The workes of Lucius Annæus Seneca, both morrall and naturall Containing, 1. His bookes of benefites. 2. His epistles. 3. His booke of prouidence. 4. Three bookes of anger. 5. Two bookes of clemencie. 6. His booke of a blessed life. 7. His booke of the tranquilitie of the minde. 8. His booke of the constancie of a wiseman. 9. His booke of the shortnesse of life. 10. Two bookes of consolation to Martia. 11. Three bookes of consolation to Heluia. 12. His booke of consolation to Polibius. 13. His seuen bookes of naturall questions. Translated by Tho. Lodge, D. in Physicke.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE FOVRTH BOOKE. (Book 4)

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HE handled curious matters for the most part, but (according to his vsuall custome) intermixed with those that are profitable. Hee demandeth whether a benefit or fauour may be simplie in it selfe desired? He proueth the affirmatiue against the Epicures, who measured all things by their profit. Amongst other arguments he teacheth by this, that the Gods also giue benefits, which he proueth very amply against those that deny the Gods. Then he remoueth some obiections, which seeme to teach, that profit is common in benefitting. And so he commeth to thankesgiuing, and sheweth that it is only to be yeelded in regard of honestie, not of profit. Then he demandeth whether a benefit is to bee giuen to him whom thou knowest will be vngratefull: he distinguisheth in this point, and partly affir∣meth, and partly denieth.

CHAP. I.

OF all those things (my AEbutius Liberalis) where∣of we haue entreated, there is nothing so neces∣sarie to be knowne, or (as Salust saith) more care∣fully to bee taught, then that which is now in hand; namely, whether to giue a benefit, and to restore the like, be things which ought to bee de∣sired for the loue of themselues. Some men there are which respect not honesty, but for profit sake, and admit not vertue without aduantage (which hath nothing magnificent in it selfe, if it hath a∣ny thing that is mercinarie.) For what is more loathsome, then for a man to make reckoning how much we ought to estimate an honest man, when as vertue is neither inuited with gaine, nor terrified with losse, and is so farre from corrupting any with hope or promise, that contrari∣wise she commandeth men to spend all their substance on her, and for her sake; and more often contenteth her selfe with that which is giuen freely without demand? To follow her, a man must tread all profit vnder foote: whither so∣euer

she calleth, whither soeuer she sendeth, hee ought to goe, without respect or interest of his estate or priuate affaires: and sometimes also hee must set for∣ward with the hazard of his owne blood and life, neither must hee euer refuse her commandements. What reward shall I then haue saiest thou, if I doe this thing valiantly, or that thing gratefully? Onely this, that thou hast done it; vertue promiseth thee nothing beside her selfe. If any profit casually befall thee, account it amongst thine accessarie good happes. The price of honest things is in themselues, if then that which is honest be to be desired for it selfe, and a be∣nefit being honest, the condition thereof cannot be different from honestie, be∣cause they are both of one nature. But that the thing which is honest is to be desired for it selfe, it is often and abundantly proued alreadie.

CHAP. II.

IN this point I must wage warre with the nice and effeminate troope of Epicures, that talke of Philosophie onely at their banquet, with whom vertue is the vassal and hand-maid of vicious pleasure•• them shee obeyeth, them shee serueth, them shee beholdeth preferred a∣boue her selfe. There is no pleasure (saith he) without vertue. But why is volup∣tuousnesse aduanced before vertue? Thinkest thou we dispute of the order be∣tweene them, no, the question is of the whole matter, and the power thereof, it is not vertue if it dance attendance after delight. The chiefest place is hers, she it is that must leade, command, and haue the chiefest place: thou biddest her aske the watch-word. What skilleth it thee, saith the Epicure? I also main∣taine, that a blessed life cannot bee without vertue. I condemne and con∣temne the pleasure it selfe which I follow, and to which I haue made my selfe a bondslaue, if vertue be remoued from it. The onely question is in this, whe∣ther vertue be the cause of the chiefest good, or the chiefest good it selfe. Admit that this be the only thing in question, thinkest thou that there is but the onely change of place and order onely betweene them, that breedeth the difference? This is a very confusion, this is a manifest blindnesse, to preferre the last before the first. I am not displeased because vertue is placed after pleasure, but because it is any wayes or at all compared, or paralelled with pleasures. Vertue is the despiser and enemie of delight, and estrangeth her selfe farre from her, more fa∣miliar with labour and sorrow, more fitly to be inserted into manly incommo∣dities, then into this effeminate felicitie.

CHAP. III.

THese things (my Liberalis) were to be spoken of, because a benefit, (whereof we now entreate) is an act of vertue, and foule shame it were to giue it for any other respect, then to haue giuē it only. For if we do a curtesie in expectation of a recompence, then should we do it to the wealthiest, and not to the worthiest. Now we prefer a poore man vnable to requite, before a rich man. It is no benefit that hath re∣ference to Fortune, or hope of interest. Besides, if onely profite should entice vs to do good, they should doe least good, that haue most meanes. Such as are rich men, powerfull men, and Kings, because they haue least need of other mens

helpe. But the Gods likewise should withdraw their so many liberalities, which, without intermission, day and night they powre vpon vs. For why, their proper nature and being sufficeth them in all things, and maketh them a∣bundant, secure, and inuiolable euery way. To none therefore should they giue their benefits, if their only cause of giuing proceeded from no other inten∣tion, then to think on themselues and their own priuat commodities. This is no benefit, but a loane vpon vse, to respect not where you may best bestow it, but where you may place it most gainfully, whence you may most readily receiue it. Which intention, seeing it is farre estranged from the Gods: it followeth that they are diuinely liberall. For if the only cause of giuing a benefit, were the gi∣uers profit, and no profit is to bee hoped or expected by God at our hands; there is no cause why God should be bountifull vnto vs.

CAAP. IIII.

I Know well what answere is made hereunto,* 1.1 which is, that God bestoweth no good vpon vs, but is altogether carelesse and re∣gardlesse of vs, and not daring to cast his eyes vpon this world, busieth himselfe about other matters or (which seemeth to the Epicure to be the chiefest felicitie) hee doth nothing, neither do benefits or iniuries touch him. He that thus saith, heareth not the vowes of those that pray, neither the cries nor vowes which euery one maketh, as well in priuate, as in publike, lifting vp their ioyned hands vnto heauen: which vn∣doubtedly would not be done, neither would all mankind consent vnto this madnesse, to implore a deafe deitie, and inuocate such gods as had no power to helpe them, if they knew not assuredly that the Gods giue benefits, sometimes of their owne proper motion, otherwhiles vpon prayers, that it is they, from whom we receiue so many great graces in their due times and seasons, and that by their assistance we are put out of feare, of such imminent and eminent mis∣chiefes, as daily threaten vs: who is hee that is so miserable, and reiected by heauen? who is he that is so disgraced, and borne to continuall affliction and trauell? that hath not sometimes felt these great fauours and liberalities of the Gods? Doe but behold, I pray you, euen those who incessantly complaine of their miseries, and who liue so mal-contented with their fortunes, yet shalt thou finde, that they are not wholly exempted, and destitute of succours from heauen, and that there is no man on whom there hath not fallen some droppes from this sweet and gracious fountaine. Thinkest thou that it is a small matter which is equally distributed to all those that are borne in this world? And (to omit those things which the Gods bestow at their pleasure, with all proporti∣on of measure) is it a small matter that nature hath giuen vs, when she hath gi∣uen vs her selfe?

CHAP. V.

DOth not God bestow all benefits vpon vs?* 1.2 From whence then hast thou all those things whereof thou art possessed? which thou giuest? which thou deniest? which thou keepest? which thou takest vniustly? From whence come the infinitnesse of things that delight the eyes, affect the care, and please the vnder∣standing? From whence is this abundance, that furnisheth our royoto••s ex∣cesse?

For they haue not onely prouided for our necessities, but we are tende∣red by them euen vnto delicacie also. From whence haue wee so many trees, bearing sundrie sorts of sauourie fruit, so many wholesome herbes, for the maintenance of our healths, such varietie of meats, strong for al seasons through the whole yeare, that an idle sluggard may finde by casualtie sufficient suste∣nance vpon the earth to feed and nourish him. Whence come so many sorts of beasts? whereof some are bread on the earth, other some in the water, and o∣thers descending from the aire, to the end there might not be any part of nature, that should not be tributarie vnto vs of some rent? The Riuers likewise, wher∣of some enuiron the plaines, with their pleasant reuolutions and roundnesse, o∣ther streame thorow their hollow and nauigable channels, bring vs merchan∣dize from forren seas, of which some at certaine prefixed times take wonderfull encrease, so as the sudden force of the Sommers floud moisteneth and watereth those grounds which are situate and planted vnder the droughtie and burning Zoane. What shall I say of the vaines of some medicinable waters? What shall I speake of the bubling and boyling vp of hot Bathes euen vpon the verie shoares?

And what of thee O mightie Lake, and thee Proud billowed Benac swelling like the See.2 1.3

CHAP. VI.

IF a man had giuen thee a few acres of land, thou wouldest say that thou hadest receiued a benefit at his hands, and deniest thou that the vnmeasurable extent of the barren earth is no benefit? If a man should giue thee money, and fill thy coffer (for that see∣meth a great thing in thy sight) thou wouldest terme it a be∣nefit. And thinkest thou it no fauour, that God hath hidden so many mettals in the earth, spread so many riuers on the sands, which floating, discouer ingots of massie gold, siluer, brasse, and iron, which he hath hidden euery where; that he hath giuen thee meanes and knowledge to finde it out, by setting markes of his couert riches on the vpper face of the earth? If a mā should giue thee a house enriched with marble pillars, if the couer thereof were resplendent, and painted with gold and goodly colours, thou wouldest highly esteeme this present of his? God hath builded thee a great palace, without any danger of feare or falling downe, wherein thou seest not little peeces, smaller then the chizell it selfe, wherewith they were carued, but entire huge masses of precious stone, all fastened and fashioned after a diuers and different maner, the least peece where∣of maketh thee wonder at the beautie of the same: the roofe whereof shineth after one sort by day, and after another by night: and wilt thou then deny that thou hast receiued any benefit at all? Againe, whereas thou settest great store by that which thou hast, thinkest thou (which is the point of a thanklesse per∣son) that thou art beholding to no body for them? Whence hast thou this breath which thou drawest? Whence commeth this light, whereby thou di∣sposest and orderest the actions of thy life? From whence hast thou thy blood, in the motion and flowing whereof, thy naturall heate is maintained? Whence come these meates, which by their delicate tastes and pleasing sauours, inuite thee to ••ate farre more then thy stomacke can disgest? Whence come these

things which awaken thy pleasures and delights, when thou art wearied? Whence commeth this quiet and repose, wherein thou ••ot••••st and witherest a∣way? Wilt thou not say, if thou beest thankfull:

From God springs this repose, and euermore Him for my God ••••e honor and adore.* 1.4 Vpon his Altar, to performe my vow, A fir••tling Lambe my pastures shall allow: For he it is, as thou dost plainly see, That yeelds my wandring teame their pasture free, He lets me time at pleasure, as they feed, My country layes vpon mine ••••te•• re••d.

It is that God, which hath not onely permitted vs to feede a small number of meate, but that hath filled the whole world with great troopes of cattell, that nourisheth all beasts which wander heere and there, in so many and diuers pla∣ces; that giueth them new pa••ture•• in Sommer time, after they haue eaten vp their Winter prouision: which hath not onely taught vs to play vpon a reed, and after some manner to tune a reede, and delightfully sing to it; but also hath inuented so many artes, so many varieties of voices, and so many sounds, to yeeld sundry tunes, some by force of our owne breath, and some by a borrowed and externall aire. For thou canst not call those things ours, which we haue in∣uented, no more then thou canst call it our owne doing that wee grow, or that the bodie hath his full proportion, according to his determinate times. Now our teeth fall in our infancie, anone after wee passe into an age, which in a few yeares giueth vs all our encrease, againe, ripe age after our yong and spring∣ing yeares, making vs become more strong, setleth vs in a perfect and manly age. Finally, we are come to the last period, which maketh an end of the care and course of our life. The seeds of all ages and sciences are hidden in vs from our birth, and that great work-man God produceth out of the hidden all naturall instincts.

CHAP. VII.

IT is nature, saith he, that communicateth and giueth me all these things. Vnderstandest thou not that in speaking after this man∣ner, thou changest the name of God? For what else is nature but God, and a diuine being and reason, which by his searching as∣sistance resideth in the world, and all the parts thereof•• A•• often as thou listest thou mayest call him, sometimes the Author of all things, and sometimes Ioue, (most good and most mightie.) Thou mayest also well ••••arme him the Thunderer, and establisher, who had not that name giuen him, because (as the Historiographers write) that after the Romans had made their vowes vnto him, he reinforced their hearts, and discomforted armies in the•••• behal••e: but because all things stand and are established by his benefit, he is therefore so called. Thou shalt not also lie, if thou call him Destiny, for whereas Fate and Destiny is but an immutable ordinance, which holdeth all causes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and chai∣ned together: he it is that is the first of all, and he on whom all the rest tha•• fol∣low doe depend. Thou mayest fit him with any other names wha••soeuer thou

wilt, prouided that they signifie and containe the force and effects of celestiall things. In briefe, he may haue as many names, as he hath attributes of graces, wherewith he besteedeth vs.

CHAP. VIII.

OVr men likewise suppose that he is Father Liber, that he is Hercu∣les and Mercurie. Father Liber, because all things haue had their being and originall from him. Because that by his meanes wee first of all found out, and knew the power and vertue of seeds, which should afterwards nourish vs with a sweete and honest pleasure. Hercules, because his force is inuincible, which when it shall be wearied in performing actions, and producing inferiour things, shall returne into fire. Mercurie, because it is hee from whom reason proceedeth, and the iudgement, numbers, ranckes and order of things, and all those sciences, which wee terme Liberall. Whither soeuer thou turnest thee, there shalt thou see him meet•• with thee: nothing is voide of him. He himselfe filleth his worke to the full. Thou preuailest nothing then (thou vngratefullest man of the world) when thou auowest, that thou art no wayes indebted to God, but to Nature: for nei∣ther is Nature without God, nor God without Nature. Both these two are but one, and differ not. If thou shouldest confesse that thou owest to Ann••us or to Lucius, that which Seneca hath lent thee, thou shouldest only change the name, but not the Creditour. For whether thou callest him by his name or surname, it is alwaies one man,. Call him then as thou pleasest, either Nature or Fate, or Fortune, it makes no matter, because they all are the names of the selfe-same God, who diuersely vseth his diuine prouidence. Euen as Iustice, Integritie, Prudence, Magnanimitie, Temperance, and the goods and vertues of the soule, if any of these please thee, it is then the soule that pleaseth thee also.

CHAP. IX.

BVt lest by these discourses I should wander, I say that God be∣stoweth many and mightie benefits, expences without hope of interest or recompence: for he hath no need of our tributes, nei∣ther can we also giue him any thing. A benefit therefore ought to be desired, for the loue of it selfe; the only thing that is respe∣cted therein, is the profit of the receiuer: herein let vs employ our selues, forget∣ting our owne priuate commodities. You say (saith he) that we ought to make diligent election of those on whom we wil bestow our benefits, (cōsidering the labourers and husband-men themselues, will not commit their seeds vnto the sands) which if it be true, we regard in giuing benefits, as we doe in labouring and sowing our land: for to sow is not a thing that should be desired onely of it selfe. Furthermore, you aske vs to whom we ought to giue our benefits? which should not be done, if to giue a benefit were a thing to be desired of it it selfe, in what place soeuer, after what manner soeuer it was giuen, it was a benefit: for we follow that which is honest, for no other respect, but for the loue of it selfe. Yet although no other thing be to be followed, we require what we shall doe, and when, and how, for that honestie consisteth of these circumstances. When

therefore I make choice of a man on whom I will bestow a courtesie, I doe it to the end that I may neuer faile to doe a benefit. Because if it be bestowed vpon an vnworthie man, it can be neither honest, nor a benefit.

CHAP. X.

TO restore a thing which a man is put in trust withall,* 1.5 is a thing to be desired of it selfe; yet ought I not to restore it alwaies, nor in all places, nor at all times. Sometimes it skilleth not whether I de∣ny, or whether I restore the same in all mens sight, I will respect his profit to whom I am to restore it, and perceiuing that by my restitution I shall doe him iniurie, I will deny him his right. The same will I doe in a benefit: I will see when I giue, to whom I giue, how I giue, and why I giue. For nothing is to be done without reason: it is no good turne, except it be done vpon reason, because reason ought to accompany all honest things. How often haue we heard men, that haue reproued their owne inconsiderate larges, and cast forth these words, I had rather haue lost it, then to haue giuen it to such a one. It is the most vilanous manner of losing that may be, for a man to giue foolishly and without consideration: and it is much more distastefull to haue employed a be∣nefit badly, then not to haue receiued any. For it is another mans fault, if we receiue not, but it is our owne, that we made better election and choice in be∣stowing it. In making my choice, I will respect nothing lesse then thou thin∣kest, namely from whom I shall receiue satisfaction. Oftentimes he that ne∣uer requiteth is gratefull, and he vngratefull that hath made requitall; my esti∣mation aimeth at nothing but the minde and heart. And therefore will I ouer∣passe the rich vnworthy man, and will bestow my courtesies on the poore good man: for in his greatest wants he will be thankfull, and when all things falle him, his mind and true heart shall not faile him. I seeke to raise no profit for my courtesies, neither affect I pleasure or glory: I content my self that I can pleasure one man. I will giue to this onely intent and end, that I may giue that which I ought: and that which I ought to doe, is not to bee done without choice and election; which, of what qualitie it shall be, doe you aske me the question?

CHAP. XI.

I Will chuse an honest, simple, mindfull, and gratefull man, that v∣surpeth not vpon another mans fortunes, nor niggardly hoardeth vp his owne, or intendeth euill vnto any man. When I haue made this election, although Fortune hath left this man no power to yeeld any satisfaction, yet haue I accomplished my desire, and obtained my wish. If profit or base consideration maketh me liberall, if I profit no man, but to the end that he may pleasure me: I will not giue a gratuit••e to him that tra∣uaileth into diuers and forren Countries: I will not giue vnto him that will be alwaies absent; I will not giue vnto such a one, who is so sicke, that there is no hope of his recouery, I will not giue, whereas I am dying my selfe, for I shall haue no time to receiue friendship againe. But to let thee know, that a benefit is a thing that ought to be desired for the loue of it selfe: wee succour strangers, that are vpon the instant cast vpon our coasts, and will presently depart for ano∣ther:

we must giue and riggeship to such a one that hath suffered shipwracke, that it may carie him backe againe into his owne country. He departeth sud∣denly, scarcely knowing him that was the author of his safetie, and making no reckoning euer more to return or reuisit him againe. He assigneth the payment of his debt vnto the gods, and beseecheth them, that since he hath no meanes of satisfaction, that it will please them to bee thankefull in his behalfe: meane while the conscience of a barren benefit doth content vs. Seest thou now, that at such time when we are at deaths dore, we make our last Will and Testament, and dispose our goods and possessions, although we can reape no profite there∣by? How much time is spent; how long are we secretly deliberating how much and to whom we shall giue? For what skils it to whom we giue, if we shall re∣ceiue of none? And yet we neuer giue any thing more diligently, wee neuer more trauel and racke our iudge••ents, then when as setting all profite aside, we onely set honestie before our eyes: for so long are we euill judges of our owne offi••es, as long as hope, fear, and pleasure (the dishonestest vice of all) depraueth our iudgemtnts. But when the assurance of death hath made vs lose the hope of all things, and hath * 1.6 sent a iust and vncorrupted Iudge to giue sentence, then seeke we out the most worthy, to whom we may deliuer our inheritance; ney∣ther dispose we any thing with more circumspection and regard, then those our possessions which appertaine no longer vnto vs.

CHAP. XII.

ANd vndoubtedly, euen then conceiueth a man the greatest content∣ment, when he thinketh with himselfe; I will make such a one more rich then he is, by giui•••• him a peece of my possessions: I will in••rease the honour and nobilitie of his house: In briefe, if we neuer giue, but when we hope to receiue againe, we must die intestate. Thou maintaynest (saith he) that a benefite is a debt vnrepayable: but a debt is not a thing to be desired for it selfe, Ergo, benefiting or good doing, is not a thing to be desired of it selfe. When we call it a debt, we vse a comparison and translation. So likewise say we that the lawe is a rule of iust and vniust; and yet the rule is not to be desired as a thing of it selfe, but we are constrained to vse these words, the better to expresse our intent and meaning. When I say a debt, it is to be vnderstood as a thing trusted. Wilt thou know all? I adde further, vnrepayable, which shall neuer be satisfied; although there be not any debt, but eyther may or ought to be paid.* 1.7 It is so farre from it, that we ought to doe a pleasure for our profite sake•• that for the most part (as I haue said) we ought to doe it, though it were to our losse and perill. As for example; I rescue a man circumuented by th••••••••••, to the end he may be permitted to passe in security: I defend a guilty person, dis∣graced and oppressed by the credit of his aduersaries, and purchase to my selfe the displeasure and faction of great men for my labour, to receiue perchance by the meanes of the same, accusers, the disgraces and miseries I freed the poore man of: whereas I might haue beene partie against him, or beheld a far off, and with all assurance the debates & contentions which were entertained by other men: I giue caution for my friend adiudged, and suffer not execution to be ser∣ued vpon his goods, but offer my selfe to be bound for him to his creditors, and to saue him from the prescription, I come in danger to be out-lawed my selfe. No man determineth to buy a place neere Tus••••, or Tiburtiné for his health sake,

or for the sweetnesse of the ayre, and auoyding the summer heats, that deba∣teth for how many years he shall buy it: but when he hath bought it, he must keepe it. The same reason is in benefites. For if you shall aske me, what profit will accrue thereby: I will answer, a good conscience. Askest thou what pro••••t is yeelded by benefiting? I aske thee likewise, what profiteth it to doe iustly, to liue innocently, to be valiant and stout in honourable dangers, to liue chastly, to be temperate, if thou seekest any other interest then themselues?

CHAP. XIII.

TO what end continueth the heauen his daily and vsuall course? To what end is it, that the Sunne enlargeth and shortneth the day? All these are but benefits, for they are made for our profit. Euen as it is the office of this Vniuerse, to turn about and dispose of the order of all things: as it is the office of the Sunne, where he may arise, and where he may set, and to performe all these faire, profitable, and wholsome effects for our sake, without hope of any profit from vs: so is it the dutie of one man, amongst other things, to doe good vnto another. Askest thou me, why he giueth these benefits? Forsooth to this end, that he may not be vpbraided with guing nothing, & that he may not lose the occasion of wel-doing. But all your pleasure and delight, is to accustome your delicate bodies to a lazie idlenesse, and to long for a security, resembling that of sleepe, to couch and lie hidden vnder a close couert and arbor, and to entertaine the dulnesse of your decayed mindes, and to honor them with sweet and agreeable thoughts, which you call tranquility, and repose of spirit, to pamper your vnweldy carcas∣ses while they wax wanne with meates and drinks, in the caues and cabinets of your gardens. Contrariwise, we feele a pleasure truly worthy a man in giuing benefits: although that they breed vs much sorrow and labour, prouided they set them out of trouble for whom we doe them: although they be full of dan∣ger, prouided that we relieue others from their miserie: although all be to the losse & diminution of our substance, prouided that another mans pouertie and necessitie be relieued. What haue I doe to receiue benefites at another mans hands? When I haue r••••eiued them, I must imploy and bestow them. A b••ne∣fite respecteth not our particular, but onely his profite to whom it is giuen; o∣therwise we giue vnto our selues, and not vnto others. And by this reason ma∣nie things which breed another man great profit, lose their grace, because they are done for gaine. The Merchant is very profitable for the Citie, the Physiti∣an for the sicke, and the * 1.8 Regrater for goods that are to be solde. But because all these are not profitable to any, but to enrich themselues, they oblige not those who receiue good by them.

CHAP. XIIII.

IT is no benefite that is imployed to profit. This will I giue, this will I take, is but open sale and chaffering. I will not call her mo∣dest that repulsed her louer, to the end to enkindle his loue the greater, that feared the lawe or displeasure of her husband: for as Ouid saith,

She gaue that did not giue because she could not.

Not vndeseruedly is she numbred amongst the dishonored women that rather consecrateth her honestie to feare, then to the respect of her owne selfe: In like manner he that hath giuen a benefit to the intent hee might receiue a requitall, hath not giuen it. Shall we say that we doe good vnto beasts, when wee fatten them for our seruice, or nourish them to yeeld vs foode? That we doe good to our fruit-trees, or the Gardens, wherein they grow; when wee digge about them, least through drynesse or hardnesse of the earth (if they were not well looked vnto, or timely, and oft-times remoued) they should grow barren & wi∣thered? no man manureth his fields for this cause only; because to labour is a thing good in it selfe: nor doth any other businesse, without hope of interest or gaine. A couetous thought, and addicted to gaine, will neuer breede in vs a de∣sire to doe good: but a humane and liberall heart, which after it hath giuen any thing, desireth still to giue more, and redouble new curtesies vpon the old: a heart that thinketh not what profit shall arise to him that giueth: for otherwise it is a base contemptible and abiect matter to do good vnto an other, for a mans particular interest and profit: what magnificence is it for a man to loue himselfe? to thinke on nothing but his owne thrift? to trauaile no waies but for himselfe? But the true desire of doing good vnto an other, withdraweth vs from all this; and laying hold on vs, draweth vs to our losse, and disdayning our particular good, highly reioyceth in the act of well-doing only.

CHAP. XV.

CAn it be doubted, but that iniurie is contrarie to a benefit? Like as to do an iniurie is a thing to be esteemed and shunned of it selfe; euen so to doe good is a thing to be coueted for it selfe. In the one the feare of dishonour hath more power ouer vs, then all the re∣compences that may moue vs to doe any thing that is euill: and in the other the appearance of honestie, which hath great power and effic••cie of it selfe, sufficiently inuiteth vs. I shall not lie if I say that there is not any one but loueth his owne, and that there is not any man of so mortified a will, that conceiueth not a great contentment, to see him whom he hath oft-times pleasu∣red, and hath not a desire to further him farther, because hee hath done for him once before. Which thing could neuer come to passe, except we naturally tooke pleasure in our goods deedes. How often-times maiest thou heare some say. I cannot abandon him whose life I haue saued, and whom I haue alreadie drawne out of danger? he beseecheth me to maintaine his cause against his aduersaries, who haue great fauour and authoritie: I will not: but what shall I then doe? See you not how in this case, there is a certaine peculiar vertue and power that constraineth vs to succour him, and further to doe him this good in his vtmost necessitie; first, because it behoueth vs to doe it; secondly, because before times wee haue done him the like pleasure? And although at the beginning wee had no reason to succour him, yet at this time we will assist him, because wee haue already done it at ano∣ther time. So farre is it that profit should impell vs to doe a pleasure, that con∣trariwise we perseuer to maintayne and nourish those things that are vnpro••ita∣ble, and conserue them for the only loue we beare to our owne benefits. And if we haue beene vnhappie in doing pleasure to any one yet is there as great rea∣son to pardon him, as to forgiue our gracelesse children.

CHAP. XVI.

THese Epicures confesse that they themselues do yeeld thanks, not for that it is honest so to doe, but because it is profitable, yet with little labour we may easily approue that it is farre otherwise. For by these very arguments, wherby we proue•• that to giue benefits is a thing to be desired in it selfe; by the same also we shall gather and conclude this: That it is a thing most assured, and from whence we gather all our proofes for all this dispute, that we prise not honestie, but only because it is honest. Who therefore dare draw it into question, that to remunerate a cur∣tesie is not an honest thing? who is h••e that detesteth not an vngratefull man, who is only vnprofitable to himselfe? But what wilt thou say of him (when thou hearest it reported) who is vngratefull and vnthankfull to his friend for his many and mightie benefits? how wilt thou indure him, and interpret it, whe∣ther he haue plaied an vnhonest part in so doing, or that hee hath dealt fondly, in omitting that which was for his commoditie and profit? I thinke thou wilt ac∣compt him a wicked man, and imagine that hee rather deserueth some punish∣ment, then needeth an ouer••seer to order his estate to his profit. Which thing should not fall out so, vnlesse honestie were a thing both honest and to bee desi∣red of it selfe. Other things perhaps haue not their excellence and dignitie so apparant, and haue neede of an interpreter to expresse whether they be honest or no. But this is so apparant and so beautifull, that it can not be doubted, but that the clearnesse thereof will shine very brightly. What thing is so laudable, what so equally entertained and allowed in al mo••s iudgements, as to be thank∣full for benefits?

CHAP. XVII.

TEll me what cause induceth vs hereunto? Is it gaine? It is impossi∣ble, for he that despiseth not the same is vngratefull. Is it ambi∣tion? It cannot be,* 1.9 because to repay that which a man oweth, is no matter of glorie, or occasion to bring it. Is it feare? The vn∣gratefull man hath none, and therefore the Common-weale pre∣fixeth no lawes for giuing thanks, because that nature hath sufficiently coman∣ded vs, and enioyned vs to be gratefull. As also there is no law that bindeth vs to loue our parents, nor to tender and cherish children. It should be but lost la∣bour to constraine vs, to doe that whereunto nature sommoneth vs of herselfe. And like as no man needeth to bee incited to selfe loue, because hee hath it by kinde: so is no man to be exhorted to follow honest things or himselfe, vertue is so pleasing and gratious of her owne nature•• that the wickedder sort also haue a certaine instinct to approue the better. Who is hee that would not seeme to be bountifull? who is he that desireth not to be accompted good, euen when he doth most wickednesse and wrong? and when he hath most exercised his tyran∣nie and crueltie, would not shadow the same vnder some surface of iustice••, that striueth not also to make men thinke that he hath done good vnto those whom he hath most of all offended? And therefore they suffer themselues to be enter∣tained at their hands, whom they haue most of all afflicted, & faine themselues to be good and liberall, because they cannot approue themselues such: which

they would not doe, except the loue of honestie, which is to be desired for it selfe, compelled them to seeke a contrarie reputation to their corrupt manners, and to conceale and cloake their wickednesse, the fruit whereof is desired, but the thing it selfe is shamefull and odious to them: neither is there any man so farre estranged and sequestred from the law of nature, and degenerated from manhood, that would bee naught for his mindes sake only. Aske any of these Gallants that liue by rapine and spoile, if they had not rather get their goods by any honest meanes, then by robbing and stealing? Hee that inricheth him∣se••fe by spoiling and killing passengers, will rather wish to finde those things he hath purchased, then take them by force; you shall finde no man but had ra∣ther enioy th•• fruits of his wickednesse, without performing the wickednesse it selfe: wee haue this great benefit at natures hands, that vertue permitteth each man•• minde to bee illuminated with her beames; and they which follow her not, haue a full view of her.

CHAP. XVIII.

ANd to let thee know, that the affection of a gratefull minde is to be desired for it selfe, it is certaine that ingratitude ought to bee fled and eschewed in it selfe. Because there is nothing that so much dismembreth and dissipateth mens friendship, as this vice. For in what other thing are we secure but in this, that we are helped by mutuall offices, and interchangeable friendships? by this one and only commerce of benefits our life is not only assured, but better defended a∣gainst all sodaine incursions. Single vs alone, what are we? but a pray and sacri∣fice for rauenous beasts, neither is there any bloud more vile or easier to be spilt: for other beasts haue sufficient force to maintayne and defend themselues. Whatsoeuer beasts are bred to wander vp and downe, and to leade a solitarie and separated life, are armed, weaknesse girteth in and gauleth man on euery side: the force of his nailes, the sharpnesse of his teeth hath not made him ter∣rible to the rest, being naked and informe: societie assureth and defenceth him. Two things hath shee giuen him, to wit, reason and societie, which make him, (although he be exposed to all other dangers) most powerfull and puissant. And thus he, that being alone and separated, was the least and feeblest to all the rest, is become the Master of all things. Societie gaue him the dominion ouer all liuing creatures, Societie whereas he was borne for the Land, hath transmitted him into a soueraigntie of an other nature, and made him Lord of the Sea like∣wise. Societie hath repressed the violence of infirmities, puruaied succours and assistance for old age, and giuen comfort against sorrow. Shee it is that giueth vs forces, and animateth vs to resist fortune. Take Societie away, and thou shalt extinguish and cut off the vnitie of mankinde, whereby life is sustained. But you take it away, if you bring to passe that a thankelesse minde is not to be esteemed for it selfe: but because that hee ought to feare, least a greater mischiefe befall him. For how many vngratefull men are they, that may bee vngratefull with∣out punishment. To conclude, I call him vngratefull whosoeuer is gratefull for feare.

CHAP. XIX.

NO man of sound vnderstanding hath euer feared the Gods,* 1.10 for it is a madnesse to feare these, from whom we receiue all our good and happinesse, neither doth any man loue those whom hee fea∣reth. Finally, thou Epicure, thou hast disarmed God, thou hast dispoiled him of his armes and power, and least he should be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by any man, thou hast turned him out of the world. Being then after this manner begirt and inuironed with a strong and impregnable wall, separa∣ted and retired out of the sight, and touch of mortal men, thou oughtest to haue no feare of him, because he hath no meanes to doe either good or euill. But re∣maining alone betwixt the space and distance, which is betweene one Heauen and another, abandoned of all companie of creatures and men, disfurnished of all things, hee is out of danger of the ruines of the world, which hee seeth fall aboue him, and about him, not making any reckoning of our vowes and praiers, n••ither hauing any care of vs. And yet such as he is, thy desire is that we should thinke that thou worshippest him, and that thou owest him as much reuerence, as thou doest to thy father. All which thou doest, in my iudgement, to this end only, that thou mighst not be accompted vngratefull: Or if thou doest it not to this end, if thou wilt not haue vs suppose that thou art thankefull, because thou thinkest that thou hast receiued no benefit at his hands, and that happily thy little Atomes and mites, which thou hast fantastically coined in thy braine, haue rashly and vnsurely formed and fashioned thee such as thou art, why doest thou worship him? It is (thou wilt answere) for the excellencie of his great Majestie, and for his wonderous nature; I put the case that this be thus, at leastwise thou doest it without hope of any good, and without any perswasion or appearance of profit. There is therefore somewhat that is to be desired for it selfe, the dig∣nitie whereof inuiteth and draweth thee to loue the same, and truly, that is, ho∣nestie. For what is more honest then to bee gratefull? the matter of this vertue extendeth it selfe as farre as our life.

CHAP. XX.

BVt in this good, saith he, there is some profit likewise: for in what vertue is it not? But that is said to be desired for it selfe, which al∣though it haue some commodities without it selfe, is notwith∣standing well pleasing and acceptable, euen when those commo∣dities be remoued and taken away. It is profitable for me to bee thankefull, yet will I be thankefull although it bee to my harme: what seeketh he that is thankefull? Is it to the end that his acknowledgement may get him new friends, and more benefits? what if in so doing he should purchase other mens displeasure? if a man bee assured that hee shall gaine nothing in restoring the good which he hath receiued, but contrariwise that hee shall lo••e much of that he hath alreadie gotten, and hoarded vp in his cosfers; would hee willingly light vpon this los••e? vndoubtedly, that man is vngratefull that fixeth the eye of his desire vpon a second good turne, when hee satisfi••th the first, hoping to make profit of that pleasure, whereof he acquiteth himselfe. I call him vngrate∣full that sitteth by a sick man, and continually attendeth by him, because he is

to make his last will and testament, or hath so much leasure as to thinke of any inheritance or legacie. Although he doe all things which a good friend (or such a one as is mindfull of his duetie) ought to doe, if hee conceiue in himselfe any int••ressable hope, he layeth a snare, or as a fisherman armeth his bait, if he expect and linger after the death of the partie, and houer about his c••rkasse like carion crowes, which stand spying neere at hand for the fall of some cattell by the rot, he will giue an occasion for each man to thinke, that he doth but expect the death of his good friend, and doth but houer and haunt about his perso••. A thankefull heart conceiueth no pleasure, but in the onely vertue of his good intent.

CHAP. XXI.

WIlt thou know that this is true, and that a thankfull man is not cor∣rupted by profit? there are two sorts of thankfull men. He is said to be thankfull, that maketh satisfaction in some sort for that he hath receiued. This man peraduenture may vaunt himselfe, he hath somewhat whereof to boast, and to speake of. He likewise is called thankfull, that hath receiued a benefit with a good minde, and oweth it with as good. This man hideth himselfe in his owne conscience: but what profit may he reape of an affection so deepely hidden? But that other man, al∣though he wanteth meanes to do more, yet is he thankful: he loueth, he oweth, he desireth to yeeld satisfaction, what aske you more? he is not wanting to him∣selfe. A workeman is a workeman, although he want his tooles to exercise his Art; and a cunning Musitian is a Musitian, although his very voice cannot be heard for muttering and noise that is made about him. I will giue thankes for the good that is done me: after this there remaineth something for me to doe, not that I may be thankfull, but really acquit of my obligation. For oftentimes hee that recompenceth is not thankefull, and contrariwise, many that doe it not,* 1.11 are thankfull. For as of all other vertues, so the whole estimation of this hath re••erence to the minde, if she be obseruant of that which concerneth her, whatsoeuer otherwise is deficient, is the errour of Fortune. Euen as a man cea∣seth not to be eloquent, although he be silent, nor strong, although his hands be bound and fettered, neither a good Pilate, although hee be vpon the firme land, because hee wanteth no perfection in his science, although there be some impediment that letteth them from vsing the same. Euen so also is hee thank∣full, that hath onely a will to bee thankfull, and hath no other witnesse of his willingnesse, but himselfe. Nay I will say thus much more, sometimes euen he is thankfull, which seemeth vnthankfull, and whom misdeeming opinion tra∣duceth for the contrarie.* 1.12 Wherein then reposeth this man his trust, but in his conscience, which reioyceth in it selfe, although it bee oppressed, which reclai∣meth and gain-sayeth all that eloquence can vrge, or fauour detract: and repo∣seth all things in her selfe? And though she seeth neuer so huge a multitude of men that reproue her intentions, she maketh no reckoning of the contrary opi∣nions, but thinketh to iustifie her selfe in her owne secret iudgement. And al∣beit she perceiue, that her faithfulnes beare the punishment of perfidiousnes, yet she abateth no whit of her courage, neither is abashed thereat, but standeth still aloft, aboue her punishment.

CHAP. XXII.

I Haue (saith he) that which I would, and that which I desired: I haue not as yet repented me, neither will I euer repent my s••lf•••• neither shall Fortune (how aduerse soeuer she be) 〈…〉〈…〉 this pusillanimitie, as to make me say•• What is that I intended? where•••• hath my good will now profited me•• It profitteth me when I am on the rack••: it profitteth me being in the middest of the fire, which if it should be applied to euery member of my bodie, and by little and little should en••••rone and deuoure the same on euery side, although my body (fraugh••••d with a good conscience) should be put into a fl••ming fire, and tortured and burned therein, yet would the fire be pleasing to me, because thorow it my spotlesse ••aith would shine and appeare. I will now once more reinforce that argument which I haue vsed in times past. Why is it, that when we die we are desirous to be gratefull? Why examine we euery particular mans deserts? Why endeuour we to refresh the memorie of all our life past, to this intent, that we might seeme to be forget∣full of no mans kindnesse. At that time there remaineth nothing for hope to linger vpon, and yet standing at the pits brim, our desire is to depart this world, to euery mans satisfaction. The reason is, because the proper act of thankesgi∣uing draweth with it a most great reward of it selfe, and the force of vertue is very great, to draw mens hearts vnto it, and the beautie of honestie so enuiro∣neth and surpriseth mens mindes, that it rauisheth them with the admiration of the light and brightnesse thereof, yea many commodities ensue thereby. For the life of such as are honest is more secured and innocent; which is accompani∣ed with a thankefull soule, and out of feare. Nature had dealt vniustly with v••, if she had made vs partakers of so great a benefit, with miserie, danger, and vncer∣taintie. But,* 1.13 consider I pray you, although thou mightest easily, and without danger attaine very often to this vertue by an assured and easie way, whether thou couldest not find in thy heart to make thy way thereunto, by vnaccessible rockes, through stony wayes, full of Serpents and sauage beasts.

CHAP. XXIII.

YEt ought we not to say, that a thing should not be desired for the loue of it selfe, because it is accompanied with some forraine pro∣fit that attendeth it. For wee see almost daily, that the fairest things are accompanied with accessary endowments, but yet so as they draw these commodities after them, and they them∣selues goe before. May it be doubted, but that the course and circular motion of Sunne and Moone, doe temperate this dwelling place of mankind by their diuers changes? Or that by the heate of the Sunne, all bodies are cherished, the earth is relaxed and opened, superfluous moistures abated, and the irkesomenes of Winter that bindeth all things allayed, or that by the effectuall and piercing warmth of the Moone the ripening fruits are moistened? Or that the fruitful∣nes of man is answerable and correspondent to her course: or that the Sunne by his proper motion maketh the yeare discerneable and the Moone by her cir∣cumuolution in shorter space maketh the month. But admit you take these ver∣tues from the Moone, were not the Sunne of it selfe worthy to bee beheld and

admired in our sight, though he did but swiftly passe before our eyes. Were not the Moone to be admired by vs, although shee ranne by vs but as an idle Star? When the heauen by night time darteth out his lights, when we behold such an infinity of Starres shine vpon vs,* 1.14 who is hee that is not rauished to behold them? Who is he that seeing himselfe to be surprised by so great a wonder, hath leisure at that time to thinke on the good and profit that they bring? Behold, those Starres that glide aloft in the still firmament, after what sort hide they their swiftnesse, vnder an appearance of a standing and immooueable worke? How much is done this night, which thou obseruest onely for a reckoning and difference from the dayes? What a troope of things are vnfolded vnder this si∣lence? What an order of destinies doth this certaine bound bring forth? These things which thou beholdest no otherwise, but as matters dispersed for beauti∣fying, are euery one of them occupied in working. For thou canst not imagine that the seuen Planets onely haue their designed motions, and the rest stand fixed, will comprehend the motion of very fewe. But there is an infinite num∣ber of* 1.15 gods, which are farre seuered and withdrawen from our sight, which both goe and come. And of those which are subiect to our sight there are di∣uers, that haue obscure motions and hidden courses. What then shouldest thou not bee strooken with admiration to behold so huge a worke, yea though it ruled thee not, preserued thee not, cherished thee not, ingendered thee not by his winds, and moystned thee not by the ayre?

CHAP. XXIIII.

NOw, euen as these things, although they haue their first and prin∣cipall vses, and are both necessarie and profitable for our life yet it is the maiesti•• of them that occupieth the whole minde. Euen so all vertue (and especially the vertue of gratefulnesse) yeeldeth very much profit, yet will it not be loued for the same; for it hath yet a further thing in it, neither is it sufficiently vnderstood by him, which ac∣counteth it amongst gainefull things. Is a man thankfull because it concerneth his owne profit? Ergo, also he is thankefull, but for so much as implieth his pro∣fit. Vertue entertaineth not a couetous and base minded Louer, shee will bee courted with open hands and a liberall heart. The vngratefull man thinketh thus: I would faine requite the curtesie I haue receiued, but I feare the charge and ex∣pence, I feare the perill, I am affraide of displeasure, I will rather doe that which is more profitable and secure for me. One and the same cause and reason, cannot make a man thankefull, and vngratefull: as their actions are diuers, so their intentions are different. The one is vngratefull although it behoueth him not, because it is for his profit, the other is gratefull although it bee against his profit, because he ought so to be.

CHAP. XXV.

WEe are resolued to liue conformable and agreeable to nature, and to follow the example of the gods. But in all that whatsoeuer the gods doe, they follow nothing else, but the reason of doing that they doe, except hapily thou imaginest, that they receiue the fruit of their labours out of the smoake of i••••railes, and the

odour of the incense which is consumed in their sacrifices. Consider how great things they atchiue and compasse daily, with what aboundant fruites they re∣plenish the earth, with how seasonable and fauourable winds (fitly seruing to conuey vs into all forraine Coasts) turne they and mooue they the Seas, with how many and sudd••n showers mollifie they and moysten they the earth, and replenish the dried vaines and fountaines, and renew them by infusing nutri∣ment, by the hidden and secret Spring-heads. All these things doe they with∣out any recompence, and without any profit that may accrue vnto them. This example also ought our reason to obserue (if it disagree not from this patterne and president) lest it follow honest things, as if hired and engaged. Let vs be a∣shamed to sell the least courtesie that we do. The Gods expect no recompence for that they doe. If thou wilt imitate the Gods (saith hee) thou must pleasure euen those that are vnthankfull: for the Sunne riseth vpon the wicked, and Pi∣rats haue the sea open vnto them.

CHAP. XXVI.

IN this place they demand whether a good man may imploy his benefits on an vnthankfull man, knowing him to be such a one? Giue me leaue to speake somewhat by the way, lest I be entang∣led with a doubtfull question. There are, according to the opini∣on of the Stoicks,* 1.16 two sorts of vngratefull men. The one vngrate∣full, because he is a foole, and wanteth iudgement; but he that is a foole, is con∣sequently euill, and an euill man is replenished with all kinds of vices, and there∣fore is vngratefull. In like manner wee terme euill men intemperate and disso∣lute, couetous, prodigall, and malicious, not that these great and notorious vi∣ces are incident to euery euill man, but because they may be, and are in them, though vndiscouered. The other is vngratefull, which in all mens iudgement and voices is termed so; and for that by nature he is prone and inclined thereun∣to. To that vngratefull man, that so is not free from this vice, as he is free from no vice, a good man may doe a courtesie and kindnesse: for should he but reiect those of this condition, he should doe good vnto no man? But vnto this vngrate∣full man, which is a defrauder of benefits, who naturally hath his heart addicted to ingratitude, he shall no more giue a benefit, then to trust his money to a ban∣querout, or leaue a pledge in his hands, who hath heretofore defrauded many others of their right. We call him coward who is a foole; for this followeth those wicked persons,* 1.17 who are indifferently seazed of all kinds of vices: but pro∣perly we account and call him a coward, who naturally is affrighted with the the least trifling noice he heareth. So a foole hath all vices, but is not naturally wicked vnto all: one is subiect to auarice, the other to prodigalitie and outrage∣ous expences, the other to shamelesse petulancie and wantonnesse.

CHAP. XXVII.

THey then are deceiued, who question with the Stoickes after this manner.* 1.18 What then, is Achilles a coward? What then, is A∣ristides (to whom Iustice gaue his name) vniust? What then, is Fabius (who by cunctations and delay, restored his decaying Common-weale) rash? What then, feareth Decius death? is

Mutius a traytor? is Camillus a forsaken? Noe, we intend no such matter; nei∣ther say we that all sorts of vices are so inseparably vnited in all men, as in some there are particular faults, and they more eminent. But this we say, that a foo∣lish and wicked man is subiect and enclined to all vices, in so much as we acquit not the bold man of feare, nor discharge the prodigall man of niggardize. Euen as man is naturally endowed with all his fiue senses,* 1.19 and yet all men are not so quick-sighted as Linceus: so he that is a foole hath not all vices, so vehement and disordinate as some of them, haue some vices. All vices are in all men; yet are not all of them eminent in euery man. Nature impelleth one man vnto coue∣tousnesse, this man to lust, that man she addicteth to wine, or if not as yet addi∣cted, yet is he so formed, that his disposition draweth him thereunto. For this cause (that I may returne vnto my purpose) I say that there is no man that is not stained with ingratitude, and that is euill: for hee hath all the seeds of wic∣kednesse in him, yet properly he is called vngratefull, who is more inclined to that vice. On such a one therefore will I bestow no benefit. For like as hee hath very little care of his daughter, that marieth her to a contumelious and often-di∣uorced husband: and as hee is esteemed an ill husband and housholder, who preferreth to the stewardship of his house, and gouernment of his patrimony to one alreadie condemned for ill managing his masters businesse. And as he com∣mitteth a great folly, and maketh a mad will, that leaueth such a one Tutor and gouernour of his heire, that hath beene a spoiler, an ouerthrow of innocent Or∣phelins. So shall hee be reputed to bestow his courtesies very inconsiderately, who maketh his choice of vngratefull men, on whom hee may bestow that which is sure will be lost.

CHAP. XXVIII.

THe Gods also (saith he) giue many things to vngratefull men: but these, had they prepared for the good, yet befall they the euill also, because they cannot be separated. And more reason is it to profit the euill for the goods sake, then to abandon the good for the euils sake. So those things thou speakest of the day, the Sun, the entercourse of Winter and Sommer, the temperate sweetenes of the Spring and Autumne, the raines, the water-springs, and the ordinarie blasts of windes, were deuised by the Gods for all men in generall, they could not seuer and se∣parate them, onely for those they intended good to. The King giueth honors to those that are worthie, but he oftentimes yeelde••h publike larges, and pre∣sents of victuals to those that deserue it not. The theefe, the periured man, the adulterer (prouided alwayes that he be a Citizen) receiued the publike larges of wheat, which is monthly giuen to the people of Rome, without respect of his manners, when there is any thing that is to be bestowed simply, as vpon a Cour∣tizen, and not vpon a good Citizen, both the good and bad receiue the same indifferently. God likewise hath giuen some things in generall to all mankind, from whence no man is excluded. For it could not be, that the windes should be fauourable to the good, and contrary to the wicked. It was the good and pro∣fit of all nations, that the seas were open and nauigable, for the good of the mer∣chants traffique, and to extend the Kingdome of mankind. Neither could there a law be prefixed to the raine, that it should not as well water and ouerflow the lands of the wicked and vniust. There are certaine things which are common,

both to the one, and to the other. Cities are built, as well to entertaine the good, as the euill: the monuments of learned mens wits are published and vented a∣broad, to be read as well to the reprobate, as the vertuous. Medicine ministreth helpe euen to the most debauched. No man euer concealed the composition of wholesome medicines, for feare lest the vnworthie should bee healed. Seeke thou a strict account and valuation of persons, in those things which are giuen seuerally vnto a man, as a man worthie, and not in these things which confused∣ly admit the common sort. For there is a great difference betwixt chusing a man, and not repulsing him. The law is open to all men, the murtherers them∣selues enuie the peace, and they which haue stolne another mans goods, reco∣uer their owne. Such as are quarrellers, and readie to strike any man in time of peace, are defended from the enemie with a wall in time of warre. Those that haue most oftentimes offended the lawes, are maintained and conserued with all assurance, vnder the authoritie thereof. In briefe there are some, though of that nature, that they could not be applied to some persons in particular, ex∣cept they were granted vnto all in common. There is no cause therefore, why thou shouldest dispute of these things, whereunto we are publikely induced. That which in my choice and iudgement I would giue to any vertuous man, I will carefully prouide that I cast it not away on such a one, whom I know to be vngratefull.

CHAP. XXIX.

WIlt thou not then (saith hee) giue counsell to an vngratefull man, who would take thine aduice in his affaires: nor permit him to draw water out of thy fountaines: nor shew him the way if he be out of it? or wouldest thou doe these things for an vngratefull man, yet refuse him afterwards all other sorts of good? I will distinguish in this point, or at least-wise I will end••uour to distinguish the same. A benefit is a pro∣fitable worke,* 1.20 but euery profitable worke is not a benefit. For some things are of so small moment, that they deserue not the name of a benefit. Two things must concurre in making of a benefit. First, the greatnesse of the thing, for some things there are, that vndergoe the measure of this name: who euer accounted it a benefit, to haue giuen a shiue of bread, or a peece of bare money, or to haue permitted a neighbour to enter and kindle fire in his house•• And yet sometimes these things do a man more pleasure then farre greater: but the b••senes of them diminisheth their reputation, euen then, when the necessiti•• of the time ma∣keth them needfull. Againe, we ought to consider that which is principall and of greatest force: which is first of all, that I do it for loue of that person, to whom I would giue my benefit, and whom I account worthy to rec••iue the same. Fi∣nally, that I doe it with a good will•• and that I feel•• in my selfe a great ioy and pleasure that I doe it. Of which points there are none at all in these things that we speake of; for we bestow them not as vpon worthy men, but carelessely as small things, and we giue it not vnto the man, but vnto humanitie.

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CHAP. XXX.

I Denie not but that sometimes I may bestow some things on those that are vnworthy for other mens sakes. As oft-times in the pur∣suit of honours and dignities, the ancient Nobilitie of houses hath beene the cause, that those men were preferred, who were vnprofi∣table, and of base estimation, before those that were learned and of good spirits.* 1.21 Not without cause is the memorie of great vertues sacred; and many men affect goodnesse with greater delight, when they perceiue that the honor of good men dieth not with them. What merit made Ciceroes sonne Con∣sull, but the memorie of his father? What thing is it that caused Cinna of late (returning from the Enemies campe) to be honored with the Consulship? why was Sextus Pompey,* 1.22 and the rest, that haue borne the name of the Pompeis, pre∣ferred in the like maner, but for the excellencie and vertue of one onely man, whose greatnesse was so great, that his ruine & death could raise so many of his posteritie, to so worthie estimation? What made Fabius Persicus lately (that was so hateful in the most abi••ctest mens eies, that they disdayn'd to kisse him) attain vnto the Priesthood of so many Colledges, but only the same of the Verrucosians and Allobrogicks,* 1.23 & of those three hundred, that opposed one familie against the intrusion of their enemies in their Countries defence? So much ar•• we indebted vnto vertues, that we ought to respect them, not only while they be present, but also when they are most distant & out of sight. Euen as those vertues wrought this effect, that they profited not only one age, but left their benefits behinde them to all ages: so let vs not be gratefull to one age only. This man hath be∣gotten noble children, he is then worthy of good turnes whatsoeuer he himselfe is, because he hath brought forth such. Another is borne of noble Ancestors, whatsoeuer he himselfe is, let him be shrouded vnder the shadow of his Ance∣stors. Like as obscure and vncleane places are lightned by the repercussion of the Sunne-beames,* 1.24 so let idle and vnworthy men bee illustrated by the light of their forefathers.

CHAP. XXXI.

IN this place, my Liberalis, I intend to excuse the goddes. For som∣times we are wont to say, Wherat aymed the prouidence of the goddes, when they committed the gouernement of a Kingdome to* 1.25 Aridaeus handes? Thinkest thou it was giuen him? It be∣fell him for his fathers and his brothers sake. Why gaue shee the Empire of the whole world to Caius Caligula, a man so insatiate of mans bloud, that he commanded the same to bee shed before his eies, as if hee had a desire to drinke and deuoure it with his mouth? What, thinkest thou, that this greatnesse was giuen him for his owne merit? No, it was giuen to his father Germanicus; it was for his grand-fathers, and great grand-fathers sake, and to o∣thers no lesse famous men their pred••cessors, although they led a priuate and ordinary life. What, when thou madest Scaurus Mamercus Consull, didst thou not know, that he receiued with open mouth the monthly excrements of his vnchaste chamber-maids? For did he dissemble? Would he seeme to be pure? I will relate vnto thee a speech of his owne, which was ordinarie in euery mans

mouth in my remembrance, and was commended in his owne presence: Asini∣us Pollio being on a time laid vpon his bed ••he said vnto him (but with wordes vnworthy to be named) that he would do that vnto him, which he had rather suffer himselfe. And seeing that Pollio was displeased therewith, and that hee began to ••••nd his browes. If I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 spoken any euill (s••id he) I 〈…〉〈…〉 vpon me and on my head.* 1.26 This saying of his ••e himselfe bla••ed 〈…〉〈…〉 thou admitted a man so openly shamelesse & im••udent to the Mac•••• 〈…〉〈…〉∣bunal of Consuls? Verily when thou b••though•••••• thee of that old 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the Prince or prime man of the S••nate in times pa••••s ••hou could•••• not suffer his race and posteri••ie to be ab••sed or extinguished.

CHAP. XXXII.

EAsie it is for vs to percol••e how the godd••s deal•• more ••auour••∣bly with some for the merits and deserts of their fat••••r••, and pre∣decessors, and with other some for the towardnesse that shall be in their children, and childrens children•• and in those that here∣after shall descend from their post••ritie. For they know the suc∣cessiue order of their workes, and they hau•• an infallible science of all those things which are to passe thorow their hands, although they are f••rre remo•••• from our knowledge and vnderstanding.* 1.27 The things that we suppose to be ca∣suall and sudden, are foreseene and familiar to them. Le•• these be Kings (s••y they) because their ancestors haue not beene, but imagined it to be a true King∣dome, to be iust and abstinent. And because they haue not vsed the common-weale for their profits, but dedicated their persons to the seruice and increase thereof. Let these men raigne because some good man was their great grand∣father, whose mind was greater then his fortune, who in ciuill discentions chose rather to be vanquished, then to vanquish; because it stood with the profit of the Common-wealth. His goodnesse could not be requited all this whil•••• In respect of that man, let this man haue pr••h••minence ouer others, no•• because ••e is of knowledge and ability how to vse it, but because the other hath deserued ••t for him: for peraduenture this man is in body mis••apen, in count••••ance lo••th∣som, and will be a slander to the place and persons of his aduancement. * 1.28 Now will men finde fault with me, and say, that I am blinde, and rash, and ignorant where to bestow the things that are due to the chiefest and excellentest persons. But I know that the giuing of this thing to the one, is a satisfaction of it to the o∣ther, to whom it was due long since. Whereby doe they knowe such a certaine man, who was such a contemner of glorie, when it followed him, that he a••∣uentured vpon perill with the same countenance that others escape it, and th••t neuer made difference betwixt his owne profite and the profite of the Com∣mon-wealth? Where is this man? who is he? how know you him? Th••se ••••••∣konings of such receipts and payments are striken out of my bookes•• I know what and to whom I owe. To some I make payment after long time, to other some I giue aforehand, or else I deale with them according as occasion and the vtility of my common-wealth requireth.

CHAP. XXXIII.

SOme things I will then giue to an vngratefull man, yet will I not giue it for his owne sake. But if (saith he) thou knowest not whether he be thankefull or vngratefull; wilt thou expect vntill thou know the same? or wilt thou not lose the opportunity of giuing the benefite? It is too long to expect: for (as Plato saith) it is hard to coniecture what a mans mind is, and not to exspect is rashnesse. To him we will answere, that we will neuer expect a certaine comprehension and knowledge of things, because it is a difficult matter to finde out the truth; but that we follow that way whereunto the similitude of truth leadeth vs. All mens offices and actions proceed this way; vnder this hope we sow our lands: thus ••aile we, thus vndertake we war, thus marrie we, thus bring we vp our children; wheras the euent of all these is vncertaine. To those things addresse we our en∣terprises, whereof we beleeue that we may hope the best. For who can warrant a rich haruest to him that soweth, a safe Port to him that saileth, victory to him that warreth, a modest wife to him that marrieth, toward children to him that begat them? We follow those things whereunto reason induceth vs, not those whereunto truth draweth vs. If thou expectest to do nothing except thou be secured of the good successe, if thou lingerest vntill such time as thou hast found out the truth, thy life will become vnprofitable and idle, neyther shalt thou e∣uer dare or attempt any thing: whilst the appearance of truth impelleth me to doe this or that, I will not feare to giue a benefite to him, who in my opinion and in all likelyhood, will approue himselfe thankefull.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

MAnie things may chance (saith he) wherby we may take a bad man to be good, a good man to be bad, because the appearances of things wherunto we giue credite do oftentimes deceiue vs. Who denieth this? But I find nothing else, by which I should gouerne my thoughts. By these foot-steps must I pursue the truth; more assured I haue none. This will I endeauo••r to examine with all diligence, ney∣ther will I assent vnto them ouer quickly. For so may it fall out in warre, that being deceiued by some false appearance, I may aime mine arrow against my fellow Souldier, leauing mine enemie vntouched and in safetie, but this both seldom times falleth out, and not by mine error: whose purpose was to wound mine enemie, and defend my fellow Citizen. If I know him to be vngratefull I will giue him no benefit. But he cosened me, he deceiued me; here is no fault of him that giueth, for I gaue it as to a thankefull man. But if (saith hee) thou hast promised to doe a man a pleasure, and afterwards thou findest him to bee vngratefull, wilt thou giue it or no? if thou doest it thou offendest willingly, for thou giuest to him, thou oughtest not to giue: if thou deniest, in this case like∣wise thou offendest, because thou performest not that which thou hast firmely promised.* 1.29 Your sect in this place staggereth and trippeth, and that proud pro∣mise of theirs, that a wise man neuer repenteth himselfe of that which hee hath done; neither euer reformeth his actions, nor changeth his counsaile, begin∣neth to be shaken. A wiseman changeth not his counsaile, as long as the cause

and circumstances continue the same, as they were when he determined. And therefore neuer repenteth he himselfe in any thing, because nothing could bee better done at that time then was done, nor nothing better ordered then that which was ordered. Finally, all things hee vndertaketh, he attempteth them with this condition, if nothing fall out that may interrupt his sage designe••. And therefore say we, that all things befall him to his wish, that nothing hath be••••••ed him contrarie to his expectation, because he presumeth in his minde, that sun∣drie things may fall out which may crosse his purpose. Fooles are they, that are too confident, and who promise vnto themselues ouer peremptorily, that Fortune will fauour them, but a wise man considereth her both waye•• hee know••th very well what sway error beareth, how vncertaine worldly things be, and how many things hinder mens determinations: he followeth variable Fortune, and the hazards of humane affaires, with an vncertaine and doubtfull hope, expecting with assured counsaile the vncertaine ends therof. But the con∣ditions, without which he beginneth and enterpriseth nothing, warrantise him sufficiently herein.

CHAP. XXXV.

I Haue promised to doe a pleasure, except there fall out some oc∣casion wherby I am letted from giuing that I intended•• but what if the Common-weale command me to giue that vnto her which I haue promised my friend, if a publique law bee made that no man shall do that which I haue promised my friend to performe. I haue past my word to giue thee my Daughter in marriage, and afterwards thou art conuicted to be a forrainer, with whom wee are forbidden to contract matrimonie. The law that prohibiteth, that, defendeth also my cause: then shall I breake my word, then shall I bee iustly taxed with inconstancie; if all the circumstances continuing as they were when I promised, I neglect to performe the same: Because otherwise whatsoeuer thing is changed, giueth me libertie to determine anew, and dischargeth mee of my former obligation. I haue pro∣mised to pleade thy cause, and afterwards I finde that the prosecution ther••of will in the end redound to my fathers preiudice.* 1.30 I haue promised thee to take •• long iourney with thee, but afterwards vpon better instructions, I vnderstand that the way is dangerous and full of thiefes, I intended presently to come and visit thee about thine instant businesse, but my childs sicknesse, or my wifes fal∣ling in labour, kept me at home. All things ought to be in the same estate, they were, when I promised thee, if thou wilt that my faith bee obliged vnto thee. But what greater change may there happen then if hereafter I am infor∣med that thou art an vngratefull and wicked man? That which I gaue thee, as to a worthy man, I will refuse thee as a man vnworthy, and further more I shall haue a iust cause to be angrie with thee, because thou hast deceiued me.

CHAP. XXXVI.

YEt will I nearely examine the greatnesse of that I haue promi∣sed. The valew of the thing, which I haue promised to bestow, shall giue mee counsaile. If it be a small matter, I will giue it; not because hee is worthy, but because I haue promised. Neither will I giue it as a benefit, but only to redeeme my word, and hereaf∣ter will I take better heede, and by my losse I will chastise my rashnesse in pro∣mising; and to the end I may haue a more feeling and sensible apprehension of the same, and henceforward be more circumspect in that I speake, I will, (as the common prouerbe saith) pay a fine for my tongue. But if it be a thing of grea∣ter price, I would not, (as Mece••as saith) spend two hundreth and fiftie thou∣sand crownes, to buy mine owne blame: I will diligently compare both these things betweene themselues. It is something to keepe a mans word when hee hath promised, and againe it importeth very much to take care that wee giue to such a one as deserueth the same: yet must we cōsider how great our promise is: If it be a thing of small valew, I will giue it as though I winked thereat. But if it may be either greatly to my losse, or greatly to my shame. I had rather ex∣cuse my selfe once for not doing it, then condemne my selfe alwaies for giuing it. In briefe, all the waight of the matter consisteth (as I say) in this to know of what valew and estimate the promise is that I haue made. For I will not only re∣taine that which I haue rashly promised, but I will redemand also that which I haue giuen amisse. He is out of his wits, that binds his faith for an error.

CHAP. XXXVII.

PHILIP of Macedon had a valiant and braue Souldier, who had faithfully serued him in all his warres, to whom in remuneration of his vertue, he had often-times giuen a good part of that which he had taken from the enemie, & incouraged him with rewards, he being a man of a mercinarie minde. It fortuned that this Soul∣dier was shipwrackt and cast away at Sea, and that the tempest and billowes cast him on the shoare neare to a certaine Macedonians dwelling place, who being ad∣uertised of this his fortune, ranne vnto him, and recouered him to life, being well-nigh dead. He caried him vnto his owne house, he lodged him in his owne bedde: he entertained this forlorne man so carefully and kindly, that hee reco∣uered his forces, he maintayned him thirtie dayes at his owne charge, hee relie∣ued his necessitie, and gaue him monie and meanes to bring him back againe to the armie. This Souldier, vpon his departure, told him this very often; If I euer chance to see my Prince againe, I will requite this thy kinde entertainement. Cer∣taine dayes after being arriued at the campe, hee failed not to tell Philip of his vnhappie shipwrack, but he concealed who had succoured him, and forthw••••h besought him to giue him a certaine mans lands, and this was his heritage who had so graciously entertained him, and with so much care and diligence had preserued him from death. You may see (by the way) how Kings now and then, (but especially in warre) giue many things, their eyes being shut: no one

man alone is able to satisfie so many armed desires; there is not any man that at one time can be a good man, and a good Generall. How shall so many thou∣sands of vnsatiable men bee satisfied? what shall they haue if euery man may keepe his owne? This said Philip to himselfe, when he commanded him to bee put in possession of those Lands he demanded. This man thus violently thrust out of his possessions, smothered and smoohed vp this iniurie, not as a Clowne, but with much silence & sufferance, contenting himselfe with this; that though they had vsurped his possessions, they had not restrained him of his libertie, and priuily wrote a short and stout letter vnto Philip,* 1.31 wherein he discouered the iniury which was done him, vpon the reading whereof, Philip was so displeased, that he presently commanded Pausanias to restore the land to the former Lord, and as for the other reprobate and dishonest Souldier, vngratefull guest, and co∣uetous cast-away, to brand him in the forehead, to witnesse that hee was an vn∣gratefull and vnthankefull guest. Truly, he was worthy, not that these letters should be written, but engrauen on his forehead, that expulsed and exposed his Host, like to a naked and shipwrackt-wretch, on that very shore, where once he had succoured him. We shall afterwards see what more greater punishment he deserued: meane while those goods were to be taken from him, which hee had so iniuriously vsurped.* 1.32 And who would be moued at his punishment, who had committed such a hainous crime, that might be the cause, that no man hereafter would count miserable the miserie of the most miserable?

CHAP. XXXVIII.

SHal Philip be cōstrained to performe his word vnto thee, because he hath promised thee, although he ought not to do that, though he iniury another man, though he cōmit a hainous crime, although by this one act of his, he locketh vp the hauens, and shutteth vp theports against those that are shipwrackt? It is no point either of lightnesse or inconstancie, for a man to forsake a knowne and condemned er∣rour. And a man ought ingeniously to confesse and say, I thought otherwise, I am deceiued. But this is a perseuerance in an arrogant foolishnesse to say, That which I haue spoken once, whatsoeuer it bee, I will abide by it, and make good my word. It is no shame to change a mans opinion, when the businesse is chan∣ged. Go to, if Philip had left him in possession of these demeasnes, and that sea-coast which he had gotten by his shipwracke, had he not barred all misera∣ble men from reliefe? It is better (saith he) that thou shouldest carry throughout my kingdome these letters ingrauen in thy most shamelesse forehead, more worthy to be written in thine eyes. Shew thou in thy punishment, how sacred a thing the table of hospitalitie is. Let all the world reade this my law, enregi∣stred in thy countenance, by which is decreed, that it is no capitall matter, to entertaine any miserable person into a mans house. So shall this constitu∣tion of mine bee more strongly ratified, then if I had engrauen the same in brasse.

CHAP. XXXIX.

WHy then (saith he) did your Zeno, when he had promised a certain man to lend him fiue hundred pence, and had found him to bee insufficient, and not able to repay him, contrary to the aduice of his friends, who coūselled him not to do it, perseuered in trusting him, because he had promised him? First there is one condition in a debt, another in a benefit. If I haue lent my money to an euill debter, yet haue I meanes to recouer it againe: I may call any debter into iustice, when the terme of payment is come, and if he break or play the banquerupt, I shal haue a portion of my debt, but the benefit is wholly lost instātly. Moreouer, this is the act of an euil man, that of a bad husband. Again, neither would Zeno haue perse∣uered to credit him, if the summe had bin greater, it was but fiue hūdred pence; put case (as it is commonly said) that he had spent it in a sicknes, was it so much worth not to reuoke his promise. I will come to supper (although it bee cold) because I haue promised, but if it snowed or were bad weather, I would not step out of my doores. I will arise out of my bed to accompany a Bridall, because I haue promised (although I haue not sufficiently slept or disgested my meat) but not at all, if a fauor surprise me. I will come and giue my word for thee, because I haue promised, but not if thou wouldest make me stand bound for an vncertain thing, or if thou wilt bind me to the Exchequer. I tell thee there is alwayes a secret condition implied; so I be able•• so it bee lawfull. If thou wilt haue mee keepe my promise, set the matter in the same state, that it was in when thou de∣mandedst, that it was in when I promised. It can be no point of lightnesse to dis∣appoint one,* 1.33 if there happen any alteration by the way: why wonderest thou if I change my counsell, when the conditions of my promise are changed? I am readie at this time to be the same I was then, if thou shew me all things in that estate I left them: wee promise to make appearance for my friend, yet is it not performed. For if there be any one that is hindered by force, or by a lawfull cause he is excused by essoyne.

CHAP. XL.

THe same also will serue for an answere to this demand; whether a courtesie is to be requited in any wise, or whether a benefit bee euery way to be restored? I am bound to yeeld a thankfull heart, but sometimes mine infelicitie suffereth me not to make requi∣tall; and sometimes his felicitie, to whom I am indebted: for what can I, being poore, restore to a King or a rich man? whereas some suppose it to be an iniurie to receiue a benefit, and benefits doe alwayes burthen the receiuer with other benefits. What other satisfaction can I make vnto such a person, then to be willing to acknowledge their goodnesse. For I ought not to reiect his new benefit, because I haue not satisfied for the former, I wil receiue as willing∣ly as it is giuen me: I will offer my selfe vnto my friend as a sufficient matter, to exercise vpon me all his good thoughts, and liberalitie. He that will not receiue new courtesies, is offended with the old. I, but I render not the like: what is that to the purpose? the delay is not in me, if either occasion faile, or abilitie be wanting: when he did me a pleasure, he had the meanes and the commoditie.

He that hath done it, is either a good or an euill man; if he be a good man, my case and cause is good enough; if hee bee an euill man, I will not pleade before him: neither thinke. I it meete also to be ouer hastie in yeelding recompence, contrary to the mindes of those who haue done vs pleasure, or that we impor∣tune them to receiue, when they are vnwilling to take it. It is no requitall of a good turne, to render that which thou hast willingly receiued, to him that is vnwilling to accept the same. There are some, who if a friend send them some little present, doe suddenly after requite them with another, to the end they may vaunt they are not any wayes obliged.* 1.34 This is a kinde of refusall, when a man will make requitall so soone, and by this meanes deface so suddenly one present by another. Sometimes also I will not restore a benefit, when I am able; namely, when I shall detract more from my selfe, and doe my selfe, more hinde∣rance, then I shall profit him; when as he shall feele himselfe nothing a∣mended by receiuing it, and I shall finde my selfe greatly im∣paired by forgoing it. He then that hasteth to restore and requite a kindnesse, hath not the minde of a gratefull man, but of a debter. And to con∣clude in few words, he that is desirous to pay ouer soone, doth owe vn∣willingly; hee that vnwil∣lingly oweth, is vn¦gratefull.

The end of the fourth Booke.

Notes

• * 1.1

  These are the E∣picures reasons, full of blasp••e∣mie and impie∣tie.
• * 1.2

  In this Chapter followeth a no∣bl•• contemplati∣on of Gods bene∣fits, and mens negligence, and carelesse consi∣deration ••herof.
• 2 1.3

  Georg.
• * 1.4

  Virg. 1. ••cl••g.
• * 1.5

  The method of restitution.
• * 1.6

  That is, our selues dying. See Lipsius his note.
• * 1.7

  Good deeds are not to be done and per••ormed eyther for asse∣••••ation or vaine∣glory, but for vertues sake.
• * 1.8

  Mango is one that properly selleth slaue••, young boyes or girls, as their old custome was.
• * 1.9

  An vngratefull man neither feareth nor oweth.
• * 1.10

  It is not in••ēded that the iust mā hath no feare of God, if ••eare be taken for one of the seuen guifts of the holy Ghost: but this place is to be vnderstood that loue, which is not cōpatible with that loue wherewith good men loue God, but with him is a seruile ••eare, which is not of children, but of slaues.
• * 1.11

  The mind and intent crowneth the action.
• * 1.12

  A good cōscience contemneth op∣pression being e∣rect and con••ir∣med in it selfe.
• * 1.13

  Innocence in dā∣ger is confident, in prosperitie milde, in all en∣counters happy.
• * 1.14

  Admiration of these things ac∣companied with deuotion, what admirable ••ffects w••rke they in the Soule?
• * 1.15

  A Stoicall er∣ror, who ascribe Deitie to the Starres.
• * 1.16

  What a burthen hath iniquitie on his backe?
• * 1.17

  The description of a Coward.
• * 1.18

  For he was cal∣led Aristides Iustus.
• * 1.19

  An apt simili∣tude.
• * 1.20

  T•••• difference betweene a pro∣fitable worke and a benefit.
• * 1.21

  Honour enkind∣••••th good spirits, and maketh la∣bour pleasing.
• * 1.22

  This Sextus Pompey was the Sonne of Sextus Pom∣peius, who was Consul the yeare 1218.
• * 1.23

  These were of the Fabian Familie.
• * 1.24

  It is some part of happinesse to be borne of good parents.
• * 1.25

  Alexanders Brother.
• * 1.26

  This speech is obiected, not to Liberalis, but to prouidence.
• * 1.27

  All these reasons he vrgeth in the person of God.
• * 1.28

  From hence, to the end of the Chapter all is disioynted.
• * 1.29

  Sapientis est mutare consiliū.
• * 1.30

  The law of bountie is limi∣ted by circum∣stances.
• * 1.31

  A lesson for Princes that are o••tentimes thus deluded and blinded.
• * 1.32

  The reason why this vngratefull man was to be punished.
• * 1.33

  The condition of the Prince may alter the Counsell.
• * 1.34

  Ha••tie returne of fauour is ra∣ther a defacing of a benefit, then a satisfaction.