeli{que} in parte resedit:

This righteous maiden forsooke this world and returned to the kingdome of Iupiter: so that since her departure we in this world haue had in sted of looue, ha¦tred: for peace, troubles: and for an hap∣pie life, a miserable estate. By whiche sentence of the Poets, no other thing is ment, but that Iustice is a diuine and celestiall vertue, which if mē would em∣brace, they might liue quietly from trou∣bles and happely to their harts desire.

Tullie confirmes that of Plato and the Poets,* 1.480 and saith, that of all thing{is} contai∣ned in the Books and volumes of Philo∣sophie nothing is more to be commen∣ded, then that which giueth vs to vnder∣stand we are borne to Iustice. But the excellencie of this vertue wil be the bet∣ter perceiued, if we cal into remembrāce of how many kindes iustice dooth consist. The Philosophers make foure sortes of Iustice,* 1.481 and say that all Iustice is either Celestiall, Naturall, Ciuil, or Iudiciall. The celestiall Iustice is that,* 1.482 whereby we are driuen to the confessing there is a God creator of all things, knowen of none perfectly, and as he is, but by his

woorks, and yet knowing all things: whi¦ch is not only the Creator but the kéeper of all thing{is} in their kinde frō destruction without whose care nothīg is, hath béen, or can continue: which though he haue a care of all things created by him, yet moste especiall of man and therfore hath not onely endued him with reason and spéeches, wherby he may both conceiue aswell that whiche hath béene, is, or may be, and also vtter and expresse that which is conceiued vnto others, but also hath made him a beholder of the Hea∣uens, and not only hath indued him with reason, and with that gift of beholding the firmament (which no other creatures doo) but also hath brought all other things aswel senceles as hauing life: as Foules, fishes, and foure footed beasts, vnder his power either to kil or kéep them, and at his pleasure to vse them. So that this di∣uine and celestiall iustice is a perfect con¦sideration, and a dutiful acknowledging of God{is} omnipotencie, which Iustice had many Philosophers euen by the instinct of nature.* 1.483 Natural Iustice is that which all people haue in them selues by nature, and is alwaies and in all places one and the same. Which is not only proper and

peculiar vnto man (as was the former celestiall Iustice) but also many brute Beasts doo participate the same. The properties of this Iustice are many as to haue a care of our selues, not wilfully to run into perils and dangers: Next to haue an affection towards them whiche moue of vs, as our children, and not to suffer them to be molested of any▪ Third¦ly, to reléeue our Parents, kinsmen and neighbours, if there be any in pouertie, and to helpe them when they be in trou∣bles. Lastly to heare good wil to all, and willingly to offend none. And there is almoste no beaste, and certainely there can be no man, which hath not these ca∣res somtime in his minde, and dooth not thinck that he should first looue him selfe, then his wife and children, next his pa∣rents, kinsemen and acquaintance, and lastly beare a generall good will vnto all men, and doo vnto euery manne, as hee would be doone vnto. And therfore it is called Naturall Iustice, because natural∣ly in man there be some spark{is} of vertue, and no man is so destitute of grace, but sometime or other (though he neuer herd of God and his threatnings to wicked li∣uers) dooth repent him of his wickednes.

Now the Stoiks did not onely thinck Iustice to be naturall, but they thought vertue in generall to be nought els but an obsolute and perfect nature. And they iudged (as in the beginning of this Book we tolde) the chéefest happines not to swarue from the lawes of nature. And the ancient Academicks to this purpose defined iustice to be nothing els but a per¦fect knowledge of good and euil agréeing to naturall reason. By the which two kindes of Iustice, we sée that Iustice is often times referred aswel to our selues, as vnto others. So that they are much deceiued whiche say, that Iustice of all vertues is anothers good, and dooth those things all togither whiche are not profi∣table to him which dooth them, but vnto others to whome they are doon: and that it is no Iustice to helpe our selues. But that opinion is against the authoritie of Aristotle, and reason, whiche any will graunt if he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 enter into his owne con∣science but a litle. Now to Ciuil Iustice:* 1.484 Pomponius Laetus saith,* 1.485 that Ciuile Iu∣stice is y^e which is made either by y^e law∣es of nature, y^e statutes of the people, the consultations of Senators, y^e deuises of princes or authoritie of graue & wise mē.

So that ciuil Iustice is only among ciuil men, in common weles. Cicero defines the same to be an habit of the minde, gi∣uing vnto euery man according to his d••••serts. And Aristotle saith it is a ver•••••• of the minde, rewarding all men acti••••••∣ding to their worthines.* 1.486 This Iustice 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all morall vertues accompany, by whose counsaile Iustice dooth beholde what is good or otherwise, who is worthy of pre∣ferment, or no. Of all others, Princes and such as are in authoritie,* 1.487 ought to haue this vertue. For what soeuer such men doo allowe, it is imbraced of the vul∣gar sorte. And therfore saith Plato, that the alteration of a Prince, brings the al∣teration of a common weale. For as a good Prince more by the example of god∣lines, thē by godlines it self dooth persist: so a wicked Prince more by the example of vngodlines, thē by y^• thing it self dooth corrupt the manners of his Subiects: for the common sort of men perswade them selues all that to be well doone whiche is doon by example. Again those art{is} and oc∣cupation whiche a Prince dooth esteeme of,* 1.488 florish & are practised of all men, and those which he contemneth, are obscure and of no price. Which made Isocrates

to coūsail his King to cherish those which were studious of good letters, & to make much of profitable occupations, but vn∣profitable and seruile (as vnmeet for a cō¦mon wele) he should reiect, and nothing regarde,* 1.489 wil you knowe what made the AEgyptians to be so notable Mathema∣ticions? Ptolomie their King spent most of his time in that studie.* 1.490 What made the Persians so to be delighted in beastly pleasure,* 1.491 but onely because that Xerxes their King was so delighted therewith? Or what made the Roman gentlemē in the time of Nero, to be so lasciuiously bēt,* 1.492 but because their prince Nero did by his exāple prooue that to be lawfull which in déed was most hurtful to cōmon wele?* 1.493 It is therefore the parte of euery Prince and Magistrate, that he with all care be¦ware lest by euill example, he bring a wicked custōe into his dominion. It was very wisely by law decréed among the Persians,* 1.494 that if any of their Contrie did imitate the behauior of strangers,* 1.495 and so trouble cōmon orders, he should therfore loose his life. Lycurgus was want before the chéef of the Lacedemonians to say,* 1.496 that magistrates should be more vigilāt in séeing y^e no corrupt & wicked maners

were brought into their cittie, then to a∣uoide a bodely piague & infections of the bodies of the Lacedemonians. The con∣sideration wherof made the Cretensians as often as they would curse their ene∣mies to wish no other plague to come a∣mong them,* 1.497 then that their people might be delighted in wickednes.* 1.498 And Xerxes béeing on a time greatly offended with the Babylonians, thought to reuenge him self vpon them:* 1.499 & he had no better way to wreak his anger, thē so to prouid as they shuld not be exercised is warlike affaires or profitable thing{is}, but liue altogither at ease, in pleasure. And therfore he brought among them minstrels, allowed stewes, suffred them to be frée from punishment for any offence. Which custome came at the lēgth to such an habit, as they proued the moste wicked people vnder the Sun: and in all y^e world was there not a more abhominable place then Babylon. It is therfore expedient that a prince doo exer∣cise and estéeme of ciuil Iustice,* 1.500 whiche wil not suffer any wicked custome amōg men, nor permit euil manners to go vn∣corrected.* 1.501 Which vertue made Galba the Emperor to be wel reported of in all the world. For because he would not haue

the good custome which somtime was a∣mong the Romans, to be broken, and for gotten, whiche was that euery morning and euening the sonnes and seruants of the Romane people should come before him and shew them selues dutiful and o∣bedient towards him: therfore because he would not breake y^e séemely custome, he would be sure y^e euery morning they should bid God saue him, & euening wish him good rest. And thus much cōcerning ciuil Iustice. The last is Iudiciall which depends vpon lawes made for the com∣moditie of a common wele,* 1.502 & that Iustice which is exercised according to the law∣es is called Iudiciall. The vertues of the law are foure, to beare sway, to forbid,* 1.503 to punish, to suffer: to beare sway ouer all, to forbid iniuries, to punish malefactors, to suffer and tolerate the vertuous. The precepts of the law may be comprehēded vnder these thrée things,* 1.504 to liue honestly to hurt no man wilfully, to render euery man his due carefully.* 1.505 This Iustice is painted blinde with a couering before her face, not because she is blinde, but thereby to signifie that Iustice though she doo beholde that whiche is right and honest, yet will she respect no persons.

Others paint this vertue after this sort, they fain her to be a Virgin, of counte∣naunce graue and shamefast, hauing a very sharp sight, and yet of a wunderful modestie, without austeritie or childish∣nesse. By whiche was ment that a Iudge should bee a graue man, seuere, and of good behauior, one to whome men without greate feare should not haue ac∣cesse. At Thebes were certain Images of Iudges without hands and without eyes, to shew that Iudges should neither be corrupted with bribes, nor by any per¦son drawen from that which is right and law.* 1.506 Héer I might enter in that question whether a magistrate, or a King shoulde rule according to the lawes writtē or ac∣cording to reason.* 1.507 But I leaue the same as somwhat vnfit for this place, where I doo but explycate the nature of euery vertue. Yet this wil I say, that according to the lawes written, he should gouern, and yet not altogither,* 1.508 for then he should execute euery thing to the vttermoste (which is the greatest iniury) but should consider circumstances thoroughly, and accordingly pronounce Iudgement, so that especially he obey that law which is within euery prudent man, not written

in Books. And that Prince which accor∣ding to reason, dooth gouerne is called a King.* 1.509 So that the difference betwéene him and a Tyrant, is because a King ru∣leth as he ought, a Tyrant as he list:* 1.510 a King to the profitting of all, a Tyrant only to pleasure a few, and that not for the looue of vertue, but to the increase of wickednes. And thus much bréefly of the foure kindes of Iustice. Now (as we haue doone in the other afore mentioned vertues) let vs manifest the partes of which true Iustice dooth consist. Whiche are in number eight, and are these,* 1.511 In∣nocencie, Fréendship, Concorde, Godli∣nes, Humanitie, Gratefulnes and Faith¦fulnes.

¶Of Innocencie. Cap. 37.

INnocencie (according to the Peripa¦tecions) is an habit of the minde,* 1.512 so wel framed that it wil hurt no man ei∣ther by woord or déed. An innocent man in respect of a good conscience contem∣neth all woorldly things, and will not so much as in hart couet another mannes right, he wil come to nothing by wicked and vnlawful meanes, neither wil he in¦iury

any man though he might got much therby. Cicero therfore calles the same an affection of the minde, which wil not molest, iniury, nor hurt any man. This innocēt man is he which feareth no man, no law, no witnes, accusar, iudge, or any but is a frée man, and by reasō of his good conscience is out of the limits of the law. He wil be sure to giue vnto euery man his due right, and wil obey the authoritie of no man which wil commaund him to doo any thing that is not good, honest and vertuous. Now the vngodly perceiuing the same, conceiue by & by secret hatred against them. And heerof it comes that innocent and iust men of all others are moste contemned, hated and persecuted: and they which liue moste vprightly and in the fear of God, are coūted idiots and fooles, and are iudged vnworthy to be in a common weale as Lactantius confir∣meth.* 1.513 And as he saith, such is the vilde nature of the rude and common people, as they make smallest account of them which are best disposed: and those they extole to the Skyes,* 1.514 which can by wurse meanes come either to riches or promo∣ciō. Cicero confirmes y^e same in a certain oration of his moste eloquently: his place

though it be somwhat long, yet wil I re∣cite because of the worthines therof: his woords are these. M. Aemylius Scaurus a moste worthy man of our cittie was ac¦cused of M. Brutus,* 1.515 whose orations are extant, by which it is apparant that ma∣ny things were spoke against M. Scaur{us} but falcely as all men knowe. How much did Aquilius hear in his iudgemēt? How much L. Cotta? finally P. Rutilius? whi∣che although he were condemned,* 1.516 yet in mine opinion he is to be numbred amōg the best & moste innocēt men. That holy and temperate man heard many things in his troubles which tended to his defa∣mation, and made him to be suspected of lust and incontinencie. There is an ora∣tion of C. Gracchus a man in my iudge∣ment of all others moste ingenious and eloquent, in whiche oration are manye things vttered against L. Piso,* 1.517 but a∣gainst what kinde of man? Forsooth of such integritie of life, as in those dayes (when it was wunder to sée a wicked man, nay none could be found for con∣uersacion dishonest) yet he of all others alone was called by y^e name of a good hus∣band. Which whē Gracch{us} willed to be called before the assembly, and he which

should haue gone, asked what Piso he should fetch (because there were many of that name)? Thou compellest me now said Gracchus to say, mine enemie that good husband, So that he whome his vt∣ter and capitall enemie could not other∣wise discribe without he had praised him before,* 1.518 whiche by that name giuen vnto him for his vertues was bothe knowe∣en who he was: and also what kinde of man, yet notwithstanding was falsely slaundered and made to answere vnto many wicked accusations, and to cléere him self before the whole court, of many euil reportes. M. Fonteius in two acci∣ons hath béen meruailously accused,* 1.519 and yet nothing is prooued, wherby he may be thought either incontinent, a brabler, vnmerciful, or a molester of any man.

His accusers are so far from declaring any notorious vice of his, that for their liues they cannot finde faulte with, or blame any thing whiche he hath at any time spoken. Now if his enemyes either had asmuch boldenes to lie, or ingenious¦nes to fain, as they haue wil to oppresse, and libertie to inuente, certainly Fon∣teius at this time should not haue better fortune in hearing their opprobrious

talke, then those of whōe before I made mention. Hetherto Cicero. By whiche it appéereth that the vertuous and well disposed, are odious to the wicked,* 1.520 & haue béen, yea in those dayes, when as godli∣nes was most exercised. But what may we thinck to be the cause of this deadly and cruel hatred? shall we think that ve∣ritie and trueth brings hatred? Or that the wicked be ashamed of them selues (through giltienes of conscience) and would in no case that there might be any to reprehend them for their detestable behauiour, and therefore conceiue in∣warde malice againg them? Or rather iudge that bothe truethe and integritie causeth this contempt and crueltie of the wicked against y^e innocent? But let the righteous reioice in their integritie of life and vnpolluted conscience. For (as Tullie saith) all of vs are willing and wil make haste to repel dangers (which are imminent against the innocent) and though we be in hart or secretly enemies yet in such troubles, when it stands vp∣on y^e credit or life of a man, we wil shew the parte of moste loouing and faithfull freends.* 1.521 For (as the same Cicero in an other place affirmeth) as fire cast into wa¦ters

is by and by put out & waxeth colde: so a falce accusation though it burne and be neuer so hot, against a chaste and vn∣corrupt conuersation, is quickly consu∣med and vanisheth ere one beware with∣out hurting any whit.* 1.522 And a rumor rai∣sed of nothing, vanisheth of his owne ac∣corde, and that vanitie of speech profiteth nothing, but in making the innocencie of him whiche is defamed to be more wun∣dred at. And this ought again to comfort, that not withstanding they are oppug∣ned, yet a time wil come whē the trueth shalbe knowen, and the false accusations of their enemies shall be made open to all men.* 1.523 For (as the same Cicero saith in an other place very notablie) the truth by the maliciousnes of many oppugned, and (as it were) drowned often times, when it is supposed neuer to be seene a∣gain, dooth swim aloft, and is apparant to the eyes of all men, and this defence of Innocencie béeing stopped of the malig∣nant, taketh breath and hart againe to the ouerthrowe of her enemies. Now let vs confirme this which hath béen spoken by storyes and examples.* 1.524 The Poets fain that when Perseus did shew Gor∣gons hed vnto the Seraphians, they

were straight way turned into stones, whiche Perseus was reported to haue doon to reuenge the death of his innocent mother,* 1.525 which Pelydectes their king had wickedly murthered.* 1.526 One Archias a Poet, because him self in poetrie would beare the bell, murthered an innocent man, one whiche neuer had offended him, whose name was Archilochus (his bet∣ter by many degrées in that facultie••) which murther béeing doon secretly none béeing present or nigh at hand,* 1.527 Archias was farthest from beeing suspected of such a 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Yet notwithstanding at length he was detected after this maner. As the people of that contrie according to their custome were aboute to sacrifice vnto their God Apollo, a voice was heard which commaunded Archias (beeing a∣mong the multitude) to go away lest he by the blood of Archilochus polluted the temple of Apollo. So that the innocen∣cie of Archilochus was illustred, and Archias for his horrible fact punished: For the people stoned him to death. In like sort Hasdruball for killing without a cause, an honest Spaniard:* 1.528 was kil∣led of the seruant of the same Spaniard.

Which beeing apprehended of the garde of Hasdruball, and afterwards condem∣ned, among moste cruell torments did meruelously reioice that he had reuen∣ged the death of his good and so innocent maister. But what should I recite straunge and forrain examples, when daily we see y^e innocencie hath many pa∣trons, and for the defence of such as are iniured are magistrates (as it were ma∣sters of the people) appointed to sée that such as are malefactors be seuerly corre∣cted, and such as are quiet and vertuous∣ly bent, be fauoured and preferred.

Cicero saith, that if in complaining of the misuse of the Romans,* 1.529 he should by speaking so strain him self, as his strēgth should fail him and yéeld vp the Ghost••, that death of all others would séem vnto him moste pleasant and honourable. So that innocencie neither can lack praises, patrons, nor reuengers. It may for a time be oppressed, but it wil rise againe: it may bee obscured, but it will shine a∣gain:* 1.530 it may be ouerwhelmed, but it can neuer be drowned. Quintilian saith ve∣ry wel that Prouidence, meaning God, hath giuen especially this vnto man, that by honestie he should receiue moste com¦fort.

And Tullie saith that the remem∣brance of a good conscience,* 1.531 is a comforte in aduersitie. And therfore this vertue, if it were aswel practised in woork and con¦uersation, as it is praised in woord and orations, lesse impietie towardes God, lesse enmitie among men, lesse iniuring one another, there would be. For e∣uery man should consider y^t he is borne to help and not to hurt: to profit and not displeasure his fellow neighbours: if not for fear of punishment in this world and euerlasting pain in the worlde to come, yet because he is Animal sociale, a cre∣ature whose nature is not to be without companie and neighborhood, whiche hurt¦ful persons in that which in them lyeth, would not haue as appéereth by their kil∣ling, vndooing, or molesting their fellow Cittizens. But I may not stand long vp∣on any particular thing, and therfore I wil cut of the commending of this Inno∣cent man, onely with Plato I say,* 1.532 that this is he that wel may by trusted of eue¦ry man: to whome without fear of reue∣ling or disclosing of them, any may vn∣folde his secrets:* 1.533 and with the Poet The¦ognis I say, that of all treasures in a cō∣mon weale, this Innocent man is moste

to be estéemed and accounted of, nay no∣thing can be compared vnto him, nether golde, nor siluer, nor any treasure. Now to that which followeth.

¶ Of Freendship. Cap. 38.

PYt••••goras defines Fréendship to be an equall agreeing togither. Cicero saith,* 1.534 it is a wishing of good thing{is} vnto a man for his owne sake, whōe he looueth.

Of these two with a little addition we wil make a ful definition of fréendship in this wise. Fréendship is a naturall good∣will of well disposed persons, caused through likenes of manners and moti∣ons of the minde, fancying eche other for nothing els but onely for the increase of vertue, not for any pleasure or profit.

This definition shalbe verified in that which followeth.* 1.535 And that we may doo it the better we wil diuide the same into her kindes (& therin we followe Plato) which are thrée, to wit, a Natural fréend¦ship, a Ciuil, and a Hospitall. The na∣tures of these in order shalbe declared. And first of that which is first placed.

Of Naturall freendship. Cap. 39.

THe naturall Fréendship shalbe de∣clared by the deuision of y^e same.* 1.536 It is diuided into Pietie, Kockring & kin∣red. The first again is diuided either in∣to the looue towards God, towards our parents, or towardes our contrie. Of our looue or dutie towardes God we will not in this place talke of, because héer∣after wee shall haue a fitte and proper place for the same. To the dutie towards our parents,* 1.537 Isocrates adhorteth vs in this wise: So behaue your self towards your parents, as you would haue your Children looue you. And nature willeth vs so to doo. For what is more according to nature, then to looue them of whome we are borne? Besides the exhortation of Isocrates, and the cōmaundement of nature, many examples of godly chil∣dren may inuite vs to immitation. Wunderful was the looue of Simon the Atheniā towards his father.* 1.538 For béeing for det cast into prisō, where he died mise¦rably, & by reasō of y^e seuere lawes, could not be brought out of prison & buried, ex∣cept first the money were paied: and ha∣uing not wherwithall to discharge y^e det,

Simon went to the Prison, and caused those irons whiche were vpon his father, to be laid vpon him self, and so deliuered him, and remained in prison suretie for the money.* 1.539 Astapus and Amphonius two yung men bare suche looue towards their parents, that their Cittie beeing burned they tooke them vpon their shoul∣ders and caried them through the midst of the fire.* 1.540 Also a maide of Athens, her father beeing cast into prison, where he should haue sterued for want of nurish∣ment, craued so much leue of the keeper, that euery day she might haue accesse vn¦to her father. Whome with her milk she preserued from death a long time. By this vertue Metellus got a name,* 1.541 & was called Metellus Pius, as we would say godly Metellus. For his father beeing banished his Countrie (this Metellus bee¦ing but a childe) he went to the Senate, and humbly beseeched them in moste pit∣tiful sorte, that his father might be sent for home and called from banishment.* 1.542

The looue of our Countrie and Prince should be great. For (as Plato and Cice∣ro doo say) no man is borne for him selfe, but a parte of our birth our Countrie, a parte our Parents, a parte our freends

chalenge as due vnto thē. For as lawes are giuen for the commoditie of all▪ not that a few may be inriched and the rest beggered, euen so should euery true sub∣iect prefer a common profit before a pri∣uate, and an vniuersall before a peculi∣ar. Of this matter we shall héerafter in the end of this Booke speake, and there∣fore now wil we be the more breef. On∣ly we wil say that a betraier of his Con∣trie is little more to be reprehēded them he which caring not for the common pro¦fit, onely bends all his indeuor to the in∣riching of him self not caring how many he brings to beggery. By which it appee∣reth that he of all others is muche to be commended, which in defence and bene∣fitting of his Contrie, will neither care for lim, lands, nor life, but prefers y^e pros∣peritie of his Countrie before all other things.* 1.543 And this according to Ciceros minde. Which consideration haue many in foretime ingrafted in their mindes. And therfore the Emperor Otho when he saw that either he must leue his Em∣pire,* 1.544 or kéep the same with slaughter of many subiects, determined for the saue∣garde of his people to forsake this world. His fréends and subiects desired him to

alter his minde, but no perswasion could moue him, but answered thē, that rather then by his life there should be ci∣uil discention and continuall discorde among them, if he had a thousand liues, he would leaue them to bring them qui∣etnes. King Codrus also vnderstan∣ding by the Oracle that except he were slain:* 1.545 his people the Athenians should ne¦uer subdue their enemyes, put vpon him the armour of a common soldior, & went into the fore front of the battaile, where he was slain, and so brought quietnes vn¦to his people and subiects. That greate care of deliuering his contrie Athens frō seruitude,* 1.546 made Aglaurus to cast him self hedlong from the walles of Athens. For it was tolde him that except some body would kill him self for his contries sake, Athens should be conquered, which thing when Aglaurus did hear, straight way in that manner as I haue tolde, he rid him self of this worlde, and his con∣trie from thraldome.* 1.547 Iphigenia likewise a woman, because y^t by her blood her ene∣mies vnsatiablenes might be quenched she committed her self to be sacrificed.

There was a temple at Athens called Leocorium,* 1.548 which is by interpretation,

the temple of y^e peoples daughters. It was erected in honor of the death of thrée wo∣men called Theopa, Eubula and Praxi∣thea,* 1.549 which for the preseruation of Athēs were offred vnto Minerua. For the Ora¦cle had said y^t the town could not florish except they were killed. By the praise of which it appéereth, how great their shāe is which haue no care at al whether their contrie florish or come to decay. Now it appéereth how vnworthy of all men they are to receiue any benefit of a countrie, whiche for a little profit or preferment, wil seek to bring the same into seruitude.

Of whiche some (were it not that I had reserued their names, because they are famous, vnto a more fit place in the end of this Booke where I shall talke of Faithfulnes) I would recite, but I must be bréef. Héere might be mooued a que∣stion, whether the looue of our parents, or of our King and contrie be greater. Ma∣ny reasons might be brought to the con∣firmation of either parte, as of th'one we receiue life, by y^e other we kéep life:* 1.550 of the one food, by th'other fame: of th'one we are cherished, by th'other many thousāds are preserued from defamations, from inuasions, from seruitude and miserie.

Now whiche is greater let others iudge▪ I wil now come to the next parte of Na∣turall freendship which is indulgence or cockring of Children,* 1.551 a great and vnspea¦kable goodwil which parents doo shew to∣wards their Children. Héerein ought great heed to be had lest to much good wil be not shewed towardes our wiues and children, for therby we may fall into as great blame as by ouermuche seueritie: and in bothe haue many offended as in rough and sharpe dealing, Oppianicus, Domitius, Medea. Nero, Periander, He∣rod, the father of Atalanta, and others.

* 1.552Oppianicus, contrary to the common nature of parents (which commonly are wunt to be more couetous of riches for their Childrens sake, then otherwise they would) he,* 1.553 I say, was content for money to forsake his children, as Tullie dooth reporte. Domitius detested his sonne Nero (a man as it prooued, worthy to be detested) for no other cause, but be∣cause be had begotten him vpon Agrip∣pina. Medea,* 1.554 beeing forsaken of Iason, murthered her owne sonnes. Nero kil∣led his owne wife, some say, with spur∣ning her.* 1.555 The like is reported of Perian∣der. Herod was so destitute of all father¦ly

affection, that he cōmaunded his owne and only childe to be murthered among that generall killing of Innocents in Iu∣rie.* 1.556 Which when Augustus the Empe∣ror did hear, he said that he had rather be Herods hog then his childe. For to kill an Hog among the Iewes was sacriledge but he thought it no sin to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Sonne and heire.* 1.557 Atalantas father was so vn∣naturall, that as soone as she was borne he commaunded her to be cast amonge wilde beasts, saying that he needed no women. As this ouermuch crueltie of pa¦rents towards their children, and hus∣bands towards their wiues, is to be de∣tested: so againe to muche cockring and kindenes dooth as much harme, and ma∣ny for the same haue béene infamous: as Ptolomie of Aegypt, Ariobarzanes of Cappadocia, Seleucus of Syria, Claudi{us} and Augustus Emperors, and others.* 1.558 Ptolomie, Ariobarzanes, and Selucus, put them selues out of Princely authori∣tie, to prefer their sonnes. But such ouer kindnes is not to be liked of, for it is the cause of much mischéefe, and oftentimes hasteneth their deaths. Historiogra∣phers write that Prusias the king of Bi∣thinia,* 1.559 was murthered of his owne sonne

when he had committed the rule of his kingdome vnto him, Darius also lay in wait to kil his father Arataxerxes,* 1.560 who had displaced himself to make him King. Also Eucratides King of y^e Bactrians, af∣ter he had vanquished and put to flight Demetrius King of y^e Iewes, was slaine by his owne sonnes, whom he had left to guide and gouerne his people in his ab∣sence. Princes therefore ought to haue great care how they depose them selues out of princely throne, & leaue the tuition of their people, vnto others, when as ma¦ny of their owne childrē haue been so wel rewarded.* 1.561 Claudius the Emperor did so bear with his wife in her naughtinesse, that at length she took the boldenes of an harlot: and his ouertēdernes caused her to doo that openly which before she did se∣cretly and with feare. Wel in this kinde of looue a new must be obserued. Héere a∣gain may be mooued another question. Whether the looue of parents towardes their children be greater,* 1.562 then the looue of children towards their parents. Many reasons may be brought to prooue, & ma∣ny examples to confirme either parte, some we haue alredy in this chapter re∣cited. But certain it is that the looue of pa¦rents

towards their children is greater and that is prooued by two reasons. The first is this: By how muche more any man knowes the thing which he looueth, then the thing knoweth him: by so much he looueth it better. But a father dooth better knowe the sonne, then the sonne dooth knowe the father: and therefore the father dooth looue him better. Again an Artificer dooth looue his woorkmanship, and the thing wrought by y^e woorkman. But the father is like a woorkman, and the sonne as the woorkmanship, and ther¦fore he dooth better looue his sonne, then his Sonne can fancie him.* 1.563 And there∣fore is it said that this naturall and fa∣therly affection dooth alwaies descend, but it neuer ascends: Againe it may be mooued whether a father dooth fan∣cy better his children then the mother. It is thought that the mother dooth. And the philosophers prooue it by this reason. They whiche take the greater paines in getting any thing, looue that whiche is gotten more intirely, then they whiche take lesse paines. But the mother dooth with greater paines attain to thē then the father: and therfore her looue muste néeds be greater.

Now to the last parte of this naturall freendship. Reason willeth that as first we should abooue all thinges looue God,* 1.564 our parents, Contrie, wiues, and chil∣dren: so next we are bound in conscience to make much of those which are of our kin and acquaintance. And therefore who is he that dooth not quake for feare, when he heareth but the mentioning of Tiberi{us} Caesar, Nero, Artaxerxes, Pto∣lomie & other most vnnatural wretches?* 1.565 It is written of Tiberius, that he mur∣thered his sonnes, killed his kinsemen, slew his deere fréends, and afterwarde thought him self an happy man, because like Priamus he remained after y^e death of his kin.* 1.566 Nero slewe his mother and his maister. Artaxerxes his sister. Pto∣lomie also his sister, & his sisters sonnes called Lysimachus and Philip. Another Ptolomie also moste vnnaturally mur∣thered his owne Sonne, begotten of his sister Cleopatra. Therfore how necessa∣rie and abooue all this naturall freendship is to be sought for, it is apparant. With∣out which we can neither serue God, nei¦ther our Parents & kinsefolke, to whme especially we ar boūd, w^t a more straight chain and surer link thē to any others.

¶Of Ciuil freendship. Cap. 40.

CIuile Freendship is of thrée sortes. The first is a common or generall good will,* 1.567 wherby we wish wel vnto all men, and are prouoked the••unto by the rites, lawes and customes of our Coun∣trie, or otherwise by any common thing to all men. And therefore it is a great cause of looue and amitie among men to be vnder the same Princes, to be in sub∣iection to the same lawes, to be of one so∣cietie, of one Contrie, Cittie,* 1.568 to be of one religion. &c. There be also many things which men haue in common, and belong aswel to the one as to the other, as Chur¦ches, market places, stages, guildhalles, places appointed to the vse of all men, and doo conioine men in gadwil meruai∣lously. And this common amitie is so re∣quisit, as without the same there is no di¦fference betweene brute beast{is} and men: we should without the same liue in soli∣tarines, neuer without snares to intrap vs, & mischeef{is} to bereaue him of al ioies. Which made Cicero to say,* 1.569 that he whi∣ch would cut of this common freendship, did euen as it were go about to take the Sun from the world. And in a certaine

Oration of his he hath a pretie place to the praising of this Fréendship, where he saith, that those citizens whiche will not willingly helpe one another, doo in that whiche in them lieth, go about to ouer∣throwe the common estate of a common weale, and to disturbe the fellowship of this life. For saith he, nature hath not so made vs, that of our selues we can doo all things without the aide of others, and one is more apt to one thing then an other. And therfore goodwil is gotten, that so by helping one another according to their calling the common profit may be sought for.* 1.570 The Epicures whose inde∣uor{is} are t'encrease plesure, doo altogither commēd this kinde of Fréendship abooue any other, as that without which no ple∣sure could be in this life. But their freend¦ship is nought els, but that which we call Good fellowship,* 1.571 whiche in deed continu∣eth but a time as lōg as pleasure lasteth, but no pleasure: no Fréendship. The na∣ture of this fréendship shalbe better decla¦red héerafter bothe whē we shall speake of Concorde, & also of th'other partes of this Ciuil fréendship. The second kinde of this Ciuil Fréendship, is that which is gotten not without pleasure or profit, but

only by vertue and likenes of manners This fréendship bringeth to passe,* 1.572 that a∣mong men there be a greate agreement bothe in wil and in woorking. For as Sa∣lust saeith: this is perfect and vnfained freendship, to think one & the same thing. And as Tullie saith,* 1.573 there is none more certain token of true fréendship, then is consent and communicating of our cogi∣tations one with another. This fréend∣ship is only between honest and wel dis∣posed persons.* 1.574 For the cōsent which is be¦twéene wicked men, is not fréendshippe, (whose end is the increase of godlines) but a faction to il purpose and disquieting of the common weale. Isocrates writeth very wel of this matter & saith, that the gréement of the wicked is easely vpon a a small occasion brokē, but y^e fréendship of the vertuous cōtinueth for euer. And wil you knowe in déed who is a true & perfect fréend? Then harken vnto a lerned man.* 1.575 Be not drawen away with fair woord{is}, nor seduced w^t wickednes, nor ouercōe with iniuries, looue w^t all your hart vn∣fainedly,* 1.576 and then shall you be a perfect fréend. This fréendship hath many note{is} to be knowē by. For it is a freendship for her self, it is the greatest y^e moste perfect,

••he best, the most surest & therfore it is the rarest freendship. It is called a fréendship Per se, because the spring of the same is that which is only good of it self, and that is vertue. It is y^e gretest, because it is for the sake of that which is greatest, which is only vertue. It is the moste perfects, for what is more perfect then vertue? It is the best, because bothe the cause and end thereof is vertue. It is the surest and continueth longest: for no aduersitie can breake the same, no sicknes can wea¦ken it, no time can alter it, no death can dissolue it: and therfore it is rare and e∣mōg few. And what meruel? For what is lesse estéemed then vertue? or who careth almoste for her? And therefore the cause béeing rare, and little estéemed, the effect must néeds be rare, and there∣fore no meruail though this Fréendship be little imbraced.* 1.577 In all Grecia béeing so populous a Contrie, there was scarce three copel that were faithful fréends. It was a rare thing in those dayes, when so few were celebrated for their vnfai∣ned fréendship, but much more wunder∣ful is it in these dayes. For who wil be content to lose his life for his Damon,* 1.578 as did Pytheas? Or who wil say he is O∣restes,

when he is Pylades, for the saue∣garde of his fréend? Nay,* 1.579 that is a great thing: who wil in these daies almost for go his goods (doo I say all his goods?) nay, who wil forgo but parte of his goods, to ••a••ue his fréend frō misery? Such fréend{is} are as rare as were those Greciā fréend{is}. Wel this fréendship is not popular, it is peculiar vnto few: for many cannot be in perfect fréendship togither: goodwill there may be, but vnfained Fréendship cannot be. For as a kingdom cānot haue many gouernors, nor one wife many hus¦bands & looue thē, and be looued of them entirely: so one cannot looue many, and be loued again hartely without hypocri∣sey. For as mightie fluds,* 1.580 by how much they are brought into small riuers, by so much they loose of their strength: so looue cannot be borne to many without aba∣ting the force therof. The more it fa••ou¦reth, of the lesse force: but the fewer, the more faithful.* 1.581 That is a true saying in Philosophie Vis vnita fortior, at partes in plures secta peribit, Strength is thē weakned when it is diuided. Cicero writing to his fréend Atticus,* 1.582 declareth the wāt of a true fréend, the place though it be long, yet because of the worthinesse

therof I wil recite. Knowe you my fréend that at this time there is nothing that I stand more in néede of, then that man to whome I may vnfolde the secrets of my hart & fréely communicate (as if I were a¦lone) those things which any way trou∣ble me, whose wisdom is great, w^t whom I may talke boldely and familiarly with out faining, without dissēbling, without biding any thīg frō him. My brother and most plain. simple & faithful Metellus is absent, no man but a shore▪ and aire, and mere solitarines.* 1.583 And you (my Atticus) which oftentimes with louing talke and graue counsail haue lightned my hart of many sorowes, which hast béene in pub∣like offices a partener, and priuy to all my priuat affaires, and a partaker of all my thoughts & consultations, where art thou? Alas (séeing the want of thée and Metellus) I am now so destitute y^t all the ioy & plesure I haue, is which my wife, my daughter & my hony swéete Cicero, offer vnto me. For y^e ambitious fained and fickle freendship (in our court) hath a certain outward shew, but at home, and my hart it dooth not delight. And ther∣fore when my house in the morning is wel filled, and when we go to the cou••te

compassed aboute with flocks of fréends,* 1.584 among them all I cannot meet with one with whome I may either iest merilie, or talke familiarly. And therefore your comming is much wished, and your sight of me is hartelie desired. &c. By whiche appéereth the excellencie of this fréend∣ship. For he dooth not only prefer y^e same before the common fréendship whiche is among men, but also before y^e loue which is betwéene parents and their children.

And certainly to a faithfull fréend no∣thing can be compared. For he, when all is gone wil continue. And if you respecte either pleasure or profit: he is moste to be wished. For what pleasure is greater then to haue one with whome we may talke merilie: & without fear vtter euen the very secret{is} of our hart{is}? Again what profit is like a fréend to whome in nece∣ssitie we may flye for succour, in aduer∣sitie is a bulwoork against inuasions, and a refuge of whom we may be bolde, whi∣che is one man continually? And come welth, come wo, come prosperitie, come aduersitie, is no chaungeling? Now to that which followeth.

The last kinde of fréendship is called Sociall or Fellowly fréendship. The

cause of which fréendship is only perfect,* 1.585 and therfore it differeth frō these abooue recited kinds of Amitie. For as the one hath pleasure for her end, and the other vertue: so this hath profit. Such is the fréendship of crafts men and merchants: but this dooth continue but for a time as the first. And therfore when pleasure is gone, looue is none: and farewel goodwil (say they) when goods are consumed. Of this fréendship Cicero wrote notably, to this purpose. This woord looue frō whēce freendship is deriued,* 1.586 is charie and déere: which fréendship if we imbrace onely for our owne sakes and profit, not for his whome we looue and beare good will vn∣to, then is it not to be called Amitie, but a certain chopping and chaunging of good wil for gaines, and fréendly woords, for profit and commoditie. After which sorte we should looue our féeldes and pasture ground, and our beasts & cattell, because we hope to receiue profit of them, but the fréendship amōg men should be free with¦out hope of reaping earthly commoditie. But if we only beare goodwill in hope to receiue gain, if there be no kindenes whi¦che is cause of fréendship, and makes the same of her owne nature, or for none o∣ther

cause to be desired, there is no dout, but that we may prefer groues and lāds before freends. For they bring moste pro∣fit to their owners. And therefore it is méet that he which would be coūted my true and faithfull fréend, should looue me for mine owne sake, not for my goods & ri∣ches. And again Cicero in his secōd book De Finibus, declareth the nature of this freendship in these woords: what place hath fréendship, or who can be a freend vn¦to any mā which dooth not loue his fréend only for his fréends sake? And to Looue (from whēce fréendship is deriued) what other thing is it,* 1.587 but to wish vnto him whom we looue, all kinde of goodnes, glo∣ry and prosperitie, although no cōmoditie doo returne to vs at all? &c. But some wil say (saith he) I followe gain and pro∣fit. And then shall your fréendship conti∣nue as long as you reape commoditie.

And therefore true is that saying of a learned man, It is hard in prosperitie to knowe whether our fréends doo looue vs for our owne sakes, or for our goods:* 1.588 but aduersitie proues a fréend. For neither doth prosperitie manifest a fréend, nor ad¦uersitie bide a flatterer. And thus much bréefely of Ciuil fréendship. Of all these

kindes of ciuil amitie, but one can truely be commmended (for praise belongeth on¦ly to vertue) the other be necessary (for without them no estate can florish) but they are not of continuance. Now to the last kinde of fréendship.

¶Of Hospitalitie. Cap. 41.

AS the Naturall and Ciuill fréend∣ships had their partes,* 1.589 so hath this Hospitalitie hers. For the lerned diuide this fréendship this hospitalitie into foure partes. Wherof one they call a glorious entertainment of men, onely to be well thought of: another is a couetous kinde of Hospitalitie, only for y^e penny: the third is a curteo{us} receiuīg either of our fréend{is}▪ or straungers: the last is a religious en∣tertainment of all such as truly without hypocrisie serue God.* 1.590 The first is a glori¦ous (altogither a vicious) Hospitalitie of the whiche Tullie maketh mention in this sort:* 1.591 Hospitalitie is wel cōmēded of Theophrastus. For it is a glorious thīg to haue the houses of noble men open, for noble gests to enter. If he had said it had béen a glorious thing that noble mennes houses should be a receptacle and place of

reléef vnto poor men oppressed with mise∣ries, he had spoken very wel, but saying they should be opē to noble men, suche as thēselues are, he seemeth to breke y^e pre∣cept{is} of Iustice. For hospitalitie should be only for the releef of suche as are pinched with pouertie, which noble men are not troubled with: for in any place they may haue to their desire all things. Again a iust mā wil doo nothing but y^t which is a benefit: but it is no benefit, which is doon in hope to be wel rewarded afterwards. As they doo intertain men because thēsel¦ues at their plesure may haue the like at their hāds, whom they haue so wel enter¦tained. So y^t this kinde of hospitalitie is nether good because it is not towards thē which indeed should be releued, neither is it a benefit,* 1.592 because they which are enter¦tained are bound to requite y^e same with the like:* 1.593 & therfore it is muche to be dis∣praised as Lactātius also affirmeth. The secōd is a couetous, a kinde of Hospitali∣tie only for lucre, not for any looue at all. And such are Tauerners, Inholders, and such like, which receiue men onely for profit.

This kinde of Hospitalitie in some respect is good & necessary. For notwith¦standing

their vnsatiable desire of world¦ly goods, which they haue that keep them, yet cannot trauailers and straungers be without them: but do reioice that for mo∣ney they may haue meat and rest to re∣leeue them selues. The third is a curte∣ous Hospitalitie,* 1.594 and is deuided into 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 & I 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (as the Gréeks doo say) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is a kinde of Hospita∣litie, when men doo receiue straungers only for curtesie and good wil, not for any hope of praise or desire of profit. Of this dooth Massurius Sabinus make mention where he saith,* 1.595 that the manner was a∣mong the ancient, that y^e first place was giuen alwais to the Magistrate, the se∣cond to a straunger, the third to clients, the fourth to kinsemen, the fift to neigh∣bors, and therby it appéereth that straun¦gers were muche made of, & louingly in treated. Caesar in his Commentaries dooth muche commend the Germans for their curtesie towards Alians and straū∣gers,* 1.596 & he saith it was not onely a moste horrible thing estéemed of thē to molest a straunger, but also shewed thē selues de∣fenders of them, frō all such as did perse∣cute and would plague them. And more∣ouer he reporteth that not onely in suche

manner they did showe them selues to∣wards them, but also would cherish them with meat, drink, clothing, and lodging. This kinde of Hospitalitie to Kings and princes hath brought much glory & migh¦tely confirmed Fréendship. The cur∣tesie of the greater Scipio towards Ma∣ssinissa King of the Numidians,* 1.597 brought such profit to the Romans, as he of some writers is called a third preseruer of the citie of Rome from destruction, and ther∣fore is ioined companion with elder and yunger Scipio. Which he did because of the great fréendship that he foūd at their hand{is}, béeing a straūger at Rome. But yet many béeing loouingly entertained in straung contries haue required those of whome they were welcōmed, in most villanous maner.* 1.598 T. Sempronius Gra∣chus, withall his armie were betraied in to the hands of their enemies the Car∣thagians, which put them to death, by the meanes of on Flauius, whome Sempro∣nius had so much made of.* 1.599 And therfore great care ought to be had, whom we in∣tertain and shew curtesie vnto. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is an Hospitalitie which pri∣uate persons, & neighbors haue 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them selues, when 〈…〉〈…〉

make mery with another. A thing very commendable and increaseth much loue among them.* 1.600 The last is Religious, by whiche Christians receiue such as pro∣fesse true religion, or els are persecuted for the same. In this Hospitalitie are to be considered foure things, the causes, the partes, the rewards, and the punishment of such as estéeme not the same hospitali∣tie. The causes are foure, first the com∣maundement of God,* 1.601 as in S. Paules E∣pistle to y^e Hebrues it is commaunded by the spirit of God, y^t we should not be for∣getful of Hospitalitie. The second is cha∣ritie,* 1.602 by whiche all men, especially Chri∣stians are linked and bound in consciēce to reléeue eche others necessitie. The third is the fickle estate of mankinde. No man hath a continuall assurance of any thing, and therfore because we may be as they are, we should helpe them béeing from their fréends in a straunge contrie.

The last is, because we must of necessi∣tie. For hee that receiueth them, recei¦ueth Christe: and he whiche careth not for them whome he dooth sée, how can he looue him whome he dooth not see?* 1.603 The partes are thrée: loouingly to inuite, cur∣teously to intreate, and quietly to suffer them to departe. Which may be gathe∣red

out of Genesis,* 1.604 wher Abraham doth desire those straūgers which were come vnto him, y^t if he had found fauor in their sight, they would not leaue him but go with him to his house and rest them sel∣ues: and so did Lot. The rewards of such hospitalitie are meruelous great.* 1.605 Christe saith, y^t whosoeuer receiues a iust man in the name of a iust man, shall receiue the reward of a iust man. And in the lxi. psalme it is th{us} writtē. Blessed is he that hath compassion vpon the poor and néedy for in the dreadful day the Lord shall de∣liuer him. And truly this hospitalitie in the sight of God is so precio{us} a thing, that he which dooth giue but a cup of colde wa¦ter in his name, shall not go vnrewar∣ded. We sée y^t Abraham thinking he had receued a mā, receued God him self.* 1.606 And Lot receiued Angels in y^e shape of men. And who cā tel (saith Ambrose) whether he welcome Christe or no, when he ma∣keth much of straungers? Now see what benefit comes of this hospitalitie besides that which we haue alredy spokē of. Lot for his hospitalitiescaped y^e fire of Sodom and Gomorra.* 1.607 Rahab for her hospitality was preserued with all hers frō death & destructiō.* 1.608 Elias restored frō death to life the sonne of her whiche had lodged him.* 1.609

But what should I spend many woords? This christian Hospitalitie is twise re∣warded, in this world and in the worlde- to come.* 1.610 The punishment for contempt héerof is eternall pain in the lake which burneth for euer with fire & brimstone.

Christ saith, he that receiueth not you receiueth not me. And S. Iames writeth that he shall haue iudgement without mercie, which is void of mercie. And ther¦fore let vs take heed lest if we be negli∣gent or carelesse in receiuing such straun¦gers, that after this life the kingdome of God (a receptacle for all such as fear god) be barred from vs. And let vs so behaue our selues, that in the day of iudgement when all flesh shall rise again to receiue according to their deserts, we doo heare that terrible saying of Christe, I was comfortlesse and you cared not for me.

Wherefore for these causes recited, or for hope of rewarde, or els for fear of pu∣nishment, let vs doo good vnto all, especial∣ly suche as are of the householde of faith, the seruants of God. Now let vs prose∣cute our purpose, and speake of that whi∣che foloweth.

¶ Of Concorde Cap. 42.

WIth Fréendship hath Concorde greate affinitie.* 1.611 For euen as Fréendship and Amitie ioyneth a fewe togither in good wil: so Concorde linketh many and a whole multitide. This con∣corde as M. Varro saith is deriued from consenting of many harts togither. Dis∣corde is clene contrary. For by it the peo¦ple can agrée in no thing. The praises of Concorde are many and singular. For some call it a tower of strength, inuinci∣ble against all inuasions. Others a∣ffirme that no other thinge is ment by those towers of Adamant (which the Po∣ets talke of) but the looue of citizens,* 1.612 who by no force, strength, or pollicie can be o∣uer come, as long as they in harte holde togither, and by discorde shrink not a∣way from their brethern.* 1.613 Some com∣pare it vnto a creature whose life would continue for euer, if it killed not him self. Seleucus considering how goodly a thing it is for brethern to holde togither in vni¦tie,* 1.614 called his fiftie sonnes togither and after this maner adhorted them to con∣corde. He tooke a bundle of darts fast boūd togither, and willed them to breake

it: but they séeing it was impossible, an∣swered they could not. Then vnlosing the bundle, he gaue vnto eche of them a dart and willed them to breke thē, which they did easely. Then he desired them to commit that which was doon to perpetu∣all remembrance, and counsailed them to holde togither, lest beeing at discorde, their enemies bring them to slauerie, when by their concorde they could not. And notable was y^e oration of Menenius Agrippa vnto the dissentious people of Rome,* 1.615 bending thē selues against the se¦nators. In which he brought many strōg and good reasons to the turning of their mindes from discorde: but his chéefest was fetcht from a fable of the members of mans body. Which he brought foorth (as Fenestella and others doo testifie) in this maner.* 1.616 In those dayes when euery parte of man had not onely reason, but spéech, it is said, that they beeing muche offended that all they should imploy their labor for the belly, and the belly doo no∣thing but consume that which was pro∣uided, conspired among them selues how they might bridle and bring vnder the belly, at length it was decréed that the hād{is} should not minister to y^e mouth,

if y^e hand{is} did, y^e mouth should not receiue it, nor the teeth grinde it: and whilst they were thus at discorde, all were brought lowe. And therfore he desired by that ex∣ample to beware of ciuil dissention, l••st vtter destruction come vpon them. To this concorde nature many waies inui∣teth vs. For we se that all beast{is} in their kinde be at peace one with another.* 1.617 For one Dragon bends not him selfe against another, nor one Lion fighteth with an∣other, and the cōcorde which is betwéen rauening Woulues all writers doo cele∣brate.* 1.618 Again by the consideration of our selues we are driuen to the praising and practising of concorde. For what is more contrary then the soule & the body? and yet nature hath so framed thē, that take the soule from the body, & the body is but a dead carcase. And therfore if we would liue, an vnitie must be betwéene them. For seperation of either bring{is} distructiō to one. Again y^e helth of our body what o∣ther thing is it, thē a cōsent of diu••••s qua¦lities: of which if one shold rule more thē another then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 néeds follow y^• many and dangero{us} diseases doo arise? Of the same discord, cō••s those mortall diseases which we are so plaged w^tall oftētimes.

And therfore if we wold haue our bodely helth, we need must séek for a tēperature of those elements of which all thing{is} are compounded. Finally if we compare our estate with brute beasts, we shall finde that without Concorde we are most mi∣serable. For vnto the other creatures God hath giuen one thing or other for de∣fence against their enemies, but man is naked, bothe without strength, & agilitie in comparison of thē, and no other way can help or defend him self without suc∣cor of other. By all which it is apparent that without concorde man is moste mi∣serable. He whiche is desirous to reade more of this mattter, may doo wel to per∣use the oration of Erasmus de Querimo∣nia pacis. Now as the naturall bodye of man (as wee haue prooued bothe by that of Agrippa) and other arguments without concorde cannot long continue: so neither the ciuil body, when the mem∣bers be not in quiet and at concorde. Ex∣amples to confirme the same are infinit, of which I wil recite one or two. We reade that Syracusa by the contention of two yung men about an harlot,* 1.619 was almoste brought to desolation. For some taking one parte and some another, they

grew to suche a multitude as open war was betwéene them. Through whiche broile it came to passe, that the nobilitie and magistrates, were either slaine or brought to slauerie, and the rude and ras∣kall people inuaded and spoiled their cit∣tie at their pleasure. We se the frute of discorde.* 1.620 The Grecians as long as they were at peace among them selues, were conquerors of all men: but after that ci∣uil dissention was among thē, they were so far from béeing victors of the rest, that they became villans, & a laughing stock vnto all the worlde. The like happened to the Iewes.* 1.621 And the Romans which a¦fore by concorde became the Lords of the earth, after (through Caesars ambitiō, Syl∣laes rablement, Cynnaes slaughter, & the cruel murthering of the people of Rome by Marius rebellion) they became, which had béen glorious, moste odious vnto the world. Wherfore at this time I wil re∣cite no more examples, only with that of Cicero I conclude in this maner: Wher¦fore euen for Gods sake,* 1.622 come to your sel¦ues you Tribunes and rulers of the peo∣ple, auoid their cōpany and forsake them of whom if in time you doo not take héed, you will be forsaken and left in the bry∣ers,

come to vs, and be at vnitie with ho∣nest men, defend the common wele with common aide, cleaue not vnto partes.

The common wele hath many woun∣des, muche conspiracie there is, many wicked & pernicious coūsails are taken, no forrain inuasions, no King, no people, or nation is to be feared (against such we are good inough) it is an hidden secret and domisticall mischéef, which troubles vs and brings a terror. To the auoyding of whiche, euery man should put to his hand, and remedie the same carefullye.

¶Of Godlines. Cap. 43

* 1.623GOdlines hath many definitions. For Cicero saieth, it is a Iustice of men towards God. The Peri••atecions say, It is a religious worshipping of God. Hermes Tresmegistus, calles it a know∣ing of God. Somwhat we touched this be¦fore speaking of naturall fréendship, & tal∣ked therof when we declared what was celestiall iustice.* 1.624 Now wil we talk more at large of the same. This Pietie, Godli∣nes, or knowledge of God: or as Aristo∣tle saith, religio{us} worshipping of God, or Iustice of mē towards God, as affirmeth Cicero, is only proper & peculier vnto mā no other creature dooth communicate the

same. For all other things which man is adorned withall, some other beast{is} hath, though not in perfection & in such sor••e as man, yet after a sort. As to reason & vtter our secret cogitatiōs by mouth is proper to man, & yet brute thīgs haue a kinde of rasoning. For one dooth know anothers voice, as an horse knowes another by his neighing, & one dog another by barking. Nay they can giue signes & shewes of re∣ioising whē they are merry, & they make the weker with a straūge noise to quake & tremble for fear. And euery affectiō by sōe certain voice or other they can expres so y^t what their menīg is may be knowē. But we because we vnderstand thē not, perswade our selues they haue no suche thing, & they perhaps saith Lactantius, wunder asmuch at vs as we doo at them.* 1.625 Again it is proper vnto mā to shew forth some external signe of inward reioising & yet we sée certaī tokēs of gladnes in other creatures, as in the Dog which wil giue moste manifest signes either of gréefe or gladnes, sōtime by grinning, somtime by sorowing, by licking of vs & leaping vpon when they are delighted, and by arring, harking, & hiding of thē selues, whē they are pēsiue, & with howling wil shew forth

their gréef oftentimes. So that of those things whiche are moste particuler vnto man, we sée euen brute beasts to be part¦ners. Again it seemeth that reason and forecast were an especiall gift onely be∣longing to man: And yet we knowe ma∣ny creatures to haue the same as wel as man,* 1.626 though not in such excellencie. As we knowe the Foxes to haue their diuer¦sitie of holes, that looke what snares so e∣uer be laid to intrap thē, they may haue some redy way or other to escape all dan¦ger.* 1.627 Again how wunderful doo Bées be∣haue them selues? doo they not labor afore¦hand, that afterwarde they may liue at ease? what paines doo they take? how du¦tifully doo they serue their King? howe iustly doo they punish Droanes, such as wil take no paines? how artificially doo they builde their celles and resting pla∣ces?* 1.628 whiche when Lactantius put be∣fore his eies, he said, that he was in dout whether the studiousnes of Bées, were perfect prudence or no. Again how doo the Ants, or Emets labor in summer, that in the winter they may liue w^tout penurie.

It were a long and an endlesse thing to recite the nature of all creatures. By this which I haue mentioned, it may ap∣péere

that those things wherin man doth moste glory, as most peculier vnto him, brute creatures doo communicate. So that either he must haue sōe other thing more peculiar, or els he cannot say this am I indued withall abooue all things els. And that is the knowledge of God. No creature hath any intelligence at all of God or goodnes. And that is it whiche Tullie saith: Of so many creatures there is none besides man, which hath any vn∣derstanding of God:* 1.629 and among men there is no people so vnciuil and voide of humanitie, which dooth not knowe there is a God, although what maner of God he be, they are ignorant. So that Religi∣on it is only which discerneth a man pro∣perlie from other creatures.* 1.630 Porphyrius dooth affirme, that euery thing endued with sense and memorie is a resonable creature, and hath not only spéeche, but wisdome in their dooings, and can bothe conceale & reueale their meaning. And he saith, if all bee not vnderstood it is no meruel: for we vnderstand not the lan∣guage of many nations, except we haue spent some time in lerning of them. And moreouer he affirmeth, that in time past men had the perfect vnderstanding of the

sounds and voyces of beasts. Whiche Virgil witnesseth, speaking of Helias the prophet. And such men were Calchas and Mopsus,* 1.631 and Tyresias, and Thales, and Apollonius. But to come to our pur¦pose, certain it is that no creature except man, did euer knowe there was a God, and no people are so barbarous but will confesse the same. And therfore the Po∣ets to prouoke men to the feare of God, fained after this life good men to inioy all kinde of prosperitie, to want nothing but according to their harts delight to consume their time: againe the wicked to be plagued with all kinde of miserie, at no time to take rest, but continually to be tormented with perpetuall paines.

* 1.632Also they fained the Elysian feeld•• pla∣ces of all ioy and happines for suche as had obserued the lawes of reason, ingraf∣ted in the mindes of all men. Héerof cāe that of the ancient poet Musaeus,* 1.633 which said that for godly and valiant men was prepared a drink for taste moste comfor∣table, for continuance euerlasting, which they should vse after this life. And for the wicked ones, whose delight is in wicked∣nes and impietie, said Deiphilus a comi∣call

Poet, was prepared places of vn••••st and suche as should gréeuously torment them in the world to come. All whiche fictions of y^e poets, was to nother end but for the increase of godlines. Of whiche vertue had the Cretensians suche a care,* 1.634 that one of the especiallest things which was taught their children, was the Psalmes made in praise of their Gods. For three things they by law commaun∣ded the Schoolemaisters▪ to commit to the mindes of their children. The first was the lawes of their contrie. The se∣cond, the psalmes in praise of their God{is}. And the last was the names of such men as had giuen their liues in defence of their contrie.

Aeneas hauing licence▪ to take of his substance (Troie béeing destroied) what he had moste minde vnto▪ forsooke all,* 1.635 to haue his Deos penat••••, Gods of wood, or siluer, whiche wore in his house.

The first precept that Isocrates gaue vnto Prince Demonicus was 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Fear God.* 1.636 The first law that should be giuen at any time to men,* 1.637 saith Plato should be to the increase of God∣linesse.

* 1.638The chéefest othe whiche the Atheni∣ans took was this: Pugnabo pro sacris, et cum aliis, et solus: In defending Religi∣on, bothe with others and alone will I fight against my foes. By which it is e∣uident what a great care heathen men, ignoraunt of true worshipping of God, haue had of Religion. Poets by fictions haue commended, Orators haue exhor∣ted vnto it, Philosophers haue thought it moste requisit in a common wele, Com∣mon people haue sworne to defende it, Noble men aboue all haue preferred it, Kings haue professed it.* 1.639 Among the A∣thenians no king was created before he had taken orders, and was a Préest. And they iudged the best man for authoritie and wisdom, to be the fittest man to offer sacrifice to their Gods. To the shame of Christiās now a dayes, which think the wurst man good inough for that rowme: and the moste abiect, to serue the turne well inough.* 1.640 The auncient Romans through the instinct of nature only, did so reuerētly think of Religion, that they sent their Children, yea the moste noble men of Rome sent their sonnes into He∣truria, to learne the manner of seruing God. Now an abiect gentleman (what

should I say a noble man?) thinks his childe to good to learne and professe true religion. But because I wil not digresse, I will bring foorth one example more. Massinissa hauing receiued of his lieu∣tenant goodly and great téeth of Iuerie in token of goodwil (which his Captain had stolne out of a religious place) and vnder¦standing how he came by them,* 1.641 cōmaun∣ded certain of his nobilitie to carry them back, and say, that their king though he liked them greatly, bothe for their big∣nes and artificiall setting out, yet vnder∣standing that they did belong to suche a place, with spéed caused them to be cari∣ed back. Which answere of his to be séen of all commers, was written in that Re∣ligious house with golden letters. This béeing spoken of the excellencie, and fa∣uourers of religion, we will now shew what plagues and seuere punishment hath chaunced vnto the cōtemners ther∣of. It is written of Brenus king of the frenchmen,* 1.642 that after he had ouercome the Macedonians, he came to the Tem∣ple of Apollo, but there derided not on∣ly him, and all religion shamefully: and was minded to spoil the Churches there about of all their goods and treasure, but

gooing about the same, there came sud∣dainly such an earthquake, that many of his men were consumed therof, all sorely hurt, and him self brought into such a dis∣quietnes of minde, that beeing wery of this worlde: he desperately killed him self. Also one Conomachus went about the like attempt,* 1.643 but his reward was no better then the soldiors of King Brenus.

It is reported likewise that one Phere∣cydes an Assyrian,* 1.644 for contemning God and godlines, was so cōsumed with wor∣mes, that ••e fled for shame all societie of men. If it were my purpose to make any long discourse héereof, many and terrible plagues might be recited whiche haue chaunced vpon the despisers of religion, which neither care for God nor man, and think all is one, whether they liue honest¦ly or wickedly, but I leaue them. Any resonable man, any thing inflamed with spirituall motions, those abooue recited ex¦amples wil cause bothe to forsake impi∣etie and imbrace religion. But as Tullie saith,* 1.645 Rare and few are those men, whi∣che call them selues from the world, and are taken with an earnest desire of hea∣uenly things. To conclude this Chap∣ter and to shewe what is true godlynes

and religion. It is requisit that we haue the vnderstanding of this wil of God by his woord,* 1.646 for without the same our sight is but blindenes: our vnderstanding, ig∣norance: our wisdome, foolishnes: and our deuotion, diuilishnes.

¶Of Humanitie. Cap. 44.

HVmanitie is a vertue which ought to be obserued of all such as will be called humane or curteous.* 1.647 For nothing is either so agreeable to mans nature, as to hurt none▪ or so contrarie as to offer iniurie to any. Of this vertue was Her∣les called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉▪* 1.648 because he would iniurie no man. And héerof (some think) the name of Alexander is deriued. For 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, signifieth to defende. And all suche as deliuer men out of troubles,* 1.649 may be called Alexanders. And cer∣tainly man c••n haue no better thing gi•• him of nature, then to be willing: and if power aunswere to that wil▪ no greater thing can there be, then to profit and ple¦sure many.

The Athenians counted this vertue of humanitie and affection one to another,* 1.650 for a Goddesse, and therefore did sacrifice vnto her.* 1.651 Lycurgus to bring his people to the imbracing of this vertue, did ac∣custome thē to haue no proper thing be∣longing vnto them, but made them al∣togither to bend them selues to the bene∣fitting of their common wele. He did the same that one might think of another as members of one body, children of one mo¦ther, and commons of one cōmon weale.

As by publike authoritie among the Lacedemonians and Athenians it was commended, so priuatly of many ver∣tuous and godly Princes it hath béene sought for. And therfore Scipio (of whom we haue made so honourable mention oftentimes) was cōmonly wunt to say,* 1.652 he had rather salue one citizen, thē flea a thousād enemies. Contrary to y^e diuilish custome whiche was among the cruell Scythians, whiche was to put menne to death for euery small offence.* 1.653 For this clemencie and humanitie is Alex∣ander the great much commended. It was apparent by his well entertaining the wife of Darius and other noble wo∣men his captiues.* 1.654 The which curtesie of

his made king Darius to send of his no∣bilitie to thank Alexander, for y^e same. Far from this vertue was Phalaris,* 1.655 and all other outragio{us} & cruel tirants, which were so far from sparing their captiues, that they exercised all kinde of crueltie euen against their owne subiects.* 1.656 Pan∣taleon king of the Alians, was most void of this vertue. For those Legates or Em¦bassadors whiche came vnto him, and brought those newes whiche liked him not, he would inforce to eat their owne stones.* 1.657 But one Tryzus passed all other that euer I read of in crueltie. For stand¦ing in cōtinuall fear of losing his life (his crueltie was such) he made a law, to be rid from feare, that none of his subiects, should talke togither of any priuate a∣ffaires. A straunge kinde of crueltie not to suffer mē to talke togither. But if that had béene all, in some respect it had béene tolerable. But perceiuing that by signes and tokens they did manifest eche others gréef, and thereby his former commaun∣dement to his minde was not obeyed, he charged thē that for their liues they should neither speak one to an other, nor so muche as giue a signe whereby one might knowe anothers intent. This

pssed all that other crueltie, and may se••me incredible,* 1.658 that either any man would giue suche a commaundement or any men abide the same, Aelianus repor¦teth it. As Tyrants are far from huma∣nitie: so all those whiche doo glory in the effusion of blood.* 1.659 And therfore Hanniball (when he behelde the féelde ouerflowen with blood) for saying, O noble fight, is numbred rather among sauage beasts, then ciuil creatures. And Volesius bée∣ing Proconsul vnder the Emperor Au∣gustus,* 1.660 for saying O princely act, when he had commaunded thrée hundred in one day to be executed with death, is iud∣ged voide of this vertue, and is adioyned to those tyrants, and Hanniball, an ex∣ample not imitable but detestable.

Humaniti••e teacheth vs to abandon crueltie▪ to loue & cherish one another, e∣uen because we are men of one nature resonable and by that reasō gentle with out crueltie▪ not f••••r••e w^tout mercie as are beasts sauage & vnreasonable. This vertue the Gréekes ••all 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, by a moste sig••••ficant woord, whiche is as it were, looue of mankind. It hath ma¦ny braunches and properties pertaining to it (all to r••••ite were a long l••bor) some

I muste néedes for illustrations sake, for it is pitiful and taketh cōpassion on the a∣fflicted.* 1.661 Phocian had this vertue, for his manner was to defend suche as were in miserie, & oftentimes the wicked,* 1.662 his na¦ture was so good. For whiche he was re∣prehended of his fréends (for they would not haue him to maintain malefactors in their naughtines) to whōe he answered that he did the same because they stood in need therof, but good mē could lack no pa∣trons. Also he wold visit such as were im¦prisoned, though they were breakers of the law, & reléeued them with good coun∣saile, as he did Aristogiton,* 1.663 whome he could not better cōfort then in prison. By this vertue are they poore seen vnto wher∣soeuer they be either in our houses,* 1.664 or in the common wele. And for y^e same while the world shall continue Cimon (not Ti¦mon) the Atheniā, wil be cōmended.* 1.665 He would releeue the poore, comfort the im∣prisoned, and doo good vnto all whiche were oppressed, especially suche as did belong vnto him, or had dwelt with him any long time.

Not like that elder Cato,* 1.666 whose manner was to sel his olde seruants whiche had serued him a long time, as we doo beast{is},

he would not kéep them, a foule blot for so famous a man. The lack of this vertue also brought infamie vnto Pericles.* 1.667 For beeing called to authoritie he would not estéeme of his olde acquaintance, no not of his maister Anaxagoras,* 1.668 whiche had filled him with so many good precepts, and instruc••ions of Philosophie, nay he did so neglect him as he was through ex∣treme pouertie about to haue rid himself out of the world, had not Pericles in time reléeued him. Heerfore is Caligula much commended:* 1.669 for he would alwaies haue some poore folke in his house, and often∣times with meat from his owne table re¦léeue them. And the olde Romans of the welthier sorte,* 1.670 had such consideration of the poore, that after them selues had béen serued, the poore were seen vnto and had continually at their hands. And that the beggers and suche like should the better knowe, when the Princes and rich men were at their meate, in many places trumpet{is} and such instrumets were soun¦ded, Of this matter somwhat in the lat∣ter end almoste of the 31. Chapter of this Book was recited, and therfore we will ceasse at this time. By whiche it appée∣reth what a goodly thing it is to haue hu∣manitie,

and to dele withall men as we would be serued our selues. And againe how odio{us} they are which neglect y^e same, as those whiche we haue recited, cruel tyrant{is} & tyrānicall captaines, and those Myson & Timon Athenians, called be∣cause they hated mākinde 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.* 1.671 Heer for y^e better conceiuing of this ver∣tue, I wil ad the counsail of Lactantius,* 1.672 and so end this chapter: his woords are these. He whiche hath not abundantly to bestowe vpon the poore, let him giue ac∣cording to his habilitie, and according as he dooth excel in riches, let him excéede in Liberalitie.* 1.673 Neither think thereby that thou shalt consume thy stock and sub∣stāce. For thou maist giue liberally, and yet liue welthyly, and in this manner: spend not idlelie, but such vain expences whiche you were wunt to be at, turne to better vse: with that whiche before time you were wūt to bye cattel, now redéem captiues: with that whiche you did feede beasts, now nurish men: with that whi∣che you maintain soldiors, bury the poor. What dooth it auaile you to make your horsekéepers rich men? and nurish vp naughtines? Turn that which otherwise wil be spent wickedly to good vse, that so

for earthly gift{is}, you may receue an eter¦nal reward in y^e kingdōe of God. Hether to Lactātius. And th{us} much of humanitie.

Of Gratefulnes. Cap. 45.

GRatefulnes, according to the iudge∣ment of Cicero, is a vertue not on∣ly the greatest,* 1.674 but also the mother and spring of all other vertues. It is called in latin Gratia, which is diuersely taken, for sometime we vnderstand therby the affection which is borne to a man:* 1.675 and heerof comes our English phrase, he is gratious in such a mans eyes, meaning therby that he is belooued. Sometime it is taken for the effect or declaration of that goodwil: and therfore a benefit so be∣stowed we say is giuen gratis, fréely of grace and méere goodwil. Lastly it is ta∣ken for a keeping of such a benefit in me∣mory. And of that we meane at this time to make a few woords.

To the stirring of men to Grateful∣nes the better, of the Poets were famed certain virgins which were called Gra∣ces,* 1.676 which were in number three, theire names were Aglaia, Thaleia, & Euphro¦syne all naked & linked togither. There number signifieth thrée distinct things to

be cōsidered in benefit{is}: to giue, to receue, to recōpence. By their names are vnder∣stood y^e end{is} and effect{is} of such as giue and receiue good turnes.* 1.677 The first is called Aglaia, in latin Splēdor, as we say glit∣teringnes, by which is ment,* 1.678 y^t he which hath receiued a good turn, should not be a∣shamed to confesse y^e same & reporte it a∣brode. And heerof it is said that thankful∣nes dooth consist in two thing{is}: in trueth and Iustice. Trueth dooth acknowlege what is receiued boldely,* 1.679 without kee∣ping close the same. Those whiche haue not this qualitie, are counted of all men moste vngratefull: for there is no more manifest signe of an vngrateful minde, then to dissemble a det, when you ar not able to discharge it.* 1.680 And Seneca to this purpose saith, that he is an vngrate∣ful person w^t whōe the excellencie of a be∣nefit perisheth, but he is more vngrateful which wil forget the same. It is a token that he hath corrupt eyes which is afeard to beholde the light, but he is altogither blinde which can beholde y^e sun. It is im∣pietie not to loue our parēts, but not to ac¦knowledge thē is more thē madnes. He∣therto Seneca. Iustice dooth rēder goodwil for goodwil & one good turn for another.

* 1.681The second Grace is called Thaleia, whiche signifieth liuelines or to florish. By whiche no other thing is ment but that we should alwais keepe a benefit in remembrance. The last is called Eu∣phrosyne,* 1.682 because she is alwaies cheer∣ful and of a mery countenaunce. Wher∣by is ment, that he whiche wil bestowe a benefit, must giue it cheerfully and wil¦lingly. For the nature of man is suche, as it thinks not that wel giuen, whiche is not willingly giuen. Heerof is it said, that that is a double benefit which is quickly bestowed. And how much it is lingred be¦fore it is bestowed, so muche it léeseth of his grace when it is bestowed. We had rather leese all, then long for a thing. The Poets therfore to declare the dutie bothe of him whiche will be a benefact∣or, and him whiche hath receiued a be∣nefite, haue giuen these names to the Graces. The two first tel how he should behaue him selfe that is adorned with a good turne. He must truely acknowledge a good turn, without hypocrisie: and iust∣ly requite the same without partialitie: and also neuer commit that a benefit fréendly bestowed,* 1.683 be vnkindely forgot.

A giuer must spéedily without lingring,

and chéerfully with a good will doo a good turne, otherwise it leeseth his grace: and he which would be pleasured, had rather bye it ful déerly, thē beg it importunely.

The barenes of the Graces is also a signification of his dutie which wil be a benefactor. For he must not only doo the same willingly and spéedily, but also sim¦ply and to a good purpose. For he which conferreth a benefit, for any other intent then for meere goodwil is no benefactor, but a malefactor. And therefore saieth Aiax, mentioned of Euripides,* 1.684 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, The gift{is} of an ene∣mie are no gifts, & better vntakē then re∣ceiued. For as good it were to eate meat frō a Serpents mouth, as to take a bene∣fit of our enemie, in both danger, in both death. A benefactor must therfore giue cheerfully, speedily and simply. They are linked togither and yet but two at once not altogither: wherby is signified again th'office of him whiche hath receiued a good turn. For if Euphrosyne come to a∣ny body, she wil be sure to send back her two companions. And that is, he whiche hath receiued a benefit, should not onely remember it, but requite the same libe∣rally and frutefully according to the na∣ture

of the Earth, which rendreth more frute then it receiued seedes. So that by the names, number, nakednes and going of the Graces are fullie described the properties bothe of a benefactor, and also of him whiche is plesured. Now will we recite some, which of a number haue beene notable for this vertue, that those precepts and these examples may stir vs the more carefully to studie to haue grate full mindes.* 1.685 T. Pomponus Atticus (as Cornelius Nepos writeth of him) would neuer forget a good turne: & those benefits which he had doone, he would so long remember, as he to whome it was doone: was thankfull.

* 1.686Homer also (as Herodotus writing of his life said) did neuer forget a bene∣fit receiued: and though his habilitie was suche a•• he could not requite, yet his nature as suche, as he did alwaies re∣member his fréeds and benefactors. And therefore he dooth often times ren∣der many thanks vnto Mentor,* 1.687 Pheni∣us, Tychius, Mentas and others whiche in his miseries had reléeued him.

Such another was Chilo a Lacede∣monian, for he was wunt to say that he neuer was vngrateful in all his life to a∣ny

man. The Grecians to Hippocrates shewed them selues grateful,* 1.688 for hauing foretolde a plage to come, & cured many dangerous diseases, in token of grateful∣nes, they appointed those honors & feasts to him whiche they celebrated in honor of Hercules▪* 1.689 The Aegyptians likewise most abhorred vngratefulnes of al vices. And therfore after their māner doo sacri∣fice vnto their Gods, & shew themselues thankfull for all benefits, especially be∣cause it had pleased the deuine maiestie to giue thē holesome water. Among these is Craesus numbred.* 1.690 For béeing reléeued before he came to his kingdome by one Pamphaes,* 1.691 afterwarde in token that he had not forgotten his benefits, sent vnto him a Chariot laden with siluer.* 1.692 Venus was not vngrateful vnto Phaon for his plesuring her, not knowing who she was for she gaue him a box of such a precious ointment that béeing anointed therwith all, he should to the sight of men appéere moste beautiful. But what doo I recite so many men, when as vnreasonable and moste cruel beasts are not forgetfull of a good turne. It is reported that in Patra a citie of Achia there was a yung dragon nurished & brought vp,* 1.693 w^t which

the sonne of him that ought the Dragon, would continually be playing. At length the Dragon beeing come to huge bignes was caried and left in y^e wildernes. Af∣terward it came to passe that the boy bée∣ing growen to mans estate, went with his companions into a contrie not far of to sée some shewes and pastime: and re∣turning homewarde in the wildernesse néer vnto the cittie, théeues beset them: wherupon they sent foorth a loude and pi∣tiful cry whiche pearced the eares of the Dragon: whiche by and by succoured them, killed the théeues, and saued the young man his benefactor with his fel∣lowes▪* 1.694 This dooth Aelianus make men∣tion of. Contrary to this vertue is In∣gratitude, a vice of all other moste to be abhorred. And therfore saith Cicero, I neuer knewe a more vngratefull thinge in whiche vice all wickednes is contai∣ned. And in Latin there is a pretie say∣ing, Omnia dixeris, si ingratū dixeris, you can not call him worser thē call him vngrateful. Wherfore to put menne in minde of Gratfulnes,* 1.695 Etheocles erected a temple vnto y^e forenamed Graces, and gaue great reuenues to the maintaināce therof.* 1.696 And the Athenians y^• men should

continually call into their mindes, good turnes bestowed vpon thē, did place the temple of Graces in y^e midst of their citie. To conclude this chapter, and also at one woord to shew the excellencie of this ver¦tue, I wil recite a notable place of Cice∣ro, whiche is this:* 1.697 Although I desire to haue all vertues within me, yet is there nothing that I would rather, then that may seeme and be grateful. For this ver∣tue is not only of all others the moste ex∣cellent, but also the mother of the rest.

What is Pietie, but onely a gratefull goodwil towards our parents? Who are good citizens? who in war, who in peace deserue well of their contrie, but those which beare in remembrance the bene∣fits of their contrie? who are holy? who are religio{us}, but those which with minde fulnes, ascribe those honors vnto the im∣mortall Gods which belong vnto them? What comforte can there be in this life without fréedship? Again, what fréend∣ship can there be among vngrateful per∣sons? Who is among vs all liberally brought vp, in whose minde dooth not con¦tinually remaine his parents, his mai∣sters, & instructors? yea & that very place where somtime he was taught & brought

vp? who at any time either had, or dooth possesse, such riches that may be kept with out the help of many? whiche verilie, re∣membrance and thankfulnes béeing re∣mooued, cannot be at all. Truely I am perswaded that nothing dooth so properly belong vnto a man, as not only by a be∣nefit, but also insignificatiō of beneuolēce not to be boūd vnto any. And more ouer I thīk nothing so vnséemly, so wilde & beast like, as to commit that, wherby you may séem not only vnworthy of a benefit, but also vanquished and ouercome. Hether∣to Cicero with whose word{is} I cōclude.

Of Gentlenes. Cap. 46.

FAcilitie or Gentlenes is a vertue méet for all men.* 1.698 It hath a great a∣ffinitie with humanitie, and therfore in the discourse therof we may be the more breef. Which vertue as it becōmeth eue∣ry man, so especially a Prince. For great¦ly are inferiors bent to perfect obedience when they perceiue their Prince gentle and easie to be spokē with all, not scorne∣ful, or ful of disdain. And therfore saith Terence I haue found y^t nothing is bet∣ter for a man then facilitie. And another

said very wel, that a Prince should be for countenāce so amiable, and for behauior so gentle towards his subiects, as none at any time should go from his presence pen¦siue or troubled in minde. Which made Isocrates to counsail prince Demonicus to shewe him selfe milde and gentle to∣wardes his familiars, not loftie or dis∣dainfull: for a disdainfull person no man can abide.

No let vs place before our eyes exam∣ples of Gentlenes,* 1.699 and by them beholde the worthynes therof. Iulius Caesar was wunt to say, that of all miseries, the gre∣test was in olde age▪ to remember his practised cruelties, and therfore to auoide that remembrance he would neuer exer∣cise y^e same.* 1.700 Alexander Magnus did as∣much abhorre crueltie as any man, it ap¦péered in the denying the request of his owne mother, whē she desired him to ex∣ecute an innocent.* 1.701 Sabacus a certaine King of the Aegyptians, did so imbrace this vertue, as he would not put to death (I wil not say the innocent) those which were iustly by the lawes condemned: but would put them to some or other ser∣uile Office in his Rea••••e, that so they might get their sustenaunce and liue.

* 1.702M. Antonius for his vertue called Pi∣us, was of so good nature, that he would admit into his familiaritie and that of∣tentimes, those which for conditiō were very bace, but yet the wisest men: and would of them secretly demaund what the vulgar sorte of men commonly did think of him: if they had tolde him of his vices, he would amend them: if of his ver¦tues, he would increase them. Ptolomie a king of Aegypt was of y^e same nature: for he would refuse no mans company that was for Iudgement wise,* 1.703 and for behauior vertuous, especially he vsed one Galetes (a yung man for yéeres, but for wisdome ancient) very familiarlie,* 1.704 by reason wherof much good was doon in the countrie. On a time as they were a hunting togither, it fortuned that in their sight did appéere certaine malefa∣ctors (which were condemned) going to execution, those did Galetes first espye, and therupon shewed thē vnto the king, and said thus vnto him: O King sith it hath so hapened that we haue met with these miserable men, if it be your plea∣sure, let vs set spurs to our horse and set them free. The King much delighting in his good nature, obeied his wholesome

counsaile and saued their liues whiche were past all hope of saluation. By which appeereth what good or euil those which are about Princes may doo if they will.

Darius (to end reciting of examples) did much labor to be counted a mercifull Prince:* 1.705 & therfore oftentimes he would call before him his vnder officers, and de∣maund of them what fines & tasks they receiued of his people: which if he percei¦ued to be very much, he wold cut of more then the third parte: if they said it were but reasonable, he would of that forgiue his people the one halfe. Was euer such a Prince hearde of?

Well, I will conclude with Cicero,* 1.706 and say, that to be abstinent, to bridle our affections, to punnish euil dooers, to kéepe and obserue the lawes iustly, to be easye in learning out matters, in hearing and admitting men, is more noble then pain¦ful. For to doo those things dooth consist rather in a willingnes of minde, then in the labor of the body.

¶Of Faithfulnes. Cap. 47.

WE wil conclude these vertues with Faithfulnes.* 1.707 A vertue without

which not only the partes of Iustice, but also all other vertues are lame and im∣perfect. It is thus defined: Faith is a constancie and performance of that whi∣che is promised.

This vertue (as is said before) is not onely the foundation of Iustice accor∣ding to Ciceros minde, but also of all o∣ther vertues. For without this, what is Prudence, but Deceitfulnes? what Temperance, but Luxuriousnes? what Fortitude, but Cowardnes? And Iustice her self what is she but Cruelnes?

The ancient, in times past, he athens and Philosophers,* 1.708 whē soeuer they gaue their faith, they would call their Gods to witnes. And therefore we shall finde often times in comicall Poets these words. Dij vostram fidem, taking them to witnesse, as knowers of their mea∣ning.* 1.709 Cicero maketh mention of a straunge kinde of swearing, writing to Trebatius, vsed among certain. For their maner was to take Iupiters stone in their hands and speake these woords: Euen as I cast this stone away, so let Iupiter cast me out of the societie of all good men, if willingly I breake promise. * 1.710The Scythians had their kinde of swea∣ring

after a straunge manner. For when for any thinge of greate impor∣tāce they should take an othe,* 1.711 they would sweare by the Kings throne. If any were periured, hee was by the law ad∣iudged to dye. The Romans when they made a couenaunt,* 1.712 would take an Hog, & hauing put it in a morter, would breake it to péeces, wishing that as that Hog was broken, so their bones might be broken in péeces whiche did breake their faith.* 1.713 The Medians and Arabi∣ans likewise had their kinde of swering. For as oft as they plighted their faith to any, they would prick one of their fin∣gers, and eche of them shoulde lick it, signifying therby that their blood should be shed, which kept not couenants. The Arabians in dooing therof, would call vp on Bacchus and Vranias,* 1.714 and take them to witnes. By Bacchus they supposed all holy orders and rites to be present. For Bacchus is as it were the president of all sacrifices and alwaies was true of promise. By Vranias they vnderstood all the celestiall powers, the Gods. For Vranias signifieth an harmonie of con∣sent of all the Heauens. This béeing spoken of the manner of some in taking

othes, let vs bring foorth exāples of such as haue béene found faithfull, and are ce∣lebrated for the same of good writers.

* 1.715Such a man was Lycurgus. For not∣withstanding he were desired by the peo¦ple of Sparta (his brother Polydectes bée¦ing deade) to take the gouernment of Sparta vpon him,* 1.716 yet would he not, be∣cause the sonne of his brother and heire of the crown,* 1.717 named Charilaus was a∣liue, but so long ruled as the yung prince came to lawfull age, and then resigned his kingdome and acknowledged his ne¦phew to be his Lord and King.

Such another was Alexander (not seldome times,* 1.718 because of his wunder∣ful vertues recited) for béeing by Parme∣nio (a fit man to counsaile such a prince) willed on a time to breake his faith and promise, answered, If I were Parmeni∣o, I would doo as thou haste counsailed me, but it is not lawfull for Alexander in any case to doo so. He knewe very wel that nothing brought such reproche and shame to a Prince, as to be faith∣lesse.

But of all men and all nations vn∣der the Sun, was none comparable to the Romans,* 1.719 for this vertue of kéeping

promise. And that shall we finde to be most true, if we doo either consider them generally and their whole nation, or particularly, and some especiall men of that contrie. That generally abooue o∣ther nations, it may be gathered of ma∣ny examples.

The Romans béeing in warre with the Carthagenians,* 1.720 made one Duellius Cornelius Asina, chéefe Capitaine, whi∣che vpon certain conditions, made truce with Hamilcar, and thereupon resorted eche to other loouingly: but the Cartha∣genians (as they were and haue beene counted Faedifragi,* 1.721 breakers of their faith) ment nothing but trecherie, and therfore one a time hauing inuited him to come and communicate of matters, caste violent hands vppon him, and delt with him and his men rigorously.

It happened after that the Car∣thagenians béeing sorely foyled in bat∣taile, were inforced to send Legats to Rome to intreate for peace. Ha∣milcar was chosen Embassador, but he calling vnto minde their il intrea∣ting of Cornelius Asina, refused to go. Then they chose Hanno,* 1.722 whiche went boldely to Rome to the Senate house,

where one of the Tribunes began open¦ly to accuse him of vnfaithfulnes: but the Consuls hearing therof, commaunded him to holde his peace, and saide vnto Hanno: Feare not, for the faithfulnes of the Romans, dooth rid thée from all feare of reuenge: and though we haue thée now in our clawes, and may doo with thee what we list, yet shall it not be saide that tretcherously we will deale with any. But a more manifest exam∣ple is that which followeth.

Ptolomie a King of Aegypt (not knowing by heare say,* 1.723 but hauing tried by experience the greate fidelitie of the Romans) in his death bed committed his heire béeing then but a childe, to the kéeping of the Romans. Which elected one Aemylius Lepidus to gouerne him and his Realme,* 1.724 whiche did not onely carefully sée vnto the yung Prince, but mightely augmented his kingdome, and béeing come to age willingly resigned vp the same. Examples of particular men haue béene such as the like we shall not read of any.

* 1.725S. Pompeius entring league with Antonius and Octauius, inuited them on a time to a banquet. Béeing at the

same Menodorus chéefe Admirall of Pompeius Nauy,* 1.726 sent a messenger to put him in minde of his fathers traite∣rous death: and he promised if it were his pleasure, he would so woorke as nei∣ther Octauius nor Antonie should es∣cape: But Pompeie answered almoste as Alexander did Parmenio, that he did iudge it extreme wickednes to deale in such manner with any, but thou Meno∣dorus whiche carest for nothing and de∣lightest in periurie, maist if thou wilt without my consent. The faithfulnes of M. Attilius Regulus got him more glory then all his triumphs.* 1.727 As these are cele∣brated and with praises lifted vp to the Heauens for their faithfulnes, so haue their béene as many defamed for their vnfaithfulnes and vnder that are com∣prehended liers,* 1.728 * 1.729 especially periured per¦sons and traitors. For lying and di∣ssimulation haue the Parthians come o∣dious to all the worlde. It was in their Créed (as they commonly say) that men ought by all meanes they could,* 1.730 so de∣ceiue their enemies. Such were the Gre¦cians, whōe Cicero in a certain Orati∣on after this manner discribeth:* 1.731 I ascribe to the Grecians knowledge of many sci∣ences,

I will not take from them elo∣quence of spéeche, inuention, sharpnes of wit, plentie of matter, but yet this I must néed{is} say, that holy and religious bearing of witnes, and care of kéeping promise,* 1.732 was neuer of them regarded.

The Aegyptians could in no case abide periurie, and therfore if any were found in the fault, he lost his life without re∣demption. The Potes also fain certain by the Gods appointed, with gréeuous torments to punish forsworne persons:* 1.733 such executioners were called Pallicidij.

Gaudentius Merula dooth reporte, that in Bythinia there is a riuer called of some Aleos, of others Olochas, of whiche if a forsworne man doo taste, his intrals by and by are set en fire, and so dyeth miserably. If this were in euery citie throughout the worlde, lesse impietie, lesse periurie would be practised of men. I reade moreouer of other rewardes of periurie, wherof I wil recite one or two.

One Tremelius by this became not onlie odious to all men,* 1.734 but also did so stain his posteritie, as that blot coulde not be washed away, no not by the ver∣tues of his Children in many yéeres: I say by Periurie he got vnto him an odi∣ous

name and was called Tremilius Scropha,* 1.735 because hauing stollen a Sowe of his neighbors, he forsware that euer he had the same.

It is to be wished that all forsworne persons, either might drink of that wa∣ter before mentioned, or might by some name become odious or haue that plague continually (for oftentimes no dout they haue) which Polymachus was tormen∣ted with all.* 1.736 He is written because of periurie to haue an intollerable vexatiō of minde, and euery night was so bitten with Mice and Rates as at no time he could take rest.

Héere it will not bee amisse to recite that excellent place of Tullie,* 1.737 shewing the difference betwéene a lyer, and a for∣swearer of him self: his woords be these. But what difference is there betweene a lyer and a forswerer? He which vseth to lye, hath accustomed to forsweare. Whome soeuer I can get to lie, I can easely intrete to forsweare him self. For who soeuer hath once gone frō the trueth wil not make a greter cōscience to be led to periurie, then he was to lying.* 1.738 For who in praier to the Gods, is not mooued with a trust of his owne conscience?

And therfore what punishment of the immortall Gods to periurie, the same should be appointed for lying. For the Gods are wunt to be angry with men, not so much for the framing of woords (in which an othe is cōprehended) as for the malice by which baits & snares be laid.

The last enemie to Faithfulnes is Treason,* 1.739 a thing of all others before God most odious, among men least pros∣perous, as by the euents therof may ap∣péere. I wil for order sake of an infinit number, recite a fewe to confirme this matter.

The betrayers of Pompeie vnto Caesar of all other men, were moste odious vn∣to him, and therefore caused them to be slain.* 1.740 Those traytors which conspired Caesars death, neuer prospered. Cassius and Brutus which were the chéefe haste∣ners of his death, killed them selues when they had thought to haue liued at most quietnes. A. Trebonius another which conspired his death was murthe∣red of Dolabella, C. Octauius, and Len∣tulus, Spinther of Augustus, Cicero of Antonius, and almoste none of an infi∣nit of those conspirators, but of one or o∣ther suffred a moste shameful and odious

death.

Scylla did betray her owne father vn¦to Minos through hope he would be her husband, but came it so to passe?* 1.741 Nay he cast her hedlong into the bottome of the Sea and drowned her therfore. Who would be a Traitor?

Tarpeia for looue of golde did betray the Capitoll of Roome vnto King Tatius King of the Sabines.* 1.742 And had she that which was promised? yea. And inioyed the same to her desire? Nay, but with re¦ceit of them receiued hir deadly wound. Who would be a Traitor? One did be¦tray his Prince Attalius to Theodo∣rus in hope of promotion.* 1.743 And came he to it? Nay, but was promoted to the gal∣louse. A good rewarde, and yet worthy inough for a Traitor. Then who would be a traitor? Nay, read ouer books, per∣use Chronicles, studie Historiographers, and you shall not finde one of many thou¦sands, whiche hath prospered. For as Tullie saith very notably. No wise man at any time wil trust a traitor.* 1.744 And he is worthilie hated of all men, which beares not a faithful hart vnto his contriemen:

And who is it hauing receiued a bene fit of a traitor,* 1.745 but wil say of him as Cae∣sar

said of one Rumitaleus whiche had betraied certain townes vnto him,* 1.746 that he liked y^e things betraied, but the trai∣tor he dyd abhorre and vtterly detest?

And who will not with Antigonus make much of a traitor going aboute to pleasure him:* 1.747 but hauing his purpose, who wil not hate him to y^e death? Then if this be the rewarde of traitors and treasons, more then Deuils incarnate are they, whiche to pleasure their ene∣mies wil displeasure their fréends. And to profit their foes, will bring confusion not onely vppon their fauorors and con∣trimen, but also vpon them selues. Then who would be a traitor, to be trusted of no manne, to be hated and abhorred of all?

Thus haue I bothe spoken of the Pe••∣turbacions, & also of the vertues, though not in such sorte as I would, yet as well as for the time whiche I haue bestowed in writing therof, as wel as for my poore and small habilitie I could. The whiche if God graunt me leasure according to my minde: may bothe in better woords be set out to delight, and in better order to profit, in the meane time I haue to re∣quest your worship to take this in good

worth, and to think that an extemporall thing cānot be cōpared with that whiche is laboured, neither a first copie, with a second or third.

The giuer of all goodnes, God almigh¦tie,* 1.748 increase these gifts with which you are especially before many adorned, & so asist you and all other good gentlemen & Christians, with his holy spirit, that a∣ffections may so remaine within you as they doo not reign and stir to wickedness, but that (they being either banished, or abated and bridled by the spirit of God) you may imbrace vertue, which God hath promised in this world to rewarde, and in the worlde to come not to sée vn∣requited.

Finis, et Laus Deo.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Diuers o∣pinions touching the true felicitie.
• * 1.2

  Epicures. Aristippus.
• * 1.3

  Metrodorus
• * 1.4

  Calliphon. Dinoma∣chus. Diodorus. Hieronimus▪ Herillus. Stoikes. Zeno.
• * 1.5

  Aristotle. Peripateci∣ons.
• * 1.6

  Aristoteles. lib. 1. Rhe∣tor. ad The∣odecten. Cap. 14
• * 1.7

  Partes of felicitie.
• * 1.8

  Fortune discribed.
• * 1.9

  Goodes of Fortune.
• * 1.10

  Riches.
• * 1.11

  Isocrates ad Demonicū.
• * 1.12

  Plato.
• * 1.13

  Crates Thebanus
• * 1.14

  Monimus.
• * 1.15

  Aristippus. Democri∣tus.
• * 1.16

  Terentius in Hea••t. Actus. pri∣mi scena secunda. Lactantius de salsa Sapientia. Cap. 23.
• * 1.17

  Callima¦chus.
• * 1.18

  Sappho.
• * 1.19

  Aristot••les. lib. 1. Rhe∣tor ad Theod. Cap. 16.

  A true friende.
• * 1.20

  Nobilitie.
• * 1.21

  Themisto∣cles. Tymode∣mus.
• * 1.22

  Cicero, pro Sexto Ros∣cio.
• * 1.23

  Cicero in Catilinam
• * 1.24

  Fame.
• * 1.25

  Dionysius.
• * 1.26

  Erasmus in Vidua sua.
• * 1.27

  Cicero pro, Q. Roscio.
• * 1.28

  Erasmus in vidua.
• * 1.29

  Cicero pro. P. Quinct. 10.
• * 1.30

  M. Marcel∣lus. Honor.
• * 1.31

  Aristoge∣ton. Harmodius
• * 1.32

  Cicero lib. 1. Epi. ad Q. Fratrem.
• * 1.33

  Honor alit artes.
• * 1.34

  Themisto∣cles. Fabius Maximus.
• * 1.35

  Fabius Gurges.
• * 1.36

  Ambition.
• * 1.37

  Children.
• * 1.38

  Spartanes.
• * 1.39

  Proletaries.
• * 1.40

  Cornelia.
• * 1.41

  Solon.
• * 1.42

  Cicero ac∣tione. 4. in Verrem. Timarchi∣des.
• * 1.43

  Cicero act. 6 in Verré.
• * 1.44

  Iulia.
• * 1.45

  Nature of what sorts
• * 1.46

  Natura fi∣ni••a, et sufi∣nita.
• * 1.47

  Natura a t••rans.
• * 1.48

  Lactantius de salsa Sapientia. Cap. 28
• * 1.49

  Natura fi∣n••ta.
• * 1.50

  Natura vni∣uersalis.
• * 1.51

  Causae se∣cundae.
• * 1.52

  Monstrum.
• * 1.53

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉.
• * 1.54

  Nature▪
• * 1.55

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.56

  〈…〉〈…〉 Th•• goods 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Nature.
• * 1.57

  Health
• * 1.58

  Stoike.
• * 1.59

  Hieron.
• * 1.60

  Ptolomie.
• * 1.61

  Straton
• * 1.62

  Plato.
• * 1.63

  Aduersitie profitable so••••tim••s.
• * 1.64

  Crotone ••∣lub••iu••▪
• * 1.65

  Athenians.
• * 1.66

  Aegyptians.
• * 1.67

  Strength.
• * 1.68

  Vincentius.
• * 1.69

  Three kindes of valiant men.
• * 1.70

  Stoute in boddy of three sorts.
• * 1.71

  Stoute in minde of three sorts.
• * 1.72

  Thobias. Iob Abraham▪
• * 1.73

  Fortitude
• * 1.74

  Desire in three thin∣ges consi∣steth.
• * 1.75

  Lactantius de 〈…〉〈…〉 lib▪ 1. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 9.
• * 1.76

  Bignesse.
• * 1.77

  Beutie.
• * 1.78

  Aristotle. Eloquence.
• * 1.79

  Sanguine
• * 1.80

  Melancho∣lie.
• * 1.81

  Sturmius de Imitatione oratoria lib. 2. Ca. 12 A discripti∣on of man.
• * 1.82

  Cicero li. 1. Officio. Hercules. Vertue.
• * 1.83

  Pleasure.
• * 1.84

  Democritus
• * 1.85

  Spurina.
• * 1.86

  Cicero act. 2. in Ve••rem.
• * 1.87

  Iupiter why called Optimus, Maximus.
• * 1.88

  Plutarch•• in vita Ari∣stidis.
• * 1.89

  Mankinde two folde.
• * 1.90

  Contem∣plation▪
• * 1.91

  Contem∣plators, of three sor••s
• * 1.92

  Prudence
• * 1.93

  Anaxago∣ras.
• * 1.94

  Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.95

  Diogenes.
• * 1.96

  Fortitude
• * 1.97

  Iustice
• * 1.98

  Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.99

  Fortitude.
• * 1.100

  Heraclitus.
• * 1.101

  Exemplaris contempla∣tio.
• * 1.102

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.103

  Plato. Archytas, Tarentinus.
• * 1.104

  Aristotle.
• * 1.105

  Cicero.
• * 1.106

  Thales Mi¦lesias..
• * 1.107

  Epimenid••••
• * 1.108

  Meton.
• * 1.109

  A ciuile man.
• * 1.110

  Vertue what.
• * 1.111

  Herillus.
• * 1.112

  Pythagorici.
• * 1.113

  Vertue of how many sortes.
• * 1.114

  Intellec∣tuall ver∣tues. Morall vertues.
• * 1.115

  Partes of ver••ue fowre.
• * 1.116

  Prudence what.
• * 1.117

  Socrates.
• * 1.118

  Apollopha∣nes.
• * 1.119

  Bion.
• * 1.120

  Epicurus.
• * 1.121

  Hipparchus
• * 1.122

  Socrates.
• * 1.123

  The byrth of wisdom.
• * 1.124

  Venus.
• * 1.125

  The office of wisdom.
• * 1.126

  Partes of wisdome.
• * 1.127

  Reason what.
• * 1.128

  Cicero lib. 2 de Finibus.
• * 1.129

  Ratiocina∣tio.
• * 1.130

  Enemies to vnder∣standing.
• * 1.131

  Idlenes.
• * 1.132

  Indians.
• * 1.133

  The na∣ture of Bees.
• * 1.134

  Aegyptians.
• * 1.135

  Ouid. lib. 1 de Remedio amoris.
• * 1.136

  Euill affe∣ctions▪
• * 1.137

  Iouianus Pontanus.
• * 1.138

  Proper∣ties of the affections.
• * 1.139

  Euil man∣ners.
• * 1.140

  Isocrates ad Demoni∣••••••▪
• * 1.141

  Minerua.
• * 1.142

  Consuls.
• * 1.143

  Circum∣spection.
• * 1.144

  Q Cepio.
• * 1.145

  Cn. Metel∣lus.
• * 1.146

  C. Flamini∣us.
• * 1.147

  Fabius Maximus.
• * 1.148

  Marcellus. Fabius Cly∣peus, Marcellus enfis, Romani imperij.
• * 1.149

  Causes of Circum∣spection.
• * 1.150

  Proui∣dence.
• * 1.151

  Chilo.
• * 1.152

  Prudentia quasi proui∣dentia.
• * 1.153

  Prouidēce in beasts.
• * 1.154

  Myce.
• * 1.155

  Antes.
• * 1.156

  Minos. Rhadaman∣thus. Lycurgus. Numa Pompilius.
• * 1.157

  Iupiter, Minos, Rhadam. Apollo, Ly∣curgi. Egeria Nu∣mae. Vesta, A∣molpis. Mercurius, Minyae.
• * 1.158

  Proui∣dēce cheife
• * 1.159

  daughter of Iupiter.
• * 1.160

  Augures.
• * 1.161

  Druidae.
• * 1.162

  Magicians.
• * 1.163

  Epaminun∣das.
• * 1.164

  Accius.
• * 1.165

  Sothsay∣ers.
• * 1.166

  Docilitie.
• * 1.167

  Tokens of a good wit.
• * 1.168

  Alcibiades.
• * 1.169

  M. Anto∣nius.
• * 1.170

  Themisto∣cles.
• * 1.171

  Demades.
• * 1.172

  Demosthe∣nes,
• * 1.173

  Demosthe∣nes.
• * 1.174

  Erotes.
• * 1.175

  Cicero pro P. Quinctio
• * 1.176

  Noble mē of best ca∣pacitie.
• * 1.177

  Heede.
• * 1.178

  Cic. lib. 4. Tusculan. quest.
• * 1.179

  Caesar.
• * 1.180

  Sertorius.
• * 1.181

  C. Marius.
• * 1.182

  Biorex.
• * 1.183

  Popilius Siloe.
• * 1.184

  Temerity.
• * 1.185

  Otho. C. Curio.
• * 1.186

  Vtica Accius Va¦rus▪
• * 1.187

  Iuba.
• * 1.188

  Warynesse.
• * 1.189

  ••agire.
• * 1.190

  To pre∣sage.
• * 1.191

  Minutius.
• * 1.192

  Wylynesse.
• * 1.193

  Versutia▪ Craf••••n••sse Cal••i••itas.
• * 1.194

  Cicero. lib. 3 de Natura Deor▪
• * 1.195

  Apollo. Craesus▪
• * 1.196

  Rhascus and Rhas∣copolis.
• * 1.197

  Cassius. Antonius.
• * 1.198

  Subtiltie.
• * 1.199

  Astutia
• * 1.200

  Astu.
• * 1.201

  Hanniball▪
• * 1.202

  Obiection.
• * 1.203

  Solution.
• * 1.204

  Apelles. Antigonus.
• * 1.205

  Physitions
• * 1.206

  Zeno.
• * 1.207

  Alexander.
• * 1.208

  Parmenio.
• * 1.209

  Equitie.
• * 1.210

  Naturalis Iustitia, Legalis.
• * 1.211

  Equani∣mitie.
• * 1.212

  Socrates. Antonius. Xantippe.
• * 1.213

  Sceptici. 1. Considera∣tores cuius sectae erane Pyrrho, et Aristo.
• * 1.214

  Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.215

  Cicero in partioni∣bus Ora••o∣rijs.

  Vertues of what sorts
• * 1.216

  Tempe∣rance what.
• * 1.217

  The office of Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.218

  Who Tem¦perate.
• * 1.219

  Solon.
• * 1.220

  Partes of Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.221

  Modestie.
• * 1.222

  Philippus Macedoniae.
• * 1.223

  Diogenes.
• * 1.224

  Alexander.
• * 1.225

  Diogenes.
• * 1.226

  Antigonus.
• * 1.227

  Tiberius Caesar.
• * 1.228

  C. Marius.
• * 1.229

  Catulus.
• * 1.230

  Hanniball.
• * 1.231

  Dio Syra∣cusanus.
• * 1.232

  Philoso∣phers.
• * 1.233

  Cato Seue∣rus.
• * 1.234

  Persians.
• * 1.235

  Shame∣fastnesse.
• * 1.236

  Blushing.
• * 1.237

  Socrates·
• * 1.238

  Theseus.
• * 1.239

  Themisto∣cles.
• * 1.240

  Demosthe∣nes. Cicero.
• * 1.241

  Tarquinius Priscus.
• * 1.242

  Abstinen∣cie▪
• * 1.243

  Continen¦cie.
• * 1.244

  P. Aemylius. L. Mummi∣us. Amabaeas.
• * 1.245

  L. Mummi∣us.
• * 1.246

  Amabaeas.
• * 1.247

  ••ellerophō. Antea. Pretus.
• * 1.248

  Ioseph.
• * 1.249

  Conscie∣ence.
• * 1.250

  Xenocrates.
• * 1.251

  Xenocrates.
• * 1.252

  Scipio.
• * 1.253

  Luceius.
• * 1.254

  Inconti∣nencie.
• * 1.255

  Messalina.
• * 1.256

  Popilia.
• * 1.257

  Corinthi∣ans.
• * 1.258

  Babylonians
• * 1.259

  Tyrrheni∣ans.
• * 1.260

  Message∣tans.
• * 1.261

  Chastetie▪
• * 1.262

  Pudicitia.
• * 1.263

  Lucretia.
• * 1.264

  Spartanae virgines.
• * 1.265

  Nicanor.
• * 1.266

  Methrida∣tes.
• * 1.267

  Dirapen∣tina.
• * 1.268

  Menophilo.
• * 1.269

  Tentorian women.
• * 1.270

  Pythagoras daughter.
• * 1.271

  Armenia. Tigranes.
• * 1.272

  Cyrus.
• * 1.273

  Hiero Syra∣cusanus.
• * 1.274

  Effectes of Chastitie. Amylia.
• * 1.275

  Claudia.
• * 1.276

  Tuscia.
• * 1.277

  Scipio.
• * 1.278

  Laelius.
• * 1.279

  Ptolomeus Tryphon.
• * 1.280

  Honestie.
• * 1.281

  Cice. lib. 2. de Finibus.
• * 1.282

  Cice. lib. 4. de Finibus.
• * 1.283

  Cice. lib. 2. Epist. ad Atticum.
• * 1.284

  Quin. lib. 1 cap. 20. de institutione oratoria.
• * 1.285

  Isocrates ad Demonicū.
• * 1.286

  Poets. Plaiers.
• * 1.287

  Corinthi∣ans.
• * 1.288

  Cotys.
• * 1.289

  Callistes.
• * 1.290

  Socrates.
• * 1.291

  Lactantius de diuino praemio. Cap. 5.
• * 1.292

  Moderati∣on.
• * 1.293

  Antome∣don.
• * 1.294

  Pompo∣nius At∣ticus.
• * 1.295

  Suffering.
• * 1.296

  P. Syrus.
• * 1.297

  Epictetus
• * 1.298

  Hannibal M. Bibul{us}
• * 1.299

  Philip.
• * 1.300

  Mathona
• * 1.301

  Sparing or hardnes
• * 1.302

  Cicero in partitioni¦bus Orat.
• * 1.303

  Auere. Auarus. Auaritia. Couetous∣nes.
• * 1.304

  Parcere. Parcitas. Sparing∣nes.
• * 1.305

  Cato seni or.
• * 1.306

  Scipio mi¦nor. Pomponi¦us Attic{us}.
• * 1.307

  Laus prae¦miū virtu¦tis.
• * 1.308

  Lucullus.
• * 1.309

  Marius.
• * 1.310

  The office of Liberali¦tie.
• * 1.311

  The dutie of sparing∣nes.
• * 1.312

  Aescula∣pius.
• * 1.313

  Sobernes.
• * 1.314

  Drunken∣nes.
• * 1.315

  Sobrietas.
• * 1.316

  Alexan. Magnus.
• * 1.317

  Calanus.
• * 1.318

  Proma∣chus.
• * 1.319

  Bacchus.
• * 1.320

  Xenocra∣tes. Micerin{us}
• * 1.321

  Cive. filius M.T. Ci.
• * 1.322

  M. Anto∣nius.
• * 1.323

  Dionysi{us}
• * 1.324

  Nouellius Tricon∣gius,
• * 1.325

  Philip.
• * 1.326

  Spargapi∣ses. Thomir. Babilon.
• * 1.327

  Anachar∣sis.
• * 1.328

  Lacede∣mon
• * 1.329

  Romain••
• * 1.330

  Musiciās,
• * 1.331

  Pittacus
• * 1.332

  Messalo∣nians.
• * 1.333

  Lex. Ro∣muli.
• * 1.334

  Faunus.
• * 1.335

  Romains
• * 1.336

  Solon.
• * 1.337

  Aelianus li. 2. de va∣ria hist.
• * 1.338

  Anachar∣sis.
• * 1.339

  Caesar. Vespasiā.
• * 1.340

  Commodi¦ties of So¦bernes.
• * 1.341

  Socrates.
• * 1.342

  M. Vale∣ri{us} Corui∣nus.
• * 1.343

  Masinissa
• * 1.344

  Fortitude.
• * 1.345

  Temperāce
• * 1.346

  Iustice.
• * 1.347

  Prudence.
• * 1.348

  Fortitude.
• * 1.349

  Praemia fortitu∣dinis.
• * 1.350

  Thermo∣pylas. Leonidas.
• * 1.351

  Castor. Pollux. Hercules. Bacchus.
• * 1.352

  What▪ For¦tit••de••s.
• * 1.353

  Arist. li. 1. Retor. ad Theode∣ctē. ca. 22.
• * 1.354

  Cice. lib. 1.2.3.4. & 5 Tuscula▪ quest.
• * 1.355

  Feare.
• * 1.356

  Boldenes.
• * 1.357

  The partes of fortitude
• * 1.358

  Magnani∣mitie.
• * 1.359

  M. Marc.
• * 1.360

  Properties of the no∣ble fellowe.
• * 1.361

  Atticus.
• * 1.362

  Alcibia∣d••s ••••bu¦lae.
• * 1.363

  Mermaids
• * 1.364

  Caesar.
• * 1.365

  Anaxila∣us.
• * 1.366

  Benefits.
• * 1.367

  Backbitīg
• * 1.368

  Memnō.
• * 1.369

  Bosting.
• * 1.370

  Dionisius
• * 1.371

  Plato.
• * 1.372

  Magnus Alexan∣der dictus a magna∣nimitate.
• * 1.373

  Counsail.
• * 1.374

  Ve••••es.
• * 1.375

  Galba Impeca∣tor.
• * 1.376

  Trust or Confidence
• * 1.377

  Nero.
• * 1.378

  Giges.
• * 1.379

  A Centu∣rian of Caesars.
• * 1.380

  C. Castri∣nus.
• * 1.381

  Androcli∣das.
• * 1.382

  Leonidas
• * 1.383

  Presagins
• * 1.384

  Geni{us} bo¦nus mal{us}.
• * 1.385

  Familiars.
• * 1.386

  Socrates.
• * 1.387

  Critias.
• * 1.388

  Alexan. der.
• * 1.389

  Caesar.
• * 1.390

  Euripides.
• * 1.391

  Scipio.
• * 1.392

  Acci{us} po¦••ta.
• * 1.393

  Apelles▪
• * 1.394

  Arrogancy.
• * 1.395

  Chrysip∣pus.
• * 1.396

  Hyppo∣crates.
• * 1.397

  Zeuxes▪
• * 1.398

  Thamy∣ras.
• * 1.399

  Securitie.
• * 1.400

  Democri∣tus.
• * 1.401

  Elysiicam pi. ••usulae fortuna∣tae. Sertorius.
• * 1.402

  Perpenna
• * 1.403

  Sylla.
• * 1.404

  Pompei{us} Magnus.
• * 1.405

  Alexāder.
• * 1.406

  Magnifi∣cence.
• * 1.407

  Liberalitie.
• * 1.408

  Isocra. ad Nicocles.
• * 1.409

  Iuli{us} Caes
• * 1.410

  Libraries.
• * 1.411

  Domitiā.
• * 1.412

  Tarquin. Priscus.
• * 1.413

  Caues. Clo¦acae. Sylla.
• * 1.414

  Forum Liuij, Iulij, Pompilij, Cornelii, Sēpronii,
• * 1.415

  Wonders of y^e world.
• * 1.416

  Thebes. 1
• * 1.417

  Walles of y^e world. 2
• * 1.418

  Sepulchr. Mausoli Arteme∣sia. 3
• * 1.419

  Satyrus Pythius.
• * 1.420

  Pyrami∣des. 4.
• * 1.421

  Colossus.
• * 1.422

  Capitoliū Romae. 6 Sepulchrū Adriani. 7,
• * 1.423

  Munificēce
• * 1.424

  Alexāder. Aristotle. Dionysi{us}. Plato.
• * 1.425

  Protheas.
• * 1.426

  Alexan∣der.
• * 1.427

  Scipio.
• * 1.428

  Titus.
• * 1.429

  Anaxago¦ras.
• * 1.430

  Vngrate∣fulnes.
• * 1.431

  Atheniās.
• * 1.432

  Cicero {pro} 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Plau∣cio.
• * 1.433

  Thankful∣nes.
• * 1.434

  Chilo.
• * 1.435

  Pyrrhus.
• * 1.436

  Aesop.
• * 1.437

  Constancie
• * 1.438

  Continēcie
• * 1.439

  Foolishnes
• * 1.440

  Pompo∣nius Atti∣cus.
• * 1.441

  Mithrida∣tes.
• * 1.442

  Fabricius.
• * 1.443

  Zeno.
• * 1.444

  Anaxar∣chus. Nicocreō.
• * 1.445

  C. Marius
• * 1.446

  Leena.
• * 1.447

  Epichari∣us.
• * 1.448

  2. Mach••. 7
• * 1.449

  Cicero de faelicitate et miseria.
• * 1.450

  M. Regu∣lus.
• * 1.451

  Lactanti{us} de vero cultu. cap. 14.
• * 1.452

  Sufferng.
• * 1.453

  C. Marius
• * 1.454

  Sertorius alter Hā∣niball.
• * 1.455

  Fabius Maximus
• * 1.456

  Gentelnes.
• * 1.457

  Patience.
• * 1.458

  Impatiēc.
• * 1.459

  Socrates.
• * 1.460

  Xenocra∣tes.
• * 1.461

  Eretricus.
• * 1.462

  Lycurgus
• * 1.463

  Alcander
• * 1.464

  Eusebius.
• * 1.465

  Arist. li. 1. ca. 23. rhe∣tor. ad the odecten.
• * 1.466

  Lactanti{us} de vero cultu. cap. 18.
• * 1.467

  Angre.
• * 1.468

  Stabilitie. Perseue∣rance.
• * 1.469

  Pertinacie
• * 1.470

  Seuerus Pertinax••
• * 1.471

  Leuitie.
• * 1.472

  A. Vitel∣lius.
• * 1.473

  Sextus Pompei{us}.
• * 1.474

  Pyrrhus.
• * 1.475

  Antigon{us}
• * 1.476

  Iustice.
• * 1.477

  Vertutū imperio.
• * 1.478

  Plato de legibus,
• * 1.479

  Iustitia virgo.
• * 1.480

  Cicero de legibus.
• * 1.481

  Iustice of iiij. kindes
• * 1.482

  Celestiall Iustice.
• * 1.483

  Naturall Iustice.
• * 1.484

  Ciuil Iu∣stice.
• * 1.485

  Pompo∣nius laetus de legibus
• * 1.486

  Quales principes tales sub∣diti.
• * 1.487

  Such prin∣c••s, such people.
• * 1.488

  Isocrates ad Dimo∣nicum.
• * 1.489

  Aegypti∣ans.
• * 1.490

  Ptolom.
• * 1.491

  Persians. Xerxes.
• * 1.492

  Roman.
• * 1.493

  Nero.
• * 1.494

  Custome.
• * 1.495

  Persians.
• * 1.496

  Lycurgus
• * 1.497

  Cretensiās
• * 1.498

  Xerxes.
• * 1.499

  Babyloni∣ans.
• * 1.500

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉.
• * 1.501

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉.
• * 1.502

  Iudicial▪ Iustice.
• * 1.503

  Vertues of the law.
• * 1.504

  Precept••s of the law.
• * 1.505

  Discriptiō of Iustice.
• * 1.506

  Iustice w^t out hands.
• * 1.507

  Aristotle in his poli∣ticks.
• * 1.508

  Whether it be more expedient to be gouer¦ned by a good king, then by a good law.
• * 1.509

  A King.
• * 1.510

  A Tyrant.
• * 1.511

  Partes of Iustice.
• * 1.512

  Innocen∣cie.
• * 1.513

  Lactan. de Iusticia ca. 9. &. 32
• * 1.514

  Cicero {pro} M. Fonte∣io.
• * 1.515

  M. Aemy¦lius Scau.
• * 1.516

  M. Aqui∣lius. L. Cotta. P. Rutili{us}.
• * 1.517

  L. Piso Frug••.
• * 1.518

  C. Grac∣chus.
• * 1.519

  M. Fonte∣ius·
• * 1.520

  Cicero {pro} L. Murae¦na.
• * 1.521

  Cicero {pro} posio.
• * 1.522

  Consolati∣ons for the slaundered.
• * 1.523

  Cicero {pro} Clurentio
• * 1.524

  Perseus. Gorgon. Seraphi∣ans.
• * 1.525

  Pelyde∣ctes
• * 1.526

  Archias.
• * 1.527

  Archilo∣chus.
• * 1.528

  Hasdru∣ball.
• * 1.529

  Cice. act. 6 in verrem.
• * 1.530

  Quin. li. 1 cap. 20. de institutio∣n•• orato∣••ia.
• * 1.531

  Cice. li. 6. epistolarū familiarū
• * 1.532

  Plato.
• * 1.533

  Theognis
• * 1.534

  Freenship
• * 1.535

  Thre kinds of freend∣ship.
• * 1.536

  Naturall freendship of what sortes.
• * 1.537

  Looue of parents.
• * 1.538

  Simon A∣theniensi••
• * 1.539

  Astapus Ampho∣nius.
• * 1.540

  A maide of Athens.
• * 1.541

  Metellus Pius,
• * 1.542

  Loue of our ••rince and cōtrie.
• * 1.543

  Cicero li. 3 de finibus
• * 1.544

  Otho Im∣perator.
• * 1.545

  Codrus.
• * 1.546

  Aglaurus
• * 1.547

  Iphigenia
• * 1.548

  Leocoriū.
• * 1.549

  Theopa. Eubula. Praxithea
• * 1.550

  Whether the loue of parents or Prince be greater.
• * 1.551

  Indulgēce or cockrīgs
• * 1.552

  Oppiani∣cus.
• * 1.553

  Cicero {pro} A. Cluen∣tio. Domitius
• * 1.554

  Medea. Nero.
• * 1.555

  Periander Herod.
• * 1.556

  Augustus
• * 1.557

  Atalanta.
• * 1.558

  Ptolomie Ariobar∣zanes. Seleucus.
• * 1.559

  Prusias.
• * 1.560

  Darius. Artax∣erxes. Eucrati∣des.
• * 1.561

  Claudius.
• * 1.562

  Whether the loue of parents to∣wards their children be greater thē cōtrary.
• * 1.563

  Whether a father doth loue his chil¦dren better then y^e mo∣ther.
• * 1.564

  Kindred.
• * 1.565

  Tiberius Caesar.
• * 1.566

  Priamus Nero. Ataxerx∣es. Ptolomie Lysima∣chus. Philip. Cleopatra
• * 1.567

  Ciuil frend¦ship of thre sortes.
• * 1.568

  Common freendship.
• * 1.569

  Cicero {pro} S. Roscio.
• * 1.570

  Epicures.
• * 1.571

  Good fel∣lowship.
• * 1.572

  Perfect Freendship
• * 1.573

  Cicero {pro} Cu. Plan∣cio.
• * 1.574

  The end of true freend¦ship.
• * 1.575

  A
• * 1.576

  Notes of vnfained frendship.
• * 1.577

  Amicorū paria.
• * 1.578

  Damon. Pytheas.
• * 1.579

  Orestes. Pylades.
• * 1.580

  Faithful Frendshipe among few
• * 1.581

  Vis vni∣ta fortior.
• * 1.582

  Cicero ad Atticū. li. 1 epistolarū
• * 1.583

  Metellus. Atticus.
• * 1.584

  The ex••l••••∣cie of a godly frend
• * 1.585

  Felowly freendship.
• * 1.586

  Cicero. li. 1 de natura Deorū: et li. 2. de fi∣nibus.
• * 1.587

  D••finition of Loue.
• * 1.588

  Aduersitie tryes a freend.
• * 1.589

  Hospitalitie of what sortes.
• * 1.590

  Glorious hospitalitie
• * 1.591

  Cicero in Officiis.
• * 1.592

  A benefit.
• * 1.593

  Lactanti{us} de vero cultu cap. 12.
• * 1.594

  Curteous hospitalitie
• * 1.595

  Massuri{us} Sabinus.
• * 1.596

  Germans.
• * 1.597

  Scipio. Massinis∣sa.
• * 1.598

  T. Sēpro∣nius, Gracchus
• * 1.599

  Flauius.
• * 1.600

  Religious ••ospitalitie
• * 1.601

  Causes of Christian hospitalitie
• * 1.602

  Heb. 13.
• * 1.603

  Partes of Christian hospitalitie
• * 1.604

  Gen 2. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 18.•••• 19.
• * 1.605

  Rewardes of Christi•••• hospitalitie▪ Math. 10. Psal. 41.
• * 1.606

  Abraham
• * 1.607

  Lot.
• * 1.608

  Rahab.
• * 1.609

  Elias.
• * 1.610

  A punish∣ment for neglecting Christian hospitalitie Math. 10. Iacob. 2.
• * 1.611

  Concorde
• * 1.612

  Turres a∣damātinae
• * 1.613

  Animal sēpiternū concordia
• * 1.614

  Seleucus.
• * 1.615

  Meneni{us} Agrippa.
• * 1.616

  Fenestella
• * 1.617

  Reasons to the embra∣cing of Cō¦corde.
• * 1.618

  Erasm{us} de quaeri∣mo ma pacis.
• * 1.619

  Syracusa.
• * 1.620

  Grecians.
• * 1.621

  Ievves, Romans Caesar. Sylla. Cynna. Marius.
• * 1.622

  Cicero {pro}¦lege Agra¦ria ad po∣pulum.
• * 1.623

  Godlines
• * 1.624

  No 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.625

  Lactanti{us}.
• * 1.626

  Prouidēce or forecast.
• * 1.627

  Bees.
• * 1.628

  Lactanti∣us de fal∣sa sapien∣tia cap. 10
• * 1.629

  Cic. Tus. quaest. li. 1
• * 1.630

  Porphy∣rius. lib 3. de sacrifi∣ciis.
• * 1.631

  Calchas. Mopsus. Tyresias. Thales. Apolloni¦us.
• * 1.632

  Elysi•• cam¦pi.
• * 1.633

  Musaeus poeta.
• * 1.634

  Cretensi∣ans.
• * 1.635

  Aeneas.
• * 1.636

  Isocrates.
• * 1.637

  Plato▪
• * 1.638

  The office of the Athe¦nians.
• * 1.639

  Atheniās.
• * 1.640

  Romans.
• * 1.641

  Massini∣ssa.
• * 1.642

  Brenus.
• * 1.643

  Conoma∣chus.
• * 1.644

  Pherecy∣des.
• * 1.645

  Cicero de deumati∣one lib. 1.
• * 1.646

  No religiō without the work of God.
• * 1.647

  Humanitie
• * 1.648

  Hercules.
• * 1.649

  Alexan∣ders.
• * 1.650

  Atheniās
• * 1.651

  Lycurgus
• * 1.652

  Scipio.
• * 1.653

  Scythians
• * 1.654

  Alexan∣der.
• * 1.655

  Phalaris.
• * 1.656

  Pantaleō.
• * 1.657

  Tryzus.
• * 1.658

  Aelianus de varia Historia. lib. 14.
• * 1.659

  Hāniball.
• * 1.660

  Volesius.
• * 1.661

  Pitie.
• * 1.662

  Phocian.
• * 1.663

  Aristogi∣ton.
• * 1.664

  Pouertie.
• * 1.665

  Cimon A¦themensis
• * 1.666

  Cato seni∣or. Vngratful¦nes.
• * 1.667

  Pericles.
• * 1.668

  Anaxago¦ras.
• * 1.669

  Caligula.
• * 1.670

  Romans.
• * 1.671

  Myson. Timon.
• * 1.672

  Lactanti{us} de vero cultu. cap, 12.
• * 1.673

  Liberalitie.
• * 1.674

  Grateful∣nes.
• * 1.675

  Gratia.
• * 1.676

  Graces Vng••••es. Agl••ia. T••••••eia Euphro∣syne.
• * 1.677

  Benefits.
• * 1.678

  Aglaia.
• * 1.679

  Thankful∣nes.
• * 1.680

  Seneca.
• * 1.681

  Thaleia.
• * 1.682

  Euphro∣syne.
• * 1.683

  The dutie of a bene∣factor.
• * 1.684

  Aiax.
• * 1.685

  T Pōpo∣nius Atti∣cus.
• * 1.686

  Homer.
• * 1.687

  M••ntor. P••enius. Tychus. Mentas. Chilo.
• * 1.688

  Grecians. Hippocra¦tes.
• * 1.689

  Aegypti∣ans.
• * 1.690

  Craesus.
• * 1.691

  Pāphaes.
• * 1.692

  Venus. Phaon·
• * 1.693

  Patra.
• * 1.694

  Aelianus de va••••a Historia. l••b. 13. I••••rati∣tu••e. Cicero ad A••••••cum epist. li. ••.
• * 1.695

  Etheocles
• * 1.696

  Atheniās.
• * 1.697

  Cicero {pro} Cn. Plan∣cio.
• * 1.698

  Facilitie.
• * 1.699

  Iulius Cae¦sar.
• * 1.700

  Alexan∣der mag∣nus.
• * 1.701

  Sabacus.
• * 1.702

  M. Anto∣nius Pius.
• * 1.703

  Ptolomie
• * 1.704

  Galetes.
• * 1.705

  Darius.
• * 1.706

  Cicero li. 1 epist. ad Q. Fra∣trem.
• * 1.707

  Faithful∣nes.
• * 1.708

  The man∣ner of take¦ing othes in olde tie.
• * 1.709

  Cicero e∣pisto. 12. libro 7. epistol••rū famil▪
• * 1.710

  Sychians
• * 1.711

  Periured persons.
• * 1.712

  Romans.
• * 1.713

  Medians. Arabians
• * 1.714

  Bacchus. Vranias.
• * 1.715

  Lycurgus.
• * 1.716

  Polyde∣ctes.
• * 1.717

  Charilaus
• * 1.718

  Alexan∣der. Parmenio
• * 1.719

  Romans.
• * 1.720

  Duellius Cornelius Asina. Hamilcar
• * 1.721

  Carthage∣nians. faedifragi
• * 1.722

  Hanno.
• * 1.723

  Ptolomie
• * 1.724

  Aemylius Lepidus.
• * 1.725

  S. Pōpeius Antonius Octauius.
• * 1.726

  Menodō∣rus.
• * 1.727

  M. Attili∣us Regul{us}
• * 1.728

  Lying.
• * 1.729

  Parthians
• * 1.730

  Cicero {pro} L. Flacco.
• * 1.731

  Grecians.
• * 1.732

  Periurie. Aegypti∣ans.
• * 1.733

  Palalici∣dij. Gaudēti{us} Merula de Memora∣bilibus, lib. 3. cap. 3 Aleos. Olochas.
• * 1.734

  Tremcli{us}.
• * 1.735

  Scropha.
• * 1.736

  Polyma∣chus.
• * 1.737

  Cicero {pro} Q. Roscio
• * 1.738

  The diffe∣rence be∣tweene a lyer and a forswerer.
• * 1.739

  Treason.
• * 1.740

  Cassius. Brutus. A. Trebo¦nius. Dolabel∣la. C. Octaui∣us. Lentulus Spinther. Augustus Cicero. Antonius
• * 1.741

  Scylla. Minous.
• * 1.742

  Tarpeia. Tatius.
• * 1.743

  Aattalius. Theodr{us}.
• * 1.744

  Cicer. act. 2. in Vc∣rem.
• * 1.745

  Caesar.
• * 1.746

  Rumita∣leus.
• * 1.747

  Antigon{us}
• * 1.748

  Conclusion