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.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

AND this Booke is to bee numbered amongst those that are profitable and worthie both for their matter and handling. It was written in the begin∣ning of his returne from his banishment when he was admitted to the Court and preferred to be NEROES Schoolemaster. This appeareth by these words, in his first Chapter. This dissolution abashed me, and this a∣bundance of delight spreading it selfe, and sounding round about mee, rauished me, comming from a place where I had long time setled my selfe to liue in obscuritie. Hee toucheth and taxeth the dissolution of the Court, which before times was vnknowne and hatefull vnto him. The order in the handling hereof is confused, yea scarcely is there any, and an ouer sight or defect vnlesse I be deceiued, appeareth in many thinges. But this is the summe hereof. The occasion of his writing, he draweth from his inconstan∣cie and irresolution, his minde being neyther setled or quiet in any sort. This saith hee is their custome who are in the way to wisdome but haue not as yet attained the same, nor tasted the fruit thereof, which is tranquilitie. O great good, and what is it? he describeth the same. How shall I attaine thereunto? by flying inconstancie, what then is shee? her he punctually describeth she is driuen away by diuers remedies first by occupation and that eyther publique, if the times or thy vnderstanding admit it, or priuate to the end, thou maiest conuerse amongst the best studies and meditations. Yet must not we suddenly flie from the Common-weale, that there are many parts thereof, and that we haue libertie to embrace any one of them. This vntill the fourth Chapter. Then added he if wee intend businesse, three thinges are to be considered our selues, the businesse, or men for whose cause, or with whom we act. In our selues our forces are to be examined, what and how farre they may neither let vs attempt further. In our affaires? what are we able to ouer∣come them, whether likewise there be a chaine of them and whether they lead vs farther that our returnes ought to be alwayes free. In men: whether they be worthie of our labor or expence of time. But they are not vaine, ambitious, neyther occupied in any serious matter. Afterwards in the seuenth Chapter, he addeth but scarce to the purpose. That

an especiall ••nd perfect friend is an entert••inment of tranq••iliti•••• ••nd delight, but such a one as is not of an e••ill disposition, ••nd such ••s ••cc••seth all things•• Againe, there is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 perfect text, and in the eight Chapter of the meanes of Patrimonie, that it bee ••ot great nor small to nourish Tranquilitie, but meane and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and that may bee m••int••ined by Parsimonie. But excesse is to be auoyded, yea in the verie instruments of life, as in o••r Liberaries or Bookes. After this hee ouer slippeth in the tenth Chapter, and prooueth that tro••bles befall in euerie estate of lif••, but that ••hey ••re m••llif••••d by custome, by b••∣holding another mans Fortune, which of times is th•• worst. Likewis•• that desires ••••e not to be banished farre from vs, but best neere vnto ••s, and eas•••• t•• bee l••id hold on. And thus instruct••th ••ee a proficient and young Scholler, for 〈…〉〈…〉 ••eed to fight, for he ouercommeth all Fortune, which he ••ore-thinketh to ••e this or th••t, and by fore-sight thereof m••llifieth and breaketh it. This ••••till the twelfth Chapter. After that another Tract that we are not to tra••ell in vnnecess••rie m••tters, neither as much as in vs lieth, in forraine. He vrgeth DEMO••••••TVS heauenly precept. That many things are not done, either priuately or publiquely Presently•• after 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the fourteenth Chapter, he driueth vs from Leuitie and Pertinacie. That is nei••her busily to change in life, neither if thou hast chosen euil, obstinatly to cleane vnto that, but to behold all things with an equall and almost a pleasing countenance. For what is life, b••t •• iest? L••stly in the sixteenth Chapter that simulation is to bee fled, ••nd too carefull composition of •• mans selfe. Let simplicitie bee entertained and sometimes mirth, yea and sometimes banquet and freer drinking. This drowneth cares, and freeth and extolleth the minde. In the end he concludeth, that he hath set downe what they are that may maintaine tranquilitie, and may restore it, by which you may see what the partition was, but truly it is not exi∣stant at this present. Therefore as many thinges of SENECAES, are the wordes to bee praysed in part, the order of the whole is defectiue, and that eyther by the iniuries of time or at least wise by the negligence of transcriptors.

CHAP. I.

DEbating with my selfe Serenu••,* 1.1 and examining my present life, there were some vices of mine that appeared openly•• and subiect to euery eye, and such as I might touch with the hand, some more obscure and closely hidden, some other that were not continuall, but such as returned at cer∣taine times and spaces; and these of all the rest were most troublesome, because (if I may so speake it) they resembled such enemies, as charge and assault at vnaw••res, which keepe me either from being alwayes ready, as in time of warre; or to liue in security, as I ought to doe, in time of peace: yet principally obserue I this habitude in my selfe, (for why should I not disclose the truth, since thou art my Physitian?) that neither I am truely and intirelie deliuered from these which I feared and hated, neither againe subiect vnto them. I am in your e∣state, that is not altogether so euill; yet doe I nothing but complaine my selfe, neither finde I any thing that may content me•• I am not sicke, and yet I am not well. Thou must not here tell me, that all the beginnings of vertues are fee∣ble, and that in time their continuance and strength is increased: I know well that these things which are of consequence, as honour and reputation, to be e∣loquent,

and all that whereupon our neighbours ground their iudgement, are fortified by time, and those that require some prouision of true force, and they that are farded to please the eyes, respect some yeeres, vntill such time as by little and little they get some time that may giue them tincture. But I feare lest custome which bringeth constancy to things, fixe this imperfection more deepely in me. A long conuersation either with good or euill men induceth loue. But I cannot shew thee so well at once, as in part, what this infirmity of the mind is, which is houered now this way, now that way, without staying it selfe resolutely on that which is good, and without declining also vnto the euill. I will tell thee what befalleth mee, giue my infirmity afterwards what name thou pleasest. Great is my loue to parsimony, I confesse it, I like not a bed am∣bitiously furnished, I like not a garment newly drawne from the coffer, nor brought from the presse where to make it shine; it hath endured a thousand weights and torments; but a homely, rai••ent, proper for the time, that hath not beene horded vp, nor is to be worne with too much care; that meat plea∣seth mee that fewe men may dresse, and lesse pages attend, thats readily pre∣pared, and that passeth through a few mens hands, that is ••asily gotten, and ea∣sily drest, that is neither scanty nor deare, that may bee found in all places, that neither spendeth the patrimony, nor hurteth the body, nor is like to bee re∣turned by the way it entred. I like a homelie and a home-bred seruant, olde and rusticke, plaine, such as my father vsed, without these new fashions, and the workmans marke, a table not checkered nor renowmed amongst the peo∣ple•• because that diuers men had beene masters of it, who loued to make good cheere, but fitte for my vse, which for the beautie thereof shall not bewitch the eyes of my guests with pleasure, nor inkindle them with enuy. After I had taken pleasure to see these things aboue said, a great troupe of yong Pages nourished apart, more diligentlie and costlie apparrelled then they should be in a priuate house; and vassels and slaues garnished with golde, and a troupe of seruants that shined (so neatelie they were attired) sodainelie dazeled mine eies. Furthermore, a house wherein nothing was trod vpon but that which was prec••ous, where riches were scattered in euerie corner of the house, where the roofes shined with gold, and where the flattering people haunted which follow and attend those patrimonies that fall to ruine. Why should I reckon vp the waters so cleare that a man might see the bottome, which incessantlie runne a∣bout those places where the feasts are solemnized? What shall I speake of the banquet, answerable to the rest of the magnificence? the things amazed mee, and this delicious abundance comming to spread it selfe, and to ••ound about me, who came from a place where I haue liued a long time, setled in a solitarie life, rauished me wholly, my sight is dulled somewhat, I more easilie lift vp my mind then mine eies against such pompe, I depart therefore not worse but dis∣content; neither walke I so ioyfull and merrie amidst my brittle houshold-stuffe, and a silent disgust and doubt assaileth me, whether that traine were not better then mine, none of these change me, yet euery one of them shake me. Some∣times I am ready to follow that which my Maisters haue commanded me, & to thrust my selfe into the affaires of estate. I am content to accept of honours and maiestracy, not perswaded to vndertake the same, either for purple ornaments or golden roddes, but that being thus aduanced I might be more propper and better disposed to do pleasures to my friends, my kinsfolke, my Citizens, yea, and all mortall men•• I follow Zeno, Cleanthes, Crysippus, no one of all which in∣termedled with the common-weale, though euery one of them counsailed

others therunto. But when I had induced my mind therevnto, which is not ac∣customed to such debates. If any vnworthy matter present it selfe (as in all hu∣mane life there are too many) or if it go not forward easilie, or that things slight and friuolous require much time to be imployed in them; I returne backe a∣gaine to my solitude, and doe as beasts that are tired and wearied, that run more swiftly then they haue done all the day before when they drawe neare vnto their Stable: then is my mind conceited to containe it selfe within mine owne walles. Let no man hence forward take one day from me, which cannot restore me a sufficient recompēce for so great a losse, let my mind cleaue vnto himselfe, let him seeme himselfe: let him not intend no forraine bu••inesses, nor any thing that is subiect to euery mans censure, let Tranquillitie be loued which is voyde of priuate and publique cares. But when as reading hath roused and lifted vp my mind to more confidence, and noble examples haue pricked me forward•• I take a pleasure to haunt the iudgment court, to lend one man my voice, another man my labour, which although it profit him not, yet was it aimed for his pro∣fit, to restraine another mans pride in the iudgement court, too badly puffed vp by his too great fortunes. In studies me thinkes vndoubtedly that it is better to contemplate the things themselues and to discourse vpon them, and to fit them with conuenient words, so as without search they may bee subiect to the thing that is in question. What neede wee to compose workes that shall con∣tinue for many ages. Wilt thou beat thy braine to the end that men may speake of thee when thou art out of the world! Thou art borne to dye, the secret funerall hath the least troubles. If therfore thou wilt wright any thing to passe the time withall, write it in a simple stile for thine owne vse, not to affect praise. They that studie for a day need no great labour. Againe, when my soule is lifted vp with the greatnesse of thoughts, she is ambitio••s in coying words, and as her conceptions are great, so endeuoureth she to be eloquent; and according to the dignitie of the subiect is the carriage of the stile. Then forgetting this lawe, and this restrained iudgement, I am carried alo••t, and speake now by an∣other mans mouth. And not to prosecute the rest more at large, in all things this infirmity of a good mind altereth me, and I am afraid least it should escape mee by little and little, or (which is yet more tedious) that I am not alwaies in suspence and doubt as he that feareth to fall, and hath as yet no more euill then I could foresee. For we iudge of our priuate affaires and behold them familiar∣ly, and fauo••r is alwaies a hinderance vnto iudgement. I thinke that many men might haue attained wisedome except they had thought that they had attai∣ned the same; except they had dissembled something in themselues, and ouer∣passed some things with open eyes. For thou must not thin••e that other mens flattery maketh vs so euill as our owne doth. What man is he that dare speake truth vnto himselfe? Who is hee that being placed amidst the troopes of his commenders and flatterers, that flattereth not himselfe more then all the rest? I pray thee therefore if thou hast any remedy to stay this debate of my soule, that thou wilt honour me with this good, that I may say that thou art hee that hast set me at quiet. I know well that the motions of my soule are not dange∣rous, prouided that they be not ouer violent. To expresse vnto thee in an apt similitude the matter wherof I complaine, I am not tormented with the storme but I haue a prouocation to vomit. Take from me then this paine whatsoeuer it be, and helpe him that is sicke in the sight of the land.

CHAP. II.

* 1.2TRuely my Serenus I haue long ago sought for such a one without speaking a word of it, that had such and the like thought in his mind. There is nothing that admonisheth me more neerely then their example, who being deliuered from a long and grieuous sicknesse feele as yet by times some shiuering ••nd slight motions, and when as they haue beene freed from the reliques of their infirmitie, yet are they disquieted by some suspitions of a relaps, and being al••eady whole offer their hand to the Phisition to feele their pulse, and suspect euery heat and mo∣tion of their bodies. Such mens bodies Serenus are healthfull enough, yet are they not as yet well accustomed thereto, but haue a certaine trembling agita∣tion, resembling that of the calme sea or some l••ke when a tempest is ceased on it. They haue therefore need not of those harder remedies which we likewise ouer-passe, as in some place to oppose thy selfe against thy passions, in some place to be displeased, in some other place to be more grieuously angry: but we haue most need of that which commeth last, that thou trust thy selfe, and be∣lieuest that thou art in a good way, being no waies distracted by the by-walkes of many men wandring here and there, and of some that erre about the waye. But that which thou desirest which is not to bee shaken, is a great and perfect thing, and approacheth the felicity of God. This stable seate of the mind the Grecians call 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 wherof Democritus hath written an excellent volume. I call it Tranquillity, nether is it necessary to imitate or to mould new words according to their forme. It sufficeth that the thing which is in questiō hath a name which expresseth the force of the Greeke word without representing the letters. So then we demand how the spirit may remaine alwaies like vnto himselfe, march with an equall traine, be fauourable to himselfe, and behold hi•• attempts with a good eye, to be ioyfull and content, neither raising nor depressing himselfe o∣uer-much. This is called Tranquillitie, but let vs enquire in generall how wee may attaine hereunto: thou shalt take as much of the p••blique remedy as thou wilt; meane while I will discouer the whole vice whereby euerie man may know his part, and thou likewise mayst vnderstand how less•• trouble tho•• hast with the loathing of thy selfe, then they who tying themselues to a faire shew, and labouring vnder a great title would willingly discouer themselues, but I know not what shame entertaineth them. All are in the same cause, both they which are vexed with leuity & anxiety, and a cōtinuall change of their p••rpose, who are alwaies better pleased with that which they haue left, and thos•• that watch & gape after vaine hopes. Adde vnto those men likewise who are not trā∣sported in their life by the means of inconstancie but thorow their sloath. They liue not as they would but as they beganne, moreouer there are innumerable other properties, but only one effect of the vice which is to displease themselues. This springeth from the intemperature of the mind & from fearfull and scarce prosperous desires, whereas they dare not as much as they desire, or attaine not the same, and are wholie be••t vpon hope alwaies instable and mutable, which must needes befall those that liue in suspen••••. Their whole life is in expectati∣on, and they teach and inforce themselues to dishonest and difficult things, and whereas their labour is in vaine they are vexed with their fruitlesse disgrace: neither are they sorie because they haue done euill, but that they willed the same in vaine. Then repent they themselues that they had begun and feare

to beginne it againe, and afterward they are surprised with a confusion of the mind which cannot find issue, because they neither can commaund nor obay their desirres, so that they lead a life which cannot bee exempt from confusion, and haue their minds tyed and languishing amidst fruitlesse vowes and desires: and all these are more grieuous vnto them, wh••n as in despight of that misfor∣tune that trauaileth them, they would haue recourse vnto repose, and to secret s••udies which the mind canot endure, that is fixed on the affaires of the world, desirous to be in action, by nature vnqui••t, and hauing little solace in himselfe. And therefore their delights being drawne from them, which their occupati∣ons minis••red vnto them, b••ing busied in certainty therein, the mind endureth neither house nor solitud••, the walles are displeasant to him, and being thus a∣bandoned by himselfe, he vnwillingly beholdeth himselfe. From thence pro∣ceedeth this tediousness••, this contempt of himselfe, this perpetuall agitation of the mind, this sad and feeble patience in repose, especially when hee is asha∣med to confesse the cause, when shame tormenteth him inwardly, when coue∣tous desires close vp his heart, when none of these finding issue strangle one an∣ther. Thence commeth that sadnesse and consumption, and a thousand flouds and assaults of the vncertaine mind, held in suspence by the enterprises he hath begunne, abated by the remembrance of the remedilesse estate of his present affaires. Th••nce groweth that thought which maketh them detest the repose they enioy, complaine themselues that they haue nothing to do••, and to beare endlesse hatred and enuie at other mens prosperitie; For vnhappy idlenesse is the nurse of enuie, and all of them desire to be dead because they could not out∣strippe others. This enuie concieued against other mens fortunes, and his own disgraces causeth the mind to fret and murmure against fortune, to accuse the mallice of the time, to retire himselfe into some corner apart, and to stoope vn∣der his torment in fretting and consuming himselfe. For mans mind is swift and ready to be mooued, and reioyceth very much when any occasion is offered to exercise himselfe. But aboue all others this pleaseth those men that are malig∣nant, whose minds are sharpened and ordinarily whetted in mannaging affaires. Euen as there are certaine vlcers that are glad to bee rubbed, and desire to bee handled, and the itch is not content except a man scratch it; So these spirits which are seazed with desires, as with malignant vlcers, take no pleasure but in trauaile and affliction; For there are certaine infirmities which delight our bo∣dies with a kind of paine, witnesse those that turne themselues on this side, now on that, and refresh themselues in changing their bed. Such was Achilles in Homer, sometimes he lay vpon his belly, then vpon his backe, and could neuer remaine in one ••state. It is the true act of a sicke man not to be able to suffer any thing long time, but to thinke that his health consisteth in his toss••ng and tur∣ning. Hence are diuers trauels vndert••ken, and shoares sought out, and lenitie which is alwaies an enemie to those things which are present, now by sea, and then by land, aduentureth daily. Let vs goe now into Campania, now that de∣licate soyle delighteth vs, let vs visite the wood countries, let vs visite the forrest of Calabria, and let vs seeke some pleasure amidst the deserts, in such sort as these wandring eyes of ours may be relieued in beholding at our pleasure the strange solitude of these sauage places. We must go see Tarentum & that hauen so much esteemed, and the ayre so sweet in Winter, & the stately houses of these ancient people. Let vs returne to Rome backe again, our eares haue too long time been e∣strāged from the applause of the Theater & the Circensian sports, now would I take pleasure to see mens bloud spilt. Behold here how one voyage begetteth

another, and how after we haue seene one thing we long for an other.

After this manner each man flies himselfe.

But what pro••iteth him to flie if hee cannot escape, hee runneth after himselfe, and hath a very dangerous company that attendeth him. L••t vs therefore know that the euill that presseth vs, commeth not from the place but from our selues. There is no affliction how light soeuer it be that is not ouer-waighty for vs, we are neither patient of labour or pleasure, we cannot beare our owne af∣faires, nor any thing else. Some by reason hereof haue procured their owne d••aths, b••cause that oftentimes hauing changed their deliberation, they fell backe againe alwaies into the same, and mette with nothing that is newe, by meanes whereof both their life and this world beganne to displease them, and the words which are the signes of foolish and enraged pleasures come into their heads. How long shall we alwaies see the same?

CHAP. III.

* 1.3THou askest mee what remedie I thinke necessary against this per∣plexitie. It shall be good (as Athenodoras counsaileth vs) to de∣taine our selues in affaires of estate, and to serue the common-weale. For as some spend the day in taking the sunne, and in ex∣ercises•• and care of their bodies, and as it is profitable ••or wrast∣lers to employ the most part of their time in exercising their armes and strength wherevnto they haue onely dedicated themselues; so is it requisite for vs who prepare our minds to the managing of publique affaires to bee alwaies in acti∣on. For hee that hath resolued himselfe to become profitable to his Citizens, yea, vnto all men at one time doth two things, handling (according to that in∣deauour that is giuen him) both the p••blique and his perticular affaires. But b••cause (saith he) in this so mad ambition of men, where so many detractors wrest all things to the worst; simplicity is scarce secure, and there will bee al∣waies more lets then succesfull euents, w•• ought to retire our selues from the managing of publique affaires; considering this that a well se••led heart hath the meanes to shew it selfe in his priuate house. It fareth not so with men who for the most part haue their actions secret and hidden, as with Lyons and other bruit beasts, who are locked vp in their grates to restraine their furie; yet in such sort ought a man to seeke out solitude, that wheresoeuer hee remaineth in quiet, he may desire that the vigor of his mind, his speech and action may serue euery one in perticular and all in generall. For not onely hee alone serueth the Common-weale that produceth the Candidates to sue for offices, that defen∣deth the accused, who giueth his aduise as touching the affaires of peace and warre, but also that other that instruct youth, that in so great want of good ma∣ners informeth mens minds with vertue that layeth hold on, and restraineth those who are addicted to auarice and dissolution, or at least wise that hinde∣reth them from passing further, and who in his priuate house procureth the publique good. Who doth more, either the Iudge in a Cittie that with his as∣sistant pronounceth a briefe sentence in a processe that straungers and Citizens haue before him: or he that teacheth what iustice is, that sheweth what piety, wisedome, purenesse, contempt of death are, and how excellent a goad a good conscience is? If then thou employest thy time in studie, thou hast not lost, these honours that are due to the execution of thy charge concerning the pub∣lique,

neither shalt thou be exempted from the same. Neither is he a souldier that standeth in the front of the battell and defendeth both the right and left wings: but he also that gardeth the gates, and standeth sentinel in a place though not so daungerous, yet necessary, and keepeth his watch that hath the gouern∣ment of the Ammunition house; which charges though they bee not bloudy, yet haue they (that execute them) their pay as well as the rest. If thou shalt re∣tire thy selfe to thy studies, thou shalt auoyd all care that tortureth mans life, thou shalt not be troublesome to thy selfe nor vnprofitable to others; thou shalt get thee many friends, and the better sort of men will accept thee. For vertue, although shee be poore and abiect, yet is shee neuer obscured, but she sheweth the beames of her brightnes a farre off, and whosoeuer is capable will acknow∣ledge, and follow her steps. For if we renounce all conuersation and flie from humane societie, and liue onely to our priuate respect, this solitude depriued of all honest occupation will find nothing at last whereto to addict her selfe; we shall beginne to build some houses, and to ouer-turne others; we shall t••rne the sea out of his place; we shall cause the riuers to alter their courses, and dispence the time very euilly, which nature gaue vs to bestow well. Sometimes we are too sparing, sometimes ouer-prodigall, some of vs imploy the same in such sort that we can yeeld no account thereof, others haue none left them. And there∣fore there is nothing more shamefull to see an old man (that to approue that he hath liued long time in this world) can produce no other witnes but the num∣ber of his yeares. For mine owne part (my dearest Serenus) mee thinkes that Athenodoras submitted himselfe too much to times, and fled from them ouer∣hastilie. I confesse well that we ought somtimes to retire our selues but leasure∣ly, and with a secure retreat, our ensignes displaied, and without empeachment of our worldly dignitie. They are more valiant and more assured then their Conquerours that make a faire and honest retreat. So in my opinion ought ver∣tue to behaue her selfe, and if the inconstancy of worldly affaires disturbe all, and taketh away from a vertuous man the meanes to doe good; yet for all this ought he not to turne his back, nor to cast away his weapons to saue himselfe by flight, and to thrust himselfe in a secret place, as if there could bee any corner where fortune could not find him out: but he ought to be lesse busie in affaires, and find out some expedient with iudgement to make himselfe profitable to his Countrie. Is it not lawfull for him to beare armes? let him aspire to some publique charge: must he not liue priuately? let him plead. Is he put to silence? let him helpe his Citizens by his priuate counsell. Is it dangerous for him to en∣ter the iudgement place? let him shew himselfe a faithfull friend, a gracious companion, a temperate guest in houses, in Theaters, at feasts. If hee haue lost the office of a Citizen? let him vse that of a man. And therefore with a great mind haue we not shut our selues within the walls of one Citty, but haue thrust our selues into the conuersation of the whole world, and haue professed that the world is our Countrey, that wee might giue vertue a more spacious field to shew herselfe in. Is the Tribunall shut against thee, art thou not admitted to plead, or to assist the common Counsels of the Citty? looke backe and see what great Nations and peoples are behind thee, neuer shall so great a part bee kept from thee, that a greater be not left thee. But beware that all this proceed not ••rom thine owne error: for thou wilt not vndertake a publique charge except thou be a Consull, a Pritanes, an Embassador, a supreame Dictator. What if thou wilt not be a Souldier except thou bee a Commander or a Tritane? although that others haue the vaunt-gard, and fortune hath put thee in the rere-ward,

doe thy deuoire in that place, fight with thy voyce, thy exhortation, and thy courage. He also that hath his hands cut off in fight, findeth some meanes to animate his companions, who standeth onely and encourageth them with cry∣ing. So must thou doe if fortune hath drawne thee from the first ranke of pub∣lique charge, yet stand thou and helpe with thy crying. If thy mouth bee stop∣ped, yet stand; and helpe with thy silence. The industry of a good Citizen is neuer vnprofitable, for by his hearing, by his sight, by his contenance, by his becke, by his obstinate silence, and by his very gate, he may profit. Euen as cer∣taine holesome drugs by their onely smell (without either touch or tast) doe comfort greatly; so vertue, whether it be sowed or locked in it selfe, whether it be by authority, or by accident, whether shee bee constrained to scantle her sailes, or to be idle or mute, confined in a straight, or lodged at large, spreadeth a farre and vnperceiued, performeth some great and profitable good. In briefe, she serueth in whatsoeuer estate and countenance shee bee considered. What? thinkest thou that the example of a man that liueth retired and to purpose, is of little vse? I say, that it is an act of a singuler vertue to know how to forsake af∣faires, and to repose himselfe, when as the actiue liue being hindered by diuers accidents, or by the condition of estate cannot effect his designes. For neuer see we affaires brought to that extreamity but that a vertuous man hath the means to do somewhat that is good. Canst thou find a Citty more wretched then that of the Athenians was, at such time as thirty Tyrants rent it in pieces. They had put to death Thirteene hundred of the most nobles and most vertuous in the Cittie, and for all that cruelty ceased not thus but incensed it selfe, and aug∣mented daily. In that Citie which was adorned with the most venerable Coun∣sell of the Arcopagites, where there was a Senate and an assembly of people wor∣thy of so worthy an assembly of Senators; there were gathered daily a mise∣rable troope of murtherers, and a wretched court of tyrants, too small to con∣taine them. Could this Citie be in repose wherein there were so many tyrants as there were Souldiers? There was not any hope for these poore Citizens to recouer their libertie, nor any remedie whatsoeuer against such a multitude of mischiefes. For where is it that this poore Citie might find so many Harmodians? Notwithstanding (all these miseries) Socrates was in the middest of them, who comforted the mournfull Fathers, and exhorted those that despaired of the Common-weale, and reproued the rich (who feared their goods) for the ouer∣late repentance of their dangerous auarice, and to those that would follow him, beare about a worthy example, whilest amongst the thirtie tyrants hee walked confident and free. Yet this man did the Athenians murther in prison, and hee that safely insulted ouer the troopes of tyrants, his libertie could not a free City endure and hearken to, to the end thou mayest know, that a wise man hath an occasion to shew himselfe in an afflicted Common-weale; and how in a flouri∣shing and blessed state many enuie, and a thousand other disarmed Citties doe raigne. Howsoeuer therefore the Common-wealth is disposed, howsoeuer fortune permitteth, so either may we enlarge or contract our selues, prouided alwaies that we be stirring, and suffer not our selues being chained with feare to be dulled and astonished. Nay he shalbe truely a man who (when as daungers are eminent euery waies, and when as swords and chaines thunder in his eares) neither breaketh his fortune, nor hideth it. Curius Dentatus was woont to say, That he had rather be dead then liue. It is the last of all euills to depart from the number of the liuing before thou diest. But thou art to endeauour, that if thou light on such a time wherein thou canst not intermeddle with the Common-weale

without danger, to vsurpe more time for thy repose and studie, and no o∣therwaies then in a dangerous nauigation make saile towards the hauen, neither exspect thou, vntill such time as affaires leaue thee, but dis-ioyne thou thy selfe from them.

CHAP. IIII.

FIrst,* 1.4 therefore we ought to examine our selues; next, what busines we vndertake; lastly, what they are for whose cause wee vnder∣take them, or with whome wee deale. Aboue all things a man ought to estimate himselfe, for, for the most part in our owne iudgements, we seeme to be able to do more then we can. There is one that looseth himselfe in ouer-trusting his owne eloquence; another hath spent more then his reuenue mounteth to; another hath oppressed his weake body with laborious offices. There are some that are to bashful to entermeddle with ciuill affaires, which require a confident countenance and resolution: some mens contumacy is vnfit for Court; some there are who haue no gouernment ouer their wrath, and euery slight occasion driueth them to intemperate lan∣guage; some cannot refraine from iesting, neither can they abstaine from dan∣gerous gybing. To all these, repose is more profitable then businesse: a fierce and impatient man by nature will auoyd the prouocations of harmefull libertie.

CHAP. V.

NExt of all these things which we vndertake are to bee estimated,* 1.5 and our forces are to be compared with those things which wee wil attempt. For there must alwais be a greater force in him that beareth, then in the burthen. These waights must needs beare him down, that are greater then he is that carrieth them. Besides there are ••ome affaires that are not so great as they are fruitfull, and breed ma∣ny other businesse, and these are to be auoyded, from whence a new and diuers occasion of trouble ariseth: neither must thou aduenture thither, whence thou canst not freely returne againe. Set thy hand to these things, whose end thou mayest either effect or at least-wise hope. These things are to be left that extend themselues farther then the act, and end not there where thou intendedst they should.

CHAP. VI.

WEE must likewise make some choyce of men,* 1.6 and to consider whether they are worthie on whome wee should employ a part of our life, & whethe•• the losse of our time may be redeemed to our profite. There are some that thinke that wee are bound to doe them pleasure before wee bee desired. Athenodorus saith, that he would not goe to supper with him who would not thinke it a curtesie in him to accept the same. I belieue thou conceiuest, that much lesse would hee be inuited by them, who requite their friends curtesies with feasts, and account

their many dishes for a debt, as if they were intemperate to do an other man ho∣nour, take from them their witnesses and spectators, they will conceiue no de∣light in their secret banquets. Thou art to consider whether thy nature bee more apt for publike busines, or for idle study and contemplation; and thether art thou to encline, whether the vigour of thy minde carrieth thee. Isocrates being laide holde on by the Ephone, withdrew himselfe from publike pleas, supposing himselfe to bee more fitte and profitable to write histories; for in∣forced wits neuer satisfie expectation, and the labour is in vaine where nature repineth against it.

CHAP. VII.

* 1.7YEt nothing will so much delight the mind as a faithful and pleasing friendship: how great a good is it when the hearts are prepared, wherein a man may safely burie all his secrets, whose conscience thou fearest le••se then thine owne, whose words may terrifie thy discontents, whose counsels can resolue thy doubts, whose mirth may dissipate thy sorrow, and whose countenance may comfort thee? Such friendes as these let vs make choice of as farre as is possible for vs: for vices creepe into vs,* 1.8 and inuade euery one that is neerest them, and hurt by touch∣ing. Therefore as in the plunge wee ought to take heed, lest wee sit by these who are already attainted, and infected with the burning sicknesse, because thereby wee shall incurre danger, and be poisoned with their very breath; so must wee endeauour in the choice of our friends, that wee admit such as are least polluted. It is a beginning of sicknesse to accompany those that are infe∣cted: neither will I enioyne thee this to follow and contract friendship with none, except hee bee a wise man; for where wilt thou finde out such a one, whom for so many ages wee haue sought after? but wee are to take him for the best who is the least euill. Scarce couldst thou make a happier choice, hadst thou leaue to se••ke for good men amongst Platoes and Zenoph••ns, or amidst the the troupe of Socrates Schollers, or if it were granted thee to reuiew the time wherin Cato liued, which as well brought forth many that were worthy to bee borne in Catoes age, as many worse then euer were, who were the plotters of many hainous crimes. For their vices need of both sorts, to the end that Cato might be the better knowne. Of good, by whom hee might approue himselfe; of bad,* 1.9 in whom he might make triall of his forces; yet especially let such bee auoided, who are melancholy and deplore all things, who, vpon euery occasi∣on are ready to complaine, although his faith and beneuolence be vnfained, yet so distempered a companion, that grieueth and grudgeth at all things, is an e∣nemy to tranquility.

CHAP. VIII.

LEt vs passe ouer to riches which are the causes of all mens miseries: for,* 1.10 if you compare all things whereat we are agrieued, as deaths, sicknesses, feares, de••ires, patience of sorrowes, and labours, with those euils which our money ministreth vnto vs, this part will weigh heauiest: wee ought therefore to bethinke vs, how farre

lighter the sorrow is not to haue them, then to lose them, and wee shall vnder∣stand that pouerty hath by so much the lesse torments, by how much she hath the lesse matter of losse: for thou art deceiued, if thou thinkest that rich men do with greater courage endure their losses. The pain of a wound is equall both in the greatest and smallest sadnes; Bion speaketh very elegantly, That it is no lesse troublesome for those that are balde, to haue their haires pulled of, then to those that haue but hie lockes. Know thou this both in rich and poore, that they haue equall torments; for both of them tolde their money, neither without griefe and sence thereof could they endure to lose it. But as I said, it is more tollerable & easie not to get riches, then to lose them, and therfore shall you see them more merry, whom fortune neuer lookt vpon, then those whom she hath forsaken. Diogenes saw this, who was a man of a great mind, and endeauoured himself that nothing might be taken from him. Call thou this pouerty necessity, or want, and impose whatsoeuer ignominious name thou list vpon security, I will not thinke this man happy if thou finde me out an other that can lose nothing. But I am deceiued, if it be not a Kingdome among the couetous, the deceiuers, the thiefe, and lewde persons, that there is one that may not be hurt. If any man doubt of Diogenes felicity, hee may likewise doubt of the estate of the immor∣tall gods, whether they liue blessedly enough, because they haue no fieldes, nor gardens, nor lands for a husbandman to plow vp, not a great banke of mo∣ney in the market place. Art thou not ashamed whosoeuer thou art that ad∣mirest riches? Behold I pray thee the heauens throne, shalt thou see the gods naked, giuing all things, hauing nothing. Thinkest thou him poore, or like vnto the immortall gods, that hath dispoiled himselfe of all transitory things. Callest thou Demetrius more happie who was Pompies Libertine, because hee was not ashamed to bee more richer then his Master? Euery day was the num∣ber of his seruants brought vnto him, as the master of an Army to a Generall, who for all his riches should haue long since contented himselfe with two ser∣uants, and a lesser seller. But Diogenes onely seruant ranne away from him, neither thought he him so much worthy as to recall him when hee was shewed vnto him. It were a shame (saith he) that Manes could liue without Diogenes, and Diogenes could not liue without Manes.* 1.11 Mee thinke hee said, meddle with thine owne businesse Fortune, thou hast no more power Diogenes. Is my seruant run away? no, hee is departed free. A family requireth maintenance, men must take charge of the feeding of so many greedy beasts, rayment must be bought, thiefes hand-sell preuented, and such as weepe and detest, must be admitted to seruice. Hence, far more, happy is hee that oweth nothing but to him••elfe, whom he may easily deny: but because wee haue not so much strength, our patrimonies be to be husbanded that wee may be lesse exposed to the iniuries of ••ortune,* 1.12 The bodies of meanest proportion and who may locke themselues in their armes, are more addressed then those great and vnweeldy bodies, which by reason of their length and thicknesse are exposed to strokes. The best measure in riches is that which neither falleth into pouerty, neither is farre estranged from pouerty.

CHAP. IX.

* 1.13ANd this measure will bee well pleasing vnto vs, if first of all parci∣mony content vs, without which neither any riches will suffice vs, neither any proue great enough, especially wheras the remedy is at hand, and pouerty it selfe by the assistance of frugality may conuert it selfe into riches. Let vs accustome our selues to remoue pompe from vs, and to measure the ornaments of our honour by the necessary vse of things. Let our meat appease famine, or drinke thirst; let our desires be appeased by things that are necessary. Let vs learne to walke vpon our owne feete, not to cloath and feed our selues according to euery new fashion, but as the custome of our Ancestors perswadeth vs vnto. Let vs learne to encrease continēcy, to decrease lasciuiousnes, to temper our excesse, to pacifie our wrath, to behold pouerty with equall eyes, to respect frugality, although wee will bee ashamed to yeeld such remedies to our naturall desires as cost very little, to haue vnbridled hopes, and our mind that dependeth on future things, kept as it were vnder bonds, to behaue our selues so that we require not our riches at fortunes hand, but rather from our selues. So great varietie and iniquitie of casualties cannot (I say) be so repulsed, that many stormes presse not vpon those that rigge forth much Shipping. Our affaires must be drawne into a straight, to the end that aduersities may attempt vs in vaine. And therefore banishments and ca∣lamities haue sometimes become remedies, and those incommodities that are most grieuous haue beene healed by lighter, where the mind is disobedient to precepts, and will not be cured by gentle means. But why may not this be pro∣fitable? If both pouerty and ignominy, and the ouerthrow of a mans fortunes accompany these: one euill is opposed against another. Let vs therefore accu∣stome our selues to be able to sup without any guests, to be serued with lesse at∣tendants, to be apparelled according to our necessities, and to dwell more reti∣redly. It is not only in the course of the Circean sports; but also in the Cariers of this life that we ought to retire and contract our selues. And in studies likewise (wherein the charge is most commended) so long will I haue a reason as I haue a measure. To what end serue so many infinite Bookes and Libraries when as their Maister in all his life time can scarcely ouer-read their Tables? A multi∣tude of bookes burtheneth and instructeth him not that learneth, and it is bet∣ter for thee to addict thy selfe to few Auth••rs, then to wander amongst many. Forty Thousand bookes were burned at Alexandr••a, a worthy monument of kingly riches. Some men may praise this as Titus Liuius did, who sayth, That it was a worke that shewed the magnificēce and wondrous care of Kings. But this was not magnificēce or any other laudable act, but a studious excesse. Nay more, it was not studious, because they had gathered them, not to profit studies, but to shew th••ir pompe, as it falleth out with diuers ignorants, who scarce knowing the let∣ters wherin their slaues are exercised, heap vp book•• not as instruments of study, but ornaments of their suppers. Let vs therefore gather so many books as may suffice, and collect nothing for ostentation sake. It shall be more honest (sayest thou) to employ my mony herein, then in vessels of Corinth and painted Ta∣bles. That is euery wayes vicious where there is ouermnch. Why wouldest thou lesse pardon him that would get reputation by meanes of his Marble and Iuorie, then another that searcheth thorough all Countries to buye vnknowne Authors, and happily such as are reprooued and censured, and doth nought else

but breath vpon his bookes,* 1.14 and takes no pleasure but in their couers, or in their titles? Thou shalt ordinarily see amongst the most idle, whatsoeuer Orators or Histories there are, and their studies filled vp from the top to the bottome: And at this day amongst the bathes and stoues are Libraries builded, as if they were a necessary ornament in the house. But all these works of learned men ex∣cellently written, bound vp, and inriched with their pictures, are bought to no other end but for show and beautifying of wal••.

CHAP. X.

BVt it may be thou art falne into some troublesome and difficult course of life,* 1.15 and ere thou knewst it; some fortune either pub∣lique or priuate hath entangled thee•• in such sort, as thou neither canst loose or break the bonds. Think with thy selfe, that such as are fettered at the first can hardly beare their shackles or the irons on their legs, but afterwards being better resolued doe suffer the same, and con∣clude to endure them patienly, necessity teacheth them to sustaine them con∣stantly, and custome easily. Thou shal•• find in whatsoe•••••• kind of 〈…〉〈…〉 be, delights, remissions, and pleasures, except thou hadst not rather think 〈…〉〈…〉 euill, then make it hatefull. The greatest good that we haue r••cieued by n••ture is, that she foreseeing how many troubles wee are to endure in this wor••d hath found out a remedie to ••en••••••e the same, which is custom••, which in 〈…〉〈…〉 maketh the greatest euils familiar and supportable; no m••n••••ou••d endur•• it if the continuance and sence of aduersitie were •••• bi••t••r as 〈…〉〈…〉 we are all of vs coupled by fortune, some of vs haue a 〈…〉〈…〉 some a more base and sordide inth••almen••••. But what skilleth 〈…〉〈…〉 all of vs are enuironed with the same guard, and they that ••nchai••e o•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a••••••en∣chained themselues. It may be•• thou think••st that the cha••••••e which i•• tyed ••o the left arme waieth not as much as that on the right. Some are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by their honours, other some by their base ••••••a••e. These are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 subiec•• to an∣others emperie, others are vassals to them••elues•• ther•• are some that are confi∣ned in one place, others that are arrested by ••••o•••• charges that are co••••itted vnto them. All our whole life is a serui••••de•• we ought herefore to accustome our selues to our condition•• and no waies to complaine of the same, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to ap∣prehend all those commodi••ies which are ••bout vs. Th••re is nothing so di••••ast∣full wherein an equall mind cannot find some solace. Ostimes a•• ingenious man may write infinite things in the smallest tables, and ••ee 〈◊〉〈◊〉 knoweth how to march readily, maketh the straightest aboa••d habitable 〈…〉〈…〉 find. Adde reason to thy difficulties, for the ha••des•• things may bee in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the straightest layd open, and those things that are most grieu••••••s presse them least that discreetly can endure them. Besides•• desires are not to be•• sent ••arre off from vs, but let vs suffer them to houer neare abo••t vs, because they endure not to bee restrained whol••e. Leauing those thing•• which either cannot bee done or hardly can be a••chieued; let vs follow those things that ar•• near•• ••s, and are ••n∣swerable to our hopes. Y••t let vs know, that all that wh••ch outwardly ••at•• di∣uers appearances is equally light, and inwa••dly 〈…〉〈…〉 le•• vs 〈◊〉〈◊〉 those that are more highly preferred, those thing•• that see••e most highest are in most danger. They likewise whom aduersity holdeth in suspence shall b••e more assured by withdrawing pride from those thing•• which of thems••l••••s are

proud, and reducing their fortune (as much as in them lyeth) to an humble place and out of danger. There are many that are inforced to remaine in their high degree, from whence they cannot descend but by falling, but yet it behoo∣ueth them to beare witnes, that the greatest waight they beare vpon their backs is to know, that they are constrained to bee grieuous and troublesome vnto o∣thers. That they are not relieued but tyed vnto their charge, and that by iu∣stice, clemency, and humane laws, and by a gratious manner of demeanour they prepare themselues diuers succours and defences against the assaults of fortune that may happen, by the hope whereof they may bee more assured in their fe∣uers. There is nothing that can so much exempt these men from these agitati∣ons of the minds, then alwayes to prefixe a certaine limit to their encrease, and not to attend till fortune retire them from the same, but to take counsell of themselues, not to attend the extremities. So some desires, but they finite, shall acuate their minds, and shall not be infinite nor vncertain.

CHAP. XI.

* 1.16THis Discourse of mine appertaineth to ignorant persons, and such as haue little knowledge, and are of depraued iudgement, not vn∣to a wise man. For hee must not walke fearefully or slowly. For so great a confidence hath he in him selfe, that hee doubteth not to en••ounter Fortune, neither will he euer giue place vnto her; neither hath he cause at any time to feare her, because not onely he numbreth his starres, his possessions, and dignities, but his owne body likewise, his eyes & hands, and whatsoeuer it be that maketh his life deare vnto him, yea, himselfe, as things that are hired, and liueth as though hee were but lent vnto himselfe, ready to restore the whole willingly to those that redemand the same; neither therefore mispraiseth hee himselfe, because hee knoweth that hee is not his owne, but so diligently and circumspectly shall he doe all things, as a religious and holy man is wont to doe with those things that are committed to his trust. And whensoeuer hee shall bee commanded to make restitution, hee will not question with fortune, but will say, I giue thanks for that I haue possessed, and had: It hath cost mee much to entertaine those things which thou hast giuen mee, but because thou commandest me, I gratefully and willingly restore them againe, and if thou wilt haue ought continue in my hands, euen now will I keep it, if thou bee other wayes minded, I restore vnto thee, and redeliuer into thy hands, my money and plate, my house and family whatsoeuer. If nature sum∣mon vs which first gaue vs credit, to her will wee answere. Receiue a minde better then thou gauest me,* 1.17 I neither delay nor hide my selfe, I willingly and readily deliuer thee it which thou gauest me when I knew it not. Take it to thee; what euill is it to returne to that place from whence thou camest? He shal liue badly that knoweth not how to die well. Wee must therefore aboue all things set light by this life, and account our soules amongst the number of those things that are not ours: We hate (saith Cicero) those skirmishers, if in any sort they desire to beg their liues, wee ••auour them if they pretend to contemne the same: Know that the like befalleth vs; for oftimes the cause of dying, is to die fearefully: that fortune that maketh sport for her selfe, whereto saith shee shall I reserue thee wretched and fearefull Creature as thou art? thou shalt receiue more wounds and skarres, because thou knowest not how to yeeld thy throat:

but thou shalt both liue longer, and die sooner, that manfully entertainest thy death, not in plucking backe thy necke, or opposing thy hands. Hee that shall feare death, will neuer doe any thing worthy a liuing man: but he that know∣eth that this ordinance of life and death was decreed and presently ordered in him, at such time as hee was conceiued, he will liue according to the rule and ordinance was prefixed him, and this likewise with no lesse constancy of mind will hee per••orme, that none of those things that befall him, may seem sodain to him: for to foresee that which is to come, as though it were already past, is the meane to repulse the assaults of all necessities, which shake not these who attend them constantly, and know that there is nothing new in them: but they oppresse those men that make themselues beleeue t••at no misfortune shall e∣uer surprise them, and who thinke on nothing but pleasure and content; for there is no sodainenesse eyther in sicknesse, or in captiuity, or in ruine or in fire: For I know well into what tumultuous retreat of dangers nature had loc∣ked ••e: so oftimes haue men cried fire and water amongst my neighbours, so oftimes haue the torches and tapers which were carried before the dead bo∣dies of this or that mans children past by my dores? Oft haue I heard the noice of high buildings that sodenly fell downe to the ground. one night hath carri∣ed away diuers friends that I had made in the Pallace, in the market place, in company, and hath as it were cut off the hands of those which had promised and sworne fidelity vnto me. Shall I wonder then that those dangers that haue houered so long about me, are finally faln•• vpon me? The most part of those that are ready to set sayle,* 1.18 thinke not vpon a storme; for mine owne part in doing well I will neuer bee ashamed of the danger that may befall mee. Publius that had a more vehement spirit then either the Tragicke or Comicke Poets had, as often as he had giuen ouer his Mimicke foperies, and such as ordi∣narily hee vsed to delight the common people: amongst many other wordes, not onely beseeming the Comicke but the Tragicke Theame, he vseth these:

That which hapned to one man may chance to euery man.

Whosoeuer beareth these words in his hart, & considereth how many miseries his neighbour suffereth from day to day, and thinketh that they are intended a∣gainst him, will arme himselfe long time before hee bee assailed. Too late is the minde instructed to endure danger when their assault is giuen: I would not haue thought ••hat this should haue been I would not haue beleeued that this should come to passe. And why not? what riches are there that are not readily atten∣ded at their heeles with misery, famine and beggery? what dignity is there, what scarlet robe, what Augures purple garment, what noble mans slipper? that is not accompanied with disgrace, banishment, dishonour, imputation, and extreame contempt? what Kingdome is there, for which ruine, desolation, ty∣ranny and tormenters are not prepared: neither as these diuided by great spa∣ces of time, but there is but a moment of an howre betwixt royalty and capti∣uity. Know thou therefore that euery condition is subiect to alteration, and whatsoeuer assaulteth one man, may assaile thee in like sort. Art thou rich? what richer than Pompey? who after that Caius his ancient cosen and new guest had opened Caesars house to locke vp his owne dores, wanted both bread and water, in such sort, that hee who possessed so many riuers, that had their courses and fals within the precinct of his lands, begde for drop•• of water, and died for hunger and thirst in his kinsmans Pallace, whilest his heire prepared a

publike funerall for the starueling. Hast thou had great honours? what so great or so vnexpected, or so generall as Seianus? that very day wherein the Senate conducted him with honour, the people tare him in peeces with fury, and he whom Gods and men had loaden with so many honors as could be heaped vp∣on him, had not a mammocke left of him for the hangman to fasten his hooke in. Art thou a King? I will not send thee to Croesus, who was commanded to mount the pile where hee should bee burned, and whence hee descended, ha∣uing recouered both his life and kingdom; neither will I send thee to Iugurth, whom the Romane people saw led in triumph that very yeere wherein he was so much feared. We haue seene Ptol••my King of Africa, and Mithridates King of Armenia, amongst the number of those Souldiers that were of the Emperor Caligulaes guard; the one of these was sent into banishment, the other wished for it but vnder more faithfull conditions.* 1.19 In so great in••ertainety and muta∣bility of affaires, thou reputest not that already done which may bee done; thou giuest aduersity power ouer thy selfe which hee hath broken whosoeuer espied them first. The next after these is, that wee labour not in superfluous and vn∣necessary things,* 1.20 that is, that wee neither desire those things which we cannot attaine, or that hauing attained the same, wee feele not ouerlate, and to our great shame the vanity of our couetousnesse, in fine that our trauell bee not vnprofitable & of no effect, or the effect vnworthy our trauell: for for the most part sorrow and sadnes succeedeth by these, if eyther that we expected faile 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or wee be ashamed of the successe.

CHAP. XII.

WE must cut off these encounters practised by the most part of men, who doe nought else but runne from house to house from the market place to the Theatre.* 1.21 They entangle themselues with other mens affaires, resembling those who seeme to bee alwayes busie about somwhat. If thou aske any of these that goeth out of his dores: Whether goest thou? what thinkest thou? Hee will answere, verily I know not, but I will visite some friend, I will doe somewhat. They loyter a∣bout to no purpose, seeking out businesse, neyther finish they those that they intended, but those they meet by chance. Inconsiderate and vaine is their course, resembling that of the Antes, which creepe along the shrubbes, & now get vp to the toppe, and straight runne downe to the bottome, without ought else doing but running. Such a life doe many men lead, and a man may well say that they are idle without repose. Thou wilt haue compassion of some of those who runne as it were to a fire, and who ouerturne all those that they meet with, and fall vpon them, for they runne to salute some man that will scarce looke vpon them, or goe to attend some stranger to his funerall, or to accompany some Lawyer: or to honour a Bridall, or to follow some Litter, or sometimes to beare it themselues: then returning home very weary and toi∣led into their houses, thou shalt heare them sweare, that they knew not why they went out, neither why they left the house, and notwithstanding the next day they will idle it after the same manner. Let therefore all our labour tend to some end, and haue some scope. It is not industry but the false apparance of thinges that tormenteth, and disquiet madde men: for they busie them∣selues not without some hope, the exterior beauty of this or that infla∣meth

them in steade of taxing their vanity, by reason that the sence is occu∣pied. In like case are all they, who goe already to the entent to multiply the number of the people that walke about the streetes, are carried away by vaine and light occasions; and he that hath nothing to employ himselfe in, gets him out of dores vpon the day-spring, & after he hath knockt at diuers mens dores, whence he hath beene honestly dismissed by the Porter, and by others, who haue hindered him from entrance; there is no man with whom hee acquain∣teth himselfe more vnwillingly then with himselfe. On this euill there depen∣deth a most pernicious vice, which is curiosity; search into affaires and secrete knowledge of many things that are dangerous, both to bee spoken and heard. Democritus hauing had proofe hereof, said; That he that will liue peaceably, ought not to intermeddle with many affaires, either priuate or publike. Hauing a reference to those things that are vnnecessary: for if they are necessary, there are not many but innumerable things to bee done, both priuate and publike: but wher∣as no solemne office inuiteth vs, our actions are to be restrained.

CHAP. XIII.

FOr he that doth many things yeeldeth himself subiect to fortunes power,* 1.22 but the surest way is to make triall of her very little, but to thinke alwayes of her, and neuer to put confidence in her. I will sayle except somewhat hinder me; I will be Pretor ex••ept some one let me, and my businesse shall come well to passe except some accident crosse it. This is the cause why wee say, that nothing befalleth a wise man contrary to his opinion; wee say not that hee is exempt from the chances of this life, but from the errors; neyther doe all things fall out vnto him as hee wisheth, but as he thought: and first of all he thought that som∣what might resist his purposes. The sorrow a man conceiueth, for that hee could not attaine to that which hee pretended, is light, and scarsly toucheth the heart when hee promiseth himselfe not that things shall succeed as hee desired.

CHAP. XIIII.

WE ought likewise to accōmodate our selues to affaires, without pre∣suming ouer much of our conceptions. Let vs dispose our selues thether whether Fortune leadeth vs, neither let vs feare the char∣ges of our counsels or condition, prouided that leuity transpor∣teth vs not, which is a mortall enemy to tranquility: for it must needes bee, that obstinacy is both doubtfull and miserable from which fortune alwayes extorteth somewhat, and leuity much more grieuous, that no waies containeth it selfe: both of these are enemies to tranquility, both too vnable to change any thing, and vnapt to suffer any thing. In all casualties a man ought to retaine his mind farre from all externall things, and to reflect vpon himselfe, to pro••ure that hee t••ust in himselfe, to reioyce in himselfe, to content him∣selfe with his thoughts, to estrange himselfe, as much as he may, from other mens affaires, to apply himselfe to himselfe, not to haue any sence of his losses, and take in good part his aduersities. When Zeno the Stoicke vnderstood that

his ship was cast away, and all his goods drowned, Fortune (saith he) willeth me to follow the studie of wisedome more freely. A tyrant threatned the Philosopher Theodorus with death, and that his bodie should not be buried. Thou hast (saith he) an occasion wherein to delight thy selfe; thou hast a pinte of bloud in thy power: For as touching my buriall thou shouldest be a great foole, if thou thinkest that I care whether I rotte aboue or vnder-ground. Cannius Iulius an excellent man, whose glorie is no waies diminished, although he was borne in our age, contested long time with the Emperour Caius; who as Caius was departing from him said vnto him, Least happily thou ••latter thy selfe with foolish hope, I haue commanded thee to be put to death. I thanke thee (said he) worthy Prince. I know not well what he m••ant or thought by these words, for diuers considerations present themselues vnto me. Thought he best to vpbrayd him, and to shew how great his cruelty was, wherein death was a benefite? Or did he reproach him for his ordinary fury? for they gaue him thankes likewise whose children were slaine, and whose goods were taken from them. Or did he willingly entertaine his death as a libertie? whatsoeuer he thought he answered worthily. But some man may say that Caius after this might haue granted him life. Cannius was not affraid of this: Caius faith was too well knowne in such like commands. Thinkest thou that hee passed those ten dayes without feare, betwixt the day of his sentence and that of his execution? It is vncredible to be spoken what words he spake, what he did, and how peace∣ably he liued during this delay. Hee was playing at Chesse at such time as the Centurion who ledde a troope of condemned men to death commanded him likewise to be cited. Hauing scarce finished his game he counted his men, and said to him with-whom he played, Beware (saith he) when I am dead that thou be∣lyest me not, and sayest thou hast wonne the game. Then nodding his head to the Centurion he added, Beare me witnesse (saith hee) that I haue the vantage of one. Thinkest thou that Cannius cared for the man? no he mocked. His friends were dismaid because they were to loose such a man. Why (saith he) are you sad? en∣quire you whether soules be immortall? I shall know it presently. Neither ceased he to search out the truth euen vntill his latter breath, and according to his cu∣stome to propose alwaies some question. There followed him a Philosopher of his own traine, and when he approched neere the place where the toombe stood whervpō daily sacrifice was made to Diuus Caesar. Cannius (quoth he) what thin∣kest thou now, and whereon fixest thou thy mind? I am resolued (said Cannius) to marke in this most swift moment of time, if the soule shall feele that she is passing forth. And he promised that if he found out any thing, he would returne to euery one of his friends, and tell them what the estate of soules were. Behold Tranquil∣lity in the middest of a tempest; behold a mind worthy of eternitie, which summoneth his destinie for an argument of the truth, who seeing himselfe readie to deliuer his last breath, questioned with his departing soule, and that will not onelie learne vntill death, but learneth something likewise out of death it selfe. No man philosophied longer: But this so great a man shall not bee obscured so slightly, his praise shall bee carefully eternized, wee will commend thee to euerlasting memorie. O worthy Cannius, the greater part of Caius cruell murthers.

CHAP. XV.

BVt it profiteth nothing to haue cast away the cause of priuate sad∣nesse.* 1.23 For sometimes the hatred of mankind possesseth thee, and a troope of so many fearfull sinnes present themselues, when thou bethinkest thy selfe how rare simplicity is, how vnknowne inno∣cency, how sieldome faith, except when it ministreth profite, how the disaduantages of dissolution are as hatefull as the aduantages, and ambition is so excessiue and proud, that she cannot containe her selfe within her limits, and boasteth not but in her villanies. The mind is blinded and obscured, and as if all vertues were ouer-turned, which neither we may hope for, neither is it profitable for vs to haue, darknesse ouer-cloudeth all things; we must ther∣fore dispose our selues, that the vices of the common sort be not displeasing vn∣to vs,* 1.24 but rather may s••••me ridiculous, and rather let vs imitate Democritus then Heraclitus. For this man as often as he went abroad wept, and the other laught. To this man, all those things which we doe seemed miseries; to that man, fol∣lies: All things therefore are to be set light by, and to be endured with a pati∣ent mind; for it is more fitting to laugh at life, then to bewaile it. Adde here∣vnto also, that he deserueth better of mankind who laugheth thereat, then he that bewaileth it: for he leaueth some good hope, the other so foolishly be∣waileth it, that he dispaireth of the recouery therof, and he that cannot abstaine from laughter, in beholding all that which the world doth, is of a greater mind then the other that spendeth himselfe in teares, when as he meaneth the lightest passion of the mind, & thinketh that there is nothing great, nothing seuere, nor any thing serious in this so great preparation and show of men. Let euerie one present vnto himselfe the occasions which may either dismay or reioyce vs, and he shall know that that which Bion said is true, That all the affaires of men are an∣swerable to their beginnings, & that their life is neither more holie nor more seuere then their designes, conceiued onely in their soules: But is better peaceably to behold mens publique manners and imperfection, then torment himselfe thus for o∣ther mens afflictions, and inhumane is that pleasure that delighteth in other mens euills; euen as it is an vnprofitable humanity to weepe and counterfeit sadnesse, because some man carrieth forth his child to be buried. In thine own misfortunes likewise it behooueth thee to carry thy selfe so that thou yeeld so much vnto thy sorrow as it requireth, not as custome demandeth. For many men powre forth teares for a shew, and so often haue they their eyes dry as they want witnesses of their sorrow, iudging it an absurd thing not to weepe when all men are discomforted. So deepe an impression hath this euil fixed in our minds, to depend on other mens opinions, that sorrow (which of it selfe is the simplest thing) is conuerted into dissimulation.* 1.25 There followeth another point which is accustomed to dismay and make men pensiue, and not without cause, that is, because good men die miserably. As S••crates is compelled to dye in prison, Ru∣tillius to liue in exile, Pompey and Cicero to yeeld their necks to be strucken off by those whome formerly they had defended, and that Cat•• (the liuing image of vertues) leaning on his sword should at once loose his life and his Countries li∣bertie. It must needs torment vs to see fortune recompence good deserts so vn∣iustly, and what now may any man hope for himselfe, when as he seeth the best men suffer the worst afflictions? What shall be done hereupon? Consider how euery one of them behaued himselfe constantly, and if they were valiant desire

their minds, if they perished ••ffeminately and basely, there is nothing lost. Ei∣ther they are worthy that their vertue should please thee, or vnworthy that a man should bewaile their cowardise. For what is more hatefull then to see great men dying valiantly, to cause other men to be catifes and cowards? Let vs praise him that was so often worthy to be praised, and say; The more con∣stant, the more happy art thou: thou hast fled humane casualties, hatred & sick∣nesse, thou hast left thy prison, thou wert not worthy in thy Gods opinion of an euil fortune, but vnworthy against whom fortune might now do any thing: but those that would retire themselues, and in the instant of death looke backe vnto life, must haue hands laid on them. I will neither weepe for any one that laugheth, or any one that weepeth. The one hath himselfe wiped away my teares; the other hath by his teares effected this, that hee is vnworthy of any teares. Shall I weepe for Hercules because hee was burned aliue, or Regulus, be∣cause his ••l••sh was pierced with so many nailes, or Cato, because he couragiou∣sly endured the woundes he gaue himselfe. All these men by a light expence of time found out the meanes to make themselues eterned, and by dying at∣tained to immortality. There is yet another great subiect of carefull thoughts that thou disguise and counterfeit cunningly,* 1.26 neither euer shew thy selfe to bee such outwardly, as thou art inwardly, res••mbling the liues of many, which ar•• fained and fashioned o••ely for ostentation: for it is a death to stand thus al∣waies on our guard, and to feare to be surprised in an other estate then wee are accustomed. Wee are neuer voide of care, as long as this opinion gouerneth vs, & that men estimate our persons as oftentimes as they see vs: for many things fall out which discouer vs in spight of our hearts, and although so retired an obseruation of a mans selfe succeedeth well, yet so it is, that to liue alwaies, thus disguised, doth but afflict and affright the life which would enioy a thou∣sand pleasures if shee were beautified with an open and simple manner of acti∣on, and set not a vaile before her manners. True it is that this life is an hazard of contempt, if all things were discouered vnto all men; for some there are that disdaine all that which they approch somewhat neare vnto, and obserue, and better were it to bee contemned by reason of simplicity, then to bee tormented with a perpetuall dissimulation.* 1.27 Yet oughtest thou to keepe a measure, and it importeth thee as very much to be aduised, whether thou liuest simply or neg∣ligently; wee ought to retire our selues very inwardly within our selues•• for the conuersation of those men that are of different humor from vs, disturbeth those things that are well composed, and renueth affections, and exulcerateth whatsoeuer is either weake or vncured in the mind, yet notwithstanding it is need••ull to intermixe solitude and freedome together, in such sort as the one may bee practised neere vnto the other. Conuersation will make vs loue our selues,* 1.28 solitude inciteth vs to goe and find out others, the one will comfort the other, solitude will heale the discontent we haue conceiued against the presse of so m••ny people that we haue met withall, & to frequent with diuers men reme∣di••th that discontent which solitude breedeth. Neither is the mind to be en∣tertained equally in the same intention, but to be reuoked vnto some pastimes. Socrates was not ashamed to play with children, and Cato made him merry with wine when publique affaires had tyred him, and Scipio exercised his warlike and triumphant body in dauncing (not foolishly as men are woont to do at this day with res••uences and trickes that are more then effeminate) but as the ancients were woont to dance in their sports and festiuall dayes, with a decent and come∣ly behauiour, whilest no dishhonour or reproch might ensue, though he had

beene obserued by hi•• verie enemies. There must some remission bee gi••en to our minds; for after a little repose they will become more better and actiue in all things. Euen as wee ought not to ouerlay our fruitfull lands, lest by con∣tinuall fecundity their heart and force•• be spent and consumed; so continuall labour ruinateth mens minds, if you suffer them to expatiate and delight themselues a while, they will recouer new forces. Continuall trauell dulleth and blunteth the edge of vnderstanding; neither to this vicissitude would the desire of man bend so much, except that sport and pastime had some pleasure and naturall content, the frequent vse whereof taketh away all that which pres∣seth and afflicteth our spirits. For sleepe is necessary for disgestion, and if a man continue the same both day and night, it will be death. There is a great dif∣ference betwixt giuing some liberty to a thing, and leauing it wholly at ran∣dom. The Law-makers haue ordained f••stiuall dayes, to the end that men should assemble together to entertaine publike sport, enterposing the same as a necessary temperament and refreshing of trauelles. And as I haue saide, great personages allowed themselues certaine play-dayes in euery moneth, and some other neuer passed day which was not as it were diuided b••twixt trauell and repose, such (except I forget my selfe) was that great Orator Asi∣nius Pollio, who gaue ouer all occupations after ten of the clocke; nay more, he would not read ordinarie letters, for feare lest some new ••affaire might fall out, but hee inclosed all the trauel of the day time, from the morning vntil that howre. Some tooke their pleasure about twelue of the clocke, and referred o∣uer those affaires that were of smallest importance till after dinner time.* 1.29 Our Ancestors haue forbidden to make any new report vnto the Senate after ten of the Clocke. The Souldier disposeth his Sentinels by howres, and they that returne from some voyage of warre, are exempted from night-watch. It is a necessary thing to giue liberty to the mind, & to grant him intermission, which may serue to nourish, and reinforce the same; Furthermore, to walke here and there amidst the fields, to the end that hauing free and open aire, hee may bee the more comforted and lightned. Sometimes to goe in Coach, to trauell and change Countries, augmenteth the forces, likewise to make good cheare, and to drinke somewhat freely more then custome, and so farre as wee drowne not our selues in wine, but to drowne our cares in it: for wine driueth away cares, searcheth the secrets of the mind, driueth away all sicknesse, and is the re∣medy of sadnes; and therefore B••cchus the inuentor of wine was not there∣fore called Liber, because of the liberty of his tongue; but bec••use he deliuereh mens minds from the seruitude of cares, and maketh them more disposed and forward to attempt any thing.* 1.30 But as a moderation in vsing liberty, so a tem∣perance in wine is commendable and wholesome. It is supposed that Solon and Arcesilaus were good drinkers: and Cato was taxed for drunkennes: but who∣soeuer reprocheth him in this sort, shall rather proue that this crime of drun∣kennesse is an honest thing, then that Cato behaued himselfe dishonestlie. But neither is it to bee done often, le••t the mind should contract some euell cu∣stome, although at sometimes a man ought to giue him liberty, and present some meanes of delight, and lay asid•• for a while the ouer seuere and sober ma∣ner of life. For if we giue ••redite to the Greeke Poet.

Its sometimes pleasure to be mad and foolish.

Or Plato, He that is in his right wits, looseth his labour to goe and knocke at

the gate of the Muses, or Aristotle. There was neuer any great wit that had not some spice of folly; if the minde bee not stirred, and as it were mounted aboue it selfe, hee can speake nothing highly, nor aboue others. After hee hath con∣temned vulgar and ordinary things, and that a holy heate hath raised him a∣boue ordinary, then beginneth he to sing with a mortall mouth, I know not what that is more then humane. As long as hee is in himselfe, hee can attaine to nothing that is hie and difficult. Hee must desist from his vsuall custome, and rowse himselfe, and bite the bridle betwixt his teeth, and beare away him that gouerneth him,* 1.31 and carrie him thither whether of himselfe hee was affraide to ascend. Thou hast my Serenus these instructions that may conserue and restore the tranquility of the mind, and make head against those vices that dayly steale vpon vs, yet know thou that none of these are for∣cible enough for those that slight them ouer, but it behoueth the mind which is inclined to fall and erre, to be re∣tained by an intentiue and continuall care.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Seneca intro∣duceth Serenus or some other in his beginning•• to whome he dis∣couer••th the in∣firmitie, of his mind, and de∣mandeth reme∣dy at his hana's to settle them.
• * 1.2

  Hee sheweth ••irst o•• all the diffe∣rence that is be∣twixt those that ••eele troubles of their mind••, and others that haue no appr••hension thereof, or that take pleasure to be in trouble. Then declareth he how the first sh••••ld be hand∣led.
• * 1.3

  For a first reme∣dy ••e r••qui••eth th••t t••e mi••d sh••u••d b•• o••cupi∣••d ••n ••••m•• ••oca∣tion w••••ch mi••••t ••e pro••itable to oth••rs.
• * 1.4

  The meanes to effectuate this remedy is to flie vaine ••lorie, foo∣lish bashfulnes, pride, wrath, and follie.
• * 1.5

  That wee charge not and occupie not ourselues a∣boue measure.
• * 1.6

  He aduiseth vs to shun the se∣crets of vngrate∣full persons, and such as are proud who thinke that all the world is bound vnto thē, and feed on no∣thing but vaine glorie.
• * 1.7

  A remedy a∣gain••t a trou∣b••••d mind, is to ••aue a ••rusty friend.
• * 1.8

  Marks to show and know what friend•• wee ought to choose.
• * 1.9

  Who they are that are not to be enterta••ned into frien••ship.
• * 1.10

  The third reme∣dy is now to feare pouerty, because the poore haue many aduātages aboue the rich.
• * 1.11

  A continent speech of Dio∣genes.
• * 1.12

  An excellent example to shew the aduantages of the poore.
• * 1.13

  The fourth re∣medy is to keepe a measure in de∣sire, gathering, possessing & vsing worldly goods.
• * 1.14

  If a great com∣pany of bookes be not accom••anied with a seri••us s••u∣dy, and w••ll ••o∣uerned, that is but a ••e••k••rie.
• * 1.15

  The fift remedie is to endure qui∣etly the di••••icul∣ties of a mans vocation, and to accustome him∣selfe because he seeth that plea∣sures are inter∣mix••d with per∣plexities.
• * 1.16

  He maintain••th alwayes the doctrine of the Stoickes, and distinguisheth the s••u••••••ous from the wise, whom he raiseth aboue al humane fortunes, and describeth him here with his contentments.
• * 1.17

  The seuenth remedy is not to prise this life, nor that which ••ee possesse more then we neede, but to dispose our selues cou∣ragiously vnto death, and to whatsoeuer ca∣sually.
• * 1.18

  The eighth re∣medy is to re∣m••mber that all euils that be••all vs, and all oth••r men cannot hap∣pen, and conse∣quently to de∣taine our selues in good time.
• * 1.19

  For hee was slain by the way.
• * 1.20

  The ninth reme∣dy is so slie vn∣n••cess••ry occu∣pations.
• * 1.21

  The tenth, to slie vaine curiosity.
• * 1.22

  To what danger they that are ••u••ious oppose themselues, and why the Wise∣man is exempt from these dan∣gers.
• * 1.23

  The twelft re∣medy is that we ought to despise all humane things, beare thē contentedly that are imposed on vs, & laugh with Democritus.
• * 1.24

  A comparison be∣twixt Democri∣tus & Heracli∣tus.
• * 1.25

  The thirteenth remedy is to thinke, that good men are neither miserable in their li••e nor in their death, and that ••or the same cause we ought to resemble them.
• * 1.26

  The foureteenth remedy is to s••••e hypocrisie.
• * 1.27

  The ••i••teenth, to keep•• a measure in solitude and conue••sation.
• * 1.28

  The sixeteenth to giue some re∣••ose ••nto the m••nd, acc••••ding to Socrates, Cato, & Sci∣••ione•• ••xam∣ples.
• * 1.29

  The order of the ancient Romans in the manner of their liues.
• * 1.30

  Of the liberty which is some∣times allowed good minds.
• * 1.31

  The meanes how ••o make all these remedie•• effectuall.