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.

THis Booke was written during the time of his exile, which was about the first yeare of CLAVDIVS raigne (in the yeare since the Citie was builded DCCXCIIII.) by the suggestion of impure MES••A∣LINE. This publike Harlot obiected against him, that he had commit∣ted adulterie with IVLIA GERMANICVS daughter, and charged SENECA therewith. Of this haue we spoken in his Life. Now therefore being banish∣ed into Corsica, he comforteth his mother, and sheweth her how he broo••eth his misfor∣tune constantly, and that she should doe no lesse. He wrote it not presently vpon the be∣ginning of his exile, which the Preface testifieth, but the last of the first yeares, or the beginning of the second. But this wrote he now, when he was in the vigor and maturi∣tie of his iudgement, being somewhat more then fortie yeares old. And therefore his writing is answerable, full of confidencie and eloquence. Perfect in stile and structure, and more orderly disposed then all the rest. I dare say it carrieth away the Palme from all other bookes. He maketh two heads of this his Consolation. Thou must neither be sorie ••or my sake, nor for thine owne. Not for my sake, for none of those which the common sort repute for euils, as Change of place, Pouertie, Ignominie, Contempt, are euils, and thus orderly proueth he till the fourteenth Chapter. Neither must thou be sorie for thine owne sake, for there are two things that may af••lict thee, either because thou hast loct some helpe and comfort by me, or because thou canst not endure my want. The first belongeth not to thee, because thou art not ambitious, neither euer didst boast of the grace and power of thy children. Neither ought the other, because thou wert al∣wayes constant aboue thy sex. Thou hast suffered many miseries, endure this. Imploy thy selfe in the studie of wisedome which will further thee. Turne thy selfe to my brothers, and of thy nephewes by them and mee, thou art not alone, nor leadest a solitarie life. This will both serue and delight thee. Turne thy selfe likewise to

my sister, which will proue both a comfort and example vnto thee. And he concludeth his Booke with her praises.

CHAP. I.

I Haue alreadie oftentimes vndertaken this reso∣lution (most dearest mother) to comfort thee,* 1.1 and oftentimes haue I contained my selfe. Many considerations moued me thereunto. First, I sup∣posed that I should despoile thee of all sorrow, i•• being vnable as yet to suppresse thy teares, I should in the meane space wipe them away. Se∣condly, I assured my selfe that I should haue more authoritie to excite thee, if first of all I had conformed and confirmed my selfe. Further∣more, I was afraid that if I had not mastered Fortune, she would haue troden vnder foote some of those whom I most loued. I therefore endeuour howsoeuer, in laying my hand on mine owne wound, to creepe forward and binde vp yours: notwithstanding there were some things on the contrarie side that crossed this my resolution. I knew well that it be∣houed me not at the first to encounter with thy sorrow, when it was most ve∣hement, for feare lest my consolations should incense and afflict thee the more. For in infirmities and sicknesses, likewise there is nothing more pernicious, then vntimely remedies. I expected therefore, whilest thy sorrow had weakened and disheartned it selfe, to the end, that being mitigated and confirmed, by delay to sustaine remedies, it might suffer it selfe to be comforted and cured. Moreo∣uer, after I had turned ouer all the monuments of those happie wits which they had composed to pacifie and moderate sorrow, I found not any example of such a man who had comforted his friends, when as he himselfe was bewailed by them. So then I remained perplexed in this new accident, and was afraid lest my endeuour, in stead of prouing a consolation, should become a renewing and cause of furth••r griefe. Besides this, had not that man need of new words, not borrowed from vulgar and ordinarie dis••ourse, that lifting his head from the Beere, should vndertak•• to comfort his friends? But it cannot otherwise be, but that the greatnesse of a griefe that exceedeth all measure, should vtterly deface the ornament and choice of words, when as oft-time it stoppeth and cloaseth the mouth. Yet howsoeuer I will endeuour, not in respect of the confidencie I conceiu•• in mine owne wit, but because I may serue for a most assured consola∣tion, because I propose it my selfe. My hope is, that since thou wouldest vouch∣safe me any thing that I should require, that thou wouldest doe me this fauour (although that all sorrow is rebellious) to suffer me to pre••ixe some limittes to thy discontent.

CHAP. II.

* 1.2BEhold how much I vsurpe vpon thine indulgence. I doubt not but I shall be as powerfull with thee as thy griefe, which notwith∣standing is a passion that wonderfully mastereth the afflicted; neyther will I suddenly attempt to charge him, I will first defend his cause, I will discouer all things whereby he is prouoked, and cut vp those things that are alreadie cured. Some man will say, What kinde of consolation is this, to reuiue long buried euils, and to discouer vnto the vnder∣standing all his aduersities, that can scarcely endure the presence of one onely? But let this man thinke that those afflictions that are so crosse and pernicious, as they surmount their remedies, are oftentimes cured by their contraries. And therefore will I present sorrow with all her owne attendants, and will not make a palliatiue cure, but I will ••eare and scarrifie: what shall I get by it? That thy inuincible spirit that hath ouer-mastered so many miseries may be ashamed to shrink at one wound in a body that hath so oftentimes bin cicatrized. Let them therefore weepe and mourne longer, whose delicate minds haue beene weake∣ned by long felicitie, and are quickly d••iected vpon the motion of the slightest miseries, but let them who haue spent their whole yeares in calamitie, indure the most grieuous assaults, with a confident and vnmoueable constancy. This one good hath continuall infelicitie in it, that finally she hardneth those whom she tormenteth ordinarily. Fortune hath not giuen thee any intermission, but hath exercised thee in most grieuous sorrowes, nay, she hath not spared thee on the very day of thy birth. Thou diddest loose thy mother as soone as thou wert borne, nay, euen in thy very entrance into the world, and as soone as thou wert•• as it were, abandoned to this life. Thou wert brought vp vnder thy step∣dame, whom thou by all obsequiousnesse and pietie (as much as could be ex∣pected from a naturall daughter) compelledst to be thy mother; yet none there is that hath not paide dearely to finde out a good stepdame. When thou expectedst the arriuall of thine vncle by the mother side, a man both vertuous and valiant, thou diddest loose him. And lest that fortune should make thy misfortune more slight by delay, a moneth after thou buriedst thy deerest spouse, by whom thou haddest three sonnes. In the height of thy sorrow these mournefull tidings were brought thee, euen then when thy children were ab∣sent, as if all thy miseries had beene reserued till that time, to the end that thy sorrow might haue no meanes of reliefe or refuge. I passe ouer so many dan∣gers, so many affrights that incessantly assaulted thee, and which thou hast en∣dured. Into the same lap wherein before time thou hast dandled thy three little Nephewes, thou hast afterward entertained their dead bones. Twenty dayes after thou haddest solemnized the obsequies of my sonne, who died en∣folded in thine armes, and attended by thy louing kisses, thou heardest the newes that I was banished. Thou wert as yet vnexercised to bewaile the liuing.

CHAP. III.

I Confesse that this later wound is one of the most grieuous that thou hast euer felt,* 1.3 and that it hath not only scratcht of the skin, but hath pierced into the depth of thy breast and entrailes. But euen as yong Souldiers bemoane themselues ouer-much for a slight wound, and are as fearefull of the Phisitians hand as the Surgeons razor, where contrariwise they that are old Souldiers, although they are thrust thorow, doe patiently and without groning suffer their armes and legs to be cut off, as if their bodies were not their owne: so must thou now present thy selfe with a great courage to entertayne thy cure. Remoue from thy selfe these lamentations, these shrill shreeks and other immoderate howlings of dis∣consolate women. For in vaine hast thou suffered so many miseries, if tho•• hast not yet learned to be miserable. What thinkest thou that I deale too fearfully with thee? I haue taken none of thine euills from thee, but haue heaped them vp and laid them before thee. I haue done this resolutely, for I am resolued to ouer-come thy griefe, not to circumscribe it.

CHAP. IIII.

I Shall first of all get the vpper hand as I thinke,* 1.4 if I shall approue vnto thee that I suffer nothing, in respect whereof I might be cal∣led wretched, and much lesse make other men wretched whom I touch. Secondly, if I shall passe ouer vnto thee and approue that thine accident which dependeth on mine is not grieuous. This first will I vn∣dertake, which thy piet••e will be content to giue care to, that I haue no euill: and if I cannot approue this vnto thee, I will make it manifest, that these things wherewith thou thinkest me to be oppressed, are not intolerable. But if this may not be belieued, yet will I please my selfe the more, because I shall be hap∣pie amongst those things which are wont to make others miserable. Thou art not to credit others in that which concerneth mee, I my selfe tell thee to the end thou maiest not be deluded by ill grounded reports, that I am not misera∣ble; nay, I say further to secure thee more, that I cannot be miserable.

CHAP. V.

WE are first borne vnder a good condition,* 1.5 except wee forsake the same. Nature hath so disposed things, that to liue well, we haue no neede of great necessaries: euery man may make himselfe blessed. These externall things are but slight matters, and haue no great effect either in prosperitie or in aduersitie, neither doe the one of these raise a wiseman, neither doth the other depresse him. For hee hath alwaies endeuoured that his greatest goods should consist in himselfe, and the complement of his contents should bee resident in his heart. What then? say I that I am a wise man? no: for if I could freely speake it, I would not only denie that I was miserable, but contrariwise I would maintaine it boldly, that I was the most fortunate of all men, and would repute my selfe to be most neare∣ly

lodged by the Gods. For the present, which is sufficient, to mitigate all my miseri••s I haue wholly dedicated my selfe to wise-men, and being scarce able e∣nough to assure and counsaile my selfe, I haue retired my selfe into another mans Campe, that is to say, amongst those who easily both defence themselues and their owne fortunes. They haue commanded me alwayes to stand addres∣sed, as if I were enioyned to stand Sentinell, and to foresee all the assaults and attempts of fortune long before they assaile me. To them is fortune tedious whom she assaileth suddainly, and easily repulse they her, who continually ex∣pect her. The enemies charge most in••tantly defeateth those whom they sud∣denly set vpon: but they that before the battell haue prepared themselues for a future warre, being well arranged and in a readinesse, do easily sustaine the first assault,* 1.6 which commonly is the most dangerous. I neuer gaue credite to for∣tune, although she seemed to claime a truce at my hands: and as touching all those things which with a liberall hand she hath bestowed vpon me, such as are siluer, honours, and great credite, I haue put them in that place where she may fetch them, without eyther my discontent or preiudice. There was a great di∣stance betwixt her and me, and therefore hath she carried them away from me, and not pulled them out of my ••ands. No man hath aduersitie ouerthrowne, but him whom prosperitie hath deceiued. They that haue loued her presents as if they had beene perpetuall and properly theirs, who would haue them∣selues respected by reason of the trifles; discomfort themselues incontinently, when these false and fraile delights abandon their ••eeble and childish vnder∣standings,* 1.7 who know not what true pleasure is. But he that is not puffed vp with prosperitie, neyther restrained by aduersitie, hath an inuincible heart at all times, and an approued constancie in eyther fortune; for he knoweth well in his felicitie, that he can make head against mishap. I haue therefore alwayes had this opinion in those things which all men wish for, that there is no true goodnesse in them; nay more, I haue alwayes found that they were vaine and outwardly smoothed with a deceiueable glosse, but inwardly hauing nothing that is answerable to their exteriour resemblance. For in those things which we call euils I find nothing so terrible and hard as the common opinion threat∣neth. The word it selfe by a certaine perswasion and consent, is now-a-dayes more distas••efull vnto the eares, and afflicteth those that heare the same, as if it were some heauy and execrable thing, for so will the people haue it: but men of wisedome doe for the most part disanull the ordinances of the people.

CHAP. VI.

* 1.8LEauing apart therefore the iudgement of diuers men, which is ex∣tinguished by the first appearances of things: howsoeuer they be beleeued, let vs consider what banishment is. It is the change of place. It may be thought that we seeme to lessen the same, and that we take from it all that is worst in it. This change of place is accompanied with the incommodities of pouerty, of ignominy, and contempt: against these hereafter I will combate. In the meane while I will first of all haue this looked into, which incommoditie this change of place breedeth. It is an intoll••rable thing to be depriued of a mans countrey. Behold this multitude which may hardly be contained within so many thousand houses of this Citie, the greatest part of this troupe wanteth their countrey; they are retired hither

from their Hamlets, Colonies, and all the quarters of the world. Som are drawn hither by ambition, othersome by the necessitie of publique offices, some by Embassages enioyned them, other some are inuited for ryot sake, that hunteth after the opportunity of riches, and a ••it place wherein to exercise their dissolu∣tions; othersome are drawne with a desire of liberall studies; others with a de∣light to haunt the Theaters; som•• to visite their friends, others to make proofe of their industry, hauing gotten an ample meanes to make shew of their vertue; some haue brought their beautie to set it out to sale, oth••rsom their eloquence. All sorts of men resort hither, where both vertues and vices are highly prized. Command and cite euery one of these in person, and aske of euery of these whence he is; thou shalt see that for the most part of them they haue forsaken their country, to come and dwell in this spacious Citie, which notwithstanding is but a Citie, and not their owne. Againe, depart from this Rome, which may be called a common countrey of all men, and ouersee other Cities, and there is none of these wherein thou shalt not finde a greater part of forraine multitude But leaue thou these countries, and all those who for the pleasant situation of the place, are drawne to inhabite there, and goe into the desarts and desolate Isles, as those of Cithnon, Serephium, Giare, and Corsica. Thou shalt not finde any place of banishment, but that some one remaineth there for his pleasure. What place may a man finde more naked and craggie on euery side, then this mountainous Isle which I inha••ite? Is there any soyle more barren? Are any people more sauage? Is any situation of place more vnholsome, or are more displeasing and intemperate? Yet are there more strangers dwell here then those that are naturall, borne in that countrey. So little therefore is the change of place grieuous vnto men, that this Isle hath withdrawne some from their owne countrey. I finde some that will say that there is a certaine naturall desire in mens mindes to change their seats, and to transferre their houses. For man hath a moueable and vnsetled minde giuen him, he is neuer Master of himselfe, he is confused, he intrudeth his thoughts into all knowne and vnknown things, still stirring and neuer quiet, and best contented with the noueltie of things; which thou wilt not wonder at, if thou consider his first originall. The minde is not composed of a terrestriall and waighty matter, it is a parcell of the celesti∣all spirit. But the nature of celestiall things is alwayes to be in motion; he fly∣eth and is carried away with a most swift course. Behold the Planets that en∣lighten the world,* 1.9 there is none of them that standeth still, but they incessantly turne, and daily change their places. Although they whirle about with the heauens, yet haue they their contrary motion. The Sunne runneth thorow all the signes of the Zodiaque, his motion is perpetuall, neyther remayneth hee at any time in one point. All things turne and passe without stay; and as the law and setled ordinance of nature hath determined, they are carried from one place to another: when as the celestiall bodies shall within certaine spaces of moneths and yeares, shape their course in their spheares, they shall renew the same. Goe therefore now and make thy selfe beleeue that humane vnderstan∣ding composed of the same seeds that diuine things are, euer patiently endures a passage and change from place to place, since that God himselfe taketh plea∣sure in a continuall and sudden motion, and maintaineth himselfe thereby. But withdraw thine eyes from these celestiall things, and behold these terrestriall and base things. Thou shalt see Nations and people change their seate: what meane these Cities, peopled with Graecians, euen in the very middest of barba∣rous Nations? What meanes this Macedonian language amongst the Indians

and Persians? Scithia and all that tract of fierce and vnconquered nations shew vs the Cities of Achaia, built vpon the shores of the Pontique sea. The conti∣nuall colde and the strange and inflexible natures of those Nations more vni∣ted then their ayre, could not hinder the Grecians from planting their Colo∣nies there. There is a company of the Athenians in Asia, the city of Miletum hath peopled seuenty fiue Cities in diuers places: All that side of Italy that borde∣reth vpon the lower sea, was the greater Greece. The Tuscans iss••ed from Asia, the Tirians planted themselues in Africa, the Africans in Spaine, the Greekes the France, and the French in Greece. The Perinean mountaines forbad not the Germanes ••o passe onward, humane leuity led them by vnhanted and vnknown wayes. They drew with them their children, their wiues, and their parents lo∣den with age. Some of these being wearied with long trauell, chose not their habitation by iudgement, but by reason of their wearinesse made choice of that they next met withall. Some maintained their possession by force of Arms; some in seeking out vnknowne Countries perished by sea; some planted their pauilions there where necessity commanded them; neither had they all of them the same cause of seeking out, and leauing their Country. Some of these after the ruine of their Cities, escaped from the fury of their enemies, haue by force made themselues Lords of other Cities, and haue driuen out the right owners. other some haue beene dispersed by ciuill warres, othersome when their Cities were ouer peopled, were mustered and sent away to other places, as superflu∣ous. Some Nations haue beene driuen out of their habitations by the plague, or by often earthquakes, or by some insupportible incommodities of the terri∣torie: and othersome haue beene allured by the bruit that ranne, that such or such a Country was farre more pleasant and fruitfull then their owne. Some others haue fo••saken their houses for diuers occasions. This then is euident that no one hath remained in the place where hee was borne, and that humane kinde ceaseth not to runne hither and thither. There is dayly some change in this so great a world. Heere some men lay the foundation of new Cities, there ariseth a new Nation, and the name of the olde is lost, and is made and becom∣meth more great then any other. But what are all these transmig••ations of peo∣ples but pub••ke banishment.

CHAP. VII.

WHy leade I thee in so great a Windelesse? What neede I specifie vnto thee Athenor that builded Padua?* 1.10 or Euander that Planted the Kingdome of the Ar••adians vpon the bankes of Tiber? What should I tell thee of Diomedes, and so many others, who both vi∣ctorious and vanquished, haue beene scattered by the Troian warre into so diuers Countries? Behold the founder of the Roman Empire, who being an Exile, a fugitiue, gathering together some few scattered souldiers with him after the lacke of Troy, constrained by necessity, and to warrant him∣selfe from the hands of his victorious enemies, searched out forraine Countries and arriued in Italie. After all this, how many people hath hee sent in Colo∣nies thorow out the Countries of the whole world? Wheresoeuer the Roman is Conquerour there dwelleth hee. To this change of places euery one wil∣lingly subscribed his name, and the oldest forsaking their altars and fires, wil∣lingly accompanied those that sought out other Countries beyond the Seas.

CHAP. VIII.

THe matter requireth not much example,* 1.11 I will onely adde that which I know to bee ordinary, the Isle where I am hath changed the inhabitants diuers times. But wee ought not to insist vpon those histories which antiquity hath buried. The Greekes them∣selues, who at this time inhabit Marsilles, had before time made their abode in this Isle. No man knoweth who draue them thence, whether it were the ayre which is vnpleasant, or the feare they had of Italy, which is the Mistrisse of the world, which is more neighbour to the Isle, or because there is dangerous landing at it. That the naturall fiercenesse of Islanders was not the cause it appeareth, because these Greekes went and intermixed themselues with the French, a cruell nation, and who at that time knew no ciuility: A none after these of the Coast of Genes came hether, the Spaniardes likewise, which appeareth by their resemblance in manners, and the behauiour both of the one and the other; for their head attire is the same, and their shooes, such as the bordering Spaniard vse; they retaine likewise some wordes of their language, hauing forgot their mother tong by reason of the conuersation they haue had with the Greekes and Genowayes. After these Marcius caused a Colony of Romane Citizens to bee sent thither, and Scilla an other. See here how often∣times one barren,* 1.12 cragged and mountainous Conntry hath changed inhabi∣tants. In briefe, thou shalt not finde one Angle of the earth that a man may say it was manured by the homebred Countrymen of that place. All are mix∣ed, transported and translated from one quarter to another. One people hath succeeded an other. One Nation hath desired to dwell there which an other hath dispeopled. That other haue been driuen from that place whence they ex∣pulsed others. So hath it pleased the Destinies, that nothing should alwayes re∣maine firme and continue in one place. Varro the most learned man amongst the Romanes, thinketh this a sufficient remedy, that wheresoeuer we become, wee account it the same world. Marcus Brutus thinketh this sufficient for those that are banished to carry their vertues with them. If any one thinketh that these two expediments considered apart, haue little power to comfort a banished man; hee will confesse that these two together may doe very much. For that which wee haue lost, deserueth it to bee called any thing? Two the most excellent priuiledges,* 1.13 that is to say, common nature, and our proper ver∣tue will follow vs in eu••ry place wheresoeuer wee fixe our foot. Belieue who∣soeuer hath created this vniuers, whether it be that Almighty God, whether it be incorporall reason, that Workmaster of great things, whether it be a demy spirit, equally extended and spred amidst all great and small Creatures, whether it be Destiny, and this immutable succession of things enchained the one with∣in the other: such a one hath caused that no things (except they be things most abiect and of little worth) are not out of our power. All that which is good in man, is not subiect to humane power and violence, which neither can giue it, or take it away. Nature hath created this world which is the greatest and fairest thing that a man may see, But as touching the soule that contemplateth and admireth the world, whereof she is the most excellentest part, she is proper vn∣to vs, shee is perpetuall and shall continue so long with vs, as wee continue ••et vs goe forward therefore willingly and confidently, whethersoeuer our for∣tune leadeth vs; let vs march forward with a confident pace.

CHAP. IX.

* 1.14LEt vs trauell ouer what countries soeuer wee will, and wee shall finde no Country in this world that is not accessible by a man. On what soeuer side wee addresse our eyes towardes heauen; these things that are diuine are separated from those that are humane by equall distance: so then prouided that mine eyes bee not hinde∣red from beholding the heauens, as long as it shall bee lawfull for mee to be∣holde the Sunne and Moone, and to consider neerely the other celestiall bo∣dies, their risings, settings and distances: Search out the causes why the one haue more swifter motions then the other; behold so many shining starres by night, the one fixed, the other shaping a short course, and retiring into their Spheares, some appearing sodainely, others blemishing the eye with their spa∣tious clearenesse, as if they would fall; others flying with a long tract, and great light. As long as I shall behold these things, and exercise my selfe amidst these celestiall troupes, as much as is lawfull for a mortall man, and if I haue alwaies my mind lifted vp on high in contemplation of those things that concerne the same, what care I vpon what ground I tread? But this land wherein thou liuest is not fertile, neither beareth it shadowie trees it is not watered by the currents of great and nauigable riuers, it bringeth forth nothing that other Countries might seeke after; scarsly is it able to sustaine the inhabitants: no precious stone is cut here, no veines of golde or siluer are digged out of it. Base is that mind that taketh pleasure in terrestriall things; to those things must hee be addressed which euery way appeare equally, and euery where shine equally, and this is he to thinke, that the goods of this world through the false opinion that men haue conceiued of their firmity, doe but obscure and hinder the true goods. The more they enlarge the walkes and porches of their houses, the more high they raise their turrets, the more larger they extend their streetes, the more deeper they digge their caues and summer retreats, the more higher they rayse the roofes and ••eelings of their dining Chambers, the more they hide the heauens from themselues. An accident hath driuen thee into a certain Country, where in ••••eade of a Pallace thou hast but a little Cabbin, truely thou hast but a weake minde, and such as i•• comforted with base delights, if therefore thou endure this patiently, because thou knowest Romulus his cottage. Rather say thus, whatsoeuer the house bee, it is bigge enough to entertaine vertues. Then will it bee more faire then all the Temples when iustice shall bee scene there, when continency, when prudence, piety, the meanes how to discharge him∣selfe of his duety, and the knowledge of diuine and humane things. No place is too straight that entertaineth this troupe of so great vertues, no banishment is grieuous, wherin a man may march in such cōpany•• Brutus in that booke which hee wrote of vertue, saith; That hee saw Marcellus that was ba••ished into Miti∣lene, and as farre as humane nature permitted, liuing most blessedly, neuer more desi∣rous of the knowledge of good letters then at that time: hee therefore added, that hee in departing from him, rather thought that hee went into banishment, who was to re∣turne backe againe without him, then that hee left him an exile. O farre more hap∣py Marcellus at that time when hee approued his banishment to Brutus, then when he iustified his Consulat to the people of Rome. How great a man was he, who brought to passe that, that man should seeme abanished man in his own iudgement, in departing from him that was an exile. The same Brutus sayth,

that C••s••r passing along by Mitele••e, would not onely enter into the same, be∣cause he•• could not endure to behold a deformed man. The Senate by mu∣tuall supplica••ion obtained Marcellus re••ocation, so pensiu•• and sad were they, that a man would haue said at that time, that euery one of them had Bru∣tus soule, and besought not for Marcellus but for themselues, for feare least be∣ing without him, it should proue a true banishment, yet more attained he that day when Brutus was sorry to leaue him an exile, and Caesar to see him: for by this meanes he had a testimony from them both. Brutus was sorry to returne without Marcellus, Caesar was ashamed; doest thou doubt that this so worthie a man did not encourage himselfe to endure his banishment with a quiet mind in these or such like words? It is no misery for thee that, thou wantest thy Country: so hast thou informed thy selfe with good letters,* 1.15 that thou knowest that euery place is a Wisemans Country. And what shall wee say of him that hath banished thee? hath hee not beene out of his Country for the space of ten whole yeeres? Vndoubtedly it was to the end to encrease the Romane Empire, yet was he absent so long. And now behold A∣frica draweth him vnto her, being replenished with the alarums of a threatning war. Spaine recalleth him that repaireth the broken and dispersed troupes of Pompey, per∣fidious AEgypt calles him forth, and in conclusion the whole world which is intent vpon this occasion of the shaken Empire. Wh••ther shall he march first, against what par∣ty shall hee first oppose himselfe. His victory shall driue him thorow all the countries in the world. Let all Nations reuerence and serue him, as for thy selfe finish thy dayes with this content, that tho•• art much esteemed by Brutus. Constantly therefore did Marcellus endure his exile, neither did the change of place any waies change his mind, although he were pressed with pouerty, wherein there is no euill, as that man knoweth very well, when auarice and dissolution (which ouerturne all things,) haue not as yet ouerturned his vnderstanding. For how little is it, that is necessary for a mans entertainement? hath a vertuous man need of this or that? For mine owne part I finde that I am dispossessed of many incumbran∣ces, and not of my goods. The desires of those things whereof the body stan∣deth in need are short, hee demandeth no more but a couering to defence him against the colde, and mea••e and drinke to extinguish his hunger and thirst. All that a man desireth besides these, serueth but to entertaine excesse, and hath no true vse. It is not necessary to ••ound all depthes, nor to murther so many beastes to fill the belly, nor to goe and fish for Oysters in forraine and vnknown seas: The Gods and Goddesses may destroy those men, whose dissolution hath exceeded the bounds of the Romane Empire so much enuied. They will haue the fowle of their ambitious Kitchens taken and brought from beyond the ••loud Phasis, which is in the further part of Asia, and are not ashamed to send for their dainties from the Parthians: from whome as yet wee haue not de∣manded recompence for the wrongs they haue done vs. They bring from all places that which they know is proper to enkindle these gluttons appetites: that which these decayed stomackes will hardly disgest, bei••g glutted with too ma∣ny dainties, is brought from the farthest Ocean: they vomit to the end they may eate, they eate to the end they may vomit: they take not time to disgest those dainty morsels which they search through the whole world. If a man dis∣pise these delicacies, what wrong doth hee to pouerty? if a man desire them, pouerty likewise profiteth him. Some there are that are not healed but against their wils, and if a poore man being depriued of these dainties, ceaseth not to wish for them, yet vndoubtedly when hee cannot•• hee is like to him that will not. Catus Caesar whom Nature as I thinke brought into this world to shew

what great vices might doe in a great and worldly prosp••ritie, spent at one only supper the summe of two hundreth and fiftie thousand crownes, and being herein assisted by the wits of his best belly-gods, yet scarcely found he how he might consume in that one repast all the reuenue of three Prouinces. O mise∣rable men whose pallats are not pleased but with precious dainties, which are made precious, not by reason of their excellent sauour or any sweetnesse they yeeld the taste, but by reason of their raritie and cunning in dressing. Other∣wise if they would awaken themselues neuer so little what neede they so many arts to entertaine their bellies? what neede they such traffiques, such desola∣tion of woods, such fishing of Seas and Riuers? Nature hath furnished in all places sufficient meat for our bodies. But these Countries and places like blinde men they passe ouer, and trauell through all Nations, and saile all Seas, and when as they may satisfie their hunger with a little, they prouoke the same with much.

CHAP. X.

IT pleaseth me to aske: Why rig you and lanch you your ships? Why arme you your hands both against wilde beasts and men?* 1.16 why runne you hither and thither so tumultuously? why heape you riches vpon riches? will you not thinke how litle your bodies are? Is it not a desperate furie and extreme folly when as thou canst hold so little, to desire so much? Although therefore you increase your rents, and enlarge the bounds of your lands, yet shall you neuer make your bo∣di••s greater. When your traffique hath beene prosperous, your warfare hath brought home rich spoiles, when all the dainties you haue sought for from all places are gathered together: where will you bestow all this prouision? why heape you vp so many things?* 1.17 vndoubtedly your ancestors whose vertues at this time sustayne your vices were vnhappie, who prepared their meat with their owne hands, whose bed was the earth, whose houses as yet shined not with gold, whose temples as yet shined not with precious stones. In these daies they sware religiously by Gods made of earth, and those that had sworne by such Images returned to the enemie with resolution to die, to the end they would not violate their plighted Faith. By this accompt lesse blessedly liued our Dictator who gaue audience to the Embassadours of the Samnites, at such time as he dressed his homely victuals by the fire with his owne hands. Yea such hands as had alreadie oftentimes defeated the Enemie, and put the c••owne of Laurell in the lap of I••piter Capitoline. Better then Apicius liued in our me∣morie, who in the same Citie out of which sometimes Philosophers were com∣manded to depart, as if corrupters of youth, made profession of the science of gourmandise, and infected the whole age with his discipline, whose death it shall not be amisse to consider and know. After he had gathered together into his Kitchin the summe of two millions and a halfe in gold, after hee had in his particular banquets consumed all the presents that were giuen him by Princes, and the great reuenue of the Capitoll, finding himselfe very much in debt, he beganne at that time to consider in what estate his affaires stood, and finding that there remained as yet the summe of two hundreth and fiftie thousand crownes, supposing that it was too litle, and that he should be in danger to die for hunger, he killed himselfe by poison. How great was his dissolution that

thought himselfe poore hauing two hundreth and fiftie thousand crownes? Goe now and thinke that the measure in monie and not in minde, is pertinent to the matter.

CHAP. XI.

APICIVS made small reckoning of two hundreth and fiftie thou∣sand crownes,* 1.18 and that which other men desire with wishes, he droue away by poison. But to a man of so depraued a minde, that last potion was the most holsommest. Then eate hee and drunke he poison, when as he was not only delighted with im∣measurable banquets, but gloried therein: when he bragged of his vices, when as he had drawne the whole Citie into admiration of his riot, when as hee had incited the youth (who of themselues are apt enough to follow euill examples) to follow and imitate him. This is the end of those men who keepe no mea∣sure in the vse of worldly goods, which notwithstanding haue their bounds, but abuse and follow euill customes, that hath no limit or rule but his vnbridled wil. Couetousnesse thinketh no thing enough, nature is sufficed with a very little. Is pouertie then no incommoditie to those that are banished? none; for there is no exile so miserable that is not fertile enough to nourish one man. Should not a banished man couet a gowne or a lodging? if hee desireth them only for vse, hee shall neither want house or cloathing: for the body is couered with as little as it is nourished. Nature hath made euery thing easie which shee knew necessarie for a man. If he wish for a furre gowne of purple embroidered with gold, composed of diuers colours, and after a rich fashion, hee is poore by his owne default, and not by the rigour of aduersitie. Restore vnto such a man all that hee hath lost, yet shalt thou doe nothing for him, because hee shall want more of that which he desireth thee, a banisht man wanteth of all that which he hath had. If he coueteth a Cubberd garnished with vessell of gold, siluer cups of great price, because that long agoe they were laboured by cunning workmens hands, medals made precious by a few mens madnesse, and a troupe of Seruants so great that the house (which otherwaies is spacious) is vnable to containe them; a goodly stable furnished with many fat and gallant Horses, marbels, and other stones of price, brought from all the corners of the World. Let a man gather vp together as many of these things as he can, yet will they neuer satisfie an vnsatiable minde: no more then all the water in the world is not sufficient to quench his thirst, that desireth to drinke not to satisfie his neces∣sitie, but to extinguish the heat proceeding from the inflammation of his en∣trailes. For this is no thirst but a sicknesse: neither hapneth this only in monie, but in meate also. This is the nature of euery desire that proceedeth from er∣rour, not from want: all whatsoeuer thou shalt heape vp will but serue to in∣flame him, not to satisfie him. He then that containeth himselfe within a natu∣rall measure will haue no sence of pouertie,* 1.19 but he that exceedeth this medio∣critie in midst of his greatest riches shall alwayes finde that pouertie attendeth him. The most solitarie and barren places suffice those that content them∣selues with necessarie things but they that desire superfluity haue neuer enough although they had whole Kingdomes. It is the minde that maketh men rich, he it is that accompanieth them in exile and in the desart, where finding suffi∣cient to maintaine his bodie he hath goods in aboundance, and enioyeth them

contentedly. Mony appertaineth nothing to the mind, no more then all those things which vntrained minds, and too much addicted to their bodies so much affect,* 1.20 concerne the immortall Gods. Precious stones, gold, siluer, great tables well garnished are but earthly burthens, which a sincere minde, and such as is no•• forgetfull of his nature cannot loue, because it is alwayes light, and will mount as high as heauen as soone as he findeth the gate open; in the meane while, and in as much as these bonds of the body, and masse of the flesh which inuironeth the same will permit, vpon the wings of a suddain and swift thoght he visiteth and raiseth celestiall things. And therefore a free-man that is allied to the gods, as great as this world, or time, can neuer be banished: for his thought circleth the heauens, and examineth both time past and that which is to come. This fraile body, the fetters and giues of the soule, is tossed hither and thither, punishments, thefts, and sickenesses are exercised vpon it. As for the minde, it is sacred and eternall, and hands cannot be laide vpon it.

CHAP. XII.

* 1.21NEyther thinke thou that to lessen the incommodities of pouertie (which no man feeleth to be grieuous except he that supposeth it) that I vse only the precepts of Philosophy: first, consider how great the number of poore men is, whom notwithstanding thou shalt not see more pensiue or carefull then the rich; contrariwise, I dare almost auow it, that they are more ioyfull, because their mindes are lesse distracted by affairs. Let vs ouer-passe the poore, and com vnto the rich: In the greatest part of their life resemble they not poore men? If men would trauaile they scantle their burthens, and trusse vp their packes, and as often as necessitie requireth them to make more hast, they ouergoe the troupe of their compani∣ons. They that follow the warres, for the most part carry none of their neces∣saries with them, because that militarie discipline permitteth them not to car∣rie much luggage. Besides this condition of time, and incommoditie of places, which equalleth them with the poore; sometimes they are so glutted with their riches, that some dayes they will content themselues to suppe vpon the grasse, and will command their vessels of golde and siluer away, and content themselues to be serued in platters and vessels of earth: mad and vnaduised they alwayes feare that which they couet sometimes. What cloude of errour, and what ignorance of truth shaddoweth these men, which auoyde that which they imitate to yeelde them pleasure? For mine owne part, as often as I consi∣der the life of our ancestors, I blush and dare not vse the solace that pouerty gi∣ueth me, because that dissolution hath gotten so great a head in this time, that at this day banished men haue a greater viaticum, and more commodities then great Princes patrimonie and reuennues came to in times past.* 1.22 It is well known that Homer had but one seruant, Plato three, and that Zeno the author of that seuere and manly wisedome of the Stoickes had none at all. If any one will therfore say that they liued miserably, wil not he think himselfe a catiue & mi∣serable, by reason of this his false opinion? Menenius Agrippa, who made a peace betwixt the Senate and the Romane people, that were ready to assaile one ano∣ther, was buried at the common charge. Attilius Regulus after hee had ouer∣throwne the Carthaginians in Africa, wrote vnto the Senate that his husband∣man was dead, by reason whereof his lands were vnmanured, whereupon the

Senate tooke order as long as Regulus was absent. So much was it to him that he had not a seruant, that the Common-weale of Rome became his husband∣man. Scipio's daughters were married at the Citties charge, because their father had left them nothing. Truely there was great reason why the people of Rome should pay tribute vnto Scipi•• once, when as they exacted a tribute from Carthage alwayes. How happy were the husbands of these daughters, who had the Romane people for their fathers in lawe? Thinkest thou them more happy, whose daughters after they had played in the Theatres, had twentie thousand crowns to their marriage, then Scipio was, who from the Senate their Tutor, haue receiued some small summe of money for their dowry? What man is he that dare disdaine pouertie, that hath so worthy examples? Would a banished man complaine that he wanted this or that, when as Scipio had no money to marry his daughters? Regulus was without a husbandman, Menenius had need of friends to pay for his funerals; and considering that all that which was wanting to those worthy men, hath beene more plentifully ministred vnto them then they had need; so then such Patrons not onely make pouertie se∣cure, but also gratious.

CHAP. XIII.

TO this it may be answered,* 1.23 Why so artificially discoursest thou on these things, which considered apart may be maintained, but if they be compared cannot? Change of place is tolerable if thou onely change thy place: pouertie is tolerable, if ignominy be ta∣ken from it, the which alway is wont to oppresse mens mindes. To him who would terrifie me with a troupe of euils, thus would I answer; If thou haue force enough against euery part of fortune; the like mayest thou haue against all. When vertue hath once hardned the mind she maketh him in∣vincible. If auarice dismisse thee, which is the most violent plague of mankind, ambition will neuer leaue thee at rest.* 1.24 If thou beholdest thy last houre, not as a punishment, but as a lawe of nature, into that breast whence thou hast driuen the feare of death, there is no feare of any thing that dare enter. If thou think∣est that the honest desires of marriage, was not allotted man to feed his lust, but to encrease his family. He that is not violated with this secret mischiefe infixed in his bowels, euery other desire will ouerpasse and touch him not. Reason not onely ouerturneth vices one after another, but all of them together: she fight∣eth at once, and ouercommeth the enemie at one stroake. Thinkest thou that a wise-man that is grounded in vertue, and estranged from vulgar opinions is shaken by ignominie? Death is more ignominious then one simple ignominie; yet Socrates with the same countenance and resolution entered the prison, wherewith he in times pastalone brought the thirti•• tyrant•• into order, and tooke the ignominie from the place by his entry:* 1.25 for that could not seeme to be a prison wherein Socrates was lodged. What man is he so brutish, that will say or thinke that Marcus Cato was disgraced, at such time as he demanded the Praetorship, and afterwards the Consulate? It was a disgrace both to the Prae∣tor and Consulate who were honoured by Cato. No man can be despised by an∣other man, except he first be contemned by himselfe. An humble and abiect minde becommeth subiect to this contumely; but whosoeuer encourageth himselfe against these terrible accidents, and ouercommeth those euils where∣with

other hearts are ouerturned, reputeth his afflictions to be his ornaments. When we are thus affected, that nothing moueth more admiration in vs then to see a man couragious in his miseries. Aristides was sent by the Athenians, and commanded to be put to death, who made all those hang downe their head•• and mourne that saw him in that estate, not as if they had executed a iust man, but iustice her selfe; yet was there one amongst them that spit in his face: this might he haue taken heauily, because he knew that no man that had modestie would haue done it, yet wiped he his face, & smilingly beheld the Magistrates, and said thus, Admonish this man, that hereafter he open not his mouth so vncleanely. This were enough to humble outrage it selfe. I know that some will reply, that nothing is so hardly dis-jested as contempt, and that death seemeth more plea∣sing then the same. To these I answere, that oftentimes exile is exempted from these incommodities. If a man of note fall vpon the ground, yet is he alwayes the same, and as great; neyther is contemned any more, then when as the ruin•• of sacred Temples are troad vpon, which as well both the religious as the stan∣ders by doe adore. Thou canst not therefore finde any want of thy sonne that is taken from thee, whom during his aboade with thee, thou neuer thoughtest to appertaine vnto thee.

CHAP. XIIII.

* 1.26SInce, most deere mother, thou hast not any occasion in respect of me to afflict thy selfe thus continually, there must be therefore some particular considerations that presse thee thus. But these are two; for eyther thou tormentest thy selfe because thou thin∣kest that thou hast lost some stay, or because thou canst not en∣dure the sorrow thou sustainest. I will slightly touch the first consideration; for I know that thy heart loueth nothing in thy children but themselues. Let those mothers, who by their indiscretion breede much discontent in their chil∣dren that are growne in credite, consider what they doe. Being vnable to exe∣cute publique charges, they shew themselues ambitious by their children•• they embezzill and spend their reuennues, and by their bables breake their heads who are constrained to giue eare vnto them. But for thine owne part thou hast greatly reioyced at the goods that haue befalne thy children, which thou hast neuer had a part of. Thou hast alwayes restrained our liberalitie, when thou hast had no power of thine owne: thou being but the daughter of a family, hast not forborne to bestow thy fauours plentifully vpon thy children that were rich: thou hast administred the goods that our father left vs, as if they had beene thine own, and hast beene as sparing of them as if thou haddest had them to restore them to some strangers: thou hast spared our credite as if thou haddest been to employ such a one that were no wayes allied vnto thee: our estates and honours were but a charge and pleasure to thee, and thou neuer diddest respect vs to enrich thy selfe: thou canst not therefore want thy sonne that is taken from thee, who in his safetie neuer thoughtest that he appertained vnto thee.

CHAP. XV.

ALL my consolation must be aimed to withstand that,* 1.27 whence the true force of thy motherly sorrow doth arise. I want the embra∣ces of my deare child, I cannot see him, I cannot deuise with him. Where is he, by whose sight I redeemed my sorrow, to whom I communicated al my discontents? Where are his discourses, wher∣with I could not satisfie my selfe? Where are his studies, which I entertained more willingly then a woman, more familiarly then a mother? Where is this meeting, wherein the sonne shewed himselfe ioyfull to behold his mother? Thou wilt adde hereunto the very places where I was wont to reuerence thee, to drinke and eate with thee: the place likewise, whereas we met the last time, which cannot but haue great efficacie to afflict the minde. For this likewise did Fortune most cruelly complot against thee, because that when thou wert se∣cure, and fearedst no such matter, she dared to assault thee three dayes before I was strucken. We had before times beene fitly separated by distance of places, and our absence during some yeares, had as it were, disposed thee to this affli∣ction: thou camest backe againe vnto me, not to enioy any pleasure or content∣ment by thy sonne, but to the end thou mightest not lose the good to conuerse and communicate with him. Haddest thou beene separated from him long time before, this assault had not so much vexed thee, because the distance of time might haue asswaged thy sorrowes: if thou haddest not beene seuered from him, thou haddest endured thy losse more contentedly, because thou had∣dest enioied this last fruit to be yet two daies in thy sons companie. But cruel de∣stinie hath carried the matter in such sort, that thou foundest me not at Rome at such time as I was banished, and arriuedst there in••ontinently afterwards, to receiue the more griefe, because I was then vpon departure. But the more fu∣rious these assaults are; the more oughtest thou to call thy better resolued ver∣tue to assist thee, and to fight more confidently with thine enemie, which is sufficiently knowne vnto thee, and that heretofore hath beene diuers times de∣feated by thee. This blood of thy present affliction, is not the first that thou hast lost, thy precedent wounds, as yet vnhealed, haue beene renewed a∣gaine.

CHAP. XVI.

THou oughtest not to alleage in thine excuse,* 1.28 that thou art a wo∣man, which is almost permitted to weepe her fill, and yet ought there to be some measure. And therefore our Ancestors allowed them ten moneths space to bewaile their husbands, and in limi∣ting in this sort by their publike ordinance this obstinate sadne•• of women, they pretended not to hinder their teares, but to bring them to some end. For it is a foolish and vnbridled affection in any one to torment himselfe incessantly, for the death of another whom he loueth. As contrariwise not to be moued, is to be reputed to haue a heart both obdurate and inhumane. The best meane that we can obserue betwixt pietie and reason, is to feele some re∣morse, and afterwards to extinguish the same. There is no reason thou shoul∣dest build vpon certaine women, that hauing once begunne to entertaine sor∣row,

neuer giue it ouer till death hath made an end of them. Thou hast knowne diuers, that hauing lost their sonnes, haue neuer afterwards put off their mour∣ning garments. The constancie that thou hast alwayes shewed heretofore, re∣quireth somewhat more at thy hands. Such a one as in times past hath appro∣ued it to all men, that she was deliuered from all feminine imperfections, can∣not alleage for her excuse, that she is a woman. Impudicitie, one of the most greatest euils that raigne in our time, hath not entangled thee amongst diuers others: pearles and precious stones haue not tempted thee, riches, which are esteemed the greatest good in this world, haue not bewitched thine eyes, the dangerous examples wherewith the wickeder sort seduce the best haue not di∣stracted thee, thou that hast beene well brought vp in a Noble and well ordered Familie, art not ashamed to haue beene fetile, and the mother of diuers chil∣dren: as if thou wert vpbraided thereby that thou art old. Neuer hast thou ac∣cording to the custome of diuers other women, which desire nothing more then to be reputed bewtifull, hidden thy grossenesse, as if it had beene an vnfit∣ting burthen, neither hast thou made away the fruit of thy wombe, which thou thoughtest thou haddest receiued. Thou hast neuer painted thy selfe, nor taken any pleasure to weare such garments as might discouer thy naked skinne. Modestie is the onely ornament which thou hast esteemed to be most fitting, most seemely, and such as cannot bee indemnified by age. So then thou canst not to the end thou mayest obtaine licence to weepe; pretend the name of a woman, because thy vertues haue separated thee from that ranke. So farre oughtest thou to be estranged from the teares of this sex, as thou art from their imperfections. Women likewise themselues will not permit thee to c••nsure and submit thy selfe to thy sorrow: but hauing suffered thee to weepe a little, and as much as need requireth, they will make thee rise vp, especially if thou wilt behold those women, who for their excellent vertues, haue beene numbred a∣mongst the most famous men.* 1.29 Fortune reduced Cornelia, the mother of twelue children, to that passe, that shee had onely two remaining: if thou wouldest count those she had buried, they were ten, if thou wilt estimate them she had lost, the Gracchi, yet expressely forbad she those that wept about her, and cur∣sed that vnhappie aduise to accuse Fortune in any sort, which had giuen her the Gracchi to her sonnes. By this woman should he be bred, who said vnto a certaine person that declamed before the people: Speakest thou euill of my mo∣ther that bare mee? But the mothers speech, in my iudgement, is more coura∣gious. The sonne made high reckoning of the birth of the Gracchi, the mother of their deathes. Rutillia followed her sonne Cotta into exile, and her loue to∣wards him was so entire, that shee had rather endure exile then his want; nei∣ther returned she backe againe into her Countrey, before she returned with her sonne. After his returne, and at such time as her sonne was ra••sed to the grea∣test honors: she bare his death as constantly as she had followed him couragi∣ously; and no man could euer marke that she let one teare fall from he•• eyes af∣ter he was enterred. She made proofe of her vertue at such time as she was ba∣nished, and of her wisdome, when death drew him out of this world•• Nothing hindered her from shewing her selfe charitable, and nothing detained her in a sottish and superfluous sorrow. My desire is that thou shouldest be numbered amongst such women,* 1.30 and because thou hast alwayes imitated their life, bee thou continuallie most studious and carefull to follow their example, and to represse and suppresse thy sorrow. I know that the matter is not in our power, and that there is no passion that will bee moderated, and especially not that

which proceedeth from griefe•• for it is fierce and rebellious against all remedy•• yet will wee in the meane time that it master and swallow vp sorrowes, and yet notwithstanding permit we teares to streame along a counterfeit and concea∣led countenance: wee will endeauour to exercise the mind in sports, or in see∣ing the Sword-players skirmish; but amidst all these spectacles that shall de∣taine the same, wee are content that a light touch of griefe shall shake the same. It is far better to ouercom the passion then to abuse it: for sorrow withdrawn by the pleasures of this world, or beguiled by occupations relieueth himselfe, and by the meanes of repose gathereth more greater forces, and ••••••misheth after∣wardes more confidently. But the mind that giueth place to reason, attaineth a perpetuall repose. But I will not teach thee th••se remedies which I know di∣uers other shaue vsed, namely that thou shouldest passe the time in some long voyage, or that thou shouldest sport thy selfe in places of pleasure, or tha•• ••hou shouldest employ many daies in carefully ouerlooking how thy affaires are ca∣ried, and to order thy reuenew, or in short that thou shouldest entangle thy selfe alwaies in so me new affaires. All these things profite for a short moment, and are not remedies, but delayes of sorrow. For mine owne part I had rathe•• thou shouldest cease then deceiue thy griefe. I will therefore lead thee the••her whe∣ther all they ought to haue recourse,* 1.31 who flie from fortune, that is to Philoso∣phy, which wil•• heale thy wound, & plucke out all sorrow from thy mind. Thogh hitherto thou ••ast neuer addicted thy selfe thereunto, yet now must thou doe it; but thou ha•••• not studied all the liberall sciences, tho•• hast onely tasted so much as the ancient seuerity of my father permitted thee. I could haue wished that my Father (one of the best men in the world) had beene lesse addicted to the fashions of ••ur ancestors, and that hee would ••aue permitted the•• seriou∣sly to bee instructed in Philosophy, and not sleightly: now then shouldest thou not haue neede to pr••pare a remedy against Fortune, but thou shouldest bee exercised therein. As for these that vse good letters, not for wisdome ••alle, but rather for ostentation and pride, for their cause hee suffe••ed thee the lesse to follow thy studies, but by reason of the pregnant witte thou hast apprehended more in a little ti••e then could bee expected. The foundations of all sciences are laide in thee. Returne now vnto these, and they will make thee secure these will comfort the••, these will delight thee, these if they enter thy mind in good earnest;* 1.32 neuer shall sorrow or sollitude•• not the vaine sorrow of superfluous affliction enter in••o thy heart any more, thy breast shall lie open to none of these, for already is it shutte vppe against all other vices. These are the most assured remees, and such as can onely deliuer thee from for∣tune. But whilest thou hast attained that part which studies promise, thou hast neede of ••orne supports and s••aies, and therefore in the meane while will I shew thee thy comforts. Behold my brothers who being in security•• it is vn∣lawfull for thee to accuse fortune, thou hast in both to delight thy selfe for their seuerall vertues, the one by his industry hath ar••aine•• honours, the other hath contemned them wisely: content thy selfe in the one of thy sonnes dig∣nity, and the others quiet, note the piety of them both. I know the in∣ward affections of my brethren, the one in this respect affecteth dignity, that hee may bee an ornement vnto thee, the other hath retired himselfe to a peace∣able and quiet life, onely to attend thee. Fortune hath disposed thy children wel; both for thy succour, and for thy delight; thou maiest bee defended by the dignity of the one, and enuy the others retirement. They will contend in of∣fices towards thee, and the desire of one shall bee supplyed by the pie••y of them

both. I dare boldly promise thee, thou shalt want nothing but the number•• From these behold my Nephewes likewise, Marcus that pretty wanton lad, at whose sight all sorrow must be banished, there is nothing so great, nothing so newly impressed in any mans breast, which hee by his wanton dalliance will not len••••ie, whose teares will not his pleasures suppresse? whose mind e••cept it bee wholly contracted by care, will not his merry and witty iestes ma••e ioy∣full? Who will not bee drawne to delight by beholding his wantonnesse•• who though wholly fixed and deuoured in thoughts, would not bee delighted by his prety prattle, and so pleasing that neuer wearieth any man? I beseech the Gods to grant him long life amongst vs. Let all the wearied cruelty o•• the Fates be spit and spent vpon me, let all my mother should grieue for, be trans∣ferred to me, or what afflicts my grandmother, afflict me. So the rest may flou∣rish in their accustomed estate, I shall not complaine of mine owne solitude and condition. Let mee onely be the expiation of the family, that here after shall liue in repose. Keepe in thy lappe my No••••tilla that shall shortly make thee a great Grandmother with that affection I appropriated and made her mine owne, that hauing lost me, shee might seeme to bee an Orphan, althogh I am now liuing. Loue her I pray thee for my sake: Fortune of late hath ta∣ken her father from her, thy piety may effect this that she shal only haue cause to bewaile the death of her mother, and yet notwithstanding shall haue no sense of this losse. Now fashion ••er mind, and then her manners. Precepts take best hold when they are imprinted in tender yeeres. Let her accustome her selfe to your speeches, le•• her conforme her selfe according to thy manners, thou shalt giue her much, although thou giue her nothing but thy example. This so so∣lemne an endeuour will serue for a remedy, nothing can diuert a mind that is piously sorrowfull, but eyther reason or honest occupation. I should number thy Father likewise amongst thy great comforts,* 1.33 but that hee is absent: but now bethinke thy selfe by thine owne affection what concerneth him, and thou shalt vnderstand how far iuster a thing it is that thou art reserued for him, then bestowed vpon me. As often as immoderate force of sorrow shal inuade thee, and shall command thee to follow him, thinke vpon thy father; in giuing him so many Nephewes and Nephewes children, thou hast brought to passe that thou art not alone. Meanewhile thou enioyest this honou••, that thou hast happily finished the course of thy life, and as long as hee liueth, it is vnlawfull for thee to complaine that thou liuest.

CHAP. XVII.

* 1.34YEt had I almost concealed thy greatest solace, thy sister that hath alwayes been so faithfull vnto thee, in whose bosome thou hast familia••ly discharged all thy sorrowes•• and who hath shewed to∣wards vs all an affection of a mother•• thou hast mingled thy teares with hers, and thou first breathedst in her mouth•• Shee alwayes followeth thine affections, and yet in my behalfe shee grieueth not ••o much for thee. By her h••nds was I brought into this City, by her pious and mother∣ly nursing, I recouered after a lo••g and dangerous sicknesse, shee employed her credi••e to make me Quaestor. And whereas she blushed if any one should haue spoken to her, or saluted her with a lowder voyce, shee was not ashamed to go and speake with diuers seuerall men in my behalfe, neither could her retired

course of life, neyther her modes••y (in so great pe••ulancy of Country women) neither her quiet, neither her secret and inclined manners, ayming at nothing more then ••••pose, detaine her from showing her selfe•• ambitious in my be∣half••. This deare mother is a s••lace whereby thou must bee comforted•• as much as in thee lyeth ioyne thy selfe to her, and tie thy selfe to her s••ric•• em∣braces. They that are in sorrow are wont to flie those things which most they loue, and to se••ke a liberty for their sorrow: but see that thou both retire thy selfe, and whatsoeuer thou thinkest vnto her, whether thou wilt keepe this ha∣bite, or lay it aside, with her thou shalt finde, eyther a companion, or an end of thy sorrow. But if I be not decei••••d in the wisdome of this most perfect wo∣man, shee will not suffer thee to consume thy selfe in fruitlesse lament, and will propose thee her owne example, whereof I my selfe was a witnesse. Hauing beene married young, shee lost her husband, and our vnckle vpon the sea, yet in the mean while, & at the same time she endured her sorro•• and feare, and afterwardes escaping from the storme shee solemnized his funerals. O how many worthy actions of women are buried in obscurity, if this woman had li∣ued in the time of our a••cestors, who with a pure affection honoured their ver∣tues; how many braue spirits should haue enforced themselues to extoll a wo∣man,* 1.35 who without any apprehension of her weakenes, neither feared windes, neith••r le••ted by waues, exposed her selfe to all hazards to bury her husband•• and thinking of his obsequies, had not any thought at all of her owne? The Poets haue enobled Alcestis, that hazarded her life to ransome her husband from death. But this is more, to search with the expence of her owne life a Tombe for her husband•• the greater is the loue that redeemeth by eminent danger that which seemeth to be little. Furthermore, is not this a thing wor∣thy of admiration that during the space of sixeteene yeeres, in which her hus∣band was gouernour of AEgypt, she was neuer seene in the stre••t, neither suffe∣red shee any of that Prouince to enter her house; shee demanded nothing at her husbands hands, neither suffered any other to entreat ought else at her handes: by reason wherof this Prouince so talkatiue and ingenuous to defame their go∣uernours, wherein diuers hauing carried themselues honestly, haue notwith∣standing beene accused of euill conuersation, re••erenced thy sister as the onely example of sanctity, and enforcin•• their owne natures which is to take plea∣sure in iesting whatsoeuer become of it, carefully contained their tongs, and althoug•• they hoped not euer to haue had such a Gouernesse, yet wished shee the like dayly. It was much for her to make her selfe knowne in AEgypt in sixe∣teene yeeres space, but it was farre more to conceale her•• selfe so long. I re∣count not these things to the end to rippe vp the prayses of this woman, for to represent them so briefly, is to diminish them; but to the end that thou mayest vnderstand that shee is a woman of a great mind: whom neither ambition, nor auarice (the companions and plagues of all humane greatnes) could ouercom, neither the apprehension of death, affrighted so much (althogh she saw the ship disarmed and ready to sinke) but that holding her•• dead husband embraced in her armes,* 1.36 shee sought out, not the meanes to escape, but how she might bu∣ry his body. The like resolution oughtest thou to show, and retire thy minde from sorrow, and behaue thy selfe so that men may not thinke that thou repen∣test this that thou hast brought me into this world, but because it is needfull when as thou hast done all things•• yet that they should now and then reflect vpon me, neither that any of thy children should be more frequent in thy me∣mory, not because they are lesse deare vnto thee, but because it is a naturall

thing to lay thy hands more often on that which is aggrieued. Behold what thou oughtest to thinke that I am: I am ioyfull and merry, as if all my affaires were in the best estate of the world, and so they be, because my mind being discharged of all cares, imployeth it selfe in those actions that are proper vnto it, and sometimes delighteth himselfe in more pleasing studies, and somtimes being greedy to discouer the truth, disposeth and causeth himselfe to consider both mine owne nature, and the disposition of the whole world. First hee taketh a reuiew of all Countries, and searcheth out their situations. Afterwards he considereth the sea that circleth them round about, and the ebbes and floats of the same; then regardeth he all that which is maruellous, and dreadfull in the heauens and earth, that is to say, this great space, wherein the noyse resoundeth of so many thunders, of so many lightnings of contrary winds, of ouerflow of waters, of snowes and haile. And hauing trauelled through these low places, he ascendeth more high to enioy the sight of more diuine thinges, and remembring himselfe of eternity, he examineth all that which either hath beene, or shall bee in all ages.

Notes

• * 1.1

  He proposeth di∣uers reasons why he deferred to com••ort his mo∣ther.
• * 1.2

  The summe of his discourse is, that since his mother hath ap∣proued her selfe couragious and a conquerour in o∣ther afflictions, she should not giue place to this.
• * 1.3

  That although this accident be grieuous, yet Heluias con∣stancie so much approued before both can and may resist that.
• * 1.4

  Senecaes in••ēt in this Treatise which ••e distin∣guisheth into two principall points.
• * 1.5

  He entereth into the consideratiō of the former point, which con∣cerneth himselfe, and sheweth that he is not mi∣serable. First, nature hath taught vs to bee contented with a little.
• * 1.6

  Secondly, no∣thing h••th be∣fa••ne him that he hath not fore••ee••e, be∣ca••••e he neuer giue c••ed••te to w••r••d••y p••ospe∣ri••ie.
• * 1.7

  Thir••ly, the goods of this world are not truely goods, and the euils are but apparantly euill.
• * 1.8

  He disput••th plen••ifull•• of banishm••nt, and proueth that th••re is no e••••ll ther••in, ••nd tha•• those euils wh••ch accompany the ••••me should not be called euils.
• * 1.9

  Whence it com∣meth that men are so mutable.
• * 1.10

  He proueth the change of place by these that first founded and peopled the Em∣pire of Rome.
• * 1.11

  A second proo••e by the inhabi∣tants of the Isle whereinto he was banished.
• * 1.12

  The third in all the estates of the world. Priuiled∣ges which exile cannot take from vs.
• * 1.13

  A doubtfull opi∣nion of Seneca, as touching the Deity, and his ordinary Para∣dox, tying, the first cause which i•• God to secondary causes, reade here with aduice.
• * 1.14

  An other notable consideration in exile is, that the whole worlde is a mans country
• * 1.15

  Notable consi∣derations to pa∣cifi•• the fury of exile, worthily set downe vnder the person of, Marcellus.
• * 1.16

  A ••ontinuation of his inuectiue against intem∣perance.
• * 1.17

  The frugalitie and prosperitie of the ancient Romans.
• * 1.18

  Hauing suffici∣ently detested intemperance, he proueth a∣gaine that euery Countrie hath enough in it selfe to nourish him that inhabiteth the same.

  The desire of worldly goods is insatiable.
• * 1.19

  Mediocritie on the contrarie side is alwaies, and euery where content.
• * 1.20

  Why vertuous men cannot loue the goods of this world.
• * 1.21

  The fourth fruit of exile and po∣uertie is, that it hath no care or torment of mind, and con∣trariwise, the rich a••e poore for the most part of their liues.
• * 1.22

  Diuers exam∣ples of the tem∣perance of our ancestors.

  See Titus Liui∣us in his second booke and eigh∣teenth chapter: Valerius Ma∣ximus in his fourth book and fourth Chapter.
• * 1.23

  An obiection, that ignominy annexed with pouerti•• is a thing very odious
• * 1.24

  His opinion 〈◊〉〈◊〉 touching death, proceeding from the ignorance of the fall of the first man.
• * 1.25

  Examples to confirme hi•• answer.
• * 1.26

  He now cōmeth to the second point of his d••s∣course, the scope whe••••of, is, that H••luia in re∣gard of her selfe, hath not any oc∣casion to torment her selfe for the absence of her sonne, and that for two principal causes.
• * 1.27

  To remedie his mothers sorrow, the better he spe∣cifieth the par∣ties, and appliet•• diuers remedies.
• * 1.28

  He confirmeth her by the consi∣deration of other wom••ns infirmi∣ties.
• * 1.29

  He animateth her by worthie examples.
• * 1.30

  Afterwards he counselleth her to conquer, and not to disguise her passions.
• * 1.31

  A principall re∣medy in foolish and vnbrideled passions to haue recourse to Philosophy, whereunto he exhorteth his mother.
• * 1.32

  Particular re∣medies. He re∣quireth her to consider ••er o∣ther children that continue with her, and de∣scribeth the be∣nefites and plea∣sures shee enioy∣eth by their pre∣sence.
• * 1.33

  Secondly•• her Father.
• * 1.34

  Thirdly, her si∣ster•• whose ver∣tues and constan∣cy she•• commen∣deth.
• * 1.35

  The He••oicke vertues of Hel∣uias sister.
• * 1.36

  For conclusion, and for his last consolation, h••e saith that Hel∣uia ••a••h no oc∣casion to bee sad, because her sonne enioyeth a singu∣lar contentment ••n minde in his exile.