The arte of rhetorique for the vse of all suche as are studious of eloquence, sette forth in English, by Thomas Wilson.

The arte of Rhetorique.

what is Rhetorique.

RHetorique is an art to set furthe by vtteraunce of wordes, matter at large, or (as Cicero doeth saie) it is a learned, or rather an artificiall de∣claracion of the mynde, in the handelyng of any cause, called in contencion, that maie through reason lar∣gely be discussed.

¶The matter whereupon an Oratour must speake.

AN Orator muste be able to speake fully of all those questions, whiche by lawe and mannes ordinaunce are enacted, and appoyncted for the vse and pro∣fite of man, suche as are thought apte for the ton∣gue to set forward.* 1.1 Now Astronomie is rather learned by demonstracion, then taught by any greate vtteraunce. A∣rithmetique smally nedeth the vse of eloquence, seeyng it maie be had wholy by nombryng onely. Geometrie rather asketh a good square, then a cleane flowyng tongue, to set out the arte.* 1.2 Therfore an Orators profession, is to speake onely, of all suche matters as maie largely be expounded, for mannes behoue, and maie with muche grace be set out, for all men to heare theim.

¶Of Questions.

EUery question, or demaunde in thynges, is of two sortes. Either it is an infinite question, and with∣out ende, or els it is definite, and comprehended within some ende.

Those questions are called infinite,* 1.3 whiche generally are propounded, withoute the comprehension of tyme, place, and person, or any suche like: that is to saie, when no certain thyng is named, but onely woordes are generally spoken. As thus, whether it be best to marie▪ or to liue sin∣gle. Whiche is better, a courtiers life, or a scholers life.

Those questions are called definite,* 1.4 whiche set furthe a matter, with the appoynctment, and namyng of place, time and persone. As thus. Whether now it be best here in En∣glande, for a Prieste to Marie, or to liue single. Whether

it were mete for the kynges maiestie, that now is, to marie with a straūger, or to mary with one of his awn subiectes.* 1.5 Now the definite question (as the whiche concerneth some one persone) is moste agreyng to the purpose of an Orator consideryng particuler matters in the Lawe, are euer de∣bated betwixte certain persones, the one affirmyng for his parte, and the other deniyng, as fast again for his parte.

Thynges generally spoken without al circumstaunces, are more proper vnto the Logiciā,* 1.6 who talketh of thynges vniuersally, without respect of persone, time, or place. And yet notwithstandyng, Tullie doeth saie, that whosoeuer will talke of a particuler matter, must remēber that with∣in thesame also, is comprehended a generall. As for exam∣ple. If I shall aske this question, whether it be lawfull for Willyam Conqueroure to inuade Englande, and wynne it by force of armour, I must also consider this, whether it be lawfull for any man, to vsurpe power, or it be not law∣full. That if the greater cannot be borne withall, the lesse cannot be neither. And in this respecte, a generall question agreeth well to an Orators profession, and ought well to be knowen, for the better furtheraunce of his matter, not∣withstandyng the particuler questiō, is euer called in con∣trouersie, and the generall onely thereupon considered, to comprehende and compasse thesame, as the whiche is more generall.

¶The ende of Rethorique.

Three thynges are required of an Orator.* 1.7

• To teache.
• To delight.
• And to perswade.

FIrst therefore an Orator muste labour to tell his tale, that the hearers maie well knowe what he meaneth, and vnderstande him wholy, the whiche he shall with ease do, if he vtter his mind in plain wordes,* 1.8 suche as are vsually receiued, and tell it orderly, without goyng aboute the busshe. That if he doe not this, he shall neuer do the other. For what manne can be delited

or yet be perswaded, with the onely hearyng of those thyn∣ges, whiche he knoweth not what thei meane. The tongue is ordeined to expresse the mynde, that one mighte vnder∣stande anothers meanyng: Nowe what auaileth to speake, when none can tell, what the speaker meaneth? Therefore Phauorinus the Philosophier (as Gellius telleth y^e tale) did hit a yong man ouer the thumbes, very handsomely for vsyng ouer olde, and ouer straunge woordes, Sirha ({quod} he) when our old great auncesters and graundsires wer aliue thei spake plainly in their mothers tongue,* 1.9 & vsed old lan∣guage, suche as was spokē then at the buildyng of Rome. But you talke me suche Latin, as though you spake with them euen now, that were two or thre thousande yeres a∣go, and onely because you would haue no man, to vnder∣stand what you saie. Now wer it not better for the a thou∣sand fold (thou foolishe fellowe) in sekyng to haue thy de∣sire, to holde thy peace, and speake nothyng at all? for then by that meanes, fewe should knowe what were thy mea∣nyng. But thou saiest, the olde antiquitee doeth like thee best, because it is good, sobre, & modest. Ah, liue man as thei did before thee, and speake thy mynde now, as menne do at this daie. And remember that, whiche Cesar saith, beware as long as thou liuest, of straunge woordes, as thou woul∣dest take hede and eschewe greate rockes in the Sea.

The next parte that he hath to plaie, is to chere his ge∣stes, and to make thē take pleasure, with hearyng of thyn∣ges wittely deuised, and pleasauntly set furthe.* 1.10 Therfore euery Orator should earnestly laboure to file his tongue, that his woordes maie slide with ease, and that in his deli∣ueraunce, he maie haue suche grace, as the sound of a lute, or any suche instrument doeth geue. Then his sentencies must be well framed, and his wordes aptly vsed, through∣out the whole discourse of his Oracion.

Thirdly, suche quicknesse of witte must be shewed, and suche pleasaunt sawes so well applied, that the eares maie finde muche delite, whereof I will speake largely, when I shall entreate of mouyng laughter. And assuredly no∣thyng is more nedefull, then to quicken these heauie loden

wittes of ours, and muche to cherishe these our lompishe and vnweldie natures, for excepte menne finde delight, thei will not long abide: delight theim, and wynne them: werie theim, and you lose theim for euer. And that is the reason, that menne commonly tary the ende of a merie plaie, and cannot abide the halfe hearyng of a sower chec∣kyng Sermon.* 1.11 Therefore, euen these auncient preachers, must now and then plaie the fooles in the pulpite, to serue the tickle eares of their fleetyng audience, or els thei are like some tymes to preache to the bare walles, for though the spirite bee apte, and our will prone, yet our fleshe is so heauie, and humours so ouerwhelme vs, that wee cannot without refreshyng, long abide to heare any one thyng.* 1.12 Thus we se, that to delight, is nedefull, without the whi∣che, weightier matters will not be heard at all, and there∣fore hym cunne I thanke, that bothe can & will euer, myn∣gle swete,* 1.13 emong the sower, be he Preacher, Lawyer, yea, or Cooke either hardely, when he dresseth a good dishe of meate: now I nede not tell that scurrilitie,* 1.14 or Alehouse ie∣styng, would bee thought odious, or grosse mirthe would be deamed madnesse: consideryng that euen the meane wit∣ted doe knowe that already, and as for other, that haue no witte, thei will neuer learne it, therefore God spede them. Now when these twoo are dooen, he muste perswade, and moue the affeccions* 1.15 of his hearers in suche wise, that thei shalbe forced to yelde vnto his saiyng, wherof (because the matter is large, and maie more aptly bee declared, when I shall speake of Amplificacion) I wil surcease to speake any thyng therof at this tyme.

¶By what meanes Eloquence is attained.

FIrste nedefull it is that he, whiche desireth to ex∣cell in this gift of Oratorie, and longeth to proue an eloquent man, must naturally haue a wit, and an aptnesse thereunto: then must he to his boke, & learne to be well stored with knowlege, that he maie be a∣ble to minister matter, for all causes necessarie. The which when he hath gotte plentifully, he muste vse muche exer∣cise, bothe in writyng, and also in speakyng. For though he

haue a wit and learnyng together, yet shal thei bothe litle auaile without much practise.* 1.16 What maketh the lawyer to haue suche vtteraunce? Practise. What maketh the Prea∣cher to speake so roūdly? Practise. Yea, what maketh wo∣men go so fast awaie with their wordes? Marie practise I warraunt you. Therfore in all faculties, diligent practise, and earnest exercise, are the onely thynges, that make men proue excellent. Many men knowe the arte very well, and be in all poynctes throughly grounded, & acquainted with the preceptes, and yet it is not their hap to proue eloquent And the reason is, that eloquēce it self, came not vp first by the arte, but the arte rather was gathered vpon eloquēce.* 1.17 For wise menne seyng by muche obseruacion, and diligent practise, the compasse of diuerse causes, compiled thereupō preceptes and lessons, worthie to bee knowen and learned of all men. Therefore before arte was inuented, eloquence was vsed, and through practise made parfecte, the whiche in all thynges is a souereigne meane, most highly to excell.

Now before we vse either to write, or speake eloquently we must dedicate our myndes wholly, to folowe the moste wise and learned menne, and seke to fashion, aswell their speache and gesturyng, as their wit or endityng.* 1.18 The whi∣che when we earnestly mynde to do, we cannot but in time appere somewhat like theim. For if thei that walke muche in the sōne, and thinke not of it, are yet for the moste part sonne burnt, it cannot be but that thei, whiche wittyngly and willyngly trauaile to counterfecte other, muste nedes take some colour of theim, and be like vnto theim, in some one thyng or other, accordyng to the Prouerbe, by compa∣niyng with the wise, a man shall learne wisedome.

¶To what purpose this arte is set furthe.

TO this purpose and for this vse,* 1.19 is the arte com∣piled together, by the learned and wise men, that those whiche are ignorant, might iudge of the ler∣ned, and labour (when tyme should require) to fo∣low their workes accordyngly. Again, the art helpeth well to dispose and order matters of our awne inuencion, the whiche we may folowe, aswell in speakyng, as in writyng

for though many by nature without art, haue proued wor¦thie menne,* 1.20 yet is arte a surer guide, then nature, conside∣ryng we se as liuely by the art, what we do, as though we red a••thyng in writtyng, wheras natures doynges are not so open to all men. Again, those that haue good wittes, by nature, shall better encrease theim by arte, and the blunte also shalbe whetted through art, that want nature to help them forward.

¶Fiue thynges to be conside∣red in an Oratour.

ANy one that will largely handle any matter, muste fasten his mynde, first of all vpon these fiue especial poynctes that folowe, and learne theim euery one.* 1.21

• j. Inuencion of matter.
• ij. Disposicion of thesame.
• iij. Elocucion.
• iiij. Memorie.
• v. Utteraunce.

THe findyng out of apte matter, called otherwise Inuencion,* 1.22 is a searchyng out of thynges true, or thynges likely, the whiche maie reasonably sette furth a matter, and make it appere probable. The places of Logique, geue good occasion to finde out plenti∣tifull matter. And therefore thei that will proue any cause and seke onely to teache thereby the truthe, muste searche out the places of Logique, and no doubte thei shall finde muche plentie. But what auaileth muche treasure and apt matter, if man cānot apply it to his purpose. Therefore in the seconde place is mencioned, the settelyng or orderyng of thynges inuented for this purpose, called in Latine, Dispositio,* 1.23 the whiche is nothyng els, but an apt bestow∣yng, and orderly placyng of thynges, declaryng where eue∣ry argument shalbe sette, and in what maner euery reason shalbe applied, for confirmacion of the purpose.

But yet what helpeth it though we can finde good rea∣sons, and knowe howe to place theim, if we haue not apte wordes, and picked sentences, to commēde the whole mat∣ter.

Therefore this poynct must nedes folowe, to beautifie the cause, the whiche beyng called Elocucion,* 1.24 is an appli∣yng of apte wordes and sentēces to the matter, founde out to confirme the cause. When all these are had together, it auaileth litle, if manne haue no Memorie to contein theim. The Memorie therefore must be cherished,* 1.25 the whiche is a fast holdyng, bothe of matter and woordes couched toge∣ther, to confirme any cause.

Be it now that one haue all these .iiij, yet if he want the fift, all the other dooe litle profite. For though a manne can finde out good matter, and good woordes, though he canne handsomely set them together, and cary them very well a∣waie in his mynde, yet it is to no purpose, if he haue no vt∣teraunce, when he should speake his minde, and shewe men what he hath to saie. Utteraunce therefore is a framyng of the voyce, countenaūce, and gesture, after a comely maner.* 1.26

Thus we se that euery one of these must go together, to make a perfecte Oratoure, and that the lacke of one, is an hynderaunce of the whole, and that aswell all maie be wā∣tyng, as one, if we loke to haue an absolute Oratour.

¶There are .vii. partes in euery Oracion.* 1.27

• j. The enteraunce or beginnyng.
• ij. The Narracion.
• iij. The Proposicion.
• iiij. The diuisiō or seuerall partyng of thynges
• v. The Confirmacion.
• vi. The Confutacion.
• vii. The Conclusion.

THe Enteraunce or beginnyng,* 1.28 is the former part of the Oracion, whereby the will of the standers by, or of the Iudge is sought for, and required to heare the matter.

The Narraciō,* 1.29 is a plain and manifest poynctyng of the matter, and an euident settyng furthe of all thynges, that belong vnto thesame, with a brief rehersall, grounded vpon some reason.

The Proposicion* 1.30 is a pithie sentence, comprehendyng in a smale roume, the some of the whole matter.

The diuision* 1.31 is an openyng of thynges, wherin we agree and rest vpon, and wherein we sticke, and stande in trauerse shewyng what we haue to saie, in our awne behalfe.

The Confirmacion,* 1.32 is a declaraciō of our awne reasons with assured and constaunt profes.

The Confutacion,* 1.33 is a dissoluyng or wipyng awaie, of all suche reasons as make against vs.

The Conclusion* 1.34 is a clarkely gatheryng of the matter, spoken before, and a lappyng vp of it altogether.

Now because in euery one of these, greate hede ought to be had, and muche arte must be vsed, to content and like all parties: I purpose in the second boke to set furthe at large euery one of these, that bothe we maie knowe in all partes, what to folowe, and what to eschewe. And first when tyme shalbe to talke of any matter, I would aduise euery man, to consider the nature of the cause self, that the rather he might frame his whole Oracion thereafter.

¶Euery matter is conteined in one of these .iiii.

EIther it is an honest thyng, whereof we speake, or els it is filthy and vile, or els betwixte bothe, and doubtfull what to bee called, or els it is some trif∣lyng matter,* 1.35 that is of small weight.

[ i] That is called an honest matter,* 1.36 when either wee take in hande suche a cause, that all menne would maintein, or els gainsaie suche a cause, that no man can well like.

[ ii] Then do we hold and defende a filthy matter,* 1.37 whē either wee speake against our conscience in an euill matter, or els withstande an vpright truthe.

[ iii] The cause then is doubtfull, when the matter* 1.38 is half ho∣nest, and halfe vnhonest.

[ iiii] Suche are triflyng* 1.39 causes, whē there is no weight in thē as if one should phantasy, to praise a Gose, before any other beast liuyng (as I knowe who did) or of fruict to commende nuttes chefly, as Ouid did, or the feuer quartaine, as Pha∣uorinus did, or the Gnatte, as Uirgill did, or the battaill of Frogges as Homere did, or dispraise beardes, or commende

shauen heddes.

¶Good hede to bee taken at the firste, vpon the handelyng of any matter in Iudgement.

NOT onely it is necessarie to knowe, what maner of cause wee haue taken in hande, when wee firste enter vpon any matter, but also it is wisedome to consider the tyme,* 1.40 the place, the man for whom we speake, the man against whom we speake, the matter where∣of we speake, and the iudges before whom we speake, the rea¦sons that best serue to further our cause, and those reasons also, that maie seme somewhat to hynder our cause, and in no wise to vse any suche at all, or els warely to mitigate by protestacion, the euill that is in theim, and alwaies to vse whatsoeuer can bee saied, to wynne the chief hearers good willes, and perswade theim to our purpose.* 1.41 If the cause go by fauour, and that reason cannot so muche auaile, as good wil shalbe able to do: or els if mouyng affecciōs can do more good, then bryngyng in of good reasons, it is meete alwaies to vse that waie, whereby we maie by good helpe, get the o∣uer hand. That if mine aduersaries* 1.42 reasons, by me beyng cō¦futed, serue better to help forward my cause, then mine awn reasons confirmed, can be able to doe good: I should wholy bestowe my tyme, and trauaill to weaken and make slender, all that euer he bringeth with hym. But if I can with more ease, proue myne awne saiynges, ••ither with witnesses, or with wordes, then be able to cōfute his with reason, I must labour to withdrawe mennes myndes,* 1.43 from myne aduersa∣ries foundacion, and require thē wholy to herken vnto that whiche I haue to saie, beyng of it self so iust and so reasona∣ble, that none can rightly speake against it, and shewe theim that greate pitie it were, for lacke of the onely hearyng, that a true matter, should want true dealyng. Ouer and besides all these, there remain twoo lessons, the whiche wisemenne haue alwaies obserued, and therefore ought of all men, assu∣redly to be learned. The one is, that if any matter* 1.44 be laied a∣gainst vs, whiche by reason can hardely bee auoyded, or the whiche is so open, that none almoste can deny, it were wise∣dome in confutyng all the other reasons, to passe ouer this

one, as though we sawe it not, and therefore speake neuer a worde of it. Or els if necessitie shall force a man to saie some what,* 1.45 he may make an outward bragge, as though there wer no matter in it, euer so speakyng of it, as though he would stande to the triall, makyng men to beleue, he would fight in the cause, whē better it were (if necessitie so required) to run clene awaie. And herein though a man do flie and geue place, euermore the gladder, the lesse rauyng there is or stirryng in this matter: yet he flieth wisely, and for this ende, that be∣yng fensed otherwise, & strongly appoyncted, he maie take his aduersary at the best aduauntage, or at the least, werie hym with muche lingeryng, and make hym with oft suche fliyng, to forsake his chief defence.

The other lesson is, that whereas we purpose alwaies to haue the victorie, wee should so speake, that we maie labour rather not to hynder, or hurt our cause, then to seke meanes to further it.* 1.46 And yet I speake not this, but that bothe these are right necessarie, and euery one that will doo good, muste take peines in theim bothe, but yet notwithstandyng, it is a fouler faulte a greate deale, for an Orator to be founde hur∣ting his awne cause, then it should turne to his rebuke, if he had not furthered his whole entent. Therefore not onely is it wisedome,* 1.47 to speake so muche as is nedefull, but also it is good reason, to leaue vnspoken so muche as is nedelesse, the whiche although the wisest can do, and nede no teachyng, yet these common wittes offende muche nowe and then, in this behalfe.* 1.48 Some man beyng stirred, shall hurt more our cause then twentie other. Tauntyng wordes before some menne, will not be borne at all. Sharpe rebukyng of our aduersary or frumpes geuen before some persones: cannot be sufferd at all. Yea,* 1.49 sometymes a man must not speake all that he kno∣weth, for if he doo, he is like to finde small fauour, although he haue iuste cause to speake, and maie with reason declare his mynde at large. And albeit that witlesse folke, can soner rebuke that, whiche is fondly spoken, then redely praise that whiche is wisely kept close, yet the necessitie of the matter, must rather be marked, then the fonde iudgement of the peo¦ple estemed. What a sore saiyng were this? When a lawyer

should take in hande a matter, concernyng life and death, and another should aske how he hath sped, to heare tel that the lawyer, hath not onely cast awaie his cliēt, but vndoen hymself also, in speakyng thynges inconsideratly, as no doubt it oftē happeneth, that wise men, and those also that bee none euill men neither, maie vnwares speake thynges, which afterward thei sore repent, & would cal backe again with losse of a greate so••••e. Now what a foly it is, not to remember the tyme and the men. Or who will speake that whiche he knoweth will not be liked, if he purpose to finde fauour at their handes, before whom he speaketh, what mā of reason will praise that before the Iudges, (before whom he knoweth the determinacion of his cause resteth) whiche the Iudges self cannot abide to heare spoken at all? Or doeth not he muche hinder his awne matter, that wtthout al curtesie or preface made, will largely speake euil of those men, whom the hearers of his cause, tenderly doo fauour? Or be it that there be some notable faulte in thyne aduer∣sary, with whiche the Iudges also are infected, were it not foly for thee, to charge thyne aduersary with thesame. Cō∣sideryng the Iudges thereby maie thynke, thou speakest a∣gainst theim also, and so thou maiest perhappes, lose their fauour in sekyng suche defence, made without all discreci∣on. And in framing reasons, to confirme the purpose, if any be spoken plainly false, or els contrary to that, which was spoken before, dooeth it not muche hynder a good matter? Therefore in all causes, this good hede ought to bee had, that alwaies we labour to do some good, in furtheryng of our cause, or if we cannot so do, at the least that we doo no harme at all.

¶There are three kyndes of causes, or Ora∣cions, whiche serue for euery matter

NOthyng can be handled by this arte, but thesame is conteined, within one of these .iij. causes.* 1.50 Ei∣ther the matter consisteth in praise, or dispraise of a thyng, or els in consultyng, whether the cause be profitable, or vnprofitable, or lastly, whether the matter be right, or wrong. And yet this one thyng is to be learned

that in euery one of these foure causes, these three seuerall endes, maie euery of them be conteined, in any one of them. And therfore he that shall haue cause, to praise any o••e bo∣dy, shall haue iuste cause to speake of iustice, to entreate of profite, and ioyntly to talke of one thyng with another. But because these three causes, are commonly and for the moste part, seuerally parted, I will speake of them, one af∣ter another, as thei are sette furthe by wise mennes iudge∣mentes, & particularly declare their properties, all in order

The Oracion demonstratiue,* 1.51 standeth either in praise, or dispraise of some one man, or of some one thyng, or of some one deede doen.

¶The kynde Demonstratiue, where∣in chiefly it is occupied.

THere are diuerse thynges, whiche are praised, and dispraised, as menne, Countreis, Citees, Places, Beastes, Hilles, Riuers, Houses, Castles, dedes doen by worthy menne, and pollicies inuented by greate warriers, but moste commonly me•• are praised, for diuerse respectes, before any of the other thynges are ta∣ken in hande.

Nowe in praisyng a noble personage,* 1.52 and in settyng furthe at large his worthinesse, Quintilian geueth war∣nyng, to vse this threfolded order.

To obserue thynges.

• Before his life.
• In his life.
• After his death.

Before a mannes life, are considered these places.

• The Realme.
• The Shire.
• The Toune.
• The Pareutes.
• The Auncestours.

IN a mannes life, praise muste be parted threfolde. That is to saie, into the giftes of good thynges of the mynde, the body, and of fortune. Now the gif∣tes of the body, and of fortune, are not praise wor∣thy,

of their awne nature: but euen as thei are vsed, either to, or fro, so thei are either praised, or dispraised. Giftes of the mynde, deserue the whole trumpe and sound commen∣dacion aboue all other, wherein wee maie vse the rehersall of vertues, as thei are in order, and beginnyng at his infā∣cie, tell all his doynges, till his last age.

¶The places whereof, are these.

The birthe, and infancie.	Whether the person be a man, or a womā
The childhode.	The bryngyng vp, ye nurturyng, and the behauour of his life.
The stripelyng age, or spryng tide	To what study he ta¦keth hymself vnto, what company he v∣seth, how he liueth.
The mānes state.	Wherunto are referred these.	Prowesses doen, either abrode, or at home.
The olde age.	His pollicies & wit∣tie deuises in behoue of the publique wele
The tyme of his departure, or deth	Thynges that haue happened aboute his death.

NOw to open al these places more largely, aswell those that are before a mannes life, as suche as are in his life, and after his death, that the reader maie further se the profite, I will do the best I cā

The house wherof a noble personage came,* 1.53 declares the state and nature of his auncesters, his alliaunce, and his kynsfolke. So that suche worthy feactes, as thei haue here∣tofore doen, and al suche honors as thei haue had, for suche their good seruice, redowndes wholy to the encrease and

amplifiyng of his honour, that is now liuyng.

The Realme,* 1.54 declares the nature of the people. So that some Countrey brengeth more honor with it, then another doth. To be a Frenche manne, descendyng there of a noble house, is more honor then to be an Irishe manne: to bee an Englishe manne borne, is muche more honour, then to be a Scotte, because that by these men, worthy prowesses haue been dooen, and greater affaires by theim attempted, then haue been doen by any other.

The Shire or Toune* 1.55 helpeth somewhat, towardes the encrease of honour: As it is muche better, to bee borne in Paris, then in Picardie, in Lōdon, then in Lincolne. For that bothe the aire is better, the people more ciuill, and the wealth muche greater, and the menne for the moste parte more wise.

To bee borne a manchilde, declares a courage, grauitie, and constancie. To be borne a woman, declares weakenes of spirite, neshenes of body, and fikilnesse of mynde.* 1.56

Now for the bringing vp of a noble personage,* 1.57 his nurse must be considered, his plaie felowes obserued, his teacher and other his seruauntes, called in remembraunce. Howe euery one of these liued then, with whom thei haue liued afterwardes, and how thei liue now.

By knowyng what he taketh hymself vnto, and wherin he moste deliteth, I maie commende hym for his learnyng, for his skill in the Frenche, or in the Italian, for his know∣lege in Cosmographie: for his skill in the lawes, in the hi∣stories of all countreis, and for his gift of endityng.* 1.58 Again, I maie cōmende hym for plaiyng at weapons, for runnyng vpon a greate horse, for chargyng his staffe at the Tilte, for vautyng, for plaiyng vpon instrumentes, yea, and for pain∣tyng, or drawyng of a platte, as in old tyme noble princes, muche delited therein.

Prowesse doen, declare his seruice to the Kyng, and his countrey, either in withstandyng the outwarde e••emie, or els in aswagyng the rage of his awne coūtreymē at home.* 1.59

His wise counsaill, and good aduise geuen, settes furthe the goodnesse of his witte.* 1.60

At the tyme of his departyng,* 1.61 his sufferaunce of all sick∣nesse, may muche commende his worthinesse. As his strong harte, and cherefull pacience euen to the ende, cannot wāt greate praise. The loue of all men towardes hym, and the lamentyng generally for his lacke, helpe well moste highly to set furthe his honour.

After a mannes death,* 1.62 are considered his tombe, his cote armour set vp, and all suche honours, as are vsed in fune∣ralles. If any one liste to put these preceptes in practise, he maie doo, as hym liketh best. And surely I do thynke, that nothyng so muche furthereth knowlege, as daiely exercise, and enuryng our selfes to do that in dede, whiche we know in woorde. And because examples geue greate lighte, after these preceptes are set furthe, I will commende two noble gentlemen, Henry Duke of Suffolk, and his brother lorde Charles Duke* 1.63 with hym.

¶An example of commendyng a noble personage.

BEtter or more wisely can none do, then thei which neuer bestowe praise, but vpon those that best de∣serue praise, rather myndyng discretly, what thei ought to dooe, then vainly deuisyng what thei best can doo, sekyng rather to praise menue, suche as are founde worthy, then curiously findyng meanes to praise matters, suche as neuer wer in any. For thei which speake otherwise then truthe is, mynd not the commendacion of the perso••e, but the settyng furthe of their awne learnyng. As Gorgi∣as* 1.64 in Plato, praisyng vnrighteousnes, Heliogabalus* 1.65 O∣ratours, commendyng whoredome, Phauorinus* 1.66 the Phi∣losophier, extollyng the feuer Quartaine, thought not to speake as the cause required, but would so muche saie as their wit would geue, not weighyng the state of the cause, but myndyng the want of their brain, lookyng how muche could be said, not passyng how litle should be saied. But I bothe knowyng the might of Gods hand, for suche as loue fables, and the shame that in yearth redoundeth to euil re∣••orters, will not commende that or those, whiche neede no good praise, but will commende them, that no man iust∣ly can dispraise, nor yet any one is well able worthely to

praise. Their towardnes was suche, & their giftes so great, that I know none whiche loue learnyng, but hath sorowed the lacke of their beeyng, and I knowe that the onely na∣myng of theim, will stirre honest hartes, to speake well of them. I will speake of twoo brethren, that lately departed, the one Henry Duke of Suffolke, and the other Lorde Charles his brother,* 1.67 whom God thinkyng ••••eter for hea∣uen, then to liue here vpon yearth, toke from vs in his an∣ger, for the betteryng of our doynges, and amendement of our euill liuyng. These twoo gentlemen were borne in noble England, bothe by father and mother, of an high pa∣rentage. The father called Duke Charles, by mariage be∣yng brother, to the worthy kyng of famous memorie, Hēry theight, was in suche fauour, and did suche seruice, that all Englaude at this houre, doeth finde his lacke, and Fraunce yet doth fele, that suche a duke there was, whom in his life tyme, the godly, loued: the euil, feared: the wise men, hono∣red for his wit, and the simple, vsed alwaies for their coun∣saill. Their mother, of birthe noble, and witte great, of na∣ture gētle, and mercifull to the poore, and to the godly, and especially to the learned, an earnest good patronesse, and moste helpyng Lady aboue all other. In their youthe their father died, the eldest of thē beyng not past .ix. yeres of age. After whose death, their mother knowyng, that welth with¦out wit, is like a sworde in a naked mannes hand, & assured∣ly certain, that knowlege would confirme iudgemēt, proui∣ded so for their bringyng vp, in al vertue and learnyng, that ij. like were not to be had, within this realme again. When thei begā bothe, to wa••e somewhat in yeres, beyng in their primetide, & spryng of their age, thelder waityng of the kyn∣ges maiestie that now is, was generally well estemed, and sucheh ope was conceiued of his towardnes, both for lear∣nyng, and al other thinges, that fewe wer like vnto hym in al the courte. The other kepyng his boke, emong the Cam∣brige men, profited (as thei all well knowe) bothe in vertue and learnyng, to their greate admiracion. For the Greke, the Latine, and the Italian, I knowe he could dooe more, then would be thought true by my report. I leaue to speke

of his skill in pleasaunt instrumentes, neither will I vt∣ter his aptnes in Musike, & his toward nature, to all exer∣cises of the body. But his elder brother in this tyme (besi∣des his other giftes of the mynde, whiche passed all oth••r, and were almoste incredible) folowyng his fathers nature was so delited with ridyng, and runnyng in armour vpon horsebacke, and was so comely for that feacte, and could do so well in chargyng his staffe, beyng but .xiiij. yeres of age, that menne of warre, euen at this houre, mone muche the want of suche a worthy gentleman. Yea, the Frenche men that first wondered at his learnyng, when he was there e∣mong theim, and made a notable Oracion in Latine: were muche more astonied whē thei saw his comely ridyng, and litle thought to finde these twoo ornamentes, ioyned bothe in one, his yeres especially beyng so tender, and his practise of so small tyme. Afterward commyng from the courte, as one that was desierous to be emong the learned, he laie in Cambrige together with his brother, where thei bothe so profited, and so gently vsed themselfes, that all Cambr••ge did reuerence, bothe hym and his brother, as two iewelles sent frō God. Thelders nature was suche, that he thought hymself best, when he was emong the wisest, and yet con∣tempned none, but thankefully vsed all, gentle in behauor without childishenes; stoute of stomacke without al pride, bold with all warenesse, and frendly with good aduisemēt. The yonger beeyng not so ripe in yeres, was not so graue in looke, rather chereful, then sad: rather quicke, then aun∣cient: but yet if his brother were sette a side, not one that went beyonde hym. A childe that by his awne inclinacion, so muche yelded to his ruler, as fewe by chastement haue doen the like, pleasaunt of speeche, prompte of witte, sti∣ryng by nature, hault without hate, kynde without crafte, liberall of harte, gentle in behauiour, forward in all thyn∣ges, gredy of learnyng, and lothe to take a foyle, in any open assembly. Thei bothe in al attemptes, sought to haue the victory, and in exercise of witte, not onely the one with the other, did ofte stande in contencion, but also thei bothe would matche with the best, and thought themselfes moste

happie, when thei might haue any iust occasion, to put their wittes in triall. And now when this grene fruicte began to waxe ripe, and all menne lo••ged to haue tast, of suche their greate forwardnesse: God preuentyng mannes expectacion, toke theim bothe aboute one houre, and in so shorte tyme, that first thei wer knowen to be dedde, or any abrode could tell thei were sicke. I neede not to reherse, what bothe thei spake, before their departure (cōsideryng, I haue seuerally written, bothe in Latine and in Englishe, of thesame mat∣ter) neither will I heape here so muche together as I can, because I should rather renewe greate sorowe to many, then do moste men any great good, who loued them so well generally, that fewe for a greate space after, spake of these twoo gentle menne, but thei shewed teares, with the onely vtteraunce of their wordes, and some through ouer muche sorowyng, wer fain to forbeare speakyng. God graūt vs al¦so to liue, that the good men of this world, may be alwaies lothe to forsake vs, and God maie still be glad to haue vs, as no doubt the••e twoo children so died, as all men should wishe to liue, and so thei liued bothe, as al should wishe to die. Seyng therfore these two wer suche, bothe for birthe, nature, and all other giftes of grace, that the like are har∣dely founde behynde theim: let vs so speake of theim, that our good report maie warne vs, to folowe their godly na∣tures, and that lastly, wee maie enioye that enheritaunce, whereunto God hath prepared thē and vs (that feare him) from the beginnyng. Amen.

The partes of an Oracion, made in praise of a manne.

• The Enteraunce.
• The Narracion.
• Sometymes the confutacion.
• The Conclusion.

IF any one shall haue iust cause, to dispraise an euill man, he shall sone do it, if he can praise a good man. For (as Aristotle doeth saie) of contraries, there is one and thesame doctrine, and therefore he that can do the one, shall sone be able to do the other.

¶Of an Oracion demonstra∣tiue, for some deede doen.

THe kynd demonstratiue of some thyng doen is this,* 1.68 when a man is commended or dispraised, for any acte committed in his life.

¶The places to confirme this cause, when any one is commended, are sixe in nomber.

The places of Cofirmacion.

• j. It is honest.
• ij. It is possible.
• iij. Easie to be doen,
• iiij. hard to be doen.
• v. Possible to be doen,
• vi. Impossible to be doen.

Seuen circumstaunces, whiche are to bee considered in diuerse matters.

The circum∣staunces.

• j. Who did the deede.
• ij. What was doen.
• iij. Where it was doen.
• iiij. What helpe had he to it.
• v. Wherefore he did it.
• vi. How he did it.
• vij. At what tyme he did it.

¶The circumstaunces in meter.

Who, what, and where, by what helpe, and by whose: Why, how, and when, do many thynges disclose.

THese places helpe wonderfully, to set out any mat∣ter, and to amplifie it to the vttermoste, not onely in praisyng, or dispraisyng, but also in all other causes where any aduisement is to bee vsed. Yet this one thyng is to bee learned, that it shall not bee necessarie, to vse theim altogether, euen as thei stande in order: but rather as tyme and place shall best require, thei maie bee vsed in any parte of the Oracion, euen as it shall please hym that hath the vsyng of them.

Again, if any manne bee disposed, to rebuke any offence, he maie vse the places contrary vnto theim that are aboue re∣hersed, and apply these circumstaunces euen as thei are, to

the profe of his purpose.

¶An example of commendyng Kyng Dauid, for killyng greate Goliah, gathered and made by o••seruacion of circumstaunces.

GOD beyng the aucthor of mankynde, powryng in∣to hym the breath of life, and framyng hym of claie in suche a comely wise,* 1.69 as we al now se, hath from the beginnyng, been so carefull ouer his electe and chosen, that in al daungers, he is euer redy to assist his peo∣ple, kepyng theim harmelesse, when thei were often paste all mannes hope. A••d emong all other his fatherly goodnesse, it pleased hym to shewe his power,* 1.70 in his chosen seruaūt Da∣uid, that all mighte learne to knowe his mighte, and reken with themselfes, that though man geue the stroke, yet God it is that geueth the ouerha••de. For wheras Dauid was of small statu••e, weake of body, poore of ••irthe, and base in the sight of the worldlynges, God called hym firste to matche with an houge monster, a litle body, against a mightie Gy∣aunt, an abiect•• Israelite, against a moste valiaunt Phili∣stine, with whom no Israelite durst encounter. These Phi¦listines mynded the murder and ouerthrowe, of all the Is∣raelites, trustyng in their awne strength so muche, that thei feared no perill, but made an accompte, that all was theirs before hande. Now when bothe these armies were in sight, the Philistines vpon an hill of the one side, and the Israe∣lites vpon an hill, of the other side, a vale beyng betwixte theim bothe, ••here marched out of the Campe, a base borne Philistine, called Goliah of Geth, a manne of sixe cubites high. This souldiour, when through the bignes and stature of his body, and also with greate bragges, & terrible threa∣tenynges, he had wonderfully abashed the whole armie of the Israelites, so that no man durst aduenture vpon hym, God to the ende he mighte del••uer Israell, and shewe that mannes helpe, with all his armour, litle auaile to get vic∣tory, without his especiall grace: and again, to the ende he might set vp Dauid, and make hym honourable emong the Israeli••es, did then call out Dauid, the sonne of Ephrate••∣••••, of Be••hleem Iuda, whose name was Isai, who beeyng

but a child in yeres, did kill out of hande,* 1.71 by Goddes might and power, Goliah the moste terrible enemie of all other, that bare hate against the children of Israell. When this mightie felowe was slain, aboute the vale of Terebinthus,* 1.72 betwixt both tharmies, the Israelites reioysed, that before quaked, and wondered at hym then, whom thei would scant knowe before, &▪ no doubt this dede was not onely wonder∣full, but also right godly. For in battaill to kill an enemie, is thoughte right worthy, or to aduenture vpon a reb••ll, (though the successe folowe not) is generally commended: yea, to put one to the worse, or to make hym flie the groūd, is called manly, but what shall we saie of Dauid, that not onely had the better hande, not onely bette his enemie, but killed streight his enemie, yea, and not an enemy, of the cō∣mon stature of men, but a mightie Gyaunt, not a man, but a monster, yea, a deuill in hart, and a beast in body?* 1.73 Can a∣ny be compted more honest, then suche as seke to saue their coūtrey; by hasardyng their carcasses, and shedyng of their bloude? Can loue shewe it self greater, then by yeldyng of life,* 1.74 for the health of an armie? It had been muche, if half a dosen had dispatched, suche a terrible Gyaunte, but now, when Dauid without helpe, beyng not yet a manne, but a boye in yeres, ••lewe hym hande to hande, what iuste praise dooeth he deserue? If we praise other, that haue flain euill men, and compte them haulte, that haue killed their mat∣ches,* 1.75 what shall we saie of Dauid, that beyng wonderful∣ly ouermatched, made his partie good, and gotte the gole of a monster? Lette other praise Hercules, that thinke best of hym: let Cesar, Alexander, and Hanniball, bee bru••ed for warriers: Dauid in my iudgement, bothe did more manly, then all the other wer able, & serued his countrey in grea∣ter daunger, then euer any one of theim did. And shall wee not call suche a noble capitain, a good man of warre? De∣serueth not his manhode and stoute attempte, wonderfull praise? It vertue could speake, would she not sone confesse that Dauid had her in full possession? And therfore if well doynges, by right maie chalenge worthy brute, Dauid wil be knowen, and neuer can want due praise, for suche an ho∣nest

deede. And what man wil not saie, but that Dauid did mynde nothyng els herein, but the saufegarde of his coun∣trey,* 1.76 thinkyng it better for himself to die, and his countrey to liue, then hymself to liue, and his countrey to die. What gain got Dauid, by the death of Goliah, or what could he hope, by the death of suche a mōster, but onely that the loue whiche he bare to the Israelites, forced hym to hasard his awne life:* 1.77 Thinkyng that if the Philistines should preuail the Israelites wer like to perishe, euery mothers sonne of theim? Therefore he hassardyng this atttempte, considered with hymself, the saufegard of the Israelites, the maintei∣naunce of iustice, his duetie towardes God, his obedience to his prince, and his loue to his countrey.* 1.78 And no doubte, God made this enterprise appere full easie, before Dauid could haue the harte, to matche hymself with suche a one. For though his harte might quake, beeyng voyde of Gods helpe, yet assuredly he wanted no stomacke, when God did set hym on. Let tirauntes rage, let hell stand open, let Sa∣than shewe his mighte, if God bee with vs, who can bee a∣gainst vs? Though this Goliah appered so strong, that .x. Dauides were not able, to stande in his hande: yet .x. Go∣liaths were all ouer weake for Dauid alone. Man cannot iudge, neither can reason comprehende, the mightie power of God. When Pharao with all his armie, thoughte fully to destroye the children of Israell, in the redde sea, did not God preserue Moses, and destroye Pharao? What is man and all his power that he can make, in the handes of God, vnto whō all creatures, bothe in heauen and in yearth, are subiecte at his commaundement? Therefore it was no ma∣stery for Dauid, beyng assisted with God, aswel to matche with the whole army, as to ouerthrowe this one man. But what did the Israelites, when thei sawe Dauid take vpon hym, suche a bolde enterprise?* 1.79 Some saied he was rashe, o∣ther mocked hym to scorne, & his brethren called hym foole. For thought thei, what a madde felowe is he, beeyng but a lad in yeres, to matche with suche a monster in body? How can it be possible otherwise, but that he shalbe torne in pe∣••es, euen at his firste commyng? For if the Philistine maie

ones hit hym, he is goen though he had tenne mennes lifes. Now what should he meane, so vnegally to matche himself except he were, wery of his life, or els were not well in his wittes? Yea, and to geue his enemies, all the aduauntage that could bee, he came vnarmed, and whereas the Phili∣stine, had very strōg armour, bothe to defende hymself, a••d a strong weapon to fight withall, Dauid came with a slyng* 1.80 onely, as though he would kill crowes, whereat, not onely the Philistine laughed, & disdained his folie, but also bothe the armies thought he was but a dedde man, before he gaue one stroke. And in deede, by all reason and deuise of manne there was none other waie, but deathe with hym, out of hande, Dauid notwithstandyng, beeyng kyndeled in harte with Gods might, was strong enough for him, in his awne opinion, and forced nothyng, though all other were muche against hym. And therefore made no more a dooe, but beyng redy to reuenge in Goddes name, suche greate blasphemie, as the Philistine then did vtter, marched towardes his ene∣mie, and with castyng a stone out of a slyng, he ouerthrewe the Philistine at the first. The whiche when he had dooen, out with his sworde, and chopt of his hedde, cariyng it with, his armoure, to the Campe of the Israelites: whereat the Philistines wer greatly astonied, and the Israelites much praised God, that had geuen suche grace, to suche a one, to compasse suche a deede. And the rather this manly acte, is highly to be praised, because he subdued this houge enemie, when Saul firste reigned kyng ouer Israell, and was sore assaied with the greate armie of the Philistines. Lette vs therefore that be now liuyng, when this acte or suche like, come into our myndes: remember what God is, of how in∣finite power he is, and let vs praise God in them, by whom he hath wrought suche wonders, to the strengthenyng of our faithe, and constaunt kepyng of our profession, made to hym, by euery one of vs, in our Baptisme.

¶Examinyng of the circumstaunces

• ...

  j. Who did the deede?

  DAuid beeyng an Israelite, did this deede, beeyng the sonne of Isai, of the Tribe of Iuda, a boye in yeres,

• ...

  This circumstaunce was vsed, not o••ely in the narracion, but also when I spake of the honestie and godlinesse, whi∣che Dauid vsed, when he slewe Goliah.

• ...

  ij. What was doen?

  He slewe Goliah, the strongest Giaunt emong the Phi∣listines. This circumstaunce I vsed also, when I spake of the honestie, in killyng Goliah.

• ...

  iij. Where was it doen?

  Aboute the vale of Terebinthus.

• ...

  iiij. What helpe had he to it?

  He had no help of any man, but went himself alone. And wheras Saul offred him harnes, he cast it away, & trusting onely in God, toke him to his sling, with .iiij. or .v. smal sto∣nes in his hand, the whiche wer thought nothyng in mānes sight, able either to do litle good, or els nothing at al. This circumstaunce I vsed, when I spake of the easenesse & possi∣bilite, that was in Dauid, to kill Goliah, by Goddes help.

• ...

  v. Wherefore did he it?

  He aduentured his life, for the loue of his countrey, for the maintenaunce of iustice, for thaduauncement of Gods true glory, and for the quietnesse of all Israell, neither see∣kyng fame, nor yet lokyng for any gain. I vsed this circū∣staunce, when I shewed what profite he sought, in aduen∣turyng this deede.

• ...

  vi. How did he it?

  Marie he put a stone in his slyng, and when he had cast it at the Philistine, Goliah fel doune straight. I vsed this cir¦cumstaunce, when I spake of the impossibilitie of the thing.

• ...

  vij. What tyme did he it?

  This deede was doen, when Saul reigned, first kyng o∣uer the Israelites, at what tyme the Philistines, came a∣gainst the Israelites. Thus by the circumstaunces of thyn∣ges, a right worthy cause, maie be plentifully enlarged.

¶Of the Oracion demonstratiue, where thynges are sette furthe, and matters commended.

THe kynde demōstratiue of thynges, is a meane wherby we do praise, or dispraise thynges, as vertue, vice, tou∣nes, citees, castles, woddes, waters, hilles, and moūtaines.

¶Places to confirme thynges are .iiii.

Places of confirmacion.

• i. Thynges honest.
• ij. Profitable.
• iij. Easie to be doen.
• iiij Hard to be doen.

MAny learned, will haue recourse to the places of Logique in stede of these .iiij. places, when they take in hand to commende any suche matter. The whiche places if they make them serue rather to commende the matter, then onely to teache men the truth of it, it were wel done & Oratourlike▪ for seyng a man wholly bestoweth his wit to plaie the Oratour, he shoulde chefely seke to cōpasse that whiche he entēdeth, & not do that onely which he but half mynded. for by plaine teachyng, the Logi∣cian shewes hymselfe, by large amplification and beautifi∣yng of his cause, the Rhetorician is alwaies knowne.

¶The places of Logique are these.

• Definition.
• Causes.
• Partes.
• Effectes.
• Thy••ges adioy••y••g.
• Contraries.

I Do not se otherwise but that these places of Logi∣que are confounded with thother .iiiij. of confirma∣cion,* 1.81 or rather I thinke these of Logique must first be mynded ere thother can well be had. For what is he that can cal a thyng honest & by reason proue it, except he first knowe what the thyng is, the whiche he can not bet∣ter doe, then by definyng the nature of the thyng. Againe how shal I know whether myne attempte be easie, or hard, if I know not the efficient cause, or be assured how it maie be doen. In affirmyng it to be possible, I shall not better knowe it, then by searchyng thende, and learnyng by Lo∣gique what is the final cause of euery thyng.

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¶An example in commendacion of Iustice, or true dealyug.

SO many as loke to liue in peaceable quietnesse, be¦yng mynded rather to folowe reason, than to be led by wilfull affection: desire iustice* 1.82 in al thynges without the which no countrie is able long to cō∣tinue. Then may I be bolde to commende that, whiche all men wishe & fewe can haue, whiche all men loue, & none can want: not doubtyng but as I am occupied in a good thyng, so al good men wil heare me with a good wil. But woulde God I were so wel able to perswade all men to Iustice, as al men know the necessarie vse therof: and then vndoubted∣ly I woulde be muche boulder, and force some by violence, whiche by faire wordes can not be entreated. And yet what nedes any perswasion for that thyng, whiche by nature is so nedeful, & by experience so profitable, that looke what we want, without iustice we get not, loke what we haue, with∣out iustice we kepe not. God graūt his grace so to worke in the hartes of al men, that they may aswel practise well do∣yng in their owne lyfe, as they would that other should fo∣lowe iustice in their lyfe: I for my part wil bestow some la∣bor to set forth the goodnes of vpright dealing that al other men the rather may do therafter. That if through my wor∣des, God shal worke with any man, than may I thynke my self in happy case, & reioyce much in the trauaile of my wit. And how can it be otherwyse, but that al men shalbe forced inwardly to allowe that, whiche in outwarde acte many do not folowe: seyng God poured first this law of nature into mans hart, & graūted it as a meane wherby we might know his wil, & (as I might saie) talke with him, groundyng stil his doinges vpō this poinct, that mā should do as he would be done vnto, the whiche is nothyng elles, but to lyue vp∣rightly, without any wil to hurte his neighbour.* 1.83 And ther∣fore hauyng this light of Goddes wil opened vnto vs tho∣rowe his mere goodnesse, we ought euermore to referre al our actions vnto this ende, both in geuyng iudgement, and deuisyng lawes necessarie for mans lyfe. And here vpon it is that when men desire the lawe for trial of a matter, they

meane nothyng elles but to haue iustice,* 1.84 the whiche iustice is a vertue that yeldeth to euery man, his owne: to the e∣uer liuyng God, loue aboue al thynges: to the Kyng, obe∣dience: to the inferiour, good counsel: to the poore mā, mer∣cie: to the hateful and wicked, sufferaunce: to it self, truthe: and to al men, perfite peace, and charitie. Now what can be more said in praise of this vertue, or what thyng can be like praised? Are not al thynges in good case, when al men haue their owne? And what other thyng doeth iustice, but seketh meanes to contente al parties? Then how greatly are they to be praised, that meane truely in al th••ir doynges, and not onely, do no harme to any, but seke meanes to helpe al. The sunne is not so wonderful to the world (saith Aristotel* 1.85) as the iust dealyng of a gouernour is merueilous to al mē. No the yerth yeldeth not more gaine to al creatures, than doth the iustice of a Magistrate to his whole Realme. For, by a lawe, we liue, and take the fruites of the yearth, but where no law is, nor iustice vsed: there, nothyng cā be had, though al thynges be at hande: For, in hauyng the thyng, we shall lacke the vse, and liuyng in great plentie, we shal stande in great nede. The meane therfore that maketh men to enioye their owne, is iustice, the whiche beyng ones taken away, all other thynges are lost with it, neither can any one saue that he hath, nor yet get that he wanteth. Therfore if wrōg doyng shoulde be borne withal, and not rather punished by death,* 1.86 what man coulde lyue in reste? Who coulde be suer either of his lyfe, or of his liuyng one whole day together? Now because euery man desiereth the preseruation of hym selfe, euery man should in lyke case desire the sauegarde of his neighbour. For if I shoulde wholly mynde myne own ease, and folowe gaine without respect to the hinderaunce of myne euen Christian: why should not other vse thesame libertie, and so euery man for hymselfe, and the deuil for vs al, catche that catche may? The whiche custome if all men folowed, the earth woulde soone be voide for want of men, one woulde be so gredie to eate vp an other. For in sekyng to lyue, we shoulde lose our lyues, & in gapyng after good∣des, we shoulde soone go naked. Therefore to represse this

rage, and with holsome deuises to traine men in an order, God hath lightened man with knowledge, that in al thyn∣ges he may se what is right, and what is wrong, and vpon good aduisement deale iustly with al men. God hath crea∣ted al thynges for mans vse, and ordeined man for mannes sake, that one man might helpe another. For thoughe some one haue giftes more plentifully then the cōmune sorte, yet no man can liue alone without helpe of other.* 1.87 Therfore we shoulde striue one to helpe another by iuste dealyng, some this way, & some that way, as euery one shal haue nede, and as we shalbe alwaies best able, wherein the lawe of nature is fulfilled, and Goddes commaundemēt folowed. We loue them here in yearth that geue vs faire wordes, and we can be content to speake wel of them, that speake wel of vs: and shall we not loue them, and take them also for honest men, whiche are contented from tyme to time to yelde euery mā his owne, and rather woulde dye then consent to euill do∣yng?* 1.88 If one be ientle in outwarde behauiour, we lyke hym wel, and shal we not esteme hym that is vpright in his out∣ward liuyng? and like as we desire that other should be to vs, ought not we to bee likewyse affected towardes them? Euen emong brute beastes nature hash appoincted a law, & shal we men lyue without a lawe? The Storke* 1.89 beyng not able to feede her selfe for age, is fedde of her youngones, wherin is declared a natural loue, and shal we so lyue, that one shal not loue another? Man shoulde be vnto man as a God, & shal man be vnto man as a Deuil? Hath God crea∣ted vs, and made vs to his owne likenesse, endewyng vs with al the riches of the yearth, that we might be obedient to his wil, and shal we neither loue him, nor like his? How can we say that we loue God,* 1.90 if there be no charitie in vs? Do I loue hym, whose mynde I wil hot folowe, although it be right honest? If you loue me (saith Christe) folow my commaundementes.* 1.91 Christes will is suche that we shoulde loue God aboue al thinges, and our neighbour as our self. Then if we do not iustice (wherin loue doeth consist) we do neither loue man, nor yet loue God. The Wyse man saith: The begynnyng of a good lyfe, is to do iustice.* 1.92 Yea, the bles∣syng

of the Lorde is vpon the heade of the iuste.* 1.93 Heauen is theirs (saith Dauid) that do iustly frō tyme to tyme.* 1.94 What els then shal we do that haue any hope of the general resur∣rection, but do the will of God, and lyue iustly all the daies of our life? Let euery man, but consider with hymself what ease he shal finde therby, & I doubt not but euery one depe∣ly waiyng the same, wil in hart confesse that iustice maketh plentie,* 1.95 and that not one man coulde long hold his owne, if lawes were not made to restraine mans will. We trauaile now, Wynter & Sommer, we watche, and take thought for maintenaunce of wife & children, assuredly purposyng (that though God shal take vs immediatly) to leaue honestly for our familie.* 1.96 Now to what ende were all our gatheryng to∣gether, if iust dealyng were set a side, if lawes bare no rule, if what the wicked list, that they may, and what they may, that they can, & what they can, that they dare, & what they dare, the same they do, & whatsoeuer they do, no man of po∣wer is agreued therwith?* 1.97 What maketh wicked mē (which els woulde not) acknowlege the Kyng as their souereigne lorde, but the power of a lawe, & the practise of iustice for e∣uil doers?* 1.98 Could a Prynce mainteine his state royal, if law and right had not prouided that euery man shoulde haue his owne? Would seruauntes obey their masters, the sonne his father, the tenaunt his landlorde, the citezen his maiour, or Shirife••if orders were not set & iust dealyng appoincted for al states of men? Therfore the true meanyng folke in all a∣ges geue thē selues some to this occupacion, & some to that, sekyng therin nothing els, but to mainteine a poore life, and to kepe them selues true men both to God and the worlde. What maketh men to performe their bargaines, to stand to their promises, & yelde their debtes, but an order of a lawe grounded vpō iustice?* 1.99 Where right beareth rule, there craft is coumpted vice. The lyar is muche hated, where truth is wel estemed. The wicked theues are hāged, where good men are regarded. None can holde vp their heades, or dare showe their faces in a well ruled commune weale, that are not thought honest, or at the least haue some honest way to lyue. The Egiptians therfore hauyng a worthy and a wel gouer∣ned

publike weale, prouided that none shoulde lyue idlye, but that euery one monethly should geue an accompte how he spente his tyme, and had his name regestrede in a Booke for the same purpose.* 1.100 But Lorde, if this lawe were vsed in England, how many would come behynde hande with their reckenynges at the audite daie. I feare me there doynges woulde be suche, that it would be long ere they gotte there quietus est. Therfore the wourse is our state, the lesse that this euil is loked vnto. And suerly, if in other thynges we shoulde be as negligent, this Realme could not long stand. But thankes be to God, we hang theim a pace that offende a lawe, and therfore we put it to their choise, whether they wil be idle and so fal to stealyng, or no: they knowe their re∣warde, go to it, when they will. But if therewithall some good order were taken for education of youthe, and settyng loiterers on worke (as thankes be to God the Citie is most Godly bent that way) all would sooue be well without all doubt. The wyse and discrete persons in al ages sought all meanes possible to haue an order in all thynges, & loued by iustice to directe al their doynges, wherby appereth both an apt wil in suche men, & a natural stirryng by Godes power to make al men good.* 1.101 Therfore, if we doe not well, we must blame our selues, that lacke a wil, and do not cal to God for grace. For though it appere hard to do wel, because no man can get perfection without continaunce: yet assuredly to an humble mynde that calleth to God, and to a willyng harte that faint would do his best, nothing can be hard. God hath set al thinges to sale for labour, and kepeth open shop, come who will. Therefore in all ages whereas we see the fewest good, we must wel thinke, the most did lacke good wil to as∣ke, or seke for the same. Lorde, what loue had that worthie Prince Seleueus to maintein iustice, & to haue good lawes kepte, of whome suche a wondrefull thyng is written. For whereas he established moste holsome lawes for saue∣garde of the Locrensiās, and his owne sonne thereupon ta∣ken in adultrie, should lose bothe his iyes accordyng to the lawe then made, and yet notwithstandyng, the whole Citie thought to remitte the necessitie of his punishement for the

honour of his father, Seleucus woulde none of that in any wyse.* 1.102 Yet at last through importunitie beyng ouercome, he caused first one of his owne iyes to be pluckte out, & next af∣ter, one of his sonnes iyes, leauyng onely the vse of sight to hymself & his sonne. Thus through equitie of the lawe, he vsed the dew meane of chastisement, showyng hymself by a wonderful temperature both a merciful father, & a iust lawe maker. Nowe happy are thei y^t thus obserue a law, thinking losse of body, lesse hurt to the man, then sparyng of punishe∣mēt, mete for the soule. For God wil not faile thē, that haue suche a desire to folowe his wil, but for his promise sake, he wil rewarde them for euer. And now, seeyng that iustice na∣turally is geuē to al men without the whiche we could not liue, beyng warned also by God alwaies to doe vprightly, perceauyng againe the commodities that redounde vnto vs by liuyng vnder a lawe, & the sauegard wherin we stand ha∣uyng iustice to assiste vs: I trust that not onely all men wil cōmende iustice in worde, but also wil liue iustly in dede, the which that we may do, God graunt vs of his grace, Amen.

¶An Oration deliberatiue.

AN Oration deliberatiue,* 1.103 is a meane, wherby we do perswade, or disswade, entreate, or rebuke, exhorte, or dehorte, commende, or cōforte any man. In this kynd of Oration we doe not purpose wholly to praise any body, nor yet to determine any matter in cōtrouersie, but the whole compasse of this cause is, either to aduise our neigh∣bour to that thyng, whiche we thynke most nedeful for hym or els to cal him backe frō that folie, which hindereth muche his estimacion. As for exāple, if I would counseil my frende to trauaile beyond the Seas for knowlege of the tongues, & experience in forein countries: I might resorte to this kinde of Oration, & finde matter to cōfirme my cause plentifully. And the reasons which are commonly vsed to enlarge suche matters, are these that folowe.

The thyng is honest.

Saufe.

Profitable.

Easie.

Pleasaunt.

Harde.

• Lawful and meete.
• Praise worthie.
• Necessarie.

NOW in speakyng of honestie, I may by deuision of the vertues make a large walke.* 1.104 Againe loke what lawes, what customes, what worthie dedes, or sai∣ynges haue bene vsed heretofore, all these might serue wel for the confirmacion of this matter▪ lastly where honestie is called in, to establish a cause: there is nature and God hym selfe present from whome commeth al goodnesse. In the seconde place where I spake of profite,* 1.105 this is to be learned, that vnder the same is comprehended the gettyng of gaine, and the eschewyng of harme. Againe, concernyng profite* 1.106 (which also beareth the name of goodnesse) it parte∣ly perteineth to the bodie, as beautie, strength, and healthe, partely to the mynde, as the encrease of witte, the gettyng of experience, and heaping together of muche learnyng: and partely to fortune (as Philosophers take it) wherby bothe wealth, honor, and frendes are gotten. Thus he that diui∣deth profite, can not want matter. Thirdely in declaryng it is p••easaunt, I might heape together the varietie of plea∣sures,* 1.107 whiche comme by trauaile, firste the swetnesse of the tongue, the holsomnesse of the ayer in other countries, the goodly wittes of the ientlemen, the straunge and auncient buildynges, the wonderful monumentes, the great learned Clerckes in al faculties, with diuerse other like, and almost infinite pleasures.

The easines of trauaile* 1.108 may thus beperswaded, if we shew that freepassage is by wholsō lawes appointed, for al straū∣gers, & waie fairers. And seyng this life is none other thyng but a trauaile, & we as pilgrymes wander frō place to place, muche fondenesse it were to thinke that hard, which nature hath made easie, yea & pleasaunt also. None are more health∣ful, none more lusty, none more mery, none more strōg of bo∣dy, thē suche as haue trauailed* 1.109 countries. Mary vnto them that had rather sleape al day, then wake one houre, chosyng for honest labour sleuthful ydlenesse: thinking this life to be none other thyng but a continual restyng place, vnto suche

pardy, it shall seme painfull to abide any labour. To learne Logique, to learne the Lawe, to s••me it semeth so harde, that nothyng can enter into their heddes, and the reason is, that thei wan•• a will, and an ea••nest mynde to do their en∣deuour. For vnto a willyng har••e, nothyng can bee harde, laie lode on suche a manne•• backe, and his good harce maie soner make his backe to a••e, then his good will, can graunt to yelde and refuse the weighte.* 1.110 And now where the sweete hath his sower ioyned with hym, it shalbee wisedome to speake some what of it, to mitigate the sowernesse thereof, as muche as maie be possible.

That is lawfull* 1.111 and praise worthy, whiche lawes dooe graunt, good men do allowe, experience commendeth, and men in all ages haue moste vsed.

A thyng is necessary twoo maner of waies.* 1.112 Firste, when either we must do some one thyng, or els do worse. As if one should threaten a woman, to kill her, if she would not lie w^t him, wherin appereth a forcible necessitie. As touchyng tra∣uaile we might saie, either a man must be ignoraunt, of ma∣ny good thinges, and want greate experience, or els he must trauaill. Now to be ignoraunt, is a greate shame, therefore to trauaill is moste nedefull, if we will auoyde shame. The other kynde ef necessitie is, when we perswade men to beare those crosses paciently, whiche God doeth sende vs, consi∣deryng will we, or nill we, nedes must we abide them.

¶To aduise one, to study the lawes of Englande.

AGain, when we se our frende, enclined to any kynde of learnyng, wee muste counsaill hym to take that waie still, and by reason perswade hym, that it wer the metest waie for hym, to dooe his countrey moste good. As if he geue his mynde, to the Lawes* 1.113 of the realme, and finde an aptnes thereunto, we maie aduise hym, to con∣tinue in his good entent, and by reason perswade hym, that it were moste mete for him so to do. And first we might shew hym, that the study is honest and godly, consideryng it one∣ly foloweth Iustice, and is grounded wholy vpon naturall reason. Wherein we mighte take a large scope, if we would fully speake of all thynges, that are cōprehended vnder ho∣nestie.

For he that will knowe what honestie is, muste haue an vnderstandyng, of all the vertues together. And because the knowlege of theim is moste necessary, I will brifely set them furth.* 1.114 There are foure especial and chief vertues, vn∣der whom all other are comprehended.

• Prudence, or wisedome.
• Iustice.
• Manhode.
• Temperaunce.

PRudence* 1.115 or wisedome (for I will here take theim bothe for one) is a vertue that is occupied euer∣more, in searchyng out the truthe. Nowe wee all loue knowlege, & haue a desire to passe other ther∣in, and thinke it shame to be ignoraunt: and by studiyng the lawe, the truth is gotten out, by knowyng the truth, wise∣dome is attained. Wherefore, in perswadyng one to studie to Lawe, you maie sh••we hym that he shall get wisedome thereby. Under this vertue are comprehended.* 1.116

• Memorie.
• Understandyng.
• Foresight.

THE memorie calleth to accompte those thynges, that wer doen heretofore, and by a former remem∣braūce, getteth an after witte, and learneth to a∣uoyde deceipt.

Understandyng seeth thynges presently dooen, and per∣ceiueth what is in them, waiyng and debatyng them, vntill his mynde be fully contented.

Foresight, is a gatheryng by coniectures, what shall hap∣pen, and an euident perceiuyng of thynges to come, before thei do come.

Iustice.

Iustice* 1.117 is a vertue, gathered by long space, geuyng euery one his awne, mindyng in all thynges, the cōmon profite of our countrey, whereunto man is moste bounde, and oweth his full obedience.

Now, nature firste taught manne, to take this waie, and would euery one so to do vnto another, as he would be doe••

vnto hymself. For whereas Rain watereth all in like, the Sonne shineth indifferently ouer all, the fruict of the yerth encreaseth equally, God warneth vs to bestowe our good wil after thesame sort, doyng as duetie byndeth vs, and as necessitie shall best require. Yea, God graunteth his giftes diuersly emong men, because he would man should knowe, and fele, that man is borne for man, and that one hath nede of another. And therefore, though nature hath not stirred some, yet through the experiēce that man hath, concernyng his commoditie: many haue turned the lawe of nature, into an ordinary custome, and folowed thesame, as though thei were bounde to it by a Lawe. Afterwarde, the wisedome of Princes, and the feare of Goddes threate, whiche was vt∣tered by his woorde, forced men by a ••awe, bothe to allowe thinges cōfirmed by nature, and to beare with old custome or els thei should not onely suffer in the body, temporal pu∣nishement, but also lose their soules for euer. Nature* 1.118 is a righte, that phantasie hath not framed, but God hath graf∣fed, & geuen man power therunto, wherof these are deriued.

• Religion and acknowlegyng of God.
• Naturall loue to our children, and other.
• Thankfulnesse to all man.
• Stoutnesse bothe to withstande and reuenge.
• Reuerence to the superiour.
• Assured and constaunt truthe in thynges.

REligion* 1.119 is an humble worshippyng of God, acknow¦legyng hym to be the creatour of creatures, and the onely geuer of al good thynges.

Naturall loue* 1.120 is an inward good will, that we beare to our parentes, wife, children, or any other that bee nighe of kynne vnto vs, stirred thereunto not onely by our fleshe, thinkyng that like as we wold loue our selfes, so we shuld loue theim but also by a likenesse of mynde: and therefore generally we loue all, because all bee like vnto vs, but yet we loue them moste, that bothe in body and mynd, be moste like vnto vs. And hereby it cometh that often we are libe∣ral, & bestowe our goodes vpon the nedy, remembryng that

thei are all one fleshe with vs, and should not wante, when we haue it, without our greate rebuke, and token of our moste vnkynde dealyng.

Thankefulnesse* 1.121 is a requityng of loue, for loue, and wil, for will, shewyng to our frendes, the like goodnesse that we finde in them, yea, striuyng to passe theim in kyndenesse, lo∣syng neither tyme nor tide, to do them good.

Stoutnes* 1.122 to withstand & reuenge euil, is then vsed whē either we are like to haue harme, and do withstand it, or els whē we haue suffred euill for the truthsake, & therupon do reuenge it, or rather punishe the euill, whiche is in the man

Reuerence,* 1.123 is an humblenesse in outward behauor, whē we do our dutie to them, that are our betters, or vnto suche as are called to serue the kyng, in some greate vocacion.

Assured and constant truthe is,* 1.124 when we doo beleue that those thynges, whiche are or haue been, or hereafter are a∣aboute to be, cannot otherwise be, by any meanes possible.

That is right by custome,* 1.125 whiche long tyme hath confir∣med, beyng partly grounded vpon nature, and partly vpon reason, as where we are taught by nature, to knowe the e∣uer liuyng God, and to worship him in spirite, we turnyng natures light, into blynde custome, without Goddes will, haue vsed at lengthe to beleue,* 1.126 that he was really with vs here in yearthe, and worshipped hym not in spirite, but in Copes, in Candlestickes, in Belles, in Tapers, and in Cē∣sers, in Crosses, in Banners, in shauen Crounes and long gounes, and many good morowes els, deuised onely by the phantasie of manne, without the expresse will of God. The whiche childishe toyes, tyme hath so long confirmed, that the truthe is scant able to trie theim out, our hartes bee so harde, and our wittes be so farre to seke.

Again wher we se by nature, that euery one should deale truely, custome encreaseth natures will, and maketh by auncient demeane, thynges to bee iustly obserued, whiche nature hath appoyncted.

As

• Ba••gainyng.
• Commons, or equalitee.
• Iudgement geuen.

BArgainyng is, when twoo haue agreed, for the sa••e of some one thyng, the one will make his felowe to stande to the bargain, though it be to his neighbors vndoyng, restyng vpon this poyncte, that a bargain is a bargain, and must stand without all excepciō, although nature requireth to haue thynges dooen by conscience, and would that bargainyng should bee builded vpon Iustice, whereby an vpright dealyng, and a charitable loue is vtte∣red emongest all men.

Communes* 1.127 or equalitee, whē the people by long time haue a ground, or any suche thyng emong theim, the whiche some of them will kepe still, for custome sake, and not suffer it to be fensed, and so turned to pasture, though thei mighte gain ten tymes the value: but suche stubburnesse in kepyng of Commons for custome sake, is not standyng with Iu∣stice, because it is holden against all right.

Iudgement geuen,* 1.128 is when a matter is confirmed by a Parlamente, or a Lawe, determined by a Iudge, vnto the whiche many hed strong men, wil stande to dye for it, with∣out sufferaunce of any alteracion, not remembryng the cir∣cumstaunce of thynges, and that tyme altereth good actes.

That is righte by a Lawe,* 1.129 when the truthe is vttered in writyng, and commaunded to bee kepte, euen as it is sette furthe vnto them.

¶Fortitude or manhode.

FOrtitude is a considerate hassardyng vpon daun∣ger,* 1.130 and a willyng harte to take paines in bahalfe of the right. Now when can stoutnes be better v∣sed, then in iust maintenaunce of the lawe, and cō∣staunt triyng of the truthe? Of this vertue there are foure braunches.

• Honourablenesse.
• Stoutenesse.
• Sufferaunce.
• Continuaunce.

HOnorablenesse,* 1.131 is a noble orderyng of weightie mat∣ters, with a lustie harte, and a liberall vsyng of his wealthe, to the encrease of honour.

Stoutnesse* 1.132 i•• an assured trust in hymself, when he myn∣deth the compasse of moste weightie matters, and a coura∣gious defendyng of his cause.

Sufferaunce* 1.133 is a willyng and a long bearyng of trouble and takyng of paines, for the mainteinaunce of vertue, and the wealthe of his countrey.

Continuaunce* 1.134 is a stedfast and constant abidyng, in a pur∣posed and well aduised matter, not yeldyng to any manne in querell of the right.

¶Temperaunce.

TEmperaunce* 1.135 is a measuryng of affeccions, accor∣dyng to the will of reason, and a subduyng of luste vnto the Square of honestie. Yea, and what one thyng doth soner mitigate the immoderate passions of our nature, then the perfect knowlege of right and wrong and the iuste execucion appoyncted by a lawe, for asswagyng the wilfull? Of this vertue there are three partes.

• Sobrietie.
• Ientlenesse.
• Modestie.

SObrietie* 1.136 is a bridelyng by discrecion the wilful∣nesse of desire.

Ientlenesse* 1.137 is a caulmyng of heate, when wee begin to rage, and a lowly behauior in all our body Modestie* 1.138 is an honest shamefastnesse, whereby we kepe a constant loke, and appere sober in all our outward doynges. Now euen as we should desire the vse of all these vertues, so should we eschewe not onely the contraries herunto, but also auoyde all suche euilles, as by any meanes dooe with∣drawe vs from well doyng.

¶It is profitable.

AFter we haue perswaded our frend, that the lawe is honest, drawyng our argumētes frō the heape of ver¦tues, we must go further with hym, & bryng hym in good beleue, that it is very gainfull. For many on seke not the knowlege of learnyng for the goodnesse sake, but rather take paines for the gain▪* 1.139 which thei se doth arise by it. Take awaie the hope of lucre, and you shall se fewe take any pai∣nes:

No, not in the vineyard of the lorde. For although none should folowe any trade of life, for the gain sake, but euē as he seeth it is moste necessary, for thaduauncement of Gods glory, & not passe in what estimacion thinges are had in this worlde: yet because we are all so weake of wit, in our tēder yeres, that we cannot weigh with our selfes what is best, & our body so neshe, that it loketh euer to bee cherished, wee take that, whiche is moste gainfull for vs, and forsake that altogether, whiche we oughte moste to folowe. So that for lacke of honest meanes, and for want of good order, the best waie is not vsed, neither is Goddes honor in our first yeres remembred. I had rather (saide one) make my child a cobler then a preacher, a tankerd bearer, then a scholer. For what shall my sonne seke for learnyng, when he shall neuer gette therby any liuyng? Set my sonne to that, whereby he maie get somewhat? Do ye not se how euery one catcheth & pul∣leth frō the churche what thei can? I feare me one day thei will plucke doune churche and all. Call you this the Gos∣pell, when men seke onely to prouide for their belies, & care not a grote though their soules go to helle? A patrone of a benefice wil haue a poore yngrame soule, to beare the name of a persone for .xx. marke, or .x. li: and the patrone hymself, wil take vp for his snapshare, as good as an .c. marke. Thus God is robbed, learnyng decaied, England dishonored, and honestie not regarded. Thold Romaines not yet knowyng Christ,* 1.140 and yet beyng led by a reuerēt feare towardes God, made this lawe. Sacrum sacroue commendatū qui clepse∣rit, rapseritue, parricida est He that shall closely steale, or forcibly take awaie that thyng, whiche is holy, or geuen to the holy place: is a murderer of his coūtrey. But what haue I said, I haue a greater matter in hand, then wherof I was a ware, my penne hath run ouer farre, when my leasure ser∣ueth not, nor yet my witte is able to talke this case in suche wise, as it should bee, and as the largenesse therof requireth. Therefore to my lawyer again, whom I doubte not to per∣swade, but that he shall haue the deuill and all, if he learne a pase, and dooe as some haue dooen before hym. Therefore I will shewe howe largely this profice extendeth, that

I may haue him the soner, to take this matter in hand. The lawe* 1.141 therefore not onely bryngeth muche gain with it, but also auaunceth men bothe to worshippe, renoume, and ho∣nour. All men shall seke his fauour, for his learnyng sake: the best shall like his cōpany, for his callyng: and his welth with his skill shalbe suche, that none shalbe able to woorke hym any wrong. Some consider profite, by these circum∣staunces, folowyng.

• To whom.
• When.
• Where.
• Wherefore.

NEither can I vse a better order, then these circum∣staunces minister vnto me.* 1.142 To whom therefore is the Lawe profitable? Marie to them that bee best learned, that haue redy wittes, and will take pai∣nes. When is the lawe profitable? Assuredly both now and euermore, but especially in this age, where all men go to∣gether by the eares for this matter, and that matter. Suche alteracion hath been heretofore, that hereafter nedes muste ensue muche altercacion. And where is all this a do? Euen in litle Englande, or in Westminster hall, where neuer yet wanted busines, nor yet euer shall. Where••••••e is the lawe profitable? Undoubtedly because no manne could hold his awne, if there were not an order to staie vs, and a Lawe to restrain vs. And I praie you who getteth the money? The lawyers no doubt. And were not lande sometymes cheaper bought, then got by the triall of a lawe? Do not men com∣monly for trifles fall out?* 1.143 Some for loppyng of a tree, spē∣des al that euer thei haue, another for a Gose, that graseth vpon his ground, tries the lawe so hard, that he proues him self a Gander. Now when men bee so mad, is it not easie to gette money emong theim. Undoubtedly the lawyer neuer dieth a begger.* 1.144 And no maruaill. For an .C. begges for hym, and makes awaie all that thei haue, to get that of hym, the whiche the oftener he bestoweth, the more still he getteth. So that he gaineth alwaies, aswell by encrease of lernyng as by storyng his purse with money, wheras the other get a

warme sonne often tymes, and a flappe with a foxe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for al that euer thei haue spent. And why woulde they? Tushe, if it were to do againe, thei would do it: therfore the lawyre can neuer want a liuyng, til the yearth want men, and al be voyde.

¶The lawe easie to many, and harde to some.

I Doubt not, but my lawyer is perswaded that the law is profitable: now must I beare him in hād that it is an easie matter to become a lawier▪ the whiche if I shalbe able to proue, I doubt not, but he will proue a good lawier, & that right shortly▪ the law is groūded vpon reason. And what hardenesse is it for a man by reason to fynde out reason. That can not be straung vnto him, the grounde wherof, is graffed in his brest. What, though the lawe be in a straunge tongue, the wordes may be gotte with¦out any paine, when the matter selfe is compast with ease. Tushe, a litle lawe will make a greate showe, and therfore though it be muche to becomme excellent, yet it is easie, to get a taist. And surely for getting of money, a litle wil do as∣muche good oftentymes, as a greate deale. There is not a word in the law, but it is a grote in y^e lawiers purse. I haue know ••e diu••rse that by familiar talkyng, & moutyng toge∣ther haue comme to right good learning without any great booke skil, or muche beating of their braine by any close stu¦die, or secrete musyng in their chāber. But where some say the lawe is very harde, and discourage young men from the studie therof, it is to be vnderstande of suche as wil take no paines at al, nor yet mynde the knowlege therof. For what is not hard to man, when he wanteth wil to do his best. As good slepe, and saie it is harde: as wake, and take no paines.

The lawe.

• Godly.
• Iuste.
• Necessarie.
• Pleasaunt.

WHat nedeth me to proue the lawe to be Godly, iust, or necessarie, seeyng it is grounded vpon Goddes

wil, and all lawes are made for the maintenaunce of iustice. If we will not beleue that it is necessarie, let vs haue re∣belles againe to disturbe the Realme. Our nature is so fonde that we knowe not the necessitie of a thyng, til wee fynde some lacke of the same. Bowes are not estemed as they haue bene emong vs Englishmen, but if we were ones well beaten by our enemies wee shoulde soone knowe the wante, and with feelyng the smarte lament muche our fo∣lie. Take awaie the lawe, and take awaie our lifes, for no∣thyng mainteineth our wealthe,* 1.145 our health, & the sauegard of our bodies, but the lawe of a Realme, wherby the wic∣ked are condempned, and the godly are defended.

¶An Epistle to perswade a young ientleman to Mariage, deuised by Erasmus in the behalfe of his frende.

ALbeit you are wyse enough of your selfe throughe that singulare wisedome of yours (most louyng Co∣syn) and litle needes the aduise of other, yet either for that olde fryndshippe whiche hath bene betwixt vs, and continued with our age euen from our cradles, or for suche your greate good turnes showed at all tymes to∣wardes me, or elles for that faste kynred and alliaunce whiche is betwixt vs: I thought my selfe thus muche to owe vnto you if I woulde be suche a one in deede, as you euer haue taken me, that is to saie a man bothe frendly and thankeful, to tell you freely (whatsoeuer I iudged to ap∣perteine either to the sauegarde, or worshippe of you, or any of yours) and willyngly to warne you of the same. We are better seen oftentymes in other mens matters, than we are in our owne. I haue felte often your aduise in myne owne affaires, and I haue founde it to be as fortunate vn∣to me, as it was frendly. Nowe if you wil likewyse in your awne matters folowe my counsail, I truste it shal so come to passe that neither I shal repent me for that I haue geuen you counsail, nor yet you shal forthynk•• your self, that you haue obeyed, and folowed myne aduise. There was at sup∣per with me the twelfe daie of Aprill when I laie in the

countrie, Antonius Baldus, a man (as you knowe) that most earnestly tendreth your welfare, and one that hath bene alwaies of great acquaintaunce and familiaritie with your sonne in lawe: A heauie feast we had, and ful of muche mournyng. He tolde me greatly to bothe our heauinesse, that your mother that moste godly woman, was departed this lyfe, & your sister beyng ouercome with sorow & heaui∣nesse, had made her selfe a Nunne, so that in you onely re∣maineth the hope of issue and maintenanuce of your stocke▪ whereupon your frendes with one consent haue offerde you in Mariage a ientlewoman of a good house, and muche wealthe, fayre of bodie, very well brought vp, and suche a one as loueth you with all her harte. But you (either for your late sorowes whiche you haue in freshe remembraunce or elles for Religion sake) haue so purposed to lyue a syngle lyfe, that neither can you for loue of your stocke, neither for desier of issue, nor yet for any entreatie that your fren∣des can make, either by prayeng, or by wepyng: be brought to chaunge your mynde.

And yet notwithstandyng all this (if you wil folowe my counsaill) you shalbe of an other mynde, and leauyng to lyue syngle whiche bothe is barren, and smally agreeyng with the state of mannes nature, you shall geue your selfe wholy to moste holy wedlocke. And for this parte I will neither wishe that the loue of your fryndes, (whiche elles ought to ouercome your nature) nor yet myne auctho∣ritie that I haue ouer you, shoulde doe me any good at all to compasse this my requeste, if I shall not proue vnto you by moste plaine reasons, that it will be bothe muche more honest, more profitable, and also more pleasaunt for you, to marie, than to lyue otherwyse. Yea, what will you saie, if I proue it also to be necessarie for you at this tyme to Marie. And firste of all, if honestie maie moue you in this matter (the whiche emong all good men ought to bee of muche weighte,) what is more honest then Matrimo∣nie, the whiche CHRISTE hym selfe did make honest, when not onely he, vouchesaufed to bee at a Mariage with his Mother, but also did consecrate the Mariage

feaste with the first miracle that euer he did vpon yearche? What is more holie then Matrimonie whiche the creatour of all thynges did institute, did fasten, and make holie, and nature it selfe did establishe? What is more praise wor∣thie* 1.146 than that thyng, the whiche whosoeuer shall dis∣praise, is condempned streight for an Heretique? Matrimo∣nie is euen as honourable, as the name of an Heretique, is thought shamefull. What is more right, or m••ete,* 1.147 than to geue that vnto the posteritie, the whiche we haue receiued of our auncesters? What is more inconsiderate than vnder the desire of holinesse to escew that as vnholie, which God hym selfe the fountaine and father of al holinesse, woulde haue to be counted as moste holie? What is more vnmanly than that man shoulde go against the lawes of mankynde? what is more vnthankfull than to deny that vnto younge∣lynges, the whiche (if thou haddest not receyued of thine el∣ders) thou couldest not haue bene the man liuyng, able to haue denied it vnto theim. That if you woulde knowe who was the first founder of Mariage, you shal vnderstande that it came vp not by Licurgus, nor yet by Moses, nor yet by Solon, but it was first ordeined, & instituted by the chief founder of all thynges, commended by the ••ame,* 1.148 made ho∣nourable and made holie by thesame. For at the firste when he made man of the yearthe, he did perceyue that his lyfe shoulde be miserable and vnsauerie, excepte he ioyned Eue as ma••e vnto hym.* 1.149 Wherupon he did not make the wyfe v∣pon the same claie wherof he made man, but he made her of Adams ribbes, to the eude we might plainely vnderstande that nothyng ought to be more deare vnto vs thē our wyfe, nothyng more nigh vnto vs, nothyng surer ioyned, and (as a man woulde saie) faster glewed together. The selfe same GOD after the generall floude,* 1.150 beyng reconciled to man∣kynde is saied to proclaime this lawe firste of all, not that men shoulde lyue single, but that they shoulde encrease, be multiplied, and fill the yearth. But howe I praie you could this thyng be, sauyng by mariage and lawful comyng toge∣ther? And first least we shoulde allege here either the liber∣tie of Moyses lawe, or els the necessitie of that tyme: What

other meanyng els hath that commune and commēdable re∣porte of Christe in the Gospell,* 1.151 for this cause (saieth he) shall man leaue father and mother and cleaue to his wyfe. And what is more holie than the reuerence and loue due vn∣to parentes? and yet the truthe promised in Matrimon••e is preferred before it. and by whose meanes? Mary by GOD hym self. at what time? Forsouth not onely emōg the Iues, but also emong the Christians. Men forsake father and mo∣ther and takes themselfes wholie to their wyfes. The sonne beyng past one and twentie yeres, is free and at his libertie. Yea the sonne beyng abdicated, becommeth no sonne. But it is death onely that parteth maried folke, if yet death doe part them. Now if the other Sacramentes (whereunto the Churche of Christe chiefely leaneth) bee reuerently vsed, who doeth not see that this Sacramente shoulde haue the most reuerence of al, the whiche was instituted of GOD, and that firste and before all other. As for the other they were instituted vpon yearthe, this was ordeined in Para∣dise: the other were geuen for a remedie, this was appoinc∣ted for the felowshippe of felicitie: the other were applied to mannes nature after the fall, this onely was geuen when man was in moste perfite state. If we counte those lawes good that mortall men haue enacted, shall not the lawe of Matrimonie be moste holie, whiche wee haue receyued of him, by whome we haue receiued lyfe, the whiche lawe was then together enacted whē man was first created? And last∣ly to strengthen this lawe with an example and deede doen Christe beyng an young man (as the Storie reporteth) was called to a Mariage,* 1.152 and came thither willyngly with his mother, and not onely was he there present, but also he did honest the feaste with a wonderfull meruaile begynnyng first in none other place to worke his wounders, and to doe his miracles. Why then I praie you (will one saie) howe happeneth it that Christ forbare Mariage? as though good Seir there are not many thynges in Christe at the whiche we ought rather to meruaile, than seeke to folowe. he was borne and had no father, he came into this worlde without his mothers painefull trauaile, he came out of the graue

when it was closed vp, what is not in hym aboue nature? Let these thynges be propre vnto hym. Let vs that lyue within the boundes of nature, reuerence those thynges that are aboue nature, and folowe suche thynges as are within our reache suche as we are able to compasse. But yet (you saie) he woulde bee borne of a Uirgine: Of a Uirgine (I graunt) but yet of a maried Uirgine. A Uir∣gyne beyng a mother did moste become GOD, and beyng maried she did showe what was beste for vs to doe. Uir∣ginitie did become her, who beyng vndefiled, brought hym forthe by heauenly inspiration that was vndefiled. And yet Ioseph beyng her housbande dothe commende vnto vs the lawe of chaiste wedlocke. Yea, howe coulde he better sette out the societie in wedlocke, than that willyng to de∣clare the secrete societie of his diuine nature with the bo∣die and soule of man, whiche is wonderfull euen to the heauenly Aungelles, and to showe his vnspeakable and e∣uer abidyng loue towarde his Churche: he doeth call hym selfe the Brydegrome, and her the Bryde. Greate is the Sacrament of Matrimonie (saith Paule) betwixt Christe and his Churche. If there had bene vnder heauen any ho∣lier yoke, if there had bene any more religiouse couenaunt than is Matrimonie, without doubte the example thereof had bene vsed. But what lyke thyng doe you reade in all Scripture of the syngle lyfe?* 1.153 The Apostle S. Paul in the thirteen Chapi. of his Epistle to the Hebrues calleth Ma∣trimonie honourable emong all men, and a bedde vndefiled, and yet the syngle lyfe is not so muche as ones named in the same place. Nay they are not borne withall that lyue syngle, except they make some recompence with doyng some greater thyng. For elles, if a man folowyng the lawe of nature, doe labour to gette children, he is euer to be prefer∣red before hym that lyueth still vnmaried, for none other ende, but because he woulde bee out of trouble, and lyue more free. Wee doe reade that suche as are in very deede chaiste of their body, and lyue a Uirgines lyfe, haue bene praised, but the syngle lyfe was neuer praised of it selfe. Nowe againe the lawe of Moses accurseth the barrenesse

of maried folke, and wee doe reade that some were excem∣municated for the same purpose, and banished from the aul∣tar. And wherefore I praie you? Marie Sir because that they like vnprofitable persones, and liuyng onely to theim selues, did not encrease the worlde with any issue. In Deuteronomie it was the chiefest token of Goddes bles∣synges vnto the Israelites that none shoulde be barren e∣mong them,* 1.154 neither man, nor yet woman. And Lya is thought to bee out of Goddes fauour,* 1.155 because she coulde not bryng furth children. Yea, and in the Psalme of Dauid an hundreth twentie and eight, it is counted one of the chie∣fest partes of blesse to bee a frutefull woman. Thy wyfe (sayeth the Psalme) shalbe plentifull lyke a vine, and thy children lyke the braunches of Olyues, rounde about thy Table. Then if the lawe do condempne, and vtterly dissa∣lowe barren Matrimonie, it hath alwaies muche more con∣dempned the syngle lyfe of Bacchelaures. Yf the fault of nature hath not escaped blame, the will of man can neuer wante rebuke. Yf they are accursed that woulde haue chil∣dren, and can gette none, what deserue they whiche neuer trauaile to escape barreinesse?

The Hebrues had suche a reuerence to maried folke,* 1.156 that he whiche had maried a wyfe, the same yeare shoulde not be forced to go on warrefaire. A Citie is lyke to fall in ruine, excepte there be watchemen to defende it with armour. But assured destruction muste here needes folowe excepte men throughe the benefite of Mariage supplie is∣sue, the whiche through mortalitie doe from tyme to tyme decaie.

Ouer & besides this the Romaines did laie a penaltie v∣pon their backe that liued a syngle lyfe, yea they would not suffer thē to beare any office in the cōmure weale. But thei that had encreased the world with issue,* 1.157 had a reward by cō∣imune assent, as men that had deserued well of their coun∣trie. The olde foren lawes did appoincte pe••••lties for suche as liued syngle, the whiche although they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 qualified by Constantius the Emperour in the fauor of Christes religiō, yet these lawes do declare howe litle it is for the commune

weales aduauncement, that either a Citie should be lessened for loue of sole life, or els that the countrie shoulde be filled ful of bastardes. And besides this, the Emperour Augustus* 1.158 being a sore punisher of euil behauiour, examined a souldior because he did not marie his wife accordyng to the lawes, the whiche souldiour had hardely escaped iudgement, if he had not gotte .iij. children by her. And in this point doe the lawes of al Emperours seeme fauourable to maried folke, that they abrogate suche vowes as were proclaimed to be kept and brought in by Miscella,* 1.159 and woulde that after the penaltie were remitted, suche couenauntes, beyng made a∣gainst al right and conscience, shoulde also be taken of none effect, and as voide in the lawe. Ouer and besides this, Ul∣pianus* 1.160 doth declare that the matter of Dowries was euer∣more and in al places the chiefest aboue al other, the whiche should neuer haue bene so, excepte there came to the cōmune weale some especial profite by mariage. Mariage hath euer bene reuerenced, but frutefulnesse of body hath bene muche more. for so sone as one gotte the name of a father, there dis∣cended not onely vnto him enheirtaunce of lande, but al be∣questes, and gooddes of suche his frendes as dyed intestate. The whiche thyng appereth plaine by the Satyre Poete.

Through me thou art made,* 1.161 an heire to haue lande, Thou hast al bequestes one with another, All gooddes and cattel are come to thy hande Yea gooddes intestate, thou shalt haue suer.

Now he that had .iij. children, was more fauoured, for he was exempted from al outward ambassages. Againe he that had fyue childen was discharged and free from all personal office, as to haue the gouernaunce, or patronage of younge ientlemē, the whiche in those daies was a great charge & ful of paines without any profit at al. He that had .xiij. children was free by the Emperour Iulianus law, not onely frō be∣yng a mā at Armes, or Captaine ouer horsemen: but also frō al other offices in the cōmune weale. And the wise founders of all lawes geue good reason why suche fauor was shewed to maried folke. For what is more blesseful thā to liue euer?

Now where as nature hath denied this, Matrimony doth geue it by a certaine sleyght, so muche as maye be. Who dothe not desire to be bruted, and liue through fame emōg men hereafter? Now there is no buildinge of pillers, no e∣xectinge of Arches, no blasinge of Armes, tha•• dothe more sette forthe a mannes name, then doth the encrease of chil∣drē. Albinus obteined his purpose of the Emperour Adriā, for none other desert of his, but y^t he had begote an house∣full of children. And therefore the Emperoure (to the hin∣deraūce of his treasure) suffred the children to enter who∣lye vpon their fathers possession, forasmuche as he knewe well that his realme was more strengthened with encrease of children, then with store of money. Againe, all other la∣wes are neither agreynge for all Countryes, nor yet v∣sed at all times. Licurgus* 1.162 made a lawe, that they whiche maried not, shoulde be kepte in Somer from the sighte of stage playes, and other wonderfull shewes, and in winter they shoulde go naked aboute the market place, and accur∣singe theim selues, they shoulde confesse openly that they hadde iustlye deserued suche punishment, because they did not liue accordinge to the lawes. And without any more a doe, will ye knowe how much our olde Auncesters here∣tofore estemed Matrimonie? Waye well, and consider the punishment for breaking of wedlocke.* 1.163 The Grekes hereto∣fore thought it mete to punishe the breache of Matrimonie with battaile that continued ten y••••es.* 1.164 Yea, moreouer not onely by the Romaine lawe, but also by the Hebrues and straūgers, aduouterous persons wer punished with death. If a thiefe payde .iiij. times the value of that which he toke awaye, he was deliuered, but an aduouterers offence, was punished with the sworde. Emonge the Hebrues,* 1.165 the peo∣ple stoned the aduouterers to death, with their owne han∣des, because they had broken that, without which the wor∣lde could not continue. And yet they thought not this sore law sufficient inoughe, but graunted further to runne him thorowe withoute lawe, that was taken in aduoutrye,* 1.166 as who should saye, they graunted that to the griefe of mari∣ed folke, the whiche they woulde hardlye graunte to hym

that stode in his owne defence for saufegarde of his life, as though he offended more haynously that ••oke a mans wife, then he did that toke away a mannes lyfe. Assuredly wed∣locke muste neades seme to be a mooste holye thinge, consi∣deringe that bringe once broken, it muste neades be purged with mannes bloude, the reuenger wherof is not forced to abide either lawe or iudge, the whiche libertie is not graū∣ted anye to vse vpon him that hathe killed either his father or his mother. But what do we with these Lawes writ∣ten? This is the lawe of Nature, not written in the Ta∣bles of Brasse, but firmelye prynted in oure myndes, the whiche Lawe, whosoeuer dothe not obeye, he is not wor∣thye to be called a manne, muche lesse shall he be counted a Citezen. For if to liue well (as the Stoikes wittelye do dispute) is to folowe the course of Nature, what thin∣ge is so agreynge with Nature as Matrimonye?* 1.167 For there is nothinge so naturall not onelye vnto mankinde, but al∣so vnto all other liuinge creatures, as it is for euerye one of theim to kepe their owne kinde from decaye, and throu∣ghe encrease of issue, to make the whole kinde immortall.

The whiche thinge (all menne knowe) can neuer be dooen, withoute wedlocke and carnall copulation. It were a fowle thinge, that brute beastes shoulde obeye the lawe of Nature, and menne like Gyauntes shoulde fighte againste Nature. Whose worcke if we woulde narowly loke vpon, we shall perceyue that in all thinges here vpon earthe, she woulde there shoulde be a certaine spice of mariage. I wil not speake nowe of Trees, wherin (as Plinie mooste cer∣tainelye writeth) there is founde Mariage* 1.168 with some ma∣nifeste difference of bothe kyndes, that excepte the hous∣bande Tree do leane with his boughes euen as thoughe he shoulde desire copulation vpon the womenne Trees gro∣wynge rounde aboute him: they woulde elles altogether ware barraine. The same Plinie also dothe report that certaine aucthoures do thincke there is bothe male and fe∣male in all thinges that the Earthe yeldeth.* 1.169 I will not speake of precious stones, wherein the same aucthoure af∣firmeth, and yet not he onelye neither, that there is bothe

male and female emonge theim. And I praye you hath not GOD so knitte all thinges together with certaine lyn∣ckes, that one euer semeth to haue neade of another? What saye you of the skye or firmamente, that is euer stirrynge with contiuuall mouinge?* 1.170 Dothe it not playe the parte of a husbande, while it puffeth vp the Earthe, the mother of all thinges, and maketh it fruitefull with castinge seede (as a manne woulde saye) vpon it. But I thincke •• ouer tedious to runne ouer all thinges. And to what ••••de are these thinges spoken? Marye sir, because we might vnder∣stande that throughe Mariage, all thing••s are, and do styll continue, and withoute the same all thinges do decaye, and come to noughte. The olde auncient and moste wise Po∣••tes do feyne (who hadde euer a desire vnder the coloure of fables* 1.171 to set forthe preceptes of Philosophie) that the Gi∣auntes whiche had snakes fete, and were borne of thearth, builded greate hilles that mounted vp to heauen, minding thereby to be at vtter defiaunce with God and all his aun∣gelles. And what meaneth this fable? Marye it sheweth vnto vs, that certaine fierce and sauage menne, suche as were vnknowen, coulde not abide wedlocke for anye wor∣ldes good, and ther••fore they were stricken downe heade∣longe with lighteninge, that is to saye: they were vtterlye destroyed, when they soughte to ••schue that, whereby the weale and saulfegarde of all mankinde onelye dothe ••on∣siste. Nowe againe, the same Poetes do declare that Or∣pheus* 1.172 the musician and minstrell, did styrre and make softe with his pleasaunte melodye the mooste harde rockes and stones. And what is their meaninge herein? Assuredlye nothinge elles, but that a wise and well spoken manne, did call backe ha••de harted menne, suche as liued abroade like Beastes, from op••n whoredome, and brought them to lyue after the mooste holye lawes of Matrimonye. Thus we se plainelye, that suche a one as hathe no minde of Mariage, semeth to be no manne, but rather a Stone, an enemye to Nature, a rebel to God him selfe, seking through his owne ••olye, his last ende and destruction.

Well, let vs go on still (seynge we are fallen into fables that are not fables altogether) when the same Orpheus in the middes of Hell, forced Pluto him selfe and all the de∣uilles there, to graunte him leaue to carye awaye his wife Euridice, what other thinge do we thinke that the Poets meant, but only to set forthe vnto vs the loue in wedlocke the whiche euen amonge the Deuilles was compted good and Godlye.* 1.173

And this also makes wel for the purpose, that in olde time they made Iupiter Gamelius, the God of mariage, & Iu∣no Lucina ladye midwife, to helpe suche women as labou∣red in child bedde, beynge fondlye deceiued, and superstici∣ouslie erring in naming of the Gods, and yet not missinge the trueth, in declaring that Matrimonie is an holy thin∣ge, and mete for the worthines therof, that the Goddes in heauen shoulde haue care ouer it. Emonge diuers coun∣tries, and diuers menne, there haue bene diuers lawes and customes vsed. Yet was there neuer anye countrey so sa∣uage, none so farre from all humanitie, where the name of wedlocke was not counted holye, and hadde in great reue∣rence.* 1.174 This the Thraciā, this the Sarmate, this the Indi∣an, this the Grecian, this the Latine, yea, this the Britain that dwelleth in the furtheste parte of all the worlde, or if there be anye that dwell beyonde them haue euer counted to be moste holye. And why so? Marye because that thinge must neades be commune to all, whiche the commune mo∣ther vnto all, hath graffed in vs all, and hath so thorowlye graffed the same in vs, that not onely stockedoues and Pi∣gions, but also the most wilde beastes haue a natural felin∣ge of this thinge. For the Lyons are gentle against the Li∣onesse. The Tygers fight for safegard of their yong whel∣pes. The Asse runnes through the hote fyre (which is made to kepe her awaie) for safegarde of her issue. And this they call the lawe of Nature, the whiche as it is of most stren∣gthe and force, so it spreadeth abroade most largely. Ther∣fore as he is counted no good gardener, that being content with thinges present, doth diligently proyne his old trees, and hath no regard either to ympe or graffe yong settes: be¦cause

the selfe same Orcharde (thoughe it be neuer so well trimmed) muste nedes decaye in time, and all the trees dye within fewe yeres: So he is not to be counted halfe a di∣ligent citizen, that beinge contente with the present multi∣tude, hathe no regarde to encrease the number. Therefore there is no one man that euer hath bene counted a worthy Citezen, who hath not laboured to get childrē, and sought to bring them vp in Godlines.

Emonge the Hebrues* 1.175 and the Persians he was most commended, that had most wiues, as thoughe the countrey were most beholding to him, that encreased the same with the greatest number of children. Do you seke to be compted more holie then Abraham* 1.176 him selfe? Well, he should neuer haue bene compted the father of manye Nacions, and that through Gods furtheraunce, if he had forborne the compa∣nye of his wife. Do you loke to be reckened more deuoute then Iacob?* 1.177 He doubteth nothinge to raunsome Rach••l from her greate bondage. Will you be taken for wiser then Salomon?* 1.178 And yet I praye you what a number of wiues kept he in one house? Will you be compted more chast•• thē Socrates,* 1.179 who is reported to beare at home with zanti••••e that verye shrewe, and yet not so muche therefore (as he is wonte to ieste accordinge to his olde maner) because he might learne pacience at home, but also because he mighte not seme to come behinde with his dutye in doyng the wil of nature. For he beynge a manne, suche a one (a•• Appol∣lo iudged him by his Oracle to be wise) did well ••erceyu•• that he was gote for this cause, borne for this cause, and therfore bounde to yelde so muche vnto nature. For if the olde auncient Philosophers haue saide wel, if our diuin••s haue proued the thinge not without reason, if it be vsed e∣uerye where for a commune prouerbe, and almost in euerye mans mouthe, that neither God nor yet Nature, did euer make any thinge in vayne: Why did he geue vs such mem∣bres, how happeneth we haue suche luste, and suche power to get issue, if the single lyfe and none other be altogether prayse worthye? If one shoulde bestowe vpon you a verye good thinge, as a bowe, a coate, or a sworde, al men would

thincke you were not worthye to haue the thinge, if either you coulde not, or you woulde not vse it, and occupie it.

And where as all other thinges are ordeyned vpon suche greate considerations, it is not like that Nature slepte or forgate her selfe when she made this one thinge. And nowe here will some saye, that this fowle and filthye desire, and styrringe vnto luste, came neuer in by Nature, but through Sinne: for whose wordes I passe not a strawe, seinge their saiynges are as false, as God is true. For I pray you was not Matrimonye instituted (whose worke can not be done withoute thes•• membres) before there was anye Synne. And againe, whence haue all other brute beastes their pro∣uocations? of Nature, or of Sinne? A man woulde thinke they hadde theim of Nature. But shall I tell you at a worde, wee make that fil••hye by oure owne Imagination, whiche of the owne nature is good and Godlye. Or elles if we will examine matters, (not accordinge to the opini∣on of menne, but weye them as they are of their owne Na∣ture) howe chau••ceth it that we thincke it lesse filthye, to eate, to chewe, to digest, to emptye the bodye, and to slepe, then it is to vse carnall copulation, such as is lawfull, and permitted. Naye sir (you will saye,) we muste folowe ver∣tue, rather then Nature. A gentle dishe. As thoughe anye thinge can be called vertue that is contrary vnto Nature. Assuredly there is nothinge that can be perfectlye gote, ei∣ther throughe laboure, or throughe learning, if man gro∣unde not his doynges altogether vpon Nature.

But you will liue an Apostles life, suche as some of them did that liued single, and exhorted other to the same kinde of life. Tushe, let them folowe the Apostles that are A••ostles in deede, whose office seynge it is bothe to teache and bringe vp the people in Goddes doctrine, they are not able to discharge their dutyes bothe to their flocke, and to their wife and familye. Althoughe it is well knowen that some of the A••ostles had wiues. But beit that Bishoppes liue single, or graunt we them to haue no wiues. What do you folowe the profession of the Apostles, beynge one that

is farthest in life from their Uocation, beinge bothe a tem∣porall manne, and one that liueth of youre owne. They hadde this Pardon graunted them to be cleane voyde from Mariage, to the ende they mighte be at leasure to get vnto Christe a more plentifull number of his children. Let this be the order of Priestes and Monkes, who belike haue en∣tred into the Religion and rule of the Essens, (suche as amonge the Iewes lothed Mariage) but youre callinge is an other waye. Naye, but (you will saye) Christe him selfe hath compted theim blessed, whiche haue gelded theim sel∣••es for the Kingdome of GOD. Sir, I am contente to admitte the aucthoritie, but thus I expounde the meaning. Firste, I thincke that this doctrine of Christe did chieflye belonge vnto that time, when it behoued theim chieflye to be voyde of all cares and busines of this Worlde. They were fayne to trauayle into all places, for the persecutou∣res were euer readye to laye handes on theim. But nowe the worlde is so, that a manne can finde in no place the vp∣rightnes of behauioure lesse stayned, then emonge maried folke. Let the swarmes of Monkes and Nun••es sette for∣the their order neuer so muche, let theim boaste and bragge their bealies full, of their Ceremonies and church seruice, wherin they chieflye passe all other: yet is wedlocke (be∣ynge well and trulye kepte) a mooste holye kinde of life.

Againe, would to God they were gelded in very dede, what soeuer they be, that coloure their noughtye liuinge wyth such a iolye name of geldinge, liuing in muche more filthye luste vnder the cloke and pretence of chastitie. Neither can I reporte for verye shame, into howe filthye offences they do often fall, that will not vse that remedye whiche Na∣ture hath graunted vnto manne. And last of all, where do you reade that euer Christe commaunded anye manne to liue ••ingle, and yet he dothe openlye forbidde diuorcement. Then he dothe not worste of all (in my Iudgemente) for the commune weale of Mankinde, that ••raunteth libertye vnto Priestes:* 1.180 yea, and Monkes also (if neade be) to mary, and to take them to their wiues, namely seing there is suche

an vnreasonable number euerye where, emonge whom I praye you how many be there that liue chaste. How muche better were it to turne their concubines into wyues, that where as they haue them now to their greate shame wyth an vnquiet conscience, they mighte haue the other openlye with good report, and get children, and also bringe them vp godlye, of whom they them selues not onelye mighte not be ashamed, but also might be counted honest men for them.

And I thinke the bishoppes officers woulde haue procured this matter longe agoe, if they had not founde greater gai∣ues by priestes lemmans, thē they were like to haue by prie∣stes wiues. But virginitie* 1.181 forsothe is an heauenlye thing, it is an Aungels life. I aunswer, wedlocke is a manly thin∣ge, suche as is mete for man. And I talke now as man vnto man. I graunte you, that virginitie is a thinge prayse wor∣thy, but so farre I am cōtent to speake in praise of it, if it be not so praised, as though the iust shuld altogether folow it, for if men cōmenly should begin to like it, what thing could be inuented more perilous to a commune weale then virgi∣nitie. Nowe be it that other deserue greate prayse for their maydenheade, you notwithstandinge can not wante greate rebuke▪ seynge it lieth in your handes to kepe that house frō decaye wherof you lineallye descended, and to continue still the name of your auncesters, who deserue moste worthely to be knowen for euer. And laste of all, he deserueth as muche prayse, as they whiche kepe their maydenhode: that kepes him selfe true to his wife, and marieth rather for encrease of children, then to satisfy his luste For if a brother be com∣maunded to stirre vp sede to his brother that dieth without issue, will you suffer the hope of all youre stocke to decaye, namely seinge there is none other of your name and stocke, but your selfe alone, to continue the posteritie. I know wel inoughe, that the auncient fathers haue set forthe in greate volumes, the prayse of virginitie, emonge whom, Hierome* 1.182 dothe so ••ake on, and prayseth it so much aboue the starres, that he fell in maner to depraue Matrimonie, and therfore was required of Godly Bishoppes to cal backe his wordes that he had spoken. But let vs beare with suche heate for

that tyme sake, I would wishe nowe, that thei, whiche ex∣hort yong folke euery where, and without respect (suche as yet knowe not thēselfes) to liue a single life, and to professe virginitie: that thei would bestowe thesame labour, in set∣tyng furth the descripcion of chast and pure wedlocke. And yet those bodies that are in suche great loue with virgini∣tie, are well contented that menne should fight against the Turkes, whiche in nomber are infinitely greater then wee are. And now if these menne thinke right in this behalfe, it must nedes be thought right good and godly, to labour ear∣nestly for children gettyng, and to substitute youthe from tyme to tyme, for the maintenaunce of warre. Except par∣auenture thei thinke that Gunnes, Billes, Pikes, and na∣uies, should be prouided for battaill, and that men stand in no stede at all with them. Thei also allowe it well, that we should kill miscreaunt and Heathen parentes, that the ra∣ther their children not knowyng of it, might bee Baptized and made Christians. Nowe if this bee righte and lawfull, how muche more ientlenesse were it to haue children Ba∣ptized, beyng borne in lawfull mariage. There is no nacion so sauage, nor yet so hard harted, within the whole worlde, but thesame abhorreth murderyng of infauntes, and newe borne babes. Kynges also and hedde rulers, dooe likewise punishe moste streightly, all suche as seke meanes to be de∣liuered before their tyme, or vse Phisicke to waxe barren, and neuer to beare childrē. What is the reason? Marie thei compt small difference betwixt hym, that killeth the child, so sone as it beginneth to quicken: and thother, that seketh all meanes possible, neuer to haue any child at all. The self same thyng that either withereth and drieth awaie in thy body, or els putrifieth within thee, and so hurteth greatly thy healthe, yea, that self same, whiche falleth from thee in thy slepe, would haue been a manne, if thou thy self haddest been a man. The Hebrues* 1.183 abhorre that man, and wishe him Goddes cursse, that (beyng commaunded to marie with the wife of his dedde brother) did cast his seede vpon the groūd least any issue should bee had, and he was euer thought vn∣worthy to liue here vpon yerth, that would not suffer that

that child to liue, whiche was quicke in the mothers wōbe. But I praie you how litle do thei swarue from this offence whiche by••d themselfes to liue barrern, all the daies of their life? Doo thei no•• seme to kill as many men, as were like to haue been borne, if thei had bestowed their e••deuors to haue got children? Now I praie you, if a man had lande that wer very fatte and fertile, and suffered thesame for lacke of ma∣neryng, for euer to waxe barren, should he not, or wer he not worthy to be punished by the lawes, consideryng it is for the cōmon weales behoue, that euery man should wel and truly husbande his awne. If that mā be punished, who litle hedeth the maintenaunce of his Tillage, the whiche although it be neuer so wel manered, yet it yeldeth nothyng els but wheat barley, bea••es, and peason: what punishement is he worthy to suffer, that refuseth to Plough that lande, whiche beyng tilled, yeldeth childrē. And for ploughyng land, it is nothyng els, but painfull toylyng from tyme to tyme, but in gettyng children, there is pleasure, whiche beyng ordeined, as a redy reward for pai••es takyng, asketh a short trauaill for all the tillage. Therfore if the workyng of nature, if honestie, if ver¦tue, if inwarde zeale, if Godlinesse, if duetie maie moue you, why can you not abide that, whiche God hath ordeined, na∣ture hath established, reason doeth counsaill, Gods worde and mannes worde do commende, all lawes do commaunde, the consent of all nacions doeth allowe, whereunto also the example of all good men, doth exhort you. That if euery ho∣nest man should desire many thynges, that axe•• moste painful for none other cause, but onely for that thei are honeste, no doubt but matrimonie ought aboue all other, moste of all to be desired, as the whiche wee maie doubte, whether it haue more honestie in it, or bryng more delite and pleasure with it. for what can bee more pleasaunt, then to liue with her, with whom not onely you shalbe ioyned, in felowship of faithful∣nes, and moste▪ hartie good will, but also you shalbe coupled together moste assuredly, with the cōpany of bothe your bo∣dies? If we compt that great pleasure, whiche we receiue of the good will of our frendes and acquaintaunce, how plea∣sau•••• a thyng is it aboue all other, to haue one, with whom

you maie breake the botome of your harte, with whō ye maie talke as frely, as with your self, into whose t••uste, you maie saufly cōmit your self, suche ••o••e as thinketh al your goodes to be her charge. Now what an heauenly b••isse (••row you) is the companie of man and wife together, seyng that in all the worlde, there can nothyng be found, either of greater weight and worthi••esse, or els of more st••engthe and assuraunce. For with frendes, we ioyne onely with them in good will, & faith fulnesse of mynde, but with a wife, we are matched together, bothe in harte and mynde, in body and soule, sealed together with the bonde and league of an holy Sacrament, & partyng all the goodes we haue, indifferently betwixt vs. Again whē other are matched together in fre••dship, do we not see what dissemblyng thei vse, what falshode thei practise, and what deceiptfull partes thei plaie? Yea, euen those whō we thinke to be our most assured frendes, as swallowes flie awaie whē sommer is past, so thei hide their heddes, whē fortune gynnes to faile. And oft tymes when we get a newe frend, we streight forsake our old. We heare tell of very fewe, that haue cont••∣nued frendes, euen till their last ende. Whereas the faithful∣nesse of a wife, is not stained with deceipte, nor dusked with any dissēbly••g, nor yet parted with any chaūge of the world but disseuered at last by death onely, no not by death neither. She forsakes and settes lighte by father and mother, sister & brother for your sake, and for your loue onely. She only pas∣seth vpon you, she puttes her trust in you, and leaneth wholy vpon you, yea, she desires to die with you. Haue you any worldly substaūce? You haue one that will maintain it, you haue one that will encrease it. Haue you none? You haue a wife that will get it. If you liue in prosperitee, your ioye is doubled: if the worlde go not w^t you, you haue a wife to put you in good comfort, to be at your commaundemēt, & redy to serue your desire, & to wishe that suche euill as hath happe∣ned vnto you, might chaūce vnto her self. And do you thinke that any pleasure in al the world, is able to be cōpared with suche a goodly felowship & familier liuyng together? If you kepe home, your wife is at hand to kepe your cōpany, the ra∣ther that you might fele no werines of liuing al alone, if you

ride furth, you haue a wife to bid you fare well with a kisse longyng muche for you, beyng from home, and glad to bidde you well come at your next returne. A swete mate in your youthe, a thankfull comforte in your age. Euery societie or companiyng together, is delitefull and wisshed for by na∣ture of all menne, forasmuche as nature hath ordeined vs to be, sociable, frendly, and louyng together. Nowe howe can this felowship of manne and wife, be otherwise then moste pleasant, where all thynges are common together betwixt them bothe. Now I thinke he is moste worthy, to bee despi∣sed aboue all other, that is borne, as a man would saie for hymself, that liueth to hymself, that seketh for himself, that spareth for himself, maketh cost onely vpon himself, that lo∣ueth no man, and no man loueth hym. Would not a manne thinke that suche a monster, were mete to be caste out of all mennes companie (with Tymon that careth for no manne) into the middest of the sea.* 1.184 Neither do I here vtter vnto you those pleasures of the body, the which, wheras nature hath made to be moste pleasaunt vnto man, yet these greate wit∣ted men, rather hide them, and dissemble them (I cannot tel how) then vtterly contempne them. And yet what is he that is so sower of witte, and so drowpyng of braine (I will not saie) blockhedded, or insensate, that is not moued with suche pleasure, namely if he maie haue his desire, without offence either of God or man, and without hynderaunce of his esti∣macion. Truely I would take suche a one, not to be a man, but rather to bee a very stone. Although this pleasure of the body, is the least parte of all those good thynges, that are in wedlocke. But bee it that you passe not vpon this pleasure, and thinke it vnworthy for man to vse it, although in deede we deserue not the name of manne without it, but compte i•• emong the least and vttermoste profites, that wedlocke hath: Now I praie you, what can be more hartely desired, then chast loue, what can bee more holy, what can bee more honest? And emong all these pleasures, you get vnto you a ioly sort of kinsfolke, in whom you maie take muche delite. You haue other parentes, other brethren, sisterne, and ne∣phewes. Nature in deede can geue you but one father, & one

mother: By mariage you get vnto you another father, and another mother, who cannot chuse, but loue you with all their hartes, as the whiche haue put into your handes, their aw••e fleshe and bloud. Now again, what a ioye shal this be vnto you, when your moste faire wife, shall make you a fa∣ther, in bringyng furthe a faire childe vnto you, where you shall haue a pretie litle boye, runnyng vp and doune youre house, suche a one as shall expresse your looke, and your wi∣ues looke, suche a one as shall call you dad, with his swete lispyng wordes. Now last of all, when you are thus lynked in loue, thesame shalbee so fastened and bounde together, as though it wer with the Adamant stone, that death it self cā neuer be able to vndo it. Thrise happie are thei ({quod} Horace) yea, more then thrise happie are thei, whom these sure ban∣des dooe holde, neither though thei are by euill reporters, full ofte sette a so••der, shall loue be vnlosed betwixt theim two, till death them bothe depart. You haue them that shal comforte you, in your latter daies, that shall close vp your iyes, when God shall call you, that shall bury you, and ful∣fill all thynges belongyng to your Funerall, by whom you shall seme, to bee newe borne. For so long as thei shall liue, you shall nede neuer bee thought ded your self. The goodes and landes that you haue gotte, go not to other heires, then to your awne. So that vnto suche as haue fulfilled all thyn¦ges, that belong vnto mannes life, death it self cannot seme bitter. Old age cometh vpon vs all, will we, or nill we, and this waie nature prouided for vs, that we should waxe yong again in our children, and nephewes. For, what man can be greued, that he is old, when he seeth his awne countenaūce whiche he had beyng a childe, to appere liuely in his sonne? Death is ordeined for all mankynd, and yet by this meanes onely, nature by her prouidence, myndeth vnto vs a certain immortalitie, while the encreaseth one thyng vpon another ••uen as a yong graffe buddeth out, when the old tree is cut doune. Neither can he seme to dye, that, when God calleth hym, leaueth a yong child behinde hym. But I knowe well enough, what you saie to your self, at this while of my lōg talke. Mariage is an happie thyng, if all thynges hap well,

what and if one haue a curste wife? What if she be lighte? What if his children bee vngracious? Thus I see you will remember all suche men, as by mariage haue been vndoen. Well, go to it, tell as many as you can, & spare not: you shal finde all these were faultes of the persones, and not the faultes of Mariage. For beleue me, none haue euill wifes,* 1.185 but suche as are euill mē. And as for you sir, you may chuse a good wife, if ye list. But what if she be croked, and marde altogether, for lacke of good orderyng. A good honest wife, maie be made an euill woman, by a naughtie husbande, and an euill wife, hath been made a good woman, by an honest man. We crie out of wifes vntruly, and accuse them with∣out cause. There is no man (if you wil beleue me) that euer had an euil wife, but through his awne default. Now again an honest father, bryngeth furthe honest children, like vnto hymself. Although euen these children, how so euer thei are borne, commonly become suche men, as their education and bringyng vp is.* 1.186 And as for ielousy you shal not nede to feare that fault at all. For none be troubled with suche a disease, but those onely that are foolishe louers. Chaste, godly, and lawfull loue, neuer knew what ielousie ment. What meane you to call to your mynde, and remember suche sore trage∣dies and doulefull dealynges, as haue been betwixt manne and wife. Suche a woman beyng naughte of her body, hath caused her husbande to lose his hedde, another hath poyso∣ned her goodmā, the third with her churlishe dealyng (whi∣che her husbande could not beare) hath been his outer vn∣doyng, & brought hym to his ende. But I praie you sir, why doo you not rather thinke vpon Cornelia,* 1.187 wife vnto Tibe∣rius Graechus? Why do ye not mynde that moste worthy wife, of that most vnworthy man Alcestes?* 1.188 Why remembre ye not Iulia* 1.189 Pompeyes wife, or Porcia* 1.190 Brutus wife?* 1.191 And why not Artemisia,* 1.192 a woman moste worthie, euer to bee re∣membred? Why not Hipsicratea,* 1.193 wife vnto Mithridates kyng of Pontus? Why do ye not call to remembraunce the ientle nature of Tertia Aemilia?* 1.194 Why doo ye not consider the faithfulnesse of Turia?* 1.195 Why cometh not Lucretia and Lentula* 1.196 to your remēbraūce? and why not Arria?* 1.197 why not

thousandes other, whose chastite of life, and faithfulnes to∣wardes their husbandes could not bee chaunged, no not by death. A good woman (you will saie) is a rare birde, & hard to be founde in all the worlde. Well then six, imagine your self worthy to haue a rare wife, suche as fewe men haue. A good woman (saith the wiseman) is a good porcion.* 1.198 Be you bold to hope for such a one, as is worthy your maners. The chifest poyncte standeth in this, what maner of woman you chuse, how you vse her, and how you order your self towar∣des her. But libertee (you will saie) is muche more plea∣saunt: for, who soeuer is maried, wereth fetters vpon his legges, or rather carieth a clogge, the whiche he can neuer shake of, till death part their yoke. To this I answere, I cā not see what pleasure a man shall haue to liue alone. For if libertie be delitefull, I would thinke you should get a mate vnto you, with whō you should parte stakes, and make her priuey of all your ioyes. Neither can I see any thyng more free, then is the seruitude of these twoo, where the one is so muche beholdyng and bounde to thother, that neither of thē bothe wold be louse, though thei might. You are boūd vnto him, whō you receiue into your frendship: But in mariage neither partie findeth fault, that their libertie is takē awaie from them. Yet ones again your are sore afraied, least when your childrē are taken awaie by death, you fal to mourning for wāt of issue▪ well sir, if you feare lacke of issue, you must marie a wife for the self same purpose, the which onely shal be a meane, that you shall not want issue. But what do you serche so diligently, naie so carefully, al the incōmodities of matrimonie, as though single life had neuer any incōmodi∣tie ioyned w^t it at al. As though there wer any kinde of life in al the world, that is not subiect to al euils that may hap∣pē. He must nedes go out of this world, y^• lokes to liue w^tout felyng of any grief. And in cōparison of y^• life which y^e sain∣ctes of god shal haue in heauē, this life of mā is to be cōpted a deth, & not a life. But if you cōsider thinges within the cō∣passe of mankynde, there is nothyng either more saufe, more quiet, more pleasaunt, more to be desired, or more happy, then is the maried mānes life. How many do you se, that hauyng

ones felt the swetnesse of wedlocke, doeth not desire eftso∣nes to enter into thesame? My frende Mauricius, whō you knowe to be a very wise man, did not he, the nexte monethe after his wife died (whom he loued derely) get hym streight a newe wife? Not that he was impacient of his luste, and could not forbeare any longer, but he said plainly, it was no life for hym, to bee without a wife, whiche should bee with hym as his yoke felowe, and companion in all thynges. And is not this the fourthe wife, that our frende Iouius hath maried? And yet he so loued the other, whē thei wer on liue that none was able to comforte hym in his heauinesse: and now he hastened so muche (when one was ded) to fill vp and supply the voyde roume of his chamber, as though he had loued the other very litle. But what do we talke so muche of the honestie and pleasure herein, seyng that not onely pro¦fite doeth aduise vs, but also nede doeth earnestly force vs, to seke mariage.* 1.199 Let it bee forbidden, that man and woman shall not come together, & within fewe yeres, all mankynde must nedes decaye for euer. When zerxes* 1.200 kyng of the Per∣sians, behelde from an high place, that greate armie of his, suche as almoste was incredible, some said he could not for∣beare wepyng, consideryng of so many thousandes, there was not one like to bee a liue, within seuentie yeres after. Now why should not we consider thesame of all mankynd, whiche he meant onely of his armie. Take awaie mariage, and howe many shall remain after a hundreth yeres, of so many realmes, countrees, kyngdomes, citees, and all other assemblies that be of men, throughout the whole world? on now, praise we a gods name the single life aboue the nocke, the whiche is like for euer to vndooe all mankynde. What plague, what infeccion can either heauen or hell, sende more harmefull vnto mankynd? What greater euill is to be fea∣red by any floud? What could be loked for, more sorowfull, although the flame of Phaeton should set the world on fire again? And yet by suche sore tempestes, many thynges haue been saued harmelesse, but by the single life of man, there cā be nothyng left at all. We se what a sorte of diseases, what diuersitee of missehappes doo night and daie lye in waite to

lessen the smal number of mankynde. Howe many doeth the plague destroie, how many do the Se••s swallowe, how ma∣ny doeth battaile snatche vp? For I will not speake of the daily dyeng that is in al places. Deathe taketh her flight e∣uery where rounde about, she runneth ouer theim, she cat∣cheth theim vp, she hasteneth asmuche as she can possible to destroie al mankynde▪ & now do we so highly cōmend syngle lyfe and eschewe Mariage? Except happely we like the pro∣fession of the Essens (of whome Iosephus speaketh that* 1.201 they wil neither haue wyfe, nor seruauntes) or the Dulopo∣litans, called otherwyse the Rascalles and Slaues of Ci∣ties,* 1.202 the whiche companie of theim is alwaie encreased and continued by a sorte of vagabounde peasauntes that conti∣nue, and be from time to time stil together. Do we loke that some Iuppiter shoulde geue vs that same gifte, the whiche he is reported to haue geuen vnto Bees that wee shoulde haue issue without procreacion, and gather with our mouthes out of flowers, the seede of our posteritie? Or elles do we desier, that lyke as the Poetes feyne Minerua to be borne out of Iuppiters head: in lyke sorte there should chil∣dren leape out of our heades? Or last of al doe we looke ac∣cordyng as the olde fables haue been, that men shoulde be borne out of the yerth, out of rockes, out of stockes, stones, & olde trees. Many thynges breede out of the yearth without mans labour at all. Young shrubbes growe and shoute vp vnder the shadowe of their graundsyre trees. But nature woulde haue man to vse this one waie of encreasyng issue▪ that through labour of bothe the housband and wyfe, man∣kynd might stil be kept from destruction. But I promise you if all men tooke after you, and still forbare to marie: I can not see but that these thynges whiche you wonder at, and e∣steme so muche, could not haue been at al. Do you yet esteme this syngle lyfe so greatly? Doe you praise so muche virgi∣nitie aboue al other? Why man, there will be neither syngle men, nor virgines a lyue, if men leaue to marie, and mynde not procreation. why do you thē preferre virginitie so muche why set it you so hye, if it be the vndoyng of all the whole worlde? It hath been muche commended, but it was for that

tyme, and in a fewe. God woulde haue men to see as though it were a paterne, or rather a picture of that heauenly habi∣tacion, where neither any shalbe maried, nor yet any shall geue theirs to Mariage. But when thynges be geuen for an example, a fewe may suffise, a nomber were to no purpose. For euen as al groundes though they be very frutefull, are not therefore turned into tillage for mans vse and commo∣ditie, but parte lyeth fallowe, and is neuer mannered, parte is kepte and cherised to lyke the ••ye and for mans pleasure: and yet in al this plentie of thynges, where so great store of lande is, nature suffereth very litle to waxe barren: But nowe if none should be tilled, and plowe m••n went to plaie, who seeth not but that wee shoulde al sterue, and bee faine shortely to eate acornes: Euen so, it is praise worthie if a fewe liue syngle, but if al should seke to lyue syngle, so ma∣ny as be in this worlde, it were to great an inconuenience. Now again be it that other deserue worthie praise that seke to liue a virgines life, yet it must nedes be a great faulte in you. Other shalbe thought to seke a purenesse of lyfe, you shalbe coumpted a parricide, or a murtherer of your stocke: that whereas you may by honest mariage encrease your po∣steritie: you suffex it to decaie for euer, through your wilful single lyfe. A man may hauyng a house ful of children, com∣mende one to God to lyue a virgine al his lyfe. The plowe man offereth to God the tenthes of his owne, and not his whole croppe al together: But you Sir, muste remember that there is none lefte aliue of al your stocke, but your self alone. And nowe it mattereth nothyng whether you kill, or refuse to saue that creature, which you onely might saue and that with ease. But you wil folow the example of your sister, and lyue syngle as she doth. And yet me thynketh you shoulde chefely euen for this selfe same cause, be afraied to lyue single. For whereas there was hope of issue heretofore in you bothe, nowe ye see there is no hope left but in you o∣nely. Be it that your sister may be borne withal, because she is a woman, and because of her yeares, for sue beyng but a girle and ouercome with sorow for losse of her mother toke the wrong way, she cast her selfe donne headlong, and be∣came

a Nunne at the earnest sute either of folishe women, or elles of doultishe Munkes: but you beyng muche cl••er, must euermore remember that you are a man. She woulde nedes dye together with her auncesters, you muste labour that your auncesters shal not dye at all. Your sister woulde not doe her dutie, but shranke away: thynke you nowe with your selfe that you haue. ij. offices to discharge. The daugh∣ters of Lothe* 1.203 neuer stuck at the matter to haue a doe with their dronken father, thinkyng it better with wicked whore dome and inceste to prouide for their posteritie, than to suf∣fer their stocke to die for euer and wil not you with honest, Godly, and ch••ist Mariage (whiche shalbe without trou∣ble and turne to your greate pleasure) haue a regarde to your posteritie most like elles for euer to decaie? Therfore, let them on Goddes name folow the purpose of chaist Hip∣politus, let them lyue a syngle life, that either can bee ma∣ried men, and yet can gette no children, or els suche, whose stocke may be continued by meanes of other their kynsfolke or at the least whose kyndred is suche that it were better for the commune weale, they were all deade, than that any of that name shoulde be a lyue, or elles suche men, as the e∣uerliuyng God of his moste especiall goodnes hath chosen out of the whole worlde to execute some heauenly office, wherof there is a marueilouse smal nomber. But whereas you accordyng to the reporte of a Phisicion that neither is vnlearned,* 1.204 nor yet is any lyar, are lyke to haue many chil∣dren hereafter, seeyng also you are a man of greate landes, and reuenues by your auncesters, the house whereof you came, beyng bothe right honourable and right auncient, so that you coulde not suffer it to perishe without youre great offence, and greate harme to the commune weale: a∣gaine seeyng you are of lustie yeares, and very comely for your personage, and may haue a maide to your wyfe suche a one as none of your countrie hath knowen any to bee more absolute for all thynges, commyng of as noble a house as any of theim, a chaiste one, a sobre one, a God∣lie one, an excellent fayre one, hauyng with her a won∣derfull Dowrie: seeyng also youre frendes desyre you,

your kynsfolke we••e to wynne you, your Cosyns and ali∣aunce are earnest in hande with you, your countrie calles and cries vpon you: the asshes of your auncesters from their graues make harty sute vnto you, do you yet holde backe, do you stil mynde to lyue a syngle lyfe? Yf a thyng were asked you that were not halfe honest, or the whiche you could not wel compasse, yet at the instaunce of your frendes, or for the loue of your kynsfolke, you woulde be ouercome, and yelde to their requestes: Then howe muche more reasonable were it that the wepyng teares of your frendes, the hartie good wil of your countrie, the deare loue of your elders might wynne that thyng at your handes, vnto the whiche bothe the lawe of God and man doth exhorte you, nature pricketh you forwarde, reason leadeth you, honestie allureth you, so many commodities cal you, and last of all, necessitie it selfe doeth constraine you. But here an ende of al reasonyng. For I trust you haue now and a good while ago chaunged your mynde thorowe myne aduise, and taken your selfe to better counsell.

¶Of Exhortation.

THe places of exhortyng* 1.205 and dehortyng, are the same whiche wee vse in perswadyng and dissuadyng, sa∣uyng that he whiche vseth perswasion, seeketh by argumētes to compasse his deuise: he that laboures to exhorte, doeth stirre affections.

Erasmus sheweth these to be the most especiall places that do perteine vnto exhortation.

• Praise, or Commendacion.
• Expectation of al men.
• Hope of victorie.
• Hope of renowme.
• Feare of shame.
• Greatnesse of rewarde.
• Rehersall of examples, in all ages, and especially of thynges lately doen.

PRaisyng* 1.206 is either of the man, or of some deede doen. We shall exhorte men to doe the thyng, if we showe

them that is a worthy attempte, a Godly enterprise, & suche as fewe men hetherto haue aduentured.

In praisyng a man,* 1.207 we shal exhorte hym to go forwarde, consideryng it agreeth with his wounted māhode, and that hetherto he hath not slacked to hasarde boldely vpon the best and worthiest deedes, requiryng hym to make this ende aunswereable to his mooste worthie begynnynges, that he maye ende with honour, whiche hath so long continued in suche renowme. For it were a foule shame to lose honour through folie, whiche hath been gotte through virtue, and to appere more slacke in kepyng it, than he semed ••arefull at the first to atteine it.

Againe whose name is renowmed, his doynges from time to tyme wil be thought more wonderfull, and greater pro∣mises wil men make vnto them selues of suche mens aduen∣tures in any commune affaires, than of others, whose ver∣tues are not yet knowne. A notable Master of fence is mar∣ueilouse to beholde, and men looke earnestly to see hym doe some wonder, howe muche more will they looke when they heare tel that a noble Captaine, & an aduenturouse Prince shal take vpon hym the defence, and sauegarde of his coun∣trie against the ragyng attemptes of his enemies? Therfore a noble man can not but go forwarde with most earnest wil, seyng al men* 1.208 haue suche hope in hym, and count hym to bee their onely comforte, their fortresse, and defe••se. A••d the ra∣ther to encourage suche right worthie, we may put them in good hope to compasse their attempte,* 1.209 yf wee showe them that God is an assured guide vnto all those, that in an ho∣nest quarell aduenture them selues, and showe their manly stomake. Sathan hym selfe the greatest aduersarie that man hath, yeldeth lyke a captiue, when GOD dothe take our parte, muche sooner shal al other be subiecte vnto hym, and crye Peccaui. for if God be with hym, what matereth who be against hym?

Nowe when victorie is got, what honour doeth ensewe? here openeth a large fielde to speake of renowme, fame, and endles honour.* 1.210 In all ages the worthiest men haue alwaies aduentured their carcases for the sauegarde of their coun∣trie,

thynkyng it better to dye with honor, than to liue with shame. Againe the ruine of our Realme shoulde put vs to more shame,* 1.211 than the losse of our bodies should turne vs to smarte. For our honestie beyng stained, the paine is endles, but our bodies beyng gored, either the wounde maie sone be healed, or elles our paine beyng sone ended, the glory endu∣reth for euer.

Lastely he that helpeth the nedelesse, defendeth his poore neighbours,* 1.212 & in the fauour of his countrie, bestoweth his lyfe: wil not God besides al these, place hym where he shall lyue for euer, especially seeyng he hath doen all these enter∣prises in faith and for Christes sake?

Nowe in al ages to recken suche as haue bene right soue∣rayne, and victoriouse, what name gotte the worthie Scipio that withstood the rage of Annibal? what Brute hath Cesar for his most worthie cōquestes? What triūphe of glory doth sounde in al mennes eares vpon the onely namyng of migh∣tie Alexander, and his father Kyng Philippe? And now to come home, what head cā expresse the renowmed Henry the fifte Kyng of Englande of that name after the conquest? What witte can sette out the wonderful wysedom of Hen∣ry the seuenth, and his greate foresight to espie mischiefe like to ensewe, and his politique deuises to escape daungers to subdewe rebelles, and mainteyne peace?

¶Of mouyng pitie, and stirryng men to shewe mercie.

LIkewise we may exhorte men to take pitie of the fa∣therlesse,* 1.213 the widowe, and the oppressed innocent, if we set before their iyes the lamentable afflictions the tyrannouse wronges, and the miserable calami∣ties, whiche these poore wretches do susteine. For if fleshe and bloude moue vs to loue our children, our wyfes, and our kynsfolke: muche more shoulde the spirite of God and Christes goodnes towardes mā stirre vs to loue our neigh∣bours moste e••tirely. These exh••rtacions the preachers of God may most aptely vse, when they open his Gospell to

the people, and haue iust cause to speake of suche matters.

¶Of Commendyng.

IN commendyng* 1.214 a man, wee vse the reporte of his witte, honestie, faithfull seruice, painefull labour, and carefull nature to do his maisters will, or any suche lyke, as in the Epistles of Tullie there are examples infinite.

¶Of Comfortyng.

NOw after al these, the weake would be comforted* 1.215 and the soroufull woulde bee cherised that there grief might bee aswaged, and the passions of man brought vnder the obedience of reason. The vse hereof is great, aswell in priuate troubles, as in commune miseries. As in losse of gooddes, in lacke of frendes, in sick∣nes, in darthe, & in death. In all whiche losses, the wyse vse so to comforte the weake, that they geue them not iust cause euen at the firste to refuse all comforte.* 1.216 And therefore they vse two waies of chereshyng the troubled mindes. The one is when wee showe that in some cases and for some causes either they shoulde not lament at all, or elles bee sory very litle: the other is when we graunt that they haue iust cause to bee sadde, and therfore wee are sad also in their behalfe, and woulde remedie the matter, if it coulde be, and thus en∣teryng into felowshippe of sorowe, wee seeke by litle and litle to mitigate their grief. For all extreme heauinesse, and vehement sorowes, cannot abyde comforte, but rather seeke a mourner that woulde take parte with theim.

Therefore muche warenesse ought to be vsed, when wee happen vpon suche excedyng sorowfull, leaste wee rather purchace hatred, than aswage grief.

Those harmes shoulde bee moderatly borne, whiche muste needes happen to euery one, that haue chaunced to any one. As deathe, whiche spareth none, neither Kyng, nor Cayser, neither poore, nor riche. Therefore to bee impacient for the losse of our frendes, is to fall

out with God, because he made vs men, and not Aungelles. But the Godly (I truste) will alwaies remitte thorder of thynges to the wil of God, and force their passions to obey necessitie. When God lately visited this Realme with the sweatyng disease,* 1.217 and receiued the two worthie ientlemen He••ry Duke of Suffolke, & his brother Lorde Charles: I seeyng my Ladies grace their mother takyng their deathe most greauouslie could not otherwise for the duetie whiche I then did, and euer shall owe vnto her, but comforte her in that her heauinesse, the whiche vndoubtedly at that tyme muche weakened her bodie. And because it may serue for an example of comforte, I haue been boulde to set it forthe as it foloweth hereafter.

¶An example of comforte.

THough myne enterprise maie be thought fo∣lishe, and my doynges very slender in busiyng my braine to teache the expert, to gyue coun∣sel to other when I lacke it my self, and wher¦as more neede were for me to be taught of o∣ther, to take vpon me to teache my betters, yet dutie byn∣dyng me to doe my beste, and emong a nomber though I can doe leaste, yet good will settyng me forthe with the fore∣mest: I cannot chouse but write what I am able, and speake what I can possible for the better comfortyng of your grace in this your great heauines, and sore visitacion sent from GOD, as a warnyng to vs all. The Phisician then de∣serueth moste thanke, when he practiseth his knowlege in tyme of necessitie, and then traueileth moste painefullie, when he feeleth his paciente to be in moste daunger. The souldiour at that tyme, and at no tyme so muche is thought most trustie, when he showeth at a nede his faithfull harte, and in tyme of extreme daunger doeth vse, and bestowe his moste earnest labour. In the wealthe of this worlde what valiaunt man can wante assistence? What mightie Prince can misse any helpe to compasse his desire? who lac∣keth men that lacketh no monie? But when God striketh the mightie with his strong hand, and displaceth those that

were hyghelye placed, what one manne dothe once looke backe for the better ••asemente of his deare Brother, and Godlye comfortynge his euen. Christian, in the chiefe of all his sorowe. All menne communelye more reioyce in the Sunne risynge, then they doe in the Sunne set••inge. The hope of Lucre and expectation of priuate gayne, maketh manye one to bear oute a countenaunce of fauoure, whose herte is inwardelye fretted wyth deadlye rancoure. But suche Frendes, euen as prosperi••ye do••he gette theim, so aduersitye dothe trye theim. God is the searcher of euery mannes thought, vnto whose iudgemente I referre the as∣suraunce of my good wyll.

And thoughe I can do little, and therfore deserue as lit∣tle thancke, as I loke for prayse (whyche is none at all) yet will I endeuoure earnestlye at all tymes, as well for mine owne discharge, to declare my duty, as at this present to say somewhat for the better easemente of youre grace, in thys your heauines. The passions* 1.218 of the mynde haue diuers ef∣fectes, and the••fore worke straungelye, accordynge to theyr properties▪ For like as ioye comforteth the harte, nourisheth bloude, and quickeneth the whole bodye: so heauinesse and care hinder digestion, engender euyll humoures, waste the principall partes, and wyth tune consume the whole bodye. For the better knowledge hereof, and for a liu••lye syght of the same, wee neade not to seeke farre for a••ye exampl••, but euen to come strayghte vnto youre grace, whose bodye as I vnderstande crediblye, and partelye see my selfe, is soore ap∣payred within shorte tyme, your mynde so troubled, & youre harte so heauye, that you hate in a maner all lyght, you lyke not the sighte of anye thynge that myght be your comforte, but altogether stricken in a dumpe, you seke to be solitarye, detestinge all ioye, and delitynge in sorowe, wishynge wyth harte (if it w••••e Goddes will) to make youre last ende. In whyche youre heauinesse, as I desire to be a comfortoure of youre grace, so I can no•• blame your naturall sorowe, if that nowe after declaration of the same, you woulde mo∣derate all youre griefe hereafter, and call backe your pensife¦nes, to the prescripte order of reason.

And firste, for the better remedye of euerye disease, and troubled passion, it is beste to knowe the principall cause, and chiefe occasion of the same. Youre grace hadde two sonnes, howe noble, howe wittye, howe learned, and how Godlye, manye thousandes better knowe it, then anye one is able well to ••ell it. God at his pleasure hath taken them bothe to his mercy, and placed them with him, which were surelye ouer good to tarye here with vs. They bothe di∣ed as your grace knoweth verye younge, whiche by course of Nature, and by mannes estimation, mighte haue liued muche longer. They bothe were together in one house, lodged in two seuerall chambers, and almoste at one time bothe sickened, and both departed. They died bothe dukes, bothe well learned, bothe wise, and bothe right Godlye. They bothe before gaue straunge tokens of death to come. The elder sittinge at Supper, and verye merye, saide sou∣dainlye to that ryghte honeste Matroue, and Godly aged gentilwoman, that most faythful & longe assured seruaunt of yours, whose life God graunte longe to continue: Oh Lorde, where shall we suppe tomorowe at night, whereu∣pon she beinge troubled, and yet saiynge comfortablye, I truste my lorde, either here, or elles where at some of your frendes houses: Naye (quod he) we shall nauer suppe toge∣ther againe in this worlde, be you well assured, and with that seinge the gentilwoman discomforted, turned it vnto mirthe, and passed the reste of his Supper with much ioye, and the same night after .xij. of the clocke, beynge the .xiiij. of Iulye sickened, and so was taken the nexte morning a∣boute .vij. of the clocke, to the mercye of God, in the yeare of our Lorde .M.D.Li. When the elder was gone, the younger woulde not tarye, but tolde before (hauinge no knowledge therof by anye bodye liuinge) of his brothers Deathe, to the greate wonderinge of all that were there, declaringe what it was to lose so deare a frende, but com∣fortinge him selfe in that passion, saide: well, my brother is gone, but it maketh no matter, for I will go straight af∣ter him, and so did within the space of halfe and houre, as your grace can best tell, whiche was there presente. Nowe

I renue these wordes to youre graces knowledge, that you might the more stedfastlie consider their time to be then ap∣pointed of GOD to forsake this euill worlde, and to liue with Abraham, Isaac, and Iacob, in the Kingedome of heauen. But wherfore did God take two suche awaye, and at that time? Surelye to tell the principall cause,* 1.219 we maye by all likenes affirme, that they were taken awaye from vs for our wretched sinnes, and mooste vile naughtines of life, that therby we beinge warned, might be as readie for God, as they nowe presentlie were, aud amend our liues in time, whom God will call, what time we knowe not. Then as I can see, we haue small cause to lament the lacke of them, whiche are in suche blessed state, but rather to amende our owne liuinge, to forthinke vs of oure offences, and to wishe of GOD to purge oure hartes, from all filthines and vn∣godlie dealinge, that we maie be (as they nowe be) blessed with God for euer. Notwithstandinge the worckes of God are vns••archeable, without the compasse of mannes braine preciselye to comprehende the verie cause, sauinge that this perswasion oughte surelye to be grounded in vs, euermore to thinke that God is offended with sinne, and that he pu∣nisheth offences to the thirde and fourthe generation of all them that breake his commaundementes, beinge iuste in all his worckes, and doinge all thinges for the beste. And ther∣fore when God plagueth in suche sorte. I would with that our faithe might a••waies be staied vpon the admiration of Goddes glorie, througheoute all his doinges, in whom is none euil, neither yet was there euer any guile found. And I doubt not but your grace is thus affected, and vnfayned∣lye confessinge your owne offences, taketh this scourge to come from God as a iuste punishmen••e of Sinne, for the a∣mendemente not onelye of your owne selfe, but also for the amendemente of all other in generall. The lamentable voyce of the pore (whiche is the mouthe of God) through∣out the whole Realme declares full well the wickednes of this life, and showes plainelye that this euill is more gene∣rallye felte, the•• anye man is able by worde, or by wri••inge at full to set forthe.

When God therfore that is Lord, not onelye of the riche but also of the poore, seeth his grounde spoyled frome the holesome profite of manye, to the vayne pleasure of a fewe, and the earthe made priuate to suffise the lus••e of vnsacia∣ble couetousnesse, and that those whiche be his true mem∣bres cannot liue for the intollerable oppression, the soore enhaunsynge, and the moost wicked grasing of those thro∣ughout the whole Realme, whiche otherwise myght well lyue with the onelye value and summe of their landes and yerelye reuenues: he striketh in his anger the innocentes and tēder yonglinges, to plague vs with the lacke of them, whose innocencye and Godlines of life mighte haue bene a iuste example for vs to amende our mooste euill doynges.

In whiche wonderfull worcke of God, when he receiued these two mooste noble ympes, and his chyldren elected to the euerlastinge Kingedome, I can not but magnifye his mooste glorious name, from time to tyme, that hath so gra∣ciouslye preserued these two worthy gentilmenne from the daunger of further euil, and moost vile wretchednes, moost like righte shortelye to ensue, excepte wee all repente, and forthincke vs of oure former euill liuynge. And yet I spea∣ke not this, as thoughe I knewe anye cryme to be more in you, then in anye other: but I tell it to the shame of all those vniuersallye within this Realme, that are gyltye of suche offences, whose inward consciences condem••ne their owne doinges, and their open d••edes beare witnes against their euil nature. For it is not one house that shal feele the fall of these two prynces, neither hath God taken them for one priuate personnes offence: but for the wickednes of the whole Realme, whyche is lyke to feele the smarte, excepte God be merciful vnto vs. But now tha•• they be gone, tho∣ughe the fleshe be frayle, weake, & tender, and muste neades smart, being woūded or cut: yet I doubt not but your grace lackinge two suche porcions of your owne fleshe, and ha∣uinge theim (as a manne woulde saye) cutte awaye frome youre owne bodye,* 1.220 will suffer the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with a good sto∣make, and remembre that sorowe is but an euil remedye to heale a sore. For if your hande were detrenched, or youre

bodie maimed with some soubdaine stroake, what profite were it for you to wepe vpon your wounde, and when the harme is done, to lamente still the sore? seinge that with wepinge it wil not be lesse, and maye yet throughe weping full sone be made more. For the sore is encreased, when so∣rowe is added, and the paine is made double, whiche before was but single. A constante christian shoulde beare all mi∣serie, and with pacience abide the force of necessitie, shew∣inge with sufferaunce the strengthe of his faithe, and espe∣ciallie when the chaunge is from euyll to good, from woe to weale, what folye is it to so••owe that, for the whiche they ioye that are departed? They haue taken nowe their rest, that liued here in trauaile: they haue forsaken their bo∣dies, wherin they were bounde, to receiue the spirite, wher∣by they are free. They haue chosen for sickenes, healthe: for earth, heauen: for life transitorie, life immortall: and for manne, God: then the whiche, what can they haue more? Or howe is it possible they can better? Undoubtedly if euer they were happye, they are nowe moste happie: if ••∣uer they were well, they are nowe in beste case, beynge de∣liuered frome this presente euyll worlde, aud exempted from Sathan, to lyue for euer with Christe our Sauioure.

Then what meane we that not onelye lamente the want of other, but also desire to tarye here oure selues, hopinge for a shorte, vayne, and therewith a paynefull pleasure, and refusynge to enioye that continuall, perfecte, and heauen∣lye enheritaunce, the whiche so soone that happen vnto vs, as Nature dissolueth this Earthlye bodye. Truthe it is wee are more fleshelye then spirituall, soner fealynge the ache of our bodye, then the griefe of oure Soule: more stu∣dious with care to be healthfull in carkasse, then sekynge with prayer to be pure in Spirite. And therfore if oure frendes be stayned with Synne, wee dooe not, or we wyll not espye their sore, we counte theim faulteles, when they are mooste wicked: neither sekinge the redresse of their e∣uyll doynge, nor yet once amendynge the faultes of oure owne liuyuge.

But when oure frende departeth this worlde, and then forsaketh vs when Synne forsaketh him: wee begynne to shewe ouce fleshelye natures, w•• wepe, and we wayle, and with louge sorowe withoute discretion declare our wante of Goddes grace, and all goodnes.* 1.221 For wheras we see that as some be borne, some do dye also, m••nne, women, and chil∣dren, and not one houre certaine to vs of all oure life, yet we neuer mourne, we neuer w••epe, neither markyuge the deathe of suche as we knowe, nor regardynge the euyll lyfe of those whom we loue. But when suche departe as were either nigheste of oure ky••red, or elles mooste oure frendes, then wee lamente withoute all comforte, not the synnes of their Soules, but the chaunge of their bodyes, leauinge to doe that whiche we shoulde, and doynge that onelye why∣che we shoulde not do at all. Wherin not onelye we declare muche wante of Faythe, but also we shewe greate lacke of wytte. For as the other are gone before, either to heauen or elles to hell: so shall oure fre••des and kin••folke folowe af∣ter. We are all made of one metall, and ordeyned to dye, so manye as liue.* 1.222 Therfore what folye is it in vs, or rather what fleshelye madnesse immoderatelye to wayle their death whom God hathe ordeyned to make their ende, excepte wee lamente the lacke of oure owne liuinge? For euen as well we myghte at theyr firste byrthe bewayle theyr Natiuitye, consideryng they must nedes dye, because they are borne to lyue. And whatsoeuer hath a beginnynge, the same hath al∣so an endynge, and the ende is not at oure will whiche de∣sire continuaunce of life, but at hys wyll whyche gaue the begynnynge of lyfe. Nowe then, s••ynge God hath ordeyned all ••o dye, accordynge to his appointed wil, what meane they that woulde haue theirs to lyue? Shall God alter his fyrst purpose for the onelye satisfiynge of oure folyshe pleasure? And where God hathe mynded that the whole worlde shall decaye, shall anye man desyre that anye one house may stand? In my mynde, there can be no greater comforte to anye one liuynge for the lacke of his frende, then to thinke that thys happened to him, whyche all other eyther haue felte, or elles shall feele hereafter: And that God the rather made Deathe

commune to all, that the vniuersall plague and egalnes to all, myght abate the fierce••es of deathe, and comfore vs in the crueltie of the same, considerynge no one man hath an ende, but that all shall haue the lyke, and dye we muste e∣uerye mothers sonne of vs, at one time or other. But you will saye: my chyldren might haue liued longer, they dyed younge. Sure it is by mannes estimation they myght haue liued longer, but had it bene best for them thincke you to haue continued styll in this wretched worlde, where Uyce beareth rule, and Uertue is subdued, where GOD is neglected, his lawes not obserued, his worde abused, and his Prophetes that preache the iudgemente of God almost euery where contemned.* 1.223 If your children were aliue, & by thaduice of some wicked person were brought to a brothell house, where entisinge harlottes liued, and so were in daū∣ger to commit that fowle sinne of whoredome, and so, ledde from one wickednes to another: I am assured your grace woulde call them backe with laboure, and would with ex∣hortations induce theim to the feare of God, and vtter de∣testation of al synne, as you haue ful often heretofore done, rather fearing euil to come, then knowing any open faulte to be in either of them. Nowe then, seynge God hath done the same for you him selfe, that you woulde haue do••e for them if they hadde liued, that is, in deliuerynge them bothe from this present euil worlde, whiche I counte none other then a brothel house, and a life of al noughtines: you ought to thanke God highlye, that he hath taken awaye your two sonnes, euen in their youthe, beynge innocentes bothe for their liuynge, and of such expectation for their towardnes, that almoste it were not possible for them hereafter o satis∣fye the hope in their age, whyche all menne presently hadde conceyued of their youthe. It is thought, and in dede it is no lesse thē a great poynct of happines to dye happely.* 1.224 Now when coulde youre two noble gentilmen haue dyed better then when they were at the best, mooste Godlye in manye thynges, offendinge in fewe, beloued of the ho••este, aud ha∣ted of none, (if euer they were hated) but of suche as hate the best. As in deede, noble vertue neuer wan••ed cankarde

enuy to folow her. And considering that this life is so wret∣ched, that the beste are euer most hated, & the vilest alwayes most estemed, and your .ii. sonnes of the other side beynge in that state of honestie, & trained in that pathe of Godlines (as I am able to b•• a liuely witnes, none hath ben like these ma¦ny yeres, or at the lest, none better brought vp) what thinke you of god, did he enuye them, or els did he prouidently for∣see vnto them bothe, when he toke them bothe from vs. As∣suredly whom god loueth best, those he taketh sonest, accor∣dinge to the saiyng of Salomon:* 1.225 The righteous man (mea∣ninge Enoch and other the chosen of God) is sodainely ta∣ken away, to the entente that wickednes shoulde not alter his vnderstandinge, and that hypocrisie should not begile his soul. For the craftie bewitching of lies, make good thin¦ges darke, the vnstedfastnes also and wickednes of volup∣tuouse desire, turne aside the vnderstanding of the simple. And thoughe the righteous was sone gone, yet fulfilled he much time, for his soule pleased God, and therfore hasted he to take him away from amonge the wicked. Yea, the good men of god in al ages, haue euer had an earnest desire to be dissolued.* 1.226 My soule (quod Dauid) hath an earnest desire to enter into the courtes of the lord. Yea, like as the herte de∣sireth the water brookes,* 1.227 so longeth my soule after the O God. My soule is a thyrst for God: yea, euen for the liuing God, when shall I come to appeare before the presence of God? Paule and al the Apostles wished and longed for the daye of the Lord, and thought euery daye a thousand yere, till their soules were parted from their bodies. Thē what should we waile them which are in that place where we al shuld wish to be, and seke so to liue, that we might be ready whē it shal please god of his goodnes to cal vs to his mercy Let vs be sicke for our owne sinnes, y^t liue here on earth, & reioyce in their most happy passa••e that are gone to heauē. They haue not left vs, but gone before vs to enherite with Christ, their kingdom prepared. And what shuld this greue your grace that they are gone before, cōsidering our whole lyfe is nothing els but the righte waye to death.* 1.228 Shoulde it trouble any one y^t his frend is come to his iournies end?

Our life is nothyng els, but a continuall trauaill, & death obtaineth rest after all our laboure.* 1.229 Emong men that tra∣uaill by the high waie, he is best at ease (in my mynde) that sonest cometh to his iourneis ende. Therfore, if your grace loued your children (as I am wel assured you did) you must reioyce in their rest, and geue God hartie thankes, that thei are come so sone to their iourneis ende. Marie, if it were so that man might escape the daunger of death, and liue euer, it were another matter: but because we must all dye, either first or last, and of nothyng so sure in this life, as we are all sure to dye at length, and nothyng more vncertain vnto mā then the certain tyme of euery mannes latter tyme: what forceth when wee dye, either this daie, or to morowe, either this yere,* 1.230 or the next, sauyng that I thinke them moste hap∣pie that die sonest, and death frendely to none so muche, as to theim whom she taketh sonest. At the tyme of an execuciō doen for greuous offences, what mattereth who dye firste, when a dosen are condempned together, by a lawe, conside∣ryng thei muste all dye one and other. I saie still, happie are thei, that are sonest ridde out of this worlde, and the soner gone, the soner blessed. The Thracians* 1.231 lament greatly at the birthe of their children, & reioyce muche at the burial of their bodies, beyng well assured that this world is nothyng els but miserie, & the worlde to come, ioye for euer.* 1.232 Now a∣gain, the child newe borne, partly declareth the state of this life, who beginneth his tyme with wailyng, & firste sheweth teares, before he can iudge the cause of his wo. If we beleue the promises of God, if we hope for the generall resurrecci∣on, and constantly affirme, that God is iust in all his woor∣kes: we cānot but ioyfully saie, with the iust man Iob:* 1.233 The lorde gaue them, the lorde hath taken them again, as it plea∣seth God, so maie it be, and blessed be the name of the lorde, for now and euer. God dealeth wrongfully with no man, but extendeth his mercie moste plentifully, ouer all mankynde. God gaue you twoo children, as the like I haue not knowen happie are you moste gracious ladie, that euer you bare thē. God lent you them twoo for a tyme, and toke them twoo a∣gain at his tyme, you haue no wrong doen you, that he hath

taken thē: but you haue receiued a wonderfull benefite, that euer you had thē.* 1.234 He is very vniust that boroweth, and wil not pay again, but at his pleasure. He forgetteth muche his duetie, that boroweth a iewell of the kynges maiestie, & will not restore it with good will, when it shall please his grace, to call for it. He is vnworthy hereafter to borowe, that will rather grudge, because he hath it no longer, then ones geue thankes, bicause he hath had the vse of it so long He is ouer coueteous, that compteth not gainfull, the tyme of his bo∣rowyng: but iudgeth it his losse, to restore thynges again. He is vnthankfull, that thynkes he hath wrong doen, when his pleasure is shortened, and takes the ende of his delite, to bee extreme euill. He loseth the greatest parte of his ioye in this worlde, that thynketh there is no pleasure, but of thynges present: that cānot comfort hymself with pleasure past, and iudge them to be moste assured, consideryng the me∣morie of them ones had, can neuer decaye. His ioyes be ouer straighte, that bee comprehended within the compasse of his sighte, and thynketh no thyng comfortable, but that whiche is euer before his iyes. All pleasure whiche man hath in this worlde, is very shorte, and sone goeth it awaie, the remem∣braunce lasteth euer, and is muche more assured, then is the presence or liuely sight of any thyng. And thus your grace maie euer reioyce, that you had twoo suche, whiche liued so verteously, and died so Godly: and though their bodies bee absent from your sight, yet the remembraunce of their ver∣tues, shall neuer decaye from your mynde. God lendeth life to all, and lendeth at his pleasure for a tyme. To this man he graunteth a long life, to this a shorte space, to some one, a daie, to some a yere, to some a moneth. Now whē God ta∣keth, what man should be offended, consideryng he that gaue frely, maie boldely take his awne when he will, and dooe no manne wrong. The Kynges Maiestie geueth one .x. pounde another fourtie pounde, another three skore pounde, shall he be greued, that receiued but tenne pound, and not rather geue thankes, that he receiued so muche? Is that man hap∣pier, that dieth in the latter ende of the monethe, then he is that died in the beginnyng of thesame Monethe? Doeth di∣stance

of tyme, and long tar••yng from God, make men more happie, when thei come to God? By space of passage we dif∣fer muche, and one liueth longer then another, but by death at the last, we all are matched, and none the happier, that li∣ueth the longer, but rather moste happie is he, that died the sonest, & departed best in the faithe of Christ. Thinke therfore your self most happie, that you had two suche, and geue God hartie thākes, that it pleased him so sone, to take two suche. Necessitie is lawles, and that whiche is by God appoyncted no man can alter. Reioyce we, or wepe we, die we shall, how sone, no man can tell. Yea, we are all our life tyme warned before, that death is at hande, and that when we go to bedde we are not assured to rise the nexte daie in the mornyng▪ no, not to liue one houre lōger. And yet to se our foly, we would assigne God his tyme, accordyng to our sacietie, and not cō∣tent our selfes with his doynges, according to his appoynct∣ment. And euer we saie, when any dye young, he might haue liued longer, it was pitie he died to sone. As though for sothe he were not better with God, then he can bee with manne. Therefore. whereas for a tyme your grace, muche bewailed their lacke, not onely absentyng your self from all company but also refusyng all kynde of comforte, almoste dedde with heauinesse, your body beyng so worne with sorowe, that the long continuance of thesame, is muche like to shorten your daies: I shall desire your grace for Goddes loue, to referre youre will to Goddes will, and whereas hetherto nature hath taught you to wepe the lacke of your naturall children lette reason teache you hereafter, to wipe awaie the teares, and lette not phantasie encrease that, whiche nature hath commaunded moderately to vse. To bee sory for the lacke of oure dearest, wee are taughte by nature, to bee ouercome with sorowe, it commeth of oure awne fonde opinion, and greate folie it is, with naturall sorowe, to encrease all so∣rowe, and with a litle sickenesse, to purchase readie deathe. The sorowes of brute beastes are sharpe,* 1.235 and yet thei are but shorte. The Cowe lackyng her Caulfe, leaueth Lowe∣yng within three or foure daies at the farthest. Birdes of the ayre perceiuyng their youngones taken from their neast,

chitter for a while in trees there aboute, and streighte after thei flie abrode, and make no more a dooe. The Doo lackyng her Faune, the Hynde her Caulfe, braie no long tyme after their losse, but seyng their lacke to be without remedy, thei ceasse their sorowe within short space. Man onely emong al other, ceaseth not to fauour his sorowe, and lamenteth not onely so muche as nature willeth him, but also so muche as his awne affeccion moueth hym. And yet all folke do not so but suche as are subiect to passions, and furthest from forti∣tude of mynde, as women commonly, rather then men, rude people, rather then godly folke: the vnlearned, soner then the learned: foolishe folke, soner then wise men: children, rather then yong men. Whereupon we maie well gather, that im∣moderate sorowe is not naturall,* 1.236 (for that whiche is natu∣rall, is euer like in al) but through folie mainteined, encrea∣sed by weakenesse, and for lacke of reason, made altogether intollerable. Then I doubte not but your grace, will ra∣ther ende your sorowe, by reason: then that sorowe should ende you, through foly: And whereas by nature, you are a weake woman in body, you will shewe your self by reason, a strong man in harte: rather endyng your grief by godly ad∣uertisementes, and by the iust consideracion of Gods won∣derfull doynges: then that tyme and space, should we are a∣waie your sorowes, whiche in deede suffer none continual∣ly to abide in any one, but rather ridde thē of life, or els ease them of grief.* 1.237 The foole, the vngodly, the weake harted haue this remedy, your medecine must be more heauenly, if you do (as you professe) referre all to Goddes pleasure, and saie in your praier. Thy will bee doen in yearth, as it is in heauen. Those whom God loueth, those he chasteneth, and happie is that body, whom God scourgeth, for his amendement.* 1.238 The man that dieth in the faithe of Christ is blessed, and the cha∣st••ned seruaunt, if he doo repent and amende his life, shalbe blessed. We knowe not what we doo••, when we bewaile the death of our dearest, for in death is altogether all happines, and before deathe,* 1.239 not one is happie. The miseries in this worlde declare, small felicitee to be in thesame. Therefore, many men beyng ouerwhelmed with muche woe, and wret∣ched

wickednes: haue wished and praied to God, for an ende of this life, and thought this worlde to be a let, to the heauē∣ly perfeccion, the whiche blisse all thei shall attain hereafter that hope well here, and with a liuely faith declare their as∣suraunce. Your graces two sonnes, in their life wer so god∣ly, that their death was their aduauntage: for, by death thei liued, because in life thei wer dedde. Thei died in faithe, not wearie of this worlde, nor wishyng for death, as ouerloden with synne: but paciently takyng the crosse, departed with ioye. At whose diyng, your grace maie learne an example of pacience, and of thankes geuyng, that God of his goodnesse, hath so graciously taken these your two children, to his fa∣uourable mercy. God punisheth, partly to trie your constā∣cie, wherein I wishe that your grace, maie nowe bee as well willyng to forsake theim, as euer you were willyng to haue them. But suche is the infirmitie of our fleshe, that we hate good comforte in wordes, when the cause of our comforte in deede (as we take it) is gone.* 1.240 And me thinkes I heare you cry notwithstādyng all my wordes, alacke my children are gone. But what though thei are gone? God hath called, & nature hath obeyed. Yea, you crie still my children are dedde: Marie therefore thei liued, and blessed is their ende, whose life was so godly. Wo worthe, thei are dedde, thei are dedde. It is no new thyng, thei are neither the first that died, nor yet the last that shall die. Many went before, and all shall folowe after. Thei liued together, thei loued together, and now thei made their ende bothe together. Alas thei died, that wer the fruicte of myne awne body, leauyng me comfortlesse, vnhappie wo∣man that I am. You do well, to cal thē the fruict of your bo∣dy, & yet you nothyng the more vnhappie neither. For, is the tree vnhappy, frō whiche the appelles fall?* 1.241 Or is the yearth accurssed, that bringeth furthe grene Grasse, whiche hereaf∣ter notwithstandyng doth wither. Death taketh no order of yeres, but when the tyme is appoyncted, be it earely or late, daie or nighte, awaie we muste. But I praie you, what losse hath your grace? Thei died, that should haue died, yea, thei died, that could liue no longer. But you wished theim lōger life. Yea, but God made you no suche promise, & mete it wer

not that he shuld be led by you, but you rather should be led by him. Your children died, & that right godly, what would you haue more? All good mothers desire, that their children maie die Goddes seruauntes, the whiche youre grace hath moste assuredly obteined. Now again mannes nature alte∣reth, and hardely tarieth vertue long in one place, without muche circumspeccion, & youth maie sone be corrupted. But you will saie. These were good and godly broughte vp, and therefore moste like to proue godly hereafter, if thei had li∣ued still. Well, thoughe suche thynges perhappes had not chaunced, yet suche thynges mighte haue chaunced, and al∣though thei happen not to al, yet do thei happe to many, and though thei had not chaunced to your children, yet we knew not that before, and more wisedome it had been, to feare the worst with good aduisement, then euer to hope, and loke stil for the best, without all mistrustyng. For, suche is the nature of mā, and his corrupt race, that euermore the one foloweth soner, then thother. Commodus* 1.242 was a verteous childe, and had good bringyng vp, and yet he died a moste wicked man. Nero* 1.243 wanted no good counsaill, and suche a master he had, as neuer any had the better, and yet what one aliue, was worse then he? But now death hath assured your grace, that you maie warrant your self, of their godly ende, whereas if God had spared them life, thynges might haue chaunced o∣therwise. In wishyng longer life, we wishe often tymes lō∣ger woe, longer trouble, longer foly in this world, and weye all thynges well, you shall perceiue wee haue small ioye to wishe longer life. This imaginacion of longer life, when the life standeth not by nomber of yeres, but by the appoyncted will of God, maketh our foly so muche to appere, & our tea∣res so continually to fall frō our chekes. For if we thought (as we should dooe in deede) that euery daie risyng, maie be the ende of euery man liuyng, and that there is no difference with God, betwixt one daie, and an hūdreth yeres: we might beare all sorowes, a greate deale the better. Therfore it wer moste wisedome for vs all, and a greate poynct of perfeccion to make euery daie an euen rekeuyng of our life, and talke so with God euery houre, that we maie bee of euen borde with

hym, through fulnes of faithe, and redy to go the next houre folowyng, at his commaundemente, and to take alwaies his sendyng in good part. The lorde is at hande. We knowe not when he will come (at mid night, at cocke crowe, or at noone daies) to take either vs, or any of ours. Therfore, the rather that we maie be armed, let vs folowe the examples of other godly men, and lay their doynges before our iyes. And emōg all other, I knowe none so mete for your graces comfort, as the wise and Godly behauiour of good Kyng Dauid.* 1.244 Who when he was enfourmed, that his sonne was sicke, praied to God hartly, for his amendement, wept, fasted, & with muche lamentacion, declared greate heauinesse. But when woorde came of his sonnes departure, he left his mournyng, he cal∣led for water, and willed meate to be set before hym, that he might eate. Wherupō, when his men marueiled why he did so, consideryng he toke it so greuously before, when his child was but sicke, and now beyng dedde, toke no thought at all, he made this answere vnto theim: so long as my child liued, I fasted, and watered my plantes for my young boye, and I saied to my self, who can ••ell, but that God perhappes will geue me hym, and that my child shall liue, but now seyng he is dedde, to what ende should I faste? Can I call hym again any more? Naye, I shall rather go vnto hym, he shall neuer come againe vnto me. And with that Dauid comforted his wife Bethsabe, the whiche example, as I truste your grace hath redde, for your comfort, so I hope you will also folowe it for youre healthe, and bee as strong in pacience, as euer Dauid was. The historie it self shall muche delighte youre grace, beeyng redde as it lieth in the Booke, better then my bare touchyng of it can dooe, a greate deale. The whiche I doubte not but your grace will often reade, and comforte o∣ther your self, as Dauid did his sorowfull wife. Iob* 1.245 losyng his children, and all that he had, forgatte not to praise God in his extreme pouertie. Tobias* 1.246 lackyng his iye sighte, in spirite prased GOD, and with open mouthe, confessed his holy name to bee magnified throughout the whole yearthe. Paule the Apostle of God, reproueth thē as worthy blame, whiche mourne and lament, the losse of their derest. I would

not brethren ({quod} he) that you should be ignorant,* 1.247 concernyng them whiche be fallen on slepe, that you sorowe not as other doo, whiche haue no hope. If we beleue that Iesus died, and rose again, euen so thei also, whiche slepe by Iesus, wil God bryng again with hym. Then your grace, either with lea∣uyng sorowe, must shewe your self faithfull, or els with yel∣dyng to your wo, declare your self to be without hope. But I trust your grace, beyng planted in Christ, will shew with sufferaunce, the fruicte of your faithe, and comforte your self with the wordes of Christ,* 1.248 I am the resurrecciō and the life he that beleueth on me, yea, though he wer dedde, yet should he liue, and whosoeuer liueth, and beleueth in me, shal neuer die. We read of those that had no knowlege of God, and yet thei bare in good worth, the discease of their children. Anaxo∣goras* 1.249 hearyng tell, that his sonne was dedde, no maruail {quod} he, I knowe well I begot a mortall body. Pericles* 1.250 chief ru∣ler of Athens, hearyng tell that his twoo sonnes, beyng of wonderfull towardnesse, within foure daies wer bothe ded, neuer greately chaunged countenaunce for the matter, that any one could perceiue, nor yet forbare to go abrode, but ac∣cordyng to his wōted custome, did his duetie in the counsail house, in debatyng matters of weighte, concernyng the state of the common peoples weale. But because your grace is a woman, I will shewe you an example of a noble woman, in whom appered wonderfull pacience. Cornelia,* 1.251 a worthy la∣die in Rome, beyng comforted for the losse of her twoo chil∣dren, Tiberius, and Caius Gracchus, bothe valiaunt ientle men, although bothe not the moste honest menne, whiche died not in their beddes, but violently were slain in Ciuill bat∣taill, their bodies liyng naked and vnburied, when one emō∣gest other saied: Oh vnhappie woman, that euer thou shoul∣dest se this daie. Naie {quod} she, I wil neuer thinke my self other¦wise, then moste happy, that euer I brought furthe these two Gracchions. If this noble lady, could thinke her self happie, beyng mother to these twoo valiaunt ientlemen, & yet both rebelles, and therefore iustly slain: Howe muche more maye youre grace, thynke youre self moste happie, that euer you broughte furthe twoo suche Brandons, not onely by natu∣ral

birth, but also by most godly education, in such sort that the lyke .ij. haue not been for their towardnes vniuersallie. Whose deathe the general voice of all men declares howe muche it was lamented. So that whereas you might euer haue feared some daungerouse ende, you are nowe assured that they both made a most godly ende, the whiche thyng is the ful perfection of a Christiā lyfe. I reade of one Bibulus* 1.252 that hearyng of his two children to dye both in one daie, la∣mented the lacke of them bothe for that one daye, and mour∣ned no more. And what coulde a man doe lesse than for two children to lament but one daie: and yet in my mynde he la∣mented enough and euē so muche as was reason for hym to do, whose doynges if all Christians woulde folowe, in my iudgement they shoulde not onely fulfill natures rule, but also please God highly. Horatius Puluillus* 1.253 beeyng highe Prieste at Rome when he was occupied about the dedica∣tyng of a Temple to their greate God Iuppiter in the Ca∣pitoly, holdyng a post in his hande, and hard as he was vt∣teryng the solempne wordes, that his sonne was dead, euen at thesame present: he did neither plucke his hande from the post lest he shoulde trouble suche a solempnitie, neither yet turned his countenaunce from that publique religiō to his priuate sorowe, least he should seeme rather to doe the office of a father, then the dutie of an highe minister. Paulus E∣milius* 1.254 after his moste noble victorie had of Kyng Perse, desired of God, that if after suche a triumphe there were a∣ny harme lyke to happen to the Romaines, the same might fal vpon his owne house. Whereupon when God had taken his two children from hym immediatly after, he thancked God for graūtyng him his bound. For in so doyng he was a meane that the people rather lamented Paulus Emilius lacke, thē that Paulus or any bewailed any misfortune that the Romains had. Examples be innumerable of those whiche vsed lyke moderation in subduyng their affections, as Zenophon, Quintus Martius,* 1.255 Iulius Cesar,* 1.256 Tiberius Cesar,* 1.257 Emperours bothe of Rome. But what seeke I for misfortunate men, (if any suche be misfortunate) seyng it is an harder matter and a greater peece of worke to finde out

happie men, Let vs loke round about euen at home, and we shal finde enowe subiect to this misfortune. for who liueth that hath not lost? Therfore I woulde wishe your grace e∣uen nowe to come in againe with God, and although he be angry, yet show you your self most obedient to his wil, cō∣sideryng he is Lorde ouer Kynges, Emperours, and ouer al that be bothe in heauen and in yearth, and spareth noone whom he listeth to take, and no doubt he wil take all at the last. His dart goeth daily, neither is any darte cast in vaine whiche is sent amongest a whole armie standyng thicke to∣gether. Neither can you iustly lament that they lyued no longer, for they lyued long enough, that haue liued well e∣nough. You muste measure your children by their vertues, not by their yeres.* 1.258 For (as the wise man saith) a mans wise∣dom is the grey heeres, and an vndefiled life, is the old age. Happie is that mother that hath had Godly children, and not she that hath had long lyuyng children. For if felicitie should stande by length of tyme, some tree* 1.259 were more happy then is any man, for it liueth longer, and so likewyse brute beastes, as the Stagge,* 1.260 who liueth (as Plinius dothe say) two hundreth yeares, and more. If we woulde but consider what man is, we shoulde haue small hope to lyue, and litle cause to put any great assuraunce in this lyfe.* 1.261 Let vs se him what he is: Is his body any thyng els but a lumpe of earth made together in suche forme as we do see? A frail vessell, a weake carion, subiect to miserie, cast doune with euery light disease, a man to daie, to morowe none. A flower that this daie is freshe, to morowe withereth. Good Lorde do we not see that euen those thynges whiche nourishe vs, doe rotte & dye, as herbes, birdes, beastes, water, and al other without the whiche we cannot lyue. And how can we lyue euer, that are susteined by dead thinges? Therfore when any one doth dye, why do we not thynke, that this may chaunse to euery one, whiche now hath chaunsed to any one. We be now as those that stande in battail raie. Not one man is suer of him selfe before an other, but al are in daunger in lyke maner to death▪ That your children died before other that were of ri∣••er yeares, we may iudge that their ripenes for vertue and

all other giftes of nature were brought euen to perfection, wherby dea••h th•• soner approched for nothyng long lasteth that is sone excellent. God gaue your grace two most excel∣lent childrē,* 1.262 God neuer geueth for any long tyme those that be right excellent. Their natures were heauenly, and ther∣fore more meete for God then man. Emong frute we se some appels are sone ripe and fal from the tree in the middest of summer•• other be stil greene, & tary til winter, & hereupō are cōmonly called wynter frute: Euen so it is with me••, some dye young, some dye old, & some die in their midle age. Your sunnes wer euen .ij. suche already, as some hereafter may be with long cōtinuance of tyme. Thei had that in their youth for the giftes of nature, whiche al men would require of thē bothe scacelie in their age. Therfore beeyng both now ripe, they were now most ready for God. There was a childe in Rome of a mans quantite, for face, legges & o•• her partes of his body, wherupon wise men iudged he would not be long liuyng. How could your grace thynke, that when you sawe auncient wisdō in the one, & most pregnant wit in the other meruailouse sobriete in the elder, & most laudable gentlines in the younger, them bothe most studious in learnyng, most forward in al feates aswel of the body, as of the mind, beyng two suche, & so excellent, that they were lyke long to conti∣nue with you? God neuer suffreth such excellēt & rare iew∣els long to enherite therth. Whatsoeuer is nie perfectiō the same is most nigh falling. Uertue being o••s absolute cānot long be seen with these our fleshly iyes, neither can that ca∣ry the latter end with other, that was ripe it self first of al & before other. Fier goth out the soner, the clearer that it bur∣neth: & that light lasteth longest, that is made of most course matter. In greene wood we may see that where as the fuel is not most apt for burning, yet the fier lasteth lōger, than if it were nourished with like quantitie of drie wood. Euē so in the nature of man the mynde beeyng ripe, the body decai∣yeth streight, and life goeth away beeyng ones brought to perfection. Neither can there be any greater token of shorte lyfe, than full ripenes of naturall witte: The whiche is to the bodie, as the heate of the Sunne is to thynges yearthly.

Therfore iudge right honourable ladie, that euen now they both died, when they both wer most readie for God, neither thinke that thei died ouer soone, because thei liued no lōger. They died both Gods seruauntes, & therfore they died wel and in good tyme. God hath set their tyme, and taken them at his tyme blessed children as they be, to reigne with hym in the kyngdom of his father prepared for them from the be∣ginnyng. Unto whose wil, I wishe and I truste your grace doth wholy referre your wil, thankyng hym as hartely for that he hath taken them, as you euer thanked hym, for that he euer lent you them. I knowe the wicked wordes of some vngodly folke haue muche disquie••ed your grace, notwith∣standyng God beyng iudge of your naturall loue towardes your children, and al your faithful frendes, and seruauntes bearyng earnest witnes with your grace of the same: there vngodly talke the more lightely is to bee estemed, the more vngodly that it is. Nay your grace may reioyce rather, that whereas you haue doen well, you heare euill, accordyng to the wordes of Christe:* 1.263 Blessed are you, when men speake al euil thynges against you. And again consider GOD is not ledde by the reporte of men to iudge his creatures, but per∣swaded by y^e true knowlege of euery mans conscience, to take them for his seruauntes, & furthermore the harme is theirs whiche speake so lewdlie, and the blesse theirs whiche beare it so paciētly. For loke what measure thei vse to other, with the same they shalbe measured againe. And as they iudge so shal they be iudged. Be your grace therfore strong in aduer∣sitie, and pray for them that speake amisse of you, rendryng Gode for euil,* 1.264 and with charitable dealyng showe your self long suffryng, so shal you heape cooles on their heades. The boisterouse Sea trieth the good mariner, and sharpe vexatiō declareth the true Christian. Where battaill hath not been before, there neuer was any victorie obteined. Yow then be∣yng thus assailed, show your self rather stowte to withstād, than weake, to geue ouer: rather cleauyng to good, than yel∣dyng to euil. For if God be with you, what forceth who bee against you. For when al frendes faile, GOD neuer faileth them that put their trust in him, and with an vnfained hart

cal to hym for grace. Thus doyng I assure your grace, God wilbe pleased, and the Godly wil muche praise your wisdō, though the worlde ful wickedly saie their pleasure. I praie God your grace may please the Godlie, and with your ver∣tuouse behauiour in this your wydohode, winne there com∣mendation to the glory of God, the reioysyng of your fren∣des, and the comforte of your soule. Amen.

Thus, the rather to make pre••eptes plaine, I haue added examples at large both for counsel geuyng, & for com∣fortyng. And most nedeful it were in suche kynd of Oraciōs to be most occupied, considering the vse hereof appereth full ofte in al partes of our life, and confusedly is vsed emong al other matters. For in praisyng a worthie man, we shal haue iust cause to speake of all his vertues, of thynges profitable in this lyfe, and of pleasures in generall. Lykewyse in tra∣uersyng a cause before a iudge, we cannot wante the aide of persuasion, and good counsel, concernyng wealth, health, life and estimacion, the helpe wherof is partely borowed of this place. But whereas I haue sette forthe at large the places of confirmacion concernyng counsel in diuerse causes: it is not thought that either they should al be vsed in numbre as they are, or in ordre as they stande: but that any one may vse theim and ordre theim as he shall thynke best, accordyng as the tyme, place, and person, shal most of al require.

¶Of an Oration iudicial.

THE whole burdeine of weightie matters, and the earnest trial of al controuersies, rest onely vpon iud¦gement. Therfore when matters concernyng lande, gooddes, or life, or any suche thyng of lyke weight are called in Question, we must euer haue recourse to this kynde of Oration, and after iust examinyng of our causes by the places therof: loke for iudgement accordyng to the law.

¶Oration Iudicial what it is.

ORation Iudiciall is, an earnest debatyng in open assemblie of some weightie matter before a iudge, where the complainaunt commenseth his action, & the defendaunt thereupon aunswereth at his peril to al suche thynges as are laied to his charge.

¶Of the foundacion, or rather principall paincte in euery de∣bated matter, called of the Rhe••oricians the State, or constitucion of the Cause.

NOT onely is it nedefull in causes of iudgement to considre the scope whereunto wee must leauell our reasons, & directe our inuencion: but also we ought in euery cause to haue a respect vnto some one espe∣cial poincte, and chief article: that the rather the whole drift of our doynges may seeme to agree with our firste deuised purpose. For, by this meanes our iudgement shalbe framed to speake with discretion, and the ignoraunt shall learne to perceiue with profite, whatsoeuer is said for his enstructiō. But they that take vpon theim to talke in open audience, & make not their accompte before, what thei wil speake after: shal neither be well liked for their inuenciō, nor allowed for their witte, nor estemed for their learnyng. For, what other thyng do they, that boult out their wordes in suche sorte, & without al aduisement vtter out matter: but showe them∣selues to plaie as young boyes, or scarre crowes do, whiche showte in the open and plaine feldes at all auentures hittie missie.* 1.265 The learned therfore and suche as loue to beco••mp∣ted Clerkes of vnderstandyng, and men of good circumspe∣ction and iudgement: doe warely scanne what they chefely mynd to speake, and by definition seke what that is where∣unto they purpose to directe their whole doynges. For, by suche aduised warenesse, and good iye castyng: they shall al∣waies be able both to knowe what to say, & to speake what they ought. As for example if I shal haue occasion to speake in open audience of the obediēce due to our souereigne kyng I ought first to learne what is obedience, and after knowe∣lege attained, to direct my reasons to the onely proue of this purpose, and wholly to seke confirmacion of the same, & not turne my tale to talke of Robbyn Hoode, & to showe what a goodly archer was he, or to speake wounders of the man in the Mone,* 1.266 suche as are most nedelesse & farthest from the purpose. For then, the hearer lookyng to be taught his obe∣dience, & hearing in the meane season mad tales of archerie, and great meruailes of the man in the Mone: beyng half a∣stonied

at his so great straing wil perha••pes say to himself: Now, whether the deuill wilt thou, come in man againe for very shame, & tel me no bytailes, suche as are to no purpose but show me that whiche thou diddest promise both to t••a∣che & perswade at thy first entrie. Assuredly suche fonde fe∣lowes there haue been, yea euē emong Preachers, that tal∣king of faith, thei haue fetcht their ful race from the .xij. sig∣nes in the Zodiake. An other talking of the general resurre∣ction hath made a large matter of our blessed Lady, praisyng her to be so ientle, so courtise, & so kynd, that it were better a thousandfould to make sute to her alone thē to Christ her sonne. And what needed (I pray you) any suche rehersal be∣yng both vngodly, & nothyng at al to the purpose? for, what maketh the praise of our lady to the confirmaciō of the gene¦ral dowme? Would not a man thinke him mad that hauyng an earnest errand from London to Douer, would take it the next way to ride first into Northfolke, next into Essex, & last into Kent? And yet assuredly many an vnlearned & witte∣lesse mā hath straied in his talke much farther a great deale, yea truely as farre, as hence to Rome gates. Therfore wise are thei that folow Plinies aduise,* 1.267 who would that al men both in writing & speakyng at large vpon any matter, should euer haue an iye to the chief title & principal ground of their whole entent, neuer swaruing frō their purpose, but rather bringyng al thinges together to cōfirme their cause so much as they can possible. Yea, the wise & experte men wil aske of thēselfes, how hangeth this to the purpose? to what end do I speake it? what maketh this for cōfirmacion of my cause? & so by oft questionyng either chide their owne fol••e, if they speake amisse▪ or els be assured thei speake to good purpose.

A State therfore generally is the chief grounde of a mat∣ter,* 1.268 and the pryncipal poincte whereunto both he that spea∣keth shoulde referre his whole wit, & thei that heare should chefely marke. A Preacher taketh in hande to showe what praier is, and how nedeful for man, to cal vpon God: Now, he shoulde euer remembre this his matter, applieng his rea∣sons wholy and fully to this end that the hearers may both knowe the nature of praier, and the nedefulnesse of praier.

The whiche when he hath doen, his promise is fulfilled, his time wel bestowed, and the hearers wel iustructed.

¶A State, or constitution what it is in matters of Iudgement.

IN al other causes the state is gathered without cō∣tention, and seuerally handled vpon good aduisement as he shal thynke best that professeth to speake. But in matters criminall, where iudgement is required: there are two persons at the least, whiche must through con∣trarietie, stande and reste vpon some issue. As for example: A seruyng man is apprehended by a lawyer for felonie vpon suspicion. The lawier saith to the seruyng man: Thou hast done this robbery. Nay, (saith he) I haue not doen it. Upon this conflicte & matchyng together, ariseth this State, whe∣ther this seruing man hath done this robbery, or no? Upon whiche poincte the lawyer must stande, and seeke to proue it to the vttermost of his power.

A State therfore in matters of iudgement is that thyng,* 1.269 whiche doeth arise vpon the first demaunde and denial made betwixt men, whereof the one part is the accuser, and the o∣ther part the person, or persons accused. It is called a State because we doe stande and reste vpon some one poincte,* 1.270 the whiche must wholly and onely be proued of the one side, and denied of the other. I cannot better terme it in Englishe than by the name of an issue, the whiche not onely ariseth v∣pon muche debatyng and long trauerse vsed, whereupon all matters ar said to com to an issue: but also elswhere an issue is said to be then and so often as bothe parties stande vpon one poinct, the whiche doth aswel happen at the first begyn∣nyng before any probacions are vsed, as it doth at the latter endyng after the matter hath at large been discussed.

¶The diuision of States, or issues.

NOW that we knowe what an Issue is, it is nexte most nedeful to showe how many thei are in num∣bre. The wisest and best learned haue agreed vpon thre onely, and no lesse, the whiche are these fo∣lowyng.

The state.

• i. Coniecturall.
• ij. Legall.
• iij. Iuridiciall.

AND for the more playne vnderstandynge of these darcke wordes, these three questions folowinge, ex∣pounde their meaninge altogether.

• i. Whether the thinge bee, or no.
• ij. What it is.
• iij. What maner of thinge it is.

IN the fyrst we consider vpon rehearsal of a matter whether anye suche thinge bee, or no. As if one shoulde be accused of Murther, good it were to knowe, whether anye murther were committed at all, or on, if it be not perfectlye knowne before: and after to go further, and examine whether suche a man that is accu∣sed, haue done the dede or no.

In the seconde place, we doubte not vpon the thinge done, but we stande in doubte what to call it. Sometimes a man is accused of felo••ye, and yet he proueth his offence to be but a trespace, wherupon he escapeth the daunger of deathe. An other beynge accused for killynge a man, confes∣seth his faulte to be manslaughter, and denieth it vtterlye to be any murder, wherupō he maketh frendes to purchase his Pardon. Nowe the lawyers by their learninge muste iudge the doubte of this debate, and tell what name he de∣serueth to haue that hath thus offended.

In the thyrde place, not onely the dede is confessed, but the maner of doynge is defended. As if one were accused for killynge a man, to confesse the deede, and also to stande in it that he myght iustely so do, because he did it in his owne de∣fence: wherupon ariseth this Question, whether his doing be ryght or wrong. And to make these matters more plaine, I will adde an example for euery state, seuerally.

Of the state Coniecturall.

The Assertion. Thou hast killed this manne. The Aunswere. I haue not killed him. The State or Issue.

Whether he hath killed this man or no. Thus we see v∣pon the auouchinge and deniall, the matter standeth vpon an issue.

Of the state Legall.

Assertion. Thou hast committed treason in this facte. Aunswere. I denye it to be treason. State or issue.

Whether his offence done maye be called treason or no. Here is denied that any suche thinge is in the dede done, as is by word reported, and saide to bee.

Of the state Iuridiciall.

Assertion. Thou hast kylled this manne. Aunswere.

I graunte it, but I haue doone it lawfullye, because I killed him in mine owne defence.

State or issue.

Whether a man may kill one in his owne defence, or no, and whether this man did so, or no.

The Oration coniectural, what it is.

THe Oration coniectural is, when matters be ex∣amined and tryed out by suspicions gathered, and some likelihode of thinge appearinge. A Souldi∣our is accused for killinge a Farmar. The Soul∣dioure denieth it vtterly, & sayth he did not kyll him. Here∣upon riseth the question, whether the Souldioure killed the Farmar or no, who is well knowen to be slayne. Nowe to proue this question, we muste haue suche places of confir∣mation, as hereafter do folowe.

☞ Places of confirmation, to proue thinges by coniecture.

• i. Will, to do euill.
• ij. Power, to do euil.

IN the will muste be considered the qualitye of the [ i] man, whether he were like to do suche a dede or no, and what shoulde moue him to attempte suche an enterpryse, whether he did the murther vpon anye displeasure before conceyued, or of a sodayne anger, or els for that he loked by his death to receyue some commoditie, either lande, or office, money, or money 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or anye other gainefull thinge.

Some are knowen to want no will to kill a manne, be∣cause [ ij] they haue bene fleshe theretofore, passing as little vpō the deathe of a man, as a Bo••her dothe passe for killinge of an Ore, beynge heretofore either accused before a Iudge of manslaughter, or els quitte by some general pardon. Now, when the names of such menne are knowen, they make wise men euer after to haue them in suspection.

The countrey where the man was borne declares some∣time [ iij] his natural inclination, as if he wer borne or brought vp emong the Tindale, and Riddesdale menne, he may the soner be suspected.

Of what trade he is, by what occupation he liueth. [ iiij]

Whether he be a gamester, an alchouse haunter, or a pa∣nion [ v] emong Ruffians.

Of what wealthe he is, and how he came by that whiche [ vi] he hath, if he haue anye.

What apparell he weareth, and whether he loueth to go [ vij] gaye, or no.

Of what nature he is, whether he be hastye, headye, or [ viij] readye to pike quarels.

What shiftes he hath made from time to tyme. [ ix]

What moued him to do suche an haynous dede. [ x]

Places of Confirmation to proue whether he had power to do suche a dede, or no.

[ i] The grounde where the man was flaine, whether it was in the hygh waye, in a woode, or betwixt two hylles, or els where, nighe to an hedge or secrete place.

[ ij] The tyme, whether it was earlye in the mornynge, or late at nyght.

[ iij] Whether he was there about that time or no.

[ iiij] Whether he ranne awaye after the deede done, or had a∣nye bloude aboute him, or trembled, or stakerde, or was contrarie in tellyng of his tale, and how he kept his counte∣naunce.

[ v] Hope to kepe his dede secrete, bi reason of the place, time, and secrete maner of doynge.

[ vi] Witnesses examined of his beynge, either in this or that place.

[ vij] By comparinge of the stxengthe of the murtherer wyth the other mans weakenes, armoure with nakednes, & stout∣nes with simplicitie.

[ viij] His Confession.

An example of an Oration Iudiciall, to proue by Con∣tectures the knowledge of a notable and mooste hay∣nous offence, committed by a Souldiour

AS Nature hath euer abhorred murder, and God in all ages most terriblye hath plagued bloudsheading: so I truste your wisedomes (mooste worthye Iud∣ges) will spedelye seke the execution of this mooste hatefull synne. And where as God reuealeth to the syght of menne the knowledge of such offences by diuers likelihodes, and probable coniectures: I doubte not but you beyng cal∣led of God to heare suche causes, wyll doe herein as rea∣son shall require, and as this detestable offence shall moue you v••on rehearsall of the matter. The Manne that is well knowen to be slayne, was a worthye Farmar, a good housekeper, a welthye husbandemanne, one that traueyled muche in this worlde, me••nynge vprightlye in all hys do∣inges, and therfore beloued emonge all men, and lamented of manye when his deathe was knowen. This Souldi∣oure

beynge desperate in his doynges, and liuyng by spoyle all his lyfe tyme, came newlie from the warres, whose han∣d••s hath bene latelye bathed in bloude, and nowe he kepeth this countrey (where this farmar was slaine) and hath ben here for the space of one whole moneth together, and by all likelihodes he hath slaine this honest farmer. For, such men∣flesht vilaynes, make small accompte for kyllinge anye one, and do it they will withoute anye mercye, when they m••ye see their time. Yea, this wretch is bruted for his beastly de∣meanoure, and knowen of longe time to be a stronge thiefe. Nether had he escaped the daunger of the law, if the kinges free pardon had not preuented the execution. His name de∣clares his noughtye nature, and his wycked liuynge hathe made him famous. For, who is he that hearynge of N. (the notable offenders name myght here be rehearsed) doth not thynke by and by, that he were lyke to do suche a dede? Nei∣ther is he onelye knowen vniuersallye to be nought, but his soyle also (where he was borne) geueth him to be an euill man: consideringe he was bredde and brought vp emong a denne of theues, emonge the men of Tindale and Ryddes∣dale, where pillage is good purchase, and murderynge is counted manhode. Occupation hath he none, nor yet any o∣ther honeste meanes, whereby to maintayne him selfe: & yet he liueth mooste sumptuouslye. No greater gamester in a whole countrey, no such riotour, a notable whoremonger, a lewderoister emong Ruffiās, an vnreasonable waister, to day ful of money, w^tin a seuēnight after not worth a grote. There is no man that seethe him, but will take him for his apparell to be a gentilman. He hath his chaunge of sutes, yea, he spareth not to go in his silkes and veluet. A greate quareller, and fraie maker, glad when he may be at d••fiaūce with one or other, he hath made such shyftes for money ere now, that I maruaile how he hath liued till this daye. And now beyng at a low ebbe, & lothe to seme base in his estate, thought to aduenture vpon this farmar, and either to win∣ne the saddle, or els to lose the horse. And thus beynge so farre forwarde, wantinge no will to attempte this wicked deede, he sought by all meanes possible, conuenient oportu∣nitye

to compasse his desire. And waytinge vnder a woode side, nighe vnto the hyghe waye, aboute sixe of the clocke at night, he sette vpon this farmer, at what time he was com∣ming homewarde. For, it appeareth not onelye by his owne confession, that he was there aboute the selfe same time, where this man was slayne: but also there be men that saw him ride in greate haste aboute the selfe same time. And be∣cause GOD would haue thys murder to be knowen, loke I praye you what bloude he carieth aboute hym, to beare witnesse agaynste hym of hys moost wicked deede. Againe, hys owne confession dothe playnelye goe againste hym, for he is in so manye tales, that he can not tell what to saye.

And often his coloure chaungeth, his bodye shaketh, and hys tongue foultereth wythin hys mouthe. And suche men as he bryngeth in to beare witnesse wyth hym, that he was at suche a place at the selfe same houre, when the Farmar was slayne: they wyll not be sworne for the verye houre, but they saye, he was at suche a place, wythin two houres after. Now Lord, dothe not this matter seeme most playne vnto al mē, especially seing this dede was done such a time, and in suche a place, that if the deuyl had not bene his good Lorde, thys matter hadde neuer come to lyghte. And who wyll not saye that this Caytife hadde little cause to feare, but rather power inoughe to doe his wycked feacte, seynge he is so sturdye and so stronge, and the other so weake and vnweldy: yea, seyng this vilaine was armed, and the other man naked. Doubte yon not (worthye Iudges) seynge such notes of his former lyfe to declare his inwarde nature, and perceiuing suche coniectures lawfully gathered vpon iuste suspicion: but that this wretched Souldioure hath slayne thys worthye Farmar. And therfore I appeale for iustice vnto your wisdomes for the deathe of thys innocente man, whose bloude before God asketh iuste auengement. I doubt not but you remember the wordes of Salomon, who saith. It is as greate a synne to forgeue the wicked, as it is euill to condempne the innocente: and as I call vnfaynedlye for ryghtfull Iudgemente, so I hope assuredlye for iuste exe∣cucion.

The Person accused beynge innocente of the cryme that is layed to his charge, may vse the selfe same places for his owne defence, the whyche hys accuse•• vsed to proue hym ••yltye.

The interpretation of a lawe, otherwise called the State legall.

IN boultynge out the true meaninge of a lawe, we must vse to search out the nature of the same, by de fining sone one worde, or comparing one law wyth an other, iudging vpon good triall, what is right, and what is wronge.

The partes.

• i. Definition.
• ii. Contrarye lawes.
• iii. Lawes made, & thende of the law maker
• iiii. Ambiguitye, or doubtfulnes.
• v. Probation by thinges like.
• vi. Chalengynge or refusinge.

Definition what it is.

THen we vse to define a matter, when wee can not agree vpon the nature of some word, the which we learne to know by askyng the question what it is. As for example. Where one is apprehended for kil∣ling a man, we laye murder to his charge: wherupon the ac∣cused person when he graūteth the killing, and yet denieth it to be murder: we must straight after haue recourse to the definition, and aske, what is murder, by defininge whereof, and comparing the nature of the word, with his dede done: we shall sone know whether he committed murder or man∣slaughter.

Contrarye lawes.

IT often happeneth that lawes seme to haue a cer∣taine repugnancie, wherof emōg many riseth much cōtenciō, wher as if both y^e lawes wer wel weied & cōsidered according to their circūstances, thei wold

appeare nothing contrari in matter, though in wordes they seme to dissent. Christ geueth warning, & chargeth his dis∣ciples in the .x. of Math. that they preach not the glad tidin∣ges of his cōming into the world to the Gentils, but to the Iewes only, vnto whom he was sent by his father. And yet after his resurrection we do read in the last of Mat. that he commaunded his disciples to go into all the whole world, and preach the glad tidinges of his passion, & raunsome, pai∣ed for al creatures liuing. Now though these .ii lawes seme contrary, yet it is nothing so. For if the Iewes would haue receiued Christ, & acknowleged him their sauioure, vndou∣tedly they had bene the onelye children of God, vnto whom the promise and couenaunt was made from the beginninge. But bicause they refused their Sauiour, and crucified the Lord of glory: Christ made the lawe generall, and called all men to life that woulde repent, promisinge saluation to all suche as beleued and were baptised. So that the particuler law, beyng nowe abrogated, muste ••••ades geue place to the superioure.

Foure lessons to be obserued, where contrarye lawes are called in question.

• i. The inferioure law must geue place to the superiour.
• ii. The lawe generall muste yelde to the spe∣ciall.
• iii. Mans lawe, to Gods lawe.
• iiii. An olde lawe, to a newe lawe.

There be Lawes vtterde by Christes owne mouthe, the whiche if they be taken accordinge as they are spoken, seme to conteyne great absurditie in them. And therfore the mind of the lawe maker muste rather be obserued, then the bare wordes taken onely, as they are spoken. Christ sayth in the v. of Mathew.* 1.271 If thy right eye be an offence vnto thee, plu∣cke him out, and caste him awaye from thee. If one geue the a blowe of thy ryghte cheke, turne to him agayne thy lefte

cheke. There be some Eunuches, that haue gelded thēselfes for the kyngdome of heauen.* 1.272 Go, and sell all that thou hast,* 1.273 and geue it to the poore. He that doeth not take vp his crosse and folowe me, is not worthy of me. In all whiche sentences there is no suche meanyng, as the bare wordes vttered seme to yelde. Pluckyng out of the iye, declares an auoydyng of all euill occasions: receiuyng a blowe vpon the lefte cheke, cōmendes vnto vs, modestie and pacience in aduersitie. Gel∣dyng, signifieth a subduyng of affeccions, & tamyng the foule luste of pleasure, vnto the will of reason. Go and sell all: de∣clares we should be liberal, and glad to part with our good∣des to the poore and neady. Bearyng the Crosse, be••o••••••eth sufferance of all sorowes, and miseries in this worlde. Now to proue that the will of the lawe maker, is none other then I haue saied: I maie vse the testimonies of other places in the Scripture, and compare theim with these sentences, and so, iudge by iuste examinacion, and diligent searche, the true meanyng of the lawe maker.

¶Ambiguitee.

SOmetymes a doubt is made, vpon some woorde or sentēce, when it signifieth diuerse thynges, or maie diuersly be taken, wherupon full oft ariseth muche contencion. The lawyers lacke no cases,* 1.274 to fil this parte full of examples. For, rather then faile, thei will make doubtes oftē tymes, where no doubt should be at all. Is his Lease long enough ({quod} one): yea sir, it is very long, saied a poore husbande man. Then ({quod} he) let me alone with it, I wil finde a hole in it, I warrant thee. In all this talke, I excepte alwaies the good lawyers, and I maie well spare theim, for thei are but a fewe.

¶Probacion by thynges like.

WHen there is no certain lawe by expresse wordes vttered for some heinous offender, we maie iudge the offence worthy deathe, by rehersall of some o∣ther Lawe, that soundeth muche that waie. As thus. The ciuil lawe appoyncteth y^t he shalbe put in a sacke, and cast in the Sea, that killeth his father: well, then he that killeth his mother, should by all reason, in like sort be orde∣red.

It is lawfull to haue a Magistrate, therefore it is law∣full to plead matters before an officer. And thus, though the last cānot be proued by expresse wordes, yet thesame is foūd lawfull, by rehersall of the first.

¶Chalengyng, or refusyng.

WE vse this order, when wee remoue our sewtes, from one Courte to another, as if a manne should appele from the Common place, to the Chaunce∣rie. Or if one should bee called by a wrong name, not to answere vnto it. Or if one should refuse to answere in the spirituall court, and appele to the lorde Chauncellor.

¶The Oracion of right or wrong, called otherwise the state Iuridiciall.

AFter a deede is well knowen to be doen, by some out persone, we go to the next, and searche whether it be right, or wrong. And that is, when the maner of do∣yng is examined, and the matter tried through rea∣sonyng, and muche debatyng, whether it be wrongfully doen or otherwise.

¶The diuision.

THis state of right or wrong, is twoo waies diuided, wherof the one is, when the matter by the awne na∣ture, is defended to bee righte, without any further sekyng, called of the Rhetoriciās, the state absolute. The other (vsyng litle force, or strengthe to maintein the matter) is, when outward help is sought, and bywaies vsed to pur••hase fauour, called otherwise the state assumptiue.

¶Places of confirmacion for the first kynd, are seuen.

• j. Nature if self.
• ij. Goddes lawe, and mannes lawe.
• iij. Custome.
• iiij. Aequitie.
• v. True dealyng.
• vj. Auncient examples.
• vij. Couenauntes and deedes autentique.

TUllie in his moste worthy Oracion, made in behalfe of Milo, declareth that Milo slewe Clodius moste lawfully, whom Clodius sought to haue slain moste wickedly. For ({quod} Tullie) if nature haue graffed this in man, if lawe haue confirmed it, if necessitie haue taught i•• if custome haue kept it, if aequitie haue mainteined it, if true dealyng hath allowed it, if all common weales haue vsed it, if deedes auncient haue sealed this vp, that euery creature liuyng should fense it self, against outward violence: no mā can thinke that Milo hath dooen wrong, in killyng of Clo∣dius, except you thinke, that when menne mete with theues, either thei must be slain of theim, or els condempned of you.

¶Places of confirmacion for the seconde kynde, are foure.

• Grauntyng of the faulte committed.
• Blamyng euill companie for it.
• Comparyng the fault, and declaryng that either
• thei must haue doen that, or els 〈◊〉〈◊〉 doen worse
• Shiftyng it from vs, and shewyng that wee did
• it vpon commaundement.

COnfessyng of the faulte,* 1.275 is when the accused person graunteth his crime, and craueth pardon thereupon, leauyng to aske iustice, & leanyng wholy vnto mercie

¶Confession of the faulte, vsed twoo maner of waies.

The first is,* 1.276 when one excuseth hymself, that he did it not willyngly, but vnwares, and by chaunce.

The second is, when he asketh pardone, for the fault doen consideryng his seruice to the common weale, and his wor∣thy deedes heretofore dooen, promisyng amendement of his former euill deede: the whiche wordes, would not be vsed be∣fore a Indge, but before a kyng, or generall of an armie. For the Iudges muste geue sentence, accordyng to the Lawe: the Kyng maie forgeue, as beyng aucthour of the lawe, and ha∣uyng power in his hande, maie do as he shall thinke best.

Blamyng other for the faulte doen,* 1.277 is when wee saie that the accused persone, would neuer haue doen suche a deede, if other against whō also, this accusacion is intended, had not

been euill men, and geuen iust cause, of suche a wicked dede.

Comparyng the fault is when we saie,* 1.278 that by flaiyng an euill man, we haue doen a good dede, cuttyng awaie the cor∣rupte and rotten member, for preseruacion of the whole bo∣dy. Or thus: some sette a whole toune on fire, because their enemies should haue none aduaūtage by it. The Sagunty∣nes beeyng tributarie to the Romaines,* 1.279 slewe their awne children, burnte their goodes, and fired their bodies, because thei would not be subiecte to that cruell Haniball, and lose their allegiaunce, due to the Romaines.

Shiftyng it frō vs,* 1.280 is when we saie, that if other had not set vs on, wee would neuer haue attempted suche an enterprise. As often tymes the souldiour saieth, his Capitaines biddyng, was his enforcement: the seruaunt thynketh his Maisters commaundemente, to bee a suffi∣cient de∣fence for his di∣scharge.

The ende of the first Booke.

¶The seconde Booke.

NOw that I haue hetherto set furthe what Rhetorique is, whereunto euery Orator is moste bounde, what the causes bee, bothe in their nature, and also by nomber, that com∣prehende euery matter, & what places serue to confirme euery cause: I thinke it is moste mete after the knowlege of all these, to frame an Oraciō ac∣cordingly, & to shewe at large, the partes of euery Oracion, (but specially suche as are vsed in iudgement) that vnto e∣uery cause, apte partes maie euermore bee added. For euery matter hath a diuerse beginnyng, neither al cōtrouersies, or matters of weight should alwaies after one sort be rehersed nor like reasons vsed, nor one kynd of mouyng affecciōs, oc∣cupied before all men, & in euery matter. And therfore, wher∣as I haue briefly spoken of thē before, I wil now largely de¦clare them, and shewe the vse of theim in euery matter, that ••ometh in debate, & is nedeful, through reason to be discussed

¶An enteraunce, two waies diuided.

THe first is called a plain beginnyng, when the hearer is made apte, to geue good care out of hande, to that whiche shall folowe.* 1.281

The second is a priuey twinyng, or close creping in, to win fauor with muche circūstaunce, called insinuacion* 1.282

For in all matters that man taketh in hande, this conside∣racion ought first to be had, that we first diligētly expend the cause, before wee go through with it, that wee maye bee be assured, whether it be lawfull, or otherwise. And not one∣ly this, but also we must aduisedly marke the menne, before whom wee speake, the men against whom we speake, and all the circumstaunces, whiche belong vnto the matter. If the matter bee honest, godly, and suche as of righte ought to bee well liked, we maie vse an open beginnyng, and will the hea∣rers to reioyce, & so go through with our parte. If the cause be lothsome, or suche as will not be well borne withall, but nedeth muche helpe, and fauour of the hearers: it shalbe the speakers parte, priuely to get fauour, and by humble talke, to wynne their good willes. Firste, requiryng theim to geue

him the hearing, and next, not streightly to geue iudgement, but with mercie to mitigate, all rigor of the Lawe. Or in a cōplaint made, whiche the counsail shall greuously stomack, to exaggerate it y^e more, if we se iust cause to set it forward. And whereas many often tymes, are suspect to speake thyn∣ges of malice, or for hope of gain, or els for a set purpose, as who should saie, this I can do: the wisest will euermore clere themselfes, from all suche offences, and neuer geue any tokē so muche as in them lieth, of any light suspicion.

In accusyng any persone, it is best to heape all his faultes together, and whereas any thyng semeth to make for hym, to extenuate thesame to the outermoste. In defendyng any per∣sone, it is wisedome to reherse all his vertues first and fore∣mest, and with asmuche arte as maie be, to wipe awaie suche faultes, as were laied to his charge. And before all thynges, this would be wel marked, that, whensoeuer we shal large∣ly talke of any matter, wee alwaies so inuent, and finde out our first enteraunce in the cause, that thesame be for euer ta∣ken, euen from the nature and bowelles therof, that al thyn∣ges, whiche shall first be spoken, maie seme to agree with the matter, and not made as a Shippe mannes hose, to serue for euery legge. Now whereas any long talke is vsed, the begin∣nyng thereof is either taken of the matter self, or els of the persones, that are there present, or els of theim, against whō the accion is entended. And because the winnyng or victorie, resteth in three poynctes: Firste, in apt teachyng the hearers, what the matter is, next in gettyng them to geue good eare, and thirdly,* 1.283 in winnyng their fauour: Wee shall make theim vnderstande the matter easely,* 1.284 if firste of all we begin to ex∣pounde it plainly, and in brief woordes, settyng out the mea∣nyng, make them harken to our saiynges. And by no meanes better, shall the standers by, knowe what we saie, and cary a∣waie that, whiche thei heare, then if at the firste, wee couche together the whole course of our tale, in as smale roume as we can, either by definyng the nature and substaunce of our matter, or els by diuidyng it in an apte order, so that neither the hearers bee troubled with confoundyng of matter, and heapyng one thyng in anothers necke, nor yet their memorie

dulled with ouerthwarte rehersall, and disorderly tellyng of our tale. Wee shall make the people attentiue,* 1.285 and glad to heare vs, if wee will promise thē, to speake of weightie mat∣ters, of wholsome doctrine, suche as thei haue heretofore wā∣ted: yea, if we promise to tell them thynges, cōcernyng either their awne profite, or thaduauncement of their countrey, no doubte wee shall haue theim diligent hearers. Or els if thei like not to heare weightie affaires, wee maie promise theim straunge newes, and perswade them, we wil make thē laugh and thinke you not, that thei wil rather heare a foolishe tale then a wise and wholesome counsail? Demosthenes therfore seyng at a tyme,* 1.286 the fondnes of the people to be suche, that he could not obtein of them, to heare hym speake his mynde, in an earnest cause, concernyng the wealthe of his countrey: re∣quired them to ••ary, and he would tell them a tale of Robin Hode. Whereat thei all staied, & longed to knowe what that should be. He began streight to tel them, of one that had sold his Asse to another man, whereupon thei bothe went furthe to the next Market toune, hauyng with, them thesaied Asse. And the wether beyng somewhat hotte, the first awner, whi∣che had now sold his Asse, went of that side the Asse, whiche kept hym best from the heate. The other beyng now the aw∣ner, and in full possession, would not suffer that, but requi∣red hym to geue place, and suffer him to take the best commo∣ditie, of his awne Asse, that he could haue, wherat the other answered and saied, naie by saincte Marie sir, you serue me not so, I sold you the Asse, but I solde you not the shadowe of the Asse, & therfore pike you hence. When the people hard this, thei laughed apace, and likte it very well. Whereupon Demosthenes hauyng wonne theim together, by this merie toye, rebuked their folie, that were so slacke to heare good thinges, and so redy to heare a tale of a Tubbe, and thus ha∣uyng them attentiue, preswaded with them to heare hym, in matters of great importaūce, the whiche otherwise he could neuer haue doen, if he had not taken this waie with hym.

We shall get the good willes of our hearers,* 1.287 foure maner of waies, either beginnyng to speake of our selfes, or els of our aduersaries, or els of the people, and company present,

or last of all, if we begin of the matter it self, and so go tho∣rowe with it. We shall get fauour for our awne sakes, if we shall modestly set furthe our bounden dueties, and declare our seruice doen, without all suspicion of vauntyng, either to the common weale, as in seruyng either in the warres a∣brode, or els in bearyng some office at home, concernyng the tranquilitie of our coūtrey: or in helpyng our frendes, kyns∣folkes, and poore neighbours, to declare our goodnes, doen heretofore towardes them: and lastly, if wee shewe without all o••tentacion, aswell our good willes towardes the iudges there, as also pleasures doen for theim in tymes paste, to the outermoste of our power. And if any thyng seme to lette our cause, by any misreport, or euil behauior of our partes here¦tofore: best it were in moste humble wise to seke fauour, and sleightly to aduoyde all suche offences, laied to our charge.

We shall get fauoure, by speakyng of our aduersaries, if we shall make suche reporte of theim, that the hearers shall either hate to heare of them, or outerly enuy them, or els al∣together despise theim. We shall sone make our aduersaries to be lothed, if we shewe and set furth, some naughtie deede of theirs, and declare how cruelly, how vilie, and how ma∣liciously thei haue vsed other men heretofore.

We shall make theim to be enuied, if we reporte vnto the Iudges, that thei beare theimselfes haulte, and stoute vpon their wealthy frendes, and oppresse poore men by might, not regardyng their honestie, but sekyng alwaies by hooke and croke, to robbe poore men of their Fermes, Leases, and mo∣ney. And by the waie declare some one thyng, that thei haue doen, whiche honest eares would scant abide to heare.

We shall make theim to bee sette naught by, if we declare what luskes thei are, how vnthriftely thei liue, how thei do nothyng from daie to daie, but eate, drinke, and slepe, rather sekyng to liue like beastes, then myndyng to liue like men, either in profityng their coūtrey, or in tenderyng their awne commoditie, as by right thei ought to do.

We shall gette good will, by speakyng of the Iudges and hearers: if we shall commende their worthy dooynges, and praise their iust dealyng, and faithfull execucion of the law,

& tel them in what estimacion the whole country hath them for their vpright iudgyng and determinyng of matters, and therfore in this cause needes must it be that they must aun∣swere their former doynges, and iudge so of this matter, as all good men haue opinion they wil do.

We shal finde fauor by speakyng of the matter, if in hand∣lyng our owne cause, we commende it accordyngly, and dis∣praise the attēpt of our aduersarie extenuatyng al his chief purposes, so muche as shalbe necessarie.

Now resteth for me to speake of the other parte of Ente∣raunce into an Oration,* 1.288 whiche is called a close, or priuie gettyng of fauour when the cause is daungerouse, and can∣not easely be heard without displeasure.

A priuy begynnyng, or crepyng in, otherwyse called In∣sinuation must then, and not els be vsed, when the iudge is greaued with vs, and our cause hated of the hearers.

The cause selfe oftentymes is not lyked for thre diuerse causes▪ if either the matter selfe be vnhonest, and not meete to be vtterd before an audience, or els if the iudge hymselfe by aformer tale be perswaded to take part against vs, or last if at that tyme we are forced to speake, when the iudge is weried with hearyng of other. For the iudge hymself beyng weried by hearyng, wil be muche more greeued if any thyng be spoken either ouermuche, or els against his likyng. Yea, who seeth not that a weried man will soone mis••••ke a right good matter? Yf the matter be so hainouse that it cannot be hearde without offence, (as if I shoulde take a mans parte, who were generally hated) wysedome were to lette hym go and take some other whom al men liked: or if the cause were thought not honest, to take some other in stede therof which were better lyked, til they were better prepared to heare the other: so that euermore nothyng shoulde bee spoken at the firste, but that whiche might please the iudge, and not to be acknowen ones to thynke of that, whiche yet we minde most of al to perswade. Therfore when the hearers are somwhat calmed, we may entre by litle and litle into the matter, and saie that those thynges whiche our aduersarie doth mislyke in the person accused, we also do mislyke the same.

And when the hearers are thus wonne, we may saie, that all, whiche was saied, nothyng toucheth vs, and that wee mynde to speake nothyng at al against our aduersaries, nei∣ther this waie, nor that waie. Neither were it wysedome openly to speake against theim, whiche are generally well estemed and taken for honest menne. And yet it were not a∣misse for the furtheraunce of our owne causes ••losely to speake our fantasie, and so, streighte to aulter their hartes. Yea & to tel the iudges the like in a like matter, that suche & suche iudgement hath bene geuen: And therfore at this time consyderyng the same case, and the same necessitie, lyke iud∣gement is looked for. But if the aduersarie haue so tolde his tale that the iudge is wholy bent to geue sentence with hym, and that it is well knowne vnto what reasons the iudge most leaued and was perswaded: we may first promise to weaken that, whiche the aduersarie hath made moste strong for hym selfe, and confute that parte whiche the hearers didde most esteme, and best of all lyke. Or elles we may take aduauntage of some part of our aduersaries tale, and talke of that firste, whiche he spake last: or elles be∣gynne so, as though wee doubted what were best firste to speake, or to what parte it were moste reason firste of all to aunswere, wonderyng, and takyng GOD to witte∣nesse at the straungenesse of his reporte, and confirmacion of his cause. For when the standorsby perceiue that the aunswerer (whome the aduersaries thought in their mind was wholly abashed) feareth so litle the obiections of his aduersarie, and is ready to aunswere Ad omnia quare, with a bolde contenaunce: they wil thynke that they them∣selues rather gaue rashe credite, and were ouerlighte in beleuyng the firste tale: than that he whiche nowe aunswe∣reth in his owne cause, speaketh without grounde, or pre∣sumeth vpon a stomacke to speake for hym selfe without iust consideracion.

But if the tyme bee so spente, and the tale so long in tellyng, that a menne b•• almost weried to heare any more: than we must make promise at▪ the first to be very shorte, and to lappe vp our matter in fewe wordes.

And if tyme may so serue it were good when men bee weried to make them somewhat merie,* 1.289 and to beginne with some pleasaunt tale, or take an occasion to iest wittely vpon some thyng then presently doen.

Or if the tyme wil not serue for pleasaunt tales, it were good to tell some straunge thyng,* 1.290 some terrible won∣der that they all may quake at the onely hearyng of the same. For lyke as when a mannes stomacke is full and can brooke no more meate, he may stirre h••s appetite either by some Tarte sawce, or elles quicken it somewhat by some sweate dishe: euen so when the audience is weried with weightie affaires, some straunge wounders maye call vp their spirites, or elles some merie tale may cheare their hea∣uie lookes.

And assuredly it is no small con••yng to moue the har∣tes of menne either to mirthe, or saddenesse: for he that hath suche skill, shal not lightely faile of his purpose what∣soeuer matter he taketh in hande.

Thus haue I taught what an Enteraunce is, and howe it shoulde be vsed. Notwithstandyng I thynke it not amisse often to reherse this one poincte, that euermore the begyn••ng be not ouermuche laboured, nor curiously mad••, but rather apte to the purpose,* 1.291 seemyng vpon present occa∣sion, euermore to take place, and so to be deuised, as though we speake all together without any great studie, framyng rather our tale to good reason, than our toungue to vaine paintyng of the matter.

In all whiche discourse, whereas I haue framed all the Lessons and euery Enteraunce properly to serue for pleadyng at the Barre: yet assuredly many of theim ma••e well helpe those that preache Goddes truthe, and exhorte men in open assemblies to vpright dealyng.

And no doubte many of theim haue muche neede to knowe this Arte, that the rather their tale maye hange toguether, where as oftentymes they begynne as muche from the matter, as it is betwixte Douer and Barwyke, whereat some take pitie, and many for werines can skante

abyde their begynnyg, it is so long or they speake any thyng to the purpose.* 1.292 Therefore the learned Clerkes of this our tyme, haue thought it good that al Preachers shoulde take their begynnyng vpon the occasion of suche matter as is there written, declaryng why and wherfore and vpon what consideracion suche wordes were in those daies so spoken, that the reason geuen of suche talke then vtterde, might serue wel to begynne there Sermon. Or els to gather some seueral sentence at the firste, whiche brifely comprehendeth the whole matter folowyng, or elles to begynne with some apte similitude, example, or wittie saiyng. Or lastely to de∣clare what wente before, and so to showe that whiche fo∣loweth after. Yea sometimes to begynne lamentablie with an vnfained bewailyng of sinne, and a terrible declaryng of Goddes threates: Sometymes to take occasion of a matter newly done, or of the company there present, so that alwaies the begynnyng be aunswerable to the matter folowyng.

¶Of Narration.

AFter the preface & first Enteraunce, the matter must bee opened, and euery thyng lyuely tolde, that the hearers may fully perceaue what we go about▪ now in reportyng an acte done, or vtteryng the state of a controuersie,* 1.293 we must vse these lessons, whereof the firste is to be shorte, the next to be plaine, and the thirde is, to speake likely, and with reason, that the hearers may remember, vn∣derstande, & beleue the rather, suche thynges as shalbe said.

And first whereas we sholud be shorte in tellyng the mat∣ter as it lyeth,* 1.294 the best is to speake no more than needes we muste, not rauyng it from the botome, or tellyng bytales suche as rude people full ofte doe, nor yet touchyng euery poinct, but tellyng the whole in a grosse summe. And where as many matters shal neither harme vs, nor yet do vs good beyng brought in, and reported by vs: it were well done not to medle with them at al, nor yet twyse to tell one thyng, or reporte that, whiche is odiouse to be tolde againe. Notwith∣standyng this one thyng woulde bee wel considered that in seekyng to be short, we be not obscure. And therfore to make

matter plaine,* 1.295 that all may vnderstande it, the beste were first and formest to tell euery thyng in order so muche as is nedeful, obseruyng bothe the tyme, the place, the maner of doyng, and the circumstaunces thereunto belongyng. Wher∣in good heede woulde bee had that nothyng bee doubtfullie spoken, whiche maie haue a double meanyng, nor yet any thyng vtterde that may make asmuche against vs, as with vs, but that al our woordes runne to confirme wholly our matter. And suerly if the matter be not so plainely told that al may vnderstande it, we shall doe litle good in the reste of our report. For in other partes of y^e Oration if we be some∣what darke, it is the lesse harme, we may bee more plaine in an other place. But if the Narration, or substaunce of the tale bee not well perceyued, the whole Oration besydes is darckened altogether. For to what ende should we go about to proue that which the hearers know not what it is? Nei∣ther can we haue any libertie to tel our tale again, after we haue ones tolde it, but must streight go furthe and confirme that whiche we haue said howsoeuer it is. Therfore the re∣portyng of our tale may soone appere plaine, if we firste ex∣presse our mynde in plaine wordes, and not seeke these rope ••ype termes, whiche betraie rather a foole, than commende a wyse man: & again if we orderly obserue circumstaunces, & tell one thyng after another from tyme to tyme, not tum∣blyng one tale in an others necke tellyng halfe a tale, and so leauyng it rawe, hackyng & hemmyng as though our wittes and our senses were a woll gatheryng. Neither shoulde we suffer our tongue to runne before our witte, but with much warenesse sette forthe our matter, and speake our mynde e∣uermore with iudgement.

We shal make our saiynges appere lykely, and probable:* 1.296 Yf we speake directely as the cause requireth, if wee showe the very purpose of al the deuise, & frame our inuencion ac∣cordyng as we shal thynke them most willyng to allowe it, that haue the hearyng of it.

The Narration reported in matters of iudgement shall seeme to stande with reason,* 1.297 if wee make our talke to agree with the place, tyme, thyng, and persone, if we shall showe

that whatsoeuer we say, the same by al likelyhodes is true, if our coniectures, tookens, reasons, & argumentes be suche that neither in them there appere any fablyng, nor yet that any thyng was spoken whiche might of right otherwyse be taken, and that wee not onely speake this, but that diuers other of good creditie will stande with vs in defense of the same, all whiche reportyng may sone bee lyked, and the tale so tolde, may be thougt very reasonable. Yea, we shall make our doynges seme reasonable, if we frame our worke to na∣tures wil, and seke none other meanes, but suche onely, as the honest and wyse haue euer vsed and allowed, bryngyng in, and blamyng the euil alwaies for suche faultes chiefely, wherunto thei most of al are like to be subiect▪ as to accuse a spend al, of thefte: a whoremunger, of adulterie: a rash qua∣reller, of manslaughter: & so of other. Sometimes it is good and profitable to be merie and pleasaunt in reportyng a mat∣ter, against some maner of man and in some cause. For nei∣ther against all men that offend, nor yet against all matters shoulde the wittie alwaies vse iestyng. And nowe for those that shall tel their mynde in the other kyndes of Oratorie, as in the kynde Demonstratiue, Deliberatiue, in exhortyng or perswadyng:* 1.298 the learned haue thought meete, that they must also cal the whole summe of their matter to one espe∣cial poincte, that the rather the hearers may better perceiue whereat they leauel al their reasons. As if a Clarke do take in hande to declare Goddes hest, he will after his Ente∣raunce,* 1.299 tell what thyng is chiefely purposed in that place, and nexte after, showe other thynges annexed thereunto whereby not onely the hearers may g••tte great learnyng, and take muche profite of his doctrine, but he hym self may knowe the better what to say, what order to vse, and when to make an ende.

Some do vse after the literal sense to gather a misticall vnderstandyng, and to expounde the saiynges spiritually, makyng their Narration altogether of thynges heauenly. Some rehersing a texte particularly spokē, applie thesame generally vnto all states, enlargyng the Narration moste Godly by comparyng wordes long agoe spoken, with thyn∣ges

and matters that are presently done. Notwithstanding the auncient fathers because they did onely expounde the Scriptures for the moste parte, made no artificiall Narra∣tion: but vsed to folowe suche order as the plaine text gaue theim. So that if euery sentence were plainely▪ opened to the hearers, they went not muche farther, sauyng that when any worde gaue them occasion to speake of some vice, they woulde largely saie their mynde in that behaulfe: As Chrisostome and Basile haue done, with other.

The ware markyng and heedie obseruacion of tyme, place, and person may teache al menne (that be not past tea∣chyng,) howe to frame their Narration in all Controuer∣sies that are called in Question, and therfore when pre∣sente occasion shall geue good instruction, what neede more lessons? And especially seeyng nature teacheth what is co∣mely, and what is not comely, for all tymes.

Yea what tell I nowe of suche lessons, seeyng GOD hath raised suche worthe Preachers in this our tyme, that their Godly, and learned dooynges, may be a moste iuste example for al other to folowe: aswell for their lyuyng, as for their learnyng. I feare me the preceptes are more in nō∣ber, than wil be wel kepte or folowed this yeare.

¶Of Diuision.

AFter our tale is told, and the hearers haue wel lear∣ned what wee meane, the nexte is to reporte wherein the aduersarie and wee, cannot agree, and what it is wherin we do agree. And then to part out suche prin∣cipall poinctes whereof we purpose fully to debate, and laie theim out to be knowen: that the hearers may plainely see, what we wil say, and perceiue at a worde, the substaunce of our meanyng. Now Tullie would not haue a deuision to be made, of, or aboue thre partes at the most, nor yet lesse than thre neither, if nede so require. for if we haue thre chief groū∣des wherupon to rest,* 1.300 appliyng al our argumentes therūto we shal bothe haue matter enough to speake of, the hearers shal with ease vnderstād our meanyng, & the whole Oratiō shal sone be it at an end. Notwithstandyng this lesson must not so curiouslie be kepte, as though it were synne to make

the diuision of fower, or fyue partes, but it was spoken for this ende that the diuision shoulde be made of as fewe as may be possible, that menne may the better carie it away and the reporter with more ease maie remember what he hath to saie. Nowe in praisyng, or dispraisyng, in perswa∣dyng, or disswadyng, diuisions muste also be vsed. As if one woulde enueighe against those women that will not geue their owne chidren sucke, he might vse this deuision. Where as women commonly put their children furthe to nursyng, I will first proue that it is bothe against the lawe of nature and also against Goddes holie wil:* 1.301 Againe I wil showe that it is harmefull bothe for the childes bodie, and also for his witte, lastly, I wil proue that the mother selfe falleth into muche sickenesse thereby.

First, nature geueth milke to the woman for none other ende, but that she shoulde bestowe it vpon her childe. And we see beastes feede there youngones, and why shoulde not women? GOD also commaundeth all women to bryng vp their children.

Againe, the childrens bodies shalbe so affected, as the milke is whiche they receyue. Nowe, if the Nurse be of an euil complexion, or haue some hidde disease, the childe suc∣kyng of her brest muste needes take parte with her. And if that be true whiche the learned doe saie, that the tempera∣ture of the mynde folowes the constitucion of the bodie, needes must it be that if the Nurse be of a naughtie nature, the childe muste take thereafter. But be it, the Nurse be of a good complexion, of an honest behauiour (whereas con∣trary wyse Maydens that haue made a scape are common∣ly called to bee Nurses) yet can it not bee but that the mo∣thers mylke shoulde be muche more naturall for the childe, than the mylke of a straunger.

As by experience, let a man be long vsed to one kynde of drynke, if the same man chaunge his ayre, and his drynke, he is lyke to mislyke it. Lastely for the mothers, howe are they troubled with sore brestes besydes other diseases that happen throughe plentie of mylke▪ the whiche Phisi∣cians can tell, and women full ofte haue felte. Lykewyse in

speakyng of fastyng, I might vse this diuision. Firste, 〈…〉〈…〉 godly to fast, because the spirite is more free and ap••er for a∣ny good worke. Again it is wholesome, because thereby euill humours are waisted, and many diseases either clerely put awaie, or muche abated of their tira••nie. Lastly it is profita∣ble, because men spende lesse money, the lesse bankequetyng that thei vse. Therfore, if men loue either to be wise, godly, healthfull, or wealthy, let thē vse fastyng, & forbeare excesse.

Now vpon a diuision, there might also be made a subdiui∣sion, as where I saie, it is godly to fast, I might diuide go••∣linesse, into the hearyng of Goddes worde, into pra••yng ••••∣uoutly, and charitable dealyng with all the worlde.

Again, speakyng of healthe, I mighte saie that the whole body, is not onely more Iustie with moderate fastyng, but al so more apte for al assaies. The learned man studieth better when he fasteth, then when he is full. The coūsailor heareth causes with lesse pain beyng emptie, then he shalbe able af∣ter a full gorge.

Again, whereas the fiue senses, bryng vs to the knowleg•• of many thynges: the more apte that euery one is, the mo••e pleasure thei bryng euer with thē. The iyes se more clerely, the eares heare more quickely, the tōgue rouleth more roūd∣ly, and tasteth thinges better, and the nose smelleth euill sa∣uours the soner.

Philosophie is diuided into the knowlege of thynges na∣turall,* 1.302 thynges morall, and into that arte, whiche by reason findeth out the truthe, commonly called Logique. Nowe of these three partes of Philosophie, I might make other thre subdiuisions, and largely set them out. But these maie suf∣fice for this tyme.

¶Of Proposicions.

QUintilian willeth, that streight and immediatly af¦ter the Narracion, there should also be vsed suche sentences, as might bee full of pithe, and contein 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thē the substance of muche matter, the rather that the hearers maie be stirred vpō the only report, of some sen∣tencious saiyng, or weightie text in the law. As in speakyng largely against extorciō, one might after his reasons applied

to the purpose, bryng in a pithie and sentencious proposicion as thus. Those handes are euill that scratche out the iyes: and what other dooe thei, that by force robbe their Christian brethrē? Wo be to that realme, where might outgoeth right Or thus, whē rage doth rule, and reason doeth waite, what good mā can hope to liue long in rest. Also an act of a realme maie wel serue to make a proposicion. As thus. The lawe is plain: that man shall dye as an offendour, whatsoeuer he bee thatbreaketh vp another mannes house, and seketh by spoyle to vndo his neighbour. Now here is no man•• that doubteth, but that thou hast doen this deede, therfore, what nedes any more, but that thou muste suffer, accordyng to the lawe? In diuidyng a matter, proposiciōs are vsed, and orderly applied for the better setting furth of the cause. As if I should speke of thankfulnesse, I might first shewe, what is thankfulnesse,* 1.303 next how nedefull it is, and last, how commendable and pro∣fitable it is vniuersally? Thankfulnesse is a kynde of remē∣bryng good will shewed, and an earnest desire to requi••e the same. Without thankfulnesse, no man would do for another. The brute beastes haue these properties, and therefore man cannot want thē, without his greate rebuke. Some proposi∣cions are plain spoken, without any cause, or reason added therunto. As thus. I haue charged this man with felony, as you haue hard, but he denieth it: therfore iudge you it, I pray you Sometymes a cause is added, after the allegyng of a pro¦posiciō. As thus, I haue accused this man of felonie, because he tooke my pursse by the high waie side, and therfore I call for iustice.* 1.304 Thus proposicions might bee gathered, nexte and immediately after the rehersall of any cause, and beautifie muche the matter, beyng either alleged with the cause anne∣xed, or els beyng plainly spoken, without geuyng any reason to it at all.

¶Of confirmacion in matters of iudgement.

WHen we haue declared the chief poynctes, where∣vnto wee purpose to referre all our reasons, wee muste heape matter and finde out argumentes, to confirme thesame to the outermoste of our power, makyng firste the strongest reasons that wee can, and nexte

after, gatheryng all probable causes together, that beeyng in one heape, thei maie seme strong, and of greate weighte. And whatsoeuer the aduersarie hath said against vs, to answere thereunto, as tyme and place beste maie serue. That if his reasons be light, and more good maie bee doen in confutyng his, then in confirmyng our awne: it were best of all to sette vpon hym, and putte awaie by arte, all that he hath fondely saied without witte. For prouyng the matter, and searchyng out the substaunce, or nature of the cause,* 1.305 the places of Lo∣gique muste helpe to sette it forward. But when the persone shalbe touched, and not the matter, we must seke els where, and gather these places together.

• i. The name.
• ii. The maner of liuyng.
• iij. Of what house he is, of what countre and of what yeres.
• iiij. The wealthe of the man.
• v. His behauiour or daily enuryng with thynges.
• vi. What nature he hath.
• vij. Whereunto he is moste geuen.
• viij. What he purposeth frō tyme to tyme.
• ix. What he hath doen heretofore.
• x. What hath befaulne vnto hym here∣tofore.
• xi. What he hath confessed, or what he hath to saie for hymself.

IN well examinyng of all these matters, muche maie be said, & greate likelihodes maie be gathered, either to or fro, the whiche places I vsed heretofore, when I spake of matters in iudgement, against the accused souldiour. Now in triyng the truth, by reasons gathered of the matter: we must first marke what was doen at that time by the suspected persone, when suche and suche offences wer committed. Yea, what he did, before this acte was dooen. A∣gain, the tyme muste bee marked, the place, the maner of do∣yng, and what hart he bare hym. As thoportunitie of doyng

and the power he had to do this deede. The whiche all sette together, that either acquitte him, or finde him giltee. These argumentes serue to confirme a matter in iudgement, for a∣ny hainous offence. But in the other causes which are occu∣pied, either in praisyng, or dispraisyng, in perswadyng, or di∣swadyng, the places of confirmacion, be suche as are before rehersed, as when wee commende a thyng, to proue it thus.

Honest	to be doen.
Profitable.
Easie.
Necessarie.

And so of other in like maner, or els to vse in stede of these, the places of Logique. Therefore, when we go aboute to confirme any cause, wee maie gather these groundes aboue rehersed, and euen as the case requireth, so frame our Reasones. In confutyng* 1.306 of causes, the like maie be had, as we vsed to proue: if we take the contrarie of thesame. For as thynges are alleged, so thei maie be wrested, and as houses are buylded, so thei maie bee ouerthrowen. What though many coniectures be gathered, & diuerse mat∣ters framed, to ouerthrowe the defendaunt: yet witte maie finde out bywaies to escape, and suche shiftes maie be made either in auoydyng the daunger, by plain denial, or els by ob∣ieccions, and reboundyng again of reasons made, that small harme shall turue to the accused persone, though the presū∣ptions of his offence be greate, and he thought by good rea∣son to be faultie.* 1.307 The places of Logique, as I saied, cannot be spared, for the confirmacion of any cause. For, who is he, that in confirmyng a matter, wil not know the nature of it, the cause of it, theffect of it, what is agreyng therunto, what likenesse there is betwixt that, and other thinges, what exā∣ples maie bee vsed, what is contrary, and what can be saied aginst it. Therefore, I wishe that euery manne should desire and seke to haue his Logique perfect, before he looke to pro∣fite in Rhetorique, consideryng the grounde and confirma∣ciō of causes, is for the moste part gathered out of Logique.

¶Of conclusion.

A Conclusion is the handsome lappyng vp together,* 1.308 and brief heapyng of all that, whiche was saied be∣fore, stirryng the hearers by large vtteraunce, and plentifull gatheryng of good matter, either the one waie, or the other.

There are twoo partes of a conclusion,* 1.309 the one resteth in gatheryng together briefly, all suche argumentes as wer be∣fore rehersed, reportyng the sōme of them, in as fewe wordes as can be, and yet after suche a sorte, that muche varietie be vsed▪ bothe when the rehersall is made, as also after the mat∣ter is fully reported. For, if the repeticion should bee naked, and onely set furthe in plain woordes, without any chaunge of speache, or shift or Rhetorique: neither should the hearers take pleasure, nor yet the matter take effect. Therfore, when the Oratour shall touche any place, whiche maie geue iuste cause to make an exclamacion, & stirre the hearers to be sory to bee glad, or to be offended: it is necessary to vse arte to the outermoste. Or when he shall come to the repeatyng of an heinous acte, and the maner thereof: he maie set the Iudges on fire, and heate them earnestly against the wicked offendor Thus in repeatyng, arte maie bee vsed, and nexte with the onely rehersall, matters maie bee handesomely gathered vp together.

The other part of a conclusion resteth, either in augmen∣tyng and vehemently enlargyng that, whiche before was in fewe wordes spoken, to set the Iudge or hearers in a heate: or els to mitigate and asswage displeasure conceiued, with muche lamentyng of the matter, and mouyng theim thereby the rather to shewe mercie. Amplificacion is of twoo sortes, whereof I will speake more at large, in the nexte Chapiter. The one resteth in wordes, the other in matter. Suche wor∣des muste bee vsed, as be of greate weight, wherein either is some Metaphore, or els some large vnderstandyng is contei∣ned. Yea, wordes that fill the mouthe, and haue a sound with them, set furthe a matter very well. And sometymes wordes twise spoken, make the matter appere greater.

Again, when we firste speake our mynde in lowe wordes,

& after vse weightier, the fault likewise semeth to be greater As whē one had killed a ientleman, thus might another am∣plifie his mynd. For one slaue to strike another, wer worthy of punishement, but what deserueth that wretche, whiche not onely striketh a manne, but striketh a ientlemanne, and not onely striketh a ientleman, but cowardly killeth a ientle¦manne, not geuyng hym one wounde, but geuyng hym twen∣tie. To kill any manne in suche sorte, deserueth deathe, but what saie you to him, that not onely killeth hym so, but also hangeth hym moste spitefully vpon a tree. And yet not con∣tent with that, but scourgeth hym, and mangeleth hym whē he is dedde, and last of all, maketh a iest of his moste naugh∣tie deede, leauyng a writyng there, aboute the dedde mannes necke. Now then seyng his crueltee is suche, that thouly kil∣lyng, cannot content his deuilishe deede, and moste dedly ma∣lice: I aske it for Gods loue, and in the waie of Iustice, that this wicked Deuill, maie suffer worthy death, and bee puni∣shed to the example of all other. Amplifiyng of the matter, consisteth in heapyng, and enlargyng of those places, whiche serue for confirmacion of a matter. As the definicion, th•• cause, the consequent, the contrary, the example, and suche other.

Again, amplificacion maie be vsed, whē we make the law to speake, the dedde persone to make his complaint, the con̄∣trey to crie out of suche a deede. As if some worthy manne wer cast awaie, to make the countrey saie thus: If England could speake, would she not make suche, & suche cōplaints? if the walles of suche a citee or toune, had a tongue, would thei not talke thus and thus? And to bee shorte, all suche thynges should be vsed, to make the cause seme greate, whi∣che concerne God, the commō weale, or the lawe of nature. For if any of these three bee hindered, we haue a large fielde to walke in. In praisyng, or dispraisyng, wee muste exagge∣rate those places towardes the ende, whiche make menne wonder at the straungenesse of any thyng. In perswadyng, or disswadyng, the rehersall of commoditees, and heapyng of examples together, encrease muche the matter. It were a greate labour to tell all the commoditees, and all the pro∣perties,

whiche belong vnto the conclusion. For suche arte maie bee vsed in this behalfe, that though the cause bee very euill, yet a wittie manne maie gette the ouerhande, if he bee cunnyng in his facultee.

The Athenians* 1.310 therfore did streightly forbid by a lawe, to vse any conclusion of the cause, or any enterance of the mat∣ter to wynne fauour. Cicero did herein so excell, that light∣ly he gotte the victorie in all matters, that euer he tooke in hande. Therefore as iust•• praise ariseth by this parte, so I doubte not, but the wittiest will take moste paines in this behalf, and the honest, for euer will vse the defence of moste honest matters. Weapons maie bee abused for murder, and yet weapons are onely ordeined for saufgard.

¶Of the figure amplificacio••.

EMong all the figures of Rhetorique, there is no one that so muche helpeth forwarde an Oracion, and beautifieth thesame with suche delitefull orna∣mentes, as dooeth amplificacion.* 1.311 For if either wee purpose to make our tale appere vehemente, to seme plea∣saunt, or to be well stored with muche copie: nedes must it be that here we seke helpe, where helpe chiefly is to be had, and not els where. And nowe because none shall better bee able, to amplifie any matter then those, whiche beste can praise, or moste dispraise any thyng here vpon yearth, I thinke it nede∣full, firste of all to gather suche thynges together, whiche helpe best this waie. Therefore in praisyng, or dispraisyng, we muste bee well stored euer with suche good sentences, as are oftē vsed in this our life, the whiche through arte beyng encreased, helpe muche to perswasion. As for example, where it is saied (ientle behauioure wynneth good will, and clere∣ly quensheth hatered) I mighte in commendyng a noble ientlemanne for his lowlinesse, declare at large howe com∣mendable, and howe profitable a thyng, ientle••behauioure is, and of the other side, how hatefull and howe harmefull, a proude disdainfull manne is, and howe beastly a nature he hath, that beeyng but a manne, thinketh hymself better then any other manne is, and also ouer good to haue a matche

or felowe in this life. As thus, if lowelinesse* 1.312 and Charitee maintayne life, what a beaste is he, that throughe hatered will purchace deathe? If God warneth vs to loue one ano∣ther, and learne of him to be ientle, because he was iētle and humble in harte: howe cruell are thei, that dare withstande his commaundement? If the subiect rebell against his kyng, we crie with one voyce, hang hym, hang hym, and shall wee not thynke hym worthy the vilest death of all, that beeyng a creature, contempneth his creatour, beyng a mortall manne neglecteth his heauenly maker, beyng a vile moulde of claie, setteth lighte by so mightie a God, and euer liuyng Kyng? Beastes and birdes without reason, loue one another, thei shroude, and thei flocke together, and shall men endued with suche giftes, hate his euen christian, and eschewe companie? When Shepe dooe straie, or cattell doo striue one against a∣nother, there are Dogges ready to call them in, yea, thei wil bite them (as it hath been full often seen) if twoo fight toge∣ther: and shall man wante reason, to barke against his ••ewde affeccions, or at the least shal he haue none to checke hym for his faultes, and force him to forgeue? Likewise if you would rebuke one that geueth eare to backbiters* 1.313 and slaunderers, ye muste declare what a greate mischief an euill tongue is, what a poysone it is, yea, what a murder, to take a mannes good name from hym. We compte hym worthy death, that poysoneth a mannes body, and shal not he suffer the like pain that poysoneth a mannes honestie, and seketh to obscure and darken his estimacion? Menne bee well accepted emong the wise, not for their bodies, but for their vertues. Now take a waie the thyng, whereby menne are commended: and what are menne, other then brute beastes? For beastes do nothyng against nature, but he that goeth against honestie, thesame manne fighteth against nature, whiche would that all menne should liue well. When a manne is killed secretly, wee aske Iudgement for the offendour, and shall thei escape without Iudgement, that couertly murder a mannes soule? That separate hym from GOD, that Iudge hym to helle, whose life hath euer been moste heauenly? When oure pursse is piked, we make strieght searche for it agayne, and emprisone

the offendoure, and shall we not seke recouerye of our good name, when euyll tongues haue stayned it? If our fame be of more price, then is either golde or gro••es, what meane we to be so carelesse in kepynge the one, and so carefull in ke∣pynge the other? Fonde is his purpose that beinge in the rayne, casteth his garmente in a Bushe, and standeth na∣ked him selfe, for sauynge the glosse of his gaye coate. And yet what other thing do they that esteme the losse of money, for greate lacke: and counte not the losse of their honestie for anye wante at all? Thus we see, that from vertues and vyces, suche amplifications maye be made, and no doubt he that can prayse or dispraise anye thinge plentifullye, is able moste copiouslye to exaggerate anye matter.

Agayne,* 1.314 sentences gathered and heaped together com∣mende muche the matter. As if one shoulde saye: Reuenge∣mente* 1.315 belongeth to God alone, and therby exhorte menne to pacience: He myghte brynge in these sentences with him, and geue greate cause of muche matter. No man is hurte but of him selfe, that is to saye: aduersitie or wronge suffe∣ringe is no harme to him that hathe a constaunt h••rte, and liues vpright in all his doynges.

He is more harmed that dothe wronge, then he that hath suffereth wronge.

He is the stowter that contemneth, then he is that com∣mitteth wronge.

Yea, he gayneth not a little, that had rather suffer much losse, then trye his ryght by contention.

Gaine gotte by fraude, is harme and no gaine.

There is no greater victorye, then for manne to rule hys affections.

It is a greater matter to ouercome anger, then to winne a fortresse or a tower.

There is no greater token of a noble harte, then to con∣temne wronge.

He that requiteth euill for euill: throughe hatred of an euil manne, is made euyll hym selfe, and therfore worthy to be hated.

He that contemneth his enemye in battayle, is counted

a goodman of warre, and a wise.

He that requiteth good for euill, is an aungell of God.

He that mindeth reuengemente, is at the next doore to manslaughter.

God is moued wyth nothynge soner to forgeue vs our•• offences, then if we for his sake fo••geue one another.

The requitinge of iniuries hath no ende.

Strife is best ended throughe Pacience

Anger is a madnesse, differing from it in this point only, that anger is shorte, and tarieth not longe, madnesse abi∣deth still.

It is folye to suffer the fome of a horse, or the striking of his fote, and not abyde anye thynge that a foole dothe, or a noughtye disposed felowe speaketh.

No man trusteth a dronkard: And yet seyng the dronkēnes of rage, and madnesse of anger, are much more daungerous then surfetinge with wyne: he dothe foly shely that trusteth his owne wytte anye thynge, when he is in a rage. Good dedes shoulde all waies be remembred, wronge doing shou∣lde sone be forgeuen, and sone be forgotten.

Againe for liberalitye,* 1.316 these sentences might serue. It is the propertie of a God to helpe man. He hathe receyued a good turne by geuynge, that hath bestowed his liberalitye vpon a worthye man.

He geueth twise, that geueth sone and chearefully.

God loueth the gladde geuer.

It is a poyncte of liberalitie, sometymes to lose a good turne.

He that geueth to hym that wyll euyll vse it, geueth no good thing, but an euil thing.

Nothyng is more safelye layed vp, then is that whiche is bestowed vpon good folke.

Be not afrayed to sowe good fruite.

Nothinge is better geuen to Christe, then is that whiche is geuen to the pore.

No one man is borne for him selfe.

He is vnworthye to haue, that hath onelye for him selfe.

The thirde kinde of Amplifiynge is when wee gather suche sentences as are communelye spoken, or elles vse to speake of suche thynges as are notable in thys lyfe. Of the first these maye be examples. In lamenting the miserye of wardeshyppes,* 1.317 I might saie it is not for noughte so com∣munely said: I wil handle you like a warde. She is a steppe mother to me: that is to saye, she is not a naturall mother: who is worsse shodde then the shomakers wife? that is to saye: gentilmens children full ofte are kepte but meanelye. Trotte sire, and trotte damme, how should the fole amble, that is, when bothe father and mother were noughte, it is not like that the childe wil proue good, without an especial grace of God.

Likeryshe of tongue, lighte of taile: that is, he or she that will fare dainetelye, will ofte liue full wantonlye. Sone rype, sone rotten. Honoure chaungeth maners. Enoughe is as good as a feaste. It is an euill coke that can not li••ke his owne fingers. I will soner truste mine eye, then myne eare. But what nede I heape all these together, seynge Heywo∣des Prouerbes are in prynte, where plentye are to be had∣de: whose paynes in that behalfe, are worthye immortall prayse.

Thinges notable* 1.318 in this life are those, the which chaunce to fewe. As this: To see a man of an hundred yeres of age. A yonge chylde as sober as a man of fiftye yeres. A woman that hath hadde .xxiiij. chyldren. A man once worthe three or foure thousande pownde, now not worthe a grote. A yong man fayrer then anye woman. A woman that hath had seuē or eyght husbandes. A man able to draw a yarde in his bow besides the feathers. A man merye nowe, and deade wythin halfe an houre after. There is none of all these, but serue muche to make oure talke appeare vehemente, and encrease the weight of communication. As for example, If one wou∣lde perswade an olde man to contemne the vanities of thys worlde, he might vse the examples of sodayne death, & shew that childrē haue dyed in their mothers lappe, some in their cradell, some stryplinges, some elder, & that not one emonge a thousande commeth to thre score yeres.

Or be it that some lyue an hundred yeares, beyonde the which not one in this last age passeth, what is there in this lyfe, for the whiche anye manne shoulde desire to liue longe, seynge that olde age bringeth this onelye commoditye wyth it, that by longe liuinge, we see many thinges, that we wou∣lde not see, and that manye a manne hath shortened his life, for wearines of this wretched worlde▪ Or what thoughe some pleasures are to be hadde in this life, what are they al to the pleasures of the lyfe to come? Lykewise in speakinge of euill happe, I myght brynge him in that was once wor∣the three thousande pounde, and is not nowe worthe three grotes, and perswade menne either to set lyghte by riches, or elles to comforte theim, and perswade theim not to take thought, seyng great harmes haue happened to other here∣tofore, and time maye come when God will sende better. These sentences aboue rehearsed, being largely amplified, encrease much any suche kinde of matter.

••vhat is amplification.

AMplification is a figure in Rhetorique, which cō∣sisteth mooste in Augmentynge and diminishynge of anye matter, and that diuers wayes.

The deuision of Amplification.

AL Amplification and diminishynge eyther is tak••n oute of the substaunce in thinges, or els of wordes. Oute of the substaunce and matter, affections are deriued: oute of wordes, suche kindes of amplifica∣tion, as I wyl nowe shewe, and partly haue shewed before, when I spake of the Conclusion, or lappynge vp of anye matter.

The firste kinde of Amplification is, when by chaunging a woorde, in augmentynge we vse a greater, but in dimini∣shynge, we vse a lesse. Of the firste, this may be an exam∣ple. When I see one sore beaten, to saye he is slayne: to call a naughtye felowe, thiefe, or hangemanne, when he is not

knowen to be anye suche. To call a womanne that hathe made a scape, a commune harlot: to call an Alehouse haun∣ter, a dronkarde: to call one that is troubl••d with choler, and often angrye, a madde manne: to call a pleasaunte gen∣tilman, a raylynge iester: to call a couetous man, a deuill.

Of the latter, these examples shalbe: when one hath sore beaten his felowe, for the same manne to saye that he hathe scant touched him: When one hath sore wounded another, to saye that he hurt him but a little: when one is sore sicke, to be saide he is a little crased.* 1.319 In lyke maner also, when we geue vices, the names of vertue, as when I cal him that is a cruell or mercilesse man, somewhat soore in iudgement. When I call a naturall foole, a playne symple man: when I call a notable flatterer, a fayre spoken man: a glutton, a good felowe at hys table: a spende all, a liberall gentilman: a snudge, or pynche penye, a good husbande, a thriftye man.

Nowe in all these kindes, where woordes are amplified, they seme muche greater, if by corretion* 1.320 the sentence be vt∣terde, and greater wordes compared with them, for whome they are vtterde. In the whiche kynde of speache, we shal seme as thoughe we wente vp by stayres, not onelye to the toppe of a thinge, but also aboue the toppe. There is an ex∣ample hereof in the seuēth action that Tullie made against Uerres. It is an offence to bynde a Citezen of Rome with chaynes, it is an haynous deede to whyppe him: it is worse then manslaughter to kyll him: what shall I call it to hang hym vp vpon a gibet? If one woulde commende the auctho∣ritye whiche he alledgeth, he myght saye thus. These wor∣des are no fables vtterde emonge men, but an assured truth lefte vnto vs by wrytynge, and yet not by anye commune writynge, but by suche as all the worlde hathe confirmed and agreed vpon, that it is autentique, and canonicall: ney∣ther are they the wordes of one, that is of the commen sort, but they are the wordes of a doctour in the church of God, and yet not the woordes of a deuine, or doctoure of the com∣mune sorte, but of an Apostle: and yet not of one that is the worste, but of Paule, that is the best of al other: and yet not Paules, but rather the wordes of the holye ghost, speakyng

by the mouthe of Paule. He that loueth to enlarge by this kinde, must marcke well the circumstaunces of thinges, and heapynge them altogether, he shall with ease espye how one thinge riseth aboue an other. And because the vse hereof ex∣tendeth largelye, I w••ll largelye vse examples. As thus. If a gentleman and officer of the kinges, beynge ouerchar∣ged at Supper with ouermuche dry••ke, and surfetyng with gorge vpon gorge, should vomite the next daye in the Par∣liamente house: I myght enueyghe thus: O shameful dede, not onelye in sighte to be lothed, but also odious of all men to be hearde. If thou haddest done this dede at thyne owne house beynge at Supper wyth thy wyfe and children, who would not haue thought it a filthy dede? but now for the to do it in the Parliamente house, emong so manye gentilmē, & such, yea, the best in al England: beyng bothe an officer of the kynges, and a man of muche aucthoritye, and there to caste oute gobbets (where belchinge were thoughte greate shame) yea, and suche gobbets as none coulde abyde the smell, and to fyll the whole house wyth euill sauoure, and thy whole bosome with muche filthines, what an abhomi∣nable shame is it aboue all other? It had bene a fowle dede of it selfe to vomite where no suche gentilmen were: yea, where no gentilmen were: yea, wher no Englysh men were: yea, wher no men were: yea, wher no cōpany were at al: or it had ben euil, if he had borne no maner of office, or had ben no publique officer, or had not bene the kinges officer: but being not onely an officer, but a publike officer, and that the kynges officer: yea, & suche a kinges, & doyng such a dede: I cā not tel in y^• world what to say to him. Diuers examples mayebe inuented like vnto this. As thus, againste an heade officer in a noble mans house, I myght enueigh thus. Now Lorde, what a man is he, he was not ashamed beyng a gen∣tilman, yea, a man of good yeres, and much aucthoritie, and the heade Officer in a Dukes house, to playe at dyce in an al••house wyth boyes, bawdes, and verlets. It had bene a a greate faulte to playe at so vile a game, emonge suche vile persons, beynge no gentilman, beynge no officer, beyng not of suche yeres: But beynge bothe a man of fayre landes, of

an auncient house, of great aucthoritie, an officer to a duke, yea, and to suche a Duke, and a man of such yeres, that his white heeres shoulde warne him to auoyde all suche foly••, to play at suche a game, with suche roysters, a••d such ver∣lets, y••a, and that in such a house as none come thither but theues, bawdes, and Ruffians: nowe before God I can not speake shame enoughe of him. There is an other kynde of Amplification when vnto the hyghest, there is added some thinge higher then it is. As thus. There is not a better preacher emonge theim all, excepte Hughe Latimer, the fa∣ther of all preachers. Th••re is no better Latine man with∣in England, excepte Gualter Haddon the lawe••.

Againe, we amplifye a matter not ascendyng by degrees, but speakinge that thinge onely, than the whiche no greater thinge can be spoken. As thus. Thou haste killed thyne owne mother, what shall I saye more, thou hast kylled ••hine owne mother. Thou hast deceaued thy soueraine Lord and kinge, what shall I saye more, thou hast deceiued thy soue∣raine Lorde and kinge.

Sometymes wee amplifie by comparynge, and take oure grounde vpon the weakest and least, the whiche if they seme greate, then muste that neades appeare gr••ate, whyche wee woulde amplifie and encrease. As Tullie againste Catiline. My seruauntes in good south, if they feared me in such sort, as all the Citezens do feare thee: I would thinke it best for me to forsake my house. Thus by vsing the lesse first, this sē∣tence is encreased, fewe seruauntes are cōpared with all the citezens, bondmen are compared with free men: Tullie the master, is compared with Catiline the traytour, which was neither lord nor ruler ouer the Citezens: and Tullies hou∣se is compared with the Citye.

By comparing of examples, we vse also to encrease oure matter. As thus. Did the Maior of London thrust throu∣ghe Iacke Straw beinge but a verlet rebell, and onely dis∣quietinge the Citye: and shall the kynge suffe•• Capi••a••ne Kete to liue in Englandes grounde, and ••••ioye the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of his realme, beinge a most tyrannou•• tray••oure, a••d such a rebell as sought to ouerthrow the whole Re••••m••?

Here is Iacke Strawe compared with Capitaine Ket•• the Citye of London, with the whole Realme, the Maio•• with the kinge. So that if he which is a priuate person, and hathe no power of deathe, myghte punyshe wyth deathe the disquietynge of a Citye: the kynge him selfe hauynge all po∣wer in his hande, maye iustelye punishe hym that seketh to ouerthrowe his whole realme.

The places of Logique helpe ofte for Amplification. As, where men haue a wronge opinion, and thynke theft a grea∣ter faulte then slaunder, one myght proue the contrarye as∣well by circumstaunces, as by argumentes. And first he mi∣ght shewe that slaunder is thefte, and that euerye slaunde∣rer* 1.321 is a thiefe. For as well the slaunderer as the thiefe, doe take away an other mannes possession againste the owners will. After that he might shewe that a slaunderer is wor∣se then anye thiefe, because a good name is better then all the goodes in the worlde: and that the losse of money maye be recouered, but the losse of a mannes good name, can not be called backe againe, and a thefe maye restore that agayne whiche he hath taken awaye, but a slaunderer can not geue a man his good name againe, whiche he hath taken frō him. Agayne, he that stealeth goodes or cattell, robbes onely but one man, but an euill tongued man infecteth all their min∣des: vnto whose eares this reporte shall come.

Besides this, there are lawes & remedies to subdue theues: but there is no lawe agaynste an euyll tongue. Agayne, all suche haynous Offences are euer the more greuouslye punished, the more closlie, and more craftelye they are com∣mitted. As it is thought a greater faulte to kyll one with poyson, then to kyll him with the swerde, and a more hay∣nous offence to cōmit murder, then to cōmit māslaughter: we maye gather an argument also from the instrumente or maner of doyng. As a thefe hath done this offence wyth hys hande, a slaunderer hath done it with his tongue. Agayne, by the iudgement of al menne, enchauncement is a notable euill: But they that infecte a prynce or a kinge wyth wyc∣ked counsayle, are not they more wycked enchaunters, con∣siderynge they doe as muche as if one shoulde Poyson a

conduite head, or a Riuer from whence al men featche their water. And yet they do more, for it is a greater fault to poi∣son the mynde, than the bodie. Thus by the places and cir∣cumstaunces, great matter might be made.

By contrraries set together, thynges oftentymes ap∣pere greater. As if one shoulde set Lukes Ueluet against Geane veluet, the Lukes wil appere better, and the Geane wil seeme worser. Or sette a faire woman against a foule, and she shal seeme muche the fairer, and the other muche the fouler. Accordyng whereunto there is a saiyng in Logique▪ Contraria inter se opposita magis elucescunt. That is to say, Contraries beyng set, the one against the other, appere more euident. Therefore if any one be disposed to set fur••he chastitie, he may bryng in, of the contrari•• parte, whordome, and show what a fouly offence it is to liue so vnclenly, and then the deformitie of whoredome shall muche sette forthe chastitie: or if one be disposed to perswade his felow to lear∣nyng and knowlege, he may showe of the contrarie what a naked wretche, man is, yea how muche a man is no man, and the life no lyfe, when learnyng o••es wāteth. The lyke helpe we may haue by comparyng lyke examples together either of creatures liuyng, or of thynges not liuyng: As in spea∣kyng of constauncie, to showe the Sonne who euer kepeth one course: in speakyng of incōstaunce to showe the Moo••e whiche keepeth no certaine course. Againe, in younge Storkes* 1.322 wee may take an example of loue towardes their damme, for when she is olde, and not able for her crooked bil to picke meat, the youngones fede her. In young Uipers* 1.323 there is a contrary example (for as Plinie saieth) they eate out their dammes wombe, and so come forthe. In Hennes there is a care to bryng vp their chickens, is Egles the con∣trarie, whiche caste out their egges if thei haue any mo then thre: and al because they woulde not be troubled with bryn∣gyng vp of many.

There is also a notable kynde of amplification when we would extenuate and make lesse, great faultes, which before we did largely encrease: to thende that other faultes might seeme the greatest aboue all other. As if one had robbed his

maister, thrust his felow through the arme, accōpaned with harlottes, kepte the tauerne till he had been as dronke as a ratte: to say after a large inuectiue against al these offences. You haue heard a whole court roule of ribauldrie and yet al these are but fle bitynges in respect and comparison of that which I shal now show you. Who doth not loke for a mar∣u••ilouse great matter & a most hainouse offence, when those faultes that are thought moste greuouse are counted but fle bitynges in respect and comparison of that whiche he myn∣deth to reherse? In like maner, one might exhort y^e people to godlinesse, and whereas he hath set forthe al the commodi∣ties that folowe the same, as in showyng a quiet conscience not gilty of any great faulte, the libertie of spirite, the peace whiche we haue with GOD, the felowship with al the e∣lecte, for the seruant of Sathan, to be the sonne of GOD the comforte of the soule, the greatenesse wherof no man is able to conceiue: to say at lengthe, and what can be greater, what can be more excellent, or more blesseful? & yet al these are smal matters if thei be cōpared with the blessed enheri∣taunce of the euerliuing God prepared for al those that liue Godlie here vpon earthe, fastenyng there whole trust vpon Christe aboue, whiche bothe is able, and will saue all those that ca•• vnto him with faith. We do encrease our cause by reasonyng the matter and casting our accompt, when either by thynges that folow, or by thynges that go before, or elles by suche thynges as are annexed with the matter, wee geue sentence how great the thyng is. By thynges goyng before I iudge when I see an ••nuiouse, or hasty man fight wi••h an other as hastie, that there is lyke to be bloudshed. As who should saie, can enuiouse, or hastie men matche together, but that they must needes trie the matter with bloudshedyng? Assuredly it can not be otherwyse but that bloude must ap∣pease their rage. Likewyse seeyng two wyse men earnestly talkyng together, I cannot otherwyse iudge but that their talke must nedes be wittie, and concerne some weightie mat¦ter. For to what ende shoulde wyse men ioyne, or wherefore shoulde they laie their heades together, if it were not for some earnest cause? wh••t a shame i•• it for a strong man, of

muche health & great manhode, to be ouercome with a cuppe of drynke. Frō thynges ioyned with the cause, thus. A wo∣man hauyng her housbande emprisoned, and in daunger of death, soubdenly steppe before the Kyng and craued his par∣don. Bold was that womā whiche durst aduenture to knele before a Kyng, whose housband had so greuously offended. Though wo••en by nature are fearful, yet in her appered a manly stomake, and a good bolde harte, yea euen in great••st daunger. By thynges that folowe, thus, al England lament the death of Duke Henrie and Duke Charles twoo noble brethren of the house of Suffolke. Then may we wel iudge that these two ientlemen were wonderfully beloued, when they both were so lamented.

There is a kynde of Amplifiyng, when in speakyng of .ii. that fought together, wee praise hym muche that had the worse, because we would the other to haue more praise. Cō∣sideryng for a man to beate a boye, it were no praise, but for a talle man to matche with an other, that were as talle as hym selfe: that were somwhat worthe. Therfore I woulde haue the Scottes wel praised, whome the Englishmen haue so often vanquished. He that praiseth muche ••he stronghold of Boleine, must nedes thereby praise kyng Henry the .viij. of England, who by martial power, wonne it, and kepte it al his lyfe tyme. Or thus. Suche a one kepes a marueilouse good house, for the worst boie in his house drynkes one and thesame drynke with his master, and al one bread, yea euery one hath his meate in siluer, chamber vessels, and all are of siluer. We iudge by apparel, by armour, or by harnesse what a man is of stature, or biggenes. We iudge by occasion, the goodnes of men, as when they might haue doen harme, thei would not, when they might haue slaine, thei sought rather to saue. Frō the place where one is, encrease may be gatherd As thus. Beyng euen in the Court, he was neuer moued to gāmyng, beyng at Rome, he hated harlottes, where thereis by report so great plentie as there are starres in the elemēt.

From the tyme thus, he must needes be well learned in the lawes of our Realme that hath been a student this thir∣tie wynter.

From the age: assuredly, he is lyke to be good, for beeyng but a childe he was euer most godlie.

From the state of lyfe: no doubt but he is honest, for be∣yng but a seruaunt he lyued so vprightely, as none coulde iustly blame his lyfe.

From the hardenesse of a thyng. That whiche is almost onely proper to Aungels must nedes be harde for man: there¦fore chastitie is a rare gifte, and harde for man to kepe.

From the straungenesse of a thyng. Eloquēce must nedes bee a wonderful thyng, when so fewe haue attained it.

Lykewyse notable aduentures doen by a fewe, are more praise worthy than suche as haue been done by a great nom∣be. Therfore the battail of Muskelborow against the Scot∣tes where so fewe Englishmen were slaine, and so many Scottes dispatched: must nedes be more praise worthie, than if the nomber of Englishmen had been greater.

Uehemencie of woordes full often helpe the matter for∣warde, when more is gatherde by cogitacion, than if the thyng had been spoken in plaine woordes. When wee heare one say suche a mā swelled seyng a thyng against his mynd, we gather that he was then, more than half angrie. Againe, when wee heare one saie, suche a woman spittes fier, we ga∣ther streight that she is a Deuill. The Preacher thunderde in the Pulpite, belyke then he was metely hoote. But con∣cernyng all suche speaches, the knowlege of a Metaphore, shall bryng men to muche knowlege, (whereof I wil speake hereafter emong the figures) and therefore I surcease to speake of it in this place.

We encrease our cause by heapyng of wordes & senten∣ces together, couchyng many reasons into one corner which before were scaterde abrode, to thentent that our talke might appere more vehement. As when by many coniectures and great presumptions we gather that one is an offendor, hea∣pyng them al into one plumpe, whiche before were sparpled abrode, and therefore did but litle good.* 1.324 As thus: To proue by cōiectures a murder committed, I might thus say against a suspected person. My Lordes do not weye my wordes and sentences seuerally, but consider them all altogether. If

the accused persone here shall receiue profite by this other mans deathe, if his lyfe heretofore hath euer been euill, his nature couetouse, his wealthe most slendre, and that this dead mans gooddes could turne to no mans auaile so muche as vnto this accused person, and that no man could so easely dispatche him, and that this man could by no better meanes compasse his desier, and that nothyng hath been vnatt••mp∣ted whiche might further his naughtie purpose, & nothyng doen th••t was thought needelesse, and seeyng a meete place was chefely sought for, and occasion serued very wel, & the tyme was most apt for suche an attempte and many meanes heretofore deuised to compasse this offence, and greate hope bothe to kepe it close, and also to dispatche it, and besydes that, seeyng this man was seen alone a litle before in the same place, where this other man was slaine, and that this mans voice whiche did slaye hym was hard a litle before in the same place where this other man was slaine, and seyng it is well knowne that this man came home late the same night, and the nexte daie after beyng examined, did answere confusedlie, fearefullie, and as though he were amased, and seeyng al these thynges are partely showed by wittenesses, partely by good reason, partely by his owne confession, and partely by the reporte that comonly goeth of hym, whiche by lyke is not spoken without some ground: It shalbe your partes worthie iudges wayng al these thynges together to geue certaine iudgement of hym for this offence, and not to thynke it a matter of suspicion. For it might haue been that thre of foure of these coniectures beyng proued, might geue but onely a cause of suspicion, but whereas all these toge∣ther are plainely proued by hym, it can not be otherwise but that he hath offended.

It is an excellent kynd of Amplifiyng when thynges en∣creased, and thynges diminished are both set together, that the one may the rather beautifie the other. As if, when Gods goodnesse towardes vs wee largely amplified, we did streight extenuate our vnthanfulnesse towardes him again. As thus: Seeyng God hath made man a creature vnto his owne likenesse, seeyng he hath geuen hym lyfe, and the spi∣rite

of vnderstandyng, endewyng hym with h••s manifolde graces, and redemyng hym not with vile money, but with his owne preciouse bodie, sufferyng deathe, and blodeshed∣dyng vpon the Crosse, the rather that man might lyue for euer: what an vnthankefull parte is it, yea what an hai∣nouse thyng is it for man so ofte to offende, so ofte to wal∣lowe in suche his wickednesse, and euermore for Goddes louyng kyndnesse, to showe hym selfe of all other creatures most vnkynde?

Lykewyse contraries beyng rehersed and the euil imme∣diatly vtterde after the good, make muche for encrease. As many men now a daies for sobrietie, folowe gluttonie, for chastitie, take leachery, for truthe, lyke falsehode, for gentle∣nesse, seeke crueltie, for iustice, vse wrong dealyng, for hea∣uen, hell, for God, the Deuill: to whome they will without peraduenture, it Goddes grace be not greater.

¶Of mouyng affections.

BEcause the beautie of Amplifiyng, standeth most in apte mouyng of affections:* 1.325 It is needefull to speake somewhat in this behaulfe, that the better it may be knowne what they are, and howe they maie bee vsed. Affections therefore (called Passions) are none other thyng, but a stirryng, or forcyng of the mynde, either to de∣sier, or elles to detest, and lothe any thyng, more vehemently then by nature we are commonly wonte to doe. We desier those thynges, we loue them, and lyke them earnestly, that appere in our iudgement to be goodlie, we hate and abhorre those thynges, that seeme naughte, vngodlie, or harmefull vnto vs. Neither onely are wee moued with those thynges which we thinke either hurtful, or profitable for our selues, but also we reioyce, we sorie, or we pitie an other mannes happe.

And euermore there are twoo thynges whiche moue vs, either this waie, or that waie. The matter selfe whiche doth happen, or is lyke to happen: and the person also whome the matter dothe concerne. As for example: If a wicked wretche haue his desertes, we are al glad to heare it, but if an inno∣cent

shoulde be cast away, we thynke muche of it, and in sto∣make repine against wrong iudgement. If an euil man finde muche fauour, we enuie his good happe, yea it greeu••th vs, th••t any suche shoulde haue suche fauour showed: And not on••ly doe we hate the euil, that are come to any wealth, but also we enuie commonly all suche as come to any preferre∣ment, especially if either they haue been as poore men as we are, or elles came of a meaner house than we haue done. No one man woulde haue any to be better than hym selfe, and euery one enhableth his owne goodnes to deserue lyke dignitie with the best. And whereas some haue go••te before, startyng so••bdeinly from an inche to an elle, we spare not to saie that flattery made theim speede, and though they haue muche gooddes, yet are they cleare voide of all good∣nes, and therefore muche good may it do theim, we woulde not come by gooddes in suche sorte to wynne al the worlde▪ for the Deuill and they (saie wee) shall parte stakes with theim one daie. And thus wee can neuer bee content to geue our neighbour a good woorde. Yea though they haue ser∣ued right well, and deserued a greate rewarde, wee muste needes finde some faulte with theim to lessen their praises, and saye that though their desertes bee great, yet their na∣tures are nought: none so proude, though fewe bee so har∣dy: none so enuiouse, though fewe so faithfull: none so co∣uetouse, though fewe so liberall: none so gluttonouse, though fewe kepe suche an house. And thus, thoughe wee graunt them one thyng, yet we will take another thyng as fast againe from them.

Suche a man is an excellent felowe (saieth one) he can speake the tongues wel,* 1.326 he plaies of instrumentes few men better, he fey••eth to the Lute marueilouse swetely, he en∣dites excellently: but for all this (the more is the pitie) he hath his faultes, he will bee dron••••e ones a daie, he loues women well, he will spende Goddes coope if he had it, he will not tarye longe in one place, and he is somewhat large of his tongue. That if these faultes were not, surely he were an excellent fellowe. Euen as one shoulde saie: If it were not for liyng and stealyng, there were not

an honester man than suche a one is that perchaunce hath some one good qualitie to set hym forwarde. These ••uttes bee to brode, and these barres be ouer bigge, for looke what is geuen to one by commendyng, the same is streight taken away by buttyng. Therfore suche are not to be lyked that geue a man a shoulder of mutton, and breake his heade with the spitte when thei haue doen. And yet this is many a mās nature, especially where enuie hath any grounded dwellyng place, whose propertie is alwaies to speake nothyng of o∣ther without reproche and slaunder.

In mouyng affections, and stirryng the iudges to be gre∣ued, the weight of the matter must be so set forth, as though they saw it plaine before their ••yes, the report must be suche and the offence made so hainouse, that the like hath not been seene heretofore, and al the circūstaunces must thus be hea∣ped together:* 1.327 The naughtines of his nature that did the dead, the cruel orderyng, the wicked dealyng and maliciouse handelyng, the tyme, the place, the maner of his doyng, and the wickednesse of his wil to haue doen more. The man that susteined the wrong, how litle he deserued, how wel he was estemed emong his neighbours, home small cause he gaue hym, how great lacke men haue of hym. Now, if this be not reformed, no good man shal lyue saufe, the wicked wil ouer∣flowe al the world, & best it were for sauegard to be nought also, and to take parte with them, for no good man shal goe quiet for them, if there be not spedie redresse found, and this faulte punished to thexample of al other.

Quintiliane coucheth together in these few wordes the ful heape of suche an heauouse matter, by gatheryng it vp after this sorte.

• i. What is doen.
• ij. By whome.
• iij. Against whome.
• iiij. Upon what mynde.
• v. At what tyme.
• vi. In what place.
• vij. After what sorte.
• viij. How muche he would haue doen.

IF one b••e beaten blac••e and blewe,* 1.328 wee take it gre∣uously: but if one be slain▪ we are muche more trou∣bled. Again, if a slaue or ruffine shall do suche a dede we are displeased,* 1.329 but if an officer, a preacher, or an hed i••ntleman, should vse any slauerie, wee are muche more agreued. Yea, or if a very notable euill man, commit suche an horrible offence, we thynke hym worthy to haue the lesse fauor. If a sturdy felowe be stroken,* 1.330 we are not so muche di∣squieted, as if a child, a woman, an aged man, a good man, or a chief officer, should be euil vsed. If the offence be commit∣ted vpon* 1.331 a prepensed mynde, and wilfully, wee make muche more a do, then if it were doen by chaūce medly.* 1.332 If it be doen vpon an holy daie, or els vpon ••he daie of Assise, or vpon the daie of a kynges coronacion, or about suche a sol••mpne tyme or if it bee dooen in the nighte, rather then at Noone daies, we make the matter greater, then if it had b••en dooen at a∣nother tyme.* 1.333 In the course if one strike a man, it is ••hought greater, then if he should strike hym in the op••n streate. The maner of dooyng also, doeth muche moue the pacience of mē as if one should cowardly kill one,* 1.334 and strike hym sodainly▪ he were worthy greater blame, then if he should manfully set vpon hym: or if one kill his felowe secre••ly with a gunne▪ he wer worthy more h••tred, then if he killed hym with a sword or if he wounded hym sore, or cruelly mangeled hym, we crie out muche more, then if he had barely killed hym. And las•• of al, if his will had been to haue doen muche more then he did:* 1.335 we encrease our anger against his rage muche more, then e∣uer we would els haue doen.

¶Of mouyng pitee.

Nowe in mouyng pitie, and stirryng menne to mercie, the wrong doen must first be plainly told: or if the Iudges haue susteined the l••••e excremit••e, the best wer to will them to re∣mēbre their awn state, how thei haue been abused in like ma∣ner, what wronges thei haue suffered by wicked doers: that by hearyng their awne, thei maie y^• better hearken to others.

Again, whereas all other miseries, that befall vnto man, are greuous to the ••are, there is nothing more he••nous, then to heare that the most honest men, are son••st ouerthrowe•• by

thē that are moste wicked, and vertue put to flight, through the onely might of vice. That if the like hath not happened, vnto the hearers of this cause, yet it wer mere to shewe thē that the like maie happē, and so require them to geue iudge∣ment in this cause, as thei would doo in their awne, and re∣m••mber that harme may chaunce to euery one, that perhap∣pes chaunceth to any one. And no doubt euery man remem∣bryng hymself, and his awne case, will loke well about hym, and geue iudgement, accordyng to right.

Neither can any good be doen at all, when we haue saied all that euer we can, excepte we bryng thesame affeccions in our awne harte, the whiche wee would the Iudges should beare towardes our awne matter.* 1.336 For how can he be greued, with the report of any heinous acte, either in stomackyng the naughtinesse of the deede, or in bewailyng the miserable mis∣fortune of the thyng, or in fearyng muche, the like euill here∣after: excepte the Oratour hymself vtter suche passions out∣wardly, and from his harte fetche his complaintes, in suche sort, that the matter maie appere, bothe more greuous to the eare, & therwith so heinous, that it requires earnestly aspedy reformacion? There is no substaunce of it self, that wil take fire, excepte ye put fire to it. Likewise no mannes nature is so apt, streight to be heated,* 1.337 except the Orator himself, be on fire, and bryng his heate with hym. It is a common saiyng, nothyng kyndeleth soner then fire. And therefore a fierie sto∣mack, ••auseth euermore a fierie tongue. And he that is heated with zeale and godlinesse, shall set other on fire with like af∣fe••cion. No one man can better enuiegh against vice, then he can do▪ whiche hateth vice with al his harte. Again, nothyng moyste••h soner then water.* 1.338 Therefore a wepyng iye causeth muche moysture, and prouoketh teares. Neither is it any meruaile: for suche men bothe in their countenaūce, tongue, iyes, gesture, and in all their body els, declare an outwarde grief, and with wordes so vehemently and vnfeinedly, settes it forward, that thei will force a man to be sory with them, and take part with the••r teares, euen against his will, ••o••∣withstandyng, when suche affe••ciō•• are moued, it wer good ••ot to stande long in thē. For though a vehement talke maie

moue teares, yet no arte can long hold theim. For as Cicero doth saie, nothyng drieth soner, then teares, especially when we lament another mans cause, & be sory w^t him for his sake

But now that I haue taught men to be sory, I wil attēpt again to make them mery, and shewe what learned men saie concernyng laughter, in delityng the hearers whē tyme and place shall best require.

¶Of de••ityng the hearers, and stirryng them to laughter.

COnsideryng the dulnesse of mannes nature,* 1.339 that nei∣ther it can be attentiue to heare, nor yet st••••red to like or allowe, any tale long tolde, except it be ref••eshed, or finde some swete delite: the learned haue by wit••e and labor deuised muche varietee. Therefore sometymes in tel∣lyng a weightie matter, thei bryng in some heuy 〈◊〉〈◊〉, & moue thē to be right sory, wherby the hearers are more attentiue. But after when thei are weried, either with ••••diousnesse of the matter, or heuines of the report: some pleasant matter is inuēted both to quicken them again, & also to kepe th••im frō sacietie. But surely fewe there be, that haue this gift in due tyme to chere men. Neither can any do it, whom nature h••th not framed, & geuen an aptnes therunto. Some mannes coū∣tenaūce will make pastyme, though he speake neuer a worde Yea, a foolishe worde, vttered by an apte manne, or a gesture straungely vsed by some pleasant body, set••es men ful oft v∣pon a laughter. And whereas some thinke it a trifle, to haue this gift, & so easy, that euery varlet or common iesture is a∣ble to matche with the best: yet it appereth that thei, whiche wittely can be pleasant, & when time serueth, can geue a me∣ry answere, or vse a nippyng taunte, shalbee able to abashe a righte worthy man, & make hym at his wittes ende, through the sodein quip & vnloked frsipe geuen. I haue knowen some so hit of the thūbes, that thei could not tell in y^• world whe∣ther it were beste to fighte, chide, or to go their waie. And no meruaile: for wher y^e iest is aptly applied, the hearers laugh immediatly, & who would glad••y be laughed to scorne? some can pretely by a word spoken, take occasiō to be right mery. Other can iest at iarge, & tel a round tale pleasantly, though thei haue none occasion at that tyme geuen. But assuredly

that mirth is more worth, whiche is moued by a word new∣ly spoken, then if a long tale should pleasauntly be told. For asmuche as bothe it cometh vnlooked for, and also declares a quickenesse of witt••, worthy commendacion. There are fiue thynges, whiche Tullie note••h, concernyng pleasaunt talke.

• i. What it is to delite the hearers.
• ij. Whereof it cometh.
• iij Whether an orator may moue laughter
• iiij. How largely he maie go, and what mea¦sure he must vse.
• v. What are the kyndes of sportyng, or mouyng to laughter.

Now to tell you in plain woordes, what laughter is, how it stirreth and occupieth the whole body, how it altereth the countenance, and sodainly brasteth out, that we cannot kepe it in: Let some mery man on Goddes name, take this matter in hande. For it passeth my cunnyng, and I thynke euen thei that can best moue laughter, would rather laugh merily whē suche a question is put furthe, then geue answere earnestly, what, and how laughter is in deede.

The occasion of laughter, and the meane that maketh vs merie (whiche is the second obseruacion) is the fondnes, the filth nes, the deformitee, and all suche euill behauior, as we se to bee in other. For wee laugh alwaies at those thynges, whiche either onely or chiefly touche handsomely, and wit∣tely some especiall fault, or fonde behauior in some one body, or some one thing. Sometymes we iest as a mānes body that is not well proporcioned, and laugh at his countenaunce, if either it be not comely by nature or els he through foly, can∣not wel set it. For if his talke be fond, a mery man can want no matter to hit hym home, ye maie be assured. Some iest is made, when it toucheth no man at al, neither the demaunder neither the stāders by, nor yet any other, and yet deliteth as muche the hearers, as any the other can do. Now when wee would abashe a man, for some woordes that he hath spoken, and can ta••e none adu••untage of his persone, or makyng of his body, wee either doulte hym at the firste, and make hym ••eleue, that he is no wiser then a Goose: or ••ls wee confute

wholy his saiynges, with some pleasaunt iest, or els we exte∣nua••e and diminishe his doynges, by some pretie meanes, or els we cast the like in his dishe, and with some other deuise, dashe hym out of countenance: or last of all, we laugh him to skorne out right, and sometymes speake almost neuer a word but onely in countenaunce shewe our selfes pleasaunt.* 1.340 But how soeuer we make sport, either the delite is vttered by coū¦tenaunce, or by poynctyng to some thyng, or els shewed at large by some tale, or els occasiō taken by some word spoken

The .iij question is, whether it standeth with an Orators professiō, to delite the hearers with pleasaunt reportes, and wittie saiynges, or no. Assuredly it behoueth a mā, that must talke muche, euermore to haue regard to his audience, & not onely to speake so muche as is nedefull, but also to speake no longer then thei be willyng to heare Euen in this our tyme, some offende muche in tediousnesse, whose parte it were to cōfort all men with cherefulnes. Yea, the preachers of God,* 1.341 mynd so muche edefiyng of soules, that thei often forget, we haue any bodies. And therefore, some doo not so muche good with tellyng the truthe, as thei doe harme with dullyng the hearers, beyng so farre gone in their matters, that oftenty∣mes thei cannot tell when to make an ende.* 1.342 Pla••o therefore, the father of learnyng, and the well of all wisedome, when he hard Antisthenes make suche a long oraciō, that he starke weried all his hearers, phy for shame man ({quod} he) doest thou not knowe, that the measuryng of an oracion, standeth not in the speaker, but in the hearers. But some perha••ps wil saie vnto me pascite quantum in uobis est, to whom I answere, estote prudentes.* 1.343 And now bicaus•• our senses be suche, that in hearyng a right wholsome matter, wee either fall a sl••pe, whē we should moste harken, or els are weried with stil hea∣ryng one thyng, without any change, and thinke that the best part of his tale, resteth in ma••yng an ende: the wittie & lear∣ned haue vsed delitefull saiynges, and quicke sentences euer ••mong their weightie causes, cōsideryng that not onely good wil is got therby (for what is he that loueth not mirth?) but also men wounder at suche a head, as hath mennes hartes at his commaundement, beyng able to make theim merie when

he list, and that by one worde speakyng, either in answeryng some thyng spoken before, or els oftentymes, in geuyng the onset, beyng not prouoked thereunto. Again, we se that men are full oft abashed, and putte out of countenaunce, by suche tauntyng meanes, and those that haue so dooen, are compted to be fine men, and pleasaunt felowes, suche, as fewe dare set foote with them.

Thus knowyng, that to moue s••orte, is lawfull for an o∣rator, or any one that shall talke, in any open assembly: good it were to knowe, what compasse he should kepe, that should thus be merie. For feare he take to muche ground, and go be∣yonde his boundes.* 1.344 Therfore, no suche shou••d be taunted, or iested with all, that either are notable euill liuers, and hey∣nous offendours: or els are pit••full caitifes, & wretched beg∣gers. For euery one thinketh it a better and a meter deede, to punishe naughtie packes, then to shoffe at their euill demea∣noure: and as for wretched soules, or poore bodies, none can beare to haue thē mocked, but thinke rather, that thei should be pitied, except thei foolishely vaunt thēselfes. Again, none suche should be made any laughy••g stockes, y^• either are ho∣nest of behauiour, or els are generally welbeloued. As for o∣ther, we maie be bold to talke with them, & make suche game and pastime, as their good wittes shal geue good cause. But yet this one thyng, we had nede euer to take with vs, that in all our iestyng we kepe ameane, wherin not onely it is mete to auoyde al grosse bourdyng, and alehouse iestyng, but also to eschue al folishe talke, & ruffin maners, such as no honest eares can ones abide, nor yet any wittie man can like well, or allowe.

¶The diuision of pleasau••t behauiour.

PLeasauntnesse, either appereth in tellyng a rounde tale,* 1.345 or els in takyng occasiō of some one worde. The matter is told pleasauntly, when some mannes na∣ture (whereof the ••ale is tolde,) is so set furthe, his countenaunce so counterfeited, and all his iesture so resem∣bled, that the hearers might iudge the thing, to be then liue∣ly doen, euen as though he were there, whereof the ••ale was told. Some can so l••u••ly set furthe another mannes nature, and with suche grace reporte a tale: that fewe shalbe able to

forbeare laughter, whiche knowe bothe parties, though thei would the cōtrary neuer so fain. Now in ••ount••rf••ityng af∣ter this sort▪ if suche moderacion be not vsed, that the hearer maie iudge more by hymself, then the pleasant disposed man is willyng fully to set furth: it will not be well liked. For he that excedeth and telleth all: yea, more then is nedefull, with∣out al repect, or consideracion had: thesame shalbe taken for a common iesture, suche as knowe not howe to make an ende, when thei once b••ginne, beyng better acquainted with bible bable, then knowyng the frute of wisedomes lore.

Pleasantnesse in a saiyng,* 1.346 is stirred by the quicke altryng of some one worde, or of some one sentēce. But euen as in re∣portyng a tale, or counterfeityng a manne, so muche is euer naught: so scurrilitie or (to speake in old plain english) kna∣uery in iestyng would not be vsed, where honestie is estemed Therfore though there be some wit, in a pretie deuised ieste: ••et we ought to take hede, that we touche not those, whō we would be moste loth to offend. And yet some had as l••u•• lose their life, as not bestowe their conceiued iest, and oftentimes thei haue, as thei desire. But shall I say of suche wilful men, as a Spaniard spake of an earnest Gospeller, that for woor∣des spoken against an Ecclesiasticall lawe, suffered death in Smithe fielde? Ah miser, non potuit tacere & uiue••e? Ah wretche that he was, could he not liue, and held his peace?

Again, to iest when occasiō is geuen, or when the iest maie touch al mē: it is thought to be against al good maner. Ther¦fore the consideracion of time,* 1.347 & moderacion of pastyme, & s••l∣dome vsyng of drie mockes, euen when nede moste requireth, make a difference, and shewe a seuerall vnderstandyng, be∣twirte a common iester, and a pleasaunt wise man.

Now the time requireth, to shew what kindes there are of mouyng laughter, & makyng the hearer to be mery: notwith∣stāding this would first be learned, that out of diuerse plea∣sant speches, aūcient saiynges also maie be gathred. As for e∣xāple we maie by one worde, bothe pra••se a faithfull seruaūt and if he be naught, we maie also iest of him, & dispraise him. According to that mery saiyng of Nero, vpō his man y^• was light fingered. I haue one at home ({quod} he) emōg all other, to

whom there is no cofer lockt, nor dore shut in all my house▪ meanyng that he was a picklocke, and a false verl••t, and yet these wordes might haue been spoken of a faithfull seruaunt.

We shall delite the hearers,* 1.348 when thei looke for one an∣swere, and we make theim a cleane contrary, as though wee would not seme to vnderstande, what thei would haue. As when one commyng frō a faire, and beyng asked in good sad∣nesse of another, howe horses went there. Marie {quod} he, some trotte, and some amble. And thus beyng deceiued of our loo∣kyng (for who would haue lookte for suche an answere?) we are oft delited with our awne errour. Again, one Pontidius beyng sore greued, that another mā had cōmitted aduoutrie came to a frend of his, and saied sadly: Ah lorde, what thinke you sir of hym, that was taken in bedde of late▪ with another mannes wife? Marie {quod} the other, I thynke him to be a very sluggard. Pōtidius hearyng him saie so, was abashed at the straungenesse of h••s answere, and lokyng for no suche thyng was driuen to laugh at his awne errour, although before, he was muche greued with thaduouterers moste wicked deede.

One beyng sore greued with the euill behauiour of a cer∣tain ••entlemā, spake his pleasure largely against hym, wher∣vpon another merie man, dissēblyng to take his part, said he was an honester mā then so. Yea ({quod} thother) what one thing hath he, wherby to proue himself honest at al? Marie ({quod} the man) he hath the kynges pardon, & what saie you to tha••?

Whē is it best to dine ({quod} one) to Diogenes?* 1.349 Mary ({quod} he) for a riche man, when he list: for a poore man w••en he canne.

A nob••e man that whilome kept a chapell, beyng disposed to serue God, went to his closette deuoutely, and made hym self redy to praie, wherupon one came doune in hast, and said to the Chaunter, you muste begin sir. The Chaunter beyng a merie man, answered thus, as though he were angry. Be∣gin {quod} he? I will begin with none, e••cept thei begin with me And so made the whole Quier, that then was redy for syn∣gyng, to fall streight a laughyng The whiche is all one, for, syng we, or laugh we, what maketh matter, so we be merie?

Wordes* 1.350 doubtfully spokē, geue oftē iust occasiō of muche laughter. Ah ({quod} a certa••n man) do you se yonder felowe, & do

you knowe him? Yea, (quod the other) I knowe him verye well. I shall tell you sir (saide the gentilman) there is not a manne of greater vnderstandinge within this Citye then he is. Tushe it is not so (quod he.) No? (saide the other) marcke well the bought of his legge, and you sha••l see hys vnderstand••nge worthye to be compared with the beste, and greatest of them all.

Sometimes it is well liked, whan by the chaungynge of a letter,* 1.351 or takinge awaye some parte of a worde, or addinge sometimes a sillable, we make an other meaninge. As one saide that meante full vnhappelye, enue••ghynge againste those that helde of Christes spirituall beynge in the Sa∣cramēt: some (quod he) wil haue a Trope to be in these wor∣des: This is my bodye: But surely I would wishe the T. were taken awaye, and they had that for their labour, whi∣che is lefte behinde.

What carye you master Person (quod a gentilman) to a Prieste that hadde his woman on horsebacke behynde him, haue you gotte your male behinde you? No syr (quod the Prieste) it is my female.

The interpretation of a worde doth oft declare a witte.* 1.352 As when one hath done a robbery, some wil saye, it is pitie, he was a handsome man, to y^• which another made answere you saye truthe syr, for he hathe made these shyftes by hys handes, and gotte his liuyng wyth lyght fingeringe, & ther∣fore beinge handsome as you saye he is, I woulde God he were handsomelye hanged.

Sometimes it is delightfull when a mannes word is ta∣ken, and not his meaninge.* 1.353 As when one hadde sayde to an other (whose helpe he must nedes haue) I am sory sir to put you to paynes: The other aunswered, I will ease you syr of that sorowe, for I will take no paynes for you at all.

The turning of a word, & deniynge that wherwith we are charged, & aunswering* 1.354 a much worsse, doth often moue the hearer. There was one Bassus (as Quintilian dothe tell) whiche seinge a Ladye called Domitia to be very nighe her selfe, spake his pleasure of her. Wherupon she being greued charged hym wyth these woordes, that he shoulde saye she

w••s suche a pyuche penye, as woulde sell her olde shoue for money,* 1.355 whereupon he aunswered, No forsothe ma∣d••me (quod he) I saide not so, but these were my wordes, I saide you bought olde sho••e, suche as you coulde ge•• beste cheape for money.

The Hollanders woordes ars worthye rehearsall, who beynge a pore man (as Erasmus telleth the tale) had a cow or two goyng in ••he communes, wherupon it happened that an Oxe of a riche mans, who then was Maior of the towne hadde gored the pore mannes cowe, and almoste kylled her. The pore man being in this case halfe vndone, thought not∣withstanding by a wittye deuise to get right iudg••ment of master Maior for the losse of his cowe, if he gotte nothynge elles, and therfore thus he framed his tale.* 1.356 Sir so it is that my cowe hath gored and almoste kylled your Oxe. What ha••h she (quod he) by sainte Marye thou shalte pay for him then. Naye (quod the poore man) I crye you mercye, youre Oxe hathe gored my cowe. Ah (quod the Maior) that is an other matter, we wyl talke of that hereafter at more leasure

These wordes were spoken of purpose, but now you shal heare what an olde woman spake of simplicitie. In the do∣tynge worlde, when stockes were saintes, and ••umme wal∣les spake, this olde grandamme was deuoutelye kneling v∣pon her knees before the ymage of our Ladye. Wherupon a merye felowe asked her what she meante to crouche & knele there. Marie (quod the olde mother) I praye to our La∣dye, that she maye praye to her Sonne for me: with that he laughed at her ignoraunce.* 1.357 Wherupon she thinkinge that her wordes were spoken amisse, corrected her owne sayinge in this wise. Naye (quod she) I praye to Christe in heauen, that he will praye for me to this good Ladye here.

Wordes rehearsed contrarie to that which was spoken, & (as a man would say) ouerthwartly answered,* 1.358 do much a∣bash the opponent, & delite the hearers. As when Sergius Galba being sicke, & therfore ••eping his house, had appoin∣ted certaine of his frēdes to hear a matter of one Libo Scri¦bonius, Tribune of the people, a man muche noted for hys noughtye and vncleane life: this Libo saide to him in this

wise. Good Lorde, when shall wee see you Sir abroade, out of youre Parloure. Marye (quod he) when thou ke∣peste thy selfe oute of an other mannes chambre, meanynge that he was ouer familiar with an other mans wife. Thus we se howe and in what maner pleasaunt sawes are gathe∣red and vsed, vpon the occasion of diuers wordes spoken.

Pleasaunte sporte made by rehearsynge of •• whole matter

THe nature & whole course of a matter being large∣lye set oute with a comelye behauoure doth much delite the hearers, and geu••th good cause of greate pastime. And this difference is betwene a ••este in a word, and a iest vtterde in a longe tale. That whiche is still deliteful, with what wordes soeuer you tell it, is cont••in••d in the substaunce or nature of a lōge tale:* 1.359 that which loseth his grace by alteration of a worde, is conteyned in the na∣ture of a woorde. They that can liuely tell pleasaunt tales and merye dedes done, and set theim oute as well with ge∣sture as with voyce, leauynge nothynge behynde, that maye serue for beautifiynge of their matter: are mooste mete for thys purpose, wherof assuredlye there are but fewe. And whatsoeuer he is that canne aptelye tell his tale, and wyth countenaunce, voyce, and gesture, so temper his reporte, that the hearers maye styll take delyte: him counte I a man worthye to be hyghlye estemed. For vndoubtedlye no man can dooe anye suche thinge, excepte they haue a greate mo∣ther wytte, and by experience confirmed suche their comeli∣nes, wherunto by nature they were most apte. Many a mā readeth histories, heareth fables, seeth worthye actes done euen in this our age, but few can set them out accordingly, and tel them liuely, as the matter selfe requireth to be told The kindes of delitinge in this sorte are diuers: wherof I will set forth many, as hereafter they shall folowe.

Sporte moued by tellinge olde tales.

IF there be any olde tale or straunge history wel & wit∣tely applied to some mā liuing, al mē loue to hear it of life. As if one wer called Arthur, some good felow that

were well acquainted wyth kynge Arthures bok••, and the knightes of his rounde table, woulde wante no matter to make good sporte, and for a nede woulde dubbe him knyght of the rounde table, or els proue him to be one of his kynne, or ••ls (whiche were muche) proue him to be Arthure hym selfe. And so likewise of other names, mery panions would make madde pastime.

Oftentimes the deformitie* 1.360 of a mans bodye geueth ma••∣ter enoughe to be ryght merye, or els a picture in shape lyke an other man, will make some to laughe right hartely. One being greued with an other man, saide in his anger, I will set the oute in thy coloures, I will shewe what thou arte. The other beinge therwith muche chafed, shewe (quod he) what thou canste: with that he shewed him, (pointinge with his finger) a man with a bottell nose, blobbe cheaked, and as redde as a Bouchers bowle, euen as like the other manne, as anie one in all the worlde could be. I neede not to saye that he was angrye. An other good felowe beinge merelye disposed, called his acquaintaunce vnto him & said: Come hither I saie, and I wil shewe thee as verye a lowte as euer thou sawest in all thy lyfe before, with that he offe∣red him at his commynge a stele glasse to loke in. But sure∣lye I thynke he loked awrye, for if I hadde bene in hys case, I woulde haue tolde him that I espied a muche greater lo∣wte, before I sawe the glasse.

In augmentynge* 1.361 or diminishinge without all reason, we geue good cause of muche pastyme. As Diogenes seynge a pretye towne, hauinge a greate payre of Gates at the com∣minge in: Take hede quod he, you menne of this towne, lest your towne runne out of your gates. That was a maruey∣lous bygge Gate I trow, or els a wonderfull little towne, where suche passage shoulde be made.

A Frier disposed to tell misteries, opened to the People that the soule of man was so little, that a leuen thousande might daunce vpon the nayle of his thumbe. One maruey∣linge much at that, I praye you master Frier quod he, wher shall the piper stande then, when suche a number shall kepe so small a roume.

Mirthe is moued when vpon a trifle or a worde spoken, an vnknowen matter and weightye* 1.362 affayre is opened. As if one shoulde finde fault with some mannes sumptuous buil∣dinge, or other suche thinge: whiche hadde founde muche fa∣••oure at the same mans hande: an other myght saye, well sir, he that builded this house, saued your worship from han¦ginge when the time was. A nececessarie note for him thā∣kefullye to remembre the builder of that house, & not slaun∣derouslye to speake euil of him.

It is a pleasaunt dissembling,* 1.363 when we speake one thing merelye, and thyncke an other earnestlye, or elles when we prayse that which otherwise deserueth disprayse, to the sha∣ming of those that are taken to be most honest.

As in speakinge of one that is well knowen to be nought, to saye emong all men that are sene to, there is one that lac∣keth his rewarde. He is the diligentiest felowe in hys cal∣linge of all other, he hath traueyled in behalfe of his coun∣trey, he hath watched daye and night to further his cōmune weale▪ and to aduaunce the dignitye therof, and shall he go emptye home? Who stode by it at suche a felde, who played the man and cryed, stoppe the thiefe, when suche a man was robbed? Who seeth good rule kept in suche a place? can a∣nye here charge him with bawdrye? Whiche of you all dare saye or can say that euer you sawe him dro••ke, if then these be true, ought not suche to be sene to: and rewarded accor∣dingelye? For praysinge the vnworthye, I remember once that our worthy Latimer did set out the deuyll for his dili∣gence wonderfullie, and preferred him for that purpose be∣fore all the Bishoppes in England. And no doubte, the wic∣ked be more busye and stirrynge, then the children of light be in their generation.

What talke you of suche a man (say the an other) there is an honest man ye maye be assured. For if a man had neade of one, he is ready at a pynche, his body sweates for honesty, if you come to him in a hotte sommers day, you shal se his ho∣nestye in such sort to reeke, that it woulde pitye any christi∣an soule liuinge. He hath more honestye with him then he neades, and therfore bothe is able and will lende, where it

pleaseth him best. Beware of him aboue all menne that e••uer you knewe. He hathe no felowe, there is none suche, I thinke he wil not liue longe▪ he is so honest a man, the more pitye that suche good felowes shoulde knowe what deathe meaneth. But it maketh no matter, when he is gone, all the worlde will speake of him, hys name shall neuer dye, he is so well knowen vniuersallye.

Thus we maye mockingelye speake well of him, when there is not a noughtyer felowe wythin all. Englande a∣gayne, and euen as well sette out his noughtines this way, as thoughe we hadde in verye dede vttered all his noughty conditions plainelye, and without iestinge. Emonge al that euer were pleasaunte in this kinde of delite, Socrates bea∣reth the name, and maye worthelye chalenge prayse. Sir Thomas More with vs here in England▪ had an excellent gifte not onely in this kinde, but also in all other pleasaunt delites, whose witte euē at this houre is a wonder to al the worlde, & shalbe vndoubtedly, euen vnto the worldes ende. Unto this kinde of dissembling, is nexte adioyn••nge a ma∣ner of speache, when wee geue an honeste name to an euyll deede. As when I woulde call one accordingly that is of a noughtye beha••oure, to saye: Ah sirrha, you are a marchant in dede: Wher as I thinke a marchauntes name is honest. Some olde felowes whē they thinke one to be an heritique they will saye, he is a gospeller. Some newe felowes when they thinke one a Papist, they wil call him straight a catho∣lique, & be euen with him at the landes ende. Contrariwise some will geue an ••uil name to a good thinge: As a father louynge his Sonne tenderlye, and hauynge no cause to be greued with him, will sometimes saye to him: Come hither sir knaue, and the mother merelye beynge disposed, wyll saye to her swete Sonne: Ah you little horeson, wyll you serue me so. Where as I thyncke some womenne that ofte so saye, wil sweare vpon a booke they are none suche, and almoste I hadde sayde, I dare sweare for some of theim my selfe, if God hadde not forbidden me to sweare at all.

This Kynde also is pretye, when we gather an other

thinge by a mannes t••le, then he woulde ••ladly we shoulde gather. When Liuius Sali••ator a Romayne capitaine hadde kepte the Castell of Taren••um losinge the towne to Anni••al his enemye,* 1.364 and that Maximus therupō had layed siege to the same towne, and gotte it againe by the swerde: then Sali••ator whyche thus kepte the Castell, desiered him to remember, that throughe his meanes he gotte the towne, Why shoulde I not (quod he) thyncke so? for if you had neuer lost it, I had neuer gotte it.

To dissemble sometymes as thoughe wee vnderstode not what one meant, declareth an apte witte, ••nd much de∣liteth such as heare it. Diogenes* 1.365 was asked on a time what wyne he loued beste to drincke. Marye (quod he) an other mannes wyne, meanynge that he loued that dryncke beste, that coste him leaste. The same Diogenes likewyse was asked what one shoulde geue hym to lette him haue a blowe at his heade. Marye a Helmet quod he.

One Octa••ius a Libian borne (as witnesseth) Macro∣bius sayde vnto Tullie when he spake hys mynde vpon a matter. Sir I heare you not, I praye you speake owder. No (quod Tullie)? that is maruaile to me, for as I do re∣member, your eares are well bored thorowe, meanynge that he was nayled vpon a Pillarie, or ••lles hadde holes made in his eares, whyche myght well serue (as Tullie iested) to receiue open ayre.

Whē Mettellus toke muster & required Cesar to be there, not abiding y^t he should be absent, thoughe his eyes greued him, and said: What man do you se nothing at all? Yes ma∣rye quod Cesar, as euil as I se, I can se a lordship of yours the which was .iiii. or .v. miles from Rome) declaringe that (his building was ouer sumptuous, and so howge with••ll, (muche aboue his degree) that a blind man myght almost se it. Nowe in those dayes ouercostlye building was general∣ly hated, because men sought by suche meanes to get fame & beare rule in the commune weale.

The like also is of one Nasica who when he came to the Poet Ennius, and askinge at the gates if Ennius were at

home, the maide of the house, beinge so commaunded by her m••ster, made aunswere that he was not within. And when he perceyued that she so said•• by her maisters commaunde∣mente, he wente straight his waye, and saide on more.

Nowe shortelye after when Ennius* 1.366 came to Nasica and called for him at the dore, Nasica cried out alowde & sayde, Sirrha, I am not at home? What manne (quod Ennius) I heare the speake. Do not I knowe thy voyce? Then (quod Nasica) Ah shamelesse man that thou arte, when I sought thee at thy home, I did beleue thy maide when she said thou wast not at home, and wilte not thou beleue me when I tel thee myne owne selfe that I am not at home?

It is a pleasaunte hearynge, when one is mocked* 1.367 with the same that he bryngeth. As when one. Q. Opimius ha∣uinge an euill name for hys light behauoure had saide to a pleasaunte man Egilius that semed to be wanton of liuing, and yet was not so: Ah my swete darling Egilia, when wilt thou come to my house swete wenche, with thy rocke & thy spindle? I dare not in good faith (quod he,) mi mother hath forbidde me to come to anye suspected house where euil rule is kepte.

Those iestes are bitter whiche haue a hid vnderstanding in them, wherof also a man maye gather muche more then is spoken. A homelye felowe made his woful lamentation to Diogenes in most pitiful sorte, because his wife had hanged her selfe vpon a Figge tree, hopinge to finde some comforte at his hande. But Diogenes* 1.368 hearinge this straunge deede, For the loue of God (quod he) geue me some slippes of that tree, that I might set them in some orcharde. The frute li∣ked him well, and belyke he thought that such slippes wou∣lde haue bene as good to dispatche noughtye womenne, as lime twigges are thought mete to catch wild birdes withal

An Archideacon, beyng nothinge so wise as he was wel∣thy, nor yet so learned, as he was worshipfull, asked a yo••ge man once, whether he hadde a good witte, or no. Yes mary sir (quod he) your wytte is good inoughe if you kepe it still, and vse it not, for euerye thinge as you knowe is the worsse for the wearinge. Thou sayest euen truth (q••od he) for that

is the matter that I neuer vsed preachyng•• for it is no••hyng but a waistyng of wit••e, and a spen••yng of wynde. And ••et if I woulde preache, I thynke I could do as wel as the best of them. Yea sir ({quod} he) but yet I would ye should ••o•• proue is for feare of strainyng your selfe to muche: Why? Do••••t thou feare that ({quod} he?) nay thou maist be assured, I w••l ne∣uer preache so long as I lyue, God beeyng my good Lorde. There are ouer many Heretiques, for good meanyng men to speake any thyng now a daies. You saie euen truth ({quod} the young man) and so went forthe, but to tel al, I had neede to haue tyme of an other worlde, or at the lest to h••ue breathe of an other bodie.

An vnlearned Oratour made an Oratiō on a tyme, thyn¦kyng that he had with his wel doyng deli••ed muche al m••n, & moued them to mercie & pitie, & therfore sittyng doune, he asked one Catulus if he had not moued the hearers to mer∣cie. Yes marie ({quod} he) & that to great mercie & pitie bothe, for I thynk there is none here so hard harted, but thought your oratiō very miserable, & therfore nedeful to be greatly pi••ied.

Churlishe aunsweres, lyke the hearers some tymes ve∣ry well. When the father was cast in iudgement, the sonne seyng hym wepe: Why wepe you father? ({quod} he) To whome his father aunswered: What? Shall I syng I praie the, seeyng by a lawe I am condempned to dye. Socrates ly∣kewyse beeyng mo••ed of his wyfe because he shoulde dye an innocent and giltelesse in the lawe: Why for shame woman ({quod} he) wilt thou haue me to dye giltie & deseruyng. When one had fal••e into a ditche, an other pitiyng his fall, asked hym, and said: Alas how got you into that pit? Why, Gods mother ({quod} the other) doest thou aske me how I gotte in, nay tel me rather in the mischief how I shal gette out.

There is an other contrarie vnto this kynd, when a man suffereth wrong, & geueth no sharpe answere at al. As when Cato was stroken of one that caried a chest (some saie a lōg ••owle) when the other said, after he had hit hym: Take hede sir I pray you: why ({quod} Cato) doest thou cary any thyng els.

Folie and lacke of naturall wit, or els wante of honestie geue good matter of myrthe often tymes. When Scipio be∣yng

Pretor had appoincted vnto a certaine Sicilian, one to be his lawyer that was of a good house, and had an euill witte, litle better than half a foole: I praie you ({quod} the Si∣cilian to Scipio) appoint this lawier for myne aduersarie, and let me haue none at al hardely.

In speakyng against an euill man,* 1.369 & wishyng somewhat thereupon, a iest may seene delitefull. When an euill man had accused many persons, and none toke any harme by hym but rather were acquited from tyme to tyme, and taken the sooner for honest men: Now would to Christes passion ({quod} a naughtie fellow) that he were myne accuser, for thē should I bee taken for an honest man also, through his accusacion, Demonides hauyng crooked feete, lost on a tyme bothe his shoone, wherupō he made his praier to God that his shoone might serue his feete that had stolne them away. A shrewde wishe for hym that had the shoone, and better neuer weare shoone, than steale them so dearely.

Thynges gathered by cōiecture* 1.370 to seeme otherwise than they are, delite muche the eares being wel applied together. One was charged for robbyng a Churche, and almost eui∣dently prou••d to be an offendour i•• that behaulfe▪ the saied man to saue hymself harmelesse, reasoned thus: Why ({quod} he) how should this be, I neuer robbed house, nor yet was euer faultie in any offence besides, how then shoulde I presume to robbe a Churche? I haue loued the Churche more than any other, & wil louers of the Churche robbe the Churche? I haue geuen to the Churche, howe happeneth that I am charged to take frō the Churche hauyng euer so good mind to church dignitie? assure your selues thei passed litle of the Churche, that would auenture to robbe the Churche. Thei are no Churche men, they are masterlesse men, or rather S. Niclas Clarkes, that lacke liuyng, and goyng in procession takes the Churche to be an Hospitall for waie fairers, or a praie for poore and nedie beggers: but I am not suche man.

Thynges wantyng,* 1.371 make good pastyme beyng aptely v∣sed. Alacke, alacke, if suche a one had somewhat to take to, & were not past grace: he would doe well enough without all doubt. I warrant hym, he wantes nothyng saieth an other

of a couetouse man but one thyng, he hath neuer enough.

Suche a man hath no fault, but one, and if that were a∣mend••d, all were well: what is that {quod} an other? In good (faith) he is nought.

To geue a familiar aduise in the waie of pastyme, deli∣teth muche the hearers.* 1.372 Whē an vnlerned lawyer had been hourese and almost lost his voice with ouerlong speakyng, one Granius gaue him counsel to drynke swete wine could, so sone as he came home. Why ({quod} he) I shall lose my voice, if I do so. Marie ({quod} he) and better do so, then vndo thy cliē•• and lose his matter altogether.

But among all other kyndes of delite there is none that so muche comforteth and gladdeth the hearer,* 1.373 as a thyng spoken contrarie to therpectation of other. Augustus Empe∣rour of Rome seeyng a handsome young man there, whiche was muche like vnto hymselfe in contenaunce, asked hym if euer his mother was in Rome, as thoughe he had been his bastard. No forsouth ({quod} he) but my father hath been here ve∣ry oftē: with that themperour was abasshed, as though the emperours own mother had been an euil womā of her body

When an vnlearned Phisicion (as England lacketh none suche) had come to Pausanias a noble Ientleman, and as∣ked him if he were not troubled muche with sicknes. No sir ({quod} he) I am not troubled at al, I thancke God, because I vse not thy counsaill. Why doe ye accuse me ({quod} the Phisi∣cion) that neuer tryed me? Mary ({quod} Pausanias) if I had ones tryed the, I shoulde neuer haue accused the▪ for then I had been deade, and in my graue many daies agone.

An English Phisiciō ridyng by the way, & seyng a great cōpany of men gatherd together, sent his mā to know what the matter was, whereupō his man vnderstandyng that one there was appointed to suffer for killyng a mā: came ridyng backe in al post haste, and cried to his master, long before he came at him: Get you hence sir, get you hēce for Gods loue. What meanes thou ({quod} his master). Mary ({quod} the seruaunt) yonder man shal dye for killyng of one man, and you I dare saye, haue kilde a hundreth menne in your daies: Gette you hence thereore for Gods loue, if you loue your selfe.

Examples bee innumerable that serue for this purpose.

A man may by hearyng a loude lye,* 1.374 pre••••ly mocke the lye by reportyng a greater lye. When one beyng of a lowe degre and his father of meane welthe, had vaunt••d muche of the good house that his father kepte, of two Be••fes spent we∣kelie, and halfe a score Tunne of wyne dronke in a yeare, an other good fellowe hearyng hym lye so shamefully: I deede ({quod} he) Beefe is so plētiful at my master your fathers house that an Oxe in one daie is nothyng, and as for wyne, Beg∣gers that come to the doore are serued by whole gallondes. And as I remēber your father hath a spryng of wyne in the middest of his Court, God continue his good house kepyng.

Oftentymes we may graunt to an other, the same that they wil not graunt to vs.* 1.375 When a base born felowe whose parentes were not honest, had charged Lelius that he did not liue ac••ordyng to his auncesters: yea, but thou doest liue ({quod} Lelius) accordyng to thy elders.

One beeyng a ientlemen in byrthe, and an vnthrifte in condicions, called an other man in reproche begger & slaue.* 1.376 In dede Sir ({quod} the poore man) you are no begger borne, but I feare me ye wil dye one.

An other lykewyse called Diogenes varlet and caitif, to wh••me Diogenes aunswered in this wyse. In dede suche a one haue I been as thou now art, but suche a one as I now am, shalt thou neuer be.

Salust* 1.377 beeyng a ientleman borne, and a man of muche welth, and yet rather by birthe, noble: than by true dealyng honest: enuied muche the estimacion whiche Tullie had e∣mong al men, and said to hym before his face: Thou art no ientleman borne, and therefore not meete to beare Office in this commune weale: In dede ({quod} Tullie) my nobilitie be∣gynnes in me, and thyne dothe ende in the. Meanyng there∣by that though Salust were borne noble, yet he were lyke to dye wretched, whereas Tullie beeyng borne both poore, and base, was lyke to dye with honour, because of his ver∣tue, wherein chefely consisteth nobili••ie.

There is a pleasaunt* 1.378 kynde of di••semblyng when twoo meetes together, and the one cannot well abyde the other:

and yet they both outwardely striue to vse pleasaunt beha∣uiour, and to show muche courtesie: yea to cōtende on both partes, whiche should passe other in vsyng of faire wordes, and makyng liuely countenaunces: sekyng by dissemblyng, the one to deceiue the other.* 1.379

When we see a notable lye vtterde, we checke the offen∣dour openly with a pleasaunt mocke. As when one Uibius Curius did speake muche of his yeares and made hym selfe to be much yoūger then he was: ({quod} Tullie) why than master Uibius as farre as I can gather by my reckenyng, when you and I declamed together last, you were not then borne by al likelyhoode, if that be true whiche you saie.

When Fabia Dolobella said to thesame Tullie that she was but thirtie yeres of age (as women by their good wil∣les would neuer be olde) I thynke so ({quod} Tullie) for I haue heard you saie no lesse, xx. yeres ago.

A Souldiour that thoug••t his estimacion stoude moste in the vertue of his hande gunne, made a marueilouse brag∣gue of it, and said he was able to showte leauel a great deale farther than any one there would beleue hym to saye truth: wherpō he called for his man to beare witnesse of the same, and asked hym whether it were so, or no. In deede ({quod} his man) you say truth, but then you muste remember Sir, you had the wynde with you when you shotte so farre. Belyke he thought, there woulde neuer come suche a wynde again.

¶Of disposicion and apte orde¦ryng of thynges.

I Haue trauailed hetherto in teachyng the right way to fynde meete matter for euery cause, vsyng suche Arte as my slender witte coulde beste yelde. And now, nexte and immediatly after inuention, I thinke meete to speake of framyng and placyng an Oration in or∣der, that the matter beeyng aptely sartelde, and couched to∣gether: might better please the hearers, and with more ease be learned of all men. And the rather I am earnest in this behaulfe, because I knowe that al thynges stande by order,

and without order nothyng can be. For by an order wee are borne, by an order wee lyue, and by an order wee make our end. By an order one ruleth as head, and other obey as mē∣bers. By an order* 1.380 Realmes stande, and lawes take force. Yea by an order the whole worke of nature and the perfite state of al the elementes haue their appointed course. By an order we deuise, we learne, and frame our dooynges to good purpose. By an order the Carpenter hath his Squyre, his Rule, and his Plumme••. The Tailour his mette Yarde, & his measure: The Mason his Former, and his Plaine, and euery one accordyng to his callyng frameth thynges there∣after. For though matter be had, and that in greate plentie: yet al is to no purpose, if an order be not vsed. As for exam∣ple: What auaileth Stoone, if Masons doe not worke it? What good dothe clothe, if Tailours take no measure, or do not cutte it out? Though Tymber be had for makyng a Shippe, and al other thynges necessarie, yet the shippe shal neuer be perfite, till worke men begynne to set to their han∣des, and ioyne it together. In what a comenly order hath God made man, whose shape is not thought perfite, if any parte be altered? yea al folke would take hym for a monster, whose feete should occupie the place of his handes. An army neuer getteth victorie, that is not in araie, and sette in good order of battail. So an Oration hath litle force with it, and dothe smally profite, whiche is vtterde without all order. And needes must he wander, that knowes not howe to goe, neither can he otherwyse chouse, but stumble: that gropyn•• in the darke, can not tel where he is: Yea he must nedes both leaue muche vnspoken, repeate often, thynges spokē before, not knowing what, nor wher to speake best: that geues hym selfe rather to take the chaunce of fortune, than to folowe the right way of aduised counsell. What shoulde a man do with a weapon that knoweth not howe to vse it? What though one haue mountaines of golde, what auaileth hym to haue suche heapes, if he cannot tel how to bestow them? It is not enough to haue learnyng, but it is al to vse lear∣nyng. Therefore because this parte of bestowyng matter, and placyng it in good order, is so necessarie: I will showe

what the learned haue saied in this behaulfe so muche as I shall thynke nedeful.

Disposic••on what it is.

DIsposicion (as Tullie doth define it) is a certaine bestowyng of thynges, and an apte declaryng, what is meete for euery parte, as tyme and place do beste require.

¶Diuidyng of Disposicion.

THere are two kyndes of disposyng, and placyng of matter. The one is when we folowe the appointed rule of Rethorique, the whiche nature doth almost teache vs: The other is wholy fasshioned by the discretion of hym that makes the Oration.

Rethorique* 1.381 doeth teache vs, and nature also leadeth vs thereunto, first to speake somwhat before we open our mat∣ter, after that to tell the cause of our entent, settyng forthe the matter plainly that al may vnderstand it, then to proue our owne cause by good reason, and to confute all suche thinges as are contrarie to our purpose: last of al, to gather the whole in a somme, concludyng the matter briefely, and so to make an ende. Nowe to place those reasons, whiche shoulde both serue to confirme and to confute, and to tel in what parte of the Oration it were best to vse this reason, and that reason, that the rather wee might proue, teache, and perswade: a right wyse man had nede to take this mat∣ter in hande. For euen as the tyme, the place, the iudge, and the matter it selfe shal geue cause: so must a wyse body take his aduantage. Sometymes it shalbe expedient to vse no preface at al, or els when the matter is wel knowne, it will be good to leaue the matter vntolde, and streight to seeke the confirmacion, vsyng some stronge reason for the same purpose. Yea sometymes it may do good to neglecte the na∣turall order, and begynne firste to proue the cause, and af∣terwarde to tell it better, than it was tolde before.

If the iudge, or the hearers shalbe weried with other ••eportes before, it is beste to goe to the matter, and proue

it out of hande with as briefe reasons, and as strong as can be gatherde possible. And in prouyng of our matters, we had nede euermore rather to waie our reasons, than to nō∣ber them, and thynke not that then we shall doe beste, when haue the most, but then looke to doe best, when we haue the strongest. And first of al the strongest should be vsed, and the other placed in the middest of the Oration, the whiche bee∣yng heaped together wil make a good mustar.* 1.382 And yet this also would be learned, whereas we vsed the best reasons at the first, we shoulde also reserue some that were lyke good, for the later end: that the hearers might haue them freshe in their remembraunce, when they shoulde geue iudgement. The slender reasons that can do lesse good, and yet not all, (for some may better be omitted) woulde bee placed in the middest (as I saied) that bothe they might bee lesse mar∣ked, or beeyng heaped there together, they might doe more good, especially when bothe weightie reasons went before, and weightie reasons also, folowed after. Now a wyse man that hath good experience in these affaires, and is able to make hym selfe a Rhetorique for euery matter, will not bee bounde to any precise rules, nor kepe any one order, but suche onely as by reason he shall thynke best to vse, beeyng maister ouer Arte, rather then Arte shoulde be maister ouer hym, rather makyng Art by witte, than confoundyng witte by Arte. And vndoubtedly euen in so doyng, he shal do right wel, and contente the hearers accordyngly. For what mat∣tereth whether we folowe our Booke, or no, if wee folowe witte, and appoint our selfe an order, suche as may declare the truthe more plainely? Yea some that be vnlearned and yet haue right good wittes: will deuise with theim selues without any Booke learnyng, what they wil saie, and how muche they wil say, appointyng their order, and partyng it into thre, or foure partes, or more, if neede be, suche as they shal thynke especial pointes, and most meete to bee touched. Whose doynges as I can wel like, & muche commende them for the same: so I would thynke them muche more able to do muche better: if thei either by learning folowed a Paterne, or els knewe the preceptes, whiche leade vs to right order.

Rules wer therfore geuen, and by muche obseruacion gathe∣red together, that those whiche could not see Arte hid in another mannes doynges, should yet se the rules open, all in an order set together: & therby iudge the rather of their do∣ynges, and by earnest imitacion, seke to resemble suche their inuencion.* 1.383 I cannot deny but that a right wise man vnlear∣ned, shall doo more good by his naturall witte, then twentie of these common wittes, that want nature to help arte. And I know that rules wer made first by wise men, and not wise men made by rules. For these preceptes serue onely to helpe our nede, suche as by nature haue not suche plentifull giftes And as for other, vnto whom nature is more fauorable, thei are rather put the soner in remēbraunce, that suche lessons are, then so taught as though thei neuer knewe theim, or els neuer would vse them. And therfore a certain learned man, & of muche excellencie, beeyng asked what was suche a figure, and suche a trope in Rhetorique: I cannot tell ({quod} he) but I am assured, if you loke in the boke of myne oraciōs, you shall not faile but finde theim. So that though he knewe not the name of suche and suche figures, yet the nature of thē was so familiar to his knowlege, that he had thuse of them, when soeuer he had nede. Nowe though this man could well thus doo, beyng of suche notable vnderstandyng, yet it were foly that all should folowe his waie, whiche want so good a wit. And I thinke euen he himself, should not haue lost by it nei∣ther, if he had seen that in aglasse, whiche he often vsed to do without knowlege. Man is forgetfull, and there is none so wise, but counsaill maie dooe hym good. Yea, he shall dooe muche better, that knoweth what arte other me•• haue vsed, what inuencion thei haue folowed, what order thei haue kept, and how thei haue best doen in euery part. If he like not theirs, he may vse his awne, and yet none dooeth so euill (I thynke) but some good maie be got by hym. The wise therfore wil not refuse to heare: and the ignoraunt for want, had nede to seke a will.

¶Thende of the .ii. b••ke.

¶The third boke.

¶Of apte chusyng and framyng of wordes and sentences together, called Elocucion.

ANd now we are come to that parte of Rhetorique, the whiche aboue al other is most beautifull, wherby not onely wordes are ap••ly vsed, but also sentences are in right order fra∣med. For whereas Inuencion, helpeth to finde matter, and Disposicion serueth to place argumentes: Elo∣cucion getteth wordes to set furthe inuencion, & with suche beautie commendeth the matter, that reason semeth to bee clad in purple, walkyng afore, bothe bare and naked. Ther∣fore Tullie saieth well, to finde out reason, & aptly to frame it, is the part of a wise man, but to commende it by wordes, and with gorgious talke to tell our conceipte, that is onely propre to an Orator. Many are wise, but fewe haue the gift to set furthe their wisedome. Many can tell their mynde in Englishe, but fewe can vse mete termes, and apt order: suche as all men should haue, and wise men will vse: suche as ne∣des must be had, when matters should be vttered. Now then what is he, at whom all men wonder, and stande in a mase, at the viewe of his wit? Whose doynges are best estemed? whō do we moste reuerence, and compt halfe a God emong men?* 1.384 Euen suche a one assuredly, that can plainly, distinctly, plē∣tifully, and aptly vtter bothe wordes and matter, and in his talke can vse suche conposicion, that he maie appere to kepe an vniformitiee, and (as I might saie) a nomber in the vtte∣ring of his sentēce. Now an eloquēt man beyng smally lear∣ned, can do muche more good in perswading, by shift of wor∣des, and mete placyng of matter: then a greate learned clerke shalbe able with great store of learnyng, wantyng wordes to set furth his meanyng. Wherfore I muche maruaile that so many seke the only knowlege of thynges, without any mynd to commende or set furthe their entend••ment: seyng none cā knowe either what thei are, or what thei haue, without the gift of vtterance. Yea, bryng thē to speake their mynde, and ••nter in talke with suche as are said to be learned, & you shal finde in thē suche la••••e of vtterance, that if you iudge theim

by their tongue, and expressyng of their mynde: you must ne∣des saie thei haue no learnyng. Wherin me thinkes thei do, like some riche snudges, that hauyng great wealth, go with their hose out at heeles, their shoes out at toes, and their co∣tes out at bothe elbowes. For who can tell, if suche men are worth a grote, when their apparel is so homely, and al their behauior so base? I can call thē by none other name, but slo∣uens, that maie haue good geare, and nether cā, nor yet will ones weare it clenly.* 1.385 What is a good thyng to a manne, if he neither knowe thuse of it, nor yet (though he knowe it) is a∣ble at all to vse it? If we thinke it comelinesse, and honestie to set furthe the body with handsome apparell, and thynke theim worthie to haue money, that bothe can and will vse it accordyngly: I cannot otherwise se, but that this part deser∣ueth praise, whiche standeth wholy in set••yng furthe the matter by apte wordes and sentences together, & beautifieth the ton∣gue with greate chaunge of colours, and varietie of figures.

¶Foure partes belongyng to Elocucion.

• j. Plainnesse.
• ij. Aptenesse.
• iij. Composicion.
• iiij. Exornacion.

EMong al other lessons, this should first be learned, y^t we neuer affect any straūge y••kehorne termes, but so speake as is commonly receiued: neither sekyng to be ouer fi••e, nor yet liuyng ouer carelesse, vsyng our speache as most men do, & ordryng our wittes, as the fewest haue doen.* 1.386 Some seke so farre for outlādishe Englishe, that thei forget altogether their mothers lāguage. And I dare swere this, if some of their mothers were aliue, thei were not able to tell, what thei say, & yet these fine Englishe clerkes, will saie thei speake in their mother tongue, if a mā should charge thē for coūterfeityng the kynges English. Some farre iorneid ien∣tlemē at their returne home, like as thei loue to go in forrein apparell, so thei wil pouder their talke w^t ouersea lāguage. He that cometh lately out of France, wil talke Frēche En∣glish, & neuer blushe at the matter. Another choppes in with Angleso Italiano: the lawyer wil store his stomack with the

pratyng of Pedlers. The Auditour in makyng his accompt and rekenyng, cometh in with sise sould, and cater de••ere, for vi. s iiij.d. The fiue Courtier wil talke nothyng but Chau∣cer. The misticall wise menne, and Poeticall Clerkes, will speake nothyng but quaint prouerbes, and blynd allegories, delityng muche in their awne darkenesse, especially, when none can tell what thei dooe saie. The vnlearned or foolishe phantasticall, that smelles but of learnyng (suche felowes as haue seen learned men in their daies) will so latine their tongues, that the simple cannot but wonder at their talke, and thynke surely thei speake by seme Reuelacion. I knowe them that thynke Rhetorique, to stande wholy vpon darke woordes, and he that can ••atche an ynke horne terme by the taile, hym thei compt to bee a fiue Englishe man, and a good Rhetotician And the rather to set out this folie, I will adde here suche a letter, as Willyam Sommer himself, could not make a better for that purpose. Some will thinke & swere it to, that there was neuer any suche thyng writtē, well I wil not f••rce any man to beleue it, but I will saie thus muche, and abide by it to, the like haue been made heretofore, and praised aboue the Moo••e.

Ponderyng expēdyng, and reuolutyng with my self your ingent affabilitee, and ingenious capacitee, for mundane af∣faires: I cannot but celebrate and extolle your magnificall dexteritee, aboue all other. For how could you haue adepted suche illustrate prerogatiue, and dominicall superioritee, if the fecunditee of your ingenie had not been so fertile, & woū¦derfull pregnaunt.* 1.387 Now therfore beeyng accersited, to suche splendent renoume, & dignitee splendidious: I doubt not but you will adiuuate suche poore adnichilate orphanes, as whi∣lome ware cōdisciples with you, and of antique familiaritie in Lincolne shire. Emong whom I beeyng a Scholasticall panion, ••btesiate your sublimitee to extoll myne infirmitee. There is a sacerdotall dignitee in my natiue countrey, con∣tiguate to me, where I now contemplate: whiche your wor∣shipfull benignitee, could sone impetrate for me, if it would like you to extend your scedules, and collaude me in them to the right honorable lorde Chauncellor, or rather Archigrā∣macian

of Englande. You knowe my literature, you knowe the pastorall promocion, I obtestate your clemencie, to inui∣gilate thus mu••he for me, accordyng to my confidence, and as you know my condigne merites, for suche a compendious li∣uyng. But now I relinquishe to fatigate your intelligence with any more friuolous verbositie, and therfore he that ru∣les the climates be euermore your beautreux, your fortresse, and your bulwarke. Amen.

What wise mā readyng this letter, will not take him for a very Caulfe, that made it in good earnest, & thought by his ynkepot termes, to get a good personage. Doeth wit reste in straunge wordes, or els standeth it in wholsome matter, and apt declaryng of a mannes mynd? Do we not speake, because we would haue other to vnderstande vs, or is not the tongue geuē for this ende, that one might know what another mea∣neth? And what vnlearned man can tell, what half this let∣ter signifieth? Therfore, either we must make a difference of Englishe, and saie some is learned Englishe, and oth••r some is rude Englishe, or the one is courte talke, the other is coū∣trey speache, or els we must of necessitee, banishe al suche af∣fected Rhetorique, and vse altogether one maner of lāguage. When I was in Cambrige, and student in the kynges Col∣lege, there came a man out of the toune, with a pinte of wine in a pottle pot, to welcome the prouost of that house, that la∣tely came from the courte. And because he would bestow his present like a clerke, dwellyng emong the schoolers: he made humbly his thre curtesies, and said in this maner. Ch•• good ••uen my good lorde, and well might your lordship vare: Un∣derstandyng that your lordeship was come, & knowyng that you are a worshipfull Pilate, and kepes a bominable house: I thought it my duetie to come incantiuantee, & bryng you a pottell a wine, the whiche I beseche your lordeship take in good worthe. Here the simple man beyng desirous to amend•• his mothers tongue, shewed hymself not to bee the wisest manne, that euer spake with tongue.

Another good felowe in the coūtrey, beyng an officer, and Maiour of a toune, and desirous to speake like a fine learned man, hauyng iust occasion to rebuke a runnegate felow, said

after this wise in a greate heate. Thou yngram and vacaci∣on knaue, if I take thee any more within the circumcision of my dampnacion: I will so corrupte thee, that all vacacion knaues shall take ilsample by thee.* 1.388

Another standyng in muche nede of money, and desirous to haue some helpe at a ientlemanns hand, made his complaint in this wise. I praie you sir be so good vnto me, as forbeare this halfe yeres rent. For so helpe me God and halidome, we are so taken on with contrary Bishoppes, with reuiues, and with subsides to the kyng, that al our money is cleane gone. These wordes he spake for contribucion, relief, and subsidie. And thus we see that poore simple men are muche troubled, and talke oftentymes, thei knowe not what, for lacke of wit and want to Latine & Frenche, wherof many of our straūge woordes full often are deriued. Those therefore that will eschue this foly, and acquaint themselfes with the best kynd of speache, muste seke frō tyme to tyme, suche wordes as are commonly receiued, and suche as properly maie expresse in plain maner, the whole conceipte of their mynde. And looke what woordes wee best vnderstande, and knowe what thei meane: thesame should sonest be spoken, and firste applied to the vtteraunce of our purpose.

Now whereas wordes be receiued, aswell Greke as La∣tine, to set furthe our meanyng in thenglishe tongue, either for lacke of store, or els because wee would enriche the lan∣guage: it is well doen to vse them, and no man therin can be charged for any affectacion, when all other are agreed to fo∣lowe thesame waie. There is no man agreued, when he hea∣reth (letters patentes) & yet patentes is latine, and signifie••h open to all men. The Communion is a felowship, or a com∣myng together, rather Latine then Englishe: the Kynges prerogatiue, declareth his power royall aboue all other, and yet I knowe no man greued for these termes, beeyng vsed in their place, nor yet any one suspected for affectacion, when suche generall wordes are spoken. The folie is espied, when either we will vse suche wordes, as fewe men doo vse, or vse theim out of place, when another might serue muche better. Therfore to auoyde suche folie, we maie learne of that most

excellent Orator Tullie, who in his thirde booke, where he speaketh of a perfect Oratoure, de lareth vnder the name of Crassus, that for the choyse of wordes, foure thinges should * 1.389 chiefly be obserued. First, that suche wordes as we vse, shuld bee proper vnto the tongue, wherein wee speake, again, that thei be plain for all men to perceiue: thirdly, that thei be apt and mete, moste properly to sette out the matter. Fourthly, that woordes translated from one significacion to another, (called of the Grecians, Tropes) bee vsed to beautifie the sentence, as precious stones are set in a ryng, to commende the golde.

¶Aptenesse what it is.

SUche are thought apt wordes, that properly agre vn∣to that thyng, whiche thei signifie, and plainly expresse the nature of thesame. Therfore thei that haue regard of their estimacion, do warely speake, and with choyse, vtter woordes moste apte for their purpose. In weightie causes, graue wordes are thought moste nedefull, that the greatnesse of the matter, maie the rather appere in the vehem••ncie of their talke.* 1.390 So likewise of other, like order muste be taken. Albeit some, not onely do not obserue this kynde of aptnes, but also thei fall into muche fondnesse, by vsyng wordes out of place, and appl••yng theim to diuerse matters without all discrecion. As thus. An ignorant felowe comyng to a ientle∣mannes place,* 1.391 & seyng a greate flocke of shepe in his pastour saied to the owner of theim, now by my truthe sir, here is as goodly an audiēce of shepe, as euer I saw in al my life. Who will not take this felowe meter to talke with shepe, then to speake emong menne? Another likewise seeyng a house faire buylded, saied to his felowe thus: good lorde, what a hande∣some phrase of buildyng in this? Thus are good wordes euil vsed, when thei are not well applied, and spokē to good pur∣pose. Therfore I wishe that suche vntoward speakyng, maie geue vs a good lesson, to vse our tongue warely, that our wordes and matter maie still agree together.

¶Of Composicion.

When we haue learned vsuall and accustomable wordes to set furthe our meanyng, we ought to ioyne them together

in apt order, that the eare maie delite, in hearyng the harmo∣monie. I knowe some English men, that in this poynct haue suche a gift in the Englishe, as fewe in Latine haue the like and therfore, delite the wise and lerned so muche, with their pleasaunt composicion: that many reioyce, when thei maie heare suche, and thynke muche learnyng is gotte, when thei maie talke with suche. Composicion* 1.392 therefore, is an apte ioynyng together of wordes in suche order, that neither the eare shal espie any ierre, nor yet any man shalbe dulled with ouerlong drawing out of a sentence, nor yet muche confoun∣ded with myngelyng of clauses, suche as are nedelesse, beyng heaped together without reason, and vsed without nomber. For, by suche meanes the hearers will be forced, to forgette¦full oft, what was saied first, before the sentence be halfe en∣ded: or els bee blynded with confoundyng of many thynges together. Some again will bee so shorte, and in suche wise curtall their Sentences,* 1.393 that thei had nede to make a com∣mentarie immediatly of their meanyng, or els the moste that heare them, shalbe forced to kepe counsaill.

Some will speake oracles, that a man cannot tell, whiche waie to take theim, some will be so fine, & so Poeticall with all, that to their semyng, there shall not stande one heire a∣misse, & yet euery body els shall thinke thē meter for a ladies chamber, then for an earnest matter, in any open assemblie.

Some wil roue so muche, and bable so farre without or∣der, that a manne would thynke, thei had a greate loue, to heare themselfes speake.

Some repeate one woorde so often, that if suche woordes could be eaten, and chopte in so ofte, as thei are vttered out, thei would choke the widest throte in all England. As thus. If a man knewe, what a mans life wer, no man for any mā∣nes sake, would kill any man, but one mā would rather help another man, considryng man is borne for man, to help mā, & no to hate man. What man would not be choked, if he chop•• al these men at ones into his mouth, & neuer drouke after it? Some vse ouermuche repeticiō of some one ••etter, as pitiful pouertie praieth for a peny, but puffed presūpciō, passeth not a poynct, pāperyng his panche, w^t pestilēt pleasure, procuring

his passe porte to poste it to Hell pytte, there to be punished with paines perpetuall. Some will so sette their wordes that they muste be fayne to gape after euerye worde spokē, endinge one worde with a vowell, and beginninge the next wyth an other, whyche vndoubtedlye maketh the talke to seme mooste vnpleasaunte. As thus Equirie assuredlye e∣uerye iniurye auoydeth. Some will set the carte before the horse, as thus. My mother and my father are both at home, euen as thoughe the good man of the house ware no brea∣ches, or that the graye Mare were the better Horse. And what thoughe it often so happeneth (God wotte the more pitye) yet in speakinge at the leaste, let vs kepe a natural or∣der, and set the man before the woman for maners sake.

An other cominge home in haste after a long iourney, sayeth to hys manne: Come hither sir knaue, helpe me of with my bootes and my spurres. I praye you sir geue him leaue firste to plucke of youre spurres, ere he meddle wyth your bootes, or els your man is like to haue a madde pluc∣kinge. Who is so folyshe as to saye the counsayle and the kynge, but rather the Kinge and his counsayle, the father and the sonne, and not contrary. And so likewise in al other as they are in degree firste, euermore to set them formost.

The wise therfore talkinge of diuers worthye menne to∣gether, will firste name the worthiest, and kepe a decent or∣der in reportynge of their tale. Some ende their sentences all alike, makyng their talke rather to appeare rimed meter then to seme playne speache, the whiche as it muche deli∣teth beynge measurablye vsed, so it muche offendeth when no meane is regarded. I hearde a preacher delityng much in thys kynd of composition, who vsed so oftē to ende his sen∣tence with wordes like vnto that whiche wente before, that in my iudgemente, there was not a dosen sentences in hys whole sermon, but they ended all in ryme for the most part. Some not best disposed, wished the Preacher a Lute, that with his rimed sermon he myght vse some pleasaunt melo∣dye, and so the people myghte take pleasure diuers wayes, and daunce if they liste. Certes there is a meane, & no rea∣son to vse any one thinge at all times, seynge nothinge de∣liteth

(be it neuer so good) that is alwayes vsed.

Quintilian likeneth the coloures of Rhetorique to a man••es eye sighte. And nowe (quod he) I woulde not haue all the bodye to be ••ull of eyes, or nothinge but eyes: for thē the other partes shoulde wante their due place and propor∣cion. Some ouerthwartelye sette their woordes, placynge some one a myle frome his felowes, not contented with a playne and ca••ye composition, but seke to sette wordes they can not tell howe, and therfore one not likynge to be called and by printe published Doctoure of Phisike, woulde nea∣des be named of Phisike Doctour, wherin appeared a won∣derfull composition (as he thought) straunge vndoubtedlye, but whether wise or no, lette the learned sitte in iudgement vpon that matter.

An other. As I rose in the mornynge (quod one) I mette a carte full of stones emptye. Belike the manne was fastinge, when the carte was full, and yet we see that thro∣ughe straunge composition this sentence appeareth darke.

Some will tell one thinge .xx. times, nowe in, nowe out, & when a man would thinke they had almost ended, they are ready to beginne againe as freshe as euer they were. Such vayne repetitions declare both wante of witte, and lacke of learninge. Some are so homely in all their doynges, and so grosse for their inuention, that they vse altogither one ma∣ner of trade, and seke no varietie to eschewe tediousnes.

Some burden their talke with nedelesse copye, and will seme plentifull, when they shoulde be shorte. An other is so curious and so fine of his tongue, that he can not tell in all the worlde what to speake. Euerie sentence semeth commune, and euerye worde generallye vsed, is thought to be folyshe, in his wise iudgemente. Some vse so manye in∣terpositions bothe in their talke and in their writinge, that they make their sayinges as darke as hell. Thus whā faul∣tes be knowen, they may be auoyded: and vertue the soner may take place, when vice is forsene, and eschewed as euill.

Of Exornation.

WHen wee haue learned apte woordes and vsuall Phrases to sette forthe oure meanynge, and can orderlye place them without offence to the eare,

we maye boldelye commende and beautifie oure talke wy••h diuers goodlye coloures, and delitefull translations, that oure speache maye seme as bryghte and precious, as a ryche stone is fayre and orient.

EXornation* 1.394 is a gorgiousse beautifiynge of the ton∣gue with borowed wordes, and chaung of sentence or speache, with muche varietie. Firste therfore (as Tullie saythe) an Oration is made to seme ryghte excellente by the kinde selfe, by the colour and iuice of spea∣che. Ther are .iij. maner of styles or endi••inges,* 1.395 the great or mighty kind, whē we vse great wordes, or vehemēt figures:

The smal kinde, when we moderate our heate by meaner wordes, and vse not the most stirring sentences:

The lowe kinde, when we vse no Metaphores, nor tran∣slated wordes, nor yet vse any amplificatiōs, but go plaine∣lye to worke, and speake altogether in commune wordes.

Nowe in all these three kindes, the Oration is muche com∣mended, and appeareth notable, when wee kepe vs styll to thatistyle, whiche wee firste professed, and vse suche wordes as seme for that kinde of writinge most conuenient.

Yea, if we minde to encrease, or diminish: to be in a heate, or to vse moderatiō: to speake pleasauntly, or speake graue∣lye: to be sharpe, or to be softe: to talke lordlye, or to speake finelie: to waxe auncient, or familiar (which al are compre∣hended vnder one of the other three:) we muste euer make oure wordes apte and agreable to that kinde of stile, whi∣che we firste ganne to vse. For as frenche hodes do not be∣come Lordes: so Parliament Robes are vnsitting for La∣dies. Comelines therfore must euer be vsed, and all thinges obserued that are most mete for euery cause, if we loke by at¦temptes to haue our desire.

There is another kind of Exornaciō* 1.396 y^t is not egua••ly spar∣pled throughout y^e whole oratiō, but is so disseuered & par∣ted, as starres stand in the firmament, or floures in a gardē, or prety deuised antiques in a clothe of Araise.

Vvhat a fygure is?

A Figure is a certaine kinde, either of sentence, oration, or worde, vsed after some new or straunge wise, muche vnlike to that, which men communely vse to speake.

The diuision of Fygures.

THere are thre kindes of figures, the one is when the nature of wordes is chaunged from one significa∣tion to an other called a Trope of the Grecians: The other serueth for woordes when they are not chaūged by nature, but only altered by speaking, called of y^• Grecians a Scheme: The third is when by deuersity of in∣uention, a sentence is manye wayes spoken, and also mat∣ters are amplified by heapynge examples, by dilatynge ar∣gumentes, by comparinge of thynges together, by similitu∣des, by contraries, and by diuers other like, called by Tullie Exornacion of sentences, or coloures of Rhetorique.

By all whiche Figures, euerye Oration maye be muche beautified, and without the same, not one can attaine to be counted an Oratoure, thoughe his learninge otherwise be neuer so greate.

Of the fyrste vse of Tropes.

WHen learned and wise menne gan firste to enlarge their tongue,* 1.397 and sought with greate vtteraunce of speache to commende causes: they founde full ofte muche wante of wordes to set out their meanynge. And therfore remembrynge thinges of like na∣ture vnto those wherof they spake: they vsed suche wordes to expresse their minde, as were most like vnto other. As for example. If I shoulde speake against some notable Phari∣see, I might vse translation of wordes in this wise: Yonder man is of a croked iudgment, his wyttes are clowdie, he li∣ueth in deepe darkenes, dusked altogether wyth blynde ig∣noraunce, and drowned in the raginge sea, of bottomeles su∣perstition. Thus is the ignoraunte set out, by callinge hym croked, clowdye, darke, blinde, and drownde in superstition. All whiche wordes are not proper vnto ignoraunce, but bo∣rowed of other thinges, that are of lyke nature vnto igno∣raunce. For the vnskilfull man hath his wytte set oute of

order, as a mannes bodye is set out of ioynte, and therupon it maye be sayde to be croked. Likewyse he maye be called clowdye, for as the clowdes kepe the Sunne shinynge from vs, so dothe his Ignoraunce kepe him blindefolde from the true vnderstandinge of thinges. And as when the eyes are oute, no manne can see anye thinge: so when perfecte iudge∣mente is wantinge, the truthe can not be knowen. And so likewise of all other. Thus as necessitye hath forced vs to borowe wordes translated: so hath time and practice made theim to seeme moost pleasaunt, and therfore thei are mucht the rather vsed. Yea, when a thynge full ofte can not be expreste by an apte and mete woorde, we do perceyue (when it is spoken by a woorde translated) that the likenes of that thynge whiche appeareth in an other worde, muche lighte∣neth that, which we woulde most gladly haue perceyued.

And not onely do menne vse translation of wordes (cal∣led Tropes) for nede sake, when thei can not finde other: but also when they maye haue mooste apte wordes at hande, yet wyll they of a purpose vse translated wordes. And the rea∣son is this. Menne counte it a poynte of witte to passe o∣uer suche woordes as are at hande, and to vse suche as are farre f••tcht and translated: or elles it is, because the hea∣rer is led by cogitacion vpon rehearsall of a Metaphore, & thinketh more by remembraunce of a word translated, then is there expreslye spoken: or elles because the whole matter semeth by a similitude to be opened: or last of al, bicause eue∣ry translation is commenly, & for the most part referred to the senses of the body, & especially to y^e sense of seing, which is the sharpest and quickest aboue all other. For whē I shal saye that an angrye manne fometh at the mouthe, I am brought in remembraunce by this translation to remember a bore, that is fightyng vseth muche foming, the whiche is a fowle and lothelye sighte. And I cause other to thinke that he brake pacience wonderfully, when I set out his rage cō∣parable to a bores fominge.

An other beinge offended wyth checkes geuen, will saye, I maruaile sir what you meane to be euer snarringe at me, wherein is declared a brutishenes, consideringe he speaketh

biting wordes, as muche without reason & as vncomelye, as a dogge dothe, when he snarreth, the whiche wee see is nothing semely. There is nothing in all the worlde, but the same maye haue the name of some other worde, the whi∣che by some similitude is lyke vnto it. Notwithstandinge there ought muche warenesse to be vsed in chosyng of wor∣des tanslated, that the same be not vnlike that thing, wher∣unto it is applied, nor yet that the translation be vncomely or suche as may geue occasion of any vncleane meaning.

A Trope.

A Trope* 1.398 is an alteration of a word or sentence from the proper significatiō to that whych is not proper.

The diuision of Tropes.

Tropes are either of a word,* 1.399 or or a longe continued spe∣che or sentence.

Tropes of a worde are these.

• A Metaphore or translation of wordes.
• A worde makinge.
• Intellection.
• Abusion.
• Transmutation of a word.
• Transumption.
• Chaunge of a name.
• Circumlocution.

Tropes of a longe continued speache or sentence are these.

• An Allegorie, or inuersion of wordes.
• Mountinge.
• Resemblinge of thinges.
• Similitude.
• Example.

Vvhat is a Metaphore.

A Metaphore* 1.400 is an alteration of a woorde from the proper and naturall meanynge, to that whiche is not proper, and yet agreeth therunto, by some lyke∣nes that appeareth to be in it.

An Oration is wonderfullye enriched, when apte Meta∣phores are gotte and applied to the matter. Neither can a∣nye one perswade effectuouslye, and winne men by weyght of his Oration, withoute the helpe of woordes altered and translated.

The diuer••itye of translations.

FIrste we alter a worde from that which is in the minde, to that which is in the bodye. As when we perceyue one that hath begiled vs, we vse to saye: Ah sirrha, I am gladde I haue smelled you oute. Beinge greued with a matter, we saye communelye we can not digest it. The Lawyer receiuing money more then nea∣deth oftentimes, will saye to his Client wythout any tran∣slation. I fele you wel, whē the pore man thinketh y^t he doth well vnderstand his cause, and will helpe him to some good ••nde. For so, communelye we saye, when we knowe a mans minde in anye thinge. This kinde of mutation is muche v∣sed, when we talke earnestlye of any matter.

From the creature wythout reason, to that whyche hathe reason.

THE seconde kinde of translation is, when we goo from the creature wythout reason to that whiche hathe reason, or contrarye from that whiche hathe reason, to that whiche hath no reason. As if I sho∣ulde saye, such an vnreasonable brawler, did nothinge elles but barke like a Dogge, or like a Fore. Women are saide to chatter, churles to grunte, boyes to whyne, and yonge men to yell. Contrariwise, we call a Foxe false, a Lyon proude, and a Dogge flatteringe.

From the lyuynge to that whyche hath no lyfe.

FRom the liuynge to the not liuynge, we vse many translations. As thus. You shall praye for al men dispersed throughoute the face of the earthe. The arme of a tree. The syde of a Bancke. The lande cryeth for vengeaunce. From the liuinge, to the not liuing: Hatred buddeth emonge malicious men, his wordes flowe out of his mouthe. I haue a whole world of busines.

In obseruing the worke of Nature in al seueral substaūces

we maye finde translations at wyll, then the whiche no∣thinge is more profitable for anye one that myndeth by hys vtteraunce to stirre the hartes of menne either one waye or other.

A worde makinge* 1.401 called of the Grecians Onomatopeia is when we make wordes of oure owne mynde, suche as be deriued from the nature of thinges. As to call one Patche or Cowlson, whom we see to do a thinge folyshelye, because these two in their time were notable foles. Or when one is lustye to saye Taratauntara, declaringe therby that he is as lustye, as a Trumpette is delitefull, and styrringe: or when one woulde seme galaunte, to crye hoyghe, whereby also is declared courage. Boyes beynge greued will saye some one to an other, Sir I wyll cappe you, if you vse me thus, and withholde that frome me whyche is myne owne: meanynge that he will take his cappe from him. Againe, when we see one gaye and galaunte, we vse to saye, he courtes it. Quod one that reasoned in diuinitie wyth his felowe, I like well to reason, but I can not chappe these textes in scripture, if I shoulde dye for it: meaning that he coulde not tell in what chapiter thinges were conteyned, althoughe he knewe full well that there were suche sayinges.

Intellection.

INtellection* 1.402 called of the Gretians, Synec∣doche, is a Trope, when wee gather or Iudge the whole by the parte, or part, by the whole. As thus. The king is come to London, meaning therby that other also be come with him. The Frenche man is good to kepe a Forte, or to skyrmishe on horsebacke, wherby we de∣clare the Frenchmen generally. By the whole y^e part, thus. All Cambridge sorowed for the deathe of Bucer, meaninge the most parte. All Englande reioyseth that pilgrimage is banished, and Idolatrye for euer abolished: and yet all En∣gland is not glad, but the most parte.

The like phrases are in the Scripture, as when the Ma∣gians came to Jerusalem, & asked where he was that was

borne Kyng of the Iewes. Herode starte vp beeyng greatly troubled, and al the citie of Ierusalem with hym, and yet al the Citie was not troubled, but the most part. By the signe we vnderstande the thyng signified, as by an Iuie garlande, we iudge there is wyne to sel. By the signe of a Beare, Bul Lyon, or any suche, wee take any house to be an Inne. By eatyng breade at the Communion, wee remember Christes death, and by Faith, receiue hym spiritually.

¶Abusion.

ABusion,* 1.403 called of the Grecians Catachresis, is when for a certaine proper woorde we vse that whiche is most nighe vnto it: As in callyng some water, a fishe ponde, though there be no fisshe in it at all: or elles when we saie, here is long talke, and small matter. Whiche are spoken vnproperly, for we cannot measure, either talke, or matter by length, or breadth.

¶Transmutacion of a worde.

TRansmutacion* 1.404 helpeth much for varietie, the whi∣che is when a woorde hath a proper signification of the owne, & beyng referred to an other thyng, hath an other meanyng, the Grecians cal it Metonymia the whiche is diuerse waies vsed. When we vse the au••••hor [ i] of a thyng, for the thyng selfe. As thus. Put vpon you the Lord Iesus Crhiste, that is to say, be in liuyng suche a one, as he was. The Pope is banished England, that is to saie, al his superstition, and Hypocrisie, either is, or shoulde be gone to the Deuill by the Kynges expresse will, and com∣maundement. Againe when that whiche doeth conteyne, is [ ii] vsed for that whiche is conteined. As thus. I haue dronk an hoggeshead this weeke: Heauen may reioyce, and hell may lament, when olde men are not couetouse. Contrarywise, [ iii] when the thyng conteined is vsed for the thyng conteinyng. As thus. I praie you come to me, that is to say, come to my house. Fourthely, when by the efficient cause, the effecte is [ iiii] streight gatherde thereupon. As thus. The Sonne is vp, that is to saie, it is day. This felowe is good with a long bowe, that is to saie, he shouteth wel.

¶Transumption.

TRansumption is, when by digrees wee go to that, whiche is to be shewed. As thus: Suche a one ly∣eth in a darke doungeon, now in speaking of darke∣nesse, we vnderstand closenesse, by closenesse, we ga∣ther blackenesse, and by blackenesse, we iudge depenesse.

¶Chaunge of name.

CHaunge of a name, is when for the propre name,* 1.405 some name of an office, or other calling is vsed. As thus: the Prophete of God saith: Blessed, are they who••e syn∣nes be not imputed vnto them, meanyng Dauid. The Poete saieth: It is a vertue, to eschew vice, wherein I vn∣derstande Horace.

¶Circumlocution.

CIrcumlocution is,* 1.406 a large description either to sette forth a thyng more gorge••uslie, or els to hyde it, if the eares cannot beare the open speakyng: or when with fewe wordes we cannot open our meanyng, to speake it more largely. Of the first thus. The valiaunt c••urage of mightie Scipio subdued the force of Carthage and Numā∣tia. Henry the fifte, the most puissaunt Kyng of Englande, with seuen thousand men toke the Frenshe Kyng prisoner with al the flower of nobilitie in Fraunce. Of the seconde, When Saule was casyng hymselfe vpon the grounde, Da∣uid toke a peece of his garment, tooke his weapon that laie by hym▪ and might haue staine hym. Suche a one defiled his bodie with suche an euill woman. For the thirde parte, the large commentaries written, and the Paraphrasis of Eras∣mus englished: are sufficient to showe the vse therof.

¶Vvhat is an Allegorie.

AN Allegorie is none other thyng, but a Metaphore vsed throughout a whole sentence, or Oration. As in speakyng against a wicked offendour, I might say thus. Oh Lorde, his nature was so euill, and his witte so wickedly bente, that he ment to bouge the shippe, where he hymselfe sailed, meanyng that he purposed the de∣struction of his owne countrie. It is euill puttyng strong wine into weake vesselles, that is to say it is euill trustyng

some womē with weightie matters. The English Prouer∣bes gatherde by Ihon Heywood helpe wel in this behaulf, the whiche commenly are nothyng elles but Allegories, and darcke deuised sentences. Now for the other fower figures because I mynde hereafter to speake more largely of them, and Quintilian thynketh them more meete to be placed e∣mong the figures of Exornacion, I wil not trouble the rea∣der with double inculcation, and ewyse tellyng of one tale.

¶Of Schemes, called otherwyse sentences of a worde and sentence.

I Might tary a longe tyme in declaryng the nature of diuerse Schemes,* 1.407 whiche are woordes or sentencies altered, either by speakyng, or writyng, contrarie to the vulgare custome of our speache without chaun∣gyng their nature at all: but because I knowe the vse of the figures in word is not so great in this our tōgue, I wil run them ouer with asmuche haste as I can.

¶The diuision of Schemes.

STraunge vsyng of any worde or sentence contrarie to our daiely wont, is either when we adde, or take away a sillable, or a word, or eucrease a sentence by chaunge of speache cōtrarie to the commune maner of speakyng.

¶Figures of a worde.

THose be called figures of a word, when we chaunge a worde, and speake it contrarie to our vulgare and daily speache. Of the whiche sorte, there are sixe in nom••er.

• i. Addition at the first.
• ij. Abstraction from the first.
• iij. Iuterla••yng in the middest.
• iiij. Cuttyng from the middest.
• v. Addyng at the ende.
• vi. Cuttyng from the end.

OF Addition. As thus. He did all to berattle hym.* 1.408 Wherein appereth that a sillable is added to this worde (rattle.) Here is good nale to sel, for good ale.

Of Abstraction from the first, thus.* 1.409 As I romed al alone, I ganne to thynke of matters greate. In whiche sentence, (ganne) is vsed, for beganne.

Interlacyng in the middest. As. Relligion, for religion.* 1.410 Cuttyng from the middest.* 1.411 Idolatrie, for Idololatrie. Addyng at the end.* 1.412 Hasten your busines, for, Haste your businesse.

Cuttyng from the end. A faire may,* 1.413 for, maide.

Thus these figures are shortely sette out, and as for the other Schemes, whiche are vtterde in whole sentences, and expressed by varitie of sreache: I wil set them forth at large emong the coloures & ornamentes of Elocution, y^t folowe.

¶Of coloures and ornamentes to commende and sette forth an Oration.

NOW, when we are able to frame a sentence hand∣somly together,* 1.414 obseruyng number and kepyng cō∣position, suche as shal lyke best the eare, & do know the vse of Tropes, and can applie them to our pur∣pose: than thornamentes are necessarie in an Oratiō, & sen∣tences woulde bee furnished with moste beautifull figures. Therfore to thende that they may be knowne, suche as most commende and beautifie an Oration: I wil set them forthe here in suche wise as I shal best be able, folowyng the order whiche Tullie hath vsed in his Booke made of a perfite Oratour.

¶Restyng vpon a poyncte.

WHEN wee are earnest in a matter,* 1.415 and feele the weight of our cause, wee rest vpon some reason, whiche serueth best for our purpose. Wherin this figure appereth most, & helpeth muche to set forthe our matter. For if we stil kepe vs to our strongest holde, and make ofterecourse thither, though we be dryuē through by∣talke to go from it nowe and than: we shall force them at length, either so auoide our strong defence, or elles to yelde into our handes.

¶An euident, or plaine settyng forthe of a thyng as though it were presently doen.

THis Figure is called a description, or an euident de∣claratiō of a thyng,* 1.416 as though we sawe it euen now doen. An example. If our enemies shall inuade, and by treason wynne the victorie, we al shal dye euery mothers sonne of vs, and our Citie shalbe destroied sticke & stoone. I see our children made slaues, our daughters rauis∣shed, our wifes caried away, the father forced to kil his own sonne,* 1.417 the mother her daughter, the sonne his father, the sucking child slaine in the mothers bosome, one standyng to the kuees in anothers bloude, Churches spoiled, houses pluckte doune, and al set in fier rounde about vs, euery one cursy••g the day of their birth, children criyng, women wai∣lyng, and olde men passyng for v••ry thought, and euery one thynkyng hymselfe most happy that is first ridde out of this worlde, suche will the crueltie be of our enemies, and with suche horrible hatred wil they seeke to dispatche vs. Thus where I might haue said, we shal al be destroied and saie no more, I haue by description sette the euill forth at large. It muche auaileth to vse this figure in diuerse matters, the whiche whosoeuer can do, with any excellent gift, vndoub∣tedly he shal muche delite the hearers. The circumstaunces wel considered in euery cause, geue muche matter for the plaine opening of the thyng. Also similitudes, examples, cō∣parisons from one thyng to another, apte translacions, and heaping of allegories and all suche figures as serue for am∣plifiyng, do muche commende the liuely settyng forthe of a∣ny matter. The miseries of the Courtiers lyfe might well be described by this kind of figure. The commoditie of lear∣nyng, the pleasure of plowe men, and the care that a Kyng hath. And not onely are matters set out by description, but men are painted out in their colours, yea buildynges are set forth, Kyngdomes, and Realmes are portured, places, and tymes are described.* 1.418 The Englishe man for feedyng, and chaung of apparel: The Duytche man for drynkyng: The Frenche man for pryde and inconstaunce: The Spāyard for nymblenes of bodie, and muche disdaine: The Italian for great witte and pollicie: The Scottes for boldenes, and the Boeme for stubbornesse.

Many people are described by their degree as a man of good yeres is compted sober, wise and circumspect: a young man wilde, and carelesse: a woman bablyng, inconstant, and redy to beleue al that is tolde her.

By vocation of life, a souldiour is counted a great brag∣ger, and a vaunter of hymselfe: a Scholer simple: a russed coate, sadde aud sometymes craftie: a courtier, flatteryng: a citezen, ie••tle.

I•• describing of persons there ought alwaies a comme∣linesse to be vsed,* 1.419 so that nothyng be spoken whiche may be thought is not in them. As if one shall describe Henry the sixth, he might cal hym ientle, milde of nature, ledde by per∣swasion, & redy to forgeue, carelesse for wealthe, suspectyng none, merciful to al, fearefull in aduersitie, & without fore∣cast to espie his misfortune. Again for Richarde the third I might bryng hym in, cruell of harte, ambiciouse by nature, enuiouse of mynde, a depe dissembler, a close man for weigh∣tie matters, hardie to reuenge, and feareful to lose his high estate, trustie to none, liberal for a purpose, castyng still the worst, and hoping euer the best. By this figure also we ima∣gine a talke for some one to speake, and according to his per∣son we frame the Oration. As if one should bryng in noble Henry the .viij. of most famouse memorie to enueigh against rebelles, thus he might order his Oration. What if Henry theight were alyue, & sawe suche rebellion in this Realme, would not he say thus, and thus? yea me thynkes I heare hym speake euen now. And so set forth suche wordes as we would haue hym to saie.

Some tymes it is good to make God, the Countrie, or some one towne to speake, and loke what we woulde say in our owne person, to frame the whole tale to them. Suche varietie doth muche good to auoide tediousenes, for he that speaketh al in one sort though he spake thinges neuer so wit¦tely shal sone wery his hearers. Figures* 1.420 therfore wer inuē∣ted to auoide sacietie, and cause delite: to refresh with plea∣sure & quicken with grace, the dulnesse of mās braine. Who wil loke of a whit waul an houre together, where no worke manship is at al? Or who wil cate stil one kinde of meate, &

neuer desire chaunge? Certes as the mouthe is daintie: so the wit is tickle, and wil sone lothe an vnsauery thing.

¶A stop, or half tellyng of a tale.

A Stoppe is, whē we breake of our tale before we haue told it.* 1.421 As thus. Thou that art a young man of suche towardnes hauyng suche frendes to plaie me suche a parte, wel, I will saie no more, God amende all that is amisse. Or thus. Dothe it become the to be, shal I tel al, Naie, I wil not for very shame.

¶A close vnderstandyng.

A Close vnderstandyng is, when more may be gatherd than is openly exprest.* 1.422 A naughtie fellowe that vsed muche robbery, founde hym selfe greeued that the greate Oratour Demosthenes spent so muche oyle wherby he watched from tyme to tyme in compassyng mat∣ters for thy commune weale: In dede (quoth) Demosthenes* 1.423 darke nightes are best for thy purpose, meanyng that he was a great robber in the night. O••e also beeyng set in a heate, because another had contraried hym for the choise of mea∣tes, was muche more greued when he gaue hym this tauut. You may boldely ({quod} he) speake for fishe eatyng, for my mai∣ster your father hath many a time & ofte wipt his nose vpon his sleeue, meanyng that his father was a fishemonger.

¶Shorte sencences.

THen shorte clauses, or sentences are vsed when we speake at a worde,* 1.424 parte of our minde, and nest after speake as briefely againe, vsyng to make almost e∣uery worde a perfite sentence. As thus. The man is sore wounded, I feare me he will dye. The Phisicions mi∣strust hym: the partie is fledde, none persueth: God sende vs good lucke.

¶Abatyng, or lessenyng of a thyng.

WE make our doynges appere lesse, whē with wor∣des we extenuate* 1.425 and lessen thesame. As when one had geuen his fellowe a sound blowe, beyng rebu∣ked for the same saied he scante touched hym. Li∣kewise, when two haue fought together, to say that the one had his legge prickte with a sworde, whē perchaunce he had a great wounde.

¶Vvittie iestyng.

MAny pleasaunt ientlemen are well practised in me∣rie conceited iestes,* 1.426 and haue both suche grace and delite therin, that they are wonderfull to beholde, and better were it to be sharpely chidde of diuerse other, then pleasauntly taunted by any of thē. When a ient∣leman of great landes & small witte had talked largely at a supper, and spake wordes scant worth the hearyng, an other beeyng muche greeued with his foolie, saied to hym: Sir I haue taken you for a plaine meanyng ientlemā, but I know nowe, there is not a more deceiptfull bodie in al Englande: with that, other beyng greeued with the young ientlemans foolie, boldely began to excuse hym for deceipt, and therfore said, he was to blame to charge hym with that fault, consi∣deryng his nature was simple, and few can say that euer he was craftie. Wel {quod} thother, I must nedes say he is deceipt∣ful, for I toke hym heretofore for a sober wittie young man, but now I perceiue, he is a foolish bablyng felowe, & ther∣fore I am sure he hath deceiued me like a false craftie child, as he is: with that they al laughed, and the ientleman was muche abashed. But as touchyng sharpe tauntes, I haue largely declared them in place, where I treated of laughter.

¶Digression, or swaruyng from the matter.

WE swarue sometymes from the matter vpon iust consideracions,* 1.427 makyng the same to serue for our purpose as wel as if we had kepte the matter stil. As in making an inuectiue against rebelles, & lar∣gely setting out the filth of their offence, I might declare by the way of a digression, what a noble countrie England is, how great commodities it hath, what trafike here is vsed, & howe muche more nede other Realmes haue of vs, than we haue neede of them. Or when I shal geue euidence, or rather declame against an hainouse Murtherer, I may digresse from the offence doen, and enter in prayse of the deade man, declaryng his vertues in moste ample wyse, that the offense doen, may be thought so muche the greater, the more honest he was that hath thus been slaine.

Notwithstādyng this would be learned, that (whē we make any suche digression) thesame maie well agre to the purpose and be so set out, that it confounde not the cause, or darken the sense of the matter deuised.

¶Proposicion.

PRoposicion is a short rehersall of that,* 1.428 wherof we mynde to speake. I will tell you ({quod} one) there is none hath a worse name then this felow, none hath been so often in trouble, he maie he fautelesse, but I can hardely beleue it, there are enow that will testifie of his naughtinesse, and auouche his euill demeanour to bee suche, that the like hath not been hard heretofore.

¶An ouer passage to another matter.

WHen we go frō one matter to another, we vse this kynde of phraise.* 1.429 I haue tolde you the cause of all this euill, nowe I will tell you a remedy for the∣same. You haue heard of iustification by faith one¦ly, now you shal here of the dignitee of workes, and how ne∣cessary thei are for euery christian body.

¶Of commyng again to the matter.

WHen wee haue made a digression,* 1.430 wee ma••e declare our returne, and shewe that whereas wee haue ro∣ued a litle, we will now kepe vs within our boun∣des. In this kynd of digression, it is wisedome not to wander ouer farre, for feare wee shall werie the hearers, before we come to the matter again. I knew a preacher, that was a whole houre out of his matter, and at length remem∣bryng hymself, saied, well, now to the purpose, as though al that, whiche he had spoken before, had been litle to the pur∣pose, whereat many laughed, and some for starke wearinesse wer fain to go awaie.

¶Iteratyug and repeatyng thynges said before.

WHen a man hath largely spoken his mynd,* 1.431 he may re∣peate in fewe wordes, the somme of his saiyng. As if one should be charged with felonie, that is a man of welth and honestie, he might thus gather his mynd together after a lōg tale told. First I wil proue there is no cause that I should steale, again that I could not possible at suche a

tyme steale, and last, that I stole not at all.

¶The conclusion, or ••appyng vp of matter.

THe conclusion, is an apt knittyng together of that, whiche we haue said before.* 1.432 As thus. If reason can perswade, if examples maie moue, if necessitee maie helpe, if pitee maie prouoke, if daungers foreseen, maie stirre vs to be wise: I doubte not but you will rather vse sharpe lawes, to represse offendours, then with dissolute negligence, suffer all to perishe.

¶Mountyng aboue the truthe.

MOuntyng aboue the truthe, is when we do setfurthe thynges excedyngly & aboue all mennes expectacion, meanyng onely that thei are very great.* 1.433 As thus, god promised to Abrahā, that he wold make his posteritee, egual with the sa••des of the yearth. Now it was not so said, that there should be so many in deede, but that the nomber should bee infinite. For, whether we shall vnderstande those, to bee the children of Abraham, that came of his stocke in fleshe, or els take thē for the children of Abraham, that haue the faithe of Abraham: wee shall neuer proue the nomber of men, to bee e••uall with the sandes of the sea, though wee could reken all that haue been, from the beginnyng of the worlde. Therfore in this speache, wee muste vnderstande there is a mountyng, called of the Grecians hyperbole: we vse this figure muche in English. As thus. He is as swift as a swallowe, he hath a belly as bigge as a barrell, he is a giaunt in makyng. The whole Temmese is litle enough to serue hym, for wasshyng his handes. In all whiche speaches wee mounte euermore a greate deale, and not meane so as the wordes are spoken.

☞Askyng other, and answeryng our self.

BY askyng other, and answeryng to the question our self,* 1.434 we muche commende the matter, and make it ap∣pere very pleasant. If I would rebuke one that hath committed a robberie, I might saie thus. I wonder what you ment to commit suche felonie. Haue you not landes? I knowe you haue. Are not your frendes worshipfull? Yes as∣suredly. Wer you not beloued of them? No doubt you were. Could you haue wāted any thyng y^• thei had? If you would haue eaten gold, you might haue had it. Did not thei alwa∣yes

bidde you seke to them, and to none other? I knowe thei did. What euill happe had you then, to offende in suche sorte not goyng to your frendes, whiche would not se you want, but sekyng for that, whiche you should not haue, endaunge∣ryng your self by vntrue dealyng, to fele the power & strēgth of a law, whē otherwise you might haue liued in sauegard?

The like kynd of writyng is also vsed, whē we make ano∣ther body to speake, and yet not aske them any question at al. As when D. Haddon had comforted the duchesse of Suffol∣kes grace for her childrē, and had said thei wer happly gone because thei might haue fallen hereafter, and loste that wor∣thy name, whiche at their death thei had: at last he bringeth in the mother, speakyng motherlike, in her childrens behalfe of this sort, and answereth still to her saiynges. But al these euilles wherof you speake ({quod} she) hadde not chaunced: Yet suche thynges doo chaunce. Yet not alwayes: Yet full ofte. Yet not to al: Yet to a great many. Yet thei had not chaun∣ced to myne: Yet wee knowe not. Yet I might haue hoped: Yet better it had been to haue feared.

☞Snappishe askyng.

WE doo aske oftentymes, because we would knowe: we do aske also,* 1.435 because we woulde chide, and sette furthe our grief with more vehemencie, the one is called Interrogatio, the other is called Perconta∣tio. Tullie enueighyng against Catiline, that Romaine re∣bell, beginneth his oracion chidingly, questio••yng with Ca∣tiline of this sort. How long (Catili••e) wilt thou abuse our sufferaunce? How long will this rage and madnesse of thine go aboute to deceiue vs?

☞Dissemblyng or close iestyng.

WHen we iest closely, and with dissemblyng meanes, grigge our felowe,* 1.436 when in wordes wee speake one thyng, and meane in hart another thyng, declaryng either by our countenaunce, or by vtteraunce, or by some other waie, what our whole meanyng is. As when we se one bostyng himself, & vain glorious, to hold him vp with ye and naie, and euer to ad more to that, whiche he saieth. As I knowe one that saied hymself, to be in his awne iudgemēt

one of the best in all Englande, for triyng of metalles, & that the counsaill hath often called for his helpe, and cannot wāt hym for nothyng. In deede ({quod} another) Englande had a sore losse, if God should call you. Thei are all Bungelers in cō∣parison of you, and I thynke the best of theim, maie thanke you for all that he hath: but yet sir your cunnyng was suche, that you brought a shillyng to nyne pence, naie to sixe pence and a grote to two pence, and so gaue hym a frumpe, euen to his face, because he sawe hym so folishe. A glorious ientlemā that had twoo seruauntes, and belike would be knowen not onely to haue them, but also to haue mo, said in the presence of a worshipfull man, I meruaile muche where all my ser∣uauntes are? Marie sir ({quod} one) that thoughte to hitte hym home: thei wer here al two, euen now. Thus he closly mockt hym, and worthely. For, the nomber is not greate, that stan∣deth vpō .ij, and (all) is to muche, when we speake of so fewe.

¶Doubtfulnesse.

DOubtfulnesse is then vsed, whē we make the hea∣rers beleue,* 1.437 that the weight of our matter causeth vs to doubte, what were best to speake. As when a kyng findeth his people vnfaithfull, he maie speake in this wise. Before I begin, I doubt what to name ye. Shal I call you subiectes? You deserue it not. My frendes ye are not. To cal you enemies wer ouerlitle, because your offence is so greate. Rebelles you are, and yet that name doeth not fully vtter your folie. Traitors I maie call you, and yet you are worse then traitors, for you seke his death, who hath ge∣uen you life. Thoffence is so great, that no man can compre∣hend it. Therfore I doubt what to call you, except I should call you by the name of theim all. Another. Whether shall I speake, or holde my peace? If I speake, you will not heare, if I holde my peace, my conscience condempneth my silence.

¶Distribucion.

DIstribucion,* 1.438 is whē we apply to euery body, suche thynges as are due vnto them, declaryng what e∣uery one is in his vocacion. It is the duetie of a Kyng, to haue an especiall care ouer his whole realme. It is thoffice of his nobles, to cause the kynges will

to be fulfilled, and with all diligence to further his Lawes, and to se iustice doen euery where.

It is the part of a subiect, faithfully to do his princes cō∣maundement, & with a willyng hart to serue him at al nedes.

It is thoffice of a bishop to setfurthe Gods worde, & with all diligence to exhort men to all godlinesse. It is an husban∣des duetie to loue his wife, & with ientle meanes to rule her. It is the wifes office, hūbly to submit her self to her husbā∣des will. Seruauntes should be faithfull to their maistres, not onely for feare of a law, but also for cōscience sake. Ma∣sters should vse their seruauntes accordyngly, paiyng theim that, whiche is due unto them. A father should bryng vp his children in the feare of God. Children should reuerēce their fathers with all submission. It is also called a distribucion, when we diuide the whole, into seuerall partes, and saie we haue foure poynctes, whereof we purpose to speake, compre∣hendyng our whole talke within compasse of thesame.

¶Correccion.

COrreccion,* 1.439 is when we alter a woorde or sentence, o∣therwise then we haue spokē before, purposyng therby to augmēt the matter, and to make it appere more ve∣hemēt. Tullie against Verres,* 1.440 geueth a good example. We haue broughte before you my Lordes, into this place of iudgement, not a thefe, but an extorcioner and violēt robber, not an aduouterer, but a rauisher of maides, not a stealer of churche goodes, but an errant traitor, bothe to God and all godlinesse: not a common ruffin, but a moste cruell cut throte suche as if a man should rake hell for one, he could not finde the like. Again, if one would enueigh against bacbiters, after this sort. Thou hast not robbed hym of his money, but thou hast taken awaie his good name, whiche passeth all worldly goodes, neither hast thou slaūdered thyne enemie, but thyne awne brother, & frende, that meant thee well, and hath doen thee pleasures: nay thou hast not slandred him, but thou hast slain hym. For a man is halfe hanged, that hath lost his good name. Neither hast thou killed him with the sword, but poy∣soned hym with thy tongue, so that I maie call it rather an enchanting, then a murther. Neither hast thou killed one mā

alone, but so many as thou hast brought out of charite, with thy moste venemous bacbityng Yea, and last of al, thou hast not slain a man, but thou hast slain Christe in his members, so muche as laie in thee to do. But of this figure I haue spo∣ken heretofore, where I wrote of amplificacion.

¶Reieccion.

REieccion* 1.441 is then vsed, when we lay suche faultes frō vs, as our enemies would charge vs with all, saiyng it is foly to thynke any suche thyng, muche more to speake it: or els to saie, suche a mannes worde is no slaunder, or it nedeth not to talke of suche toyes. Or thus. Who wold thinke that I would doo suche a deede? Or is it like that I would do suche a dede? Antony charged Tully, that he was the occasion of ciuill battaill. Nay ({quod} Tullie) it is thou, it is thou manne and none other, that settes Ceasar on worke, to seke the slaughter of his countrey.

☞A Buttresse.

A Buttresse is a fe••se made for that,* 1.442 whiche we purpose to hold vp, or go about to compasse. As thus. I hope my lordes, bothe to perswade this man by reason, & to haue your iudgemēt in this matter. For wheras it is a sore thyng to be iustly accused, for breaking frendship, then assuredly if one be wrōgfully slandred, a man had nede to loke about him

☞A familiar talke, or communicacion vsed.

COmmunicacion* 1.443 is then vsed, when we debate with o∣ther, and aske questiōs, as though we loked for an an∣swer, and so go through with our matter, leauyng the iudgement therof to their discrecion. As thus. What thinke you in this matter? Is there any other better meanes to di∣spatche the thyng? What would you haue doen, if you were in thesame case? Here I appeale to your awne conscience, whether you would suffer this vnpunished, if a man should do you the like displeasure.

☞Descripcion of a mannes nature, or maners.

WE describe* 1.444 the maners of men, when we set thē furthe in their kynd what thei are. As in speakyng against a co¦ueteous man, thus. There is no suche pi••che pe••y on liue, as this good felowe is. He will not lose the paryng of

his nailes. His heire is neuer rounded, for sparyng of money one paire of shoen serueth hym a .xij. moneth, he is shod with nailes like a horse. He hath been knowē by his cote this .xxx winter. He spentones a grote at good ale, beyng forced tho∣rowe companie, and taken short at his worde, wherevpon he hath taken suche conceipt sins that tyme, that it hath almost cost hym his life. Tullie describeth Piso for his naughtines of life, wonderfully to heare, yea, worse then I haue setfurth this coueteous man. Read the Oracion against Piso, suche as be learned.

☞Error.

ERrour* 1.445 is, when wee thinke mu••he otherwise then the truth is. As whē we haue conceiued a good opinion of some one man, & are often deceiued, to saie, who would haue thought, that he euer would haue doen so. Now of all menne vpon yearth, I would haue least suspected hym. But suche is the world. Or thus. You thinke suche a man a wor∣thy personage, and of muche honestie, but I will proue, that he is muche otherwise: a man would not thynke it, but if I do not proue it, I will geue you my hedde.

☞Mirthe makyng.

I Haue heretofore largely declared, the waies of mirth ma∣king, & therfore I litle nede to renue thē here in this place* 1.446

¶Anticipacion, or Preuencion.

ANticipacion,* 1.447 is when we preuent those wordes, that another would saie, and disproue theim as vntrue, or at least wise, answere vnto them. A Godly Preacher enueighed earnestly against those, that would not haue the Bible to bee in Englishe, and after earnest probacion of his cause, saied thus: but me thynkes I heare one saie. Sir, you make muche a dooe, aboute a litle matter, what were we the worse, if we had no scripture at al? To whom he answered: the scripture is left vnto vs by Goddes awne will, that the rather we might knowe his commaundementes, & liue ther∣after al the daies of our life. Sometymes this figure is vsed when we saie, we will not speake this or that, & yet doo not∣withstandyng. As thus. Suche a one is an Officer, I will not saie a briber. Righte is hyndered throughe might••,

I will not saie, ouerwhelmed. Thus in saiyng we will not speake, we speake our mynde after a sort, notwithstandyng.

¶A Similitude.

A Similitude* 1.448 is a likenesse when .ij. thynges, or mo then two, are so cōpared and resembled together, that thei bothe in some one propertie seme like. Oftentymes brute beastes, and thynges that haue no life, minister greate matter in this behalfe. Therefore those that delite to proue thynges by similitudes, must learne to knowe the na∣ture of diuerse beastes, of metalles, of stones and al suche, as haue any vertue in them, & be applied to mannes life. Some∣tymes in a worde appereth a similitude, whiche beyng dilated helpeth wel for amplificaciō. As thus. You striue against the streme, better bowe then breake. It is euill runnyng against a stone wall. A man maie loue his house wel, and yet not ride vpon the ridge. By all whiche, any one maie gather a simili∣tude, and enlarge it at pleasure. The prouerbes of Heiwode helpe wonderfull well for this purpose. In comparyng a thyng from the lesse to the greater, Similitudes helpe well to set out the matter. That if we purpose to dilate our cause hereby with poses and sentences, wee maie with ease talke at large.* 1.449 This shall serue for an e••ample. The more preci∣ous a thyng is, the more diligently should it bee kepte, and better hede taken to it. Therfore tyme, (cōsideryng, nothyng is more precious,) should warely bee vsed, and good care ta∣ken, that no tyme bee lost, without some profite gotten. For if thei are to be punished, that spende their money, and waist their landes, what folie is it, not to thynke theim worthie muche more blame, that spend their tyme (whiche is the chi∣fest treasure that God geueth) either idlely, or els vngodly? For what other thyng doeth manne lose, when he loseth his tyme, but his life? And what can bee more deare to man, then his life? If wee lose a litle money, or a ryng of golde with a stone in it, we compt that greate losse. And I praie you, whē wee lose a whole daie, whiche is a good porcion of a mannes life, shall wee not compte that a losse, consideryng though our money bee gone, wee maie recouer thesame again, but tyme lost can neuer be called backe again. Again whē we lose

our money, some bodye getteth good by it, but the losse of time turneth to no mannes auayle. There is no man that loseth in anye other thynge, but some bodye gayneth by it, sauynge onelye in the losse of time. Yea, it hathe saued the lyfe of some, to lose al that they hadde. For riches be the oc∣casion sometimes of muche mischiefe in this lyfe, so that it were better sometymes wastefullye to spende, then warely to keepe: by the losse of time, no man hath profited him selfe any thing at all. Besides this, the better & more precious a thing is, the more shame to spēd it fondly. Though mē kepe their goodes neuer so close, and locke them vp neuer so fast, yet often times, either by some mischaunce of fyre, or other thinge, they are lost, or els desperate Dickes borowes nowe and then againste the owners wille, all that euer he hathe. And now though y^e owner be vndone, yet is he not therfore dishonest, considerynge honestye standeth not in wealthe or heapes of money: But the losse of tyme, seynge it happe∣neth throughe oure owne folye, not onelye dothe it make vs wretches, but also causeth menne to thinke that wee are paste all grace. A wonderfull kynde of infamie, when the whole blame shall reste vpon none other mannes necke, but vpon his onelye that suffereth all the harme. Wyth money a manne maye bye lande, but none can gette honestie of that pryce: and yet with well vsinge of tyme, a manne not onely might get him muche worshippe, but also myghte purchase himself a name for euer. Yea, in a smal time a man might get greate fame, and liue in much estimation. By losinge of mo∣ney wee lose little elles: by losynge of time, wee lose all the goodnes and gyftes of GOD, whiche by laboure might be hadde.

Thus a Similitude myghte be enlarged by heapynge good sentences, when one thinge is compared wyth an o∣ther, and a conclusion made therupon.

Emonge the learned menne of the Churche, no one vseth this figure more then Chrisostome, whose writynges the rather seme more pleasaunte and swete. For similitudes are not onelye vsed to amplifie a matter, but also to beautifie the same, to delite the hearers, to make the matter playne,

and to shewe a certaine maiestye wyth the reporte of suche resembled thinges, but because I haue spokē of similitudes heretofore in the boke of Logique, I will surcesse to talke anye further of this matter.

☞Example.

HE that myndeth to perswade, muste neades be well stored with examples.* 1.450 And therfore muche are they to be commended whiche searche Chronicles of all ages, and compare the sta••e of our elders, with this prese••te time. The historye of Goddes boke to the christian is infallible, and therfore the rehearsall of suche good thin∣ges as are therin conteyned, moue the faythfull to all vp∣right doinge and amendmente of their lyfe. The Ethnicke aucthoures styrre the hearers, beynge well applyed to the the purpose. For when it shall be reported that they whiche hadde no knowledge of God, liued in a brotherlye loue, one towardes an other, detested aduoutrye, banished periures, hanged the vnthanckefull, kepte the ydle withoute meate, tyll they laboured for their liuynge, suffered none extor∣cion, exempted Brybers frome bearynge rule in the com∣mune Weale: the Christians muste neades be ashamed of their euyll behauiour, and studye much to passe those, whi∣che are in callynge muche vnder theim, and not suffer that the ignoraunte and Paganes lyfe, shall counteruayle the taughte chyldren of God, and passe the Christians so much in good liuynge, as the Christians passe theim in good lear∣ninge. Uneguall examples commende muche the matter. I call theim vneguall, when the weaker is brought in a∣gainste the stronger, as if chyldren be faythfull, much more ought menne to be faythfull. If wome••ne be chaste, and vndefiled: menne shoulde muche more be cleane, and wyth∣oute faulte. If an vnlearned manne wyll do no wronge, a learned man and a preacher muste muche more be vprighte, and liue without blame. If an housholder will deale iust∣lye with his seruauntes, a Kynge muste muche the rather ••eale iustelye with his subiectes.

Examples gathered out of histories and vsed in this sort, helpe muche towardes perswasion. Yea, brute beastes mi∣nister greate occasion of righte good matter, considerynge manye of theim haue shewen vnto vs, the paternes and y∣mages of diuers vertues.

Doues* 1.451 seyng an hauke, gather all together, teachynge vs none other thing, but in aduersitie to sticke one to another.

Craynes* 1.452 in the nyght haue their watche, warninge vs neuer to be carelesse, for if their watche faile them, they al neuer leaue tyll they haue killed that one Crayne, teachyng vs that no traytours are worthye to liue vpon earth. The watche for his safegarde, and because he woulde not slepe: holdeth a stone in his fote, the which falleth from him, whē he beginneth to waxe heauy, and so he kepeth him selfe s••yll wakyng. Wherby wee maye learne that all menne in their vocation shoulde be right ware and watchfull. The Henne clocketh her chickens, feadeth them, and kepeth theim from the Kyte. Womenne must clocke their children, bring them vp well, and kepe them from euill happe. Nowe I myght in speakinge of some odious vyce, largelye sette oute some example belonginge to the same, and compare it with o••her by heapinge of Chronicles, and matchinge of thynges to∣gether.

The vnthankefull* 1.453 in this age (whereof there is no small number) can not haue enoughe saide againste theim. And therfore I am minded to saye somewhat againste theim, to the vtter abhorrynge of all suche vnkynde dealynge. For he that is vnthankeful, and for herty loue, sheweth cankard hatred: wanteth all other Uertues, that are required to be in manne. The chiefe perfection and the absolute fulfillyng of the Lawe, standeth in the loue which manne oweth first to God, and nexte to his neighboure. Lette a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 haue fayth that he may be able to translate mountaines (as saint Paule sayeth:) yea, let his haue neuer so good qualities, or be he neuer so politique a manne for the saulfegarde of his Countrey, be he neuer so wise, so ware, and so watchful: yet if he wante Loue, he is nothynge elles but as a soundinge brasse, or a tinckelinge Cymbal.

Nowe he that is churlishe and vnthankefull, muste neades wante loue, and therfore wanteth he all other goodnes. The Persians therfore seyng the greatenes of this offence and that where it rested, all vyces for euer were banished: prouided by a law that suche should suffer death as felons, which were founde faultye with vnthankefulnes.* 1.454

And yet I can not see but they deserue rather an exqui∣site kynde of Deathe (suche as fewe haue sene, or fewe haue felte) then to suffer lyke Deathe with other, that haue not like offended wyth them.

But nowe because this offence is an euill most odious, and the principal occasion of all other mischiefe, I will set forthe three notable examples, the one of a Dragon, the se∣conde of a Dogge, and the thirde of a Lyon (whiche all thre in thankefulnes, if that be true whiche is reported of theim wonderfullye exceaded,) and the rather I seke to set theim oute, that the wycked herebye maye well knowe what they theim selues are, when bruite Beastes shall sette theim al to schole.

There was a manne (as Plinie writeth) whiche foste∣red vp a yong Dragon,* 1.455 who seynge the same beaste to waxe wonderfull greate, feared to kepe his Dragon anye longer within his house, and therfore he put him out into a wylde Foreste. It happened afterwarde that the same manne traueylinge on hys iourney throughe the Foreste, was besette with thieues. And nowe beynge in this distresse, and lokinge for none other ende but deathe, made (as lothe to departe) a grea••e showte and an outcrye: strayghte vpon whose noyse, and at the knowledge of his voyce, the Dragō came to him in all the haste possible. Wherupon the theues beinge greatelye afrayed, ranne cleane awaye to saue theim selues harmeles. Thus throughe the thanckefulnes of a Dragon, this mans life was saued.

The dogge of the Romaine Fuluius is more wonderful This Fuluius traueylinge by the waye, was slayne wyth slaues that laye in wayte for him.* 1.456 Hys Dogge seynge his master deade, laye by him for the space of two dayes. Wher∣upon when the manne was missinge, and searche made for him: they founde him dead, with his Dogge liynge by him.

Some marueylinge to see the Dogge lye there by hys deade master, stroke him, and woulde haue driuen him from the deade corse, and coulde not: some seynge suche kindenes in the Dogge, and pitiynge him that he should lye there w^t∣out meate, two or thre dayes before: cast him a pece of flesh, wherupon the Dogge strayghte caried the meate to his ma∣sters mouthe, and woulde not eate anye whitte him selfe, thoughe he hadde forborne meate so longe before. And last of all, when this deade bodye shoulde be caste into the riuer, (according to the maner of the Romaines) the Dogge leapt in after, and holdynge vp his maister so longe as he coulde, did chose rather to dye with him, thē to liue without him.

The Lyon (wherof Appian the Grammarian doth spea∣ke) is also straunge for his kindenes, and almost incredible.* 1.457 A seruaunte that hadde runne awaye from his master, and hidde him selfe for feare in a caue, within a greate woodde, toke a thorne out of a Lions fote, whiche then came to him for succour as he lay there. Now whē he had done, the lion to requite his good turne, brought suche meate to the caue, as he coulde kyll in the woode. The whiche meate the Ser∣uaunte rostynge againste the Sunne, (beynge in the mooste hotte countrey of all Affrica) did eate from time to time. At length yet being werye of suche a lothesome lyfe, he left the caue, & came abrode, by meanes wherof, he was takē again, and beinge a slaue to his master (who hadde power of life & deathe ouer him) he was condempned to be cast to the wylde beastes at Rome, there to be deuoured of a Lyon. The pore caytife stode pitifullye in the sighte of thousandes, euer io∣kinge when he sholde be deuoured. It happened at thesame time, when this felow was thus adiudged to dye: that the same Lyon was taken, whose foote he healed in the wood. When the Lyon was putte to him, he came firste very ter∣ribly towarde this felowe, and immediatly knowyng what he was, stoode styll, and at length fauned gently vpon him. The felow at firste being amased, began to take harte vnto him afterwardes, as halfe knowing him likewise, and thus they began bothe to take acquaintaunce thone of thother, & played together a good space withoute all daunger, wher∣upon

the people beynge amased, muche wondered at the straungenes of this thinge. And standinge thus astonied, they sente to knowe of the slaue, what this matter shoulde meane. Unto whom this poore wretche opened the whole thynge altogether, euen as it happened. When the people hearde this, they not onely reioysed much at the sight ther∣of, but also they made earnest request to his Master for his lyfe. His master marueylinge as muche as anye of them, at suche an vnwonte kyndenes: gaue him not onelye hys life, but also his fredome. And nowe to the ende he myght haue somewhat whereupon to lyue, the people gaue hym a ••ee for terme of his lyfe. The felowe by and by gotte him a ••••••e and a coler, and caried the Lyon vp and downe the ci∣tye in suche sorte, as huntesmenne carye a Greyhounde, or a Spaniell, the people styll wonderynge, and sayinge euer as he came bye: Beholde a manne that hath cured a Lyon, be∣hold a Lyon that hath saued a man.

The whiche example, the more straunge it is, the more ashamed maye they be that are vnnaturall, and maye learne kindenes of a bruite Beaste. For suche menne beynge ouercome with kindnes by Beastes, are worsse then Bea∣stes, & more mete rather to be tormented with Deuils, then to liue with men.

Of enlargynge examples by copye.

ANd now because examples enriched by Copy, helpe muche for Amplification: I will geue a taste, howe these and suche lyke Histories maye be encreased.

And for the better handelynge of theim, nedefull it is to marke well the circumstaūces: that beynge well obser∣ued and compared together on bothe partes, they maye the rather be enlarged.

As thus.* 1.458 That whiche bruite Beastes haue doone, shalt thou being a man seme not to haue done? They shew∣ed them selues natural, and wilt thou appeare vnnaturall? Nay they ouercame nature, and wilte thou be ouercome of them? They became of beastes in bodye, men in nature, and wilt thou become of a manne in bodye, a Beaste in nature?

They beinge withoute reason, declared the propertye of

reasonable creatures, and wilte thou beinge a man endued wyth reason, ap••eare in thy doynges altogether vnreaso∣nable? Shall Dogges be th••nkefull: and menne, yea, chri∣stian menne wante suche a vertue? Shall wormes shewe suche kindenes: and menne appearre gracelesse? It had ben no matter if they had bene vnthankefull: but man can neuer escape blame, seinge God hathe commaunded, and Nature hathe graffed this in all menne: that they shoul••e do to o∣ther, as they woulde be done vnto. Agayne, they for m••ate onelye sh••wed them selues so kinde: and shal man for so ma∣ny benefites receiued, and for such goodnes shewed, requite for good will, euil dedes: for hartie loue, deadlye hatred: for vertue, vyce: and for life geuen to him, yelde death to other? Nature hath parted man and beast: and shall man in nature be no manne? Shamed be that wretche that goeth agaynst nature, that one ye hath the shape of a man, and in nature is worse then a beast. Yea, worthye are all suche ra••her to be torne with deuils, then to liue with men. Thus an example might moste copiouslye be augmented, but thus muche for this time is sufficient.

The saiynge of Poets and all their fables are not to be forgotten,* 1.459 for by them we may talke at large, and winne mē by perswasion, if wee declare before hande, that these tales were not fayned of suche wise menne without cause, neither yet continued vntyll this tyme, and kepte in memorie with∣out good consideration, and therupon declare the true mea∣nynge of all suche writinge. For vndoubtedlye there is no one tale emonge al the Poetes, but vnder the same is com∣prehended some thinge that perteyneth eyther to the amen∣demente of maners, to the knowledge of trueth, to the set∣tynge forthe of Natures woorcke, or elles to the vnderstan∣dinge of some notable thynge done. For what other is the paynefull trauayle of Ulisses discribed so largelye by Ho∣mere, but a liuely picture of mans miserie in this life.

And as Plutarche sayth▪ and likewise Basilius Magnus: In the Iliades are described strengthe and valeantenes of the bodye: In Odissea is set forthe a lyuelye Paterne of the minde.

The Poetes* 1.460 were wise men, & wished in harte the redresse of thinges, the whiche when for feare they durst not openly rebuke, thei didde in coloures paynte theim oute, and tolde menne by shadowes what they shoulde do in good south: or els because the wycked were vnworthy to heare the truth, they spake so, that none myght vnderstande, but those vnto whom they pleased to vtter their meaninge, and knewe thē to be menne of honeste conuersation.

We reade of Danae* 1.461 the fayre damosel, whom Iuppiter ••empted full ofte; and coulde neuer haue his pleasure, tyll a•• lengthe he made it raine golde, and so as shee sate in her chimney, a greate deale fell vpon her lappe, the whyche shee toke gladly, and kepte it there: within the which gold Iup∣piter him selfe was comprehended, wherby is none other thynge elles signified, but that women haue bene, and wyll be ouercome with money▪

Likewise Iuppiter fanseinge the fayre maide Isis* 1.462 could not haue his will, till he turned him selfe into a fayre whyte Bull, whiche signified that beautie may ouercome the best.

If a manne woulde speake agaynste couetous Caytifes, can he better shewe what they are, then by settynge forthe the straunge plague of Tantalus,* 1.463 who is reported to be in Hell, hauinge water comminge styll to his chynne, and yet neuer able to drynke: and an apple hangyng before his mou∣the, and yet neuer able to eat?

Icarus* 1.464 woulde nedes haue wynges and flye contrary to nature, wherupon when he hadde them sette together with ware, and ioyned to his syde, he mounted vp into the ayre. But so sone as the sunne hadde somewhat heated him, and his waxe began to melte, he fel downe into a greate Riuer, and was drowned out of hande, the whiche water was euer after called by his name. Now what other thing dothe this tale shewe vs, but that euerye man should not meddle with thinges aboue his compasse.

Midas* 1.465 desiered that whatsoeuer he touched, the same might be golde: wherupon when Iuppiter hadde graunted him his bounde: his meate, drinke, and al other thinges tur∣ned into gold, and he choked with his owne desire, as al co∣couetouse

men lightely shalbe, than can neuer bee content when they haue enough.

What other thyng are the wonderfull labours of Her∣cules,* 1.466 but that reason shoulde withstande affection, and the spirite for euer should fight, against the fleshe? We Christi∣ans had like fables heretofore of ioyly felowes, the Images wherof were set vp (in Gods name) euen in our Churches. But is any man so mad to thynk that euer there was suche a one as S. Christofer* 1.467 was paincted vnto vs? Mary God forbid. Assuredly when he liued vpō earth there were other houses builded for hym, then we haue at this tyme, and I thynke tailers were muche troubled to take measure of him for makyng his garmentes. He might be of kynne to Gar∣ganteo, if he were as bigge as he is set forthe in Antwerpe▪ But this was the meanyng of our elders (and the name self doth signifie none other) that euery mā should beare Christ vpon his backe, that is to say, he should loue his brother as Christe loued vs, and gaue his body for vs: he shoulde tra∣••••ile through hunger, colde, sorowe, sickenes, deathe, and al daungers with al sufferaunce that might be. And whether should he trauaile? to the euerliuyng GOD▪ but how? In darkenes? No forsouth, by the light of his word. And ther∣fore Sainct Christofer beyng in the Sea, and not well able to gette out (that is to say beyng almost drouned in synne, & not knowyng whiche waie best to escape) an Heremite ap∣pered vnto hym with a lāterne & a light therein, the whiche dothe signifie none other thyng to the Christian but the true woorde of God, whiche lighteneth the hartes of men, & geueth vnderstandyng to the youngelinges (as the Prophet doth saie). Againe, Sainct George* 1.468 he is set on horsebacke & killeth a Dragon with his speare, whiche Dragon woulde haue deuoured a virgine, whereby is none other thyng mēt but that a Kyng and euery man vnto whom thexecution of iustice is committed, should defende the innocent against the vngodly attemptes of the wicked, and rather kill suche de∣uilles by marcial law, than suffer the innocentes to take a∣ny wrong. But who gaue our clargie any suche aucthoritie that those monsters shoulde bee in Churches as laye mens

Bookes? God forbadde by expresse worde to make any gra∣uen Image, and shal we be so bolde to breake Gods wil for a good entent, and call these Idolles laie mens Bookes? I could talke more largely of examples, & heape a nomber here together, aswell of Ethnike Aucthours, as of other here at home: but for feare I should be tediouse, these for this tyme that suffise.

¶Of Fables.

THe feigned fables, such as are attributed vnto brute beastes, would not be forgotten at any hand. For not onely they delite the rude & ignoraunt, but also they helpe muche for perswasion.* 1.469 And because suche as speake in open audience haue euer moe fooles to heare them than wise men to geue iudgement: I would thynke it not a∣misse, to speake muche accordyng to the nature and fansie of the ignoraunt, that the rather thei might be wonne through fables, to learne more weightie & graue matters▪ for al men cannot brooke sage causes, and auncient collacions: but wil lyke earnest matters the rather, if some thing be spokē there ••mong agreyng to their natures. The multitude (as Horace doth say) is a beast, or rather amōster that hath many heades * 1.470 and therefore like vnto the diuersitie of natures, varietie of inuencion must alwaies be vsed. Talke altogether of moste graue matters, or depely searche out the ground of thynges or vse the Quiddities of Dunce to sette forth Gods miste∣ries: & you shal see the ignoraunt (I warrant you) either fal a slepe, or elles bid you farewel. The multitude must needes be made mery: & the more foolish your talke is, the more wise wil they counte it to be. And yet it is no foolishnesse, but ra∣ther wisedome to wynne men by tellyng of fables to heare of Gods goodnesse. Undoubtedly fables well sette forthe, haue doen muche good at diuerse tymes, and in diuerse cō∣mune weales. The Romaine Menenius Agrippa allegyng vpon a tyme a fable of the conflicte made betwixt the partes of a mans bodie, and his belie: quieted a marueilouse stirre that was lyke to ensewe & pacified the vprore of ••ediciouse rebelles, whiche els thought for euer to destroy their coun∣trie. Themistos••es perswaded the Atheniās not to chaunge

their Officers, by rehersyng the fable of a scabbed fore. For ({quod} he) when many flees stode feedyng vpon his rawe fleshe, & had wel fedde themselues, he was contented at anothers persuasion, to haue them slapte away: whereupon their en∣sewed suche hungry flees afterwardes, that the sorie fo••e beyng al alone was eaten vp almost to the harde boone, and therefore cursed the tyme that euery he agreed to any suche euil counsel. In lyke maner ({quod} Themistocles) if you will chaunge Officers, the hungry flees will ea••e you vp one af∣ter another, whereas now you liue beyng but onely bitten, and lyke to haue no farther harme, but rather muche welth and quietnesse hereafter, because they are filled, and haue e∣nough, that heretofore suckte so muche of your bloud.

Now likewyse as I gaue a lesson how to enlarge an ex∣ample, so may fables also in lyke sorte be sette out, & aug∣mented at large by Amplification. Thus muche for the vse of fables. Againe, sometymes fei••ed Narrations and wittie inuented matters (as though they were true in deede) helpe wel to set forwarde a cause, & haue great grace in thē, beyng aptely vsed & wel inuented. Luciane passeth in this pointe: & sir Thomas More for his Eutopia can soner be remēbred of me, then worthely praised of any according as the excellē∣cie of his inuenciō in that behaulf doth most iustly require.

¶Digestion.

DIgestion* 1.471 is an ordely placyng of thynges, partyng euery matter seuerally. Tullie hath an example hereof in his Oration whiche he made for Sextus Roscius Amarinus. There are three thynges ({quod} Tullie) whiche hynder Sextus Roscius at this tyme, the accusacion of his aduersaries, the boldenes of them, and the power that they beare. Eruscus his accuser hath taken vpō hym to forge false matte••, the Roscians kinsfolke haue bold¦ly aduentured, & wil face out their doynges, & Chrisogonus here, that most can do, wil presse vs with his power.

¶A whisht, or a warnyng to speake no more.

A Whisht, is when we bid them holde their peace that haue least cause to speake, and can do litle good with their talkyng.* 1.472 Diogenes beeyng vpon the Sea emong

a number of naughtie packes in a greate storme of wether, when diuerse of these wicked felowes cried out for feare of drownyng, some with fained prayour to Iuppiter, some to Neptune, and euery one as they beste fantaised the goddes aboue:* 1.473 whishte ({quod} Diogenes) for vp Gods mother, if God hym selfe knowe you be here, you are lyke to be drowned euery mothers sonne of you. Meanyng that they were so nought, and so fainedly made their prayour to false Godes without mynde to amende their naughtie lyfe, that the ly∣uyng God woulde not leaue them vnpunished though they cried neuer so fast. Wee vse this figure likewyse, when in speakyng of any man: we saie, whisht, the woulfe it at hand: when the same man cometh in the meane season, of whome we spake before.

¶Contrarietie.

COntrarietie* 1.474 is, when our talke standeth by contrarie wordes, or sentences together. As thus wee mighte despraise some one man. he is of a straunge nature as euer I sawe, for to his frende he is churlishe, to his foe he is ientle: geue him faire wordes, and you offende hym: checke hym sharpely, and you wynne hym. Let hym haue his will, and he will flye in your face: kepe hym shorte, and you shal haue hym at commaundement.

¶Fre••nesse of speache.

FReenesse of speache,* 1.475 is when wee speake boldely, & without feare, euen to the proudest of them, what∣soeuer we please, or haue list to speake. Diogenes herein did excel, and feared no man when he sawe iust cause to saie his mynde. This worlde wanteth suche as he was, and hath ouer many suche, as neuer honest mā was, that is to say, flatterers, fawners, and southers of mennes saiynges.

¶Stomake grief.

STomake grief,* 1.476 is when we will take the matter as hote as a tost. We nede no examples for this matter, hote men haue to many, of whom they may be bould and spare not, that fynde them selues a colde. Some tymes

we en••reate earnestly and make meanes by pra••er to wynne fauour.* 1.477 Somtymes we seke fauour by speakyng well of the companie present.* 1.478 As. Thorowe your helpe my lordes this good deede hath been done.* 1.479 Some tymes we speake to hurte our aduersaries, by settyng forth their euil behauior.* 1.480 Some¦tymes we excuse a fault, and accuse the reporters.* 1.481 Somety∣mes we wishe vnto God for redresse to euil. Sometimes we curse the extreme wickednes of some pastgood roisters.* 1.482 In al whiche I thynke neither examples neede, nor yet any re∣hersal had been greately necessarie, cōsidering al these come without any great learnyng, sauing that for apt bestowing, iudgement is right nedeful.

¶Of figures in sentencies, called Schemes.

WHen any sentence vpon the placyng, or settyng of wordes, is said to be a figure: thesaied is alwaies called a Scheme, the whiche wordes beyng alte∣red, or displaced, the figure streight doth lose his name, and is called no more a scheme. Of this sorte there be diuerse, suche as hereafter folowe.

¶Doublettes.

DOublettes,* 1.483 is when we reherse one and thesame worde twise together. Ah wretche, wretche, that I am. Tullie against Catiline inueighyng sore a∣gainst his traiterouse attemptes, saith after a lōg rehersed matter, and yet notwithstandyng all this notouri∣ouse wickednesse: the mā liueth stil, liueth? Nay mary he co¦meth into the counsel house whiche is more. An other: Dar∣rest thou showe thy face, thou wretched theef, thou theefe I saie to thyne owne father, darrest thou looke abrode? Thus the ofte repeatyng of one worde doth munhe stirre the hea∣rer, and makes the worde seeme greater, as though a sworde were ofte digged & thrust twise, or thrise in one place of the bodie.

¶Alteryng parte of a worde.

ALteryng parte of a word,* 1.484 is when we take a letter, or sillable from some word, or els adde a letter, or silla∣ble to a worde. As thus. Williā Somer seyng muche a do for accomptes makyng, & that the Kynges Maiestie of

most worthie memorie Henry theight wanted mony suche as was due vnto hym: And please your grace ({quod} he) you haue so many frauditours, so many conueiers, and so many deceiuers to get vp your money, that they get al to themsel∣ues. Whether he said true, or no, let God iudge that. it was vnhappely spoken of a foole, & I thynke he had some Scho∣lemaister: he shoulde haue saied Auditours, Surueyours, and Receauours.

¶Repetition.

REpetition* 1.485 is when we begynne diuerse sentencies one after another with one and thesame worde. As thus: When thou shalt appere at the terrible da••e of iudgemēt before the high maiestie of God, where is then thy richesse? where is then thy deintie faire? where is thē thy great band of men? where are then thy faire hou∣ses? wher are then al thy lādes, pastures, parkes, & forestes? I might saie thus of our soueraine lord the Kynges maie∣stie that now is. Kyng Edwarde hath ouerthrowne idolo∣latrie: Kyng Edwarde hath bannished superstition: Kyng Edward by Gods helpe hath brought vs to the true know∣lege of our creation: Kyng Edwarde hath quieted our cō∣sciencies, & laboured that al his people should seeke healthe by the death and Passion of Christ alone.

☞Conuersion.

COnuersion* 1.486 is an ofte repeatyng of the last worde, & is contrarie to that which went before. Whē iust dealing is not vsed: welth goeth away, fryndship goeth away, truth goeth awaie, all goodnes (to speake at a worde) goeth awaie. Where affections beare rule, there reason is subdued, honestie is subdued, good wil is subdued, & al thin∣ges els that withstande euil, for euer are subdued.

¶Comprehension.

COmprehersion,* 1.487 is when bothe the aboue rehersed fi∣gures are in one kynd of speakyng vsed, so that bothe one first worde must ofte be rehersed, & likewise al one last worde. What winneth the hartes of men? Libe∣ralitie. What causeth men to aduenture their lifes, and dye willyngly in defence of their masters? Liberalitie. What cō∣tinueth

the sta••e of a Kyng? Liberalitie. What becometh a woman best,* 1.488 & first of al? Silence. What seconde? Silence. What third? Silence. What fourth? Silence. Yea if a man should aske me til dowmes day, I would stil crie, silence, si∣lence, without the whiche no woman hath any good gifte, but hauing thesame, no doubt she must haue many other no∣table giftes, as the whiche of necessitie do euer folow suche a vertue.

¶Progression.

PRogression* 1.489 standeth vpō contrarie sentences which answere one another. If we would rebuke a naugh∣ty boie, we might with cōmendyng a good boie, say thus. What a boie are thou in cōpar••son of this fel∣low here. Thou sleapes: he wakes: thou plaies: he studies: thou art euer abrode: he is euer at home: thou neuer waites: he stil doth his attendaunce: thou carest for no body: he doeth his dutie to al men: thou doest what thou ca••st to hurt al, & please none: he doth what he can, to hurte none, & please all.

¶Lyke endyng, and lyke fallyng.

THen the sentences are said to ende lyke, when those wordes do end in like sillables, which do lacke cases.* 1.490 Thou liues wickedly, thou speakes naughtely. The rebelles of Northfolke ({quod} a most worthie man that made an inuectiue against thē) through slauerie, slew Nobi∣litie: in dede miserably, in fashiō cruelly, in cause deuilishly.

Sentencies also are said to fal like, when diuerse wordes in one sentenc••e ende in lyke cases, & that in ryme. By great trauaile is got muche auaile, by earnest affection, men learne discrecion.

These .ij. kyndes of Exornacion are then most delitefull when contrarie thynges are repeated together: when that ones again is vtterde, whiche before was spoken: when sen∣tencies are turned, and letters are altered. Of the first this may be an example: Where learnyng is loued, there labour is estemed: but wher sleuth is thought solace, there rudenes taketh place. A Kyng is honoured, that is a Kyng in dede. wil you drink or you go, or wil you go or you drinke. There is a diffrence betwixt an horsemilne, & a milnehorse. He is a

meter man to driue the Carte, than to serue in the Courte. Through labou•• cometh honour, through ydell lyuyng fo∣loweth hangyng. Diuerse in this our tyme delite muche in this kynd of writyng, whiche beeyng measurably vsed, deli∣teth muche the hearers, otherwyse i•• offendeth, and werieth mens eares with sacitie. S. Augustine* 1.491 had a goodly gifte in this behaulf, & yet some thinkes he forgot measure, and vsed ouermuche this kynde of figure. Notwithstandyng the peo∣ple were suche wher he liued, that they toke muche delite in rimed sentences, & in Orations made ballade wise. Yea thei were so nyce & so waiwarde to please, that excepte the Prea∣cher from tyme to tyme coulde ryme out his Sermon, they woulde not long abide the hearyng. Tacitus* 1.492 also sheweth that in his tyme, the iudges & sergeauntes at the lawe were driuen to vse this kynd of phrase both in their writyng, & al∣so in their speaking. Yea great lordes would thynk thēsel∣fes contēpned, if learned men (when they spake before thē) sought not to speake in this sorte.* 1.493 So that for the flowyng stile, & ful sentence, crepte in mynstrelles elocution, talkyng matters altogether in rime, & for weightinesse & grauitie of wordes, succeded nothyng els but wantonnesse of inuencon. Tullie was forsaken, with Liuie, Cesar, & other: And Apu∣leius, Ausonius, with suche mynstrell makers were altoge∣ther folowed. And I thynke the Popes heretofore (seeyng the people folie to be suche) made al our Hymnes & Anthe∣mes in rime,* 1.494 that with the singyng of mē, plaiyng of organ∣nes, ringyng of belles, & r••nyng of Hymnes, & Sequencies the poore ignoraunt might thinke the Harmonie to be hea∣uenly, & verely beleue that the Angels of God made not a better noise in heauen. I speake thusmuche of these two fi∣gures, not that I thinke folie to vse them (for thei are plea∣saunt & praise worthie) but my talke is to this end, that thei shoulde neither onely, nor chefely to vsed, as I know some in this our time do ouermuche vse them in their writynges. And ouermuche (as al men know) was neuer good yet. Yea a man may haue ouermuche of his mothers blessyng if she wil neuer leaue blessyng. Therefore a measure is best, yea e∣uen in the best thynges. And thus farre for these .ij. figures.

¶Egual members.

EGuall members are suche, when the one halfe of the sentence answereth to the other,* 1.495 with iust proporciō of nomber, not that the sillables of necessitee, should be of iust nōbre, but that the eare might iudge them, to bee so eguall, that there maie appere small difference. As thus. Lawe without mercie, is extreme power, yet men tho∣rowe folie, deserue suche iustice. Learnyng is daungerous, if an euill man haue it. The more noble a manne is, the more ientle he should be. Isocrates passeth in this behalfe, who is thought to write altogether in nomber, kepyng iust propor∣cion in framyng of his sentence.

¶Like emong themselfes.

SEntences are called like, when contraries are set together,* 1.496 and the firste taketh asmuche as the other folowyng: and the other folowyng taketh asmuche a waie, as that did, whiche went before. As thus▪ Lust hath ouercome shamefastenesse, impudencie hath ouer∣come feare, and madnesse hath ouercome reason. Or els sen∣tences are said to be like emong themselfes, when euery part of one sentēce is eguall, and of like weight one with another As thus. Is it knowen, tried, proued, euident, open, and as∣sured that I did suche a deede? Another. Suche riote, Di∣cyng, Cardyng, pikyng, stealyng, fighting, ruffines, queanes and harlottes, must nedes bryng hym to naught.

¶Gradacion.

GRadacion* 1.497 is when we reherse the worde that goeth nexte before, and bryng another woorde thereupon that encreaseth the matter, as though one should go vp a paire a staiers, and not leaue til he come at the toppe. Or thus. Gradacion is when a sentence is disseuered by degrees, so that the worde, whiche endeth the sentence go∣yng before, doeth begin the nexte. Labour getteth learnyng, learnyng getteth fame, fame getteth honour, honour getteth blesse for euer. Another. Of slouthe cometh pleasure, of plea∣sure cometh spendyng, of spēdyng cometh whoryng, of who∣ryng cometh lacke, of lacke cometh thefte, of thefte cometh hangyng, and there an ende for this world.

¶Regression.

THat is called regression,* 1.498 when we repeate a worde eftso••es, that hath been spoken, and rehersed be∣fore, whether thesame bee in the beginnyng, in the middest, or in the latter ende of a sentence.

In the beginnyng, thus. Thou art ordeined to rule other, and not other to rule thee.

In the middest, thus. He that hath money, hath not geuen it and he that hath geuen money, hath not his money still: but he that hath geuen thankes, hath thankes still, & he that hath them still, hath geuen them notwithstandyng.

In the latter ende, thus. Manne must not liue to eate, but eate to liue. Man is not made so the Sabboth, but the Sab∣both is made for man. If man do any filthy thyng, and take pleasure therein: the pleasure goeth awaie, but the shame ta∣rieth still. If manne do any good thyng with pain, the paines go awaie, but the honestie abideth still.

¶wordes loose.

WOrdes louse are suche,* 1.499 which as are vttred with∣out any addicion of coniunccions, suche as knitte woordes and sentences together. As thus. Obeye the Kyng, feare his lawes, kepe thy vocacion, doo right, seke rest, like well a litle, vse all menne, as thou woul∣dest thei should vse thee.

¶Out criyng.

OUt criyng is when with voyce we make an excla∣macion.* 1.500 Oh Lorde, O God, O worlde, O life, O maners of menne? O death, where is thy styng? O hell where is thy victorie?

¶Oft vsyng of one worde in diuerse places.

CAn he haue any mannes harte in hym, or deserueth he the name of a man, that cruelly killeth a poore in∣nocent man, who neuer thought hym harme.

¶A cause geuen to a sentence vttered.

I Feare not myne aduersarie, because I am not giltie. I mistrust not the Iudges, because thei are iuste, the quest will not cast me, the matter is so plain.

¶A cause geuen to thynges contrary.

BEtter it were to rule, then to serue: For, he that ru∣leth, liueth: because he is free. But he that serueth, cannot be saied to liue. For where bondage is, there is no life properly.

¶Sufferaunce.

TAke your pleasure for a tyme, and do what you list,* 1.501 a tyme will come when accompt shalbe made. Whē thynges cannot be, that we would haue, we should will that, whiche we can haue. Pacience is a reme∣dy for euery disease.

¶A doubtyng.

SHall I call hym foole,* 1.502 or shall I call hym var∣let, or bothe? Another. What made hym to commit suche a robberie? Lacke of money, or lacke of wit, or lacke of honestie? I doubte whether to call hym a foolishe knaue, or a knauishe foole. When muche matter was here in Englande, for callyng the Pope, supreme hedde of the Churche ({quod} a Spanyarde,* 1.503 that whilome was of the Popes courte in Rome) you doubt muche here in England, whether the Pope be hedde of the churche or no, and greate variaunce there is emonges you, at the whiche foly of yours I doo muche maruaill, for we doubte muche at Rome, whe∣ther he be a member of the Churche at all, or no.

☞Reckenyng.

REckenyng, is when many thynges are nombred toge∣ther.* 1.504 There is no streat, no house, no man, no child, no shop, no lodgyng in all this toune, but he hath been in it. There is no stone, no Diamōd, no Saphire, no Rubie, no Christall, no Turcasse, no Emerode, but he knoweth theim perfectly. By this figure we may enlarge that, by rehersyng of the partes, whiche was spoken generally, & in fewe wor∣des. This maie be an example. Suche a ientle man beyng an vnthrifte, hath spent all that euer he had. Thus the sentence* 1.505 maie be ampli••ied, if we shew particularly what he had, and tell seuerally how he spent it. Loke what enheritaunce came to him (whiche was no small thyng) by the death of his awn kinne, and his wifes kinsfolk: What dower soeuer he had by mariage of his wife, which by report was very greate thyng Whatsoeuer he got by executorship: Whatsoeuer the kinges

Maiestie gaue hym. What booties soeuer he gotte in warre fare, looke what money he had, what plate, what apparell, what householde stuffe, what lande and Lordeshippes, what Shepe, goodes, Parkes, and Medowes, yea, whatsoeuer he had, moueable, or vnmoueable, his house, and all that euer he had: he hath so spent in fewe daies, so wasted it, & made suche hauocke of all together, emong the beastly compagnie of fil∣thy queanes, emong abhominable harlottes, with banque∣tyng from daie to daie, with sumpteous reare suppers, with drinkyng in the nighte, with dain••ees and delicates, and a••l suche swete delites, with Dicyng, Cardyng, and all maner of gamenyng: that he hath now left neither crosse nor cruci∣fixe, no not a dodkin in all the worlde, to blesse hymself with al. Thus these wordes (he hath spent all his goodes in riot) are dilated, and sette furthe at large, by rehersyng seuerally euery thyng, one after another.

¶Reasonyng a matter with our selfes.

THen wee reason the matter with our selfes,* 1.506 when we aske questions of our selfes, and answere there∣vnto. As thus. Howe came this good felowe by all that he hath? Did his father leaue hym any lande? Not a foote. Did his frendes geue hym any thyng? Not a grote. Hath he serued in any vo••acion, to heape vp so muche wealth? No••e hath liued more idlely. Doeth he not leane to some noble man? Yea, but he neuer receiued more then .iiij. marke wages. How then cometh he by all that euer he hath, liuyng without labour, hauyng no frendes to helpe hym, ha∣uyng so litle to take vnto by all outwarde apparaunce, and spendyng so l••berally, and owyng no man a grote in all the world? Assuredly, it cannot be otherwise, but that he cometh naughtily by moste of that, whiche he hath Another. Seyng thou art so basely borne, so poore in state, so smally learned, so hard fauoured, and hast no witte at al, what meanest thou to vaunte thy self so muche, and to make suche bragges as thou doest. What doeth make thee to waxe so proude? Thy stocke wherof thou diddest come? Why manne, thei are very base folke. Thyne awne wealth? ••ushe, thou art as poore as

Iob. Thy learnyng? Marie thou neuer camst yet where any learnyng did growe. Thy beautie? Nowe in good sothe, a worse fauoured manne can there not be vpon yearth again. Thy witte? Now God he knoweth, it is as blounte as may bee. What other thyng then, is all this thy braggyng, but plain madnesse.

¶Resemblyng of thynges.

REsemblyng of thynges, is a comparyng or like∣nyng of looke, with looke, shape, with shape, and one thyng with another. As when I see one in a greate h••ate, and fiersely set vpon his enemie, I might saie, he lette flee at hym like a Dragon. Or thus. He lookes like a Tyger, a man would thinke he would eate one, his countenaunce is so ougle. He speakes not, but he barkes like a Dogge: he whettes his tethe like a Bore, he beates the grounde with his foote, like a greate Horsse: he is as raum∣pyng as a Lion. By this figure called in Latine Imago,* 1.507 that is to saie an Image, we mighte compare one manne with a∣nother, as Salust compareth Ceasar and Cato together, or we mighte heape many men together, and proue by large re∣hersall, any thyng that we would, the whiche of the Logici∣ans is called induccion.

¶Answeryng to our self.

WE are saied to answere our self, when wee seme to tell our self,* 1.508 what we will do. Phedria in Terence beyng muche troubled and out of quiet, because he was not receiued of his woman, but shutte out of dores, when he was moste willyng to se her, made as though he would not come to her afterwardes, nor yet se her at all, when she did moste iently sende for hym. And therfore beyng in his anger, thus he saied: Well, what shall I dooe? Shall I not go, not euen now when she sendes for me, of her awne accorde? Or shall I be of suche a nature, that I cannot abide the despitefulnesse of harlottes? She hath shutte me out, she calles me again. Shal I go to her? Naie I will not, though she entreate me neuer so faire.

☞Order.

ORder* 1.509 is of twoo sortes, the one is, when the wor∣thier is preferred, and set before. As a man is sette before a woman. The seconde is, when in amplifi∣cacion, the weightiest wordes are sette last, and in diminishyng, thesame are sette formoste. With what looke, with what face, with what harte dare thou do suche a dede?

☞Brief describyng, or circumscripcion.

CIrcumscripcion,* 1.510 is a briefe declaryng of a thyng. As thus. He is free, that is subiect to no euil. It is a ver∣tue to eschewe vice.

There are diuerse other colours of Rhetorique, to com∣mende and set furthe a sentence, by chaunge of wordes, and muche varietee of speache, but I had rather offende in spea∣kyng to litle, then deserue rebuke in saiyng to muche. For∣asmuche as close silence maie so••er be pardoned, then immo∣derate bablyng can want iust blame, & therfore thus an ende.

¶Of memorie.

AS I haue labored to set out thother partes of Rheto∣rique, in suche ample wise as I thought moste nedefull so it standeth me in hand, not to slacken myne endeuor, now that I am come to speake to memorie. For, though man haue vnderstandyng and iudgement, whiche is one parte of wisedome: yet wantyng a remembraunce to apply thynges aptly, when tyme and place shall best require: he shal do but small good with al his vnderstandyng. And therfore it is said not without reason, that thesame is memorie to the mynde, that life is to the body. Now then what els must thei do that esteme reason, and loue knowlege, but cherishe the memorie from tyme to tyme, as an especiall and souereigne preserua∣tiue, against thinfeccion of cankard obliuion. The faulkners saie, it is the first poyncte of haukyng to hold faste. And yet I cannot thinke otherwise, but that in al good learnyng also, it is best & moste expedient, euermore to hold fast. For, what auaile good thynges, if we cannot kepe theim, if wee receiue them in at one eare, and let theim out as fast again at the o∣ther eare? A good thriftie man will gather his goodes toge∣ther in tyme of plentie, and laie theim out again in tyme of

nede: and shall not an Oratour haue in store good matter, in the cheste of his memorie, to vse and bestowe in tyme of ne∣cessitee? I doubte not, but all men desire to haue, a good re∣membraunce of thynges, the whiche what it is, how it is di∣uided, and howe it maie bee preserued, I will shewe in as fewe woordes as I can.

☞what is memorie.

MEmorie* 1.511 is the power retentiue of the mynde, to kepe those thinges, whiche by man••es wit are cō∣ceiued, or thus. Memorie is the power of the mind that conteineth thynges receiued, that calleth to mynde thynges past, & renueth of freshe, thynges forgotten.

¶The place of memorie.

THe Phisicians declare, that in the former parte of the hed, lieth the common sense, the whiche is ther∣fore so called, because it geueth iudgement, of al the fiue outwarde senses, onely when thei are presently occupied aboute any thyng. As when I heare a thyng, or see a thyng, my common sense iudgeth, that then I doe heare, or se thesame. But the memorie called the Threasure of the mynde, lieth in the hynder parte, the whiche is made moste perfect by temperatnesse, and moderacion of qualitees in the brain. For where humours excede or want, there must nedes ensue muche weakenesse of remembraunce. Children* 1.512 there∣fore beyng ouer moyst, and olde menne ouer drie, haue neuer good memories. Again, where ouer muche cold is, & extreme moysture, there is euer muche forgetfulnesse. Therfore it a∣uaileth greatly, what bodies we haue, and of what constitu∣cion thei bee compacte together.* 1.513 For suche as bee hotte and moyste, do sone conceiue matters, but thei kepe not long. A∣gain, thei that bee colde and drie,* 1.514 dooe hardely conceiue, but thei kepe it surely, when thei ones haue it. And the reason is this, heate beyng chief qualitee, dooeth drawe thynges vnto it (as we maie se by the Sonne) the whiche notwithstādyng are sone after dissipated & resolued. Again, who hath seen a print made in water of any yerthly thing? Then though heat and moysture together, drawe thynges vnto them, yet (we se

plainly) thei cannot long hold theim. But when the brain is cold and drie, thynges are therfore the faster holden, because it is the propertie of colde and drought, to thicken all thyn∣ges, and to harden theim faste together, as we see the water through coldenesse, is congeled, and softe thynges are frosen oftentymes, almoste as harde as a stone. So that moysture, through heate beyng chief qualitee, doth drawe: and drought through coldnesse, whiche is chief contrary to heate, dooeth harden and make thynges fast together. But now how dooe wee knowe, that the memorie* 1.515 resteth in the latter parte of the hedde? No doubte, experience hath proued, and confir∣med this to be moste true. For, there hath been some, that be∣yng hurt in that place, haue vtterly forgot their awne name I do remember one man, that (beeyng hurte in that place, at the insurreccion of the Lincolne Shire men, xv. yeres past) could not deuise the makyng of some Letters, in his Crosse rowe, when he tooke penne and ynke, to write to his frende, whereas before that tyme, he wrote bothe faste and faire, and was learned in the Latine. And therefore when he wrote, he would stande musyng a greate while, before he could call to his remembraunce, howe he vsed to make a .P. a G. or suche another letter, whereupon diuerse muche marueiled what he would haue, or what he ment at the first tyme. For beyng greued, and willing to aske help, he could not vtter his mea∣nyng, for lacke of remembraunce, and yet his tongue serued hym well otherwise, to vtter whatsoeuer came in his hedde.

¶The diuision of memorie.

MEmorie* 1.516 is partly naturall, and partly artificiall. Naturall memorie is, when without any precep∣tes or lessons, by the onely aptenesse of nature, we beare awaie suche thynges as wee heare. Where∣in some heretofore, did muche excell, and greatly passe all o∣ther. As Themistocles,* 1.517 who had so good a memorie, that when one proffered to teache hym the arte of memorie, naye by saincte Mar••e ({quod} he) teache me rather the arte of forget∣tyng. Declaryng thereby that his memorie was passyng good, and that it was more pain for hym, to forgette suche thynges, as he would not kepe, then hard to remember suche

thinges as he would knowe.

Mithridates* 1.518 also hadde suche an excellente memorie, that whereas he was Lorde and ruler ouer .xxij. straunge countries that spake diuers speaches one from an other: he was able to talke wyth euerye one of theym in their owne countrey language.

Likewyse Cyrus* 1.519 Kynge of the Persians, hauinge a greate armye of menne, knewe the names of all his Soul∣diours.

Cyneas* 1.520 Ambassadoure for kinge Pyrrhus, called eue∣rye one by his name that was in the Parliamente house at Rome, the seconde daye after he came thither, the number of them beyng foure times as many as they ••e, that belonge vnto the Parliament here in Englande.

Iulius Cesar* 1.521 is reported that he coulde reade, heare, and tel one what he should write, so fast as his penne could runne, and endite letters hym selfe altogether at one time.

Thus we see that naturallye menne haue hadde won∣derfull memories, as contrarywise there haue bene hearde of as straunge forgetfull wittes. Some hathe not knowen his right hande from his lefte. An other hath forgotte* 1.522 his owne name. An other hath caried his knyfe in his mouth, and hath runne rounde aboute the house sekinge for it. An other hath tolde a tale halfe an houre together, and imme∣diatly after hath forgotte what he spake al that while.

Cicero telleth of one Curio, that where as he woulde make a deuision of three partes, he woulde either foget the thirde, or make vp a fourthe, contrarye to his firste purpose and entente.

This I remember beinge a boye,* 1.523 that where as a prea∣cher hadde taken vpon him to set forthe the .xij. Articles of our beliefe, he coulde not in all the worlde finde oute paste nine. So that he was fayne to saye, he was assured there was twelue, where soeuer the other thre were become, and he doubted not but the hearers knewe theim better then he did, and therfore he woulde for his parte saye no more, but commit them all to God, and those nine (thought he) were enoughe for him at that time, to set forthe and expounde for

their vnderstandinge.* 1.524

Nowe the beste meane bothe to mende an euil memory and to preserue a good, is firste to kepe a diet, and eschewe surfites, to slepe moderatelye, to accompanye with women rarelye, and laste of all to exercise the witte with cunnynge of manye thinges without Booke, and euer to be occupied with one thinge or other. For euen as by laboure the witte is whetted, so by lithernes the witte is blunted.

But nowe concerning the other kinde of memorye called artificial, I had nede to make a long discourse, considering the straungenesse of the thinge to the English eare, and the hardnes of the matter, to the ignoraunte & vnlearned. But firste I will shew from whence it hath beginning, and vpon what occasion it was first inuented, before I aduenture to declare the preceptes that belonge vnto the same.

The firste founder of the arte of Remembraun••e.

THE inuention of this Arte is fatherde vpon Si∣monides,* 1.525 for when the same manne (as the fable re∣cordeth) had made in behalfe of a triumphāt Cham¦pion called Scopas, for a certaine summe of money a Ballade, suche as was then wonte to be made for Con∣querours: he was denied a piece of his rewarde, because he made a digression in his songe (whiche in those dayes was customablye vsed) to the praise and commendatiō of Castor and Pollur (who were then thoughte being Twinnes, and gotte by Iuppiter to be Goddes) of whom the Champion willed him to aske a porcion, because he hadde so largelye set forthe their worthye doynges. Nowe it chaunced, that where as there was made a great feast to the honour of the same Uictorye, and Simonides had bene placed there as a geiste, he was sodainely called from the table▪ and told that there was two yonge men at the dore, & bothe on horsebacke whiche desiered moste earnestlye to speake with him oute of hande. But when he came out of the dores, he sawe none at all, notwithstanding, he was not so sone out, and his fote on the thresholde, but the Parlour fell downe immediatlye vpon theim al that were there, and so crusshed their bodies

together, & in such sorte, that the kinsfolke of those whiche were deade, comming in, and desierous to burie them euery one according to their calling, not onely could they not per∣ceiue them vp their faces, but also they coulde not discerne them by any other marke of any parte in all their bodies.

Then Simonides well remembringe in what place euerye one of theim did sitte, tolde theim what euery one was, and gaue them their kinsfolkes carkases, so many as were there Thus the arte was first inuented. And yet (thoughe this be but a fable) reason might beat thus much into our heades, that if the like thinge had bene done, the like remembraunce might haue ben vsed. For who is he that seeth a dosen sit at a table whom he knoweth verye well, can not tell, after they are all risen, where euery one of them did sitte before? And therefore be it that some man inuented this tale: the matter serueth well our purpose, and what nede we any more?

Vvhat thinges are requisite to get the Arte of Memorie.

THey that wyll remember manye thynges and re∣hearse them together out of hande: muste learne to haue places, and digest Images in them accordingly

A Place what it is.

A place is called anye rowme apt to receiue thinges.

An Image what it is.

An Image is any picture or shape, to declare some certayne thing therby. And euē as in waxe we make print w^t a seale so we haue places wher liuely pictures must be set. The pla∣ces must be greate,* 1.526 of small distaunce, not one like an other, and euermore the fifte place must be made notable aboue the rest, hauinge alwayes some seuerall note from the other, as some antique, or a hande pointing, or suche like, that the ra∣ther hauinge a greate number of places, we might the bet∣ter knowe where we are, by the remembraunce of suche no∣table and straunge places. And thus hauynge theim well appoynnted, wee muste kepe theim freshe in oure memorye, and neuer chaunge them, but vse them styll, whatsoeuer we haue to saye. But the ymages we may chaunge as the mat∣ter shal geue iust cause, vsinge suche as shall serue beste for the knowledge of thinges.

The whiche Images muste be sette forthe as thoughe they were stirring,* 1.527 yea they must be sometimes made raumping, and last of all, they muste be made of thinges notable, suche as maye cause earnest impression of thinges in our mind. As a notable euill fauoured man, or a monstruous horse, suche as sainte Georges horse was wonte to be, or any such like, helpe well for remembraunce.

• i. The places of Memory are resembled vn∣to Waxe and Paper.
• ij. Images are counted lyke vnto letters or a Seale.
• iij. The placing of these Images, is like vnto wordes written.
• iiij. The vtteraunce and vsing of them, is like vnto readynge.

ANd therfore as we do reserue paper, and yet chaūg our writynge, putting out wordes as occasion shal serue, and settinge other in their rowme: so may we do for the Images inuented, chaunge our pictures ofte, and reserue the papers still. Some gather their pla∣ces and ymages oute of the crosse rowe, beginninge euerye letter with the name of some Beaste, and so go thorowe the whole, makyng in euerye beaste fyue seuerall places, where the impression of thinges shalbe made, that is to saye, in the Heade, the Bealye, in the Taile, in the former parte of the legges, and also in the hinder part. So that bi this meanes, there shall be gathered, an hundreth and fiftene places.

Some againe will set their places in his heade or bodye wi••h whom they speake. As to make the nose, the eyes, the forheade, the heere, the eares, and other partes, to serue for places. And for makinge places in anye house, churche, or o∣ther rowme, this lesson is also geuen, that wee enter oure firste places alwaies vpon the right hande, neuer returning backe, but goynge on styll as I might saye in a circuite, til we come to that place where we first beganne. But first be∣fore the Images be inuented, the places muste be learned

perfitelye, and therfore one geueth coūsayle that we should go into some solitary place where no company is, and there make our places, walking vp and downe foure or fiue times and callyng styll to our remembraunce what and where the places are. And not onely to do this once or twise, but to la∣boure in it two or thre dayes at seuerall times, vntil we shal be able to tel our places vpon our fingers endes.

And nowe to make this harde matter somewhat plaine, I will vse an example. My frende (whom I toke euer to be an honest manne) is accused of thefte, of aduoutrie, of ry∣ot, of manslaughter, and of treason, if I woulde kepe thes•• wordes in my remembraunce, and rehearse them in order as they were spoken, I muste appoynte fiue places, the whiche I hadde neade to haue so perfectlye in my memorye, as coulde be possible. As for example, I will make these in my chamber. A dore, a windowe, a presse, a bedsteade, and a chimney. Now in y^e dore, I wil set Cacus the thefe, or some suche notable verlet. In the windowe I will place Venus. In the presse I will put Apitius y^t famous glutton. In the bedsteade I will set Richard the thirde kinge of England, or some like notable murtherer. In the chimney I wil place the blacke Smythe, or some other notable traytoure.

That if one repete these places, and these Images twise or thrise together, no doubte, though he haue but a meane me∣morie, he shal carye awaye the wordes rehearsed with ease. And like as he maye do with these fiue woordes, so maye he do wyth fiue score, if he haue places freshe in hys remem∣braūce, and do but vse him selfe to this trade one fortenight together.

Therfore thoughe it seme straunge and folyshe to them that knowe it not, yet the learned haue taken this waye, & doubte not but maruayles maye be done, if one haue places readye made for the purpose, and haue them freshe in his re∣membraunce. For what other thinge els do they that ap∣poynt ymages in certaine places made for that purpose, but write (as a manne woulde saye) vpon Paper, that which is spoken vnto them? What maketh the olde manne (that for lacke of naturall heate and moisture, scante knoweth hys

right hande from his lefte) remember in the morning where he layed his purse all nyght, but the beddes heade, whyche lyghtlye is the appoynted place for all mennes purses, espe∣ciallie such as be wayfairers, and haue but little store.

Shall some gentilman playe blyndefolde at the chesse, and can not a learned man be able to rehearse vp a score or two of straunge names together? A Neteherde hauinge the charge and kepynge of .xviij. score heade of beastes in a wyld Fenne, that belonge to diuers menne, will not onelye tell, who be the owners of al suche cattell, but also he wil shew a manne twise a weeke where anye one is feading, and if he wante one amonge the whole, he will tell immediatly what it is, and whose it is that is wantynge. Then fonde are they that counte the Arte of Memorye so harde, seynge they will neither proue the hardenes of it, nor yet blowshe at the matter, when they see pore neteherdes go so farre be∣yonde them. Howe many thinges dothe Memorie conteine marueylous to beholde, and muche more would, if we were not altogether slouthful, and as carelesse to kepe, as we are to gette, good thinges I meane, not goodes of thys world. Euerye Artificer hath through exercise and laboure, an ar∣tificiall memorye, sauynge the learned man onely, who hath most nede of it aboue all other.

When we come to a place where we haue not bene many a daye before, we remembre not onely the place it selfe, but by the place, we call to remembraunce manye thinges done there. Yea sometimes a window maketh some remēber that they haue stollen in their daies some thing out of it. Some∣times a chimney telleth them of manye late drinkinges and sittinges vp by the fire. Sometimes a bedstead putteth thē in remembraūce of many good morowes, sometimes a dore, & sometimes a parler. Thus we se places euē w^tout images, helpe oft the memorye, muche more then shall we remēbre, if we haue both places and Images.

But nowe because I haue halfe weried the reader with a tedious matter, I will harten him agayne wyth a merye tale. At the time of rebellion in Northfolke, there was a priest emong al other adiudged to dye vpō a gibet in a grene

place, a little from the hyghe waye side. This Prieste s••∣inge the place of his laste ende, stode a whyle musinge wyth him selfe, and saide to the companye there. Now Lord God what a thinge is this.* 1.528 It comes to my remembraunce nowe that aboute fourtene yeres paste, I was merye here vpon thys Bancke wyth an other Prieste, and wallowynge me downe vpon the grasse, I said these wordes: Haec requ••∣es mea in seculū seculi, hic habitabo quoniam elegi eam. The whiche Sentence beynge a Psalme of Dauid, is no∣thinge els in Englishe, But this is my restynge place for euer and euer, here shall be my dwellynge, because I haue chosen it. And nowe (quod he) I finde it to be ouer true, so that I thinke it be Goddes wyl I should dye, and therfore I take it in good worthe, and thus I desire you al to praye for me. Thus we see that the place brought hym in remem∣braunce of a sentence spoken .xiiij. yeres before.

Therfore this knoweledge is not to be neglected, no tho∣ughe we do contemne it, yet we haue the vse of it. For if we be fully disposed to remēber a thing, we do call vp the me∣morye, and styrre it to mynde thynges lyke thereunto. As if one be called Wingefeld, and I feare to forget this name I might remembre the winge of a byrde,* 1.529 and a grene feld to walke in. Sometymes we remēber the whole, by kepyng in mynde some parte of a word. As when one is called Crow∣croft, I myght by remembring of a Crowe, the rather mind his name.

Notw^tstāding ther be some (emōg whō is Erasmus) which like not this arte of Memorie, but saye it rather hindereth, then helpeth a mans wit. And yet Tullie the greatest Ora∣tour emong the Romaynes, did wel alowe it, and proued it good by a naturall reason. For where as we knowe some thinges (sayeth he) onelye by vnderstandynge, and some by the sence of seynge, those we kepe best in our mindes whiche we knowe by sight, & haue marked with our eyes. As for ex∣ample. When I se a Lyon, y^e ymage therof abideth faster in my mind, thē if I should heare some report made of a Lyon Emong all the senses, the eye sight is most quicke, & cōtei∣neth the impressiō of thinges more assuredly, thē any of the other senses do.

And the rather when a manne bothe heareth and seeth a thinge (as by artificiall memorye he dothe almoste se thin∣ges liuelye) he dothe remember it muche the better. The sight printeth thinges in a mannes memorye, as a seale doth prynce a mannes name in waxe. And therfore heretofore I∣mages were sette vp for remembraunce of Sainctes, to be laye mennes bokes, that the rather by seinge the Pictures of suche menne, they might be stirred to folowe their good liuynge. The whiche surely hadde bene well done, if God had not forbidden it. But seinge thinges muste be done not of a good entente, but euen as God hath commaunded, it is well doone that suche Idolles are cleane taken oute of the churche. Marye for this purpose wherof we nowe write, they woulde haue serued gayly well. Thus the arte is sone tolde, but the practise of it is all. And therfore if one desire to excell herein, let him take paynes to gather his places to∣gether, and kepe them well in remembraunce, prouinge by halfe a score, how he shall be able to vse a hundreth. And no doubte, but time and exercise shall make him perfecte.

For the beste arte of memorye that can be, is to heare muche, to speake muche, to reade muche, and to write much. And exercise it is that dothe all, when we haue saide al that euer we can.

Of Pronunciation.

PRonunciation is an apte orderinge bothe of the voyce,* 1.530 countenaunce, and all the whole bodye, ac∣cordynge to the worthines of suche woordes and mater as by speache are declared. The vse hereof is suche for anye one that liketh to haue prayse for tellynge his tale in open assemblie, that hauing a good tongue, and a comelye countenaunce, he shalbe thought to passe all other that haue the like vtteraunce: thoughe they haue much bet∣ter learning. The tongue geueth a certayne grace to eue∣rye matter, and beautifieth the cause in like maner, as a swete soundynge Lute muche setteth forthe a meane deui∣sed Ballade. Or as the sounde of a good instrumente styr∣reth

the hearers, and moueth muche delite, so a cleare soun∣dyng voice comforteth muche our d••intie eares, with muche swete melodie, and causeth vs to allowe the matter rather for the reporters sake, thē the reporter, for the matters sake. Demosthenes therfore,* 1.531 that famouse Oratour beyng asked what was the chiefest point in al Oratorie, gaue the chiefe and onely praise to Pronunciation, being demaunded, what was the seconde, and the thirde, he stil made answere, Pro∣nunciation, and would make none other aunswere, till they lefte askyng, declaryng hereby that Arte without vtteraūce can dooe nothyng, vtteraunce without Arte can dooe right muche. And no doubte that man is in outwarde apparaunce halfe a good Clarke, that hath a cleane tongue, and a comely gesture of his bodie.* 1.532 Aeschines lykewyse beyng bānished his countrie through Demosthenes, when he had redde to the Rhodians his owne Oration, and Demosthenes aunswere thereunto, by force wherof he was bannished, and all they marueiled muche at the excellencie of the same: then ({quod} Ae∣schines) you would haue marueiled muche more if you had heard hymselfe speake it. Thus beyng cast in miserie & ban∣nished for euer, he could not but geue suche great reporte of his most deadly and mortal ennemy.

¶The partes of Pronunciation.

PRonunciation standeth partely in fashionyng the tongue, and partely in framyng the gesture.

The tongue, or voice is praise worthie, if the vt∣teraunce be audible, strong, and easie, & apte to or∣der as we liste. Therfore they that mynde to gette praise in tellyng their minde in open audience must at the first begin∣nyng speake somwhat softely, vse meete pausyng, and being somewhat heated, rise with their voice, as the tyme & cause shal best require. Thei that haue no good voices by nature, or cannot wel vtter their woordes, must seeke for helpe els∣where. Exercise of the bodie, fastyng, moderacion in meate, and drynke, gaping wyde, or singyng plaine song, & counter∣feityng those that do speake distinctly, helpe muche to haue a good deliueraunce. Demosthenes beeyng not able to pro∣pronounce

the first letter of that Arte whiche he professed, but would say, for, Rhethorique, Letolike, vsed to put litle stones vnder his tongue, & so pronounced, whereby he spake at lengthe so plainely as any man in the worlde coulde doe. Musicians in England haue vsed to put gagges in childrēs mouthes that they might pronounce distinctely, but nowe with the losse and lacke of Musicke, the loue also is gone of bringyng vp children to speake plainely. Some therebe that either naturally,* 1.533 or through folie haue suche euill voices & suche lacke of vtteraunce, & suche euil gesture, that it muche defaceth all their doynges. One pipes out his woordes so small through defaulte of his wynde pype, that ye woulde thinke he whisteled. An other is so hource in his throte, that a man woulde thynke he came lately from scouryng of har∣nesse. An other speakes, as though he had Plummes in his mouthe. An other speakes in his throte, as though a good Ale crūme stacke fast. An other ratles his wordes. An other choppes his wordes. An other speakes, as though his wor∣des had neede to be heaued out with leauers. An other spea∣kes as though his wordes shoulde be weyed in a ballaunce. An other gapes to fetche wynde at euery thirde woorde. This man barkes out his Englishe Northrenlike with I∣say, and thou ladde. An other speakes so finely, as though he were brought vp in a Ladies Chamber. As I knew a Priest that was as nice as a Nonnes Henne, when he would saie Masse, he woulde neuer saie Dominus vobiscum, but Do∣minus vobicum. In like maner as some now wil say, the Commendementes of God, blacke vellet, for Commaunde∣mentes and blacke veluet. Some blowes at their noistrel∣les. Some sighes out their wordes. Some synges their sen∣tencies. Some laughes altogether, when they speake to any bodie. Some gruntes lyke a Hogge. Some cackels lyke a Henne, or a Iack Dawe. Some speakes as thoughe they shoulde tel a tale in their sleeue. Some cries out so loude, that they would make a mans eares ake to heare thē. Some ••oughes at euery worde. Some hēmes it out. Some spittes fier, they talke so hotely. Some makes a wrie mouthe, and so they wreste out their wordes. Some whynes lyke a Pig.

Some suppes their wordes vp as a poore man doth his po∣rage. Some noddes their head at euery sentence. An other winckes with one iye, and some with both. This mā frow∣ueth alwaies when he speakes. An other lookes ••uer as though he were mad. Some cannot speake, but thei must go vp and doune, or at the lest be stirryng their feete as though they stode in a cockeryng Bote. An other wil plaie with his cappe in his hande, & so tel his tale. Some when they speake in a great companie, will looke al one way, as I knewe a reader in my daies, who loked in lyke sorte when he redde to Scholers, whome one thought to disappoint of suche his constant lookes: and therefore against the nexte daie he painted the Deuil with hornes vpon his heade in the selfe same place where the Reader was wont alwaies to looke, the whiche straunge monster when the reader sawe, he was half abashed, and turned his face an other way. Some pores vpon the grounde, as though thei sought for pynnes. Tullie telles of one Theophrastus Tauriscus, who is saide to de∣claime arsee versee. Some swelles in the face & sill••s their chekes ful of wynde, as though they would blow out their woordes. Some settes forth their lippes two ynches good beyonde their teeth. Some talkes as thoughe their tongue went of patyns. Some showes al their teeth. Some speakes in their teeth altogether. Some leates their wordes fall in their lippes, scant openyng theim when they speake. There are a thousand suche faultes emong menne bothe for their speache, and also for their gesture, the whiche if in their young yeres they be not remedied, they will hartely be for∣gotte when they come to mans state. But the rather that these faultes may be redressed: I haue partly declared here∣tofore the righte vse of vtteraunce, and nowe I mynde by Goddes helpe to shewe the right vse of gesture.

¶Vvat is gesture.

GEsture is a certaine comely moderacion of the coun∣tenaunce,* 1.534 and al other partes of mans body, apte∣ly agreeyng to those thynges whiche are spoken▪ That if wee shall speake in a pleasaunt matter, it is meete that the loke also should be chereful, and al the gesture stir∣ryng

thereafter. The heade to be holden vpright, the fore∣head without frownyng, the browes without bendyng, the nose without blowyng, the iyes quicke and pleasaunt, the lippes not laid out, the tethe without grennyng, the armes not muche cast abrode, but comely set out, as time, and cause shal best require: the handes somtymes opened, and someti∣mes holde together, the fingers pointyng, the brest laid out, and the whole body stirryng altogether with a seemely mo∣deracion. By the whiche behauiour of our body after suche a sorte, we shal not onely delite men with the sight, but per∣swade them the rather the truth of our cause.

Q. Hortensius had suche delite to vse comely gesture,* 1.535 & had suche grace in that behaulfe: that I doubt whether men had a greater desire to see hym, than they had to heare hym. His countenaunce so wel agreed with his wordes, and his woordes were so meete for his contenaunce, that not one∣ly he did please the iudgement of his hearers, and contented their mynde: but also he pleased their iyes, and delited their eares, so muche as could be wished.

Tullie saith well: The gesture of man, is the speache of his bodie, and therfore reason it is, that lyke as the speache must agree to the matter, so must also the gesture agree to the mynde. for, the iyes are not geuen to man onely to se, but also to shewe, and set forth the meanyng of his mynde, euen as vnto a Bore are geuen briselles: to a Lyon, the taile: to a horse, his cares: whereby their inclinacions and soubdeine affections are sone espied. When we see a man loke redde in the iyes, his browes bent, his teeth bytyng his vpper lip, we iudge that he is out of pacience. Therefore as we ought to haue good regarde for the vt∣teraunce of our wordes, so we ought to take hede that our gesture be comely, the whiche bothe beyng wel obserued, shal euerease fame and gette estimacion vni∣uersally.

But heare an end. And now as my wil hath been earnest to doe my beste: so I wishe that my paines may bee taken thereafter. And yet what needes wishyng, seeyng the good will not speake euill, and the wicked can not speake well. Therfore beyng staied vpon the good, and assured of their ientle bearyng with me: I feare none, because I stande vpon a saufe grounde.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Rhetorique oc¦cupied aboute all lawes, con∣cernyng man.
• * 1.2

  Questions of two sortes.
• * 1.3

  Questions in∣finite.
• * 1.4

  Questions de∣finite.
• * 1.5

  Questions de∣finite, belong properly to an Orator.
• * 1.6

  Questions in∣finite, proper vnto Logiciās
• * 1.7

  Orators boūd to perfourme 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thynges.
• * 1.8

  Plain wordes proper vnto an Oratour.
• * 1.9

  A Philosophi¦er•• wittie sai∣yng to a yong manne, that soughte to speake darke language.
• * 1.10

  Orators muste vse delightful woordes, and saiynges.
• * 1.11

  Preachers not so diligentely heard, as com∣mon plaiers.
• * 1.12

  Prechers must sometymes be merie, when thei speake to the people.
• * 1.13

  Deli••••ng nedefull.
• * 1.14

  Scurrilitie odious.
• * 1.15

  Affecciōs must be moued.
• * 1.16

  Practise ma∣keth all thyn∣ges perfect.
• * 1.17

  Rhetorique firste made by wise men, and not wise men firste made by Rhetorique.
• * 1.18

  Imitacion or folowyng the waies of wise men, is nede∣full.
• * 1.19

  Rhetorique, to what purpose it serueth.
• * 1.20

  Arte, surer guide, then nature.
• * 1.21

  Orators must haue fiue thin∣ges to make them perfect.
• * 1.22

  Inuencion, what it is.
• * 1.23

  Disposicion, what it is.
• * 1.24

  Elocucion, what it is.
• * 1.25

  Memorie, what it is.
• * 1.26

  Pronunciatiō what it is.
• * 1.27

  Oracions in generall, con∣sist vpon seuen partes.
• * 1.28

  Enteraunce, what it is.
• * 1.29

  Narration.
• * 1.30

  Proposicion.
• * 1.31

  Diuision.
• * 1.32

  Confirmacion.
• * 1.33

  Confutacion.
• * 1.34

  Conclusion.
• * 1.35

  Matters ī ge∣neral, stand in iiii. poynctes.
• * 1.36

  Matters honest.
• * 1.37

  Matters, filthie.
• * 1.38

  Matters, doubtfull.
• * 1.39

  Matters, trifelyng.
• * 1.40

  Circūstaunces necessary in al causes to bee noted.
• * 1.41

  Fauoure wyn∣nyng, and af∣feccions mo∣uyng, when thei are moste necessarie.
• * 1.42

  Aduersaries reasons, when thei shuld best be confuted.
• * 1.43

  Argumentes whō thei shuld chiefly be vsed
• * 1.44

  Matters, hard to auoide, shuld alwaies bee past ouer, as thoughwe saw them not at al
• * 1.45

  Good to bee bolde in moste daungier, if o∣therwise wee cannot escape.
• * 1.46

  Better not to hurte a good matter by euil speach, then to further it by good talke.
• * 1.47

  ••arenesse in speakyng, and forbearyng to speake.
• * 1.48

  The person be¦fore whom we speake, must be well marked.
• * 1.49

  Tyme must be obserued.
• * 1.50

  Orations, o•• causes of thr••e kyndes,
• * 1.51

  Oracion De∣monstratiue.
• * 1.52

  Noble perso∣nages, howe thei should be praised.
• * 1.53

  The house o•• aūcestrie wher¦of a noble per∣sonage cometh.
• * 1.54

  ii. The realme.
• * 1.55

  iii. The Shire or Toune.
• * 1.56

  iiii. The se••e or kynde.
• * 1.57

  v. Educac••on.
• * 1.58

  vi. Inclinaciō of nature.
• * 1.59

  vii Attemptes worthy.
• * 1.60

  viii.
• * 1.61

  Tyme of it. departing this worlde.
• * 1.62

  After depar∣ture.
• * 1.63

  Duke of Suf∣folke, and lord Charles.
• * 1.64

  Gorgias.
• * 1.65

  Heliogabalus
• * 1.66

  Phauorinus.
• * 1.67

  Henry duke of Suffolke, and lorde Charles his brother.
• * 1.68

  Oracion De∣mo••stratiue of a deede.
• * 1.69

  Dauid cōmen∣ded for killing Goliah.
• * 1.70

  who? Dauid against Goliah.
• * 1.71

  what? Dauid killed Goliah.
• * 1.72

  where? About the vale of Terebithus.
• * 1.73

  Dauids enter∣prise, honest and godly.
• * 1.74

  By what help and by whose? Alone, & with∣out the help of any manne li∣uyng.
• * 1.75

  Dauids enter∣prise, praise worthy.
• * 1.76

  why? For the saufe∣garde of his countrey.
• * 1.77

  Dauides enter¦prise, prost••a∣••ie to hymself and his coun∣trey.
• * 1.78

  Dauides enter¦prise, appered easy to himself
• * 1.79

  Dauides enter¦prise, accomp∣ted of his frē∣des, harde aud impossible.
• * 1.80

  How? with a slyng.
• * 1.81

  Logique must be learned for confirmacion of causes.
• * 1.82

  Iustice com∣mended.
• * 1.83

  Iustice natu∣rally in euery one of v••.
• * 1.84

  Iustice what it is, and howe largely it ex∣tendeth.
• * 1.85

  Aristotel.
• * 1.86

  Wvrong dea∣lyng deserueth death.
• * 1.87

  Iustice neces∣sarie for almō.
• * 1.88

  From the lesse to the greater.
• * 1.89

  Young Stor∣kes.
• * 1.90

  Vnnaturalnes in man towar∣des God.
• * 1.91

  Ihon. ••iiii. Matth. ••ix. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. ••.
• * 1.92

  Proner. ••v••.
• * 1.93

  Prouer. iiii.
• * 1.94

  Psal. xcvi.
• * 1.95

  Profite of iustice.
• * 1.96

  Sauegarde had by iustice.
• * 1.97

  Gradation.
• * 1.98

  The necessitie of iustice.
• * 1.99

  Vvhere iustice is executed, vice is exiled.
• * 1.100

  ¶Aegiptians what order they vsed to banishe ydel∣nesse.
• * 1.101

  Iustice easy to be obserued, if wil be not wā¦••yng.
• * 1.102

  Valer. lib. vi.
• * 1.103

  Oration deli∣beratiue.
• * 1.104

  ••onestie com∣prehendeth al vertues.
• * 1.105

  Profite howe largely it ex∣tendeth.
• * 1.106

  Profite bea∣reth the name of goodnes, whiche is thre folded.
• * 1.107

  Pleasures, lar¦gely sette out.
• * 1.108

  Eas••nesse of trauaile.
• * 1.109

  Trauaile vnto whome it is ••arde.
• * 1.110

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.111

  Lawfull.
• * 1.112

  Necessary 〈◊〉〈◊〉 waies taken.
• * 1.113

  Lawes of Englande.
• * 1.114

  Vertnes espe∣ciall and chief foure in nō••••e
• * 1.115

  Prudence what it is?
• * 1.116

  Partes of Prudence.
• * 1.117

  Iustice, what it is.
• * 1.118

  Nature, what it is.
• * 1.119

  Religion.
• * 1.120

  Naturall loue.
• * 1.121

  Thankfulnes.
• * 1.122

  Stoutenesse.
• * 1.123

  Reuerence.
• * 1.124

  Assured and constant truth
• * 1.125

  Right by custome.
• * 1.126

  Custome with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 grounde, vn∣••••dly.
• * 1.127

  Commons.
• * 1.128

  Iudgement geuen.
• * 1.129

  Right by Lawe.
• * 1.130

  Manhode.
• * 1.131

  Honorablenes
• * 1.132

  Stoutenesse.
• * 1.133

  Sufferaunce.
• * 1.134

  Continuaunce
• * 1.135

  Temperaunce.
• * 1.136

  Sobrietie.
• * 1.137

  Ieutlenesse.
• * 1.138

  Modestie.
• * 1.139

  Hope of re∣warde maketh men take pai∣nes.
• * 1.140

  The Romay∣nes lawes for Churche di∣gni••ees.
• * 1.141

  Lawe, profi∣table to the purse.
• * 1.142

  Circumstaun∣ces, in obser∣uyng profite.
• * 1.143

  Foly in many, that go to the Lawe.
• * 1.144

  Lawyers, ne∣••••r dy beggers
• * 1.145

  L••wes main∣teine lyfe.
• * 1.146

  Praise wor∣thie to marie.
• * 1.147

  Right and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to ma••te.
• * 1.148

  Mariage first made by God.
• * 1.149

  After mā was made, the wo∣man was ioy∣ned vnto hym.
• * 1.150

  Matrimonie renewed after the floude.
• * 1.151

  ¶Na••••re worke allowe•• by Goddes worde.
• * 1.152

  Mariage beau¦tified by a mi∣racle.
• * 1.153

  Mariage ho∣norable.
• * 1.154

  Deut. vi.
• * 1.155

  Lia.
• * 1.156

  Hebrues lawe for maried folke.
• * 1.157

  Plutarchus in the lyfe of Cato.
• * 1.158

  Augustus Cesar.
• * 1.159

  Miscella.
• * 1.160

  Vlpianus.
• * 1.161

  I••••enal.
• * 1.162

  Licurgus law against vnma∣••••ed folke.
• * 1.163

  Punishmētes appoynted for breaking of wedlocke.
• * 1.164

  The Grecians reuengement for adu••••trye.
• * 1.165

  The Hebrues stoned Aduou∣terers.
• * 1.166

  Lawful for the maried man a∣mong the He∣brues to kyll the aduoutere••
• * 1.167

  Matrimonie natural
• * 1.168

  Mariage e∣monge trees.
• * 1.169

  Mariage e∣mong preci∣ous stones.
• * 1.170

  Mariage be∣twene the fir∣••••ament and the earth.
• * 1.171

  The fable of Giauntes that fought against Nature.
• * 1.172

  Orpheu••.
• * 1.173

  The most wic∣ked can not chose but alow mariage.
• * 1.174

  All nacions e∣uer estemed mariage.
• * 1.175

  The Hebrues and Persians had a number of wiues
• * 1.176

  Abraham.
• * 1.177

  Iacob.
• * 1.178

  Salomon.
• * 1.179

  Socrates
• * 1.180

  Priestes ma∣riage.
• * 1.181

  Virginitie.
• * 1.182

  Hierom•• prai∣se vpon Virgi∣nitie.
• * 1.183

  Hebrues.
• * 1.184

  Timon a dead∣ly hater of all companie.
• * 1.185

  Euill wifes happen to euil men onely.
• * 1.186

  Ielousie vn∣knowen to wise men.
• * 1.187

  Cornelia.
• * 1.188

  Alcestes wife.
• * 1.189

  Iulia.
• * 1.190

  Por••ia.
• * 1.191

  Lucretia.
• * 1.192

  Artemisia.
• * 1.193

  Hipsicratea.
• * 1.194

  ••ertia Aemilia.
• * 1.195

  Turia.
• * 1.196

  Lentula.
• * 1.197

  A••ria.
• * 1.198

  Prouer. x.
• * 1.199

  Necessitee enforceth mariage.
• * 1.200

  zerxes.
• * 1.201

  Essens ha∣••ed Mariage.
• * 1.202

  Iosephus xv•••••• cap. li••. ii.
• * 1.203

  Daughters of Loth.
• * 1.204

  The conclu∣sion.
• * 1.205

  Exhortyng.
• * 1.206

  Praisyng •• d••ede,
• * 1.207

  Praisyng a man, the ra∣ther to encou∣rage him.
• * 1.208

  Expectacion of al men.
• * 1.209

  ••ope of vic∣torie.
• * 1.210

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.211

  Shame folo∣weth fearful∣nesse, when manhode is thought nede∣ful.
• * 1.212

  Heauen, the rewarde of hault Capitoi∣nes.
• * 1.213

  Mo••yng of pitie.
• * 1.214

  The maner of commendyng▪
• * 1.215

  The maner of comfortyng.
• * 1.216

  Comforty••g two waies ••sed.
• * 1.217

  Sweatyng disease.
• * 1.218

  Passions wo∣••ke diuerslye
• * 1.219

  The cause why God ta∣keth awa•• the moste worth••∣est.
• * 1.220

  Vvhe•• necessi¦tie ruleth, so∣row is nedeles••
• * 1.221

  The folye of such as sorow the want of the••e frendes.
• * 1.222

  Deathe com∣mune to all.
• * 1.223

  Euil, to liue emonge the euil.
• * 1.224

  To dye hap∣pelye is great happines.
• * 1.225

  Vvisd. iiii.
• * 1.226

  Psal. lxxxiiii.
• * 1.227

  Psal. xlii.
• * 1.228

  Life, the right way to death.
• * 1.229

  Death purcha∣seth re••t.
• * 1.230

  Death more frendly, the so¦ner it cometh.
• * 1.231

  Thracians.
• * 1.232

  Children by wepyng, de∣clare out 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.233

  Iob.
• * 1.234

  Lent goodes, muste be resto∣red at the aw∣ne••s will.
• * 1.235

  The nature of brute beastes.
• * 1.236

  Immoderate sorowe, not naturall.
• * 1.237

  Tyme, a reme∣die for fooles, to take awaie their sorowe.
• * 1.238

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.239

  The great mi∣serie of this worlde, makes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of life
• * 1.240

  Impacience without com¦forte.
• * 1.241

  Trees, not ac∣cursed, because Apples fall from cheins.
• * 1.242

  Commodus
• * 1.243

  Nero.
• * 1.244

  Dauid .ii. Regu•••••• .xii.
• * 1.245

  Iob.
• * 1.246

  Tobias.
• * 1.247

  ••. Thessa .iiii.
• * 1.248

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.249

  Anaxogoras.
• * 1.250

  Pericles.
• * 1.251

  Cornelia.
• * 1.252

  Bibulus.
• * 1.253

  Horatius Puluillus.
• * 1.254

  Paulus Emi∣lius.
• * 1.255

  Quintus ••••••¦tius.
• * 1.256

  Iulius Cesar.
• * 1.257

  Tyberius Ce∣sar.
• * 1.258

  Sap .iiii.
• * 1.259

  Trees lyue lō∣ger then men.
• * 1.260

  The Stagge how long he liueth.
• * 1.261

  Man, what he is, concernyng his body.
• * 1.262

  Rype thynges last not long.
• * 1.263

  Math. v.
• * 1.264

  Paci••̄ce praise worthie in ad∣uersitie.
• * 1.265

  Definition of a thyng must first be knowē ere we speake o•••• mynd at large.
• * 1.266

  Rouyng with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 reason.
• * 1.267

  Plinies coun∣sel for hande∣ling of caus••••.
• * 1.268

  A State gene∣rally what it is.
• * 1.269

  State in Iud∣gement what it is.
• * 1.270

  State, why it is so called.
• * 1.271

  Math. v.
• * 1.272

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.273

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.274

  Lawyers.
• * 1.275

  Confessyng, what it is.
• * 1.276

  The diuision.
• * 1.277

  Blamyng o∣ther, how 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is saied.
• * 1.278

  Comparyng the faulte.
• * 1.279

  S••guntines.
• * 1.280

  Shiftyng the fault from vs
• * 1.281

  A beginnyng, what it is.
• * 1.282

  Insinuacion.
• * 1.283

  ••••re thynges moste mere for euery Orator.
• * 1.284

  To make the hearers to vn∣derstande the matter.
• * 1.285

  To make hea∣rers attentiu••••▪
• * 1.286

  Demosthenes tale of the As∣ses shadowe.
• * 1.287

  To gett•• the hearers good will.
• * 1.288

  Insinuacion.
• * 1.289

  Myrth ma∣kyng good at the begynning
• * 1.290

  Straung thin∣ges some tyme nedeful to be tolde at the first.
• * 1.291

  Enteraunces apt to the purpose.
• * 1.292

  ••nteraunces apt for Prea∣che••s.
• * 1.293

  Na••ration. i. Brife. ii. Plaine. iii. Probable
• * 1.294

  ••r••uitie howe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 might be vsed.
• * 1.295

  Pla••••en••s how it might be vsed.
• * 1.296

  Probalitie how it might be vsed.
• * 1.297

  Narration 〈◊〉〈◊〉 iudgement.
• * 1.298

  Narration in praisyng and counsel ge∣uyng.
• * 1.299

  Preachers what order they vse.
• * 1.300

  Diuision of thre partes at the most.
• * 1.301

  ••vomen re∣buked that nurse not their owne children.
• * 1.302

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.303

  Thankfulnes, what it is.
• * 1.304

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.305

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.306

  Confutacion.
• * 1.307

  Placed of Lo∣g••••ue moste nedefull.
• * 1.308

  Conclusion, what it is.
• * 1.309

  Conclusion, of twoo sortes.
• * 1.310

  Athenians for bad conclusiōs
• * 1.311

  〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.312

  Lowlinesse.
• * 1.313

  Backbityng.
• * 1.314

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.315

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.316

  Liberality cō∣mended wyth heapes of sen¦tences.
• * 1.317

  Prouerbes al¦leged, helpe Amplificatiō.
• * 1.318

  Thynges no∣table or stra∣unge, helpe forward Am∣plification.
• * 1.319

  Diminution
• * 1.320

  Correction.
• * 1.321

  Slaunder, a greater off••̄ce then theft••
• * 1.322

  Storkes.
• * 1.323

  ••ipers.
• * 1.324

  Amplification by coniectures
• * 1.325

  Affections mouyng.
• * 1.326

  ••vith prai∣syng: disprai∣syng vsed.
• * 1.327

  Descriptio•• of an euil & wic∣ke offence doen.
• * 1.328

  what is d••en.
• * 1.329

  By whom.
• * 1.330

  Against who••
• * 1.331

  ••pon what mynde.
• * 1.332

  At what 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.333

  In what place
• * 1.334

  After what sorte.
• * 1.335

  How muche he would.
• * 1.336

  He that will stirre affecciōs to other▪ muste first be moued hymself.
• * 1.337

  Heate, causeth heate.
• * 1.338

  A wepyng iye ••r••uoketh m••ysture.
• * 1.339

  Laughter m••uyng.
• * 1.340

  Mirthe howe many waies 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is moued.
• * 1.341

  Prea••he••s▪
• * 1.342

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.343

  ••. Peter .v. Math .x.
• * 1.344

  Iestyng when it should bee spaced.
• * 1.345

  Mirthe ma∣kyng, twoo waies vsed.
• * 1.346

  Pleasauntnes in a ••aiyng.
• * 1.347

  Di••ference be∣twi••te a com∣mon ieste•• and a pleasaunt wise manne.
• * 1.348

  Pleasaunt an∣sweres made, cōtrary to our lokyng, delite vs muche.
• * 1.349

  Diogenes.
• * 1.350

  wordes doubt fully spoken.
• * 1.351

  Chaungyng of a letter, or al••ering parte of a word, or adding a silla∣••le.
• * 1.352

  Interpreta••••∣on of a word.
• * 1.353

  ••vordes tak•• and not the meanyng.
• * 1.354

  An aunswere from euyll to worse.
• * 1.355

  ••••udgynge wit••ely re••u∣ked.
• * 1.356

  A wittie deui∣sed tale to g••t ryght iudgmēt
• * 1.357

  A 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bly••d answere
• * 1.358

  ••••ordes o••er∣t••wartly aun∣swered.
• * 1.359

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 be∣twirt a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in a word, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a ••est in a long•• ••ale.
• * 1.360

  Deformitie of bodye moueth myrthe.
• * 1.361

  Augmentyng or d••mini∣shynge
• * 1.362

  Openynge a weyghtye 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vnknowen ••hynge
• * 1.363

  Dissemblyng••
• * 1.364

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.365

  〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.366

  ••nnius plea∣saunt answer to Nasica
• * 1.367

  •• mā m••••••ed with the s••me he bryngeth
• * 1.368

  Diogenes dog¦gysh aunswe•• in despyte of ••omen.
• * 1.369

  ••vishyng.
• * 1.370

  Coniectures.
• * 1.371

  Thynges wantyng.
• * 1.372

  Familiare ad¦uise geuyng.
• * 1.373

  Thynges ••••••∣ken contrarie to expcction.
• * 1.374

  A lye mocked with a lye.
• * 1.375

  Grauntyng to o••her thesame, that they wil not graunt to vs.
• * 1.376

  Better be born a begger, than dye a begger.
• * 1.377

  Salust.
• * 1.378

  Pleasaunt di••¦sem••lyng in outwarde be∣hauiour.
• * 1.379

  Checkyng a lyar with an open mocke.
• * 1.380

  Order of what sorte it is.
• * 1.381

  Rhetorique what it ••ea••••heth, for or∣deryng of thynges.
• * 1.382

  Argumentes howe they should be di∣gested.
• * 1.383

  Thuse of arte.
• * 1.384

  Eloquent men moste estemed.
• * 1.385

  Barbarous clerkes, no bet¦ter then slouēs.
• * 1.386

  Plaines what it is.
• * 1.387

  An ynkehorne letter.
• * 1.388

  Roper••pe ch••••yng.
• * 1.389

  Foure thinges obserued, for choyse of wor∣des.
• * 1.390

  Aptnes.
• * 1.391

  V••••apte vsyng of apt wordes
• * 1.392

  Composicion what it is.
• * 1.393

  Faules in cō∣posicion.
• * 1.394

  Exornation.
• * 1.395

  Thre mane•• of stiles or en∣di••inges.
• * 1.396

  Exorna••ion •• by coloures of Rhetorique.
• * 1.397

  Tropes how they wer fyrst ••ounded▪
• * 1.398

  Trope what it is.
• * 1.399

  Deuision of Tropes.
• * 1.400

  Metaphora
• * 1.401

  word making.
• * 1.402

  Intellection.
• * 1.403

  Abusion.
• * 1.404

  Transmuta∣••ion.
• * 1.405

  Antono∣masia.
• * 1.406

  periphrasis
• * 1.407

  Scheme what it is.
• * 1.408

  Prosthe••••s.
• * 1.409

  Apheresis.
• * 1.410

  ••penthesis.
• * 1.411

  Syncope.
• * 1.412

  Proparalepsis
• * 1.413

  Aporope.
• * 1.414

  Coloures of Rhetorique.
• * 1.415

  Commor••••io.
• * 1.416

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.417

  Description of outrage after •• battaile.
• * 1.418

  Diuersitie of natures▪
• * 1.419

  Description of persone.
• * 1.420

  The vse of figures.
• * 1.421

  Precisio.
• * 1.422

  Significa∣tio plus ad intelligēdū{que} dixeris.
• * 1.423

  Demosthenes.
• * 1.424

  Distincte concisa bre¦uitas.
• * 1.425

  Extenuatio••
• * 1.426

  〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.427

  Digressio ab ••e non longa.
• * 1.428

  Proposicio quid sis di∣cturus.
• * 1.429

  Seiunctio as eo quod dictum est▪
• * 1.430

  Reditus ad propositū.
• * 1.431

  Iteratio.
• * 1.432

  Rationis apta con∣clusio.
• * 1.433

  Veritatis superlatio, at{que} ••••aie∣ctio.
• * 1.434

  Rogatio.
• * 1.435

  Percōtatio
• * 1.436

  Dissimuta∣tio, alia di∣centis ac si∣gnificanti••
• * 1.437

  Dubitacio.
• * 1.438

  Distributio
• * 1.439

  Correctio.
• * 1.440

  Tullie against Uerres.
• * 1.441

  Reiectio.
• * 1.442

  premunitio
• * 1.443

  Communi∣catio.
• * 1.444

  Descriptio
• * 1.445

  Erroris inductio.
• * 1.446

  In hilarita∣tē impulsio
• * 1.447

  Ante occu••patio.
• * 1.448

  Similitudo
• * 1.449

  Similitude enlarged.
• * 1.450

  Exemplum
• * 1.451

  Doues
• * 1.452

  Craynes
• * 1.453

  Vn••hankeful••nes how euil it is
• * 1.454

  Vnthankeful∣nes punyshed by the Pers••∣••s with death
• * 1.455

  Thankfulnes of a Dragon
• * 1.456

  Thākefulnes 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉.
• * 1.457

  Thākefulnes of a Lyon.
• * 1.458

  Example en∣larged.
• * 1.459

  Poeticall nar∣rations profi∣table.
• * 1.460

  Poets vnder cul••ures shew muche wisdome.
• * 1.461

  Danae
• * 1.462

  Isis
• * 1.463

  Tantalus
• * 1.464

  Icarus.
• * 1.465

  Midas.
• * 1.466

  Hercules la∣boures w••at they signi••••ed.
• * 1.467

  S. Christofer what he signi∣fied.
• * 1.468

  S. George on horse backe.
• * 1.469

  Apologi.
• * 1.470

  Fables▪ how nedeful they are to ••eache the ignoraū••e.
• * 1.471

  Digesti••.
• * 1.472

  Reticen••i••.
• * 1.473

  ••iogenes.
• * 1.474

  Contentio.
• * 1.475

  Liberavox
• * 1.476

  Iracundia.
• * 1.477

  Deprecatio
• * 1.478

  Cōcilia••io.
• * 1.479

  Laesio.
• * 1.480

  Purgatio.
• * 1.481

  Optatio.
• * 1.482

  Execratio.
• * 1.483

  Geminatio verborum.
• * 1.484

  Pau••um im¦mutat 〈◊〉〈◊〉 verbum.
• * 1.485

  Repetitio a primo.
• * 1.486

  Conuersio•• eiusdem in extremum.
• * 1.487

  Conuersio in eadem.
• * 1.488

  Silence b••co∣meth a wom••n best.
• * 1.489

  Progressio
• * 1.490

  Similite•• desinens, similiter cadens.
• * 1.491

  Augustine.
• * 1.492

  Tacitus.
• * 1.493

  Rymed senten¦ces vsed with∣out measure.
• * 1.494

  Rymes made, to mocke the simple.
• * 1.495

  Pa••ia pa••i∣bus rela••a.
• * 1.496

  Similia in∣ter se.
• * 1.497

  Gradatio.
• * 1.498

  Regressio.
• * 1.499

  Dissolutnm
• * 1.500

  Exclamatio
• * 1.501

  Permissio▪
• * 1.502

  Dubitatio.
• * 1.503

  A Spaniardes dou••te.
• * 1.504

  Dinumera∣tio.
• * 1.505

  Sentence am∣plified by seue∣rall rehersyng of thynges.
• * 1.506

  Disputatio
• * 1.507

  Imago.
• * 1.508

  Sibi ipsi re∣sponsio.
• * 1.509

  Ordo.
• * 1.510

  Circum∣scriptio.
• * 1.511

  Memorie what it is▪
• * 1.512

  Children and old men haue but euill me∣mories.
• * 1.513

  Hot and moys•• bodies sone conc••iue.
• * 1.514

  Colde and drie kepe thynges sure.
• * 1.515

  Memorie in the latter part of the hedde.
• * 1.516

  Memorie diuided.
• * 1.517

  Themistocles.
• * 1.518

  Mithridates
• * 1.519

  Cyrus.
• * 1.520

  Cyneas
• * 1.521

  Iulius Cesar.
• * 1.522

  Forgetful wittes.
• * 1.523

  Belike thys man had the arte of forget••tinge.
• * 1.524

  Pre••erua••ion o•• Memorie.
• * 1.525

  Simonides, ••i••st aucthoure of the Arte of remembraūce.
• * 1.526

  Places vowe they must be.
• * 1.527

  Images how they must be.
• * 1.528

  God graunt al rebels lyke re∣membraunces.
• * 1.529

  Remembraūce bi thinges like
• * 1.530

  Vtteraunce it is.
• * 1.531

  Demostenes saiyng of pro∣nunciation.
• * 1.532

  Aeschines.
• * 1.533

  Faultes in pronunciation
• * 1.534

  Gesture what it is.
• * 1.535

  Hortensius.