Essays vvritten in French by Michael Lord of Montaigne, Knight of the Order of S. Michael, gentleman of the French Kings chamber: done into English, according to the last French edition, by Iohn Florio reader of the Italian tongue vnto the Soueraigne Maiestie of Anna, Queene of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, &c. And one of the gentlemen of hir royall priuie chamber

The second Booke.

The first Chapter.

Of the inconstancie of our actions.

THose which exercise themselves in controuling humane actions, finde no such let in any one part, as to peece them together, and bring them to one same lustre: For, they commonly contradict one an other so strangely, as it seemeth impossible they should be parcels of one Ware∣house. Young Marius▪ is sometimes found to be the sonne of Mars, and other times the childe of Ʋenus. Pope Bonifae•• the Eight, is reported to have entred into his charge, as a Fox; to have carried himselfe therein, as a Lion; and to have died like a dog. And who would thinke it was Nero, that lively image of cruelty, who being required to signe (as the custome was) the sentence of a criminall of∣fendor, that had beene condemned to die, that ever he should answer? Oh would to God I could never have written! So neare was his heart grieved to doome a man to death. The world is so full of such examples, that every man may store himselfe; and I wonder to see men of vnderstanding trouble themselves with sorting these parcels: Sithence (me seemeth) irresolution is the most apparant and common vice of our nature; as witnesseth that famous verse of Publius the Comoedian:

Malum consilium est, quod mutari non potest.

The counsell is but bad, Whose change may not be had.

There is some apparance to judge a man by the most common conditions of his life; but seeing the naturall instability of our customes and opinions; I have often thought, that even good Authors doe ill, and take a wrong course, wilfully to opinionate themselves about fra∣ming a constant and solide contexture of vs. They chuse an vniversall ayre, and following that image, range and interpret all a mans actions; which if they cannot wrest sufficiently, they remit them vnto dissimulation. Augustus hath escaped their hands; for there is so ap∣parant, so sudden and continuall a variety of actions found in him, through the course of his life, that even the boldest judges and strictest censurers, have beene faine to give him over, and leave him vndecided. There is nothing I so hardly beleeve to be in man, as constancy, and no∣thing so easie to be found in him, as inconstancy. He that should distinctly and part by part, judge of him, should often jumpe to speake truth. View all antiquity over, and you shall finde it a

hard matter, to chuse out a dozen of men, that have directed their life vnto one certaine, set∣led, and assured course; which is the surest drift of wisedome. For, to comprehend all in one word, saith an ancient writer, and to embrace all the rules of our life into one, it is at all times to will, and not to will one same thing. I would not vouchsafe, (saith he) to adde anything; alwaies provided the will be just: for, if it be vnjust, it is impossible it should ever continue one. Verily, I have heeretofore learned, that vice is nothing but a disorder, and want of mea∣sure, and by consequence, it is impossible to fasten constancy vnto it. It is a saying of Demost∣henes, (as some report,) That consultation and deliberation, is the beginning of all vertue; and con∣stancy, the end and perfection. If by reason or discourse we should take a certaine way, we should then take the fairest: but no man hath thought on it.

Quod petijt, sper••••, repetit quod nuper omisit, Astuat, & vitae disconvenit or dine toto.

He scorn's that which he sought, seek's that he scorn'd of late, He flowes, ebbes, disagrees in his lifes whole estate.

Our ordinary manner is to follow the inclination of our appetite, this way and that way; on the left, and on the right hand; vpward and downe-ward, according as the winde of occa∣sions doth transport vs: we never thinke on what we would have, but at the instant we would have it: and change as that beast that takes the colour of the place wherein it is laid. What we even now purposed, we alter by and by, and presently returne to our former biase: all is but changing, motion, and inconstancy:

Ducimur vt nervis alienis mobile lignum.

So are we drawne, as wood is shooved, By others sinnewes each way mooved.

We goe not, but we are carried: as things that flote, now gliding gently, now hulling vio∣lently; according as the water is, either stormy or calme.

—nónne videmus Quid sibi quisque velit nescire & quaerere semper, Commutare locum quasi onus deponere possit?

See we not, every man in his thoughts height Knowes not what he would have, yet seekes he straight To change place, as he could lay downe his weight?

Every day new toies, each houre new fantasies, and our humours moove and fleete with the fleetings and movings of time.

Tales sunt hominum mentes, quali Pater ipse Iuppiter auctifero lustravit lumine terras.

Such are mens mindes, as that great God of might Survaies the earth with encrease bearing light.

We floate and waver betweene divers opinions: we will nothing freely, nothing absolutely, nothing constantly. Had any man prescribed certaine Lawes, or established assured policies in his owne head; in his life should we daily see, to shine an equality of customes, an assured order, and an infallible relation from one thing to another (Empedocles noted this deformi∣ty to be amongst the Agrigentines, that they gave themselves so over vnto delights, as if they should die tomorrow next, and built as if they should never die) the discourse thereof were easie to be made. As is seene in yoong Cato: He that toucht but one step of it, hath tou∣ched all. It is an harmony of well according tunes and which cannot contradict it self. With vs it is cleane contrary, so many actions, so many particular judgements are there requir'd. The surest way (in mine opinion) were to refer them vnto the next circumstances, without en∣tering into further search, and without concluding any other consequence of them. During the late tumultuous broiles of our mangled estate, it was told me, that a yoong woman, not farre from mee, had head-long cast hir selfe out of a high window, with intent to kill hirselfe, onely to avoide the ravishment of a rascaly-base souldier, that lay in hir house, who offred to force hir: and perceiving that with the fall she had not killed hirselfe, to make an end of hir enterprize, she would have cutte hir owne throate with a knife, but that she was hindered by some that came-into her: Neverthelesse having sore wounded hirselfe, she voluntarily con∣fessed, that the Souldier had yet but vrged hir with importunate requests, suing-solicitations, and golden bribes▪ but she feared he would in the end have obtained his purpose by compul∣sion:

by whose earnest speaches, resolute countenance, and gored bloud (a true testimony of hir chaste vertue) she might appeare to be the lively paterne of an other Lucrece, yet know I certainly, that both before that time, and afterward, she had beene enjoyed of others vpon easier composition. And as the common saying is; Faire and soft, as squemish-honest as she seemes, although you misse of your intent, conclude not rashly an inviolable chastitie to be in your Mistresse; For, a groome or a horse-keeper may find an houre to thrive in; and a dog hath a day. Antigonus having taken vppon him to favour a Souldier of his, by reason of his vertue and valour, commaunded his Phisicians to have great care of him, and see whether they could recover him of a lingring and inward disease, which had long tormented him, who being perfectly cured, he afterward perceived him to be nothing so earnest and diligent in his affaires, demaunded of him, how he was so changed from himselfe, and become so oc∣wardish: your selfe good sir (answered he) have made me so, by ridding me of those in firmi∣ties, which so did grive me, that I made no accompt of my life. A Souldier of Lucullus, ha∣ving by his enemies been robbed of all he had, to revenge himself vndertooke a notable and desperat atempt vpon them; and having recovered his losses, Lucullus conceived a very good opinion of him, and with the greatest shewes of assured trust and loving kindnesse he could bethinke himselfe, made especiall accompt of him, and in any daungerous enterprize seemed to trust and employ him onely:

Ʋerbis quae timido quoque possent addere mentem:

With words, which to a coward might Adde courage, had he any spright.

Imploy (said he vnto him) some wretch-stripped and robbed souldier

—(quantumvis rusticus ibit, Ibit eò, quo vis, qui zonam perdidit, inquit.)

(None is, saith he, so clownish, but will-on, Where you will have him, if his purse be gone)

and absolutely refused to obey him. When we reade that Mahomet, having outragiouslie rated Chasan, chiefe leader of his Ianizers, because he saw his troup wel-nigh defeated by the Hungarians, and hee to behave himselfe but faintly in the fight, Chasan without making o∣ther reply, alone as he was, and without more adoe, with his weapon in his hand rushed furi∣ously in the thickest throng of his enemies that the first mette withall, of whom hee was in∣stantly slaine: This may haply be deemed, rather a rash conceit, than a justification; and a new spight, then a naturall p••owes. He whom you saw yesterday so boldly-venturous, won∣der not if you see him a dastardly meacoke to morrow next: for either anger or necessitie, company or wine, a sodaine fury or the clang of a trumpet, might rowze-vp his hart, and stir vp his courage. It is no hart nor courage so framed by discourse or deliberation: These cir∣cumstances haue setled the same in him: Therefore is it no marvell if by other contrary cir∣cumstance he become a craven and change coppy. This supple variation, and easie yeeld∣ing contradiction, which is seene in vs, hath made some to imagine, that wee had two soules and others, two faculties; whereof every one as best she pleaseth, accompanieth and doth agi∣tate-vs; the one towards good, the other towards evil. For somuch as such a rough diversitie cannot wel sort and agree in one simple subject. The blast of accidents, doth not only remove me according to his inclination; for besides, I remove and trouble my selfe by the instability of my posture, and whosoever looketh narrowly about himselfe, shall hardly see himselfe twise in one same state. Somtimes I give my soule one visage, and sometimes another, ac∣cording vnto the posture or side I lay hir in. If I speake diversly of my selfe, it is because I looke diversly vpon my selfe. All contrarieties are found in hir, according to some turne or remooving, and in some fashion or other. Shamefast, bashfull, insolent, chaste, luxurious, peevish, pratling, silent, fond, doting, labourious, nice, delicate, ingenious, slowe, dull, froward, humorous, debonaire, wise, ignorant, false in wordes, true speaking, both liberall, co, vetous, and prodigall. All these I perceive in some measure or other to bee in mee, accor∣ning as I stirre or turne my selfe; And whosoever shall heedefully survay and consider him selfe, shall finde this volubilitie and discordance to be in himselfe, yea and in his very judge∣ment. I have nothing to say entirely, simply, and with soliditie of my selfe, without confu∣sion, disorder, blending, mingling; and in one word, Distinguo is the most vniversall part of my logike. Although I ever purpose to speake good of good, and rather to enterprete those

things, that will beare it, vnto a good sense; yet is it that, the strangenes of our condition ad∣mitteth that we are often vrged to doe wel by vice it selfe, if wel doing were not judged by the intention only. Therefore may not a couragious acte conclude a man to be valiant. He that is so, when just occasion serveth, shall ever be so, and vpon all occasions. If it were an habi∣tude of vertue, and not a sodaine humour, it would make a man equally resolute at all as∣sayes, in all accidents: Such alone, as in company; such in a single combate, as in a set battell; For, whatsoever some say, valour is all alike, and not one in the street or towne, and another in the campe or field. As couragiously should a man beare a sickenes in his bed, as a hurt in the field and feare death no more at home in his house, then abroad in an assault. We should not then see one same man enter the breach, or charge his enemie with an assured and vn∣douted fiercenesse, and afterward having escaped that, to vexe, to grive and torment him∣selfe like vnto a seely woman, or faint-hearted milke-soppe for the losse of a sute, or death of a childe. If one chance to be carelesly base-minded in his infancie, and constantly-resolute in povertie; if he be timorously-fearefull at sight of a Barbers razor, and afterward stowtly∣vndismayed against his enemies swordes: The action is commendable, but not the man. Divers Graecians (saith Cicero) can not endure to looke their enemy in the face, yet are they most constant in their sickenesses; whereas the Cimbrians, and Celtiberians, are meere con∣trary. Nihil enim potest esse aequabile, quod non à certa ratione proficiscatur: For nothing can beare it selfe even, which proceedeth not from resolved reason. There is no valor more extreame in his kinde, than that of Alexander; yet is it but in species, nor every where sufficiently full and vniversall. As incomparable as it is, it hath his blemishes, which is the reason that in the idle∣est suspitions, he apprehendeth at the conspiracies of his followers against his life, we see him so earnestly to vex, and so desperately to trouble himselfe: In search and pursuite whereof he demeaneth himselfe with so vehement and indiscreet an injustice, and with such a demisse feare, that even his naturall reason is thereby subverted. Also the superstition, wherewith he is so throughly tainted, beareth some shew of pusilanimitie. And the vnlimited excesse of the repentance he shewed for the murther of Clitus, is also a witnesse of the inequalitie of his courage. Our matters are but parcels hudled-vp, and peeces patched together, and we endevour to acquire honour by false meanes, and vntrue tokens. Vertue will not bee fol∣lowed, but by her-selfe: And if at any time wee borrow her maske, vpon some other occa∣sion, she will as soone pull-it from our face. It is a lively hew, and strong die, if the soule be once dyed with the same perfectly, and which will never fade or be gone, except it carry the skinne away with-it. Therefore to judge a man, we must a long time follow, and very curi∣ously marke his steppes; whether constancie doe wholy subsist and continue vpon hir owne foundation in him, Cui vivendi via consider at a atque provisa est, who hath forecast and conside∣red the way of life; whether the variety of occurrences make him change his pace (I meane his way, for his pace may either be hastened or slowed) let him runne on: such a one (as sayeth the imprease of our good Talbot) goeth before the winde. It is no marvell (saith an olde writer) that hazard hath such power over-vs, since wee live by hazard. It is impossible for him to dispose of his particular actions, that hath not in grose directed his life vnto one cer∣taine end. It is impossible for him to range all pieces in order, that hath not a plot or forme of the totall frame in his head. What avayleth the provision of all sorts of colours vnto one that knowes not what he is to draw? No man makes any certaine designe of his life, and we deliberate of it but by parcels. A skilfull archer ought first to know the marke he aimeth at, and then apply his hand, his bow, his string, his arrow and his motion accordingly. Our counsels goe a stray, because they are not rightly addressed, and have no fixed end. No winde makes for him, that hath no intended port to saile-vnto. As for me, I allow not greatly of that iudgement, which some made of Sophocles, and to have concluded him sufficient in the managing of domesticall matters, against the accusation of his owne Sonne, only by the sight of one of his tragedies. Nor do I commend the conjecture of the Parians, sent to reforme the Milesians, as sufficient to the consequence they drew thence. In visiting and surveying the Ile, they marked the Landes that were best husbanded, and observed the country houses that were best governed. And having registred the names of their owners; and afterward made an assemblie of the Townes-men of the Citie, they named and instituted those owners as new governours and magistrates, judging and concluding, that beeing good husbands and carefull of their houshold affaires, they must consequently be so of publike matters. We are

all framed of flaps and patches and of so shapelesse and diverse a contexture, that every piece and every moment plaieth his part. And there is as much difference found betweene vs and our selves, as there is betweene our selves and other. Magnam rem puta, vnum hominem agere. Esteeme it a great matter, to play but one man.

Since ambition may teach men both valour, temperance, liberality, yea and justice: Sith covetousnesse may settle in the minde of a Shop-prentise-boy, broughtvp in ease and idle∣nesse, a dreadlesse assurance to leave his home-bred ease, and forgoe his place of education, and in a small barke to yeeld himselfe vnto the mercy of blustring waves, mercilesse windes and wrathfull Neptune; and that it also teacheth discretion and wisedome; And that Ʋenus hirself ministreth resolution and hardinesse vnto tender youth as yet subject to the discipline of the rod, and teacheth the ruthlesse Souldier, the soft and tenderly effeminate heart of wo∣men in their mothers lappes.

Hac duce custodes furtim transgressa iacentes, —Ad invenem tenebris sola puella venit.

The wench by stealeh hir lodg'd guards having stript, By this guide, sole, i'th darke, to'th yonker skipt.

It is no part of a well-grounded iudgement, simply to iudge our selves by our exteriour actions: A man must throughl sound himselfe, and dive into his heart, and there see by what wards or springs the motions stirre. But forasmuch as it is a hazardous and high enrerprise, I would not have so many to meddle with it as doe.

The second Chapter.

Of Drunkennesse.

THe world is nothing but variety, and dissemblance. Vices are all alike, in asmuch as they are all vices: And so doe happily the Stoikes meane it. But though they are equally vices, they are not equall vices; And that hee who hath started a hundred steps beyond the li∣mites

Quos vltra citráque nequit consistere rectum,

On this side, or beyond the which No man can hold a right true pitch.

is not of worse condition, then he that is ten steps short of it, is no whit credible: and that sa∣criledge is not worse then the stealing of a Colewort out of a Garden.

Nec vincet ratio, tantandem vt peccet, inémque, Quiteneros caules alieni fregerit horti, Et qui nocturnus divûm sacra legerit.—

No reason can evict, as great or same sinnetaints Him that breakes in an others Garden tender plants, And him that steales by night things consecrate to Saints.

There is as much diversity in that as in any other thing. The confusion of order and measure of crimes, is dangerous: Murtherers, Traitors and Tyrants, have too much gaine by it: it is no reason their conscience should be eased, in that some is either idle or lascivious, or lesse assiduous vnto devotion. Every man poiseth vpon his fellowes sinne, and elevates his owne. Even teachers doe often range it ill in my conceit. As Socrates said, that the chiefest office of wisedome, was to distinguish goods and evils. We others, to whom the best is ever in vice, should say the like of knowledge, to distinguish vices. Without which, and that very exact, both vertuous and wicked men remaine confounded and vnknowen. Now drunkennesse amongst others, appeareth to mee a grose and brutish vice. The minde hath more part else where; and some vices there are, which (if it may lawfully be spoken) have a kinde of I wot not what generosity in them. Some there are, that have learning, diligence, valour, prudence, wit, cunning, dexterity, and subtlety joyned with them; whereas this is meerely corporall, and terrestriall. And the grosest and rudest nation,

that liveth amonst vs at this day, is onely that which keepeth it in credite. Other vices but alter and distract the vnderstanding, whereas this vtterly subverteth the same, and astonieth the body.

—cùm vini vis penetravit, Consequitur gravitas membrorum, praepediuntur Crur a vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens, Nant oculi, clamor, singultus, inrgia gliscunt

When once the force of wine hath inly pierst, Limbes-heavinesse is next, legs faine would goe, But reeling can not, tongue drawles, mindes disperst, Eyes swimme, cries, hickups, brables grow.

The worst estate of man, is where he looseth the knowledge and governemen of himselfe. And amongst other things, it is said, that as must wine boyling and working in a vessell, workes and sends vpward what ever it containeth in the bottome, so doth wine cause those that drinke excessively of it, worke vp, and breake out their most concealed secrets.

—tu sapientium Curas, & arcanum iocoso Consilium retegis Lyaeo.

Thou (wine-cup) doest by wine reveale The cares, which wise men would conceale, And close drifts, at a merry meale.

Iosephus reporteth, that by making an Ambassador to tipple-square, whome his enemies had sent vnto him, he wrested all his secrets out of him. Neverthelesse Augustus having trusted Lucius Piso, that conquered Thrace, with the secretest affaires he had in hand, had ne∣ver cause to be discontented with him; Nor Tiberius with Cossus, to whom he imparted all his seriousest counsels, although we know them both to have so given themselves to drinking of wine, that they were often faine to be carried from the Senat, and both were reputed notable drunkards.

—Hesterno inflatum venas de more Lyaeo.

Veines pufft vp, as is vsed alway, By wine which was drunke yesterday.

And as faithfully as the complot and purpose to kill Caesar committed vnto Cimber, who would daily be drunke with quaffing of wine, as vnto Cassius, that drunke nothing but water wherevpon he answered very pleasantly. What? shall I beare a Tyrant, that am not able to beare wine? We see our carowsing tospot German souldiers, when they are most plunged in their cups, and as drunke as Rats, to have perfect remembrance of their quarter, of the watch word, and of their files.

—nec facilis victoria de madidis, & Blaesis, atque mero titubantibus.—

Nor is the conquest easie of men sow'st, Lisping and reeling with wine they carow'st.

I would never have believed so sound, so deepe and so excessive drunkennesse, had I not read in Histories, that Attalus having envited to sup with him (with intent to doe him some notable indignity) the same Pausanias, who for the same cause killed afterward Philip King of Macedon, (a King who by the eminent faire qualities that were in him, bore a testimony of the education he had learned in the house and company of Epaminondas) made him so dead-drunke, that insensibly and without feeling, he might prostitute his beauty as the body of a common hedge-harlot, to Mulettiers, Groomes and many of the abject servants of his house. And what a Lady (whom I much honour and highly esteeme) told mee, protesting, that neere Burdeaux, towards Castres, where hir house is, a widdow Country-woman, repu∣ted very chaste and honest, suspecting hirselfe to be with childe, told hir neighbours, tha had she a husband, she should verily thinke she were with childe. But the occasion of this suspition encreasing more and more, and perceiving hirselfe so big-bellied, that shee could no longer conceale it, she resolved to make the Parrish-priest acquainted with it, whom she entreated to publish in the Church, that whosoever hee were, that was guilty of the fact, and would avow it, shee would freely forgive him, and if hee were so pleased, take

him to her husband. A certaine swaine or hyne-boy of hers, emboldned by this proclama∣tion, declared, how that having one holliday found her well-tippled with wine, and so sound asleepe by the chimnie side, lying so fit and ready for him, that without a waking her he had the full vse of her body. Whom she accepted for her husband, and both live together at this day. It is assured that antiquitie hath not greatly described this vice. The compositions of diverse Philosophers speake but sparingly of it. Yea, and some of the Stoikes deeme-it not amisse for man sometimes to take his liquor roundly, and drinke drunke thereby to recreate his spirites.

Hoc quoque virtutum quondam certamine magnum Socratem palmam promeruisse ferunt.

They say, in this too, Socrates the wise, And graet in vertues combats, bare the prize.

Cato that strict censurer, aud severe corrector of others, hath beene reproved for much drin∣king,

Narratur & prisci Catonis Saepe mero caluisse virtus.

T'is saide, by vse of wine repeated, Old Catoes vertue oft was heated.

Cyrus that so far-renowned King, amongst his other commendations, meaning to preferre himselfe before his brother Artaxerxes, and get the start of him, aleageth, that he could drinke better, and tipple more then he. And amongst the best policed and formalest nations, the custome of drinking, and pleadging of healths was much in vse. I have heard Silvius, that excellent Phisitian of Paris affirme that to preserve the vigor of our stomake from em∣pairing, it is not amisse once a moneth to rowze vp the same by this excesse of drinking; and lest it should grow dull and stupide thereby to stirre it vp. And it is written, that the Persians, after they had well tippled, were wont to consult of their chiefest affaires. My taste, my rellish and my complexion, are sharper enemies vnto this vice, then my discourse: For, be∣sides that I captivate more easily my conceits vnder the auctoritie of ancient opinions, in∣deede I finde-it to be a fond, a stupide and a base kinde of vice, but lesse malicious and hurt∣full then others; all which shocke, and with a sharper edge wound publike societie. And if we cannot give our selves any pleasure, except (as they say) it cost-vs something; I finde this vice to be lesse chargeable vnto our conscience then others; besides, it is not hard to be pre∣pared, difficult to be found; a consideration not to be despised. A man well advanced in yeares and dignitie, amongst three principall commodities he told me to have remaining in life, counted this: and where shall a man more rightly finde-it, then amongst the naturall? But he tooke-it ill, delicatenesse, and the choise of wines is therein to be avoided. If you pre∣pare your voluptuousnes to drinke it with pleasure and daintily neate, you tie your selfe vnto an inconvenience to drinke-it other then is allwayes to be had. A man must have a mil∣der, a loose and a freer taste. To be a true drinker, a man should not have so tender and squeamish a palat. The Germans doe in a maner drinke aqually of all sorts of wine with like pleasure. Their end is rather to gulpe it downe freely, then to taste it kindely. And to say truth they have it better cheape. Their voluptuousnesse is more plenteous and fuller. Se∣condarily, to drinke after the French maner, as two draughts and moderatly, is over-much to restraine the favours of that God. There is more time and constancie required therevn∣to. Our forefathers were wont to spend whole nights in that exercise, yea often times they joyned whole long dayes vnto them. And a man must proportion his ordinarie more large and firme. I have in my dayes seene a principall Lord; a man of great employment and enterprises, and famous for good successe, who without straining himselfe, and eating but an ordinary meales-meat, was wont to drinke litle lesse then five pottles of wine, yet at his rising seemed to be nothing distempered, but rather as we have found to our no small cost in managing of our affaires, over-wise and considerate. The pleasure of that, whereof we would make account in the course of our life ought to be employed longer space. It were necessary, as shop-boyes or labouring people, that we should refuse no occasion to drinke▪ and conti∣nually to have this desire in our minde. It seemeth that wee dayly shorten the vse of this: and that in our houses, (as I have seene in mine infancie) breakefasts, nunchions, and bea∣vers should be more frequent and often vsed, then now adayes they are. And should wee thereby in any sorte proceede towards amendment? Noverily. But it may be, that we have

much more given our selves over vnto paillardise and all maner of luxurie then our fathers were. They are two occupations, that enter-hinder one another, in their vigor. On the one side, it hath empaired and weakned our stomake, and on the other, sobrietie serveth to make vs more jolly-quaint, lusty, and wanton for the exercise of love matters. It is a wonder to thinke on the strange tales I have heard my father report, of the chastitie of his times. He might well speake of it, as he that was both by art and nature proper for the vse and solace of Ladies. He spake little and well, few words, but to the purpose, and was ever wont to enter∣mixe some ornament taken from vulgar bookes, and above all, Spanish, amongst his com∣mon speeches: And of all Spanish authors, none was more familiar vnto him then Mar∣cous Aurelius. His demeanour and carriage was ever milde, meeke, gentle, and very modest, and above all, grave and stately. There is nothing he seemed to be more carefull▪ of, then of his honesty, and observe a kinde of decencie of his person, and orderly decorum in his ha∣bites, were it on foote or on hosebacke. He was exceeding nice in performing his word or promise; And so strictly conscientious and obsequous in religion, that generally he see∣med rather to encline toward superstition, then the contrary. Though he were but a little man, his courage and vigor was great: he was of an vpright, and well proportioned stature, of a pleasing, cheerefull-looking countenance, of a swarthy hue, nimbly addicted, and exqui∣sitely nimble vnto all noble and gentleman▪ like exercises. I have seene some hollow staves of his filled with lead, which hee wont to vse and exercise his armes withall, the better to en∣able him-selfe to pitch to barre, to throw the sledge, the cast the pole and to play at fence: and shooes with leaden soles, which he wore to enure himselfe, to leape, to vault and to run. I may without blushing say, that in memory of himselfe, he hath left certain pety miracles amongst vs. I have seene him when hee was past three-score yeeres of age mocke at all our sports, and out-countenance our youthfull pastimes, with a heavy furr'd Gowne about him to leap in∣to his saddle; to make the pommada round about a Table vpon his thumb; and seldom to as∣cend any staires without skipping three or foure steppes at once. And concerning my dis∣course, hee was wont to say, that in a whole Province there was scarse any woman of quali∣tie, that had an ill name. Hee would often report strange familiarities, namely of his owne, with very honest women, without any suspicion at all. And protested verie religiouslie, that when he was married, he was yet a pure Virgine; yet had he long time followed the warres beyond the Mountaines, and therein served long, whereof hee hath left a Iournall-Booke of his owne collecting, wherein hee hath particularly noted, whatsoever happened day by day worthy the observation, so long as he served, both for the publike and his particular vse. And he was well strucken in yeeres, when he tooke a wife. For returning out of Italie, in the yeere of our Lord, one thousand five hundred eight and twenty, and being ful three and thir∣ty yeeres olde, by the way hee chose himselfe a wife. But come we to our drinking againe. The incommodities of age, which neede some helpe and refreshing, might with some reason beget in me a desire or longing of this faculty: for, it is in a man the last pleasure, which the course of our yeers stealeth vpon vs. Good fellowes say, that naturall heate is first taken in our feete: That properly belongeth to infancie. From thence it ascendeth vnto the middle region, where it is setled and continueth a long time: and in mine opinion, there produceth the onely true, and mooving pleasures of this corporall life. Other delight and sensualities in respect of that, doe but sleepe▪ in the end, like vnto a vapour, which by little and little exhal∣eth, and mounteth aloft, it comes vnto the throate, and there makes hir last bode. Yet could I never conceive, how any man may either encrease or prolong the pleasure of drink∣ing beyond thirst, and in his imagination frame an artificiall appetite, and against nature. My stomacke could not well reach so farre: it is very much troubled to come to an end of that which it takes for his neede. My constitution is, to make an accompt of drinking, but to succeed meate, and therefore doe I ever make my last draught the greatest. And forasmuch as in age, we have the roofe of our mouthes commonly furred with rhume, or distempered, distasted and altered through some other evill constitution, wine seemeth better vnto vs and of a quicker relish, according as our pores be either more or lesse open and washed. At least I seldome relish the same very well, except it be the first draught I take. Anacharsis wonde∣red to see the Graecians drinke in greater glasses at the end of their meales, then in the begin∣ning. It was (as I imagine) for the very same reason, that the Germans doe-it, who never begin to carouse, but when they have well fed. Plato forbiddeth children to drinke any

wine, before they be eighteene yeeres of age, and to be druncke before they come to for∣ty. But to such as have once attained the age of fortie▪ he is content to pardon them, if they chaunce to delight themselves with it, and alloweth them somwhat largely to blend the in∣fluence of Dionisius in their banquets, that good God, who bestoweth cheerefulnesse vpon men, and youth vnto aged men, who layeth and aswageth the passions of the minde, even as yron is made flexible by the fire: and in his profitable lawes drinking-meetings or quaffing companies as necessary and commendable (alwaies provided there be a chiefe leader a∣mongst them to containe and order them) drunkenesse being a good and certaine tryall of everie mans nature; and therewithall proper to give aged men the courage to make merry in dancing and in musicke; things alowable and profitable, and such as they dare not vndertake being sober and setled. That wine is capable to supply the mind with temperance, and the bo∣die with health. Notwithstanding, these restrictions, partely barrowed of the Carthaginians, please him well. Let those forebeare it that are going about any expedition of warre. Let e∣very magistrate, and all judges abstain from▪ it at what time they are to execute their charge, and to consult of publike affaires▪ Let none bestow the day in drinking, as the time that is due vnto more serious negotiations, nor the nights wherein a man intendeth to get children. It is reported, that Stilpo the Philosopher, finding himselfe surcharged with age, did purpose∣ly hasten his end, by drinking of pure wine. The like cause (though not wittingly) did also suffocat the vital forces, crazed through old age of the Philosopher Arcesilaus. But it is an old and pleasant question, whether a wisemans mind were like to yeelde vnto the force of wine.

Si munitae adhibet vim sapientiae.

If vnresisted force it bends, Gainst wisedome which it selfe defends.

Vnto what vanity doth the good opinion we have of our selves provoke-vs? The most temperate and perfectest minde of the world, findes it too great a taske to keep hirselfe vp∣right, lest she fall by hir owne weakenesse. Of a thousand there is not one perfectly righte∣ous and setled but one instant of her life, and question might be made, whether according to her naturall condition she might at any time be so. But to joyne constancie vnto it, in her last perfection: I meane if nothing should shocke her: which a thousand accidents may do. Lucretius that famous Poet, may philosophie and bandie at his pleasure: Loe where he lieth senslesse of an amorous potion. Thinkes any man, that an Apoplexie cannot as soone asto∣nish Socrates, as a poore labouring man? Some of them have by the force of a sicknesse, for∣got their owne names, and a slight hurt hath overthrowne the judgement of others. Let him be as wise as he can, in the end he is but a man; what is more fraile, more miserable, or more vaine? Wisedome forceth not our naturall conditions.

Sudores itaque & pallorem existere toto Corpore, & infringi linguam vocémque aboriri Caligare oculos, sonare aures, succidere artus, Denique concidere ex anîmi terrore videmus.

We see therefore, palenesse and sweats ore▪ grow, Our bodies, tongues doe falter, voyce doth breake, Eyes dazle, eares buzze, joints doe shrincke below, Lastly we swone by hart-fright, terrours weake.

He must feele his eyes against the blow that threatneth him, being neere the brimme of a precipise, he must cry out like a child. Nature having purposed to reserve these light markes of her aucthoritie vnto herselfe, in expugnable vnto our reason, and to the Stoicke vertue: to teach him his mortalitie, and our insipiditie. He waxeth pale for feare, he blusheth for shame he groaneth feeling the cholike, if not with a desperate and lowd-roaring voyce, yet with a lowe, smothered and hoarse-sounding noyse.

Humani à se nihil alienum putat,

He thinkes, that nothing strange be can, To him, that longs to any man.

Giddie-headed Poets, that faine what they list, dare not so much as discharge their Heroes from teares.

Sic fatur lachrymans, classi{que} immittit habenas.

So said he weeping, and so saide, Himselfe hand to the steerage laide.

Let it suffice him to bridle his affections, and moderate his inclinations; for, it is not in him to beare them away. Plutarke himselfe, who is so perfect and excellent a judge of hu∣mane actions, seeing Brutus and Torquatus to kill their owne children, remaineth doubtfull, whither vertue could reach so farre, and whether such men were not rather moved by some other passion. All actions beyond the ordinarie limits, are subiect to some sinister interpretation: Forasmuch as our taste doth no more come vnto that which is above it, then to that which is vnder it. Let vs omit that other sect, which maketh open profession of fiercenes. But when in the very same sect, which is esteemed the most demisse, we heare the bragges of Metrodorus: Occupavite, Fortuna, at{que} cepi: omnésque aditus tuos interclusi vt ad me aspirare non posses. Fortune, I have prevented, caught, and overtaken thee: I have mured and ramd vppe all thy passages, whereby thou mightest attaine vnto me. When Anaxarcus, by the appointment of Nicocreon, the tyrant of Cipres, being laid along in a trough of stone, and smoten with yron sledges, ceaseth not to crie out, streeke, smite, and breake; it is not Anaxarchus, it is but his vaile you martyr so. When we heare our martyrs, in the middest of a flame crie a loude vnto the Tyrant, this side is rosted enough, chop-it, eat it, it is full rosted, now begin on the other. When in Iosephus we heare a childe all to rent with biting snippers, and pierced with the breath of Antiochus, to defie him to death, crie with a lowde-assured and vndismaid voyce; Tyrant thou loosest time, loe I am still at mine ease; where is that smarting paine, where are those torments, wherewith whilom thou didst so threaten me? My constancie doth more trouble thee, then I have feeling of thy crueltie: Oh faint-hearted varlet, doest thou yeelde when I gather strength? Make me to fainte or shrinke, cause me to moane or lament, force me to yeeld and sue for grace if thou canst; encourage thy satellities, harten thy executio∣ners; loe how they droope, and have no more power; arme them, strengthen them, flesh them. Verely we must needes confesse there is some alteration, and some furie (how holy soever) in those mindes. When we come vnto these Stoick evasions; I had rather be furious then voluptuous: the saying of Antisthenes. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Rather would I be mad, then merry. When Sextu••s telleth vs, he had rather be surprised with paine, then sensuality; when Epicurus vndertakes to have the goute, to wantonize and faune vpon him, and refusing ease and health, with a hearty cheerefulnesse defie all evils, and scornefully despising lesse sharpe griefes, disdayning to grapple with them, he blithely desireth and calleth for sharper, more forcible, and worthy of him:

Spumantémque dari pecora inter inerei•• votis Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem:

He wisht, mongst hartlesse beasts some foming Bore, Or mountaine-Lyon would come downe and rore.

Who would not judge them to be prankes of a courage remooved from his wonted seate? Our minde cannot out of hir place attaine so high. She must quit it and raise hir selfe a loft, and taking the bridle in hir teeth, carry and transport hir man so farre, that afterward hee wonder at himselfe, and rest amazed at his actions. As in exploites of warre, the heat and earnestnesse of the fight doth often provoke the noble-minded-souldiers, to adventure on so dangerous passages, that afterward being better advised, they are the first to wonder at it. As also Poets, are often surprised and rapt with admiration at their owne labours, and forget the trace, by which they past so happy a career. It is that, which some terme a fury or madnesse in them. And as Plato saith, that a setled and reposed man, doth in vaine knocke at Poesies gate. Aristotle likewise saith, that no excellent minde is freely exempted from some or other entermixture of folly. And he hath reason, to call any starting or extraordinarie conceit (how commendable soever) and which exceedeth our judgement and discourse, folly. For∣somuch as wisedome, is an orderly and regular managing of the minde, and which she addresseth with measure, and conducteth with proportion; And take hir owne word for-it. Plato dispu∣teth thus; that the facultie of prophesiyng and divination is far above-vs, and that when wee treate it, we must be besides our selves: our wisdome must be darkened and ouer shadowed by sleepe, by sickenesse, or by drowzinesse; or by some celestiall fury, ravished from hir owne seat.

The third Chapter.

A custome of the Ile of Cea.

IF, as some say, to philosophate be to doubt; with much more reason, to rave and fantasti∣quize, as I doe, must necessarily be to doubt: For, to enquire and debate, belongeth to a scholler, and to resolve appertaines to a cathedrall master. But know, my cathedrall, it is the authoritie of Gods divine will, that without any contradiction doth sway-vs, and hath hir ranke beyond these humane and vaine contestations. Philip being with an armed hand en∣tred the Countrie of Peloponnesus, some one told Damidas, the Lacedemonians were like to endure much, if they sought not to reobtaine his lost favour. Oh varlet as thou art (answered he.) And what can they suffer, who have no feare at all of death? Agis being demanded, how a man might do to live free, answered; Despising and contemning to die. These and a thou∣sand like propositions, which concurre in this purpose, do evidently inferre some thing be∣yond the patient expecting of death it selfe, to be suffered in this life: witnesse the Lacedemo∣nian child, taken by Antigonus, and sold for a slave, who vrged by his master, to performe some abject service; Thou shalt see (said he) whom thou hast bought; for, it were a shame for me to serve, having libertie so neere at hand, and therewithall threw himselfe headlong downe from the top of the house. Antipater, sharply threatning the Lacedemonians, to make them yeeld to a certaine request of his; they answered, shouldest thou menace vs worse then death, we will rather die. And to Philip, who having written vnto them, that he would hinder all their enterprises; What? (say they) wilt thou also hinder vs from dying? That is the rea∣son, why some say, that the wiseman liveth as long as he ought, and not so long as he can. And that the favourablest gift, nature hath bequeathed-vs, and which removeth all meanes from-vs to complaine of our condition, is, that she hath left-vs the key of the fieldes. She hath appointed but one entrance vnto life, but many a thousand wayes out of it: Well may we want ground to live vpon, but never ground to die in. As Boiocatus answered the Romanes. Why doost thou complaine against this world? It doth not containe thee: If thou livest in paine and sorrow, thy base courage is the cause of-it, To die there wanteth but will.

Ʋbique mors est: optimè hoc cavit Deus, Eripere vitam nemo non homini potest: At nemo mortem: mille ad hanc aditus patent.

Each where death is: God did this well purvay, No man but can from man life take away, But none barr's death, to it lies many'a way.

And it is not a receipt to one maladie alone; Death is a remedie against all evils: It is a most assured haven, never to be feared, and often to be sought: All comes to one period, whether man make an end of himselfe, or whether he endure▪ it; whether he run before his day, or whether he expect▪ it: whence soever it come, it is ever his owne, where ever the threed be broken, it is all there, it's the end of the web. The voluntariest death, is the fairest. Life dependeth on the will of others, death on ours. In nothing should we so much accommodate our selves to our humors, as in that. Reputation doth nothing concerne such an enterprise, it is follie to have any respect vnto it. To live is to serve, if the libertie to die be wanting. The com∣mon course of curing any infirmitie, is ever directed at the charge of life: we have incisions made into vs, we are cauterized, we have limbes cut and mangled, we are let blood, we are di••ted. Go we but one step further, we need no more phisicke, we are perfectly whole. Why is not our jugular or throat veine as much at our commaund as the mediane? To extreame sicknesses, extreame remedies. Servius the Gramarian being troubled with the gowt, found no better meanes to be rid of it, then to applie poison to mortifie his legs. He cared not whe∣ther they were Podagrees or no, so they were insensible. God giveth vs sufficient priviledge, when he placeth vs in such an estate, as life is worse then death vnto vs. It is weaknesse to yeeld to evils, but follie to foster them. The Stoikes say, it is a convenient naturall life, for a

wiseman, to forgoe life, although he abound in all happinesse; if he do it opportunely: And for a foole to prolong his life, albeit he be most miserable, provided he be in most part of things, which they say to be according vnto nature. As I offend not the lawes made against theeves, when I cut mine owne purse, and carrie away mine owne goods; nor of destroyers when I burne mine owne wood: so am I nothing tied vnto lawes made against murtherers, if I deprive my selfe of mine owne life. Hegesias was wont to say, that even as the condition of life, so should the qualitie of death depend on our election. And Diogenes meeting with the Philosopher Speufippus, long time afflicted with the dropsie, and therefore carried in a lit∣ter, who cried out vnto him; All haile Diogenes: And to thee no health at all, (replied Dio∣genes) that endurest to live in so wretched an estate. True it is, that a while after, Speusippus as overtired with so languishing a condition of life, compassed his owne death. But this goeth not without some contradiction: For, many are of opinion, that without the expresse com∣mandement of him, that hath placed vs in this world, we may by no meanes forsake the gar∣rison of it, and that it is in the hands of God onely, who therein hath placed-vs, not for our selves alone, but for his glorie, and others service, when ever it shall please him to discharge vs hence, and not for vs to take leave: That we are not borne for our selves, but for our Coun∣trie: The Lawes for their owne interest require an accompt at our hands for our selves, and have a just action of murther against-vs. Else as forsakers of our owne charge, we are puni∣shed in the other world.

Proxima deinde tenent moestiloca, qui sibi let hum Insontes p••perere manu, lucémque perosi Proi••cere animas.—

Next place they lamentable hold in hell, Whose hand their death caus'd causelesse, (but not well) And hating life did thence their soules expell.

There is more constancie in vsing the chaine that holds-vs, then in breaking the same; and more triall of stedfastnesse in Regulus, then in Cato. It is indiscretion and impatience that hastneth our way. No accidents can force a man to turne his backe from lively vertue: She seeketh-out evils and sorrowes as her nourishment. The threats of fell tyrants, tortures and torments; executioners and torturers, doe animate and quicken her.

Duris vt ilex t••nsa bipennibus Nigrae feraci frondis in Algid•• Per damna, per caedes, ab ipso Ducit opes animúmque ferro.

As holme-tree doth with hard axe lopt On hils with many holme-trees topt, From losse, from cuttings it doth feel, Courage and store rise ev'n from steel.

And as the other saith.

Non est vt put as virtus, pater, Timere vitam, sed magis ingentibus Obstare, nec se vertere ac retro dare.

Sir, ti's not vertue, as you vnderstand, To feare life, but grosse mischiefe to withstand, Not to retire, turne backe, at any hand.

Rebus in adversis facile est contemnere mortem. Fortius ille facit, qui miser esse potest.

T'is easie in crosse chance death to despise: He that can wretched be, doth stronger rise.

It is the part of cowardlinesse, and not of vertue, to seek to squat it selfe in some hollow∣lurking hole, or to hide her selfe vnder some massie tombe, thereby to shun the strokes of fortune. She never forsakes her course, nor leaves her way, what stormie weather soever crosse-her.

Si fractus illabatur orbis, Impavidam ferient ruina.

If the world broken should vpon her fall,

The ruines may her strike, but not appall,

The avoyding of other inconveniences doth most commonly drive vs into this, yea, some∣times the shunning of death, makes vs to run into it.

Hic, rogo, non furor est, •••• moriare, mori?

Madnesse is't not, say I, To die, lest you should die?

As those who for feare of a break-necke down-fall, doe headlong cast themselves into-it.

—multos in summa pericula misit Ʋ••••turi timor ipse mali: fortissimus ille est, Qui promptus metuenda pati, si cominus instent, Et differre potest.

The verie feare of ils to come, hath sent Many to mightie dangers: strongest they, Who fearfull things t'endure are readie bent, If they confront them, yet can them delay.

—vsque adeo mortis formidine, vitae Percipit humanos odium, luc••sque videndae, Vt sibi consciscant moerenti pectore let hum, Ob••i••i fontem curarum hunc esse timorem.

So far by feare of death, the hate of life, And seeing-light, doth men as men possesse, They grieving kill themselves to end the strife, Forgetting, feare is spring of their distresse.

Plato in his lawes, alots him that hath deprived his neerest and deerest friend of life (that is to say, himselfe) and abridged him of the destinies course, not constrained by any pub∣like judgement, nor by any lewde and inevitable accident of fortune, nor by any intole∣rable shame or infamie, but through basenesse of minde, and weaknesse of a faint-fearfull courage, to have a most ignominious, and ever-reproachfull buriall. And the opinion which disdaineth our life, is rediculous: For, in fine it is our being. It is our all in all. Things that have a nobler and richer being, may accuse ours: But it is against nature, we should despise, and carelesly set our selves at naught: It is a particular infirmitie, and which is not seen in any other creature, to hate and disdaine himselfe. It is of like vanitie, that we desire to be other, then we are. The fruit of such a desire doth not concerne-vs, forasmuch as it contradicteth and hindereth it selfe in it selfe. He that desireth to be made of a man an An∣gell, doth nothing for himselfe: He should be nothing the better by it: And being no more, who shall rejoice or conceive any gladnesse of this change or amendment for him?

Debet enim mis••rè fortè aegréque futurum est, Ipse quoque esse in eo tum tempore, cùm male possit Accidere,

For he, who shall perchance proove miserable, And speed but ill, should then himselfe be able To be himselfe, when ills may chance vnstable.

The securitie, indolencie, impassibilitie, and privation of this lives-evils, which we pur∣chase at the price of death, bring vs no commoditie at all. In vaine doth be avoide warre, that can not inioy peace; and boot••lesse doth •••• shun paine, that hath no meanes to feel rest. Amongst those of the first opinion, great questioning hath been, to know what occasions are suffi∣ciently just and lawfull to make a man vndertake the killing of himselfe, they call that 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 a reasonable orderly out-let. For, although they say, a man must often die for slight causes, since these that keep vs alive, are not verie strong; yet is some measure required in them. There are certaine fantasticall and braine-sicke humors, which have not only provoked particular men, but whole Nations to defeat themselves. I have heretofore alleaged some examples of them: And moreover we read of certaine Mi••••sian virgins, who vpon a surious conspiracie hanged themselves one after an other, vntill such time as the Ma∣gistrate provided for it, appointing that such as should be found so hanged, should with their owne halters be dragged naked through the streets of the Citie. When Threicion perswa∣deth Cleom••nes to kill himselfe, by reason of the bad and desperate estate his affaires stood

in, and having escaped a more honourable death in the battell which he had lately lost, mo∣veth him to accept of this other, which is second to him in honour, and give the conqueror no leisure to make him endure, either another death, or else a shamefull life. Cleomenes with a Lacedemonian and Stoike courage, refuseth this counsell as base and effeminate: It is a receipt, (saith he) which can never faile me, and whereof a man should make no vse, so long as there remaineth but one inch of hope: That to live, is sometimes constancie and valour; That he will have his verie death serve his Countrie, and by it, shew an act of honour and of vertue. Threicion then believed, and killed himselfe. Cleomenes did afterwards as much, but not before he had tried and assayed the vtmost power of fortune. All inconveniences are not so much worth, that a man should die to eschue them. Moreover, there being so many suddaine changes, and violent alterations in humane things, it is hard to judge in what state or point we are justly at the end of our hope:

Sperat & in s••va victus gladiator arena, —Sit licet infesto pollice turba minax.

The Fencer hopes, though downe in lists he lie, And people with turn'd hand threat's he must die.

All things, saith an ancient Proverb, may a man hope-for, so long as he liveth: yea, but, answereth Seneca, wherefore shall I rather have that in minde; that fortune can do all things for him that is living, then this; that fortune hath no power at all over him, who knoweth how to die? Ioseph is seen engaged in so an apparant-approaching danger, with a whole na∣tion against him, that according to humane reason, there was no way for him to escape; notwithstanding being (as he saith) counselled by a friend of his, at that instant, to kill him∣selfe, it fell out well for him to opinionate himselfe yet in hope: for fortune, beyond all mans discourse, did so turne and change that accident, that without any inconvenience at all, he saw himselfe delivered: whereas on the contrarie Brutus and Cassius, by reason of the down-fall and rashnesse, wherewith before due time and occasion, they killed themselves; did vtterly loose the reliques of the Roman libertie, whereof they were protectors. The Lord of Ang•••••••• in the battell of Serisolles, as one desperate of the combates successe, which on his side went to wracke, attempted twise to run himselfe through the throat with his rapier, and thought by precipitation to bereave himselfe of the enjoying of so notable a victorie. I have seen a hundred Hares save themselves even in the Gray-hounds jawes: Aliquis carni••ics suo super∣stes suit. Some man hath out-lived his Hang-man.

Multa dies variúsque labor mutabilis evi Rettulit in melius, multos alterna revisens Lusit, & in solido rursus fortuna locavit.

Time, and of turning age the divers straine, Hath much to better brought, fortunes turn'd traine, Hath many mock't, and set them fast againe.

Plinie saith, there are but three sorts of sicknesses, which to avoide, a man may have some colour of reason to kill himselfe. The sharpest of all is the stone in the bladder, when the vrine is there stopped. Seneca, those onely, which for long time disturbe and distract the offices of the minde. To avoide a worse death, some are of opinion, a man should take it at his owne pleasure. Democritus chiefe of the Aetolians, being led captive to Rome, found meanes to escape by night: but being pursued by his keepers, rather then he would be ta∣ken againe, ran himselfe through with his Sword. Antinoüs and Theodotus, their Citie of Epirus being by the Romans reduced vnto great extreamitie, concluded, and perswaded all the people to kill themselves. But the counsell, rather to yeeld, having prevailed: they went to seeke their owne death, and rushed amidst the thickest of their enemies, with an inten∣tion, rather to strike, than to warde themselves. The Iland of Gosa, being some yeares since surprised and over run by the Turkes, a certaine Sicilian therein dwelling, having two faire daughters readie to be married, killed them both with his owne hands, together with their mother, that came in to help them. That done, running out into the streets, with a crosse∣bow in one hand, and a caliver in the other, at two shoots, slew the two first Turks that came next to his gates, then resolutely drawing his Sword, ran furiously among them; by whom he was suddainly hewen in peeces: Thus did he save himselfe from slavish bondage, having first delivered his owne from-it. The Iewish women, after they had caused their children to

be circumcized, to avoide the crueltie of Antiochus, did headlong precipitate themselves and them vnto death. I have heard-it crediblie reported, that a gentleman of good qualitie, being prisoner in one of our Gaoles, and his parents advertized that he should assuredly be con∣demned, to avoide the infamie of so reproachfull a death, appointed a Priest to tell him, that the best remedie for his deliverie, was to recommend himselfe to such a Saint, with such and such a vow, and to continue eight daies without taking any sustenance, what faintnesse or weaknesse soever he should feel in himselfe. He believed them, and so without thinking on it, was delivered both of life and danger. Scribonia perswading L••bo his nephew to kill him∣selfe, rather then to expect the stroke of justice, told him, that for a man to preserve his owne life, to put it into the hands of such as three or foure dayes after should come and seek it, was even to dispatch another mans businesse, and that it was no other, then for one to serve his enemies, to preserve his blood, therewith to make food. We read in the Bible, that Nicanor the persecutor of Gods Law, having sent his Satellites to apprehend the good old man Ra∣si••s, for the honour of his vertue, surnamed the father of the Iewes; when that good man saw no other meanes left him, his gate being burned, and his enemies readie to lay hold on him, chose, rather then to fall into the hands of such villaines, and be so basely abused, against the honour of his place to die noblie, and so smote himselfe with his owne sword; but by reason of his haste, having not throughly slaine himselfe, he ran to throw himselfe downe from an high wall, amongst the throng of people, which making him roome, he fell right vpon his head. All which notwithstanding, perceiving life to remaine in him, he tooke heart againe; and getting vp on his feet, all goared with bloud, and loaden with strokes, making way through the prease, came to a craggie and downe-steepie rocke, where vnable to goe any further, by one of his wounds, with both his hands he pulled out his guts, and tearing and breaking them, cast them amongst such as pursued him, calling and attesting the vengeance of God to light vpon them. Of all violences committed against conscience, the most in mine opinion to be avoyded, is that which is offred against the chastitie of women, foras∣much as there is naturally some corporall pleasure commixt with it: And therefore the dissent cannot fully enough be joyned thereunto: And it seemeth, that force is in some sort, intermixed with some will. The ecclesiasticall Storie hath in especiall reverence, sundrie such examples of devout persons, who called for death to warrant them from the out-rages which some tyrants prepared against their religion and consciences. Pe••agia and Sophron••a, both canonized; the first, together with her mother and sisters, to escape the outragious rapes of some souldiers, threw her selfe into a river; the other, to shun the force of Maxen∣tius the Emperour, slew her selfe. It shall peradventure redound to our honour in future ages, that a wise Author of these daies, and namely a Parisian, doth labour to perswade the Ladies of our times, rather to hazard vpon any resolution, than to embrace so horrible a counsell of such desperation. I am sorie, that to put amongst his discourses, he knew not the good saying I learnt of a woman at Tholouse, who had passed through the hands of some sol∣diers: God be praised (said she) that once in my life, I have had my belly-full without sinne. Verily these cruelties are not worthy of the French curtesie. And God be thanked, since this good advertisement; our ayre is infinitely purged of them. Let it suffice, that in doing it, they say, No, and take it, following the rule of Marot. The historie is verie full of such, who a thousand waies have changed a lingering-toylsome life with death. Lucius Aruntius killed himselfe (as he said) to avoide what was past, and eschew what was to come. Granius Sylva∣nus, and Statius Proximus, after they had been pardoned by Nero, killed themselves, either because they scorned to live by the favour of so wicked a man, or because they would not an∣other time be in danger of a second pardon, seeing his so easie-yeelding vnto suspicious and accusations against honest men. Spargapises sonne vnto Queene T••miris, prisoner by the law of warre vnto Cyrus, employed the first favour that Cyrus did him, by setting him free, to kill himselfe, as he who never pretended to reap other fruit by his libertie, then to revenge the infamie of his taking vpon himselfe. Boges a Governour for king Xerxes in the countrie of Ionia, being besieged by the Athenians army vnder the conduct of Cymon, refused the com∣position, to returne safely, together with his goods and treasure into Asia, as one impatient to survive the losse of what his Master had given him in charge; and after he had stoutly-and even to the last extremitie, defended the Towne, having no manner of victuals left him; first he cast all the gold, and treasure, with whatsoever he imagined the enemie might reap

any commoditie by, into the river Strimon; Then having caused a great pile of wood to be set on fire, and made all women, children, concubines and servants to be stripped, & throwne into the flames, afterward ran-in himselfe, where all were burned. Ninache••uen a Lord in the East Indies, having had an inkling of the king of Portugales Viceroyes deliberation to dispossesse him, without any apparant cause, of the charge he had in Mala••a, for to give it vnto the king of Campar; of himselfe resolved vpon this resolution. First he caused an high scaffold to be set vp, somewhat longer then broad, vnderpropped with pillars, all gorge∣ously hanged with rich tapistrie, strewed with flowers, and adorned with pretious perfumes: Then hauing put-on a sumptuous long roab of cloth of gold, richly beset with store of pre∣tious stones of inestimable worth, he came out of the pallace into the street, and by certaine steps ascended the scaffold, in one of the corners whereof, was a pile of aromaticall wood set afire. All the people of the Citie were flocked together, to see what the meaning of such vnaccustomed preparation might tend vnto. Ninache••uen with an vndanted-bold, yet see∣ming-discontented countenance, declared the manifold obligations, which the Portugal Nation was endebted vnto him for; expostulated how faithfully and truely he had dealt in his charge; that having so often witnessed, armed at all assayes for others; that his honour was much dearer vnto him then life, he was not to forsake the care of it for himselfe; that fortune refusing him all meanes to oppose himselfe against the injurie intended against him, his courage, at the least willed him to remoove the feeling thereof, and not become a laugh∣ing stocke vnto the people, and a triumph to men of lesse worth then himselfe: which words as he was speaking, he cast himselfe into the fire. Sextilia the wife of Scaurus and Praxea wife vnto Labeo, to encourage their husbands, to avoid the dangers, which pressed them, wherein they had no share (but in regard of the interest of their conjugal affection) voluntarily enga∣ged their life, in this extreame necessitie, to serve them, as an example to imitate, and company to regard. What they performed for their husbands; Cocceius Nerva acted for his countrie, and though lesse profitable, yet equall in true-love. That famous interpreter of the lawes, abounding in riches, in reputation, in credit, and flourishing in health about the Emperour, had no other cause to rid himselfe of life, but the compassion of the miserable estate, wherein he saw the Romane common-wealth. There is nothing can be added vnto the daintinesse of Fulvius wives death, who was so inward with Augustus. Augustus perceiving he had blab∣bed a certaine secret of importance, which he on-trust had revealed vnto him; one morning comming to visit him, he seemed to frownevpon him for-it; whereupon as guiltie, he retur∣neth home, as one full of despaire, and in pitteous sort told his wife, that sithence he was falne into such a mischiefe, he was resolved to kill himselfe; shee as one no whit dismaide, replide vnto him; Thou shalt do but right, since having so often experienced the incontinence of my tongue, thou hast not learnt to beware of it, yet give me leave to kill my selfe first, and without more adoe, ran her selfe through with a sword. Ʋibius Virius dispairing of his Cities safetie, besieged by the Romans, and mistrusting their mercie; in their Senates last consulta∣tion, after many remonstrances employed to that end, concluded, that the best and fairest way, was to escape fortune by their owne hands. The verie enemies should have them in more honour, and Hanniball might perceive what faithfull friends he had forsaken: Enviting those that should allow of his advise, to come, and take a good supper, which was prepared in his house, where after great cheere, they should drinke together whatsoever should be presen∣ted vnto him: a drinke that shall deliver our bodies from torments, free our minds from injuries, and release our eyes and eares from seeing and hearing so many horrible mischiefes, which the conquered must endure at the hands of most cruell and offended conquerors: I have (quoth he) taken order, that men fit for that purpose shall be readie, when we shall be expired, to cast vs into a great burning pile of wood. Diverse approved of his high resolu∣tion, but few did imitate the same. Seaven and twentie Senators followed him; who after they had attempted to stifle so irkesome, and suppresse so terror-mooving a thought, with quaffing and swilling of wine, they ended their repast by this deadly messe: and entre-em∣bracing one another, after they had in common deplored and bewailed their countries mis∣fortunes; some went home to their owne houses, othersome staied there, to be entombed with Ʋibius in his owne fire; whose death was so long and lingring, forsomuch as the vapor of the wine having possessed their veines, and slowed the effect and operation of the poy∣son, that some lived an houre after they had seene their enemies enter Capua, which they ca∣ried

the next day after, and incurred the miseries, and saw the calamities, which at so high a rate they had sought to eschew. Taurea Iubellius, another citizen there, the Consul Fulvius returning from that shamefull slaughter, which he had committed of 225. Senators, called him churlishly by his name, and having arested him; Command (quoth he) vnto him, that I al••o be massacred after so many others, that so thou maist brag to have murthered a much more valiant man then ever thou wast. Fulvius, as one enraged, disdaining him; forasmuch as he had newly received letters from Rome contrarie to the inhumanitie of his execution, which inhibited him to proceed any further; Iubellius continuing his speach, said; sithence my Countrie is taken, my friends butchered, & having with mine owne hands slaine my wife and children, as the only meane to free them from the desolation of this ruine; I may not die the death of my fellow-citizens, let vs borrow the vengeance of this hatefull life from vertue: And drawing a blade, he had hidden vnder his garments, therwith ran himselfe through, and falling on his face, died at the Consuls feet. Alexander besieged a citie in India▪ the inhabi∣tants whereof, perceiving themselves brought to a very narrow pinch, resolved obstinately to deprive him of the pleasure he might get of his victorie, and together with their citie, in des∣pite of his humanitie, set both the Towne & themselves on a light fire, and so were all consu∣med. A new kind of warring, where the enemies did all they could, and fought to save them, they to loose themselves, and to be assured of their death, did all a man can possible effect to warrant his life. Astapa a Citie in Spaine, being very weake of wals, and other defences, to with∣stand the Romanes that besieged the same; the inhabitants drew all their riches, and wealth into the market-place, whereof having made a heap, and on the top of it placed their wives and children, and encompassed and covered the same with drie brush wood, that it might burne the easier, and having appointed fiftie lusty yong men of theirs for the performance of their resolution, made a sallie, where following their determined vow, seeing they could not vanquist, suffered themselves to be flame every mothers childe. The fiftie, after they had massacred every living soule remaining in the Citie, and set fire to the heap, joyfully leaped there-into, ending their generous libertie in a state rather insensible, then dolorous and re∣prochfull; shewing their enemies, that if fortune had been so pleased, they should aswell have had the courage to bereave them of the victorie, as they had to yeeld it them both vaine and hideous, yea, and mortall to those, who allured by the glittering of the gold, that moulten ran from out the flame, thicke and three-fold approching greedily vnto it, were therein smothe∣red & burned, the formost being vnable to give backe, by reason of the throng that followed them. The Abideans pressed by Philip, resolved vpon the verie same, but being prevented, the King whose heart yerned and abhorred to see the fond-rash precipitation of such an execu∣tion (having first seized-vpon and saved the treasure, and moveables, which they had diversly condemned to the flames and vtter spoyle) retiring all the Souldiers, granting them the full space of three daies to make themselves away, that so they might do it with more order and leasure: which three daies they replenished with blood and murther beyond all hostile cru∣eltie: And which is strange, there was no one person saved, that had power vpon himselfe. There are infinite examples of such-like popular conclusions, which seeme more violent, by how much more the effect of them is more vniversall. They are lesse then severall, what dis∣course would not doe in every one, it doth in all: The vehemence of societie, ravishing par∣ticular judgements. Such as were condemned to die in the time of Tiberius, and delaide their execution any while, lost their goods, and could not be buried; but such as prevented the same, in killing themselves, were solemnly enterred, & might at their pleasure, bequeath such goods as they had to whom they list. But a man doth also sometimes desire death, in hope of a greater good. I desire (saith Saint Paul) to be out of this world, that I may be with Iesus Christ: and who shall release me out of these bonds? Cleombrotus Ambraciota having read Platoes Phaedon, was so possessed with a desire and longing for an after-life, that without other occasion or more adoe, he went and headlong cast himselfe into the sea. Whereby it appeareth how improperly we call this voluntarie dissolution, dispaire; vnto which the vio∣lence of hope doth often transport-vs, and as often a peacefull & setled inclination of judge∣ment. Iaques du Castell Bishop of Soissons, in the voyage which Saint Lewes vndertooke be∣yond the Seas, seeing the King & all his Armie readie to returne into France, and leave the af∣faires of Religion imperfect, resolved with himself rather to go to heaven; And having bid∣den his friends farewell, in the open view of all men, rushed alone into the enemies troops of

whom he was forthwith hewen in pieces. In a certaine kingdome of these late-discovered Indies, vpon the day of a solemne procession, in which the Idols they adore, are publikely caried vp and downe, vpon a chariot of exceeding greatnesse: besides that, there are many seen to cut and slice great mammocks of their quicke flesh, to offer the said Idols; there are numbers of others seen, who prostrating themselves alongst vpon the ground, endure verie patiently to be mouldred and crushed to death, vnder the Chariots wheeles, thinking there∣by to purchase after their death, a veneration of holinesse, of which they are not defrau∣ded. The death of this Bishop, armed as we have said, argueth more generositie, and lesse sence: the heat of the combate ammusing one part of it. Some common-wealths there are, that have gone about to sway the justice, and direct the opportunitie of voluntarie deaths. In our Citie of Marseille, they were wont in former ages, ever to keep some poison in store, prepared and compounded with hemlocke, at the Cities charge, for such as would vpon any occasion shorten their daies, having first approved the reasons of their enterprise vnto the six hundred Elders of the Towne, which was their Senate: For, otherwise it was vnlawfull for any bodie, except by the Magistrates permission, and for verie lawfully-vrgent occasions, to lay violent hands vpon himselfe. The verie same law was likewise vsed in other places. Sextus Pompeius going into Asia, passed through the Iland of Cea, belonging to Negropont; it fortuned whilst he abode there, (as one reporteth that was in his companie) that a woman of great authoritie, having first yeelded an accompt vnto her Citizens, and shewed good reasons why she was resolved to end her life, earnestly entreated Pompey to be an assistant at her death, that so it might be esteemed more honourable, which he assented vnto; and ha∣ving long time in vaine sought, by vertue of his eloquence (wherein he was exceeding ready) and force of perswasion, to alter her intent, and remove her from her purpose, in the end yeelded to her request. She had lived foure score and ten yeares in a most happie estate of minde and bodie, but then lying on her bed, better adorned then before she was accustomed to have-it, and leaning on her elbow, thus she bespake: The Gods, Oh Sextus Pompeius and rather those I forgo, then those I go vnto, reward and appay thee, for that thou hast vouch∣safed to be both a counseller of my life, and a witnesse of my death. As for my part, having hitherto ever tasted the favourable visage of fortune, for feare the desire of living overlong should make me taste of her frownes, with an happie an successefull end, I will now depart, and licence the remainder of my soule, leaving behind me two daughters of mine, with a legion of grand-children and nephewes. That done, having preached vnto, and exhorted all her people and kinsfolks to an vnitie and peace, and divided her goods amongst them, and recommended her houshold Gods vnto her eldest daughter, with an assuredly-staide hand she tooke the cup, wherein the poyson was, and having made her vowes vnto Mer∣curie, and praiers, to conduct her vnto some happie place in the other world, roundly swal∣lowed that mortall potion; which done, she intertained the companie with the progresse of her behaviour, and as the parts of her bodie were one after another possessed with the cold operation of that venome; vntill such time as shee said, shee felt-it worke at the heart and in her entrals, shee called her daughter to doe her the last office, and close her eyes. Plinie re∣porteth of a certaine Hiperborean nation, wherein, by reason of the milde temperature of the aire, the inhabitants thereof, commonly never die, but when they please to make themselves away, and that being wearie and tired with living, they are accustomed at the end of a long∣long age; having first made merrie and good cheare with their friends, from the top of an heigh-steedie rocke, appointed for that purpose, to cast themselves headlong into the Sea. Grieving-smart, and a worse death seeme to me the most excusable incitations.

The fourth Chapter.

To Morrow is a new day.

I Doe with some reason, as me seemeth, give pricke and praise vnto Iaques Amiot above all our French writers, not only for his naturall puritie, and pure elegancy of the tongue, wher∣in

he excelleth all others, nor for his indefatigable constancie of so long and toyle-some a labour, nor for the vnsearchable depth of his knowledge, having so successefully-happy been able to explaine an Authour so close and thornie, and vnfold a writer so mysterious and en∣tangled (for, let any man tell me what he list; I have no skill of the Greeke, but I see through out all his translation a sense so closely-joynted, and so pithily-continued, that either he hath assuredly vnderstood and inned the verie imagination, and the true conceit of the Authour, or having through a long and continuall conversion, lively planted in his minde a generall Idea of that of Plutarke, he hath at least lent him nothing that doth be••••e him, or mis seeme him) but aboue all, I kon him thanks that he hath had the hap to chuse, and knowledge to cull out so worthy a worke, and a booke so fit to the purpose, therewith to make so vnvalu∣able a present vnto his Countrie. We that are in the number of the ignorant had been vt∣terly confounded, had not his booke raised vs from out the dust of ignorance: God-a-mercy his endevours we dare not both speak and write: Even Ladies are therewith able to confront Masters of arts: It is our breviarie. If so good a man chance to live, I bequeath Xenophon vnto him, to doe as much. It is an easier piece of worke, and so much the more agreeing with his age. Moreover, I wot not how me seemeth, although he roundly and clearly disin••angle himselfe from hard passages, that notwithstanding his stile is more close and neerer it selfe, when it is not laboured and wrested, and that it glideth smoothly at his pleasure. I was even now reading of that place, where Plutarke speaketh of himselfe, that Rusticus being present at a declamation of his in Rome, received a packet from the Emperour, which he tempo∣rized to open vntill he had made an end: wherein (saith he) all the assistants did singularly commend the gravitie of the man. Verily, being on the instance of curiositie, and on the greedie and insatiate passion of newes, which with such indiscreet impatience, and impatient indiscretion, induceth vs to neglect all things, for to entertaine a new-come guest, and forget all respect and countenance, wheresoever we be, suddainly to break-vp such letters as are brought-vs; he had reason to commend the gravitie of Rusticus: to which he might also have added the commendation of his civilitie and curtesie, for that he would not interrupt the course of his declamation; But I make a question, whether he might be commended for his wisedome: for, receiving vnexpected letters, and especially from an Emperour, it might verie well have fortuned, that his deferring to read them, might have caused some notable inconvenience. Rechlesnesse is the vice contrarie vnto curiositie; towards which I am naturally enclined, and wherein I have seen many men so extreamly plunged, that three or foure daies after the receiving of letters, which hath been sent them, they have been found in their poc∣kets yet vnopened. I never opened any, not onely of such as had been committed to my kee∣ping, but of such as by any fortune came to my hands. And I make a conscience, standing neare some great person, if mine eyes chance, at vnwares, to steal some knowledge of any let∣ters of importance that he readeth. Never was man lesse inquisitive, or pryed lesse into other mens affaires, then I. In our fathers time; the Lord of Bo••••ieres was like to have lost Tur∣win, forsomuch as being one night at supper in verie good companie, he deferred the reading of an advertisement, which was delivered him of the treasons that were practised and com∣plotted against that Citie, where he commanded. And Plutarke himselfe hath taught me, that Iulius Caesar had escaped death, if going to the Senate-house, that day wherein he was murthered by the Conspirators, he had read a memoriall which was presented vnto him. Who likewise reporteth the storie of Archias, the Tyrant of Thebes, how the night fore-go∣ing the execution of the enterprise that Pelopidas had complotted to kill him, thereby to set his Countrie at libertie: another Archias of Athens writ him a letter, wherein he particularly related vnto him all that was conspired and complotted against him; which letter being de∣livered him whilst he ••ate at supper, he deferred the opening of it, pronouncing this by-word: To morrow is a new day, which afterward was turned to a Proverb in Greece. A wise man may, in mine opinion, for the interest of others, as not vnmannerly to breake companie, like vnto Rusticus, or not to discontinue some other affaire of importance, remit and defer to vnder∣stand such newes as are brought him: but for his owne private interest or particular pleasure, namely, if he be a man having publike charge, if he regard his dinner so much, that he will not break-it off, or his sleepe, that he will not interrupt-it: to doe it, is inexcusable. And in former ages was the Consulare-place in Rome, which they named the most honourable at the table, because it was more free and more accessible for such as might casually come in, to

entertaine him that should be there placed. Witnesse, that though they were sitting at the board, they neither omitted nor gave over the managing of other affaires, and following of other accidents. But when all is said, it is verie hard, chiefely in humane actions, to prescribe so exact rules by discourse of reason, that fortune do not sway, and keepe her right in them.

The fifth Chapter.

Of Conscience.

MY brother the Lord of Bronze and my selfe, during the time of our civill wars, travel∣ling one day together, we fortuned to meet vpon the way with a Gentleman, in out∣ward semblance, of good demeanour: He was of our contrarie faction, but forasmuch as he counterfaited himselfe otherwise; I knew it not. And the worst of these tumultuous intestine broyles, is, that the cards are so shuffled (your enemie being neither by language nor by fa∣shion, nor by any other apparant marke distinguished from you; nay, which is more, brought vp vnder the same lawes and customes, and breathing the same ayre) that it is a verie hard matter to avoide confusion and shun disorder. Which consideration, made me not a little fearfull to meet with our troopes, especially where I was not knowne, lest I should be vrged to tell my name, and happly doe worse. As other times before it had befalne me; for, by such a chance, or rather mistaking, I fortuned once to loose all my men and horses, and hard∣ly escaped my selfe: and amongest other my losses, and servants that were slaine, the thing that most grieved me, was the vntimely and miserable death of a yoong Italian Gentleman, whom I kept as my Page, and verie carefully brought-vp, with whom dyed, as forward, as budding and as hopefull a youth as ever I saw. But this man seemed so fearfully-dismaid, and at every encounter of horsemen, and passage, by, or through any Towne that held for the King, I observed him to be so strangely distracted, that in the end I perceived, and ghessed they were but guiltie alarums that his conscience gave him. It seemed vnto this seely man, that all might apparantly, both through his blushing selfe-accusing countenance, and by the crosses he wore vpon his vpper garments, read the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 intentions of his faint-hart. Of such marvailous-working power is the sting of conscience: which often induceth vs to bewray, to accuse, and to combate our selves; and for want of other evidences shee produ∣ceth our selves against our selves,

Occultum quatsente anim•• tortore flagellum.

Their minde, the tormentor of sinne, Shaking an vnseen whip within.

The storie of Bessus the Poenian is so common, that even children have it in their mo••ths, who being found fault withall, that in mirth he had beaten-downe a neast of yong Spar∣rowes, and then killed them, answered, he had great reason to do-it, forsomuch as those yong birds ceased not ••alsely to accuse him to have m••rthered his father, which parricide was ne∣ver suspected to have been committed by him; and vntill that day had layen secret; but the revengefull suries of the conscience, made the same partie to reveal it, that by all right was to doe penance for so hatefull and vnnaturall a murther. Hesiodus correcteth the saying of Plato. That punishment doth commonly succeed the guilt, and follow sinne at hand: for, he affirmeth, that it rather is borne at the instant, and together with sinne it selfe, and they are as twinnes borne at one birth together. Whosoever expects punishment, suffereth the same, and who∣soever deferveth it, he doth expect▪ it. Imp••e••se doth invent, and iniquitie dooth frame torments against it selfe.

Malum consilium consultori pessimum.

Bad counsell is worst for the counceller that gives the counsell.

Even as the Waspe stingeth and offendeth others, but hir selfe much more; for, in hur∣ting others, she looseth hir force and sting for ever.

—vitásque in vulnere ponunt.

They, while they others sting, Death to themselves doe bring.

The Can••harides have some part in them, which by a contrarietie of nature serveth as an antidot or counterpoison against their poison: so likewise, as one taketh pleasure in vice, there is a certaine contrarie displeasure engendred in the conscience, which by sundrie irk∣some and painfull imaginations, perplexeth and tormenteth vs, both waking and asleep.

Quippe vbi se multi per somnia saepe loquentes, Aut morbo delirantes procraxe ferantur, Et celata diu in medium peccata dedisse.

Many in dreames oft speaking, or vnhealed, In sicknesse raving have themselves revealed, And brought to light their sinnes long time concealed.

Apollodorus dreamed he saw himselfe first flead by the Scythians, and then boyled in a pot, and that his owne heart murmured, saying; I onely have caused this mischiefe to light vpon thee. Epicurus was wont to say, that no lurking hole can shroud the wicked; for, they can never assure themselves to be sufficiently hidden, sithence conscience is ever readie to disclose them to themselves.

—prima est haec vl••io, quód se Iudice nemo n••cens absolvitur.

This is the first revenge, no guiltie mind Is quitted, though it selfe be judge assign'd.

Which as it doth fill vs with feare and doubt, so doth it store vs with assurance and trust. And I may boldly say, that I have waded through many dangerous hazards, with a more vntired pace, onely in consideration of the secret knowledge I had of mine owne will, and in∣nocencie of my desseignes.

Conscia mens vt cuique sua est, ita concipit intra —Pectora pro facto spèmque metúmque suo.

As each mans minde is guiltie, so doth he Inlie breed hope and feare, as his deeds be.

Of examples, there are thousands; It shall suffice vs to alleage three onely, and all of one man. Scipio being one day accused before the Romane people, of an vrgent and capitall ac∣cusation; in stead of excusing himselfe, or flattering the Iudges; turning to them, he said. It will well beseeme you to vndertake to judge of his head, by whose meanes you have autho∣ritie to judge of all the world. The same man, another time, being vehemently vrged by a Tribune of the people, who charged him with sundrie imputations, in liew of pleading or excusing his cause gave him this sodaine and short answere. Let vs goe (quoth he) my good Cit••zens; let-vs forthwith goe (I say) to give hartie thankes vnto the Gods for the victorie, which even vpon such a day as this is, they gave me against the Carthaginians. And there∣with advancing h•••• selfe to march before the people, all the assemblie, and even his accuser him selfe did vndelayedly follow him towards the Temple. After that, Pe••••lius having been a••••mated and stirred vp by C•••••• to solicite and demaund a strict accompt of him, of the mo∣ney 〈◊〉〈◊〉 had ••••auaged, and which was committed to his trust, whilst he was in the Province of 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Scipio being come into the Senate-house, of purpose to answer for himselfe, pul∣l••ng ou•• the booke of his accompts from vnder his gowne, told them all, that that booke contained truely, both the receipt and laying out thereof; and being required to deliver the same vnto a Clarke to register it, he refused to doe-it, saying, he would not doe himselfe that wrong or indignitie; and therevpon with his owne hands, in presence of all the Senate, tore the booke in pieces. I cannot apprehend or beleeve, that a guiltie-cauterized conscience could possil lie dissemble or cou••terfet such an vndismaied assurance: His heart was natu∣rally too great, and enured to overhigh fortune (saith T••tus Livi••s) to know how to be a cri∣minall offender, and stoopingly to yeeld himselfe to the basenesse, to defend his innocencie. Torture and racking are dangerous inventions, and seeme rather to be trials of patience then Essayes of truth. And both he that can, and he that cannot endure them, conceal the truth. For, wherefore shall paine or smart, rather compell me to confesse that, which is so indeed, then force me to tell that which is not? And contrariwise, if he who hath not done that whereof he is accused, is sufficiently patient to endure those torments; why shall not he

be able to tolerate them, who hath done it, and is guiltie indeed; so deare and worthie a reward as life being proposed vnto him? I am of opinion, that the ground of his inven∣tion, proceedeth from the consideration of the power and facultie of the conscience. For, to the guiltie, it seemeth to give a kind of furtherance to the torture, to make him confesse his fault, and weakneth and dismayeth him: and on the other part, it encourageth and strengthneth the innocent against torture. To say truth, it is a meane full of vncertaintie and danger. What would not a man say; nay, what not doe, to avoide so grievous paines, and shun such torments?

Etiam innocentes cogit mentiri dolor.

Torment to lie sometimes will drive, Ev'n the most innocent alive.

Whence it followeth, that he whom the Iudge hath tortured, because he shall not die an innocent, he shall bring him to his death, both innocent and tortured. Many thousands have thereby charged their heads with false confessions. Amongst which I may well place Phy∣lotas, considering the circumstances of the end••ctment that Alexander framed against him, and the progresse of his torture. But so it is, that (as men say) it is the least evill humane weaknesse could invent: though, in my conceit, verie in humanely, and therewith all most vn∣profitablie. Many Nations lesse barbarous in that, then the Grae••ian, or the Romane, who terme them so, judge it a horrible and cruell thing, to racke and torment a man for a fault whereof you are yet in doubt. Is your ignorance long of him? What can he doe withall? Are not you vnjust, who because you will not put him to death without some cause, you doe worse then kill him? And that it is so, consider but how often he rather chuseth to die guiltlesse, then passe by this information, much more painfull, then the punishment or tor∣ment; and who many times, by reason of the sherpnesse of it, preventeth, furthereth, yea, and executeth the punishment. I wot not whence I heard this storie, but it exactly hath refe∣rence vnto the conscience of our Iustice. A countrie woman accused a souldier before his Generall, being a most severe Iustic••r, that he, with violence, had snatched from out hir poore childrens hands, the smal•• remainder of some pappe or water gruell, which shee had onely left to sustaine them, forsomuch as the Armie had ravaged and wasted all. The poore woman, had neither witnesse nor proofe of it; It was but hir yea, and his no; which the Generall perceiving, after he had summoned hir to be well advised what thee spake, and that shee should not accuse him wrongfully; for, if shee spake an vntruth, shee should then be culpable of his accusation: But shee constantly persisting to charge him, he forthwith, to dis∣cover the truth, and to be throughly resolved, caused the accused Souldiers belly to be rip∣ped, who was found faultie, and the poore woman to have said true; whereupon shee was dis∣charged. A condemnation instructive to others.

The sixt Chapter.

Of Exercise or Practise.

IT is a hard matter (although our conceit doe willingly applie it selfe vnto it) that Dis∣course and Instruction, should sufficiently be powerful, to direct vs to action, and addresse vs to performance, if over and besides that, we doe not by experience exercise and frame our mind, to the traine whereunto we will range-it: otherwise, when we shall be on the point of the effects, it will doubtlesse find it selfe much engaged and empeached. And that is the reason why amongst Philosophers, those that have willed to attaine to some greater excel∣lence, have not been content, at home, and at rest to expect the rigors of fortune, for feare she should surprise them vnexperienced and find them novices, if she should chance to enter fight with them; but have rather gone to meet and front hir before, and witting-earnestly cast themselves to the triall of the hardest difficulties. Some have thereby voluntarily forsaken great riches, onely to practise a voluntarie povertie: others have willingly found out labour, and an austeritie of a toylesome life, thereby to harden and envre themselves

to evill, and travell: othersome have frankly deprived themselves of the dearest and best parts of their body, as of their eyes, and members of generation, lest their over-pleasing, and too-too wanton service, might in any sort mollifie and distract the constant resolution of their minde. But to die, which is the greatest worke we have to doe, exercise can nothing a∣vaile vs therevnto. A man may, by custome and experience, fortifie himselfe against griefe, sorrow, shame, want, and such like accidents: But concerning death, we can but once feele and trie the same. We are all novices, and new to learne when we come vnto it. There have, in former times, beene found men so good husbands and thriftie of time, that even in death they have assayde to tast and savour it; and bent their minde to observe and see, what man∣ner of thing that passage of death was; but none did ever yet come backe againe to tell vs tidings of-it.

—nemo expergi••us extat Frigida quem semel est vit aipausasequut••.

No man doth ever-ofter wake, Whom once his lifes cold rest doth take.

Canius Iulius, a noble Romane, a man of singular vertue and constancie, having beene condemned to death by that lewdly-mischievous monster of men, Caligula: besides many marvelous evident assurances he gave of his matchlesse resolution, when he was even in the nicke to endure the last stroke of the executioner; a Philosopher, being his friend, interrup∣ted him with this question, saying: Canius, in what state is your soule now; what doth she; what thoughts possesse you now; I thought (answered he) to keep me readie and prepared with all my force, to-see whether in this instant of death, so short and so neere at hand, I might perceive some dislodging or distraction of the soule, and whether it will shew some feeling of hir sudden departure; that (if I apprehend or learne anything of hir) I may af∣terward, if I can, returne, and give advertisement therof vnto my friends. Loe-here a Phi∣losopher, not onely vntil death, but even in death it selfe: what assurance was it, and what fiercenes of courage, to will that his owne death should serve him as a lesson, and have leasure to thinke elsewhere in a matter of such consequence;

—it is hoc animi morientis habebat.

This power of minde had he, When it from him did flee.

Me seemeth neverthelesse, that in some sort there is a meane to familiarize our selves with it, and to assay-it. We may have some experience of it, if not whole and perfect, at least such as may not altogether be vnprofitable, and which may yeelde vs better fortified and more assured. If we cannot attaine vnto it, we may at least approch-it, and discerne the same: And if we cannot enter hir sort, yet shall we see and frequent the approches vnto-it. It is not with out reason we are taught to take notice of our sleepe, for the resemblance it hath with death. How easily we passe from waking to sleeping; with how little interest we loose the know∣ledge of light, and of ourselves. The facultie of sleepe might happily seeme vnprofitable, and against nature, sithence it depriveth vs of all actions, and barreth vs of all sense, were it not that nature doth thereby instruct vs, that she hath equally made vs, as wel to live, as to die; and by life presenteth the eternall state vnto vs, which she after the same reserveth for vs, so to accustome vs thereunto, and remove the feare of it from vs. But such as by some vio∣lent accident are falne into a faintnes of heart, and have lost all senses, they, in mine opinion, have well-nigh beene, where they might beholde hir true and naturall visage: For, touching the instant or moment of the passage, it is not to be feared, it should bring any travell or displeasure with-it, forasmuch as we can have, nor sense, nor feeling without leasure. Our sufferances have neede of time, which is so short, and plunged in death, that necessarily it must be insensible. It is the approches that lead vnto it we should feare; and those may fall within the compasse of mans experience. Many things seeme greater by imagination, then by effect. I have passed over a good part of my age in sound and perfect health. I say, not onely sound, but blithe and wantonly-lustfull. That state full of lust, of prime and mirth, made me deeme the consideration of sicknesses so yrkesome and horrible, that when I came to the experience of them, I have found their fittes but weake, and their assaultes but faint, in respect of my apprehended feare. Lo here what I daily proove. Let me be vnder a roofe, in a good chamber, warme-clad, and well at ease in some tempestuous and stormy

night. I am exceedingly perplexed, and much grieved for such as are abroade, and have no shelter: But let me be in the storme my selfe, I doe not so much as desire to be else-where. Onely to be continually pent vp in a chamber, seemed in tollerable to me. I have now en¦ured my selfe to live a whole weeke, yea a moneth in my chamber full of care, trouble, altera∣tion and weakenes; and have found, that in the time of my best health I moaned such as were sicke, much more, then I can well moane my selfe when I am ill at ease: and that the power of my apprehension did well-nigh halfe endeare the essence and truth of the thing it selfe. I am in good hope the like will happen to me of death: and that it is not worth the labor I take for so many preparations as I prepare against hir; and so many helpes as I call ••osu∣staine, and assemble to endure the ••••ocke and violence of it. But hab ornab we can never take too much advantage of it. During our second or third troubles (I doe not well remem∣ber which) I fortuned one day, for recreation-sake, to goe forth and take the ayre, about a league from my house, who am seated even in the bowels of all troubles of our civill wars of France, supposing to be most safe, so neere mine owne ho••e and petreite, that I had no neede of better attendance or equipage. I was mounted vpon a very easie-going nagge, but not very sure. At my returning home againe, a sudden occasion being offered me, to make vse of this nagge in a peece of service, whereto he was neither trained not accustomed, one of my men (a-strong sturdie fellow) mounted vpon a yong strong-headed horse, and that had a desperate hard mouth, fresh, lustie and in breath; to shew his courage, and to out-goe his fe∣woes, fortuned with might and maine to set spurres vnto him, and giving him the bridle, to come right into the path where I was, and as a Colossus with his weight riding over me and my nagge, that were both very little, he overthrew vs both, and made vs fall with our heeles vpward: so that the nagge lay along astonied in one place, and I in a trance groveling on the ground ten or twelfe paces wide of him; my face all torne and brused, my sword which I had in my hand a good way from me, my girdle broken, with no more motion or sense in me then a stocke. It is the onely swowning that ever I felt yet. Those that were with me, after thy had assayed all possible meanes to bring me to my selfe againe, supposing me dead, tooke me in their armes, and with much adoe were carying me home to my-house, which was about halfe a french league thence: vpon the way, & after I had for two houres space, by all, bin supposed dead and past all recoverie, I began to stir and breathe: for, so great aboun∣dance of blood was falne into my stomake, that to discharge it, nature was forced to roweze vp hir spirits. I was imediately set vpon my feete, and bending forward, I presently cast vp, n quantitie as much clottie pure blood, as abucket will hold, and by the way was constra••∣ned to doe the like divers times before I could get home, whereby I begane to recover ••••ttle life, but it was by little and little, and so long adoing, that my chiefe senses were much more enclining to death then to life.

Per che dubbiosa ancor del suo riterne Nons' assicura at tonita la mente.

For yet the minde doubtfull it's returne Is not assured, but astonished.

The remenbrance whereof (which yet I beare deepely imprinted in my minde) represen∣ting me hir visage and Idea so livele and so naturally, doth in some sort reconcile me vnto hir. And when I began to see, it was with so dim, so weake and so troubled a sight, that I could not discrene any thing of the light,

—come quel ••'hor'aepre, hor chiude Gliocchij, mezzo tral sonno el esser desto.

As he that sometimes opens, sometimes shuts His eyes, betweene sleepe and awake.

Touching the function of the soule, they started vp and came in the same progresse as those of the body. I perceived my selfe all bloodie; for my doublet was all sullied with the blood I had cast. The first conceit I apprehended, was, that I had received some shot in my head; and in truth, at the same instant, there were divers that shot round about vs. Me thought, my selfe had no other hold of me, but of my lippes-ends. I closed mine eyes, to helpe (as me seemed) to send it forth, and tooke a kind of pleasure to linger and languishing∣ly to let my selfe goe from my selfe. It was an imagination swimming superficially in my minde, as weake and as tender as all the rest: but in truth, not onely exempted from displea∣sure,

but rather commixt with that pleasant sweetenesse, which they feele that suffer them∣selves to fall into a soft-slumbring and sense-entrancing sleepe. I beleeve it is the same state, they find themselves in, whom in the agonie of death we see to droop and faint thorow weak∣nesse: and am of opinion, we plaine and moane them without cause, esteeming that either they are agitated with grieveous pangs, or that their soule is pressed with painfull cogitations. It was ever my conceite, against the opinion of many, yea and against that of Stephanus la Boetie, that those whom we see, so overwhelmed, and faintly-drooping at the approches of their end, or vtterly cast downe with the lingring tediousnes of their deseases, or by accident of some apoplexie, or falling-evill,

—(vi morbi saepe ••oactus Ante oculos aliquis nostros vt fulminis ictu. Concidit, & spumas agit, ingemit, & fremit artus, Desipit, extent at neruos, torquetur, anhelat, Inconstanter & in iactando membra fatigat)

(Some man by force of sicknesse driu'n doth fall, As if by thunder stroke, before our eyes; He fomes, he grones, he trembles over all, He raves, he stretches, he's vext, panting lyes, He tyr's his limmes by tossing, Now this now that way crossing.)

or hurt in the head, whom we heare throb and rattle, and send forth grones and gaspes, al∣though we gather some tokens from them, whereby it seemeth, they have yet some know∣ledge left and certain motions we see them make with their body: I say, I have ever thought, they had their soule and body buried and a sleepe.

Viuat & est vitae nescius ipse suae.

He lives yet knowes not he, That he alive should be.

And I could not beleeve, that at so great an astonishment of members, and deffailance of senses, the soule could maintaine any force within, to know hirselfe; and therefore had no manner of discourse tormenting them, which might make them judge and feele the misery of their condition, and that consequently they were not greatly to be moaned. As for my selfe, I imagine no state so intolerable nor condition so horrible, as to have a feelingly-af∣flicted soule, voide of meanes to disburthen and declare hir-selfe: As I would say of those we send to execution, having first caused their tongne to be cut out, were it not that in this manner of death, the most dumbe seemes vnto me the fittest, namely if it be accompanied with a resolute and grave countenance. And as those miserable prisoners which light in the hands of those hard-harted and villenous Souldiers of these times, of whom they are tor∣mented with all manner of cruell entreatie, by compulsion to drawe them vnto some ex∣cessive and vnpossible ransome, keeping them all that while in so hard a condition and place, that they have no way left them to vtter their thoughts and expresse their miserie. The Poets have fained, there were some Gods, that fauoured the release of such as sufferd so languishing deaths.

—hunc ego Diti Sacrumiussa fero, téque isto corpore soluo.

This to death sacred, I, as was my charge, Doe beare, and from this body thee enlarge.

And the faltering speeches and vncertaine answeres, that by continuall ringing in their eares and incessantvrging them are somtimes by force wrested from them or by the motions which seeme to have some simpathie with that whereof they are examined, is notwithstand∣ing no witnes, that they live at least a perfect sound life. We doe also in yawning, before fleep fully seize vpon vs, apprehend as it were in a slumber, what is done about vs, and with a troubled and vncertain hearing, follow the voyces, which seeme to sound but on the outward limits of our soule; and frame answers according to the last words we heard, which taste more of chance then of sense: which thing now I have proved by experience, I ••ake no doubt, but hitherto, I have well judged of it. For, first lying as in a trance, I labo••••ed even with my na les to open my doublet (for I was vnarmed) and well I wot, that in ••••y imagination I felt nothing did hurt me. For, there are several motions in vs, which preceed not of our free wil▪

Sem••animésque micant digiti▪ ferrúmque retractant.

The halfe-dead fingers stirre, and feele, (Though it they cannot stirre) for steele.

Those that fall, doe commonly by a naturall impulsion cast their armes abroade before their falling, which sheweth, that our members have certaine offices, which they lend one to another, and possesse certain agitations, apart from our discourse:

Falciferos memorant currus abscindere membra, Vt tremere in terra videatur ab artubus, id quod Decidit abscissum, cùm mens tamen atque hominis vis Mobilitate mali non quit sentire dolorem.

They say, sith-bearing chariots limbes bereave, So as on earth, that which cut-off they leave, Doth seeme to quake, when yet mans force and minde Doth not the paine, through so quicke motion, finde.

My stomacke was surcharged with clotted blood, my hands of themselves were still run∣ning to it, as often they are wont (yea against the knowledg of our will) where we feele it to itch. There are many creatures, yea and some men, in whom after they are dead, we may see their muskles to close and stirre. All men know by experience, there be some partes of our bodies, which often without any consent of ours, doe stirre, stand and lie downe a∣gaine. Now these passions, which but exteriourly touch vs, can not properly be termed ours; For, to make them ours, a man must wholy be engaged vnto them: And the paines that our feete or handes feele whilest we sleepe, are not ours. When I came neere my house, where the tidings of my fall was alreadie come, and those of my housholde met me, with such outcries as are vsed in like times, I did not onely answere some words, to what I was de∣manded, but some tell me, I had the memory to commaund my men to give my wife a horse, whom I perceived to be over-tired, and labouring in the way, which is very hilly, fowle, and rugged. It seemeth this consideration proceeded from a vigilant soule: yet was I cleane distracted from-it, they were but vaine conceits, and as in a cloud, onely moved by the sense of the eyes and eares: They came not from my selfe. All which notwithstanding, I knew neither whence I came, nor whither I went, nor could I vnderstand or consider what was spoken vnto me. They were but light effects, that my senses produced of themselves, as it were of custome. Whatsoever the soule did assist-it with, was but a dreame, being lightly touched, and only sprinkled by the soft impression of the senses. In the meane time my state was verily most pleasant and easefull. I felt no maner of care or affliction, nither for my selfe nor others. It was a slumbering, langushing and extreame weaknesse, without anie paine at all. I saw mine owne house and knew it not; when I was laide in my bedde, I felt great ease in my rest, For I had beene vilely hurred and haled by those poore men, which had taken the paines to carry me vpon their armes a long and wearysome way, and to say truth, they had all beene wearied twice or thrice over, and were faine to shift severall times. Ma∣ny remedies were presently offerd me, but I tooke none, supposing verily I had beene dead∣ly hurt in the head. To say truth, it had beene a very happy death: For, the weakenesse of my discourse hinderd me from judging of it, and the feeblenes of my body from feeling the same. Me-thought I was yeelding vp the ghost so gently, and after so easie and indolent a maner, that I feele no other action lesse burthensome then that was. But when I beganne to come to life againe and recover my former strength,

Vt tandem sensus convaluere mei,

At last when all the sprites I beare, Recall'd and recollected were,

which was within two or three houres after, I presently felt my selfe full of aches and paines all my body over; for, each part thereof was with the violence of the fall much brused and tainted; and for two or three nights after I found my selfe so ill, that I verily supposed I should have had another fit of death: But that a more lively, and sensible one: (and to speak plaine) I feel my bru•••••• yet, and feare me shall doe while I live: I will not forget to tell you, that the last thing I could rightly fall into againe, was the remembrance of this accident, and I made my men many times to repeat me over and over againe, whither I was going, whence I came, and at what houre that chance befell me, before I could throughly conceive it. Concerning the maner of my falling they in favor of him who had bin the cause of it, concealed the truth

from me, and told me other flim flam tales. But a while after, and the morrow next when my memorie beganne to come to it selfe againe, and represent the state vnto me, wherein I was at the instant, when I perceived the horse riding over me (for being at my heeles, I chan∣ced to espie him, and helde my selfe for dead; yet was the conceite so sodaine, that feare had no leasure to enter my thoughts) me seemed it was a flashing or lightning, that smote my soule with shaking, and that I came from another world. This discourse of so slight an accident, is but vaine and frivolous, were not the instructions I have drawne from thence, for my vse: For truly, for a man to acquaint himselfe with death, I finde no better way, then to approch vnto it. Now as Plinie saith, every man is a good discipline vnto himselfe alwayes provided he be able to prie into himselfe. This is not my doctrine, it is but my stu∣die; And not another mans lesson, but mine owne. Yet ought no man to blame me if I im∣part the same. What serves my turne, may happily serve another mans; otherwise I marre nothing, what I make vse of, is mine owne. And if I play the foole, it is at mine owne cost, and without any other bodies interest. For it is but a kind of folly, that dies in me, and hath no traine. We have notice but of two or three former ancients, that have trodden this path; yet can we not say, whether altogether like vnto this of mine, for we know but their names. No man since hath followed their steppes: it is a thorny and crabbed enterprise, and more then it makes shew of, to follow so strange and vagabond a path, as that of our spirit: to pe∣netrate the shady, and enter the thicke-covered depths of these internall winding crankes; To chuse so many, and settle so severall aires of his agitations: And tis a new extraordinary ammusing, that distracts vs from the common occupation of the world, yea and from the most recommended: Many yeares are past since I have no other aime, whereto my thoughts bend, but my selfe, and that I controule and study nothing but my selfe. And if I study any thing else, it is imediatly to place it vpon, or to say better, in my selfe. And me thinkes I erre not, as commonly men doe in other sciences, without all comparison lesse profitable. I im∣part what I have learn't by this, although I greatly con••ent not my selfe with the progresse I have made therein. There is no description so hard, nor so profitable, as is the description of a mans owne life. Yet must a man handsomely trimme vp, yea and dispose and range himselfe to ap∣peare on the Theatre of this world. Now I continually tricke vp my selfe; for I vncessantly describe my selfe. Custome hath made a mans speech of himselfe, vicious. And obstinately forbids it in hatred of boasting, which ever seemeth closely to follow ones selfe witnesses, whereas a man should wipe a childes nose, that is now called to vn nose himselfe.

In vicium ducis culpae fuga.

Some shunning of some sinne, Doe draw some further in.

I finde more evill then good by this remedie: But suppose it were true, that for a man to entertaine the company with talking of himselfe, were necessarily presumption: I ought not following my generall intent, to refuse an action, that publisheth this crazed quality, since I have it in my selfe: and I should not conceale this fault, which I have not onely in vse, but in profession. Neverthelesse to speake my opinion of it, this custome to condemne wine is much to blame, because many are therewith made drunke. Onely good things may be ab∣vsed. And I believe this rule hath onely regard to popular defects: They are snaffles where∣with neither Saints, nor Philosophers, nor Devines, whom we heare so gloriously to speake of then sulves, will in any sort be bridled. No more doe I, though I be no more the one then other. If they write purposely or directly of it, yet when occasion doth conveniently leade them vnto it, faine they not, headlong to cast themselves into the listes? Whereof doth S∣craetes treate more at large, then of himselfe? To what doth he more often direct his Disci∣ples discourses, then to speake of themselves, not for their bookes lesson, but of the essence and mooving of their soule? We religiously shriue our selves to God and our confessour as our neighbours to all the people. But will some answere me, we reporte but accusation; wee then reporte all: For, even our vertue it selfe is faultie and repentable; My arte and pro∣fession, is to live. Who forbids me to speake of it, according to my sense, experience, and custome; Let him appoint the Architect to speake of buildings, not according to himselfe, but his neighbours, according to anothers skill, and not his owne. If it be a glory, for a man to publish his owne worth himselfe, why doth not Cicero prefer the eloquence of Horten∣sius, and Hortensius that of Ciceror. Some may peradventure suppose that by deedes and ef∣fects

and not simply by words, I witnesse of my selfe. I principally set forth my cogitations; a shapeletle subject, and which cannot fall within the compasse of a worke-manlike produ∣ction: with much adoe can I set it downe in this ayrie body of the voice. Wiser men, and more learned and devout, have lived avoyding all apparant effects. Effects would speake more of fortune, then of me. They witnesse their part, and not mine; vnlesse it be conjectu∣rally and vncertainly: Parcels of a particular shew: I wholy set forth and expose my selfe: It is a Sceletos; where at first sight appeare all the veines, muskles, gristles, sinnewes, and ten∣dons, each severall part in his due place. The effect of the cough produceth one part, that of palenesse ot panting of the heart another, and that doubtfully. I write not my gests, but my selfe and my essence. I am of opinion that a man must be very wise to esteeme himselfe, and equally consciencious to give testimony of it: be it low, be it high indifferently. If I did ab∣solutely seeme good and wise vnto my selfe, I would boldly declare it. To speake lesse of himselfe then he possesseth, is folly and not modesty. To pay himselfe for lesse then he is worth, is basenesse and pusilanimity, saith Aristotle. No vertue aides it selfe with false-hood; and truth is never a matter of errour. And yet for a man to say more of himselfe, then he can well prove, is not ever presumption, though often sottishnesse. For a man to over-weene, and please himselfe exceedingly with what he is, and fall into indifereet love with himselfe, is in my conceit, the substance of this vice. The best remedy to cure him, is to doe cleane contrary to that which those appoint, who inforbidding men to speake of themselves, doe consequently also inhibite more to thinke of themselves. Pride consisteth in conceit: The tongue can have no great share in it. For one to ammuse on himselfe, is in their imagination to please himselfe: And for a man to frequent and practise himselfe, is at an over-deare rate to please himselfe. But this excesse doth onely breed in them, that but superficially feele and search themselves, that are seene to follow their affaires, which call idlenesse and fond∣nesse, for a man to entertaine, to applaud and to endeare himselfe, and frame Chimeraes, or build Castles in the ayre; deeming themselves as a third person and strangers to themselves. If any be besotted with his owne knowledge, looking vpon himselfe, let him cast his eyes to∣wards former ages, his pride shall be abated, his ambition shall be quailed; for there shall he finde many thousands of spirits, that will cleane suppresse and treade him vnder. If he for∣tune to enter into any selfe-presumption of his owne worth, let him but call to remembrance the lives of Scipio and Epaminondas; so many armies, and so many Nations, which leave him so far behind them. No particular quality shall make him proud, that therewith shall reckon so many imperfect and weake qualities that are in him and at last, the nullity of humane con∣dition. Forsomuch as Socrates had truely onely nibled on the precept of his God, to know himselfe, and by that study had learned to contemne himselfe, he alone was esteemed wor∣thy of the name of Wise. Whosoever shall so know himselfe, let him boldly make himselfe knowen by his owne mouth:

The seuenth Chapter.

Of the recompences or rewards of Honour.

THose which write the life of Augustus Caesar, note this in his military discipline, that he was exceeding liberall and lauish in his gifts to such as were of any desert; but as spa∣ring and strait-handed in meere recompences of honour. Yet is it that himselfe had been li∣berally gratified by his Vnckle with militarie rewards, before euer he went to warres. It hath beene a wittie inuention, and receiued in most parts of the worlds Common-wealths, to establish and ordaine certaine vaine and worthles markes, therewith to honor and recom∣pence vertue: As are the wreathes of Lawrell, the Chaplets of Oake, and the Garlands of Myrtle, the forme of a certaine peculiar garment; the priuiledge to ride in Coch through the Citie; or by night to haue a Torch carried before one: Some particular place to sit-in in common assemblies; the prerogatives of certaine surnames and titles, and proper additions in armes, and such like things; the vse wherof hath beene diuersly receiued according to the

opinions of Nations, which continueth to this day. We have for our part, together with di∣vers of our neighbour-Nation, the orders of Knight-hood, which only were established to this purpose. Verily it is a most laudable vse, and profitable custome, to find meanes to re∣ward the worth, and acknowledge the valour of rare and excellent men, to satisfie and con∣tent them with such payments, as in no sort charge the common wealth, and put the Prince to no cost at all. And that which was ever knowne by ancient experience, and at other times we have plainely perceived amongst ourselves, that men of qualitie, were ever more jealous of such recompences, then of others, wherein was both gaine and profit: which was not without reason and great apparance. If to the prize, which ought simply to be of honour, there be other commodities and riches joyned, this kinde of commixing, in stead of en∣creasing the estimation thereof, doeth empaire, dissipate, and abridge-it. The order of the Knights of Saint Michaell in France, which of so long continuance hath bin in credite amongst vs, had no greater commoditie then that it had no manner of communication with any other advantage or profite, which hath hecretofore beene the cause, that there was no charge or state of what quality soever, whereto the nobilitie pretended with so much desire, or aspired with more affection, as it did to obtaine that order; nor calling, that was followed with more respect or greatnes. Vertue embracing with more ambition, and more willingly aspiring after a recompence, that is meerly and simply her owne, and which is rather glo∣rious, then profitable. For, to say truth, other giftes have novse so worthy; masmuch, as they are imployed to all manner of occasions. With riches a man doeth reward the service of a groome, the diligence of a messenger, the hopping of a dancer, the tricks of a vaulter, the breath of a lawyer, and the basest offices a man may receive; yea, with the same paultry pelfe mony, vice is payed and sinne requited, as flattery, murther, treason, Maqu••relage, and what not? It is then no marvell, if vertue doth lesse willingly desire this kinde of common trash, mony, then that which is only proper and peculiar to h••rselfe, and is altogether noble and generous. Auguctus had therefore reason, to be much more niggardly and sparing of this last, then of the former, forasmuch has honour is a priviledge which drawes his principall essence from rarenesse: And so doth vertue it selfe.

Cu•• malus est nemo, quis bonus esse potest?

To him who good can seeme, Who doth none bad esteeme?

We shall not see a man highly regarded, or extraordinarily commended, that is curiouslie carefull to have his children well nurtured, because it is a common action, how just and worthy praise soever it be: no more then one great tree, where the forrest is full of such. I doe not thinke that any Spartane Citizen did boastingly glorifie himselfe for his valor, be∣cause it was a popular vertue in that Nation: And as little for his fidelitie, and contempt of riches. There is no recompence fals vnto vertue, how great soever it be, if it once have past into custome: And I wot not whether we might call it great, being common. Since then the rewardes of honor, have no other prize and estimation then that few enjoy it, there is no way to disannull them, but to make a largesse of them. Were there now more men found deserving the same then in former ages, yet should not the reputation of it be corrup∣ted. And it may easilie happen that more deserve-it: For, there is no vertue, doeth so easilie spread it selfe as military valian••••e. There is another, true, perfect, and Philosophical, wher∣of I speake not (I vse this word according to our custome) farre greater and more full then this, which is a force and assurance of the soule, equally contemning all manner of contrarie accidents, vpright, vn••forme, and constant, wherof ours is but an easie and glimmering raie. Custome, institution, example and fashion, may effect what ever they list in the establish∣ing of that I speak-of, and easily make it vulgare, as may plainely bee seene by the experi∣ence our civill warts give-vs of-it, And whosoever could now joyne vs together, and ea∣gerly flesh al our people to a common enterprise, we should make our ancient military name and chivalrous credit to flourish againe. It is most certaine that the recompence of our order did not in former times onely concerne prowis, and respect valour; it had a further aime. It was never the reward or payment of a valiant souldier; but of a famous Captaine. The skill to obey could not deserve so honorable an hire: for, cast we backe our eyes to antiquity, we shall perceive, that for the woorthy obtayning thereof, there was required more vniuersall warre like experinesse, and which might imbrace the greatest part, and most parts of a mi∣litary

man; Neque enim eadem militares & imperatoriae artes sunt; for the same artes and partes belong not to a generall and common Souldier; and who besides that, should also bee of a fit and accommodable condition for such a dignitie. But I say, that if more men should now adaies be found worthy of it, then have bin heretofore, yet should not our Princes be more liberall of it: and it had bin much better, not to bestow it vpon all them to whom it was due, then for ever to loose, (as of late we have done) the vse of so profitable an invention. No man of courage vouch••afeth to advantage himselfe of that which is common vnto many. And those which in our dayes, have least merited that honourable recompence, seeme, in all apparance, most to disdaine it, by that meanes to place themselves in the ranke of those to whom the wrong is offred by vnworthy bestowing and vilifying of that badge, which particularly was due vn∣to them. Now by defacing and abolishing this to suppose, suddenly to be able to bring into cridite, and renue a semblable custome, is no convenient enterprise, in so licentious, so cor∣rupted, and so declining an age, as is this wherein we now live. And it will come to passe that the last shall even from her birth incur the incommodities, which haue lately ruined and ouerthrowne the other. The rules of this new orders-dispensation had need to be other∣wise wrested and constrained, for to giue it authority: and this tumultuous season is not capable of a short and ordered bridle. Besides, before a man is able to giue credit vnto it, it is requisite a man loose the memory of the first, and of the contempt whereinto it is fal∣len. This place might admitte some discourse vpon the consideration of valour, and diffe∣rence betweene this vertue and others: But Plutarch hauing often spoken of this matter, it were in vaine heere for mee to repeat what he sayes of it. This is worthy to be considered, that our nation giveth the chiefe preheminence of all vertue vnto valiancy, as the Etymolo∣gy of the word sheweth, which commeth of valour, or worth: and that according to our recei∣ued custome, when after the phrase of our court and nobility we speake of a worthy man, or of an honest man, we thereby inferre no other thing than a valiant man; after the vsuall Roman fashion. For, the generall denomination of vertue doth amongst them take her E∣tymology, of force or might. The only proper and essential forme of our nobility in France, is military vocation. It is very likely, that the first vertue that ever appeared amongst men, and which to some hath given preheminence over others, hath bin this by which the strong∣est and more couragious have become masters over the weakest, and purchased a particular rancke and reputation to themselues: Whereby this honour and dignity of speech is left vnto it: or else these nations being very war-like, haue giuen the price vnto that of vertues, which was the worthiest and more familiar vnto them. Even as our passion, and this heart∣panting, and mind-vexing carefull diligence, and diligent carefulnesse, which we continual∣ly apprehend about womens chastity, causeth; also that a good woman, an honest woman, a woman of honor and vertue, doth in effect and substance, signifie no other thing vnto vs, than a chaste wife or woman; as if to bind them to this duty, we did neglect all others, and gaue them free liberty to commit any other fault, to covenant with them, neuer to quit or forsake this one.

The eight Chapter.

Of the affection of fathers to their children. To the Ladie of Estissac.

MAdame, if strangenesse doe not save, or novelty shielde mee, which are wont to give things reputation, I shall never, with honestie, quit my selfe of this enterprise; yet is it so fantasticall, and beares a shew so different from common custome, that that may haply purchase-it free passage. It is a melancholy humor, and consequently a hatefull enemy to my naturall complexion, bredde by the anxietie, and produced by the anguish of carking care, whereinto some yeares since I cast my selfe, that first put this humorous conceipt of writing into my head. And finding my selfe afterward wholy vnprovided of subject, and voyde of other matter. I have presented my selfe vnto my selfe for a subject to write, and ar∣gument

to descant vpon. It is the onely booke in the world of this kinde, and of a wilde ex∣travagant designe. Moreover, there is nothing in it worth••e the marking but this fantasti∣calnesse. For, to so vaine a ground and base a subject, the worldes best workeman, could never have given a fashion deserving to be accompted-of. Now (woorthy Lady) sithence I must pourtray my selfe to the life, I should have forgotten a part of importance, if there∣withall I had not represented the honour I have ever yeeleed to your deserts, which I have especially beene willing to declare in the forefront of this Chapter; For asmuch as amongst your other good parts, and commendable qualities, that of loving amity, which you have shewen to your children, holdeth one of the first ranckes. Whosoever shall vnderstand and know the age, wherein your late husband the Lord of Estissac left you a Widdow, the great and honorable matches haue been offered you (as worthy and as many as to any other Lady in France of your condition) the constant resolution, and resolute constancy, wherewith so many yeeres you have sustained, and even in spight, or a thwart so manifold thorny difficul∣ties; the charge and conduct of their affaires, which have tossed, turmoyled and remooved you in all corners of France, and still hold you besieged; the happy and successefull forward∣nesse you, which only through your wisdome or good fortune have given them, he will easily say with mee, that in our age we haue no patterne of motherly affection more exemplare; than yours. I praise God (Madam) it hath beene so well employed: For, the good hopes, which the yoong Lord of Estissac, your sonne giveth of himselfe, fore-shew an vndoubted assurance, that when he shall come to yeeres of discretion, you shall reape the obedience of a noble, and find the acknowledgement of a good childe. But because, by reason of his child∣hood, he could not take notice of the exceeding kindnesse and many-fold offices he hath received from you, my meaning is, that if ever these my compositions shall happly one day come into his hands (when peradventure I shall neither have mouth nor speach to declare it vnto him) he receive this testimonie in all veritie from me; which shall also more lively be testified vnto him by the good effects, (whereof, if so it please God, he shall have a sensible feeling) that there is no Gentleman in France, more endebted to his mother, then he; and that hereafter he cannot yeeld a more certaine proofe of his goodnesse, and testimonie of his vertue, then in acknowledging and confessing you for such. If there be any truely-naturall law, that is to say, any instinct, vniversally and perpetually imprinted, both in beasts and vs, (which is not without controversie) I may, according to mine opinion, say, that next to the care, which each living creature hath to his preservation, and to flie what doth hurt him; the affection which the engenderer beareth his off-spring, holds the second place in this ranke. And forasmuch as nature seemeth to have recommended the same vnto-vs, ayming to ex∣tend, encrease, and advance, the successive parts or parcels of this hir frame. It is no woon∣der if back▪againe it is not so great from children vnto fathers. This other Aristotelian consideration remembred: That hee who doth benefit another, loveth him better than hee is beloved of him againe: And hee to whom a debt is owing, loveth better, than hee that ow∣eth: And every workeman loveth his worke better, than hee should bee beloved of it a∣gaine, if it had sense or feeling. Forasmuch as we love to be; and being consisteth in mo∣ving and action. Therefore is every man, in some sort or other in his owne workmanship. Whosoever doth a good deed, exerciseth a faire and honest action: Whosoever receiveth, exerci∣seth onely a profitable action. And profite is nothing so much to be esteemed or loved as ho∣nestie. Honestie is firme and permanent, affording him that did it, a constant gratification. Profite is verie slipperie, and easilie lost, nor is the memorie of it so sweet, or so fresh. Such things are dearest vnto vs, that have cost vs most: And to give, is of more cost then to take. Since it hath pleased God to endow-vs with some capacitie of discourse, that as beasts we should not servily be subjected to common lawes, but rather with judgement and voluntarie libertie applie our selves vnto them; we ought somewhat to yeeld vnto the simple auctho∣ritie of Nature: but not suffer hir tyrannically to carrie-vs away: only reason ought to have the conduct of our inclinations. As for me, my taste is strangely distasted to it's propensi∣ons, which in vs are produced without the ordinance and direction of our judgement. As vpon this subject I speak-of, I cannot receive this passion, wherewith some embrace chil∣dren scarsly borne, having neither motion in the soule, nor forme well to be distinguished in the bodie, whereby they might make themselves lovely or amiable. And I could never well endure to have them brought vp or nursed neere about me. A true and wel ordred affection,

ought to be borne and augmented, with the knowledge they give vs of themselves; and then, if they deserve-it (naturall inclination marching hand in hand with reason) to cherish and make much of them, with a perfect fatherly love and loving friendship, and conformably to judge of them if they be otherwise, alwaies yeelding our selves vnto reason, notwithstanding naturll power. For the most part; it goeth cleane contrary, and commonly feele our selves more mooved with the sports, idlenesse, wantonnesse, and infant-trifles of our children, than afterward we doe with all their actions, when they bee men: As if we had loved them for our pastimes, as we doe apes, monkies, or perokitoes, and not as men. And some that liberally furnish them with sporting bables while they be children, will miserably pinch it in the least expence for necessaries when they grow men. Nay, it seemeth that the jelousie we have to see them appeare into, and injoy the world, when we are ready to leave them, makes vs more sparing and close-handed toward them. It vexeth and grieveth vs when we see them follow∣ing vs at our heeles, supposing they solicite vs to be gone hence: And if we were to feare that since the order of things beareth, that they cannot indeede, neither be, nor live, but by our being and life, we should not meddle to be fathers. As for mee, I deeme it a kind of cruelty and injustice, not to receive them into the share and society of our goods, and to admit them as Partners in the vnderstanding of our domesticall affaires (if they be once capable of it) and not to cut off and shut- vp our commodities to provide for theirs, since we have engen∣dred them to that purpose. It is meere injustice to see an old, crazed, sinnow-shronken, and nigh dead father sitting alone in a Chimny-corner, to enjoy so many goods as would suffice for the preferment and entertainment of many children, and in the meane while, for want of meanes, to suffer them to loose their best daies and yeares, without thrusting them into pub∣like service and knowledge of men; whereby they are often cast into dispaire, to seeke, by some way how vnlawfull soever to provide for their necessaries. And in my daies, I have seene divers yong-men, of good, houses so given to stealing and filching, that no correction could divert them from it. I know one very well alied, to whom, at the instance of a brother of his (a most honest, gallant, and vertuous Gentleman) I spake to that purpose, who bold∣ly answered and confessed vnto me, that onely by the rigor and covetise of his father he had beene forced and driuen to fall into such lewdnesse and wickednesse. And even at that time he came from stealing certaine jewels from a Lady, in whose bed-chamber he fortuned to come with certaine other Gentlemen when she was rising, and had almost beene taken. He made me remember a tale I had heard of an other Gentleman, from his youth so fashioned and inclined to this goodly trade of pilfering, that comming afterward to be heire and Lord of his owne goods, resolved to giue over that manner of life, could notwithstanding (if he chanced to come neere a shop, where he saw any thing he stood in neede of) not chuse but steale the same, though afterward he would ever send mony and pay for it. And I have seene diverse so inured to that vice, that amongst their companions, they would ordinarily steale such things, as they would restore againe. I am a Gascoine, and there is no vice wherein I have lesse skill: I hate it somewhat more by complexion, then I accuse it by discourse. I doe not so much as desire another mans goods.

And although my Country-men be indeed somewhat more taxed with this fault, then o∣ther Provinces of France, yet have we seene of late daies, and that sundry times men well borne and of good parentaeg in other parts of France in the hands of justice, and lawfully convicted of many most horrible robberies. I am of opinion that in regard of these de∣bauches and lewd actions, fathers may, in some sort, be blamed, and that it is onely long of them. And if any shall answer mee, as did once a Gentleman of good worth and vnderstan∣ding, that he thriftily endevored to hoard vp riches, to no other purpose, nor to have any vse and commodity of them, then to be honoured, respected and suingly sought vnto by his friends and kinsfolkes, and that age having bereaved him of all other forces, it was the onely remedy he had left to maintaine himselfe in authority with his houshold, and keepe him from falling into contempt and disdaine of all the world. (And truely according to Ari∣stotle, not onely old-age, but each imbecility, is the promoter, and motive of couetousnesse. That is something, but it is a remedie for an evill, whereof the birth should have beene hin∣dered, and breeding a voyded. That father may truely be said miserable, that holdeth the affection of his children tied vnto him by no other meanes, then by the neede they have of his helpe, or want of his assistance, if that may be termed affection: A man should yeeld him∣selfe

respectable by vertue and sufficiency, and amiable by his goodnesse, and gentlenesse of maners. The very cinders of so rich a matter, have their value: so have the bones and reliques of ho∣nourable men, whom we hold in respect and reverence. No age can be so crazed and droop∣ing in a man that hath lived honourably, but must needes prove venerable, and especially vnto his children, whose mindes ought so to be directed by the parents, that reason and wise∣dome, not necessity and neede, nor rudenesse and compulsion, may make them know and performe their duty.

—& errat longè, mea quidem sententia, Qui imperium credat esse gravius aut stabilius, Vi quod fit, quàm illud quod amicitia adiungitur;

In mine opinion he doth much mistake, Who, that command more graue, more firme doth take, Which force doth get, then that which friendships make.

I vtterly condemne all maner of violence in the education of a yong spirit, brought vp to honour and liberty. There is a kinde of slavishnesse in churlish-rigor, and servility in com∣pulsion; and I hold, that that which can not be compaessed by reason, wisedome and discretion, can never be attained by ••orce and constraint. So was I brought vp: they tell mee, that in all my youth, I never felt rod but twice, and that very lightly. And what education I have had my selfe, the same have I given my children. But such is my ill hap, that they die all very yong: yet hath Leonora my onely daughter escaped this misfortune, and attained to the age of six yeares, and somewhat more: for the conduct of whose youth, and punishment of hir chil∣disn faults (the indulgence of hir mother applying it selfe very mildely vnto it) was never other meanes vsed but gentle words. And were my desire frustrate, there are diverse other causes to take hold-of, without reproving my discipline, which I know to be just and naturall. I would also have beene much more religious in that towards male-children, not borne to serve as women, and of a freer condition. I should have loved to have stored their minde with ingenuity and liberty. I have seene no other effects in rods, but to make childrens mindes more remis••e, or more maliciously head-strong. Desire we to be loved of our chil∣dren? Will we remove all occasions from them to wish our death? (although no occasion of so horrible and vnnaturall wishes, can either be just or excusable) nullum scelus rationem ha∣bet, no ill deede hath a good reason.

Let vs reasonably accommodate their life, with such things as are in our power. And ther∣fore should not we marry so yoong, that our age doe in a maner confound it selfe with theirs. For, this inconvenience doth vnavoidably cast vs into many difficulties, and encombrances. This I speake, chiefly vnto Nobility, which is of an idle disposition, or lo••tering condition, and which (as we say) liveth onely by hir lands or rents: for else, where life standeth vpon gaine; plurality and company of children is an easefull furtherance of husbandry. They are as many new implements to thrive, and instruments to grow rich. I was married at thirty yeeres of age, and commend the opinion of thirty-five, which is said to be Aristotles. Plato would have no man married before thirty, and hath good reason to scoffe at them that will defer it till after fifty-five, and then marry; and condemneth their breed as vnworthy of life and sustenance. Thales appointed the best limites, who by his mother, being instantly vrged to marry whilest he was yong, answered that it was not yet time; and when he came to be old he said it was no more time. A man must refuse opportunity to every importunate action. The ancient Gaules deemed it a thamefull reproach, to have the acquaintance of a woman before the age of twenty yeares, and did especially recommend vnto men that sought to be trained vp in warres, the carefull preseruation of their maiden-head, vntill they were of good yeeres, forsomuch as by loosing it in youth, courages are thereby much weakened and great∣ly empaired, and by copulation with women, diverted from all vertuous action.

Mahor cogiunto à gi•• vinetta sposa, Lieto hemat de'figl•• era invilito Ne gli affetti di padre & di marito.

But now conjoyn'd to a fresh-springing spouse, Ioy'd in his children, he was thought▪ abased, In passions twixt a Sire, and husband placed.

Muleasses King of Thunes, he whom the Emperour Charles the fifth restored vnto his

owne state againe, was wont to vpbraid his fathers memorie, for so dissolutely-frequenting of women, terming him a sloven, effeminate, and a lustfull engenderer of children. The Greeke storie doth note Iecus the Tarentine, Chryso, Astylus, Diopomus and others, who to keepe their bodies tough and strong for the service of the Olympicke courses, wrestlings and such bodily exercises, they did, as long as they were possessed with that care, heedefully ab∣staine from all venerian actes, and thouching of women. In a certaine country of the Spa∣nish Indies, no man was suffered to take a wife, before he were fortie yeares olde, and wo∣men might marry at tenne yeares of age. There is no reason, neither is it convenient, that a Gentleman of five and thirtie yeares, should give place to his sonne, that is but twenty: For then is the father as seemely, and may aswell appeare, and set himselfe forward, in all man∣ner of voyages of warres, aswell by land as sea, and doe his Prince as good service, in court, or else where, as his sonne: He hath neede of all his parts, and ought truly to impart them, but so, that he forget not himselfe for others: And to such may justly that answere serve, which fathers have commonly in their mouthes: I will not put off my clothes before I be readie to goe to bed. But a father over-burthend with yeares, and crazed through sickenesse, and by reason of weakenesse and want of health, barred from the common societie of men, doth both wrong himselfe, injure his, idely and to no vse to hoorde vp, and keepe close a great heape of riches, and deale of pelfe. He is in state good enough, if he be wise to have a desire to put off his clothes to goe to bed. I will not say to his spirt, but to a good warme night gowne, As for other pompe and trash whereof hee hath no longer vse or neede; hee ought willingly to distribute and bestow them amongst those, to whom by naturall decree they ought to belong. It is reason he should have the vse, and bequeath the fruition of them, since nature doth also deprive him of them, otherwise without doubt there is both envy and malice stirring. The worthiest action, that ever the Emperour Charles the fifth performed was this, in imitation of some ancients of his quality, that he had the discretion to know, that reason commanded vs, to strip or shift our selves when our cloathes trouble and are too hea∣vie for vs, and that it is high time to goe to bed, when our legges faile vs. He resigned his meanes, his greatnesse and Kingdome to his Sonne, at what time he found his former vndan∣ted resolution to decay, and force to conduct his aslaires, to droope in himselfe, together with the glory he had thereby acquired.

Solue senescentem mature se••••s equum, ne Peccet ad extremum ridendus, & ilia ducat,

If you be wise, the horse growne▪ old be times cast off, Least he at last fall lame, soulter, and breed a skoffe.

This fault, for a man not to be able to know himselfe betimes, and not to feele the im∣puissance and extreame alteration, that age doth naturally bring, both to the body and the minde (which in mine opinion is equall, if the minde have but one halfe) hath lost the repu∣tation of the most part of the greatest men in the world. I have in my daies both seene and fam••liarly knowen some men of great authority, whom a man might easily descerne, to be strangely fallen from that ancient sufficiency, which I know by the reputation they had thereby attained▪ vnto in their best yeares. I could willingly for their honors sake have wis••t them at home about their owne businesse, discharged from all negotiations of the common∣wealth and employments of war, that were no longer fit for them. I have sometimes been fa∣miliar in a Gentlemans house, who was both an old man and a widdower, yet lusty of his age. This man had many daughters ••ariageable, and a sonne growne to mans state, and rea∣die to appeare in the world, a thing that drew▪ on, and was the cause of great charges, and many visitations, wherein he tooke but little pleasure, not onely for the continuall care hee had to save, but more by reason of his age, hee had betaken him-selfe to a manner of life farre different from ours. I chanced one day to tell him somewhat boldly (as my custome is) that it would better beseeme him to give vs place, and resigne his chiefe house to his son (for he had no other mannor-house conveniently well furnished) and quietly retire him∣selfe to some farme of his, where no man might trouble him, or disturbe his rest, since he could not otherwise avoide our importunitie, seeing the condition of his children; who afterward followed my counsell, and found great ease by it. It is not to be said, that they have any thing given them by such a way of obligation, which a man may not recall againe: I, that am readie to play such a part, would give over vnto them the full possession of my

house, and enjoying of my goods, but with such libertie and limited condition, as if they should give me occasion, I might repent my selfe of my gift, and revoke my deede. I would leave the vse and fruition of all vnto them, the rather because it were no longer fit for me to weald the same. And touching the disposing of all matters in grosse, I would reserve what I pleased vnto my selfe. Having ever judged, that it must be a great contentment to an aged father, himselfe to direct his children in the government of his houshold-affaires, and to be able whilst himselfe liveth, to checke and controule the demeanors: storing them with in∣struction and advised counsel according to the experience he hath had of them, and himself to addresse the ancient honour and order of his house in the handes of his successours, and that way warrant himselfe of the hopes hee may conceive of their future conduct and after successe. And to this effect, I would not shunne their company. I would not be far from them, but as much as the condition of my age would permit, enjoy and be a partner of their sports, mirths, and feasts. If I did not continually live amongst them (as I could not wel with∣out offending their meetings and hindering their recreation, by reason of the peevish fro∣wardnesse of my age, and the trouble of my infirmities, and also without forcing their rules, and resisting the forme of life, I should then follow) I would at least live neere them, in some corner of my house, not the best and fairest in shew, but the most easefull and commodious. And not as some yeeres since, I saw a Deane of S. Hillarie of Poictiers, reduced by reason and the incommoditie of his melancholy to such a continuall solitarinesse, that when I en∣tered into his chamber he had never remooved one step out of it in two and twenty yeares before: yet had all his faculties free and easie, onely a rheume excepted that fell into his sto∣make. Scarse once a weeke would he suffer any body to come and see him. Hee would ever be shut vp in his chamber all alone, where no man should come, except a boy, who once a day brought him meate, and who might not tarrie there, but as soone as he was in, must goe out againe. All his exercise was sometimes to walke vp and downe his chamber, and now and then reade on some booke (for he had some vnderstanding of letters) but obsti∣nately resolved to live and die in that course, as he did shortly after. I would endevour by a kinde of civill demeanour and milde conversation, to breede and settle in my children a true∣harty-loving friendship, and vnfained good will towards me. A thing easily obtained a∣mongst well-borne mindes: For, if they proove, or be such surly-furious beastes, or given to churlish disobedience, as our age bringeth forth thousands, they must as beastes be hated, as churls neglected, and as degenerate avoided. I hate this custome, to forbid children to call their fathers father, and to teach them another strange name, as of more reverence: As if na∣ture had not sufficiently provided for our authoritie. We call God-almightie by the name of father, and disdaine our children should call vs so. I have reformed this fault in mine owne housholde. It is also follie and injustice to deprive children, especially being of com∣petent age, of their fathers familiaritie, and ever to snew them a surly, austere, grim, and disdainefull countenance, hoping thereby to keepe them in awefull feare and duteous obe∣dience. For, it is a very vnprofitable proceeding, and which maketh fathers yrkesome vnto children; and which is worse, ridiculous. They have youth and strength in their hands, and consequently, the breath and favour of the worlde; and doe with mockerie and contempt receive these churlish fierce, and tyrannicall countenaunces, from a man that hath no lusty bloud left him, neither in his heart, nor in his veines; meere bugge-beares, and scar-crowes, to scare birdes with all. If it lay in my power to make my selfe feared, I had rather make my selfe beloved. There are so many sortes of defects in age, and so much impuissance: It is so subject to contempt, that the best purchase it can make, is the good will, love and affection of hers. Commandement and feare are no longer her weapons. I have knowen one whose youth had bin very imperious and rough, but when he came to mans age, although hee live in as good plight and health as may be, yet he chaseth, he scoldeth, he brawleth, he fighteth, he sweareth, and biteth, as the most boistrous and tempestuous master of France, he frets and consumes himselfe with ca••ke and care and vigilancy (all which is but a juglin & ground for his familier to play vpon, and cozen him the more) as for his goods, his garners, his cellers, his coffers, yea his purse, whilest himselfe keepes the keyes of them, close in his bosome and vnder his boulster, as charily as he doth his e••es, other enjoy and commaund the better part of them; whilest he pleaseth and fla••tereth himselfe, with the ••••ggardly sparing of his table, all goeth to wracke, and is lavishly wasted in diverse corners of his house, in play, in riotous

spending, and in soothingly entertaining the accompts or tales of his vaine chafing, fore∣sight and providing. Every man watcheth and keepeth sentinell against him, if any silly or needlesse servant doe by fortune apply himselfe vnto it, he is presently made to suspect him: A quality on which age doth immediately bite of itselfe. How many times hath he vaunted and applauding himselfe told me of the strict orders of his house, of his good husbandry, of the awe he kept his houshold in, and of the exact obedience, and regardfull reverence he re∣ceived of all his family, and how cleare-sighted he was in his owne businesse:

Ille solus nescit omnia.

Of all things none but he, Most ignorant must be.

I know no man that could produce more parts, both naturall and artificiall, fit to preserve his maisterie, and to maintaine his absolutenesse, than he doth; yet is hee cleane falne from them like a childe. Therefore have I made choice of him, amongst many such conditions that I know, as most exemplare. It were a matter beseeming a scholasticall question, whe∣ther it be better so, or otherwise. In his presence all things give place vnto him. This vaine course is ever left vnto his authority, that he is never gaine-said. He is had in awe, he is fea∣red, he is beleeved, he is respected his belly-full. Doth he discharge any boy or servant? he presently trusseth vp his packe, then is he gone; but whether? onely out of his sight, not out of his house. The steps of age are follow, the senses so troubled, the minde so distra∣cted, that he shall live and doe his office, a whole yeere in one same house, and never be per∣ceived. And when fit time or occasion serveth, Letters are produced from farre places, humbly suing, and pittifully complayning, with promises to doe better, and to amend, by which he is brought into favour and office againe. Doth the master make any bargaine, or dispatch that pleaseth not? it is immediately smothered and suppressed, soone after forging causes, and devising colourable excuses, to excuse the want of execution or answer. No for∣raine Letters being first presented vnto him, he seeth but such as are fit for his knowledge. If peradventure they come vnto his hands, as he that trusteth some one of his men to reade them vnto him, he will presently devise what he thinketh good, whereby they often invent, that such a one seemeth to aske him forgivenesse, that wrongeth him by his Letter. To con∣clude, he never lookes into his owne businesse, but by a disposed, designed and as much as may be pleasing image, so contrived by such as are about him, because they will not stirre vp his choler, moove his impatience, and exasperate his frowardnesse. I have seene vnder different formes, many long and constant, and of like effect oeconomies. It is ever proper vnto women, to be read••ly bent to contradict and crosse their husbands. They will with might and maine hand-over head, take hold of any colour to thwart and withstand them: the first excuse they meete with, serves them as a plenary justification. I have seene some, that would in grosse steale from their husbands, to the end (as they tolde their Confessors) they might give the greater almes. Trust you to such religious dispensations. They thinke no liberty to have, or managing to possesse sufficient authority, if it come from their hus∣bands consent: They must necessarily vsurpe it, either by wily craft or maine force, and ever injuriously, thereby to give it more grace and authority. As in my Discourse, when it is a∣gainst a poore old man, and for children, then take they hold of this Title, and therewith gloriously serve their turne and passion, and as in a common servitude, easily vsurpe and mo∣nopolize against his government and domination. If they be men-children, tall, of good spirit and forward, then they presently suborne, either by threats, force or favour, both Ste∣ward, Bail••ffe, Clarke, Receiver, and all the Fathers Officers, and Servants. Such as have neither wife nor children, doe more hardly fall into this mischiefe: but yet more cruelly and vnworthily. Old Cato was wont to say, So many servants, so many enemies. Note whether ac∣cording to the distance, that was betweene the purity of his age, and the corruption of our times, he did not fore-warne vs, that Wives, Children, and Servants are to vs so many enemies. Well fittes it decrepitude to store vs with the sweet benefite of ignorance and vnperceiving facility wherewith we are deceived.

If we did yeeld vnto it, what would become of vs? Doe we not see that even then, if we have any suites in law or matters to be decided before judges, both Lawyers and Iudges, will commonly take part with, and favour our childrens causes against vs, as men interessed in the same? And if I chance not to spie, or plainely perceive how I am cheated, cozoned and

beguiled. I must of necessitie discover in the end, how I am subject and may be cheated, be∣guiled, and cozoned. And shall the tongue of man ever bee able to expresse the vnvaluable worth of a frend, in comparison of these civill bondes? The lively image and Idea whereof; I perceive to be amongst beasts so vnspotted. Oh with what religion doe I respect and ob∣serve the same! If others deceive me, yet do I not deceive my selfe, to esteeme my selfe capa∣ble, and of power to looke vnto my selfe, nor to trouble my braines to yeeld my selfe vnto it. I doe beware and keepe my selfe from such treasons, and cunny-catching in mine owne bosome, not by an vnquiet, and tumultuary curiosity, but rather by a diversion and resolu∣tion. When I heare the state of any one reported or discoursed of, I ammuse not my selfe on him, but presently cast mine eyes on my selfe, and all my wits together, to see in what state I am, and how it goeth with me. Whatsoever concerneth him, the same hath relation to me. His fortunes forewarne me, and summon vp my spirites that way. There is no day nor houre, but we speake that of others, we might properly speake of our selves, could we as well enfold, as we can vnfould our consideration. And many Authours doe in this maner wound the protection of their cause, by over-rasnly running against that, which they take hold-of, thirling such darts at their enemies, that might with much more advantage be cast at them. The Lord of Mon∣luc, late one of the Lord Marshals of France, having lost his sonne, who died in the Iland of Madera, a worthy, forward and gallant yoong gentleman, and truely of good hope; amongst other his griefes and regrets, did greatly moove me to condole, the infinite displeasure and heartes-sorrow that he felt, in asmuch as he had never communicated and opened himselfe vnto him: for, with his austere humour and continuall endevoring to hold a grimme-stern∣fatherly gravity over him, he had lost the meanes, perfectly to finde and throughly to know his sonne, and so to manifest vnto him, the extreame affection he bare him, and the worthy judgement he made of his vertue. Alas (was he wont to say) the poore lad, saw never any thing in me, but a severe-surly-countenance, full of disdaine, and happily was possessed with this conceit, that I could neither love nor esteeme him according to his merits. Ay-me, to whom did I reserve, to discover that singular and loving affection, which in my soule I bare vnto him? Was it not he that should have had all the pleasure and acknowledgement there∣of? I have forced and tormented my selfe to maintaine this vaine maske, and have vtterly lost the pleasure of his conversation, and therwithal his good will, which surely was but faint∣ly cold towards me, forsomuch as he never received but rude entertainement of mee, and ne∣ver felt but a tyrannicall proceeding in me towards him. I am of opinion, his complaint was reasonable and well grounded. For, as I know by certaine experience, there is no comfort so sweete in the losse of friends, as that our owne knowledge or conscience tels vs, we never o∣mitted to tell them every thing, and expostulate all matters vnto them, and to have had a perfect and free communication with them. Tell me my good friend, am I the better or the worse by having a taste of it? Surely I am much the better. His griefe doth both comfort and honour mee. Is it not a religious and pleasing office of my life, for ever to make the obse∣quies thereof? Can there be any pleasure worth this privation? I doe vnfold and open my selfe as much as I can to mine owne people, and willigly declare the state of my will and judg∣ment toward them, as commonly I doe towards all men: I make haste to produce and pre∣sent my selfe, for I would have no man mistake me, in what part soever. Amongst other particular customes, which our ancient Gaules had, (as Caesar affirmeth) this was one, that children never came before their fathers, nor were in any publicke assembly seene in their company, but when they began to beare armes; as if they would infer, that then was the time, fathers should admit them to their acquaintance and familiarity. I have also observed another kinde of indiscretion in some fathers of our times, who during their owne life, would never be induced to acquaint or impart vnto their children, that share or portion, which by the Law of Nature, they were to have in their fortunes: Nay, some there are, who after their death bequeath and commit the same aucthority, over them and their goods, vnto their wives, with full power and law to dispose of them at their pleasure. And my selfe have knowen a Gentleman, a chiefe officer of our crowne, that by right and hope of succession (had he lived vnto it) was to inherite above fifty thousand crownes a yeere good land, who at the age of more then fifty yeeres fell into such necessity and want, and was run so farre in debt, that he had nothing left him, and as it is supposed died for very neede; whilest his mo∣ther in hir extreame decrepitude, enjoyed all his lands and possessed all his goods, by vertue

of his fathers will and testament, who had lived very neere foure-score yeares. A thing (in my conceite) no way to be commended, but rather blamed. Therefore doe I thinke, that a man but little advantaged or bettered in estate, who is able to liue of himselfe, and is out of debt, especially if he have children, and goeth about to marry a wife, that must have a great joynter out of his lands, assuredly there is no other debt, that brings more ruine vnto hou∣ses then that. My predecessours have commonly followed this counsell, and so have I, and all have found good by it. But those that disswade vs from marrying of riche wives, lest they might proove over disdainefull and peevish, or lesse tractable and loving, are also deceived to make vs neglect and for-goe a reall commoditie, for so frivolous a conjecture. To an vn∣reasonable women, it is all one cost to hir, whether they passe vnder one reason, or vnder a∣nother. They love to be where they are most wronged. Injustice doeth allure them; as the ho∣nour of their vertuous actions enticeth the good. And by how much richer they are, so much more milde and gentle are they: as more willingly and gloriously chast, by how much fair∣er they are. Some colour of reason there is, men should leave the administration of their goods and affaires vnto mothers, whilst their children are not of competent age, or fit ac∣cording to the lawes to manage the charge of them: And il hath their father brought them vp, if he cannot hope, these comming to yeares of discretion, they shal have no more wit, rea∣son, and sufficiencie, then his wife, considering the weaknesse of their sexe. Yet truly were it as much against nature, so to order things, that mothers must wholy depend of their chil∣drens descretion. They ought largely and competently to be provided, wherewith to main∣taine their estate, according to the quality of their house and age: because neede and want is much more vnseemely and hard to be indured in women, than in men: And children rather then mothers ought to be charged therewith. In generall, my opinion is, that the best distributi∣on of goods, is when we die, to distribute them according to the custome of the Country. The Lawes have better thought vpon them then we: And better it is to let them erre in their election, then for vs rashly to hazard to faile in ours. They are not properly our owne, since without vs, and by a civill prescription, they are appointed to certaine successours. And al∣beit we have some further liberty, I thinke it should be a great and most apparant cause to induce vs to take from one, and barre him from that, which Fortune hath allotted him, and the common Lawes and Iustice hath called him vnto: And that against reason wee a∣buse this liberty, by suting the same vnto our priuate humours and frivolous fantasies. My fortune hath beene good, inasmuch as yet it never presented mee with any occasions, that might tempt or divert my affections from the common and lawfull ordinance. I see some, towards whom it is but labour lost, carefully to endevour to doe any good offices. A word il taken defaceth the merite of tenne yeeres. Happy he, that at this last passage is ready to sooth and applaud their will. The next action transporteth him; not the best and most frequent offices, but the freshest and present worke the deede. They are people that play with their wils and testaments, as with apples and rods, to gratifie or chastize every action of those who pretend any interest therevnto. It is a matter of over-long pursute, and of exceeding con∣sequence, at every instance to be thus dilated, and wherein the wiser sort establish themselves once for all, chiefely respecting reason, and publike observance. We somewhat over-much take these masculine substitutions to hart, and propose a ridiculous eternity vnto our names. We also over-weight such vaine future conjectures, which infant-spirits give-vs. It might peradventure have beene deemed injustice, to displace me from out my rancke, because I was the dullest, the slowest, the vnwillingest, and most leaden-pated to learne my lesson o a∣ny good, that ever was, not onely of all my brethren, but of all the children in my Countrie; were the lesson concerning any exercise of the minde or body. It is follie to trie anie extra∣ordinarie conclusions vpon the trust of their divinations, wherein we are so often deceived. If this rule may be contradicted, and the destinies corrected, in the choise they have made of our heires, with so much more apparance, may it be done in consideration of some re∣markable and enormous corporall deformitie; a constant and incorrigible vice; and accor∣ding to vs great esteemers of beautie; a matter of important prejudice. The pleasant dialogue of Plato the law-giver, with his citizens, will much honor this passage. Why then (say they) perceiving their ende to approch, shall we not dispose of that which is our owne, to whom and according as we please? Oh Gods what cruelty is this? That it shall not be lawfull for vs, to give or bequeath more or lesse according to our fantasies, to such as have

served vs, and taken paines with vs in our sickenesses, in our age, and in our busines? To whom the Law-giver answereth in this manner; my frends (saith he) who doubtles shall shortly die it is a hard matter for you, both to know your selves, and what is yours, according to the Delphike in scription: As for me, who am the maker of your lawes, I am of opinion that neither your selves are your owne, nor that which you enjoy. And both you and your goods, past and to come, belong to your familie; and moreover both your families and your goods are the common wealths: Wherfore, least any flatterer, either in your age, or in time of sickenes, or any other passion, should vnadvisedly induce you to make any vnlawfull con∣vayance or vnjust will and testament, I will looke to you and keepe you from-it. But ha∣ving an especiall respect both to the vniversall interest of your Citie, and particular state of your houses, I will establish lawes, and by reason make you perceive and confesse, that a par∣ticular commoditie ought to yeelde to a publike benefit. Followe that course meerely, whereto humaine necessitie doth call you. To me it belongeth, who have no more regarde to one thing, then to another, and who as much as I can, take care for the general, to have a regard∣full respect of that which you leave behind you. But to returne to my former discourse, me thinkes, we seldome see that woman borne, to whom the superioritie or majestie over men is due, except the motherly and naturall; vnles it be for the chastisement of such, as by some fond-febricitant humor have voluntarily submitted themselves vnto them: But that doth nothing concerne old women, of whom we speake here. It is the apparance of this consi∣deration, hath made vs to frame, and willingly to establish this law (never seene else where) that barreth women from the succession of this crowne, and there are few principalities in the world, where it is not aleaged, aswel as here, by a likely and apparant reason, which autho∣riseth the same. But fortune hath given more credit vnto-it in some places, then in other some. It is dangerous to leave the dispensation of our succession vnto their judgement, ac∣cording to the choyse they shall make of their children, which is most commonly vnjust and fantasticall. For, the same vnrulie appetite, and distasted relish, or strange longings, which they have when they are great with child, the same have they a•• al times in their minds. They are commonly seene to affect the weakest, the simplest and most abject, or such (if they have any) that had more neede to sucke. For, wanting reasonable discourse to chuse, and embrace what they ought, they rather suffer themselves to be directed, where natures impressions are most single, as other creatures, which take no longer knowledge of their yong-ones, then they are sucking. Moreover, experience doth manifestly snew vnto vs, that the same naturall af∣fection, to which we ascribe so much authoritie, hath but a weake foundation. For a very small gaine, we daily take mothers owne children from them and induce them to take charge of ours; Doe we not often procure them to bequeath their children to some fond, filthie, sluttish, and vnhealthie nurce, to whom we would be very loth to commit ours, or to some brutish Goate, not onely forbidding them to nurce and feede their owne children (what danger soever may betide them) but also to have any care of them, to the end they may the more diligently follow, and carefully attend the service of ours? Whereby wee soone see through custome a certaine kinde of bastard-affection to be engendred in them, more ve∣hement then the naturall, and to be much more tender and carefull for the well fare and pre∣servation of other mens children, then for their owne. And the reason why I have made mention of Goates, is, because it is an ordinarie thing round about me where I dwell, to see the countrie women, when they have not milke enough to feed their infants with their owne breasts, to call for Goates to helpe them. And my selfe have now two lacke is wayting vp∣on me, who except it were eight daies never suck't other milke then Goates; They are pre∣sently to come at call, and give yong infants sucke, and become so well acquainted with their voice, that when they heare them crie; they runne forthwith vnto them. And if by chance they have any other child put to their teates, then their nurseling, they refuse and reject him, and so doth the childe a strange Goate. My selfe saw that one not long since, from whom the father tooke a Goate, which he had sucked two or three daies, because he had but borrowed it of one his neighbours, who could never be induced to sucke any o∣ther, whereby he shortly died; and as I verely thinke, of meere hunger. Beasts as well as we doe soone alter, and easily bastardize their naturall affection. I beleeve, that in that, which Hero dotus reporteth of a certaine province of Libia, there often followeth great error and mista∣king. He saith, that men doe indifferently vse, and as it were in common frequent women;

And that the childe as soone as he is able to goe, comming to any solemne meetings and great assemblies, led by a naturall instinct findeth out his owne father: where being turned loose in the middest of the multitude, looke what man the childe doth first addresse his steps vnto, and then goe to him, the same is ever afterward reputed to be his right father. Now if we shal duely consider this simple occasion of loving our children, because we have begotten them, for which we call them our other selves. It seemes there is another production com∣ming from vs, and which is of no lesse recommendation and consequence. For what we en∣gender by the minde, the fruites of our courage, sufficiencie, or spirite, are brought forth by a far more noble part, then the corporall, and are more, our owne. We are both father and mother together in this generation: such fruites cost vs much dearer, and bring vs more ho∣nour, and chiefly if they have any good or rare thing in them. For, the value of our other children, is much more theire, then ours. The share we have in them is but little; but of these all the beautie, all the grace, and all the worth is ours. And therefore doe they represent, and resemble vs much more lively then others. Plate addeth moreover, that these are immortall issues, and immortalize their fathers, yea and deifie them, as Licurgus, Solen, and Minos. All histories being full of examples of this mutuall friendship of fathers toward their children, I have not thought it amisse to set downe some choise one of this kinde. Heliodorus that good Bishop of Tricea, loved rather to loose the dignity, profit and devotion of so venera∣ble a Prelateship, then to for-goe his daughter, a yong woman to this day commended for hir beautie, but happily somewhat more curiously and wantonly pranked-vp then besee∣med the daughter of a churchman and a Bishop, and of over-amorous behavior. There was one Labienus in Rome, a man of great worth and authority, and an ongst other commenda∣ble qualities, most excellent in all maner of learning, who (as I think) was the sonne of that great Labienus, cheife of all the captaines that followed and were vnder Caesar in the warres againe the Gaules, and who afterward taking great Pompeys part, behaved himselfe so vali∣antly and so constantly, that he never forsooke him vntill Caesar defeated him in Spaine. This Labienus of whom I spake, had many that envied his vertues; But aboue all (as it is likely) courtiers, and such as in his time were favored of the Emperors, who hated his frank∣nes, his fatherly humors, and distaste he bare still against tyrannie, wherewith it may be sup∣posed he had stuffed his bookes and compositions. His adversaries vehemently pursued him before the Magistrate of Rome, and prevailed so farre, that many of his works which he had published were condemned to be burned. He was the first on whom this new example of punishment was put in practise, which after continued long in Rome, and was execu∣ted on divers others, to punish learning, studies, and writings with death and consuming fire. There were neither meanes enough, or matter sufficient of crueltie, vnlesse we had en∣termingled amongst them things, which nature hath exempted from all sense and suffe∣rance, as reputation, and the inventions of our minde: and except we communicated corpo∣rall mischiefes vnto disciplines and monuments of the Muses. Which losse Labienus could not endure, nor brooke to survive those his deare, and highly-esteemed issues: And there∣fore caused himselfe to be carried, and shut vp alive within his auncestors monument, where, with a dreadlesse resolution, he at once provided, both to kill himselfe and be buried toge∣ther. It is hard to shew any more vehement fatherly affection, than that. Cassius Severus, a most eloquent man, and his familiar friend, seeing his Bookes burnt, exclamed, that by the same sentence hee should therewithall be condemned to be burned alive, for hee still bare and kept in minde, what they contained in them. A like accident happened to Geruntius Cord••••s, who was accused to have commended Brutus and Cassius in his Bookes. That base, servile, and corrupted Senate, and worthie of a farre worse maister then Tiberius, adjudged his writings to be consumed by fire And he was pleased to accompany them in their death; for, he pined away by abstaining from all manner of meat. That notable man Lucane, be∣ing adjudged by that lewd varlet Nero to death; at the latter end of his life, when al his bloud was well nigh spent from out the veines of his arme, which by his Phisitian he had caused to be opened, to hasten his death, and that a chilling cold began to seize the vttermost parts of his limbes, and approch his vitale spirits, the last thing he had in memory, was some of his owne verses, written in his booke of the Pharsalian warres, which with a distinct voice hee repeated, and so yeelded vp the ghost, having those last words in his mouth. What was that but a kinde, tender, and fatherly farwell which he tooke of his children? representing the

last adewes, and parting imbracements, which at our death we give vnto our deerest issues? And an effect of that naturall inclination, which in that last extremity puts vs in minde of those things, which in our life-time we have held dearest and most precious? Shall we ima∣gine that Ep••curus, who (as himselfe said) dying tormented with the extreame paine of the chollike, had all his comfort in the beauty of the doctrine, which he left behinde him in the world, would have received as much contentment of a number of well-borne, and better∣bred children (if he had had any) as he did of the production of his rich compositions? And if it had beene in his choise, to leave behind him, either a counterfeit, deformed, or ill-borne childe, or a foolish, triviall, and idle booke, not onely he, but all men in the world besides of like learning and sufficiency, would much rather have chosen, to incurre the former then the latter mischiefe. It might peradventure be deemed impiety, in Saint Augustine (for ex∣ample-sake) if on the one part one should propose vnto him, to bury all his bookes, whence our religion receiveth so much good, or to interre his children (if in case he had any) that he would not rather chuse to bury his children; or the issue of his loynes, then the fruits of of his minde. And I wot not well, whether my selfe should not much rather desire to beget and produce a perfectly-well-shaped, and excellently-qualited infant, by the acquaintance of the Muses, then by the copulation of my wife. Whatsoever I give to this, let the world allow of it as it please, I give it as purely and irrevocable, as any man can give to his corporal children. That little good which I have done him, is no longer in my disposition. He may know many things, that my selfe know no longer, and hold of me what I could not hold my selfe: and which (if neede should require) I must borrow of him as of a stranger. If I be wiser then he, he is richer then I. There are few men given vnto Poesie, that would not esteeme it for a greater honour, to be the fathers of Ʋirgils Aeneidos, then of the goodliest boy in Rome, and that would not rather endure the losse of the one then the perishing of the other. For, according to Aristotle, Of all workemen, the Poet is principally the most amorous of his pro∣ductions and conceited of his Labours. It is not easie to be believed, that Epaminondas, who van∣ted to leave some daughters behind him, which vnto all posterity, should one day highly honour their father (they were the two famous victories, which he had gained of the Lace∣demonians) would ever have given his free consent, to change them, with the best-borne, most gorgeous, and goodliest damsels of all Greece: or that Alexander, and Caesar, did ever wish to be deprived of the greatnesse of their glorious deedes of warre, for the commodity to have children and heires of their owne bodies, how absolutely-perfect, and well accompli∣shed so ever they might be. Nay, I make a great question, whether Phidtas or any other ex∣cellent statuary, would as highly esteeme, and dearely love the preservation, and successefull continuance of his naturall children, as he would an exquisite and match-lesse-wrought I∣mage, that with long study, and diligent care he had perfected according vnto arte. And as concerning those vicious and furious passions, which sometimes have inflamed some fathers to the love of their daughters, or mothers towards their sonnes; the very same, and more partially-earnest is also found in this other kinde of childe-bearing and aliance. Witnesse that which is reported of Pigmalion, who having curiously framed a goodly statue, of a most singularly-beauteous woman, was so strange-fondly, and passionately surprised with the lust∣full love of his owne workmanship, that the Gods through his raging importunity were faine in favour of him to give it life.

Tentatum mollescit ebur, posito{que} rigore Subsidit digitis▪

As he assaid it, th'yvorie softned much, And (hardnesse left) did yeeld to fingers touch.

The ninth Chapter.

Of the Parthians Armes.

IT is a vitious fond fashion of the Nobility and gentry of our age, and full of nice-tender∣nesse, never to betake themselves to armes, except vpon some vrgent and extreame neces∣sity:

and to quit them as soone as they perceive the least hope or apparance, that the danger is past: Whence ensue many disorders, and inconveniences: For, every one running and calling for his armes when the alarum is given, some have not yet buckled their cuirace, when their fellowes are already defeated. Indeede our forefathers would have their Caske, Lance, Gantlets, and Shields carried, but so long as the service lasted, themselves would ne∣ver leave-off their other pieces. Our troopes are now all confounded and disordered, by reason of bag and baggage, of carriages, of lackies, and foote-boies, which because of their masters armes they carry, can never leave them. Titus Livius; speaking of the French, saith, Intolerantissima laboris corpora vix arma humer is gerebant. Their bodies most impatient of labour could hardly beare armour on their backes. Divers Nations, as they did in former times, so yet at this day, are seene to goe to the warres, without any thing about them, or if they had, it was of no defence; but were all naked and bare.

Tegmina queis capitum raptus de subere cortex.

Whose caske to cover all their head. Was made of barke from Corke-tree flea'd.

Alexander the most daring and hazardous Captain that ever was, did very seldome arme himselfe: And those which amongst vs neglect them, doe not thereby much empaire their reputation. If any man chance to be slaine for want of an armour, there are as many more that miscary with the over-heavy burthen of their armes, and by them are engaged, and by a counterbuffe are brused, or otherwise defeated. For in truth to see the vnweildy weight of our and their thicknesse, it seemeth we but endevour to defend our selves, and we are rather charged then covered by them. We have enough to doe, to endure the burthen of them, and are so engived and shackled in them, as if we were to fight but with the shocke or brunt of our armes: And as if we were as much bound to defend them, as they to shield vs. Cornelius Facitus doth pleasantly quip and jest at the men of war of our ancient Gaules, so armed, only to maintaine themselves, as they that have no meane, either to offend or to be offended, or to raise themselves being overthrowne. Lucullus seeing certaine Median men at armes, which were in the front of Tigranes Army, heavily and vnweildely armed, as in an yron-prison, ap∣prehended thereby an opinion, that he might easily defeat them, and began to charge them first, and got the victory. And now that our Muskettiers, are in such credite, I thinke we shall haue some invention found to immure vs vp, that so we may be warranted from them, and to traine vs to the warres in Skonces and Bastions, as those which our fathers caused to be carried by Elephants. A humour farre different from that of Scipio the yoonger, who sharp∣ly reprooved his souldiers, because they had scattered certaine Calthrops vnder the water alongst a dike, by which those of the Towne that he besieged might sally out vpon him, saying; that those which assailed, should resolve to enterprise and not to feare: And had some reason to feare, that this provision might secure and lull their vigilancy asleepe to guard themselves. Moreover he said to a yoong man, that shewed him a faire shield he had; In∣deed good youth, it is a faire one, but a Roman souldier ought to have more confidence in his right hand, than in his left. It is onely custome that makes the burthen of our armes intole∣rable vnto vs.

L'usberg•• in dosso haveano, & l'elmo intesta, Due di quells guerrier de i quali io canto. Ne notte o di depo ch'entrar•• inquesta Stanza, gl' havean m•••• messi da cant••; Che facile â portar come la vesta Eralor, perche in vso l'havean tanto.

Cuirasse on backe did those two warriors beare, And caske on head, of whom I make report, Nor day, nor night, after they entred there, Had they them laide aside from their support: They could with ease them as a garment weare, For long time had they vsde them in such sort.

The Emperour Caracalla in leading of his Army was ever wont to march a foot armed at all assaies. The Roman footmen caried not their morions, sword and target only, as for other armes (saith Cicero) they were so accustomed to weare them continually, that they hindered

them no more then their limbs: Arma enim, membra militis esse dicunt: for they say armor and weapon, are a soldiers limbs. But there withal such victuals as they should need for a fortnight and a certaine number of stakes, to make their rampards or palisadoes with; so much as weighed threescore pound weight. And Marius his souldiers thus loden, marching in battel∣array, were taught to march five leagues in five houres, yea six if need required. Their mili∣tary discipline was much more laborsome then ours: So did it produce far different effects. Scipto the yonger, reforming his army in Spaine, appointed his souldiers to eate no meate but standing, and nothing sodden or rosted. It is worth the remembrance how a Lacedemoni∣an souldier being in an expedition of warre, was much noted and blamed, because hee was once seene to seeke for shelter vnder a house: They were so hardened to enduree all manner of labour and toyle, that it was counted a reprechfull infamy for a souldier to be seene vnder any other roofe then that of heavens-vault, in what weather soever: Were we to doe so, we should never leade our men far. Marcellinus a man well trained in the Roman wars, doth cu∣riously observe the manner which the Parthians vsed to arme themselves, and noteth it so much the more, by how much it was far different from the Romans. They had (saith he) certaine armes so curiously enter-wrought as they seemed to be made like feathers, which no∣thing hindered the stirring of their bodies, and yet so strong, that our darts hitting them, did rather rebound, or glance by, then hurt them (they be the scales our ancestors were so much wont to vse.) In another place, they had (saith he) their horses stiffe and strong, coue∣red with thicke hides, and themselves armed from head to foote, with massie yron plates so artificially contrived, that where the joynts are, there they furthered the motion, and helped the stirring. A man would have said, they had been men made of yron: For they had peeces so handsomly fitted and so lively representing the forme and parts of the face; that there was no way to wound them, but at certaine little holes before their eyes, which served to give them some light, and by certaine chinckes about their nostrils, by which they hardly drew breath

Flexilis inductis hamatur lamina membris, Horribilis visu, credas simulacr a moveri Ferrea, cognato{que} viros spirare metallo. Par Vestitus equis, ferrata fronte minantur, Ferratós{que} mevent securs vulneris armos.

The bending plate is hook't on limbes ore-spread, Fearefull to sight, steele images seem'd ledde, And men to breath in mettall with them bredde. Like furniture for horse, with steeled head, They threat, and safe from wound, With barr'd limbs tread the ground,

Loc-heere a description, much resembling the equipage of a compleat French-manat armes, with all his bardes. Plutarke reporteth that Demetrius caused two Armours to be made, each one weighing six score pounds, the one for himselfe, the other for Alcinus, the chiefe man of war, that was next to him, whereas all common Armours weighed but threescore.

The tenth Chapter.

Of Bookes.

I Make no doubt but it shall often be fall me to speake of things, which are better, and with more truth handled by such as are their crafts-masters. Here is simply an Essay of my na∣turall faculties, and no whit of those I have acquired. And he that shall tax me with igno∣rance, shall have no great victory at my hands; for hardly could I give others reason for my discourses, that give none vnto my selfe, and am not well satisfied with them. He that shall make serch after knowledge, let him seeke it where it is: there is nothing I professe lesse.

These are but my fantasies, by which I endevour not to make things knowen, but myselfe. They may haply one day be knowen vnto me, or have bin at other times, according as for∣tune hath brought me where they were declared or manifested. But I remember them no more. And if I be a man of some reading, yet I am a man of no remembring, I conceive no certainty, except it bee to give notice, how farre the knowledge I have of it, dooth now reach. Let no man busie himselfe about the matters, but on the fashion I give them. Let that which I borrow be survaid, and then tell me whether I have made good choice of ornaments, to beautifie and set foorth the invention, which ever comes from mee. For, I make others to relate (not after mine owne fantasie, but as it best falleth out) what I can not so well expresse, either through vnskill of language, or want of judgement. I number not my borrowings, but I weigh them. And if I would have made their number to prevaile, I would have had twice as many. They are all, or almost all of so famous and ancient names, that me thinks they sufficiently name themselves without mee. If in reasons, com∣parisons and arguments, I transplant any into my soile, or confound them with mine owne, I purposely conceale the Authour, thereby to bridle the rashnesse of these hastie cen∣sures, that are so headlong cast vpon all manner of compositions, namely yoong writings, of men yet living; and in vulgare, that admitte all the worlde to talke of them, and which seemeth to convince the conception and publike designe alike. I will have them to give Plu∣tarch a bobbe vpon mine owne lippes, and vex themselves, in wronging Seneca in mee. My weakenesse must be hidden vnder such great credites. I will love him that shall trace, or vn∣feather me; I meane through clearenesse of judgement, and by the onely distinction of the force and beautie of my Discourses. For my selfe, who for want of memorie, am ever to seeke, how to trie and refine them, by the knowledge of their country, knowe perfectly, by measuring mine owne strength, that my soyle is no way capable, of some over-pretious flo∣wers, that therin I find set, and that all the fruites of my encrease could not make it amendes. This am I bound to answer-for, if I hinder my selfe, if there be either vanitie, or fault in my Discourses, that I perceive not or am not able to discerne, if they be shewed me. For, ma∣ny faults doe often escape our eyes; but the infirmitie of judgement consisteth in not being able to perceive them, when another discovereth them vnto vs. Knowledge and truth may be in vs without judgement, and we may have judgement without them: Yea, the acknow∣ledgement of ignorance, is one of the best and surest testimonies of judgement that I can finde. I have no other Sergeant of band to marshall my rapsodies, than fortune. And looke how my humours or conceites present them-selves, so I shuffle them vp. Sometimes they prease out thicke and thee-folde, and other times they come out languishing one by one. I will have my naturall and ordinarie pace seene as loose, and as shuffling as it is. As I am, so I goe on plodding. And besides, these are matters, that a man may not be ignorant of, and rashly and casually to speake of them. I would wish to have a more perfect vnderstanding of things, but I will not purchase it so deare, as it cost. My intention is to passe the remainder of my life quietly, and not laboriously, in rest, and not in care. There is nothing I will trou∣ble or vex my selfe about, no not for Science it selfe, what esteeme soever it be-of. I doe not search and tosse over Books, but for an honester recreation to please, and pastime to de∣light my selfe: or if I studie, I onely endevour to find out the knowledge that teacheth or handleth the knowledge of my selfe, and which may instruct me how to die well, and how to live well.

Has meus ad metas sudet oportet equus.

My horse must sweating runne, That this goale may be wonne.

If in reading I fortune to meete with any difficult points, I fret not my selfe about them, but after I have giuen them a charge or two, I leave them as I found them. Should I earnest∣ly plod vpon them I should loose both time and my selfe; for I have a skipping wit. What I see not at the first view, I shall lesse see it, if I opinionate my selfe vpon it. I doe nothing with∣out blithnesse▪ and an over obstinate continuation and plodding contention, doth dazle, dul and weary the same: My sight is thereby confounded and diminished. I must therefore with∣draw-it, and at fittes goe to it againe. Even as to judge well of the lustre of scarlet we are taught to cast our eyes ouer it, in running it over by divers glances, sodaine glimpses, and re∣iterated reprisings. If one booke seeme tedious vnto me, I take another, which I follow not

with any earnestnes, except it be at such houres as I am idle, or that I am wearie with doing nothing. I am not greatly affected to new books, because ancient Authors are in my judge∣ment more full and pithie: nor am I much addicted to Greeke books, forasmuch as my vn∣derstanding can well rid his worke with a childish and apprentise intelligence. Amongst moderne bookes meerly pleasant. I esteeme Bocace his Decameron, Rabelais, and the kisses of Iohn the second (if they may be placed vnder this title) worth the paines-taking to reade them. As for Amadis and such like trash of writings, they had never the credit so much as to allure my youth to delight in them. This I will say more, either boldly or rashly, that this old and heavie-pased mind of mine, will no more be pleased with Aristotle, or tickled with good Ovid: his facilitie, and quaint inventions, which heretofore have so ravished me, they can now adaies scarcely entertaine me. I speake my minde freely of all things, yea of such as peradventure exceede my sufficiencie, and that no-way I hold to be of my jurisdicti∣on. What my conceit is of them, is also to manifest the proportion of my insight, and not the measure of things. If at any time I find my selfe distasted of Platoes Axiochus, as of a forceles worke, due regarde had to such an Author, my judgement doth nothing beleeve it selfe: It is not so fond-hardy, or selfe-conceited, as it durst dare to oppose it selfe against the authori∣ty of so many other famous ancient judgements, which he reputeth his regents and maisters, and with whome hee had rather erre. He chafeth with, and condemneth himselfe, either to rely on the superficiall sense, being vnable to pierce into the centre, or to view the thing by some falce lustre. He is pleased onely to warrant himselfe from trouble and vnrulines: As for weaknes he acknowledgeth and ingeniously auoweth the same. He thinkes to give a just interpetation to the apparances which his conception presents vnto him, but they are shal∣low and imperfect. Most of Aesopes fables have divers senses, and severall interpretations: Those which Mythologize them, chuse some kinde of color well-suting with the fable; but for the most part, it is no other then the first and superficiall glosse: There are others more quicke, more sinnowie, more essential and more internal, into which they could never pene∣trate; and thus thinke I with them. But to follow my course; I have ever deemed that in Poesie, Virgil, Lucretius, Catullus, and Horace, doe doubtles by far hold the first ranke: and especially Virgil in his Georgiks, which I esteeme to be the most accomplished piece of worke of Poesie: In comparison of which one may easily discerne, that there are some pas∣sages in the Aeneidos, to which the Author (had he lived) would no doubt have given some review or correction: The fift booke whereof is (in my mind) the most absolutely perfect. I also love Lucan, and willingly read him, not so much for his stile, as for his owne worth, and truth of his opinion and judgement. As for good Terence, I allow the quaintnes and grace of his Latin tongue, and judge him wonderfull conceited and apt, lively to represent the motions and pashions of the minde, and the condition of our manners: our actions make me often remember him. I can never reade him so often, but still I discover some new grace and beautie in him. Those that lived about Virgils time, complained that some would compare Lucretius vnto him. I am of opinion, that verily it is an vnequall comparison; yet can I hard∣ly assure my selfe in this opinion whensoever I find my selfe entangled in some notable pas∣sage of Lucretius. If they were moved at this comparison, what would they say now of the fond, hardie and barbarous stupiditie of those which now adaies compare Ariosto vnto him? Nay what would Artosto say of it himselfe?

O seclum insipiens & infac••tum

O age that hath no wit, And small conceit in it.

I thinke our ancestors had also more reason to cry out against those that blushed not to equall Plautus vnto Terence (who makes more shew to be a Gentleman) then Lucretius vnto Virgil. This one thing doth greatly advantage the estimation and preferring of Terence, that the father of the Roman eloquence, of men of his quality doth so often make mention of him; and the censure, which the chiefe judge of the Roman Poets giveth of his compa∣nion. It hath often come vnto my minde, how such as in our daies giue themselues to com∣posing of comedes (as the Italians who are very happie in them) employ three or foure ar∣guments of Terence and Plautus to make vp one of theirs. In one onely comedie they will huddle vp five or six of Bocaces tales. That which makes them so to charge themselves with matter, is the distrust they have of their owne sufficiency, and that they are not able to vn∣dergoe

so heavie a burthen with their owne strength. They are forced to finde a body on which they may rely and leane themselves: and wanting matter of their owne wherewith to please vs, they will have the story or tale to busie and ammuse vs: where as in my Authors it is cleane contrary: The elegancies, the perfections and ornaments of his manner of speech, make vs neglect and loose the longing for his subiect. His quaintnesse and grace doe still re∣taine vs to him. He is every where pleasantly conceited,

Liquidus puroque simillimus amni,

So clearely-neate, so neately-cleare, As he a fine-pure Riuer were.

and doth so replenish our minde with his graces, that we forget those of the fable. The same consideration drawes me somewhat further. I perceive that good and ancient Poets have shunned the affectation and enquest, not onely of fantasticall, new fangled, Spagniolized, and Petrarchisticall elevations, but also of more sweet and sparing inventions, which are the ornament of all the Poeticall workes of succeeding ages. Yet is there no competent judge, that findeth them wanting in those ancient ones, and that doth not much more admire that smoothly equall neatnesse, continued sweetnesse, and florishing comelinesse of Catullus his Epigrams, then all the sharpe quippes, and witty girds, wherewith Martiall doth whet and embellish the conclusions of his. It is the same reason I spake of erewhile, as Martiall of himselfe. Minus illi ingenio laborandum fuit, in cuius locum materia successerat. He needed the lesse worke with his wit, in place whereof matter came in supply; The former without being mo∣ved or pricked cause themselves to be heard lowd enough: they have matter to laugh at eve∣ry where, and neede not tickle themselves; where as these must have forraine helpe: accor∣ding as they have lesse spirit, they must have more body. They leape on horse-backe: be∣cause they are not sufficiently strong in their legges to march on foot. Even as in our dances, those base conditioned men that keepe dancing-schooles, because they are vnfit to represent the porte and decency of our nobility, endevour to get commendation by dangerous lofty trickes, and other strange tumbler-like friskes and motions. And some Ladies make a better shew of their countenances in those dances, wherein are divers changes, cuttings, turnings, and agitations of the body, then in some dances of state and gravity, where they neede but simply to tread a natural measure, represent an vnaffected cariage, and their ordinary grace; And as I have also seene some excellent Lourdans, or Clownes attired in their ordinary worky-day clothes, and with a common homely countenance, affoord vs all the pleasure that may be had from their arte: Prentises and learners that are not of so high a forme, to besmeare their faces, to disguise themselves, and in motions to counterfeit strange visages, and antickes, to enduce vs to laughter. This my conception is no where better discerned, then in the comparison betweene Ʋirgils Aeneidos, and Orlando Furios••. The first is seene to soare aloft with full-spread wings, and with so high and strong a pitch, ever following his point; the other faintly to hover and flutter from tale to tale, and as it were skipping from bough to bough, alwaies distrusting his owne wings, except it be for some short flight, and for feare his strength and breath should faile him, to sit downe at every fields-end.

Excursúsque breves tent at

Out-lopes sometimes he doth assay, But very short, and as he may.

Loe-here then, concerning this kind of subjects, what Authors please me best: As for my other lesson, which somewhat more mixeth profite with pleasure, whereby I learne to range my opinions, and addresse my conditions; the Bookes that serve me thereunto, are Plutarke (since he spake French,) and Seneca; Both have this excellent commodity for my humour, that the knowledge I seeke in them, is there so scatteringly and loosely hand∣led, that whosoever readeth them is not tied to plod long vpon them, whereof I am vn∣capable. And so are Plutarkes little workes, and Senecaes Epistles; which are the best and most profitable partes of their writings. It is no great matter to draw mee to them, and I leave them where I list. For, they succeed not, and depend not one of another. Both jumpe and suite together, in most true and profitable opinions: And fortune brought them both into the world in one age. Both were Tutors vnto two Roman Emperours: Both were strangers, and came from farre Countries; both rich and mighty in the com∣mon-wealth, and in credite with their masters. Their instruction is the prime and

creame of Philosophie, and presented with a plaine, vnaffected, and pertinent fashion. Plu∣tarke is more vniforme and constant; Seneca more waving and diverse. This doth labour, force, and extend himselfe, to arme and strengthen vertue against weaknesse, feare, and viti∣ous desires; the other seemeth nothing so much to feare their force or attempt, and in a ma∣ner scorneth to hasten or change his pace about them, and to put himselfe vpon his guarde. Plutarkes opinions are Platonicall, gentle and accommodable vnto civill societie: Senacaes Stoicall and Epicurian, further from common vse, but in my conceit, more proper parti∣cular, and more solide. It appeareth in Seneca, that he somewhat inclineth and yeeldeth to the tyrannie of the Emperors which were in his daies; for, I verily beleeve, it is with a forced judgement, he condemneth the cause of those noblie-minded murtherers of Caesar: Plutarke is every where free and open-hearted; Seneca, full-fraught with points and sallies, Plutarke stuft with matters. The former doth moove and enflame you more; the latter, content, please, and pay you better: This doth guide you, the other drive you on. As for Cicero, of all his works, those that treat of Philosophie (namely morall) are they which best serve my turne, and square with my intent. But boldly to confesse the trueth, (For, Since the bars of impu∣dencie were broken downe, all curbing is taken away) his maner of writing seemeth verie tedious vnto me, as doth all such-like stuffe. For, his prefaces, definitions, divisions, and Etymolo∣gies, consume the greatest part of his Works; whatsoever quicke, wittie, and pithie conceit is in him, is surcharged, and confounded by those his long and far-fetcht preambles. If I be∣stow but one houre in reading him, which is much for me; and let me call to minde what sub∣stance, or juice I have drawne from him, for the most part, I find nothing but winde & osten∣tation in him: for he is not yet come to the arguments, which make for his purpose, and reasons that properly concerne the knot or pith I seek-after. These Logicall and Aristote∣lian ordinances are not availfull for me, who onely endevour to become more wise and suf∣ficient, and not more wittie or eloquent. I would have one begin with the last point: I vn∣derstand sufficiently what death and voluptuousnesse are: let not a man busie himselfe to anatomize them. At the first reading of a Booke, I seeke for good and solide reasons, that may instruct me how to sustaine their assaults. It is nether gramaticall subtilties, nor logi∣call quiddities, nor the wittie contexture of choise words, or arguments, and syllogismes, that will serve my turne. I like those discourses that give the first charge to the strongest, part of the doubt; his are but flourishes, and languish every where. They are good for Schooles, at the barre, or for Orators and Preachers, where we may slumber: and though we wake a quarter of an houre after, we may find and trace him soone enough. Such a ma∣ner of speech is fit for those Iudges, that a man would corrupt by hooke or crooke, by right or wrong, or for children and the common people, vnto whom a man must tell all, and see what the event will be. I would not have a man go about, and labour by circumlocutions, to induce and win me to attention, and that (as our Herolds or Criers do) they shall ring out their words. Now heare me, now listen, or ••o••yes. The Romanes in their Religion were wont to say, Hoc age; which in ours we say, Sursum corda. There are so many lost words for me. I come readie prepared from my house. I need no allurement nor sawce; my stomacke is good enough to digest raw meat: And whereas with these preparatives and flourishes, or preambles, they thinke to sharpen my taste, or stir my stomacke, they cloy and make it wallowish. Shall the priviledge of times excuse me from this sacrilegious boldnesse, to deeme Platoes Dialogismes to be as languishing, by over-filling and stuffing his matter? And to bewaile the time that a man, who had so many thousands of things to vtter, spends about so many, so long, so vaine, and idle interloquutions, and preparatives? My ignorance shall better excuse me, in that I see nothing in the beautie of his language. I generally en∣quire after Bookes, that vse sciences, and not after such as institute them. The two first, and Plinie, with others of their ranke, have no Hoc age in them, they will have to doe with men, that have forewarned themselves; or if they have, it is a materiall and substantiall Hoc age, and that hath his bodie apart. I likewise love to read the Epistles and ad Atticum, not onely because they containe a most ample instruction of the Historie, and affaires of his times, but much more because in them I descrie his private humours. For, (as I have said else∣where (I am wonderfull curious, to discover and know, the minde, the soule, the genuine disposition, and naturall judgement of my Authors. A man ought to judge their suffici∣encie, and not their customes, nor them by the shew of their writings. Which they set

forth on this worlds Theatre. I have sorrowed a thousand times, that ever we lost the booke, that Brutus writ of Virtue. Oh it is a goodly thing to learne the Theorike of such as vnderstand the practise well. But forsomuch as the Sermon is one thing, and the Preacher an other: I love as much to see Brutus in Plutarke, as in himselfe, I would rather make choise to know certainly, what talke he had in his Tent with some of his familiar friends, the night fore-going the bat∣tell, then the speach he made the morrow after to his Armie: and what he did in his chamber or closet, then what in the Senate or market place. As for Cicero, I am of the common judge∣ment, that besides learning, there was no exquisite excellencie in him: He was a good Citi∣zen, of an honest-gentle nature, as are commonly fat and burly men; for so was he: But to speake truely of him, full of ambitious vanitie and remisse nicenesse. And I know not well how to excuse him, in that he deemed his Poesie worthy to be published. It is no great im∣perfection, to make bad verses, but it is an imperfection in him, that he never perceived how vnworthy they were of the glorie of his name. Concerning his eloquence, it is beyond all comparison, and I verily beleeve, that none shall ever equall it. Cicero the yoonger, who re∣sembled his father in nothing, but in name, commaunding in Asia, chanced one day to have many strangers at his board, and amongst others, one Castius sitting at the lower end, as the maner is to thrust-in at great mens tables: Cicero inquired of one of his men what he was, who told him his name, but he dreaming on other matters, and having forgotten what an∣swere his man made him, asked him his name twice or thrice more: the servant, because he would not be troubled to tell him one thing so often, and by some circumstance make him to know him better. It is, said he, the same Castius, to whom some have told you, that in respect of his owne, maketh no accompt of your fathers eloquence: Cicero being suddainly, mooved, commaunded the said poore Castius, to be presently taken from the table, and well whipt in his presence: Lo-heere an vncivill and barbarous host. Even amongst those, which (all things considered) have deemed his eloquence matchlesse and incomparable others there have been, who have not spared to note some faults in it: As great Brutus said, that it was an eloquence, broken, halting, and disjoynted, fractam & elumbem: Incoherent and sinnowlesse. Those Orators that lived about his age, reprooved also in him the curious care he had of a certaine long cadence, at the end of his clauses, and noted these words, Esse videatur, which he so often vseth. As for me, I rather like a cadence that falleth shorter, cut like I am bikes: yet doth he sometimes confound his numbers; but it is seldome: I have es∣pecially observed this one place. Ego verò me minus diu senem esse mallem, quàm esse seuem, antequam essem. But I had rather, not be an old man so long as I might be, than to be old before I should be. Historians are my right hand; for they are pleasant and easie: and therewithall, the man with whom I desire generally to be acquainted, may more lively and perfectly be discovered in them, than in any other composition: the varietie and truth of his inward con∣ditions, in grosse and by retale: the diversitie of the meanes of his collection and composing, and of the accidents that threaten him. Now, those that write of mens lives, forasmuch as they ammuse and busie themselves more about counsels than events, more about that which commeth from within, than that which appeareth outward; they are fittest for me: And that's the reason why Plutarke above all in that kind, doth best please me. Indeed I am not a little grieved that we have not a dozen of Laer••ij, or that he is not more knowne, or better vnderstood: for, I am no lesse curious to know the fortunes and lives of these great masters of the world, than to vnderstand the diversitie of their decrees and conceits. In this kind of studie of Historie, a man must, without distinction, tosse and turne over all sorts of Authors, both old and new, both French and others, if he will learne the things they so diversly treat-of. But me thinks that Caesar above all doth singularly deserve to be studied, not onely for the vnderstanding of the Historie, as of himselfe; so much perfection and ex∣cellencie is there in him more than in others, although Salust be reckoned one of the num∣ber. Verily I read that Author with a little more reverence and respect, than commonly men reade profane and humane Workes: sometimes considering him by his actions, and wonders of his greatnesse, and other times waighing the puritie and inimitable polishing and elegancie of his tongue, which (as Cicero saith) hath not onely exceeded all Historians, but happly Cicero himselfe: with such sinceritie in his judgement. Speaking of his enemies, that except the false colours, wherewith he goeth about to cloake his bad cause, and the cor∣ruption and filthinesse of his pestilent ambition. I am perswaded there is nothing in him to

be found fault-with: and that he hath been over-sparing to speake of himselfe: for, so many notable and great things could never be executed by him, vnlesse he had put more of his owne vnto them, than he setteth downe. I love those Historians that are either verie simple, or most excellent. The simple who have nothing of their owne to adde vnto the storie, and have but the care and diligence to collect whatsoever come vnto their knowledge, and sin∣cerely and faithfully to register all things, without choice or culling, by the naked truth leave our judgement more entire, and better satisfied.

Such amongst others (for example sake) plaine and well-meaning Froisard, who in his en∣ter prize, hath marched with so free and genuine a puritie, that having committed some over∣sight; he is neither ashamed to acknowledge, nor afraide to correct the same, wheresoever he hath either notice or warning of it: and who representeth vnto vs the diversitie of the newes then currant, and the different reports, that were made vnto him. The subject of an historie should be naked, bare, and formelesse; each man according to his capacitie or vnderstan∣ding may reap commoditie out of it. The curious and most excellent have the sufficiencie to cull and chuse that, which is worthie to be knowne, and may select of two relations, that which is most likely: of the condition of Princes, and of their humors, therby they conclude their counsels, and attribute convenient words vnto them: they have reason to assume au∣thoritie vnto them, to direct and shapen our beliefe vnto theirs. But truely that belongs not to many. Such as are betweene both (which is the most common fashion) it is they that spoile all; they will needs chew our meat for vs, and take vpon them a law to judge, and by conse∣quence to square and encline the storie according to their fantasie; for, where the judgement bendeth one way, a man cannot chuse but wrest and turne his narration that way. They vn∣dertake to chuse things worthy to be knowne, and now and then conceal either a word, or a secret action from vs, which would much better instruct vs: omitting such things as they vnderstand not, as incredible: and happily such matters, as they know not how to declare, either in good Latin, or tollerable French. Let them boldly enstall their eloquence, and dis∣course: Let them censure at their pleasure, but let them also give vs leave to judge after them: And let them neither alter nor dispence by their abridgements and choise, any thing belon∣ging to the substance of the matter; but let them rather send it pure and entire with all hir dimensions vnto vs. Most commonly (as chiefly in our age) this charge of writing histories is committed vnto base, ignorant, and mechanicall kind of people, only for this considera∣tion that they can speak well; as if we sought to learne the Grammer of them; and they have some reason, being only hyred to that end, and publishing nothing but their tittle-tattle to aime at nothing else so much. Thus with store of choise and quaint words, and wyre-drawne phrases they huddle vp, and make a hodge-pot of a laboured contexture of the reports, which they gather in the market-places, or such other assemblies. The only good histories are those that are written by such as commanded, or were imploid themselves in weighty affaires, or that were part∣ners in the conduct of them, or that at least have had the fortune to manage others of like qualitie. Such in a maner are all the Graecians and Romans. For, many eye-witnesses hauing written of one same subject (as it hapned in those times, when Greatnesse and Knowledge did com∣monly meet) if any fault or over-sight have past them, it must be deemed exceeding light, and vpon some doubtfull accident. What may a man expect at a Phisitions hand, that discourseth of warre, or of a bare Scholler, treating of Princes secret designes? If we shall but note the religi∣on, which the Romans had in that, we need no other example: Asinius Polio found some mis∣taking or oversight in Caesars Commentaries, whereinto he was falne, only because he could not possiblie oversee all things with his owne eyes, that hapned in his Armie, but was faine to relie on the reports of particular men, who often related vntruths vnto him; or else because he had not been curiously advertised, and distinctly enformed by his Lieutenants and Cap∣taines, of such matters as they in his absence had managed or effected. Whereby may be seen, that nothing is so hard, or so vncertaine to be found-out, as the certaintie of a Truth, sithence no man can put any assured confidence concerning the truth of a battel, neither in the know∣ledge of him, that was Generall, or commanded over it, nor in the soldiers that fought, of any thing, that hath hapned amongst them; except after the maner of a strict point of law, the severall witnesses are brought and examined face to face, and that all matters be nicely and thorowly sifted by the objects and trials of the successe of every accident. Verily the know∣ledge we have of our own affaires is much more barren and feeble. But this hath sufficiently

been handled by Bodine, and agreeing with my conception. Somewhat to aide the weaknesse of my memorie, and to assist her great defects; for it hath often been my chance to light vp∣on bookes, which I supposed to be new, and never to have read, which I had not vnderstan∣ding diligently read and run-over many yeares before, and all bescribled with my notes: I have a while since accustomed my selfe, to note at the end of my booke (I meane such as I purpose to read but once) the time I made an end to read it, and to set downe what censure or judgement I gave of it; that so, it may at least, at another time represent vnto my mind, the aire and generall Idea, I had conceived of the Author in reading him. I will here set downe the Coppie of some of mine annotations, and especially what I noted vpon my Guicciardine about ten yeares since: (For what language soever my bookes speake vnto me, I speake vnto them in mine owne.) He is a diligent Historiographer, and from whom in my conceit, a man may as exactly learne the truth of such affaires as passed in his time, as of any other wri∣ter whatsoever: and the rather because himselfe hath been an Actor of most part of them, and in verie honourable place. There is no signe or apparance, that ever he disguised or co∣loured any matter, either through hatred, malice, favour, or vanitie; whereof the free and im∣parciall judgements he giveth of great men, and namely of those by whom he had been ad∣vanced or imployed in his important charges, as of Pope Clement the seaventh, beareth vn∣doubted testimonie. Concerning the parts wherewith he most goeth about to prevaile, which are his digressions and discourses, many of them are verie excellent, and enriched with faire ornaments, but he hath too much pleased himselfe in them: for, endevouring to omit no∣thing that might be spoken, having so full and large a subject, and almost infinite, he proveth somewhat languishing, and giveth a taste of a kind of scholasticall tedious babling. More∣over, I have noted this, that of so severall and divers armes, successes, and effects he judgeth of; of so many and variable motives, alterations, and counsels, that he relateth, he never re∣ferreth any one vnto vertue, religion, or conscience: as if they were all extinguished and bani∣shed the world: and of all actions, how glorious soever in apparance they be of themselves, he doth ever impute the cause of them, to some vicious and blame-worthie occasion, or to some commoditie and profit. It is impossible to imagine, that amongst so infinite a number of actions, whereof he judgeth, some one have not been produced and compassed by way of reason. No corruption could ever possesse men so vniversally, but that some one must of ne∣cessity escape the contagion; which makes me to feare, he hath had some distaste or blame in his passion, and it hath haply fortuned, that he hath judged or esteemed of others according to himselfe. In my Philip de Comines, there is this: In him you shall find a pleasing-sweet, and gently-gliding speach, fraught with a purely-sincere simplicitie, his narration pure and vnaffected, and wherein the Authours vnspotted-good meaning doth evidently appeare, void of all maner of vanitie or ostentation speaking of himselfe, and free from all affection or envie speaking of others: his discourses and perswasions, accompanied more with a well∣meaning zeale, and meere veritie, then with any laboured and exquisit sufficiencie, and all∣through, with gravitie and authoritie, representing a man well-borne, and brought vp in high negotiations. Vpon the memories and historie of Monsieur du Bellay: It is ever a well-plea∣sing thing, to see matters writen by those, that have assaide how, & in what maner they ought to be directed and managed: yet can it not be denied, but that in both these Lords, there will manifestly appeare a great declination from a free libertie of writing, which clearely shineth in ancient writers of their kind: as in the Lord of Ionuille, familiar vnto Saint Lewis, Eginard, Chancellor vnto Charlemaine; and of more fresh memorie in Philip de Comines. This is ra∣ther a declamation or pleading for king Francis against the Emperour Charles the fifth, then an Historie. I will not believe, they have altered or changed any thing concerning the gene∣ralitie of matters, but rather to wrest and turne the judgement of the events, many times against reason, to our advantage, and to omit whatsoever they supposed, to be doubtfull or ticklish in their masters life: they have made profession of it witnesse the recoylings of the Lords of Momorancy and Byron, which therein are forgotten; and which is more, you shall not so much as find the name of the Ladie of Estampes mentioned at all. A man may sometimes colour, and happily hide secret actions, but absolutely to conceal that, which all the world knoweth, and especially such things as have drawne-on publike effects, and of such consequence, it is an inexcusable defect, or as I may say vnpardonable oversight. To conclude, whosoever desireth to have perfect information and knowledge of King Fraucis

the first, and of the things hapned in his time, let him addresse himselfe elsewhere, if he will give any credite vnto me. The profite he may reap heer, is by the particular destruction of the battels and exploits of warre, wherein these Gentlemen were present; some privie con∣ferences, speaches, or secret actions of some Princes, that then lived, and the practises ma∣naged, or negotiations directed by the Lord of Langeay, in whom doubtlesse are verie many things, well-worthie to be knowne, and diverse discourses not vulgare.

The eleaventh Chapter.

Of Crueltie.

ME thinks vertue is another manner of thing, and much more noble than the inclina∣tions vnto goodnesse, which in vs are ingendered. Mindes well borne, and directed by themselves, follow one same path, and in their actions represent the same visage, that the vertuous doe. But vertue importeth, and soundeth somewhat I wot not what greater and more active, then by an happy complexion, gently and peaceably, to suffer it selfe to be led or drawne, to follow reason. He that through a naturall facilitie, and genuine mildnesse, should neglect or contemne injuries received, should no doubt performe a rare action, and worthy commendation: But he who being toucht and stung to the quicke, with any wrong or of∣fence received, should arme himselfe with reason against this furiously-blind desire of re∣venge, and in the end after a great conflict, yeeld himselfe master over-it, should doubtlesse doe much more. The first should doe well, the other vertuously: the one action might be termed goodnesse, the other vertue. For, It seemeth, that the verie name of vertue presupposeth difficultie, and inferreth resistance, and cannot well exercise it selfe without an enemie. It is perad∣venture the reason why we call God good, mightie, liberall, and just, but we terme him not vertuous. His workes are all voluntarie, vnforced, and without compulsion. Of Philoso∣phers, not onely Stoicks, but also Epicurians (which endearing I borrow of the common re∣ceived opinion, which is false) whatsoever the nimble saying or wittie quipping of Arsesilaus implieth, who answered the man that vpbraided him, how divers men went from his schoole to the Epicurian, but none came from thence to him: I easily beleeve-it (said he) for, Of cocks are many capons made, but no man could ever yet make a cocke of a capon. For truly, in constan∣cie, and rigor of opinions, and strictnesse of precepts, the Epicurian Sect doth in no sort yeeld to the Stoicke. And a Stoicke acknowledging a better faith, then those disputers, who to con∣tend with Epicurus, and make sport with him, make him to infer and say what he never ment, wresting and wyre drawing his words to a contrarie sense, arguing and silogizing by the Grammarians priviledge, another meaning, by the maner of his speach, and another opinion, then that they know he had, either in his minde, or maners, saith, that he left to be an Epicurian, for this one consideration amongst others, that he findeth their pitch to be over∣high and inaccessible: Et ij qui 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 vocantur, sunt 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 & 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 omnésque virtu∣tes & colunt & retinent. And those that are called lovers of pleasure, are lovers of honestie and iustice, and doe both reverence and retaine all sorts of vertue. Of Stoicke and Epicurian Philo∣sophers, I say, there are divers, who have judged, that it was not sufficient to have the minde well placed, well ordered, and well disposed vnto vertue; it was not enough to have our reso∣lutions and discourse beyond all the affronts and checks of fortune; but that moreover, it was verie requisite, to seeke for occasions, whereby a man might come to the triall of it: They will diligently quest and seek out for paine, smart, necessitie, want, and contempt, that so they may combate them, and keep their minde in breath: Multum sibi adijcit virtus lacessita. Ʋertue provoked addes much to it selfe. It is one of the reasons why Epaminondas (who was of a third sect) by a verie lawfull way refuseth some riches, fortune had put into his hands, to the end (as he saith) he might have cause to strive and resist povertie, in which want and ex∣tremitie he ever continued after.

Socrates did in my minde more vndantedly enure himselfe to this humor, maintaining for his exercise the peevish frowardnesse of his wife, then which no essay can be more vex-full,

and is a continuall fighting at the sharpe. Metellus of all the Romane Senators (he onely having vndertaken with the power of vertue, to endure the violence of Saturninus Tribune of the people in Rome, who by maine force went about, to have a most vnjust law passe in favor of the Communaltie: by which opposition, having incurred all the capital paines, that Saturninus had imposed on such as should refuse it) intertained those that led him to the place of execution, with such speeches: That to doe evill was a thing verie easie, and too demissely base: and to doe well where was no danger, was a common thing; but to doe well, where was both perill and opposition, was the peculiar office of a man of vertue. These words of Metellus doe clearely represent vnto vs, what I would have verified; which is, that vertue reiecteth facilitie to be hir companion: And that an easefull, pleasant, and declining way, by which the regular steps of a good inclination of nature, are directed, is not the way of true vertue. She requireth a craggie, rough, and thornie way; She would either have strange difficulties to wrestle with∣all (as that of Metellus) by whose meanes fortune hir selfe is pleased to breake the roughnesse of his course; or inward encombrances, as the disordinate appetites and imperfections of our condition bring vnto hir. Hitherto I have come at good ease; but at the end of this dis∣course, one thing commeth into my minde, which is, that the soule of Socrates, which is ab∣solute the perfectest that ever came to my knowledge, would, according to my accompt, prove a soule deserving but little commendation: For, I can perceive no maner of violence or vicious concupisence in him: I can imagine no maner of difficultie or compulsion in the whole course of his vertue. I know his reason so powerfull, and so absolute mistresse over him, that she can never give him way to any vicious desire, and will not suffer it so much as to breed in him. To a vertue so exquisit, and so high-raised as his is, I can perswade nothing. Me thinkes I see it march with a victorious and triumphant pace, in pompe, and at ease, without let or disturbance. If vertue cannot shine but by resisting contrarie appetites, shall we then say, it cannot passe without the assistance of vice, and oweth him this, that by his meanes it attaineth to honour and credit? What should also betide of that glorious and ge∣nerous Epicurian voluptuousnesse, that makes accompt, effeminately to pamper vertue in hir lap, and there wantonly to entertaine it, allowing it for hir recreation, shame, reproch, agues, povertie, death, and tortures? If I presuppose, that perfect vertue is knowne by com∣bating sorrow, and patiently vnder-going paine, by tollerating the fits and agonies of the gout, without stirring out of his place; if for a necessarie object, I appoint hir sharpnesse and difficultie; what shall become of that vertue, which hath attained so high a degree, as it doth not onely despise all maner of paine, but rather rejoyceth at-it, and when a strong fit of the collike shall assaile-it, to cause it selfe to be tickled; as that is, which the Epicurians have esta∣blished, and whereof divers amongst them, have by their actions left most certaine proofes vnto-vs? As also others have, whom in effect I finde to have exceeded the verie rules of their discipline; witnesse Cato the yonger; when I see him die, tearing and mangling his en∣trails; I cannot simply content my selfe to beleeve, that at that time, he had his soule wholy exempted from all trouble, or free from vexation: I cannot imagine, he did onely maintaine himselfe in this march or course, which the rules of the Stoike sect had ordained vnto him, setled, without some alteration or motion, and impassibilitie. There was, in my conceit, in this mans vertue overmuch cheerefulnesse, and youthfulnesse to stay there. I verily beleeve, he felt a kind of pleasure and sensualitie in so noble an action, and that therein he more pleased himselfe, then in any other, he ever performed in his life. Sic abijt è vita, vt causam moriendi nactum se esse gauderet. So departed he his life, that he reioyced to have found an occasion of death. I doe so constantly beleeve-it, that I make a doubt, whether he would have had the occasion of so noble an exploit taken from him. And if the goodnesse which induced him to embrace publike commodities more then his owne, did not bridle me, I should easily fall into this opi∣nion, that he thought himselfe greatly beholding vnto fortune, to have put his vertue vnto so noble a triall, and to have favoured that robber, to tread the ancient libertie of his Coun∣trie vnder foote. In which action me thinks I read a kinde of vnspeakable joy in his minde, and a motion of extraordinarie pleasure, joyned to a manlike voluptuousnesse, at what time it beheld the worthinesse, and considered the generositie and haughtinesse of his enterprise,

Deliberat a morte feroci••r.

Then most in fiercenesse did he passe, When he of death resolved was.

not vrged or set-on by any hope of glorie, as the popular and effeminate judgements have judged: For, that consideration is over base, to touch so generous, so haughtie, and so con∣stant a heart; but for the beautie of the thing it selfe in it selfe, which he, who managed all the springs, and directed all the wards thereof, saw much more clearer, and in it's perfection, then we can doe. Philosophie hath done me a pleasure to judge, that so honorable an acti∣on, had been vndecently placed in any other life, then in Catoes, and that onely vnto his it appertained to make such an end. Therefore did he with reason perswade both his sonne, and the Senators that accompanied him, to provide otherwise for themselves. Catoni quum incredibilem natura tribuisset gravitatem, eámque ipse perpetua constantia roboravisset, sem∣pérque in proposito consilio permansisset: moriendum potius quàm tyranni vultus aspiciendus erat. Whereas nature had affoorded Cato an incredible gravitie, and he had strengthned it by continuall constancie, and ever had stood firme in his purposed desseignes, rather to die then behold the Tyrants face. Each death should be such as the life hath been. By dying we become no other then we were. I ever interpret a mans death by his life. And if a man shall tell me of any one vn∣danted in apparance, joyned vnto a weake life; I imagine it to proceed of some weake cause, and sutable to his life. The ease therefore of his death, and the facilitie he had acquired by the vigor of his minde, shall we say, it ought to abate something of the lustre of his vertue? And which of those, that have their spirites touched, be it-never so little, with the true tincture of Philosophie, can content himselfe to imagine Socrates, onely, free from feare and passion, in the accident of his imprisonment, of his fetters, and of his condemnation? And who doth not perceive in him, not onely constancie and resolution (which were ever his ordinarie qualities) but also a kinde of I wot not what new contentment, and carelesse re∣joycing in his last behaviour, and discourses? By the startling at the pleasure, which he feeleth in clawing of his legges, after his fetters were taken-off; doth he not manifestly declare an equall glee and joy in his soule, for being rid of his former incommodities, and entring into the knowledge of things to come? Cato shall pardon me (if he please) his death is more tra∣gicall, and further extended, whereas this in a certaine manner is more faire and glorious. Aristippus answered those, that bewailed the same; when I die, I pray the Gods send me such a death. A man shall plainly perceive in the minds of these two men, and of such as imitate them (for I make a question whether ever they could be matched) so perfect an habitude vnto vertue, that it was even converted into their complexion. It is no longer a painfull vertue, nor by the ordinances of reason, for the maintaining of which, their minde must be strengthned: It is the verie essence of their soule; it is hir naturall and ordinarie habite. They have made it such, by a long exercise and observing the rules and precepts of Philo∣sophie, having lighted vpon a fa••••e and rich nature. Those vicious passions, which breed in vs, finde no entrance in them. The vigor and constancie of their soules, doth suppresse and extinguish all manner of concupisences, so soone as they but begin to move. Now that it be not more glorious, by an vndaunted and divine resolution, to hinder the growth of tempta∣tions, & for a man to frame himselfe to vertue, so that the verie seeds of vice be cleane rooted out; then by maine force to hinder their progresse; and having suffred himselfe to be sur∣prised by the first assaults of passions, to arme and bandie himselfe, to stay their course and to suppresse them: And that this second effect be not also much fairer, then to be simply stored with a facile and gentle nature, and of it selfe distasted and in dislike with licencious∣nesse and vice, I am perswaded there is no doubt. For, this third and last manner, seemeth in some sort, to make a man innocent, but not vertuous: free from doing ill, but not sufficiently apt to doe well. Seeing this condition is so neere vnto imperfection and weaknesse, that I know not well how to cleare their confines and distinctions. The verie names of goodnesse and innocencie, are for this respect in some sort names of contempt. I see that many vertues, as chastitie, sobrietie, and temperance, may come vnto vs by meanes of corporall defects and imbecilitie. Constancie in dangers (if it may be termed constancie) contempt of death, patiencie in misfortunes, may happen, and are often seen in men, for want of good judge∣ment in such accidents, and that they are not apprehended for such as they are indeed. Lacke of apprehension and stupiditie, doe sometimes counterfet vertuous effects. As I have often seen come to passe, that some men are commended, for things they rather deserve to be blamed. An Italian gentleman did once hold this position in my presence, to the prejudice & disad∣vantage of his nation; That the subtiltie of the Italians, and the vivacitie of their concepti∣ons

was so great, that they foresaw such dangers and accidents as might betide them so far∣off, that it was not to be deemed strange, if in times of warre, they were often seene to pro∣vide for their safetie, yea, before they had perceived the danger: That we and the Spani∣ards, who were not so warie and subtill, went further; and that before we could be frighted with any perill, we must be induced to see it with our eyes, and feel it with our hands, and that even then we had no more hold: But that the Germanes and Switzers, more shallow and leaden-headed, had scarce the sense and wit to re-advise themselves, at what time they were even overwhelmed with miserie, and the axe readie to fall on their heades. It was per∣adventure but in jest, that he spake-it, yet is it most true, that in the arte of warre-fare, new trained Souldiers, and such as are but novices in the trade, doe often headlong, and hand over head cast themselves into dangers, with more inconsideration, then afterward when they have seene and endured the first shocke, and are better trained in the schoole of perils.

—haud ignarus, quantùm nova gloria in armis, Et praedulce decus primo certamine possit.

Not ignorant, how much in armes new praise, And sweetest honour, in first conflict weighes.

Lo heer the reason why when we judge of a particular action, we must first consider many circumstances, and throughly observe the man, that hath produced the same before we name and censure it. But to speake a word of my selfe: I have sometimes noted my friends to terme that wisedome in me, which was but meere fortune; and to deeme that advantage of courage and patience, that was advantage of judgement and opinion: and to attribute one title for another vnto me, sometimes to my profit, and now and then to my losse. As for the rest, I am so far from attaining vnto that chiefe and most perfect degree of excellen∣cie, where a habitude is made of vertue, that even of the second, I have made no great triall. I have not greatly strived to bridle the desires, wherewith I have found my selfe vrged and pressed. My vertue, is a vertue, or to say better innocencie, accidentall and casuall. Had I been borne with a lesse regular complexion, I imagine my state had been verie pittyfull, and it would have gon hard with me: for, I could never perceive any great constancie in my soule, to resist and vndergoe passions, had they been any thing violent. I cannot foster quarels, or endure contentions in my house. So am I not greatly beholding vnto my selfe, in that I am exempted from many vices:

—si vitijs mediocribus, & mea paucis Mendosa est natura, alioquirecta velut si Egregio inspersos reprehendas corpore naeuos.

If in a few more fault's my nature faile, Right otherwise: as if that you would raile On prettie moles well placed, On bodie seemely graced.

I am more endebted to my fortune, then to my reason for it: Shee hath made me to be borne of a race famous for integritie and honestie, and of a verie good father. I wot not well whether any part of his humors have descended into me, or whether the domestike exam∣ples, and good institution of my infancie have insensibly set their helping hand vnto it; or whether I were otherwise so borne:

Seu Libra, seu me Scorpius aspicit Formidolosus, pars violentior Natalis horae, seu tyrannus Hesperiae Capricornus vndae.

Whither the chiefe part of my birth-houre were Ascendent Libra, or Scorpius full of feare, Or in my Horoscope were Capricorne, Whose tyrannie neere westerne Seas is borne.

But so it is, that naturally of my selfe, I abhorre and detest all maner of vices. The an∣swere of Antisthenes to one, that demanded of him, which was the best thing to be learned: To vnlearne evill, seemed to be fixed on this image, or to have an ayme at this. I abhorre them (I say) with so naturall, and so innated an opinion, that the very same instinct and impression, which I suckt from my nurse, I have so kept, that no occasions could ever make me alter

the same: No, not mine owne discourses, which because they have been somewhat lavish in noting or taxing something of the common course, could easily induce me to some actions, which this my naturall inclination makes me to hate. I will tell you a wonder, I will tell it you indeed: I thereby find in many things, more stay and order in my maners, then in my opinion: and my concupiscence lesse debauched, then my reason. Aristippus established cer∣taine opinions so bold, in favour of voluptuousnesse & riches, that he made all Philosophie to mutinie against him. But concerning his maners, Dionysius the tyrant, having presented him with three faire yong Wenches, that he might chuse the fairest; he answered he would chuse them all three, and that Paris had verie ill successe, forsomuch as he had preferred one above hir fellowes. But they being brought to his owne house, he sent them backe againe, without tasting them. His servant one day carrying store of money after him, and being so over-charged with the weight of it, that he complained, his Master commanded him, to cast so much thereof away, as troubled him. And Epicurus, whose positions are irreligious and delicate, demeaned himselfe in his life verie laboriously, and devoutly. He wrote to a friend of his, that he lived but with browne bread and water, and entreated him to send him a piece of cheefe, against the time he was to make a solemne feast. May it be true, that to be perfectly good, we must be so by an hidden, naturall, and vniversall proprietie, without law, reason, and example? The disorders and excesses, wherein I have found my selfe engaged, are not (God be thanked) of the worst. I have rejected and condemned them in my selfe, according to their worth; for, my judgement was never found to be infected by them. And on the other side, I accuse them more rigorously in my selfe, then in an other. But that is all: as for the rest, I applie but little resistance vnto them, and suffer my selfe over-easily to encline to the other side of the Ballance, except it be to order and empeach them from being commixt with others, which (if a man take not good heed vnto himselfe) for the most part entertaine and enterchaine themselves the one with the other. As for mine, I have as much as it hath laine in my power, abridged them, and kept them as single, and as alone as I could:

—nec vltra Errorom foveo.—

Nor doe I cherish any more, The error which I bred before.

For, as touching the Stoickes opinion, who say, that when the wise man worketh, he worketh with all his vertues together; howbeit, according to the nature of the action, there be one more apparant than others (to which purpose the similitude of mans bodie might, in some sort, serve their turne; for, the action of choller cannot exercise it selfe, except all the humours set-to their helping-hand, although choller be praedominant) if thence they will draw alike consequence, that when the offender trespasseth, he doth it with all the vices together. I doe not so easily beleeve them, or else I vnderstand them not; for, in effect, I feel the contrarie. They are sharpe-wittie subtilties, and without substance, about which Philosophie doth often busie it selfe. Some vices I shun; but othersome I eschew as much as any Saint can doe. The Peripatetikes doe also disavow this connexitie, and indissolu∣ble knitting together. And Aristotle is of opinion, That a wise and iust man may be both intemperate and incontinent. Socrates avowed vnto them, who in his Phisiognomie percei∣ved some inclination vnto vice, that indeed it was his naturall propension, but that by dis∣cipline he had corrected the same. And the familiar friends of the Philosopher Stilpo were wont to say, that being borne subject vnto wine and women, he had, by studie, brought him∣selfe to abstaine from both. On the otherside, what good I have, I have it by the lot of my birth: I have it neither by law nor prescription, nor by any apprentiship. The innocencie that is in me, is a kinde of simple-plaine innocencie, without vigor or arte. Amongst all other vices, there is none I hate more, then crueltie, both by nature and judgement, as the extreamest of all vices. But it is with such an yearning and faint-hartednesse, that if I see but a chickins necke puld off, or a pigge stickt, I cannot chuse but grieve, and I cannot well endure a seelie dew-bedabled hare to groane, when she is seized vpon by the boundes; al∣though hunting be a violent sport. Those that are to withstand voluptuousnesse, doe wil∣lingly vse this argument, to shew, it is altogether vicious and vnreasonable: That where she is in her greatest prime and chiefe strength, she doth so over-sway vs, that reason can have no accesse vnto vs, and for a further triall, alleage the experience we feel and have

of it, in our acquaintance or copulation with women.

—cùm iam praesagit gaudia corpus Atque in eo est Ʋenus, vt muliebria conserat arva.

When now the bodie doth light-joyes fore-know, And Ʋenus set the womans fields to sow.

Where they thinke pleasure doth so far transport vs beyond our selves, that our Discourse, then altogether overwhelmed, and our reason wholie ravished in the gulfe of sensualitie, can∣not by any meanes discharge her function. I know it may be otherwise: And if a man but please, he may sometimes, even vpon the verie instant, cast his mind on other conceits. But she must be strained to a higher key, and heedfully pursued: I know a man may gourman∣dize the earnest and thought-confounding violence of that pleasure: for I may with some experience speake of it; and I have not found Ʋenus to be so imperious a goddesse, as many, and more reformed than my selfe witnesse her to be, I thinke it not a woonder, as doth the Queene of Navarre, in one of the Tales of her Heptameron (which respecting the subject it treateth-of, is a verie prettie booke) nor doe I deeme it a matter of extreame difficultie, for a man to weare-out a whole night, in all opportunitie and libertie, in companie of a faire Mistresse, long time before sued-vnto, and by him desired; religiously keeping his word, if he have engaged himselfe, to be contented with simple kisses and plaine touching. I am of opinion, that the example of the sport in hunting would more fit the same: wherein as there is lesse pleasure, so there is more distraction and surprising, whereby our reason be∣ing amazed, looseth the leasure to prepare her selfe against it: when as after a long questing and beating for some game, the beast doth suddainly start, or rowze vp before vs, and hap∣pily in such a place, where we least expected the same. That suddaine motion, and riding, and the earnestnesse of showting, jubeting and hallowing, still ringing in our eares, would make it verie hard for those, who love that kind of close or chamber-hunting, at that verie instant, to withdraw their thoughts else-where. And Poets make Diana victoriously to triumph both over the firebrand and arrowes of Cupid.

Quis non malarum quas amor curas habet Haec inter obliviscitur?

While this is doing, who doth not forget The wicked cares wherewith Loves heart doth fret?

But to returne to my former discourse, I have a verie feeling and tender compassion of other mens afflictions, and should more easily weep for companie sake, if possiblie for any occasion whatsoever, I could shed teares. There is nothing sooner mooveth teares in me, then to see others weepe, not onely fainedly, but howsoever, whether truely or forcedly. I do not greatly waile for the dead, but rather envie them. Yet doe I much waile and moane the dying. The Canibales and savage people do not so much offend me with roasting and ea∣ting of dead bodies, as those, which torment and persecute the living. Let any man be execu∣ted by law, how deservedly soever, I cannot endure to behold the execution with an vnrelen∣ting eye. Some one going about to witnesse the clemencie of Iulius Caesar; He was (saith he) tractable & milde in matters of revenge. Having compelled the Pirates to yeeld themselves vnto him, who had before taken him prisoner, and put him to ransome, forasmuch as he had threatned to have them all crucified, he condemned them to that kind of death, but it was after he had caused them to be strangled. Philomon his secretarie, who would have poyso∣ned him, had no sharper punishment of him, then an ordinarie death. Without mencioning the Latin Author, who for a testimonie of clemencie dareth to alleage, the onely killing of those, by whom a man hath been offended, it may easily be ghessed, that he is tainted with vile and horrible examples of crueltie, such as Romane Tyrants brought into fashion. As for me, even in matters of justice, Whatsoever is beyond a simple death, I deeme it to be meere crueltie: And especially amongst vs, who ought to have a regardfull respect, that their soules should be sent to heaven, which cannot be, having first by intollerable tortures agitated, and as it were brought them to dispaire. A Souldier, not long since, being a prisoner, and percei∣ving from a loft a Tower, where he was kept, that store of people flocked together on a greene, and Carpenters were busie at worke to erect a skaffold, supposing the same to be for him, as one desperat, resolved to kill himselfe, and searching vp and downe for some thing to make himselfe away, found nothing but an old rustie cart-naile, which fortune presen∣ted

him with; he tooke it, and therewithall, with all the strength he had, strooke and woun∣ded himselfe twice in the throat, but seeing it would not rid him of life, he then thrust it into his bellie vp to the head, where he left it fast-sticking. Shortly after, one of his keepers com∣ming-in vnto him, and yet living, finding him in that miserable plight, but weltring in his goare-blood, and readie to gaspe his last, told the Magistrates of it, which, to prevent time before he should die, hastned to pronounce sentence against him: which when he heard, and that he was onely condemned to have his head cut-off, he seemed to take heart of grace againe, and to be sorie for what he had done, and tooke some comfortable drinks, which before he had refused, greatly thanking the Iudges for his vnhoped gentle condemnation: And told them, that for feare of a more sharply-cruell, and intollerable death by law, he had resolved to prevent-it by some violent manner of death, having by the preparations he had seen the Carpenters make, and by gathering of people together, conceived an opinion, that they would torture him with some horrible torment, and seemed to be delivered from death, onely by the change of it. Were I worthie to give counsell, I would have these exam∣ples of rigor, by which superior powers goe about to keep the common people in awe, to be onely exercised on the bodies of criminall malefactors: For, to see them deprived of chri∣stian buriall, to see them haled, disbowelled, parboyled, and quartered, might happly touch the common sort as much, as the paines, they make the living to endure: howbeit in effect it be little or nothing, as saith God, Qui corpus occidunt, & postea non habent quod faciant. Those that kill the bodie, but have afterwards no more to doe: And Poets make the horror of this picture greatly to prevaile, yea, and above death,

Hen reliquias semiassi Regis, denudatis ossibus, Per terram sanie delibutas foede divexarier.

O that the reliques of an halfe-burn't King, bones bared, On earth besmear'd with filth, should be so fouly marred.

It was my fortune to be at Rome, vpon a day that one Catena, a notorious high-way theese, was executed: at his strangling no man of the companie seemed to be mooved to any ruth; but when he came to be quartered, the Executioner gave no blow that was not accompa∣nied with a pitteous voyce, and hartie exclamation, as if every man had had a feeling sym∣pathie, or lent his senses to the poore mangled wretch. Such inhumane outrages and bar∣barous excesses should be exercised against the rinde, and not practised against the quicke. In a case somewhat like vnto this, did Artaxerces asswage and mittigate the sharpnesse of the ancient lawes of Persia, appointing that the Lords, which had trespassed in their estate, whereas they were wont to be whipped, they should be stripped naked, and their clothes whipped for them: and where they were accustomed to have their haire pulled-off, they should onely have their hat taken off. The Aegyptians so devout and religious, thought they did sufficiently satisfie divine Iustice, in sacrificing painted and counterfait hogges vnto it: An over-hardy invention, to go about with pictures & shadowes to appease God, a substance so essentiall and divine. I live in an age, wherein we abound with incredible ex∣amples of this vice, through the licentiousnesse of our civill and intestine warres: And read all ancient stories, be they never so tragicall, you shall find none to equall those, we daily see practised. But that hath nothing made me acquainted with it. I could hardly be per∣swaded, before I had seene it, that the world could have afforded so marble-hearted and savage-minded men, that for the onely pleasure of murther would commit-it; then cut, mangle, and hacke other members in pieces: to rouze and sharpen their wits, to in∣vent vnused tortures and vnheard-of torments; to devise new and vnknowne deathes, and that in cold blood, without any former enmitie or quarrell, or without any gaine or pro∣fite; and onely to this end, that they may enjoy the pleasing spectacle of the languishing gestures, pittifull motions, horror-moving yellings, deep▪fetcht groanes, and lamenta∣ble voyces of a dying and drooping man. For, that is the extreamest point whereunto the crueltie of man may attaine. Ʋt homo hominem, non iratus, non timens, tantum spectatu∣rus occidat. That one man should kill another, neither being angrie, nor afeard, but onely to looke on. As for me, I could never so much as endure, without remorse and griefe, to see a poore, sillie, and innocent beast pursued and killed, which is harmelesse and voide of de∣fence, and of whom we receive no offence at all. And as it commonly hapneth, that when the Stag begins to be embost, and finds his strength to faile-him, having no other remedie

left him, doth yeeld and bequeath himselfe vnto vs that pursue him, with teares suing to vs for mercie.

—questúque cruentus Atque imploranti similis▪

With blood from throat, and teares from eyes, It seemes that he for pittie cryes.

was ever a grievous spectacle vnto me. I seldom take any beast alive, but I give him his liber∣tie. Pythagoras was wont to buy fishes of fishers, and birds of fowlers to set them free againe.

—primóque à cade ferarum Incaluisse puto maculatum sanguine ferrum.

And first our blades in blood embrude I deeme With slaughter of poore beasts did reeking steeme.

Such as by nature shew themselves bloodie-minded towards harmlesse beasts, witnesse a naturall propension vnto crueltie. After the ancient Romanes had once enured themselves without horror to behold the slaughter of wilde beasts in their shewes, they came to the murther of men and Gladiators. Nature (I feare me) hath of hir owne selfe added vnto man a certaine instinct to humanitie. No man taketh delight to see wilde beasts sport and wantonly to make much one of another: Yet all are pleased to see them tugge, mangle, and enterteare one an other. And least any bodie should jeast at this simphathie, which I have with them. Divinitie it selfe willeth vs to shew them some favour: And considering, that one selfe-same master (I meane that incomprehensible worlds-framer) hath placed all creatures in this his woondrous pallace for his service, and that they, as well as we, are of his houshold: I say, it hath some reason to injoyne vs, to shew some respect and affection towards them. Pythagoras borrowed Metempsychosis of the Aegyptians, but since, it hath been received of divers Nations, and especially of our Druides:

Morte carent animae, sempérque priore relictâ Sede, novis domibus vi••••nt, habitánque receptae.

Our death-lesse soules, their former seats refrained, In harbors new live and lodge entertained.

The Religion of our ancient Gaules, inferred, that soules being eternall, ceased not to remove and change place, from one bodie to another: to which fantasie was also entermixed some consideration of divine justice. For, according to the soules behaviors, during the time she had been with Alexander, they said, that God appointed-it another bodie to dwell-in, either more or lesse painfull, and sutable to hir condition.

—muta ferarum Cogit vincla pat••, truculentos ingerit vrsis, Praedonés{que} lupis, fallaces vulpibus addit. Atque vbi per varios annos per mille figuras Egit let••e•• purgatos flumine tandem Rursus ad humanae revocat primordia formae.

Dumbe bands of beasts he makes mens soules endure, Blood-thirstie soules he doth to Beares enure, Craftie to Foxes, to Woolves bent to rapes; Thus when for many yeares, through many shapes, He hath them driv'n in Lethe lake at last, Them purg'd he turn's to mans forme whence they past.

If the soule had been valiant, they placed-it in the bodie of a Lion; if voluptuous, in a Swine; if faint-harted, in a Stagge, or a Hare; if malicious in a Foxe, and so of the rest, vntill that being purified by this punishment, it reassumed and tooke the bodie of some other man againe.

Ipse ego, nam memini, Troiani tempore belli Panthoides Euphorbus eram.

When Troy was won, I, as I call to mind, Euphorbus was, and Panthus sonne by kind.

As touching that alliance betweene vs and beasts, I make no great accompt of-it, nor do I greatly admit it; neither of that which divers Nations, and namely of the most ancient and

noble, who have not onely received beastes into their societie, and company, but allow∣ed them a place farre aboue themselves; sometimes deeming them to bee familiars and favo∣red of their Gods, and holding them in a certaine awfull respect and reverence, more then humane, and others acknowledging no other God, nor no other Divinitie, then they. Beluae à barbaris propter beneficium consecratae. Beasts by the Barbarians were made sacred for some be∣nefit.

—crocodilon adorat Pars haec, illa pavet saturam serpentibus Ibin, Effigies sacri hic nitet aurea Cercopitheci.

This country doth the Crocodile adore, That feares the Storke glutted with serpents goare, The sacred Babion here▪ In gold shape doth appeare.

—hic piscem fluminis, illic Oppida tota canem venerantur.

A fish here, whole Townes reverence most A Dogge they honor in that coast.

And the very same interpretation, that Plutarke giveth vnto this error, which is very well taken, is also honorable for them. For, he saith, that (for example-sake,) it was neither the Cat nor the oxe, that the Egyptians adored; but that in those beasts, they worshipped some image of divine faculties. In this patience and vtility, and in that, vivacity, or (as our neigh∣bours the Borgonians with all Germany) the impatience to see themselves shut-vp: Whereby they represented the liberty, which they loved and adored, beyond all other divine facultie, and so of others. But when amongst the most moderate opinions, I meete with some discour∣ses, that goe about and labour to shew, the neere resemblance betweene vs and beastes, and what share they have in our greatest Priviledges, and with how much likely-hood they are compared vnto vs, truely I abate much of our presumption, and am easily removed from that imaginary Soveraigntie, that some give and ascribe vnto vs aboue all other creatures. If all that were to be contradicted, yet is there a kind of respect, and a general duty of humani∣tie, which tieth vs, not only vnto brute beasts that have life and sense, but even vnto trees and plants. Vnto men we owe Iustice, and to all other creatures, that are capable of it, grace and benigni∣tie. There is a kinde of enter-changeable commerce and mutuall bond between them and vs. I am not ashamed nor affraide to declare the tendernesse of my childish Nature, which is such, that I cannot well reject my Dog, if he chance (although out of season) to fawne vpon me, or begge of mee to play with him. The Turkes have almes, and certaine Hospitalls appoynted for brute beasts. The Romans had a publike care to breed and nourish Geese, by whose vigilancy their Capitoll had beene saved. The Athenians did precizely ordaine, that all maner of Mules, which had served or beene emploied about the building of their Tem∣ple, called Hecatompedon, should be free, and suffered to feede wheresoever they pleased, without any let or empeachment. The Agrigentines had an ordinary custome, seriously and solemnly to bury all such beasts, as they had held deare; as horses of rare worth and merit, speciall dogs, choise or profitable birds, or such as had but served to make their children sport. And the sumptuous magnificence, which in all other things was ordinary and pecu∣liar vnto them, appeared also almost notably in the stately sumptuousnesse, and costly num∣ber of monuments erected to that end, which many ages after have endured and been main∣tained in pride and state. The Aegyptians were wont to bury their Woolues, their Dogges, their Cats, their Beares, and Crocodiles in holy places, embalming their carcasses, and at their deaths to were mourning weedes for them. Cymon caused a stately-honourable toombe to be errected for the Mares, wherewith he had three times gained the prize at running in the Olimpike games. Ancient Xantippus caused his Dogge to be enterred vpon a hill by the sea shoare, which ever since hath beene named by him. And Plutarke (as himselfe saith) made it a matter of conscience, in hope of a small gaine, to sell or send an Oxe to the shambles, that had served him a long time.

The twelfth Chapter.

An Apologie of Raymond Sebond.

KNowledge is withoutall contradiction, a most profitable and chiefe ornament: Those who despise it declare evidently their sottishnesse: Yet doe not Ivalue it at so excessive a rate, as some have done; namely Herillus the Philosopher, who grounded his chiefe felicity vpon it, and held that it lay in hir power to make vs content and wise: which I cannot be∣leeve, nor that which others have said, that Knowledge is the mother of all vertue, and that all vice proceedeth of ignorance. Which if it be, it is subject to a large interpretation. My house hath long since ever stood open to men of vnderstanding, and is very well knowne to ma∣ny of them: for, my father, who commanded the same fifty yeeres and vpward, set on fire by that new kind of earnestnesse, wherewith King Francis the first embraced Letters, and raised them vnto credite, did with great diligence, and much cost, endevour to purchase the ac∣quaintance of learned men: receiving and entertaining them as holy persons, and who had some particular inspiration of divine wisedome; collecting their sentences and discourses, as if they had beene Oracles; and with so much more reverence and religious regard, by how much lesse authority he had to judge of them: for, he had no knowledge of Letters, no more than his predecessors before him. As for me, I love them indeed, but yet I worship them not. Amongst others, Peter Bunel (a man in his time, by reason of his learning, of high esteeme) having so journed a few daies at Montagne with my father, and others of his coate, being ready to depart thence, presented him with a booke entituled Theologia naturalis; five liber creatur arum magistri Raimondi de Scbonda. And for somuch as the Italian and Spanish tongues were very familiar vnto him, and that the booke was written in a kind of latinized Spanish, whereof diverse words had Latine terminations; he hoped, that with little aide, he might reape no small profite by it, and commended the same very much vnto him, as a booke most profitable, and fitting the daies in which he gave it him. It was even at what time the new-fangles of Luther began to creepe in favour, and in many places to shake the foundation of our ancient beliefe. Wherein he seemed to be well advised, as he who by dis∣course of reason fore-saw, that this budding disease would easily turne to an execrable Atheisme: For, the vulgar wanting the faculty to judge of things by themselves, suffering it selfe to be carried away by fortune, and led-on by outward apparances, if once it be possessed with the boldnesse to despise, and malapertnesse to impugne the opinions, which to fore it held in awefull reverence (as are those wherein consisteth their salvation) and that some ar∣ticles of their religion be made doubtfull and questionable, they will soone and easily admit an equall vncertainty in all other parts of their beliefe, as they that had no other grounded authority or foundation, but such as are now shaken and weakned, and immediately reject (as a tyrannicall yoke) all impressions, they had in former times received by the authority of Lawes, or reverence of ancient custome,

Nam cupidè conculcatur nimis anté metutum

That which we fear'd before too much, We gladly scorne when tis not such.

vndertaking thence-forward to allow of nothing, except they have first given their voice and particular consent to the same. My father, a few-daies before his death, lighting by chance vpon this booke, which before he had neglected, amongst other writings commanded mee to translate the same into French. It is easie to translate such authors, where nothing but the matter is to be represented; but hard and dangerous, to vndertake such as have added much to the grace and elegancy of the language, namely to reduce them into a weaker and poorer tongue. It was a strange taske, and new occupation for mee: but by fortune beeing then at leisure, and vnable to gainesay the commandement of the best father that ever was; I came ere long (as well as I could) to an end of it: wherein he tooke singular delight, and comman∣ded the same to be printed, which accordingly was after his decease performed. I found the

conceits of the author to be excellent, the contexture of his worke well followed, and his project full of pietie. Now forasmuh as diverse ammuse themselves to reade-it, and espe∣cially Ladies, to whom we owe most service, it hath often beene my hap to help them, when they were reading it, to discharge the booke of two principall objections, which are brought against the same. His drift is bold, and his scope adventurous; for he vndertaketh by humane and naturall reasons, to establish and verifie all the articles of Christian religion against A∣theists. Wherein (to say truth) I find him so resolute and so happy, as I deeme it a thing im∣possible to doe better in that argument, and thinke that none equalleth him. Which booke seeming to me both over-rich and exquisite, being written by an aucthor, whose name is so little knowne, and of whom. all we know, is, that he was a Spaniard, who about two hun∣dred yeeres since professed Phisicke in Thoulouse. I demanded once of Adrianus Turnebue (a man who knew all things) what such a booke might be, who answered, that he deemed the same to be some Quintessence extracted from out Saint Thomas Aquinas: For, in good truth, onely such a spirit fraught with so infinite erudition, and so full of admirable subtilitie, was capable of such and so rare imaginations. So it is, that whosoever be the authour or devi∣ser of it (the title whereof ought not without further reason to be taken from Sebond) he was a very sufficient-worthie man, and endowed with sundry other excellent qualities. The first thing he is reproved for in his Booke, is, that Christians wrong themselves much, in that they ground their beliefe vpon humane reasons, which is conceived but by faith, and by a particular inspiration of God. Which objection seemeth to containe some zeale of pietie; by reason whereof we ought with so much more mildnes and regarde, endevour to satisfie them that propose it. It were a charge, more befitting a man conversant, and sutable to one acquain∣ted with the holy Scriptures, than me, who am altogether ignorant in them. Neverthelesse I thinke, that even as to a matter so divine and high and so much exceeding al humane vnder∣standing, as is this Verity, wherewith it hath pleased the goodnesse of God to enlighten vs, it is most requisite, that he affoord and lend vs his helpe. And that, with an extraordinary and priviledged favour, that so we may the better conceive and entertaine the same: For, I sup∣pose that meanes meerely humane can no way be capable of it; which if they were; so many rare and excellent mindes, and so plenteously stored with naturall faculties, as have beene in times past, would never by their discourse, have mist the attayning of this knowledge. It is faith onely, which lively and assiuredly embraceth the high mysteries of our Religion. And no man can doubt, but that it is a most excellent and commendable enterprise, properly to accom∣modate and fit to the service of our faith, the natural helpes and humane implements which God hath bestowed vpon vs. And no question is to be made, but that it is the most honou∣rable employment we can put them vnto; and that there is no occupation or intent more worthy a good Christian, than by all meanes, studies and imaginations, carefully to ende∣vour, how to embellish, amplifie and extend the trueth of his beliefe and religion. It is not enough for vs to serve God in spirit and soule, we owe him besides, and wee yeelde vnto him a corporall worshiping; we applie our limmes, our motions, and all externall things, to ho∣nour him. The like ought to be done, and we should accompany our faith with all the rea∣son we possesse: Yet alwayes with this proviso, that we thinke it doth not depend of-vs, and that all our strength and arguments can never attaine to so supernaturall and divine a know∣ledge: Except it seize vpon vs, and as it were enter into vs by an extraordinarie infusion: And vnlesse it also enter into vs, not onely by discourse, but also by humane meanes, she is not in her dignitie, nor in her glorie. And verely I feare therfore, that except this waie, we should not enjoy-it. Had we fast-holde on God, by the enterposition of a lively faith; had we hold-fast on God by himselfe, and not by vs; had we a divine foundation, then should not humane and worldly occasions have the power so to shake and totter-vs, as they have. Our hold would not then yeeld to so weake a batterie: The love of noveltie; the constraint of Princes; the good successe of one partie; the rash and casuall changing of our opinions, should not then have the power to shake and alter our beliefe. We should not suffer the same to be trouble at the will and pleasure of a new argument, and at the perswasion, no, not of all the rhetorike that ever was: we should withstand these boistrous billowes with an inflexible and vnmoveable constancie:

Illisos fluctus rupes, vt vasta refundit, Et varias circumlatrantes dissipat vndas

—Mosesua.

As huge rocks doe regorgeth invective waves, And dissipate the billowes brawling braves, Which these gainst those still bellow out, Those being big and standing stout.

If this raie of Divinitie did in any sort touch vs, it would everie where appeare: Not only our words, but our actions, would beare some shew and lustre of it. Whatsoever should pro∣ceede from vs, might be seene inlightned with this noble and matchles brightnes. We should blush for shame, that in humane sects, there was never any so factions, what difficultie or strangenesse soever his doctrine maintained, but would in some sort conforme his behaviors and square his life vnto it: Whereas so diuine and heavenly an instution never markes chri∣stians but by the tongue. And will you see whether it be so? Compare but our maners vnto a Turke, or a Pagan, and we must needes yeeld vnto them: Whereas in respect of our religi∣ons superioritie, we ought by much, yea by an incomparable distance, out-shine them in ex∣cellencie: And well might a man say, Are they so iust, so charitable, and so good? Then must they be Christians. All other outward shewes and exterior apparences are common to all religi∣ons: As hope, affiance, events, ceremonies, penitence and martyrdome. The peculiar badge of our truth should be vertiue; As it is the heavenliest and most difficult marke, and worthiest pro∣duction of Verity it self. And therefore was our good Saint Lewis in the right, when that Tar∣tarian king, who was become a Christian, intended to come to Lions, to kisse the Popes feet, and there to view the sanctitie he hoped to find in our lives and manners, instantly to divert him from it, fearing lest our dissolure manners, and licentious kind of life, might scanda∣lize him, and so alter his opinion fore-conceived of so sacred a religion. How beit the contra∣ry happened to another, who for the same effect being come to Rome and there viewing the disolutenesse of the prelates and people of those dayes, was so much the more confirmed in our religion; considering with himselfe what force and divinity it must of consequence have, since it was able, amidst so many corruptions, and so viciosly-poluted hands, to main∣taine her dignitie and splendor. Had we but one onely graine of faith, wee should then be able to remoove mountaines from out their place. saith the holy Writ. Our actions being guided, and accompanied with divinitie, should not then be meerely humane, but even as our beliefe, containe some wonder-causing thing. Brevis est institutio vitae honestae beatae{que}, si credas. The institution of an honest and blessed life is but short, if a man beleeve. Some make the worlde be∣leeve, that they beleeve things they never do. Others (and they are the greater number) perswade themselves they doe so, as vnable to conceive what it is to beleeve. We thinke it strange if in warres, which at this time doe so oppresse our state, we see the events to floate so strangly, and with so common and ordinarie a manner to change and alter: The reason is, we adde nothing vnto it but our owne. Iustice, which is on the one side, is vsed but for a cloake and ornament; she is indeede alleadged, but nor received, nor harboured, nor wed∣ded. She is as in the mouth of a Lawyer, and not as she ought in the heart and affection of the partie. God oweth his extraordinarie assistance vnto faith and religion, and not to our passions. Men are but directors vnto-it and vse religion for a shew: It ought to be cleane contrarie. Doe but marke if we doe not handle it as it were a peece of waxe, from our so right and so firme a rule, to drawe so many contrary shapes. When was this better seene than now-a∣daies in France? Those which have taken it on the left, and those who have taken it on the right hand; Such as speake the false, and such who speake the truth of it, do so alike employ and fit the same to their violent and ambitious enterprises, proceede vnto it with so con∣formable a proceeding in riotousnes and injustice, they make the diversitie they pretend in their opinions doubtfull, and hard to be believed, in a thing from which depends the con∣duct and law of our life. Can a man see from one same Schoole and Discipline, more vnited and like customes and fasnions to proceed? View but the horrible impudencie wherewith we tosse divine reasons to and fro, and how irreligiously wee have both rejected and taken them againe, according as fortune hath in these publike stormes transported vs from place to place. This solemne proposition; Whether it be lawfull for a subiect, for the defence of religion, to rebell and take armes against his Prince: Call but to minde, in what mouthes but a twelve-moneth agoe the affirmative of the same was the chiefe piller of the one part; the negative was the maine-vnderproppe of the other: And listen now from whence com∣meth

the voyce and instruction of one and other: and whether armes clatter and clang lesse for this, than for that cause. And we burne those men, which say, that truth must be made to abide the yoke of our neede: And how much worse doth France, than speake it? Let vs confesse the truth? he that from out this lawfull army should cull out, first those who fol∣low it for meere zeale of a religious affection, then such as only regard the defence and pro∣tection of their countries lawes, or service of their Prince; whether hee could ever erect a compleate company of armed men. How comes it to passe, that so few are found, who have still held one same wil and progresse in our publike revolutions, and that we see them now and then but faintly, and sometimes, as fast as they can headlong to runne into the acti∣on? And the same men, now by their violence and rashnesse, and now through their slow∣nes, demissnes, and heavines to spoile, and as it were overthrow our affaires, but that they are thrust into them by casuall motives, and particular consideration, according to the di∣versities wherewith they are moved? I plainely perceive, we lend nothing vnto devotion but the offices that flatter our passions. There is no hostilitie so excellent, as that which is absolutly Christian. Our zeale worketh wonders, when ever it secondeth our inclination toward ha∣tred, crueltie, ambition, avarice, detraction, or rebellion. Towards goodnes, benignitie, or temperance, it goeth but slowly, and against the haire, except miraculously, some rare complexion leade him vnto it, it neither runnes nor flieth to it. Our religion was ordained to root out vices, but it shrowdeth, fostreth and provoketh them. As commonly wee say, We must not make a foole of God. Did wee believe in him, I say not through faith, but with a simple beliefe, yea (I speake it to our confusion) did we but believe and know him, as wee doe an∣other storie, or as one of our companions, we should then love him aboue all other things, by reason of the infinite goodnes, and vnspeakable beauty that is, and shines in him: Had he but the same place in our affections, that riches, pleasures, glory and our friends have: The best of vs doth not so much feare to wrong him, as he doth to injurie his neighbour, his kins∣man, or his maister. Is there so simple a minde, who on the one side having before him the obiect of one of our vicious pleasures, and on the other to his full viewe, perfect knowledge and assured perswasion, the state of an immortall glorie, that would enter into contention of one for the other? And if we often refuse it through meere contempt: for what drawes vsto blaspheming, vnlesse it be at all adventures, the desire itselfe of the offence? The Philo∣sopher Antisthenes, when he was initiated in the mysteries of Orpheus, the priest; saying, vnto him, that such as vowed themselves to that religion, should after death receive eternall and perfect felicities, replied, if thou believe-it, why dost thou not die thy self? Diogenes more roughly (as his manner was) and further from our purpose, answered the priest, who perswa∣ded him to be one of his order, that so he might come vnto, and attaine the happinesse of the other world: Wilt thou have me believe, that those famous men Agesilaus and Epaminondas, shall be miserable, and that thou, who art but an asse, and dost nothing of any worth, shalt be happy, because thou art a Priest? Did we but receive these large promises of everlasting blessednes with like authoritie, as we do a philosophicall discourse, we should not then have death in that horror as we have:

Non iamse moriens dissolvi conquereretur, Sed magis ire foras, vestem{que} relinquere vt an••uis Gauderet, praelonga senex aut cornua cervus.

He would not now complaine to be dissolved dying, But rather more rejoice, that now he is forth-flying, Or as a Snake his coate out-worne, Or as old Harts, doth cast his horne.

I will be dissolved should we say, and be with Iesus Christ. The forcible power of Platoes discourse, of the immortality of the soule, provoked diverse of his Schollers vnto death, that so they might more speedily enjoy the hopes he told them of. All which is a most evident to∣ken, that we receive our religion, but according to our fashion, and by our owne hands, and no otherwise than other religions are received. We are placed in the country, where it was in vse; where we regard hir antiquity, or the authority of those who have maintained hir; where we feare the menaces wherewith she threatneth all mis-beleevers, or follow hir pro∣mises. The considerations ought to be applied and employed to our beleefe, but as Subsidiaries: they be humane bondes. Another Country, other Testimonies, equall pro∣mises:

alike menaces, mighe semblably imprint a cleane contrary religion in vs: weare chri∣stians by the same title, as we are either Perigordins or Germans. And as Plato saith, There are ••ew so confirmed in Atheisme, but some great danger will bring vnto the knowledge of Gods di∣vine power. The parte doth not touch or concernea good Christian: It is for mortall and worldly religions, to be received by a humane convoy. What faith is that like to be, which co∣wardice of heart doth plant, and weaknesse establish in vs! A goodly faith, that believes that which it beleeveth, onely because it wanteth the courage not to beleeve the same. A vici∣ous passion, as that of inconstancie and astonishment is, can it possibly ground any regular production in our mindes or soules? They establish (saith he) by the reason of their judge∣ment, that whatsoever is reported of hell, or of after-comming paines, is but a fiction; but the occasions to make triall of it, offering it selfe, at what time age or sickenes doth som∣mon them to death: the errour of the same, through the horrour of their future conditi∣on, doth then replenish them with an other kinde of beleefe. And because such impres∣sions make mens hearts fearefull, hee by his lawes, inhibiteth all instruction of such threats, and the perswasion, that any evill may come vnto man from the Gods, except for his greater good, and for a medicinable effect, whensoever he falleth into-it. The report of Bion, that being infected with the Athiesmes of Theodorus, he had for along time made but a mocke∣rie of religious men; but when death did once seize vpon him, he yeelded vnto the extrea∣mest superstions: As if the Gods would either be remooved, or come againe, according to Bions businesse. Plato and these examples conclude, that wee are brought to beleeve in God, either by reason, or by compulsion. Atheisme being a proposition, as vnnaturall and monstrous as it is harde and vneasie to be established in any mans minde, how insolent and vnruly soever hee may be. Many have beene seene, to have conceived, either through va∣nitie or fiercenesse, strange and seld-knowne opinions, as if they would become reform∣ers of the world, by affecting a profession onely in countenaunce: who though they be sufficiently foolish, yet are they not powerfull enough, to ground or settle it in their consci∣ences. Yet will not such leave to list-vp their joyned hands to heaven, give them but a s••oc∣cado on their breast: and when feare shall have supprest, or sickenesse vanquished this li∣centious fervour of a wavering minde, then will they suffer themselves gently to be reclai∣med, and discreetly to be perswaded, to give credite vnto true beliefe and publike exam∣ples. A decree seriously digested is one thing, and these shallow and superficiall impressi∣ons another, which bred by the dissolutnesse of a loose spirit, do rashly and vncertainely floate vp and downe the fantasie of a man. Oh men most braine-sicke and miserable, that endevour to be worse than they can! The errour of Paganisme, and the ignorance of our sa∣cred trueth, was the cause of this great soules-fall; but onely great in worldly greatnes; al∣so in this next abuse, which is, that children and olde men, are found to be more suscepti∣ble or capable of religion, as if it were bredde and had her credite from our imbecilitie. The bond which should binde our iudgement, tie our will, enforce and ioyne our soules to cur Creator, should be a bond taking his doubling and forces, not from our considerations, reasons and passions, but from a divine and supernaturall compulsion, having but one forme, one countenance, and one grace; which is the authoritie and grace of God. Now our heart being ruled, and our soule commaunded by saith, reason willeth, that she drawes all our other parts to the service of her intent, according to their power and facultie. Nor is it likely, but that this vast worldes∣frame must beare the impression of some markes, therein imprinted by the hand of this great-wondrous Architect, and that even in all things therein created, there must be some image, somewhat resembling, and having coherencie with the workeman that wrought and framed them. Hee hath left imprinted in these high and misterious workes, the cha∣racters of his divinitie: and onely our imbecilitie is the cause, wee can nor discover, nor reade them. It is that which himselfe telleth vs, That by his visible operations, hee doeth ma∣nifest th••se, that are invisible to vs. Sebond hath much travelled about this woorthie stu∣die, and sheweth vs, That there is no parcell of this world, that either beiyeth or shameth his Maker. It were a manifest wronging of Gods goodnesse, if all this vniverse did not con∣sent and simpathize with our beliefe. Heaven, earth, the elements, our bodies, our soule; yea all things-else, conspire and agree vnto-it: onely the meanes how to make vse of them must be found out: They will instruct vs sufficiently, be we but capable to learne and apt to vnderstand. For, this world is a most holy Temple, into which man is brought

there to behold Statues and Images, not wrought by mortall hand, but such as the secret thought of God hath made sensible, as the Sunne, the Starres, the Waters and the Earth, thereby to represent the intelligible vnto vs. The invisible things of God (saith Saint Paul) doe evidently appeare by the creation o•• the world, iudgeing of his eternall Wisedome and Divinity by his workes.

Atque adeo faciem coeli non invidet orbi, Ipse deus, vultus{que} suos corpús{que} recludit, Semper voluend••: se{que} ipsum inculcat & offert Vt bene cognosci possit, doc••á••{que} videndo Qualis ent, doceâ••{que} suas attendere leges.

God to the world doth not heav'ns face envie, But by still mooving it doth notifie His face and essence, doth himselfe applie, That he may well be knowen, and teach by seeing, How he goes, how we should marke his decreeing.

Now our reason and humane discourse, is as the lumpish and barren matter; and the grace of God is the forme thereof. T'is that, which giveth both fashion and worth vnto it. Even as the vertuous actions of Socrates and Cato, are but frivolous and profitable, because they had not their end, and regarded not the love and obedience of the true creator of all things; and namely, because they were ignorant of the true knowledge of God: So is it of our imagi∣nations and discourse; they haue a kind of body, but a shapelesse masse, without light or fa∣shion, vnlesse faith and the grace of God be joyned thereunto. Faith, giving as it were a tin∣cture and lustre vnto Sebonds arguments, make them the more firme and solide: They may well serve for a direction and guide to a yong learner, to lead and set him in the right way of this knowledge. They in some sort fashion and make him capable of the grace of God, by meanes whereof our beliefe is afterward atchieved and made perfect. I know a man of au∣thority, brought vp in letters, who confessed vnto me, that he was reclaimed from out the er∣rours of mis-beleeving by the Arguments of Sebond. And if it happen, they be dispoyled of this ornament, and of the helpe and approbation of faith, and taken but for meere humane fantazies, yet to combate those, that headlong are fallen into the dreadfull error, and horri∣ble darkenesse of irreligion, even then, shall they be found as firme and forcible, as any other of that condition, that may be opposed against them. So that we shall stand vpon termes to say vnto our parties,

Si melius quid habes, accerse, vel imperiumfer.

If you have any better, send for me, Or else that I bid you, contented be.

Let them either abide the force of our proofes, of shew vs some others, vpon some other subject, better compact and more full. I have in a maner vnawares halfe engaged my selfe in the second objection, to which I had purposed to frame an answer for Sebond. Some say his Arguments are weake, and simple to verifie what he would, and vndertake to front him easily. Such fellowes must somewhat more roughly be handled: for they are more dangerous, and more malicious then the first. Man doth willingly apply other mens sayings to the advan∣tage of the opinions he hath fore-judged in himselfe. To an Atheist all writings make for Atheisme. He with his owne Venome infecteth the innocent matter. These have some pre∣occupation of judgement that makes their taste wallowish and tastelesse, to conceive the rea∣sons of Sebond. As for the rest, they thinke to have faire play offered them, if they have free liberty to combate our religion with meere worldly weapons; which they durst not charge, did they behold hir in hir Majesty, full of authority and commandement. The meanes I vse to suppresse this frenzy, and which seemeth the fittest for my purpose, is to crush▪ and tram∣ple this humane pride and fiercenesse vnder-foote-to make them feele the emptinesse, vacu∣itie, and no worth of man: and violently to pull out of their hands, the silly weapons of their reason; to make them stoope, and bite and snarle at the ground, vnder the authority and re∣verence of Gods Majesty. Onely to hir belongeth science and wisedome, it is she alone can judge of hir selfe, and from hir we steale: whatsoever we repute, value, and count our selves to be.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉

Of greater, better, wiser minde than he, God can abide no mortall man should be.

Let vs suppresse this over-weening, the first foundation of the tyrannie of the wicked spi∣rit: Deus superbis resistit: humilibus autem dat gratiam. God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. Plato saith, That intelligence is in all the Gods, but little or nothing at all in men. Meane-while it is a great comfort vnto a Christian man, to see our mortall implements, and fading tooles, so fitly sorted to our holy and divine faith; that when they are employed to the mortal and fading subjects of their Nature, they are never more forcibly, nor more joynt∣lie appropriated vnto them. Let vs then see whether man hath any other stronger reasons in his power, then Sebondes, and whether it lie in him, by argument or discourse, to come to any certainty. For, Saint Augustine, pleading against these kind of men, because he would vp∣braide them with their injustice, in that they hold the partes of our beliefe to be false, and that our reason faileth in establishing them. And to shew, that many things may be, and have beene, whereof our discourse can never ground the nature and the causes; He proposeth and setteth downe before them certaine knowen and vndoubted experiments, wherein man con∣fesseth to see nothing; which he doth as all things else, with a curious and ingenious serch. More must be done, and they must be taught, that to convince the weakenesse of their rea∣son; we neede not goe far to cull out rare examples: And that it is so defective and blinde, as there is no facility so cleare, that is cleare enough vnto hir; that easie and vneasie is all one to hir; that all subjects equally, and Nature in Generall disavoweth hir jurisdiction, and in∣ter position. What preacheth truth vnto vs, when it biddeth vs flie and shun worldly Philo∣sophy; when it so often telleth vs, that all our wisdome is but folly before God; that of all vanities, man is the greatest; that man, who presumeth of his knowledge, doth not yet know what knowledge is: and that man, who is nothing, if he but thinke to be something, seduceth and deceiveth himselfe? These sentences of the Holy Ghost, doe so lively and manifestly expresse, what I would maintaine, as I should neede no other proofe against such as with all submission and obey∣sance would yeeld to his authority. But these will needes be whipt to their owne Cost, and cannot abide their reason to be combated, but by it selfe. Let vs now but consider man alone without other help, armed but with his owne weapons, and vnprovided of the grace and knowledge of God, which is all his honour, all his strength, and all the ground of his being. Let vs see what hold-fast, or free-hold he hath in this gorgeous, and goodly equipage. Let him with the vtmost power of his discourse make me vnderstand, vpon what foundation, he hath built those great advantages and ods, he supposeth to have over other creatures. Who hath perswaded him, that this admirable mooving of heavens-vaults; that the eternal light of these lampes so fiercely rowling over his head; that the horror-moving and continuall moti∣on of this infinite vaste Ocean, were established, and continue so many ages for his commo∣ditie and service? Is it possible to imagine any thing so ridiculous, as this miserable and wretched creature, which is not so much as maister of himselfe, exposed and subject to ••ffen∣ces of all things, and yet dareth call himselfe Maister and Emperour of this Vniverse? In whose power it is not to know the least part of it much lesse to command the same. And the priviledge, which he so fondly challengeth, to be the onely absolute creature in this huge worlds-frame, perfectly able to know the absolute beautie, and severall partes thereof, and that he is only of power to yeeld the great Architect thereof, due thankes for it, and to keepe account both of the receipts and layings out of the world. Who hath sealed him this patent? Let him shew vs his letters of priviledge, for so noble and so great a charge. Have they beene granted onely in favour of the wise? Then concerne they but a few. Are the foolish and wic∣ked worthy of so extraordinary a favour? Who being the worst part of the world, should they be preferred before the rest? Shall we beleeve him; Quorum igitur causa quis dixeri•• ef∣fectum esse mundum? Eorum scilicet animantium, quaeratione ••tuntur. Hisunt dij & homines, qui∣bus profectò nihil est melius. For whose cause then shall a man say, that the world was made? In sooth, for those creatures sake, which have the vse of reason: Those are Gods and men, then whom as∣suredly nothing is better. We shall never sufficiently baffle the impudency of this conjoyning. But silly wretch, what hath he in him worthy such an advantage? To consider the incorrup∣tible life of the celestial bodies, their beauty, greatnesse, and agitation, continued with so just and regular a course:

—cum suspicimus magni coelestia mundi

Templa super, stellisque micantibus Aethera fixum, Et venit in mentem Lune Solisque viarum.

When we of this great world the heavenly-temples see Above vs, and the skies with shine-starres fixt to be, And marke in our discourse, Of Sunne and Moone the course.

To consider the power and domination, these bodies have, not onely vpon our lives, and condition of our fortune;

Facta et••nim & vitas hominum suspendit ab astris.

For on the stars he doth suspend Of men, the deedes, the lives, and end.

But also over our dispositions and inclinations, our discourses and wils, which they rule, provoke, and moove at the pleasure of their influences, as our reason findes and teacheth vs.

—speculat ••que longé ••••prendi: tacit is dominantia legibus astra. Et totum alterna mundum ratione m••veri. Fatorúmque vices cersis discern••re signis.

By speculation it from far discern's, How star's by secret lawes do guide our sterns, And this whole world is moov'd by entercourse And by sure signes of fates to know the course.

Seeing that not a man alone, nor a King only. But Monarchies and Empires, yea, and all this world below is mooved at the shaking of one of the least heavenly motions.

Quantaque quàm par vifaciant discrimina motus: Tantum est hoc regnum quod regibus imper at ipsis.

How little motions make, how different affection: So great this kingdome is, that hath Kings in subjection.

If our vertue, vices, sufficiency and knowledge; and the same discourse we make of the power of the starres, and the comparison betweene them and vs, commeth as our reason judgeth by their meane and through their favour.

—furit alter amore, Et pontu••s tranare potest & vertere Troiam, Alteriussors est scribendis legibus apta: Ecce patrem nati perimunt, nat òs•• parentes, Mutuá{que} armati coeunt in vulner a fratres, Non nostrum hoc bellum est, coguntur tanta mov••re, Inque suas f••rri poenas, lacer and áque membra: Hoc quoque fatale est sic ipsum expendere fatum.

One with love madded, his love to enjoy, Can crosse the seas, and over-turne all Troy: Anothers lot is to set lawes severe. Loesonnes kill fathers, fathers sonnes destroy, Brothers for mutuall wounds their armes doe beare, Such war is not our owne, forc't are we to it, Drawne to our owne paines, our owne limbes to teare; Fates so t'observe t'is fatall, we must doe it,

If we hold that portion of reason, which we have, from the distribution of heaven, how can she make vs equall vnto it? How can she submit his essence and conditions vnto our knowledge? Whatsoever we behold in those huge bodies, doth affright vs: Quae molitio, quae ferrament••, qui victes, quae machinae, qui ministri tant i operis fuerunt? What workemanship? What yron-braces? What maine beames, what engines? What Masons and Carpenters, were to so great a worke? Why doe we then deprive them of soule, of life, and of discourse? Have we discovered or knowen any vnmoveable or insensible stupidity in them? We, who have no commerce but of obedience with them? Shall we say we have seene the vse of a reasonable soule, in no other creature, but in man? What? Have we seene any thing comparable to the Sunne? Leaveth he to be, because we have seene nothing semblable vnto it? And doth he

leav his moving, because his equall is no where to be found? If that which we have not seene, is not, our knowledge is wonderfull abridged? Quae sunt tanta animi angustia? What narrownes of my heart is such? Be they not dreames of humane vanity, to make a celestiall earth, or world of the Moone? As Anaxagoras did? And therein to plant worldly habita∣tions, and as Plato and Plutarch doe, erect their colonies for our vse. And to make of our knowne earth a bright shining planet? Inter caetera mortalitatis incommoda, & hoc est caligo mentium: nec tantùm necessitas errandi, sed errorum amor. Among other discommodities of our mortality this is one, there is darkenesse in our minds, and in vs not onely necessity of erring, but a love of errors. Corruptibile corpus aggrauat animam, & deprimit terrena inhabitatio sensum multa cogitantem. Our corruptible body doth over lode our soule, and our dwelling on earth weighet downe our sence, that is set to thinke of many matters. Presumption is our naturall and origi∣nall infirmitie. Of all creatures man is the most miserable and fraile, and therewithall the proudest and disdainfullest. Who perceiueth and seeth himselfe placed here, amidst their filth and mire of the world, fast tied and nailed to the worst, most senceles, and drooping part of the world, in the vilest corner of the house, and farthest from heavens-coape, with those creatures, that are the worst of the three conditions; and yet dareth imaginarily place himselfe above the circle of the Moone, and reduce heaven vnder his feete. It is through the vanity of the same imagination, that he dare equall himselfe to God, that he ascribeth divine conditions vnto himselfe, that he selecteth and separateth himselfe from out the ranke of other creatures; to which his fellow-brethren and compeers, he cuts out and shareth their parts, and allotteth them what portions of meanes or forces he thinkes good. How knoweth he by the vertue of his vnderstanding the inward and secret motions of beasts? By what comparison from them to vs doth he conclude the brutishnesse, he ascribeth vnto them? When I am playing with my Cat, who knowes whether she have more sport in dallying with me, then I have in ga∣ming with hir? We entertaine one another with mutuall apish trickes, If I have my houre to begin or to refuse, so hath she hirs. Plato in setting forth the golden age vnder Saturne, amongst the chiefe advantages that man had then, reporteth the communication he had with beasts, of whom enquiring and taking instruction, he knew the true qualities, and diffe∣rences of every one of them: by, and from whom he got an absolute vnderstanding and per∣fect wisedome, whereby he led a happier life, then we can doe. Can we have a better proofe to judge of mans impudency, touching beasts? This notable Author was of opinion, that in the greatest part of the corporall forme, which nature hath bestowed on them, ••he hath onely respected the vse of the Prognostications, which in his daies were thereby gathered. That defect which hindreth the communication betweene them and vs, why may it not as well be in vs, as in them? It is a matter of divination to guesse in whom the fault is, that we vnderstand not one another. For, we vnderstand them no more then they vs. By the same reason, may they as well esteeme vs beasts, as we them. It is no great marvell if we vnder∣stand them not: no more doe we the cornish, the Welch, or Irish. Yet have some boasted that they vnderstood them, as Apollonius Thyaneus, Melampus, Tiresias, Thales and others. And if it be (as Cosmographers report) that there are Nations, who receive and admit a Dogge to be their King, it must necessarily follow, that they give a certaine interpretation to his voice and moving. We must note the parity that is betweene vs. We have some meane vnderstanding of their senses, so have beasts of ours, about the same measure. They flatter and faune vpon vs, they threat, and entreate vs, so doe we them. Touching other matters, we manifestly perceive, that there is a full and perfect communication amongst them, and that not onely those of one same kinde vnderstand one another, but even such as are of different kindes

Et mutae pecudes, & denique secla ferarum Dissimiles suerunt voces variasque cluere Cùm metus aut dolor est, aut cùm iam gaudia gliscunt.

Whole heard's (though dombe) of beasts, both wilde and tame Vse divers voices, diffrent sounds to frame, As joy, or griefe, or feare, Vpspringing passions beare.

By one kinde of barking of a Dogge, the Horse knoweth he his angrie; by another voice of his, he is nothing dismaide. Even in beasts, that have no voice at all, by the reciprocall

kindenes, which we see in them, we easily inferre, there is some other meane of entercommu∣nication: their jestures treate, and their motions discourse.

Non alia longè ratione atque ipsa videtur Protrahere ad gestum▪ pu••ros infantia linguae.

No otherwise, then, for they cannot speake, Children are drawne by signes their mindes to breake.

And why not, as well as our dombe-men dispute, argue, and tell histories by signes? I have seene some so ready, and so excellent in it, that (in good sooth) they wanted nothing to have their meaning perfectly vnderstood. Doe we not daily see lovers with the lookes and rowling of their eyes, plainly shew when they are angrie or pleased, and how they entreate, and thanke one another, assigne meetings, and expresse any passion?

E'l silentio ancor suole Hauer prieghi & parole.

Silence also hath a way, Words and praiers to convay.

What doe we with our hands? Doe we not sue and entreate, promise and performe, call men vnto vs, and discharge them, bid them farwell, and be gone, threaten, pray, beseech, deny, refuse, demaund, admire, number, confesse, repent, feare, be ashamed, doubt, instruct, command, encite, encourage, sweare, witnes, accuse, condemne, absolve, injurie, despise, defie, despight, flatter, applaude, blesse, humble, mocke, reconcile, recommend, exalt, shew∣gladnes, reioyce, complaine, waile, sorrowe, discomfort, dispaire, cry-out, forbid, declare silence and astonishment? And what not? With so great variation, and amplifying, as if they would contend with the tongue. And with our head, doe we not envite and call to-vs, discharge and send away, avowe, disavowe, be-lie, welcome, honour, worship, disdaine, de∣maund, direct, rejoyce, affirme, deny, complaine, cherish, blandish, chide, yeeld, submit, brag, boast, threaten, exhort, warrant, assure, and enquire? What doe we with our eye-lids? And with our shoulders? To conclude, there is no motion, nor jesture, that doth nor speake, and speakes in a language, very easie, and without any teaching to be vnderstoode: nay, which is more, it is a language common and publike to all: whereby it followeth (seeing the varietie, and severall vse it hath from others) that this must rather be deemed the pro∣per and peculiar speech of humane nature. I omit that, which necessitie in time of neede; doth particularly instruct and sodainely teach such as neede it; and the alphabets vpon fingers, and grammars by jestures; and the sciences, which are onely exercised and expres∣sed by them: and the nations Plinie reporteth to have no other speech. An Ambassador of the Citie of Abdera, after he had talked a long time vnto Agis King of Sparta, said thus vnto him: O King, what answere wilt thou that I beare backe vnto our citizens? Thus (an∣swered he) that I have suffered thee to speake all thou wouldest, and as long as thou pleasedst, without ever speaking one word. Is not this a kinde of speaking silence, and easie to be vn∣derstoode? And as for other matters; what sufficiencie is there in vs, that we must not ac∣knowledge from the industrie and labors of beasts? Can there be a more formall, and better ordred policie, divided into so severall charges and offices, more constantly entertained, and better maintained, then that of Bees? Shall we imagine, their so orderly disposing of their actions, and mannaging of their vacations, have so proporcioned and formall a conduct without discourse, reason and forecast?

His quidam signis atque haec exempla sequuti, Esse apibus partem divinae mentis, & haustus Aethereos dixere.

Some by these signes, by these examples moved, Said that in Bees there is and may be proved Some taste of heav'nly kinde, Part of celestiall minde.

The Swallows, which at the approch of spring-time, we see to prie, to search, and ferret all the corners of our houses; is it without judgement they seeke, or without discretion they chuse from out a thousand places, that which is fittest for them, to build their nests and lodge¦ing? And in that pretie-cunning contexture, and admirable framing of their houses, would birds rather fit themselves with a round, then a square figure with an obtuse, then a right

angle, except they knew both the commodities and effects of them? Would they (suppose you) first take water, and then clay, vnlesse they guessed that the hardnes of the one is softned by the moistnes of the other; Would they floore their palace with mosse or downe, except they fore-saw, that the tender parts of their yong-ons, shall thereby lie more soft and easie? Would they shroud and shelter themselves from stormie weather, and builde their cabbins toward the East, vnlesse they knew the different conditions of windes, and considered that some are more healthfull and safe for them, then some others? Why doth the Spider spin hir artificiall webbe thicke in one place, and thin in another? And now vseth one, and then another knot, except she had an imaginarie kinde of deliberation, fore-thought and conclu∣sion? We perceive by the greater part of their workes, what excellencie beasts have over∣vs, and how weake our-arte and short our cunning-is, if we goe about to imitate them. We see notwithstanding, even in our grosest workes, what faculties we employ in them, and how our minde employeth the vttermost of hir skill and forces in them: why should we not thinke as much of them? Wherefore doe we attribute the workes, which excell what ever we can performe, either by nature or by arte, vnto a kinde of vnknowen, naturall and servill inclination? Wherein vnawars, we give them a great advantage over-vs, to inferre, that na∣ture, led by a certaine loving kindnes, leadeth and accompanieth them (as it were by the hand) vnto all the actions and commodities of their life; and that she forsaketh and leaveth vs to the hazard of fortune; And by arte to quest, and finde-out those things, that are be∣ho••uefull and necessarie for our preservation: and therewithall denieth vs the meanes, to attaine by any institution and contention of spirit, to the naturall sufficiencie of brute beasts: So that their brutish stupiditie, doth in all commodities exceede, whatsoever our divine in∣telligence can effect. Verely, by this accoumpt, we might have just cause and great reason, to terme hir a most injust and partiall stepdame: But there is no such thing, our policy is not so deformed and disordered. Nature hath generally imbraced all hir creatures: And there is not any, but she hath amply stored with all necessary meanes for the preservation of their being. For, the daily plaints, which I often heare men make (when the licence of their con∣ceits, doth somtimes raise them above the clouds, and then head-long tumbling them downe even to the Antipodes) exclayming, that man is the onely forsaken, and out cast creature, naked on the bare earth, fast bound and swathed, having nothing to cover and arme himself withall, but the spoile of others; whereas Nature hath clad and mantled all other creatures, some with shels, some with huskes, with ••••ndes, with haire, with wooll, with stings, with bristles, with hides, with mosse, with fethers, with skales, with fle••ces, and with ••••ke, accor∣ding as their quality might neede, or their condition require: And hath fenced and a••••ed them, with clawes, with nailes, with talents, with hoofes, with teeth, with stings, and with hornes, both to assaile others, and to defend themselves: And hath more-over instructed them in every thing fit and requisit for them, as to swim, to runne, to creepe, to flie, to roare, to bellow, and to sing: where as man onely (Oh silly-wretched man) can neither goe, nor speake, nor shift, nor feed himselefe, vnlesse it be to whine and weepe onely, except he be taught.

Tum porro, puer vt saevis proiectus ab vndis Navita, nudus humi iacet infans, indigus omni Vitali auxilio, cùm primùm in luminis oras Nexibus ex alvo matris natura profudit, Vagitúque locum lugubri complet, vt aequum est Cui tantùm in vita restet transire malorum: At variae crescunt pecudes, armenta, feraeque, Nec crepitacula eis opus est, nec cuiquam adhibenda est Alma nutricis blanda atque infracta loquela: Nec varias quaerunt vestes pro tempore caeli: Denique non armis opus est, non moenibus altis Queis sua tutentur, quando omnibus omnia large Tellus ipsaparit, natur àque daedalarerum.

An infant, like a shipwracke ship-boy cast from seas, Lies naked on the ground, and speechlesse, wanting all The helpes of vitall spirit, when nature with small ease

Of throw's, to see first light, from hir wombe lets him fall, Then, as is meete, with morn'full cries he fils the place, For whom so many ils remaine in his lives race. But divers heards of tame and wilde beasts foreward spring, Nor neede they rattles, nor of Nurces cockring-kinde The flattering broken speech their lulluby neede sing. Nor seeke they divers coates, as divers seasons binde. Lastly no armour neede they, nor high-reared wall Whereby to guard their owne, since all things vnto all Worke-mastres nature doth produce, And the earth largely to their vse.

Such complaints are false: There is a greater equality, and more vniforme relation in the policy of the world. Our skin is as sufficiently provided with hardnesse against the injuries of the wether, as theirs: Witnesse divers Nations, which yet never knew the vse of clothes. Our ancient Gaules were but slightly apparelled, no more are the Irish-men, our neighbours, in so cold a climate: Which we may better judge by our selves; for, all those parts of our bo∣die, we are pleased to leave bare to winde and wether, are by experience found able to endure it: If there be any weake part in vs, which in likely-hood should seeme to feare cold, it ought to be the stomake, where disgestion is made: Our forefathers vsed to have it bare, and our Ladies (as dainty-nice as they be) are many times seene to goe open-breasted, as low as their navill. The bandles and swathes about our children are no more necessary: And the mo∣thers of Lacedemonia, brought vp theirs in all liberty and loosenesse of moving their limmes without swathing or binding. Our whining, our puling and our weeping is common to most creatures, and divers of them are often seene to waile and grone along time after their birth, forsomuch as it is a countenance fitting the weaknesse wherein they feele themselves, As for the vse of eating, and feeding, it is in vs, as in them, naturall and without teaching.

Sentit enim vim quisque suam quam possit abuti.

For every one soone-vnderstanding is Of his owne strength, which he may vse amisse.

Who will make question, that a child having attained the strength to feed himselfe, could not quest for his meate, and shift for his drinke? The earth without labour or tilling doth sufficiently produce and offer him as much as he shall neede. And if not at all times, no more doth she vnto beasts; witnesse the provision, we see the Antes and other silly creatures to make against the cold and barren seasons of the yeare. The nations, that have lately bin dis∣covered, so plenteously stored with all maner of naturall meate and drinke, without care or labor, teach vs, that bread is not our onely foode: And that without toyling, our common mother nature, hath with great plentie stored vs with whatsoever should be needfull for vs, yea, as it is most likely, more ritchly and amply, then now adaies she doth, that we have ad∣ded so much art vnto it:

Et tellus nitidas fruges vinetáque ••eta Sponte sua primùm mortalibus ipsa creauit, Ipsa dedit dulces foetus, & pabula laeta, Quae nunc vix nostro grandescunt aucta labore, Conterimúsque boves & vires agricolarum:

The earth it selfe at first of th'owne accord Did men rich Vineyards, and cleane fruite affoord. It gave sweet of springs foode from sweeter soyle Which yet scarse greater grow for all our toyle, Yet tire therein we doe, Both Plough-mens strength and Oxen too.

The gluttonous excesse, and intemperate lavishnesse of our appetite exceeding all the in∣ventions, we endevour to finde out, wherewith to glut and cloy the same. As for armes and weapons, we have more, that be naturall vnto vs, then the greatest part of other beasts: We have more severall motions of limbs, and naturally, without teaching: We reape more ser∣viceable vse of them, then they do: Those which are trained vp to fight naked, are seene head long to cast themselves into the same hazards and dangers, as we doe. If some beasts excell vs

in this advantage, we exceede many others: And the industrie to enable, the skill to fortifie, and the wit to shelter and cover our body by artificiall meanes, we have it by a kind of natu∣rall instinct and teaching. Which to prove; the Elephant doth whet and sharpen histeeth, he vseth in warre (for he hath some he onely vseth for that purpose) which he heed fully spa∣reth, and never puts them to other service: When Buls prepare themselves to fight, they raise, scatter, and with their feet, cast the dust about them: The wilde Boare whets his tuskes; when the Ichneumon is to grapple with the Crocodile, he walloweth his body in the mire, then lets the same drie and harden vpon him, which he doth so often, that at last the same be∣comes as hard and tough as any well compact crust, which serveth him in stead of a Cuirace. Why shall we not say, that it is as naturall for vs to arme our selves with wood and yron? As for speech, sure it is, that if it be not naturall it is not necessary. I beleeve neverthelesse, that if a childe, bred in some vncouth solitarinesse, farre from haunt of people (though it were a hard matter to make triall of it) would no doubt have some kind of words to expresse, and speech to vtter his conceits: And it is not to be imagined, that nature hath refused vs that meane, and barred vs that helpe, which she hath bestowed vpon many and divers other crea∣tures: For, what is that faculty, we see in them, when they seeme to complaine, to rejoyce, to call one vnto another for helpe, and bid one another to loving copulation (as commonly they doe) by the vse of their voice, but a kind of speech? And shall not they speake among themselves, that speake and vtter their minde vnto vs, and we to them? How many waies speake we vnto our Dogges, and they seeme to vnderstand and answer vs? With another language, and with other names speake we vnto, and call them, then we doe our Birds, our Hogges, our Oxen, our Horses, and such like; and according to their different kindes we change our Idiome.

Cosi per entro loro schiera bruna S'ammusa i'vna con l'altra formica, Forse â spiar lor via, & lor fortuna.

So Ants amidst their sable-colored band One with another mouth to mouth confer, Hap'ly their way, or state to vnderstand.

Me seemeth that Lactantius doth not onely attribute speech vnto beasts, but also laugh∣ing. And the same difference of tongues, which according to the diversity of Countries is found amongst vs, is also found amongst beasts of one same kinde. Aristotle to that purpose alleageth the divers calles or purres of Partriges, according to the situation of their place of breeding:

—variaeque volucres Longè alias alio iaciunt in tempore voces, Et partim mutant cum tempestatibus vnâ Raucisones cantus.

And divers birds, send-forth much divers sounds At divers times, and partly change the grounds, Of their hoarce-sounding song, As seasons change along.

But it would be knowen, what language such a childe should speake: and what▪ some report by divination, hath no great likely-hood. And if against this opinion, a man would alleage vnto me, that such as are naturally deafe, speake not at all: I answer, that it is not onely be∣cause they could not receive the instruction of the world by their eares, but rather in asmuch as the sense of hearing, whereof they are deprived, hath some affinity with that of speaking, both which with a naturall kinde of ligament or seame, hold and are fastned together: In such sort, as what we speake, we must first speake it vnto our selves, and before we vtter and send the same forth to strangers, we make it inwardly to sound vnto our eares. I haue said all this, to maintaine the coherency and resemblance, that is in all humane things, and to bring vs vnto the generall throng. We are neither aboue nor vnder the rest: what ever is vnder the coape of heaven (saith the wise man) runneth one law and followeth one fortune.

Indupedita suis fatalibus omnia vinclis.

All things enfolded are, In fatall bonds as fits their share.

Some difference there is, there are orders and degrees; but all is vnder the visage of one same nature.

—res quaeque suo rit•• procedit, & omnes Foedere naturae cert•• discrimina servant.

All things proceed in their course, natures all Keepe difference, as in their league dothe fall.

Man must be forced, and marshalled within the listes of this policie. Miserable man with all his wit cannot in effect goe beyond it: he is embraced, and engaged, and as other crea∣tures of his ranke are, he is subjected in like bondes, and without any prerogative or essen∣tiall pre-excellencie, what ever Priviledge he assume vnto himselfe, he is of very meane con∣dition. That which is given by opinion or fantasie hath neither body nor taste. And if it be so, that he alone, above all other Creatures, hath this liberty of imagination, and this li∣cence of thoughts, which represent vnto him, both what is and what is not and what him plea∣seth, false-hood and truth; it is an advantage bought at a very high rate, and whereof he hath litle reason to glorie: For thence springs the chiefest source of al the mischiefs that oppresse∣him, as sinne, sickenesse, irresolution, trouble and despaire. But to come to my purpose, I say therefore, there is no likely-hood, we should imagine, the beasts doe the very same things by a naturall inclination and forced genuitie, which we doe of our owne free-wil and indu∣strie. Of the very same effects we must conclude alike faculties; and by the richest effects in∣ferr the noblest faculties, and consequently acknowledge, that the same discourse and way, we hold in working, the very same, or perhapps some other better, doe beasts hold. Wherefore shall we imagine that natural compulsion in them, that prove no such effect our selves? Since it is more honourable to be addressed to act, and tyed to worke orderly, by and through a na∣turall and vnavoideable condition, and most approching to Divinitie, then regularly to worke and act, by, and through a casuall and rash libertie, and it is safer to leave the reignes of our conduct vnto nature, then vnto our selves. The vanitie of our presumption maketh vs rather to be beholding, and as it were endebted vnto our owne strength, for our sufficiency, then vnto hir liberalitie; and enrich other creatures with natural giftes, and yeeld those vnto them, that so we may en-noble and honour our selves with gifts purchased: as me thinketh, by a very simple humour: For, I would prize graces, and value gifts, that were altogether mine owne, and naturall vnto me, as much as I would those, I had begged, and with a long prentishippe, shifted. For, It lyeth not in our power to obtaine a greater commendation, then to be favored both of God and Nature. By that reason, the Foxe, which the inhabitants of Thrace vse when they will attempt to march vpon the yce of some frozen river, and to that end let hir go loose afore them, should we see hir running alongst the river side, approch hir eare close to the yce, to listen whether by any farre or neere distance, she may heare the noyse or roa∣ring of the water, running vnder the same, and according as she perceiveth the ice thereby to be thicke or thinne, to goe either forward or backeward; might not we lawfully judge, that the same discourse possesseth hir head, as in like case it would ours? And that it is a kinde of debating-reason and consequence, drawen from naturall sense▪ Whatsoever maketh a noyse mo∣veth▪ whatsoever mooveth, is not frozen, whatsoever is not frozen, is liquide; whatsoever is liquide, yeelds vnder any weight? For to impute that only to a quicknes of the sense of hearing, without discourse or consequence, is but a fond conceipt, and cannot enter into my imagination. The like must be judged of so many wiles, and inventions, wherewith beasts save themselves from the snares, and scape the ba••ts we lay to entrap them. And if we will take hold of any advan∣tage tending to that purpose, that it is in our power to seize vpon them, to employ them to our service, and to vse them at our pleasure; it is but the same oddes we have one vpon ano∣ther. To which purpose wee have our slaves or bond-men; and were not the Climacides, certaine women in Syria, which creeping on al foure, vpon the ground, served the Ladies in steed of footstoles or ladders to get vp into their coches? Where the greater part of free men for very slight causes, abandon both their life and being, to the power of others. The wives and Concubines of the Thracians strive and contend, which of them shalbe chosen, to bee slaine over hir husbands or lovers tombe. Have tyrants ever failed to find many men vowed to their devotion? Where some for an over-plusse, or superergation have added this neces∣sity, that they must necessarily accompany them, as well in death, as in life. Whole hostes of men have thus tyed themselves vnto their Captaines. The tenor of the oath ministred vnto

the schollers, that entered and were admitted the rude schoole of Roman Gladiators, empli∣ed these promises: which was this. We vow and sweare, to suffer our selves, to be enchained, beaten, burned and killed with the sword, and endure whatsoever any lawfull fenser ought to endure for his maister: most religiously engaging both our bodie and soule to the vse of his service:

Ʋre meum si vis flamma caput, & pete ferr•• Corpus, & intorto verbere ••ergaseca.

Burnetyrant (if thou wilt) my head with fire, with sword▪ My body strike, my backe cut with hard-twisted cord

Was not this a very strict covenant? Yet were there some yeares ten thousand found, that entered and lost themselves in those schooles. When the Scithians buried their King, they, strangled over his dead body, first, the chiefest and best beloved of his Concubines, then his Cup-bearer, the Master of his horse, his Chamberlaine, the Vsher of his Chamber, and his master Cooke. And in his anniversary killed fiftie horse, mounted with fifty Pages, whom before, they had slaine with thrusting sharpe stakes into their fondament, which going vp a∣long their chine-bone, came out at their throte. Whom thus mounted; they set in orderly ranckes about the tombe. The men that serve-vs, doe it better cheape, and for a lesse curi∣ous, and favourable entreating, then wee vse vnto birdes, vnto horses, and vnto dogges. What carke and toyle, apply we not our selves vnto for their sakes? Me thinks, the vilest and basest servants, will never doe that so willingly for their Masters, which Princes are glad to doe for their beastes. Diogenes seeing his kinsfolkes, to take care how they might redeeme him out of thraldome; they are fooles (said he) for, it is my Master, that governeth, keepeth feedeth and serveth mee: And such as keepe or entertaine beasts, may rather say they serve them, than that they are served of them. And if they have that naturall greater magnanimi∣ty, that never Lyon was seene to subject himselfe vnto another Lyon, nor one Horse vnto another Horse, for want of heart. As wee hunt after beastes, so Tygers and Lyons hunt af∣ter men, and have a like exercise one vpon another: Hounds over the Hare; the Pike or Luce over the Tench; the Swallowes over the Grasse-hoppers, and the Sparrow-hawkes over Blacke-birds and Larkes.

serpente ciconia pullos Nutrit, & inventâ per devia rura lacertâ, Et leporem aut capream famulae Iovis, & generosae In saltu venantur aves.

The storke hir yong-ones feedes with serpents pray, And lyzerts found some where out of the way. Ioves servants-Eagles, hawkes of nobler kinde, In forrests hunt, a hare or kidde to finde.

We share the fruits of our prey with our dogges and hawkes, as a meede of their paine and reward of their industry. As about Amphipolis in Thrace, faulkners, and wilde hawks di∣vide their game equally: And as about the Maeotide-fennes, if fishers doe not very honestly leave behind them an even share of their fishings for the Woolves that range about those coasts, they presently runne and teare their nets. And, as we have a kinde of fishing, rather managed by sleight, then strength, as that of hooke and line about our Angling-rods, so haue beasts amongst themselves. Aristotle reporteth, that the Cuttle-Fish, casteth along got out of hir throte, which like a line she sendeth forth, and at her pleasure pulleth it in againe, ac∣cording as she perceiveth some little fish come neere hir, who being close-hidden in the gravell or stronde, letteth him nibble or bite the end of it, and then by little and little drawes it in vnto hir, vntill the Fish be so neere, that with a sodaine leape she may catch-it. Touch∣ing strength, there is no Creature in the world, open to so many wrongs and injuries as man: He neede not a Whale, an Elephant, nor a Crocodile, nor any such other wilde beast, of which one alone is of power to defeat a great number of men: seely lice are able to make Sil∣la give over his Dictatorship: The hart and life of a mighty and triumphant Emperor, is but the break-fast of a seely little Worme. Why say we, that skill to discerne, and knowledge to make choyse (gotten by art, and acquired by discourse) of things good for this life, and avail∣full against sicknesse, and so distinguish of those which are hurtfull, and to know the vertue of Reubarbe, qualitie of Oake ferne, and operation of Polipodie, is only peculiar vnto man▪

When we see the Goates of Candia, being shotte with an arrow, to choose from out a million of simples, the hearbe Dittamy or Garden-ginger, and therewith cure themselves; and the Tortoise having eaten of a Viper, immediatly to seek for Origan or wild Marjoram, to purge hirselfe: the Dragon to run and cleare his eies with fenel: the Cranes with their bils to mini∣ster glisters of sea-water vnto themselves; the Elephants to pul out, not only from themselves and their fellowes, but also from their masters (witnesse that of King Porus, whom Alexan∣der defeated) such j••v••lines or dartes, as in fight have beene thirled or shot at them▪ so nim∣bly and so cunningly, as our selves could never do it so easily, and with so little paine: Why say wee not likewise that that is science, and prudence in them? For, if to de pres••e them, some would alleadge, it is by the onely instruction and instinct of Nature, they know-it; that will not take the name of science, and title of prudence from them; it is rather to ascribe it vnto them, then to vs, for the honour of so assured a schoole-mistris. Chrysippus, albeit in other things as disdainful a judge of the condition of beasts, as any other Philosopher, considering the earnest movings of the dog, who comming into a path, that led three severall wayes, in search or quest of his Master, whom he had lost, or in pursuite of some prey, that hath e∣scaped him, goeth senting first one way, and then another, and having assured himself of two, because he findeth not the tracke of what he hunteth-for, without more adoe, furiously be∣takes himselfe to the third; he is enforced to confesse, that such a dogge must necessarily dis∣course thus with himselfe. I have followed my Masters footing hit her to, hee must of necessity passe by one of these three wayes; it is neither this nor that, then consequently hee is gone this other. And by this conclusion or discourse assuring himselfe, comming to the third path, hee vsetli his sense no more, nor soundes-it any longer, but by the power of reason suffers himselfe vi∣olently to be caried through-it. This meere logicall tricke, and this vse of divided and con∣joyned propositions, and of the sufficient numbring of parts: Is it not as good, that the dog know it by himselfe, as by Trapezuntius his logicke? Yet are not beastes altogether vnapt to be instructed after our maner. We teach Blacke-birds, Starlines, Ravens, Plots, and Pasots to chat; and that facilitie we perceive in them, to lend vs their voyce so supple, and th•••••• wind so tractable, that so wee may frame and bring-it to a certaine number of letters and silables, witnesseth, they have a kind of inward reason, which makes them so docile, and willing to learne. I thinke every man is cloid and wearied••, with seeing so many apish and mimmike trickes, that juglers teach their Dogges, as the dances, where they misse not one eadence of the sounds or notes they heare: Marke but the divers turnings, and severall kinds of motions, which by the commandement of their bare wordes they make them performe: But I won∣der not a little at the effect, which is ordinary amongst vs; and that is, the dogs which blinde men vse, both in Cittie and Country: I have observed how sodainly they will stoppe when they come before some dores, where they are wont to receive almes; how carefully they will avoyde the shocke of Cartes and Coaches, even when they have roume enough to passe by them selves. I have seene some, going along a Towne-ditch, leave a plaine and even path, and take a worse, that so they might draw-their Master from the ditch. How could a man make the dog conceive, his charge was only to looke to his masters safetie, and for his service ••o despise his owne commoditie and good? And how should he have the knowledge, that such a path would be broade inough for him, but not for a blinde man? Can all this be con∣ceived without reason? We must not forget what Plutarke affirmeth to have seene a dog in Rome doe, before the Emperour Vespasian the father, in the Theatre of Marcellus. This Dogge served a jugler, who was to play a fiction of many faces, and sundry countenances, there he also was to act a part. Amongst other things, he was for a long while to counter∣fet and faine himselfe dead, because he had eaten of a certaine drugge: having swallowed a peece of bread, which was supposed to be the drug, he began sodainly to stagger and shake, as if he had beene giddie, then stretching and laying himselfe along, as stiffe as if hee were starke-dead, suffered himselfe to be dragged and haled from one place to another, according to the subject and plot of the play, and when he knew his time, first he began faire and softly to stirre, as if he were rouzed out of a dead slumber, then lifting vp his head, hee looked and stared so gastly, that all the by-standers were amazed. The Oxen, which in the Kings gar∣dens of Susa were taught to water them, and to draw water out of deepe Welles, turned cer∣taine great wheeles, to which were fastned great buckets (as in many places of Languedoke is commonly seene) and being every one appoynted to draw just a hundred turnes a day, they

were so accustomed to that number, as it was impossible by any compulsion to make them draw one more, which taske ended they would suddenly stop. We are growne striplings be∣fore we can tell a hundred; and many Nations have lately beene discovered, that never knew what numbers meant. More discourse is required to teach others, then to be taught. And omitting what Democritus judged and prooved, which is, that beastes have instructed vs in most of our Artes: As the Spider to weave and sew, the Swollow to build, the Swan, and the Nightingale musicke, and divers beastes, by imitating them, the Arte of Physicke: Aristotle is of opinion, that Nightingales teach their yoong-ons to sing, wherein they employ both long time and much care: whence it followeth, that those which we keepe tame in Cages and have not had leasure to goe to their Parents schoole, lose much grace in their singing. Whereby we may conclude, they are much amended by discipline and study. And amongst those that run wilde, their song is not all one, nor alike. Each one hath learnt either better or worse, according to his capacity. And so jealous are they in their prentise-ship, that to excell one another, they will so stoutly contend for the mastery, that many times, such as are van∣quished die; their wind and strength sooner failing then their voice. The yoong-ones wil ve∣ry sadly sit recording their lesson, and are often seene labouring how to imitate certain song∣notes: The Scholler listneth attentively to his Masters Lesson, and carefully yeeldeth ac∣count of it; now one and then another shall hold his peace: Marke but how they endevour to amend their faults, and how the elder striveth to reproove the yoongest. Arrius protest∣eth to have seene an Elephant, who on every thigh having a Cimball hanging, and one fast∣ned to his truncke, at the found of which, all other Elephants danced in a round, now rising aloft, then lowting full low at certaine cadences, even as the instrument directed them, and was much delighted with the harmony. In the great shewes of Rome, Elephants were ordina∣rily seene, taught to moove and dance at the sound of a voice, certaine dances, wherein were many strange shifts, enter-changes, caprings, and cadences, very hard to be learned. Some have beene noted to konne and practise their lessons, vsing much study and care, as being loath to be chidden and beaten of their masters. But the tale of the Piot is very strange, which Plutarke confidently witnesseth to have seene: This Iay was in a Barbers shop of Rome, and was admirable in counterfaiting with hir voice whatsoever she heard: It fortuned one day, that certaine Trumpeters staied before this shop, and there sounded a good while; and being gone, all that day, and the next after, the Piot began to be very sad, silent, and melancholy, whereat all men marvelled, and surmized that the noise or clang of the Trumpets had thus affrighted and dizzied hir, and that with hir hearing she had also lost hir voice. But at last they found, she was but in a deepe study, and dumpish retracting into hir selfe, exercising hir minde, and preparing hir voice, to represent the sound, and expresse the noise of the Trumpets she had heard: And the first voice she vttered was that, wherein she perfectly expressed their straines, their closes, and their changes: having by hir new Prentiship altogether quit, and as it were, scorned what ever shee could prattle before. I will not omit to alleadge another example of a Dogge, which Plutarke also saith to have seene (as for any order or methode, I know very well I doe but confound it, which I observe no more in ranging these examples, than I doe in all the rest of my businesse) who being in a ship, noted that this Dogge was in great perplexity how to get some Oyle out of a deepe Pitcher, which by reason of it's narrow mouth, he could not reach with his tongue, got him pre∣sently some Pibble-stones, and put so many into the Iarre, that he made the Oyle come vp so neare the brimme, as he could easily reach and licke some. And what is that but the ef∣fect of a very subtill spirit? It is reported, that the Ravens of Barbary will doe the like, when the water they would drinke is too low. This action doth somewhat resemble that, which Iuba a King of that Nation relateth of their Elephants; that when through the wiles of those who chase them, any one chanceth to fall into certaine deepe pittes, which they prepare for them, and to deceive them, they cover over with reedes, shrubs, and boughes, his fellowes will speedily with all diligence bring great store of stones and peeces of timber, that so they may helpe to recover him out againe. But this beast hath in many other effects, such affinity with mans sufficiency, that would I particularly trace out what experience hath taught, I should easily get an affirmation of what I so ordinarily maintaine, which is, that there is more difference found betweene such and such a man, than betweene such a beast and such a man. An Elephants keeper in a private house of Syria, was wont every meale

to steale away halfe of the allowance which was alotted him; it fortuned on a day, his master would needes feede him himselfe, and having poured that just measure of barly, which for his allowance hee had prescribed him, into his manger: the Elephant sternely eying his master, with his truncke divided the provender in two equall partes, and laide the one a side, by which he declared the wrong his keeper did him. An other having a keeper, who to en∣crease the measure of his provender, was wont to mingle stones with it, came one day to the pot which with meat in it for his keepers dinner was seething over the fire, and filled it vp with asnes. These are but particular effects: But that which all the world hath seene, and all men know, which is, that in all the armies that came out of the East, their chiefest strength consisted in their Elephants by whom they reaped, without comparison, farre greater effects, than now adaies we do by our great Ordonance, which in a maner holds their place in a ran∣ged battell (such as have any knowledge in ancient Histories may easily guesse it to be true)

—si quidem Tyrio servire solebant Anibalt, & nostris ducibus, regi{que} Molosso Horum maiores, & dorso ferre cohortes, Partem aliquam belli, & euntem in praelia turmam.

Their elders vsde great Hannibal to steede Our Leaders, and Molossian Kings at neede, And on their backe to beare strong-guarding Knights, Part of the warre, and troupes addrest to fights.

A man must needes rest assured of the confidence they had in these beasts, and of their discourse, yeelding the front of a battell vnto them; where the least stay they could have made, by reason of the hugenesse and weight of their bodies, and the least amazement that might have made them turne head vpon their owne men, had bin sufficient to lose all. And few examples have been noted, that ever it fortuned they turned vpon their owne troupes, whereas we head-long throng one vpon another, and so are put to rowt: They had charge given them, not onely of one simple mooving, but of many and severall parts in the com∣bate: As the Spaniards did to their dogges in their new conquest of the Iudias; to whom they gave wages, and imparted their booties; which beasts shewed as much dexteritie in pursuing, and judgement in staying their victorie, in charging, or retreating, and as occasi∣on served in distinguishing their friends from their enemies, as they did earnestnesse and ea∣gernes: we rather admire and consider strange than common things: without which I should never so long have ammused my selfe about this tedious catalogue. For, in my judgement he that shall neerely checke, what we ordinarily see in those beasts that live amongst vs, shall in them finde as wonderful effects, as those, which with so much toile are collected in far coun∣tries and passed ages. It is one same nature, which stil doth keep her course. He that through∣ly should judge her present estate, might safely conclude, both what shall happen, and what is past. I have seene amongst vs, men brought by sea from distant countries, whose language, because we could in no wise vnderstand, and that their fashions, their countenance, and their clothes did altogether differ from ours; who of vs did not deeme them brutish and savage? who did not impute their mutenesse vnto stupiditie or beastlines, and to see them ignorant of the French tongue, of our kissing the handes, of our low-lowting courtesies, of our be∣haviour and carriage, by which, without contradiction, humane nature ought to take her patterne? Whatsoever seemeth strange vnto vs, and we vnderstand not, we blame and con∣demne. The like befalleth vs in our judging of beasts. They have diverse qualities, which somewhat simbolize with ours: from which, we may comparatively draw some conjecture, but of such as are peculiar vnto them, what know wee what they are? Horses, Dogges, Oxen, Sheepe, Birdes, and the greater number of sensitive cratures that live amongst vs, knowe our voyce, and by it suffer themselves to be directed. So did the Lamprey which Crassus had, and came to him when he called it; so do the Eeles that breed in Arethusaes fountaine. And my selfe have seene some fish-pondes, where, at a certaine crie of those that kept them, the fish would presently come to shoare, where they were wont to be fed.

—nomen habent, & ad magistri Ʋocem quisque sui venit citatus.

They have their proper names, and every one Comes at his masters voyce, as call'd vpon

By which we may judge, and conclude, that Elephants have some apprehension of reli∣gion, forsomuch as after diverse washings and purifications, they are seene to lift vp their truncke, as we doe our armes, and at certaine hours of the day, without any instruction, of their owne accorde, holding their eies fixed towardes the Sunne-rising, fall into a long me∣ditating contemplation: yet, because wee see no such apparance in other beasts, may wee righly conclude, that they are altogether voide of religion, and may not take that in pay∣ment, which is hidden from vs. As we perceive something in that action, which the Phy∣losopher Cleanthes well observed, because it somewhat drawes neere vnto ours. He saw (as himselfe reporteth) a company of Emmets goe from their nest, bearing amongst them the body of a dead Ant, toward another Emmets nest, from which many other Ants came, as it were to meete them by the way to parly with them, who after they had continued together a while, they which came last, returned backe, to consult (as you may imagine) with their fel∣low-citizens, and because they could hardly come to any capitulation; they made two or three voyages to and fro: In the end, the last come, brought vnto the other a worme from their habitation, as for a ransome of the dead, which worme the first company tooke vpon their backes, and carried it home, leaving the dead body vnto the other. Loe heere the interpretation that Cleanthes gave it: Witnessing thereby, that those creatures which have no voice at all, have neverthelesse mutual commerce, and enterchangeable communication, whereof if we be not partakers, it is onely our fault; and therfore doe we fondly to censure it. And they yet produce divers other effects, farre surpassing our capacity, and so farre out of the reach of our imitation, that even our thoughts are vnable to conceive them. Many hold opinion, that in the last and famous sea-fight, which Antonie lost against Augustus, his Ad∣mirall-gally was in hir course staied by that little fish, the Latines call Remora, and the Eng∣lish a Sucke-stone, whose property is, to stay any ship he can fasten himselfe vnto. And the Emperour Caligula, sailing with a great fleete along the coast of Romania, his owne Gally was suddenly staied by such a fish, which he caused to be taken sticking fast to the keele moodily raging, that so little a creature had the power to force both sea and winde, and the violence of all his oares, onely with hir bill sticking to his Gally (for it is a kinde of shell-fish) and was much more amazed when he perceived the fish, being brought aboord his ship, to have no longer that powerfull vertue, which it had, being in the Sea. A certaine Citizen of Cyzicum, whilom purchased vnto himselfe the reputation to be an excellent Mathematitian, because he had learn't the quality of the Hedge-hogge, whose property is to build his hole or denne, open diverse waies, and toward severall windes, and fore-seeing rising stormes, he presently stoppeth the holes that way; which thing the foresaid Citizen heedfully observing, would in the City foretell any future storme, and what winde should blow. The Cameleon taketh the colour of the place wherein he is. The fish called a Pourcontrell, or Manie-feete, chang∣eth himselfe into what colour he lists, as occasion offereth it selfe; that so he may hide him∣selfe from what he feareth, and catch what he seeketh for. In the Camelion it is a change proceeding of passion, but in the Pourcontrell a change in action; we our selves doe often change our colour, and altar our countenance, through sudden feare, choler, shame, and such like violent passions, which are wont to alter the hew of our faces: but it is by the effect of sufferance, as in the Cameleon. The jaundise hath power to make vs yelow, but it is not in the disposition of our wils. The effects we perceive in other creatures, greater than ours, witnesse some more excellent faculty in them, which is concealed from vs; as it is to be sup∣posed, diverse others of their conditions and forces are, whereof no apperance or knowledge commeth to vs. Of all former praedictions, the ancientest and most certaine were such as were drawen from the flight of birds: we have nothing equall vnto it, nor so admirable. The rule of fluttering, and order of shaking their wings, by which they conjecture the consequen∣ces of things to ensue, must necessarily be directed to so noble an operation by some excel∣lent and supernaturall meane: For, it is a wresting of the letter, to attribute so wondrous ef∣fects, to any naturall decree, without the knowledge, consent, or discourse of him, that cau∣seth and produceth them, and is a most false opinion: Which to proove, the Torpedo or Cramp-fish hath the property to benumme and astonish, not onely the limbes of those that touch it, but also theirs, that with any long pole or fishing line touch any part thereof, shee doth transmit and convey a kinde of heavie numming into the hands of those that stirre or handle the same: Moreover, it is averred, that if any matter be cast vpon them, the astonish∣ment

is sensibly felt to gaine vpward vntill it come to the handes, and even through the wa∣ter it astonisheth the feeling-sence. Is not this a wonderfull power? Yet is it not altogether vnprofitable for the Cramp-fish, she both knowes and makes vse of it: for to catch prey she pursueth, she is seene to hide hirselfe vnder the mudde, that, other fishes swimming over hir, strucken and benummed with hir exceeding coldnesse, may fall into hir clawes. The Cranes, Swallowes, and other wandering birdes, changing their abode, according to the seasons of the yeare, shew evidently the knowledge they have of their fore divining faculty, and often put the same in vse. Hunters assure vs, that to chuse the best dogge, and which they purpose to keepe from our a litter of other yoong whelpes, there is no better meane than the damme hirselfe: for, if they be remooved from out their kennell, him that she first brings th••ther a∣gaine, shall alwaies proove the best; or if one but encompasse hir kennell with fire, looke which of hir whelpes she first seeketh to save, is vndoubtedly the best: whereby it appeareth, they have a certaine vse of Prognosticating, that we have not; or else some hidden vertue, to judge of their yoong ones, different and more lively then ours. The manner of all beasts breeding, engendering, nourishing, working, mooving, living and dying, being so neere to ours, what ever we abridge from their mooving causes, and adde to our condition above theirs, can no way depart from our reasons discourse. For a regiment of our health, Phisiti∣ous propose the example of beasts manner of life and proceeding vnto vs: for this common saying is alwaies in the peoples mouth:

Tenez chauds les pieds. & la teste, Au demeurant vivez en beste.

Keepe warme (t'is meete) thy head and feete: In all the rest, live like a beast.

Generation is the chiefest naturall action: we have a certaine disposition of some mem∣bers, fittest for that purpose; neverthelesse, they bid vs range our selves vnto a brutish situa∣tion and disposition, as most effectuall:

—more ferarum, Quadrupedúm{que} magis ritu, plerúmque putantur Concipere vxores: quia sic loca sumere possunt, Pectoribus positis, sublatis semina lumbis.

And reject those indiscreete and insolent motions, which women have so luxuriously found out, as hurtfull: conforming them to the example and vse of beastes of their sex, as more modest and considerate.

Nam mulier prohibet se concipere, at que repugnat, Clunib••s ipsa viri Venerem si laet a retractet, Atque exessat•• ciet omni pectore fluctus, Eij••it enim sulci recta regione viáque Vomerem, atque locis avert it ••eminis ictum.

If it be justice to give every one his due, beastes which serve, love, and defend their bene∣factors, pursue and outrage strangers, and such as offend them, by so doing they represent some shew of our justice, as also in reserving a high kinde of equality in dispensing of what they have to their yoong-ones. Touching friendship, without all comparison, they professe it more lively and shew it more constantly, then men. Hircanus a dog of Lysimachus the king, his master being dead, without eating or drinking would never come from off his bed, and when the dead corpes was remooved thence, he followed it, and lastly flung himselfe into the fire, where his master was burned. As did also the dogge of one called Pyrrhus, who after he was dead, would never budge from his masters couch, and when he was remooved, suffe∣red himselfe to be carried away with him, and at last flung himselfe into the fire wherein his master was consumed. There are certaine inclinations of affection, which without counsell of reason arise somtimes in vs, proceeding of a casuall temerity, which some call Sympathic: beasts as wel as men are capable of it. We see horses take a kinde of acquaintance one of ano∣ther, so that often, travelling by the high-way, or feeding together, we have much ado to keep them asunder, wee see them bend and applie their affections to some of their fellowes co∣lours, as if it were vpon a certaine visage; and when they meete with any such, with signes of joy, and demonstration of good will, to joine and accost them, and to hate aud shunne some other formes and colours. Beastes, as well as wee, have choise in their loves, and are

very nice in chusing of their mates. They are not altogether voide of our extreame and vn∣appesable jealousies. Lustful desires are either natural, and necessary, as eating and drinking; or else naturall and not necessary, as the acquaintance of males and females: or else neither necessary nor naturall: Of this last kinde are almost all mens: For, they are all superfluous and artificiall. It is wonderfull to see with how little, nature will be satisfied, and how little she hath left for vs to be desired. The preparations in our Kitchins, doe nothing at all concerne hir lawes. The Stoikes say, that a man might very well sustaine himselfe with one Olivea day. The delicacy of our wines, is no part of hir lesson, no more is the surcharge and relish∣ing, which we adde vnto our letcherous appetites.

—neque illa Magno prognatum deposcit consule cunnum.

These strange lustfull longings, which the ignorance of good, and a false opinion have possest vs with, are in number so infinite, that in a maner they expell all those which are na∣turall: even as if there were so many strangers in a City, that should either banisn and expel all the naturall inhabitants thereof, or vtterly suppresse their ancient power and authority, and absolutely vsurping the same, take possession of it. Brute beasts are much more regulate then we; and with more moderation containe themselves within the compasse, which nature hath prescribed them: yet not so exactly, but that they have some coherency with our rio∣tous licenciousnesse. And even as there have beene found certaine furious longings and vn∣naturall desires, which have provoked men vnto the love of beastes, so have diverse times some of them beene drawne to love vs, and are possessed with monstrous affections from one kind to another: witnesse the Elephant, that in the love of an hearb-wife, in the city of Alex∣andria, was corivall with Aristophanes, the Grammarian; who in all offices pertayning to an earnest woer and passionate suter, yeelded nothing vnto him: For, walking thorow the Fruite-market, he would here and there snatch vp some with his truncke, and carry them vn∣to hir: as neere as might be he would never loose the sight of hir: and now and then over hir band put his truncke into hir bosome, and feele hir breasts. They also report of a Dra∣gon, that was exceedingly in love with a yong maiden; and of a Goose in the City of Asope, which dearely loved a yong childe: also of a Ramme that belonged to the Musitian Glausia. Doe we not daily see Munkies ragingly in love with women, and furiously to pursue them? And certaine other beastes given to love the males of their owne sex? Oppianus and others report some examples, to shew the reverence and manifest the awe, some beasts in their marriages, beare vnto their kindred: but experience makes vs often see the con∣trary:

——nec habetur turpe iuvencae Ferre patrem tergo: fit equo sua filia coniux: Quàsque creavit, init pecudes caper: ipsaque cuius Semine concepta est, ex illo concipit ales

To beare hir Sire the Heifer shameth not: The Horse takes his owne Fillies maiden-head: The Goate gets them with yong, whom he begot: Birds breed by them, by whom themselves were bred,

Touching a subtil pranke and witty tricke, is there any so famous as that of Thales the Phi∣losophers Mule, which, laden with salt, passing through a River chanced to stumble, so that the sacks she carried were all wet, and perceiving the salt (because the water had mel∣ted it) to grow lighter, ceased not, assoone as she came neere any water, together with hir loade to plunge hirselfe therein, vntill hir master, being aware of hir craft, commanded hir to be laden with wooll, which being wet became heavier; the Mule finding hirselfe decei∣ved, vsed hir former policy no more. There are many of them, that lively represent the vi∣sage of our avarice, who with a greedy kinde of desire endevour to surprise whatsoever comes within their reach, and though they reape no commodity, nor have any vse of it, to hide the same very curiously. As for husbandry, they exceede vs, not only in fore-sight to spare, and gather together for times to come, but have also many parts of the skill belonging there vn∣to. As the Ants, when they perceive their corne to grow mustie, and graine to be sowre, for feare it should rot and putrifie, spread the same abroad before their neastes, that so it may aire and drie. But the caution they vse in gnawing, and prevention they imploy in paring their

graines of wheate, is beyond all imagination of mans wit: Because wheat doth not alwaies keepe drie nor wholesome, but moisten, melt and dissolve into a kinde of whey, namely when it beginneth to bud, fearing it should turne to seede, and loose the nature of a store∣house, for their sustenance, they part and gnawe-off the end whereat it wonts to bud. As for warre, which is the greatest and most glorious of all humane actions, I would faine know, if we will vse it for an argument of some prerogative, or otherwise for a testimonie of our imbecilitie and imperfection, as in truth, the science wee vse to defeate and kill one another, to spoile and vtterly to overthrow our owne kinde, it seemeth, it hath not much to make it selfe to be wished-for in beastes, that have it not.

—quando leoni Fortioreripuit vitam leo, quo nemore vnquam Expiravit aper maioris dentibus apri?

When hath a greater Lion damnifide A lions life? in what wood ever di'de, A bore by tusks and gore, Of any greater bore?

Yet are not they altogether exempted from it: witnesse the furious encounters of Bees, and the hostile enterprises of the Princes and Leaders of the two contrary Armies.

—saepe duobus Regibus incessit magno discordia motu, Continuo{que} animos vulgi & trepidantia bello Corda licet longè praesciscere.—

Oft-times twixt two no great Kings great dissention With much adoe doth set them at contention; The vulgare mindes strait may you see from farre, And hearts that tremble at the thought of warre.

I nevr marke this divine description, but mee thinkes I reade humane foolishnesse and wordly vanitie painted in it. For, these motions of warre, which out of their horror and a∣stonishent breed this tempest of cries, and clang of sounds in vs:

Fulgur vbi ad caelumse tollit, tota{que} circum Aere renidescit tellus, subter{que} virum vi Excitur pedibus sonitus, clamore{que} montes Icti reiectant voces ad sider a mundi:

Where lightning raiseth it selfe to the skies, The earth shines round with armour, soundes doe rise By mens force vnder feere, wounded with noyse The hilles to heav'n reverberate their voyce.

This horror-causing aray of so many thousands of armed men, so great furie, earnest fer∣vor, and vndaunted courage, it would make one laugh to see by how many vaine occasi∣ons it is raised and set on fire, and by what light meanes it is againe suppressed and extinct.

—Paridis propter narratur amorem Grae••ta Barbariediro collisa duello.

For Paris lustfull love (as Stories tell) All Greece to direfull warre with Asia fell:

The hatred of one man, a spight, a pleasure, a familiar suspect, or a jealousie; causes, which ought not to moove two scolding fish-wives to scratch one another, is the soule and motive of all this hurly-burly. Shall we beleeve them that are the principall authors and causes ther∣of? Let vs but hearken vnto the greatest and most victitorious Emperour, and the mightiest that ever was, how pleasantly he laughs, and wittily he plaies, at so many battells and bloody fights, hazarded both by sea and land, at the blood and lives of five hundred thousand soules which followed his fortune, and the strength and riches of twoo parts of the world consu∣med and drawne drie for the service of his enterprise:

Quòd futuit Glaphyran Antonius, hanc mihi poenam Fulvia constituit, se quoqe vtifutuam: Fulviam ego vtfutuam? quid si me Manius oret Paedicem, faciam? non puto, si sapiam.

Aut futue, aut pugnemu••ait: quid si mihivita Charior est ipsa mentula? Signa canant.

(I vse my Latine somewhat boldly, but it is with that leave which yon have given mee,) This vaste huge bodie hath so many faces and severall motion, which seeme to threat both heauen and earth.

Quám multi Lybico volvuntur marmore fluctus Saevus vbi Orion hyberu••s conditur vndis: Velcùm sole novo densae torrentur arist••, Aùt Hermi campo, aut Lyciae flaventibus arvis, Scuta sonant, pulsu{que} pedum tremit excita tellus.

As many waves, as rowle in Affricke marble-soundes, When fierce Oryon hides in Winter waves his head: Or when thicke-eares of Corne are parch't by Sunne new-spredde. In Hermus fruitfull fields, or Lycaees yellow grounds, With noyse of shields and feete, the trembling earth so sounds.

This many-headed, divers-armed, and furiously-raging-monster, is man; wretched weake and miserable man: whom if you consider well, what is he, but a crawling, and ever-moving Antes-neast••

It nigrum campis agmen:—

The sable-coloured band, Marches along the Land.

A gust of contrarie winds, the croking of a flight of Ravens, the false pase of a Horse, the casual flight of an Eagle, a dreame, a sodaine voyce, a false signe, a mornings mist, an evening fogge, are enough to overthrow, sufficient to overwhelme and able to pul him to the ground. Let the Sunne but shine hote vpon his face, hee faintes and swelters with heate: Cast but a little dust in his eyes, as to the Bees mentioned by our Poet, all our ensignes, all our legions, yea great Pompey himselfe in the forefront of them is overthrowne and put to route (For as I remember it was he whom Sertorius vanquished in Spaine, with all those goodly armes.) This also served Eumenes against Antigonus, and Surena against Crassus:

Hi motus animorum, at{que} haec certamina tanta, Pulveris exigui tactu compressaquiescent.

These stomake-motions, these contentions great, Clam'd with a little dust, strait loose their heate,

Let-vs but vncouple some of our ordinary flies, and let loose a few gnats amongst them, they shall have both the force to scatter, and courage to consume him. The Portugalls not long since beleagring the City of Tamly, in the territory of Xiatine, the inhabitants thereof, brought great store of Hives, )whereof they have plentie) vpon their walls: And with fire drove them so forcible vpon their enemies, who as vnable to abide their assaults, and endure their stingings, left their enterprize. Thus by this new kinde of helpe was the liberty of the Towne gained, and victory purchased; with so happy successe, that in their retreating, there was not one townes-man found wanting. The soules of Emperours and Coblers are all cast in one same mould. Considering the importance of Princes actions, and their weight, wee per∣swade our selves, they are brought forth by some as weighty and important causes; wee are deceived: They are mooved, stirred and remooved in their motions, by the same springs and wardes, that wee are in ours. The same reason that makes vs chide and braule, and fall out with anie of our neighboures, causeth a warre to follow betweene Princes; The same rea∣son that makes vs whip or beate a lackey, maketh a Prince (if hee apprehend it) to spoyle and waste a whole Province. They have as easie a will as we, but they can doe much more. Alike desires perturbe both a skinne-worme, and an Elephant. Thouching trust and faithfulnesse there is no creature in the worlde so treacherous as man. Our histories report the earnest pur∣suite and sharpe chase, that some Dogges have made for the death of their masters. King Pir∣rhus finding a Dog, that watched a dead man, and vnderstanding he had done so three daies and nights together, commanded the corps to be enterred, and tooke the Dog along with him. It fortuned one day (as Pirrhus was survaying the Generall Musters of his Army) the Dog perceiving in that multitude, the man who had murthered his maister, loud-barking, and with great rage ran furiously vpon him; by which signes he furthered and procured his maisters revenge, which by way of justice, was shortly executed. Even so did the Dogge be∣longing

to Hesiodus, surnamed the wise, having convicted the children of Canister of Nau∣pactus, of the murther committed on his Masters person. Another Dogge being appoin∣ted to watch a Temple in Athens, having perceived a sacrelegious theefe, to carrie away the fairest jewels therein, barked at him so long as he was able, and seeing he could not awaken the Sextons or Temple-keepers, followed the theefe, whither-soever he went; daie-light be∣ing come, he kept himselfe a loof-off, but never lost the sight of him: if he offered him meat, he vtterly refused it; but if any passenger chanced to come by, on them he fawned, with wag∣ing his taile, and tooke whatever they offered him; If the theefe staied to rest himselfe, he also stayed in the same place: The newes of this Dogge being come to the Temple-keepers, they as they went along, enquiring of the Dogs haire and colour, pursued his tracke so long, that at last they found both the Dog and the theefe in the Citie of Cromyon, whom they brought backe to Athens, where for his offence he was severely punished. And the judges in acknowledgement of the Dogges good office, at the Cities charge appointed him for his sustenance a certaine daily measure of Corne, and enjoyned the Priests of the Temple, care∣fully to looke vnto him. Plutarke affirmeth this storie to be most true, and to have hapned in his time. Touching gratitude and thankfulnesse, (for me thinks we have need to further this word greatly) this onely example shall suffice, of which Appion reporteth to have been aspectator himselfe. One day (saith he) that the Senate of Rome, (to please and recreate the common people) caused a great number of wilde beasts to be baited, namely huge great Li∣ons, it so fortuned, that there was one amongst the rest, who by reason of his furious and stately carriage, of his vnmatched strength, of his great limmes, and of his loude, and ter∣ror-causing roaring, drew all by-standers eyes to gaze vpon him. Amongst other slaves, that in sight of all the people were presented to encounter with these beasts, there chanced to be one Androdus of Dacia, who belonged vnto a Roman Lord, who had been Consull. This huge Lion, having eyed him a far off, first made a suddaine stop, as strucken into a kind of admiration, then with a milde and gentle countenance, as if he would willingly have taken acquaintance of him, faire and softly approached vnto him: Which done, and resting, assu∣red he was the man he tooke him for, begun fawningly to wagge his taile, as dogges doe that fawne vpon their new-sound masters, and licke the poore and miserable slaves hands and thighes, who through feare was almost out of his wits and halfe dead. Androdus at last ta∣king hart of grace; and by reason of the Lions mildenesse having rouzed vp his spirits, and wishly fixing his eies vpon him, to see whether he could call him to remembrance; it was to all beholders a singular pleasure to observe the love, the joy, and blandishments, ech endevo∣red to enter-shew one another. Whereat the people raising a loud crie, and by their shouting and clapping of hands seeming to be much pleased; the Emperour willed the slave to be brought before him, as desirous to vnderstand of him the cause of so strange and seld-seene an accident: Who related this new, and wonderfull storie vnto him.

My master (said he) being Proconsull in Affrica, forsomuch as he caused me every day to be most cruelly beaten, and held me in so rigorous bondage, I was constrained, as being wearie of my life, to run away: And safely to scape from so eminent a person, and who had so great authoritie in the Countrie, I thought it best to get me into the desert, and most vn∣frequented wildernesses of that region, with a full resolution, if I could not compasse the meanes to sustaine my selfe, to finde one way or other, with violence to make my selfe away. One day, the Sunne about noone-tide being extreamly hote, and the scorching heat thereof intollerable, I fortuned to come vnto a wilde vnhanted cave, hidden amongst crags, and almost inaccessible, and where I imagined no footing had ever been; therein I hid my selfe: I had not long been there, but in comes this Lion, with one of his pawes sore hurt, and bloody-goared, wailing for the smart, and groaning for the paine he felt; at whose arrivall, I was much dismaide, but he seeing me lie close-cowring in a corner of his den, gently made his approaches vnto me, holding forth his goared paw toward me, and seemed with shew∣ing the same humbly to sue, and suppliantly to beg for help at my hands. I, moved with ruth, taking it into my hand, pulled out a great splint, which was gotten into-it, and shaking∣off all feare, first I wrung and crusht his sore, and caused the filth and matter, which therein was gathered, to come forth; then, as gently as for my hart I could, I cleansed, wiped, and dried the same. He feeling some ease in his griefe, and his paine to cease, still holding his foote betweene my hands, began to sleep and take some rest. Thence forward he and I lived

together, the full space of three years in his den, with such meat as he shifted-for: For, what beasts he killed, or what prey soever he tooke, he ever brought home the better part, and shared-it with me, which for want of fire, I rosted in the Sunne, and therewith nourished my selfe all that while. But at last wearied with this kinde of brutish life, the Lion being one day gone to purchase his wonted pray, I left the place, hoping to mend my fortunes, and having wandred vp and downe three dayes, I was at last taken by certaine Souldiers, which from Africa brought me into this Citie to my Master againe, who immediately condemned me to death, and to be devoured by wilde beasts. And as I now perceive, the same Lion was also shortly after taken, who as you see hath now required me of the good turne I did him, and the health which by my meanes he recoved. Behold heer the historie, Androdus reported vnto the Emperour, which after he caused to be declared vnto all the people, at whose ge∣nerall request, he was forthwith set at libertie, and quit of his punishment, and by the com∣mon consent of all, had the Lion bestowed vpon him. Appion saith further, that Androdus was daily seen to leade the Lion vp and downe the streets of Rome, tied onely with a little twine, and walking from taverne to taverne, received such money as was given him, who would gently suffer himselfe to be handled, touched, decked, and strowed with flowers, all over and over, many saying when they met him: yonder is the Lion that is the mans hoste, and yonder is the man that is the Lions Phisitian. We often mourne and weepe, for the losse of those beasts we love, so doe they many times for the losse of vs.

Post bellator equus positis insignibus Aethon. It lacrimans, guttisque humectat grandibus ora.

Next Aethon horse of warre, all ornaments laide downe, Goes weeping, with great drops bedewe's his cheekes a downe.

As some of our nations have wives in common, and some in severall, each man keeping himselfe to his owne; so have some beasts; yet some there are, that observe their marriages, with as great respect as we doe ours. Touching the mutuall societie, and reciprocall confe∣deration, which they devise amongst themselves, that so they may be fast combined toge∣ther, and in times of need help one another, it is apparant, that if Oxen, Hogs, and other beasts being hurt by vs, chance to crie, all the heard runnes to aide him, and in his defense will joine all together. The fish, called of the Latines Scarus, having swallowed the fishers hooke, his fellowes will presently flocke about him, and nibble the line in sunder; and if any of them happen to be taken in a bow-net, some of his fellowes turning his head away, will put his taile in at the necke of the net, who with his teeth fast-holding the same, never leave him, vntill they have pulled him out. The Barble fishes, if one of them chance to be enga∣ged, will set the line against their backes, and with a fin they have, toothed like a sharp saw, presently saw and fret the same asunder. Concerning particular offices, which we for the benefit of our life, draw one from an other, many like examples are found amongst them. It is assuredly beleeved, that the Whale never swimmeth, vnlesse she have a little fish going before her, as her vantgard, it is in shape like a Gudgeon, and both the Latines and we, call it the Whales-guide; for, she doth ever follow him, suffering her selfe, as easily to be led and turned by him, as a ship is directed and turned by a sterne: for requitall of which good turne, whereas all things else, be it, beast, fish, or vessell, that comes within the horrible Chaes of this monstrous mouth, is presently lost and devoured, this little fish, doth safely retire himselfe therein, and there sleepes verie quietly, and as long as he sleepes, the Whale never stirs; but assoone as he awaketh and goeth his way, whereever he takes his course she alwaies followeth him, and if she fortune to loose him, she wanders here and there, and often strik∣eth vpon the rocks, as a ship that hath nor mast nor rudder. This, Plutarke witnesseth to have seen in the Iland of Anticyra. There is such a like societie betweene the little bird cal∣led a Wren, and the Crocodill: For, the Wren serveth as a sentinell to so great a monster: And if the Ichneumon, which is his mortall enemie approach to fight with him, the little bird let, lest he might surprise him whilst he sleepeth, with his singing, and pecking him with his bill, awakens him, and gives him warning of the danger he is in. The bird liveth by the scraps, and feedeth vpon the leavings of that monster, who gently receiveth him into his mouth, and suffers him to pecke his jawes and teeth for such mammockes of flesh as sticke betweene them: and if he purpose to close his mouth, he doth first warne him to be gone, faire and easie closing it by little and little, without any whit crushing or hurting him. The

shell-fish called a Nacre, liveth even so with the Pinnotere, which is a little creature like vnto a Crabfish, and as his porter or vsher waites vpon him, attending the opening of the Nacre, which he continually keepes gaping, vntill he see some little fish enter in, fit for their turne, then he creepes into the Nacre, and leaves not pinching his quicke flesh, vntill he makes him close his shell, and so they both together fast in their hold, devour their prey. In the maner of the Tunnies life, may be discovered a singular knowledge of the three parts of the Mathematikes. First for Astrologie, it may well be said that man doth learne it of them: For, wheresoever the winter Solstitium doth take them, there do they stay themselves, and never stir till the next Aequinoctium, and that is the reason why Aristotle doth so willingly ascribe that arte vnto them: Then for Geometrie and Arithmetike, they alwaies frame their shole of a Cubike figure, every way square: and so forme a solide, close and wel-ranged bat∣tailon, encompassed round about of sixe equall sides. Thus orderly marshaled, they take their course and swim whither their journey tends, as broad and wide behind as before: So that he that seeth and telleth but one ranke, may easily number all the troope, forsomuch as the number of the depth is equall vnto the bredth, and the bredth vnto the length. Touching magnanimitie and haughtie courage, it is hard to set it forth more lively, and to produce a rarer patterne, then that of the Dog, which from India was sent vnto Alexander: to whom was first presented a Stag, then a wilde Boare, and then a Beare, with each of which he should have foughten, but he seemed to make no accompt of them, and would not so much as re∣moove out of his place for them, but when he saw a Lion, he presently rouzed himselfe, shew∣ing evidently he meant onely so noble a beast worthie to enter combate with him. Concer∣ning repentance and acknowledging of faults committed, it is reported, that an Elephant ha∣ving through rage of choller slaine his governour, conceived such an extreame inward griefe, that he would never afterward touch any food, and suffered himself to pine to death. Touch∣ing clemencie, it is reported of a Tiger, (the fiercest and most inhumane beast of all) who ha∣ving a Kid given her to feed vpon, endured the force of gnawing hunger, two daies together, rather then she would hurt him; the third day with maine strength she brake the cage, where∣in she was kept-pent, and went elsewhere to shift for feeding; as one vnwilling to seize vpon the seelie Kid her familiar and guest. And concerning priviledges of familiaritie and sym∣pathie caused by conversation, is it not oft seen, how some make Cats, Dogs, and Hares so tame, so gentle, and so milde, that without harming one another they shall live and continue together? But that which experience teacheth sea-faring men, especially those that come in∣to the seas of S••••ilie, of the qualitie and condition of the Halcyon bird, or as some call it Al∣cedo or kings-fisher, exceeds all mens conceit. In what kinde of creature did ever nature so much prefer both their hatching, sitting, brooding, and birth? Poets faine, that the Iland of Delos, being before wandring and fleeting vp and downe, was for the delivery of Latona made firme and setled. But Gods decree hath been, that all the watrie wildernesse should be quiet and made calme, without raine, wind, or tempest, during the time the Halcyon sitteth and bringeth forth her yoong-ones, which is much about the Winter Solstitium, and shortest day in the yeare: By whose priviledge even in the hart & deadest time of Winter we have seven calme daies, and as many nights to saile without any danger. Their Hens know no other Cocke but their owne: They never forsake him all the daies of their life; and if the Cocke chance to be weake and crazed, the Hen will take him vpon her neck, and carrie him with her, wheresoever she goeth, and serve him even vntill death. Mans wit could neuer yet at∣taine to the full knowledge of that admirable kind of building or structure, which the Hal∣cion vseth in contriving of her neast, no, nor devise what it is-of.

Plutarke, who hath seen and handled many of them, thinkes it to be made of certaine fish-bones, which she so compacts, and conjoyneth together, enterlasing some long, and some crosse-waies, adding some foldings and roundings to it, that in the end she frameth a round kind of vessell, readie to floate and swim vpon the water: which done, she carrieth the same where the Sea-waves beate most; there the Sea gently beating vpon it, snewes her how to daube and patch vp the parts not well closed, and how to strengthen those places, and fashion those ribs, that are not fast, but stir with the Sea-waves: And on the other side, that which is closely wrought, the Sea beating on it, doth so fasten and conjoyne together, that nothing, no, not stone or yron, can any way loosen, divide, or break the same, except with great violence; and what is most to be wondred at, is the proportion and figure of the con∣cavitie

within; for, it is so composed and proportioned, that it can receive or admit no man∣ner of thing, but the Bird that built-it; for, to all things else, it is so impenetrable, close and hard, that nothing can possiblie enter in: no, not so much as the Sea-water. Loe-heer a most plaine description of this building, or construction taken from a verie good Author: yet me thinks, it doth not fully and sufficiently resolve vs of the difficultie in this kinde of Archi∣tecture. Now from what vanitie can it proceed, we should so willfully contemne, and disdaeinfully interpret those effects, which we can neither imitate nor conceive? But to follow this equalitie or correspondencie betweene vs and beasts somewhat further; the priviledge whereof our soule vants to bring to her condition whatsoever it conceiveth, and to dispoile what of mortall and corporall qualities belongs vnto it, to marshall those things, which she deemed worthie her acquaintance, to disroabe and deprive their corruptible conditions, and to make them leave as superfluous and base garments, thicknesse, length, deapth, weight, colour, smell, rough∣nesse, smoothnesse, hardnesse, softnesse, and all sensible accidents else, to fit and appropriate them to her immortall and spirituall condition: so that Rome and Paris, which I have in my soule; Paris which I imagine; yea, I imagine and conceive the same without greatnesse and place, without stone and morter, and without wood: Then say I vnto my selfe, the same priviledge seemeth likewise to be in beasts: for, a Horse accustomed to heare the sound of trumpets, the noyse of shot, and the clattering of armes, whom we see to snort, to startle, and to neigh in his sleep, as he lies a long vpon his litter, even as he were in the hurly-burly; it is most certaine, that in his minde he apprehends the sound of a Drum without any noyse, and an armie without armes or bodie.

Quippe videbis equos fortes, cùm membra iacebunt In somnis, sudare tamen, spiraréque saepe, Et quasi de palma summas contendere vires.

You shall see warlike Horses, when in sleep Their lims lie, yet sweat, and a snorting keep, And stretch their vtmost strength, As for a goale at length.

That Hare, which a grey-hound imagineth in his dreame, after whom as he sleepeth we see him bay, quest, yelp, and snort, stretch out his taile, shake his legs, and perfectly repre∣sent the motions of his course; the same is a Hare without bones, without haire.

Ʋenantúmque canes in molli sepae quiete. Iactant crura tamen subitè, vocèsque repente Mittunt, & crebras redducunt naribus auras, Vt vestigia si teneant inventa ferarum: Expergefactique, sequuntur inania sepae Cervorum simulacra, fugae quasi dedita cernant: Donee discussis redeant erroribus ad se.

Oft times the hunters dogs in easie rest Stir their legs, suddainly, open, and quest, And send from nostrels thicke-thicke snuffing sent, As if on traile they were of game full-bent: And wakened so, they follow shaddowes vaine Of Deere in chase, as if they fled amaine: Till, their fault left, they turne to sense againe.

Those watching-Dogs, which in their sleep we sometimes see to grumble, and then bar∣king to startle suddainly out of their slumber, as if they perceived some stranger to arive: that stranger which their minde seemeth to see, is but an imaginarie man, and not perceived; with∣out any dimension, colour, or being:

—Consueta domi catulorum blanda propago Degere, saepe levem ex oculis volucrémque soporem Discutere, & corpus de terra corripere instant, Proinde quasi ignotas facies atque ora tuantur.

The fawning kinde of whelps, at home that liv's, From eyes to shake light-swift sleepe often striv's, And from the ground their starting bodies hie,

As if some vnknowne stranger they did spie.

Touching corporall beautie, before I goe any further, it were necessarie I knew whether we are yet agreed about her description. It is very likely that we know not well, what beau∣tie either in nature, or in generall, since we give so many, and attribute so divers formes to humane beautie, yea, and to our beautie: Of which if there were any natural or lively descrip∣tion, we should generally know it, as we doe the heat of fire. We imagine and faine her formes, as our fantasies lead vs.

Turpis Romane Belgieus ore color.

A Dutch-froes colour hath no grace, Seen in a Romane Ladies face.

The Indians describe it blacke and swarthy, with blabberd-thicke lips, with a broad and flat nose, the inward gristle whereof they loade with great gold-rings, hanging downe to their mouth, and their neather lips with great circlets beset with precious stones, which cover all their chins, deeming it an especiall grace to shew their teeth to the rootes. In Peru, the greatest eares are ever esteemed the fairest, which with all art and industrie, they are conti∣nually stretching out; and a man (who yet liveth) sweareth to have seen in a province of the East-Indias the people so carefull to make them great, and so to load them with heavie jewels, that at ease he could have thrust his arme through one of their eare-holes. There are other Nations, who endevour to make their teeth as blacke as Iet, and skorne to have them white; and in other places they die them red. Not onely in the province of Baske, but in other places, women are accounted fairest when their heads are shaven; and which is strange, in some of the Northerly frozen-countries, as Plinie affirmeth. Those of Mexico, esteeme the littlenesse of their foreheads, as one of the chiefest beauties, and whereas they shave their haire over all their bodie besides, by artificiall meanes they labour to nourish and make it grow onely in their foreheads; and so love to have great dugs, that they strive to have their children sucke over their shoulders. So would we set forth ilfavordnesse. The Italians pro∣portion-it big and plum; The Spaniards spynie and lanke, and amongst vs one would have her white, another browne, one soft and delicate, another strong and lustie: some desire wan∣tonnessè and blithnesse, and other some sturdinesse and majestie to be joyned with it. Even as the preheminence in beautie, which Plato ascribeth vnto the Sphericall figure, the Epicuri∣ans refer the same vnto the Piramidall or Square; and say they cannot swallow a God made round like a bowle. But howsoever it is, nature hath no more priviledged vs in that, then in other things, concerning her common lawes. And if we imparcially enter into judgement with our selves, we shall finde, that if there be any creature or beast lesse favoured in that, then we, there are others (and that in great numbers) to whom nature hath been more favoura∣ble then to vs. A multis animalibus decore vincimur. We are excelled in comel••nesse, by many li∣ving creatures: Yea, of terrestriall creatures, that live with vs. For, concerning those of the Sea, omitting their figure, which no proportion can containe, so much doth it differ, both in colour, in neatnesse, in smoothnesse, and in disposition, we must give place vnto them: which in all qualities we must likewise doe to the ayrie ones. And that prerogative, which Poets yeeld vnto our vpright stature, looking towards heaven whence her beginning is,

Pronáque cùm spectent animalia caetera terram, Os homini sublime dedit, caelúmque videre Iussit, & erectos ad sydera tollere vultus.

Where other creatures on earth looke and lie, A loftie looke God gave man, bad him prie On heav'n, rais'd his high count'nance to the skie.

is meerely poeticall, for, there are many little beasts, that have their sight directly fixed towards heaven: I finde the Camels and the Estridges necke much more raised and vp∣right, then ours. What beasts have not their face a loft and before, and looke not directly opposite, as we; and in their naturall posture descrie not as much of heaven and earth, as man doth? And what qualities of our corporall constitution, both in Plato and Cicero can∣not fit and serve a thousand beasts? Such as most resemble man are the vilest and filthiest of all the rout: As for outward apparance and true shape of the visage, it is the Munkie or Ape:

Simia quàm similis, turpissima bestia, nobis!

An Ape, a most il-favored beast, How like to vs in all the rest?

as for inward and vitall parts, it is the Hog. Truely, when I consider man all naked (yea, be it in that sex, which seemeth to have and challenge the greatest share of eye-pleasing beautie, and view his defects, his naturall subjection, and manifold imperfections; I finde we have had much more reason to hide and cover our nakednesse, then any creature else. We may be excused for borrowing those which nature had therein favored more then vs, with their beauties to adorne vs, and vnder their spoiles of wooll, of haire, of feathers, and ofsilke to shroude vs. Let vs moreover observe, that man is the onely creature, whose wants offends his owne followes, and he alone that in naturall actions must withdraw and sequester him∣selfe from those of his owne kinde. Verely it is an effect worthie consideration, that the skilfullest masters of amorous dalliances appoint for a remedie of venerian passions, a free and full survay of the bodie, which one longeth and seeks-after: and that to coole the long∣ing and aswage the heat of friendship, one need but perfectly view and throughly consider what he loveth.

Ille quòd obscoenas in aperto corpore partes —Viderat, in cursu qui fuit, haesit amor.

The love stoode still, that ran in full carieere, When bare it saw parts that should not appeare

And although this remedie may happily proceed from a squeamish and cold humor: yet is it a wonderfull signe of our imbecilitie, that the vse and knowledge should so make vs to be cloyd one of an other. It is not bashfulnesse so much, as art and foresight makes our Ladies so circumspect and vnwilling to let vs come into their closets before they are fully readie, and throughly painted, to come abroad, and shew themselves:

Nec veneres nostras hoc fallit quò magis ipse Omnia summopere hos vitae postscenia celant, Quos retinere volunt adstrictóque esse in amore.

Our Mistresses know this, which mak's them not disclose Parts to be plaid within, especially from those Whom they would servants hold, and in their love-bands close.

Whereas in other creatures, there is nothing but we love, and pleaseth our senses: so that even from their excrements and ordure, we draw not only dainties to eat, but our richest ornaments and perfumes. This discourse of beautie toucheth only our common order, and is not so sac••ilegious as it intendeth or dareth to comprehend those divine, supernaturall, and extraordinarie beauties, which sometimes are seen to shine amongst-vs, even as starres vnder a corporall and terrestriall vaile. Moreover, that part of natures favours, which we impart vnto beasts, is by our owne confession much more advantageous vnto them. We as∣sume vnto our selves imaginarie and fantasticall goods, future and absent goods, which hu∣mane capacitie can no way warrant vnto her selfe; or some other, which by the overweening of our owne opinion, we falsely ascribe vnto our selves; as reason, honour, and knowledge; and to them as their proper share we leave the essentiall, the maneagable, and palpable goods, as peace, rest, securitie, innocencie, and health: Health I say, which is the goodliest and richest present, nature can impart vnto vs. So that even Stoike Philosophie dareth to affirme, that if Heracletus and Pherecydes could have changed their wisedome with health, and by that meanes, the one to have rid himselfe of the dropsie, and the other of the lowsie∣evill, which so sore tormented them, they would surely have done-it: whereby they also yeeld so much more honor vnto wisedome, by comparing and counterpeizing the same vnto health, then they do in this other proposition of theirs, where they say, that if Circes had pre∣sented Ʋhsses with two kinds of drinke, the one to turne a wiseman into a foole, the other to change a foole into a wiseman, he would rather have accepted that of folly, then have been pleased, that Circes should transforme his humane shape into a beasts. And they say, that wisedom her selfe would thus have spoken vnto him: Meddle not with me, but leave me rather then thou shouldest place me vnder the shape and bodie of an Asse. What? This great and hea∣venly wisedom? Are Philosophers contented then, to quit-it for a corporall & earthly vaile? Why then it is not for reasons sake, nor by discourse, and for the soule, we so much excell beasts: it is for the love we beare vnto our beautie, vnto our faire hew, and goodly disposition

of limbs, that we reject, and set our vnderstanding at nought, our wisedome, and what else we have. Well, I allow of this ingenious and voluntarie confession: surely they knew those parts, we so much labour to pamper, to be meere fantazies. Suppose, beasts had all the vertue, the knowledge, the wisedome and sufficiencie of the Stoikes, they should still be beasts; nor might they ever be compared vnto a miserable, wretched, and senselesse man. For, when all is done, whatsoever is not as we are, is not of any worth. And God to be esteemed of vs, must (as we will shew anon) draw somewhat neere-it. Whereby it appeareth, that it is not long of a true discourse, but of a foolish-hardinesse, and selfe-presuming obstinacie, we prefer our selves before other creatures, and sequester our selves from their condition and societie. But to returne to our purpose, we have for our part inconstancie, irresolution, vncertaintie, sor∣row, superstition, carefulnesse for future things (yea after our life) ambition, covetousnesse, jelousie, envie, inordiante, mad and vntamed appetites, warre, falsehood, disloyaltie, detracti∣on, and curiositie. Surely we have strangely overpaid this worthie discourse, whereof we so much glorie, and this readinesse to judge, or capacitie to know, if we have purchased the same with the price of so infinit passions, to which we are vncessantly enthralled. If we be not plea∣sed (as Socrates is) to make this noble prerogative over beasts, to be of force, that whereas na∣ture hath prescribed them certaine seasons, and bounds for their naturall lust and voluptu∣ousnesse, she hath given-vs at all howers and occasions the full reines of them. Ʋt vinum egrotis, quia prodest rarò, nocet saepissime, melius est non adhibere omnino, quàm, ••pe dubiaesalutis in apertam perniciem incurrere: Sic, haud scio, an melius fuerit humano generi motum istum celerem, cogitationis a••umen, solertiam, quem rationem vocamus, quoniam pestifera sint multis, admodum paucis salutaria, non dari omnino, quám tam munificè & tam largè dari. As it is better not to vse wine at all in sicke persons, because it seldome doth them good, but many times much hurt, then in hope of doubtfull health, to run into vndoubted danger; so doe I not know, whether it were better that this swift motion of the thought, this sharpnesse, this conceitednesse, which we call reason, should not at all be given to mankind (because it is pernicious vnto many, and healthfull to verie few) then that it should be given so plentifully and so largely. What good or commoditie may we imagine this far-vnderstanding of so many things brought ever vnto Varro, and to Aristotle? Did it ever exempt, or could it at any time free them from humane inconveniences? Were they ever dis∣charged of those accidents that incidently follow a seelie labouring man? Could they ever draw any ease for the gout from Logike? And howbeit they knew the humour engendring the same to lodge in the joints, have they felt-it the lesse? Did they at any time make a cove∣nant with death, although they knew full well that some nations rejoyce at her comming? as also of Cuckoldship, because they knew women to be common in some Countries? But con∣trariwise having both held the first ranke in knowledge, the one amongst the Romanes, the other among the Graecians, yea, and at such times wherein sciences flourished most, we could never learne, they had any speciall excellencie in their life. Wee see the Graecian hath been put to his plunges in seeking to discharge himselfe from some notable imputations in his life. Was it ever found that sensualitie, and health, are more pleasing vnto him that vnder∣stands Astrologie and Grammar?

(••lliterati num minus nervi rigent?

As stiffe vnlearned sinnewes stand, As theirs that much more vnderstand.)

or shame and povertie lesse importunate and vexing?

Scilicet & morbis, & debilitate carebis, Et luctum, & curam effugies, & tempora vita Longatibi posthaec fatomeliore dabuntur.

Thou shall be from disease and weaknesse free, From moane, from care, long time of life to thee Shall by more friendly fate affoorded be.

I have in my daies seen a hundred Artificers, and as many labourers, more wise and more happie, then some Rectors in the Vniversitie, and whom I would rather resemble. Me thinks Learning hath a place amongest things necessarie for mans life, as glorie, noblenesse, digni∣tie, or at most as riches, and such other qualities, which indeed stead the same; but a far-off, and more in conceipt, than by Nature. We have not much more need of offices, of rules, and lawes how to live in our common-wealth, than the Cranes and Antes have in theirs. Which

notwithstanding, we see how orderly, and without instruction they maintaine themselves. If man were wise he would value every thing according to it's worth, and as it is either more profitable, or more necessarie for life. He that shall number vs by our actions and proceedings, shall doubt. lesse finde many more excellent-ones amongst the ignorant, then among the wiser sort: I meane in all kind of Vertues. My opinion is, that ancient Rome brought forth many men of much more valour and sufficiencie, both for peace and warre, then this late learned Rome, which with all her wisedom hath overthrowne her erst-flourishing estate. If all the rest were alike, then should honestie and innocencie at least belong to the ancient; for she was excee∣dingly well placed with simplicitie. But I will shorten this discourse, which happily would draw me further then I would willingly follow: yet this much I will say more, that onely hu∣militie and submission is able to make a perfect honest man. Every one must not have the know∣ledge of his dutie referred to his own judgement, but ought rather to have it prescribed vnto him, and not be allowed to chuse it at his pleasure and free-will: otherwise according to the imbecilitie of our reasons, and infinite varietie of our opinions, we might peradventure forge and devise such duties vnto our selves, as would induce vs (as Epicurus saith) to endevour to destroy and devoure one another. The first law that ever God gave vnto man, was a Law of pure obedience. It was a bare & simple commandement, whereof man should enquire and know no further: forasmuch, as to obey is the proper dutie of a reasonable soule, acknowledging a heavenly and superiour benefactor. From obeying and yeelding vnto him proceed all other vertues; even as all sinnes derive from selfe-over-weening. Contrariwise, the first temptation that ever sei∣zed on humane Nature was disobedience, by the Divels instigation, whose first poison, so far insinuated it selfe into vs, by reason of the promises he made vs of wisedome and knowledge, Eritis sicut Dij scientes bonum & malum. You shall be like Gods, knowing both good and evill. And the Syrens, to deceive Ʋlysses and alluring him to fall into their daungerous & confounding snares, offer to give him the full fruition of Knowledge. The opinion of Wisdome is the plague of man. That is the occasion why ignorance is by our Religion recommended vnto vs, as an instrument fitting beleefe, and obedience. Cavete, ne quis vos decipiat per Philosophiam & ina∣nes seductiones, secundum elementa mundi. Take heed, lest any man deceive you by Philosophie and vaine seducements, according to the rudiments of the world. All the Philosophers of all the sects that everwere, do generally agree in this point, that the chiefest felicitie, or summum bonum, consisteth in the peace and tranquilitie of the soule and bodie: but where shall we finde-it?

Ad summum sapiens vno minor est love, dives, Liber, honoratus, pulcher, Rex denique Regum: Praecipuè sanus, nisi cùm pituita molesta est.

In summe, who wise is knowne, Is lesse then Iove alone, Rich, honorable, free, faire, King of Kings, Chiefely in health, but when fleagme trouble brings.

It seemeth verily, that Nature for the comfort of our miserable and wretched condition, hath allotted vs no other portion, but presumption. It is therefore (as Epictetus saith) that man hath nothing that is properly his owne, but the vse of his opinions. Our hereditarie por∣tion is nothing but smoke and winde. The Gods (as saith Philosophie) have health in true essence, and sicknesse in conceipt. Man cleane contrarie, possesseth goods in imagination, and evils essentially. We have had reason to make the powers of our imagination to be of force: For, all our felicities are but in conceipt, and as it were in a dreame. Heare but this poore and miserable creature vaunt himselfe. There is nothing (saith Cicero) so delightfull and plea∣sant as the knowledge of Letters; of Letters I say, by whose meanes the infinitie of things, the incomprehensible greatnesse of nature, the heavens, the earth, and all the Seas of this vast vniverse, are made knowne vnto vs. They have taught vs Religion, moderation, stowtnesse of courage, and redeemed our soule out of darknesse, to make her see, and distinguish of all things, the high aswell as the lowe, the first as the last, and those betweene both. It is they that store and supplie vs with all such things as may make vs live happily and well, and in∣struct vs how to passe our time without sorrow or offence. Seemeth not this goodly Ora∣tor to speake of the Almighties and everliving Gods condition? And touching effects, a thousand poore seelie women in a countrie towne have lived, and live a life much more re∣posed, more peaceable, and more constant, then ever he did.

—Deus ille fuit Deus, inclyte Memmi, Qui princeps vitae rationem invenit eam, qua Nunc appellatur sapientia, quique per artem, Fluctibus è tantis vitam tantisque tenebris, In tam tranquillo & tam clara luce locavit.

Good sir, it was God, God it was, first found, That course of mans life, which now is renown'd By name of wisedome; who by arte reposde, Our life in so cleare light, calme so composde, From so great darknesse, so great waves opposde.

Observe what glorious and noble words these be: yet but a sleight accident brought this wisemans vnderstanding to a far worse condition, than that of a simple sheepheard: not∣withstanding this divine Teacher, and this heavenly wisedome. Of like impudence is the promise of Democritus his Booke. I will now speake of all things: And that fond title which Aristotle gives vs of mortall gods, and that rash judgement of Chrysippus, that Dion was as vertuous as God: And my Seneca saith, he acknowledgeth that God hath given him life, but how to live well, that he hath of himselfe. Like vnto this other: In virtute verè gloramur, quod non contingeret, si ià donum à Deo, non à nobis haberemus. We rightly vaunt vs of vertue, which we should not doe, if we had it of God, not of our selves. This also is Senec••es, that the wise man hath a fortitude like vnto Gods; but inhumane weaknesse, wherein he excelleth him. There is nothing more common, than to meet with such passages of temeritie: There is not any of vs that will be so much offended to see himselfe compared to God, as he will deeme himselfe wronged to be depressed in the ranke of other creatures. So much are we more jea∣lous of our owne interest, than of our Creators. But we must tread this foolish vanitie vnder foote, and boldly shake off, and lively reject those fond-ridiculous foundations, whereon these false opinions are built. So long as man shall be perswaded to have meanes or power of himselfe, so long will he denie, and never acknowledge what he oweth vnto his Master: he shall alwaies (as the common saying is) make shift with his owne: He must be stripped into his shirt. Let vs consider some notable example of the effect of Philosophie. Possiaonius having long time been grieved with a painfull-lingring disease, which with the smarting∣paine made him to wring his hands, and gnash his teeth, thought to scorne griefe, with ex∣clayming and crying out against-it: Doo what thou list, yet will I never say that thou arte evill or paine. He feeleth the same passions that my lackey doth, but he boasteth himselfe, that at least he conteineth his tongue vnder the lawes of his sect. Re succumbere non oporte∣bat verbis gloriantem: It was not for him to yeeld in deeds, who had so braved it in words. Arce∣silas lying sicke of the gowt, Carneades comming to visite him, and seeing him to frowne, supposing he had been angrie, was going away againe, but he called him backe, and shew∣ing him his feet and brest, said vnto him, there is nothing come from thence hither. This hath somewhat a better garbe; for he feeleth himselfe grieved with sicknesse, and would faine be rid of it, yet is not his heart vanquished or weakned thereby, the other stands vpon his stifnesse (as I feare) more verball then essentiall. And Dionysius Heracleotes being tormented with a violent smarting in his eies, was at last perswaded to quit these Stoicke resolutions.

Be it supposed that Learning and Knowledge should worke those effects they speake of, that is, to blunt and abate the sharpnesse of those accidents or mischances, that follow and attend vs; doth she any more than what ignorance effecteth much more evidently and sim∣ply? The Philosopher Pyrrho being at Sea, and by reason of a violent storme in great dan∣ger to be cast away, presented nothing vnto those that were with him in the ship, to unitate but the securitie of an Hog which was aboard, who nothing at all dismaide, seemed to be∣hold and out-stare the tempest. Philosophie after all her precepts gives vs over to the ex∣amples of a Wrestler, or of a Muletier, in whom we ordinarilie perceive much lesse feeling of death, of paine, of griefe, and other inconveniences, and more vndanted constancie, then ever Learning or Knowledge could store a man withall, vnlesse he were borne, and of him∣selfe through some naturall habitude, prepared vnto it. What is the cause, the tender mem∣bers of a childe, or limbes of a horse are much more easie, and with lesse paine cut and inci∣sed then ours, if it be not ignorance? How many, onely through the power of imagination,

have falne into dangerous diseases? We ordinarily see diverse that will cause themselves to be let bloud, purged, and dieted, because they would be cured of diseases, they never felt but in conceit; when essentiall and true maladies faile vs, then Science and knowledge lends-vs hirs: This colour or complexion (said she) presageth some rheumatike defluxion will ensue you: This soultring-hote season menaceth you with some febricant commotion; this cut∣ting of the vitall line of your left hand warneth you of some notable and approaching indis∣polition. And at last she will roundly addresse her selfe vnto perfect health; saying, this youthly vigor and suddaine joy can not possibly stay in one place, her bloud and strength must be abated, for feare it turne you to some mischiefe. Compare but the life of a man sub∣ject to these-like imaginations, vnto that of a day-labouring swaine, who followes his natu∣rall appetites, who measureth all things onely by the present sense, and hath neither learning nor prognostications, who feeleth no disease but when he hath it: whereas the other hath often the stone imaginarily, before he have it in his reines: As if it were not time enough to endure the sicknesse when it shall come, he doth in his fansie prevent the same, and head∣long runneth to meet with it. What I speake of Phisicke, the same may generally be ap∣plied and drawne to all maner of learning. Thence came this ancient opinion of those Phi∣losophers, who placed chiefe felicitie in the acknowledging of our judgements weaknesse. My ignorance affoords me as much cause of hope as of feare: and having no other regi∣ment for my health, then that of other mens examples, and of the events, I see elsewhere in like occasions, whereof I find some of all sorts: And relie vpon the comparisons, that are most favourable vnto me. I embrace health with open armes, free, plaine, and full; and pre∣pare my appetite to enjoy-it, by how much more, it is now lesse ordinarie and more rare vn∣to me: so far is it from me, that I with the bitternesse of some new and forced kind of life, trouble her rest, and molest her ease. Beasts doe manifestly declare vnto vs, how many in∣firmities our mindes agitation brings vs. That which is told vs of those that inhabite Bresill, who die onely through age, which some impute to the clearenesse and calmenesse of their aire▪ I rather ascribe to the calmenesse and clearenesse of their minds, void and free from all passions, cares, toiling, and vnpleasant labours, as a people that passe their life in a wonder∣full kind of simplicitie and ignorance, without letters, or lawes, and without Kings, or any Religion. Whence comes it (as we daily see by experience) that the rudest and grossest clownes, are more tough-strong, and more desired in amorous executions: And that the love of a Muletier is often more accepted, then that of a perfumed▪ quaint courtier? But because in the latter, the agitation of his minde doth so distract, trouble, and wearie the force of his bodie; as it also troubleth and wearieth it selfe, who doth belie, or more commonly cast the same downe even into madnesse, but her owne promptitude, her point, her agilitie, and to conclude her proper force? Whence proceeds the subtilest follie, but from the subtilest wisedome? As from the extreamest friendships proceed the extreamest enmities, and from the soundest healths, the mortallest diseases; so from the rarest and quickest agitations of our minds ensue the most distempered and outragious frenzies. There wants but halfe a pegs turne to passe from the one to the other. In mad mens actions, we see how fitly follie suteth and meets with the strongest operations, of our minde. Who knowes not how vnpercei∣vable the neighbourhood betweene follie with the liveliest elevations of a free minde is; and the effects of a supreame and extraordinarie vertue? Plato affirmeth, that melancholy minds are more excellent and disciplinable; So are there none more inclinable vnto follie. Diverse spirits are seene to be overthrowne by their owne force, and proper nimblenesse. What a start hath one of the most judicious, ingenious, and most fitted vnto the ayre of true ancient poesie, lately gotten by his owne agitation and selfe▪gladnesse, above all other Italian Poets that have been of a long time? Hath not he wherewith to be beholding vnto this his killing vivacitie? vnto this clearenesse, that hath so blinded him? vnto his exact and far-reaching apprehension of reason, which hath made him voide of reason? vnto the curious and labo∣rious pursute of Sciences, that have brought him vnto sottishnesse? vnto this rare aptitude to the exercises of the minde, which hath made him without minde or exercise? I rather spited then pittied him, when I saw him at Ferrara, in so pitteous a plight, that he survived himselfe; misacknowledging both himselfe and his labours, which vnwitting to him, and even to his face, have been published both vncorrected and maimed. Will you have a man healthy, will you have him regular, and in constant and safe condition? overwhelme him in the darke

pit of idlenesse, and dulnesse. We must be besotted ere we can become wise, and dazled be∣fore we can be led. And if a man shall tell me, that the commoditie to have the appetite cold to griefes, and wallowish to evils, drawes this incommoditie after-it, it is also consequently the same, that makes vs lesse sharpe and greedie to the enjoying of good, and of pleasures: It is true, but the miserie of our condition beareth, that we have not so much to enjoy, as to shun, and that extreame voluptuousnesse doth not so much pinch vs, as a light smart: Seg∣nius homines bona quàm mala sentiunt. Men have a duller feeling of a good turne, then of an ill, we have not so sensible a feeling of perfect health, as we have of the least sicknesse.

—pungit In cute vix summa violatum plagula corpus, Quando valere nihil quemquam movet. Hoc invat vnum Quod me non torquet latus aut pes; caetera quisquam Ʋix queat aut sanum sese, aut sentire valentem.

A light stroke that dooth scarse the top-skin wound, Greeves the gall'd bodie, when in health to be, Doth scarse move any: onely ease is found, That neither side nor foote tormenteth me: Scarse any in the rest can feel he's sound.

Our being in health, is but the privation of being ill. See wherefore the sect of Philosophie, that hath most preferred sensualitie, hath also placed the same but to indolencie or vnfeeling of paine. To have no infirmitie at all is the chiefest possession of health, that man can hope∣for (as Ennius said:)

Nimium boni est, cui nihil est mali.

He hath but too much good, Whom no ill hath withstood.

For▪ the same tickling and pricking, which a man doth feel in some pleasures, and seemes beyond simple health, and indolencie, this active and moving sensualitie, or as I may terme it, itching and tickling pleasure aymes but to be free from paine, as her chiefest scope. The lust-full longing which allures vs to the acquaintance of women, seekes but to expell that paine, which an earnest and burning desire doth possesse-vs-with, and desireth but to allay-it, thereby to come to rest, and be exempted from this fever; And so of others. I say therefore, that if simplicitie directeth-vs to have no evill, it also addresseth vs, according to our condi∣tion to a most happie estate. Yet ought it not to be imagined so dull and heavie, that it be altogether senselesse. And Crantor had great reason to withstand the vnsensiblenesse of Epi∣curus, if it were so deeply rooted, that the approching and birth of evils might gainsay-it. I commend not that vnsensiblenesse, which is neither possible nor to be desired. I am well pleased not to be sicke, but if I be, I will know that I am so; and if I be cautherized or cut, I will feel-it. Verily, he that should roote out the knowledge of evill, should there with all extirp the knowledge of voluptuousnesse, and at last bring man to nothing. Istud nihil dolere, non sine magna mercede contingitt immanit at is in animo, stuporis in corpore. This verie point, not to be offended or grieved with any thing, befals not freely to a man, without either inhumanitie in his minde, or senseles∣nesse in his bodie. Sicknesse is not amisse vnto man, comming in hir turne: Nor is he alwaies to shun paine, nor ever to follow sensualitie. It is a great advantage for the honour of igno∣rance, that Science it selfe throwes-vs into hir armes, when she findes her selfe busie to make vs strong against the assaults of evils: she is forced to come to this composition; to yeeld-vs the bridle, and give-vs leave to shrowd our selves in hir lap, and submit our selves vnto hir favour, to shelter vs against the assaults and injuries of fortune. For, what meaneth she else, when she perswades vs to withdraw our thoughts from the evils that possesse-vs, and enter∣taine them with fore-gon pleasures, and stead-vs as a comfort of present evils with the re∣membrance of fore-past felicities, and call a vanished content to our help, for to oppose it against that which vexeth vs? Levationes aegritudinum in avocatione à cogitanda molestia, & revocatione ad contemplandas voluptates ponit. Eases of griefes he reposeth either in calling from the thought of offence, or calling to the contemplations of some pleasures. Vnlesse it be, that where force failes her, she will vse policie, and shew a tricke of nimblenesse and turne away, where the vigor both of her bodie and armes shall faile her. For, not onely to a strict Philosopher, but simply to any setled man, when he by experience feeleth the burning alteration of a hot fever,

what currant paiment is it to pay him with the remembrance of the sweetnesse of Greeke wine? It would rather empaire his bargaine.

Che ricordarsi il ben doppia la noia.

For to thinke of our joy, Redoubles our annoy.

Of that condition is this other counsell, which Philosophie giveth, onely to keepe forepast selicities in memorie, and thence blot out such griefes as we have felt; as if the skill to forget were in our power: and counsell, of which we have much lesse.

Suavis est laborum praeteritorum memoria.

Of labours overpast, Remembrance hath sweet taste.

What? shall Philosophie, which ought to put the weapons into my hands, to fight against fortune; which should harden my courage, to suppresse and lay at my feet all humane ad∣versities; will she so faint, as to make me like a fearfull cunnie creepe into some lurking-hole, and like a craven to tremble and yeeld? For, memorie representeth vnto vs, not what we chuse, but what pleaseth her. Nay, there is nothing so deeply imprinteth any thing in our re∣membrance, as the desire to forget the same: It is a good way to commend to the keeping, and imprint any thing in our minde, to solicite her to loose the same. And that is false. Est situm in nobis, vt & adversa, quasi perpetua oblivione obruamus, & secunda iucundè & suaviter meminerimus. This is ingraffed in vs, or at least in our power, that we both burie in perpetuall ob∣livion things past against vs, and record with pleasure and delight whatsoever was for vs.

And this is true, Memini etiam quae nolo; oblivisci non possum quae volo. I remember even those things I would not; and can not forget what I would. And whose counsell is this? his, Qui se vnus sapientem profiteri sit ausus. Who onely durst professe himselfe a wise man.

Qui genus humanum ingenio superavit, & omnes Praestrinxit stellas, exortus vti aetherius Sol.

Who from all mankind bare for wit the prize, And dimm'd the stars as when skies Sunne doth rise.

To emptie and diminish the memorie, is it not the readie and onely way to ignorance?

Iuers malorum remedium ignorantia est.

Of ills a remedie by chance, And verie dull is ignorance.

We see diverse like precepts, by which we are permitted to borrow frivolous apparances from the vulgar sort, where lively and strong reason is not of force sufficient: alwaies pro∣vided, they bring vs content and comfort. Where they can not cure a sore, they are pleased to stupifie and hide the same. I am perswaded they will not denie me this, that if they could possiblie adde any order or constancie to a mans life, that it might thereby be still maintai∣ned in pleasure and tranquillitie, by, or through any weaknesse or infirmitie of judgement, but they would accept-it.

—potare, & spargere flores Incipiam, patiárque vel inconsultus haberi.

I will begin to strew flowers, and drinke free, And suffer witlesse, thriftlesse, held to bee.

There should many Philosophers be found of Lycas his opinion: This man in all other things being verie temperate, and orderly in his demeanors, living quietly and contentedly with his familie, wanting of no dutie or office both toward his owne houshold and strangers, verie carefully preserving himselfe from all hurtfull things: notwithstanding through some alteration of his senses or spirites, he was so possessed with this fantasticall conceipt or obsti∣nate humour, that he ever and continually thought to be amongst the Theaters, where he still saw all manner of spectacles, pastimes, sports, and the best Comedies of the world. But being at last by the skill of Physitions cured of this maladie, and his offending humour pur∣ged, he could hardly be held from putting them in sute, to the end they might restore him to the former pleasures and contents of his imagination.

—polme occidistis amici, Non servastis, ait, cui fic extorta voluptas, Et demptus per vim menti gratissimus error▪

You have not sav'd me, friends, but slaine me quite, (Quoth he) from whom so reft is my delight, And errour purg'd, which best did please my spright.

Of a raving like vnto that of Thr••sylaus, sonne vnto Pythodorus, who verily believed, that all the ships that went out from the haven of Pyraeum, yea and all such as came into it, did on∣ly travell about his businesse, rejoycing when any of them had made a fortunate voyage, and welcommed them with great gladnesse: His brother Crito, having caused him to be cured, and restored to his better senses, he much bewailed and grieved the condition wherein he had formerly lived in such joy, and so voide of all care and griefe. It is that, which that ancient Greeke verse saith, That not to be so advised brings many commodities with it:

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉

The sweetest life I wis, In knowing nothing is.

And as Ecclesiastes witnesseth: In much wisdome, much sorrow: And who getteth know∣ledge, purchaseth sorrow and griefe. Even that, to which Philosophy doth in generall tearmes allow this last remedy, which she ordaineth for all manner of necessities; that is, to make an end of that life, which we can not endure. Placet? pare: Non placet? quacunque vis exi. Pungit dolor? velfodiat sanè: si nudus es, da iugulum: sint ectus armis vulcanijs, id est fortitu∣dine, resiste. Doth it like you? obey: doth it not like you? get out as you will: doth griefe pricke you? and let it perce you to: if you be naked, yeeld your throate: but if you be covered with the armour of Ʋulcan, that is, with fortitude, resist. And that saying vsed of the Graecians in their banquets, which they apply vnto it, Aut bibat, aut abeat: Either let him carouse, or carry him out of the house: which rather fitteth the mouth of a Gascoine, then that of Cicero, who very easily doth change the letter B into V,

Vivere si recte nëscis, decede peritis: Lusisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti: Tempus abire tibi est, ne potum largiùs aequo Rideat, & pulset lasciva decentiùs aetas.

Live well you cannot, them that can give place; Well have you sported, eaten well, drunke well: 'Tis time you part; least wanton youth with grace Laugh at, and knocke you that with swilling swell.

what is it but a confession of his insufficiency, and a sending one backe not only to ignorance, there to be shrowded, but vnto stupidity it selfe, vnto vnsensiblenesse and not being?

—Democritum post quàm matura vetustas Admonuit memorem, motus languescere mentis: Sponte sua let ho caput obvius obtulit ipse.

When ripe age put Democritus in minde, That his mindes motions fainted, he to finde His death went willing, and his life resign'd.

It is that which Anthistenes said, that a man must provide himselfe either of wit to vnder∣stand, or of a halter to hange himselfe: And that which Chrysippus alleaged vpon the speech of the Poet Tyrtaeus,

De lavertu, ou de mort approcher.

Or vertue to approch, Or else let death incroch.

And Crates said, that love was cured with hunger, i•• not by time; and in him that liked not these two meanes, by the halter. That Sextius, to whom Seneca and Plutarke give so much commendation, having given over all things else and betaken himselfe to the study of Philosophy, seeing the progresse of his studies so tedious and slow, purposed to cast him∣selfe into the Sea; Ranne vnto death for want of knowledge: Reade here what the law, saith vpon this subject. If peradventure any great inconvenience happen, which cannot be reme∣died, the haven is not farre-off, and by swimming may a man save himselfe out of his body, as out of a leaking boate: for, it is feare to die, and not desire to live, which keepes a foole joyned to his body. As life through simplicity becommeth more pleasant, So (as I ere∣while began to say (becommeth-it more innocent and better. The simple and the ignorant

(saith S. Paul) raise themselves vp to heaven, and take possession of it; whereas we, withall the knowledge we have, plunge our selves downe to the pit of hell. I rely neither vpon Va∣lentinianus (a professed enemy to knowledge and learning) nor vpon Licinius (both Roman Emperours) who named them the venime and plague of all politike estates: Nor on Ma∣homet, who (as I have heard) doth vtterly interdict all maner of learning to his subjects. But the example of that great Lycurgus, and his authority ought to beare chiefe sway, and there∣verence of that divine Lacedemonian policy so great, so admirable, and so long time florish∣ing in all vertue and felicity without any institution or exercise at all of letters. Those who re∣turne from that new world, which of late hath beene discovered by the Spaniards, can wit∣nesse vnto vs, how those nations being without Magistrates or law, live much more regular∣ly and formally then we, who have amongst vs more Officers and lawes, then men of other professions, or actions.

Di cit atorie piene & di libelli, D'essamine, di carte, & diprocure Hanno le mani e'lseno, & granfastelli Di chiose, di consigli & di letture, Per cui le faculi â de'poverelli Non sono mai ne le citt à sicure, Hanno dietre & dinanzi & d'ambo i lati, Notai, procuratori, & advocati.

Their hands and bosoms with writs and citations, With papers, libels, proxjes, full they beare, And bundels great of strict examinations, Of glosses, counsels, readings here and there. Whereby in townes poore men of occupations Possesse not their small goods secure from feare, Before, behind, on each sides Aduocates, Proctors, and Notaries hold vp debates.

It was that, which a Roman Senatour said, that their predecessors had their breath stinking of garlike, and their stomake perfumed with a good conscience: and contrary, the men of his times, outwardly smelt of nothing but sweet odours, but inwardly they stunke of all vices: Which in mine opinion, is as much to say, they had much Knowledge and Sufficiency, but great want of honesty. In civility, ignorance, simplicity, and rudnesse, are commonly joyned with innocency: Curiosity, subtilty, and knowledge, are ever followed with malice: Humility, feare, obedience, and honesty (which are the principall instruments for the preservation of humane society) require a single docile soule and which presumeth little of hir selfe: Christi∣ans have a peculiar knowledge, how curiosity is in a man a naturall, and originall infirmity. The care to encrease in wisedome and knowledge was the first overthrow of man-kinde: It is the way whereby man hath headlong cast himselfe downe into eternall damnation. Pride is his losse and corruption: It is pride, that misleadeth him from common waies; that makes him to embrace all newfangles, and rather chuse to be chiefe of a stragling troupe and in the path of perdition, and be regent of some erronious sect, and a teacher of falsehood, then a disciple in the schoole of truth, and suffer himselfe to be led and directed by the hand of others in the ready beaten high way. It is happily that, which the ancient Greeke proverbe implieth; 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Superstion obaieth pride as a father. Oh overwee∣ning, how much doest thou hinder vs? Socrates being advertised, that the God of wise∣dome, had attributed the name of wise vnto him, was thereat much astonished, and diligent∣ly searching and rouzing vp himself, & ransaking the very secrets of his hart found no foun∣dation or ground for this divine sentence. He knew some that were as just, as temperate, as va∣liant and as wise as he and more eloquent, more faire and more profitable to their country. In fine he resolved, that he was distinguished from others, and reputed wise, only because he did not so esteeme himselfe: And that his God deemed the opinion of science and wisedome a singular sottishnes in man; and that his best doctrine was the doctrine of ignorance, and sim∣plicitie his greatest wisedome. The sacred writ pronounceth them to be miserable in this world, that esteeme themselves. Dust and ashes (saith he) what is there in thee, thou shouldest so much glory of? And in an other place. God hath made man like vnto a shadowe, of which

who shall judge, when the light being gone, it shall vanish away? Man is a thing of nothing. So far are our faculties from conceiving that high Deitie, that of our Creators works, those beare his marke best, and are most his owne, which we vnderstand least. It is an occasion to induce Christians to beleeve, when they chance to meet with any incredible thing, that it is so much the more according vnto reason, by how much more it is against humane reason. If it were according vnto reason, it were no more a wonder; and were it to be matched, it were no more singular. Melius scitur Deus nesoiendo. God is better knowen by our not knowing him. Saith S. Augustine: And Tacitus, Sanctius est ac reverentius de actis deorum credere quàm sci∣re: It is a course of more holinesse and neverence, to hold beliefe, then to have knowledge of Gods acti∣ons. And Plato deemes it to be a vice of impiety, over-curiously to enquire after God, after the world, and after the first causes of things. Atque illum quidem parentem huius vniversit a∣tis invenire, difficile: & quum iam inveneris, indicare in vulgus, nesas. Both it is difficult to finde out the father of this vniverse, and when you have found him, it is vnlawful to reveale him to the vul∣gar, saith Cicero. We easily pronounce puissance, truth and justice; they be words import∣ing some great matter, but that thing we neither see nor conceive. We say that God feareth, that God will be angry, and that God loveth.

Immortalia mortali sermone notante••,

Who with tearmes of mortality Note things of immortality.

They be all agitations and motions, which according to our forme can have no place in God, nor we imagine them according to his. It only belongs to God to know himselfe, and inter∣pret his owne workes; and in our tongues he doth it improperly, to descend and come downe to vs, that are, and lie groveling on the ground. How can wisdome (which is the choise be∣tweene good and evill) beseeme him, seeing no evill doth touch him? How reason and intel∣ligence, which we vse to come from obscure to apparant things, seeing there is no obscure thing in God? Iustice which distributeth vnto every man, what belongs vnto him, created for the society and conversation of man, how is she in God? How temperance, which is the moderation of corporall sensualities, which have no place at all in his God-head? Fortitude patiently to endure sorrowes, and labours and dangers, appertaineth a little vnto him; these three things no way approaching him, having no accesse vnto him. And therefore Aristotle holdes him to be equally exempted from vertue and from vice. Ne{que} gratiâ, ne{que} irâ teneri po∣test, quòd quae talia essent, imbecilla essent omnia. Nor can he be possessed with favor and anger; for all that is so, is but weake. The participation which we have of the knowledge of truth, whatso∣ever she is, it is not by our owne strength we have gotten it; God hath sufficiently taught it vs in that he hath made choise of the simple, common and ignorant, to teach vs his wonderfull secrets. Our faith hath not been purchased by vs: it is a gift proceeding from the liberality of others. It is not by our discourse or vnderstanding, that we have received our religion, it is by a forraine authority, and commandement. The weaknesse of our judgement, helpes vs more than our strength to compasse the same and our blindnesse more then our cleare-sighted eies. It is more by the meanes of our ignorance, then of our skill, that we are wise in heavenly knowledge. It is no marvell if our natural and terrestriall meanes cannot conceive the super∣naturall, or apprehend the celestial knowledge: Let vs adde nothing of our owne vnto it, but obedience and subjection: For (as it is written) I will confound the wisdome of the wise and destroy the vnderstanding of the prudent, where is the Wise? Where is the Scribe? Where is the disputer of this world. Hath not God made the wisdome of this world foolishnesse? For seeing the world by wisedome knew not God in the wisedome of God, it hath pleased him, by the vanity of preaching, to save them that beleeve. Yet must I see at last, whether it be in mans power to finde what he seekes for: and if this long search, wherein he hath continued so many ages, hath enriched him with any new strength or solid truth: I am perswaded, if he speake in con∣science, he will confesse, that all the benefit he hath gotten by so tedious a pursute, hath been, that he hath learned to know his owne weaknesse. That ignorance which in vs was naturall, we have with long study confirmed and averred. It hath happened vnto those that are truely learned, as it hapneth vnto eares of Corne, which as long as they are empty, grow and raise their head aloft, vpright and stout; but if they once become full and bigge, with ripe Corne, they begin to humble and droope downeward. So men having tried, and ••ounded all, and in all this Chaos, and huge heape of learning and provision of so infinite different things, and

found nothing that is substanciall firme and steadie, but all vanitie, have renounced their presumption, and too late knowen their naturall condition. It is that, which Ʋelleius vp∣braides Cotta and Cicero withall, that they have learnt of Philo, to have learned nothing. Pherecydes, one of the seaven wise, writing to Thales even as he was yeelding vp the Ghost; I have (saith he) appoynted my friends, as soone as I shalbe layed in my grave, to bring thee all my writings. If they please thee and the other Sages publish them; If not, conceale them. They containe no certaintie, nor doe they any whit satisfie mee. My profession is not to know the truth nor to attain it. I rather open, then discover things. The wisest that ever was being deman∣ded what he knew, answered, he knew that he knew nothing. He verified what some say, that the greatest part of what we know, is the least part of what we know not: that is, that that which we thinke to know, is but a parcel, yea and a small particle of our ignorance. We know things in a dreame (saith Plato) and we are ignorant of them in truth. Omnes penè veteres nihil cognos∣ci, nihil percipi, nihil sciri posse dixerunt: angustos sensus, imbecilles animos, brevia curricula vitae. Almost all the ancients affirmed nothing may be knowen, nothing perceived, nothing vnderstood: that our senses are narrow, our mindes are weake, and the race of our life is short. Cicero himselfe, who ought all he had vnto learning, Ʋalerius saith, that in his age he began to disesteeme letters: And whil'st he practised them, it was without bond to any speciall body, following what see∣med probable vnto him, now in the one, and now in the other Sect; ever holding himselfe vnder the Academies doubtfulnesse. Dicendum est, sed it a vt nihil affirmem: quaeram omnia, du∣bitans plerum{que}, & mihi diffide••s. Speake I must, but so as I avouch nothing, question all things, for the most part in doubt and distrust of my selfe. I should have too much adoe, if I would consider man after his owne fashion, and in grose: which I might doe by his owne rule, who is wont to judge of truth not by the weight or value of voices but by the number. But leave we the com∣mon people,

Qui vigilans stertit, Who snoare while they are awake. Mortua cui vita est, propè iam vivo atque videnti: Whose life is dead while yet they see, And in a maner living be.

Who feeleth not himselfe, who judgeth not himselfe, who leaves the greatest part of his naturall parts idle. I will take man even in his highest estate. Let vs consider him in this small number of excellent and choise men, who having naturally beene endowed with a peculiar and exquisite wit, have also fostred and sharpened the same with care, with study and with arte, and have brought and strained vnto the highest pitch of wisdome, it may possibly reach vnto. They have fitted their soule vnto all senses, and squared the same to all byases; they have strengthned and vnder-propped it with all forraine helpes, that might any way fit or steade hir, and have enriched and adorned hir with whatsoever they have beene able to bor∣row, either within or without the world for hir availe: It is in them, that the extreame height of humane Nature doth lodge. They have reformed the world with policies and lawes. They have instructed the same with artes and sciences, as also by example of their wonder∣full manners and life. I will but make accompt of such people, of their witnesse and of their experience. Let vs see how far they have gone, and what holdfast they have held by. The maladies and defects, which we shal finde in that Colledge, the world may boldly allow them to be his. Whosoever seekes for any thing, commeth at last to this conclusion and saith, that either he hath found it, or that it cannot be found, or that he is still in pursuit after it. All Philosophy is divided into these three kindes. Hir purpose is to seeke out the, truth the know∣ledge and the certainty. The Peripatetike, the Epicurians, the Stoickes and others have thought they had found it. These have established the Sciences that we have, and as of cer∣taine knowledges have treated of them; Clitomochus, Carneades and the Academikes, have dis∣paired the finding of it, and judged that truth could not be conceived by our meanes. The end of these, is weakenesse and ignorance. The former had more followers, and the wor∣theist Sectaries. Pyrrho and other Sceptikes, or Epochistes, whose doctrine or manner of teaching, many auncient learned men have thought to have beene drawne, from Homer, from the seaven wise men, from Archilochus and Euripides, to whom they joyne Zeno, Democritus and Xenophanes, say, that they are still seeking after truth. These judge that those are infinitely deceived, who imagine they have found-it, and that the second de∣gree is over boldly vaine in affirming that mans power is altogether vnable to attaine vnto it.

for to stablish the measure of our strength to know and distinguish of the difficulty of things is a great, a notable and extreame science, which they doubt whether man be capable thereof or no.

Nil sciri quisquis put at, id quo{que} nescit, An sciri possit, quo se nil scire fatetur.

Who think's nothing is knowne, knowes not that, whereby hee Grauntes he knowes nothing, if it knowne may bee.

That ignorance, which knoweth judgeth and condemneth it selfe, is not an absolute igno∣rance: For, to be so, she must altogether be ignorant of her selfe. So that the profession of the Phyrronians is ever to waver, to doubt and to enquire; never to be assured of any thing, nor to take any warrant of himself. Of the three actions or faculties of the soule, that is to say, he imaginative, the concupisciple, and the consenting, they allow and conceive the two former; the last, they hold and defend to be ambiguous, without inclination or approbation, either of one or other side, be it never so light, Zeno in jesture painted forth his imagination vpon this division of the soules faculties: the open and out-stretched hand was apparance; the hand halfe-shutte, and fingers somewhat bending, consent: the fist close, compre∣hension: if the fist of the left-hand were closely clinched together, it signified Science. Now this situation of their judgement, straight and inflexible, receiving all objects with ap∣plication or consent, leades them vnto their Ataraxie; which is the condition of a quiet and setled life, exempted from the agitations, which we receive by the impression of the opinion and knowledge, we imagine to have of things; whence proceed, feare, avarice, envie, immo∣derate desires, ambition, pride, superstition, love of novelties, rebellion, disobedience, obstina∣cie, and the greatest number of corporall evils: yea by that meane they are exempted from the jealousie of their owne discipline, for they contend but faintly: They feare nor revenge, nor contradiction in the disputations. When they say, that heavy things descend downeward, they would be loath to be believed, but desire to be contradicted, therby to engender doubt, and suspence of judgement, which is their end and drift. They put forth their propositions, but to contend with those, they imagine wee holde in out conceipt. If you take theirs, then will they vndertake to maintaine the contrary: all is one to them, nor will they give a penny to chuse. If you propose that snow is blacke, they wil argue on the other side, that it is white. If you say it is neither one nor other, they will maintaine it to be both. If by a certaine judge∣ment, you say that you can not tell, they will maintaine that you can tell. Nay, if by an affir∣mative axiome, you sweare that you stande in some doubt, they will dispute, that you doubt not of it, or that you cannot judge or maintaine, that you are in doubt. And by this extrea∣mitie of doubt, which staggreth it-selfe, they seperat and devide themselves from many o∣pinions, yea from those, which divers wayes have maintained both the doubt and the igno∣rance. Why shall it not be graunted then (say they) as to Dogmatists or Doctrine-teachers, for one to say greene, and another yellow, so for them to doubt? Is there any thing can be pro∣posed vnto you, eyther to allow or refuse, which may not lawfully be considered as ambiguous and doubtfull? And whereas others be carryed either by the custome of their Countrie, or by the institution of their Parents, or by chaunce, as by a Tempest, without choyse or judgement, yea sometimes before the age of descretion, to such or such another opinion, to the Stoike or Epicurian Sect, to which they finde themselves more engaged, subjected or fast tyed, as to a prize they cannot let goe: Ad quamcum{que} disciplinam, velut Tempestate, delat••, ad eam tan∣quam ad saxum, adhaerescunt. Being carryed as it were by a Tempest, to any kinde of doctrine, they sticke close to it, as it were to a rocke. Why shall not these likewise be permitted, to maintaine their liberty, and consider of things without dutie or compulsion? Hoc liberiores, & solutio∣res, quod integra illis est iudicandi potestas. They are so much the freer and at liberty, for that their power of iudgement is kept entire. Is it not some advantage for one to finde himselfe disinga∣ged from necessitie, which brideleth others? Is it not better to remaine in suspence, then to entangle himselfe in so many errours, that humane fantasie hath brought forth? Is it not bet∣ter for a man to suspend his owne perswasion, than to meddle with these sedicious and qua∣rellous devisions? What shall I chuse? Mary, what you list, so you chuse. A very foolish answere: to which it seemeth neverthelesse, that all Dogmatisme arriveth; by which it is not lawfull for you to bee ignorant of that we know not. Take the best and strongest side, it shall never be so sure, but you shall have occasion to defend the same, to close and combate a hundred and a hundred sides? Is it not better to keepe out of this confusion? You are suffe∣red

to embrace as your honour and life Aristotles opinion, vpon the eternitie of the soule, and to belie and contradict whatsoever Plato saith concerning that; and shal they be interdi∣cted to doubt of it? If it be lawfull for Panaeci••s to maintaine his judgement about Aruspi∣ces, Dreames, Oracles and Prophecies, whereof the Stoickes makes no doubt at all: Wher∣fore shall not a wiseman dare that in all things, which this man dareth in such as he hath lear∣ned of his Masters? Confirmed and established by the general consent of the Schoole wher∣of he is a Sectary and a Professor? If it be a Childe that judgeth, he wo••s not what it is; if a learned man, he is fore-stalled. They have reserved a great advantage for themselves in the combat, having discharged themselves of the care how to shroud themselves. They care not to be beaten, so they may strike againe: And all is fish that comes to net with them: If they overcome, your proposition halteth; if you, theirs is lame; if they faile they verifie igno∣rance, if you, she is verified by you; if they proove that nothing is knowen, it is very well: If they cannot proove it, it is good alike: Vt quum in eadem re paria contrarijs in partibus momenta inveniuntur, faciliùs ab vtra{que} parte asser••••o sustineatur. So as when the same matter the like weight and moment is found on divers parts, we may the more e••s••••y with hold avouching on both parts. And they suppose to find out more easily, why a thing is false, then true and that which is not, than that which is: and what they believe not, than what they believe. Their maner of speech is, I confirme nothing: It is no more so than thus, or neither: I conceive it not; Apparances are e∣very where alike: The law of speaking pro or contra is all one. Nothing seemeth true, that may not seeme false. Their Sacramentall word is, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, which is as much to say, as I hold and stir not. Behold the burdons of their songs and other such like. Their effects is, a pure, entire and ab∣solute surceasing and suspence of judgement. They vse their reason, to enquire and to debate; and not to stay and choose. Whosoever shall imagine a perpetuall confession of ignorance, and a judgement vpright and without staggering, to what occasion soever may chance; That man conceives the true Phyrrhonisme. I expound this fanrazy as plaine as I can, because ma∣ny deeme it hard to be conceived: And the Authors themselves represent it somewhat ob∣scurely and diversly. Touching the actions of life, in that they are after the common sort. They are lent and applied to naturall inclinations, to the impulsion and constraint of passi∣ons, to the constitutions of lawes, and customes and to the tradition of arts: Non enim nos De∣us ista scire, sed tantumodo v••i voluit. For God would not have vs know these things, but onely vse them. By such meanes they suffer their common actions to be directed, without any conceit or judgement, which is the reason that I cannot well sort vnto this discourse, what is said of Pyrro. They faine him to be stup••de and vnmoovable, leading a kinde of wilde and vnsocia∣ble life, not shunning to be ••••t with Car••es, presenting himselfe vnto downefales, refusing to conforme himselfe to the lawes. It is an endearing of his discipline. Hee would not make himselfe a stone or a blocke, but a living, discoursing and reasoning man, enjoying all plea∣sures and naturall commodities, busying himselfe with, and vsing all his corporall and spiri∣tuall parts, in rule and right. The fantasticall and imaginary, and false priviledges, which man hath vsurped vnto himselfe, to sway, to appoint, and to establish, he hath absolutely re∣nounced and quit them. Yet is there no Sect, but is enforced to allow hir wise Sectary, in chiefe to follow diverse things nor comprized nor perceived, nor allowed, if he will live. And if he take shipping, he followes his purpose, not knowing whether it shal be profitable or no; and yeeldes to this, that the shippe is good, that the pilote is skilfull, and that the season is fit; circumstances only probable; After which he is bound to goe, and suffer himselfe to be re∣moved by apparances alwaies provided they have no expresse contrariety in them. Hee hath a body, he hath a soule, his senses vrge him forward, his mind mooveth him. Although he finde not this proper and singular marke of judging in himselfe, and that hee perceive hee should not engage his consent, seeing some falshood may be like vnto this truth: Hee ceaseth not to detect the offices of his life fully and commodiously. How many arts are there, which professe to consist more in conjecture, than in the science; That distinguish not betweene truth and falshood, but onely follow seeming? There is both true and false (say they) and there are meanes in vs to seeke it out, but not to stay it when we touch it. It is better for vs to suffer the order of the world to manage vs without further inquisition. A mind warran∣ted from prejudice; hath a marvellous preferment to tranquility. Men that sensure and con∣troule their iudges, doe never duely submit themselves vnto them. How much more docile and

tractable are simple and vncurious mindes found both towardes the lawes of religion and politike decrees, then these over-vigilant and nice-wits, teachers of divine and humane cau∣ses? There is nothing in mans invention, wherein is so much likelyhood, possibilitie and profite. This representeth man bare and naked, acknowledging his naturall weakenesse, apt to receive from above some strange power, disfurnished of all humane knowledge, and so much the more fitte to harbour divine vnderstanding, disannulling his judgement, that so he may give more place vnto faith: Neither misbeleeving nor establishing any doctrine or opinion repugnant vnto common lawes and observances, humble, obedient, disciplinable and studious; a sworne enemy to Heresie, and by consequence exempting himselfe from all vaine and and irreligious opinions, invented and brought vp by false Sects. It is a white sheet prepared to take from the finger of God, what form soever it shal please him to imprint ther∣in. The more we addresse & commit our selves to God, and reiect our selves, the better it is for vs, Ac∣cept (saith Ecclesiastes) in good part things both in shew and taste, as from day to day they are presented vnto thee, the rest is beyond thy knowledge. Dominus novit cogitationes homi∣num, quoniam vanae sunt. The Lord knowes the thoughts of men, that they are vayne. See how of three generall Sects of Philosophie, two make expresse profession of doubt and ignorance; and in the third, which is the Dogmatists, it is easie to be discerned, that the greatest number have taken the face of assurance; onely because they could set a better countenance on the matter. They have not so much gone about to establish any certainty in vs, as to shew how farre they had waded in seeking out the truth, Quam docti fingunt magis quàm norunt. Which the learned doe rather conceit, than know.

Tymaeus, being to instruct Socrates, of what hee knowes of the Gods, of the world and of men, purposeth to speake of it, as one man to another; and that it sufficeth, if his reasons be as probable as another mans: For, exact reasons are neither in his hands, nor in any mortall man; which one of his Sectaries hath thus imitated: Ʋt potero, explicabo: nec tamen, vt Py∣thius Apollo, certa vt sint & fixa, quae dixero: sed, vt homunculus, probabilia coniectur â sequens. As I can, I will explaine them; yet not as Apollo giving oracles, that all should bee certaine and sette donwe, that I say, but as a meane man, who followes likelihoode by his coniecture. And that vpon the discourse of the contempt of death; a naturall and popular discourse. Elsewhere he hath translated▪it, vpon Platoes very words. Si fortè, de Deorum naturâ ortuque mundi disserentes, minus quod habemus in animo consequimur, haud erit mirum. Aequum est enim meminisse, & me, qui disseram, hominem esse. & vos qui iudicetis: vt, si probabilia dicentur, nihil vltrà requira∣tis. It will be no marvell, if arguing of the nature of Gods and originall of the world, we scarsely reach to that which in our minde we comprehend; for it is meet we remember, that both I am a man, who am to argue, and you who are to iudge, so as you seeke no further, if I speake but things likely. Aristotle ordinarily hoardeth vs vp a number of other opinions, and other beliefes, that so he may compare his vnto it, and make vs see how farre he hath gone further, and how neere he comes vnto true-likelyhood; For truth is not iudged by authoritie, nor by others testimonie. And therefore did Epicurus religiously avoyde to aleadge any in his compositions. He is the Prince of Dogmatists, and yet we learne of him, that, to know much, breedes an occasion to doubt more. He is often seene, seriously to shelter himselfe vnder so inextricable obscuritie that his meaning cannot be perceived. In effect, it is a Pyrrhonisme vnder a resolving forme. Listen to Ciceroes protestation, who doth declare vs others fantasies by his owne. Qui re∣quirunt, quid de quaque re ipsi sentiamus; curiosiùs id faciunt, quàm necesse est. Haec in philoso∣phiâ ratio, contra omnia disserendi, nullámque rem apertè iudicandi, profecta à Socrate, repetita ab Arcesila, confirmata à Carneade vsque ad nostram viget aetatem. Hi sumus, qui omnibus veris falsa quaedam adiuncta esse dicamus, tantâ similitudine, vt in ijs nulla insit certè iudicandi & assentiendi nota. They that would know what we conceit of every thing, vse more curiosity than needes. This course in Philosophy to dispute against all things, to iudge expresly of nothing, derived from Socra∣tes, renewed by Arcesilas, confirmed by Carneades, is in force till our time: we are those that a∣ver some falshood entermixt with every trueth, and that with such likenesse, as there is no set note in those things for any assuredly to give iudgement or assent. Why hath not Aristotle alone, but the greatest number of Philosophers affected difficulty, vnlesse it be to make the vanity of the subject to prevaile, and to ammuse the curiosity of our minde, seeking to feede it, by gnawing so raw and bare a bone? Clytomachus affirmed, that he could never vnderstand by the writings of Carneades, what opinion he was of. Why hath Epicurus interdicted facility

vnto his Sectaries? And wherefore hath Heraclitus beene surnamed 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, a darke misty clowded fellow? Difficulty is a coine, that wisemen make vse of, as juglers doe with passe and re∣passe, because they will not display the vanity of their arte, and wherewith humane foolish∣nesse is easily apaide.

Clarus ob obscurum linguam, magis interinanes. Omnia enim stolidi magis admirantur amântque, Inversis quae sub verbis latitantia cernunt.

For his darke speech much prais'd, but of th'vnwise; For fooles doe all still more admire and prize, That vnder words turn'd topsie-turvie lies.

Cicero reproveth some of his friends, because they were wont to bestow more time about Astrology, Law, Logike, and Geometry, then such Artes could deserve; and diverted them from the devoirs of their life, more profitable and more honest. The Cyrenaike Philosophers equally contemned naturall Philosophy and Logicke. Zeno in the beginning of his bookes of the Common-wealth, declared all the liberall Sciences to be vnprofitable. Chrysippus said that which Plato and Aristotle had written of Logike, they had written the same in jest and for exercise sake; and could not beleeve that ever they spake in good earnest of so vaine and idle a subject. Plutarke saith the same of the Metaphysikes; Epicurus would have said it of Re∣thorike, of Gramar, of Poesie, of the Mathematikes, and (except natural Philosophy) of all other sciences: And Socrates of all; but of the Arte of civill manners and life. Whatsoever he was demanded of any man, he would ever first enquire of him, to give an accompt of his life, both present and past: which he would seriously examine and judge of: Deeming all o∣ther apprentiships as subsequents and of supererogation in regard of that. Parum mihi place∣ant eae literaequae advirtutem doctoribus nihil profuerunt. That learning pleaseth me but a little, which nothing profiteth the teachers of it vnto vertue. Most of the Artes have thus beene con∣temned by knowledge it selfe: For they thought it not amisse to exercise their mindes in mat∣ters, wherein was no profitable solidity. As for the rest, some have judged Plato a Dogmatist, others a Doubter, some a Dogmatist in one thing and some a Doubter, in another. Socrates, the fore-man of his Dialogues doth ever aske and propose his disputation; yet never conclu∣ding, nor ever satisfying: and saith, he hath no other Science, but that of opposing. Their author Homer hath equally grounded the foundations of all Sects of Philosophy, there by to shew, how indifferent he was which way we went. Some say, that of Plato arose ten diverse Sects. And as I thinke, never was instruction wavering and nothing avouching, if his be not. Socrates was wont to say, that when Midwives begin once to put in practise the trade to make other women bring forth children, themselves become barren. That he by the title of wise, which the gods had conferred vpon him, had also in his man-like and mentall love shaken off the faculty of begetting: Being well pleased to afford all helpe and savor to such as were engendrers; to open their nature, to suple their passages, to ease the issue of their child-bea∣ring, to judge thereof, to baptise the same, to foster it, to strengthen it, to swath it, and to cir∣cumcise it; exercising and handling his instrument at the perrill and fortune of others So i•• it with most Authors of this third kinde, as the ancients have well noted by the writings of Anaxagoras, Democritus, Parmenides, Xenophanes, and others. They have a maner of writing doubtfull both in substance and intent, rather enquiring then instructing: albeit heere and there, they enterlace their stile with dogmaticall cadences. And is not that as well seene in Se∣neca, and in Plutarke? How much doe they speake sometimes of one face, and sometimes of another, for such as looke neere vnto it? Those who reconcile Lawyers, ought first to have reconciled them every one vnto himselfe. Plato hath (in my seeming) loved this manner of Philosophying, Dialogue wise in good earnest, that therby he might more decently place in sundry mout••es the diversity and variation of his owne conceites. Diversly to treat of matters is as good and better as to treate them conformably; that is to say, more copiously, and more profitably. Let vs take example by our selves. Definite sentences make the last period of dogmaticall and resolving speech: yet see we, that those which our Parlaments present vnto our people, as the most exemplare and fittest to nourish in them the reverence they owe vnto this dignitie, especialy by reason of the sufficiencie of those persons, which exercise the same, taking their glory, not by the conclusion, which to them is dayly, and is common to al judges as much as the debating of diverse, and agitations of contrary reasonings of law causes will

admit. And the largest scope for reprehensions of some Philosophers against others, draw∣eth contradictions and diversities with it, wherein every one of them findeth himselfe so en∣tangled, either by intent to shew the wavering of mans minde aboue all matters, or igno∣rantly forced by the volubilitie and incomprehensiblenesse of all matters: What meaneth this burdon? In a slippery and gliding place let vs suspend our beliefe, For as Euripides saith,

Les oeuures de Dieu en diverses Facons, nous donnent des traverses.

Gods workes doe travers our imaginations, And crosse our workes in divers different fashions.

Like vnto that, which Empedocles was wont often to scatter amongst his bookes, as moved by a divine furie and forced by truth. No no, we feele nothing, we see nothing; all things are hid from vs: There is not one, that we may establish, how and what it is: But returning to this holy word. Cogitationes mortalium timidae & incertae adinventiones nostrae, & providentiae. The thoughts of mortal men are feareful, our devices and foresights are vncertaine. It must not be thought strange if men disparing of the goale have yet taken pleasure in the chase of it; studie being in it selfe a pleasing occupation, yea so pleasing, that amid sensualities, the Stoikes for∣bid also that, which comes from the exercise of the minde, and require a bridle to it, and finde intemperance in over much knowledge. Democritus having at his table eaten some figges, that tasted of honny, began presently in his minde, to seeke out whence this vnusuall sweet∣nes in them might proceede; and to be resolved, rose from the board, to view the place where those figges had beene gathered. His maide servant noting this alteration in her master, smilingly saide vnto him, that hee should no more busie himselfe about it; the reason was, she had laide them in a vessell, where honny had beene, whereat he seemed to be wroth in that shee had deprived him of the occasion of his intended search, and robbed his curi∣ositie of matter to worke vpon. Away (quoth he) vnto her, thou hast much offended mee; yet will I not omit to finde out the cause, as if it were naturally so. Who perhaps would not have missed to finde some likely or true reason, for a false and supposed effect. This storie of a famous and great Philosopher dooth evidently represent vnto vs this studious passion, which so dooth ammuse vs in pursuite of things, of whose obtaining wee dispaire. Plutarke reporteth a like example of one, who would not bee resolved of what hee doubted, because hee would not loose the pleasure hee had in seeking it: As an∣other, that would not have his Phisitian remove the thirst hee felt in his ague, because hee would not loose the pleasure he tooke in quenching the same with drinking. S••tius est su∣pervacua discere, quàm nihil. It is better to learne more then wee neede, then nothing at all, Even as in all feeding, pleasure is alwayes alone and single; and all wee take that is pleasant, is not e∣ver nourishing and wholesome: So likewise, what our minde drawes from learning leaveth not to be voluptuous, although it neither nourish nor be wholesome. Note what their saying is: The consideration of nature is a foode proper for our mindes, it raiseth and puffeth vs vp, it makes vs by the comparison of heavenly and high things to disdaine base and low matters: the search of hidden and great causes is very pleasant, yea vnto him that attaines nought but thereve∣rence and feare to iudge of them, These are the very words of their profession. The vaine image of this crazed curiositie, is more manifestly seene in this other example, which they for honour-sake have so often in their mouths. Eudoxus wished, and praid to the Gods, that he might once view the Sunne neere at hand, to comprehend his forme, his greatnesse and his beautie; on condition he might immediately be burnt and consumed by it. Thus with the price of his owne life would he attaine a Science, whereof both vse and possession shall there∣with bee taken from him; and for so sudden and fleeting knowledge, loose and forgoe all the knowledges he either now hath, or ever hereafter may have. I can not easily be perswa∣ded, that Epicurus, Plato, or Pithagoras have sold vs their Atomes, their Ideas, and their Numbers for ready payment. They were overwise to establish their articles of faith vpon things so vncertaine and disputable. But in this obscuritie and ignorance of the world, each of these notable men hath endevoured to bring some kinde of shew or image of light; and have busied their mindes about inventions, that might at least have a pleasing and wil••e ap∣parance, provided (notwithstanding it were false) it might be maintained against contrary oppositions: Ʋnicuiquae ista pro ingento finguntur, non ex Scientiae v••. These things are conceited by every man as his wit serves, not as his knowledge stretches and reaches. An ancient Philosopher

being blamed for professing that Philosophie, whereof, in his judgement hee made no e∣steeme; answered, that that was true Philosophizing. They have gone about to consider all, to ballance all, and have found that it was an occupation fitting the naturall curiositie which is in vs. Some things they have written for the behoofe of common societie, as their religi∣ons: And for this consideration was it reasonable, that they would not throughly vnfold common opinions, that so they might not breede trouble in the obedience of lawes and cu∣stomes of their countries. Plato treateth this mysterie in a very manifest kinde of sport. For, where he writeth according to himselfe, he prescribeth nothing for certaintie: When he institutes a Law giuer, he borroweth a very swaying and avouching kinde of stile: Wherein he boldly entermingleth his most fantasticall opinions; as profitable to perswade the com∣mon sorte, as ridiculous to perswade himselfe: Knowing how apt we are to receive all im∣pressions, and chiefly the most wicked and enormous. And therefore is he very carefull in his lawes that nothing bee sung in publike but Poesies; the fabulous fictions of which tend to some profitable end: being so apt to imprint all manner of illusion in mans minde, that it is injustice not to feede them rather with commodious lies, then with lies either vnprofita∣ble or damageable, He flatly saith in his Common-wealth, that for the benefit of men, it is often necessarie to deceive them. It is easie to distinguish, how some Sects have rather fol∣lowed truth, and some profit; by which the latter have gained credit. It is the miserie of our condition, that often, what offers it selfe vnto onr imagination for the likely est: presents not it selfe vnto it for the most beneficiall vnto our life. The boldest sects, both Epicurian, Pir∣rhonian and new Academike, when they have cast their acoumpt, are compelled to stoope to the civill law. There are other subjects, which they have tossed, some on the left and some on the right hand, each one labouring and striving to give it some semblance, were it right or wrong: For, having found nothing so secret, whereof they have not attempted to speake, they are many times forced to forge divers feeble and fond conjectures: Not that themselves tooke them for a ground-worke, nor to establish a truth, but for an exercise of their studie. Non tam id sensisse, quod dicerent, quàm exercere ingenia materiae difficultate videntur voluisse. They seeme not so much to have thought as they said, as rather willing to exercise their wits in the difficulty of the matter. And if it were not so taken, how should we cloke so great an inconstancie, va∣rietie and vanity of opinions, which we see to have beene produced by these excellent and admirable spirits? As for example, What greater vanitie can there be, then to goe about by our proportions and coniectures to guesse at God? And to governe both him and the world according to our capacitie and lawes? And to vse this small scantlin of sufficiencie, which he hath pleased to impart vnto our naturall condition, at the cost and charges of divinitie? And because we cannot extend our sight so farre as his glorious throne, to haue removed him downe to our corruption and miseries? Of all-humane and ancient opinions concerning religion, I thinke that to have had more likelyhood and excuse, which knowledged and confessed God to be an incomprehensible power, chiefe beginning and preserver of all things; all goodnes, all perfection; accepting in good part the honour and reverence which mortall men did yeeld him, vnder what vsage, name and manner soever it was.

Iupiter omnipotens rerum, regúmque, Deúmque, Progenitor, genitrixque.

Almightie Iove, is parent said to be Of things, of Kings, of Gods, both he and sne.

This zeale hath vniversally beene regarded of heaven with a gentle and gracious eye. All Policies have reaped some fruite by their devotion: Men, and impious actions have every where had correspondent events. Heathen histories acknowledge dignitie, order, justice, prodigies, and oracles, employed for their benefite and instruction, in their fabulous re∣ligion: God of his mercy daining peradventure, to foster by his temporall blessings the budding and tender beginnings of such a brute knowledge, as naturall reason gave them of him, athwart the false images of their deluding dreames: Not only false, but impious and in∣jurious are those, which man hath forged and divised by his owne invention. And of al religi∣ons Saint Paul found in credite at Athens, that which they had consecrated vnto a certaine hidden and vnknowne divinitie, seemed to be most excusable, Pithagoras shadowed the truth somewhat neerer, judgeing that the knowledge of this first cause and Ens entium must be vn∣defined, without any prescription or declaration. That it was nothing else but the ex∣treame

indevor of our imagination, toward perfection, every one amplifying the Idea there∣of according to his capacitie. But if Numa vndertooke to conforme the devotion of his peo∣ple to this project, to joyne the same to a religion meerly mentall, without any prefixt object, or materiall mixture; he vndertooke a matter to no vse. Mans minde could never be maintai∣ned, if it were still floting vp and downe in this infinite deepe of shapeles conceits. They must be fra∣med vnto hir to some image, according to hir model. The majesty of God hath in some sort suffered it selfe to be circumscribed to corporall limits: His supernaturall and celestiall Sacra∣ments, beare signes of our terrestriall condition. His adoration is exprest by offices and sensible words; for, it is man that beleeveth and praieth. I omit other arguments, that are emplyed about this subject. But I could hardly be made beleeve, that the sight of our Crucifixes, and pictures of that pittiful torment, that the ornaments and ceremonious motions in our Chur∣ches, that the voices accomodated and suted to our thoughts-devotions, and this stirring of our senses, doth not greatly inflame the peoples soules, with a religious passion, of wonde∣rous beneficiall good. Of those, to which they have given bodies, as necessity required amid this generall blindnesse; as for me, I should rather have taken part with those who worshiped the Sunne.

—la lumiere commune, L'oeil du monde: & si Dieu au chef porte des yeux, Les rayons du Solil sont ses yeux radieux Qui donnent vie à tous, nous maintiennent & gardent, Et les faicts des humains en ce monde regardent: Ce beau, ce grand Soleil, qui nons fait les saysons, Selon qui'il entre ou sort de ses douze maysos: Qui remplit l'vnivers de ses vertus cognues, Qui d'vntraict de ses yeux nous dissipe les nues: L'sprit, l'ame du monde, ardant & flamboyant, En la couree d'un iour tout le Ciel tour noyand, Plein d'immense geandeur, rond, vagabond & ferme: Lequel tient dessoubs luy tout le monde pour terme, Enrepos sans repos, oysif, & sans seiour, Fils aisnè de nature, & le pere du iour.

The common light, The worlds eye: and if God beare eyes in his cheefe head, His most resplendent eyes, the Sunne-beames may be said, Which vnto all give life, which vs maintaine and guarde, And in this world of men, the workes of men regarde, This great, this beauteous Sunne, which vs our seasons makes, As in twelve houses he, ingresse or egresse takes; Who with his Vertues knowne, doth fill this vniverse With one cast of his eyes doth vs all clowdes disperse, The spirit, and the soule of this world, flaming, burning, Round about heav'n in course of one dayes journey turning. Of endlesse greatnesse full, round, mooveable and fast: Who all the world for boundes beneath himselfe hath pla'st: In rest, without rest, and still more staide, without stay, Of Nature th'eldest Childe, and father of the day.

Forasmuch as besides this greatnesse and matchlesse beautie of his, it is the only glorious piece of this vaste-worldes-frame, which we perceive to be furthest from vs: And by that meane so little known, as they are pardonable, that entered into admiration, and reverence of it. Thale••, who was the first to enquire and finde out this matter, esteemed God to bee a spirit, who made all things of water. Anaximander thought, the Gods did dy, and were new borne at divers seasons: and that the worlds were infinite in number. Anaximenes deemed the ayre to be a God, which was created immense, and alwaies mooving. Anaxagoras was the first that held the description and manner of all things, to be directed by the power and rea∣son of a spirit infinit. Alcmaeon hath ascribed Divinity vnto the Sunne, vnto the Moone, vn∣to Stars, and vnto the Soule. Pithagoras hath made God, a spirit dispersed through the Na∣ture

of all things, whence our soules are derived. Parmenides, a Circle circumpassing the hea∣vens, and by the heate of light maintaining the world. Empedocles said, the foure Natures, whereof all things are made, to be Gods. Protagords, that he had nothing to say, whether they were or were not, or what they were. Democritus would sometimes say, that the images and their circuitions were Gods, and othertimes this Nature, which disperseth these images; and then our knowledge and intelligence. Plato scattereth his beliefe after diverse semblances. In his Tymeus, he saith, that the worlds-father could not be named. In his Lawes, that his be∣ing must not be enquired-after. And else-where in the said bookes, he maketh the world, the heaven, the starres, the earth and our soules, to be Gods; and besides, admiteth those that by ancient institutions have beene received in every Common-wealth. Xenophon repor∣teth a like difference of Socrates his discipline. Sometimes that Gods forme ought not to be inquired after; then he makes him infer, that the Sunne is a God, and the Soule a God: othertimes, that there is but one, and then more. Speusippus Nephew vnto Plato, makes God to be a certaine power, governing all things, and having a soule. Aristotle saith sometimes that it is the spirit, and sometimes the world; othertimes he appoynteth another ruler over this world, and sometimes he makes God to be the heat of heaven. Xenocrates makes eight; five named amongst the planets, the sixth composed of all the fixed starres, as of his owne members; the seaventh and eight, the Sunne and the Moone. Heraclides Ponticus doth but roame among his opinions, and in fine depriveth God of sense, and maks him remoove and transchange himselfe from one forme to another; and then saith, that it is both heaven and earth. Theophrastus in all his fantazies wandereth still in like irresolutions, attributing the worldes superintendency now to the intelligence, now to the heaven, and now to the starres. Straio, that it is Nature having power to engender, to augment and to diminish, without forme or sense. Zeno, the naturall Lawe, commaunding the good, and prohibiting the evil; which Lawe is a breathing creature; and remooveth the accustomed Gods, Iupiter, Iuno and Ʋesta. Diogenes Appolloniates, that it is Age. Xenophanes makes God, round, seeing, hearing not breathing, and having nothing common with humane Nature. Aristo deemeth the forme of God to bee incomprehensible, and depriveth him of senses, and wotteth not cer∣tainely whether he bee a breathing soule or something else. Cleanthes, sometimes reason, o∣thertimes the World, now the soule of Nature, and other-while the supreame heate, enfoul∣ding and containing all. Persaeus Zenoes disciple hath beene of opinion, that they were sur∣named Gods, who had brought some notable good or benefite vnto humane life, or had in∣vented profitable things. Chrysippus, made a confused huddle of all the foresaide sentences, and amongst a thousand formes of the Gods, which he faineth, hee also accompteth those men, that are immortalized. Diagoras and Theodorus, flatly denyed, that there were anie Gods: Epicurus makes the Gods, bright-shining, transparent and perflable, placed as it were betweene two Forts, betweene two Worldes, safely sheltered from all blowes; invested with a humane shape, and with our members, which vnto them are of no vse.

Ego Deûm genus esse semper duxi, & dicam c••litum, Sed eos non curare opinor, quid agat humanum genus.

I still thought and wil say, of Gods there is a kinde; But what our mankinde doth, I thinke they nothing minde.

Trust to your Phylosophie, boast to have hit the naile on the head; or to have found out the beane of this Cake, to see this coile and hurly-burly of so many Phylosophical wits. The trouble or confusion of worldly shapes and formes, hath gotten this of mee, that customes and conceipts differing from mine, doe not so much dislike me, as instruct me; and at what time I conferre or compare them together, they doe not so much puffe me vp with pride, as humble me with lowlinesse. And each other choyse, except that, which commeth from the expresse hand of God, seemeth to me a choyse of small prerogative or consequence. The worlds policies are no lesse contrary one to another in this subject, than the schooles: Wher∣by we may learne, that Fortune hirself is no more divers, changing and variable, than our reason, nor more blinde and inconsiderat. Things most vnknowne are fittest to bee deified. Wherefore, to make gods of our selves (as antiquitie hath done,) it exceed the extreame weakensse of discourse. I would rather have folowed those that worshipped the Serpent, the Dogge and the Oxe, forsomuch as their Nature and being is least knowne to vs; and we may more lawfully imagine what we list of those beasts and ascribe extraordinarie faculties

vnto them. But to have made Gods of our condition, whose imperfections we should know, and to have attributed desire, choller, revenge, marriages, generation, alliances, love and jea∣lousie, our limmes and our bones, our infirmities, our pleasures, our deathes and our Sepul∣chres vnto them, hath of necessity proceeded from a meere and egregious sottishnesse, or drunkennesse of mans wit.

Quae procul vsque adeo divino ab numine distant Inque Deûm numero quae sint indigna videri.

Which from Divinity so distant are, To stand in rancke of Gods vnworthy farre.

Forma, aetates, vestitus, ornatus noti sunt: genera, coniugia, cognationes, omniáque traducta ad similitudinem imbecillitatis humanae: nam & perturbatis animis inducuntur, accipimus enim Deo∣rum cupiditates, agritudines, iracundias. Their shapes, their ages, their apparrell, their furnitures are knowen; their kindes, their marriages, their kindered, and all translated to the likenesse of mans weakenesse: For they are also brought in with mindes much troubled: for we reade of the lust fulnesse, the grievings, the angrinesse of the Gods. As to have ascribed Divinity, not only vnto faith, ver∣tue, honour, concord, liberty, victory and piety; but also vnto voluptuousnesse, fraud; death envie, age and misery; yea vnto feare, vnto ague and vnto evill fortune and such other iniuries and wrongs to our fraile and transitory life.

Quid invat hoc, templ••s nostros inducere mores? O curvae in terris animae & calestium inanes!

What boots it, into Temples to bring manners of our kindes? O crooked soules on earth, and voide of heavenly mindes.

The Aegyptians with an impudent wisedome forbad vpon paine of hanging, that no man should dare to say; that Serapis and Isis their Gods, had whilom been but men, when all knew they had beene so. And their images or pictures drawne with a finger a crosse their mouthes imported (as Varro saith) this misterious rule vnto their priests, to conceale their mortall of∣spring, which by a necessary reason disanulled all their veneration. Since man desired so much to equall himselfe to God, it had beene better for him (saith Cicero) to draw those divine conditions vnto himselfe, and bring them downe to earth, then to send his corrup∣tion, and place his miserie above in heaven: but to take him aright, he hath divers waies and with like vanitie of opinion, done both the one and other. When Philosophers blazon and display the Hierarchy of their gods and to the vtmost of their skil indevor to distinguish their aliances, their charges, and their powers. I cannot beleeve they speake in good earnest when Plato decifreth vnto vs the orchard of Pluto, and the commodities or corporall paines which even after the ruine and consumption of our bodie, waite for vs, and applyeth them to the apprehension or feeling we have in this life.

Secreti celant colles, & myrtia circùm Sylva tegit, curae non ipsa in morte relinquunt.

Them paths aside conceale, a mirtle grove Shades them round; cares in death doe not remove.

When Mahomet promiseth vnto his followers aparadise all tapistred, adorned with gold and precious stones, peopled with exceeding beauteous damsels, stored with wines and singular cates. I well perceive they are but sooffers, which sute and applie themselves vnto our foolishnesse, thereby to enhonme and allure vs to these opinions and hopes fitting our mortall appetite. Even so are some of our men falne into like errours by promising vnto themselves after their resurection a terrestriall and temporall life, accompanied with al sorts of pleasures and worldly commodities. Shall we thinke that Plato, who had so heavenly conceptions, and was so well acquainted with Divinity, as of most he purchased the surname of Divine, was ever of opinion, that man (this seely and wretched creature man) had any one thing in him, which might in any sort be applied, and suted to this incomprehensible and vnspeakable power? or ever imagined, that our languishing hold fasts were capable, or the vertue of our vnderstanding of force, to participate or be partakers, either of the blessed∣nesse, or eternall punishment? He ought in the behalfe of humane reason be answered: If the pleasures, thou promisest vs in the other life, are such as I have felt heere below, they have nothing in them common with infinity. If all my five naturall senses were even surchar∣ged with joy and gladnesse, and my soule possessed with all the contents and, delights, it

could possibly desire or hope for (and we know what it either can wish or hope for) yet were it nothing. If there bee any thing that is mine, then is there nothing that is Divine; if it be nothing else, but what may appertaine vnto this our present condition, it may not be accoun∣ted-of, All mortall mens contentment is mortall. The acknowledging of our parents, of our children and of our friends, if it can not touch, move or tickle vs in the other world, if we still take hold of such a pleasure, we continue in Terrestrial and transitorie commodities. We can not worthily conceive of these high, mysterious, and divine promises; if wee can but in any sorte conceive them, and so imagine them aright; they must be thought to be inimaginable, vnspeakeable and incomprehensible, and absolutely and perfectly other then those of our miserable experience. No eye can behold, (saith Sainte Paul) The happe that God prepareth for his elect, nor can it possibly enter the heart of man. And if to make vs capable of it (as thou saith Plato by thy purifications) our being is reformed and essence changed, it must be by so extreame and vniversall a change, that according to Philosophicall doctrine, we shall be no more our selves:

Hector erat tunc cùm bello certabat, at ille Tr••ctus ab Aemonio non er at Hector equo. Hector he was, when he in fight vs'd force; Hector he was not, drawne by th'enemies horse.

it shall be some other thing, that shall receive these recompences.

—quod mutatur, dissolvitur, interit ergo: Traijciuntur enim partes at que ordine migrant. What is chang'd, is dissolved, therefore dies: Translated parts in order fall and rise.

For, in the Metempsychosis, or transmigration of soules of Pithagoras, and the change of ha∣bitation, which he imagined the soules to make; shall we thinke that the Lion in whom a∣bideth the soule of Caesar, doth wed the passions which concerned Caesar, or that it is hee? And if it were hee, those had some reason, who debating this opinion against Plato, object that the sonne might one day bee found committing with his mother vnder the shape of a Mules body, and such like absurdities. And shall wee imagine, that in the transmigrati∣ons which are made from the bodies of some creatures into others of the same kind, the new succeeding-ones are not other, then their predecessors were? Of a Phenixes cinders, first (as they say) is engendred a worme and then another Phenix: who can imagine that this second Phenix be no other and different from the first? Our Silk-wormes are seene to die and then to wither drie, and of that body breedeth a Butter-flie, and of that a worme, were it not ridicu∣lous to thinke, the same to be the first Silkeworm? what hath once lost his being, is no more.

Nec si materiam nostram collegerit aetas Post obitum, rursúmque redegerit, vt sita nunc est Atque iterum nobis fuerint data lumina vitae, Pertineat quidquam tamen ad nos id quoque factum, Interrupta semel cùm sit repet entia nostra. If time should recollect, when life is past, Our stuffe, and it replace, as now tis plac't, And light of life were granted vs againe, Yet nothing would that deede to vs pertaine, When interrupted were our turne againe.

And Plato, when in another place thou saist, that it shall be the spirituall part of man that shall enjoy the recompences of the other life, thou tellest of things of as small likely-hood.

Scilicet avulsis radicibus vt nequit vllam Dispicere ipse oculus rem seorsum corpore toto. Ev'n as no eye, by th'root's pull'd-out can see Ought in whole body severall to bee.

For, by this reckoning, it shall no longer be man, nor consequently vs, to whom this enjoy∣ing shall appertaine; for we are builte of two principall essentiall parts, the separation of which, is the death and consummation of our being.

Inter enim iacta est vitai causa vagèque D••••rrarunt passim motus ab sensibus omnes.

A pause of life is interpos'd; from sense All motions straied are, farre wandring thence.

we doe not say, that man suffereth, when the wormes gnaw his body and limbes whereby he lived, and that the earth consumeth them.

Et nihil hoc ad nos, qui coitu coniugioque Corporis atque animae consistimus vniter apti. This nought concern's vs, who consist of vnion, Of minde and body joyn'd in meete communion,

Moreover, vpon what ground of their justice, can the Gods reward man and be thanke∣full vnto him after his death, for his good and vertuous actions, since themselves addressed and bred them in him? And wherefore are they offended, and revenge his vicious deedes, when themselves have created him with so defective a condition, and that but with one twinkling of their will, they may hinder him from sinning? Might not Epicurus with some shew of humane reason object that vnto Plato, if he did not often shrowd himselfe vnder this sentence; That it is vnpossible by mortall nature to establish any certainty of the im∣mortall? Shee is ever straying, but especially when she medleth with divine matters. Who feeles it more evidently then we? For, although we have ascribed vnto hir, assured and in∣fallible principles, albeit wee enlighten hir steps with the holy lampe of that truth, which God hath beene pleased to impart vnto vs, we notwithstanding see daily, how little soever she stray from the ordinary path, and that she start or stragle out of the way, traced and mea∣sured out by the Church, how soone she looseth, entangleth and confoundeth hir selfe; tur∣ning, tossing and floating vp and downe, in this vast, troublesome and tempestious sea of mans opinions, without restraint or scope. So soone as she looseth this high and common way, shee devideth and scattereth hir selfe a thousand diverse waies. Man can be no other then he is, nor imagine but according to his capacitie: It is greater presumption (sath Plu∣tarke) in them that are but men, to attempt to reason and discourse of Gods, and of demie-Gods, then in a man meerly ignorant of musicke, to judge of those that sing; or for a man, that was never in warres, to dispute of Armes and warre, presuming by some light conje∣cture, to comprehend the effects of an arte altogether beyond his skill- As I thinke, Anti∣quity imagined it did something for divine Majesty, when shee compared the same vnto man, attiring hir with his faculties, and enriching hir with his strange humours, and most shamefull necessities: offering hir some of our cates to feede vpon, and some of our dances, mummeries, and enterludes to make hir merry, with our clothes to apparrell hir; and our houses to lodge hir, cherishing hir with the sweet odors of incense, and sounds of musicke, adorning hir with garlands and flowers, and to draw her to our vicious passion, to flatter her justice with an in humane revenge, gladding her with the ruine and dissipation of things created and preserved by her. As Tiberius Sempronius, who for a sacrifice to Vulcane, caused the rich spoiles and armes, which he had gotten of his enemies in Sardinia, to be burned: And Paulus Emilius, those he had obtayned in Macedonia, to Mars and Minerva. And Alex∣ander comming to the Ocean of India, cast in favour of Thetis many great rich vessels of gold into the Sea, replenishing moreover hir Alters with a butcherly slaughter, not onely of innocent beasts, but of men, as diverse Nations, and amongst the rest, ours were wont to doe. And I thinke none hath beene exempted from shewing the like▪ Essayes.

—Su••mone creatos Quatuor hic iuuenes, totidem, quos educat Vfens, Viventes rapit, inferias quos immolet vmbris. Foure yong-men borne of Sulmo, and foure more Whom Vfens bred, he living over-bore, Whom he to his dead friend A sacrifice might send.

The Getes deeme themselves immortall, and their death but the beginning of a jorney to their God Zamolxis. From five to five yeares, they dispatch some one among themselves toward him, to require him of necessarie things. This deputie of theirs is chosen by lottes; And the manner to dispatch him, after they have by word of mouth instructed him of his charge, is that amongst those which assist his election, three holde so many javelins vpright, vpon which the others by meere strength of armes, throwe him, if he chance to sticke vpon

them in any mortall place, and that he die suddenly, it is to them an assured argument of di∣vine favor; but if he escape, they deeme him a wicked and execrable man, and then chuse another. Amestris mother vnto Xerxes, being become aged, caused at one time 14. yoong striplings of the noblest houses of Persia (following the religion of hir countrie) to be buried all alive, thereby to gratifie some God of vnder-earth. Even at this day the Idols of Temixitan are cimented with the blood of yong children, and love no sacrifice but of such infant and pure soules: Oh justice greedie of the blood of innocencie.

Tantum religio potuit su••dere malorum. Religion so much mischeefe could Perswade, where it much better should.

The Carthaginians were wont to sacrifice their owne children vnto Saturne, and who had none, was faine to buy some: and their fathers and mothers were enforced in their proper persons, with cheerefull and pleasant countenance to assist that office. It was a strange con∣ceite, with our owne affliction to goe about to please and appay divine goodnes. As the La∣cedemomans, who flattered and wantonized their Diana, by torturing of yong boyes, whom often in favor of hir they caused to be whipped to death. It was a savage kinde of humor, to thinke do gratifie the Architect with the subversion of his architecture: and to cancel the punishment due vnto the guiltie, by punishing the guiltles, and to imagine that poore Iphi∣genia, in the port of Aulis, should by hir death and sacrifice discharge and expiate, towards God, the Grecians armie of the offences, which they had committed.

Et casta inceste nubendi tempore in ipso Hostia concider et mactatu moest a parentis. She, a chast offring, griev'd incestuously By fathers stroke, when she should wed, to die.

And those two noble and generous soules of the Decij, father and sonne, to reconcile, and appease the favor of the Gods, towards the Romanes affaires, should head long cast their bodies athwart the thickest throng of their enemies. Quae fuit tanta Deorum iniquitas, vt pla∣cari populo Romano non possint, nisi tales viri occidissent? What iniustice of the Gods was so great, as they could not be appeased, vnlesse such men perished? Considering that it lies not in the offen∣der to cause himselfe to be whipped, how and when he list, but in the judge, who accoumpt∣eth nothing a right punishment, except the torture he appointeth; and cannot impute that vnto punishment, which is in the free choise of him that suffereth. The divine vengeance presupposeth our full dissent, for his justice and our paine. And ridiculous was that hu∣mor of Polycrates, the Tyrant of Samos, who to interrupt the course of his continuall happi∣nes, and to recompence-it, cast the richest and most precious jewell he had into the Sea, deeming that by this purposed mishappe he should satisfie the revolution and vicissitude of fortune; which to deride his folly, caused the very same iewel, being found in a fishes-belly, to returne to his hands againe. And to what purpose are the manglings and dismembrings of the Corybantes, of the Maenades, and now a daies of the Mahumetans, who skarre, and gash their faces, their stomake and their limmes, to gratifie their prophet: seeing the offence con∣sisteth in the will, not in the breast, nor eyes, nor in the genitories, health, shoulders, or throte? Tantus est perturbatae mentis & sedibus suis pulsae furror, vt sic dij placentur, quemadmodum ne homines quidem saeuiunt. So great is the furie of a troubled minde put from the state it should be in, as the Gods must be so pacified, as even men would not be so outragious. This naturall contexture doth by hir vse not only respect vs, but also the service of God, and other mens: it is iniustice to make it miscarie at our pleasure, as vnder what pretence soever it be to kill our selves. It seemeth to be a great cowardise and manifest treason, to abuse the stupide and corrupt the servile functions of the body, to spare the diligence vnto the soule how to direct them accor∣ding vnto reason. Ʋbi iratos deos timent, qui sic propitios habere merentur. In regiae libidinis voluptatem castrati sunt quidam; sed nemo ••ibi, ne vir esset, in bente domino, manus intulit. Where are they afeard of Gods anger, who in such sort deserve to have his favour; some have beene guelded for Princes lustfull pleasure: but no man at the Lords command, hath laid hands on him∣selfe, to be lesse then a man. Thus did they replenish their religion and stuffe it with divers bad effects.

—saepius olim Religio peperit scelerosa atque impia facta.

Religion hath oft times in former times. Bred execrable facts, vngodly crimes.

Now can nothing of ours, in what manner soever, be either compared or referred vnto divine nature, that doth not blemish or defile the same with as much imperfection. How can this infinit beauty, power and goodnesse admit any correspondency or similitude with a thing so base and abject as we are, without extreame interest and manifest derogation from his divine greatnesse? Infirmum Dei fortius est hominibus; & stultum Dei sapientius est homini∣bus, The weaknesse of God is stronger then men: and the foolishnesse of God is wiser then men. Stilpo the Philosopher, being demanded, whether the Gods rejoyce at our honours and sacrifices; you are indiscreet (said he) let vs withdraw our selues a part, if you speake of such matters. Notwithstanding we prescribe him limits, we lay continuall siege vnto his power by our reasons. (I call our dreames and our vanities reason, with the dispensation of Philosophy, which saith, that both the foole and the wicked doe rave and dote by reason; but that it is a reason of severall and particular forme) we will subject him to the vaine and weake apparan∣ces of our vnderstanding; him who hath made both vs and our knowledge. Because nothing i•• ••ade of nothing: God was not able to frame the world without matter. What? Hath God delivered into our hands the keyes, and the strongest wardes of his infinite puissance? Hath he obliged himselfe not to exceed the boundes of our knowledge? Suppose, oh man, that herein thou hast beene able to marke some signes of his effects: Thinkest thou, he hath therein emploied all he was able to doe, and that he hath placed all his formes and Ideas, in this piece of worke? Thou seest but the order and policy of this little little Cell wherein thou art placed: The question is, whither thou seest it: His divinity hath an infinit iurisdiction far beyond that: This piece is nothing in respect of the whole.

—omnia cùm caelo terraque marique, Nil sunt ad summam summai totius omnem. All things that are, with heav'n, with Sea, and land, To th'whole summe of th'whole summe, as nothing stand.

This law thou a leagest is but a municipall law, and thou knowest not what the vniversall is. Tie thy selfe vnto that, whereto thou are subject, but tie not him; he is neither thy com∣panion, nor thy brother, nor thy fellow Citizen, nor thy compesmate. If he in any sort have communicated himselfe vnto thee, it is not to debase himself, or stoope to thy smalnesse, nor to give thee the controulment of his power. Mans body cannot soare vp vnto the cloudes, this is for thee. The Sunne vncessantly goeth his ordinary course: The bounds of the Seas and of the earth can not be confounded: The water is ever fleeting, wavering, and without firmenesse: A wal without breach or flaw, inpenetrable vnto a solid body: Man cannot pre∣serve his life amidst the flames, he cannot corporally be both in heaven and on earth, and in a thousand places together and at once. It is for thee that he hath made these rules; it is thou they take hold off. He hath testified vnto Christians, that when ever it pleased him he hath out gone them all. And in truth, omnipotent as he is, wherefore should he have restrained his forces vnto a limited measure? In favour of whom should he have renounced his privi∣ledge? Thy reason hath in no one other thing more likely-hood and foundation, then in that which perswadeth thee a plurality of worlds.

Terrámque & solem, lunam, mare, caetera quae sunt, Non esse vnica, sed numero magis innumerali. The earth, the Sunne, the Moone, the Sea and all In number numberlesse, not one they call.

The famousest wits of former ages have beleeved it, yea and some of our moderne, as for∣ced therevnto by the apparance of humane reason. For as much as whatsoever we see in this vast worlds frame, there is no one thing alone, single and one:

—cùm in summa res nulla sit vna, Ʋnica quae gignatur, & vnica sol••que crescat: Whereas in generall summe, nothing is one, To be bred onely one, grow onely one.

and that all severall kindes are multiplied in some number: Wherby it seemeth vnlikely, that God hath framed this piece of worke alone without a fellow; and that the matter of this forme hath wholy beene spent in this onely Individuum;

Quare etiam atque etiam tales fateare necesse est, Esse alios alibi congressus materiaij, Qualis hic est avido complexu quem tenet Aether. Wherefore you must confesse, againe againe, Of matter such like meetings else where raigne As this, these skies in greedy gripe containe.

Namely if it be a breathing creature, as it's motions make it so likely, that Plato assureth it, and divers of ours eyther affirme it, or dare not impugne it; no more then this olde opinion, that the Heaven, the Starres and other members of the World, are Creatures composed both of body and soule; mortall in respect of their composition, but immortall by the crea∣tors decree. Now, if there be divers Worldes, as Democritus, Epicurus and well-neere all Phylosophie hath thought; what know wee, whether the principles and the rules of this one concerne or touch likewise the others? Happily they have another semblance and ano∣ther policie. Epicurus imagineth them either like or vnlike. We see an infinite difference and varietie in this world, only by the distance of places. There is neyther Corne, nor Wine; no nor any of our beastes seene in that new Corner of the World, which our fathers have lately discovered: All things differ from ours. And in the old time, marke but in how many parts of the world, they had never knowledge nor of Bacchus nor of Ceres. If any credit may be given vnto Plinie or to Herodotus, there is in some places a kind of men that have very lit∣tle or no resemblance at all with ours. And there be mungrell and ambiguous shapes, be∣tweene a humane and brutish Nature. Some Cuntries there are, where men are borne head∣lesse, with eyes and mouthes in their breasts; where al are Hermaphrodites; where they creep on all foure; Where they have but one eie in their forehead, and heads more like vnto a dog than ours; Where from the Navill downewards they are halfe fish, and live in the water; Where women are brought a bed at five yeares of age, and live but eight; Where their heads and the skinne of their browes are so hard, that no yron can pierce them, but wil rather turne edge; Where men never have beardes. Other Nations there are, that never have vse of fire? Others whose sperme is of a blacke colour. What shall we speake of them, who naturally change themselves into Woolves, into Coults, and then into Men againe? And if it bee (as Plutark saith) that in some part of the Indiaes, there are men without mouthes, and who live only by the smell of certaine sweete odours; how many of our descriptions be then false? Hee is no more ri••ible; nor perhappes capable of reason and societie: The direction and cause of our inward frame, should for the most part be to no purpose. Moreover, how many things are there in our knowledge, that oppugne these goodly rules, which we have allotted and pre∣scribed vnto Nature? And we vndertake to joyne GOD himselfe vnto hir. How manie things doe we name miraculous and against Nature? Each man and every Nation doth it according to the measure of his ignorance. How many hidden proprieties and quintessen∣ces doe we dayly discover? For vs to goe according to Nature, is but to follow according to our vnderstanding, as farre as it can follow, and asmuch as we can perceive in it. Whatsoever is beyond it, is monstrous and disordred. By this accoumpt all shall then be monstrous, to the wisest and most sufficient; for even to such, humane reason hath perswaded, that she had neither ground nor footing, no not so much as to warrant snow to be white: And Anaxagoras said, it was blacke; Whether there be any thing or nothing; Whether there be knowledge or ignorance; Which Metrodorus Chius denyed, that any man might say. Or whether we live as Euripides seemeth to doubt, and call in question, whether the life we live be a life or no, or whether that which we call death be a life:

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; Who knowes if thus to live, be called death, And if it be to die, thus to draw breath?

And not without apparance. For, wherefore doe we from that instant take a title of be∣ing, which is but a twinckling in the infinit course of an eternall night, and so short an inter∣ruption of our perpetuall and naturall condition? Death possessing what-ever is before and behind this moment, and also a good part of this moment. Some others affirme, there is no motion, and that nothing stirreth; namely those which follow Melissus. For if there be but 〈…〉〈…〉 this sphericall motion serve him, nor the mooving from one place to ano∣ther,

as Plato prooveth, that there is neither generation nor corruption in nature. Protagoras saith, there is nothing in Nature, but doubt: That a man may equally dispute of all things: and of that also, whether all things may equally be disputed of: Mansiphanes said, that of things which seeme to be, no one thing, is no more, then it is not. That nothing is certaine, but vncertainty. Parmenides, that of that which seemeth, there is no one thing in Generall. That there is but one Zeno, that one selfe same is not: And that there is nothing. If one were he should either be in another, or in himselfe: if he be in another, then are they two: If he be in himselfe, they are also two, the comprizing and the comprized. According to these rules or doctrines, the Nature of things is but a false or vaine shadow. I have ever thought, this manner of speech in a Christian, is full of indiscretion and irreverence; God cannot die, God cannot gaine-say himselfe, God cannot doe this or that. I cannot allow, a man should so bound Gods heavenly power vnder the Lawes of our word. And that apparance, which in these propositions offers it selfe vnto vs, ought to be represented more reverently and more religiously. Our speech hath his infirmities and defects, as all things else have. Most of the occasions of this worlds troubles are Grammaticall. Our sutes and processes proceed but from the canvasing and debating the interpretation of the Lawes, and most of our warres from the want of knowledge in State-counsellors, that could not cleerely distinguish and ful∣ly expresse the Covenants, and Conditions of accords, betweene Prince and Prince. How many weighty strifes, and important quarrels, bath the doubt of this one silable, Hoc, brought forth in the world? examine the plainest sentence, that Logike it selfe can present vnto vs. If you say, it is faire Weather, and in so saying, say true; it is faire Weather then. Is not thie a cer∣taine forme of speech? Yet will it deceive vs: That it is so; Let vs follow the example: If you say, I lie, and that you should say true, you lie then. The Arte, the reason, the force of the conclusion of this last, are like vnto the other; notwithstanding we are entangled. I see the Pyrhonian Phylosophers, who can by no manner of speech expresse their General conceit: for, they had neede of a new language. Ours is altogether composed of affirmative proposi∣tions, which are directly against them. So that, when they say, I doubt, you have them fast by the throte to make them a vow, that at least you are assured and know, that they doubt. So have they been compelled to save themselves by this comparison of Physicke, without which their conceite would be inexplicable and intricate. When they pronounce, I know not, or I doubt, they say, that this proposition transportes it selfe together with the rest, even as the Rewbarbe doeth, which scowred ill humours away, and therewith is carryed away himselfe. This conceipt is more certainly conceived by an interrogation: What can I tell? As I beare it in an Imprese of a paire of ballances. Note how some prevaile with this kinde of vnreve∣rent and vnhallowed speach. In the disputation, that are now-adayes in our religion, if you overmuch vrge the adversaries, they will roundly tell you, that it lieth not in the power of God to make his body at once to be in Paradise and on earth, and in many other places to∣gether. And how that ancient skoffer made profitable vse of it. Atleast (saith he) it is no small comfort vnto man, to see that God cannot doe all things; for he cannot kill himselfe if he would, which is the greatest benefite we have in our condition; he cannot make mortall men immortall, nor raise the dead to life againe, nor make him that hath lived, never to have lived, and him, who hath had honours, not to have had them, having no other right over what is past, but of sorgetfulnesse. And that this society betweene God and Man; may also be combined with some pleasant examples, he cannot make twise ten not to be twenty. See what he saith and which a Christian ought to abhor, that ever such and so profane words should passe his mouth: Whereas on the contrary part, it seemeth that fond men endevour to finde out this foolish-boldnesse of speech, that so they may turne and winde God almigh∣ty according to their measure.

—cras vel atra Nube polum pater occupato, Ʋel sole puro, non tamen irritum Quodeúmque retro est efficiet, neque Diffinget infectúmque reddet Quod fugiens semel hora vexit. To morrow let our father fill the skie, With darke clowde, or with cleare Sunne, he thereby

Shall not'make voyde what once is overpast: Nor shall he vndoe, or in new molde cast, What time hath once caught; that flyes hence so fast.

When we say, that the infinitie of ages, as well past as to come, is but one instant with God; that his wisedome, goodnesse and power, are one selfe-same thing with his essence; our tongue speakes-it, but our vnderstanding can no whit apprehend it. Yet will our selfe-overweening sift his divinitie through our searce: whence are engendred all the va∣nities and errours wherewith the world is so full-fraught, reducing and weighing with his vncertaine balance, a thing so farre from his reach, and so distant from his weight. Mirum quò procedat improbitas cordis humani, parvulo aliquo invitata successu. It is a wonder, whether the perverse wickednesse of mans heart will proceede, if it be but called-on with any little successe. How insolently doe the Stoikes charge Epicurus, because he holds, that to be perfectly good and absolutely happy, belongs but onely vnto God; and that the wiseman hath but a sha∣dow and similitude thereof? How rashly have they joyned God vnto destiny? (Which at my request, let none that beareth the surname of a Christian, doe at this day) And Thales, Plato, and Pithagoras have subjected him vnto necessitie. This over-boldnesse, or rather bold-fiercensse, to seeke to discover God, by and with our eyes, hath beene the cause, that a notable man of our times hath attributed a corporall forme vnto divinitie and is the cause of that which dayly hapneth vnto vs, which is, by a particular assignation, to impute all im∣portant events to God: which because they touch vs, it seemeth they also touch him, and that he regardeth them with more care and attention, then those that are but slight and ordi∣nary vnto vs. Magna dij curant, parva negligunt. The Gods take some care for great things, but none for litle. Note his example; he wil enlighten you with his reason. Nec inregnis quidem reges om∣nia minima curant. Nor doe Kings in their Kingdomes much care for the least matters. As if it were all one to that King, either to remove an Empire, or a leafe of a tree: and if his provi∣dence were otherwise exercised, inclining or regarding no more the successe of a battel, then the skip of a flea. The hand of his government affords it selfe to all things after a like tenure, fashion and order; our interest addeth nothing vnto it: our motions and our measures concerne him nothing and move him no whit. Deus it a artifex magnus in magnis, vt minor non sit in parvis. God is so great a workeman in great things, as he is no lesse in small things. Our arrogancie, setteth ever before vs this blasphemous equality; because our occupations charge-vs. State hath presented the Gods with all immunitie of offices, as are their Priests. He maketh nature to produce and preserve all things, and by hir weights and motions to compact all parts of the world, discharging humane nature from the feare of divine judge∣ments. Quod beatum aeternumque sit, id nec habere, negotij quicquam, ne•• exhibere alteri. That which is blessed and eternall, nor is troubled it selfe, nor troubleth others. Nature willeth that in all things alike, there be also like relation. Then the infinite number of mortall men, con∣cludeth a like number of immortall.: The infinite things that kill and destroy, presuppose as many that preserve and profit. As the soules of the Gods, sanse tongues, sanse eyes and sanse eares, have each one in themselves a feeling of that which the other feele, and judge of our thoughts; so mens soules, when they are free and severed from the body, either by sleepe or any distraction; divine, prognosticate and see things, which being conjoyned to their bo∣dies, they could not see. Men (saith Saint Paul) when they professed themselves to bee wise, they became fooles, for they turned the glory of the incorruptible God to the simili∣tude of the image of a corruptible man. Marke I pray you a little the jugling of ancient Deifications. After the great, solemne and prowd pompe of funeralls, when the fire began to burne the top of the Pyramis: and to take hold of the bed or hearce wherein the dead, corps lay, even at that instant, they let flie an Eagle, which taking her flight aloft vpward, signified that the soule went directly to Paradise. We have yet a thousand medailes and mo∣numents, namely of that honest woman Faustina, wherein that Eagle is represented, carry∣ing a cocke-horse vp towards heaven those Deified soules. It is pity we should so deceive our selves with our owne foolish devises and apish inventions,

Quod finxere timent— Of that they stand in feare, Which they in fancy beare.

as children will be afeard of their fellowes visage, which them selues have besmeared and

blackt. Quasi quicquam infoelicius sit homine, cui sua figment a dominantur. As though any thing were more wretched then man over whom his owne imaginations beare sway and domineere. To ho∣nour him whom we have made, is farre from honouring him that hath made vs. Augustus had as many Temples as Iupiter, and served with as much religion and opinion of myracles. The Thrasians, in requitall of the benefits they had received of Agesilaus, came to tell him how they had canonized him. Hath your Nation (said he) the power to make those whom it pleaseth, Gods: Then first (for example sake) make one of your selues, and when I shall have seene what good he shall have thereby, I will then thanke you for your offer. Oh sence∣lesse man, who can not possibly make a worme, and yet will make Gods by dozens. Listen to Trismegistus when he praiseth our sufficiency: For man to finde out divine nature, and to make it, hath surmounted the admiration of all admirable things. Loe heere arguments out of Philosophies schooles it selfe,

Noscere cui Divos & coelinumina soli, Aut solinescire datum. Only to whom heav'ns Deities to know, Only to whom is giv'n, them not to know.

If God be, he is a living creature; if he be a living creature, he hath sense; and if hee have sense, he is subject to corruption. If he be without a body, he is without a soule, and conse∣quently without action: and if he have a body, he is corruptible. Is not this brave? we are in∣capable to have made the world, then is there some more excellent nature, that hath set hir helping hand vnto it. Were it not a sottish arrogancy, that wee should thinke our selves to be the perfectest thing of this Vniverse? Then sure there is some better thing, And that is God. When you see a rich and stately Mansion house, although you know not who is ow∣ner of it, yet will you not say, that it was built for Rats. And this more then humane frame, and divine composition, which we see, of heavens pallace, must we not deeme it to be the man∣sion of some Lord, greater then our selves? Is not the highest ever the most worthy? And we are seated in the lowest place. Nothing that is without a soule and void of reason, is able to bring forth a living soule capable of reason. The world doth bring vs forth, then the world hath both soule and reason. Each part of vs, is lesse then our selves, we are part of the world, then the world is stored with wisedome and with reason, and that more plenteously, then we are. It is a goodly thing to have a great government. Then the worlds government belongeth to some blessed and happy nature. The starres annoy vs not, then the starres are full of goodnesse. We have neede of nourishment, then so have the Gods, and feede themselves with the vapours ari∣sing here below. Worldly goods, are not goods vnto God. Then are not they goods vnto vs. To offend and to bee offended, are equall witnesses of imbecilitie; Then it is fol∣ly to feare God. God is good by his owne nature, man by his industry: which is more? Di∣vine wisedome and mans wisedome, have no other distinction, but that the first is eternall. Now lastingnesse it not an accession vnto wisedome. Therefore are we fellowes. We have life, reason and libertie, we esteeme goodnesse, charitie and justice; these qualities are then in him. In conclusion the building and destroying the conditions of divinitie, are forged by man according to the relation to himselfe. Oh what a patterne, and what a modell! Let vs raise, and let vs amplifie humane qualities as much as we please. Puffe-vp thy selfe poore man, yea swell and swell againe.

—non si te ruperis, inquit. Swell till you breake, you shall not be, Equall to that great one, quoth he.

Profectò non Deùm, quem cogitare non possunt, sed semetipsos pro illo cogitantes, nonillum; sed seipsos, non ills, sed sibi comparant. Of a truth, they conceiting, not God, whom they cannot conceive, but themselves instead of God, doe not compare him, but themselves, not to him, but themselves. In naturall things the effects doe but halfe referre their causes. What this? It is above natures order it's condition is to high, to far out of reach, and overswaying to endure, that our con∣clusions should seize vpon, or fetter the same. It is not by our meanes we reach vnto it, this traine is too low. We are no nerer heaven on the top of Sina mount, then in the bottome of the deep∣est Sea: Consider of it, that you may see with your Astrolabe. They bring God even to the carnall acquaintance of women, to a prefixed number of times, and to how many generati∣ons. Paulina, wife vnto Saturninus, a matron of great reputation in Rome, supposing to lie

with the God Serapis, by the maquerelage of the Priests of that Temple, found hi•• selfe in the armes of a wanton lover of hirs. Varro the most subtill, and wisest Latine Author, in his bookes of divinitie writeth, that Hercules his Sextaine, with one hand casting lottes for him∣selfe, and with the other for Hercules, gaged a supper and a wench against him: if he won, at the charge of his offerings, but if he lost, at his owne cost. He lost and paid for a supper and a wench: Hir name was Laurentina: Who by night saw that God in hir armes, saying more∣over vnto hir, that the next day, the first man she met withall, should heavenly pay hir hir wages. It fortuned to be one Taruncius, a very rich yong-man, who tooke hir home with him, and in time left hir absolute heire of all he had. And she, when it came to hir turne, hoping to doe that God some acceptable service, left the Romane people heire generall of all hir wealth: And therefore had she divine honors attributed vnto hir. As if it were not suffici∣ent for Plato to descend originally from the Gods; by a two-fold line, and to have Neptune for the common Author of his race. It was certainly beleeved at Athens, that Ariston desi∣ring to enjoy faire Perictyone, he could not, and that in his dreame he was warned by God Apollo, to leave hir vntouch't and vnpolluted, vntill such time as she were brought a bed. And these were the father and mother of Plato. How many such-like cuckoldries are there in histories, procure be the Gods against seely mortal men? And husbands most injuriously blazoned in favor of their children? In Mah••mets religion, by the easie beleefe of that people are many Merlins found; That is to say fatherles children: Spirituall children, conceived and borne divinely in the wombs of virgins, and that in their language beare names, impor∣ting as much▪ We must note, that nothing is more deare and precious to any thing, then it's owne being (the Lyon, the Eagle and the Dolphin esteeme nothing above their kind) each thing referreth the qualities of all other things vnto hir owne conditions, which we may ei∣ther amplifie or shorten; but that is all: for besides this principle, and out of this reference, our imagination cannot goe, and guesse further: and it is vnpossible it should exceede that, or goe beyond it: Whence arise these ancient conclusions. Of all formes, that of man is the fairest: Then God is of this forme. No man can be happie without vertue, nor can vertue be without reason; And no reason can lodge but in a humane shape: God is then invested with a humane figure. Ita est informatum anticipatum mentibus nostris, vt homini, quum de Deo cogitet, forma occurrat humana. The preiudice forestaled in our mindes is so framed, as the forme of man comes to mans mind, when he is thinking of God. Therefore Xenophanes said pleasantly, that if beasts frame any Gods vnto themselves, (as likely it is they doe) they surely frame them like vnto themseves, and glorifie themselves as we doe. For, why may not a Goose say thus? All parts of the world behold me, the earth serveth me to tread vpon, the Sunne to give me light, the starres to inspire we with influence: this commoditie I have of the windes, and this benefit of the waters; there is nothing that this worlds-vaulte doth so favorably looke vpon, as me selfe; I am the favorite of nature: Is it not man that careth for me, that keepeth me, lodgeth me, and serveth me? For me it is he soweth, reapeth and grindeth: If he eate me, so doth man feede on his fellow, and so doe I on the wormes, that consume and eate him. As much might a Crane say, yea and more boldly, by reason of hir flights-libertie, and the possession of this goodly and high-bownding region. Tam blanda conciliatrix, & tam sui est lena ipsa natura. So flattring a broker, and bawd (as it were) is nature to it selfe, Now by the same consequence, the destinies are for vs, the world is for vs; it shineth, and thundreth for vs: Both the creator and the creatures are for vs: It is the marke and point whereat the vniver∣sitie of things aymeth. Survay but the register, which Philosophie hath kept these two thou∣sand yeares and more, of heavenly affaires. The Gods never acted, and never spake, but for man: She ascribeth no other consultation, nor imputeth other vacation vnto them. Loe how they are vp in armes against vs.

—domitósque Herculeâ manu Telluris iuvenes, vnde periculum Fulgens contremuit domus Saturni veteris. And yong earth-gallants tamed by the hand Of Hercules, whereby the habitation Of old Saturnus did in peril stand, And, shyn'd it ne're so bright, yet fear'd invasion.

See how they are partakers▪ of our troubles, that so they may be even with vs, forsomuch as so many times we are partakers of theirs.

Neptunus muros magnòque ••mota trident•• Fundamenta quatit totàmque á sedibus vrbem Eruit: hîc Iuno Scaeas saevissima portas Prima tenet.— Neptunus with his great thre••-forked ma•••• Shak's the weake wall, and t••ttering foundation, And from the site the Cittie doth displace, Fierce Iuno first holds-ope the gates t'invasion.

The Caunians, for the jelousie of their owne Gods domination, vpon their devotion-day arme themselves, and running vp and downe, brandi••hing and striking the ayre with their glaives, and in this ernest manner they expell all foraine, and banish all strange Gods from out their territorie. Their powers are limited according to our necessitie. Some heale Hor∣ses, some cure men, some the plague, some the scalde, some the cough, some one kinde of scabbe, and some another: Adeo m••••imis ••t••am rebus prava religio inserit Deos: This cor∣rup•• religion engageth and inferteth Gods even in the least matters: Some make grapes to growe, and some garlike; Some have the charge of bawdrie and vncleannes, and Some of mar∣chandise: To every kinde of trades-man a God. Some one hath his province and credit in the East, and some in the West:

—hîc illius arma Hîc currus fuit— His armor heere His char••orts there apeare. O sancte Apollo▪ qui vmbilicum certum terrarum obtines. Sacred Apollo, who enfoldest, The earths set n••vell, and it holdest. Pallada Cecropidae, Minoya Creta Dianam, Vulcanum tellus Hipsipil••a colit. Iunonem Sparte, Pelopeiadèsque Mycenae, Pinigerum Fauni M••nalis ora caput: Mars Latio venerandus.— Besmeared with bloud and goare. Th'Athenians Pallas; Minos-Candy cost Diana; Lemnos Ʋulcan honor's most▪ Mycene and Sparta, Iuno thinke divine; The coast of Maenalus Faune crown'd with pine; Latium doth Mars adore.

Some hath but one borough or familie in his possession: Some lodgeth alone, and some in companie, either voluntarily or necessarily.

Iunctàque sunt magno templa nepotis avo. To the great grand-sires shrine, The nephews temples doe combine.

Some there are so seely and popular (for their number amounteth to six and thirtie thou∣sand) that five or six of them must be shufled vp to gether to produce an eare of corne, and thereof they take their several names. Three to a doore; one to be the boardes, one to be the hinges, and the third to the threshold. Foure to a childe, as protectors of his bandels, of his drinke, of his meate and of his sucking. Some are certaine, others vncertane, some doubt∣full; and some that come not yet into paradise.

Quos, quoniam caeli nondum dignamur honore, Quas dedimus certè terras, habitare sinamus. Whom for as yet with heav'n we have not graced, Let them on earth by our good grant be placed.

There are some Philosophicall, some poeticall, and some civill, some of a meane condition, betweene divine and humane nature, mediators, and spokes▪men betweene vs and God: wor∣shipped in a kinde of second or diminutive order of adoration: infinite in titles and offices:

some good, some bad; some old and crazed, and some mortall. For Chrysippus thought, that in the last conflagration or burning of the world, all the Gods should have an end, except Iupiter. Man faineth a thousand pleasant societies betweene God and him. Nay is he not his countrieman?

—lovis incunabul•• Creten. The Ile of famous Creet, For love a cradle meete.

Behold the excuse, that Scaevola chiefe Bishop, and Varro, a great Divine in their dayes, give vs vpon the consideration of this subject. It is necessary (say they) that man be altoge∣ther ignorant of true things, and beleeve many false. Quum veritatem quâ liberetur, in∣quirat: credatur ei exp••dire, quod fallitur. Since they seeke the truth, whereby they may be free, let vs beleeve it is expedient for them, to be deceived. Mans eie cannot perceive things, but by the formes of his knowledge. And we remember not the downefall of miserable Phaeton, for∣somuch as he vndertooke to guide the reins of his fathers steedes, with a mortall hand. Ou•• minde doth still relaps into the same depth, and by hir owne temeritie doth dissipate and bruise it selfe. If you enquire of Philosophy, what matter the Sun is composed-of? What wil it answer, but of yron and stone, or other stuffe for his vse? Demand of Zeno, what Nature is? A fire (saith he) an Artist, fit to engender, and proceeding orderly. Archimedes master of this Science, and who in trueth and certaintie assumeth vnto him-selfe a precedencie aboue all others, saith, the Sunne is a God of enflamed-yron. Is not this a quaint imagination, pro∣duced by the inevitable necessitie of Geometricall demonstrations? Yet not so vnavoidable and beneficiall, but Socrates hath beene of opinion, that it sufficed to know so much of it as that a man might measure out the land, he either dem••sed or tooke to rent: and that Po∣lyaenus, who therein had beene a famous and principall Docter, after he had tasted the sweet fruites of the lazie, idle and delicious gardens of Epicurus, did not contemne them, as full of falsehood and apparant vanitie. Socrates in Xenophon, vpon this point of Anaxagoras, al∣lowed and esteemed of antiquitie, well seene and expert above all others in heavenly and divine matters, saith, that he weakened his braines much, as all men doe, who over nicely and greedily will search out those knowledges, which hang not for their mowing, nor per∣taine vnto them. When he would needes have the Sunne to be a burning stone, he remem∣bered not, that a stone doth not shine in the fire; and which is more, that it consumes there∣in. And when he made the Sunne and fire to be all one, he forgot, that fire doth not tanne and blacke those he looketh vpon; that wee fixly looke vpon the fire, and that fire consu∣meth and killeth all plants and hearbs. According to the advise of Socrates and mine, The wisest iudging of heaven, is not to iudge of it at all. Plato in his Timeus, being to speake of Doe∣mons and spirits, saith, it is an enterprise far exceeding my skill and abilitie: we must be∣leeve what those ancient forefathers have said of them, who have said to have beene engen∣dred by them. It is against reason not to give credite vnto the children of the Gods al∣though their sayings be neither grounded vpon necessary, nor likely reasons, since they tell vs, that they speake of familiar and houshold matters. Let vs see, whether we have a little more insight in the knowledge of humane and naturall things. Is it not a fond enterprise, to those vnto which, by our owne confession, our learning cannot possible attaine, to divise and forge them another body, and of our owne invention to give them a false forme? as is seene in the planetary motions, vnto which because our minde cannot reach, nor imagine their naturall conduct, we lend them something of ours, that is to say, materiall, grose and corporall springs and wards:

—temo aureus, aurea summ•• Curvatura rotae, radiorum argenteus ordo. The Axe-tree gold, the wheeles whole circle gold, The ranke of raies did all of silver hold.

you would say, we have had Coach-makers, Carpenters, and Painters, who have gone vp thither, and there have placed engines with diverse motions, and ranged the wheelings, the windings, and enterlacements of the celestiall bodies d••apred in colours, according to Plato, about the spindle of necessity.

Mundus domus est maxi••a rerum, Quam quinque altitonae fragmine zon•• Cingunt, per quam li••bus pictus bis sex signis,

Stellimicantibus, alius in obliquo aethere, Lunae Bigas acceptat. The world, of things the greatest habitation, Which five high-thundring Zones by separation Engirde, through which a scarfe depainted faire With twice six signes star-shining in the aire. Obliquely raisde, the waine O'th'Moone doth entertaine.

They are all dreames, and mad follies. Why will not nature one day be pleased to open her bosome to vs, and make vs perfectly see the meanes and conduct of her motions, and enable our eyes to judge of them? Oh good God, what abuses, and what distractions should we finde in our poore vnderstanding, and weake knowledge▪ I am deceived, if she hold one thing directly in it's point; and I shall part hence more ignorant of all other things, then mine ignorance. Have I not seen this divine saying in Plato, that Nature is nothing but an aenigmaticall poesie? As a man might say, an overshadowed and darke picture, enter-shi∣ning with an infinite varietie of false lights, to exercise our conjectures. Latent ista omnia crassi•• occultata & circumfusa tenebris vt nulla acies humani ingenij tanta sit, quae penetrare in coelum, terram intrare possit. All these things lie hid so veiled and environed with mistie darknesse, as no edge of man is so piersant, as it can passe into heaven, or dive into the earth. And truely, Phi∣losophie is nothing else but a sophisticated poesie: whence have these ancient Authors all their authorities, but from Poets? And the first were Poets themselves, and in their Art treated the same. Plato is but a loose Poet. All high and more then humane Sciences are decked and enrobed with a Poeticall stile. Even as women, when their naturall teeth faile them, vse some of yuorie, and in stead of a true beautie, or lively colour, lay-on some artifi∣ciall hew; and as they make trunk-sleeves of wyre and whale-bone bodies, backes of lathes, and stiffe bumbast••d verdugals, and to the open-view of all men paint and embellish them∣selves with counterfeit and borrowed beauties; so doth learning (and our law hath, as some say, certaine lawfull fictions, on which it groundeth the trueth of justice) which in liew of currant payment and presupposition, delivereth vs those things, which she her selfe teach∣eth vs to be meere inventions: For, these Epicycles, Excentriques, and Concentriques, which Astrologie vseth to direct the state and motions of her starres, she giveth them vnto vs, as the best she could ever invent, to fit and sute vnto this subject: as in all things else, Philoso∣phie presenteth vnto vs, not that which is, or she beleeveth, but what she inventeth, as having most apparance, likely hood, or comelynesse. Plato vpon the discourse of our bodies-estate, and of that of beasts: That what we have said, is true, we would be assured of it, had we but the confirmation of some oracle, to confirme-it. This onely we warrant, that it is the likeliest we could say. It is not to heaven alone, that she sendeth her cordages, her engines, and her wheeles: Let vs but somewhat consider, what she saith of our selves, and of our contexture. There is no more retorgradation, trepidation, augmentation, recoyling, and violence in the starres and celestiall bodies, then they have fained and devised in this poore seelie little bodie of man. Verily they have thence had reason to name it Microcosmos, or little world, so many severall parts and visages have they imploide to fashion and frame the same. To accommodate the motions which they see in man, the divers functions and faculties, that we feel in our selves; Into how many severall parts have they divided our soule? Into how many seats have they placed her? Into how many orders, stages, and stations have they divided this wretched man, beside the naturall and perceptible? and to how many distinct offices and vacation? They make a publike imaginarie thing of it. It is a subject, which they hold and handle: they have all power granted them, to rip him, to sever him, to range him, to joine and reunite him together againe, and to stuffe him, every one according to his fantasie, and yet they neither have not possesse him. They cannot so order or rule him, not in trueth onely, but in imagination, but still some cadence or sound is discovered, which escapeth their architecture, bad as it is, and bot••ht together with a thousand false pat∣ches, and fantasticall peeces. And they have no reason to be excused: For, to Painters, when they pourtray the heaven, the earth, the seas, the hills, the scattered Ilands, we pardon them, if they but represent vs with some slight apparance of them; and as of things vnknowne we are contented with such fained shadowes: But when they draw vs, or any other subject

that is familiarly knowne vnto vs, to the life, then seeke we to draw from them a perfect and exact representation of theirs or our true lineaments, or colours; and scorne if they misse never so little. I commend the Milesian wench, who seeing Thales the Philosopher continu∣ally ammusing himselfe in the contemplation of heavens-wide-bounding vault, and ever holding his eyes aloft, laid something in his way to make him stumble, thereby to warne and put him in minde, that he should not ammuse his thoughts about matters above the clowds, before he had provided for, and well considered those at his feet. Verily she advised him well, and it better became him, rather to looke to himselfe then to gaze on heaven; For, as Democritus by the mouth of Cicero saith,

Quod est ante pedes, nemo spectat: coeli scrutantur plagas, No man lookes, what before his feet doth lie, They seeke and search the climates of the skie.

But our condition beareth, that the knowledge of what we touch with our hands, and have amongst vs, is as far from vs and above the clouds, as that of the stars: As saith Socra∣tes in Plato, That one may justly say to him who medleth with Philosophie, as the woman said to Thales, which is, he seeth nothing of that which is before him. For, every Philoso∣pher is ignorant of what his neighbour doth, yea, he knowes not what himselfe doth, and wots not what both are, whether beasts or men. These people who thinke Sebondes reasons to be weake and lame, who know nothing themselves, and yet will take vpon them to go∣verne the world and know all:

Quae mare compescant causae, quid temperet annum, Stellae sponte sua, iussaeve vagentur & errent: Quid praemat obscurum Lunae, quid proferat orbem, Quid velit & possit rerum concordia discors. What cause doth calme the Sea, what cleares the yeare, Whether Stars forc't, or of selfe-will appeare: What makes the Moones darke Orbe towax or wane, What friendly fewd of things both will and can.

Did they never sound amid their books, the difficulties that present themselves to them, to know their owne being? We see verie well, that our finger stirreth, and our foote moveth, that some parts of our bodie, move of themselves without our leave, and other some that stir but at our pleasure: and we see that certaine apprehensions engender a blushing-red colour, others a palenesse; that some imagination doth onely worke in the milt, another in the braine; some one enduceth vs to laugh, another causeth vs to weep; some astonished and stu∣pifieth all our senses, and staieth the motion of all our limbs: at some object the stomake riseth, and at some other the lower parts. But how a spirituall impression causeth or worketh such a dent or flaw in a massie and solide bodie or subject, and the nature of the conjoyning, and compacting of these admirable springs and wards, man yet never knew: Omnia incerta ratione, & in nature maiestate abdita. All vncertain in reason, and hid in the maiestie of nature, Saith Plinie and Saint Augustine, Modus, quo corporibus adbaerent spiritus, omnino mirus est, nec com∣prehendi ab homine potest, & hoc ipse homo est. The meane is clearely wonderfull, whereby spirits cleave to our bodies, nor can it be comprehended by man, and that is verie man. Yet is there no doubt made of him: For mens opinions are received after ancient beliefes, by authoritie and vpon credit; as if it were a religion and a law. What is commonly held of it, is received as a gibrish or fustian tongue. This trueth with all her framing of arguments, and proporcioning of proofes, is received as a firme and solid bodie, which is no more shaken, which is no more judged. On the other side, every one, the best he can, patcheth-vp and comforteth this recei∣ved beliefe, with all the meanes his reason can afford him, which is an instrument very supple, pliable, and yeelding to all shapes. Thus is the world filled with toyes, and overwhelmed in lies and leafings- The reason that men doubt not much of things, is that common impressions are ne∣ver throughly tride and sifted, their ground is not sounded, nor where the fault & weaknesse lieth: Men onely debate and question of the branch, not of the tree: They aske not whether a thing be true, but whether it was vnderstood or meant thus and thus. They enquire not whe∣ther Galen hath spoken any thing of worth, but whether thus, or so, or otherwise. Truly there was some reason, this bridle or restraint of our judgements liberty, and this tyrannie over our beliefes should extend it selfe even to schooles and arts. The God of scholasticall learning,

is Aristotle: It is religion to debate of his ordinances, as of those of Lycurgus in Sparta. His doctrine is to vs as a canon Law, which peradventure is as false as another. I know not why I should or might not, as soone, & as easie accept, either Platoes Ideas, or Epicurus his Atomes and indivisible things, or the fulnesse and emptinesse of Leucippus and Democritus, or the wa∣ter of Thales, or of Anaximanders infinite of nature, or the aire of Diogenes, or the numbers or proportion of Pythagoras, or the infinite of Parmenides, or the single-one of Musaeus, or the water and fire of Apollodorus, or the similarie and resembling parts of Anaxagoras, or the discord and concord of Empedocles, or the fire of Heraclitus, or any other opinion (of this infinit confusion of opinions and sentences, which this goodly humane reason, by her cer∣taintie and cleare-sighted vigilancie brings forth in whatsoever it medleth withall) as I should of Aristotles conceit, touching this subject of the principles of naturall things; which he frameth of three parts, that is to say, Matter, Forme, and Privation. And what greater vanitie can there be, then to make inanitie it selfe the cause of the production of things? Privation is a negative: With what humovr could he make it the cause and beginning of things that are? Yet durst no man move that but for an exercise of Logike: Wherein nothing is dispu∣ted to put it in doubt, but to desend the Author of the Schoole from strange objections: His authoritie is the marke, beyond which it is not lawfull to enquire. It is easie to frame what one list vpon allowed foundations: For, according to the law and ordinance of this positive beginning, the other parts of the frame are easilie directed without crack or danger. By which way we finde our reason well grounded, and we discourse without rub or let in the way: For our masters preoccupate and gaine afore-hand as much place in our beliefe, as they need to conclude afterward what they please, as Geometricians doe by their graunted questions: The consent and approbation which we lend them, giving them wherewith to draw vs, either on the right or left hand, and at their pleasure to winde and turne vs. Who∣soever is believed in his presuppositions, he is our master, and our god: He will lay the plot of his foundations so ample and easie, that, if he list, he will carrie vs vp, even vnto the clouds. In this practise or negotiation of learning, we have taken the saying of Pythagoras for currant payment; which is, that every expert man ought to be believed in his owne trade. The Logitian referreth himselfe to the Grammarian for the signification of words: The Retho∣ritian borroweth the places of arguments from the Logitian: The Poet his measures from the Musitian: The Geometrician his proportions from the Arithmetician: The Metaphi∣sikes take the conjectures of the Phisikes for a ground. For, every art hath her presupposed principles, by which mans judgement is bridled on all parts. If you come to the shocke or front of this barre, in which consists the principall error, they immediatly pronounce this sentence; That there is no disputing against such as denie principles. There can be no principles in men, except divinitie hath revealed them vnto them: All the rest, both beginning, midle, and end, is but a dreame and a vapor. Those that argue by presupposition, we must presup∣pose against them, the verie same axiome, which is disputed of. For, each humane presuppo∣sition, and every invention, vnlesse reason make a difference of it, hath as much authoritie as another. So must they all be equally balanced, and first the generall & those that tyrannize vs. A perswasion of certaintie, is a manifest testimonie of foolishnesse, and of extreame vncertaintie. And no people are lesse Philosophers and more foolish, then Platoes Phylodoxes, or lovers of their owne opinions. We must know whether fire be hote, whether snow be white, whether in our knowledge there be any thing hard or soft. And touching the answeres, whereof they tell old tales, as to him who made a doubt of heat, to whom one replied, that to trie he should cast himselfe into the fire; to him that denied the yce to be cold, that he should put some in his bosome; they are most vnworthie the profession of a Philosopher. If they had left vs in our owne naturall estate, admitting of strange apparances, as they present themselves vnto vs by our senses, and had suffred vs to follow our naturall appetites, directed by the condi∣tion of our birth, they should then have reason to speake so. But from them it is that we have learn't to become judges of the world; it is from them we hold this conceit, that mans reason is the generall controuller of all that is, both without and within heavens-vault; which im∣braceth all, and can doe all, by meanes whereof, all things are knowne and discerned. This answere were good among the Canibals, who without any of Aristotles precepts, or so much as knowing the name of naturall Philosophie, enjoy most happily, a long, a quiet, & a peace∣able life. This answere might happily availe more, and be of more force, then all those they

can borrow from their reason and invention. All living creatures, yea, beasts and all, where the commaundement of the naturall law is yet pure and simple, might with vs be capable of this answere; but they have renounced it. They shall not need to tell me, it is true, for you both heare and see, that it is so: They must tell me, if what I thinke I feel, I feel the same in effect; and if I feel it, then let them tell me, wherefore I feel it, and how and what: Let them tell me the name, the beginning, the tennons, and the abuttings of heat and of cold, with the qualities of him that is agent, or of the patient; or let them quit me their profes∣sion, which is neither to admit, nor approve any thing, but by the way of reason: It is their touch stone, to trie all kinds of Essayes. But surely it is a touchstone full of falsehood, er∣rors, imperfection and weaknesse: which way can we better make triall of it, then by it selfe? If she may not be credited speaking of hir selfe, hardly can she be fit to judge of strange mat∣ters: If she know any thing, it can be but hir being and domicile. She is in the soule, and either a part or effect of the same. For, the true and essentiall reason (whose name we steal by false signes) lodgeth in Gods bosome: There is hir home, and there is hir retreat, thence she takes hir flght, when Gods pleasure is that we shall see some glimps of it: Even as Pallas issued out of hir fathers head, to communicate and empart hir selfe vnto the world. Now let vs see what mans reason hath taught vs of hir selfe and of the soule: Not of the soule in generall, whereof well nigh all Philosophie maketh both the celestiall and first bo∣dies partakers; nor of that which Thales attributed even vnto things, that are reputed with∣out soule or life, drawne therevnto by the consideration of the Adamant stone: But of that which appertaineth to vs, and which we should know best.

Ignoratur enim quae sit natura animai, Nata sit, an contrá nascentibus insinuetur, Et simul inter eat nobiscum morte dirempta, An tenebr as orci visat, vastásque lacunas, An pecudes alias divinitùs insinuet se. What the soules nature is, we doe not know; If it be bred, or put in those are bred, Whether by death divorst with vs it goe, Or see the darke vast lakes of hell be lowe, Or into other creatures turne the head.

To Crates and Dicaearchus it seemed that there was none at all; but that the bodie stirred thus with and by a naturall motion: To Plato, that it was a substance moving of it selfe: To Thales, a Nature without rest; To Asclepiades, an exercitation of the senses: To Hesiodus and Anaximander, a thing composed of earth and water: To Parmenides, of earth and fire: To Empedocles of blood:

Sanguineam vomit ille animam— His soule of purple-bloud he vomits out.

To Possidonius, Cleanthes, and Galen, a heat, or hote complexion:

Igneus est ollis vigor, & coelestis origo: A firie vigor and celestiall spring, In their originall they strangely bring.

To Hyppocrates, a spirite dispersed through the bodie: To Ʋarro, an aire received-in at the mouth, heated in the lunges, tempered in the heart, and dispersed through all parts of the bodie: To Zeno, the quintessence of the foure Elements: To Heraclides Ponticus, the light: To Xenocrates, and to the Aegyptians, a mooving number: To the Chaldeans, a vertue with∣out any determinate forme.—Habitum quendam vitalem corporis esse,

Harmoniam Graeci quam dicunt— There of the bodie is a vitall frame, The which the Greeks a harmonie doe name.

And not forgetting Aristotle, that which naturally causeth the bodie to move, who cal∣leth it Entelechy, or perfection mooving of it selfe (as cold an invention as any other) for he neither speaketh of the essence, nor of the beginning, nor of the soules nature; but onely no∣teth the effects of it: Lactantius, Seneca, and the better part amongst the Dogmatists, have confessed, they never vnderstood what it was: And after all this rable of opinions: Harum sententiarum quae vera sit, Deus aliquis viderit▪ Which of these opinions is true, let some God looke vn∣to.

it, (saith Cicero.) I know by my selfe (quoth Saint Bernard) how God is incomprehensi∣ble, since I am not able to comprehend the parts of mine owne being: Heraclitus, who held that every place was full of Soules and Daemons, maintained neverthelesse, that a man could never goe so far towards the knowledge of the soule, as that he could come vnto it; so deep and mysterious was hir essence. There is no lesse dissention nor disputing about the place, where she should be seated. Hypocrates and Herophilus place it in the ventricle of the braine: Democritus and Aristotle, through all the bodie:

Ʋt bonasaepe valetudo cùm dicitur esse Corporis, & non est tamen haec pars vlla valentis. As health is of the bodie said to be, Yet is no part of him, in health we see.

Epicurus in the stomacke.

Haec exultat enim pavor ac met us, haec loca circùm Laetitiae mulcent— For in these places feare doth domineere, And neere these places joy keepes merrie cheere.

The Stoickes, within and about the heart: Erasistratus, joyning the membrane of the Epicranium: Empedocles, in the bloud: as also Mois••s, which was the cause he forbad the eating of beasts bloud, vnto which their soule is commixed: Galen thought that every part of the bodie had his soule: S••rato hath placed it betweene the two vpper eye-lids: Qua facie quidem sit animus aut vbi habitet, nec quaerendum quidem est. We must not so much as enquire, what face the min••e beares, or where it dwels: Saith Cicero. I am well pleased to let this man vse his owne words: For, why should I alter the speech of eloquence it selfe? since there is small gaine in stealing matter from his inventions: They are both little vsed, not verie forcible, and little vnknowne. But the reason why Chrysippus, and those of his Sect, will proove the soule to be about the heart, is not to be forgotten. It is (saith he) because when we will affirme or sweare any thing, we lay our hand vpon the stomacke; And when we will pronounce, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 which signifieth, my selfe, we put downe our chin toward the stomacke. This passage ought not to be past-over without noting the vanitie of so great a personage: For, besides that his consi∣derations are of themselves verie slight, the latter prooveth but to the Graecians, that they have their soule in that place. No humane iudgement is so vigilant or Argos-eied, but sometimes shall fall a sleep or s••umber. What shall we feare to say? Behold the Stoickes, fathers of humane wisedome, who devise that the soule of man, overwhelmed with any ruine, laboureth and panteth a long time to get out, vnable to free hirselfe from that charge, even as a Mouse ta∣ken in a trap. Some are of opinion, that the world was made, to give a bodie in lieu of pu∣nishment, vnto the spirits, which through their fault were fallen from the puritie, wherin they were created: The first creation having been incorporeall. And that according as they have more or lesse remooved themselves from their spiritualtie, so are they more or lesse merilie and Giovially, or rudely & Saturnally incorporated: Whence proceedeth the infinite varie∣tie of so much matter created. But the spirit, who for his chastizement was invested with the bodie of the Sunne, must of necessitie have a verie rare and particular measure of alteration. The extreamities of our curious search turne to a glimmering and all to a dazeling. As Plu∣tarke saith, of the off-spring of Histories, that after the manner of Cardes or Maps, the vt∣most limits of knowne Countries, are set downe to be full of thicke marrish grounds, stadie forrests, desert and vncouth places. See heer wherefore the grosest and most Childish do∣tings, are more commonly found in these which treat of highest and furthest matters; even confounding & overwhelming themselves in their owne curiositie & presumption. The end and beginning of learning are equally accompted foolish. Marke but how Plato takethand raiseth his flight aloft in his Poeticall clouds, or cloudie Poesies. Behold & read in him the gibbrish of the Gods. But what dream'd or doted he on, when he defined man, to be a crea∣ture with two feet, and without feathers; giving them that were disposed to mocke at him, a pleasant and scopefull occasion to doe-it? For, having plucked-off the feathers of a live ca∣pon, they named him the man of Plato. And by what simplicitie did the Epicureans first imagine, that the Atomes or Motes, which they termed to be bodies, having some weight and a naturall mooving downward, had framed the world; vntill such time as they were ad∣vised by their adversaries, that by this description, it was not possible, they should joyne and

take hold one of another; their fall being so downe-right and perpendicular, and every way engendring Parallell lines? And therefore was it necessarie, they should afterward adde a casuall moving, sideling vnto them: And moreover to give their Atomes crooked and for∣ked tailes, that so they might take hold of any thing and claspe themselves. And even then, those that pursue them with this other consideration, do they not much trouble them? If Atomes have by chance formed so many sorts of figures, why did they never meet together to frame a house, or make a shooe? Why should we not likewise believe that an infinit num∣ber of greek Letters confusedly scattred in some open place, might one day meet and joine together to the contexture of th'Iliads? That which is capable of reason (saith Zeno) is better than that which is not. There is nothing better then the world: then the world is capable of reason. By the same arguing Cotta maketh the world a Mathematician, and by this other arguing of Zeno, he makes him a Musition, and an Organist. The whole is more than the part: We are capable of Wisedome, and we are part of the World: Then the World is wise. There are in∣finit like examples seen, not only of false, but foolish arguments, which cannot hold, & which accuse their authors not so much of ignorance, as of folly, in the reproches that Philosophers charge one another with, about the disagreeings in their opinions and Sects. He that should fardle-vp a bundle or huddle of the fooleries of mans wisedome, might recount wonders. I willingly assemble some (as a shew or patterne) by some meanes or byase, no lesse profitable then the most moderate instructions. Let vs by that judge, what we are to esteeme of man, of his sense, and of his reason; since in these great men, and who have raised mans sufficiencie so high, there are found so grose errors, and so apparant defects. As for me, I would rather be∣lieve, that they have thus casually treated learning, even as a sporting childs babie, and have sported themselves with reason, as of a vaine and frivolous instrument, setting forth all sorts of inventions, devises, and fantasies, somtimes more outstretched, and somtimes more loose. The same Plato, who defineth man like vnto a Capon, saith elsewhere after Socrates, that in good sooth, he knoweth not what man is; and that of all parts of the world, there is none so hard to be knowne. By this varictie of conceits & instabilitie of opinions, they (as it were) leade vs closely by the hand to this resolution of their irresolution. They make a profession not al∣waies to present their advise manifest & vnmasked: they have oft concealed the same vnder the fabulous shadows of Poesie, and somtimes vnder other vizards. For our imperfection admitteth this also, that raw meats are not alwaies good for our stomacks: but they must be dried, altred and corrupted, and so do they, who somtimes shadow their simple opinions and judgements; And that they may the better sute themselves vnto common vse, they many times falsi••••e them. They will not make open profession of ignorance, and of the imbecilitie of mans reason, because they will not make children afraid: But they manifestly declare the same vnto vs vnder the shew of a troubled Science and vnconstant learning. I perswade some body in Italy, who laboured very much to speak Italian, that alwaies provided, he desired but to be vnderstood, and not to seek to excell others therein, he should only imploy & vse such words as came first to his mouth, whether they were Latine, French, Spanish, or Gascoine, and that adding the Italian terminations vnto them, he should never misse to fall vpon some idiome of the Countrie, either Tuscan, Roman, Venetian, Piemontoise, or Neapolitan; and amongst so many severall formes of speech to take hold of one. The verie same I say of Phi∣losophie. She hath so many faces, and so much varietie, and hath said so much, that all our dreames and devises are found in hir. The fantasie of man can conceive or imagine nothing, be it good or evill, that is not to be found in hir: Nihil tam absurdè dici potest, quod non dicatur ab aliquo Phylosophorum. Nothing may be spoken so absurdlie, but that it is spoken by some of the Philosophers. And therefore do I suffer my humours or caprices more freely to passe in pub∣like; Forasmuch as though they are borne with, and of me, and without any patterne; well I wot, they will be found to have relation to some ancient humour, and some shall be found, that will both know and tell whence, and of whom I have borrowed them. My customes are naturall; when I contrived them, I called not for the help of any discipline: And weake and faint as they were, when I have had a desire to expresse them, & to make them appeare to the World a little more comely and decent, I have somewhat indevored to aide them with dis∣course, & assist them with examples. I have wondred at my selfe, that by meere chance I have met with them, agreeing and sutable to so many ancient examples and Philosophicall dis∣courses. What regiment my life was-of, I never knew nor learned but after it was much worne

and spent. A new figure: An vnpremeditated Philosopher and a casuall. But to returne vnto our soule, where Plato hath seated reason in the braine; anger in the heart; lust in the liver; it is verie likely, that it was rather an interpretation of the soules motions, then any division or separation he ment to make of it, as of a bodie into many members. And the likeliest of their opinion is, that it is alwaies a soule, which by hir rationall facultie, remembreth hir selfe, com∣prehendeth, judgeth, desireth, and exerciseth all hir other functions, by divers instruments of the bodie, as the Pilote ruleth and directeth his ship according to the experience he hath of it; now stretching, haling, or loosing a cable, sometimes ho••sing the Main-yard, removing an Oare, or stirring the Rudder, causing severall effects with one onely power: And that she abideth in the braine, appeareth by this, that the hurts and accidens, which touch that part, doe presently offend the faculties of the soule, whence she may without inconvenience des∣cend and glide through other parts of the bodie:

—medium non deserit vnquam Coeli Phebus iter: radijs tamen omnia lustrat. Never the Sunne forsakes heav'ns middle waies, Yet with his raies he light's all, all survaies.

as the Sunne spreadeth his light, and infuseth his power from heaven, and therewith filleth the whole World.

Caetera pars animae per totum dissita corpus Paret, & ad numen mentis noménque movetur. Th'other part of the soule through all the bodie sent Obayes, and moved is, by the mindes government.

Some have said, that there was a generall soule, like vnto a great bodie, from which all particular soules were extracted, and returned thither, alwaies reconjoyning and enterming∣ling themselves vnto that Vniversall matter:

—Deumnám{que} ire per omnes Terrásque tractú••{que} maris coelúmque profundum: Hinc pecudes; armenta, viros, genus omne ferarum, Quem{que} sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas, Scilicet huc red••i deinde, ac resoluta referri Omnia: nec morti esse locum— For God through all the earth to passe is found, Through all Sea currents, through the heav'n profound, Heer hence men, heards, and all wilde beasts that are, Short life in birth each to themselves doe share. All things resolved to this point restor'd Returne, nor any place to death affoord.

others, that they did but reconjoyne and fasten themselves to it againe: others, that they were produced by the divine substance: others, by the Angels, of fire and aire: some from the beginning of the world; and some, even at the time of need: others, make them to descend from the round of the Moone, and that they returne to it againe. The common sort of anti∣quitie, that they are begotten from Father to Sonne, after the same manner and production, that all other naturall things are; arguing so by the resemblances, which are betweene Fa∣thers and Children.

Instillata patris virtus tibi,— Thy Fathers vertues be, Instilled into thee. Fortes creantur fortibus & bonis, Of valiant Sires and good, There comes a valiant brood.

and that from fathers we see descend vnto children, not only the marks of their bodies, but also a resemblance of humours, of complexions, and inclinations of the soule.

Denique cur acrum violentia triste Leonum Seminium sequitur, dolus Vulpibus, & fuga Cervis A patribus datur, & patrius pavor incitat Artus Si non certa suo quia semine seminióque

Vis animi pariter crescit cum corpore toto? Why followes violence the savage Lyons race? Why craft the Foxes? Why to Deere to flie a pace? By parents is it given, when parents feare incites, Vnlesse because a certaine force of inward spirits With all the bodie growes, As seed and seed-spring goes?

That divine justice is grounded therevpon, punishing the fathers offences vpon the children; forsomuch as the contagion of the fathers vices, is in some sort printed, in chil∣drens soules, and that the misgovernment of their will toucheth them. Moreover, that if the soules came from any other place, then by a naturall consequence, and that out of the bo∣die they should have been some other thing, they should have some remembrance of their first being: Considering the naturall faculties, which are proper vnto him, to discourse, to reason, and to remember.

—si in corpus nascentibus insinuatur, Cur super anteactam aetatem meminisse nequimus, Nec vestigia gestarum rerum vlla tenemus? If our soule at our birth be in our bodie cast, Why can we not remember ages over-past, Nor any markes retaine of things done first or last?

For, to make our soules condition, to be of that worth we would, they must all be pre∣supposed wise, even when they are in their naturall simplicitie and genuine puritie. So should they have been such, being freed from the corporall prison, aswell before they entred the same, as we hope they shall be, when they shall be out of it. And it were necessarie they should (being yet in the bodie) remember the said knowledge (as Plato said) that what we learn't, was but a new remembring of that, which we had knowne before: A thing that any man may by experience maintaine to be false and erronious. First, because we doe not pre∣cisely remember what we are taught, and that if memorie did meerely execute hir function, she would at least suggest vs with something besides our learning. Secondly, what she knew being in hir puritie, was a true vnderstanding, knowing things as they are, by hir divine intelligence: Whereas heer, if she be instructed, she is made to receive lies and appre∣hend vice, wherein she cannot imploy hir memorie; this image and conception, having ne∣ver had place in hir. To say, that the corporall prison, doth so suppresse hir naturall facul∣ties, that they are altogether extinct in hir: first, is cleane contrarie to this other beliefe, to knowledge hir forces so great, and the operations which men in this transitorie life feel of it, so wonderfull, as to have thereby concluded this divinitie, and fore-past eternitie, and the immortalitie to come:

Nam si tantopere est animi mutata pot est as, Omnis vt actarum exciderit retinentia rerum, Non vt opinor ea ab let ho iam longior errat. If of our minde the power be so much altered, As of things done all hold, all memorie is fled, Then (as I ghesse) it is not far from being dead.

Moreover, it is here with vs, and no where else, that the soules powers and effects, are to be considered; all the rest of hir perfections, are vaine and vnprofitable vnto hir: it is by hir present condition, that all hir immortalitie must be rewarded and paide, and she is onely accomptable for the life of man: It were injustice to have abridged hir of hir meanes and faculties, and to have disarmed hir against the time of hir captivitie and prison, of hir weak∣nesse and sicknesse, of the time and season where she had been forced and compelled to draw the judgement and condemnation of infinite and endlesse continuance, and to relie vp∣on the consideration of so short a time, which is peradventure of one or two houres, or if the worst happen, of an age, (which have no more proportion with infinite, then a mo∣ment) definitively to appoint and establish of all hir being, by that instant of space. It were an impious disproportion to wrest an eternall reward in consequence of so short a life. Plato, to save himselfe from this inconvenience, would have future payments limited to a hun∣dred yeares continuance, relatively vnto a humane continuance: and many of ours have gi∣ven

them temporall limits. By this they judged, that her generation followed the common condition of humane things: As also her life, by the opinion of Epicurus and Democritus, which hath most been received, following these goodly apparances. That her birth was seen, when the bodie was capable of her; her vertue and strength was perceived as the cor∣porall encreased; in her infancie might her weaknesse be discerned, and in time her vigor and ripenesse, then her decay and age, and in the end her decrepitude:

—gigni pariter cum corpore, & vna▪ Crescere seutimus, paritérque senescere mentem. The minde is with the bodie bred, we doe behold, It jointly growes with it, with it it waxeth old.

They perceived her to be capable of diverse passions, and agitated by many languishing and painfull motions, where through she fell into wearinesse and griefe, capable of alteration and change, of joy, stupefaction and languishment, subject to her infirmities, diseases, and offences, even as the stomacke or the foote,

—mentem sanari, corpus vt aegrum Cernimus, & flecti medicinâ posse videmus: We see as bodies sicke are cur'd, so is the minde, We see, how Phisicke can it each way turne and winde.

dazled and troubled by the force of wine; removed from her seat by the vapors of a bur∣ning feaver; drowzie and sleepie by the application of some medicaments, and rouzed vp againe by the vertue of some others.

—corpeream naturam animi esse necesse est▪ Corporeis quoniam telis ictúque laborat. The nature of the minde must needs corporeall bee, For with corporeall darts and stroks it's griev'd we see.

She was seen to dismay and confound all her faculties by the onely biting of a sicke-dogge, and to containe no great constancie of discourse, no sufficiencie, no vertue, no philosophi∣call resolution, no contention of her forces, that might exempt her from the subjection of these accidents: The spittle or slavering of a mastive dog shed vpon Socrater his hands, to trouble all his wisdome, to distemper his great and regular immaginations, and so to van∣quish and annull them, that no signe or shew of his former knowledge was left in him:

—vis animaï Conturbatur,—& divisa seorsum Disiectatur eodem illo distracta veneno▪ The soules force is disturbed, seperated, Distraught by that same poison, alienated.

And the said venome to finde no more resistance in his soule, then in that of a childe of foure yeares old, a venome able to make all Philosophie (were she incarnate) become furi∣ous and mad: So that Cato, who scorned both death and fortune, could not abide the sight of a looking glasse, or of water; overcome with horrour, and quelled with amazement, if by the contagion of a mad dog, he had falne into that sicknesse, which Phisitians call Hydro∣phobia, or feare of waters.

—vis morbi distracta per artus Turbat agens animam, spumantes aequore salso Ventorum vt validis ferveseunt viribus vndae. The force of the disease disperst through joints offends, Driving the soule, as in salt Seas the wave ascends, Foming by furious force which the winde raging lends.

Now concerning this point, Philosophie hath indeed armed man for the enduring of all other accidents, whether of patience, or if it be overcostly to be found, of an infallible defeat, in convaying her selfe, altogether from the sense: but they are meanes, which serve a soule, that is her owne, and in her proper force, capable of discourse and deliberation: not to this inconvenience, where with a Philosopher, a soule becommeth the soule of a soole troubled, vanquished and lost, which divers occasions may produce, as in an over∣violent agitation, which by some vehement passion, the soule may beget in her selfe: or a hurt in some part of the bodie; or an exhalation from the stomack, casting vs into some asto∣nishment,

dazleing, or giddinesse of the head:

—morbis in corporis avius errat Saepe animus, dementit enim, deliráque fatur, Interdúmque gravi Let hargo fertur in altum Aeternúmque soporem, oculus nutúque cadenti. The minde in bodies sicknesse often wandring strayes: For it enraged rave's, and idle talke outbrayes: Brought by sharpe Lethargie sometime to more then deepe, While eyes and eye-lids fall into eternall sleepe.

Philosophers have in mine opinion but slightly harp't vpon this string, no more then an other of like consequence. They have ever this Dilemma in their mouth, to comfort our mortall condition. The soule is either mortall or immortall: if mortall, she shall be without paine: if immortall, she shall mend. They never touch the other branch: What, if she empaire and be worse? And leave the menaces of future paines to Poets. But thereby they deal them∣selves a good game. They are two omissions, which in their discourses doe often offer them∣selves vnto me. I come to the first againe: the soule looseth the vse of that Stoicall chiefe felicitie, so constant and so firme. Our goodly wisedome must necessarilie in this place yeeld her selfe, and quit her weapons. As for other matters, they also considered by the vanitie of mans reason, that the mixture and societie of two so different parts, as is the mortall and the immortall is inimaginable:

Quippe etenim mortale aeterno iungere, & vnà Consentire putare, & fungi mutua posse, Desipere est. Quid enim diversius esse putandum est, Aut magis inter se disiunctum discrepit ansque, Quám mortale quod est, immortali at{que} perenni Iunctum in concilio saevas tolerare procellas? For what immortall is, mortall to joyne vnto, And thinke they can agree, and mutuall duties do, Is to be foolish: For what thinke we stranger is, More disagreeable, or more disjoyn'd, then this, That mortall with immortall endlesse joyn'd in vnion, Can most outragious stormes endure in their communion?

Moreover they felt their soule to be engaged in death, as well as the bodie;

—simul aevo fessa fatiscit, It joyntly faint's in one, Wearied as age is gone.

Which thing (according to Zeno) the image of sleep doth manifestly shew vnto vs. For he esteemeth, that it is a fainting and declination of the soule, aswell as of the bodie. Contrabi animum, & quasi labi putat atque decidere. He thinks the minde is contracted, and doth as it were slide and fall downe. And that (which is perceived in some) it's force and vigor maintaineth it selfe even in the end of life, they referred and imputed the same to the diversitie of disea∣ses, as men are seen in that extremitie, to maintaine, some one sense, and some another, some their hearing, and some their smelling, without any alteration; and there is no weak∣nesse or decay seen so vniversall, but some entire and vigorous parts will remaine.

Non alio pacto quàm si pes cùm dolet aegri, In nullo caput interea sit fortè dolore. No otherwise, then if, when sick-mans foote doth ake, Meane time perhaps his head no fellow-feeling take.

Our judgements sight referreth it selfe vnto truth, as doth the Owles eyes vnto the shining of the Sunne, as saith Aristotle. How should we better convince him, then by so grosse blind∣nesse, in so apparant a light? For, the contrarie opinion of the soules immortalitie, which Ci∣cero saith, to have first been brought in (at least by the testimonie of books) by Pherecydes Syrius, in the time of King Tullus (others ascribe the invention thereof to Thales, and other to others) it is the part of humane knowledge treated most sparingly and with more doubt. The most constant Dogmatists (namely in this point) are inforced to cast themselves vnder the shelter of the Academikes wings. No man knowes what Aristotle hath established vpon

this subject, no more then all the ancients in Generall, who handle the same with a verie wavering beliefe: Rem gratissimam promittentium magis quàm probantium. Who rather promise then approve a thing most acceptable. He hath hidden himselfe vnder the clouds of intricare and ambiguous words, and vnintelligible senses, and hath left his Sectaries as much cause to dispute vpon his judgement, as vpon the matter. Two things made this his opinion plau∣sible to them: the one, that without the immortalitie of soules, there should no meanes be left to ground or settle the vaine hopes of glorie; a consideration of wonderfull credite in the world: the other (as Plato saith) that it is a most profitable impression, that views, when they steal away from out the sight and knowledge of humane justice, remaine ever as a blancke before divine justice, which even after the death of the guiltie, will severely pursue them. Man is ever possessed with an extreame destre to prolong his being, and hath to the vtter∣most of his skill provided for it, Toombs and Monuments are for the preservation of his bo∣die, and glorie for the continuance of his name. He hath imployed all his wit to frame him selfe a-new, (as impacient of his fortune) and to vnderprop or vphold himselfe by his in∣ventions. The soule by reason of hir trouble and imbecilitie, as vnable to subsist of hir selfe, is ever, and in all places questing and searching comforts, hopes, foundations; and forraine circumstances, on which she may take hold and settle hir-selfe. And how light and fanta∣sticall soever his invention doth frame them vnto him, he notwithstanding relieth more surely vpon them, and more willingly, than vpon himselfe: But it is a wonder to see how the most obstinat in this so just and manifest perswasion of our spirits immortalitie, have found themselves short and vnable to establish the same by their humane forces. Somnia sunt non docentis, sed optantis. These are dreames not of one that teacheth, but wisheth what he would have: said an ancient writer. Man may by his owne testimonie know, that the trueth he alone dis∣covereth, the same he oweth vnto fortune and chance; since even when she is falne into his hands, he wanteth wherewith to lay hold on hir, and keep hir; and that this reason hath not the power to prevaile with it. All things produced by our owne discourse and sufficiencie, as well true as false, are subiect to vncertaintie and disputation. It is for the punishment of our teme∣ritie, and instruction of our miserie and incapacitie, that God caused the trouble, downefall and confusion of Babels Tower. Whatsoever we attempt without his assistance, whatever we see without the lampe of his grace, is but vanitie and follie: With our weaknesse we cor∣rupt and adulterate the verie essence of truth (which is vniforme and constant) when fortune giveth vs the possession of it. What course soever man taketh of himselfe, it is Gods permis∣sion that he ever commeth to that confusion, whose image he so lively representeth vnto vs, by the just punishment, wherewith he framed the presumptuous over-weening of Nem∣broth, and brought to nothing the frivolous enterprises of the building of his high-towring Pyramis, or Heaven-menacing tower. Perdam sapientiam sapientium, & prudentiam pruden∣tium reprobabo. I will destroy the wisedome of the wise, and reprove the providence of them that are most prudent. The diversitie of tongues and languages, wherewith he disturbed that worke, and overthrew that proudly-raisd Pile; what else is it, but this infinit altercation, and perpetuall discordance of opinions and reasons, which accompanieth and entangleth the frivolous frame of mans learning, or vaine building of humane science? Which he doth most profitably. Who might containe vs, had we but one graine of knowledge? This Saint hath done me much pleasure: Ipsa vtilitatis occultatio, aut humilitatis exercitatio est, aut ela∣tionis attritio. The verie concealing of the profit, is either an exercise of humilitie, or a beating downe of arrogancie. Vnto what point of presumption and insolencie, doe we not carrie our blindnesse & foolishnesse? But to returne to my purpose: Verily there was great reason, that we should be beholding to God alone, and to the benefit of his grace, for the truth of so no∣ble a beliefe, since from his liberalitie alone we receive the fruit of immortalitie, which con∣sisteth in enjoying of eternall blessednesse. Let vs ingenuously confesse, that onely God and Faith, hath told it vs: For, it is no lesson of Nature, nor comming from our reason. And he that shall both within and without narrowly sift, and curiously sound his being and his forces without this divine priviledge; he that shall view and consider man, without flattering him, shall nor finde nor see either efficacie or facultie in him, that tasteth of any other thing but death and earth. The more we give, the more we owe; and the more we yeeld vnto God, the more Christian-like doe we. That which the Stoike Philosopher said, he held by the casuall con∣sent of the peoples voice; had it not been better he had held it of God? Cùm de animorum

aeternitate disserimus, non leue momentum apud nos habet consensus hominum, aut timentium infe∣ros, aut coleutium. Vtor hâc publicâ persuasione. When we discourse of the immortalitie of soules, in my conceit the consent of those men is of no small authoritie, who either feare or adore the infernall powers. This publike perswasion I make vse-of. Now the weaknesse of humane Arguments vp∣on this subject, is verie manifestly knowne by the fabulous circumstances they have added vnto the traine of this opinion, to finde out what condition this our immortalitie was of. Let vs omit the Stoickes. Ʋsuram nobis largiuntur, tanquam cornicibus; di•• mansures aiunt animos, semper, negant. They grant vs vse of life, as it vnto Ravens: they say, our soules shall long continue, but they deny, they shall last ever. Who gives vnto soules a life beyond this, but finite. The most vniversall, and received fantasie, and which endureth to this day, hath been that, whereof Py∣thagoras is made Authour; not that he was the first inventor of it, but because it received much force and credite, by the authoritie of his approbation; Which is, that soules at their departure from vs, did but passe and roule from one to an other bodie, from a Lyon to a Horse, from a Horse to a King, vncessantly wandring vp and downe, from House to Man∣sion. And himselfe said, that he remembred to have been Aethaledes, then Euphorbus, after∣ward Hermotimus, at last from Pyrrhus to have passed into Pythagoras: having memorie of himselfe, the space of two hundred and six yeares: some added more, that the same soules do sometimes ascend vp to haven, and come downe againe:

O Pater ánne aliquas ad coelum hinc ire putandum est Sublimes animas, iterum{que} ad tarda reverti Corpora? Quae lucis miseris tam dira cupido? Must we thinke (Father) some soules hence doe go, Raized to heav'n, thence turne to bodies slow? Whence doth so dyre desire of light on wretches grow?

Origen makes them eternally to go and come from a good, to a bad estate. The opinion that Ʋarro reporteth is, that in the revolution of foure hundred and fortie yeares, they re∣conjoine themselves vnto their first bodies. Chrysippus, that that must come to passe after a certaine space of time vnknowne, and not limitted. Plato (who saith that he holds this opi∣nion from Pindarus, and from ancient Poesie,) of infinite Vicissitudes of alteration, to which the soule is prepared, having no paines nor rewards in the other World, but temporall, as her life in this is but temporall, concludeth in her a singular knowledge of the affaires of Hea∣ven, of Hell, and heer below, where she hath passed, repassed, and sojourned in many voyages; a matter in his remembrance. Behold her progresse else-where: He that hath lived well, re∣conjoineth himselfe vnto that Star or Planet, to which he is assigned: Who evill, passeth in∣to a Woman: And if then he amend not himselfe, he transchangeth himselfe into a beast, of condition agreeing to his vicious customes, and shall never see an end of his Punishments, vntill he returne to his naturall condition, and by vertue of reason, he have deprived him∣selfe of those grose, stupide, and elementarie qualities, that were in him. But I will not forget the objection, which the Epicureans make vnto this transmigration from one bodie to an∣other: Which is verie pleasant. They demaund, what order there should be, if the throng of the dying, should be greater then that of such as be borne. For, the soules removed from their abode would throng and strive together, who should get the best seat in this new case: And demaund besides, what they would passe their time about, whilst they should stay, vntill any other mansion were made readie for them: Or contrary-wise, if more creatures were borne, then should die; they say, bodies should be in an ill taking, expecting the infusion of their soule, & it would come to passe, that some of them should die, before they had ever bin living.

Denique connubia ad veneris, partús{que} ferarum, Esse animas praesto deridiculum esse videtur, Et spectare immortales mortalia membra Innumero numero, certaréque praeproperanter Inter se, quae prima potissimaque infinuetur. Lastly, ridiculous it is, soules should be prest To Ʋenus meetings, and begetting of a beast: That they to mortall lims immortall be addrest In number numberlesse, and over-hastie strive, Which of them first and chiefe should get in there to live.

Others have staid the soule in the deceased bodies, therewith to animate serpents, wormes and other beasts, which are said to engender from the corrupttion of our members, yea and from our ashes: Others, devide it in two parts one mortall, another immortall: Others make it cor∣poreall, and yet notwithstanding immortall: Others, make it immortal, without any science or knowledge. Nay there are some of ours, who have deemed that of condemned mens soules divels were made: As Plutarke thinks, that Gods are made of those soules which are saved: For, there be few things that this authour doth more resolutely averre, then this; holding e∣very where else an ambiguous and doubtfull kind of speech. It is to be imagined and firmlie believed (saith he) that the soules of men, vertuous both according vnto nature and divine Iustice, become of Men, Saints, and of Saints, Demi-Gods and after they are once perfectly, as in sacrifices of purgation, cleanged and purified, being delivered from all passibility and mortalitie, they become of Demy-Gods (not by any civill ordinance, but in good truth, and according to manifest reason) perfect and very-very Gods; receiving a most blessed and thrise glorious end. But whosoever shall see him, who is notwithstanding, one of the most sparing and moderate of that faction, so vndantedly to skirmish, and will heare him relate his wonders vpon this subject, him I refer to his discourse of the Moone, and of Socrates his Dae∣mon; where as evidently as in any other place, may be averred, that the mysteries of Philo∣sophy have many strange conceits, common with those of Poesie; mans vnderstanding loo∣sing it selfe once goe about to sound and controule all things to the vtmost ende; as ti∣red and troubled by a long and wearisome course of our life, we returne to a kind of doting child-hood. Note here the goodly and certaine instructions, which concerning our soules∣subject we drawe from humane knowledge. There is no lesse rashnesse in that which shee teacheth vs touching our corporall parts. Let vs make choyse but of one or two examples, else should we loose our selves in this troublesome and vaste Ocean of Phisicall errours. Let vs know whether they agree but in this one, that is to say, of what matter men are derived and produced one from another. For, touching their first production, it is no marvel if in a thing so high and so ancient, mans wit is troubled and confounded. Archelaus the Physition, to whom (as Aristoxenus affirmeth) Socrates was Disciple and Minion, assevered that both men and beastes had beene made of milkie slyme or mudde, expressed by the heate of the earth. Pythagoras saith, that our seed is the scumme or froth of our best blood. Plato the distilling of the marrow in the backe-bone, which he argueth thus, because that place feeleth first the wearinesse which followeth the sweete generall businesse.

Alcmaeon, a part of the braines-substance, which to prove, he saith, their eyes are euer most troubled, that over-intemperately addict themselvse to that exercise. Democritus, a substance extracted from all parts of this corporall Masse. Epicurus extracted from the last soule and the body: Aristotle an excrement drawne from the nourishment of the bloud, the last scatte∣reth it selfe in our severall members; others, blood, concocted and disgested by the heate of the genitories, which they judge, because in the extreame, earnest and forced labours many shed drops of pure blood; wherein some apparance seemeth to be, if from so infinite a con∣fusion any likelihood may bee drawne. But to bring this seede to effect, how many contrary opinions make they of it? Aristotle and Democritus hold, that women have no sperme, that it is but a sweate, which by reason of the pleasure, and frication they cast forth, and availeth nothing in generation.

Galen, and his adherents, contrariwise affirme, that there can bee no generation, except two seedes meete together. Behold the Phisitians, the Philosophers, the Lawyers, and the Divines pell-mell together by the eares with our women about the question and disputati∣on how long women beare their fruite in their wombe. And as for me, by mine owne ex∣ample I take their part, that maintaine, a woman may goe eleven months with childe. The world is framed of this experience; there is no meane woman so simple, that cannot give her censure vpon all these contestations, although we could not agree. This is sufficient to verifie, that in the corporall parte, man is no more instructed of himselfe, then in the spiritual. We have pro∣posed himselfe to himselfe, and his reason to his reason, to see what she can tell vs of it. Me thinkes I have sufficiently declared, how little vnderstanding she hath of herselfe. And he who hath no vnderstanding of himselfe, what can he have vnderstanding of? Quasi verò mensuram vllius rei possit agere, qui sui nesciat. As though he could take measure of any thing that knowes not his owne measure. Truely Protagoras told vs prettie tales, when he makes man

the measure of all things, who never knew so much as his owne. If it be not he, his dignitie wil never suffer any other creature to have this advantage over him. Now he being so con∣trary in himselfe, and one judgement so vncessantly subverting another, this favourable proposition was but a jest, which induced vs necessarily to conclude the nullity of the Com∣passe and the Compasser. When Thales iudgeth the knowledge of man very hard vnto man, he teacheth him the knowledge of all other things to be impossible vnto him. You for whom I have ta∣ken the paines to enlarge so long a worke (against my custome) will not shun to maintaine your Sebond, with the ordinary forme of arguing, whereof you are daily instructed, and will therin exercise both your minde and study: For this last tricke of fence, must not be emploi∣ed but as an extreame remedy. It is a desperate thrust, gainst which you must forsake your weapons, to force your adversary to renounce his; and a secret slight, which must seldome and very sparingly be put in practise. It is great fond-hardinesse to loose our selfe for the losse of another. A man must not be willing to die to revenge himselfe, as Gobrias was: who being close by the eares with a Lord of Persia, Darius chanced to come in with his sword in his hand, and fearing to strike, for feare he should hurt Gobrias, he called vnto him, and bade him smite boldly although he should smite through both. I have heard, armes, and conditi∣ons of single combates being desperate and in which he that offered them, put both himselfe and his enemy in danger of an end inevitable to both, reproved as vnjust, and condemned as vnlawfull. The Portugals tooke once certaine Turkes prisoners in the Indian seas, who im∣patient of their captivity, resolved with themselves (and their resolution succeeded) by rub∣bing of Ship-nailes one against another, and causing sparkles of fire to fall amongst the bar∣rels of powder (which lay not far from them) with intent to consume both themselves, their masters, and the ship. We but touch the skirts, and glance at the last closings of Sciences, wherein extremity, as well as in vertue, is vicious. Keepe your selves in the common path, it is not good to be so subtill, and so curious. Remember what the Italian proverbe saith,

Chitroppos' assottiglia, siscavezza. Who makes himselfe too fine, Doth breake himselfe in fine.

I perswade you in your opinions and discourses, as much as in your customes, and in every other thing, to vse moderation and temperance, and avoide all newfangled inventions and strangenesse. All extravagant waies displease me. You who by the authority and preheminence, which your greatnesse hath laide vpon you, and more by the advantages, which the qualities that are most your owne, bestow on you, may with anod command whom you please, should have laide this charge vpon some one, that had made profession of learning, who might o∣therwise have disposed and enriched this fantasie. Notwithstanding here have you enough to supply your wants of it. Epicurus said of the lawes, that the worst were so necessary vnto vs, that without them, men would enter-devoure one another. And Plato verifieth, that without lawes we should live like beastes. Our spirit is a vagabond, a dangerous, and fond-hardy implement; It is very hard to joyne order and measure to it. In my time, such as have any rare excellency above others, or extraordinary vivacity, we see them almost all so lavish and vnbridled in licence of opinions and maners, as it may be counted a wonder to finde any one setled and sociable. There is great reason why the spirit of man should be so strictly embar∣red. In his study, as in all things else he must have his steps numbered and ordered. The li∣mites of his pursuite must be cut out by Arte. He is brideled and fettered with, and by religi∣ons, lawes, customes, knowledge, precepts, paines and recompences, both mortall and im∣mortall; yet we see him, by meanes of his volubility and dissolution, escape all these bonds. It is a vaine body, that hath no way about him to be seized on, or cut off: a diverse and de∣formed body, on which neither knot nor hold may be fastened. Verily thereare few soules, so orderly, so constant, and so well borne, as may be trusted with their owne conduct, and may with moderation, and without rashnesse, saile in the liberty of their judgements beyond common opinions. It is more expedient to give some body the charge and tuition of them. The spirit is an outragious glaive, yea even to his owne possessor, except he have the grace, very or∣derly and discreetely to arme himselfe therewith. And there is no beast, to whom one may more justly apply a blinding bord, to keepe her sight in, and force her looke to her foo∣ting and keepe from straying here and there, without the tracke which vse and lawes trace hir out. Therefore shall it bee better for you to close and bound your selves in the accustomed

path▪ howsoever it be, then to take your flight to this vnbridled licence. But if any one of these new Doctors shall vndertake, to play the wise or ingenious before you, at the charge of his and your health: to rid you of this dangerous plague, which daily more and more spreds it selle in your Courts, this preservative will in any extreame necessity be a let, that the con∣tagion of this venome, shall neither offend you nor your assistance. The liberty then, and the joll••ty of their ancient spirits brought forth many different Sects of opinions, in Philo∣sophy and humane Sciences: every one vndertaking to judge and chuse, so he might raise a faction. But now that men walke all one way: Qui certis quibusdam destinatisque sententijs ad∣dict•• & consecrati sunt, vt etiam, quae non probant, cogantur defendere: Who are addicted and con∣secrated to certaine set and fore-decreed opinions, so as they are enforced to maintaine those things which they prove or approve not: And that we receive Artes by civill authority and appoint∣ment: So that schooles have but one patterne, alike circumscribed discipline and institution; no man regardeth more what coines weigh and are worth; but every man in his turne recei∣veth them according to the value, that common approbation and succession allotteth them: Men dispute no longer of the alloy, but of the vse. So are all things spent and vented alike. Physicke is received as Geometry: and jugling trickes, enchantments, bonds, the commerce of deceased spirits, prognostications, domifications, yea even this ridiculous, wit and wealth∣consuming pursuite of the Philosophers stone, all is emploid and vttered without contradi∣ction. It sufficeth to know, that Mars his place lodgeth in the middle of the hands triangle; that of Ʋenus in the Thumme and Mercuries in the little finger: and when the table-line cut∣teth the teachers rising, it is a signe of cruelty: When it faileth vnder the middle finger, and that the naturall Median-line makes an angle with the vitall, vnder the same side, it is a signe of a miserable death: And when a womans naturall line is open, and closes not it angle with the vitall, it evidently denotes that she will not be very chast. I call your selfe to witnesse if with this Science onely, a man may not passe with reputation and favour among all compa∣nies. Theophrastus was wont to say, that mans knowledge, directed by the sense, might judge of the causes of things, vnto a certain measure, but being come to the extreame and first cau∣ses, it must necessarily stay, and be blunted or abated; either by reason of it's weaknesse, or of the things difficulty. It is an indifferent and pleasing kind of opinion, to thinke, that our suf∣ficiency may bring vs to the knowledge of some things, and hath certaine measures of power, beyond which it is temerity to employ it. This opinion is plausible and brought in by way of composition: but it is hard to give our spirit any limites, being very curious and greedy, and not tied to stay rather at a thousand, then fifty paces. Having found by experience, that if one had mist to attaine vnto some one thing, another hath come vnto it; and that which one age never knew, the age succeeding hath found out: and that Sciences and Artes are not cast in a mould, but rather by little and little formed and shaped by often handling and pollishing them over: even as beares fashion their yong whelps by often licking them: what my strength cannot discover, I cease not to sound and trie: and in handling and kneading this new matter and with removing and chafing it, I open some facultie for him that shal follow me, that with more ease he may inioy the same, and so make it more facile, more supple and more pliable:

—vt hymettia sole Ʋertitur infacies, ipsóque fit vtilis vsu. As the best Bees wax melteth by the Sun, And handled into many formes doth ••••n, And is made aptly fit, For vse by vsing it.

As much will the second doe for the thrid, which is a cause that difficultie doth not make me despaire, much lesse my vnabilitie: for it is but mine owne. Man is as well capable of all things, as of some. And if (as Theophrastus saith) he avow the ignorance of the first causes and beginnings, let him hardly quit all the rest of his knowledge. If his foundation faile him, his discourse is overthrowne. The dispute hath no other scope, and to enquire no other end but the principles: If this end stay not his course, he casteth himselfe into an infinite irresolution. Non potest aliud alio magis minúsque comprehendi, quoniam omnium rerum vna est definitio com∣prehendendi. One thing can neither more nor lesse be comprehended then another, since of all things there is one definition of comprehending. Now is it likely, that if the soule knew any thing, she

first knew her selfe: and if she knew any without and besides her selfe, it must be her vaile and body before any thing else. If even at this day the Gods of Physicke are seene to wran∣gle about our Anatomie,

Mulciber in Troiam, pro Troia stabat Apollo, Apollo stoode for Troy, Ʋulcan Troy to destroy.

When shall we expect that they will be agreed? We are neerer vnto our selves, then is whitenesse vnto snow, or weight vnto a stone. If man know not himselfe, how can he know his functions and forces? It is not by fortune that some true notice doth not lodge with vs, but by hazard. And forasmuch as by the same way, fashion and conduct, errours are received into our soule, she hath not wherewithall to distinguish them, nor whereby to chuse the truth from falshood. The Academikes received some inclination of judgement, and found it over raw, to say, it was no more likely, snow should be white then blacke, and that we should be no more assured of the moving of a stone, which goeth from our hand, then of that of the eight Spheare. And to avoide this difficulty and strangenesse, which in trueth can not but hardly lodge in our imagination, how beit they establish, that we were no way capable of knowledge, and that truth is engulfed in the deepest Abysses, where mans sight can no way enter; yet avowed they somethings to be more likely and possible then others, and received this faculty in their judgement, that they might rather encline to one apparance then to an other. They allowed hir this propension, interdicting hir all resolution. The Pyrrhoni∣ans advise is more hardy, and therewithall more likely. For this Academicall inclination, and this propension rather to one then another proposition, what else is it, then a reacknow∣ledging of some apparant truth, in this than in that? If our vnderstanding be capable of the forme, of the lineaments, of the behaviour and face of truth; it might as well see it all com∣pleate, as but halfe, growing and imperfect. For this apparance of verisimilitude, which makes them rather take the left then the right hand, doe you augment it; this one ounce of likelyhood, which turnes the ballance, doe you multiply it, by a hundred, nay by a thou∣sand ounces; it will in the end come to passe, that the ballance will absolutely resolve and conclude one choise and perfect truth. But how do they suffer themselves to be made tracta∣ble by likelyhood if they know not truth? How know they the semblance of that, wherof they vnder∣stand not the essence? Either we are able to judge absolutely, or absolutly we cannot. If our in∣tellectual and sensible faculties are without ground or footing, if they but hull vp and downe and drive with the wind, for nothing suffer we our judgement to be caried away to any part of their operation, what apparance soever it seemeth to present vs with. And the surest and most happy situation of our vnderstanding should be that, where without any tottering or agitati∣on it might maintaine it selfe setled, vpright and inflexible. Inter visa, vera, aut falsa, ad ani∣mi assensum▪ ••hil••nterest. There is no difference betwixt true and false visions, concerning the minds assent. That things lodge not in vs in their proper forme and essence, and make not their en∣trance into vs, of their owne power and authority, we see it most evidently. For if it were so, we should receive them all alike: wine would be such in a sicke mans mouth, as in a healthy mans. He whose fingers are chopt through cold, and stiffe or benummed with frost, should finde the same hardnesse in the wood or iron he might handle, which another doth. Then strange subjects yeeld vnto our mercy, and lodge with vs according to our pleasure. Now if on our part we receive any thing without alteration; if mans hold-fasts were capable and suficiently powerfull, by our proper meanes to seize on truth, those meanes being common to all; this truth would successively remove it selfe from one to an other. And of so many things as are in the world, at least one should be found, that by an vniversall consent should be believed of all. But that no proposition is feene, which is not controversied and debated amongst vs or that may not be, declareth plainly, that our judgment doth not absolutely and cleerely seize on that which it seizeth: for my judgement cannot make my fellowes judge∣ment to receive the same: which is a signe, that I have seized vpon it by some other meane then by a naturall power in me or other men. Leave we aparte this infinite confusion of opinions, which is seene amongst Phylosophers themselves, and this vniversall and perpe∣tuall disputation, in and concerning the knowledge of things.

For it is most truly presupposed, that men (I meane the wisest, the best borne, yea and the most sufficient) do never agree, no not so much that heaven is over our heads: For they who

doubt of all, doe also doubt of this: and such as affirme, that we cannot conceive any thing, say we have not conceived whether heaven be over our heads: which two opinions are in number (without any comparison) the most forcible. Besides this diversity and infinite divi∣sion, by reason of the trouble, which our owne judgement layeth vpon our selves and the vn∣certainty which every man findes in himselfe, it may manifestly be perceived, that this situa∣tion is very vncertaine and vnstaid. How diversly judge we of things? How often change we our fantasies? What I hold and believe this day, I believe and hold with all my beleefe: all my implements, springs and motions, embrace and claspe this opinion, and to the vtmost of their power warrant the same: I could not possibly embrace any verity, nor with more as∣surance keepe it, then I doe this. I am wholy and absolutely given to it: but hath it not been my fortune, not once, but a hundred, nay a thousand times, nay dayly, to have embraced some other thing, with the very same instruments and condition, which vpon better advise I have, afterward judged false? A man should at least become wise, at his owne cost, and learne by others harmes. If vnder this colour I have often found my selfe deceived, if my Touch-stone be commonly found false and my ballance vn-even and vnjust; What assurance may I more take of it at this time, then at others? Is it not folly in me, to suffer my selfe so often to be be∣guiled and couzened by one guide? Neverthelesse, let fortune remoove vs five hundered times from our place, let hir doe nothing but vncessantly empty and fill, as in a vessell, other and other opinions in our minde, the present and last is alwaies supposed certaine and infal∣lible. For this must a man leave goods, honour, life, state, health and all:

—posterior res illa reperta Perdit; & immutat sensus ad pristina quaeque. The later thing destroies all found before And altars sense at all things lik't of yore.

Whatsoever is tould vs, and what ever we learne, we should ever remember, it is man, who delivereth, and man that receiveth: It is a mortall hand, that presents it, and a mortall hand, that receives it. Onely things which come to vs from heaven, have right and authority of perswasion and markes of truth: Which we neither see with our eyes, nor receive by our meanes: this scred and great image would be of no force in so wretched a Mansion, except God prepare it to that vse and purpose, vnlesse God by his particular grace and supernaturall favor, reforme and strengthen the same. Our fraile-defective condition ought at least make vs demaene our selves more moderately, and more circumspectly in our changes. We should remember, that whatsoever we receive in our vnderstanding, we often receive false things, and that it is by the same instruments, which many times contradict and deceive themselves. And no marvell if they contradict themselves, being so easie to encline, and vpon very slight occasions subject to waver and turne. Certaine it is, that our apprehension, our judgement, and our soules faculties in generall, doe suffer according to the bodies motions and alterati∣ons, which are continuall. Have we not our spirits more vigilant, our memorie more ready, and our discourses more lively in time of health, then in sickenesse? Doth not joy and blith∣nesse make vs receive the subjects, that present themselves vnto our soule, with another kind of countenance, then lowring vexation, and drooping melancholy doth? Doe you imagine, that Catullus or Saphoes verses, delight and please an old covetous Chuff-penny wretch, as they doe a lusty and vigorous yong-man? Cleomenes the sonne of Anaxandridas being sicke, his friends reproved him, saying he had new strange humors, and vnvsuall fantasies: It is not vnlikely (answered he) for, I am not the man I was wont to be in time of health: But being other, so are my fantasies and my humors. In the rabble case-canvasing of our plea-cours, this by-word. Gaudeat de bonafortuna, Let him ioy in his good fortune, Is much in vse, and is spoken of criminall offendors, who happen to meete with judges in some milde temper, or well-pleased moode. For it is most certaine that in times of condemnation, the judges doome or sentence is some times perceived to be more sharpe, mercilesse and forward, and at other times more tractable, facile, and enclined to shadow or excuse an offence, according as he is well or ill pleased in minde. A man that commeth out of his house troubled with the paine of the goute, vexed with jelousie, or angry that his servant hath robbed him and whose mind is overcome with griefe, and plunged with vexation, and distracted with anger, there is not question to be made but his judgement is at that instant much distempred, and much trans∣ported that way. That venerable Senate of the Areopagites, was wont to iudge and sentence

by night, for feare the sight of the suters ••ight corrupt iustice. The ayre it'selfe, and the cleare∣nes of the firmament, doth forebode vs some change and alteration of weather, as saith that Greeke verse in Cicero,

Tales sunt hominum mentes, quali pater ipse Iupiter, auctifer a lustravit lampade terras. Such are mens mindes, as with increasefull light. Our father Iove survayes the world in sight.

It is not onely fevers, drinkes and great accidents, that over-whelme our judgment: The least things in the world wil turne it topsiturvie. And although we feele it not, it is not to bee doubted, if a continual ague may in the end suppresse our minde, a tertiani will also (accor∣ding to hir measure and proportion) breed some alteration in it. If an Apoplexie doth alto∣gether stupifie, and extinguish the sight of our vnderstanding, it is not to be doubted but a cold and rhume will likewise dazle the same. And by consequence, hardly shall a man in all his life finde one houre, wherein our judgement may alwaies be found in his right byase, our body being subiect to so many continuall alterations, and stuft with so divers sortes of ginnes and motions, that, giving credit to Phisitions, it is very hard to finde one in perfect plight, and that doth not alwaies mistake his marke and shute wide. As for the rest, this dis∣ease is not so easily discovered, except, it be altogether extreame and remedilesse; forasmuch as reason marcheth ever crooked, halting and broken-hipt; and with falsehood as with truth; And therefore it is very hard to discover hir mistaking, and disorder. I alwaies call reason, that apparance or shew of discourses, which every man deviseth or forgeth in himselfe: That reason, of whose condition, there may be a hundred, one contrary to another, about one selfe same subject: It is an instrument of Lead and Wax, stretching, pliable, and that may be fitted to all byases, and squared to all measures: There remaines nothing but the skil and sufficiency to know how to turne and winde the same. How well soever a judge meaneth and what good minde so ever he beareth, if diligent eare be not given vnto him (to which few ammuse themselves) his inclination vnto friendship, vnto kindred, vnto beauty, and vn∣to revenge, and not onely matters of so weighty consequence, but this innated and casuall in∣stinct▪ which makes vs to favour one thing more then another, and encline to one man more then to another, and which without any leave of reason, giveth vs the choise, in two like sub∣jects, or some shadow of like vanity, may insensibly insinuate in his judgement the commen∣dation and applause, or disfavour and disallowance of a cause, and give the ballance a twitch. I that nearest prie into my selfe and who have mine eyes vncessantly fixt vpon me, as one that hath much else to doe else where,

—quis sub arct•• Rex gelidae metuatur orae, Quid Tyridatem terreat, vnicè Securus, Onely secure, who in cold coast Vnder the North-pole rules the rost, And there is feard; or what would fright, And Tyridates put to flight.

dare very hardly report the vanity and weaknesse I feele in my selfe. My foot is so stagge∣ring and vnstable, and I finde it so ready to trip, and so easie to stumble; and my sight is so dimme and vncertaine, that fasting I finde my selfe other then full fed: If my health applaud me, or but the calmenesse of one faire day smile vpon me, then am I a lusly gallant; but if a corne wring my toe, then am I pouting, vnpleasant and hard to be pleased. One same pace of a horse is sometimes hard, and sometimes easie vnto mee; and one same way, onetime short, another time long and wearisome; and one same forme, now more, now lesse agree∣able and pleasing to me: Sometimes I am apt to doe any thing, and other times fit to doe nothing: What now is pleasing to mee, within a while after will be painfull. There are a thousand indiscreet and casuall agitations in mee. Either a melancholy humour possesseth me, or a chollericke passion swaieth me, which having shaken off, sometimes forwardnesse and peevishnes hath predominancy, and other times gladnes and blithnes over rule me. If I chance to take a booke in hand, I shall in some passages perceive some excellent graces, and which ever wound me to the soule with delight; but let me lay it by, and reade him another

time; let me turne and tosse him as I list, let me apply and manage him as I will, I shall finde it an vnknowne and shapeles masse. Even in my writings, I shall not at all times finde the tracke, or ayre of my first imaginations; I wot not my selfe what I would have said, and shall vexe and fret my selfe in correcting and giving a new sense to them, because I have perad∣venture forgotten or lost the former, which happily was better. I doe but come and goe; my judgement doth not alwaies goe forward, but is ever floting, and wandering,

—velut minut a magno Deprensa navis in mari vesan••ente vento. Much like a pettie skiffe, that's taken short In a grand Sea, when winds doe make mad sport.

Many times (as commonly it is my hap to doe) having for exercise and sport-sake vn∣dertaken to maintaine an opinion contrarie to mine, my minde applying and turning it selfe that way, doth so tie me vnto it, as I finde no more the reason of my former conceit▪ and so I leave it. Where I encline, there I entertaine my selfe, howsoever it be, and am caried away by mine owne waight. Every man could neere-hand say as much of himselfe, would he but looke into himselfe as I doe. Preachers knowe, that the emotion, which surpriseth them, whilst they are in their earnest speech, doth animate them towards beliefe, and that being an∣grie we more violently give our selves to defend our proposition, emprint it in our selves, and embrace the same with more vohemencie and approbation, then we did, being in our tem∣perate and reposed sense. You relate simply your case vnto a Lawyer, he answers faltring and doubtfully vnto it, whereby you perceive it is indifferent vnto him to defend either this, or that side, all is one to him: Have you paid him well, have you given him a good baite or fee, to make him earnestly apprehend it, beginnes he to be interessed in the matter, is his will moved, or his minde enflamed? Then will his reason be moved, and his knowledge enfla∣med withall. See then an apparant and vndoubted truth presents it selfe to his vnderstand∣ing; wherein he discouers a new light, and beleeves it in good sooth, and so perswades him∣selfe. Shall I tell you? I wot not whether the heate of proceeding of spight and obstinacie, against the impression and violence of a magistrate, and of danger; or the interest of reputati∣on, have induced some man, to maintaine, even in the fiery flames the opinion, for which a∣mongst his friends, and at libertie, he would never have beene moved, nor have ventred his fingers end. The motions and fittes which our soule receiveth by corporall passions, doe greatly prevaile in hir, but more hir owne; with which it is so fully possess, as happily it may be maintained, she hath no other way, or motion, then by the blast of hir windes, and that without their agitation, she should remaine without action, as a ship at Sea, which the winds have vtterly forsaken. And he who should maintain that, following the Peripatetike faction, should offer vs no great wrong, since it is knowne, that the greatest number of the soules-acti∣ons, proceede and have neede of this impulsion of passion; valor (say they) cannot be per∣fected without the assistance of choller,

Semper Aiax fortis, fortissimus tamen in furore. Aiax ever valor had, Most then, when he was most mad.

Nor doth any man runne violently enough vpon the wicked, or his enemies, except he be throughly angrie; and they are of opinion, that an Advocate or counseller at the barre, to have the cause goe one his side, and to have justice at the judges hands doth first endevor to provoke him to anger. Longing-desires mooved Them••stoc••es, and vrged Demost henes, and have provoked Phylosophers, to long travels, to tedious watchings, and to Img••ing peregri∣nations: And leade vs to honors, to doctrine, and to health; all profitable respects. And this demisnes of the soule, in suffering molestation and tediousnes, serveth to no other purpose, but to breede repentance, and cause penitence in our consciences; and for our punishment to feele the scourge of God, and the rod of politike correction. Compassion serveth as a sting vnto clemencie, and wisedome to preserve and governe our selves, is by our owne feare rouzed vp; and how many noble actions, by ambition, how many by presumption? To conclude, no eminent or gloriou•• 〈…〉〈…〉 can be without some immoderate and ••••regular agitation. May not this be one of the reasons, which moved the Epicurians, to discharge God of all care and thought of our affaires: For so much as the verv effects of his goodnes, cannot ex∣ercise themselves towards vs, without disturbing his rest, by meanes of the passions, which

are as motives and solicitations, directing the soule to vertuous actions? Or have they thought otherwise and taken them as tempests, which shamfully lead astray the soule from hir rest and tranquilitie? Vt maris tranquillit as tutelligitur, nullâ, ne minim à quidem, aur â fluctus com∣movente: Sic animi quietus & placatus status cernitur, quum perturbati•• nulla est, quâ moveri queat. As we concesve the Seas calmenesse, when not so much as the least pirling wind doth stirre the waves, so is a peaceable reposed state of the minde then seene, when there is no per turbation, wher by it may be moved. What differences ofsense and reason, what contrarietie of imaginations, doth the diverfitie of our passions present vnto vs? What assurance may we then take of so vncon∣stant and wavering a thing, subject by it's owne condition to the power of trouble, never marching but a forced and borrowed pace? If our judgement be in the hands of sickenes it selfe, and of perturbation; if by rashnes and folly it be retained to receive the impression of things, what assurance may we expect at his hands? Dares nos Philosophie thinke that men produce their greatest effects, and nearest approching to divinitie, when they are be∣sides themselves, furious, and madde? We amend our selves by the privation of reason, and by hir drooping. The two naturall waies, to enter the cabinet of the Gods, and there to fore-see the course of the destinies, are furie and sleepe. This is very pleasing to be conside∣red. By the dislocation, that passions bring vnto our reason, we become vertuous; by the extirpation, which either furie or the image of death bringeth vs, we become Prophets and Divines. I never beleeved it more willingly. It is a meere divine inspiration, that sacred truth hath inspired in a Philosophicall spirit, which against his proposition exacteth from him; that the quiet state of our soule, the best-settled estate, yea the healthfullest that Philosophie can acquire vnto it, is not the best estate. Our vigilancie is more drouzie, then sleepe it selfe: Our wisedome lesse wise, then folly; our dreames of more worth then our discourses. The worst place we can take, is in our selves. But thinkes it not, that we have the foresight to marke, that the voyce, which the spirit vttereth, when he is gone from man, so cleare sighted, so great, and so perfect, and whilst he is in man, so earthly, so ignorant, and so overclouded, is a voyce proceeding from the spirit, which is in earthly, ignorant, and over clouded man; and there∣fore a trustles and not to be-beleeved voyce? I have no great experience in these violent agita∣tions, being of a soft and dull complex on; the greatest part of which, without giving it leasure to acknowledge hir selfe, doe sodainly surprise our soule. But that passion, which in yoong∣mens hartes is said, to be produced by idlenes, although it march but leasurly, and with a measured progresse, doth evidently present to those, that have assaid to oppose themselves against hir endevor, the power of the conversion and alteration, which our judgement suffer∣eth. I have some times enterprised to arme my selfe with a resolution to abide, resist, and sup presse the same. For, I am so farre from being in their ranke, that call and allure vices, that vn∣lesse they entertaine me, I scarcely follow them. I felt it, mauger my resistance, to breed, to growe, and to augment; and in the end being in perfect health, and cleare-sighted, to seize-vp∣on and possesse me; in such sort, that, as in dronkennes, the image of things, began to appeare vnto me, otherwise then it was wont: I sawe the advantages of the subject, I sought after, evi∣dently to swell and growe greater, and much to encrease by the winde of my imagination; and the difficulties of my enterprise to become more easie and plaine; and my discourse and con∣science to shrinke and draw-backe. But that fire being evaporated all on a sodaine, as by the flashing of a lightning my soule to reassume an other sight, another state, and other judge∣ment. The difficultie in my retreate seemed great and invincible, and the very same things of another taste and shew than the fervencie of desire had presented them vnto me. And which more truely, Pyrrho cannot tell. We are never without some infirmity. Fevers have their heat, and their colde: From the effects of a burning passion, we fall into the effects of a chilling passion. So much as I had cast my selfe foreward, so much do I draw my selfe backe.

Qualis vbi alterno procurrens gurgite pontus, Nunc ruit ad terr as scopulis{que} superiacit vndam, Spumeus, extremám{que} ••inu perfundit arenam, Nunc rapidus retro atque aestu revoluta resorbens Saxa fugit, littus{que} vado labente relinquit. As th'ocean flowing, ebbing in due course, To land now rushes, foming throw's his sourse, On rockes, there with bedew's the vtmost sand,

Now swift return's, the stones rould backe from strand By tide resuck's, foord failing leaves the land.

Now by the knowledge of my volubilitie, I have by accidence engendred some constan∣cie of opinions in my selfe; yet have not so much altered my first and naturall ones. For, what apparance soever there be in noveltie, I doe not easily change, for feare I should loose by the bargaine: And since I am not capable to chuse, I take the choise from others; and keepe my selfe in the seate, that God hath placed me in. Else could I hardly keepe my selfe from continuall rowling. Thus have I by the grace of God preserved my selfe whole (without agi∣tation or trouble of conscience) in the ancient beliefe of our religion, in the middest of so many sects and divisions, which our age hath brought forth. The writings of the ancient fathers (I meane the good, the solide, and the serious) doe tempt, and in a manner remove me which way they list. Him that I heare seemeth ever the most forcible. I finde them everie∣one in his turne to have reason, although they contrarie one another. That facilitie, which good wittes have to prove any thing they please, likely; and that there is nothing so strange, but they will vndertake to set so good a glosse on it, as it shall easily deceive a simplicitie like vnto mine, doth manifestly shew the weakenes of their proofe. The heavens and the pla∣nets have moved these three thousand yeares, and all the world believed as much, vntill Cle∣anthes the Samian, or else (according to Thcophrastus) Nicetas the Syracusian tooke vpon him to maintaine, it was the earth that moved, by the oblique circle of the Zodiake, turning a∣bout hir axell tree. And in our daies C••pernicus hath so well grounded this doctrine, that hee doth very orderly fit it to all Astrologicall consequences. What shall we reape by it, but only that we neede not care, which of the two it be? And who knoweth whether a thousand yeares hence a third opinion will rise, which happily shall overthrow these two praecedent.

Sic volvenda aetas commut at tempora rerum, Quodque fuit pretio, sit nullo denique honore, Porrò aliud succedit, & è contemptibus exit, Inque dies magis appetitûr, floret{que} repertum Laudibus, & miro est mortales inter honore. So age to be past-over alter's times of things: What earst was most esteem'd, At last nought-worth is deem'd: An other then succed's, and from contempt vpsprings, Is daily more desir'd, flowreth as found but then With praise and wondrous honor amongst mortall men

So when any new Doctrine is represented vnto vs, we have great cause to suspect it, and to consider, how before it was invented, the contrarie vnto it was in credite; and as that hath beene reversed by this latter, a third invension may paradventure sueceede in after-ages, which in like sort shall front the second. Before the principles, which Aristotle found out, were in credite, other principles contented mans reason, as his doe now content vs. What learning have these men, what particular priviledge, that the course of our invention should rely only vpon them, and that the possession of our beliefe, shal for ever hereafter be∣long to them? They are no more exempted from being rejected, then were their fore-fa∣thers. If any man vrge me with a new Argument, it is in me to imagine, that if I cannot an∣swere it, another can. For, to believ•• all apparances, which we cannot resolve, is meere simplicitie. It would then follow, that all the common sort (whereof we are all part) should have his be∣liefe turning and winding like a weather-cocke: For, his soule being soft, and without resi∣stance, should vncessantly be enforced to receive new and admit other impressions: the lat∣ter ever defacing the precedents trace. He that perceiveth himselfe weake, ought to answer, according to law termes, that he will conferre with his learned counsel, or else referre himselfe to the wisest, from whom he hath had his prentiseship. How long is it since Physicke came first into the World? It is reported that a new start-vp fellow, whom they call Paracelius, changeth and subverteth all the order of ancient, and so long time-received rules, and main∣taineth that vntill this day it hath only served to kill people. I thinke he will easily verifie it. But I suppose it were no great wisedome to hazard my life vpon the triall of his new-fang∣led experience. We must not believe al men, saith the precept, since every man may say all things. It is not long since, that one of these professours of novelties, and Physicall reformations

told me, that all our forefathers had notoriously abuzed themselves in the nature and moti∣ons of the windes, which, if I would listen vnto him, he would manifestly make me perceve. After I had with some patience given attendance to his Arguments, which were indeed full of likely-hood, I demaunded of him, whether they that failed according to Theophrastus his Lawes, went westward, when they bent their course eastward? Or whether they failed side∣ling, or backeward? It is fortune, answered he, but so it is they tooke their marke amisse: To whom I then replyed, that I had rather follow the effects, then his reason. They are things that often shocke together: and it hath beene told me, that in Geometrie (which supposeth to have gained the high point of certainty amongst al sciences) there are found vnavoidable Demonstrations, and which subvert the truth of all experience: As Iames Peletier tolde me in mine owne house, that he had found out two lines, bending their course one towards an∣other, as if they would meete and joyne together; neverthelesse he affirmed, that even vnto infinity, they could never come to touch one another. And the Pyrrhonians vse their Ar∣guments, and Reason, but to destroy the apparance of experience: And it is a wonder to see how farre the supplenesse of our reason, hath in this designe followed them, to resist the evi∣dence of effects: For, they affirme, that wee moove not, that we speake not, that there is no weight, nor heate, with the same force of arguing, that we averre the most likelyest things. Ptolomey, who was an excellent man, had established the boundes of the world; All anci∣ent Phylosophers have thought they had a perfect measure thereof, except it were certaine scattered Ilandes, which might escape their knowledge: It had bin to Pyrrhonize a thou∣sand yeeres agoe, had any man gone abut to make a question of the arte of Cosmography: and the opinions that have beene received thereof, of all men in Generall: It had beene flat heresie to avouch, that there were Antipodes. See how in our age an infinite greatnesse of firme land hath beene discovered, not an Iland onely, nor one particular country, but a parte in greatnesse verie neere equall vnto that which wee knewe. Our moderne Geographers cease not to affirme, that now all is found, and all is discovered;

Nam quod adest praesto, placet, & pollere videtur, For, what is present heere Seemes strong, is held most deare.

The question is now, if Ptolomey was heretofore deceived in the grounds of his reason, whe¦ther it were not folly in me, to trust what these late followes say of it, and whether it bee not more likely, that this huge body, which we terme the World, is another manner of thing, than we judge it. Plato saith, that it often changeth his countenance, that the Heaven, the Starres, and the Sunne do somtimes re-enverse the motion we perceive in them, changing the East into West. The Aegyptian Priests, told Heredotus, that since their first King, which was e∣leaven thousand and odde yeares (when they made him see the pictures of all their former Kings, drawne to the life in statues) the Sunne had changed his course foure times: That the sea and the earth do enterchangeably change one into another; that the worldes birth is vn∣determined: The like said, Aristotle and Cicero. And some one amongst vs averreth, that it is altogether eternall, mortall, and new reviving againe, by many Vicissitudes, calling Salomon and Esay to witnesse: avoyde these oppositions, that God hath sometimes beene a Creator without a creature: that he hath beene idle; that hee hath vnsaide his idlenesse, by setting his hand to this worke, and that by consequence he is subject vnto change. In the most famous Schooles of Greece, the World is reputed a God, framed by another greater and mightier God, and is composed of a body and a soule, which abideth in his centre, spreading it selfe by Musicall numbers vnto his circumference, divine, thrise-happy, very great, most wise and eternall. In it are other Gods, as the Sea, the earth, and plants, which mutually entertaine one another, with an harmonious and perpetual agitation and celestial dance; somtimes mee∣ting, othertimes farre-sundering themselves; now hiding then shewing themselves; and changing place, now forward, now backward. Heraclitus firmely maintained, that the World was composed of fire, and by the destinies order, it should one day burst forth into flames, and be so consumed into cinders, and another day it should be new borne againe. And A∣pulcius of men saith; sigillatim mortales, cunctim perpetui: severally mortall, altogether everlasting. Alexanderwrit vnto his mother the narration of an Aegyptian Priest, drawne from out their monuments, witnessing the antiquitie of that Nation, infinite; and comprehending the birth and progresse of their countries to the life. Cicero and Diodorus, said in their daies, that

the Chaldeans kept a register of foure hundred thousand and odde yeares. Aristotle, Plinie, and others, that Zoroastes lived sixe thousand yeares before Plato. And Plato saith, that those of the citty of Sa••s, have memories in writing of eight thousand yeares, and that the towne of Athens, was built a thousand yeares before the city of Sa••s. Epicurus, that at one same time, all things that are, looke how we see them, they are all alike, and in the same fashion, indivers other Worldes, which he would have spoken more confidently, had he seene the similitudes and correspondencies, of this new-found world of the West-Indiaes, with ours, both pre∣sent and past, by so many strange examples. Truly, when I consider what hath followed our learning by the course of this terrestriall policie, I have diverse times wondred at my selfe, to see in so great a distance of times and places, the simpathy or jumping of so great a number of popular and wilde opinions, and of extravagant customes and beliefes, and which by no meanes seeme to hold with our naturall discourse. Mans spirit is a wonderful worker of mira∣cles. But this relation hath yet a kind of I wot not what more Heteroclite: which is found both in names, and in a thousand other things. For, there were found Nations, which (as far as we know) had never heard of vs, where circumcision was held in request; where great states and common wealths were maintained onely by Women, and no men: Where our fasts and Lent was represented, adding thervnto the abstinence from women; where our crosies were severall waies in great esteeme; In some places they adorned and honored their sepulchres with them, and elswhere, especially that of Saint Andrew, they employed to shield themselves from nightly visions, and to lay them vpon childrens couches, as good against enchant∣ments and witch-crafts: In another place, they found one made of Wood, of an exceeding height, worshipped for the God of rayne: which was thrust very deepe into the ground: There was found a very expresse and lively image of our Penitentiaries: the vse of My∣ters-the Priestes single life; the Arte of Divination by the entrailes of sacrificed beastes; the abstinence from all sorts of flesh & fish, for their food; the order amongst Priests in saying of their divine service, to vse, a not vulgar, but a particular tongue; and this erronious and fond conceipt, that the first God was expelled his throne by a yoonger brother of his: That they were at •••••••• created with all commodities, which afterward by reason of their sinnes were abridged them: That their territory hath beene changed; that their naturall condition hath beene much impaired: That they have heeretofore beene drowned by the inundation of Waters come from heaven; that none were saved but a few families, which cast themselves into the crackes or hollow of high Mountaines, which crackes they stopped very close, so that the Waters could not enter in, having before shutte therein many kinds of beasts: That when they perceived the Raine to cease, and Waters to sal, they first sent out certaine dogs which returning clean-was••t, and wet, they judged that the waters were not yet much falne; and that afterward sending out some other, which seeing to returne all muddy and foule, they issued forth of the mountaines, to repeople the world againe, which they found repleni∣shed onely with Serpents. There were places found, where they vsed the perswasion of the day of judgement, so that they grew wondrous wroth and offended with the Spaniards, who in digging and searching of riches in their graves, scattered here and there the bones of their deceased friends; saying that those dispersed bones could very hardly be reconjoyned toge∣ther againe. They also found where they vsed traffike by exchange, and no otherwise; and had Faires and Markets for that purpose: They found dwarfes, and such other deformed creatures, vsed for the ornament of Princes tables: They found the vse of hawking and fow∣ling according to the Nature of their birdes: tyrannicall subsides, and grievances vppon sub∣jects; delicate in pleasant gardens; dancing, tumbling; leaping and jugling, musike of instru∣ments, armories, dicing-houses, tennisse-courtes, and casting lottes, or mumne-chaunce, wherein they are often so earnest and moody, that they will play themselves and their liber∣ty: vsing no other physicke but by charmes: the manner of writing by figures: believing in one first man, vniversall father of all people: The adoration of one God, who heretofore li∣ved man, in perfect Virginitie, fasting, and penance, preaching the law of Nature, and the cerimonies of religion; and who vanished out of the world, without any naturall death: The opinion of Gyants; the vse of drunkennesse, with their manner of drinks, and drinking and pledging of healths: religious ornaments, painted over with bones and dead-mens sculs; sur∣plices, holy-Water, and holy-Water sprinckles: Women and Servaunts, which strivingly present themselves, to be burned or enterred with their deceased husbands, or masters▪ a law

that the eldest or first borne child shall succeed and inherit all; where nothing is reserved for Punies, but obedience: a custome to the promotion of certaine officers of great authority, and where he that is promoted takes vpon him a new name, and quiteth his owne: Where they vse to cast lime vpon the knees of new borne children, saying vnto him; from dust thou camest and to dust thou shalt returne again: the Arts of Augures or prediction. These vaine shadowes of our religion, which are seene in some of these examples, witnesse the dignity and divinity thereof. It hath not onely in some sort insinuated it selfe among all the infidell Na∣tions, on this side by some imitations, but amongst those barbarous Nations beyond, as it were by a common and supernaturall inspiration: For amongst them was also found the be∣liefe of Purgatory, but after a new forme: For, what we ascribe vnto fire, they impute vnto cold, and imagine that soules are both purged and punished by the vigor of an extreame cold∣nesse. This example putteth me in minde of another pleasant diversity: For, as there were some people found, who tooke pleasure to vnhood the end of their yard, and to cut off the fore-skinne, after the manner of the Mahometans and Iewes, some there were found, that made so great a conscience to vnhood it, that with little strings, they carried their fore-skin very carefully out-stretched and fastened above, for feare that end should see the aire. And of this other diversity also, that as we honour our Kings, and celebrate our Holy-daies with decking and trimming our selves with the best habilliements we have; in some regions there, to shew all disparity and submission to their King, their subjects present themselves vnto him in their basest and meanest apparrell; and entring into his pallace, they take some old torne garment and put it over their other attire, to the end all the glory and ornament may shine in their Soveraigne and Maister.

But let vs goe on: If Nature enclose within the limites of hir ordinary progresse, as all o∣ther things, so the beliefes, the judgements and the opinions of men; if they have their revo∣lutions, their seasons, their birth, and their death, even as Cabiches: If heaven doth moove, agitate and rowle them at his pleasure, what powerfull and permanent authority doe we as∣cribe vnto them? If by vncontroled experience we palpably touch, that the forme of our be∣ing depends of the aire, of the climate, and of the soile wherein we are borne, and not onely the hew, the stature, the complexion and the countenance, but also the soules faculties: Et plaga coeli non solúm ad rebur corporum, sed eiam animorum facit. The climate helpeth not onely for strength of body, but of mindes, saith Ʋegetius: And that the Goddesse foundresse of the Citie of Athens, chose a temperature of a countrie to situate it in, that mightmake the men wise, as the Aegyptian Priests taught Solon: Athen••s tenue coelum: ex quo etiam acutiores putan∣tur A••tici: crassum Thebis: itaque pingues Thebani, & valentes: About Athens is a thin aire, whereby those Country-men are esteemed the sharper-••itted: About Thebes the aire is grose, and therefore the Thebans were grose and strong of constitution. In such manner that as fruites and beasts doe spring vp diverse and different; So men are borne, either more or lesse warlike, martiall, just, temperate and docile: heere subject to wine, there to theft, and whoredome; heere inclined to superstition, addicted to mis-believing; heere given to liberty, there to servitude; capable of some one Arte or Science; grose-witted or ingenious: either obe∣dient or rebellious; good or bad, according as the inclination of the place beareth, where they are seated; and being remooved from one soile to another (as plants are) they take a new complexion: which was the cause, that Cirus would never permit the Persians to leave their barren, rough and craggie Country, for to transport themselves into another, more gentle, more fertile, and more plaine,: saying that fat and delicious coun∣tries, make men wanton and effeminat; and fertile soiles yeeld infertile spirites. If sometimes we see one arte to florish, or a beliefe, and sometimes another, by some heauenly influence; some ages to produce this or that nature, and so to encline mankind to this or that biase: mens spi∣rits one while flourishing, another while barren, even as fields are seene to be? what become of all those goodly prerogatives, wherwith we still flatter our selves? Since a wise man may mistake himselfe; yea many men, and whole nations; and as wee say, means nature either in one thing or other, hath for many ages together mistaken hirselfe. What assurance have we that at any time she leaveth her mistaking▪ and that she continueth not even at this day, in hir error? Me thinkes amongst other testimonies of our imbecilities, this one ought not to be forgotten, that by wishing it selfe, man cannot yet finde out what he wanteth; that not by enjoying our possessing, but by imagination and full wishing, we can not all agree in

one, that we most stand in need-of, and would best content vs. Let our imagination have free libertie to cut out and sew at her pleasure, she cannot so much as desire what is fittest to please and content her.

—quid enim ratione timemus Aut cupimus? quid tam dextro pede concipis, vt te Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti? By reason what doe we feare, or desire? With such dexteritie what doest aspire, But thou eftsoones repentest it, Though thy attempt and vow doe hit?

That is the reason why Socrates, never requested the gods to give him any thing, but what they knew to be good for him. And the publike and private prayer of the Lacedemonians, did meerely implie, that good and faire things might be granted them, remitting the election and choise of them to the discretion of the highest power.

Coniugium petimus partúmque vxoris, at illi Notum qui pueri, qualisque futura sit vxor. We wish a wife, wifes breeding: we would know, What children; shall our wife be sheep or shrow?

And the Christian beseecheth God, that his will may be done, least he should fall into that inconvenience, which Poets faine of King Midas: who requested of the Gods, that whatsoever he toucht, might be converted into gold: his praiers were heard, his wine was gold, his bread gold, the feathers of his bed, his shirt, and his garments were turned into gold, so that he found himselfe overwhelmed in the injoying of his desire, and being enrich't with an intollerable commoditie, he must now vnpray his prayers:

Attonitus novitate mali, divésque misérque, Effugere optat opes, & quae modó voverat, odit. Wretched and rich, amaz'd at so strange ill, His riches he would flie, hates his owne will.

Let me speake of my selfe; being yet verie yong. I besought fortune above all things, that she would make me a knight of the order of Saint Michaell, which in those daies was verie rare, and the highest tipe of honour the French Nobilitie aymed at. She verie kindly gran∣ted my request; I had it. In liew of raising and advancing me from my place, for the attai∣ning of it, she hath much more graciously entreated me, she hath abased and depressed it, even vnto my shoulders and vnder. Cleobis and Biton, Trophonius and Agamedes, the two first having besought the Goddesse, the two latter their God, of some recompence worthie their pietie, received death for a reward: So much are heavenly opinions different from ours, concerning what we have need-of. God might grant vs riches, honours, long life and health, but many times to our owne hurt: For, whatsoever is pleasing to vs, is not alwayes healthfull for vs; If in liew of former health, he send vs death, or some worse sicknesse: Virga tua & baculus tuus ipsa me consolata sunt: Thy rod and thy staffe hath comforted me. He doth it by the reasons of his providence, which more certainly considereth and regardeth what is meet for vs, then we our selves can doe, and we ought to take it in good part, as from a most wise and thrice-friendy-hand.

—si concilium vis Permittes ipsis expendere numinibus, quid Conveniat nobis, rebúsque sit vtile nostris: Charior est illis homo quám sibi— If you will counsell have, give the Gods leave To weigh, what is most meet we should receive, And what for our estate most profit were: To them, then to himselfe man is more deare.

For, to crave honours and charges of them, is to request them to cast you in some battle, or play at hazard, or some such thing, whereof the event is vnknowne to you, and the fruit vn∣certaine. There is no combate amongst Philosophers so violent and sharpe, as that which ariseth vpon the question of mans chiefe felicitie: from which (according to Ʋarroes cal∣culation) arose two hundred and foure score Sects. Qui autem de summo bono dissentit, de

tota Philosophiae ratione disputat. But he that disagrees about the chiefest felicitie, cals in question the whole course of Philosophie.

Tres mihi convivae propè dissentire videntur, Poscentes vario multum divers••palato. Quid dem? quid non dem? renuis tu quod iubet alter: Quod petis, id sanè est invisum acidúmque duobus. Three guests of mine doe seeme almost at ods to fall, Whilst they with divers taste for divers things doe call: What should I give? What not? You wil not, what he will: What you would, to them twaine is hatefull, sowre and ill.

Nature should thus answer their contestations, and debates. Some say, our felicitie con∣sisteth, and is in Vertue: Others in voluptuousnesse: Others in yeelding vnto Nature: Some others in learning: others in feeling no maner of paine or sorrow: Others for a man never to suffer himselfe to be carried away by apparances: and to this opinion seemeth this other of ancient Pithagoras to encline,

Niladmir ar•• propè res es•• vna, Numici, Soláque quae possit facere & seruare beatum. Sir, nothing to admire is th'only thing, That may keepe happy, and to happy bring.

which is the end and scope of the Pyrrhonian Sect. Aristotle ascribeth vnto magnanimitie, to admire and wonder at nothing. And Arcesila••s said, that sufferance, and an vpright and inflexible state of judgement, were true felicities; whereas consents and applications, were vices and evils. True it is, that where he establisheth it for a certaine Axiome, he stared from Pyrrhonisme. When the Pirrhonians say, that Ataraxy is the chiefe felicity, which is the immobilitie of judgement, their meaning is not to speake it affirmatively, but the very wa∣vering of their minde, which makes them to shun downefalls, and to shrowd themselves vn∣der the shelter of calmenesse, presents this fantasie vnto them, and makes them refuse ano∣ther. Oh how mu••h doe I desire, that whilest I live, either some other learned men, or In∣s••••s Lipsius, the most sufficient and learned man now living; of a most polished and judici∣ous wit, true Cosin-germane to my Turnebus, had both will, health and leisure enough, sin∣cerely and exactly, according to their divisions and formes, to collect into on volume or register, as much as by vs might be seene, the opinions of ancient Philosophie, concerning the subject of our being and customs, their controversies, the credite, & pertaking of factions and sides, the application of the Authors and Sectators lives, to their precepts, in memora∣ble and exemplarie accidents. O what a worthie and profitable labor would it be! Besides, if it be from our selves that we draw the regiment of our customes, into what a bottomlesse confusion doe we cast our selves? For, what our reason perswades vs to be most likely for it, is generally for every man to obey the lawes of his countrie, as is the advise of Socrates, en∣spired (saith he) by a divine perswasion. And what else meaneth she thereby, but onely that our devoire or duety hath no other rule, but casuall? Truth ought to have a like and vniuersall visage throughout the world. Law and justice, if man knew any, that had a body and true essence, hee would not fasten it to the condition of this or that countries customes. It is not according to the Persians or Indians fantazie, that vertue should take her forme. Nothing is more subject vnto a continuall agitation, then the lawes. I have since I was borne, seene those of our neighbors the English-men changed and rechanged three or foure times, not only in politike subjects, which is, that some will dispence of constancie, but in the most important subject, that possibly can be, that is to say in religion, whereof I am so much the more both grieved and ashamed, because it is a nation, with which my count••iemen have heretofore had so inward and familiar acquaintance, that even to this day, there remaine in my house some ancient monuments of our former aliance. Nay I have seene amongst our selves some things become lawfull, which erst were deemed capitall: and we that hold some o∣thers, are likewise in possibilitie, according to the vncertaintie of warring fortune, one day or other, to be offendors against the Majestie both of God and man, if our justice chance to fall vnder the mercy of injustice; and in the space of few yeares possession, taking a contrary essence. How could that ancient God more evidently accuse, in humane knowledge, the ignorance of divine essence, and teach men that their religion was but a peece of their owne

invention, fit to combine their societie, then in declaring (as he did) to those which sought the instruction of it, by his sacred Tripos, that the true worshipping of God, was that, which he found to be observed by the custome of the place, where he lived? Oh God, what bond, or dutie is it, that we owe not vnto our Soveraigne Creators benignitie, in that he hath beene pleased to cleare and enfranchize our beliefe from those vagabonding and arbitrary devoti∣ons, & fixt it vpon the eternall Base of his holy word? What will Philosophie then say to vs in this necessity? that we follow the lawes of our country, that is to say, this waving sea of a peoples or of a Princes opinions, which shall paint me forth justice with as many colours, and reforme the same into as many visages as there are changes and alterations of passions in them. I cannot have my judgement so flexible. What goodnesse is that, which but yester∣day I saw in credite and esteeme, and to morrow, to have lost all reputation, and that the crossing of a River, is made a crime? What truth is that, which these Mountaines bound, and is a lie in the World beyond them? But they are pleasant, when to allow the Laws some cer∣tainetie, they say, that there be some firme, perpetuall and immoveable, which they call natu∣rall, and by the condition of their proper essence, are imprinted in man-kinde: of which some make three in number, some, foure some more, some lesse: an evident token, that it is a marke as doubtfull as the rest. Now are they so vnfortunate (for, how can I terme that but misfortune, that of so infinite a number of lawes, there is not so much as one to be found, which the fortune or temeritie of chance hath graunted to be vniversally received, and by the consent and vnanimitie of all Nations to be admitted?) They are (I say) so misera∣ble, that of these three or foure choise-selected lawes, there is not one alone, that is not im∣pugned or disallowed, not by one nation, but by many. Now is the generalitie of appro∣bation, the onely likely ensigne, by which they may argue some lawes to be naturall: For, what nature had indeede ordained vs, that should we doubtlesse follow with one common consent; and not one onely nation, but every man in particular, should have a feeling of the force and violence, which he should vrge him with, that would incite him to contrary and resist that Law. Let them all (for examples sake) shew me but one of this condition. Pro∣tagoras and Ariston gave the justice of the lawes no other essence, but the authoritie and opi∣nion of the Law-giver, and that excepted, both Good and Honest lost their qualities, and re∣mained but vaine and idle names, of indifferent things. Thrasymachus in Plato, thinkes there is no other right, but the commoditie of the superiour. There is nothing wherin the world differeth so much, as in customes and lawes. Somethings are here accompted abho∣minable, which in another place are esteemed commendable: as in Lacedemonia, the slight and subt••ltie in stealing. Mariages in proximitie of blood are amongst vs forbidden as capi∣tall, elsewhere they are alowed and esteemed;

—gentes esse ferunt••r, In quibus & nato genitrix, & nata parenti Iungitur, & p••etas geminato crescit amore. There are some people, where the mother weddeth Hir sonne, the daughter her owne father beddeth, And so by doubled love, their kindnesse spreddeth.

the murthering of children and of parents; the communication with women; traffike of rob∣bing and stealing; free licence to all maner of sensualitie: to conclude, there is nothing so ex∣treame and horrible, but is found to be received and allowed by the custome of some nati∣on. It is credible that there be naturall lawes; as may be seene in other creatures, but in vs they are lost: this goodly humane reason engrafting it selfe among all men, to sway and com∣mand, confounding and topsie-turving the visage of all things, according to her inconstant vanitie and vaine inconstancie. Nihil it aque amplius nostrum est, quod nostrum dico, art••s est. Therefore nothing more is ours: all that I call ours, belongs to Arte. Subjects have divers lustres, and severall considerations, whence the diversitie of opinions is chiefly engendred. One na∣tion vieweth a subject with one visage, and thereon it stayes; an other with an other. No∣thing can be imagined so horrible, as for one to eate and devoure his owne father. Those people, which anciently kept this custome, holde it neverthelesse for a testimonie of pietie and good affection: seeking by that meane to give their fathers the worthiest and most ho∣norable sepulchre, harboring their fathers bodies & reliques in themselves and in their mar∣row; in some sorte reviving and regenerating them by the transmutation made in their

quicke flesh, by digestion and nourishment. It is easie to be considered what abhomination and crueltie it had beene, in men accustomed and trained in this inhumane superstition, to cast the carcasses of their parents into the corruption of the earth, as foode for beasts and wormes. Lycurgus wisely considered in theft, the vivacitie, diligence, courage, and nimble∣nesse, that is required in surprising or taking any thing from ones neighbour, and the com∣moditie which thereby redoundeth to the common-wealth, that every man heedeth more curiously the keeping of that which is his owne: and judged, that by this two fold instituti∣on to assaile and to defend, much good was drawne for military discipline (which was the principall Science and chiefe vertue, wherein he would enable that nation) of greater respect and more consideration, then was the disorder and injustice of prevailing and taking other mens goods. ▪Dionysius the tyrant offered Plato a robe made after the Persian fashion, long, damasked and perfumed: But he refused the same, saying, that being borne a man, he would not willingly put-on a womans garment: But Aristippus tooke it, with this answere, that no gar∣ment could corrupt a chaste minde. His Friends reproved his demissenesse, in being so little offended, that Dionysius had spitten in his face. Tut (said he) Fishers suffer themselves to be washed ouer head and eares, to get a gudgion. Diogenes washing of coleworts for his dinner, seeing him passe by, said vnto him, If thou couldest live with coleworts, thou wouldest not cour•• and faune vpon a tyrant; to whom Aristippus replied; If thou couldest live among men, thou wouldest not wash coleworts. See here how reason yeeldeth apparance to divers effects. It is a pitcher with two eares, which a man may take hold-on, either by the right or left hand.

—bellum ô terra hospita portas, Bello armantur equi, bellum haec arment a minantur: Sed tamen ijdem molim curru succedere sueti Quadrupedes, & franaiugo concordia serre.▪ Spes est pacis— O stranger-harb'ring land, thou bringst vs warre; Steed's serve for warre; These heard's do threaten jarre. Yet horses erst were wont to drawe our waines, And harnest matches beare agreeing raines; Hope is hereby that wee, In peace shall well agree.

Solon being import••ned not to shed vaine and bottles teares for the death of his sonne; That's the reason (answered hee) I may more iustly shed them, because they are bootelesse and vaine. Socrates his wife, exasperated her griefe by this circumstance; Good Lord (said she) how vniustly doe these bad iudges put him to death! What? Wouldest thou rather they should exe∣cute me iustly? replide he to her. It is a fashion amongst vs to have holes bored in our ••ares: the Greekes held it for a badge of bondage. We hide our selves when we will enjoy our wives: The Indians doe it in open view of all men. The Scithians were wont to sacri∣fice strangers in their Temples, whereas in other places Churches are Sanctuaries for them.

Inde furor vulgi, quòd numina vicinorum Odit quisque locus, cùm solos credat habendos Esse Deos quos ipse colit— The vulgar hereupon doth rage, because Each place doth hate their neighbours soveraigne lawes, And onely Gods doth deeme, Those Gods themselues esteeme.

I have heard it reported of a Iudge, who when he met with any sharp conflict betweene Bartolus and Baldus, or with any case admitting contrariety, was wont to write in the margin of his booke, A question for a friend, which is to say, that the truth was so entangled, and dis∣putable, that in such a case he might favour which party he should thinke good. There was no want but of spirit and sufficiency, if he set not every where through his books, A Question for a friend. The Advocates and Iudges of our time find in all cases by ases too-too-many, to fit them where they thinke good. To so infinite a science, depending on the authoritie of so many opinions, and of so arbitrary a subject, it cannot be, but that an exceeding confusion of judgements must arise. There are very few processes so cleere, but the Lawiers advises vp∣on

them will be found to differ: What one company hath judged, another will adjudge the contrary, and the very same will another time change opinion. Whereof wee see ordinarie examples by this licence, which wonderfully blemisheth the authoritie and lustre of our Law, never to stay vpon one sentence, but to run from one to another Iudge, to decide one same case. Touching the liberty of Philosophicall opinions, concerning vice and vertue, it is a thing needing no great extension, and wherin are found many advises, which were bet∣ter vnspoken, then published to weake capacities. Arcesilaus was wont to say, that in pail∣liardize, it was not worthy consideration, where, on what side, and how it was done. Et obs••oe∣nas volupt at es, si nat ura requirit, non genere, aut loco, aut ordine, sed forma, aetate, figura metiendas Epicurus putat. Ne amores quidem sanctos à sapiente alienos esse arbitrantur. Quaeramus ad quam vs{que} aet ••tem i••ven••s amandi sint. Obscene pleasures, if nature require them, the Epicure esteemeth not to be measured by kinde, place, or order▪ but by forme, age, and fashion. Nor doth he thinke that holy loves should be strange from a wiseman. Let vs then question to what yeares yoong folke may be beloved. These two last Stoicke places, and vpon this purpose, the reproch of Diogarchus to Plato himselfe, shew how many excessive licenses, and out of common vse, soundest Philoso∣phie doth tolerate. Lawes take their authoritie from p••ss••ssion and custome: It is dangerous to re∣duce them to their beginning: In rowling on, they swell, and grow greater and greater, as do our rivers: follow them vpward, vnto their sourse, & you shall find them but a bubble of wa∣ter, scarse to be discerned, which in gliding on swelleth so proud, & gathers so much strength. Behold the auncient considerations, which have given the first motion to this famous tor∣rent, so full of dignitie, of honour and reverence, you shall finde them so light and weake, that these men which will weigh all, and complaine of reason, and who receive nothing vpon trust and authoritie, it is no wonder if their judgements are often far distant from common judgement. Men that take Natures first image for a patterne, it is no marvaile, if in most of their opinions, they misse the common-beaten path. As for example; few amongst them would have approved the forced conditions of our mariages, and most of them would have had women in community, and without any private respect. They refused our ceremonies: Chrysippus said, that some Philosophers would in open view of all men shew a dozen of tumb∣ling-tricks, yea, without any slops or breeches, for a dozen of olives. He would hardlie have perswaded Calisthenes to refuse his faire daughter Agarista to Hippoclides, because he had seen him graffe the forked tree in hir vpon a table. Metrocles somewhat indiscreetly, as he was disputing in his Schoole, in presence of his Auditorie let a fart, for shame whereof he afterward kept his house, and could not be drawen abroad, vntill such time as Crates went to visite him, who to his perswasions and reasons, adding the example of his libertie, began to fart a vie with him, and to remove this scruple from off his conscience; and moreover, won him to his Stoicall (the more free) Sect, from the Peripateticall (and more civill) one, which thetherunto he had followed. That which we cal civility, not to dare to do that openly, which amongst vs is both lawfull and honest, being done in secret, they termed folly: And to play the wilie Foxe, in concealing and discla••ming what nature, custome, & our desire publish and proclaime of our actions, they deemed to be a vice. And thought it a suppressing of Ʋe∣nus hir mysteries, to remove them from out the private vestrie of hir Temple, & expose them to the open view of the people. And that to draw his sports from out the Curtines, was to loose them▪ Shame is matter of some consequence. Concealing, reservation, and circumspection, are parts of estimation. That, sensuality vnder the maske of Vertue did very ingeniously procure not to be prostituted in the midst of high-waies, not trodden vpon, and seene by the common sort; alledging the dignity and commoditie of her wonted Cabinets. Whereupon some say, that to forbid and remoue the common brothel-houses, is not only to spread whoredome every where, which only was allotted to those places, but also to incite idle & vagabond men to that vice, by reason of the difficultie.

Moechus es A••••idiae qui vir Corvine fuisti, Rival•••• fuerat qui ••uus, ill•• vir ••st. Cur aliena placet tibi, quae tua non placet vxor? Nunquid securus non potes arrig••re?

This experience is diversified by a thousand examples.

Nullus in Ʋrbefuit tota, qui tangere vellet Ʋxorem gratis Caeciliane tuam,

Dum licuit: sed nunc positis custodibus, ••••gens Turba fututorum est. Ingeniosus homo es.

A Philosopher being taken with the deede, was demaunded, what he did: answered very mildely, I plant man, blushing no more being found so napping, then if he had bin taken set∣ting of Garlike. It is (as I suppose) of a tender and respectiue opinion, that a notable and re∣ligious Authour, holds this action so necessarily-bound to secrecy and shame, that in Cynike embracements and dalliances, hee could not be perswaded that the worke should come to her end; but rather, that it lingred and staid, only to represent wanton gestures, and lascivious motions, to maintaine the impudencie of their schooles-profession: and that to powre forth what shame had forced and bashfulnesse restrained, they had also afterward neede to seeke some secret place. He had not seene farre-enough into their licenciousnesse: For, Diogenes in sight of all, exercising his Masturbation, bred a longing-desire, in the by-standers, that in such sort they might fill their bellies by rubbing or clawing the same. To those that asked him, why hee sought for no fitter place to feede in, then in the open frequented high way, he made answere, It is because I am hungry in the open frequented high-way. The Philosophers Wo∣men, which medled with their Sects, did likewise in all places, and without any discretion med∣dle with their bodies: And Crates had never received Hipparchia into his fellowship, but vpon condition, to follow all the customes and fashions of his order. These Philosophers set an ex∣treame rate on vertue; and rejected all other disciplines, except the morall; yet is it, that in al actions, they ascribed the Soveraigne authority to the election of their wise, yea, and above all lawes: & appointed no other restraint vnto voluptuousnesse, but themoderation, & preserva∣tion of others liberty▪ Heraclitus & Protagoras, forsomuch as wine seemeth bitter vnto the sick, and pleasing to the healthy; and an Oare crooked in the water, and straight to those that see it above water, & such-like contrary apparances, which are sound in some subjects; argued that all subjects had the causes of these apparances in them; and that, there was some kinde of bit∣ternesse in the wine, which had a reference vnto the sickmans taste; in the Oare a certain croo∣ked quality, having relation to him that seeth it in the water. And so of all things else. Which implieth, that all is in all things, & by consequence nothing in any: for either nothing is, or all is. This opinion put me in minde of the experience we have, that there is not any one sence or visage, either straight or crooked, bitter or sweete, but mans wit shall find in the writings, which he vndertaketh to runne-over. In the purest, most vnspotted, and most absolutely-perfect∣worde, that possibly can be, how many errors, falshoods, and lies have beene made to proceede from-it? What heresie hath not found testimonies and ground sufficient, both to vndertake and to maintaine it ••e••e? It is therefore, that the Authors of such errours will never goe from this proof of the Testimony of words interpretation. A man of worth, going about by autho∣rity to approve the search of the Philosophers stone, (wherein he was overwhelmd) aleaged at least five or six several passages out of the holy bible vnto me, vpon which (he said) he had at first grounded himselfe, for the discharge of his conscience (for he is a man of the Ecclesiasti∣cal profession) & truly, the invention of them, was not only pleasant, but also very fitly applied to the defence of this goodly & mind-inchanting science. This way is the credit of divining fa∣bles attained to. There is no prognosticator, if he have but this authority, that any one wil but voutsafe to reade him over, and curiously to search all the infoldings and lustres of his words, but a man shall make him say what he pleaseth, as the Sibilles. There are so many means of in∣terpretation, that it is hard, be it flat-long, side-long, or edge-long, but an ingenious and preg∣nant wit, shall in all subjects meete with some aire that will fit his turne. Therefore is a clowdy, darke, and ambiguous stile found in so frequent and ancient custome. That the Author may gaine, to draw, allure, and busie posterity to himself, which not only the sufficiency, but the ca∣suall favour of the matter, may gaine as much or more. As for other matters, let him, be it ei∣ther through foolishnesse or subtiltie, shew himself somewhat obscure and divers, it is no mat∣ter, care not he for that. A number of spirits sifting, and tossing him-over, wil find and expresse sundrie formes, either according, or collaterally, or contrary to his own▪ al which shall do him credite He shal see himselfe enriched by the means of his Disciples, as the Grammer Schoole Maisters. It is that, which hath made many things of nothing, to passe very currant, that hath brought divers bookes in credite, and charged with all sorts of matter, that any hath but de∣sired: one selfe same thing admitting a thousand and a thousand, and as many severall images, and divers considerations, as it best pleaseth vs. Is it possible, that ever Homer meant all that,

which some make him to have meant. And that he prostrated himselfe to so many, and so severall shapes, as, Divines, Lawyers, Captains, Philosophers & all sort of people else, which, how diversly and contrary soever it be, they treate of sciences, do notwithstanding wholy re∣lie vpon him, & refer them-selves vnto him; as a Generall Maister for all offices, workes, scien∣ces, & tradesmen & an vniversall counsellor in all enterprises? whosoever hath had need of O∣racles or Predictions, & would apply them to himselfe, hath found them in him for his pur∣pose. A notable man, & a good friend of mine, would make one marvel to heare what strange far-fetcht conceites, and admirable affinities, in favor of our religion, he maketh to derive from him; And can hardly be drawne from this opinion, but that such was Homers intent & meaning (yet is Homer so familiar vnto him, as I thinke no man of our age is better acquain∣ted with him.) And what he findes in favor of religion, many ancient learned men, have found in favor of theirs. See how Plato is tossed and turned over, every man endevoring to apply him to his purpose, giveth him what construction he list. He is wrested & inserted to all new-fangled opinions, that the world receiveth or alloweth of, and according to the different course of subjects is made to be repugnant vnto himselfe. Every one according to his sense makes him to d••••avowe the customes that were lawfull in his daies, in asmuch as they are vnlawfull in these times. All which is very lively and strongly maintained, accor∣ding as the wit and learning of the interpreter is strong and quicke. Vpon the ground which Heraclitus had, and that sentence of his; that all things had those shapes in them, which men found in them. And Democritus out of the very same drew a cleane contrarie conclusion, id est, that subiects had nothing at all in them of that which we found in them; And forasmuch as honny was sweete to one man, and bitter to another, hee argued that honny was neither sweete nor bitter. The Pyrrhonians would say, they know not whether it be sweete or bit∣ter, or both, or neither: For, they ever gaine the highest point of doubting. The Cyrenaicks held, that nothing was perceptible outwardly, and onely that was perceivable, which by the inward touch or feeling, touched or concerned vs, as griefe and sensualitie, distinguishing neither tune, nor collours, but onely certaine affections, that came to vs of them; and that man had no other seate of his judgement. Protagoras deemed, that to be true to all men, which to all men seemeth so. The Epicurians, place all judgement in the senses, and in the notice of things, and in voluptuousnes. Platoes minde was, that the judgement of truth, and truth it selfe drawne from opinions and senses, belonged to the spirit, and to cogitation. This discourse hath drawne me to the consideration of the senses, wherein consisteth the greatest foun∣dation and triall of our ignorance. Whatsoever is knowne, is without all peradventure knowne by the facultie of the knower: For, since the judgment commeth from the operation of him that judgeth, reason requireth, that he perfourme and act this operation by his meanes and will, and not by others compulsion: As it would follow if we knewe things by the force, and according to the law of their essence. Now all knowledge is addressed into vs by the senses, they are our maisters:

—via quâ munit a fidei Proxima fert humanum in pectus, templáque mentis: Whereby a way for credit lead's well-linde Into mans breast and temple of his minde.

Science begins by them & in them is resolved. After all, wee should knowe no more than a stone, vnles we know, that there is, sound, smell, light, savor, measure, weight, softnes, hardnes, sharpnes, colour, smoothnes, breadth and depth. Behold here the platforme of all the frame, and principles of the building of all our knowledge. And according to some, science is no∣thing else, but what is knowne by the senses. Whosoever can force me to contradict my sen∣ses, hath me fast by the throate, and can not make me recoyle one foote backward. The senses are the beginning and end of humane knowledge.

Invenies primis ab sensibus esse creatam Notitiam veri, neque sensus posse refelli. Quid maiore fide porrò quàm sensus haberi Debet?— You shall finde knowledge of the truth at first was bred From our first senses, nor can senses be misse-led. What, then our senses, should

With vs more credit hold?

Attribute as litle as may be vnto them, yet must this ever be granted them, that all our in∣struction is addressed by their means & intermission. Cicero saith, that Chrysippus having assaid to abate the power of his senses, and of their vertue, presented contrarie arguments vnto him selfe, and so vehement oppositions, that he could not satisfie himselfe. Whereupon Car••e∣ades (who defended the contrarie part) boasted, that he vsed the verie same weapons and words of Chrysippus to combate against him; and therefore cried out vpon him. Oh misera∣ble man! thine owne strength hath foyled thee. There is no greater absurditie in our judge∣ment, then to maintaine, that fire heateth not, that light shineth not, that in yron there is nei∣ther weight nor firmenesse, which are notices our senses bring vnto vs: Nor beliefe or science in man, that may be compared vnto that, in certaintie. The first consideration I have vpon the senses subject, is, that I make a question, whether man be provided of all naturall senses, or no. I see divers creatures, that live an entire and perfect life, some without sight, and some without hearing; who knoweth whether we also want either one, two, three, or many senses more: For, if we want any one, our discourse cannot discover the want or defect thereof. It is the senses priviledge, to be the extreame bounds of our perceiving. There is nothing beyond them, that may stead vs to discover them: No one sense can discover another.

An poterunt oculos aures reprehendere, an aures Tactus, an hunc porro tactum sapor arguet oris, An confutabunt nares, oculive revincent? Can eares the eyes, or can touch reprehend The eares, or shall mouths-taste that touch amend? Shall our nose it confute, Or eyes gainst it dispute?

They all make the extreamest line of our facultie.

—scorsum cuique potestas Divisa est, sua vis cuique est— To each distinctly might Is shar'de, each hath it's right.

It is impossible to make a man naturally blind, to conceive that he seeth not; impossible to make him desire to see, and sorrow his defect. Therefore ought we not to take assurance, that our minde is contented and satisfied with those we have, seeing it hath not wherewith to feel hir owne maladie, and perceive hir imperfection, if it be in any. It is impossible to tell that blinde man any thing, either by discourse, argument, or similitude, that lodgeth any ap∣prehension of light, collour, or sight in his imagination. There is nothing more backward, that may push the senses to any evidence. The blind-borne, which we perceive desire to see, it is not to vnderstand what they require; they have learn't of vs, that something they want, and something they desire, that is in vs, with the effect & consequences thereof, which they call good: Yet w••t not they what it is, nor apprehend they it neere or far. I have seene a Gentleman of a good house, borne blinde, at least blinde in such an age, that he knowes not what sight is; he vnderstandeth so little what he wanteth, that as we doe, he vseth words fitting sight, and applieth them after a manner onely proper and peculiar to himselfe. A child being brought before him, to whom he was god-father, taking him in his armes, he said, good Lord what a fine child this is ••it is a goodly thing to see him: What a cheerefull countenance he hath, how prettily he looketh. Hee will say as one of vs. This hall hath a faire prospect: It is very faire weather: The Sunne shines cleare. Nay, which is more; be∣cause hunting, hawking, tennis-play, and shuting at buts are our common sportes and exer∣cises (for so he hath heard) his minde will be so affected vnto them, and he wil so busie him∣selfe about them, that hee will thinke to have as great an interest in them, as any of vs, and shew himselfe as earnestly passionate, both in liking and disliking them as any else; yet doth he conceive and receive them but by hearing. If he be in a faire champian ground, where he may ride, they will tell him, yonder is a Hare started, or the Hare is killed, he is as busily earnest of his game, as he heareth others to be, that have perfect sight. Give him a ball, he takes it in the left hand, and with the right streekes it away with his racket; In a piece he shutes at randome; and is well pleased with what his men tell him, be it high or wide. Who

knowes whether man-kind commit as great a folly, for want of some sense, and that by this default, the greater part of the visage of things be concealed from vs? Who knowes whe∣ther the difficulties we find in sundrie of Natures workes, proceede thence? And whether diuers effects of beasts, which exceede our capacitie, are produced by the facultie of some sense, that we want? And whether some of them, have by that meane a fuller and more per∣fect life then ours? We seize on an apple wel-nigh with all our senses? We finde rednes, smoothnes, odor and sweetnes in it; besides which, it may have other vertues, either drying or binding, to which we have no sense to be referred. The proprieties which in many things we call secret, as in the Adamant to drawe yron, it is not likely there should be sensitiue fa∣culties in nature able to judge and perceive them, the want whereof breedeth in vs the igno∣rance of the true essence of such things? It is happily some particular sense that vnto Cockes or Chanticleares discovereth the morning and midnight houre, and mooveth them to crow: That teacheth a Hen, before any vse or experience, to feare a Hawke, and not a Goose or a Peacocke, farre greater birds: That warneth yong chickins of the hostile qualitie which the Cat hath against them, and not to distrust a Dog; to strut and arme themselves against the mewing of the one (in some sort a flattering and milde voyce) and not against the barking of the other (a snarling & quarrelous voice:) that instructeth Rats, Wasps, and Emmets, ever to chuse the best cheese and frute, having never tasted them before: And that addresseth the Stag, the Elephant, and the Serpent, to the knowledge of certaine herbs and simples, which, being either wounded or sicke, have the vertue to cure them. There is no sence but hath some great domination, and which by his meane affordeth not an infinite number of knowledges. If we were to report the intelligence of soundes, of harmony and of the voyce, it would bring an imaginable confusion to all the rest of our learning and science. For, besides what is tyed to the proper effect of every sense, how many arguments, consequences and conclusions draw we vnto other things, by comparing one sense to ano∣ther? Let a skilfull wise man but imagine humane nature to be originally produced without sight and discourse, how much ignorance and trouble such a defect would bring vnto him, and what obscurity and blindnesse in our minde: By that shall wee perceiue, how much the privation of one, or two, or three such senses, (if there be any in vs) doth import vs about the knowledge of truth. We have by the consultation & concurrence of our five senses formed one Verity, whereas peradventure there was required the accord & consent of eight or ten senses, and their contribution, to attaine a perspicuous insight of her, and see her in her true es∣sence. Those Sects which combate mans science, do principally combate the same by the vncetainety and feeblenesse of our sences: For, since by their meane and intermission al know∣ledge comes vnto vs, if they chaunce to misse in the report they make vnto vs, if eyther they corrupt or alter that, which from abroade they bring vnto vs, if the light which by them is transported into our soule bee obscured in the passage, wee have nothing else to holde by. From this extreame difficultie are sprung all these fantazies, which everie Subject contai∣neth, whatsoever wee finde in it: That it hath not what wee suppose to finde in it: And that of the Epicurians, which is, that the Sunne is no greater than our sight doth judge it,

Quicquid id est, nihilo fortur maiore figurâ, Quàm nostris oculis quam cernimus esse videtur. What ere it be, it in no greater forme doth passe, Then to our eyes, which it behold, it seeming was.

that the apparances, which represent a great body, to him that is neare vnto them, & a much lesser to him that is further from them, are both true;

Nec tamen hic oculis falli concedimus hilum: Proinde animi vitium hoc oculis adfingere noli. Yet graunt we not in this our eyes deceiv'd or blind, Impute not then to eyes this error of the mind.

and resolutely, that there is no deceit in the senses: That a man must stand to their mercie, and elsewhere seeke reasons to excuse the difference and contradiction we find in them; yea invent all other vntruthes, and raving conceites (so farre come they) rather then accuse the causes. Timagoras swore, that howsoever he winked or turned his eyes, he could never per∣ceive the light of the candle to double: And that this seeming proceeded from the vice of o∣pinion,

and not from the instrument. Of all absurdities, the most absurd amongst the Epi∣curians, is, to disavowe the force and effect of the senses.

Proinde quod in quoque est bis visum tempore, verum est. Et si non potuit ratio dissolvere causam, Cur ea qu•• fuerint iuxtim quadrata, procul sint Ʋisa rotunda: tamen praestat rationis egent ••m Reddere mendosè causas vtriúsque figurae, Quàm manibus manifesta suis emittere quoquam, Et violare fidem primam, & convellere tota Fundamenta, quibus nixatur vita salúsque. Non modò enim ratio ruat omnis, vita quoque ipsa Concidat extemplo, nisi creder••s••nsibus ausis, Praecipitésque locos vitare, & caetera quaesint In genere hoc fugienda.— Whatby the eies is seene at any time, is true, Though the cause Reason could not render of the view, Why what was square at hand, a farre-off seemed round, Yet it much better were, that wanting reasons ground The causes of both formes we harp-on, but not hit, Then let slip from our hands things cleare, and them omit, And violate our first beliefe, and rashly rend All those ground-works, whereon both life and health depend, For not alone all reasons falls, life likewise must Faile out of hand, vnlesse your senses you dare trust, And break-necke places, and all other errors shunne, From which we in this kinde most carefully should runne.

This desperate and so little-philosophicall counsell, represents no other thing, but that humane science cannot be maintained but by vnreasonable, fond & mad reason; yet is it bet∣ter, that man vse it to prevaile, yea & of all other remedies else how fantasticall soever they be, rather then avow his necessarie foolishnes: So prejudiciall and disadvantageous a veritie he cannot auoide, but senses must necessarily be the soveraigne maisters of his knowledge: But they are vncertaine and falsifiable to all circumstances: There must a man strike to the vtmost of his power, and if his just forces faile him (as they are wont) to vse and employ ob∣stinac••e, temeritie and impudencie. If that which the Epicurians affirme, be true, that is to say, we have no science, if the apparances of the senses be false: and that which the Stoicks say, if it is also true that the senses apparances are so false, as they can produce vs no science: We will conclude at the charges of these two great Dogmatist Sects, that there is no science. Touching the error and vncertaintie of the senses operation, a man may store himselfe with as many examples as he pleaseth, so ordinarie are the faults and deceits they vse towards vs. And the ecchoing or reporting of a valley, the sound of a Trumpet seemeth to sound before vs, which cometh a mile behinde vs.

Extantésque procul medio de gurgite montes Iidem apparent longe diver si licet.— Et fugere ad puppim colles camp••que videntur Quos agimus propter navim.— —vbi in medio nobis equus acer obhaesit Flumine, equi corpus transversum ferre videtur Ʋis, & in adversum flumen contrudere raptim. And hilles, which from the maine far-off to kenning stand, Appeare all one, though they farre distant be at hand. And hilles and fields doe seeme vnto our bote to fly, Which we drive by our bote as we doe passe thereby. When in midst of a streame a stately Horse doth stay, The stream's orethwarting seems his body crosse to sway, And swiftly gainst the streame to thrust him th'other way.

To roule a bullet vnder the fore-finger, the midlemost being put over-it, a man must very

much enforce himselfe, to affirme there is but one, so assuredly doth ou•• sense present vs two. That the senses do often maister our discourse, and force it to receive impressions, which he knoweth and judgeth to be false, it is daily seene. I leave the sense of feeling, which hath his functions neerer, more quicke and substantiall, and which by the effect of the griefe or paine it brings to the body doth so often confound and re-enverse all these goodly Stoicall resolutions, and enforceth to cry out of the belly-ache him, who hath with all resolution e∣stablished in his minde this Doctrine, that the chol••ke, as every other sicknesle or paine, is a thing indifferent, wanting power to abate any thing of Soveraigne good or chiefe feli∣citie, wherein the wise man is placed by his owne vertue: there is no heart so demisse, but the ra••••ing sound of a drumme▪ or the clang of a Trumpet, will rowze and inflame; nor minde so harsh and sterne, but the sweetenesse and harmonie of musike, will moove and tickle; nor any soule so skittish and stubborne, that hath not a feeling of some reverence, in considering the clowdy vasti∣tie and gloomi•• canapies of our churches, the ••ye-pleasing diversitie of ornaments, and orderly or∣der of our ceremonies, and hearing the devout and religious sound of our Organs, the moderate, sim∣phoniall, and heaevenly harmonie of our voices: Even those that enter into them with an obstinate will and contemning minde, have in their heart •• feeling of remorse, of chilnesse, and horrour, that puts them into a certaine diffidence of their former opinions. As for me, I distrust mine owne strength, to heare with a settled minde some of Horace or Catullus versessung with a suf∣ficiently well tuned voice, vttered by, and proceeding from a faire, yong, and hart-alluring mouth▪ And Zeno had reason to say, that the voice was the flower of beautie. Some have gone about to make me believe, that a man, who most of vs French men know, in repeating certaine verses he had made, had imposed vpon me, that they were not such in writing, as in the aire, and that mine eyes would judge of them otherwise then mine eares: so much credite hath pronunciation to give prise and fashion to those workes that passe her mercie: Whereupon Philoxenus was not to be blamed, when hearing one to give an ill accent to some composition of his, hee tooke in a rage some of his pottes or brickes, and breaking them, trode and trampled them vnder his feete, saying vnto him, I breake and trample what is thine, even as thou manglest and marrest what is mine. Wherefore did they (who with an vndanted resolve have procured their owne death, because they would not see the blow or stroke comming) turne their face away? And those who for their healths sake cause them∣selves to be cut and cauterized, cannot endure the sight of the preparations, tooles, instru∣ments and workes of the Chirurgion, but because the sight should have no part of the paine or smart? Are not these fit examples to verifie the authoritie, which senses have over dis∣course? We may long-enough know that such a ones lockes or flaring-tresses are borrowed of a Page, or taken from some Lacky, that this faire ruby-red came from Spaine, & this white∣nesse or smoothnes from the Ocean sea: yet must sight force vs to find, and deeme the subject more lovely and more pleasing, against all reason. For, in that there is nothing of it's owne,

Auferimur cultu; gemmis, aur ôque teg••sntur Crimina, pars minima est ipsa puella sui. Saepe vbi sit quod ames inter tam multa requiras: Decipit hâc oculos Aegide dives amor. We are misse-led by ornaments: what is a misse Gold and gemmes cover, least part of her selfe the maiden is. Mongst things so many you may aske, where your love lies, Rich love by this Gorgonian sh••eld deceives thine eyes.

How much doe Poets ascribe vnto the vertue of the senses, which make Narcissu•• to have even fondly lost himselfe for the love of his shadow?

Cunctâque miratur, quibus est mirabilis ipse, Se cupit imprudens, & qui probat, ipse probatur, Dúmque petit, petitur: paritér que accendit & ardet. He all admires, whereby himselfe is admirable, Fond he, fond of himselfe, to himselfe amiable, He, that doth like, is lik't, and while he doth desire; He is desired, at once he burnes and sets on fire.

and Pigmal••o••s wits so troubled by the impression of the sight of his ivory statue that he lo∣veth and serves it, as if it had life:

Oscula dat, redd••que put at, sequitú•• que tenétque Et credit tactis digitos insidere membris, Et metuit pressos veniat ne livor in artus. He kisses, and thinks kisses come againe, He sues, pursues, and holds, beleeves in vaine His fingers sinke where he doth touch the place, And feares lest blacke-and-blew toucht-lims deface.

Let a Philosopher be put in a Cage made of small and thin-set yron-wyre, and hanged on the top of our Ladies Church steeple in Paris; he shall, by evident reason, perceive that it is impossible he should fall downe out of it; yet can he not chuse (except he have been brought vp in the trade of T••lers or Tha••chers) but the sight of that exceeding height must needs dazle his sight, and amaze or turne his senses. For, we have much ado•• to warrant our selves in the walks or battlements of an high tower or s••eeple, if they be battlemented and wrought with pillers, and somewhat wide one from another, although of stone, and never so strong. Nay, some there are, that can scarcely thinke or heare of such heights. Let a beame or planke be laide acrosse from one of those two Steeples to the other, as big, as thicke, as strong, and as broade, as would suffice any man to walke safely vpon it, there is no Philosophicall wisedome of so great resolution and constancie, that is able to encourage and perswade vs to march vpon it, as we would, were it below on the ground. I have sometimes made triall of it vpon our mountaines on this side of Italie, yet am I one of those that will not easily be affrighted with such things, and I could not without horror to my minde, and trem∣bling of legs and thighes endure to looke on those infinit precipises and steepie down-fals, though I were not neere the brim, nor any danger within my length, and more; and vnlesse I had willingly gone to the perill, I could not possiblie have falne. Where I also noted, that how deep soever the bottom were, if but a tree, a shrub, or any out-butting crag of a Rocke presented it selfe vnto our eyes, vpon those steepie and high Alpes, somewhat to vphold the sight, and divide the same, it doth somewhat ease and as••ure vs from feare, as if it were a thing, which in our fall might either help or vphold vs: And that we cannot without some dread and giddinesse in the head, so much as abide to looke vpon one of those even and down-right precipises: Ʋ•• despici sine vertigine simul oculorum animique non possit. So as they can not looke downe without giddinesse both of eyes and mindes: Which is an evident deception of the sight. Therefore was it, that a worthy Philosopher pulled out his eies, that so he might dis∣charge his soule of the seducing and diverting he received by them, and the better and more freely applie himselfe vnto Philosophie. But by this accompt, he should also have stopped his eares, which (as Theophrastus said) are the most dangerous instruments we have to receive violent and suddaine impressions to trouble and alter vs, and should, in the end, have depri∣ved himselfe of all his other senses, that is to say, both of his being, and life. For, they have the power to command our discourses and sway our mind: Fit etiam saepe spec••e quadam, saepe vocum gravitate & cantibus, vt pellantur animi vehementius: saepe etiam curâ & timore. It comes to passe, that many times our minds are much mooved with some shadow, many times with deep∣sounding, or singing of voyces, many times with care and feare. Phisitions hold, that there are certaine complexions, which by some sounds and instruments are agitated even vnto furie. I have seen some, who without infringing their patience, could not well heare a bone gnawne vnder their table: and we see few men, but are much troubled at that sharp, harsh, and teeth∣edging noise that Smiths make in fi••ing of brasse, or scraping of yron and steele together: others will be offended, if they but heare one chew his meat somewhat a loude; nay, some will be angrie with, or hate a man, that either speaks in the nose, or rattles in the throat. That pyping prompter of Graccus, who mollified▪ raised, and wound his masters voice, whilest he was making Orations at Rome; what good did he, •••• the motion and qualitie of the sound, had not the force to move, and efficacie to alter the auditories judgement? Verily, there is great cause to make so much adoe, and keep such a coyle about the constancie and firme∣nesse of this goodly piece, which suffers it selfe to be handled, changed, and turned by the motion and accident of so light a winde. The verie same cheating and cozening, that senses bring to our vnderstanding, themselves receive it in their turnes. Our minde doth likewise take revenge of it, they lie, they cog, and deceive one another a vie. What we see and heare, being passionately transported by anger, we neither see or heare it as it is.

Et solem geminum, & duplices s•• ostendere Thebas. That two Sunnes doe appere And double Thebes are there.

The object which we love, seemeth much more fairer vnto vs, then it is;

Multimodis igitur pravas turpésqve videmus Esse in delitijs, summoque in honore vigere. We therefore see that those, who many waies are bad, And fowle, are yet belov'd, and in chiefe honor had.

and that much fowler which we loth. To a pensive and hart-grieved man, a cleare day seemes gloomie and duskie. Our senses are not only altered, but many times dulled, by the passions of the mind. How many things see we, which we perceive not, if our minde be either busied or distracted else where?

—in rebus quoque apertis noscere possis, Si non advertas animum proinde esse, quas•• omni Tempore semotae fuerint, longéque remotae. Ev'n in things manifest it may be seene, If you marke not, they are, as they had beene At all times sever'd farre, remooved cleane.

The soule seemeth to retire her selfe into the inmost parts, and ammuseth the senses facul∣ties: So that both the inward and outward parts of man are full of weakenes and falsehood. Those which haue compared our life vnto a dreame, have happily had more reason so to doe, then they were aware. When we dreame, our soule liveth, worketh and exerciseth all hi•• faculties even, and as much, as when it waketh; and if more softly, and obscurely; yet ve∣rily not so, as that it may admit so great a difference, as there is betweene a darke night, and a cleare day: Yea as betweene a night and a shadow: There it sleepeth, heere it slumbreth: More or lesse, they are ever darkenesses, yea Cimmerian darkenesses. We wake sleeping, and sleepe waking. In my sleepe I see not so cleare; yet can I never finde my waking cleare enough, or without dimnesse. Sleepe also in his deepest rest, doth sometimes bring dreames asleepe: But our waking is never so vigilant, as it may cleerely purge and dissipate the ravings or ••••le fantazies, which are the dreames of the waking, and worse then dreames. Our reason and soule, receiuing the fantasies and opinions, which sleeping seize on them, and authori∣sing our dreames actions, with like approbation, as it doth the daies. Why make wee not a doubt, whether our thinking, and our working be another dreaming, and our waking some kinde of sleeping? If the senses be our first iudges, it is not ours that must onely bee called to counsell: For, in this facultie beasts have as much (or more) right, as we. It is most certaine, that some haue their hearing more sharp then man; others their sight; others their smelling; others their feeling, or taste. D••mocritus said, that Gods and beasts had the sensitiue faculties much more perfect then man. Now between the effects of their senses and ours, the diffe∣rence is extreame. Our spettle cleanseth and drieth our sores, and killeth Serpents.

Tantáque in his rebus distantia differitásque est, Ʋt quod alijs cibus est, alijs ••uat acre venenum. Saepe ••t enim s••rpens, hominis contacta salivâ, Disperit, acsese mandendo conficit ipsa. There is such distance, and such difference in these things, As what to one is meate, t'another poison brings. For oft a Serpent toucht with spittle of a man Doth die, and gnaw it selfe with fretting all he can.

What quality shall we give vnto spettle, either according to vs, or according to the Ser∣pent? By which two senses shall we verifie it's true ••ssence, which we seeke for? Pliny saith, that there are certaine Sea-hares in India, that to vs are poyson, and we bane to them▪ so that we die, if we but touch them; now whether is man or the Hare poyson? Whom shall we be∣leeve, either the fish of man, or the man of fish? Some quality of the aire infecteth man, which nothing at all hurteth the Oxe: Some other the Oxe, and not man: Which of the two is either in truth, or nature the pestilent quality? Such as are troubled with the yellow jandise, deeme all things they looke vpon to bee yellowish, which seeme more pale and wan to them then to vs.

Lurida praeterea fiunt quaecunque tuentur Arquati. And all that jaundis'd men behold, They yellow straite or palish holde.

Those which are sicke of the disease which Physitions call Hyposphagma, which is a suf∣fusion of blood vnder the skin, imagine that all things they see are bloodie and red. Those humors that so change the sightes operation, what knowe we whether they are predomi∣nant and ordinarie in beasts? For, we see some, whose eyes are as yellow as theirs that have the jandise, others, that have them all blood-shotten with rednes. It is likely that the objects∣collour they looke vpon, seemeth otherwise to them then to vs. Which of the two judge∣ments shall be true? For, it is not said, that the essence of things, hath reference to man alone. Hardnes, whitenes, depth and sharpnesse, touch the service and concerne the knowledge of beasts as well as ours: Nature hath given the vse of them to them, as well as to vs. When we winke a little with our eye, we perceive the bodies we looke vpon to seeme longer and out∣stretched. Many beasts have their eie as winking as we. This length is then happily the true forme of that body, and not that which our eyes give it, being in their ordinarie seate. If we close our eye above, things seeme double vnto vs.

Bina lucernarum florentia lumina flammis, Et duplices hominum facies, & corpora bina. The lights of candels double flaming then; And faces twaine, and bodies twaine of men.

If our eares chance to be hindred by any thing, or that the passage of our hearing be stop't, we receive the sound otherwise, then we were ordinarily wont. Such beasts as have hearie eares, or that in liew of an eare have but a little hole, doe not by consequence heare that we heare, and receive the sound other then it is. We see at solemne shewes or in Thea∣ters, that opposing any collourd glasse betweene out eyes and the torcher light, whatsoe∣ver is in the roome seemes or greene, or yellow, or red vnto vs, according to the collour of the glasse.

Et vulgò faciunt id lutea russaque vela, Et ferrugine cùm magnis, intenta theatris Per malos volgata trabésque trementia pendent: Namque ibi concessum caveai subter, & omnem Scenai speciem, patrum matrúmque deorumque Inficiunt coguntque suo volitare, And yellow, russet, rustie curtaines worke this feate In common sights abroade, where over skaffolds great Stretched on masts, spred over beames, they hang still waving. All the seates circuit there, and all the stages braving, Of fathers, mothers, Gods, and all the circled showe They double-die and in their collours make to flowe.

It is likely, that those beasts eyes, which we see to be of diverse collours, produce the appa∣rances of those bodies they looke vpon, to be like their eyes. To judge the senses-operati∣on, it were then necessary we were first agreede with beastes, and then betweene our selves; which we are not, but ever-and-anon disputing about that one seeth, heareth or tasteth, something to be other, then indeede it is; and contend as much as about any thing else of the diversity of those images, onr senses reporte vnto vs. A yong childe heareth, seeth, and ta∣steth otherwise by natures ordinary rule, then a man of thirtie yeares; and he otherwise then another of threescore. The senses are to some more obscure and dimme, and to some more open and quicke. We receive things differently, according as they are, and seeme vnto vs. Things being then so vncertaine, and full of controversie, it is no longer a wonder if it be told vs, that we may avouch snow to seeme white vnto vs; but to affirme that it is such in es∣sence and in truth, we cannot warrant our selves: which foundation being so shaken, all the Science in the world must necessarily goe to wracke. What? doe our senses themselves hin∣der one another? To the sight a picture seemeth to be raised aloft, and in the handling flat: Shall we say that muske is pleasing or no, which comforteth our smelling and offendeth out taste? There are Hearbs and Ointments, which to some parts of the body are good, and to

othersome hurtfull. Honie is pleasing to the taste, but vnpleasing to the sight. Those jewels wrought and fashioned like fethers or sprigs, which in impreses are called, fethers without ends, no eye can discerne the bredth of them, and no man warrant himselfe from this deception, that on the one end or side it groweth not broder and broder, sharper and sharper, and on the other more and more narrow, especially being rouled about ones finger, when notwithstanning in handling it seemeth equall in bredth, and every where alike. Those who to encrease and aide their luxury were anciently wont to vse perspective or looking glasses, fite to make the object they represented, appeare very big and great, that so the mem∣bers they were to vse, might by that oculare increase please them the more: to whether of the two senses yeelded they, either to the sight presenting those members as big and great as they wisht them, or to the feeling, that presented them little and to be disdained? It is our senses that lend these diverse conditions vnto subjects, when for all that, the subjects have but one? as we see in the Bread we eate: it is but Bread, but one v••ing it, it maketh bones, blood, flesh, haire, and nailes thereof:

Vt cibus in membra atque artus cùm diditur omnes Disperit, atque aliam naturam sufficit ex se. As meate distributed into the member dies. Another nature yet it perrishing supplies.

The moistnesse which the roote of a tree suckes, becomes a trunke, a leafe and fruite: And the aire being but one; applied vnto a trumpet, becommeth diverse in a thousand sortes of sounds. Is it our senses (say I) who likewise fashion of diverse qualities those subjects, or whether they have them so and such? And vpon this doubt, what may we conclude of their true essence? Moreover, since the accidents of sickenesse, of madnesse, or of sleepe, make things appeare other vnto vs, then they seeme vnto the healthie, vnto the wise, and to the wa∣king. Is it not likely, that our right seate and naturall humors, have also wherewith to give a being vnto things, having reference vnto their condition, and to appropriate them to it selfe, as doe inordinate humours; and our health, as capable to give them his visage, as sickenesse? Why hath not the temperate man some forme of the objects relative vnto him-selfe, as the intemperate: and shall not he likewise imprint his Character in them? The dista∣sted impute wallowishnesse vnto Wine: the healthie, good taste; and the thirstie brisknesse, rellish and delicacie. Now our condition appropriating things vnto it selfe, and transfor∣ming them to it's owne humour: we know no more how things are in sooth and truth; For, nothing comes vnto vs but falsified and altered by our senses. Either the compasse, the quadrant or the ruler are crooked: All proportions drawne by them, and all the buildings erected by their measure, are also necessarily defective and imperfect. The vncertaintie of our senses yeelds what ever they produce, also vncertaine.

Denique vt in fabrica, si prava est regula prima, Normáque si fallax rectis regionibus exit, Et libella aliqaâ si ex parte claudicat hilum, Omnia mendosè fieri, atque obstipa necessum est, Prava, cubantia, prona, supina, atque obsona tecta, I am ruere vt quaedam videantur velle, ruántque Prodita iudicijs fallacibus omnia premis. Hic igitur ratio tibi rerum prava necesse est, Falsaque sit falsis quaecunque á sencibus orta est. As in building if the first rule be to blame, And the deceitfull squire erre from right forme and frame, If any instrument want any jot of weight, All must needes faultie be, and stooping in their height, The building naught, absurd, vpward and downeward bended, As if they meant to fall, and fall as they intended; And all this as betrayde By judgements formost laide. Of things the reason therefore needes must faultie bee And false, which from false senses drawes it's pedegree;

As for the rest, who shall be a competent judge in these differences? As we said in con∣troversies

of religion, that we must have a judge enclined to neither party, and free from par∣t••alitie, or affection, which is hardly to be had among Christians; so hapneth it in this: For if he be old, he cannot judge of ages sense; himselfe being a party in this controversie: and so if he be yoong, healthy, sicke sleeping or waking, it is all one: We had need of some body void and exempted from all these qualities, that without any preoccupation of judgement might judge of these propositions as indifferent vnto him: By which accoumpt we should have a Iudge, that were no man. To judge of the apparances that we receive of subjects, we had neede have a judicatorie instrumentito verifie this instrument, we should have demonstration; and to approove demonstration, an instrument: thus are wee ever turning round. Since the senses cannot determine our disputation, themselves being so ful of vncertaintie, it must then be rea∣son: And no reason can be established without another reason: then are we ever going backe vnto infinity. Our fantasie doth not apply it self to strange things, but is rather conceived by the interposition of senses; and senses cannot comprehend a strange subject; Nay not so much as their owne passions; and so, nor the fantasie, nor the apparance is the subjects, but rather the passions only, and sufferance of the sense: which passion and subject are diverse things: Therefore who iudgeth by apparances, iudgeth by a thing, different from the subiect. And to say, that the senses passions referre the qualitie of strange subjects by resemblance vnto the soule: How can the soule and the vnderstanding rest assured of that resemblance, having of itselfe no commerce with forraigne subjects? Even as he that knowes not Socrates, seeing his picture cannot say that it resembleth him. And would a man judge by apparances, be it by all it is im∣possible; for by their contraries and differences they hinder one another, as we see by experi∣ence. May it be that some choice apparances rule and direct the others? This choyse must be verified by an other choyse, the second by a third: and so shall we never make an end. In few, there is no constant existence, neither of our being, nor of the obiects. And we, and our judgement, and al mortal things els do vncessantly rowle turne and passe away. Thus can nothing be cer∣tainely established, nor of the one, nor of the other; both the judging and the judged be∣ing in continuall alteration and motion. Wee have no communication with being; for every humane nature is ever in the middle betweene being borne and dying; giving nothing of it selfe but an obscure apparance and shaddow, and an vncertaine and weake opinion. And if perhappes you fix your thought to take it's being; it would be even, as if one should goe a∣bout to graspe the water: for, how much the more he shall close and presse that, which by its owne nature is ever gliding, so much the more he shall loose what he would hold and fasten. Thus, seeing all things are subject to passe from one change to another; reason, which therein seeketh a reall subsistance, findes hir selfe deceived as vnable to apprehend any thing subsi∣stant and permanent: forsomuch as each thing eyther commeth to a being, and is not yet al∣together; or beginneth to dy before it be borne. Plato said, that bodies had never an existence but in deede a birth, supposing that Homer made the Ocean Father, and Thet is Mother of the Gods, thereby to shew-vs, that all things are in continuall motion, change and variation. As he saith, a common opinion amongst all the Philosophers before his time; Only Parmenides, excepted, who denied any motion to be in things; of whose power he maketh no small ac∣coumpt. Pythagoras that each thing or matter was ever gliding, and labile. The Stoickes af∣firme, there is no present time, and that which we call present, is but conjoyning and assem∣bling of future time & past. Heraclitus averreth that no man ever entred twise one same river. Epicarmus avowcheth, that who erewhile borrowed any mony, doth not now owe it: and that he who yesternight was bidden to dinner this day, commeth to day vnbidden; since they are no more themselves, but are become others: and that one mortall substance could not twise be found in one self state: for by the sodainesse and lightnesse of change, somtimes it wasteth, and othertimes it re-assembleth; now it comes and now it goes; in such sort, that he who be∣ginneth to be borne, never comes to the perfection of being. For, this being borne com∣meth never to an end, nor ever stayeth as being at an end; but after the seede proceedeth continually in change and alteration from one to another. As of mans seede, there is first made a shapelesse fruit in the Mothers Wombe, than a shapen Childe, then being out of the Wombe, a sucking babe, afterward he becommeth a ladde, then consequently a striplin, then a full-growne man, then an old man, and in the end an aged decrepite man. So that age and subsequent generation goeth ever vndoing and wasting the precedent.

Mut at enim mundi naturam totius aetas,

Ex alióque alius status excipere omnia debet, Nec manet vlla sui similis res, omnia migrant, Omnia commut at natura & vertere cogit. Of th'vniversall world, age doth the nature change, And all things from one state must to another range, No one thing like it selfe remaines, all things doe passe, Nature doth change, and drive to change, each thing that was.

And when wee do foolishile feare a kinde of death, when as wee have already past, and dayly passe so many others. For, not only (as Heraclitus said) the death of fire is a genera∣tion of ayre; and the death of ayre, a generation of Water. But also we may most evident∣ly see it in our selves. The flower of age dieth, fadeth and fleeteth, when age comes vpon vs, and youth endeth in the flower of a full growne mans age: Child-hood in youth, and the first age, dieth in infancie: and yester-day endeth in this day, and to day shall die in to mor∣row. And nothing remaineth or ever continueth in one state. For to proove it, if we should ever continue one and the same, how is it then, that now we rejoyce at one thing, and now at an∣other? How comes it to passe, we love things contrary, or we hate them, or we love them, or we blame them? How is it, that we have different affections, holding no more the same sence in the same thought? For it is not likely, that without alteration we should take other passi∣ons, and What admitteth alterations, continueth not the same: and if it be not one selfe same, than is it not: but rather with being all one, the simple being doth also change, ever becom∣ming other from other. And by consequence Natures senses are deceived and lie falsely; tak∣ing what appeareth for what is; for want of truely knowing what it is that is. But then what is it, that is indeed? That which is eternall, that is to say, that which never had birth, nor ever shall have end; and to which no time can bring change or cause alteration. For time is a flee∣ting thing, and which appeareth as in a shadow, with the matter ever gliding, alwaies fluent, without ever being stable or permanent; to whom rightly belong these termes, Before and After: and it Hath beene, or Shall be. Which at first sight doth manifestly shew, that it is not a thing, which is; for, it were great sottishnesse, and apparant false-hood, to say, that that is which is not yet in being, or that already hath ceased from being. And concerning these words, Present, Instant, Even-now, by which it seemes, that especially we vphold and princi∣pally ground the intelligence of time; reason discovering the same, doth forth with destroy it: for presently it severeth it asunder and divideth it into future and past-time, as willing to see it necessarily parted in two. As much happeneth vnto nature, which is measured according vnto time, which measureth hir: for no more is there any thing in hir, that remaineth or is subsistent: rather all things in hir are either borne or ready to be borne, or dying. By meanes whereof, it were a sinne to say of God, who is the only that is, that he was or shalbe: for these words are declinations, passages, or Vicissitudes of that, which cannot last, nor continue in being. Wherfore we must conclude; that onely God is, not according to any measure of time, but according to an immoovable and immutable eternity, not measured by time, nor subiect to any decli∣nation, before whom nothing is, nor nothing shall be after, nor more now nor more recent, but one re∣ally being: which by one onely Now or Present, filleth the Ever, and there is nothing that truly is, but the alone: Without saying, he hath beene, or he shall be, without beginning, and sans ending. To this so religious conclusion of a heathen man, I will onely adde this word, taken from a testimony of the same condition, for an end of this long and period of this tedious dis∣course which might well furnish me with endlesse matter. Oh what a vile and abiect thing is man (saith he) vnlesse he raise himselfe aboue humanity! Observe here a notable speech, and a profi∣table desire; but likewise absurd. For to make the handful greater than the hand and the em∣braced greater then the arme; and to hope to straddle more than our legs length; is impossi∣ble and monstious: nor that man should mount over and above himselfe or humanity; for, he cannot see but with his owne eies, nor take hold but with his owne armes. He shall raise himselfe vp, if it please God extraordinarily to lend him his helping hand. He may elevate himselfe by forsaking and renouncing his owne meanes, and suffering himselfe to be elevated and raised by meere heavenly meanes. It is for our Christian faith, not for his Stoicke vertue to pretend or aspire to this divine Metamorphosis, or miraculous transmutation.

The thirteenth Chapter.

Of iudging of others death.

WHen we judge of others assurance or boldnesse in death, which without all perad∣venture, is the most remarkeable action of humane life, great heed is to be taken of one thing, which is, that a man will hardly beleeve he is come to that point. Few men die with a resolution, that it is their last houre: And no where doth hopes deceit ammuse vs more. She never ceaseth to ring in our eares, that others have beene sicker, and yet have not died; the cause is not so desperate as it is taken; and if the worst happen, God hath done greater wonders. The reason is, that we make to much account of our selves. It seemeth, that the generality of things doth in some sort suffer for our annullation, and takes compas∣sion of our state. Forsomuch as our sight being altered, represents vnto it selfe things alike; and we imagine, that things faile it, as it doth to them: As they who travell by Sea, to whom mountaines, fields, townes, heaven and earth, seene to goe the same motion, and keepe the same course, they doe:

Provehimur portu, terraeque vrbésque recedunt. We sayling launch from harbour, and Behinde our backee leave townes, leave land.

Who ever saw old age, that commended not times past, and blamed not the present, charging the world and mens customes with hir misery, and lowring discontent?

Iámque caput quassans grandis suspirat arator, Et cùm tempor a temporibus praesentia confert Praeteritis, laudat fortunas saepe parentis Et crepat antiquum genus vt pietate repletum. The gray-beard Plow-man sighes, shaking his hoary head, Compares times that are now, with times past heretofore, Praises the fortunes of his father long since dead, And crakes of ancient men, whose honesty was more.

We entertaine and carry all with vs: Whence it followeth, that we deeme our death to be some great matter, and which passeth not so easily, nor without a solemne consultation of the Starres; Tot circa v••um caput tumultuantes Deos. So many Gods keeping a stirre about one mans life. And so much the more we thinke it, by how much more we praise our selves. What? Should so much learning and knowledge be lost with so great dommage, without the Destinies particular care? A soule so rare and exemplar, costs it no more to be killed, then a popular and vnprofitable soule? This life, that covereth so many others, of whom so many other lives depend, that, for his vse possesseth so great a part of the world and filleth so many places, is it displaced as that which holdeth by it's owne simple string? No one of vs thinkes it sufficient, to be but one. Thence came those words of Caesar to his pilot, more proudly swolne, then the Sea that threatned him:

—Italiam si caelo authore recusas, Mepete: sola tibi causa haec est iusta timoris, Ʋectorem non nosse tuum perrumpe procellas Tutelâ secure maie:— If Italie thou do refuse with heav'n thy guide, Turne thee to me: to thee only just cause of feare Is that thy passinger thou know'st not: stormie tide Breake through, secure by guard of me, whom thou dost beare.

And these.

—credit iam digna pericula Caesar Fatis esse suis: tantúsque evertere (dixit Mesuperis labor est, parvâ q••em puppe sedentem.

Tam magno petiere mari. Cesar doth now beleeve, those dangers worthie are Of his set fate; and saies, doe Gods, take so much paine Me to vndoe, whom they thus to assault prepare Set in so small a skiffe, in such a surging maine?

And this common foppery, that Phoebus for one whole yeare, bare mourning weedes on his forehead for the death of him:

Ille etiam extincto miseratus Caesare Romam, Cùm caput obscurá nitidum ferrugine texit. The Snnne did pittie take of Rome when Caesar dide, When he his radiant head in obscure rust did hide.

And a thousand such, wherewith the world suffers it selfe to be so easily conicatcht, dee∣ming that our owne interests disturbe heaven, and his infinitie is moved at our least actions. Non tanta caelo societas nobiscum est, vt nostro fato mortalis sit ille quoque siderum fulgor. There is no such societie betweene heaven and vs, that by our destinie the shining of the starres should be mort all as we are. And to judge a resolution and constancie in him, who though he be in ma∣nifest danger, dooth not yet beleeve it, it is no reason: And it sufficeth not, that he die in that ward, vnlesse he have directly, and for that purpose put himselfe into it: It hapneth, that most men set a sterne countenance on the matter, looke big, and speake stoutly, thereby to acquire reputation, which if they chance to live, they hope to enjoy. Of all I have seene die, fortune hath disposed their countenances, but not their desseignes. And of those which in ancient times have put themselves to death, the choise is great, whether it were a sodaine death, or a death having time and leasure. That cruell Romane Emperor, said of his pri∣soners, that he would make them feele death: And if any fortuned to kill himselfe in prison, That fellow hath escaped me (would he say.) He would extend and linger death, and cause it, be felt by torments.

Ʋidimus & toto quamuis in corpore caese, Nil animae let hale datum, morémque nefandae Durum saevitiae, pereuntis parcere morti. And we have seeene, when all the body tortur'd lay, Yet no stroke deadly giv'n, and that in humane way Of tyranny, to spare his death that sought to die.

Verely, it is not so great a matter, being in perfect health, and well setled in minde, for one to resolve to kill himselfe: It is an easie thing to shew stoutnes and play the wag before one come to the pinch. So that Heliogabalus the most dissoluteman of the world, amidst his most riotous sensualities, intended, whensoever occasion should force him to it, to have a daintie death. Which, that it might not degenerate from the rest of his life, hee had pur∣posely caused a stately tewre to be built, the nether part and fore-court wherof was floored with boardes richly set and enchased with gold and precious stones, from-off which hee might headlong throwe himselfe downe: He had also caused cordes to be made of gold and crimson silke, therewith to strangle himselfe: And a rich golden rapier, to thrust him∣selfe through: And kept poison in boxes of Emeraldes and Topases, to poison himselfe with, according to the humor hee might have, to chuse which of these deaths should please him.

Impiger & fortis virtute coactâ. A ready minded gallant, And in forst valour valiant.

Notwithstanding, touching this man, the wantonnesse of his preparation makes it more likely, that he would have fainted, had he beene put to his triall. But even of those, who most vndantedly have resolved themselves to the execution, we must consider (I say) whe∣ther it were with a life ending stroke, and that tooke away any leasure to feele the effect thereof. For, it is hard to gesse, seeing life droope away by little and little, the bodies-fee∣ling entermingling it selfe with the soules, meanes of repentance being offered, whether in so dangerous an intent, constancie or obstinacie were found in him. In Caesars civill warres, Lucius domitius taken in prussia, having empoisoned himselfe, did afterward rue and repent▪ his deede. It hath hapned in our daies, that some having resolved to die, and at first not

stricken deepe enough, the smarting of his flesh, thrusting his arme backe, twice or thrice more wounded himselfe a new, and yet could never strike sufficiently deepe. Whilst the ar∣raignement of Plantius Silvanus was preparing, Vrgulaniae his grandmother, sent him, a poig∣nard, wherewith not able to kill himselfe throughly, hee caused his owne servants to cutte his veines. Albucilla in Tiberius time, purposing to kill hirselfe, but striking over faintly, gave hir enemies leasure to apprehend and imprison hir, and appoint hir what death they pleased. So did Captaine Demosthenes after his discomfiture in Sicilie. And C. Fimbria having over feeblie wounded himselfe, became a sutor to his boy, to make an end of him. On the other side, Ostorius, who forsomuch as hee could not vse his owne arme, disdained to employ his servants in any other thing but to hold his dagger stiffe and strongly; and taking his running, himselfe caried his throate to it's point, and so was thrust through. To say truth, it is a meate a man must swallow without chewing, vnlesse his throate be frost∣shod. And therefore Adrianus the Emperour made his Phi••••tian to marke and take the just compasse of the mortall place about his pap, that so his aime might not faile him, to whom he had given charge to kill him. Loe why Caesar being demanded; which was the death he most allowed, answered, the least premeditated, and the shortest. If Caesar said it, it is no faint∣nesse in me to beleeve it. A short death (saith Plinie) is the chiefe happe of humane life. It grie veth them to acknowledge it. No man can be saide, to be resolved to die, that feareth to purchase it, and that cannot abide to looke vpon, and out-stare it with open eyes. Those, which in times of execution are seene to runne to their end, and hasten the execution, doe it not with resolution, but because they will take away time to consider the same; it grieves them not to be dead, but to die.

Emori nolo, sed me esse mortuum, nihil aestimo. I would not die too soone, But care not, when tis doone.

It is a degree of constancie, vnto which I have experienced to arrive, as those that cast themselves into danger, or into the Sea, with closed eyes. In mine opinion, there is nothing more worthy the noting in Socrates life, then to have had thirtie whole dayes to ruminate his deaths-decree, to have digested it all that while, with an assured hope, without dismay or al∣teration, and with a course of actions and words, rather supprest; and loose-hanging, then out-stretched and raised by the weight of such a cogitation. That Pomponius Atticus, to whome Cicero writeth, being sicke, caused Agrippa his sonne in lawe, and two or three of his other friends to be called▪ for, to whom he said; that having assaied, how he got nothing in going about to be cured, and what he did to prolong his life did also lengthen and augment his griefe, he was now determined to make an end of one and other; intreating them to al∣low of his determination, and that by no meanes, they would loose their labour to disswade him from it. And having chosen to end his life by abstinence, his sickenes was cured by ac∣cident; The remedy he had employed to make himselfe away, brought him to health againe. The Physitions, and his friendes, glad of so happy a successe, and rejoycing thereof with him, were in the end greatly deceived; for, with all they could doe, they were never able to make him alter his former opinion, saying, that as he must one day passe that cariere, and be∣ing now so forward, he would remoove the care, another time to beginne againe. This man having with great leasure apprehended death, is not onely no whit discouraged, when hee comes to front it, but resolutely falles vpon it: for, being satisfied of that, for which he was entred the combate, in a braverie he thrust himselfe into it, to see the end of it. It is farre from fearing death, to goe about to taste and savour the same. The historie of Cleanthes the phi∣losopher, is much like to this. His gummes being swolne, his Physitions perswaded him to vse great abstinence; having fasted two dayes, he was so well amended, as they told him he was well, and might returne to his wonted course of life. He contrarily, having already ta∣sted some sweetenes in this fainting, resolveth not to draw backe, but finish what he had so well begunne, and was so farre waded into. Tullius Marcellinus, a yoong Romane Gentle∣man, willing to prevent the houre of his destiny, to ridde himselfe of a disease, which tor∣mented him more than he would endure, although Physitions promised certainely to cure him, howbeit not sodainely; called his friends vnto him to determine about it: some (saieth Seneca) gave him that counsell, which for weakenesse of heart, themselves would have taken others for flatterie that, which they imagined would be most pleasing vnto him: but a cer∣taine

Stoike standing by, saide thus vnto him. Toyle not thy selfe Marcellinus, as if thou de∣terminedst some weightie matter, to live is no such great thing, thy base groomes and bruit beasts live also, but it is a matter of consequence to die honestly, wisely and constantly. Remember how long it is, thou do est one same thing, to eat, to drinke, and sleepe, to drinke, to sleepe, to eat. We are ever vncessantly wheeling in this endlesse circle. Not onely bad and intollerable accidents, but the ve∣ry saciety to live, brings a desire of death. Marcellinus had no neede of a man to counsell, but of one to helpe him: his servants were afraid to meddle with him; but this Philosopher made them to vnderstand, that familiars are suspected, onely when the question is, whether the maisters death have beene voluntary: otherwise it would be as bad an example to hinder him, as to kill him, forsomuch as,

Invitum qui servat, idem facit occidenti. Who saves a man against his will, Doth ev'n as much as he should kill.

Then he advertized Marcellinus, that it would not be vnseemely, as fruit or comfets at our tables, when our bellies be full, are given vnto by-standers, so the life ended, to distribute something to such as have beene the ministers of it. Marcellinus being of a franke and libe∣rall disposition, caused certaine summes of mony to be divided amongst his servants, and comforted them. And for the rest, there needed neither yron nor blood, he vndertooke to depart from this life, not by running from it: Not to escape from death, but to taste it. And to have leisure to condition or bargaine with death, having quit all manner of nourishment, the third day ensuing, after he had caused himselfe to be sprinckled over with luke-warme water, by little and little he consumed away; and (as he said) not without some voluptuous∣nesse and pleasure. Verily, such as have had these faintings and swownings of the heart; which proceed from weakenesse, say, that they feele no paine at all in them, but rather some pleasure, as of a passage to sleepe and rest. These are premeditated, and digested deaths. But that Caeto alone, may serve to all examples of vertue, it seemeth, his good destiny, caused that hand wherewith he gave himselfe the fatall blow, to be sicke and sore: that so he might have leisure to affront death and to embrace it, reen forcing his courage in that danger, in liew of mollifying the same. And should I have represented him in his prowdest state, it should have beene all bloody-gored, tearing his entrailes, and rending his guttes, rather then with a sword in his hand, as did the Statuaries of his time. For this second murther, was much more furious, then the first.

The fourteenth Chapter.

How that our spirit hindereth it selfe.

IT is a pleasant imagination, to conceive a spirit justly balanced between two equall desires. For, it is not to be doubted, that he shall never be resolved vpon any match: Forsomuch as the application and choise brings an inequality of prise: And who should place vs between a Bottle of wine, and a Gammon of Bacon, with an equall appetite to eat and drinke, doubt∣lesse there were no remedy, but to die of thurst and of hunger. To provide against this incon∣venient, when the Stoikes were demanded, whence the election of two indifferent things commeth into our soule (and which causeth, that from out a great number of Crownes or Angels we rather take one then another, when there is no reason to induce vs to prefer any one before others) the answer, that this motion of the soule is extraordinarie and irregular comming into vs by a strange, accidentall and casuall impulsion. In my opinion, it might rather be said, that nothing is presented vnto vs, wherein there is not some difference, how light so ever it be: And that either to the sights, or to the feeling, there is ever some choise, which tempteth and drawes vs to it, though imperceptible and not to be distingui∣shed. In like maner, he that shall presuppose a twine-third equally strong all-through, it is impossible by all impossibilitie that it breake, for, where would you have the flaw or break∣ing to beginne? And at once to breake in all places together, it is not in nature. Who should

also adde to this, the Geometricall propositions, which by the certainty of their demonstra∣tions, conclude, the contained greater then the containing, and the centre as great as his cir∣cumference: And that finde two lines vncessantly approaching one vnto another, and yet can never meete and joyne together: And the Philosophers stone, and quadrature of the cir∣cle, where the reason and the effects are so opposite: might peradventure draw thence some argument to salve and helpe this bold speech of Pliny. Solum certum nihil esse certi, & homine nihil miserius aut superbius. This onely is sure, that there is nothing sure; and nothing more misera∣ble, and yet more arrogant then man.

The fifteenth Chapter.

That our desires are encreased by difficulty.

THere is no reason but hath another contrary vnto it, saith the wisest party of Philoso∣phers. I did erewhile ruminate vpon this notable saying, which an ancient writer aleadg∣eth for the contempt of life. No good can bring vs any pleasure, except that, against whose losse we are prepared: In aequo est dolor amissaerei, & timor amittendae, Sorrow for a thing lost, and feare of loosing it, are on an even ground. Meaning to gaine thereby, that the fruition of life, cannot perfectly be pleasing vnto vs, if we stand in any feare to loose it. A man might neverthelesse say on the contrary part, that we embrace and claspe this good so much the harder, and with more affection, as we perceive it to be lesse sure, and feare it should be taken from vs. For, it is manifestly found, that as fire is rouzed vp by the assistance of cold, even so our will is whet∣ted on by that which doth resist it.

Si nunquam Danaen habuisset ahenea turris, Non esset Danae de love facta parens. If Danae had not beene clos'd in brazen Tower, Iove had not clos'd with Danae in golden shower.

And that there is nothing so naturally opposite to our taste, as satiety, which comes from ease and facility, nor nothing that so much sharpneth it, as rarenesse and difficulty. Omnium rerum voluptas ipso quo debet fugare periculo crescit. The delight of all things encreaseth by the dan∣ger, whereby it rather should terrifie them that affect it.

Galla nega; satiatur amor, nisi gaudia torquent. Good wench, deny, my love is cloied, Vnlesse joyes grieve, before enjoyed.

To keepe love in breath and longing, Lycurgus ordained, that the maried men of Lacede∣monia might never converse with their wives, but by stealth, and that it should be as great an imputation and shame to finde them laid together, as if they were found lying with others. The difficulty of assignations or matches appointed, the danger of being surprised, and the shame of ensuing to morrow,

—& languor, & silentium, Et latere petitus imo spiritus. And whispering voice, and languishment, And breath in sighes from deepe sides sent,

are the things that give relish and tartnesse to the sawce. How many most lasciviously-plea∣sant sports, proceed from modest and shamefast manner of speech, of the daliances and workes of love? Even voluptuousnesse seekes to provoke and stirre it selfe vp by smarting. It is much sweeter when it itcheth, and endeared when it gauleth. The curtezen Flora was wont to say, that she never lay with Pompey, but she made him carrie away the markes of hir teeth.

Quod petiere, premunt arctè, faciúntque dolorem Corporis, & dentes inlidunt saepe labellis: Et stimuli subsunt, qui instigant laedere idipsum Quodcumque est, rabies vnde isti germina surgunt,

So goes it every where: Rarenes and difficultie giveth esteeme vnto things. Those of Marca d' Ancona in Italy, make their vowes, and goe on pilgrimage rather vnto Saint Iames in Gali∣cia, and those of Galicia rather vnto our Lady of Loreto. In the Country of Liege, they make more account of the Bathes of Luca; and they of Tus••any esteeme the Baths of Spawe more then their owne: In Rome the Fence-schooles are ever full of French-men, when few Ro∣mans come vnto them. Great Cato, as well as any else, was even clo••ed and distasted with his wife, so long as she was his owne, but when another mans, then wished he for hir, and would faine have lickt his fingers at hir. I have heretofore put forth an old stalion to soile, who be∣fore did no sooner see or smell a Mare, but was so lusty, that no man could rule him, nor no ground hold him; ease and facility, to come to his owne when he list, hath presently quailed his stomake, and so cloyed him, that he is weary of them: But toward strange Mar••s, and the first that passeth by his pasture, there is no hoe with him; but suddenly he returnes to his old wonted neighings, and furious heate. Our appetite doth contemne and passe over what he hath in his free choise and owne possession, to runne after, and pursue what he hath not.

Transuolat in medio posita, & f••gienti•• captat. It over-flies what open lies, Pursuing onely that which flies.

To forbid vs any thing, is the ready way to make vs long for it.

—nisi tu servare puellam Incipis, incipiet desinere esse mea, If you begin not your wench to enshrine, She will begin to leave off to be mine.

And to leave it altogether to our will, is but to breede dislike and contempt in vs; So that to want, and to have store, breedeth one selfe same inconvenience.

Tibi quod super est, mihi quod defit, dolet. You grieve because you have to much; It griev's me that I have none such.

Wishing and injoying trouble vs both a like. The rigor of a mistris is yrkesome, but ease and facility (to say true) much more; forasmuch as discontent and vexation proceed of the estimation we have of the thing desired, which sharpen love, and set it afire: Whereas Satie∣ty begets distaste: It is a dull, blunt, weary, and drouzy passion.

Siqua volet regnare diu, com••emnat amantem. If any list long to beare sway, Scorne she hir lover, ere she play. —contemnite amantes, Sic hodie veniet, ••••qua negauit heri, Lovers, your lovers scorne, contemne, delude, deride; So will she come to day, that yesterday denide.

Why did Poppea devise to maske the beauties of hir face, but to endeare them to hir lovers? Why are those beauties vailed downe to the heeles, which all desire to shew, which all wish to see? Why doe they cover with so many lets, one over another, those parts, where chiefly con∣sisteth our pleasure and theirs? And to what purpose serve those baricadoes, and verdugalles, wherewith our women arme their flankes, but to allure our appetite, and enveagle vs to them by puttingvs off?

Et ••ugit ad salices, & se cupit anté videri She to the willow's runs to hide, Yet gladly would she first be spide. Interdum tunica duxit operatamoram, She cover'd with hir cote in play. Did somtime make a short delay.

Whereto serveth this mayden-like bashfullnesse, this wilfull quaintnesse, this severe connte∣naunce, this seeming ignorance of those things, which they know better than our selves, that goe about to instruct them, but to encrease a desire, and endeare a longing in vs, to vanquish, to gourmandize, and at our pleasure, to dispose all this sqeamish ceremony, and all these peevish obstacles? For, it is not onely a delight, but a glory to besot and debauch this dainty

and nice sweetnesse, and this infantine bashfulnesse, and to subject amarble and sterne gravi∣tie to the mercy of our flame. It is a glory (say they) to triumph over modesty, chastity and temperance: and who disswadeth Ladies from these parts, betraieth both them and him∣selfe. It is to be supposed, that their hart yerneth with feare, that the sound of our wordes, woundeth the purity of their eares, for which they hate vs, and with a forced constraint, agree to withstand our importunitie. Beauty with all hir might, hath not wherewith to give a taste of her self without these interpositions. See in Italie, where most, and of the finest beauty is to be sold, how it is forced to seek other strange meanes and suttle devises, arts and trickes, to yeeld hir self pleasing and acceptable: and yet in good sooth, do what it can, being venall and common, it remaineh ••eeble, and is even languishing. Even as in vertue, of two equall effects, we hold that the fairest, and worthiest, wherein are proposed more lets, and which affoordeth greater hazards. It is an effect of Gods providence, to suffer his holy Church, to be vexed and tur∣moyled, as we see, with so many troubles and stormes, to rouze, and awaken by this oppositi∣on and strife the godly and religious soules, and raise them from out a lethall security, and stupified slumber, wherein so long tranquility had plunged them. If wee shall counterpoize the los••e we have had, by the number of those, that have strayed out of the right way, and the profite that accrueth vnto vs, by having taken hart of grace, and by reason of combate raised our zeale, and forces; I wot not whether the profite doth surmount the losse. We thought to tie the bond of our marriages the faster, by remooving all meanes to dissolve them, but by how much faster, that of constraint hath bin tyed, so much more hath that of our will and af∣fection beene slacked and loosed: Whereas on the contrary side, that, which so long time held marriages in honour and safety in Rome, was the liberty to breake them who list. They kept their wives the better, forsomuch as they might leave them; and when divorces might freely be had, there past five hundred yeares and more, before any would ever make vse of them.

Quod licet, ingratum est, quod non licet, acriùs vrit, What we may doe, doth little please: It woormes vs more, that hath lesse ease.

To this purpose might the opinion of an ancient Writer be adjoyned that torments doe rather encourage vices, than suppresse them; that they beget not a care of well-doing, which is the work of reason and discipline, but only a care not to be surprized in doing evill.

Latiùs excis•• pestis contagia serpunt. Th'infection of the plague nigh-spent, And rooted out, yet further went.

I wot not whether it be true, but this I know by experience, that policie was never found to bee reformed that way. The order and regiment of manners dependeth of some other meane. The Greeke stories, make mention of the Agrippians, neighbouring vpon Scithia, who live without any rod or staffe of offence, where not onely, no man vndertakes to buckle with any other man, but whosoever can but save himself there (by reason of thei ver∣tue and sanctity of life) is as it were in a Sanctuary: And no man dares so much as touch him. Manie have recourse to them, to attone and take vp quarrels and differences, which arise a∣mongst men else where. There is a Nation, where the enclosures of Gardens and Fields, they intend to keep severall, are made with a seely twine of cotten, which amongst them is found to be more safe and fast, then are our ditches and hedges. Furem signata sollicitant, Aperta ef∣fractarius praeterit. Things sealed vp solicite a thiefe to breake them open: Whereas a common bur∣glayer will passe by quietly things that lie open. Amongst other meanes, ease and facility dooth haply cover and sence my house from the violence of civill warres: Inclosure and fencing draws on the interprise; and distrust the offence. I have abated and weakned the souldiers designe, by taking hazard and al meanes of military glory from their exploite▪ which is wont to serve them for a title, and steade them for an excuse. What is performed couragiously, at what time justice lieth dead, and law hath not hir due course, is ever done honorably. I yeeld them the conqest of my house dastardly and tretcherous. It is never shut to any that know••∣keth. It hath no other guardian or provision but a Porter, as an ancient custome, and vsed ceremony who serveth not so much to defend my gate, as to offer it more decently and cour∣teously to all commers. I have nor watch nor sentinell, but what the Starres keepe for mee. That Gentleman is much to blame, who makes a shew to stand vpon his guarde, except he be very strong indeede. Who so is open on one side; is so every where. Our Fore-fathers

never dreamed on building of frontire Townes or Castles.

The meanes to assaile (I meane without batterie, and troopes of armed men) and to sur∣prise our houses, encrease dayly beyond the meanes of garding or defending. Mens wits are generally exasperated and whetted one that way. An invasion concerneth all, the defence none but the rich. Mine was sufficiently strong, according to the times when it was made. I have since added nothing vnto it that way; and I would feare; the strength of it should turne against my selfe. Seeing a peaceable time will require we shall vnfortifie them. It is dange∣rous not to be able to recover them againe, and it is hard for one to be assured of them. For, concerning intestine broiles, your owne servant may be of that faction you stand in feare of. And where religion serveth for a pretence, even alliances and consanguinitie become mi∣strustfull vnder collour of justice. Common rents cannot entertaine our private garisons. They should all be consumed. We have not wherewith, nor are we able to do it, without our apparant ruine, or more incommodiously, and therewithall injuriously, without the com∣mon peoples destruction. The state of my losse should not be much worse. And if you chance to be a looser, your owne friends are readier to accuse your improvidence and vnhe∣dinesse, then to moane you, and excuse your ignorance and carelesnesse, concerning the of∣fices belonging to your profession. That so many strongly-garded houses have beene lost, whereas mine continueth still, makes mee suspect they were overthrowne, onely be∣cause they were so diligently garded. It is that which affoordeth a desire, and ministreth a pre∣tence to the assailant. All gards beare a shew of warre; which if God be so pleased may light vpon me. But so it is, I will never call for it. It is my sanctuary or retreate to rest my selfe from warres. I endevour to free this corner from the publike storme, as I doe another cor∣ner in my soule. Our warre may change forme, and multiply and diversifie how and as long as it list; but for my selfe I never stirre. Amongst so many baricaded and armed hou∣ses, none but my selfe (as farre as I know) of my qualitie, hath meerely trusted the protection of his vnto the heavens: for I never remooved neither plate, nor hangings, nor my evi∣dences. I will neither feare, nor save my selfe by halfes. If a full acknowledgement purcha∣seth the favour of God, it shall last me for ever vnto the end: if not, I have continued long enough, to make my continuance remarkeable, and worthy the registring. What? Is not thirtie yeares a goodly time?

The sixteenth Chapter.

Of Glory.

THere is both name, and the thing: the name, is a voyce which noteth, and signifieth the thing: the name, is neither part of thing nor of substance: it is a stranger-piece ioyned to the thing, and from it. God who in and by himselfe is all fulnesse, and the tipe of all per∣fection, cannot inwardly be augmented or encreased: yet may his name be encreased and augmented, by the blessing and praise, which we give vnto his exteriour workes; which praise and blessing since we cannot incorporate into him, forsomuch as no accession of good can be had vnto him, we ascribe it vnto his name, which is a part without him, and the nee∣rest vnto him. And that is the reason why glory and honour appertaineth to God onely. And there is nothing so repugnant vnto reason, as for vs to goe about to purchase any for our selves: For, being inwardly needie and defective, and our essence imperfect, and ever wan∣ting amendment, we ought onely labour about that. Wee are all hollow and emptie, and it is not with breath and words we should fill our selves. Wee have neede of a more solide sub∣stance to repaire our selves▪ An huuger-starved man might be thought most simple, rather to pro∣vide himselfe of a faire garment, then of a good meales-meate: We must run to that, which most concerneth vs. Gloria in excelsis Deo, & interrapax hominibus. Glory be to God on high, and peace in earth amongst men; As say our ordinary prayers. We are in great want of beautie, health, wisedome, vertue and such like essentiall partes. Exteriour ornaments may be sought-for when we are once provided, of necessary things. Divinitie doth very amply and pertinently

treate of this subject, but I am not very conversant with it. Chrysippus and Diogenes have beene the first, and most constant authors of the contempt of glory. And amongst all sen∣sualities, they said, there was none so dangerous, nor so much to be avoided, as that which commeth vnto vs by the approbation of others. Verily experience makes vs thereby feele, and vndergoe many domageable treasons. Nothing so much empoisoneth Princes as flattery: Nor nothing whereby the wicked-minded gaine so easie credite about them; nor any entice∣ment so fit, nor pandership so ordinary to corrupt the chastitie of women, then to feede and entertaine them with their praises. The first enchantment the Syrens employed to deceive V••••sses, is of this nature.

Deca vers nous, deca, o treslevable Ʋlisse, Et le plus grand honneur dont sa Grece fleurisse. Turne to vs, to vs turne, Ʋlisses thrice-renowned. The principall renowne wherewith all Greece is crowned.

Philosophers said, that all the worlds glory deserved not, that a man of wisedome should so much as stretch forth his finger to acquire it.

Gloria quantalibet quid erit, si gloria tantùm est? Never so glorious name, What ist, be it but fame?

I say for it alone: for, it drawes many commodities after it, by which it may yeeld it selfe desirable: It purchaseth vs good will: It makes vs lesse exposed to others injuries and offen∣ces, and such like things. It was also one of the principall decrees of Epicurus: for, that pre∣cept of his Sect, HIDE THY LIFE, which forbiddeth men to meddle with publike charges and negotiations, doth also necessarily presuppose that a man should despise glory: which is an approbation the world makes of those actions we give evidence of. He that bids vs to hide our life, and care but for our selves, and would not have vs know of others, would also have vs not to be honoured and glorified thereby. So doth he counsell Idomeneus, by no meanes to order his actions, by the vulgar opinion and publike reputation: vnlesse it be to avoide other accidentall incommodities, which the contempt of men might bring vnto him. Those discourses (are in mine advise) very true and resonable: But, I wot not how, wee are double in our selves, which is the cause, that what wee beleeve, wee beleeve it not, and cannot rid our selves of that, which we condemne. Let vs consider the last words of Epicu∣rus and which hee speaketh as hee is dying: they are notable and woorthy such a Phi∣losopher: but yet they have some badge of his names commendations, and of the hu∣mour which by his precepts he had disauowed. Behold heere a letter, which hee endited a little before hee yeelded vp his ghost.. Epicurus to Hermachus health and greeting: Whilst I passed the happy, and even the last day of my life I writ this, accompanied neverthelesse with such paine in my bladder and anguish in my entrails, that nothing can be added to the greatnesse of it; yet was it recompenced with the pleasure, which the remembrance of my inuentions and discourses brought vnto my soule. Now as requireth the affection, which even from the infancie thou hast borne me and Philosophy, embrace the protection of Metrodorus his children: Loe here his let∣ter. And which makes me interpret, that the pleasure which in his soule he saith to feele of his inventions, doth in some sort respect the reputation, which after his death he thereby hoped to attaine, is the ordinance of his last will and testament▪ by which he willeth, that Aminomachus and Timocretes his heires, should for the celebration of his birth-day every month of Ianuary supply all such charges as Hermachus should appoint: And also for the expence hee might bee at vpon the twentieth of every Moone for the feasting and en∣tertainment of the Philosophers his familiar friendes, who in the honour of his memorie and of Metrodorus should meete together. Carneades hath beene chiefe of the contrary opi∣nion, and hath maintained, that glory was in it selfe to be desired, even as we embrace our posthumes for themselves, having neither knowledge nor jovissance of them. This opinion hath not missed to be more commonly followed, as are ordinarily those, that fit most and come neerest our inclinations. Aristotle amongst externall goods yeeldeth the first ranke vnto it: And avoideth, as two extreame vices, the immoderation, either in seeking, or avoi∣ding it. I believe, that had we the bookes which Cicero writ vpon this subject, wee should heare strange matters of him: for he was so fond in this passion, as had he dared, he would (as I thinke) have easily falne into the excesse, that others fell in; which is, that even ver∣tue

was not to be desired, but for the honour, which ever waited on it:

Paulum sepultae distat inertiae Celata virtus.— There is but little difference betweene, Vertue conceald, vnskilfulnesse vnseene.

Which is so false an opinion, as I am vexed it could ever enter a mans vndestanding that had the honour to beare the name of a Philosopher. If that were true, a man needed not to be vertuous but in publike: and we should never neede to keepe the soules-operations in or∣der and rule, which is the true feate of vertue, but onely so much as they might come to the knowledge of others. Doth then nothing else belong vnto it, but craftily to faile, and subtilly to cozen? If thou knowest a Serpent to be hidden in any place (saith Carneades) to which, he by whose death thou hopest to reape commodity, goeth vnawares to sit vpon, thou com∣mittest a wicked act if thou warne him not of it: and so much the more, because thy action should be known but to thy self. If we take not the law of wel-doing from our selves: If im∣punity be justice in vs; to how many kindes of trecheries are we daily to abandon our selves? That which Sp. Peduceus did, faithfully to restore the riches which C. Plotius had commit∣ted to his only trust and secrecie, and as my selfe have done often? I thinke not so commen∣dable, as I would deeme it execrable, if we had not done it. And I think it beneficial we should in our dayes be mindefull of Publius Sextilius Rufus his example, whom Cicero accuseth that he had received a great inheritance against his conscience: Not only repugnant▪ but agreeing with the lawes. And M. Crassus, and Q. Hortensius, who by reason of their authority and might, having for certaine Quidities beene called by a stranger to the succession of a forged will, that so he might make his share good: they were pleased not to be partakers of his for∣gery, yet refused not to take some profite of it: Very closely had they kept themselves vnder the countenance of the accusations, witnesses and lawes. Meminerint Deum se habere te∣stem, id est (vt Ego arbitror) mentem suam. Let them remember they have God to witnsse, that is, (as I construe it) their owne minde. Ʋertue is a vaine and frivolous thing, if it draw hir commen∣dation from glorie. In vaine should we attempt to make hir keepe hir rancke apart, and so should we disjoyne it from fortune: for, What is more casuall than reputation? Profecto fortuna in omni re dominatur: Ea res cunctas ex libidine magis quàm ex vero celebrat obscurátque. For∣tune governeth in al things, and either advancethor abaseth them rather by froward disposition, then vpright iudgement. To make actions to be knowen and seene, is the meere worke of fortune, It is chance that applyeth glory vnto vs, according to her temeritie. I have often seene it to goe before desert; yea and many times to out-goe merite by very much. He that first be∣thought himselfe of the resemblance betweene shadow and glory, did better than he thought of. They are exceeding vaine things. It also often goeth before hir body, and sometimes ex∣ceeds by much in length. Those who teach Nobility to seeke in valour nothing but honor: Quasi non sit honestum quod nobilitatum non sit; As though it were not honest, except it were enno∣bled. What gaine they by it? But to instruct them never to hazard themselves, vnlesse they be seene of others; and to be very heedy, whether such witnesses are by, that may report newes of their valour, whereas a thousand occasions, to doe well are dayly offered, and no man by to marke them? How many notable particular actions, are buried in the throng of a Battell? Whosoever ammuseth himselfe to controule others, in so confused a hurly-burly, is not greatly busied about it: and produceth the testimony which hee giveth of his fellowes proceedings or exploits against himselfe. Vera & sapiens animi magnitudo, honestum illud quod maxime naturam sequitur, in factis positum, non in gloria iudicat. A true and wise magnanimitie esteemeth that honesty, which especially followeth Nature, to consist in good actions, and not in glory, All the glory I pretend in my life, is, that I have lived quietly. Quietly not accord to Me∣trodorius, Arcesilas, or Aristippus, but according to my selfe. Since Philosophie could ne∣ver finde any way for tranquility, that might be generally good, let every man in his particu∣lar seeke for it. To whom are Caesar and Alexander beholding for that infinite greatnes of their renowne, but to fortune? How many men hath she suppressed in the beginning of their progresse, of whom we have no knowledge at all, who bare the same courage that o∣thers did, if the il fortune of their chance had not staid them even in the budding of their en∣terprises? Amongst so many and so extreame dangers (to my remembrance) I never read, that Caesar received any hurt. A thousand have dyed in lesse danger, than the least of those he

escaped. Many worthy exploits and excellent deedes must be lost, before one can come to any good. A man is not alwayes vpon the toppe of a breache, nor in the front of an army, in the sight of his Generall, as vpon a stage. A man may be surprised betweene a hedge and a ditch. A man is sometimes put to his sodaine shifts, as to try his fortune against a Hens-roost, to ferret out foure seely shotte out of some barne, yea and sometimes straggle alone from his troupes; and enterprise, according as necessity and occasion offereth it selfe. And if it be well noted (in mine advise) it will be found, and experience doth teach it, that the least blazoned occasions, are the most dangerous, and that in our late home-warres, more good men have perished in slight and little-importing occasions, and incontention about a small cottage, than in worthy atchievements, and honourable places. Who so thinketh his death il emploied, except it be in some glorious exploite, or famous attempt, in liew of dignifying his death, he happily obscureth his life: Suffering in the meane time many just and honor af∣foording oportunties to escape, wherein he might and ought adventure himselfe. And all just occasions are glorious enough; his owne conscience publishing them sufficiently to all men. Gloria nostra est, testimonium conscienti•• nostra. Our glory is the testimony of our conscience. He that is not an honest man, but by that which other men know by him, and because he shall the better be esteemed, being knowne to be so, that will not do well but vpon condition his vertue may come to the knowledge of men; such a one is no man from whom any great service may be drawne, or good expected.

Credo ch'il reste di quel verne, cose Facesse degne di tenerne conto. Ma fur fin'a quel tempo si n••scose, Che non è colpa mia s'hor'non le conto, Perche Orlando a far'••pre virtuose Piu ch'à narrarle poisempre era pronto; Ne mai fu alcun'de li suoi fatti espresso, Senen quando hebbe i testimonij appresso. I guesse, he of that winter all the rest Atchiev'd exploites, whereof to keepe account, But they vntill that time were so supprest, As now my fault t'is not, them not to count, Because Orlando ever was more prest To doe, than tell deeds that might all surmount. Nor was there any of his deeds related Vnlesse some witnesse were associated.

A man must goe to wars for his devoirs sake and expect this recompence of it, which can∣not faile all worthy actions, how secret soever▪ no not to vertuous thoughts: It is the conten∣ment that a well disposed conscience receiveth in it selfe, by well doing. A man must be va∣liant for himselfe and for the advantage he hath to have his courage placed in a constant and assured seate, to withstand all assaults of fortune.

Virtus repulsae nesci•• sordide, Iutaminatis fulget honoribus: Nec sumit aut ponit secures Arbitrio popularis a••rae. Vertue vnskill'd to take repulse that's base, In vndefiled honors clearely shines, At the dispose of peoples airy grace She signes of honor tak's not, nor resignes.

It is not onely for an exterior shew or ostentaion, that our soule must play hir part, but inwardly within our selves, where no eyes shine but ours: There it dooth shroud vs from the feare of death, of sorrowes and of shame: There it assureth vs, from the losse of our children, friends and fortunes; and when oportunitie is offerd it also leades vs to the dan∣gers of warre. Non emolumento aliquo, sed ipsius honestatis decore. Not for any advantage, but for the greacefulnes of honestie it selfe. This benefit is much greater, and more worthie to be wished and hoped, then honor and glorie, which is nought but a favorable judgement that is made of vs. Wee are often driven to empanell and select a jury of twelve men out of a whole

countrie to determine of an acre of land: And the judgement of our inclinations and actions (the waightiest and hardest matter that is) we referre it to the idle breath of the vaine voice of the common sort and base raskalitie, which is the mother of ignorance, of injustice, and inconstancie. Is it reason to make the life of a wise man depend on the judgement of fooles? An quidquam stultius, quàm quos singulos contemnas, eos aliquid putare esse vniverses? Is there any thing more foolish, then to thinke that altogether they are oughts, whom every one single you would set at noughts? Whosoever aimeth to please them, hath never done: It is a But, that hath neither forme nor holdfast. Nil tam inaestimabile est, quàm animi multitudinis. Nothing is so incomprehensible to be iust waied as the mindes of the multitude. Demetrius said merely of the common peoples voice, that he made no more reckoning of that which issued from out his mouth above, then of that which came from a homely place below, and saith more∣over: Ego hoc iudico, si quando turpe non sit, tamen non esse non turpe, quum id à multi••udins laude∣tur: Thus I esteeme of it, if of it selfe it be not dishonest, yet can it not but be dishonest, when it is ap∣plauded by the meny. No arte, no mildenesse of spirit might direct our steps to follow so strag∣ling and disordred a guide. In this breathie confusion of bruites, and frothie Chaos of re∣ports and of vulgar opinions, which still push-vs on, no good course can be established. Let vs not propose so fleeing and so wavering an end vnto our selves. Let vs constantly fol∣low reason: And let the vulgar approbation follow vs that way. If it please: And as it de∣pends all on fortune, we have no lawe to hope for it, rather by any other way then by that. Should I not follow a straite path for it's straightnes, yet would I doe it because experience hath taught me, that in the end, it is the happiest and most profitable. Dedit hoc providentia hominibus munus, vt honest a magis iuvarent. Mans providence hath given him this gift that ho∣nest things should more delight and availe him. The antient Sailer said thus to Neptune in a great storme, Oh God, thou shalt save me if thou please, if not, thou shalt loose me; yet will I ke••p•• my helme still fast. I have, in my daies, seene a thousand milde, mungrell and ambiguous men, and whom no man thought to be more worldly-wise than my selfe, loose themselves, where I have saved my selfe.

Risi successu posse carere dolos. I smild to see that wily plots. Might want successe (and leave men sots.)

Paulus Aemilius going to the glorious expedition of Macedon, advertized the people of Rome during his absence, not to speake of his actions: For The licence of Iudgements is an espe∣ciall let in great affaires. Forasmuch as all men have not the constancy of Fabius against com∣mon, contrary and detracting voices: who loved better to have his authority dismembred by mens vaine fantasies, then not to performe his charge so well, with favourable and popu∣lar applause. There is a kind of I know not what naturall delight, that man hath to heare himselfe commended, but we yeeld too too-much vnto it.

Laudari haud metuam, neque enim mihi cornea fibra est, Sed recti finem{que} extremum{que} esse recuso Euge tuum & bellè— Nor feare I to be prais'd, for my guttes are not horne, But that the vtmost end of good should be, I scorne, Thy O well said, well done, well plaid.

I care not so muh what I am with others, as I respect what I am in my selfe. I will be rich by my selfe, and not by borrowing. Strangers see but externall apparances and events a every man can set a good face vpon the matter, when within he is full of care, griefe and in∣firmities. They see not my heart, when they looke vpon my outward countenance. There is great reason the hypocrisie that is found in warre should be discovered: For, what is more easie in a man of practise, then to flinch in dangers and to counterfeit a gallant and a boaster, when his heart is full of faintnesse, and ready to droope for feare? There are so many waies to shunne occasions for a man to hazard himselfe in particular, that wee shall have decei∣ved the world a thousand times, before wee neede engage our selves into any perillous at∣tempt; and even when wee finde our selves entangled in it, wee shall not want skill how to cloake our sporte with a good face, stearne countenance, and bold speeches; al∣though our heart doe quake within vs. And hee that hadde the vse of the Platonical Ring, whose vertue was to make him invisible that wore it vpon his finger, if it were

turned toward the flat of the hand; many would hide themselves, when they should most make shewe of their worth, and would be sorie to be placed in so honorable a place, where necessitie may be their warrant of safetie.

Falsus honor invat, & mendax infamia terret Quem nisi mendosum & mendacem?— False honour tickles; false defame affright's, Whom, but the faulty, and false-fierd sprights?

See how all those judgements, that men make of outward apparances, are wonderfully vncertaine and doubtfull, and there is no man so sure a testimonie, as every man is to him∣selfe: How many horse-boyes have we in them as partners and companions of our glorie? He that keepes his stand in an open trench, what doth he more, but divers poore pioners doe as much before him, who open the way for him, and with their bodies shelter him, for poore six-pence a day, and happily for lesse?

—non quicquid turbida Roma Elevet, accedas, examénque improbum in illa Castiges trutinâ, nec te quasiver is extrà. If troublous Rome set ought at naught, make you not one, Nor chastise you vnjust examination In balance of their lode: Nor seeke your selfe abrode.

We call that a magnifying of our name, to extend and disperse the same in many mouthes, we will have it to be received in good part, and that it's encrease redound to his benefit: This is all that is most excusable in it's desseigne: But the infirmity of it's excesse proceeds so farre, that many labour to have the world speake of them, howsoever it be. Trogus Pompeius saith of Herostratus, and Titus Livius of Manlius Capitolinus, that they were more desirous of great, then good reputation. It is an ordinary fault; we endevour more that men should speake of vs, then how and what they speake, and ••••sufficeth vs, that our name run in mens mouthes, in what manner soever. It seemeth that to be knowen, is in some sort, to have life and continuance in other mens keeping. As for me▪ I hold that I am but in my selfe; and of this other life of mine, which consisteth in the knowledge of my friends, being simply and barely considered in my selfe, well I wot, I neither feele fruite or jovislance of it, but by the vanity of fantasticall opinion. And when I shall be dead, I shall much lesse have a feeling of it: And shall absolutely loose the vse of true vtilities, which sometimes accidentally follow it: I shall have no more fastnesse to take hold on reputation, nor whereby it may either concerne or come vnto mee. For, to expect my name should receive it: First I have no name that is sufficiently mine: Of two I have, the one is common to all my race, yea and al∣so to others. There is a family at Paris, and another at Montpellier, called Montaigne, another in Brittany, and one in Xa••togne, surnamed dela-Montaigne. The removing of one onely sillable may so confound our webbe, as I shall have a share in their glory, and they perhaps a part of my shame. And my Ancestors have heere-to-fore beene surna∣med Higham, or Eyquem, a surname which also belongs to a house well knowen in Eng∣land. As for my other name, it is any bodies that shall have a minde to it. So shall I happily honour a Porter in my stead. And suppose I had a particular marke or badge for my selfe, what can it marke when I am no more extant? May it desseigne or favour inanity?

—nunc levior cippus non imprimit essa? Laudat poster it as, nunc non è manibus illis, Nunc non è tumulo fortunatáque favillâ Nascuntur violae? Doth not the grave-stone on such bones sit light? Posterity applaudes: from such a spright, From such a tombe, from ashes blessed so, Shall there nor violets (in Cart-lodes) grow?

But of this I have spoken elsewhere. As for the rest, in a whole battell, where ten thousand are either maymed or slaine, there are not peradventure fifteene that shall be much spoken off. It must be some eminent greatnes, or important consequence, that fortune hath joyned

vnto it, to make a private action prevaile, not of a meane shot alone, but of a chieftaine: For, to kill a man, or two, or tenne; for one to present himselfe vndantedly to death, is in∣deed something to every one of vs in particular; for, a mans free-hold goes on it: But in regarde of the world, they are such ordinarie things, so many are daily seene, and so sundrie alike must concurre together to produce a notable effect, that we can looke for no particu∣lar commendation by them.

—casus multis hic cognitus, aciam Tritus, & è medio fortunae ductus acervo. This case is knowne of many, worne with nothing, Drawne from the midle heape of fortunes doting.

Of so many thousands of worthie-valiant men, which fifteene hundred yeares since have died in France, with their weapons in hand, not one hundred have come to our knowledge: The memorie not onely of the Generals and Leaders, but also of the battels and victories lieth now low-buried in oblivion. The fortunes of more then halfe the world, for want of a register, stirre not from their place, and vanish away without continuance. Had I all the vnknowne events in my possession, I am perswaded I might easily supplant those that are knowne in all kindes of examples. What? Of the Romanes themselves, and of the Greci∣ans, amongst so many writers and testimonies, and so infinit rare exploites and matchles ex∣amples: How are so few of them come to our notice?

Ad nos vix tenuis famae perlabitur aura. Scarsely to vs doth passe Fames thin breath, how it was.

It shall be much, if a hundred yeares hence, the civill warres which lately we have had in France, be but remembred in grose. The Lacedemonians as they were going to their bat∣tles, were wont to sacrifice vnto the Muses, to the end their deedes might be well written, and worthily registred; deeming it a divine favor, and vnusuall grace, that noble actions might finde testimonies able to give them life and memorie. Thinke we that at every shot that hits vs, or at every dangerous attempt we runne into, to have a Clarke present to enrole it: And besides, it may be, that a hundred Clarkes shall write them, whose Commentaries shall not continue three daies, and shall never come to any bodies sight. We have but the thousanth part of ancient writings: It is Fortune, which according to hir favor gives them ei∣ther shorter or longer life; and what we have, we may lawfully doubt-of, whether it be the worse, since we never saw the rest. Histories are not writen vpon every small trifle: It is requisite that a man have beene conqueror of an Empire, or of a Kingdome; a man must have obtained two and fiftie set battles, and ever with a lesser number, as Caesar was and did. Tenne thousand good-fellowes, and many great Captaines have died most valiantly and couragiously in pursute of hir, whose names have continued no longer then their wives and children lived:

—quos fama obscura recondit. Whom fame obscure before Layes vp in vnknowne store.

Even of those, whom we see to doe excellently well, if they h••ve but once continued so three months, or so many yeares, there is no more speech of them, then if they had never bin. Whosoever shall in due measure proportion, and impartially consider, of what kinde of people, and of what deedes the glory is kept in the memorie of bookes, he shall finde, there are few actions, and very few persons, that may justly pretend any right in them. How many vertuous men have we seene to surviue their owne reputation, who even in their presence have seene the honor and glorie, which in their young daies, they had right-justly purchased, to be cleane extinguished? And doe we for three yeares of this fantasticall and imaginarie life, loose and foregoe our right and essentiall life, and engage our selves in a perpetuall death? The wiser sorte propose aright-fairer, and much more just end vnto themselves, to so vrgent and weightie an enterprise. Rectè facti, fecisse merces est: Officijfructus, ipsum ••ssicium est. The reward of wel doing, is the doing, & the fruit of our duty, is our dutie. It might peradventure be excusable in a Painter, or other artificer, or also in a Rethoritian, or Gramarian, by his labours to ende∣vor to purchase a name: But the a••tions of vertue are of themselves too-too-noble, to seeke a∣ny other reward, then by their owne worth and merit, and especially to seeke it in the vanitie

of mans judgement. If this false-fond opinion doe notwithstanding serve and stead a com∣mon wealth to holde men in their dutie: If the people be thereby stirred vp to vertue: If Princes be any way touched, to see the world blesse and commend the memorie of Trai••n, and detest the remembrance of Nero: If that doth moove them, to see the name of that arch-villa ne, heretofore so dreadfull and so much redoubted of all, so boldly cursed, and so freely outraged, by the ••••rst scholer that vndertakes him. Let it hardly be encreased, and let vs (as much as in vs li••th) still foster the same amongst our selves. And Plato employing all meanes to make his Citizens vertuous, doth also perswade them, not to contemne the peo∣ples good estimation. And saith, that through some divine inspiration it commeth to passe, that even the wicked know often, as well by word, as by opinion, how to distinguish justly the good from the bad. This man, together with his master, are woonderfull and bolde workemen, to joyne divine operations and revelations, wheresoever humane force faileth And therefore did peradventure Timon (deeming thereby to wrong him) surname him the great forget of miracles. Vt tragici poetae confugiunt ad Deum, cùm explicare argumenti exitum non p••ssunt. As Poets that write Tragedies have recourse to some God, when they cannot vnfold the end of their argument. Since men by reason of their insufficiencie cannot well pay themselves with good lawfull coyne, let them also employ false mony. This meane hath beene practised by all the law-givers: And there is no common-wealth where there is not some mixture either of ceremonious vanitie or of false opinion, which as a restraint serveth to keepe the people in awe and dutie. It is therefore, that most of them have such fabulous grounds and trifling beginnings, and enriched with supernaturall mysteries, It is that which hath given credite vnto adulterate and vnlawful religions, and hath induced men of vnderstanding to favour and countenance them. And therefore did Numa and Sertorius, to make their men have a beter beliefe, feede them with this foppery; the one, that the Nimph Egeria, the other that his white Hinde, brought him all the counsel she tooke from the Gods. And the same authoritie, which Numa gave his Lawes vnder the title of this Goddesses patronage, Zoro∣astres Law giver to the Bactrians and Persians, gave it to his, vnder the name of the God Orom••zis: Trismegistus of the Aegyptians, of Mercurie: Zamolzis of the Scithians, of Vesta: Charondas of the Chalcid onians, of Saturne: Minos of the Candiots, of Iupiter: Lycurgus of the Lacedemonians, of Apollo: Dracon and Solon of the Athenians, of Minerva. And every common wealth hath a God to her chief: all others falsly, but that truly, which Moses insti∣tuted for the people of Iewry desceded from Aegypt. The Bedoins religion (as saith the Lord of Iovinuile) held among other things that his soule which among them al died for his Prince went directly into another more happy body, much fairer and stronger than the first: by means wherof, they much more willingly hazarded their live for his sake.

In ferrum mens pronavir••••, animaque capaces Mortis: & ignavum est rediturae parcerevitae. Those men sword▪ minded, can death entertaine, Thinke base to spare the life that turnes againe.

Loe-heere, although very vaine, a most needefull doctrine, and profitable beliefe. Everie Nation hath store of such examples in itselfe. But this subject would require a severall dis∣course. Yet to say a word more concerning my former purpose: I doe not counsell Ladies a∣ny longer to call their duty, honour: vt enim consuetudo loquitur, id solum dicitur honestum, quod est populari famâ gloriosum: For as custome speakes, that onely is called honest which is glorious by popular report. Their duty is the marke; their honour but the barke of it. Nor doe I per∣swade them to give vs this excuse of their refusall, in payment; for I suppose, their intenti∣ons, their desire, and their will, which are parts wherein honor can see nothing forasmuch as nothing appeareth outwardly there, are vet more ordred then the effects.

Quae, quia non liceat, non facit, illa facit. She doth it, though she doe it not, Because she may not doe't (God wot.)

The offence both toward God, and in conscience, would be as great to desire it, as to effect the same. Besides, they are in themselves actions secret and hid; it might easily be, they would steale some one from others knowledge, whence honor dependeth, had they no o∣ther respect to their duty, and affection, which they beare vnto chastity, in regard of it selfe. Each honorable person chuseth rather to loose his honour, then to forgoe his conscience.

The seuenteenth Chapter.

Of Presumption.

THere is another kinde of glorie, which is an over-good opinion we conceive of our worth. It is an inconsiderate affection, wherewith wee cherish our selves, which pre∣sents-vs vnto our selves other then wee are. As an amorous passion addeth beauties, and lendeth graces to the subject it embraceth, and maketh such as are therewith possessed, with a troubled conceite, and distracted Iudgement, to deeme what they love, and finde what they affect, to bee other, and seeme more perfect, then in trueth it is. Yet would I not have a man, for feare of offending in that point, to misacknowledge himselfe, nor thinke to bee lesse then hee is: A true Iudgement should wholy and in every respect maintaine his right. It is reason, that as in other things, so in this subject hee see what truth presenteh vnto him. If hee be Caesar, let him hardly deeme himselfe the greatest Captaine of the world. We are nought but ceremonie; ceremonie doth transport▪ vs, and wee leave the substance of things; wee hold-fast by the boughs, and leave the trunke or body. We have taught Ladies to blush, onely by hearing that named, which they nothing feare to doe. Wee dare not call our members by their proper names, and feare not to employ them in all kinde of dissolutenesse. Ceremonie forbids vs by words to expresse lawfull and naturall things; and we believe it. Reason willeth vs to doe no bad or vnlawfull things, and no man giveth credite vnto it. Heare I find my selfe entangled in the lawes of Ceremo∣nie, for it neither allowes a man to speake ill or good of himselfe. Therefore will wee leave her at this time. Those whom Fortune (whether wee shall name her good or bad) hath made to passe their life in some eminent or conspicuous degree, may by their publike acti∣ons witnesse what they are; but those whom she never emploied, but in base things, and of whom no man shall ever speake, except themselves doe it, they are excusable, if they dare speake of themselves to such as have interest in their acquaintance, after the example of Lucilius:

Ille velut fidis arcana sodalibus olim Credebat libris, neque si malè: cesser at vsquam Decurre••s ali••, neque si benè: quo fit, vt omnis Votivâ pateat veluti descripta tabellâ Vita s••nis.— He trusted to his booke, as to his trusty friend His secrets, nor did he to other refuge bend, How ever well, or ill, with him his fortune went. Hence is it, all the life is seene the old man spent, As it were in a Table noted, Which were vnto some God devoted.

This man committed his actions and imaginations to his paper and as he felt, so he pour∣traied himselfe. Nec id Rutili•• & Scauro citra fidem, aut ob••rectationifuit. Nor was that with∣out credit, or any imputation to Rutilius or Scaurus. I remember then, that even from my ten∣derest infancy, some noted in me a kind of I know not what fashion in carrying of my body, and gestures, witnessing a certaine vaine and foolish fiercenesse. This I will first say of it, that it is not inconvenient to have conditions so peculiar, and propensions so incorporated in vs, that we have no meane to feele, or way to know them. And of such naturall inclinations, vn∣knowne to vs, and without our consent, the body doth easily retaine some signe or impres∣sion. It was an affectation witting of his beauty, which made Alexander to bend his head a little on one side, and Alcibiades, his speach somewhat effeminate and lisping: Iulius Caesar was wont to scrath his head with one finger, which is the countenance of a man surcharged with painefull imaginations: And Cicero (as I remember) had gotten a custome to wrythe his Nose▪ which signifieth a naturall scoffer. Such motions may vnawares and imperceptibly

possesse-vs. Others there be which are artificiall, whereof I will not speake. As salutations, reverences, or conges, by which some doe often purchase the honor, (but wrongfully) to be humble, lowly, and courteous: A man may be humble through glory. I am very prodigall of cappings, namely in Summer, and I never receive any from what quality of men soever, but I giue them as good and as many as they bring, except he be some servant of mine. I wish that some Princes whom I know, would be more sparing, and impartial dispencers of them; for, being so indiscreetly employed, they have no force at all: If they be without regard, then are they without effect. Amongest disordered countenaunces, let vs not forget the sterne looke of Constantius the Emperour, who in publike held ever his head bolt-vpright, without turning or bending the same on any side, no not so much as to looke on them that saluted him sideling, holding his body so fixt and vnmooveable, that let his Coche shake never so much, he kept still vp-right: he durst never spit nor wipe his Nose, nor dry his face before the people. I wot not whether those gestures, which were noted in me were of this first con∣dition, and whether in truth I had any secret propension to this fault, as it may well be: and I cannot answer for the motions of my body. But concerning those of the soule, I will heere ingeniously confesse what I thinke of them. There are two parts in this glory: Which is to say, for a man to esteeme himselfe overmuch, the other, not sufficiently to esteeme of others. For the one, first me thinkes, these considerations ought somewhat to be accompted of. I feele my selfe surcharged with one errour of the minde, which both as bad, and much more as importunate, I vtterly dislike. I endevour to correct it; but I cannot displace it. It is, be∣cause I abate the just value of those things, which I possesse; and enhance the worth of things, by how much they are more strange, absent and not mine owne. This humour ex∣tends it selfe very farre, as doth the prerogative of the authority, wherewith husbands looke vpon their owne wives with a vicious disdame, and many fathers vpon their children: So doe I, and betweene two like workes would I ever weigh against mine. Not so much that the jea∣lousie of my preferment, and amendment troubleth my judgement, and hindereth me from pleasing my selfe, as that mastery hirselfe begets a contempt of that which a man possesseth and oweth. Policies, far customes and tongues flatter me; and I perceive the Latine tongue by the favour of hir dignity to deceive me, beyond what belongs vnto hir, as children and the vulgar sort. My neighbours oeconomie; his house, and his horse, though but of equall value, is more worth then mine, by how much more it is not mine owne. Besides, because I am most ignorant in mine owne matters: I admire the assurance, and wonder at the pro∣mise, that every man hath of himselfe: whereas there is almost nothing, that I wot I know, nor that I dare warrant my selfe to be able to doe. I have not my faculties in proposition, or by estate, and am not instructed in them but after the effect: As doubtfull of mine owne strength, as vncertaine of anothers force. Whence it followeth, if commendably I chance vpon any one piece of worke, I rather impute it to my fortune, then ascribe it to mine indu∣stry; forasmuch as I desseigne them all to hazard, and in feare. Likewise I have this in ge∣nerall, that of all the opinions, which Antiquity hath had of man in grose, those which I most willingly embrace, and whereon I take most hold, are such as most vilifie, contemne, and annihilate vs. Me thinkes Philosophy hath never better cardes to Shew, then when she checketh our presumption, and crosseth our vanity; when in good sooth she acknowledgeth hir irresolution, hir weakenesse and hir ignorance. Me seemeth the over good conceit, and selfe-weening opinion man hath of himselfe, is the Nurce-mother of the falsest opinions, both publike and particular. Those which a cocke-horse will pearch themselves vpon the Epicicle of Mercury, and see so farre into heaven, they even pull out my teeth. For in the study which I professe, the subject whereof is Man, finding so extreame a variety of judge∣ments, so inextricable a laberinth of difficulties one vpon the necke of another, so great di∣versity, and so much vncertainty, yea even in the schoole of wisedome it selfe: you may imagine since those men could never be resolved of the knowledge of themselves and of their owne condition, which is continually before their eyes, which is ever within them; since they know not how that mooveth, which themselves cause to moove, nor how to set forth the springs, and descipher the wards, which themselves hold and handle, how should I thinke of the true cause of the flux and reflux of the river Nilus? The curiosity to know things hath beene given to men (as saith the holy Scripture) for a scourge. But to come to my particular, it is very hard (mee seemeth) that some other regardeth him∣selfe

lesse, yea and some other esteemeth me lesse then I esteeme my selfe. I accompt my selfe of the comon sort except in that I deeme myselfe guiltie of the basest, and culpable of the most popular defects: but not disavowed nor excused. And I only prise my selfe, wherein I know my worth. If any glory be in me, it is but superficially infused into me; by the treason of my complexion: and hath no solide body appearing to the sight of my judgement. I am but sprinckled over, but not throughly dyed. For in trueth, touching the effects of the spi∣rite, in what manner soever, there never came any thing from me, that contented me. And others approbation is no currant payment for me. My judgement is tender and hard espe∣cially in mine owne behalfe. I feele my selfe to waver and bend through weakenesse: I have nothing of mine owne to satisfie my judgement. My sight is indifferently cleare and regu∣lar; but if I take any serious worke in hand, it is trobled, and dimmed: as I perceive most e∣videnly in Poesie: I love it exceedingly: I have some insight or knowledge in other mens Labours, but in trueth I play the Novice when I set my hand vnto it: Then can I not abide my selfe. A man may play the foole every where else, but not in Poesie.

—mediocribus esse poetis Non dij, non homines, non concessere columnae. Nor Gods, nor men, nor pillers gave the graunt, That Poets in a meane, should meanely chaunt.

I would to God this sentence were found in the front of our Printers or Stacioners shops, to hinder the entrance of so many bald-rimers.

—verum Nil securius est malò Poeta. Nothing securer may be had, Then is a Poet bolde and bad.

Why have we no such people? Dionisius the father esteemed nothing in himselfe so much as his poesie. In the times of the Olimpike games, with chariots exceeding all other in magnificence, he also sent Poets and Musitians to present his verses, with tents and pavili∣ons gilt and most sumtuously tapistred. When they first beganne to reherse them, the fa∣vour and excellencie of the pronuntiation did greatly allure the peoples attention: but when they beganne to consider the fondnesse of the composition, they fell as soone to contemne them: and being more and more exasperated fell furiously into an vprore, and headlong ranne in most spitefull maner to teare and cast downe all his pavillions. And forasmuch as his rich chariets did no good at all in their course, and the ship which carried his men, retur∣ning homeward missed the shore of Sicilie, and was by violent stormes driven and spilt vp∣on the coast of Tarentum, they certainly believed, the wrath of the Gods to have beene the cause of it, as being greatly offended, both against him, and his vile and wicked Poeme: yea and the Mariners themselves that escaped the shipwracke did much second the peoples opinion: to which the Oracle that foretold his death seemed in some sorte to subscribe: which implied, that Dionisius should be neere his end, at what time he had vanquished those that should be of more worth than himselfe: Which he interpreted to be the Carthaginians, who exceeded him in might. And having at any time occasion to fight or grapple with them, that he might not incurre the meaning of this prediction, he would often temper and avoyde the victory. But he mis-vnderstoode the matter, for the God observed the time of advantage, when as through partiall favour and injustice he obtained the victory over the tragicall Poets at Athens, who were much better than he was, where he caused in contention of them, his Tragedie, entitled the Lenetens, to be publikely acted. After which vsurped vi∣ctorie, he presently deceased: And partly through the excessive joy, hee thereby conceived. What I finde excusable in mine, is not of itselfe, and according to truth: but in comparison of other compositions, worse than mine, to which I see some credite given. I envie the good happe of those, which can applaude and gratifie themselves by their owne labours; for it is an easie matter for one to please himselfe, since he drawes his pleasure from him selfe: Es∣pecially if one bee somewhat constant in his owne wilfulnesse. I knowe a Poetaster, gainst whom both weake and strong, in company and at home, both heaven and earth, affirme and say, he hath no skill or judgement in Poesie, who for all that is nothing dismaied, nor will not abate one jote of that mesure whereunto he hath fitted himselfe; but is ever begin∣ning againe, ever consulting anew, and alwayes persisting; by so much the more fixed in

his opinion, by how much the more it concerneth him alone, and he onely is to maintaine it. My compositions are so farre from applauding mee, that as many times as I looke them o∣ver, so often am I vexed at them.

Cùm relego, scripfisse pudet, quia plurima cerno, Me quoque qui feci, iudice digna lini. When I re-reade, I shame I write for much I see, My selfe, who made them, being judge, blotted to be.

I have ever an Idea in my mind, which presents me with a better forme, then that I have alreadie framed, but I can neither lay hold on it, nor effect it. Yet is that Idea but of the meaner stamp. I thereby conclude, that the productions of those rich and great mindes of former ages, are farre beyond the extreame extention of my wish and imagination. Their compositions doe not onely satisfie and fill me, but they astonish and wrap me into admira∣tion. I judge of their beauty, I see it, if not to the end, at least so far as it is imposible for me to aspire vnto it. Whatsoever I vndertake (as Plutarke saith of one) I owe a sacrifice to the Graces, hoping thereby to gaine their favour.

—si quid enim placet, Siquid dulce hominum, sensibus influit, Debentur lepidis omnia gratijs. If ought doe please, if any sweet The sense of men with pleasures greet, To thanke the Graces it is meet.

They altogether forsake mee: What I doe, it is but bunglingly, and wants both polishing and beauty. I can rate them at no higher value, then they are worth. My work manship ad∣deth no grace vnto the matter. And that's the reason I must have it strong, with good hold∣fast, and shining of it selfe. If I chance to seize on any popular and more gay, it is to follow me, who love not a ceremonious prudence and gloomy wisedome, as doth the world; and to glad my selfe, not my stile, who would rather have it grave and severe: If at least I may call that a ••••ile, which is a formelesse and abrupt speech. A popular gibrish, and a proceeding without definition, without partition, and sanse conclusion, troubled as that of Amafanius, and Rabirius. I can neither please, nor glad, nor tickle. The best tale in the world comming into my hands, becomes withered and tarnished. I cannot speake but in good earnest, and am altogether barren of that facility which I see in many of my companions, to entertaine first commers, to keep a whole troupe in talk, to ammuse a Princes eares with al maner of dis∣courses and never to be weary, and never to want matter, by reason of the graces they have in applying their first approches, and fitting them to the humour and capacity of those they have to doe withall. Princes loue not greatly serious and long discourses, nor I to tell tales. The first and easiest reasons (which are commonly the best taken) I can neither employ nor make vse of them. I am an ill Orator to the common sort. I speake the vtmost I know of all matters. Cicero thinkes, in discourses of Philosophy, the exordium to be the hardest part: If it be so, I wisely lay hold on the conclusion. Yet should a man know how to tune his strings to all aires: And the sharpest comes ever last in play. There is at last as much perfe∣ction in raising vp an empty, as to vphold a waighty thing: A man must sometimes handle matters but superficially, and at other times dive into them. I wot well that most men keepe themselves on this low stage, because they conceive not of things but by the outward shew. I also know, that the greatest Clarkes, yea Xenophon and Plato, are often seene to yeelde to this low and popular fashion, in speaking of matters, vpholding it with those graces, which they never want. As for the rest, my language hath neither facility nor fluency in it, but is harsh and sharpe, having free and vnsinnowy dispositions. And so it liketh mee, if not by my judgement, yet by my inclination. But yet I perceive that sometimes I wade to farre into it, and that forcing my selfe to avoide arte and affectation, I fall into it another way.

—breuis esse laboro, Obscurus fio.— To be short labor I? I darker grow thereby.

Plato saith, that either long or short, are not properties, that either diminish or give price

vnto speech. If I should vndertake to follow this other smoothe, even and regular stile, I should never attaine vnto it. And although the cadences, and breakings of Salust doe best agree with my humour, yet doe I finde Caesar both greater, and lesse easie to bee represented. And if my inclination doth rather carrie mee to the imitation of Senecaes stile, I omit not to esteeme Plutarke much more. As well in silence as in speech, I am simply my naturall forme, whence happily ensueth, that I am more in speaking than in writing. The motions and acti∣ons of the body, give life vnto words, namely in them that move roundly and without affe∣ctation, as I doe, and that will be earnest. Behaviour, the face, the voice, the gowne, and the place, may somewhat endeare those things, which in themselves are but meane, as prating. Messala complaineth in Tacitus of certaine strait garments vsed in his time, and discommen∣deth the fashion of the benches whereon the Orators were to speake, saying, they weakened their eloquence. My French tongue is corrupted both in the pronuntiation, and else-where by the barbarisme of my countrie. I never saw man of these hither-countries, that did not evidently taste of his home-speech, and who often did not wound those eares, that are purely French. Yet is it not because I am so cunning in my Perigordin: For I haue no more vse of it, than of the Dutch, nor doe I greatly care. It is a language (as are many others round a∣bout me) like to that of Poitou, Xaintogne, Angoulesme, Limosin, and Auergne, squattering, drag∣ling, and filthie. There is about vs, toward the mountaines a Gascoine tongue, which I much commend and like, sinnowie, pithie, short, significant, and in truth man-like and mili∣tarie, more than any other I vnderstand. As compendious powerfull, and pertinent as the French is gracious, delicate, and copious. As for the Latine, which was given me for my mo∣ther-tongue, by reason of discontinuance, I have so lost the promptitude of it, as I cannot well make vse of it in speech, and scarsely in writing, in which I have heerctofore beene so ready, that I was called a master in it. Loe heere my little sufficiencie in that behalfe. Beauty is a part of great commendation in the commerce and societie of men. It is the chiefe meane of reconciliation betweene one and other. Nor is there any man so barbarous, and so hard∣hearted, that in some sort feeleth not himselfe strucken with her sweetnesse. The body hath a great part in our being, and therein keepes a speciall ranke: For, his structure and compositi∣on are worthy due consideration. Such as goe about to sunder our two principall parts, and separate them one from another, are much to blame: They ought rather to be coupled and joined fast together. The soule must be enjoined not to retire her selfe to her quarter, nor to entertaine her selfe apart, nor to despise and leave the bodie (which she cannot well doe, except it beby some counterfaited apish tricke) but ought to combine and cling fast vnto him, to embrace, to cherish, assist, correct, perswade and advise him, and if he chance to swarve or stray, then to leade and direct him: In fine, she should wed and serve him in stead of a husband, that so their effects may not seeme contrary and divers, but agreeing and vni∣forme. Christians have a particular instruction concerning this bond, for they know that Gods justice alloweth this societie, and embraceth this conjunction of the body and soule, yea so farre as to make the body capable of euerlasting rewards. And that God beholds the whole man to worke, and will have him entirely to receive either the punishment, or the re∣compense, according to his demerits. The Peripatetike Sect (of all Sects the most sociable) attributeth this onely care vnto wisedome, in common to procure and provide, the good of these two associated parts: And declareth other Sects to have partialized overmuch, because they had given themselves to the full consideration of this commixture; this one for the bo∣die, this other for the soule, with one like error and oversight, and had mistaken their subject, which is Man; and their guide, which in generall they avouched to be Nature. The first di∣stinction, that hath beene amongst men, and the first consideration, that gave preheminen∣ces to some over others, it is very likely it was the advantage of beautie.

—agros divisere atque dedere Pro facie cuiusque & viribus ingenióque: Nam facies multum valuit, virésque vigebant. They lands divided and to each man shared As was his face, his strength, his wit compared. For face and strength were then Much prized amongst men.

I am of a stature somewhat vnder the meane. This default hath not only vncomlinesse in

it, but also incommoditie: Yea even in those which have charge and commandement over others; For, the authoritie which a faire presence and corporall majestie endoweth a man withall is wanting. Caius Marius did not willingly admit any Souldiers in his bands, that were not six foot high. The Courtier hath reason to require an ordinarie stature in the Gentleman he frameth, rather, than any other; and to avoid all strangenesse that may make him to be pointed-at; But if he misse of this mediocritie, to chuse that he rather offend in low∣nes, then in tallnes. I would not doe it in a militarie man. Little men (saith Aristotle) are in∣deede pretie, but not beauteous, nor goodly: and in greatnes, is a great soule knowne as is beau∣tie in a great and high body. The Ethiopians and Indians (saith he) in chusing of their Kings and Magistrates, had an especiall regard to the beautie and tallnes of the persons. They had reason, for it breedeth an awfull respect in those that follow him, and a kind of feare in his e∣nimes, to see a goodly, tall and handsome man march as Chiefe and Generall in the head of an armie, or front of a troup:

Ipse inter primos praestanti corpore Turnus Vertitur, armatenens, & toto vertice suprà est. Turnus, a goodly man, mongst them that led, Stood arm'd, then all they higher by the head.

Our great, divine and heavenly King, all whose circumstances ought with much care, re∣ligion and reverence to be noted and observed, hath not refused the bodies commendation. Speciosus formá prae filigs hominum. In favor beautifull above the sonnes of men. And Plato wish∣eth beautie to be joyned vnto temperance and fortitude in the preservers of his Common∣wealth. Is it not a great spite, if being amongst your owne servants, a stranger commeth to your selfe to aske you where your Lord or Maister is? And that you have nothing but the remainder of a capping, which is as well put off to your Barber, or to your Secritarie? As it happened to poore Philopaemen, who having left his companie behind, and comming a∣lone into a house where he was expresly looked-for, his hostesse who knew him not, and saw him to be so il-favored a fellow, employed him to helpe her maides to drawe water, and to mend the fire for the service of Philopaemen. The Gentlemen of his traine being come and finding him so busily at worke (for he failed not to fulfill his hostesses commandement) en∣quired of him what he did, who answered, I pay the penaltie of my vnhandsomnesse. Other beauties are for women. The beautie of a handsome comely tallnesse is the only beautie of men. Where lownesse and littlenesse is, neither the largenesse or rouudnesse of a forehead, nor the whitenesse or lovelinesse of the eyes, nor the prettie fashion of a nose, nor the slender∣nesse of the eare, littlenesse of the mouth, order and whitenesse of teeth, smooth thicknesse of a beard, browne like a chesse-nut, well-curled and vpstanding haire, just proportion of the head, freshnesse of collour, the cheerful aspect of a pleasing face, the sweet-smelling of a body, nor the well decorated composition of all limmes, can make a handsome beautious man. As for me, I am of a strong and well compacted stature, my face is not fat, but full, my complexi∣on betweene joviall and melancholy, indifferently sanguine and hote.

Ʋnde rigens setis mihi crura, & pector a villis: Where by my legs and brest, With rough haire are opprest.

My health is blithe and lustie, though well-strooken in age, seldome troubled with diseases: Such I was, for I am now engaged in the aproches of age, having long since past-over fortie yeares.

—minutatim vires & robur adultum Frangit, & in partem peiorem liquitur aetas. By little and a little age break's strength, To worse and worse declining melt's at length.

What hereafter I shall be, will be but halfe a being. I shall be no more my selfe. I daily e∣scape, and still steale my selfe from my selfe:

Singula de nobis anni praedantur cuntes. Yeares as they passe away, Of all our things make pray.

Of addressing, dexteritie, and disposition, I never had any, yet am I the sonne of a well di∣sposed father, and of so blithe and mery a disposition, that it continued with him even to his

extreamest age. He seldome found any man of his condition, and that could match him in all exercises of the body; As I have found few, that have not out-gon me, except it were in running, wherein I was of the middle sort. As for musicke, were it either in voice, which I have most harsh, and very vnapt, or in instruments, I could never be taught any part of it. As for dancing, playing at tennis, or wrestling; I could never attaine to any indifferent suffici∣encie; but none at all in swimming, in fencing in vauting, or in leaping. My hands are so stiffe and nummie, that I can hardly write for my selfe, so that what I have once scribled, I had rather frame it a new, than take the paines to correct it; and I reade but little better. I perceive how the auditorie censureth me: Otherwise I am no bad clarke. I cannot very well close vp a letter; nor could I ever make a pen. I was never good carver at the table. I could never make readie nor arme a Horse: Nor handsomely arry a Hawke vpon my fist, nor cast her off or let her flie, nor could I ever speake to Dogges, to Birds, or to Horses. The con∣ditions of my body are in fine, very well agreeing with those of my minde, wherein is no∣thing lively; but onely a compleate and constant vigor. I endure labour and paine, yet not very well, vnlesse I carry my selfe vnto it, and no longer than my desire leadeth and directeth me.

Molliter austerum studio fallente laborem. While earnestnesse for sport or gaine, Sweetly deceiv's the sowrest paine.

Otherwise, if by any pleasure I be not allured, & if I have other direction, than my genuine and free will, I am nothing worth, and I can never fadgewell: For I am at such a stay, that except for health and life, there is nothing I will take the paines to fret my selfe about, or will purchase at so high a rate, as to trouble my wits for it, or be constrained thereunto.

—Tanti mihi non sit opaci Omnis arena Tagi, quódque in mare voluitur aurum: So much I weigh not shadowed Tagui sande, Nor gold that roules into the Sea from land,

I am extreamely lazie and idle, and exceedingly free, both by nature and art. I would as willingly lend my blood as my care. I have a mind free and altogether her owne; accusto∣med to follow her owne humor. And to this day never had nor commanding nor forced maister. I have gon as farre, and kept what pace pleased me best. Which hath enfeobled and made me vnprofitable to serve others, and made me fit and apt but onely for my selfe. And as for me, no man euer needed to force this heavie, lither, and idle nature of mine: For, having even from my birth found my selfe in such a degree of fortune, I have found occasion to stay there: (An occasion notwithstanding, that a thousand others of mine acquaintance would have taken as a plancke to passe over to search, to agitation, and to vnquietnes. (And as I have sought for nothing, so have I taken nothing.

Non agimur tumidis ventis Aquilone secundo, Non tamen adversis aetatem ducimus austris: Ʋiribus, ingenio, specie, virtute, loco, re, Extremi primorum, extremis vsque priores. With full sailes, prosp'rous winde, we doe not drive, Nor yet with winde full in our teeth doe live. In strength, in wit, in vertue, shape, goods, place, Last of the first, before the last we pace.

I have had no neede but of sufficiency to content my selfe: Which being well taken is e∣ver a regiment for the minde, equally difficult in all sortes of condition; and which by vse, we see more easily found in want, than in plenty; peradventure, because that according to the course of our other passions, the greedinesse of riches is more sharpned by their vses than by their neede: and the vertue of moderation more rare, than that of patience. And I have had no need, but to enjoy those goods quietlie, which God of his bountie had bestowed vpon me. I have tasted no kinde of tedious trouble. I have seldome mannaged other than mine owne businesse: Or if I have, it hath been vpon condition, I might do it at my leisure, and according to my will; committed vnto me, by such as trusted me, and knew me well, and would not importune me; For, the skilfull rider, will reape some service of a restie and wind∣broken jade. My very Childe-hood hath beene directed by a soft, milde, gentle and free fa∣shion

and ever exempted from rigorous subjection. All which hath endowed me with a de∣licate kinde of complexion, and made me incapable of any care: So that I love, men should conceale my lostes from me, & the disorders which concerne me. In the Chapter of my char∣ges and expences, I have set downe what my negligence or carelesnesse costs me, both to feed and entertaine my selfe.

—bec nempe super suut, Quae dominum fallunt, quae prosint furibus. This remnant of accoumpts I have, Which may deceive Lords, help a Knave.

I love not to know an accompt of what I have, that I may lesse exactly feele my losses: I desire those that live with mee, where they want affection, or good effects, to cozen and pay me with good apparances. For want of sufficient constancy to endure the importunity of contrary or crosse accidents, whereunto we are subject; and because I cannot alwaies keepe my selfe prepared to governe and order my affaires, as much as I am able, I ••oster this opini∣on in me, relying wholly vpon fortune, and ready to take every thing at the worst, and resolve to beare that worst, mildely and patiently. About that onely doe I busie my selfe, and to that end doe I direct all my discourses. In any dangerous matter, I care not so much how I may avoide it, and how little it importeth whether I avoide it or no; And what were it if I would continue in it? Being vnable to direct events, I governe my selfe; and if they apply not them∣selves to me, I apply my selfe to them: I have no great arte to shunne fortune, and how to scape or force it, and with wisedome to addresse matters to my liking: I have also lesse suffe∣rance to endure the sharpe and painefull care, which belongeth to that. And the most toile∣some state for me, is to be doubtfull in matters of weight, and agitated betweene feare & hope. To deliberate, be it but in slight matters, doth importune me. And I feele my spirit more per∣plexed to suffer the motions of doubt, and shakings of consultation, than to be settled and resolved about any accident whatsoever, after the chaunce is once cast. Fewe passions have troubled my sleepe; but of deliberations the least doth trouble it. Even as of high-waies, I willingly seeke to avoyde the downe-hanging, and slipperi••, and take the beaten-path, though myrie, and deepe, so I may go no lower, and there seeke I safety: So love I pure mishapes, and which exercise and turmoile me no more, after the vncertaintie of their mending: And which euen at the first cast, drive me directly into sufferance.

—dubia plus torquent mala. Evils yet in suspence, Doe give vs more offence.

In events; I carry my selfe man-like; in the conduct childishly. The horror of a fall doth more hurt me, than the blow. The play is not worth the candle. The covetous man hath a worse reckoning of his passion, than the poore; and the jealous man, than the cuckold. And it is often lesse harme for one to loose his farme, than pleade and wrangle for it: The slowest march, is the safest. It is the seate of constancie. Therein you have no need but of your selfe. There she takes her footing and wholly resteth vpon her selfe. This example of a Gentle∣man, whom many have knowen, hath it not some Philosophicall shew? This man having passed all his youth like a good fellow, a jollie companion, a great talker, and a merry ladde, being now well in yeares, would needes be married. Remembring himselfe how much the subject of cuckoldry had given him cause to speake, and scoffe at others; to put himselfe vn∣der covert-baron, he tooke him a wife from out that place, where all men may have them for mony, and with her made his aliance: Good morrow Whoore, Good morrow Cuckold. And there is nothing wherewith he oftner and more openly entertained such as came vnto him, than with this tale; Whereby he brideled the secret pratlings of mockers, and blunted the point of this reproch. Concerning ambition, which is next neighbour or rather daugh∣ter to presumption, it had beene needefull (to advance me) that fortune had come to take me by the hand: For to put my selfe into any care for an vncertaine hope, and to submit my selfe to all difficulties, waiting on such as seeke to thrust themselves into credite and reputation, in the beginning of their progresse, I could never have done it.

—Spem pretio non emo, Expence of present pay For hope, I do not lay.

I fasten my selfe on that which I see and hold and go not far from the shore:

Alter remi••s aquas, alter tibi radat arenas. Keepe water with one Oare, With th'other grate the shore.

Besides, a man seldome comes to these preferments, but in hazarding first his own: And I am of opinion, if that which a man hath, suffizeth to maintaine the condition, wherein he was borne and brought vp, it is folly to let it go, vpon the vncertainety of encreasing the same. He to whom fortune refuseth meanes to settle his estate, and establish a quiet and reposed being, is excusable if he cast what he hath at hazard, since thus as well as thus, necessitie sends him to shift and search out.

Capienda rebus in malis preceps via est. A headlong course is best, When mischiefes are addrest.

And I rather excuse a yonger brother, to make sale of his inheritance, than him, who hath the honor of his house in charge, who cannot fall into wants but through his default: I have by the counsell of my good friendes of former times, found the way shorter and easier to rid my selfe of this desire and keepe my selfe husht:

Cut sit conditio dulcis, sine pulvere palmae. Who like it wel•• to beare the prise. But take no toile in any wise.

Iudging also rightly of my forces `that they were not capable of great matters: And remem∣bring the saying of Lord Oliver whilome-Chaunceler of France, who said, that French-men might be compared to Apes, who climbing vp a tree, never cease skipping from bough to bough, till they come to the highest, where they shew their bare tailes.

Turpe est quòd nequeat capiti committere pondui, Et pressum in••••••xo mox daret erga genu. T' is shame, more than it can well beare, on head to packe, And thereby soone oppresst with bended knee flie backe.

Such qualities as are now in me voide of reproch, in that age I deemed vnprofitable. The facilitie of my maners had beene named faintnes and weaknesse; faith and conscience would have beene thought scrupulous and superstitious: liberty and freedome, importunate, incon∣siderate and rath. Misfortune serveth to some purpose. It is not amisse to bee borne in a much depraved age: for in comparison of others, you are judged vertuous, very cheape. In our dayes, he that is but a partcide, or a sacrilegious person, is a man of ••onesty and honor.

Nunc si depositum non inficiatur amicus, Sireddat veterem cum tot••aerugine follem, Prodigiosafides, & Thuscis digna libellis, Quaeque coronatâ lustrari debeat agnâ. If now a friend deny not what was laide in trust, If wholly hee restore th' old bellowes with their rust: A wondrous trust, to be in Chronicles related, And should with sacrifice, as strange, be expiated.

And never was there time or place, wherein more assured and great reward was proposed vnto Princes for goodnesse and iustice. The first that shall bee advised, by these meanes to thrust himselfe into favour and credit, I am much deceived if in part of paiment, he get not the start of his fellowes. Force and violence can doe very much; but never all. Weesee Mer∣chants, countrey-Iustices, and Artificers to march cheeke by joll with our Nobilitie, in va∣lour, and military discipline. They performe honourable combates, both publike and pri∣vate. They batter and defend Townes and Cities in our present warres. A Prince smoo∣thereth his commendation amid this throng. Let him shine over others with humanitie, with truth, loyaltie, temperance, and above all with iustice; markes now adaies rare, vnknowen and exi∣led. It is only the peoples will, wherewith he may effect what he pleaseth: And no other qualities can allure their will so much as they, as being the profitablest for them. Nihil est tam populare quam bonitas. Nothing is so popular as goodnesse is. By this proportion I had beene a rare great man: As by that of certaine ages past, I am now a pigmey and popu∣lar man; In which it was common, if stronger qualities did not concurre withall, To see a

man temperate in his revenges, milde in revenging of offences, religious in keeping of his word; nei∣ther double, nor over tractable, nor applying his faith to others will, or to every occasion. I would rather let all affaires goe to wrake, than breake my word for their availe. For, touching this new-found vertue of faining and dissimulation, which now is so much in credit, I hate it to the death: and of all vices, I finde none that so much witnesseth demissenesse and basenesse of heart. It is a coward and servile humour, for a man to disguise and hide himselfe vnder a maske, and not dare to shew himselfe as he is. Thereby our men addresse themselves to tre∣cherie: Being trained to vtter false words, they make no conscience to breake them. A generous minde ought not to belie his thoughts, but make shew of his in most parts: There all is good, or at least all is humane. Aristotle thinkes it an office of magnanimitie to hate and love openly, to iudge and speake with all libertie; and never (though the prise of truth goe on it) to make esteeme either of the approbation ot reprobation of others. Apollonius said, it was for seruants to lie, and for freemen to speake truth. It is the cheefe and fundamentall part of vertue. Shee must be lo∣ved for her owne sake. He that speaketh truth, because hee is bound to doe so, and for that hee ser∣veth: and that feares not to tell a lie, when it little importeth another man, is not sufficiently true. My mind of her owne complexion detesteth falshood, and hateth to think on it. I feele an inward bashfulnesse, and a stinging remorce, if at any time it scape me; as sometimes it doth, if vnpre∣meditated occasions surprise me. A man must not alwaies say all he knowes, for that were follie: But what a man speakes ought to be agreeing to his thoughts, otherwise it is impietie. I know not what benefit they expect, that ever faine, and so vncessantly dissemble; except it be not to bee beleeved, even when they speake truly. That may deceive men once or twice, but to make a profession to cary it away smoothly, and as some of our Princes have done, to boast, that if their shirt were privie to their secret and true cogitations, they would burne it: which was the saying of ancient Metellus Macedonicus; And that he who cannot dissemble, cannot raigne, serves but only to warne those who have to deale with them, that what they say is but vntruth and dissimulation. Quo quis versutior & callidior est, hoc invisior & suspectior, detract à opinione probi∣tatis. The finer-headed, and more subtle-brained a man is, the more is he hated and suspected, if once the opinion of honestly be taken from him. It were great simplicity for a man to suffer himselfe to be misled either by the lookes or words of him, that outwardly professeth what he is not inward∣ly, as did Tiberius. And I know not what share such people may challenge in the commerce of men, never producing any thing, that may be taken for good paiment. Hee who is disloyall to truth, is likewise false against lying. Such as in our daies, in the establishing of a Princes dutie, have only considered the good and felicitie of his affaires, and preferred the same before the respect of his faith and conscience, would say something to a Prince, whose affaires fortune hath so disposed, that with once breaking and falsifying of his word, hee might for ever con∣firme and establish them. But it goeth otherwise. A man may more than once come to such a bargaine. A man during his life concludeth more than one peace or treatie. The com∣moditie or profit that enviteth them to the first disloyaltie (and daily some offer themselves, as to all other trecheries) sacrileges, murders, rebellions, treasons, are vndertaken for some kinde of profit. But this first gaine brings ever infinite losses and dangers with it: casting this Prince from-out all commerce and meanes of negotiation, by the example of this ••••fi∣delitie. Solyman of the Ottomans race (a race little regarding the keeping of promises or performance of covenants) at what time hee caused his Armie to land at Otranto (I being then but a childe) having knowen that Mercurin of Gratinara, and the inhabitants of Ca∣stro, were detained prisoners, after the Towne was yeelded, contrary to that which by his Captaines had beene capitulated with them, hee sent word they should be released, and that having other weighty enterprises in hand in that countrey, such disloyaltie, although it had apparance of great and present benefit, yet in time to come it would bring a distrust and re∣proch of infinite prejudice. As for mee, I had rather be importunate and indiscreet, than a flat∣terer and a dissembler. I allow, a man may entermingle some point of fiercenesse and wilful∣nesse, to keepe himselfe so entire and open as I am, without consideration of others. And mee seemeth I become a little more free, where I should be lesse, and that by the opposition of respect I grow earnest. It may also bee, that for want of Art I follow mine owne nature. Presenting to the greater sort the very same licence of speech and boldnesse of countenance, that I bring from my house: I perceive how much it inclineth towards indiscretion and in∣civilitie. But although I be so fashioned, my spirit is not sufficiently yeelding to avoid a sud∣den

question, or to scape it by some winding, nor to dissemble a truth, nor have I memorie able to continue it so fained, nor assurance sufficient to maintaine it; and I play the Brag∣gard through feeblenesse. And therefore I apply my selfe to ingenuitie, and ever to speake truth and what I thinke, both by complexion and by intention; leaving the successe thereof vnto fortune. Aristippus said, that the chiefest commoditie her reaped by Philosophie, was, that he spake freely and sincerely to all men: Memory is an instrument of great service, and without which, judgement will hardly discharge his duty, whereof I have great want. What a man will propose vnto me, he must doe it by peece-meales: For, to answer to a discourse that hath many heads, lieth not in my power. I cannot receive a charge, except I have my writing tables about me: and if I must remember a discourse of any consequence, be it of any length, I am driven to this vile and miserable necessitie, to learne every word I must speake, by rote; otherwise I should never doe it well or assuredly, for feare my memory should in my greatest need faile me; which is very hard vnto me, for I must have three houres to learne three verses. Moreover in any long discourse, the libertie or authoritie to remoove the or∣der, to change a word, vncessantly altering the matter, makes it more difficult to bee confir∣med in the authors memory. And the more I distrust it, the more it troubleth me. It serveth me better by chance, and I must carelesly sollicite her, for if I vrge her, she is astonished; and if it once beginne to waver, the more I sound her, the more entangled and intricate shee pro∣veth. She will wait vpon me when she list, not when I please. And what I feele in my memo∣rie, I feele in many other parts of mine. I eschew commandement, duty, and compulsion. What I doe easily and naturally, if I resolve to doe it by expresse and prescribed appoint∣ment, I can then doe it no more. Even in my body, those parts, that have some liberty, and more particular jurisdiction, doe sometimes refuse to obey me, if at any time I appoint and enjoine them to doe me some necessary services. This forced and tyrannicall preordinance doth reject them, and they either for spight or feare shrinke and are quailed. Being once in a place, where it is reputed a barbarous discourtesie not to pledge those that drinke to you, where although I were vsed with all liberty, in favour of certaine Ladies that were in compa∣nie, according to the fashion of the countrey, I would needs play the good fellow. But it made vs all mery; for the threats and preparation, that I should force my selfe beyond my naturall custome, did in such sort stop, and stuffe my throat, that I was not able to swallow one drop, and was barr'd of drinking all the repast. I found my selfe glutted and full of drinke by the overmuch swilling that my imagination had fore-conceived. This effect is more ap∣parant in those, whose imagination is more vehement and strong: yet it is naturall: and there is no man, but shall sometimes have a feeling of it. An excellent Archer being con∣demned to death, was offered to have his life saved, if he would but shew any notable triall of his profession, refused to make proofe of it; fearing lest the contention of his will should make him to misse-direct his hand, and that in lieu of saving his life, hee might also lose the reputation he had gotten in shooting in a bow. A man whose thoughts are busie about other matters, shall very neere within an inch keepe and alwaies hit one selfe same number and measure of paces, in a place where he walketh; but if heedily hee endevour to measure and count them, he shall finde that what he did by nature and chance, he cannot doe it so exact∣ly by desseigne. My Library (which for a countrey Library, may passe for a very faire one) is seated in a corner of my house: if any thing come into my minde, that either I must goe seeke or write in it, for feare I should forget it in crossing of my Court, I must desire some o∣ther body to remember the same for me. If speaking, I embolden my selfe never so little to digresse from my Discourse, I doe ever loose it; which makes mee to keepe my selfe in my speech, forced, neere and close. Those that serve me, I must ever call them, either by their office or countrey: for I finde it very hard to remember names. Well may I say, it hath three sillables, that it's sound is harsh, or that it beginneth or endeth with such a letter. And should I live long, I doubt not but I might forget mine own name, as some others have done hereto∣fore. Messala Corvinus lived two yeeres without any memory at all, which is also reported of George Trapezoncius. And for mine owne interest, I doe often ruminate what manner of life theirs was, and whether wanting that part, I shall have sufficient to maintaine myselfe in any good sort: which looking neere vnto, I feare that this defect, if it be perfect, shall loose all the functions of my soule.

Plenus rimarum sum, hâc atque illâc perfluo.

I am so full of holes, I can not holde, I runne out ev'ry way, when tales are tolde.

It hath often befallen me, to forget the word, which but three houres before I had either given or received of another, and to forget where I had layed my purse; let Cicero say what he list. I helpe my selfe to loose, what I perticularly locke vp. Memoria certè non modè Phi∣losophiam, sed omnis vitae vsum, omnésque artes vna maximè continet. Assuredly memorie alone, of all other things compriseth not onely Philosophy, but the vse of our whole life, and all the sciences. Memorie is the receptacle and case of knowledge. Mine being so weake, I have no great cause to complaine if I know but little. I know the names of Artes in Generall and what they treate of, but nothing further. I turne and tosse over bookes, but do not studie them; what of them remaines in me, is a thing which I no longer acknowledge to be any bodies else. Onely by that hath my judgement profited: and the discourses and imaginations, wherewith it is instructed and trained vp. The Authours, the place, the words, and other circumstances, I sodainely forget: and am so excellent in forgetting, that as much as any thing else I forget mine owne writings and compositions. Yea, mine owne sayings are eve∣ry hand-while alleaged against my selfe, when God wot I perceive it not. He that would know of me, whence or from whom the verses or examples, which here I have hudled vp are taken, should greatly put me to my shifts, & I could hardly tell it him. Yet have I not beg∣ged them, but at famous and very well knowen gates: which though they were rich in them∣selves, did never please me, vnlesse they also came from rich and honourable hands, and that authority concurre with reason. It is no great marvell, if my booke follow the fortune of o∣ther bookes; and my memory forgoe or forget as well what I write, as what I reade: and what I give, as well as what I receive. Besides the defect of memory, I have others, which much further my ignorance. My wit is dull and slow, the least cloud dimmeth it, so that (for ex∣ample sake) I never proposed riddle vnto it (were it never so easie) that it was able to ex∣pound. There is no subtility so vaine, but confounds me. In games, wherein wit may beare a part, as of chesse, of cards, of tables and others, I could never conceive but the common and plainest draughts. My apprehension is very sluggish and gloomy; but what it once hol∣deth, the same it keepeth fast: and for the time it keepes it, the same it embraceth generally, strictly and deepely. My sight is quicke, sound, perfect and farre-seeing, but easily wearied, if much charged or emploied. By which occasion I can haue no great commerce with books, but by others service which reade vnto me. Plime the yoonger can instruct those that have tri'd it, how much this fore slowing importeth those that give themselves to this occupati∣on. There is no spirit so wretched or so brutish, wherein some particular facultie is not seene to shine; and none so low buried, but at one hole or other it will sally out sometimes. And how it commeth to passe, that a minde blinde and slumbering in all other things, is in some particular effects, lively, cleare and excellent, a man must inquire of cunning masters. But those are the faire spirits, which are vniversall, open, and ready to all, if not instructed, at least to be instructed. Which I alleage to accuse mine: For, be it either through weake∣nesse, or retchlessenesse (and to be carelesse of that which lieth at our feet, which we have in our hands, which neerest concerneth the vse of life, is a thing farre from my Dogma or Doctrine) there is none so simple or so ignorant as mine, in divers such common matters, and of which without imputation or shame a man should neuer be ignorant; whereof I must needs tell some examples. I was borne and brought vp in the Countrey, and amidst hus∣bandry: I have since my predecessours quit me the place and possession of the goods I enjoy, both businesse and husbandry in hand. I cannot yet cast account either with penne or Counters. There are diuers of our French Coines, I know not: nor can I distinguish of one graine from another, be it in the field or in the barne, vnlesse it be very apparant: nor do I scarcely know the difference betweene the Cabidge or Lettice in my Garden. I vnder∣stand not the names of the most vsuall tooles about husbandry, nor of the meanest princi∣ples of tillage, which most children know. I was never skilfull in Mechanicall arts, nor in Traffike or knowledge of Merchandize, nor in the diversity and nature of fruits, wines, or cates, nor can I make a Hawke, physick a Horse, or teach a Dogge. And since I must make full shew of my shame or ignorance, it is not yet a moneth since, that I was found to be igno∣rant, whereto Leven serued to make bread withall; or what it was to cunne Wine. The Athe∣nians were anciently wont to thinke him very apt for the Mathematikes, that could cun∣ningly

order or make vp a faggot of brusn-wood? Verily a man might draw a much contra∣rie conclusion from me: For let me have all that may belong to a Kitchin, yet shall I be ready to starve for hunger. By these partes of my confession, one may imagine divers others, to my cost and detriment. But howsoever I make my selfe knowen, alwaies prouided it be as I am indeede, I have my purpose. And I excuse not my selfe, that I dare set downe in writing, so base and frivolous matters as these. The basenesse of the subject forceth me therevnto. Let who so list accuse my project, but not my progresse. So it is, that without being warned of others, I see very wel, how little this weigheth or is worth, and I perceive the fondnesse of my purpose. It is sufficient that my judgement is not dismayed or distracted, whereof these be the Essayes.

Nasutus sis vsque licet, sis denique nasut, Quantum noluerit ferre rogatus Atlas: Et possis ipsum tu deridere Latinum, Non potes, in nugas dicere plura meas, Ipse ego quàm dixi: quid dentem dente iuvabit Rodere? carne opus est, si satur esse velis. Ne perdas operam, qui se mirantur, in illos Virus habe, nos haec novimus esse nihil. Suppose you were long nos'd, suppose such nose you weare As Ailas, if you should entreate him, would not beare, That you in flouting old Latinus can be fine. Yet can you say no more against these toyes of mine, Then I have said; what boote, tooth with a tooth to whet? You must have flesh, if you to glut your selfe be set. Loose not your paines; gainst them who on themselves are doting Keepe you your sting: we know these thing of ours are nothing.

I am not bound to vtter no follies, so I be not deceived to knowe them: And wittingly to erre, is so ordinarie in me, that I erre not much otherwise; and seldome erre casually. It is a small matter to yeeld the fond actions vnto the rashnesse of my humours, since I cannot warrant my self ordinarily to yeeld them the vicious. Being at Barleduc, I saw, for the commen∣dation of Renate the King of Sicilies memory a picture which with his owne hands hee had made of himselfe, presented vnto our King Francis the second: why is it not as lawfull for e∣very man else to pourtray himselfe with his pen, as it was for him to doe it with a pensell? I will not then forget this other blemish, vnfit to be seene of all. That is irresolution: a most incommodious defect in the negotiation of worldly affaires: I cannot resolve in matters ad∣mitting doubtfulnesse:

Ne si, ne nò, nel cuor misuona intiero. Nor yea, nor nay sounds clearely in my hart.

I can maintaine an opinion, but not make choise of it: For, in humane things, what side soever a man leaneth-on, many apparances present themselves vnto vs, which confirme vs in them: and Chrysippus the Philosopher was wont to say, that he would learne nothing else of his maisters Zeno and Cleanthes, but their doctrines simply: For, proofes and reasons he would finde enough of himselfe. Let me turne to what side I will, I ever finde sufficient mat∣ter, and likely-hoode to keepe my selfe vnto it. Thus keepe I doubt and libertie to my selfe, to chuse, vntill occasion vrge me, and then (to confesse the truth) as the common saying is, I cast my fether to the winde, and yeelde to fortunes mercie. A very light inclination, and a slender circumstance caries me away.

Dum in dubio est animus paulo momento huc atque illuc impellitur. While mind is in suspence, with small a doe, T'ts hither, thither, driven fro and to.

The vncertaintie of my judgement, is in many occurrences so equally ballanced, as I would willingly compromise it to the deciding of chance and of the dice. And I note with great consideration of our humaine imbecilitie, the examples, which the historie of God it selfe hath left vs of this vse, to remit the determination of elections in doubtfull matters, vnto fortune and hazard: Sors cecidit super Matthiam. The lot fell vpon Mathias. Humane reason is a two-edged dangerous sworde; Even in Socrates his hand, her most inward and familiar

friend, marke what a many-ended staffe it is. So am I onely fit to follow, and am easily cari∣ed away by the throng. I do not greatly trust mine owne strength, to vndertake to command, or to leade. I rejoyce to see my steps traced by others. If I must runne the hazard of an vn∣certaine choise, I would rather have it be vnder such a one, who is more assured of his opini∣ons, and more wedded to them, than I am of mine; the foundation and platforme of which I finde to be very slippery; yet am I not very easie to change, forsomuch as I perceive a like weakenesse in contrarie opinions. Ipsa consuetudo assentiendi periculosa esse videtur, & lubrica. The very custome of assenting seemeth hazerdous and slipperie: Namely in politike affaires, where∣in is a large field open to all motions, and to contestation.

Iusta pari premitur velut cum pondere libra, Prona nec hâc plus parte sedet, nec surgit ab illa. As when an even skale with equall weight is peized, Nor falles it downe this way, or is it that way raised.

As for example, Machiavels discourses, were very solid for the subject; yet hath it beene very easie to impugne them, and those that have done it, have left no lesse facilitie to im∣pugne theirs. A man might ever finde answeres enough to such an argument, both rejoyn∣ders, double, treble, quadruple, with this infinit contexture of debates, that our pettie-fog∣gers have wyre-drawne, and wrested as much as ever they could in favour of their pleas and processes:

Caedimur, & totidem plagis consumimus hostem. We by our foes are beaten, if not slaine, We with as many strokes waste them againe.

Reasons having no other good ground than experience, and the diversitie of humane events, presenting vs with infinite examples for all manner of formes. A wise man of our times, saith, that where our Almanakes say warme, should a man say cold, and in liew of drie, moyst; And ever set downe the contrarie of what they foretell; were he to lay a wager of one or others successe, he would not care what side he tooke, except in such things as ad∣mit no vncertaintie; as to promise extreame heate at Christmas, and exceeding cold at Mid∣somer. The like I thinke of these politike discourses. What part soever you are put vnto, you have as good a game as your fellow: Provided you affront not the apparant and plaine principles. And therefore (according to my humor) in publike affaires, there is no course so bad (so age and constancie be joyned vnto it) that is not better then change and altera∣tion. Our manners are exceedingly corrupted, and with a merveilous inclination bend toward worse and worse; Of our lawes and customes many are barbarous, and divers monstrous; notwithstanding, by reason of the difficultie to reduce vs to better estate, and of the dan∣ger of this subversion, if I could fixe a pegge into our wheele, and stay it where it now is, I would willingly doe it.

—nunquam adeo foedis adeóque pudendis Ʋtimur exemplis, vi non peiora super sint. Examples of so filthy shamefull kinde We never vse, but worse remaines behind.

Instabilitie is the worst I find in our state, and that our lawes, no more than our garments, can take no setled forme. It is an easie matter to accuse a state of imperfection, since all mortall things are full of it. As easie is it to beget in a people a contempt of his ancient observances: No man ever vndertooke it, but came to an end: But to establish a better state in place of that which is condemned and raced out, divers who have attempted it, have shronke vnder the burthen. Touching my conduct, my wisedome hath small share therein. I am very easily to be directed by the worlds publike order. Oh happie people, that doth what is comman∣ded, better then they which command, without vexing themselves about causes; which suf∣fer themselves gently to be rowled on, according to the heavens rowling. Obedience is ne∣ver pure and quiet in him, who talketh, pleadeth and contendeth. In some, (to returne to my selfe) the onely matter, for which I make some accompt of my selfe, is that, wherein never man did thinke himselfe defective. My commendation is vulgar, common and popular; For, who ever thought he wanted wit? It were a proposition, which in itselfe would imply contradiction. It is an infirmity, that is never where it is seene, it is very strong and fast∣holding, but yet pierced and dissipated by the first beame of the pacients sight, as doth the Sunnes raies scatter and dispearce a gloomie mist. For a man to accuse himselfe, were to ex∣cuse

himselfe of that subject; and to condemne himselfe, an absolving of himselfe. There was never so base a porter, nor so silly a woman, but thought he had sufficient wit for his provision. We easely know in others, the advantage of courage, of bodily strength, of expe∣rience, of disposition and of beautie, but we never yeelde the advantage of judgement to any body: And the reasons, which part from the simple naturall discourse in others, we thinke, that had we but looked that way, wee had surely found them. The skill, the know∣ledge, the stile and such like partes, which we see in strange workes, we easily perceive whe∣ther they exceede ours; but the meere productions of wit and vnderstanding, every man dee∣meth it lyeth in him to meete with the very like, and doth hardly perceive the weight and dif∣ficultie of it, except (and that verie scarsely) in an extreame and incomparable distance. And he that should clearely see the height of a strangers judgement, would come and bring his vnto it. Thus, is it a kind of exercising, whereof a man may hope but for meane com∣mendation and small praise, and a maner of composition, of little or no harme at all. And then, for whom doe you write? The wiser sort, vnto whom belongeth bookish juris∣diction, know no other price but of doctrine, and avow no other proceeding in our wits, but that of erudition and arte. If you have mistaken one Scipio for an other, what of any worth have you left to speake-of? He that is ignorant of Aristotle (according to them) he is there withall ignorant of himselfe. Popular and shallow-headed minds, cannot perceive the grace or comelinesse, nor judge of a smooth and quaint discourse. Now these two kindes possesse the world. The third, vnto whose share you fall, of regular wits, and that are strong of themselves, is so rare, that justly it hath neither name or ranke amongst vs; he looseth halfe his time, that doth aspire or endevour to please it. It is commonly said, that the justest portion, nature hath given vs of the graces, is that of sense and vnderstan∣ding: for there is no man, but is contented with the share she hath allotted him: I i•• not rea∣son? He who should see beyond that, should see further then his sight. I perswade my selfe to have good and sound opinions; but who is not so perswaded of his owne? One of the best trials I have of it, is the small esteeme I make of my selfe: for, had they not been well assured, they would easily have suffered themselves to be deceived, by the affection I beare vnto my selfe, singular, as he who brings it almost all vnto my selfe, and that spill but a little besides. All that, which others distribute thereof vnto an infinite number of friends and acquaintances, to their glorie and greatnesse, I referre to the repose of my spirite and to my selfe. What else-where escapes of it, is not properly by the appointment of my discourse:

—mihi nempe valere & vivere doctus. Well learn'd in what concerneth me, To live, and how in health to be.

As for my opinions, I finde them infinitely bold aend constant to condemne mine insufficiencie. And to say truth, it is a subject, where about I exercise my judgement, as much as about any other. The world lookes ever for eright, I turne my sight inward, there I fix it, there I ammuse it. Every man lookes before him selfe, I looke within my selfe; I have no businesse but with my selfe. I vncessantly consider, controle and taste my selfe: other men goe ever else-where, if they thinke well on it: they go ever foreward,

—nemo in sese tentat descendere.— No man attempteth this Essay, Into himselfe to finde the way.

as for me I roule me into my selfe. This capacitie of sifting out the truth, what, and howso∣ever it be in me, and this free humour I have, not very easily to subject my beliefe, Iowe es∣pecially vnto my selfe; for the most constant, and generall imaginations I have are those; which (as one would say) were borne with me: They are naturall vnto me, and wholy mine. I produced them raw and simple, of a hardy and strong production, but somewhat troubled and vnperfect: which I have since established and fortified by the authoritie of others, and by the sound examples of ancients, with whom I have found my selfe conformable in judge∣ment: Those have assured me of my hold-fast of them, and have given me both the enjoy∣ing and possession thereof more absolute and more cleare. The commendation which eve∣ry man seekes after, for a vivacitie and promptitude of wit, I chalenge the same by the order of a notable and farre sounding action, or of some particular sufficiencie; I pretend it by the order, correspondency, and tranquilitie of opinions and customes. Omnlno si quidquam est

decorum, nihil est profectò magis quam aequabilitas vniversae vitae, tum singularum actionum: quam conservare non possis, si aliorum naturam imitans, omittas tuam. Clearely if any thing bee decent for a man▪ nothing is more than an even carriage and equabilitie of his whole life, and every action there∣in: which you cannot vphold, if following the nature of others, you let passe your owne. Behold here then how far forth I finde my selfe guilty of that first part, I said to be in the vice of presump∣tion- Concerning the second, which consisteth in not esteeming sufficiently of others, I wot not whether I can so well excuse my selfe; for, whatsoeuer it cost mee, I intend to speake what is of it. It may be, the continuall commerce I have with ancient humours, and the I∣dea of those rich mindes of former ages doth bring me out of liking and distaste both of o∣thers and of my selfe, or that in truth we live in an age, which produceth things but meane and indifferent. So it is, that I know nothing worthy any great admiration. Also I know not many men so familiarly as I should, to be able to judge of them: and those with whom the quality of my condition doth ordinarily make me conversant, are for the most part, such as have little care for the manuring of the soule, and to whom nothing is proposed for chiefe felicitie, but honour; and for absolute perfection, but valour. Whatsoever I see or beaute∣ous or worthy in any other man, I willingly commend and regard; yea and I often endeare my selfe with what I thinke of it, and allow my selfe to lie so farre forth: For, I cannot invent a false subject. I willingly witnesse with my friends what I finde praise-worthy in them. And of an inch of valour, I willingly make an inch and a halfe; but to lend them qualities they have not, I cannot; and openly to defend their imperfections, I may not: yea bee they mine enemies, I shall sincerely give them their due, in witnessing their worth or honour. My affection may change; my judgement never. And I confound not my quarrell with o∣ther circumstances, that are impertinent and belong not vnto it. And I am so jealous of the liberty of my judgement, that for what passion so ever I can hardly quit it. I wrong my selfe more in lying, than him of whom I lie. This commendable and generous custome of the Persian nation, is much noted; They spake very honourably and iustly of their mortall ene∣mies, and with those with whom they were at deadly fude and warre, so farre foorth as the merit of their vertue deserved. I know divers men who have sundry noble and worthy parts; some wit, some courage, some dexteritie, some conscience, some a readinesse in speech, some one Science, and some another; but of a great man in generall, and that hath so many excellent parts together, or but one, in such a degree of excellencie, as hee may thereby bee admired, or but compared to those of former ages whom we honour, my fortune hath not permitted me to see one. And the greatest I ever knew living (I meane of naturall parts of the minde, and the best borne) was Stephanus de la Boitie: Verily it was a compleat minde, and who set a good face, and shewed a faire countenance vpon all matters: A minde after the old stampe, and which, had fortune therewith beene pleased, would no doubt have brought forth wondrous effects; having by skill and study added very much to his rich naturall gifts. But I know not how it comes to passe, and surely it doth so, there is as much vanitie and weakenesse of vnderstanding found in those, that professe to have most sufficiencie, that will entermeddle with learned vacations, and with the charges that depend of bookes, than in any sort of people; whether it be because there is more required, and expected at their hands, and common faults cannot be excused in them, or that the selfe-opinion of know∣ledge emboldeneth them the more to produce and discover themselves over-forward, whereby they loose and betray themselves. As an Artificer doeth more manifest his sottishnesse in a rich piece of worke, which he hath in hand, if foolishly and against the rules of his trade he seeke to apply it and entermeddle, than in a vile and base one; and men are more offended at a fault or oversight in a statue of gold, than in one of clay. These doe as much, when they set foorth things, which in themselves and in their place, would bee good; for, they employ them without discretion, honouring their memory at the cost and charge of their vnderstanding: and doing honour to Cicero, to Galen, to Ʋlpian, and to Saint Ierome, to make themselves ridiculous. I willingly returne to this discourse of the fondnesse of our institution: whose aime hath beene to make vs not good and wittie, but wise and learned; She hath attained her purpose. It hath not taught vs to follow vertue and embrace wise∣dome; but made an impression in vs of it's Etymologie and derivation. Wee can decline vertue, yet can we not love it. If wee know not what wisedome is by effect and experience, wee know it by prattling and by rote. Wee are not satisfied to know the race, the aliances,

and the pedegrees of our neighbours, but we will have them to be our friends, and contract both conversation and intelligence with them: It hath taught vs the definitions, the divisi∣ons, and distinctions of vertue, as of the surnames and branches of a genalogie, without having other care to contract practise of familiaritie or private acquaintance betweene vs and it. She hath appointed vs for our learning, not bookes that have sounder and truer o∣pinions, but volumes that speake the best Greeke or Latine: and amongst her choise words, hath made the vainest humours of antiquitie to glide into our conceits. A good institution changeth iudgement and maners, as it hapned to Polemon. This dissolute yong Graecian, go∣ing one day by chance to heare a Lecture of Xenocrates, where he not onely marked the eloquence and sufficiencie of the Reader, and brought not home the knowledge of some notable thing, but a more apparant and solide fruit, which was the sodaine change and a∣mendment of his former life. Who ever heard such an effect of our discipline?

—faciásne quod olim Mutatus Polemon, ponas insignia morbi, Fasciolus, cubital, focalia, potus vt ille Dicitur ex collo furtim carpsisse coronas, Postquam est impransi correptus voce magistri. Can you doe as did Polemon reformed, Cast-off your sicknes signes, which you deformed, Your bolsters mufflers, swathes? As he drink-lin'de, His dronken garlands covertly declinde, By speech of fasting reader disciplinde?

The least disdainefull condition of men, me thinkes, is that, which through simplicitie holds the last rancke, and offreth vs more regular commerce. The customes and discourses of Countrie-clownish-men, I finde them commonly to be more conformable and better disposed, according to the true prescription of Philosophie, then are those of our Philoso∣phers. Plus sapit vulgus, quia tantum, quantum opus est, sapit. The vulgar is the wiser, because it is but as wise as it must needes. The worthiest men, I have judged by externall apparances (for, to judge them after my fashion, they should be sifted nearer) concerning warre, and militarie sufficiencie, have beene, the Duke of Guise, that died before Orleans, and the whilom Marshall Strozzi: For men extraordinarily sufficient, and endowed with no vulgar vertue, Oliver, and L'Hospitall, both great Chancelors of France. Poesie hath likewise in mine opinion, had hir vogue and credit in our age. We have store of cunning and able men in that profession, Au∣rate, Beza, Buchanan, L'Hospitall, Mont-dore, & Turnebus. As for French-men, I thinke they have attained the highest degree of perfection that can or ever shall be, and in those parts wherein Ronsart, and excellent Bellay have writen, I thinke they are not farre short of the ancient perfection. Adrianus Turnebus knew more and better, what he knewe, then any man in his age or of many ages past. The lives of the late Duke of Alva, and of our Constable Mommorancie have beene very noble, and have had sundrie rare ressemblances of fortune. But the worthily-faire and glorious death of the last, in the full sight of Paris, and of his King, for their service, against his nearest friends and alliance, in the front of an armie, victo∣rious through his conduct of it, and with an hand-stroke, in that old age of his, deserveth in mine opinion, to be placed and registred amongst the most renoumed and famous acci∣dents of my times. As also the constant goodnes, the mildnes in behaviour, and consciona∣ble facilitie of Monsieur la Noüe, in such an injustice of armed factions (a very schoole of treason, of inhumanitie and brigandage) wherein he was ever brought vp, a worthie, and famous man of warre, and most experienced in his profession. I have greatly pleased my selfe in publishing in sundrie places, the good hope I have of Marie Gournay le ••ars my daughter in alliance, and truely of me beloved with more then a fatherly love, and as one of the best parts of my being, enfeoffed in my home and solitarines. There is nothing in the world I esteeme more then hir. If childehoode may presage any future successe, hir minde shall one day be capable of many notable things, and amongst other of the perfecti∣on of this thrice-sacred amitie, whereunto we reade not, hir sexe could yet attaine; the since∣ritie and soliditie of hir demeanors are therein alreadie sufficient; hir kinde affection to∣wards me is more then superabounding and such in deede as nothing more can be wished vnto it, so that the apprehension, which she hath of my aproching end, by reason of the

fifty five yeares, wherein her hap hath beene to knowe me, would somewhat lesse cruelly trouble hir. The judgement she made of my first Essayes, being a woman, of this age, so yong, alone where she dwelleth, and the exceeding vehemencie wherewith she loved me, and long time, by the onely esteeme, which before ever she sawe me, she had by them conceived of me, she desired me; is an accident most worthy consideration. Other vertues have had little or no currantnesse at all in this age: But valour is become popular by reason of our civill warres, and in this part, there are mindes found amongst vs very constant, even to perfection, and in great number, so that the choise is impossible to be made. Loe heere what hitherto I have knowen of any extraordinary, and not common greatnesse.

The eighteenth Chapter.

Of giving the lie.

YEa but, will some tell me, this desseigne in a man to make himselfe a subject to write of, might be excused in rare and famous men, and who by their reputation, had bred some desire in others of their acquaintance. It is true, I confesse it, and I know, that a handy-crafts∣man will scarcely looke off his worke, to gaze vpon an ordinary man: Whereas to see a no∣table great person come into a towne, he will leave both worke and shop. It ill beseemeth any man to make himselfe knowen, onely he excepted, that hath somewhat in him worthy imitation, and whose life and opinions may stand as a patterne to all. Caesar and Xenophon have had wherewithall to ground and establish their narration, in the greatnesse of their deedes, as on a just and solid ground-worke. So are the Iornall bookes of Alexander the great, the Commentaries which Augustus, Cato, Brutus, Silla and divers others had left of their gests, greatly to be desired. Such mens Images are both beloved and studied, be they either in Brasse or Stone. This admonition is most true, but it concerneth mee very little.

Non recit•• cuiquam: nisi amicis, idque rogatus. Non vbivis, corá••ve quibuslibet. In medio qui Scripta fore recitant sunt multi, quique lauantes. My writings I reade not, but to my friends, to any, Nor each-where, nor to all, nor but desir'd: yet many In Market-place read theirs, In Bathes, in Barbers-chaires.

I erect not here a statue to be set vp in the Market-place of a towne, or in a Church, or in any other publike place:

Non equidem hoc studeo bullatis vt mihi nugis Pagina turgescat:— I studie not, my written leaves should grow Big-swolne with bubled toyes, which vaine breth's blow. Secreti loquimur— We speake alone, Or one to one.

It is for the corner of a Library, or to ammuse a neighbour, a kinsman, or a friend of mine withall, who by this image may happily take pleasure to renew acquaintance, and to reconverse with me. Others have beene emboldned to speake of themselves, because they have found worthy and rich subject in themselves. I, contrariwise, because I have found mine so barren, and so shallow, that it cannot admit suspition of ostentation. I willingly judge of other mens actions; of mine by reason of their nullity, I give small cause to judge. I finde not so much good in my selfe, but I may speake of it without blushing. Oh what contentment were it▪ vnto mee, to heare some body that would relate the custome, the vi∣sage, the countenance, the most vsuall words, and the fortunes of my ancestors! Oh how at∣tentively would I listen vnto it! Verily it were an argument of a bad nature, to seeme to de∣spise

the very pictures of our friends and predecessors, the fashion of their garments and armes. I keepe the writing, the manuall seale, and a peculiar sword: And I reserve still in my cabinet certaine long switches or wands, which my father was wont to carry in his hand. Pa∣terna vestis & annulus, tanto charior est posteris, quanto erga parentes maior affectus. The fa∣thers garment and his ring is so much more esteemed of his successors, as their affection is greater to∣wards their progenitors. Notwithstanding if my posteritie be of another minde, I shall have wherewith to be avenged; for they cannot make so little accoumpt of me, as then I shall doe of them. All the commerce I have in this with the worlde, is, that I borrow the instru∣ments of their writing, as more speedy, and more easie: in requitall whereof I may perad∣venture hinder the melting of some piece of butter in the market, or a Grocer from selling an ounce of pepper.

Ne toga cordyllis, ne penula desit olivis, Least Fish-fry should a fit gowne want, Least cloakes should be for Olives scant. Et laxas scombris saepe dabo tunicas. To long-tail'd Mackrels often I, Will side-wide (paper) cotes apply.

And if it happen no man read me, have I lost my time, to have entertained my selfe so ma∣ny idle houres, about so pleasing and profitable thoughts? In framing this pourtraite by my selfe, I have so often beene faine to frizle and trimme me, that so I might the better extract my selfe, that the patterne is thereby confirmed, and in some sort formed. Drawing my selfe for others, I have drawne my selfe with purer and better colours, then were my first. I have no more made my booke, then my booke hath made me. A booke consubstantiall to his Author: Of a peculiar and fit occupation. A member of my life. Not of an occupation and end, strange and forraine; as all other bookes. Have I mis-spent my time, to have taken an account of my selfe so continually and so curiously? For those who onely run themselves o∣ver by fantazy, and by speech for som houre, examine not themselves so primely and exact∣ly, nor enter they into themselves, as he doth, who makes his study, his worke, and occupa∣tion of it: Who with all his might, and with all his credit engageth himselfe to a register of continuance. The most delicious pleasures, though inwardly disgested, shun to leave any trace of themselves; and avoide the sight, not onely of the people, but of any other. How often hath this businesse diverted me from tedious and yrksome cogitations? (And all frivo∣lous ones must be deemed tedious and yrkesome.) Nature hath endowed vs with a large fa∣culty to entertaine our selves a part, and often calleth vs vnto it: To teach vs, that partly we owe our selves vnto society, but in the better part vnto our selves. To the end I may in some order and project marshall my fantasie, even to dote, and keepe it from loosing, and straggling in the aire, there is nothing so good, as to give it a body, and register so many idle imaginations as present themselves vnto it. I listen to my humors, and harken to my conceits, because I must enroule them. How often, being grieved at some action, which civility and reason for∣bad me to withstand openly, have I disgorged my selfe vpon them here, not without an in∣tent of publike instruction? And yet these Poeticall rods,

Zon dessus l'oeil, zon sur le groin, Zon sur le dos du Sagoin.

are also better imprinted vpon paper, than vpon the quicke flesh; What if I lend mine eares, somewhat more attentively vnto bookes, sith I but watch if I can filch somthing from them, wherewith to enammell and vphold mine? I never studied to make a booke; Yet have I somewhat studied, because I had already made it (if to▪ nibble or pinch, by the head or feet, now one Author, and then another be in any sort to study) but nothing at all to forme my opinions: Yea being long since formed, to assist, to second and to serve them. But whom shal we believe speaking of himselfe, in this corrupted age? since there are few or none, whom we may beleeve speaking of others, where there is lesse interest to lie. The first part of cumstoms cor∣ruption, is; the banishment of truth: For as Pindarus said, to be sincerely true, is the beginning of a great vertue; and the first article Plato requireth in the Governor of his Common-wealth: Now-adaies, that is not the truth which is true, but that which is perswaded to others. As

we call mony not onely that which is true and good, but also the false; so it be currant. Our Nation is long since taxed with this vice. For Salvianus Massiliensis who lived in the time of Valentinian the Emperour, saith, that amongst French-men, to lie and forsweare is no vice, but a manner of speach. He that would endeare this Testimonie, might say, it is now rather deemed a vertue among them. Men frame and fashion themselves vnto it, as to an exercise of honour; for, dissimulation is one of the not ablest qualities of this age. Thus have I often con∣sidred, whence this custome might arise, which wee observe so religiously, that we are more sharpely offended with the reproach of this vice, so ordinary in vs, than with any other; and that it is the extreamest injurie, may be done vs in words, to vpbraid and reproch vs with a lie. Therein I finde, that it is naturall, for a man to defend himselfe most from such defects as we are most tainted with. It seemeth that if we but shew a motion of revenge, or are but moved at the accusation, we in some sort discharge our selves of the blame or imputation; if we have it in effect, at least we condemne it in apparance. May it not also be, that this reproch seemes to enfold cowardise and faintnesse of hart? Is there any more manifest, than for a man to eate and deny his owne Worde? What? To deny his Word wittingly? To lie is a horrible-fil∣thy vice; and which an ancient writer setteth forth very shamefully, when he saith, that whosoe∣ver lieth, witnesseth that he co••••mneth God and ther withal feareth men It is impossible more rich∣ly to represent the horrour, the vilenesse and the disorder of it: For, What can be imagined so vile, and base, as to be a coward towards men, and a boaster towards God? Our intelligence being onely conducted by the way of the Word: Who so falsifieth the same, betraieth publike so∣ciety. It is the onely instrument, by meanes whereof our wils and thoughts are communi∣cated: it is the interpretour of our soules: If that faile vs we hold our selves no more, we en∣ter-know one another no longer. If it deceive vs, it breaketh all our commerce, and dissolveth all bonds of our policy. Certaine Nations of the new Indiaes (whose names we neede not de∣clare, because they are no more; for the desolation of this conquest hath extended it selfe to the absolute abolishing of names and ancient knowledge of Places, with a marvellous and ne∣ver the like heard example) offred humane bloud vnto their Gods, but no other than that which was drawne from their tongues and eares, for an expiation of the sinne of lying, as well heard as pronounced. That good-fellow-Graecian said, children were dandled with toies, but men with words. Concerning the sundry fashions of our giving the lie, and the lawes of our honour in that and the changes they have received, I will refer to another time, to speake what I thinke and know of it, and if I can, I will in the meane time learne, at what time this custome tooke his beginning, so exactly to weigh and precizely to measure words, and tie our honour to them: for it is easie to judge, that it was not anciently amongst the Romans and Graecians. And I have often thought it strange, to see them wrong and give one another the lie, and yet never enter into quarrell. The lawes of their duty, tooke some other course than ours. Caesar is often called a thiefe, and sometimes a drunkard to his face. We see the liberty of their invectives, which they write one against another: I meane the greatest Chief∣taines and Generals in war; of one and other Nation, where words are only retorted and re∣venged with words, and never wrested to further consequence.

The nineteenth Chapter.

Of the liberty of Conscience.

IT is ordinarily seene, how good intentions being managed without moderation, thrust men into most vicious effects. In this controversie, by which France is at this instant mo∣lested with civill warres, the best and safest side, is no doubt, that which maintaineth both the ancient religion and policy of the Country. Neverthelesse amongst the honest men that follow it (for my meaning is not to speake of those, who vse them as a colour, either to exer∣cise their particular revenges, or to supply their greedy avarice, or to follow the favour of Princes: But of such as doe it with a true zeale toward their Religion, and an vnfained holy affection, to maintaine the peace and vphold the state of their Country) of those I say, divers

are seene, whom passion thrusts out of the bounds of reason, and often forceth them to take and follow vnjust, violent and rash counsels. Certaine it is, that when first our religion be∣ganne to gaine authoritie with the Lawes, it's zeale armed many against all sorts of Pagane bookes, whereof the learned sort have a great losse. My opinion is, that this disorder hath done more hurt to learning, than all the Barbarian flames. Cornelius Tacitus is a sufficient te∣stimonie of it: for, howbeit the Emperor Tacitus his kinsman had by expresse appointment stored all the libraries in the World with it, notwithstanding one onely entire copy could not escape the curions search of those, who sought to abolish it, by reason of five or sixe vaine clauses, contrary to our beleefe. They have also had this easily to affoord false com∣mendations to all the Emperours, that made for vs, and vniversally to condemne all the acti∣ons of those, which were our adversaries, as may plainly be seene in Iulian the Emperor, sur∣named the Apostata; who in truth was a notable-rare-man, as he whose mind was lively en∣dowed with the discourses of Philosophie, vnto which hee professed to conforme all his a∣ctions; and truely there is no kind of vertue, wherof he hath not left most notable examples. In chastity (whereof the whole course of his life giveth apparant testimony) a like example, vnto that of Alexander and S••••oio is read of him, which is, that of many wonderfull faire captive Ladies, brought before him, being even in the very prime of his age (for he was slaine by the Parthians about the age of one and thirty yeares) he would not see one of them. Tou∣ching justice, himselfe would take the paines to heare all parties: And although for curiosity sake, he would enquire of such as came before him, what religion they were of, neverthelesse the enmitie he bare to ours, did no whit weigh downe the ballance. Himselfe made sundrie good Lawes, and revoked diverse subsidies and impositions, his Predecessours before him had receaved. We have two good Historians, as eye-witnesses of his actions. One of which, (who is Marcellinus) in sundry places of his Historie bitterly reprooveth this ordinance of his, by which he forbade schooles, and interdicted all Christian Rhethoricians, and Grama∣rians to teach: Saying, he wished this his action might be buried vnder silence. It is very like∣ly, if he had done any thing else more sharpe or severe against vs, he would not have forgot it, as he that was well affected to our side. Hee was indeede very severe against vs, yet not a cruell enemie. For, our people themselves report this Historie of him, that walking one day about the Citty of Calcedon, Maris Bishop thereof, durst call him wicked and traitor to Christ, to whom he did no other thing, but answered thus: Goe wretched man, weepe and deplore the losse of thine eyes; to whom the Bishop replyed, I thanke Iesus Christ, that he hath deprived me of my sight, that so I might not view thy impudent face, affecting ther∣by (as they say) a kind of Philosophicall patience. So it is, this part cannot be referred to the cruelties, which he is said to have exercised against vs. He was (saith Eutropius my other te∣stimony) an enemy vnto Christianity, but without shedding of bloud. But to returne to his justice, he can be accused of nothing but of the rigors he vsed in the beginning of his Empire, against such as had followed the faction of Constantius his Predecessour. Concer∣ning sobrietie, he ever lived a Souldiers kinde of life, and in time of peace, would feede no o∣therwise, than one who prepared and enured himselfe to the austeritie of warre. Such was his vigilancie, that he divided the night into three or foure parts, the least of which hee allotted vnto sleepe; the rest he employed in visiting the state of his army, and his guardes, or in stu∣dy; for, amongest other his rare qualities, he was most excellent in all sorts of learning. It is re∣ported of Alexander the Great, that being laide down to rest, fearing lest sleep should divert him from his thoughts and studies, he caused a basen to be set neere his bed side, and holding one of his handes out, with a brazen ball in it, that if sleepe should surprize him, loosing his fingers endes, the ball falling into the basen, might with the noyse rouze him from out his sleepe. This man had a mind so bent to what he vndertook, and by reason of his singular ab∣stinence so little troubled with vapours, that he might well have past this devise. Touching military sufficiencie, he was admirable in all partes belonging to a great Captaine. So was he almost all his life time in continuall exercise of War, and the greater part with vs in France against the Alemans and French. Wee have no great memorie of any man, that either hath seene more dangers, nor that more often hath made triall of his person. His death hath some affinitie with that of Epaminoudas, for being strucken with an arrow, and attempting to pull it out, he had surely done it, but that being sharpe-cutting, it hurt and weakened his hand. In that plight he earnestly requested to bee carryed forth in the middest of his army,

that so he might encourage his souldiers, who without him couragiously maintained the bat∣tell, vntill such time as darke night severed the Armies. Hee was beholding to Philosophie for a singular centempt, both of himselfe and of all humane things. Hee assuredly believed the eternitie of soules. In matters of religion, he was vicious every-where. He was surnamed Apostata, because he had forsaken ours; notwithstanding this opinion seemes to mee more likely, that never tooke it to hart, but that for the obedience which he bare to the lawes, he dissembled til he had gotten the Empire into his hands. He was so superstitious in his, that even such as lived in his time, and were of his owne religion, mocked him for it; and it was saide, that if he had gained the Victory of the Parthians, hee would have consumed the race or breede of Oxen, to satisfie his sacrifices. He was also besetted with the Art of sooth say∣ing, and gave authoritie to all manner of prognostikes. Amongst other things hee spake at his death, he saide, he was much beholding to the Gods, and greatly thanked them, that they had not suffred him to be slaine sodainely or by surprize, as having long before warned him both of the place and houre of his end; nor to die of a base and easie death, more beseeming idle and effeminate Persons, nor of a lingring, languishing, and dolorous death; and that they had deemed him worthy to end his life so nobly in the course of his victories and in the flow∣er of his glory. There had before appeared a vision vnto him, like vnto that of Marcus Bru∣tus, which first threatned him in Gaule, and afterward even at the point of his death, presented it selfe to him in Persia. The speach he is made to speake when he felt himselfe hurt, Thou hast vanquished ô Nazaraean; or as some wil have it; Content thy self oh Nazaraean, would scarce have beene forgotten, had it beene believed of my testimonies, who being present in the ar∣my, have noted even the least motions, and wordes at his death, no more than certaine other wonders, which they annex vnto it. But to returne to my theame, he had long before (as saith Marcellinus) hatched Paganisme in his hart, but forsomuch as he saw all those of his armie to be Christians, he durst not discover him selfe. In the end, when he found himselfe to be sufficiently strong, and durst publish his minde, he caused the Temples of his Gods to be o∣pened, and by all meanes endevoured to advance idolatrie. And to attaine his purpose, ha∣ving found in Constantinople the people very loose, and at ods with the Prelates of the chri∣stian church, and caused them to appeare before him in his pallace, he instantly admonished them to appease all their civill dissentions, and every one without hinderance or feare apply themselves to follow and serve religion. Which he verie carefully sollicited, hoping this li∣cence might encrease the factions, and controversies of the division, and hinder the people, from growing to any vnity, and by consequence from fortifying themselves against him, by reason of their concord and in one mind-agreeing intelligence: having by the cruelty of some Christians found, that There is no beast in the world, so much of man to be feared, as man. Loe∣heere his very words, or very neare: Wherin this is worthy consideration, that the Emperor Iulian, vseth the same receipt of libertie of conscience, to enkindle the trouble of civill dis∣sention, which our Kings employ to extinguish. It may be saide on one side, that, To give factions the bridle to entertaine their opinion, is to scater contention and sew division, and as it were to lend it a hand to augment and encrease the same: There beeing no Barre or Ob∣stacle of Lawes to bridle or hinder hir course. But on the other side, it might also bevr∣ged, that to give factions the bridle to vpholde their opinion, is, by that facilitie and ease, the readie way to mollifie and release them; and to blunt the edge, which is sharp∣ned by rarenesse, noveltie, and difficultie. And if for the honour of our Kings devotion, I believe better; it is, that since they could not doe as they would, they have fained to will what they could not.

The twentieth Chapter.

We taste nothing purely.

THe weakenes of our condition, causeth, that things in their naturall simplicitie and pu∣ritie cannot fall into our vse. The elements we enjoy are altered: Metals likewise, yea

golde must be empaired with some other stuffe to make it fit for our service. Nor vertue so simple, which Ariston, Pirrho, and the Stoikes, made the end of their life, hath beene able to doe no good without composition: Nor the Cirenaike sensualitie or Aristippian vo∣luptuousnes. Of the pleasures and goods we have, there is none exempted from some mixture of evill, and incommoditie.—medio de fonte leporum

Surgit amori aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat. From middle spring of sweetes some bitter spings, Which in the very flower smartly stings.

Our exceeding voluptuousnesse hath some aire of groning and wailing: Would you not say, it dieth with anguïsh? Yea when we forge it's image in hir excellency, we decke it with Epithers of sickish and dolorous qualities: languor, effeminacy, weaknesse, fainting and Mor∣bidezza, a great testimony of their consanguinity and consubstantiality: Excessive joy hath more severity, then jolity: Extreame and full content, more settlednesse then cheerefulnesse. Ipsa faelicitas, se nisi temperat, premit. Felicitie it selfe, vnlesse it temper it selfe, distempers vs. Ease consumeth vs. It is that, which on old Greeke verse saith of such a sense. The Gods sell vs all the goods they give vs; that is to say, they give vs not one pure and perfect, and which we buy not with the price of some evill. Travell and pleasure, most vnlike in nature, are notwithstanding followed toget her by a kinde of I wot not what naturall conjunction of Socrates saith, that some God attempted to huddle vp together, and confound sorrow and voluptuousnesse: but being vnable to effect it, he bethought himselfe to couple them toge∣ther, at least by the taile. Metrodorus said, that in sadnesse there is some aloy of pleasure. I know not whether he meant any thing else, but I imagine, that for one to enure himselfe to melancholy, there is some kind of purpose, of consent and mutuall delight: I meane besides ambition, which may also be joyned vnto it. There is some shadow of delicacy, and quaint∣nesse, which smileth and fawneth vpon vs, even in the lap of melancholy. Are there not some complexions, that of it make their nourishment?

—est quaedam flere voluptas. It is some pleasure yet, With teares our cheekes to wet.

And one Attalus in Seneca saith, the remembrance of our last friends is as pleasing to vs, as bitternesse in wine that is over old;

Minister veteris puer falerni Ingere m•• calices amariores: Sir boy, my servitor of good old wine, Bring me my cup thereof bitter, but fine.

and as of sweetly-sower apples. Nature discovereth this confusion vnto vs: Painters are of opinion, that the motions and wrinkles in the face, which serve to weepe, serve also to laugh. Ve∣rely, before one or other be determined to expresse which; behold the pictures successe, you are in doubt toward which one enclineth. And the extreamity of laughing entermingles it selfe with teares. Nullum sine auctor amento malum est. There is no evill without some obligation. When I imagine man fraught with all the commodities may be wished, let vs suppose, all his severall members were for ever possessed with a pleasure like vnto that of generation, even in the highest point that may be: I finde him to sinke vnder the burthen of his ease, and per∣ceive him altogether vnable to beare so pure, so constant, and so vniversall a sensuality. Truely he flies when he is even vpon the nicke, and naturally hastneth to escape it, as from a step, whereon he cannot stay or containe himselfe, and feareth to sinke into it. When I religiously confesse my selfe vnto my selfe, I finde, the best good I have, hath some vici∣oustaint. And I feare that Plato in his purest vertue (I that am as sincere and loyall an esteemer thereof, and of the vertues of such a stampe, as any other can possibly be) if he had neerely listned vnto it (and sure he listned very neere) he would therein have heard some harsh tune, of humane mixture, but an obscure tune, and onely sensible vnto himselfe. Man all in all, is but a botching and party-coloured worke. The very Lawes of Iustice, cannot sub∣sist without seme commixture of Iniustice: And Plato saith, They vndertake to out off Hidraes heades, that pretend to remoove all incommodities and inconveniences from the Lawes. Omne mag∣num exemplum habet aliquid eximquo, quod contrasingulos vtilitate publicârependitur. Every great example hoth some touch of iniustice, which is requited by the common good against particulars,

saith Tacitus. It is likewise true, that for the vse of life and service of publike societie, there may be excesse in the purity and perspicuity of our spirits. This piercing brightnesse hath o∣vermuch subtility and curiosity. They should be made heavy and dull, to make them the more obedient to example and practise; and they must be thickned and obscured, to pro∣portion them to this shady and terrestriall life. Therefore are vulgar and lesse-wire-drawne∣wits found to be more fit and happy in the conduct of affaires. And the exquisite and high∣raised opinions of Philosophy vnapt and vnfit to exercise. This sharp vivacity of the spirit and this supple and restlesse volubility, troubleth our negotiations. Humane enterprises should be managed more grosely and superficially, and have a good and great part of them left for the rights of fortune. Affaires neede not be sifted so nicely and so profoundly. A man loo∣seth himselfe about the considerations of so many contrary lusters and diverse formes. Voln∣tantibus res inter se pugnantes, obtorpuerant animi. Their mindes were ••st o••ished, while they revol∣ved things so different. It is that which our elders report of Simonides; because his imaginati∣on, concerning the question Hyeron the King had made vnto him (which the better to answer he had diverse dates allowed him to thinke of it) presented sundry subtill and sharpe conside∣rations vnto him; doubting which might be the likeliest; he altogether dispaired of the truth. Whosoever searcheth all the circumstances and embraceth all the consequences ther∣of, hindereth his election. A meane engine doth equally conduct, and sufficeth for the executions of great and little weights. It is commonly seene, that the best husbands and the thristiest, are those who cannot tell how they are so; and that these cunning Arethmeticians doe seldome thrive by it. I know a notable pratler, and an excellent blazoner of all sorts of husbandry and thrift, who hath most pitteously let ten thousand pound sterline a yeare passe from him. I know another, who saith, he consulteth better then any man of his counsell, and there can∣not be a properer man to see vnto or of more sufficiency; notwithstanding when he commeth to any execution; his owne servants finde he is farre otherwise: This I say without mentio∣ning or accounting his ill lucke.

The one and twentieth Chapter.

Against idlenesse, or doing nothing.

THe Emperour Vespasian, lying sicke of the disease whereof he died, omitted not to ende∣vour to vnderstand the state of the Empire; and lying in his bed, vnce••••antly dispatched many affaires of great consequence; and his Phisitians chiding him, as of a thing hurtfull to his health; he answered, That an Emperour should die standing vpright. Loe heere a notable saying, fitting my humour, and worthy a great Prince. Adrian the Emperour vsed the same afterward to like purpose. And Kings ought often to be put in minde of it, to make them feele, that this great charge, which is given them of the commandement over so many men, is no idle charge; and that there is nothing may so justly distaste a subject from pur∣ting himselfe in paine and danger for the service of his Prince, then therewhilst to see him given to lazinesse, to base and vaine occupations, and to have care of his conservation, see∣ing him so carelesse of ours. If any shall goe about to maintaine, that it is better for a Prince to manage his warres by others, then by himselfe; Fortune will store him with sufficient ex∣amples of those, whose Lieutenants have atchieved great enterprises; and also of some whose presence would have beene more hurtfull, then profitable. But no vertuous and coragious Prince will endure to be entertained with so shamefull instructions. Vnder colour of pre∣serving his head (as the statue of a saint) for the good fortune of his estate, they degrade him of his office, which is altogether in military actions, and declare him vncapable of it. I know one, would rather chuse to be beaten, then sleepe whilst others fight for him; and who with∣out jelousie never saw his men performe any notable act in his absence. And Selim the first had reason to say, that he thought victories gotten in the masters absence, not to be compleate. So much more willingly would he have said, that such a master ought to blush for shame, who

onely by his name should pretend any share in it, having therevnto employed nothing but his thought and verbal direction: Nor that, since in such a busines, the advises and comman∣dements, which bring honor, are only those given in the field and even in the action. No Pi∣lote exerciseth his office standing stil. The princes of Otomans race (the chefest race in the world in warlike fortune) have earnestly embraced this opinion. And Baiazeth the second with his sonne, who ammusing themselves about Sciences, and other private home-matters, neglected the same, gave diverse prejudiciall blowes vnto their Empire. And Amurath the third of that name, who now raigneth following their example, beginneth very well to feele their fortune. Was it not the King of England, Edward the third, who spake these words of our King Charles the fifth? There was never King that lesse armed himselfe; and yet was never King, that gave me so much to doe, and put me to so many plunges. He had reason to thinke it strange, as an effect of fortune, rather then of reason. And let such as will number the Kings of Castile and Portugall amongst the warlike and magnanimous conquerors, seeke for some other adherent then my selfe; forsomuch as twelve hundred leagues from their idle residence they have made themselves masters of both Indias, onely by the conduct and direction of their factors; of whom it would be knowne, whether they durst but goe and enjoy them in person. The Emperor Iuhan said moreover, that a Philosopher and gallant minded man ought not so much as breath; that is to say, not to give corporall necessities, but what may not be refused them; ever holding both minde and body busied about notable, great and vertuous matters. He was ashamed, any man should see him spitte or sweat before people (which is also said of the Lacedemonian youths, and Xenphon reporeth it of the Persian) forasmuch as he thought that continuall travel, exercise and sobriety should have concocted and dried vp all such superfluities. What Seneca saith shall not impertinently be alleaged here; That the ancient Romanes kept their youth vpright, and taught their children nothing, that was to be learned sitting. It is a generous desire, to endevor to die both profitable and man∣like: But the effect consisteth not so much in our good resolution, as in our good fortune. A thousand have resolved to vanquish or to die fighting, which have missed both the one and other: Hurts or emprisonment, crossing their desseigne and yeelding them a forced kinde of life. There are diseases which vanquish our desires and knowledge. Fortune should not have seconded the vanitie of the Romane Legions, who by othe bound them∣selves, either to die or conquer. Ʋictor, Marce Fabi, revertar ex acie: Si fallo, lovem patrem Gradiuumque Martem al••osque iratos inveco Deos. I will, O Marcus Fabius, returne conqueror from the armie. If in this I deceive you, I wish both great Iupiter and Mars, and the other Gods offended with me. The Portugalles report, that in certaine places of their Indian conquests, they found some Souldiers, who with horrible execrations had damned themselves, never to enter into any composition, but either they would be killed or remaine victorious; and in signe of their vowe••ore their heads and beards shaven. We may hazard and obstinate our selves long enough. It seemeth that blowes shunne them, who over-joyfully present them∣selves vnto them; and vnwillingly reach those that overwillingly goe to meete them and corrupt their end. Some vnable to loose his life by his adversaries force, having assaied all possible meanes, hath beene enforced to accomplish his resolution, either to beare away the honor; or not to carie away his life and even in the fury of the fight to put himselfe to death. There are sundrie examples of it; but nete this one. Philistus, chiefe Generall of yong Dio∣nisius his navie against the Siracusans, presented them the battle, which was very sharply withstood, their forces being alike; wherein, by reason of his prowesse he had the better in the beginning. But the Siracusans flocking thicke and threefold about his gally, to grapple and board him, having performed many worthie exploytes with his owne person, to ridd•• himselfe from them, disparing of all escape, with his owne hand deprived himselfe of that life, which so lavishly and in vaine he had abandoned to his enemies hands. Mole•• Moluch, King of Fez, who not long since obtained that famous victorie against Sebastian King of Portu∣gall; a notable victorie, by reason of the death of three Kings, and transmission of so great a Kingdome to the crowne of Castile, chansed to be grievously sicke, at what time the Por∣tugales with armed hand entred his dominions, and afterward, though hee foresaw it, ap∣proching nearer vnto death, empaired worse and worse. Never did man more stoutly, or more vigorously make vse of an vndanted courage, than he. He found himselfe very weake to endure the ceremonious pompe which the Kings of that Country at their entrance into

he Camp, are presented withall, which according to their fashion is full of all magnificence and state, and charged with all maner of action; and therefore he resigned that honour to his brother, yet resigned he nothing but the office of the chiefe Captaine. Himselfe most glori∣ously executed, and most exactly perfourmed all other necessarie duties and profitable Of∣fices. Holding his body laid along his cowch, but his minde vpright and courage constant, even to his last gaspe; and in some sort after. He might have vndermined his enemies, who were fond-hardily advanced in his dominions: And was exceedingly grieved, that for want of a litle longer life, and a substitute to manage the Warre, and affaires or so troubled a state, he was enforced to seeke a bloody and hazardous battell, having another pure and vn∣doubted victory in hand. He notwithstanding managed the continuance of his sicknes so mi∣raculously, that he consumed his enemy, diverted him from his Sea-Fleete, and Maritime pla∣ces, he helde along the Coaste of Affricke, even vntill the last day of his life, which by designe he reserved and emploied for so great and renowmed a fight.

He ranged his battell in a round, on ev'ry side besieging the Portugals army, which ben∣ding round, and comming to close, did not onely hinder them in the conflict) which through the valour of that yong-assailant King was very furious) since they were to turne their faces on all sides, but also hindred them from running away after the rowte. And finding all is∣sewes seized, and all passages closed, they were constrained to turne vpon themselves: coa∣cervantúrque non solum caede, sed etiam fug••. They fall on heapes, not only by slaughter, but by flight. And so pel-mell to heape one on anothers neck, preparing a most murthrous and compleat victory to the Conquerours. When he was even dying, hee caused himselfe to be carryed and haled, where-ever neede called for him; and passing along the files, hee exhorted the Captaines, and animated the Souldiers one after another. And seeing one wing of the fight to have the worst, and in some danger, no man could hold him, but he would needs with his naked-sword in hand get on hors-backe, striving by all possible meanes, to enter the throng; his men holding him, some by the Bridle, some by the Gowne, and some by the Stirrops. This toyle and straining of himselfe, made an end of that litle remainder of his life: Then was he laid on his bed: But comming to himselfe again, starting vp, as out of a swowne, each o∣ther faculty failing him he gave them warning to conceale his death (which was the necessari∣est commandement he could give his servaunts, lest the souldiers hearing of his death, might fal into dispaire) and so yeelded the Ghost, holding his fore-fingers vpon his mouth; an or∣dinary signall to impose silence. What man ever lived so long and so neere death; Who ever died so vpright and vndaunted? The extreamest degree, and most naturall, couragiou∣sly to manage death, is to see or front the same, not only without amazement, but without care; the course of life continuing free, even in death. As Cato, who ammuzed himselfe to studie and sleepe, having a violent and bloudy death, present in his hart, and as it were hol∣ding it in his hand.

The two and twentieth Chapter.

Of running Posts, or Curriers.

I Have beene none of the weakest in this exercise, which is proper vnto men of my stature, well-trust, short and tough, but now I have given it over: It toyles vs over-much, to holde out long. I was even-now reading, how King Cyrus, that he might more speedily receave newes from all parts of his Empire, (which was of exceeding great length) would needs have it tried, how farre a horse could in a day goe out-right, without baiting, at which distance hee caused Stations to be set and men to have fresh horses ready, for al such as came to him. And some report, this swift kinde of running, answereth the flight of Cranes. Caesar saith, that Lu∣••ius Vibulus Rufus, making haste to bring Pompey an advertisement, rode day and night, and to make more speed shifted many horses. And himselfe (as Suetonius writeth) would vpon an hyred coache runne a hundred miles a day. And sure he was a rancke-runner: for where a∣ny river hindred his way, he swam it over, and never went out of his way to seeke for a bridge

or foarde. Tib erius Nero going to visite his brother Drusus, who lay sicke in Germanie, having three coaches in his companie, ranne two hundred miles in foure and twenty hours. In the Romane warres against King Antiochus, Titus Sempronius Gracchus (sai••h Titus Li∣vius) per dispositos equos propè incredibili celeritae ab Amphisa tertio dic Pellam pervenit: By horse laide poste, with incredible speede within three dayes he past from Amphisa to Pella. And viewing the place, it seemeth, they were set Stations for Postes, and not newly appointed for that race. The inuention of Cecinna in sending newes to those of his house had much more speede; he carried certaine swallowes with him, and having occasion to send newes home, he let them flie toward their nests, first marking them with some colour, proper to signifie what he meant, as before he had agreed vpon with his friends. In the Theatres of Rome, the houshold Masters, carried Pigeons in their bosomes, vnder whose wings they fastened letters, when they would send any word home, which were also taught to bring back an an∣swer. D. Brutus, vsed some being besieged in Mutina, and otherselfe-where. In Peru they went poste vpon mens backes, who tooke their Masters vpon their shoulders, sitting vpon certaine beares or chaires, with such agilitie, that in full running speede the first porters without any stay, cast their loade vpon others who vpon the way waited for them, and so they to others. I vnderstand that the Valachians, which are messengers vnto the great Turk, vse extreame diligence in their businesse, forasmuch as they have authoritie to dis-mount the first passenger they meete vpon the high-way, and give him their tyred Horse. And bi∣cause they shall not be weary, they are wont to swathe themselves hard about the bodie with a broade Swathe or Seare cloath, as diverse others doe with vs: I could never finde ease or good by it.

The three and twentieth Chapter.

Of bad meanes emploied to a good end

THere is a woonderfull relation and correspondencie found in this vniversall pollicie of Natures workes, which manifestly sheweth, it is neither casuall, nor directed by diverse masters. The infirmities and conditions of our bodies, are likewise seene in states and go∣verments: Kingdomes and Commowealths as well as we, are borne, florish, and fade through age. We are subject vnto a repleatnesse of humours, hurtfull and vnprofitable, yea be it of good humours (for even Phisitians feare that, and because there is nothing constant in vs, they say, that perfection of health over joyfull and strong, must by arte be abated and dimi∣nished, lest our nature vnable to settle it selfe in any certaine place, and for hir amendment to ascend higher, should over-violently recoile backe into disorder; and therefore they prescrib vnto Wrestlers purging and phlebotomie, to substract that superabundance of health from them) or of bad, which is the ordinarie cause of sickenesse. Of such like repletion are States often seene to be sicke, and diverse purgations are wont to be vsed to purge them. As wee have seene some to dismisse a great number of families (chiefly to disburthen the Countrey) which else where goe to seeke where they may at others charge seare themselves. In this sorte our ancient French leaving the high Countries of Germanie, came to possesse Gaule, whence they displaced the first Inhabitants. Thus grew that infinite confluence of people, which afterward vnder Brennus and others, over-ranne Italie. Thus the Gothes and Ʋandalles, as al∣so the Nations which possesse Greece, left their naturall countries, to go where they might have more elbow-roome: And hardly shall we see two or three corners in the worlde, that have not felt the effect of such a remooving alteration. The Romanes, by such meanes, ere∣cted their Colonies; for perceiving their Cittie to growe over-populous, they were wont to discharge it of vnnecessarie people, which they sent to inhabite and manure the Coun∣tries they had subdued. They have also sometimes maintained warre wi••h some of their e∣nemies, not onely thereby to keepe their men in breath, lest Idlenesse, the mother of Cor∣ruption, should cause them some worse inconvenience.

Et patimur longae pacis mala, saevior armis Luxuria incumbit. We suffer of long peace the soking harmes, On vs lies luxury more fierce then armes.

But also to let the Common-wealth bloud, and somewhat to allay the over vehement heat of their youth, to lop the sprigs, and thin the branches of this over-spreading tree, too much abounding in ranknesse and gaillardise. To this purpose they maintained a good while war with the Carthaginians. In the treaty of Bretigny, Edward the third, King of England, would by no meanes comprehend in that generall peace the controversie of the Dutchie of Britany to the end he might have some way to disburthen himselfe of his men of war, and that the multitude of English-men, which he had emploied about the warres of France, should not returne into England. It was one of the reasons, induced Philip our King to consent, that his sonne Iohn should be sent to warre beyond the seas, that so he might carry with him a great number of yong hot-blouds, which were amongst his trained military men. There are di∣vers now adaies, which will speake thus, wishing this violent and burning emotion we see and feele amongst vs, might be derived to some neighbour war, fearing lest those offending hu∣mours, which at this instant are predominant in our bodie, if they be not diverted elsewhere, will still maintaine our fever in force, and in the end cause our vtter destruction: And in truth a forraine warre is nothing so dangerous a dis••ase as a civill: But I will not beleeve that God would favour so vnjust an enterprise, to offend and quarrell with others for our com∣modity.

Nil mihi tam valdè placeat Rhammusia virgo, Quòd temerè invitis suscipiatur heris. That fortune likes me not, which is constrained, By Lords vnwilling rashly entertained.

Notwithstanding the weaknesse of our condition, doth often vrge vs to this necessity, to vse bad meanes to a good end. Lycurgus the most vertuous and perfect Law-giver that ever was, devised this most vnjust fashion, to instruct his people vnto temperance, by force to make the Helotes, which were their servants, to be drunke, that seeing them so lost and buried in wine, the Spartanes might abhor the excesse of that vice. Those were also more to be bla∣med, who anciently allowed that criminall offendors, what death soever they were condem∣ned vnto, should by Phisitians all alive be torne in pieces, that so they might naturally see our inward parts, and thereby establish a more assured certainty in their arte: For if a man must needes erre or debauch himselfe, it is more excusable, if he doe it for his soules health, then for his bodies good. As the Romans trained vp, and instructed their people to valour, and contempt of dangers and death, by the outragious spectacles of Gladiators, and deadly fighting Fencers, who in presence of them all combated, mangled, sliced and killed one another;

Quid vesani aliud sibi vult ars impia luds, Quid mortes iuvenum, quid sanguine pasta voluptas? What else meanes that mad arte of impious fense, Those yong-mens deaths, that blood-fed pleasing sense?

which custome continued even vntill the time of Theodosius the Emperour.

Arripe delatam tua dux in tempora famam, Quódque patris superest successor laudis habeto: Nullus in vrbe cadat, cuius sit poena voluptas, Iam solis contenta feris infamis arena, Nulla cruentatis homicidia ludat in armis. The fame defer'd to your times entertaine, Enherite praise which doth from Sire remaine, Let none die to give pleasure by his paine: Be shamefull Theaters with beastes content, Not in goar'd armes mans slaughter represent.

Surely it was a wonderfull, example and of exceeding benefit for the peoples institution, to see dayly one or two hundred, yea sometimes a thousand brace of men armed one a∣gainst another, in their presence to cut and hacke one another in pieces with so great con∣stancy

of courage, that they were never seene to vtter one word of faintnesse or commiserati∣on, never to turne their backe, nor so much as to shew a motion of demissenesse, to avoide their adversaries blowes: but rather to extend their neckes to their swords, and present them∣selves vnto their strokes. It hath hapned to diverse of them, who through many hurts be∣ing wounded to death, have sent to aske the people, whether they were satisfied with their duty, before they would lie downe in the place. They must, not onely fight and die constant∣ly, but jocondly: in such sort as they were cursed and bitterly scolded at, if in receiving their death they were any way seene to strive, yea maidnes encited them to it.

—consurgit adictus, Et quoties victor ferrum iugulo inserit, illa Delicias ait esse suas, pectúsque iacentis Virgo modesta iubet converso pollice rumpi. The modest maide, when wounds are giv'n; vpriseth; When victors sword the vanquisht throate surpriseth, She saith, it is hir sport, and doth command, T'embrue the conquer'd breast, by signe of hand.

The first Romans disposed thus of their criminals: But afterward they did so with their in∣nocent servants; yea of their free-men, which were sold to that purpose: yea of Senators, and Roman Knights, and women also.

Nunc caput in mortem vendunt, & fumus arenae, Atque hostem sibi quisque parat cùm bella quiescunt. They sell mens lives to death and Stages sight, When wars doe cease, they finde with whom to fight. Hos inter fremitus novósque lusus, Stat sexus rudis insciúsque ferri, Et pugnas capit improbus viriles. Amidst these tumults, these strange sporting sights. That Sex doth sit, which knowes not how sword bites, And entertaines vnmov'd, those manly fights.

Which I should deeme very strange and incredible; if we were not dayly accustomed to see in our wars many thousands of forraine nations, for a very small some of mony to engage both their blood and life in quarrels wherein they are nothing interessed.

The foure and twentieth Chapter.

Of the Roman greatnesse.

I Will but speake a word of this infinite argument, and slightly glance at it, to shew the sim∣plicity of those, who compare the seely greatnesse of these times vnto that. In the sea∣venth booke of Ciceroes familiar Epistles (and let Gramarians remove this title of Familiar, if they please, for to say truth it makes but little to the purpose: and they who in liew of fa∣miliar, have placed ad familiares, may wrest some argument for themselves, from that which Suetonius saith in Caesars life, that there was a volume of his Epistles ad familiares) there is one directed vnto Caesar then being in Gaule, in which Cicero repeats these very words, which were in the end of a former letter that Caesar had written to him: Touching Marcus Furius, whom thou hast commended vnto me, I will make him King of Gaule, and if thou wilt have me preferre any other of thy friends, send them to me. It was not new in a simple Roman Citizen (as Caesar then was) to dispose of Kingdomes, for as well deprived he King Deiotarus of his, to give it to a Gentleman of the City of Pergamo, called Mithridates. And those who writ his life, mention many Kingdomes sold by him. And Suetonius reporteth, that he at one time wrested three millions and six hundred thousand crownes of gold from King Ptolomeus, which amounted very neere vnto the price of his Kingdome.

Tot Galatae, tot Pontus eat, tot lidia n••mmis:

Forsomuch let Galatia go, Forsomuch Lidia, Pontus so.

Marcus Antonius said, the greatnesse of the Romane people, was not so much discerned by what it tooke, as by what it gave. Yet some ages before Antonius, was there one amongst others, of so wonderfull authority, as through all his history I know no marke, carrieth the name of his credit higher. Antiochus possessed all Aegypt, and was very neere to conquer Cipres, and o∣thers depending of that Empire. Vpon the progresse of his victories, C. Popilius came vnto him in the behalfe of the Senate, and at first arrivall, refused to take him by the hand, be∣fore he had read the letters he brought him. The King having read them, said, he would de∣liberate of them. Popilius with a wand encircled the place about, where he stood, and thus bespake him; Give me an answer to carry backe vnto the Senate, before thou goe out of this circle. Antiochus amazed at the rudenesse of so vrging a commandement, after he had pawsed a while, replyed thus, I will doe what the Senate commandeth me. Then Popilius saluted him as a friend vnto the Roman people. To have renounced so great a Monarchy, and forgon the course of so successefull prosperity, by the onely impression of three written lines. He had good reason, as afterward he did, by his Ambassadors to send the Senate word, that he had received their ordinances with the same respect, as if they had come from the immortall Gods. All the Kingdomes Augustus subdued by right of war, he restored to those who had lost them, or presented strangers with them: And concerning this purpose, Tacitus speaking of Cogidunus King of England, by a wonderfull tract makes vs perceive this infinit greatnesse and might. The Romans (saith he) were from all antiquity accustomed, to leave those Kings whom they had vanquished, in the possession of their kingdomes, vnder their authority: Vt haberent instrument a servitutis & reges. That they might have even Kings also for instruments of their bondage. It is very likely that Soliman the great Turke, whom we have seene to vse such a liberality, and give away the kingdome of Hungary, and other dominions, did more respect this consideration, then that he was wont to alleage; which is, that he was over wearied with the many Monarchies and surcharged with the severall dominions, which either his owne or his ancestors vertue had gotten him.

The five and twentieth Chapter.

How a men should not counterfeit to be sicke.

THere is an epigram in Martiall, that may passe for a good one (for there are of all sortes in him) wherein he pleasantly relateth the storie of Caelius, who to avoide the courting of certaine great men in Rome, to give attendance at their rising, and to waite, assist and follow them, fained to be troubled with the goute; and to make his excuse more likely, hee caused his legges to bee ointed and swathed, and lively counteirfeted the behaviour and countenance of a goutie man. In the end fortune did him the favour to make him goutie indeede.

Tantum cura potest & ars doloris, Desiit fingere Caelius podagram. So much the care and cunning can of paine: Caelius (growne gowty) leaves the gowt to faine.

As farre as I remember I have read a like History in some place of Appian, of one who purposing to escape the proscriptions of the Triumutrat of Rome, and to conceale himselfe from the knowledge of those who pursued him, kept himselfe close and disguised, adding this other invention to it, which was to counter feit blindnesse in one eye, who when he came somewhat to recouer his liberty, and would have left off the plaister hee had long time worne over his eye, he found that vnder that maske he had altogether lost the sight of it. It may be the action of his sight was weakened, having so long continued without exercise and the visual vertue was wholy converted into the other eie: For, we may plainely perceive, that holding one eye shut, it convaieth some part of it's effect into his follow; in such sort as it

will swell and growe bigger. As also the idlenes, together with the warmth of the medi∣caments and swathing, might very well drawe some goutie humor into the legge of Martials goutie sellow. Reading in Freisart, the vowe which a gallant troupe of young English-men had made, to weare their left eyes hoodwink's, vntill such time as they should passe into France, and there performe some notable exploite of armes vpon vs, I have often laughed with my selfe to think what they would have imagined if as to the fore aleaged, it had hapned to them, and had all beene blinde of the left eye, at what time they returned to looke vpon their mistresses, for whose sake they had made their vowe and vndertaken such an enter∣prise. Mothers have great reason to chide their children when they counterset to be blind with one eye, crompt backt, squint'-eyed, or lame, and such other deformities of the body; for besides that the body thus tender may easily receive some ill custome, I know not how, it seemeth that fortune is glad to take vs at our word; And I have heard divers examples of some, who have falne sicke in very deede, because they had purposed to saine sickenes. I have at all times enured my selfe, whether I be on horsebacke or a foote, to carrie a good heavie wand or cudgell in my hand; yea I have endevored to doe it handsomely, and with an effected kinde of countenance to continue so. Many have threatned me, that fortune will one time or other turne this my wantonnes into necessitie. I presume vpon this, that I should be the first of my race, that ever was troubled with the gowt. But let vs somewhat amplifie this chapter, and patch it vp with another piece concerning blindnes. Plinie reports of one, who dreaming in his sleepe, that he was blinde, awaking the next morning, was found to be starke blinde, having never had any precedent sickenes. The power of imagination may very well further such things, as elsewhere I have shewed; And Plinie seemeth to be of this opinion; but it is more likely, that the motions, which the body selt inwardly (whereof Phisitions, may if they please, finde out the cause) and which tooke away his sight, and were the occasion of his dreame. Let vs also adde another storie, concerning this purpose, which Seneca reporteth in his Epistles. thou knowest (saith he writing vnto Lucilius) that Harpaste my wiues foole, is left vpon me as an hereditarie charge; for by mine owne nature, I am an enemie vnto such monsters, and if I have a desire to laugh at a foole, I neede not seeke one farre; I laugh at my selfe. This foolish woman hath sodainly lost hir sight. I report a sirange thing, but yet very true: She will not beleeve she is blind; and vrgeth hir keeper vncessantly to lead hir, saying still, my house is very darke. What we laugh at in hir, I entreat thee to belieeve, that the same h••pneth to each for vs. No man knoweth himselfe to be covetous, or niggardly. Even the blind require a guide, but wee stray from our selves. I am not ambui••us, say we, but no man can live otherwise at Rome: I am not sumptuous, but the Cittie requireth great charges: It is not my fault, if I be collerike; If I have not yet set downe a sure course of my life, the fault is in youth. Let vs not seeke our evill out of vs; it is within vs it is rooted in our entrailes. And only because we perceive not that we are sick, makes our re∣coverie to proue more difficult. If we beginne not betimes to cure our selves, when shall we provide for so many sores, for so many evils? Yet have we a most-sweete and gentle medicine of Philoso∣phie; for of others, no man feeles the pleasure of them, but after his recoverie, where as she pleaseth, easeth, and cureth all at once. Lo here what Seneca saith, who hath somewhat diverted me from my purpose: But there is profit in the exchange.

The sixe and twentieth Chapter.

Of Thumbs.

TAcitus reporteth, that amongst certaine barbarous Kings, for the confermation of an in∣violable bonde, or covenant, their manner was, to joyne their right hands close and hard together, with enterlacing their thumbs: And when by hard wringing them the blood appeared at their ends, they pricked them with some sharpe point, and then mutually entersuck't each one the others. Phisicions say, thumbs are the master-fingers of the hand and that their Latin eEtymologie is derived of Pollere. The Graecians cal it 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 as a man

would say another hand. And it seemeth, the Latins likewise take them sometimes in this sense, id est, for a whole hand:

Sed nec vocibus excitata blandis, Molli pollice nec rogata surgit. It will not rise, though with sweete words excited, Nor with the touch of softest thumb invited.

In Rome it was heeretofore a signe of favor, to wring and kisse the thumbs,

Fautor vtroque tuum laudabit pollice ludum: He that applaudes will praise, With both his thumbs thy plaies.

and of disfavour or disgrace to lift them vp, and turne them outward:

—converso pollice vulgi Quemlibet occidunt populariter.— When people turne their thumbs away, The popularly any slay.

Such as were hurt or maymed in their thumbs, were by the Romanes dispensed from going to warre, as they who had lost their weapons hold-fast. Augustus did confiscate all the goods of a Romane Knight, who through malice had cut off the thumbes of two yong children of his thereby to excuse them from going to warre: And before him, the Senate in the time of the Italian warres, had condemned Caius Ʋatienus to perpetuall prison, and confiscated all his goods, forsomuch as he had willingly cut off the thumb of his left hand, so to exempt him∣selfe from that voyage. Some one, whose name I remember not, having gained a great victo∣rie by Sea, caused all the enemies whom he had vanquished and taken prisoners to have their thumbes cut off, thinking thereby to deprive them of all meanes of fighting, of rowing, or handling their oares. The Athenians likewise caused them to be cut off from them of Aegi∣na, to take from them the preheminence in the arte of navigation. In Lacedaemon, masters pu∣nished their Schollers by byting their thumbs.

The seaven and twentieth Chapter.

Cowardize, the Mother of Crueltie.

I Have often heard it reported, that Cowardize is the Mother of Crueltie: And have perceived by experience, that this malicious sharpnes, and inhumane severitie of corage, is commonly accompanied with feminine remissenesse: I have seene some of the cruelest subject to weep easily, and for frivolous causes. Alexander the tyrant of Pheres, could not endure to see tra∣gedies acted in the Theaters, for feare his subjects should see him sob and weepe at the mis∣fortunes of Hecuba and Andromaca; he who without remorce or pittie caused daily so many poore people to be most cruelly massacred and barbarously murthered. May it be weaknesse of spirit, makes them so pliable to all extremities? valor (whose effect is onely to exercise it selfe against resistance.

Nec nisi bellantis gaudet cervice iuvenci. Nor takes he joy to domineere, But on the necke of sturdie steere)

refraines it selfe in seeing her enemie prostrate to her mercie: But pusillanimitie, to say that she also is of the feaste, since it cannot bee joyned to the first part, takes for her share the se∣cond, which is massacre and blood. Murthers after victories, are commonly effected by the baser kinde of people, and officers that waite vpon the baggage and cariage. And the reason we see so many vnheard-of cruelties in popular warres, is, that this vulgar rasca∣litie doth martially flesh and enure it selfe to dive in blood vp to the elbowes, and mangle a bodie, or hacke a carcase lying and groveling at their feete, having no manner of feeling of other valor.

Et Lupus & turpes instant morientibus Vrsi.

—Et quaecumque minor nobilitate fera est. A Wolfe or filthie Beare the dying man oppresse, Or some such beast as in nobilitie is lesse.

As the Craven Curres, which at home or in their Kennels will tugge and bite the skinnes of those wilde beastes, which in the fields they durst not so much as barke-at. What is it that now adaies makes all our qaurrels mortall? And whereas our forefathers had some degree of reuenge, we now beginne by the last; and at first brunt nothing is spoken of but killing? What is it, if it be not Cowardise? Euery man seeth, it is more bravery and disdaine for one to beare his enemie, than make an end of him; and to keepe him at a bay, than make him die. Moreouer, that the desire of revenge is thereby alayed, and better contented; for, it aymeth at nothing so much as to give or shew a motion or feeling of reuenge onely of her selfe. And that's thereason reason we doe not chalenge a beast or fall vpon a stone, when it hurts vs, because they are incapable to feele our ren••nge. And to kill a man, is to shelter him from our offence. And euen as Bias, exclaimed vpon a wicked man; I know that soone or late thou shalt be pu∣nished for thy lewdnes, but I feare me I shall not see it: And moaned the Orchomenians, be∣cause the penance which Liciscus had for his treason committed against them, came at such a time, as none of them were living, whome it had concerned, and whom the pleasure of that punishment might most delight: So ought revenge to be moaned, when he on whom it is in∣flicted, looseth the meanes to endure or feel it. For, even as the revenger, will see the action of the revenge, that so he may feele the pleasure of it, so must he on whom he is revenged both see and feele that he may hereby receive both repentance and griefe. He shall rew it, say we, And though he receive a stabbe or a blow with a pistoll on his head, shall we thinke he will repent? Contrariwise, if we marke him well, we shall perceive that in falling, he makes a moe or bob at vs, Hee is farre from repenting, when hee rather seemes to be beholding to vs: In asmuch as we affoord him the favourablest office of life, which is to make him dye speedily, and as it were insensibly. We are left to shift vp and downe, runne and trot, and squat heere and there, and all to avoy de the Officers, or escape the Magistrates that pursue vs; and he is at rest. To kill a man, is good to escape a future offonce, and not revenge the wrougs past. It is rather an action of feare, than of bravery; Of precaution, than of courage; Of defence, than of an en∣terprise. It is apparant, that by it, we quit both the true end of revenge, and the respect of our reputation: If he live we feare he will or may charge vs with the like. It is not against him, it is for thee, thou riddest thy selfe of him. In the Kingdome of Narsinga, this expedient would be bootlesse: There, not onely Souldiers, and such as professe armes, but euery meane Artificer, decide their quarels with the Swordes point. The King neuer refuseth anie man the combate, that is disposed to fight; And if they be men of qualitie, he will be by in person, and reward the Victor with a chaine of Gold: Which, whosoeuer hath a mind vnto, and will obtaine it, may freely chalenge him that weareth the same, and enter combate with him. And hauing overcome one combate hath many following the same, If we thought by vertue to be ever superiors vnto our enemy, and at our pleasure gourmandize him, it would much grieve vs he should escape vs, as he doeth in dying. We rather endevor to vanquish surely, than ho∣nourably. And in our quarrels we rather seeke for the end, than for the glory. Asinius Pollio for an honest man, lesse excusable, committed a like fault; Who hauing written certaine in∣vectives against Plancus, staide vntill he were dead to publish them. It was rather to flurt at a blind man, and raile in a dead-mans eare, and to offend a sencelesse man, than incurre the danger of his revenge. And men answered in this behalfe, that it onely belonged to Hob∣goblins to wrestle with the dead. He who staieth till the Author be dead, whose writings hee will combate, what saith he, but that he is weake and quarrellous? It was told Aristotle, that some body had spoken ill of him, to whom he answered, Let him also whippe me, so my selfe be not by. Our forefathers were contented to revenge an iniurie with a lie; a lie with a blowe, a blowe with bloud; and so in order. They were sufficiently valiant not to feare their adversary though he lived aud were wronged: Whereas we quake for feare, so long as we see him a foote. And that it is so, doth not our moderne practize, pursue to death, as well him who hath wronged vs, as him whom we have offended? It is also a kinde of dastardlinesse, which hath brought this fashion into onr single combates, to accompany vs into the field with seconds, thirdes, and fourths. They were aunciently single combates, but now they are skirmishes and bat∣tels. To be alone, feared the first that invented it: Quum in se cui{que} minimum fiduciae esset.

When every man had least confidence in himselfe. For, what company soever it be, it doth natu∣rally bring some comfort & ease in danger, In ancient time they were wont to employ third persons as sticklers, to see no trechery or disorder were vsed, and to beare witnes of the com∣bates successe. But now this fashion is come vp, let any man be engaged whosoever is en∣vited, cannot well containe himselfe to be a spectator, lest it be imputed vnto him, it is either for want of affection, or lacke of courage. Besides the injustice of such an action and villa∣ny, for your honours protection, to engage other valour and force then your owne, I finde it a disadvantage in an honest and worthie man, and who wholly trusts vnto himselfe, to enter∣mingle his fortune with a second man: every one runneth sufficient hazard for himselfe, and neede not also runne it for another: And hath enough to doe to assure himselfe of his owne vertue for the defence of his life, without committing so precious a thing into third mens∣handes. For, if the contrarie hath not expressely beene covenanted of all foure, it is a com∣bined party. If your fellow chance to faile, you have two vpon you, and not without reason: And to say, it is a Superchiery, as it is indeed: as being wel armed, to charge a man who hath but a piece of a sword, or being sound and strong, to set vpon a man fore hurt. But if they bee advantages you have gotten fighting, you may vse them without imputation. Disparitie is not considered, and inequality is not balanced, but by the state wherein the fight is begunne. As for the rest you must rely on fortune: and if alone or single, you chance to have three vp∣on you, your other two companions being slaine, you have no more wrong done you, than I should offer in Wars in striking an enemie, whom at such an advantage I should finde grap∣led with one of my Fellow Souldiers. The nature of societie beareth, where troupe is a∣gainst troupe (as where our Duke of Orleans chalenged Henry King of England, one hundred against another hundred; three hundred against as many, as did the Argians against the Lace∣demonians; three to three, as were the Horatij against the Curatij) the pluralitie of either side is never respected for more than a single man. Whersoever there is company, the hazard is con∣fused and disordered. I have a private interest in this discourse. For, my brother, the Lord of Matecoulom, being desired in Rome, to second and accompany a Gentleman, with whom he had no great acquaintance, who was defendant and challenged by another; The fight be∣gunne, my brother by chance found himselfe confronted with one neerer and better knowne to him (I would faine be resolved of these Lawes of honour, which so often shocke and trouble those of reason) whom after he had vanquished and dispatched, seeing the two principalls of the quarrell yet standing and vnhurt, he went to reskew his fellow. What could he do lesse? should he have stoode still, and (if chance would so have had it) see him defeated, for whose defence he was entred the quarrell? What vntill then he had done was nothing to the purpose, and the quarrell was still vndecided. All the curtesie you can, you ought surely vse to your enemy, especially when you have brought him vnder, and to some great disadvan∣tage; I know not how a man may vse it, when anothers interest depends on it, where you are but accessory, and where the quarrell is not yours. Hee could never be just nor curteous, in hazard of him vnto whom he had lent himselfe. So was he presently delivered out of the Ita∣lian prisons by a speedy and solemne letter of commendations from our King. Oh indiscreete Nation! We are not contented to manifest our follies, and bewray our vices to the world by reputation: but wee goe into forraine Nations and there in person shew them. Place three French-men in the deserts of Libia, and they will never live one moneth together without brawling, falling out and scratching one another: you would say this peregrination, is a party erected to please strangers with our tragedies; and those most commonly, who reioyce and scoffe at our evills. We travell into Italie to learne the Arte of fencing, and practise it at the cost of our lives, before we know it; it were requisite according to the order of true Discipline, we should preferre the Theorike before the practike. We betray our apprentisage.

Primitiae iuvenum miserae, bellique futuri Dura rudimenta.— The miserable first essayes of youth, And hard beginnings of warre that ••nsu'th.

I know it is an Arte profitable to her end (in the single combate betweene the two Prin∣ces, cosin-Germanes, in Spaine, the eldest of which (saieth T. Livius) by the skill of his wea∣pons, & by craft, over came easily the dismayed forces of the yonger) and as by experience I have knowen, the knowledge and skill whereof, hath puffed vp the hart of some, beyond

their naturall proportion. But it is not properly a vertue, since shee draweth her stay from dexteritie, and takes her foundation from other than from her selfe. The honour of combatet consisteth in the iealosie of the hart, not of the science. And therefore have I seene some of my friends, renowned for great Masters in this exercise, in their quarels to make choise of wea∣pons, that might well take the meane of this aduantage or oddes from them; and which whol∣ly depended on fortune, and assurance that their victory might not rather be imputed to their fencing, than ascribed to their valour And in my infancy, our nobility scorned the reputati∣on of a fencer, though neuer so cunning, as injurious; and if any learnt it, they would sequester themselves from company, deeming the same as a mystery of craft and subtilty, derogating from true and perfect vertue.

Non schivar, non parar, non ritirarsi Ʋoglion costor, ne qui destrezzaha parte; Non danno i colpi finti hor pie••i, hor scarsi; Toglie lirae il furor •• vso deilarte, Odi le spade horribilmente vrtarsi A mozzo il ferro, il pie d`orma non parte, Sempre è il pie fermo, è la man sempre in moto, Ne scende taglio in van, ne punta à voto. T`avoyde, towarde retiring to give ground They reke not, nor hath nimblenes heere part: Nor give false blowes, nor full, nor scarse, nor sound, Rage and revenge bereave all vse of Arte. Their Swordes at halfe Sword horribly resound You might heare mette: No foote from steppe doth parte: Their foote still fast, their hand still faster mooveth: No stroke in vaine, no thrust in vaine, but prooveth.

Shooting at Buts, Tiltings, Torneyes, Barriers, the true images of martiall combates, were the exercises of our forefathers. This other exercise is so much the lesse noble, by how much it respecteth but a private end; which against the lawes of justice, teacheth vs to destroy one another, and euery way produceth euer mischievous effects. It is much more worthy, and beeter beseeming, for a man to exercise himselfe in things that assure and offend not our Common∣wealth; and which respect publike securitie and generall glory. Publius Consus, was the first that ever instituted the Souldier to manage his armes by dexteritie and skill, and joyned arte vnto vertue, not for the vse of private contentions, but for the wars and Roman peoples quar∣rels. A popular and civill manner of fencing. And besides the example of Caesar, who ap∣pointed his Souldier, above all things, to aime and strike at the face of Pompeyes men in the battell of Pharsalia: A thousand other Chiestaines and Generals have devised new fashi∣ons of weapons, and new kindes of striking, and covering of themselves, according as the present affaires required. But even as Philopoemen condemned wrestling, wherein hee excel∣led others, forsomuch as the preparations appertaining to this exercise differed from those that belong to military discipline, to which he supposed, men of honour should ammuse and addict themselves. Me thinkes also, that this nimblenesse or agilitie, to which men fashion and enure themselves, their limbes, their turnings, windings, and timble-quicke motions, wherein youth is instructed and trained in this new schoole, are not onely vnprofitable, but rather contrary and domageable for the vse of militarie combate: And we see our men doe commonly employ particular weapons, in their fence schooles, and peculiarly appointed for that purpose. And I have seene it disallowed, that a gentleman chalenged to fight with Rapier and Dagger, should present himselfe in the equipage of a man at armes; or that ano∣ther should offer to come with his cloake insteade of a Dagger. It is worthy the noting, that Lachaz in Plato, speaking of an apprentislage, how to manage armes, conformable to ours, saith, he could never see any notable warrior come of a schoole of fence, and espe∣cially from among the maisters. As for them our owne experience confirmes as much. And for the rest we may at least say, they are sufficiencies of no relation or correspondencie. And in the institution of the children of his Common wealth, Plato interdicts the artes of striking or playing with fists, devised by Amycus and Epeius, and to wrestle, invented by Anthoeus and Cecyo: because they aime at another end, then to adapt youth to warlike ser∣vice,

and have no affinitie with it. But I digresse much from my theame. The Emperour Mauricius, being forewarned by dreames▪ and sundry prognostications, that one Phocas a Souldier at that time yet vnknowne, should kill him, demanded of Philip his sonne in law, who that Phocas was, his nature, his conditions, and customes, and how amongst other things Philip told him, he was a fainte, cowardly, and timorousfellow: The Emperour thereby presently concluded, that he was both cruell and a murtherer. What makes tyrants so bloud-thirstie? it is the care of their securitie, and that their faint-hart yeelds them no other meanes to assure themselves, then by rooting out those which may in any sort offend them; yea silly women for feare they should or bite or scrach them?

Cuncta ferit dum cuncta timet.— Of all things he afraide, At all things fiercely laide.

The first cruelties are exercised by themselves, thence proceedeth the feare of a just re∣venge, which afterward produceth a swarme of new cruelties; by the one to stis••le the other. Philip, the King of Macedon, who had so many crowes to pull with the Romanes, agitated by the horrour of so many murthers committed by his appointment, and vnable to make his partie good, or to take any saue resolution against so many families, by him at severall times in∣juried, resolved at last to seize vpon all their children whom he had caused to be murthered, that so he might day by day one after another rid the world of them, and so establish his safe∣ty. Matters of worth are not impertinent wheresoever they be placed. I, who rather respect the weight and benefite of discourses, then their order and placing, neede not feare to place here at randone a notable storie. When they are so rich of their owne beautie, and may ve∣ry well vpholde themselves alone, I am content with a haires end, to fitte or joyne them to my purpose. Amongst others who had beene condemned by Philip, was one Herodi∣cus, Prince of the Thessalians: After whome he caused his two sonnes in lawe to bee put to death; each of them leaving a yoong sonne behinde him. Theoxena and Arco were the two widdowes. Theoxena although shee were instantly vrged therevnto, coulde ne∣ver be induced to marry againe. Arco tooke to husbande Poris a chiefe man amongst the Aenians, and by him had diverse children, all which she left very yoong. Theoxena moved by a motherly charitie toward her yoong nephewes, and so to have them in her protection and bringing vp wedded Poris. Vpon this came out the proclamation of the Kings Edict. This noble-minded mother, distrusting the kings crueltie, and fearing the mercilesnes of his Sate∣lities or officers towards these noble, hopefull and tender youths, feared not to say, that shee would rather kil them with her owne hands, then deliver them. Poris amazed at her protesta∣tions, promiseth her secretly to convey them to Athens, there by some of his faithfull friends to be kept safely. They take occasion of an yearely feast, which to the honor of Aeneas was solemnized at Aenia, and thither they goe, where having all day-long assisted to the cere∣monies▪ and publike banket: night being come, they convay themselves iuto a shippe, ap∣pointed for that purpose, in hope to save themselves by Sea. But the winde fell out so con∣trarie, that the next morning they found themselves in view of the towne, whence the night before they had hoised sailes, where they were pursued by the guarders and Souldiers of the Porte. Which Poris perceiving, laboured to hasten and encourage the Mariners to shift away: But Theoxena, enraged through love and revenge, remembring her first reso∣lution, prepared both weapons and poison, and presenting them to their sight, thus shee bespake them: Oh my deere children, take a good heart, death is now the onely meane of your defence and libertie, and shall be a just cause vnto the Gods for their holy justice. These bright-keene blades, these full cuppes shall free you the passage vnto it. Courage therefore, and thou my eldest childe, take this sworde to die the strongest death. Who on the one side hauing so vndaunted a perswader, and on the other their enemies ready to cut their throates, in furious manner ranne all to that which came next to his hand. And so all goared and panting were throwne into the Sea. Theoxena, prowde shee had so gloriouslie provided for her childrens safety, lovingly embracing her husband, saide thus vnto him; Oh my deare heart, let vs follow these boyes, and together with them enjoy one selfe same graue, And so close-claspt-together, they flung themselves in to the maine: So that the ship was brought to shoare againe, but emptie of hir Maisters. Tyrants to act two things toge∣ther, that is, to kill and cause their rage to be felt, have employed the vtmost of their skill, to

devise lingring deaths. They will have their enemies die, yet not so soone, but that they may have leisure to feele their vengeance. Wherein they are in great perplexitie: for if the torments be over-violent, they are short; if lingring, not grievous inough. In this they imploy their wits and devises. Many examples whereof we see in antiquitie; and I wot not, whether wittingly we retaine some spice of that barbari••me. Whatsoever is beyond a simple death, seemeth to mee meere crueltie. Our justice cannot hope, that he whom the terror of death cannot dismay, be he to be hanged or beheaded, can in any sort be troubled with the imagination of a lan∣guishing fire, of a wheele, or of burning pincers. And I wot not, whether in that meane time we bring him to despaire: For, what plight can the soule of a man be in, that is bro∣ken vpon wheele, or after the olde fashion, nailed vpon a Crosse, and xxiiij. houres together expects his death? Iosephus reporteth, that whilest the Romane warres continued in Iurie, passing by a place where certaine Iewes had beene crucified three dayes before, he knew three of his friends amongst them, and having gotten leave to remoove then, two of them died, but the third lived long after. Chalcondylas a man of credite, in the memories he left off matters happened in his time and thereabouts, maketh report of an extreame torment, the Emperor Mechmed was often wont to put in practise, which was by one onely blow of a Cimitary or broad Persian Sword, to have men cutte in two parts, by the waste of the body, about the Diaphragma, which is a membrane lying ouerthwart the lower part of the breast, separating the heart and lights from the stomake, which caused them to dy two deaths at once: and affirmeth that both parts were seene full of life, to moove and stirre long time after, as if they had beene in lingring torment. I doe not thinke, they felt any great torture in that mooving. The gastliest torments to looke vpon, are not alwai••s the greatest to be endured: And I finde that much more fiercely-horrible, which other Historians write and which he vsed against certain Lords of Epirus, whom faire and leasurely he caused to be fleade all over, disposed by so mali∣cious a dispensation, that their lives continued fifteene daies in that languor and anguish. And these two others; Croesus having caused a Gentleman to be apprehended, greatly favoured by Pantaleon his brother; led him into a fullers or cloth-workers shoppe, where with Cardes and Teazles belonging to that trade, he made him to be carded, scraped, and teazled so long vntill he died of it. George Sechell Ring-leader of the Countrymen of Polina, who vnder the title of a Croysada, wrought so many mischiefes, having beene defeated in a battell by the Ʋayvoda of Transilvania, and taken Prisoner, was for three dayes together tyed naked to a woden-horse, exposed to all maner of tottures, any man might devise against him; during which time divers other prisoners were kept fasting. At last, he yet living, saw Lueat his deare brother, and for whose safety he saued and entreated, forced to drinke his bloud, drawing all the envie and ha∣tred of his misdeedes vpon himselfe. And twentie of his most favoured Captaines were com∣pelled to feed vpon his flesh, which with their teeth they must teare off, and swallow their morsels. The rest of his body and entrailes, he being dead, were boiled in a pan, and given for foode to other of his followers.

The eight and twentieth Chapter.

All things have their season.

THose who compare Cato the Censor, to C••••o the yonger that killed himselfe, compare two notable natures, and in forme neare one vnto another. The first exploited his, sun∣drie waies, and excelleth in militarie exploites, and vtilitie of his publike vacations. But the yongers vertue (besides that it were blasphemie, in vigor to compare any vnto him) was much more sincere and vnspotted. For, who will discharge the Censores of envie and am∣bition, that durst counter-checke the honor of Scipio, in goodnesse and all other parts of ex∣cellencie, farre greater and better than him or any other man living in his age? Amongst other things reported of him, this is one, that in his eldest yeares he gave himselfe, with so ernest a longing to learne the Greeke tong, as if it had been to quench a long burning thirst: A thing in mine opinion not very honorable in him. It is properly that which we call doting

or to become a child againe. All things have their season, yea the good and all. And I may say my Pator noster out of season. As T. Quintius Flaminius was accused, forasmuch as being Generall of an Army, even in the houre of the conflict, he was seene to withdraw himselfe apart, ammusing himselfe to pray God, although he gained the battell.

Imponit finem sapiens & rebus honestis. A wise-man will vse moderation, Even in things of commendation.

Eudemonidas seeing Xenocrates very old, laboriously apply himself in his Schoole-lectures said, when will this man know something, since he is yet learning? And Philopoemen, to those who highly extolled King Ptolomey, because he daily hardned his body to the exercise of armes: It is not (said he) a matter commendable in a King of his age, in them to exercise him∣selfe, he should now really and substancially imploy them. Wise men say, that yoong-men should make their preparations, and old men enioy them. And the greatest vice they note in vs, is, that our desires doe vncessantly grow yonger and yonger. We are ever beginning a new to live. Our studies and our desires should sometimes have a feeling of age. We have a foote in the grave, and our appetites and pursuites are but new-borne.

Tusecanda marmora Locas sub ipsum funus, & sepulcri Immemor, struis domos. You, when you should be going to your grave, Put Marble out to worke, build houses brave, Vnmindfull of the buriall you must have.

The longest of my desseignes doth not extend to a whole yeare; now I onely apply my selfe to make an end: I shake off all my newe hopes and enterprises: I bid my last farewell to all the places I leave, and daily dispossesse my selfe of what I have. Olim iam nec peris quic∣quam mihi, nec acquiritur: Plus superest viatici quam viae. It is a good while since I neither loose nor get any thing; I have more to beare my charges then way to goe.

Vixi, & quem dederat cursum fortuna peregi. I have liv'd, and the race have past, Wherein my fortune had me plast.

To conclude, it is all the ease I finde in my age, and that it suppresseth many cares and de∣sires in me, wherewith life is much disquieted. The care of the worlds course, the care of riches, of greatnesse, of knowledge, of health and of my selfe. This man learneth to speake, when he should rather learne to hold his peace for ever. A man may alwaies continue his studie, but not schooling. O fond-foolish for an old man to be ever an Abcedarian.

Diversos diversa iuuant, non omnibus annis. Omnia conveniunt.— Diverse delights to diverse, nor to all Do all things at all yeares convenient fall.

If we must needes study let vs study something sorteable to our condition, that we may an∣swer, as he did, who being demanded what his studies would steade him in his decrepity, an∣swered; that he might the better, and with more ease leave this world. Such a study was yoong Catoes, in ••ore feeling his approaching end, who lighting vpon Platoes discourse of the soules immortality. Not, as it may be supposed, that long before he had not stored himselfe with all sorts of munition for such a dislodging. Of assurance, of constancy and instruction, he had more then Plato hath in all his writings: His Science, and his courage, were in this respect above all Philosophie. Hee vndertooke this occupation, not for the service of his death, but as one, who did not so much as interrupt his sleepe, in a deliberation of such consequence, whoever without choise or change continued his wonted studies, and all other accustomed actions of his life. The same night, wherein the Pretorship was refused him, he passed o∣ver in play. That wherein he must die, he spent in reading. The losse of life or office was all one to him.

The nine and twentieth Chapter.

Of Vertue.

I Finde by experience, that there is great difference betweene the sodaine fits and fantasies of the soule, and a resolute disposition and constant habitude: And I see, there is nothing but we may attaine vnto, yea, as some say, to exceede Divinitie it selfe; forsomuch as it is more to become impassible of himselfe, then to be so by his originall condition: And that one may joyne a resolution and assurance of God to mans imbecilitie. But it is by fits. And in the lives of those Heroes or noble worthies of former ages, are often found wonderfull parts, and which seeme greatly to exceede our naturall forces: but they are prankes or parts consonant to truth: and it may hardly be believed, mans soule may so be tainted and fed with those so high-raised conditions, that vnto it they may become as ordinary and naturall. It hapneth vnto our selves, who are but abortiue broodes of men, sometimes to rowze our soule farre beyond her ordinary pitch, as stirred vp by the discourses, or provoked by the exam∣ples of others. But it is a kinde of passion, which vrgeth, mooveth, agitateth and in some sorte ravisheth her from out her selfe: for, that gust overblowne, and storme past, we see, it will vnawares vnbend and loose it selfe, if not to the lowest pitch, at least to be no more the same she was, so that vpon every slight occasion, for a bird lost, or for a glasse broken, we suffer our selves to be mooved and distempered very neere as one of the vulgar sort. Fxcept order, moderation and constancie, I imagine all things may bee done by an indifferent and defe∣ctive man. Therefore say wisemen, that directly to judge of a man, his common actions must specially be controuled, and he must every day be surprised in his worky-day clothes. Pyr∣rho, who framed so pleasant a Science of ignorance, assaide (as all other true Philosophers) to fashion his life answerable to his doctrine. And forasmuch as hee maintained the weake∣nesse of mans judgement, to be so extreame, as it could take nor resolution, nor inclina∣tion: and would perpetually suspend it, ballancing, beholding and receiving all things, as indifferent: It is reported of him, that he ever keept himselfe after one fashion, looke and countenance: If he had begunne a discourse, he would end it, though the party to whom he spake, were gone: And if he went any where, he would not goe an inche out of his path, what let or obstacle somever came in his way; being kept from falls, from cartes or other ac∣cidents by his friends. For, to feare or shunne any thing, had beene to shocke his proposi∣tions, which remooved all election and certainty from his very senses. He sometimes suf∣fered himselfe to be cut and cautherized, with such constancie, as he was never seene so much as to shrug, twitch, move or winke with his eyes. It is something to bring the minde to these imaginations, but more to joine the effects vnto it, yet is it not impossible. But to joyne them with such preseverance and constancie, as to establish it for an ordinary course; verily in these enterprises so farre from common vse, it is almost incredible to be done. The rea∣son is this, that he was sometimes found in his house, bitterly scolding with his sister, for which being reproved, as hee that wronged his indifferencie: What? said hee, must this see∣ly woman also serve as a witnesse to my rules? Another time, being found to defend himselfe from a dog: It is (replied he) very hard, altogether to dispoyle and shake off man: And man must endevour and enforce himselfe to resist and confront all things, first by effects, but if the worst befall, by reason and by discourse. It is now about seaven or eight yeares since, that a countrie man, yet living, not above two leagues from this place, having long be∣fore beene much vexed and troubled in minde, for his wives jealousie; one day comming home from his worke, and she after her accustomed maner welcomming and entertaining him with brawling and scowlding, as one vnable to endure her any longer, fell into such a moodie rage, that sodainely with a Sickle, which he held in his hand, he cleane cut off those parts, that were the cause of her jealousie, and flung them in her f••ce. And it is report∣ed, that a yong gentleman of France, amorous and lustie, having by his perseverance at last mollified the hart of his faire mistresse, desperate, because comming to the point of his so long sued-for businesse, he found himselfe vnable and vnprepared, and that

—non viriliter Iners senil•• penis extulerat caput.

as soone as he came home, he deprived himselfe of it: and sent it as a cruell and bloudy sacri∣fice for the expiation of his offence. Had he done it by discourse or for religions sake, as the priestes of Cybele were wont to do, what might we not say of so haughty an enterprise? Not long since at Bragerac, five leagues-distance from my house, vp the river of Dordaigne, a wo∣man, having the evening before beene grievously tormented, and sore beaten by hir hus∣band; froward and skittish by complexion, determined, though it should cost hir the price of hir life, by one meane or other, to escape his rudenesse, and rising the next morning, went as she was accustomed to visite hir neighbours to whom in some sort the recommended the state of hir affaires, than taking a sister of hirs by the hand, ledde hir along vntill shee came vppon the bridge that crosseth the River, and having bid hir hartily farwell; as in the way of sport without shewing any maner of change or alteration, headlong threw hirselfe downe into the River, where she perished. And which is more to be noted in hir, is, that this hir determi∣nation ripened a whole night in hir head. But the Indian Wives, may not here be forgotten as worthy the noting: Whose custome is, that Husbands have many Wives and for hir that is dearest vnto hir Husband, to kil hirselfe after him: Every one in the whole course of hir life, endevoreth to obtaine this priviledge and advantage over al hir fellow-wives: And in the good offices and duties they shew their hubands, respect no other recompence, than to be preferred to accompany them in death.

Vbi mortifero iacta est fax vltima laecto, —Vxorum fusis, stat pia turba comis: Et certamen habent Laethi, quae viva sequatur —Coniugium, pudor est non licuisse mori: Ardent victrices, & flammae pectora praebent, —Imponúnt que suis or a perust a viris. When for his death-bed last flame is appli'de With loose haires many kind wives stand be side, And strive for death, which alive may be next Hir wedlocke, who may not is sham'd and vex't They that orecome, are burn'd, to flames give way, Their bodies burnt on their burnt husbands lay.

A late Writer affirmeth, that himselfe hath seene this custome highly reputed in the new discovered East Indiaes, where not only the wives are buried with their husbands, but also such slaves as hee hath enjoyed; which is done after this manner. The husband being de∣ceased, the widdow may, if she will (but fewe doe it) request two or three Moneths space to dispose of hir busines. The day come, adorned as a sumptuous bride, she mounteth on horse∣backe, and with a cheerful countenance, tell eth every body, she is going to lie with hir bride groome, holding in her left hand a looking-glasse, and an arrow in the right. Thus having a while rid vp and downe in great pompe and magnificence, accompanied with her friendes and kins-men, and much concourse of people, in feast and jolitie, she is brought vnto a pub∣like place, purposely appointed for such spectacles. Which is a large open place, in the mid∣dest whereof is a pit or grave full of Wood, and neere vnto it an vpraised scaffold, with foure or five steppes to ascend, vpon which she is brought, and served with a stately and sumptu∣ous banket, Which ended, she beginneth to dance and sing, and when she thinks good com∣mandeth the fire to be kindled. That done, she commeth downe againe, and taking the nea∣rest of hir Husbands kindred by the hand, they goe together to the nex River, where shee strippes hir selfe all naked, and distributeth hir jewels and clothes among hir friends, then plungeth herselfe in the Water, as if she meant to wash away hir sins; then comming out she enwrappeth herselfe in a yellow piece of linnen cloth, about the length of fourteene yards; And giving hir hand againe vnto hir Husbands Kins-man, they returne vnto the Mount, where she speakes vnto the people, to whom (if she have any) she recommendeth hir Chil∣dren. Betweene the Pitte and Mount, there is commonly a Curtaine drawne, lest the sight of that burning furnace might dismay them: Which many, to shew the greater courage, will not have it drawne. Her speech ended, a Woman presenteth her with a Vessell ful of Oyle, therewith to annoint hir head and body, which done, she casteth the rest into the fire, and

there withall sodainely flings herselfe into it: Which is no sooner done, but the people cast great store of Faggo••s and Billets vpon hir, lest she should languish over-long: and all their joy is converted into griefe and sorrow. If they be persons of meane quality, the dead mans body is carried to the place where they intend to bury him, and there he is placed sitting; his Widdow kneeling before him with hir armes close about his middle, and so keepeth hirselfe, whilest a Wall is erected vp about them both, which raised to the height of her shoulders, some of her kindred taking her by the head behind, wrings her neck about; and having given the last gaspe, the wall is immediately made vp close over their heades, wherein they remaine buried. In the same Country, there was something like to this in their Gymnosophists, or wise-men, who not by meanaces-or compulsions of others, nor by the violence of a sodaine humour but by the expresse and voluntary profession of their rule, their maner was accor∣ding as they attained vnto a certaine age, or saw themselves threatned by some sickenesse, to cause a pile of Wood to be erected, and vpon it▪a rich bedde; and having cheerefully feasted their friends and acquaintance, with such a resolution laide themselves downe in that bedde, that fire set vnto it, they were never seene to stirre nor hand nor foote? and thus died one of them, named Calanus, in the presence of all the army of Alexander the Great. And who had not so made himselfe away, was neither esteemed holy nor absolutely happy amongst them? sending his soule purged and purified by fire, after it had consumed whatsoever was mortall and iterrestriall in it. This constant premeditation of al the life, is that which makes the won∣der. Amongest our other disputation, that of Fatum, hath much entermedled it selfe: and to joyne future things, and our will it selfe vnto a certaine vnavoidable necessity, wee yet stand vpon that argument of former times: since God foreseeth all things must thus happen as vn∣doubtedly he doeth: They must then necessarily happen so. To which our Clarks and Mai∣sters answere, that to see any thing come to passe, as we doe, and likewise God (for hee being present in full essence, rather feeth than foreseeth) is not to force the same to happen: yea we see, because things come to passe, but things happen not because we see. The hapning makes the science or knowledge, and not knowledge the happening. What we see come to passe, happeneth; but it might come to passe otherwise. And God in the eternall register of the causes of happenings, which he hath in his prescience, hath also those, which are called casu∣all; and the voluntary, which depend of the liberty, he hath given vnto our free wil, and know∣eth we shall faile, because our will shall have beene to faile. I have seene diverse encourage their troupes with this fatall necessitie: For, if our houre be tied vnto a certaine point neither the musket-shottes of our enemies, nor our courage, nor our flight and cowardize, can either advance or recoyle the same.

This may well be saide, but seeke you who shall effect it: And if it be so, that a strong and lively faith, doth likewise draw action after it: truely this faith (wherewith wee so much fill our mouths) is marvelous light in our times: except the contempt it hath of workes, make her disdaine their company. So it is, that to the same purpose, the Lord of Ioinville, as cre∣dible a witnesse as any other, tells vs of the Bedoins, a nation entermingled with the Sara∣cine, with whom our King Saint Lewes had to deale in the holy land, who so confidently believed in their religion, the dayes of every one to be prefixed and numbred from all eter∣nitie, by an inevitable preordinance, that they went all bare and naked to the warres, except a Turkish Glaive in their hand, and their body covered but with a white linnen-cloth: And for the the bitterest curse, if they chanced to fall out one with another, they had ever in their mouth: Cursed be thou, as he that armeth himselfe for feare of death. Here is another maner of triall or a beliefe or faith, then ours, In this rank may likewise be placed that which those two religious men of Florence, not long since gave vnto their countrymen. Being in some contro∣versie betweene themselves about certaine points of learning; they accorded to goe both in∣to the fire, in the presence of all the people, and in the open market place, each one for the veri∣fying of his opinion; and all preparations were ready made, an execution to be performed, but that by an vnexpected accident it was interrupted. A yong Turkish Lord, having atchie∣ved a notable piece of service in armes, and with his owne person, in full view of the two bat∣tels betweene Ammurath & Huniades ready to be joyned together, being demanded by Am∣murath his Prince, who (being so yong and vnexperienced, for is was the first warre o•• service he had seene before) had replenished him with so generous and vndanted vigor of courage? answered, that a Hare had beene his soveraigne maister and onely teacher of valour; and

thus began his speech. Being one day a hunting, I found a Hare sitting in her forme, and although I had a brace of excellent good gray-houndes with me in a slip or leash, I thought it good, because I would be sure of my game to vse my bow; for she was a very faire marke I beganne to shoot•• my arrowes at her, which I did to the number of fortie (for in my quiver were iust so many) yet could I never hurt her, no not so much as start her: After all this, I let slip my gray-hounds, who could doe no more then I had done: by which I learnt, that she had beene sheltred and defended by her destinie; and that no glaives nor arrowes never hit, but by the permission of our fatalitie, which it lieth not in vs to avoide or advance. This storie may serve to make vs perceive by the way, how fle∣xible our reason is to all sorts of Objects. A notable man, great in yeares, in name, in dignity and in learning, vaunted himselfe vnto me, that he was induced to a certaine most important change of his religion, by a strange and fantasticall incitation: and in all things so il-concluding that I deemed the same stronger and more forcible, being taken contrary. He termed it a mi∣racle, and so did I, but in a different sense. Their historians say, that perswasion having po∣pularly beene scattered amongst the Turkes, of the fatall and inflexible prescription of their dayes, doth apparantly ayde to warrant and emboulden them in dangers. And I know a great Prince, who happily thrives by it, be it he beleive it, or take it for an excuse to hazard him∣selfe extraordinarily; provided fortune be not soone wearie to favour and backe him. There hath not happened in our memorie a more admirable effect of resolution, than of those two villaines that conspired the death of the Prince of Orange: It is strange how, the last, who perfourmed the same could be induced or encouraged to vndergoe such an enterprise, where∣in his fellow (though he had resolutely attempted it, and had all might be required for such an action) had so ill successe, and miscarried. And in these steps, and with the same weapons, to goe and vndertake a Lord, armed with so late an instruction of distrust; mighty in friends and followers; puis∣sant of bodily strength; in his owne hall; amiddest his servants and guarde; and in a Citty wholy at his devotion. It must of force be saide, that in perfourming it, he employed a well-directed and reso¦lute hand, and a dreadlesse courage mooved by a vigorous passion. A Poynard is more sure to wound a man, which forsomuch as it requireth more motion and vigor of the arme, than a pistole, it's stroke is more subject to be hindred or avoided. That the first ranne not to an as∣sured death, I make no great doubt, for the hopes wherewith hee might be entertained could not harbour in a well setled and resolute minde; and the conduct of his exploit, sheweth, hee wanted no more that, then courage. The motions of so forcible a perswasion may be diverse; for, our fantasie disposeth of her selfe and of vs as she pleaseth. The execution committed neere Orleans had no coherence with this, wherein was more hazard, then vigor; the blow was not mortall, had not fortune made it so: and the enterprise to shoote on horse-backe and farre-off, and to one who mooved still according to the motion of his horse was the attempt of a man, that rather loved to misse of his effect, then faile to save himselfe. What followed did mani∣festly shew it. For, he was so amazed & drunken with the thought of so haughty an execution, as he lost all his senses, both to worke his escape, and direct his tongue in his answeres. What needed he have done more, then recover his friends by crossing of a river; It is a meane, wher∣in I have cast my selfe in farre lesse dangers, and which I thinke of small hazard, how broade soever, alwayes provided your horse finde an easie entrance, and on the further side you fore∣see an easie and shallow landing, according to the course of the streame of the water. The se∣cond, when the horrible sentence was pronounced against him, answered stowtly, I was prepa∣red for it, and I shall amaze you with my patience. The Assassines, a nation depending of Phaenicia, are esteemed among the Mahometists of a soveraigne devotion and puritie of maners; they hold, that the readiest and shortest way to gaine Paradise, is to kill some one of a contrary re∣ligion: therefore hath it often beene seene, that one or two in their bare doublets have vnder∣taken to assault mightie enemies, with the price of an assured death, and without any care of their owne danger. And thus was our Earle Raymond of Tripoli murthered or assassinated (this word is borrowed from their name) in the middest of his Cittie, during the time of our warres in the holy land: And likewise Conrade Marquis of Montferrato, his murtherers being brought to their torture, were seene to swel with pride, that they had performed so worthy an exploit.

The thirtieth Chapter.

Of a monstrous Child,

THis discourse shall passe single, for I leave it to Phisitions to treate of. I sawe two dayes since a childe, whom two men and a nurce (which named themselves to be his father, his Vnckle, and his Aunt) carried about with intent to get some money with the sight of him, by reason of his strangenes. In all the rest, he was as other children are, He stoode vpon his feete, went and pratled in a maner as all others of his age: Hee would never take nourish∣ment, but by his nurces breast; and what in my presence was offred to be put in his mouth, he chewed a little, and put it all out againe. His puling differed somewhat from others: He was just fourteene moneths olde. Vnder his paps he was fastned and joyned to an other childe, but had no head, and who had the conduite of his backe stopped, the rest whole. One of his armes was shorter then the other, and was by accident broken at their birth. They were joyned face to face, and as if a h••••e childe would embrace another somewhat bigger. The joyning and space whereat they were closed together, was but foure inches b••oade, or there∣abouts; insuch sort that if you thrust vp the imperfect childe, you might see vnder the others navill: And the seame was betweene the paps and his navill. The navill of the imperfect one could not be seene but all the rest of his belly ••••ght, Thus, what of the imperfect one was not joyned, as armes buttocks, thighes and legges did hang and shake vpon the other, whose length reached to the middle-leg of the other perfect. His Nurce tolde me, hee made water by both privities. The members of the little one were nourished, living▪ and in the same state as the others, except only, they were lesse and thinner. This double body, and these different members, having reference to one onely head, might serve for a favorable prog∣nostieation to our King, to maintaine the factions and differing parties of this our kingdome vnder an vnitie of the lawes. But, least the successe should prove it contrarie, it is not amisse to let him runne his course: For in things alreadie past their neede no divination. Ʋt quum factasunt, tum ad coniecturam aliqua inter pretatione revocantur: So as when they are done, they then by some construction should be revoked to coniecture: As it is reported of Epimenides, who ever divined backward, I come now from seeing of a shepheard at Medoc, of thirtie yeares of age, or thereabouts, who had no signe at all of genitorie parts: But where they should be, are three little holes, by which his water doth continually trill from him. This poore man hath a beard, and desireth still to be fumbling of women. Those which we call monsters are not so with God, who •••• the immensitie of his worke fecth the infinitie of forme therein contained. And it may be thought, that any figure doth amaze vs, hath relation vnto some other figure of the same kinde, although vnknowne vnto man. From out his all-seeing wisedome proceedeth nothing but good, common regular and orderly; but we neither see the sorting, nor conceive the relation. Quod crebrò videt, non miratur, etiam si, our fiat nescit. Quod antè non videt, id, si evenerit, o∣stentum esse censet. That which he often seeth, he doth not wonder at, though he know not why it is done; But if that happen, which he never saw before, he thinkes it some portentuous wonder. Wee call that against nature, which commeth against custome: There is nothing, whatsoever it be, that is not according to hir. Let therefore this vniversall and naturall reason, chase from vs the error, and expell the astonishment, which noveltie breedeth, and strangenes causeth in vs.

The one and thirtieth Chapter.

Of anger and choller.

PLutarke is every where admirable, but especially where he judgeth of humane actions. The notable things he reporteth, may be perceived in the comparison of Lycurgus and

Numa, speaking of the great simplicitie we commit, in leaving yong children vnder the go∣vernment and charge of their fathers and parents. Most of our policies, or Common-wealths, saith Aristotle (as the Cyclopes were wont) commit the conduct of their wives, and charge of their children, to all men, according to their foolish humor or indiscreete fantazies. And wel-nigh, none but the Lacedemonian and Cretensian, have resigned the discipline of chil∣dren to the lawes. Who seeth not, that in an estate all things depend of nurture and education? And all the while, without discretion, it is wholy left to the parents mercie, how foolish and wicked soever they be. Amongst other things, how often (walking through our streetes) have I desired to have a play or comedie made in revenge of yoong boyes, which I sawe thumpt, misused▪ and well nigh murthered by some hare-brained, moodie, and through choller-raging Fathers and Mothers, from out whose eyes a man might see sparkles of rage to startle,

—rabie iecur incendente feruntur Praecipites, vt saxa iugis abrupta, quibus mons Subtrahitur, cli••òque latus pendente recedit: They headlong runne with rage, which doth enflame their livers Like stones that broken fall from mountaine tops in shivers, The hill withdrawes, and they are rould From hanging cliffe which leaves their hold.

(And according to Hypocrates, the most dangerous infirmities, are those which disfigure the face) and with a loud thundring voice often to follow children that came but lately from nurce; Which after prove lame, maimed, blockish and dull-pated with blowes: And yet our lawes make no accoumpt of it, as if these spraines, and vnjoyntings of lims, or these maimes were no members of our Common-wealth.

Gratum est quód patriae civem populóque dedisti, Si facis vt patriae sit, idoneus vtilis agris, Ʋtilis & bellorum & pacis rebus agendis. That you to th'countrie give a man, 'tis acceptable, If for the countrie fit you make him, for field's able, Of peace and warre for all achievements profitable.

There is no passion so much transports the sinceritie of iudgement, as doth anger. No man would make conscience to punish that Iudge by death; who in rage or choller had condemned an offender▪ And why should fathers be allowed to beate, or schoolemaesters be suffered to whip chil∣dren, or to punish them being angrie? It is no longer correction, but revenge. Punishment •••• vnto children as phisike; and would any man endure a phisicion, that were angrie and wroth against his patient? Our selves (did wee well) during the time of our anger, should never lay hands one our servants. So long as our pulse panted, and wee feele any concitation, so long remit we the partie: And things will seeme farre otherwise vnto vs, if we once come to our senses againe, and shall better bethinke vs. Then is it passion that commandes. It is passion that speaketh and not wee. Athwart it, faults seeme much greater vnto vs, as bodies doe athwart a foggie mist. Whoso is hungrie, vseth meate, but who so will vse chastisement, should ne∣ver hunger nor thirst after it. Moreover, corrections given with discretion and moderation, are more gently received, and with more good to him that receiveth them. Otherwise hee shall never thinke to have beene justly condemned, by a man who is transported by rage and choller, and for his justification alleadgeth the extraordinarie motions of his maister, the inflammation of his face, his vnwonted othes, his chafing, his vnquiernesse and hi•• ra••h precipitation.

Ora tument ira, nigrescunt sanguine venae, Lumina Gorgoneo saeuius igne micant. The face with anger swelles, the veines growe blacke with blood, The eyes more fiercely shine then Gorgons, fierie moode.

Suetonius writeth, that Caius Rabirius, having by Caesar beene condemned, nothing, did him so much good toward the people (to whom he appealed) to make him obtain his sute, as the sharpnes and over boldnes which Caesar had declared in that judgement. Saying is one thing, and doing another. A man must consider the sermon apart and the preacher severall. Those have made themselves good sport, who in our daies have gone about to checke the veritie of our

Church, by the ministers vice: She fetcheth hir testimonie from elsewhere. It is a foolish manner of arguing, and which would soone reduce all things to a confusion. An honest man may sometimes have false opinions, and a wicked man may preach truth: Yea such a one as beleeves it not. Verely, it is a pleasing harmonie, when doing and saying goe together. And I will not deny, but saying, when deedes follow, is of more efficacie and authoritie: As said Eudamidas, when he heard a Philosopher discourse of warre: These speeches are good, but he that speakes them, is not to be beleeved, For his eares were never accustomed to heare the clang of trumpets, nor rattling of drums. And Cleomenes hearing a Rethoritian speake of valour, burst out into an extreame laughter: Whereat the other being offended, he said vnto him: I would doe as much if it were a Swallowe should speake of it, but were he an Eagle, I should gladly heare him. Me seemeth I perceive in ancient mens writings, that he who speakes what he thinketh, toucheth nearer the quicke, then he who counterfaits. Heare Cicero speake of the love of libertie; then listen to Brutus, their very wordes will tell you and sound in your eare, the latter was a man raedie to purchase it with the price of his life. Let Cicero, that father of eloquence treate of the contempt of death, and let Seneca discourse of the same; the first drawes it-on languish∣ing, and you shall plainely perceive, he would faine resolve you of a thing, whereof he is not yet resolved himselfe. He giveth you no hart, for himselfe hath none: Whereas the other doth rowze, animate and inflame you. I never looke vpon an Author, be they such as write of vertue and of actions, but I curiously endevor to finde out what he was himselfe. For, the Ephori of Sparta, hearing a dissolute liver propose a very beneficiall advise vnto the people, commaunded him to hold his peace, and desired an honest man to assume the invention of it vnto himselfe and to propound it. Plutarkes compositions, if they be well favored, doe plainely manifest the same vnto vs: And I am perswaded I knowe him inwardly: Yet would I be glad, we had some memories of his owne life: And by the way I am falne into this dis∣course, by reason of the thankes I owe vnto Aulus Gellius, in that he hath left vs written this storie of his manners, which fitteth my subiect of anger. A slave of his, who was a lewd and vicious man, but yet whose eares were somewhat fedde with Philosophicall docu∣ments, having for some faults by him committed, by the commandement of Plutarke his master, beene stripped naked, whilst another servant of his whipped him, grombled in the be∣ginning, that he was whipped without reason, and had done nothing: But in the end, main∣ly crying out, he fell to rayling and wronging his master, vpbraiding him, that he was not a true Philosopher, as he vanted himselfe to be, and how he had often heard him say, that, it was an vnseemely thing in a man to be angrie. And that he had made a booke of it: And now all plonged in rage, and engulfed in choller to cause him so cruelly to be beaten, was cleane con∣trarie to his owne writing. To whom Plutarke with an vnaltered, and milde-settled coun∣tenance, said thus vnto him. What? Thou raskall, whereby doest thou judge I am now an∣grie? Doth my countenance, doth my voice, doth my colour, or doth my speech give thee any testimonie, that I am either mooved or chollerike? Me seemeth, mine eyes are not staring∣ly-wilde, nor my face troubled, nor my voice frightfull or distempered: Doe I waxe redde? Doe I foame at the mouth? Dooth any word escape me I may repent heareafter? Doe I startle and quake? Doe I rage and ruffle with anger? For, to tell thee true, these are the right signes of choler and tokens of anger. Then turning to the party that whipped him, conti∣nue still thy worke, quoth he whilst this fellow and I dispute of the matter. This is the report of Gellius. Architas Tarentinus returning from a war, where he had been Captaine generall, found his house all out of order, husbandrie all spoiled, and by the ill government of his Baily, his ground all waste and ••••manured; and having called for him, said thus; Away bad man, for if I were not angrie, I would have the whipt for this. Plato likewise, being vexed and angrie with one of his slaves, commaunded Speusippus to punish him, excusing himselfe, that now being angrie he would not lay hands vpon him. Charillus the Lacedemonian, to on Ilelot or cuntrey hinde behaved himselfe over insolently and audaciously towards him; By the Gods (said he) If I were not now angrie, I would presently make thee die. It is a passion which pleaseth and flattereth it selfe. How many times being moved by any false suggestion, if at that iustant we be presen∣ted with any lawfull defence or true excuse, doe we fall into rage against truth and innocen∣cie it selfe? Touching this purpose, I have retained a wonderfull example of antiquitie. Piso in divers other respects, a man of notable vertue, being angrie, and chafing with one of his Souldiers, who returning from forage or boot-haling, could not give him an accoumpt

where hee had left a fellow-Souldier of his, and thereupon concluding hee had killed or made him away, foorthwith condemned him to be hanged. And being vpon the gallowes readie to die; behold his companion, who had stragled abroade, comming home, whereat all the army rejoyced very much, and after many embracings and signes of joy betweene the two souldiers, the hangman brought both vnto Piso; all the companie hoping, it would bee a great pleasure vnto him; but it fell out cleane contrarie▪ for through shame & spite his wrath still burning was redoubled, and with a slie devise his passion instantly presented to his mind, he made three guiltie, forsomuch as one of them was found innocent; and caused them all three to be dispat••h••d. The first Souldier because he was aliedie condemned; the second, which had strag••ed abroade, by reason he was the cause of his fellowes death; and the hang∣man, for that he had not fulfilled his Generalles commaundement. Those who have to deale with froward and skittish women have no doubt seen what rage they wil fal into, if when they are most angrie and cha••ing, a man be silent and patient, and disdaine to foster their anger and wrath, Celius the Orator was by nature exceeding fretfull and cholerike. To one who was with him at supper, a man of a milde and gentle conversation, and who because he would not moue him, seemed to approve what ever he said, and yeelde to him in every thing; as vnable to endure his peevishnes should so passe without some nourishment, burst out into a rage, and said vnto him. For the love of God deny me something, that we may be two. So women are never angrie, but to the end a man should againe be angrie with them, therein imitating the lawes of Love. Phocion to a man who troubled his discourse with brawling and skolding at him, in most injurious manner, did nothing else but holde his peace and given him what leasure hee would to vent his choller; which done, without taking any notice of it, began his discourse againe where hee had left it off, There is no reply so sharpe as such silent contempt. Of the most chollerike and teastie man of France (which is ever an imperfection, but more excusable in a military man; for it must needes be granted, there are in that profession some men who can∣not well avoyde it) I ever say, hee is the patientest man I knowe to bridle his choller; it moo∣veth and trannsporteth him with such furie and violence,

—magno veluti cùm flamma sonore Ʋirgea suggeritur cost is vndantis aheni, Exultántque aestu latices, furit in••us aquaï Fumidus atque al••è spumis exuberat amnis, Nec iam se capit vnda, volat vapor ater ad auras, As when a fago•• flame with hurring sounds Vnder the ribbes of boyling cauldron lies, The water swelles with heat beyond the bounds, Whence steeming streames raging and foming rise, Water out-runn's it selfe, blacke vapors flye to skies.

that hee must cruelly enforce himselfe to moderate the same. And for my part, I knowe noe passion I were able to ••mother with such temper and abide with such resolution. I would not set wisedome at so high a rate. I respect not so much what hee doth, as how much it costs him not to doe worse. Another boasted in my presence, of his behauiours order and milde∣nesse, which in truth is singular: I tolde him, that indeede it was much, namely in men of so eminent qualitie, as himselfe was, on whome all eyes are fixed, alwayes to shew himselfe in a good temper: but that the chiefest point consisted in providing inwardly and for himselfe; and that in mine opinion, it was noe discreete parte inwardly to fret: which, to maintaine that marke and formall outward apparance, I feared hee did. Choller is incorporated by con∣cealing and smothering the same, as Diogenes saide to Demosthenes, who fearing to be seene in a Taverne, withdrew himselfe into the same: The more thou recoylest backe, the further thou goest into it. I woulde rather perswade a man, though somewhat out of season, to give his boy a whirret on the ea••e, then to dissemble this wise, sterne or severe countenance, to vex and fret his minde. And I woulde rather make shew of my passions, then smother them to my cost: which being vented and exprest, become more languishing and weake: Better it is to let it's pointe worke outwardly, then bend it against our selves. Omnia vitia in aperto le∣viora sunt: & tunc perniciosissimae, quum simulata sanitate subsidunt. All vices are then lesse peril∣lous when they lie open to bee seene, but then most pernicious, when they lurke vnder counterfeited

soundnesse. I ever warne those of my houshold, who by their offices-authoritie may some∣times have occasion to be angry, first to husband their anger; then not to employ it vpon e∣very slight cause; for that empeacheth the effect and worth of it. Rash and ordinary braw∣ling is converted to a custome, and that's the reason each man contemnes it: That which you employ against a servant for any theeving, is not percei••ed, because it is the same he hath sundry times s••ene you vse against him, if hee have not washt a glasse well o•• misplaced a stoole. Secondly, that they be not angry in vaine, but ever have regard their ch••ding come to his eares with whom they are offended: for, commonly some will brawle before hee come in their presence, and chide a good while after he is gone,

& secum petulans amentia ce•• tat. Madnesse makes with it selfe a fray, Which fondly doth the wanton play.

and wreake their anger against his shadow, and make the storme fall where no man is either chastised or interressed, but with the rumour of their voice, and sometimes with such as can∣not doe withall. I likewise blame those who being angry, will brave and mutime when the partie with whome they are offended is not by. These Rodomantados must be employed on such as feare them.

Mugitus veluti cùm prima in praelia taurus Terrificos ••iet, atque ir asci in cornua tentat, Arborts obnixus trunco, ventósque lac••ssit Ictibus, & sparsa ad pugnam proludit arena. As when a furious Bull to his first combate mooves His terror-breeding lowes, his horne to anger prooves, Striving against a trees trunke, and the winde with strokes, His preface made to fight with sca••tered sand, provokes.

When I chance to be angry, it is in the earnest••st manner that may be, but yet as briefly and as secretly, as is possible. I loose my selfe in hastinesse and violence, but not in trouble: So that, let me spend all maner of injurious wordes at random and without all heede, and never respect to place my points pertinently, and where they may doe most hurt: For com∣monly I employ nothing but my tongue. My boyes scape better cheape in great matters, then in small trifles. Slight occasions surprise me, and the michiefe is, that after you are once falne into the pit, it is no matter who thrusts you in, you never cease till you come to the bot∣tome. The fall presseth, hasteneth, mooveth and furthereth it selfe. In great occasions I am pleased, that they are so just. that every body expects a reasonable anger to insue. I glorify my selfe to deceive their expectation. Against these I bandy and prepare my selfe; they make me summon vp my wits, and threaten to carry me very farre, if I would follow them. I ea∣sily keepe my selfe from falling into them, and if I stay for them, I am stronge enough to re∣ject the impulsion of this passion, what violent cause soever it hath. But if it seize vpon and once preoccupate me, what vaine cause soever it hath, it doth cleane transport me: I con∣dition thus with those that may contest with me, when you perceve me to be first angry, be it right or wrong, let me hold-on my course, I will do the like to you, when ever it shall come to my lot. The rage is not engendred but by the concurrencie of cholers, which are easily pro∣duced one of another, and are not borne at one instant. Let vs allow every man his course, so shall we ever be in peace. Oh profitable prescription, but of an hard execution! I shall some time seeme to be angry for the order and direction of my house, without any just emotion. Accoding as my age yeeldeth my humours more sharpe or peevish, so doe I endevour to op∣pose my selfe against them, and if I can I will hereafter enforce my selfe to be lesse froward and not so teasty. As I shall have more excuse and inclination to be so; although I have heretofore beene in their number that are least. A word more to conclude this Chapter: A∣ristotle saith, Choller doth sometimes serve as armes vnto Ʋertue and Valour. It is very likely: notwithstanding such as gainesay him, answer pleasantly, it is a weapon of a new fashion and strange vse: For we moove other weapons, but this mooveth vs: our hand doth not guide it, but it directeth our hand; it holdeth vs, and we hold not it.

The two and thirtieth Chapter.

A defence of Seneca and Plutarke.

THe familiarity I have with these two men, and the ayde they affoord me in my olde age, and my Booke meerely framed of their spoiles, bindeth me to wed and maintaine their honour. As for Seneca, amongest a thousand petty-Pamphlets, those of the pretended re∣formed religion have published for the defence of their cause, which now and then proceede from a good hand, and which, pitty it is, it should not be employed in more serious and bet∣ter subjects: I have heeretofore seene one, who to prolong and fill vp the similitude, he would finde betweene the governement of our vnfortunate late king Charles the ninth and that of Nero, compareth the whilom lord Cardinall of Loren•• vnto Seneca; their fortunes to have beene both chiefe men in the governement of their Princes, and therewithall their manners, their conditions and their demeanours: wherein (in mine opinion) hee doth the saide lorde Cardinall great honour: for, although I bee one of those that highly respect his spirite, his woorth, his eloquence, his zeale toward his religion and the service of his King; and his good fortune to have beene borne in an age, wherein hee was so new, so rare, and there withall so necessarie for the common-wealth, to have a Cleargie-man of such dignitie and nobilitie, sufficient and capable of so weightie a charge: yet to confesse the truth, I esteeme not his ca∣pacitie such, nor his vertue so exquisitely vnspotted, nor so entire or constant, as that of Se∣neca. Now this Booke whereof I speake, to come to his intention, maketh a most injurious description of Seneca, having borrowed his reproaches from Dion the Historian, to whose testimony I give no credite at all: For besides, he is inconstant, as one who after hee hath cal∣led Seneca exceeding wise, and shortly after termed him a mortall enemy to Neroes vices, in other places makes him covetous, given to vsurie, ambitious base-minded, voluptuous and vnder false pretences, and fained shewes, a counterfet Philosopher; his vertue appea∣reth so lively, and wisedome so vigorous in his writings; and the defence of these imputati∣ons is so manifest, as well of his riches, as of his excessive expences, that I beleeve no witnesse to the contrarie. Moreover, there is great reason wee should rather give credite to Romane Historians in such things, then to Graecians and strangers, whereas Tacitus and others speake very honourably of his life and death, and in all other circumstance declare him to have beene a most excellent and rarely-vertuous man. I will alleadge noe other reproch a∣gainst Dions judgement, then this, which is vnavoydable: that is, his vnderstanding of the Roman affaires, is so weake and ill advised, as he dareth defend and maintaine Iulius Caesars cause against Pompey, and bl••sheth not to justifie Antonius against Cicero. But let vs come to Plutarke; Iohn Bodine is a good moderne Author▪ and endowed with much more judge∣ment then the common-rabble of Scriblers and blur-papers which now adayes stuffe Sta∣tioners shops, and who deserveth to bee judged, considered and had in more then ordinary esteeme. Neverthelesse I finde him somewhat malapert and bolde in that passage of his Methode of Historie, when he accuseth Plutarke, not onely of ignorance (wherein I woulde have let him say his pleasure, for that is not within my element) but also that he often writeth, things, altogether incredible and meerely fabulous (these are his very words) If he had sim∣ply said things otherwise than they are, it had beene no great reprehension: for, what we have not seene, we receive from others and vpon trust: And I see him sometime, wittingly and in good earnest report one and same story diversly: As, the judgemenns of three best captaines that ever were, spoken by Hanibal, is otherwise in Flaminius his life, & otherwise in Pyrrhus. But to taxe him, to have taken incredible and impossible things for ready payment, is to ac∣cuse the more judicious author of the World of want of judgement. And see heere his ex∣ample: As (saith he) when he reports, that a Childe of Lacedemon suffered all his belly and guttes to be torne out by a Cubbe or yoong Foxe, which he had stolne. and kept close vn∣der his garment, rather than he would discouer his theft. First, I finde this example ill cho∣sen: Forasmuch as it is verie heard to limit the powers of the soules-faculties, whereas of cor∣porall

forces, we have more law to limite and know them: And therfore, had I beene to write of such a subject I would rather have made choyce of an example of this second kinde. And some there be lesse credible. As amongest others, that which he reportes of Pyrrhus, who being fore wounded, gave so great a blow with a sword vnto one of his enemies, armed at all assayes, and with all pieces, as he cleft him from the Crowne of the head downe to the groine, so that the body fell in two pieces. In which example I finde no great wonder, nor doe I ad∣mit of his excuse, wherewith he cloaketh Plutarke, to have added this Word, (as it is said) to forewarne vs, and restraine our beliefe. For, if it be not in things received by authoritie and reverence of antiquity or religion, neither would himselfe have received, nor proposed to vs▪ to believe things in themselves incredible: And that (as it is saide) hee doeth not heere sette downe this phrase to that purpose, may easily bee perceived, by what himselfe in other pla∣ces telleth vs vpon the subject of the Lacedemonian Childrens patience, of examples hap∣pened in his time, much harder to be perswaded: As that which Cicero hath also witnessed before him because, (as he saith) he had beene there himselfe: That even in their times there were Children found prepared to endure all maner of patience, whereof they made triall be∣fore Dianaes Aulter, and which suffered themselves to bee whipped, till the blood trilled downe all partes of their body, not onely without crying, but also without sobbing: and some who voluntarily suffered themselvs to bee ••courged to death. And what Plutarke also re∣porteth, and a hundreth other witnesses averre, that assisting at a sacrifice, a burning coale happened to fall into the sleeve of a Lacedemonian childe, as he was busie at incensing, suf∣fered his arme to burne so long, vntill the smell of his burnt flesh came to all the by-standers. There was nothing according to their custome, so much called their reputation in question, and for which they endured more blame and shame, than to be surprised stealing. I am so well instructed of those mens greatnesse of courage, that this report, doth not onely not seeme incredible to mee, as to Bodine, but I doe not so much as deeme it rare, or suppose it strange: The Spartane story is full of thousands of much more rare and cruell examples; then ac∣cording to this rate, it containeth nothing but myracle. Concerning this point of stealing, Marcellinus reporteth, that whilest hee lived, there could never be found any kinde of torment that might in any sort compell the Aegyptians surprized filching (which was much vsed amongest them) to confesse and tell but their names. A Spanish Peasant being laide vpon the racke, about the complices of the murther of the Pretor Lucius Piso, in the midst of his torments cried out, his friends should not stir, but with all securitie assist him, & that it was not in the power of any griefe or paine to wrest one word of confession from him: and the first day nothing else could possibly be drawne from him: The next morrow as he was led toward the racke, to be tormented a new, he by strong violence freed himselfe from out his keepers hands, and so furiously ranne with his head against a Wall, that he burst his braines out, and presently fell downe dead. Epicharis, having glutted & wearied the moody cruelty of Neroes Satellites or officers, and stoutly endured their fire, their beatings, & their engins a whole day long, without any one voyce, or word of revealing hir conspiracy, & the next day after, being againe brought to the torture, with hir limbs bruzed & broken, convayed the lace or string of hir Gowne over one of the pillers of the Chaire wherein she sate, with a sliding knot in it, into which sodainely thrusting hir head, she strangled herselfe with the weight of hir body: Having the courage to dye so, and steale from the first torments; seemeth shee not purposely to have lent hir life to the triall of hir patience of the precedent day, only to mocke that Ty∣rant, and encorage others to attempt the like enterprize against him? And he that shall enquire of our Argolettiers or Free-booters, what experiences they have had in these our late Civill wars, shall no doubt find effects & examples of patience, of obstinacy and stif-neckednesse in these our miserable dayes, and amidst the effeminate, and puling worldlings farre beyond the Aegyptian, and well worthy to be compared to those already reported of Spartan vertue. I know, there have beene found seely boores, who have rather endured to have their feet broi∣led vpon a Greedyron, their fingers ends crusht and wrung with the locke of a Pistole, their eyes all bloody to be thrust out of their heades with wringing and wresting of a corde aboute their foreheads, before they would so much as be ransomed. I have seene and spoken with one, who had beene left all naked in a ditch for dead, his necke all brused and swolne, with a halter about it, wherewith he had beene dragged a whole night at a horses taile through thick & thinne, with a hundred thrusts in his body, given him with daggers, not to kil him outright,

but to grieve and terrifie him, and who had patiently endured all that, and lost both speech and sense, fully resolved (as himselfe told me) rather to die a thousand deaths (as verily, if you apprehend what he suffered, he past more then one full death) then promise any ran∣some; yet was he one of the wealthiest husbandmen in all his countrie. How many have bin seene, who have patiently endured to be burnt and rosted for vnknowne and wilful opinions, which they had borrowed of others: My selfe have knowne a hundred and a hundred wo∣men (for, the saying is, Gaskoine heads have some prerogative in that) whom you might sooner have made to bite a red-hot piece of yron, then recant an opinion, they had concei∣ved in anger. They will be exasperated and growe more fell against blowes and compul∣sion. And he who first invented the tale of that woman, which by no threates or stripes, would leave to call her husband pricke-lowse, and being cast into a pond and duckt vnder water, lifted vp her hands, and joyning her two thumbs-nailes in act to kill lice above her head, seemed to call him lousie still, devised a fable, whereof in truth we dayly see the expresse image in divers womens obstinacie and wilfulnesse. And yet obstinacie is the sister of constancy, at least in vigor and stedfastnesse.

A man must not judge that which is possible, and that which is not, according to that which is credible and incredible to our sense and vnderstanding, as I have already saide else∣where. And it is a great fault, wherein the greater number of men doe dayly fall (I speake not this of Bodine) to make a difficultie in believing that of others, which themselves neither can nor would doe. Every man perswades himselfe, that the chiefe-forme of humane na∣ture is in himselfe; according to her, must all others be directed. The proceedings that have no reference to hirs, are false and fa••••ed. Is any thing proposed vnto him of anothers mans faculties or actions; The first thing he calls to the judgement of his consultation▪ is his owne examples; according as it goeth in him, so goeth the worlds order. Oh dangerous sottish∣nesse, and intolerable foppery! I consider some men a farre-off, beyond and above my selfe, namely amongst those ancient ones: and though I manifestly acknowledge mine owne insufficiencie to follow or come neere them by a thousand paces; I cease not to keepe them still in view, and to judge of those wardes and springs that raise them so high; the seedes whereof I somewhat perceive in my selfe: as likewise I doe of the mindes extreame basenes, which amazeth me nothing at all, and I misbelieve no more. I see the turne those give to wind vp themselves, and I admire their greatnesse, and those starts which I perceive to be so wondrous faire, I embrace them: and if with man wrength I reach not vnto them, at least my judgement doth most willingly apply it selfe vnto them. The other example, he alledgeth of things incredible, and altogether fabulous, reported by Plutarke, is, that Agesilaus was fi∣ned by the Ephories, because he had drawne tee harts and good wills of all his fellow-citti∣zens ento himselfe alone. I knowe not what marke of falshood, or shew of impossibiiltie he findes in it; but so it is▪ that Plutarke speakes there of things which in all likelihood were bet∣ter knowne to him, then to vs: And as it was not strange in Geecce, to see men punished and exiled, onely because they were too popular, and pleased the common people over much. Witnesse the Ostracisme amongst the Athenians, and the Petalisme among the Siracusans. There is another accusation in the same place, which for Plutarkes sake doth somewhat touch me, where he saieth, that he hath very well and in good trueth sorted the Romanes with the Romanes, and the Graecians amongst themselues, but not the Romanes with the Graecians, witnesse (saith he) Demosthenes and Cicero, and Aristides, Syll•• and Lysander Marcellus and Pelopidas; Pompey and Agesilaus, deming thereby that hee hath fauoured the Graecians, in giving them so vnequall companions. It is a just reproving of that, which is most excellent and commendable in Plutarke: Eor, in his comparisons (which is the most admirable part of his worke, and wherein in mine opinion hee so much pleased himselfe) the faithfulnesse and sinceritie of his judgement equalleth their depth and weight. Hee is a Philosopher that teacheth vs vertue. But let vs see, whether wee can warrant him from this reproch of prevarication and false-hood. That which I imagine hath given occasion or ground to this judgement is, that great and farre-spreading lustre of the Romane names, which still are tingling in our eares, and never our of our mindes. Wee doe not thinke, De∣mosthenes may equall the glory of a Consull, of a Pro••ousull and a Questor of this great Com∣mon wealth of Rome. But hee that shall impartially consider the truth of the matter, and men in themselves, which Plutarke did chiefly aime at, and more to balance their custome, their

naturall dispositions and their sufficiencie, then their fortune: I am of a cleane opposite opi∣nion to Bodine, and thinke that Cicero and old Cato are much behinde or short of their paral∣lels. For this purpose, I would rather have chosen the example of yong Cato compared to Phocion: for in that paire might well be found a more likely disparitie for the Romanes advantage. As for Marcellus, Sylla and Pompey, I see very well, how their exploites of warre, be more swolne, glorious and pompous, then the Craecians, whom Plutarke compareth vnto them; but the most vertuous, and fairest actions, no more in warre, then elsewhere, are not alwayes the most famous. I often see the names of some Captaines smothered vn∣der the brightnesse of other names of lesser desert: witnesse Labienus, Ʋentidius, Telesinus and diverse others. And to take him in that sense, were I to complaine for the Graecians, might not I say, that Camillus is much lesse comparable vnto Themistocles, the Gracchi to Agis and Cleomenes, and Numa to Lycurgus? But it is follie at one glance to judge of things with so many and diverse faces. When Plutarke compares them, he doth not for all that e∣quall them. Who could more eloquently, and with more conscience note their differences? Doth he compare the victories, the exploites of armes, the power of the armies conducted by Pompey and his triumphs vnto those of Agesilaus? I doe not believe (saith he) that Xeno∣phon himselfe (were he living) though it were granted him to write his pleasure for the ad∣vantage of Agesilaus, durst ever dare to admit any comparison betweene them. Seemeth he to equall Lysander to Sylla? There is no comparison (saith he) neither in number of victo∣ries, nor in hazard of battels betweene them: for, Lysander onely obtained two sea-battels, &c. This is no derogation from the Romanes. If he have but simply presented them vnto∣the Graecians, what ever disparitie may be betweene them, he hath not in any sort wronged them. And Plutarke doth not directly counterpoise them. In some there is none perfer∣red before others; He compareth the parts and the circumstances one after another▪ and se∣verally judgeth of them. If therefore any would goe about to convince him of favour, hee should narrowly sift out some particular judgement; or in generall and plaine termes say, he hath missed in sorting such a Graecian to such a Romane, forasmuch as there are other more sortable and correspondent, and might better be compared, as having more reference one vnto another.

The three and thirtieth Chapter.

The History of Spurina.

PHilosophy thinketh, she hath not ill employed hir meanes, having yeelded the soveraine rule of our minde, and the authoritie to restraine our appetites, vnto reason. Amongest which, those who judge there is none more violent, than those which love begetteth, have this for their opinion, that they holde both of body and soule; and man is wholy possessed with them: so that health it selfe depended of them, and phisike is sometimes constrained to serve them insteede of a Pandership. But contrariwise, a man might also say, that the commix∣ture of the body doth bring abatement and weakenesse vnto them; because such desires are subject to sacietie and capable of materiall remedies. Many who have endevored to free and exempt their mindes from the continuall alarumes, which this appetite did assaile them with, have vsed incisions, yea and cut-off the mooving, turbulent and vnruly parts. Others have alayed the force and fervency of them by frequent applications of cold things, as snow and vineger. The haire-cloths which our forefathers vsed to weare for this purpose, wherof some made shirts, and some waste-bands or girdles, to torment their reignes. A Prince told me not long since, that being very yoong, and waiting in the Court of King Francis the first, vp∣on a solemne feastival day, when all the Court endevored to be in their best clothes, a humor possessed him to putte-on a shirt of haire-cloth, which he yet keepeth, and had beene his fa∣thers; but what devotion soever possessed him, he could not possibly endure vntill night to put it off againe▪ and was sick a long time after, protesting he thought no youthly heat could be so violent, but the vse of this receipt would coole and alay; of which he perhappes never

assayed the strongest: For, experience sheweth vs, that such emotion doth often maintaine it selfe vnderbase, rude and slovenly cloathes: and haire-cloathes doe not ever make those poore that weare them. Zenocrates proceeded more rigorously? for, his Disciples to make triall of his continencie, having convayed that beauteous and famous curtizan Lais naked in∣to his bed, saving the weapons of hir beauty, wanton alurements, and amorous or love-pro∣curing pocions, feeling that maugre all Philosophicall discourses, and strict rules, his skit∣tish body beganne to mutinie, he caused those members to be burned, which had listened to that rebellion. Whereas the passions that are in the minde, as ambition, covetousnesse and others, trouble reason much more: for, it can have no ayde but from it's owne meanes; nor are those appetites capable of sacietie, but rather sharpened by enjoying, and augmented by possession. The example alone of Iulius Caesar may suffice to shew vs the disparitie of these appetites, for neuer was man more given to amorous delights. The curious and exact care he had of his body, is an authenticall witnesse of it, forsomuch as hee vsed the most lascivious meanes that then were in vse, as to have the haires of his body smeered and perfumed all o∣ver, with an extreame and labored curiositie; being of himselfe a goodly personage, white, of a tall and comely stature, of a cheerfull and seemly countenance, his face full and round, and his eies browne lively; if at least Suetonius may be believed: For, the statues which now∣adayes are to be seene of him in Rome, answer not altogether this portraiture wee speake of. Besides his wiues, which he changed foure times, without reckoning the bies, or Amours in his youth with Nicomedes King of Bythinia, hee had the Maiden-head of that so farre, and highly-renowmed Queene of Aegypt, Cleopatra; witnesse yong Caesarion, whom he begotte of hir. He also made love vnto E••no•• Queene of Mauritania, and at Rome, to Posthumia, wife vnto Servius Sulpitius: to Lolio, wife to ••abinius to Tertulla, of Crassus; yea vnto Mutia, wife to great Pompey, which as Historians say, was the cause hir Husband was divorced from her. Which thing Plutarke confesseth not to have knowne. And the Curious both father and sonne twitted Pompey in the teeth, at what time he tooke Caesars Daughter to wife, that he made himselfe Sonne in law to one, who had made him Cuckold, and himselfe was wont to call Aegystus. Besides all this number, he entertained Servilia the sister of Cat••, and mo∣ther to Marcus Brutus, whence (as divers hold) proceeded that great affection, he ever bare to Marcus Brutus; for his Mother bare him at such a time as it was not vnlikely he might be borne of him. Thus, (as me seemeth) have I good reason to deeme him a man extreamelie addicted to all amorous licenciousnesse, and of a wanton-lascivious complexion. But the o∣other passion of ambition, wherewith he was infinitely infected, and much tainted, when he came once to withstand the same, it made him presently to give ground. And touching this point, when I call Mahomet to remembrance (I meane him that subdued Constantinople, and who brought the final extermination of the name of Graecians) I know not where these two passions are more equall ballanced: equally an indefatigable letcher, and a never-tired soul∣dier. But when in his life they seeme to strive and concurre one with another, the mutinous heate, doeth ever gourmandize the amorous flame. And the latter, although out of naturall season did never attaine to a ful and absolute authority, but when he perceived himselfe to be so aged, that he was vtterly vnable longer to vndergoe the burthen of Warre. That which is aleaged, as an example on the contrary side of Ladisla••s King of Naples, is very well worth the noting, who though he were an excellent, couragious and ambitious Captaine, propo∣sed vnto himselfe, as the principall scope of his ambition, the execution of his sensuality, and enjoyning of some rare and vnmatched beauty. So was his death: Having by a continuall tedious siege brought the Citty of Florence to so narrow a pinch, that the inhabitantes were ready to yeeld him the victory, he yeelded the same to them, vpon condition they would de∣liver into his hands a wench of excellent beauty that was in the city, of whom he had heard great commendations; which they were enforced to graunt him, and so by a private injury to warrant the publike ruine of the Citty. Shee was the Daughter of a notable rare Phisicion, and whilest he lived chiefe of his profession: Who seeing himfelie engaged in so stuprous a necessity, resolved vpon an haughtie enterprize; Whilest all were busie adorning his daugh∣ter, and besetting her with costly jeweles, that shee might the more delight and please this new Kingly lover, he also gave her an exquisitely-wrought, and sweetly-perfumed handkir∣cher, to vse in their first approaches and embracements, a thing commonly in vse amongst the Women of that Country. This Handkercher strongly empoysoned according to the

cunning skill of his Art, comming to wipe both their enflamed secret parts and open pores, did so readily convay and disperse it's poyson, that having sodainely changed their heate into colde, they immediately deceased one in anothers aimes. But I will now returne to Cae∣sar. His pleasures could never make him loose one minute of an houre, nor turne one step from the occasions, that might any way further his advancement. This passion did so sove∣raignly oversway all others, and possessed his minde with so vncontrouled an authority, that she carryed him whither she list. Truely I am grieued, when in other things I consider this mans greatnesse, and the wondrous partes that were in him; so great sufficiencie in all maner of knowledge and learning, as there is almost no science wherein he hath not written; He was so good an Orator, that diverse have preferred his eloquence before Ciceroes: And himselfe (in mine opinion) in that facultie thought himselfe nothing short of him. And his two An∣ti-Catoes, were especially written to over-ballance the eloquence which Cicero had emploied in his Cato. And for all other matters; was ever minde so vigilant, so active, and so patient of labour as his? And doubtlesse, it was also embellished with sundry rare seedes of vertue. I meane lively, natural and not countersets. He was exceeding sober, and so homely in his fee∣ding, that Oppius reporteth: how vppon a time, through a certaine Cookes negligence, his meat being dressed with a kinde of medicinable Oyle, in stead of Olive-oyle, and so brought to the boorde, although he found it yet he fed hartily of it, only because hee would not shame his Hoste. Another time he caused his Baker to bee whipped, because hee had served him with other, than common houshold bread, Cato himselfe was wont to say of him, that hee was the first sober man, had addrest himself to the ruine of his country. And wheras the same Ca∣to called him one day drunkard, it hapned in this maner, Being both together in the Senate house, where Catilines conspiracie was much spoken of, wherein Caesar was greatly suspe∣cted to have a hand; a note was by a friend of his brought, & in very secret sort delivered him, which Cato perceiving, supposing it might be something, that the Conspiratours advertized him of, instantly summoned him to shew it, which Caesar to avoide a greater suspition, refu∣sed not: It was by chance an amorous letter, which Servilia Catoes sister writ to him: Cato ha∣ving read-it, threw it at him, saying, hold it againe thou drunkard. I say, it was rather a word of disdaine and anger, than an expresse reproch of this vice; as often we nicke-name those that anger vs, with the first nicke-names of reproaches, that come into our mouth, though meer∣ly impertinent to those with whom we fall out. Considering, that the vice wherewith Cato charged him, hath neare coherencie vnto that, wherein he had surprised Caesar: for Venus and Bacchus (as the vulgar Proverb saith) agree well together; but with me Ʋenus is much more blithe and game-some, being accompanied with sobrietie.

The examples of his mildnesse and clemencie, towards such as had offended him, are in∣finite: I meane, besides those he shewed during the civill warres, which (as by his owne wri∣tings may plainely appeare) he vsed to blandish and allurehis enemies, to make them feare his future domination and victorie the lesse. But if any shall say, those examples are not of validitie to witnes his genuine and naturall affabilitie, we may lawfully answere, that at least they shew vs a wonderfull confidence, and greatnesse of courage to have beene in him. It hath often befalne him, to send whole armies backe againe to his enemies, after he had vanquish∣ed them, without dayning to binde them so much, as with an oth, if not to favour, at least not to beare armes against him. He hath three or foure times taken some of Pompeys chiefe Captaines prisoners, and as often set them at libertie againe. Pompey declared all such as would not follow and accompanie him in his wars, to be his enemies; and he caused those to be proclamed as friends, who either would not stirre at all, or not effectually arme them∣selves against him. To such of his Captaines as fled from him, to procure other conditions, he sent them their weapons, their horses and all other furniture. The Citties he had taken by maine force, he freed to follow what faction they would, giving them no other garison, then the memorie of his clemencie and mildnes. In the day of his great battaile of Pharsalia, he expresly inhibited, that vnlesse they were driven to vnavoidable extremitie, no man should lay hands vpon any Romane cittizen. In my judgement these are very hazardous partes, and it is no wonder, if in the civill warres or tumultuous broiles, we have now on foote, those that fight for the ancient lawes and state of their countrie, as he did, doe not follow and imi∣tate the example. They are extraordinarie meanes, and which onelye belongs to Caesars for∣tune, and to his admirable fore-sight, succesfully to direct, and happily to conduct them.

When I consider the incomparable greatnesse and vnvaluable worth of his minde, I excuse Victorie, in that shee could not well give him over, in this most vnjust and vnnaturall cause. But to returne to his clemencie; wee have divers genuine and lively examples, even in the time of his al-swaying gouernment, when all things were reduced into his handes, and hee needed no longer to dissemble. Caius Memmius, had written certaine detracting and railing orations against him, which hee at full and most sharpely had answered, neverthelesse hee shortly after helped to make him Consull. Caius Calvus, who had composed divers most in∣jurious Epigrams against him having employed sundrie of his friendes to bee reconciled to him againe, Caesar descended to write first vnto him. And our good Catullus, who vnder the name of Mamurra had so rudely and bitterly railed against him, at last comming to excuse himselfe, Caesar that very night made him to suppe at his owne table. Having beene adver∣tised how some were overlavish in rayling against him, all hee did was but in a publike ora∣tion to declare how hee was advertised of it. His enemies, he feared lesse then he hated them. Certaine conspiracies and conventicles were made against his life, which being discovered vnto him, he was contented by an edict to publish, how he was throughly enformed of them, and never prosecuted the Authors. Touching the respect hee ever bare vnto his friendes; Caius Oppius traveling with him, and falling very sicke, having but one chamber he resigned the same vnto him, and himselfe was concented to lie all night abroade and vpon the bare ground. Concerning his justice, he caused a servant of his whom hee exceedingly loved, to be executed, for somuch as he had laine with the wife of a Roman Knight, although noe man sued or complained of him. Never was man, that shewed more moderation in his victorie, or more resolution in his adverse fortune. But all these noble inclinations, rich giftes, woorthy qualities, were altered smoothered and eclipsed by this furious passion of ambition; by which he suffered himselfe to be so farre mis-ledde, that it may be well affirmed, she onely ruled the Sterne of all his actions. Of a liberall man, she made him a common thee••e, that so hee might the better supply his profusion and prodigality; and made him vtter that vile and most inju∣rious speech; that if the wickedst and most pernicious men of the world, had for his service and furtherance beene faithfull vnto him, hee would to the vtmost of his power have cheri∣shed and preferred them, as well as if they had beene the honestest: It so besotted, and as it were made him drunke with so extreame vanitie, that in the presence of all his fellow citti∣zens hee durst vaunt himselfe, to have made that great and farre-spread Romane Common∣wealth, a shapelesse and bodilesse name; and pronounce, that his Sentences or Answeres should thence forward serve as Lawes: And sitting, to receive the whole bodie of the Se∣nate comming toward him: and suffer himselfe to be adored: and in his presence divine ho∣nours to be done him. To conclude, this onely vice (in mine opinion) lost, and overthrew in him the fairest naturall and richest in genuitie that ever was; and hath made his memorie ab∣hominable to all honest mindes, insomuch as by the ruine of his countrey, and subversion of the mightiest State and most flourishing Common-wealth, that ever the worlde shall see, hee went about to procure his glorie. A man might contrariewise finde diverse examples of greate persons, whome pleasure hath made to forget the conduct of their owne affaires, as Marcus Antonius, and others: but where love and ambition should be in one equall balance. and with like forces mate one another, I will never doubt, but Caesar would gaine the prize and gole of the victorle. But to come into my path againe. It is much, by discourse of rea∣son, to bridle our appetites, or by violence to force our members, to containe themselves with∣in the bounds of duty. But to whippe vs for the interest of our neighbors, not only to shake off this sweete pleasing passion, which tickleth vs with selfe-joying pleasure, wee appre∣hend and feel to see our selves grateful to others, and of all men beloved and sued vnto: but also to hate and scorne those graces, which of it are the cause; and to condemne our beauty, because some others will be set on sire with it, I have seene few examples like to this. Spurina a yong Gentleman of Thuscanie,

Qualis gemma micat flavum quae dividit aurum, Aut collo decus aut capiti, vel quale per artem, Inclusum buxo aut Ericia terebintho, Lucet ebur. As when a precious stone cleare rayes doth spread. Set in Pure golde, adorning necke or head:

Or as faire I v'ry shines in boxe enclos'd, Or workemanly with Mountaine gumme dispos'd.

being endowed with so alluringly-excessive and singular beautie, that the chastest eyes could not possibly gainstand or continently resist the sparkling glances thereof; not conten∣ted to leave so great a flame succourlesse, or burning fever remedilesse, which hee in all per∣sons, and every where enkindled, entred into so furious despite against himselfe, and those rich gifts, nature had so prodigally conferred vpon him (as if they must beare the blame of o∣thers faults) that with gashes, and skars, he wittingly mangled, & voluntarily cutthat perfect, proportion and absolute feature, which nature had so curiously observed in his vnmatched face; whereof to speake my opinion, such out rages are enemies to my rules. I rather admire, then honour such actions. His intent was commendable, and his purpose consciencious, but in my seeming somewhat wanting of wisedome. What? if his deformitie or vgli∣nesse was afterward an instrument to induce others to fall into the sinne of contempt and vice of hatred, or fault of envy for the glory of so rare commendation; or of slander, inter∣preting his humour to bee a franticke ambition; Is there any forme, whence vice (if so it please) may not wrest an occasion, in some maner to exercise it selfe? It had beene more just, and therewithall more glorious, of so rare gifts of God, to have made a subject of exemplar vertue and orderly methode. Those which sequester themselves from publike offices, and from this infinite number of thornie and so many-faced rules, which in civill life, binde a man of exact honesty and exquisite integritie: in mine opinion reape a goodly commodi∣tie, what peculiar sharpenesse soever they enjoyne themselves. It is a kinde of death, to avoide the paine of well-doing, or trouble of well-living. They may have another prise, but the prise of vneasines me thinks they never had. Nor that in difficulty, there be any thing that is amid the waves of the worldly multitude, beyond keeping himselfe vpright and vntainted, answering loyally and truely discharging all members and severall parts of his charge. It is happily more easie for one, in honest sort to neglect and passe over all the sexe, then duely and whol∣ly to maintaine himselfe in his wives companie. And a man may more incuriously fall into po∣vertie, then into plenteousnesse; being justly dispensed. Custome, according to reason, doth leade to more sharpnesse then abstinence hath. Moderation is a vertue much more toylesome, then sufferance. The chaste and well living of yong Scipio, hath a thousand severall fashions; that of Diogenes but one. This doth by so much more exceede all ordinary lives in innocen∣cie and vnspottednesse, as those which are most exquisite and accomplished, exceede in pro∣fite and outgoe it in force.

The foure and thirtieth Chapter.

Observations concerning the meanes to warre after the maner of Iulius Caesar.

IT is reported of divers chiefe Generals in warre, that they have particularly affected some peculiar booke or other: as Alexander the great highly esteemed Homer; Scipio Affri∣eanus, Xenophon: Marcus Brutus, Polybius; Charles the fifth, Philip de Comines: And it is lately averred, that in some places, and with some men, Machiavell is much accompted of: But our late Marshall Strozzi, who had made especiall choise to love Caesar; without doubt, I thinke of all other chose best: for truely he ought to be the Breviarie of all true Souldiers, as beeing the absolute and perfect chiefe patterne of Military profession And God hee knowes with what grace, and with what decorum, hee hath embellished this rich subject, with so pure a kinde of speech, so pleasing and so absolutely perfect, that to my taste, there are no writing in the world, which in this subject may bee compared to his. I will heere re∣gister certaine particular and rare parts concerning his maner of warre, which yet remaine in my memory. His Armie beeing some what afrighted, vpon the report that ranne of the great forces, which king Iuba brought against him, instead of abating the opinion his soldiers had conceived of it, and to diminish the meanes or forces of his enemie, having caused them

to be assembled altogether, thereby to assure and incourage them, he tooke a cleane contrary course, to that which in like cases we are accustomed to do: for he bad them troble themselves no more to finde out the number of the forces, which his enemies brought against him, for himselfe had already true knowledge & certaine intelligence of them: and told them a number farre exceeding both the truth and report of them: following what Cyrus commandeth in Xenophon. For a smuch as the deceipt is not of like interrest, for a man to finde his enemies in effect weaker then he hoped, then stronger indeede, having once conceived an opinion of their weakenesse. He enured all his Souldiers simply to obey, without controling, gaine∣saying, or speaking of their captaines desseignes, which he never communicated vnto them, but vpon the last point of execution: and was pleased, if by chance they had any inkling of them, so to deceive them, presently to change his opinion: And having prefixt a place to quarter-in at night, hee hath often beene seene to march further, and lengthen his journey, namely if the weather were foule, or if it rained. The Swizzers in the beginning of his warres in Gaule, having sent toward him to give them free passage through the Roman coun∣tries, and he being resolved by force to empeach them, did notwithstanding shew them ve∣ry good lookes, and tooke, certaine dayes respit to give them an answere, during which time he might have leasure to assemble his Armie together. These poore people knew not how well he could husband time: For he often repeated, that the skill to embrace occasisons in the nicke, is the chiefest parte of an absolute Captaine: And truely the diligence he vsed in all his ex∣ploits, is incredible; and the like was never heard of. If he were not over consciencious in that vnder colour of some treatie, parlie or accord, to take any advantage of his enemies: hee was as little scrupulous, in that he required no other vertue in his Souldiers but valour; and ex∣cept mutinie and disobedience, he punished not grealy other vices. After his victories, hee often gave them the reines to all licentiousnesse, for a while dispensing them from all rules of military discipline; saying moreover his souldiers were so well instructed, that though they were in theit gayest clothes, pranked vp, musked and perfumed, they would notwithstan∣ding runne furiously to any combate. And in truth hee loved to see them richly armed, and made them weare gilt, graven and silvered armours, that their care to keepe them cleane and bright, might make them more fierce, and readie to defend themselves. Speaking to them, hee ever called them by the name of Fellow-souldiers; a name vsed at this day by some Captaines; which his successour Augustus afterward reformed, esteeming hee had done it for the necessitie of his affaires, and to flatter the hearts of those which followed him but voluntarily;

—Rheni mihi Caesar in vndis. Dux erat, hic socius facinus quos inquinat, aequat. When Caesar past the Rheine he was my Generall, My Fellow heere: sinne, whom it staines, makes fellowes-al.

but that this custome was over-lowelie for the dignitie of an Emperor, and chiere Generall of an Armie, and brought vp the fashion againe to call them ouly Souldiers. To this curtesie, Caesar did notwithstanding intermixe a great severity, to suppresse & keep them humble. His ninth Legion having mutined neere vnto Placentia, hee presently cassiered the same with great ignominie vnto it, notwithstanding that Pompey were yet on foote and strong; and would not receive it into favour, but with humble petitions and entreatie. Hee did more appease them by authoritie and audacitie, then by mildenesse and affabilitie. Where hee speaketh of his passage over the river of Rheine, towardes Germanie, hee saith, that dee∣ming it vnworthy the honour of the Romane people, his Army should passe over in shippes, he caused a bridge to be built, that so it might passe over drie-foote. Their hee erected that admirable bridge, whereof he so particularly describeth the frame: For hee never more wil∣lingly dilates himselfe in describing any of his exploites, then where hee endeuoreth to repre∣sent vnto vs the subtilitie of his inventions, in such kindes of manuall workes. I have also noted this in his booke, that hee much accompteth of his exhortations he made to his Scul∣diers before any fight: for where he would shew to have beene either surprised or vrged, he ever alledgeth this, that hee had so much leasure as to make an oration to his Souldiers or Ar∣mie: Before that great battell against those of Tournay; Caesar (saith he) having disposed of the rest, ranne sodainely whither fortune carried him, to exhort his men: and meeting with the tenth Legion hee had not leasure to say any thing else vnto them, but that they should

remember their former wonted vertue, they should nothing be danted, they should stoutly resist the encounter of their adversaries; and forasmuch as the enemie was come within an arrow-shoote vnto him, he gave the signall of the battell; and sodainely going elsewhere, to encourage o∣thers, he found them already together by the eares; See here what himselfe saith of it in that place. Verely his tongue hath indivers places much bestead, and done him notable service, and even whilst hee lived, his militarie eloquence was so highly regarded, that many of his Armie were seene to copie and keepe his orations; by which meanes divers volumes were filled with them, and continued many ages after his death, His speech had particular gra∣ces, so that his familiar friends, and namely Augustus, hearing that rehearsed, which had beene collected of his, knew by the Phrases and words, what was his or not. The first time that with any publike charge hee issued out of Rome, hee came in eight dayes to the river of Rhone, having ever one or two Secretaries before him, who continually writ what hee endited, and one behinde him that carried his sword. And surely, if one did nothing but runne vp and downe, he could very hardly attaine to that promptitude, wherewith ever be∣ing victorious, having left Gaule, and following Pompey to Brundusium, in eighteene dayes he sabdued all Italie; returned from Brundusium to Rome, and thence went even to the hart of Spaine, where he past many extreame difficulties, in the warres betweene Afranius and Pe∣treius, and at the long siege of Marseille: from whence he returned into Macedon, over∣threw the Romane Armie at Pharsalia; thence pursuing Pompey hee passed into Aegipt, which he subdued; from Aegipt he came vnto Syria, and into the countrie of Pontus, where he fought with Pharnaces; thence into Affrica, where he defeated Scipio and Iuba, and thence through Italie he returned into Spaine, where he overthrew Pompeyes children

O cior & caeli flammis & tigride foeta. Ac veluti montis saxum de vertice praeceps Cùm ruit avulsum vento, seu turbidus imber Proluit, aut annis solvit sublapsa vetustas, Fertur in abruptum magno mons improbus actu Exult átque solo, silvas, armenta, virósque, Involvens secum. Swifter then breed-yong Tiger, or heav'ns flash, And as from mountaines top a headlong stone Rent-off by winde, or by stormes troublous dash Washt-off, or loos'd by age of yeares are gone, Crosse-carried with great force that hill-like masse Bounds on the earth, and rowles with it in one. Woods, heards, and men, and all that neere-it was.

Speaking of the siege of Avaricum, he saith, that it was his custome, both day and night, ever to be neere and about such workemen, as he had set a worke. In all enterprises of con∣sequence hee was ever the first skout-man, or survayer of any place: and his Armie never approched place, which hee had not viewd or survayed himselfe. And if wee may believe Suetonius, at what time hee attempted to passe over into England, he was the first man that sounded the passage. He was wont to say, that he esteemed that victorie much more, which was conducted by advise, and managed by counsell, then by maine strength and force. In the warre a∣gainst Petreius and Afranius▪ Fortune presenting an apparant occasion of advantage vnto him, he saith, that he refused it, hoping with a little more time, but with lesse hazard, to see the overthrow of his enemie. Where he also plaide a notable part, to command all his Ar∣mie to swimme over a river, without any necessitie,

—rapuitque ruens in praeli•• miles, Quod fugiens timtisset iter, mox vdareceptis Memb•••• fovent armis, gelidósque à gurgite cursu Restituunt artus. The Souldier rids that way in haste to fight, Which yet he would have fearde in haste of flight; His limbs with water wet and cold before, With armes he covers, running doth restore.

I finde him somewhat more warie and considerate in his enterprises, then Alexander; for

the latter seemeth to seeke out, and by maine force to runne into dangers, as an impetuous or raging torrent, which without heede, discretion, or choise, shockes and checkmates what ••r•• it meeteth withall.

Sic tauri formis volvitur Aufidus, Qui Regna Dauni perfluit Appuli Dum saevit, horrendámque cultis Diluviem meditatur agris. So Bull-fac't Aufidus still rowling growes, Which through Apulias ancient kingdome flowes, When he doth rage in threatning meditation To bring on faire fields fearefull inundation.

And to say truth, his hap was to bee most employed in the spring-time, and first heate of his age: whereas Caesar was well strucken in yeares, when he beganne to follow armes. A∣lexander was of a more cholerike, sanguine and violent constitution, which humour hee stirred vp with wine, whereof Caesar was very abstinent. But where occasions of necessitie were offered, and where the subject required it, there was never man that so little regar∣ded his person. As for me, me seemeth I reade indivers of his exploits, a certaine resolution rather to loose himselfe, than to abide the brunt or shame to bee overthrowne. In that great battell, which he fought against those of Turnay, seeing the vangarde of his Armie somewhat enclining to route, even as hee was, without shield or target, hee ranne headlong to the front of his enemies: Which many other times happened vnto him. Hearing once how his men were besieged, hee past disguized through the midst and thickest of his enemies campe, so to encourage and awe them with his presence. Having crossed the way to Dyrrhachium, with verie few forces, and perceiving the rest of his Armie (the Conduct whereof hee had left vnto Antonius,) to bee somewhat slowe in comming, hee vndertooke all alone, to repasse the Sea, notwithstanding a violent and raging Tempest; and secretly stole himselfe away to fetch the rest of his forces: All the havens on that side, yea and all the Sea being possessed by Pompey, And concerning the enterprises hee vnder-went with armed hand, there are di∣vers of them, which in respect of the hazard, exceede all discourse of militarie reason: for, with how weake meanes vndertooke hee to subdue the Kingdome of Aegypt, and afterward to front the forces of Scipio and Iuta, which were tenne partes greater than his? Mee thinkes such men have had a kinde of more than humane confidence of their fortune: And himselfe was wont to say, that Haughtie enterprises were to be executed and not consulted vpon. After the battell of Pharsalia, having sent his Armie before into Asia, and himselfe with onely one ship passing through the straite of Hellespont, hee mette on the Seas with Lucius Cassius, attended on with tenne tall ships of Warre; he was so farre from shunning him, that hee durst not onely stay for him but with all haste make toward and summon him, to yeeld himselfe to his mer∣cie; which hee did. Having vndertaken that furious siege of Alexia, wherein were foure∣score thousand men of Defence, and all France vp in armes, with a resolution to runne vp∣on him and raise the siege, and having an Arm••e on foote of one hundred and nine thou∣sand horse, and two hundred fortie thousand foote; What a fond hardy and outragious con∣fidence was it in him, that hee would never give over his attempt and resolve in two so great difficulties together? Which hee notwithstanding vnder went: And after he had obtained so notable a battell of those which were without, hee soone reduced those that were besieged in the Towne to his mercy. The verie like happened to Lucullus at the siege of Tigranocerta, against King Tigranes but with an vnlike condition, seeing his enemies demissenesse, with whom Lucullus was to deale. I will heere note two rare and extraordinarie events, touch∣ing the siege of Alexia; the one, that the French men beeing all assembled together with a purpose to meete with Caesar, having diligently survaied and exactly numbred all their for∣ces, resolved in their counsell, to cutte-off a great part of this huge multitude for feare they might breede a confusion. This example is new, to feare to bee over many; yet if it be well taken, it is very likely, that The bodie of an Armie ought to have a well proportioned greatnesse, and ordered to indifferent bounds. Whether it be for the difficulty to feed the same, or to lead it in order and keepe it in awe. And we may easily verifie by examples, that These numerous and infinite Armies haue seldome brought any not able thing to passe: According to Cyrus his say∣ing in Xenophon. It is not the multitude of men, but the number of good men that causeth an ad∣vantage:

The rest rather breeding confusion and trouble, than helpe or availe. And Baia∣zeth tooke the chiefest foundation of his resolution, against the advise of all his Captaines, to joyne fight with Tamburlane, onely because the innumerable number of men, which his e∣nemie brought into the field, gave him an assured hope of route and confusion. Scanderbeg, a sufficient and most expert Iudge in such a case, was wont to say, that tenne or twelve thou∣sand trusty and resolute fighting men, ought to suffice any sufficient Chieftaine of Warre, to warrant his reputation in any kinde of military exploite. The other point, which seemeth to be repugnant both vnto custome and reason of Warre, is, that Ʋercingentorix, who was appointed chiefe Generall of all the forces of the revolted Gaules, vndertooke to immure and shutte himselfe into Alexia. For, He that hath the commaundement of a whole Countrie. ought never to engage himselfe, except in cases of extreamitie, and where all his rest and last re∣fuge goeth on it, and hath no other hope lest him, but the defence of such a place. Other∣wise he ought to keepe himselfe free, that so he may have meanes to provide in all partes of his Government. But to returne to Caesar, hee became in time somewhat more slow, hee∣dy, and considerate, as witnesseth his familiar friend Oppius; deeming, he should not so easily hazard the honour of so many Victories which one onely disaster, or mis-encounter, might make him loose. It is that the Italians are wont to say, when they will or blame or reproach any man with this overdaring, or rash fond-hardinesle, which is often seene in yoong men, calling them, Bisognosid honore, as much to say as needie of honour: And that being yet hungrie, greedy and voyde of reputation, they have reason to seeke after it, whatsoever it may cost them; Which they should never doe, that have already acquired the same. There may be some just moderation in this desire of glory, and some sacietie in this appetite, as well as in others; Divers doe so practize it. He was farre from that religion of the auncient Ro∣mans, who in their Warres would never prevaile but with meere and genuine vertue: But rather joyned more conscience vnto it, than now-adayes wee should doe; And would never allow of all meanes, were he never so certaine to get the victory. In his Warres against A∣riovistus, whilest he was in Parly with him, some tumult or insurrection happened betweene the two armies, which beganne by the fault or negligence of some of Ariovistus horsmen. In which hurlie-burlie Caesar found himselfe to have a great advantage over his en••emies. which notwithstanding he would not embrace, for feare he might be taxed or suspected to have proceeded falsly, or consented to any trechery. At what time soever hee went to fight, he was accustomed to weare a verie rich garment, and of a sheene and garish colour, that so he might the better be marked. When his Souldiers were neerest vnto their enemies, he restrained and kept them very short. When the ancient Graecians would accuse or tax any man of extreame insufficiencie, they vsed this common Proverbe; That he could neyther read nor swimme: And himselfe was of this opinion, that the arte of swimming was most necessary and beneficiall in Warre, and a Souldier might reape divers commodities by it. If hee were in haste, and to make speede, he would ordinarily swimme over al the Rivers hee met withal: and loved greatly to travell on foote, as Alexander the Great was wont. In Aegypt being on a time forced (to save himselfe) to leape into a little Whirry or Boate, and so many of his people following him, that he was in danger to sinke, hee rather chose to fling himselfe into the Sea, which he did; and swimming came into his fleete, that was more than two hundred paces from him, holding his writing-Tables in his left hand out of the Water, and with his teeth drawing his Coate of Armes after him, that his enemies might not enjoy it: and this did hee being well strucken in yeares. No Generall of Warre had ever so much credit with his Souldiers. In the beginning of his civill warres, his Centeniers offered him every one, at their owne charges to pay and finde him a man at Armes, and his foote▪men to serve him for nothing and those that were best able, to defray the poore and needie.

Our late Admirall of France Lord Chastillion, in our late civill warres shewed such an ex∣ample: For, the French-men of his armie, at their proper cost and charges helped to pay such strangers as followed him. Few examples of so loving and earnest affection may bee found amongst those that follow the old manner of warre, and strictly hold themselves vn∣der the ancient pollicie of their lawes. Passion hath more sway over vs, then reason: Yet hath it chanced in the warres against Hanniball, that imitating the example of the Romane Peo∣ples liberalitie in the Cittie, the Souldiers and Captaines refused their pay, and in Marcellus his campe, those were called mercenarie, that tooke any pay. Having had some defeate

neere vnto Dyrrachium, his Souldiers came voluntarily before him, and offred themselves to be punished; so that he was more troubled to comfort, then to chide them. One onely of his Cohortes (whereof ten went to a Legion) held fight above foure howres with foure of Pompeies whole Legions, vntill it was well-nigh all defeated with the multitude and force of arrowes: And in his trenches were afterward found one hundred and thirtie thousand shafts. A Souldier of his, named Scava, who commanded one of the entrances, did so in∣vincibly defend and keepe himselfe, that he had one of his eyes thrust out, and one shoulder and one thigh thrust through, and his sheild flawed and pearced in two hundred and thirtie severall places. It hath befalne to many of his Souldiers, being taken prisoners, to chuse ra∣ther to die then promise to follow any other faction, or receive any other entertainement. Granius Petronius taken by Scipio in Affricke: After Scipio had caused all his fellowes to bee put to death, sent him word that hee gave him his life, forsomuch as hee was a man of ranke and a Questor: Petronius answered, that Caesars Souldiers were wont to give life to others, and not accept it themselves; And therewithall with his owne handes killed himselfe. Infinite ex∣amples there are of their fidelitie. That part, which they acted, who were beseiged in Salo∣na, a Cittie which tooke partwith Caesar against Pompey, must not be forgotten, by reason of a rare accident that there hapned. Marcus O••tavius, having long time beleagred the Towne, they within were reduced to such extreamitie and pinching necessitie of all things, that to supply the great want they had of men, most of them being alreadie or hurt or dead; they had set all their slaues at libertie, and for the behoofe of their engines, were compelled to cut-off all their womens haires, to make ropes with them; besides a wonderfull lacke of victualles resolving notwithstanding never to yeeld themselves: After they had a long time lingered the siege, and that Octavius was thereby become more carelesse, and lesse hee∣ding or attentive to his enterprise; they one day about high noone (having first ranged their wives and children vpon the walles, to set the better face vpon the matter) rushed out in such a furie vpon the beseigers, that having put to rout and defeated the first, the second, and third corps de garde; then the fourth and the rest; and having forced them to quit their trenches, chased them even to their shippes: and Octavius with much adoe saved himselfe in Dyrrachium, where Pompey was. I remember not at this time, to have read of any other ex∣ample, where the beleagred doe in grosse beate the beleagrers, and get the maistrye and pos∣session of the field; nor that a sallie hath drawne a meere and absolute victory of a battell into consequence

The five and thirtieth Chapter.

Of three good women.

THey are not to be had be dozens, as each one knowes, namely in rights and duties of mariage; For, it is a bargaine full of so many thornie circumstances, that it is hard the will of a woman should long keepe hir selfe whole and perfect therein. And although men have somewhat a better condition in the same, yet have they much to doe. The touchstone and perfect triall of a good mariage, respects the time that the societie continueth; whether it have constantly beene milde loyall and commodious. In our age, they more commonly reserve to enstall their good offices, and set foorth the vehemence of their affections to∣ward their lost husbands: And then seeke they at least to yeeld some testimonie of their good wil. Oh late testimony & out of season, whereby they rather shew, they never love them but when they are dead. Our life is full of combustion and scolding, but our disease full of love and of curtesie. As fathers conceale affection toward their children; so they to maintaine an ho∣nest respect, cloake their love toward their husbands. This mysterie answereth not my taste. They may long enough scratch and dishevell themselues; let me enquire of a chamber-maide or of a secretarie, how they were, how they did, and how they have lived together: I can never forget this good saying, Iactantius maerent, quae minus dolent, They keepe a ••owling with most

ostentation, who are lesse sorrowfull at heart. Their lowring and puling is hatefull to the living, and vaine to the dead. Wee shall easily dispence with them to laugh at vs when we are dead, vpon condition they smile vpon vs while we live. Is not this the way to reviue a man with spite; that he who hath spitten in my face when I was living, shall come and clawe my feete when I am dead? If there be any honour for a woman to weepe for hir husband, it belongs to hir that hath smiled vpon him when she had him. Such as have wept when they lived, let them laugh when they are dead, as well outwardly as inwardly. Moreover, regard not those blubred eyes, nor that pittie-mooving voyce; but view that demeanor, that colour and cheerefull good plight of those cheekes, vnder their great vailes; thence it is she speakes plaine French. There are few whose health doth not daily growe better and better; a qualitie that cannot lie. This ceremonious countenance looketh not so much backeward, as foreward: It is ra∣ther a purchase then a payment. In mine infancie, an honest and most faire Ladie (who yet liveth, the widdowe of a Prince) had somewhat more of I wot not what in hir attires, then the lawes of widowehood would well permit. To such as blamed hir for it: ••t is (said shee) be∣cause I intend no more new acquaintances, and have no mind at all to marry againe. Be∣cause I will not altogether dissent from out custome, I have heere made choise of three wo∣men, who have also employed the vtmost endevor of their goodnes and affection, about their husbandes deathes. Yet are they examples somewhat different and so vrging that they hardly drawe life into consequence. Plinie the yonger, had dwelling neere vnto a house of his in Italie a neighbour wonderfully tormented with certaine vlcers, which much troubled him in his secret parts. His wife perceiving him to droope and languish away, entreated him she might leasurely search and neerely view the qualitie of his disease, and she would more free∣ly then any other tell him what hee was to hope for: Which having obtained, and curiously considered the same, shee found it impossible ever to be cured, and all he might expect was but to lead a long, dolorous, and languishing life; and therefore for his more safetie and so∣veraigne remedie, perswaded him to kill himselfe. And finding him somewhat nice and backeward to effect so rude an enterprise: Thinke not my deare friend (quoth shee) but that the sorrowes and griefes, I see thee feele, touch me as neere and more, if more may be, as they selfe, and that to be rid of them, I will applie the same remedie to my selfe, which I prescribe to thee. I will accompanie thee in thy cure, as I have done in thy sickenesse: re∣moove all feare, and assure they selfe, we shall have pleasure in this passage, which shall de∣liver vs from all torments, for we will happily goe together: That said, and having cheared vp her husbands courage she determined they should both headlong throw themselves into the sea from out a window of their house, that over looked the same: and to maintaine this loyall, vehement and never to be severed affection to the end, wherewith shee had during his life embraced him, shee would also have him die in her armes; and fearing they might faile her, and through the fall, or feare or apprehension her hold-fast might be loosed, shee caused herselfe to be fast bound vnto him by the middle: And thus for the ease of her hus∣bands life shee was contented to forgoe her owne. She was but of meane place and low for∣tune: and amidde such condition of people, it is not so strange to see some parts of rare ver∣tue and exemplare goodnesse.

—extremaper illos Iustitia excedens terris vestigia fecit. Iustice departing from the earth did take Of them her leave, through them last passage make.

The other two are noble and rich; where examples of vertue are rarely lodged. Arria wife vnto Cecinna Paetus, a man that had beene consul was mother of another Arria, wife to Thrasea Paetus; whose vertue was so highly renowmed during the time of Nero; and by meane of his sonne-in-lawe, grandmother to Fannia: For, the resemblance of these mens and wo∣mens names and fortunes hath made diverse to mistake them. This first Arria, her husband Cecinna Paetus, having beene taken prisoner by the Souldiers of Claudius the Emperour, af∣ter the overthrow of Scribonianus, whose faction hee had followed, entreated those who led him prisoner to Rome▪ to take her into their ship, where for the service of her husband shee should be of the lesse charge and incommoditie to them, then a number of other persons, which they must necessarily have, and that she alone might supply and steade him in his chamber, in his kitchin and all other offices; which they vtterly refused, and so hoised sailes, but shee

leaping into a Fishers boate, that she immediately hired, followed him aloofe from the fur∣ther shoare of Sclavonia. Being come to Rome, one day, in the Emperours presence, Iunia the widdow of Scribonianus, by reason of the neerenesse and societie of their fortunes, fami∣liarly accosted her, but she rudely, with these wordes, thrust her away. What (quoth shee) shall I speake to thee, or shall I listen what thou saiest: Thou, in whose lappe Scribonianus thy husband was slaine, and thou yet livest? and thou breathest? These words with divers other signes, made her kinsfolkes and friendes perceive, that shee purposed to make herselfe away, as impatient to a abide her husbands fortune. And Thrasea her sonne in law, taking hold of her speeches, beseeching her that she wold not so vnheedily spoile her selfe, he thus bespake her. What? If I were in Cecinnaes Fortune or the like, would you have my wife your daugh∣ter to doe so? What else? make you a question of it? (answered she) Yes mary would I, had she lived so long and in so good-agreeing sort with thee, as I have done with my husband. These and such-like answeres, encreased the care they had of her; and made them more heedfully to watch, and neerely to looke vnto her. One day, after she had vttered these wordes to her keepers; you may looke long enough to mee, well may you make mee die worse but you shall never be able to keepe me from dying: and therewith furiously flinging her selfe out of a chaire (wherein shee fate) with all the strength shee had, she fiercely ranne her head against the next wall; with which blowe having sore hurt her selfe, and falling into a dead swowne, after they had with much adoe brought her to her selfe againe: Did I not tell you (quoth she) that if you kept me from an easie death, I would choose another, how hard and difficult soever? The end of so admirable a vertue was this. Her husband Paetus wanting the courage to doe himselfe to death, vnto which the Emperors crueltie reserved him; one day, having first employed discourses and exhortations, befitting the counsell she gave him to make himselfe away, shee tooke a Dagger that her husband wore, and holding it out∣right in her hand, for the period of her exhortation: Doe thus Paetus said shee) and at that instant, stabbing herselfe mortally to the heart, and presently pulling the Dagger out againe, shee reached the same vnto her husband, and so yeelded vp the ghost, vttering this noble, generous and immortall speech▪ Paete non dolet, shee had not the leasure to pronounce other than these three wordes, in substance materiall and worthy her selfe, Holde Paetus, it hath done me no hurt.

Casta suo gladium cùm traderet Arria Paeto. Quem de visceribus traxerat ipsa suis: Si qua fides, vulnus quod feci, non dolet, inquit. Sed quod tu facies, id mihi Paete dolet. Chast Arria when she gave her Paetus that sharpe sword, Which from her bowells she had drawne forth bleeding new The wound I gave and have, if you will trust my word, Griev's not, said she, but that which mill be made by you.

It is much more lively in his owne naturall, and of a richer Sense; for both her husbands wound and death, and her owne hurts, shee was so farre from grieving to have beene the counselor and motive of them, that shee rejoiced to have performed so haughtie and coura∣gious an act, onely for the behoofe of her deere husband, and at the last gaspe of her life, she onely regarded him; and to remove all feare from him, to follow her in death, which Pae∣tus beholding, he immediatly wounded himselfe with the same dagger, ashamed (as I sup∣pose) to have had need of so deare an instruction, and precious a teaching. Pompea Paulina, an high and noble-borne yong Roman Lady, had wedded Seneca, being very aged. Nero (his faire disciple) having sent his Satellites or officers toward him, to denounce the decree of his death to him: which in those dayes was done after this maner. When the Roman Emperors had condemned any man of qualitie to death, they were wont to send their officers vnto him, to chuse what death he pleased, and to take it within such and such a time, which accor∣ding to the temper of their choller, they prescribed vnto him, sometimes shorter, and some∣times longer, giving him that time to dispose of his affaires, which also by reason of some short warning they divers times tooke from him: And if the condemned partie seemed in any sort to strive against their will, they would often send men of purpose to execute him, either cutting the v••i••s of his armes and legs, or compelling him to take and swallow poison. But men of honor stayed not that enforcement, but to that effect vsed their own Phisitions or

Surgeons. Seneca, with a reposed and vndanted countenance listned attentively to their charge, and presently demaunded for paper and inke to make his last will and testament, which the Captaine refusing him, hee turned toward his friends, and thus bespake them. S••••h (my loving friends) I cannot bequeath you any other thing in remembrance or acknow∣ledgement of what I owe you, I leave you at least the richest and best portion I have, that is the image of my maners and my life, which I beseech you to keepe in memory; which doing, you may acquire the glory and purchase the name of truly sincere and absolutely-true friends And therewithall som••••mes appeasing the sharpnes of the sorow he saw them endure for his sake, with mild and gentle speaches, sometimes raising his voyce to chide th••m; Where are (said he) those memorable precepts of Philosophy? What is becom of those provisions, which for so many yeares together we have laid vp, against the brunts and accidents of Fortune? Was Nero••s innated cru••ly vnknowen vnto vs? What might we expect or hope-for at his hands who hath murdered his Mother and massacred his Brother, but that he would also do his Tu∣tor and Governor to death that hath fostred and brought him vp? Having vttered these words to all the by-standers, he turned him to his wife, as she was ready to sinke downe, and with the burthen of hir griefe to faint in heart and▪ strength; hee coll••d and e••braced her abou•• the necke, and heartily entreated hir, for the love of him, somwhat more patiently to beare this accident; and that his houre was come, wherein he must sh••w no longer by discourse and disputation, but in earnest effect, declare the fruite he had reaped by his studie; and that vn∣doubtedly he embraced death, not onely without griefe, but with exceeding joy? Wherefore my deere-deere heart, doe not dishonour it by thy teares, l••st thou seeme to love thy selfe more than my reputation. Asswage thy sorrowes, and comfort thy selfe in the knowledge thou hast had of mee and of my actions; leading the rest of thy life by the honest occupati∣ons to which thou art addicted. To whom Paulina, having somwhat rouzed hir drooping spirites, and by▪ a thrice-noble affection awakened the magnanimitie of her high-setled cou∣rage, answered thus: No Seneca, thinke not that in this necessitie I will leave you with out my companie.

I would not have you imagin that the vertuous examples of your life have not also taught me to die: And when shall I be able to doe it or better, or more honestly, or more to mine owne liking, then with your selfe? And be resolved I will goe with you, and be partaker of your for∣tune. Seneca taking so generous a resolve, and glorious a determination of his wife in good part▪ and to free himselfe from the feare he had to leave her after his dea••h, to his enemies mercie and crueltie: Oh my deare Paulina,! I had (quoth hee) perswaded thee what I thought was convenient, to leade thy life more happily, and doost thou then rather choos•• the honour of a glorious death? Assuredly I will not envy thee: Be the constancie and re∣solution answerable to our common end; but be the beautie and glory greater on thy side. That said, the vei••es of both their a••mes were cut, to the end they might bleede to death; but because Senecaes were somwhat shrunken vp through age and abstinence, and his bloud could have no speedy course, he commaunded the veines of his thighes to be launced: And fearing lest the torments he felt, might in some sort entender his wifes heart; as also to deli∣ver ••imselfe from the affliction, which greatly yearned him to see her in so pitteous plight: after he had most lovingly taken leave of her, he be••ought her to be pleased shee might be ca∣ried into the next chamber, which was accordingly performed. But all those incisions be∣ing vnable to make him die, he willed Statius Annous his Phisition to give him some poyso∣ned potion, which wrought but small effect in him, for through the weaknesse and colde∣nesse of his members, it could not come vnto his heart. And therefore they caused a warme bath to be prepared, wherein they layde him▪ then perceiving his end to approch, so long as he had breath, hee continued his excellent discourses, concerning the subject of the estate, wherein he found himselfe, which his Secretaries, so long as they could heare his voyce, col∣lected very diligently, whose last words continued long time after in high esteeme and ho∣nor amongst the better sort of men, as Oracles; but they were afterward lost, and great pit∣tie it is they never came vnto our handes. But when he once beganne to feele the last pangs of death, taking some of the water, wherein he lay bathing, all bloody, he therewith wash∣ed his head, saying, I vow this water vnto Iupiter the▪ Deliver••r. Nero being advertised of all this, fearing lest P••ulinaes death (who was one of the best alied Ladies in Rome, and to whome hee bare no particular grudge) might cause him some reproach, sent in all poste

haste to have her incisions closed vp againe, and if possibly it could be, to save her life; which hir servants by vnwriting vnto her, performed, she being more than halfe dead and voyde of a∣ny sence. And that afterward, contrary to her intent, shee lived, it was very honourable, and as be••itted her vertue, shewing by the pale ••ew and wanne colour of her face, how much of her life shee had wasted by her incisions. Loe heere my three true Stories, which in my con∣cei••e are as pleasant and as tragicall, as any wee devise at our pleasures, to please the vulga•• sort with al: and I wonder, that those who invent so many fabulous tales, do not rather make choise of infinite excellent, and quaint Stories, that are found in Books, wherein they should have lesse trouble to write them, and might doubtlesse proove more pleasing to the hearer, and profitable to the Reader. And whosoever would vndertake to frame a compleate and well-joynted bodie of them, neede neither employe nor adde any thing of his owne vnto it except the ••igaments, as the ••oldring of another mettall, and by this meanes might compact sundry events of all kindes, disposing and diversifying them, according as the beauty and lu∣stre of the worke should require: And very neere, as Ovid hath sowen and contrived his Me••amorphosis, with that strange number of divers fables. In the last couple, this is also worthy consideration, that Paulina offreth willingly to leave her life for hir husbands sake, & that hir husband had also other times quit death for the love of hir. There is no great coun∣terpoyze in this exchange for vs: but according to his Sto••ke humour, I suppose hee per∣swaded himselfe to have done as much for hir prolo••ging his life for hir availe, as if hee had died for hir. In one of his letters, he writeth to Lucilius, after he hath given him to vnderstand how an ague having surprised him in Rome▪ contrary to his wives opinion, who would needs have stayed him, hee sodainely tooke his Coach, to goe vnto a house of his into the Country; and how he tolde hir that the ague he had, was no bodily fever, but of the place: and followeth thus: At last shee let me goe, earnestly recommending my health vntome. Now I who knowe, how her life lodgeth in mine, beginne to provide for my selfe, that consequently I may provide for her: The priviledge my age hath bestowed on me, in making me more constant, and more resolute in ma∣ny things, I loose it; when-ever I call to minde, that in this aged corps there harboureth a yoong wo∣man, to whome I bring some profite. Since I cannot induce her to love me more couragiously, shee in∣duceth me to love my selfe more carefully; for something must be l••nt to honest affections, and some∣times, although occasions vrge vs to the contrary, life must be revoked againe, yea with torment. The soule must bee held fast with ones teeth, since the lawe to live in honest men, is not to live as long as they please, but so long as they ought. He who esteemeth not ••is wife or a friend so much, •••• that he will not lengthen his life for th••m, and will ob••••inately die, that man is over-nice, and too ••ff••minate: The Soule must commaund that vnto her selfe, when the vtilitie of our friends requireth it: we must sometimes lend our selves vnto our friends, and when we woulde die for vs, we ought for their sak••s to interrupt our deseigne. It is a testimony of high courage to returne to life for t••e respect of other•• as diverse notable men have done: and to preserve age is a parte of singular integritie (the chiefest commoditie whereof, is the carelesnesse of her continuance, and a more couragi••us and disdaine••ull vse of life) if a man perceive such an office to bee pleasing, acceptable and profitable to any well-af∣fected friend. And who dooth it, receiveth thereby a gratefull m••••de and pleasing rec••mpence: for what can bee sweeter, than to be so deare vnto his wife, that in respect of her a man become more deere vnto himselfe; So my Paulina, hath not onely charged me with her feare, but also with mine. It hath not beene sufficient for mee to cons••der, how resolutely I might dye, but I have also considered how irresolutely shee might endure it. I have enforced my selfe to live: And to live is somtimes mag∣nanimitie: Reade heere his owne wordes, as excellent as is his vsage.

The sixe and thirtieth Chapter.

Of the worthiest and most excellent men.

IF a man should demaund of mee, which of all men that ever came to my knowledge, I would make choise-of, me seemeth, I finde three, who have beene excellent above all o∣thers. The one is, Homer, not that Aristotle or Varro, (for example sake) were not perad∣venture

as wise and as sufficient as he: Nor that Ʋirgil, (and possibly in his owne arte) be not comparable vnto him. I leave that to their judgements that know them both. I who know but one of them, according to my skill may onely say this, that I cannot be perswa∣ded, the Muses themselves did ever goe beyond the Roman.

Tal•• facit carmen docta t••studine, quale —Cynthius impositis temperat articulis. He on his learned Lu••e such verse doth play, As Phoebus should thereto his fingers lay.

In which judgement, this must notwithstanding not be forgotten, that Ʋirgil doth espe∣cially derive his sufficiencie from Homer, and hee is his guide and School••master; and that but one only glance or sentence of the Iliads, hath given both bodie and matter to that great and divine Poem of the Aeneid. My meaning is not to accoump•• so: I entermix divers o∣ther circumstances, which yeeld this man most admirable vnto me, and as it were beyond humane condition. And truely I am often amazed, that he who hath produced, and by his authoritie brought so manie Deitie•• in credit with the World, hath not obtained to be repu∣ted a God himselfe. Being blind and indigent; having lived before ever the Sciences were redacted into strict rules and certaine observations, hee had so perfect knowledge of them, that all those which since his time have labored to establish Pollicies or Common-wealths, to manage warres, and ••o write either of Religion or Philosophie, in what Sect soever or of all A••tes, have made vse of him, as of an absolutely-perfect Master in the knowledge of all things; and of his Bookes, as of a Seminarie, a Spring-garden or Store-house of all kinds of sufficiency and learning.

Qui quid sit purchrum▪ quid turpe, quid v••ile, quid non, Pl••ntus ac melius Chrysippo ac Crantore dicit. What is faire, What is foule, What p••ofit may, What no••, Better than Crantor or Chrysippus, Homer wrot.

And as another saith:

—à quo ceu fonte perrenni Vatum Pierijs labra rigantur aquis. By whom, as by an ever-flowing-filling spring, With Muses liquor Poets lippes are bath'de to sing.

And another:

Adde Heliconiadum comites, quorum vnus Homerus Astrapotitus. Muses companions adde to these, of all One onely Homer hath in heav'n his stall.

And another:

—cuiusque ex ore profuso Omnis posterit as latices in carmina duxit, Amnémque in tenu••s, a••sa est deducere rivos: Vnius foecunda bonis. From whose large mouth for verse all that since live Drew water, and grew bolder to derive, Into thinne shallow rivers his deepe floods: Richly luxuriant in one mans goods.

It is against natures course▪ that he hath made the most excellent production, that may be; for, the ordinarie birth of things is imperfect: They are augmented by encrease, and cor∣roborated by growth. He hath reduced the infancie of Poesie, and divers other Sciences to be ripe perfect and compleate. By which reason he may be termed the first and last of Po∣ets, following the noble testimony, antiquitie hath left vs of him, that having had no man before him, whom hee might imitate, so hath hee had none after him, could imitate him▪ His wordes (according to Aristotle) are the onely words that have motion and action: they are the onely substantiall Wordes. Alexander the Great, having lighted vpon a rich casket amongest D••rius his spoyles, appoynted the same to be safely kep•• for himselfe, to keepe his Homer in: saying, he was the best adviser, and faithfullest counselor he had in his military af∣faires. By the same reason said C••eom••nes, sonne to Anaxandridas, that hee was the Lace∣demonians

Poet; for he was an excellent good teacher or Master of Warre like discipline. This singular praise and particular commendation hath also beene given him by Plutarke, where he saith, that he is the only Author in the world, who yet never distasted Reader, or glut∣ted man; ever shewing himselfe other, and different to the Readers; and ever flourishing with a new grace. That Wagge Alcibiades, demanding one of Homers bookes of one who prosessed letters, because he had it not, gave him a whirrit one the care; as if a man should finde one of our Priests, without a Breviarie. Xenophanes one day made his moane to Hie∣ron the Tyrant of Siracusa, that he was so poore as hee had not wherewithall to finde two servants: How commeth that to passe? (answered Hieron) Homer, who was much poorer than thou art, dead as he is, findeth more then tenne thousand. What left Panaetius vnsaide, when he named Plato the Homer of Philosophers? Besides what glory may be compared to his? There is nothing, liveth so in mens mouthes as his name and his workes; nothing so knowne and received as Troy, as Helen and her Warres, which paradventure never were. Our Children are yet called by the names hee invented three thousand yeeres since and more. Who knoweth not Hector? Who hath not heard of Achilles? Not onely some par∣ticular races, but most nations seeke to derive themselves from his inventions. Mach••m••t, asecond of that name, Emperour of Turkes, writing to Pope Pius the second: I wonder (saith he) how the Italians will bandie against me, seeing we have our common off-spring, from the Troians; and I as well as they have an interest to revenge the blood of Hector vp∣on the Graecians, whom they favour against mee. Is it not a woorthy Comedie, whereof Kings, Common-wealths, Principalities and Emperours, have for many ages together played their parts, and to which this great Vniverse serveth as a Theatre: seven cities of Greece strived amongst themselves about the places of his birth. So much honour his very obscuri∣tie procured him.

Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athenae, Rhodes, Salamis, Colophon, Chios, Argos, Smyrna, with Athens,

The other is Alexander the great. For, who shall consider his age, wherein hee beganne his enterprises; the small meanes he had to ground so glorious a desseigne vpon the autho∣ritie he attained unto in his infancie, amongst the greatest Commaunders, and most experi∣enced Captaines in the world, by whom he was followed: the extraordinarie favour, wher∣with fortune embraced him, and seconded so many of his haughtie-dangerous exploites, which I may in a manner call rash or fond-hardie.

Impellens quicquid sibi summapetenti Obstaret, gaudens{que} viam fecisse ruina. While he shot at the high'st, all that might stay He for'st, and joy de with ruine to make way.

That eminent greatnesse, to have at the age of thirtie yeares passed victorious through all the habitable earth, and but with halfe the life of a man to have attained the vtmost ende∣vour of humane nature; so that you cannot imagine his continuance lawfull, and the lasting of his increase in fortune, and progresse in vertue even vnto a just terme of age, but you must suppose something above man, to have caused so many Royal branches to ••ssue from out the loines of his Souldiers, leaving the world after his death to be shared betweene foure succes∣••ours, onely Captaines of his Armie, whose succeeders, have so long time since continued, and descendents maintained that large possession. So infinite, rare and excellent vertues that were in him, as justice, temperance, liberalitie, integritie in words, love toward his, and humanitie toward the conquered. For in truth, his maners seeme to admit no just cause of reproach: indeed some of his particular, rare and extraordinary actions, may in some fort be taxed. For it is impossible to conduct so great, and direct so violent motions with the strict rules of justice. Such men ought to be judged in grose, by the mistris end of their acti∣ons. The ruine of Thebes; the murther of Menander, and of Ephestions Phisitian; the masla∣cre of so many Persian prisoners at once: of a troupe of Indian Souldiers, not without some prejudice vnto his word and promise: and of the Cosseyans and their little children, are es∣capes somewhat hard to be excused. For, concerning Clitus, the fault was expiated beyond it's merite; and that action, as much as any other, witnesseth the integritie and cheerefulnes of his complexion, and that it was a complexion in it selfe excellently formed to goodnesse; And it was wittily saide of one, that he had vertues by nature, and vices by accident. Concer∣ning

the point, that he was somewhat to lavish a boaster, and over-impatient to heare him∣selfe ill-spoken-of; and touching those mangers, armes, and bits, which He caused to be scat∣tered in India, respecting his age and the prosperitie of his fortune, they are in my conceit pardonable in him. He that shall also consider his many military vertues, as diligence, fore∣sight patience; discipline, policie, magnanimitie, resolution and good fortune; wherein, though Ha••••balls authority had not taught it vs, he hath been the first and chief of men: the rare beau∣ties, matchlesse features, and incomparable conditions of his person, beyond all comparison, and wonder-breeding; his carriage; demeanor, and venerable behaviour, in a face so yoong, so verm••ill, and heart-enflaming:

Qualis vbi Occani perfusus Lucifer vnda, Quen•• Venus ante alios astrorum diligit ignes. Extulit os sacrum caelo, tenebrá squere solvit, As when the day starre washt in Ocean-streames, Which Venus most of all the starres esteemes, Shewes sacred ligh, tshakes darkenesse-off with beames.

The excellencie of his wit, knowledge and capacitie; the continuance and greatnesse of his glorie, vnspotted, vntainted, pure and free from all blame or envie: insomuch as long af∣tet his death, it was religiously beleived of many, that the medalls or brooches representing his person brought good lucke vnto such as wore or had them about them. And that more Kings and Princes have written his gestes and actions, then any other historians, of what qualitie soever, have registred the gests, or collected the actions of any other King or Prince that ever was: And that even at this day, the Mahometists, who contemne all other histo∣ries, by speciall priviledge, allow, receive, and onely honour his. All which premises duely considered together, hee shall confesse, I have had good reason to preferre him before Caesar himselfe who alone might have made me doubt of my choise. And it must needes bee gran∣ted, that in his exploites there was more of his owne; but more of fortunes in Alexanders atchievements. They have both had many things mutually alike, and Caesar happily some greater. They were two quicke and devouring fires, or two swift and surrounding streames, able to ravage the world by sundrie wayes.

Et velut immissi diversis partibus ignes Arentem in silvam, & virgulta sonantia lauro: Aut vbi decursu rapido de montibus altis Dant sonitum spumosi amnes, & in aequora currunt, Quisque suum populatus iter. As when on divers sides fire is applied To crackling bay-shrubs, or to woods Sunne dried, Or as when foaming streames from mountaines hie, With downe-fall swift resound, and to sea flie; Each-one doth havoc••e-out his way thereby.

But grant Caesars ambition were more moderate, it is so vnhappy, in that it met with this vile subject of the subversion of his countrie, and vniversall empairing of the world; that all parts imparcially collected and put together in the balance, I must necessarily bend to A∣lexanders side. The third, and in my judgement, most excellent man, is Epaminondas. Of glorie he hath not so much as some, and is farre short of diverse (which well considered is no substantiall part of the thing) of resolution and true valour, not of that which is set-on by ambition, but of that, which wisedome and reason may settle in a well disposed minde, hee had as much as may be imagined or wished for. Hee hath in mine opinion, made as great tri∣all of his vertues, as ever did Alexander or Caesar: for although his exploites of warre bee not so frequent, and so high-raised, yet being throughly considered, they are as weightie, as re∣solute, as constant, yea and as authenticall a testimonie of hardines and militarie sufficiencie, as any mans else. The Graecians, without any contradiction affoorded him the honour, to entitle him the chiefe and first man among themselves: and to be the first and chiefe man of Greece is without all question to bee chiefe and first man of the world. Touching his know∣ledge and worth, this ancient judgement doth yet remaine amongst vs, that never was man who know so much, nor never man that spake lesse then he. For he was by Sect a Pythagorian; and what he spake, no man ever spake better: An excellent and most perswasive Orator was hee.

And concerning his manners and conscience therein hee farre outwent all that ever medled with managing affaires: For in this one part, which ought especially to bee noted, and which alone declareth what we are, and which onely I counter poise to all others together, he giveth place to no Philosopher; no not to Socrates himselfe. In whom innocencie is a qualitie, pro∣per, chiefe, constant, vniforme and incorruptible. In comparison of which, it seemeth in Alexander subalternall, vncertaine, variable, effeminate and accidentall. Antiquine judged that precisely to sift out, and curiously to prie into all other famous Captaines, there is in e∣very one severally some speciall qualitie, which makes him renowmed and famous. In this man alone, it is a vertue and sufficiencie, every where compleate and alike; which in all offices of humane life, leaveth nothing more to bee wished-for. Bee it in publike or private; in peaceable negotiations or warlike occupations; be it to live or die, greatly or gloriously, I know no forme or fortune of man, that I admire or regard, with so much honour, with so much love. True it is, I finde this obstinacie in povertie, somewhat scrupulous; and so have his best friends pourtrayed-it. And this onely action (high notwithstanding and very worthy ad∣miration) I finde or deeme somewhat sharpe; so as I would nor wish, nor desire the imita∣tion thereof in me, according to the forme it was in him. Scipio Aemilianus alone (would a∣ny charge him with as fierce, and noblie-minded an end, and with as deepe and vniversall knowledge of Sciences) might be placed in the other scale of the ballance against him. Oh what a displeasure hath swift-gliding Time done me, even in the nicke, to deprive our eyes, of the chiefest paire of lives, directly the noblest that ever were in Plutarke, of these two truely∣worthy personages: by the vniversall consent of the world, the one chiefe of Graecians, the other principall of Romanes. What a matter, what a workeman! For a man that was noe Saint, but as we say, a gallant-honest man, of civill maners and common customes; of a tem∣perate haughtinesse; the richest lise I know (as the vulgar saying is) to have lived amongst the living, and fraughted with the richest qualities, and most to bee desired parts (all things im∣parcially considered) in my humour, is that of Alcibiades. But touching Epaminondas. for a patterne of excessive goodnesse, I will here insert certaine of his opinions, The sweetest con∣tentment he had in all his life, he witnesseth to have beene, the pleasure he gave his father and mother, of his victorie vpon Le••ctra: he staketh much, in preferring their pleasure, before his content, so just and full of so glorious an action. Hee thought it vnlawfull, yea were it to recover the libertie of his countrey. for any one to kill a man, except hee knew some iust cause. And therefore was he so backeward in the enterprise of Pelopidas his companion, for the delive∣rance of Thebes. Hee was also of opinion, that in a battel a man should avoide to encounter his friend, being on the contrary part; and if he met him, to spare him. And his humanity or gentlenes, even towards his very enemies, having made him to be suspected of the ••••o∣tians, for so much as after he had miraculously forced the Lacedemonians to open him a pas∣sage, which at the entrance of Mor•••• neere Corinth, they had vndertaken to make-good, hee was contented, without fur ther pursuing them in furie, to have marched over their bellies; was the cause he was deposed of his office of Captaine Generall. Most honourably for such a cause; and for the shame it was to them, soone after to bee forced by necessitie to advance him to his first place: and to acknowledge how their glorie, and confesse that their safetie did onely depend on him: victory following him as his shadow, whither soever hee went: and as the prosperitie of his countrie was borne by and with him, so it died with and by him.

The seaven and thirtieth Chapter.

Of the resemblance betweene children and fathers.

THis ••udling vp of so much trash, or packing of so many severall pieces, is done so strangely, as I never lay hands on it, but when an over lazie idlenesse vrgeth me; and no where, but in mine owne house. So hath it beene compact at sundry pauses, and contri∣ved at severall intervalls, as occasions have sometime for many months together, heere and

there in other places, detained me. Besides, I never correct my first imaginations by the se∣cond; it may happen, I now and then alter some word, rather to diversifie, then take any thing away. My purpose is, to represent the Progresse of my humours, that every part be seene or member distinguished, as it was produced. I would to God I had begunne sooner, and knew the tracke of my changes, and course of my variations. A boy whom I employ∣ed to write for me, supposed, he had gotten a rich bootie, when he stole some parts, which he best liked. But one thing comforts me that he shall gaine no more, then I lost by them. I am growne elder by seaven or eight yeares since I beganne them; nor hath it beene with∣out some new purchase. I have by the liberalitie of yeares acquainted my selfe with the stone chollike. Their commerce and long conversation, is not easiely past-over witho•••• some such-like fruite. I would be glad, that of many other presents, they have ever in store, to bestow vpon such as waite vpon them long, they had made choise of some one, that had beene more acceptable vnto me: for they could never possesse me with any, that, even from my infancie, I hated more. Of all accidents incident to age, it was that I feared most. My selfe have many times thought, I went on too farre, and that to hold out so long a journey, I must of necessitie, in the end, stumble vpon some such vnpleasing chance. I perceived plainely, and protested sufficiently, it was high time to depart, and that according to the ••ule of skillfull chirurgions, who when they must cut off some member, life must be seared to the quicke, and cut to the sound flesh. That nature is wont to make him pay vntollerable v∣surie, who doth not yeeld or pay the same in due time. I was so farre from being readie to make lawfull tender of it, that in eighteene months, or thereabouts, I have continued in so yrke∣some and vnpleasing plight, I have already learn't to apply my selfe vnto it; and am now en∣tring into covenant with this chollicall kinde of life; for therein I finde matter, wherewith to comfort me, and to hope better. So much are men enured in their miserable estate, that no con∣dition is so poore, but they will accept; so they way continue in the same. Heare M••cen••••.

Debilem facito ma••••, Debilem pede, coxa, Lubricos quate dentes, Ʋita dum superest, bene est. Make me be weake of hand, Scarse on my legges to stand, Shake my loose teeth with paine, T'is well, so life remaine.

And Tamburlane cloked the fantasticall crueltie, he exercised vpon Lazars or Leprous∣men, with a foolish kinde of humanitie, putting all he coulde finde or heare-of, to death, (as he saide,) to ridde them from so painefull and miserable a life, as they lived. For, there was none so wretched amongest them, that would not rather have beene three times a Leaper, than not to be at all. And Antisthenes the Stoick, being very sicke, and crying out: Oh who shall deliver me from my tormenting evils? Diogenes, who was come to visite him, foorth with presenting him a knife; Mary, this, said he, and that very speedily, i•• thou please: I meane not of my life, replyed hee, but of my sickenesse. The sufferances which simply touch vs in minde, doe much lesse afflict me, then most men: Partly by judgement; For the Worlde deemeth diverse things horrible, or avoydable with the losse of life, which to me are in ma∣ner indifferent: Partly, by a stupide and insensible complexion, I have in accidents, that hit me not point-blancke: Which complexion I esteeme one of the better partes of my natu∣rall condition. But the truely-essentiall and corporall sufferances, those I taste very sensibly: Yet is it, having othertimes fore-apprehended them with a delicate and weake sight and by the enjoying of this long health and happy rest, which God hath lent me, the better part of my age, somewhat empaired: I had by imagination concciued them so intolerable, that in good truth, I was more afraide, than since I have found hurt in them: Wherevpon, I dayly augment this opinion: That most of our soules faculties (as we employ them) doe more trouble than steade the quiet repose of life. I am continually grapling with the worst of all diseases, the most grievous, the most mortall, the most remedilesse and the most vio∣lent. I have already had triall of five or sixe long and painefull fittes of it: Neverthelesse, eyther I flatter my selfe, or in this plight there is yet something, that would faine keep life and soule together, namely in him, whose minde is free from feare of death, and from the threats,

conclusions and consequences, which phisicke is ever buzzing into our heads. But the ef∣fect of paine it selfe, hath not so sharpe a smarting, or so pricking a sharpnesse, that a setled man should enter into rage or fall into despaire. This commoditie at leaste, I have by the chollicke, that what I could never bring to passe in my selfe, which was, altogether to recon∣cile, and throwly to acquaint my selfe with death, shee shall atchieve, shee shall accomplish: for, by how much more shee shall importune and vrge me, by so much lesse shall death bee fearefull vnto mee, I had already gotten, not to bee beholding to life, but onely in regrad of life, and for lives sake: She shall also vntie this intelligence, and loose this combination. And God graunt, if in the end her sharpenesse shall happen to surmount my strength, shee cast ••••ce not into the other extreamitie, no lesse vicious, no lesse bad, that is, to love and desire to die

Summum nec metuas diem, nec optes. Nor feare thy latest doome, Nor wish it ere it come.

They are two passions to be feared, but one hath her remedy neerer than the other. O∣therwise, I have ever found that precept ceremonious, which so precizely appoints a man to set a good countenance, a setled resolution, and disdainefull carriage, vpon the sufferance of evills. Why doth Philosophy, which onely respecteth livelinesse and regardeth effects, ammuze it selfe about these externall apparances? Let her leave this care to Mimikes, to Histrions, and to Rhethoricke Masters, who make so great accoumpt of our gestures. Let her hardly remit this vocall lithernesse vnto evill, if it be neyther cordiall, nor stomacall▪ And let her lend her voluntary plants to the kinde of sighes, sobbes, palpatations and palenesse, which nature hath exempted from our puissance, Alwayes provided, the courage be with∣out feare, and wordes sance dispaire; let her be so contented. What matter is it if wee bend our armes, so wee writhe not our thoughts? She frameth vs for our selves, not for others: to be, not to seeme. Let her applie her selfe to governe our vnderstanding, which shee hath vndertaken to instruct. Let her in the pangs or fittes of the chollike, still maintaine the soule capable to acknowledge hir selfe and follow her accustomed course, resisting sorrow and enduring grie••e▪ and not shamefully to prostrate her selfe at his feete: Mooved and chafed with the combate, not basely suppressed nor faintly overthrowen: Capable of entertainement and other occupations, vnto a certaine limite. In so extreame accidents, it is crueltie, to require so composed a warde at our hands. If wee have a good game, it skills not, though wee have an ill countenaunce. If the body be any whit eased by complaining, let him doe it: If stirring or agitation please him, let him turne, rowle and tosse himselfe as long as hee list: If with rai∣sing his voyce, or sending it forth with more violence, hee thinke his griefe any thing alayed or vented (as some Phisitians affirme, it some what easeth women great with childe, and is a meane of ea••ie or speedie delivery) feare hee not to doe it; or if hee may but entertaine his tor∣ment, let him mainely cry out. Let vs not commaund our voyce to depart, but if she will, let vs not hinder it. Epicurus doth not only pardon his wise man to crie-out, when hee is grie∣ved or vexed, but perswadeth him to it. Pugiles etiam quum feriunt, in iactandis cestibus inge∣••iscunt, quia profundenda voce omne corpus intenditur, venit que plaga vehementior. Men when they fight with sand-baoges or such heavy Weapons, in fetc••ing their blowe and driving it, wil give a groane with all, because by stretching their voyce all their body is also strayned, and the stroke com∣meth with more vehemence. We are vexed and troubled enough with the euill, without trou∣bling and vexing our selves with these superfluous rules. This I say to excuse those, which are ordinarily seene to rage in the fittes and storme in the assaults of this sickenesse: for, as for mee, I have hitherto past it over with somwhat a better countenaunce, and am content to groane without braying and exclaiming. And yet I trouble not my selfe, to mainetaine this exterior decency; for, I make small reckoning of such an advantage; In that I lend my sick∣nesse what it requireth: But either my paine is not so excessive, or I beare it with more con∣stancy than the vulgare sorte. Indeede I must confesse, when the sharpe fittes or throwes as∣saile me, I complaine, and vex my selfe, but yet I never fall into despaire, as that fellow:

Eiulatu, questu, gemitu, fremitibus Resanando multum flebiles v••ces refert. with howling, groaniug, and complaint of fates, Most lamentable cries he imitates.

I feele my selfe in the greatest heate of my sickenesse; and I ever found my selfe capable and in tune, to speake, to thinke and to answer, as soundly as at any other time, but not so constantly, because my paine doeth much trouble and distract mee. When I am thought to bee at the lowest, and that such as are about me spare me, I often make a triall of my forces, and propose them such discourses as are furthest from my state. There is nothing impossi∣ble for mee, and me thinkes I can doe all things vppon a sodaine fitte, so it continue not long. Oh why have not I the gift of that dreamer; mentioned by Cicero, who dreaming, that hee was closely embracing a yong wench; found himselfe ridde of the stone in his sheets! Mine doe strangely dis-wench me. In the intermission or respites of this outragious pairre, when as my Vreters (through which the vrine passeth from the reines to the bladder) languish without gnawing mee, I sodainely returne into my ordinarie forme: forsomuch as my mind taketh no other allarume, but the sensible and corporall. All which I certeinely owe vn∣to the care I have had to prepare my selfe by reason and discourse of such accidents:

—laborum Nulla mihi nova nuncfacies inopináque surgit, Omnia praecept, at que animo mecum antè peregi.

No new or vnexpected forme is cast Of travels in my brest: all I forecast, In my minde with selfe I all forepast.

I am handled somewhat roughly for a Prentise, and with a violent and rude change; be∣ing at one instant falne from a very pleasing, calme, and most happy condition of life, vnto the most do••orous, yrkesome and painefull, that can possibly be imaginad: For, besides that in it selfe it is a disease greatly to be feared, it's beginnings or approaches are in mee sharper or more difficult▪ than it is wont to trouble others withall. The pangs and fittes thereof doe so often assaile mee, that in a manner I have no more feeling of perfect health. Notwith∣standing I hitherto keepe my spirite so seated, as if I can but joyne constancy vnto it, I finde my selfe to be in a much better state of life, than a thousand others, who have neither ague nor other infirmitie, but such as for want of discourse they give themselves. There is a cer∣taine fashion of subtile humilitie, which proceedeth of presumption: As this: That in ma∣ny things wee acknowledge our ignorance, and are so curteous to avowe, that in Natures workes, there are some qualities and conditions, which to vs are imperceptible, and whereof our sufficiencie cannot discover the meanes, nor finde out the causes. By this honest and conscientious declaration, wee hope to gaine, that wee shall also be beleeved in those, we shall say to vnderstand. Wee neede not goe to cull out myracles, and chuse strange difficulties: mee seemeth, that amongst those things wee ordinarily see, there are such incomprehensible rarities, as they exceede all difficulty of myracles. What monster is it, that this teare or drop of seed, wherof we are ingendred brings with it; and in it the impressions, not only of the cor∣porall forme, but even of the very thoughts and inclinations of our fathers? Where dooth this droppe of water containe or lodge this infinite number of formes? And how beare they these resemblances, of so rash, and vnruly a progresse, that the childes childe shall be an∣swerable to his grandfather, and the nephew to his vnckle? In the family of Lepidus the Ro∣man, there have beene three, not successively, but some between, that were borne with one same eye covered with a cartilage or gristle. There was a race in Thebes, which from their mothers wombe, bare the forme of a burre, or yron of a launce; and such as had it not, were judged as mis-begotten and deemed vnlawfull. Aristotle reporteth of a certaine Nation, with whome all women were common, where children were alloted their fathers, only by their resemblances. It may bee supposed, that I am indebted to my father for this stonie qualitie; for he died exeeedingly tormented with a great stone in his bladder. He never felt himselfe troubled with the disease, but at the age of sixtie seaven yeares: before which time hee had never felt any likelihoode or motion of it, nor in his reines, nor in his sides, nor elsewhere: and vntill then had lived in very prosperous health, and little subject to infirmities, and con∣tinued seven yeares and more with that disease training a very dolorous lives-end. I was borne five and twenty yeares before his sickenesse, and during the course of his healthy state his third child. Where was al this while the propension or inclination to this defect, hatched? And when he was so farre from such a disease, that light part of his substance wherewith he composed me, how could it for hir part, beare so great an impression of it? And how so

closely covered, that fortie five yeares after, I have begunne to have a feeling of it? And hi∣therto alone, among so many brethren and sisters, and all of one mother. He that shall resolve me of this progresse, I will believe him as many other miracles as he shall please to tell mee: alwayes provided (as commonly they doe) hee goe not about to pay me, with a doctrine much more difficult and fantasticall, then is the thing it selfe (let Physitians somewhat excuse my libertie:) for by the same infusion and fatall infinuation, I have received the hate and contempt of their doctrine. The Antipathie, which is betweene me and their arte, is to me hereditarie. My father lived three score and foureteene yeares: My grandfather three score and nine; my great grandfather very neere foure score, and never fasted or tooke any kinde of Physicke. And whatsoever was not in ordinary vse amongst them, was deemed a drug. Phisicke is grounded vpon experience and examples. So is mine opinion. Is not this a manifest kinde of experience and very advantageous? I know not whether in all their regi∣sters, they are able to finde me three more, borne, bred, brought vp, and diceased, vnder one roofe, in one same chimnie, that by their owne direction and regiment have lived so long. Wherein they must needes grant me, that if it be not reason, at least it is Fortune that is on my side. Whereas among Phisitions fortune is of more consequence, then reason. Low-brought, and weake as I am now, let them not take me at an advantage, nor let them not threaten me: for that were insulting a••rogance. And to say truth, I have by my familiar examples gained enough vpon them although they would take hold and stay there. Humane things have not so much constancie: It is now two hundred yeares; wanting but eighteene, that this Essay continueth with vs: For, the first was borne in the yeare of our Lord one thousand foure hundred and two, Some reason there is why this experience should now be∣ginne to faile vs. Let them not vpbraide me with those infirmities, which now have seazed vpon me: Is it not sufficient to have lived seaven and fortie yeares in good and perfect health for my part? Suppose it be the end of my carriere, yet it is of the longest, Mine ancestors by some se••ret instinct and naturall inclination have ever l••athed all maner of Phisicke: for the very sight of drugs bred a kinde of horror in my father. The Lord of Gaviac mine vnckle by the fathers side, a man of the church, sickish even from his birth, and who notwithstan∣ding made his weake life to hold out vntill sixtie seaven yeares; falling once into a dangerous and vehement continuall feaver, it was by the Phisitions concluded, that vnlesse he would aide himselfe (for they often ••erme that aide, which indeede is impeachment) hee was but a dead man. The good soule, afrighted as he was, at that horrible sentence, answered thus, why when I am a dead man: But shortly after God made their prognostications to proove vaine. The Lord of Bussaguet last of the brethren (for they were foure) and by much the last, he alone submitted himselfe to that arte, as I imagine by reason of the frequence he had in other Sciences; for he was a Counsellor in the Court of Parliament, which prospered so ill with him, that though he were in shew of a very strong complexion, he died long before the others, except one, the Lord of Saint Michaell. It may well be, I have received of them that naturall dyspathie vnto Phisicke. Yet if there had beene no other consideration but this, I would have endevoured to force it. For, all these conditions, which without rea∣son are borne in vs, ate vicious. It is a kinde of maladie a man must fight withall. It may be I had such a propension, but I have settled and strongthned the same by discourses, which in me have confirmed the opinion I have of it. For, I have also the consideration to refuse Phisicke by reason of the sharpenesse of it's taste. It would not easily agree with my hu∣mour, who thinke health worthie to bee purchased, with the price of all cautheries and incisions, how painefull so ever. And following Epicurus, mee seemeth that all maner of voluptuousnesse should be avoided, if greater griefes follow them: And griefes to be sought after, that have grea∣ter volup••uousnesse ensuing them. Health is a very precious jewell, and the onely thing, that in pursuite of it deserveth, a man should not onely employ, time, labour, sweate and goods, but also life to get it; forasmuch as without it, life becommeth injurious vnto vs. Vo∣luptuousnes, Science and vertue, without it tarnish and vanish away. And to the most constant & exact discourses, that Philosophie wil imprint in our mindes to the contrarie, wee need not oppose any thing against it but the image of Plato, being visited with the falling sickenesse, or an Apoplexie; and in this presupposition chalenge him to cal the richest faculties of his minde to helpe him.

All meanes that may bring vs vnto health, can not be esteemed of mee either sharpe or

deare. But I have some other apparances, which strangely make me to distrust all this ware. I doe not say but there may be some arte of it: It is certaine, that amongst ••o many of Na∣tures workes, there are some things proper for the preservation of our health. I knowe there are some simples, which in operation are moistning and some drying: My selfe have found by experience that radish-rootes are windie, and senie-leaves breede loosenesse in the belly. I have the knowledge of diverse such experiments, as I knowe that Mutton nourisheth that Wine warmeth me. And Solon was wont to say, that eating was as all other Drugges are, a me∣dicine against the disease of hunger. I disallow not the vse we drawe ••••••m the world, nor doubt I of Natures power and fruitefulnesse, and of her application to our neede. I see, that the Pickrell▪fish, and the Swallowes live well by her lawes. I greatly distrust the inventions of our wit, of our arte and of our Science: in favour of which we have forsaken Nature, and a∣bandoned her rules; wherein we can neither observe limitation, nor keepe moderation. As wee terme ••ustice, the composition of the first lawes that come vnto our hands, and their practise and dispensation very often most wicked and vnconvenient. And as those which mocke and condemne it, intend neverthelesse to wrong this noble vertue; but onely to con∣demne the abuse and profanation of so sacred a title: So likewise in Physicke, I knowe her glorious name, her proposition, and her promise, so profitable to mankinde: but what it desseigneth amongst vs, I neither honour nor respect. 〈◊〉〈◊〉, experience makes mee feare it, for of all I knowe, I see no kinde of men so soone sicke, nor so late cured, as those who are vnder the urisdiction of Physicke. Their very health is distempered and corrupted by the constraint of ••their prescriptions. Physitions are not contented to have the government over Sickenesse, but they make Health to be sicke, lest a man should at any time escape their authoritie. Of a constant and perfect health, doe they not frame an argument of some future daungerous sickenesse? I have often beene sicke, and without any their helpe, I have found my sickenes∣ses (though I never medled with the bitternesse of their prescriptions) as easie to be tolerated, and as short, as any mans else, and yet I have felt diverse. My health is free and sound, with∣out any rules or discipline) except of my owne custome and pleasure. I finde noe difference in places, all are alike to me to dwell in: forbeing sicke, I neede no other commodities, then those I must have when I am in health. I am nothing passionated, though I be without Phy∣sition, without Apothecary, or without physicall helpe; whereat I see some as much troubled in minde, as they are with their disease, What? doth the best Physition of them all make vs per∣ce••ve any happinesse or continuance in his life, as may w••••nesse some manifest effect of his skill and l••••rning? There is no Nation, but hath continued many ages without physicke: yea the first ages, which is as much to say, the best and most happy: and the tenth part of the world hath as yet no vse of it. Infini••e Nations knowe it not; where they live both more healthie and much longer then we doe: yea and amongst vs, the common ••ort live happily without it. The Romanes had beene sixe hundred yeares before ever they received it: by meanes or interposition of Cato the Censor, they banish•• it their Cittie, who declared how easily man might live without it, having lived himselfe foure score and five yeeres, and his wife vntill she was ex••reamely old, not without Physicke, but indeede without any Physition: For, what∣soev••r is by experience found healthie for our body and health, may be termed physicke. He enter∣tained (as Pi••tarke saith) his familie in health, by the vse (as farre as I remember) of Hares milke: As the Arcadians (saith Plinic) cure all malladies with Cowes milke. And the Lybi∣ans (saith Herodotus) doe generally enjoy a perfect health, by observing this custome, which is, so soone as their children are about foure yeeres olde, to cauterize and seare the veines of their head and temples, whereby they cut-off the way to all rheumes and defluxions. And the countrie▪people where I dwell, vse nothing against all diseases, but some of the strongest wine they can get, with store of saffron and spice in it; and all with one like fortune. And to say true, of all this dive••siti•• of rules, and confusion of prescriptions, what other end or ef∣fect workes it, but to evacuate the belly? which a thousand home-simples will doe as well. And I knowe not whether it be as profitable (as they say) and whether our nature require the residents of her ex••rements, vntill a certaine measure, as wine doth his lees for his pre∣servation. You see often men very healthy, by some strange accidents, to fall into violent vo∣mi••es, and fluxes, and voyde great store of excrements, without any praecedent neede, or suc∣ceeding benefite: yea with some empairing and prejudice. I learn't of Plato not long since, that of three motions, which belong to vs, the last and worst, is that of purgations, and that

no man, except hee be a foole, ought to vndertake it; vnlesse it be in great extreamitie. The evill is troubled and stirred vp by contrary oppositions. It is the forme of life, that gently must diminish, consume and bring it to an end. Since the violent twinges of the drug and ma∣ladie are ever to our losse; since the quarrell is cleared in vs, and the drug a trustlesse helpe; by it's owne nature an enemie to our health, and but by trouble hath no accesse in our state. Let's give them leave to go on. That order which provideth for Fleas and Moles, doth also pro∣vide for men, who have the same patience to suffer themselves to be governed, that Fleas and Moles have. We may fairely cry bo-bo-boe; it may well make vs hoarse, but it will nothing ad∣vaunce it. It is a prowd and impetuous order. Our feare and our despaire, in liew of envi∣ting the same vnto it, doth distaste and delay it out of our helpe: he oweth his course to evill, as well as to sickenesse. To suffer himselfe to be corrupted in favour of one, to the prejudice of the others rights, he will not doe it; so should they fall into disorder. Let vs goe on in the name of God; let vs follow; He leadeth-on such as follow him: those that follow him not he haleth-on, both with their rage and phisicke together. Cause a purgation to be prepared for your braine; it will bee better employed vnto it, then to your stomacke. A Lacedemo∣nian being asked, what had made him live so long in health, answered, The ignorance of phy∣sicke- And Adrian the Emperour, as he was dying, ceased not to crie out, that the number of Physitions had killed him. A bad wrestler became a Physition. Courage, saide Diogenes to him, thou hast reason to doe so, for now shalt thou helpe to put them into the ground, who have heere∣tofore ayded to lay thee on it. But according to Nicoles, they have this happe, That the Sunne doth manifest their successe, and the earth doth cover their fault, And besides, they have a ve∣ry advantageous fashion among themselves, to make vse of all manner of events; for, what∣soever either Fortune or Nature, or any otherstrange cause (whereof the number is infinite) produceth in vs, or good or healthfull, it is the priviledge of Physicke to ascribe it vnto her∣selfe. All the fortunate successes that come to the patient, which is vnder their government, it is from nature he hath them. The occasions that have cured me, and which heale a thou∣sand others, who never send or call for Physitions to helpe them, they vsurpe them in their subjects. And touching ill accidents, either they vtterly disavow them, in imputing the blame of them to the patient, by some vaine reasons, whereof they never misse to finde a great num∣ber; as he lay with his armes out of the bed, he hath heard the noyse of a coach;

—rhedarum transitus arcto Vicorum inflexu. Coaches could hardly passe, The lane so crooked was.

His Window was left open all night; Hee hath laine vpon the left side, or troubled his head with some heavie thought. In some, a word, a dreame, or a looke, is of them deemed a sufficient excuse, to free themselves from all imputation: Or if they please, they will also make vse of this emparing, and thereby make vp their businesse; and as a meane which can never faile them, when by their applications the disease is growne desperate, to pay vs with the assurance, that if their remedies had not beene, it would have beene much woorse. He, whom but from a colde they have brought to a Cotidian Ague, without them shoulde have had a continuall feaver. They must needes thrive in their businesse, since all ills redownd to their profit. Truely they have reason to require of the pacient an application of favourable confidence in them; which must necessarily be in good earnest, and yeelding to apply itselfe vnto imaginations, over-hardly to be believed, Plato said very well and to the purpose, that freely to lie belonged onely to Physitions, since our health dependeth on their vanitie and false∣hood of promises. Aesope an Authour of exceeding rare excellence, and whose graces few discover, is very pleasant in representing this kinde of tyrannicall authoritie vnto vs. which they vsurpe vpon poore soules, weakened by sickenesse, and over-whelmed through feare; for he reporteth, how a sicke man being demaunded by his Physition, what operation hee felt by the Physicke he had given him. I have sweate much, answered he; that is good, repli∣ed the Physition, Another time he asked him againe how he had done since; I have had a great colde and quivered much, said he: that is very well, quoth the Physition againe, The third time he demaunded of him, how he felt himselfe; He answered, I swell and puffe-vp as it were with the dropsie; That's not amisse, saide the Physition. A familiar friend of his comming afterward to visite him, and to know how hee did? Verely (said hee) my friend I

die with being too too well. There was a more equall Law in Aegypt, by which for the first three dayes the Phisition tooke the patient in hand, vpon the patients perrill and fortune; but the three dayes expired, it was at his owne. For, What reason is there, that Aesculapius their patrone must have beene strucken with Thunder, forsomuch as hee recovered Hippolitus from death to life?

Nampater omnipotens aliquem indignatus ab vmbris, Mortalem infernis, ad lumina surgere vitae. Ipse repertorem medicinae talis, & artis Fu••mine Phoebigenam slygias detrusit advndas, Iove scorning that from shades infernall night, A mortall man should rise to lifes new light Apolloes sonne to hell he thunder-threw. Who such an arte found out, such med'cine knew,

and his followers must be absolved, that send so many soules from life to death? A Phisitian boa∣sted vnto Nicocles, that his Arte was of exceeding great authoritie, It is true (quoth Nicocles) for, it may kill so many people without feare of punishment by Law. As for the rest, had I beene of their counsel, I would surely have made my discipline more sacred and mysterious. They had begunne very well, but the end hath not answered the beginning. It was a good ground, to have made Gods and Doemons Authors of their Science, to have affi••med a pe∣culiar language and writing to themselves. Howbeit Philosophie supposeth it to be folly to perswade a man to his profit, by wayes not vnderstood: Ʋt si quis medicus imperet vt sumat: As if a Physition should bid a man take.

Terrigenam▪ herbigradam, demiportam, sanguine cassam, One earth-borne, goe-by grasse, house-bearing▪ slimilie, bloodlesse.

It was a good rule in their arte, and which accompanieth all fanaticall, vaine, and super∣naturall artes, that the pacients beliefe must by good hope and assurance preoccupate their effect and operation. Which rule they holde so farre forth, that the most ignorant and bungling horse∣leach is fitter for a man that hath confidence in him, than the skilfullest and learnedst Phy∣sition. The verie choyce of most of their Drugges, is somewhat mysterious and divine. The left fonte of a Tortoyze; The stale of a Lizard; The dongue of an Elephant; The liver of a Mole, Blood drawne from vnder the right wing of a white Pigeon; And for vs who are troubled with the stone-cholike (so disdainfully abuse they our misery) Some Rattes pounded to small pow∣der; and such other foolish trash, which rather seeme to be magike-spells or charmes▪ than effects of any solide science. I omit to speake of The odde number of their pilles; The desti∣nation of c••rtaine dayes and feastes of the yeere; The distinction of houres to gather the simples of their ingredients; And the same rewbarbative and severely-grave looke of theirs, and of their port and countenan••••; Which ••l••••i•• himselfe mocketh at. But, as I was about to say they have failed, forsomuch as they have not added this to their faire beginning, to make their as∣semblies more religious, and their consuitations more secret. No prosane man should have accesse vnto them, no more than to the secret ceremonies of Aesculapius. By which meanes it commeth to passe, that their irresolution, the weakenesse of their Arguments, divinations and grounds, the sharpenesse of their contestations full of hatred, of jealousie and particu∣lar considerations, being apparant to all men; a man must needes be starke blinde, •••• he who falleth into their handes, see not himselfe greatly endangered. Who ever saw Phisition vse his fellowes receipt, without diminishing or adding somewhat vnto it? Whereby they greatly betrai•• their Arte; And make vs perceive, they rather respect their reputation, and consequently their profit, than the well-fare or interest of their pacients. Hee is the wis••st amongst their Doctors, who hath long since prescribed them, that one alone should meddle to cure a sicke man; for, if it prosper not with him, and he doe no good, the reproch will not be great to the Arte of Phisicke, through the fault of one man alone; and on the other side, if it thrive well with him, the Glorie shalbe the greater. Whereas if they be mani••, everie hand-while they discover their mysterie, because They oftner happen to d••e ill than well. They should have beene content with the perpetuall dis-agreeing, which is ever found in the opinions of the principall Masters and chiese Authors of their Science, knowen but by such as are conver∣sant in Bookes, without making apparant shew of the controversies, and inconstanties of their judgement, which they foster and continue amongest themselves. Will wee have an

example of the ancient debate of Physicke? Hirophil••s placeth the originall cause of sicke∣nesse in the humours: Erasistratus, in the blood of the A••te••i••s: As••l••••••ad••s, in the ••n∣visible Atomes that passe into our pores: Al••meon, in the abundan••••••r de••ence of co••po∣rall forces: Diocles, in the inequal••••ie of the bodies elements, and in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the a••e, wee breathe: Strato, in the abundance, cruditie and corruption of the ••o••••••shment we take: Hipocrates doth place it in the spirits. There is a friend of the••rs, whom they know bet∣ter than I, who to this purpose crieth out; that the most important science in vse amongst vs (as that which hath charge of our health and preservation) is by ill hap, the most vncertaine, the most confused, and most agitated with infinite changes. There is no great danger to mistake the height of the Sunne, or misse-reckon the fraction of some As••••••n••m••cal•• s••ppu∣tation; but herein, whereon our being and chiefe free-hold doth wholly depend it is no wise∣dome to abandon ou•• selves to the mercy of the agitation of so ma••••••old ••on rari•• wind••s. Before the Peloponesian warre, there was no great newes of this science. Hipocrates brought it into credite. Whatsoever hee established, Chrysippus overthrewe, Afterward Erasistrat••s Grand-Childe to Aristotle, re-enve••st what ever Chrysippus had written of it. After these, start vp the Empeirikes, who concerning the managing of this Arte, tooke a new cou••se▪ al∣together different from those ancient fathers. And when their credite began to growesta••e; Hirophilus brought another kinde of Physicke into vse, which As••l••piades when his ••u••ne came, impugned, and in the end subverted. Then came the opinions of Themi••on to bee in great authoritie, then those of Musa, and afterward those of Ʋect••••s Ʋ••l••ns, a famous Phi∣sition, by reason of the acquaintance hee had with Messalina. During the time of N••ro, the soveraintie of Phisicke fell to the handes of Thessalus, who abolished and condemned what∣soever had beene held of it before his time. This mans Doctrine was afterward wholly over∣throwne by Crinas of Mars••ille, who a new revived and framed, that all men should di∣rect and rule medicinable operations to the Ephemerides and motions of the star••es, to eate, to drinke, to sleepe at what houre it should please Luna and M••rcu••ie. His authoritie was soone after supplanted by Charinus; a Phisition of the same towne of Mars••illes, who not onely impugned ancient Phisicke, but also the vse of warme and publike bathes, which had beene accustomed so many ages before. Hee caused men to bee ba••h••d in cold Water; yea, were it in the deepe of Winter hee plunged and dived sicke men into the running streame of Rivers. Vntill Plinies time noe Romane had ever da••ned to exercise the Arte of Phisicke, but was ever vsed by strangers and Graecians, as at this daie it is vsed in France by Latinizers. For, as a famous Phisition saith, wee doe not easily admit and allow that Physicke, which we vnderstand, nor those Drugs we gather our selves. If those Nations from whom wee have the Wood Guiacum, the Salsapar••ille, and the Wood Desqu••ne, have any Physition amongst them, how much thinke wee by the same commendation of the strangenesse, rarenesse and d••a••th, they will rejoyce at our coleworts and pa••sly? For, who dar••th contemne things sought and fetch so farre-off with the hazard of so long and dangerous a peregrination? since these auncient mutations of physicke, there have beene infinite others, that have continued vnto our dayes, and most often entire and vniversall mutations; as are those which Paracel∣sus, Fioravanti and Argenterius have produced: for (as it is told me) they doe not only change a receipt, but also the whole contexture and policie of phisickes whole bodie, accusing such as hitherto have made profession thereof, of ignorance and cousinage. Now I leave to your imagination, in what plight the poore patient findeth himselfe. If we could but be assured, when they mistake themselves, their phisicke would do vs no harme, although not profit vs; It were a reasonable composition, for a man to hazard himselfe to get some good, so hee endangered not himselfe to loose by it. Aesope reporteth this storie; that one who had bought a Moore∣slave, supposing his blacke hew had come vnto him by some strange accident, or ill vsage of his former Maister with great diligence caused him to bee medicined with divers bathes and sundry potions: It fortuned the Moore did no whi•• mend or change his swarthie comple∣xion, but lost his former health. How often commeth it to passe, and how many times see we phy∣sitions charge one another with their pacients death. I remember a popular sickenesse, which some yeares since, greatly troubled the Townes about me, very mortall and dangerovs; the rage whereof being over-past, which had carried away an infinite number of persons: One of the most famous physitions in all the country, published a booke, concerning that disease; wherein hee adviseth himselfe, that they had done amisse to vse phl••botomie▪ and confesseth,

it had beene one of the principall causes of so great an inconvenience. Moreover, their Au∣thors holde, that there is no kinde of Physicke, but hath some hurtfull part in it. And •••• those that f••t ou•• turne, doe in some sort harme vs; what must those doe, which are given vs to no pur∣pose, and out of season? As for me, if nothing else belonged thereunto, I deeme it a matter very dangerous▪ and of great prejudice for him who loathes the taste, or abhorres the smell of a potion, to swallow it at so vnconvenient houres, and so much against his heart. And I thinke it much d••stempereth a sicke man, namely in a season he hath so much neede of rest. Besides, consider but the occasions, on which they ordinarily ground the cause of our sicke∣nesses; they are so light and delicate, as thence I argue, That a very small error in compound∣ing of their Drugges, may occasion vs mu••h de••riment. Now if the mistaking in a Physition be dangerous, it is very ill for vs: for it is hard if he fall not often into it. He hath neede of many parts, divers considerations and severall circumstances to proportion his desseigne iustly. He ought to know the sicke mans complexion, his temper, his humours, his inclinations, his actions, his thoughts and his imaginations. He must be assured of externall circumstances; of the nature of the place; the condition of the aire; the quality of the weather; the situation of the Planets, and their influences. In sickenesse, he ought to be acquainted with the causes, with the signes, with the affections and criti∣call daies: In drugges •••• should vnderstand their weight, their vertue and their operation, the coun∣try, the figure, the age, the dispensation. In all these parts, he must know how to proportion and referre them one vnto another; thereby to bege•• a perfect Symmetrie or due proportion of each part: wherein if he misse never so little, or if amongst so many wheeles and severall motions, the least be out of tune or temper; it is enough to marre all.

God knowes how hard the knowledge of most of these parts is: As for example, how shall he finde out the proper signe of the disease, every malady being capable of an infinite num∣ber of signes; How many debates, doubts and controversies have they amongst themselves about the interpretations of Vrine? Otherwise whence should that continuall alt••••••ation come we see amongst them, about the knowledge of the disease? How should we excuse this fault, wherein they fall so often, to take a Martin for a Fox? In those diseases I have had (so they admitted any difficulty) I could never yet finde three agreeing in on•• opinion. I more willingly note examples that concerne my selfe. A Gentleman in Paris was not long since cut off the stone by the appointment of Phisitions, in whose bladder they found no more stone, then in his hand: Where also a Bishop, who was my very good friend, had by his Phisitions beene earnestly sol••cited to be cut; and my selfe, because they were of his counsell, vpon their words, aided to perswade him to it; who being deceased and opened, it was found, he had no infirmity but in his reines. They are lesse excusable in this d••sease, forsomuch as it is in some sort palpable. Whereby I judge the arte of Chirurgery much more certaine; For it seeth and handl••th what it doth; and therein is lesse conjecture and divination. Whereas Phisitions have no speculum matricis, to discover our braine, our ••ungs and our l••ver vnto them. The ve∣ry promises of phisicke are incredible. For being to provide for divers and contrary accidents, which often trouble vs together, and with a kinde of necessary relation one vnto another; as the heate of the liver, and the cold of the stomake, they will perswade vs, that with their ingredients, this one shall warme the stomacke, and this other coole the liver; the one hath charge to goe directly to the reynes, yea even to the bladder, without enstalling his operation any where else, and by reason of it's secret propriety, keeping his force and ver∣tue, all that long way, and so full of stops or lets, vntill it come to the place, to whose seruice it is destinated. Another shall drie the braine, and another moisten the lungs. Of all this hotch-pot having composed a mixture or potion, is it not a kinde of raving, to hope their se∣verall vertues shall devide and seperate themselves from out such a confusion or c••mmixture, to run to so diverse charges? I should greatly feare they would loose or change the••r tickets and trou∣ble their quarters. And who can imagine, that in this liquid confusion, these faculties be not corrupted, confounded and alter one another? What? that the execution of this ordenance depends from another officer, to whose trust and mercy we must once moreforsake our lives? As we have doublet and hose-makers to make our clothes, and are so much the better fitted, in as much as each medleth with his owne trade, and such have their occupation more strictly limited, then a Tailer that will make all. And as for our necessary foode, some of our great Lords, for their more commodity and ease have severall cookes, as some only to dresse boyled meates, and some to roste, others to bake, whereas if one Cooke alone would supply

all three in generall, he could never doe it so exactly. In like sort for the curing of all disea∣ses, the Aegyptians had reason to reject this generall mysterie of Physitians, and to sunder this profession for every maladie, allotting each part of the body his distinct workman. For, every particular part was thereby more properly attended, and lesse confusedly governed, and for so much as they regarded but the same especially. Our Physitians never remember, that he who will provide for all, provideth for nothing; and that the totall and summarie policie of this little world, is vnto them vndig estible Whilst they feared to stop the course of a bloo∣dy flux, because he should not fal into an ague, they killed me a friend of mine, who was more worth then all the rabble of them; yea were they as many more. They ballance their diuina∣tious of future things, with present cuils, and because they will not cure the braine in preiudice of the stomacke, they offend the stomacke and empaire the braine, and all by their seditious and tumultu∣ary drugs. Concerning the variety and weaknes of the reasons of this Art, it is more apparent then in any other Art. Aperitive things are good for a man thats troubled with the collike, because that opening and dilating the passages, they addresse this slimie matter whereof the gravell and stone is ingendred, and so convay downeward whatsoever beginneth to harden and petrifie in the reines: A peritive things are dangerous for a man thats troubled with the collike, because that opening and dilating the passages, they addresse towards the reines, the matter engendring gravell, which by reason of the propensions they have with it, easily sei∣zing on the same, must by consequence stay great store of that which is convaied vnto them. Moreover, if by chance it fortune to meet with a body, somewhat more grosse then it ought to be, to pas••e all those strait turnings, which to expell the same they must glide thorow; that body being mooved by those soluble things, and cast in those strait chanels, and comming to stop them, it will doubtlesse hasten a certaine and most dolorous death. They have a like constancie about the counsels they giue vs, touching the regiment of our life. It is good to make water often; for by experience we see, that permitting the same idlely to lie still, we give it leisure to discharge it selfe of her lees and excrements, which may serve to breed the stone in the bladder: It is good to make water but seldome, for the weightie dregs it drawes with it, are not easily caried away, except by violence: as by experience is seene in a torrent that run∣neth very swift, which sweepeth and clenseth the place through which he passeth, much more then doth a slow-gliding streame. Likewise it is good to have often copulation with women; for that openeth the passages, and convaieth the gravell away: It is also hurtfull; for it heateth, wearieth, and weakneth the reines. It is good for one to bathe himselfe in warme water; for so much as that looseth and moistneth the places where the gravel and stone lurketh: It is also bad; because this application of externall heat helpeth the reines to con∣coct, to harden and petrifie the matter disposed vnto it. To such as are at the bathes, it is more healthfull to eat but little at night, that the water they are to drinke the next morning, finding the stomacke empty, and without any obstacle, it may worke the greater operation: on the other side, it is better to eat but a little at dinner, lest a man might hinder the operati∣on of the water, which is not yet perfect, and not to charge the stomacke so suddenly, after this other travell, and leave the office of digesting vnto the night, which can better do it then the day; the body and spirit being then in continuall motion and action. Loe heere how they in all their discourses juggle, dally, and trifle at our charge, and are never able to bring mee a proposition, but I can presently frame another to the contrary, of like force & consequence. Let them then no longer raile against those who in any sicknesse, suffer themselves gently to be directed by their owne appetite, and by the counsell of nature; and who remit themselves to common fortune. I have by occasion of my travels seene almost all the famous Bathes of Christendome, and some yeers since haue begun to vse them: For, in generall I deeme bath∣ing to be very good and healthy, and I am perswaded, we incurre no small incommodities in our health, by having neglected and lost this custome, which in former times were generally observed very neere amongst all Nations, and is yet with divers at this time to wath their bo∣dies every day: And I cannot imagine but that we are much the worse with keeping our bo∣dies all over-crusted, and our pores stopt with grease and filth. And touching the drinking of them, fortune hath first made it to agree very well with my taste: secondly it is naturall and simple; and though vaine, nothing dangerous: whereof this infinitie of people of all sorts and complexions, and of all nations that come to them, doth warrant mee. And although I have as yet found no extraordinary good or wondrous effect in them, but rather having

somewhat curiously examined the matter, I finde all the reports of such operations, which in such places are reported, and of many believed, to be false and fabulous. So easily doth the world deceive it selfe, namely in things it desireth, or faine would have come to passe. Yet have I seene but few or none at all, whom these waters have made worse; and no man can without malice denie, but that they stirre vp a mans appetite, make easie digestion, and except a man goe to them overweake and faint (which I would have none doe) they will adde a kinde of new mirth vnto him. They have not the power to raise men from desperate diseases. They may stay some light accident, or prevent the threates of some alteration. Whosoever go∣eth to them, and resolveth not to be merry, that so hee may enjoy the pleasure of the good company resorts to them, and of the pleasant walkes or exercises, which the beauty of those places, where bathes are commonly seated, doth affoord and delight men withall; he with∣out doubt looseth the better part and most assured of their effect. And therefore have I hi∣therto chosen to stay my selfe and make vse of those, where I found the pleasure of the scitu∣ation most delightsome, most conveniencie of lodging, of victuals and companie, as are in France the bathes of Banieres; those of Plombieres, on the frontiers of Germanie and Loraine; those of Baden in Switzerland; those of Lucea in Tuscanie; and especially those of Della villa••, which I have vsed most often and at diverse seasons of the yeare. Every nation hath some particular opinion concerning their vse, and severall lawes and formes how to vse them, and all different: And as I have found by experience the effect in a maner all one. In Germanie they never vse to drinke of their waters; but bathe themselves for all diseases, and will lie pad∣ling in them, all most from Sunne to Sunne. In Italie if they drinke nine dayes of the water, they wash themselves other thirtie dayes with it. And commonly they drincke it mixed with other drugges, thereby to helpe the operation. Heere our Phisitions appoint vs when wee have drunke to walke vpon it, that so wee may helpe to digest it: There, so soone as they have drunke, they make them lie a bed, vntill they have voided the same out againe, conti∣nually warming their stomake and feete with warme clothes. All the Germanes whilst they lie in the water, doe particularly vse cupping glasses, and scarifications: And the Italians vse their Do••ci••, which are certaine spowts running with warme waters, convaied from the bathes-spring in leaden pipes, where, for the space of a month, they let it spout vpon their heads, vpon their stomake, or vpon any other part of the bodie, according as neede requi∣reth, one houre in the forenoone, and as long in the after noone▪ there are infinite other differences of customes in every countrey: or to say better, there is almost no resemblances betweene one and other. See how this part of Phisicke, by which alone I have suffered my selfe to be carried away, which though it be the least artificiall, yet hath she the share of the confusion and vncertainty, seene in all other parts and every where of this arte. Poets may say what they list, and with more emphasis and grace: witnesse these two Epigrames.

Alcon hesterno signum Iovis attigit. Ille Quamvis marmoreus, vim patitur medici. Ecce hodie iussus transferri ex ••de vetusta, Effertur, quamuis sit Deus at que lapis. Alcon look't yester-day on carved Iove. Iove, though of Marble, feeles the letches force, From his old Church to day made to remoove, Though God and Stone, hee's carried like a coarse.

And the other:

Lotus nobiscum est hilaris, coenavit & idem, Inventus mane est mortuus Androgoras. Tam subitae mortis causam Fustine requiris? In somnis medicum viderat Hermocratem. Androg••ras in helth bath'd over night with vs, And merry supt, but in the morne starke dead was found. Of his so sudden death, the cause shall I discusse. Hermocrates the Leech he saw in sleepe vnsound.

Vpon which I will tell you two pretty stories. The Baron of Caupene in Chalosse and I, have both in common the right of the patronage of a benifice, which is of a very large pre∣cinct, situated at the feet of our Mountaines, named Lohontan. It is with the inhabitants of

that corner, as it is said to be with those of the valley of Angrougne. They lead a kind of pe∣culiar life; their attire, and their customes apart and severall. They were directed and go∣verned by certaine particular policies and customes, received by tradition from Father to Child: Whereto, without other Lawes or Compulsion, except the reverence and awe of their custome and vse, they awefully tied and bound themselves. This petty state had from all antiquity continued in so happy a condition, that no neighbouring severe judge had ever beene troubled to enquire of their life and affaires, nor was ever Atturny or Pety fogging Lawyer called for, to give them advise or counsell; no•• stranger sought vnto to determine their quarrels or decide their contentions; neither were ever beggers seene amongst them. They alwaies avoided commerce and shunned alliances with the other World, least they should alter the purity of their orders and policy; vntill such time (as they say) that one a∣mongest them, in their fathers daies, having a minde pufft vp with a noble ambition, to bring his name and credit in reputation, devised to make one of his Children Sir Iohn Lacke∣latine, or Master Peter-an-Oake: And having made him learne to write in some neighbour Towne not farre off, at last procured him to be a Country Notary, or Petty-fogging Clarke. This fellow having gotten some pelfe and become great, began to disdaine their ancient customes, and put the pompe and statelinesse of our higher regions into their heads. It fortuned that a chiefe Gossip of his had a Goate dishorned, whom he importunately so∣licited to sue the Trespasser, and demand law and right at the Iudge or Iusticers hands, that dwelt there-abouts; And so never ceasing to sow sedition and breed sutes amongest his neighbours, he never left till he had confounded and marred all. After this corruption or intrusion of law (they say) there ensued presently another mischiefe of worse consequence, by meanes of a Quacke-salver, or Empirike Physition that dwelt amongest them, who would needes be married to one of their daughters, and so endenizon and settle himselfe a∣mongst them.

This gallant began first to teach and instruct them in the names of agewes, rheumes and impostumes; then the scituation of the heart, of the liver and other entrailes: A Science vn∣till then never knowen or heard of among them. And in stead of garlike, wherewith they had learned to expell, and were wont to cure all diseases, of what qualitie and how dange∣rous soever they were, he induced and inured them, were it but for a cough or cold, to take strange compositions and potions: And thus beganne to trafficke not onely their health, but also their deaths. They sweare, that even from that time, they haue apparantly percei∣ved, that the evening Sereine or night-calme bred the head-ach and blasted them; that to drinke being hot or in a sweat empaired their helthes; that Autumne windes were more vnwholesome and dangerous, then those of the Springe-time: And that since his slibber∣sawces, potions and physicke came first in vse; they finde themselues molested and distem∣pered with Legions of vnaccustomed malladies and vnknowen diseases; and plainely feele and sensibly perceive a generall weakenesse and declination in their antient vigor; and that their lives are nothing so long, as before they were. Loe heere the first of my tales. The other is, that before I was troubled with the stone-chollicke and gravell in the bladder, hearing diuers make especiall account of a hee-goats blood, as of an heavenly Manna sent in these latter-ages for the good and preservation of mans life: and hearing men of good vnder standing speake of it, as of an admirable and much-good-working drugge, and of an infallible operation: I, who have ever thought my selfe subject to all accidents, that may in any sort fall on man, being yet in perfect health, beganne to take pleasure to provide my selfe of this myracle, and foorthwith gave order (according to the receipt) to have a Bucke-goate gotten, and carefully fed in mine owne house. For the blood must be drawne from him in the hottest moneth of Summer, and he must onely be fed with soluble hearbes, and drincke nothing but White-wine. It was my fortune to come to mine owne house the very same day the Goate should be killed; where some of my people came in haste to tell mee, that my Cooke found two or three great bowles in his paunch, which in his maw amongst his meat shocked one against another. I was so curious as I would needes have all his gar∣bage brought before me; the thicke and large skinne whereof I caused to be opened, out of which came three great lumpes or bodies, as light as any spunge, so framed as they seemed to be hollow, yet outwardly hard and very firme, bemotled with divers dead and wannis•• colours: The one perfectly as round as any bowle, the other two somewhat lesser, and not

so round, yet seemed to grow towards it. I have found (after I had made diligent inquiry a∣mong such as were wont to open such beasts) that it was a seld-seene and vnheard of accident. It is very likely they were such stones as ours be, and cozen-germanes to them; which if it be, it is but vaine for such as be troubled with the stone or gravell to hope to be cured, by meanes of a beasts-blood, that was drawing neere vnto death, and suffered the same disease. For, to aleadge the blood cannot participate of that contagion', and doth no whit thereby alter his accustomed vertue, it may rather be inferred, that nothing ingendreth in a body, but by con∣sent and communication of all the parts. The whole masse doth worke, and the whole frame agitate altogether, although one part, according to the diversitie of operations, doth contri∣bute more or lesse than another; whereby it manifestly appeareth, that in all parts of this bucke-goate, there was some grettie or petrificant qualitie. It was not so much for feare of any future chaunce, or in regard of my selfe, that I was so curious of this experiment; as in res∣pect, that as well in mine owne house, as else-where in sundry other places, it commeth to passe, that many women doe often gather and lay vp in store, divers such kindes of slight drugges to help their neighbours, and other people with them, in time of necessitie; apply∣ing one same remedy to an hundred severall diseases: yea many times such as they would be very loath to take themselves; with which they often have good lucke, and well thrives it with them. As for mee I honour Physitions, not according to the common-received rule, for necessitie sake (for to this passage another of the Prophet may be alleaged, who reproo∣ved King Asa, because hee had recourse vnto Physitions) but rather for love I beare vn∣to themselves; having seene some, and knowne diverse honest men amongst them, and wor∣thy all love and esteeme. It is not them I blame, but their Arte; yet doe I not greatly con∣demne them for seeking to profit by our foolishnesse (for most men doe so) and it is a thing common to all worldlings. Diverse professious and many vacations, both more and lesse worthie than theirs, subsist and are grounded onely vpon publike abuses and popular errours. I send for them when I am sicke, if they may conveniently be found; and love to be entertained by them, rewarding them as other men doe. I give them authoritie to enjoyne me to keepe my selfe warme, if I love it better so than otherwise. They may chuse, be it either leekes or let∣tuce, what my broth shall be made withall, and appoynt mee either white or clarer to drinke; and so of other things else, indifferent to my taste, humor or custome. I know well it is no∣thing to them, forsomuch as Sharpenesse and Strangenesse are accidents of Physickes proper es∣sence. Lycurgus allowed and appoynted the sicke men of Sparta to drinke wine. Why did he so? Because being in health, they hated the vse of it. Even as a Gentleman who dwelleth not farre from mee, vseth wine as a soveraigne remedie againg agews, because being in per∣fect health, he hateth the taste thereof as death. How many of them see wee to be of my hu∣mour? That is, to disdaine all Physicke for their owne behoofe, and live a kinde of formall free life, and altogether contrarie to that, which they prescribe to others? And what is that, but a manifest abusing of our simplicitie? For, they holde their life as deare, and esteeme their health as pretious as wee doe ours, and would apply their effects to their skill, if them∣selves knew not the vncertaintie and falsehood of it. It is the feare of paine and death; the impatience of the disease and griefe; and indiscreete desire and headlong thirst of health, that so blindeth them, and vs. It is meere faintnes that makes our conceit; and pusillanimitie for∣ceth our credulitie, to bee so yeelding and pliable. The greater parte of whome doe not∣withstanding not beleeve so much, as they endure and suffer of others: For I heare them complaine, and speake of it no otherwise than wee doe. Yet in the ende are they resolved. What should I doe then? As if impatience were in itselfe a better remedie than patience Is there any of them, that hath yeelded to this miserable subjection, that doth not likewise yeelde to all manner of impostures? or dooth not subject himselfe to the mercie of whom∣soever hath the impudencie to promise him recoverie, and warrant him health?

The Babilonians were wont to carry their sicke people into the open streetes; the com∣mon sort were their physitions: where all such as passed by were by humanitie and civili∣tie to enquire of their state and maladie, and according to their skill or experience, give them some ••ound aduise and good counsell. We differ not greatly from them: There is no poore Woman so simple, whose mumbling and muttering, whose slibber-slabbers and drenches wee doe not employ. And as for mee, were I to buy any medicine, I would rather spend my money in this kinde of physicke, than in any other; because therein is no danger or hurt

to be feared. What Homer and Plato said of the Aegyptians, that they were all Physitions, may well be said of all people. There is neither Man nor Woman, that vanteth not himselfe to have some receipt or other, and doth not hazard the same vpon his neighbour, if he will but give credite vnto him.

I was not long since in a company, where I wot not who of my fraternity, brought newes of a kinde of pilles, by true accompt, composed of a hundered and odde severall ingredi∣ents; Whereat we laughed very heartily, and made our selves good sport: For, what rocke so hard were able to resist the shocke, or withstand the force of so thicke and nume∣rous a battery? I vnderstand neverthelesse, of such as tooke of them, that the least graine gravell dained not to stirre at all. I cannot so soone give over writing of this subject, but I must needes say a word or two, concerning the experience they have made of their prescrip∣tions, which they would have vs take as a warrantize or assurance of the certainty of their drugges and potions. The greatest number, and as I deeme, more than the two thirds of medicinable vertues, consist in the quintessence or secret propriety of simples, whereof we can have no other instruction but vse and custome. For, Quintessence is no other thing than a quality, whereof we cannot with our reason finde out the cause. In such trials or experiments, those which they affirme to have acquired by the inspiration of some Daemon, I am con∣tented to receive and allow of them (for, touching myracles, I meddle not with them) or be it the experiments drawne from things, which for other respects fall often in vse with vs: As if in Wooll, wherewith we wont to cloth our selves, some secret exsiccating or drying quali∣ty, have by accident beene found, that cureth kibes or chilblaines in the heeles; and if in reddishes, we eat for nourishment, some opening or aperitive operation have beene disco∣vered. Galen reporteth, that a Leprous man chanced to be cured, by meanes of a Cuppe of Wine he had drunke, forsomuch as a Viper was by fortune fallen into the Wine caske. In which example we finde the meane, and a very likely directory to this experience. As also in those, to which Physitions affirme, to have beene addressed by the examples of some beasts. But in most of other experiences, to which they say they came by fortune, and had no other guide but hazard, I finde the progresse of this information incredible. I imagine man, heedfully viewing about him the infinite number of things, creatures, plants and met∣tals. I wot not where to make him beginne his Essay; And suppose he cast his first fantasie vpon an Elkes-Horne, to which an easie and gentle credulity must be given; he will be as farre to seeke, and as much troubled in his second operation: So, many diseases and seve∣rall circumstances are proposed vnto him, that before he come to the certainty of this point, vnto which the perfection of his experience should arrive, mans wit shall be to seeke, and not know where to turne himselfe; And before (amiddest this infinity of things) hee finde out what this Horne is: Amongst the numberlesse diseases that are, what an Epilepsie is; the sundrie and manifolde complexions in a melancholy man; So many seasons in Winter: So diverse Nations amongst French-men; So many ages in age; So diverse coelestiall changes and alterations, in the conjunction of Venus and Saturne; So severall and many partes in a mans body, nay in one of his fingers. To all which being neyther guided by argument, nor by conjecture, nor by example, or divine inspiration, but by the one ly motion of fortune; it were most necessary, it should be by a perfectly artificiall, well-or∣dred, and methodicall fortune. Moreover, suppose the disease thorowly cured, how shall he rest assured, but that eyther the evill was come to his vtmost period, or that an ef∣fect of the hazard, caused the same health? Or the operation of some other thing, which that day he had eyther eaten, drunke or touched? or whether it were by the merite of his Grand-mothers prayers? Besides, suppose this experiment to have beene perfect, how many times was it applied and begun a new; And how often was this long and tedious web of fortunes and encounters woven over againe, before a certaine rule might be concluded? And being concluded, by whom is it I pray you? Amongst so many millions of men, you shall scarse meete with three or foure, that well duely observe, and carefully keepe a Register of their ex∣periments; shall it be your, or his happe, to light truely, or hit just with one of them three or foure? What if another man? Nay what if a hundred other men have had and made contrary experiments, and cleane opposite conclusions, and yet have sorted well? We should peradventure discerne some shew of light, if all the judgements and consultations of men were knowne vnto vs. But That three Witnesses and three Doctors shall sway all mankind, there

is no reason. It were requisite, humane nature had appointed and made speciall choise of them and that by expresse procuration and letter of atturny they were by her declared our Iudges and deputed our Atturnies.

To my Lady of Duras.

MAdame, the last time it pleased you to come and visite me, you found me vpon this point. And because it may be, these toyes of mine may happily come to your hands: I would have them witnesse, their Authour reputeth himselfe highly honoured, for the fa∣vours it shall please you to shew them. Wherein you shall discerne the very same demeanor and selfe-countenance, you have seene in his conversasion. And could I have assumed vnto my selfe any other fashion, than mine owne accustomed, or more honourable and better forme, I would not have done it: For, all I seeke to reape by my writings, is, they will natu∣rally represent and to the life, pourtray me to your remembrance. The very same conditi∣ons and faculties, it pleased your Lady-ship to frequent and receive, with much more honor and curtesie, than they any way deserve, I will place and reduce (but without alteration and change) into a solide body, which may happily continue some daies and yeares after mee: Where, when soever it shall please you to refresh your memory with them, you may easily finde them, without calling them to remembrance; which they scarsely deserve. I would en∣treate you to continue the favour of your Friend-ship towards mee, by the same qualities, through whose meanes it was produced. I labour not to be beloved more and esteemed bet∣ter being dead, than alive. The humour of Tyberius is ridiculous and common, who ende∣voured more to extinguish his glory in future ages, than yeeld himselfe regardfull and plea∣sing to men of his times. If I were one of those, to whom the World my be indebted for praise, I would quit it for the one moytie, on condition it would pay me before-hand: And that the same would hasten, and in great heapes environ me about, more thicke than long, and more full than lasting. And let it hardly vanish with my knowledge, and when this sweet alluring sound shall no more tickle mine eares. It were a fond conceite, now I am ready to leave the commerce of men, by new commendations, to goe about, anew to beget my selfe vnto them.

I make no account of goods, which I could not employ to the vse of my life. Such as I am so would I be elsewhere then in Paper. Mine arte and industry have beene emploied to make my selfe of some worth. My study and endevour to doe, and not to write. I have applied all my skill and devoire to frame my life. Lo-heere mine occupation and my worke. I am a lesse maker of books, then of any thing else. I have desired and aimed at sufficiencie, rather for the benefite of my present and essentiall commodities, then to make a Store-house, and hoard it vp for mine heires. Whosoever hath any worth in him, let him shew it in his be∣haviour, maners and ordinary discourses; be it to treat of love or of quarrels, of sport and play or bed-matters, at board or else-where; or be it in the conduct of his owne affaires, or private houshold matters. Those whom I see make good bookes, having tattered hosen and ragged clothes on, had they believed mee they should first have gotten themselves good clothes. Demand a Spartan, whether he would rather be a cunning Rhethorician, then an excellent Souldier: nay were I asked, I would say, a good Cooke, had I not some to serve me. Good Lord (Madame) how I would hate such a commendation, to be a sufficient man in writing, and a foolish-shallow-headed braine or coxcombe in all things else: yet had I rather be a foole; both here and there, then to have made so bad a choise, wherein to imploy my worth. So farre am I also from expecting, by such trifles to gaine new honour to my selfe: as I shal think I make a good bargaine, if I loose not a part of that little, I had already gained. For, besides that this dombe and dead picture, shall derogate and steale from my naturall being, it fadgeth not and hath no reference vnto my better state, but is much falne from my first vi∣gor and naturall jollity, enclining to a kinde of drooping or mouldinesse. I am now come to the bottome of the vessell, which beginneth to taste of his dregs and lees. Otherwise (good Madame) I should not have dared so boldly to have ripped vp the mysteries of Phi∣sicke,

sicke, considering the esteeme and credite your selfe, and so many others, ascribe vnto it, and hold it in; had I not been directed therunto by the authors of the same. I thinke they have but two ancient ones in Latine, to wit Pliny and Celsus. If you fortune at any time to looke into them, you shall finde them to speake much more rudely of their Art, then I doe. I but pinch it gently, they cut the throate of it. Pliny amongst other things, doth much scoffe at them, for∣somuch as when they are at their wits end, and can goe no further, they have found out this goodly shift, to send their long-turmoiled, and to no end much tormented patient, with their drugs and diets, some to the help of their vowes and myracles, and some others to hot Baths and waters. (Be not offended noble Lady, he meaneth not those on this side, vnder the pro∣tection of your house, and all Gramontoises.) They have a third kinde of shift or evasion to shake vs off and discharge themselves of the imputations or reproaches, we may justly charge them with, for the small amendment of our infirmities; whereof they have so long had the survay and governement, as they have no more inventions or devises left them, to ammuse vs with; that is, to send vs, to seeke and take the good aire of some other Country. Madam, we have harped long enough vpon one string; I hope you will give me leave to come to my former discourses againe, from which for your better entertainement, I had somewhat di∣gressed.

It was (as farre as I remember) Pericles, who being demanded, how he did; you may (said he) judge it by this, shewing certain scroules or briefes he had tied about his necke and armes. He would infer, that he was very sicke, since he was forced to have recourse to such vanities, and had suffered himselfe to be so drest. I affirme not, but I may one day be drawne to such fond opinions, and yeeld my life and health to the mercy, discretion and regiment of Phisi∣tions. I may happily fall into this fond madnesse; I dare not warrant my future constancy. And even then if any aske me how I doe, I may answer him as did Pericles; You may judge, by shewing my hands fraughted with six drammes of Opium. It will be an evident token of a violent sickenesse. My judgement shal be exceedingly out of temper. If impacience or feare get that advantage vpon me, you may thereby conclude some quelling fever hath seized vp∣on my minde. I have taken the paines to plead this cause, whereof I have but small vnder∣standing, somewhat to strengthen and comfort naturall propension, against the drugs and practise of our Phisicke, which is derived into me from mine ancestors: lest it might onely be a stupid and rash inclination; and that it might have a little more forme. and that also those, who see me so constant against the exhortations and threates, which are made against me, when sicknesse commeth vpon me, may not thinke it to be a meere conceit, and simple wilfulnesse; And also, lest there be any so peevish, as to judge it to be some motive of vaine glory. It were a strange desire, to seeke to draw honour from an action, common both to me, to my Gardiner, or to my Groome. Surely my heart is not so pufft vp, nor so windy, that a solide, fleshy and marrowy pleasure, as health is; I should change it for an imaginary, spirituall and airy delight. Renowme or glory (were it that of Aymons foure sons) is over-deerely bought by a man of my humour, if it cost him but three violent fits of the chollike. Give me health a Gods name. Those that love our Physicke, may likewise have their considerations good, great and strong. I hate no fantasies contrary to mine. I am so far from vexing myselfe, to see my judgement differ from other mens, or to grow incompatible of the society or conver∣sation of men, to be of any other faction or opinion then mine owne; that contrariwise (as variety is the most generall fashion that nature hath followed, and more in the mindes, then in the bodies; forsomuch as they are of a more supple and yeelding sub∣stance, and susceptible or admitting of formes) I finde it more rare to see our humor or desseignes agree in one. And never were there two opinions in the world alike, no more than two haires, or two graines. Diversity is the most vniversall quality.

Notes

• Pub. Mi••.
• Hor. l. 1. epist. 1. 98.
• 〈◊〉〈◊〉. sat. 7. 82.
• Luer. l. 3▪ 1100
• Cic. Fr••g••.
• Hor. l. 2. epist. 2. 34.
• 39.
• Cic. Tusc. qu. l. 2. f.
• Cic. parad. 5.
• Tib. l. 2. el. 1. 75.
• Hor. l. 1. sat. 1. 107.
• Sat. 3. 115.
• Luer. l. 3. 479.
• Hor. l. 3. ••d. 21. 14.
• Vir. luc. ••c. 6. 15. ••
• Ivue. sat. 15. 47
• Cor. Gal. el. 1.
• Hor. l. 3. od. 21. 11.
• Od. 28. 4.
• Lucr. l. 3. 155.
• Ter. Heau••. act. 1. sce. 1. 25
• Virg. Aeu. l. 6. ••
• Metr. Cic. Tusc. qu••st. l. 5.
• Antist. Diogen. L••••rs. l. 6. c. 1.
• Virg. Ae••. l 4. 158.
• Sen. Theb. Act. 1. sce. 1.
• Virg. Aen. li. 6. 434.
• ••••••. l. 4. o••. 4. 57.
• Sen. Theb. Act. 1. sc••. 1.
• M••••t. li. 11. ••pi. 57. 15.
• ••••r. ••. 3. ••d. ••. 7.
• Mart. li. 2. ••pig. 80. 2.
• Lucan. l. 7. 104.
• L••cr. l. 3. 79.
• ••b. 905.
• Alex. Aphr••d.
• S••••. epist. 13.
• Virg. Ae••. li. 11. 416.
• Iuven. Sat. 13. 195.
• Eras. chil. 1. cent. 2. ad 14.
• Virg. Georg. li 4. 238.
• Luer. l. 5. 1168.
• Iuven. Sat. 13. ••
• Ouid. ••ast. l••b. 1. 485.
• Sen. prover.
• Lu••r. 3. 973.
• Lucan. l. ••. 63••
• Luer. li. 3. 490.
• Ovid. trist. lib. 1. el. 3. 12.
• Virg. Aen. lib. 4. 703. ••r••.
• lib. 10. 396.
• Leur. li. 3.
• Ovid. Trist. li. 1 ••l. 3. 14.
• Her. art poet. 31
• Mart. l. 12. e∣pig. 82. 2.
• Ter. Adel••••. act. 1. see. 1. 39
• Mor. 1. ••ep. 1. 8.
• Ter. Adel. áct. 4. scen. 2. 9.
• Orid. Metá••. lib. 10. 283.
• Liv. d••••. 1. l. 10
• Virg. Aen. lib. 742.
• Ariest•• Orl, ••an. 12. stan. 30
• Glaud. in Ruff. l. 2. 358.
• ••••opert. l. 4. ••l. 1. 70.
• Catul. epig. 40. 8.
• Hor. li 2. epist. 2. 120.
• Mart. praef l. 8.
• Virg. Aen. lib. 4. 194.
• Ci••. d•• Senect.
• Sen. epist. 13.
• Cic. Tuse. q••. lib. 1.
• Hor. li. 1. od. 27. 29. Cleopatra.
• Hor. li. 8. sat. 6. 65.
• Hor. li. 2. od. 17. 17.
• Iuv. sat. ••. 164.
• L••••r. lib. 4. 1097.
• Hor. epod. 2. 37.
• Luke 12. 4.
• Ci••. Tusc. qu. lib. 1.
• Sen. cl••••. lib. ••. c. 4.
• Virg. Ae••. li. 7. 521.
• Ovid. Metam. lib. 15. 106.
• 158.
• Clau••. in Ruff. lib. 1 482.
• 491.
• Ovid. M••ta••. lib. 15. 160.
• Cic. Nat. Deor. lib. 1.
• Iuven. sat. 15 ••
• 7.
• Lutr. l. 5. 1150
• The first Obie∣ction.
• Virg. Aen. l. 7. 587.
• Luer. l. 3. 630.
• Manil. l. 4. 840
• Hor. l. 1. epi. 5. 6.
• The second obie∣ctiou.
• Pro. 3. 14. 4. 6. 1. Pet. 5. 5.
• Cic. nat. Deo. l. 2
• Lucr. l. 5. 1214.
• Manil. astron. lib. 3 58.
• Manil. astron. lib. 1. 62.
• Manil. astron. lib. 4. 93.
• Manil. astron. lib. 4. 178.
• 118.
• Cie. Nat. Deo. lib. 1.
• Sen ir••. lib. 2. cap. 9.
• Sen. epist. 95.
• Lucr. l. 5. 1069.
• Ib. 1040.
• Virg. Georg. lib. 4. 219.
• Lucr. li. 5. 222
• Ibid. 104.
• Lucr. l. 2. 1166.
• Lucr. l. 5. 10••••.
• Ibid. 885.
• Ibid 932.
• Tibul. l. 1. el 9. 21.
• I••••e▪ sat. 14. 74
• ••••••. sat. 12. 107
• Mart. ••. 4. epig. 30. 6.
• Ioub. err. p••p. pur. 2. pag. 140
• Lucr. l. 4. 1256
• Ibed. 1260.
• Hor. ser. li 1. sar. 2 30.
• Orid. Metam. lib. 10. 325.
• Iuven. sat. 1••. 160.
• Virg. Georg. l. 4. 67.
• Iuer. l. 2. 326.
• Hor. l. 1. epi. 2. ••.
• Mart. l. 11. epig. 21.
• Virg Ae••. l. 7. 717.
• Virg. Aen. l. 4. 404.
• Virg. Georg. li. 4 36.
• Virg. Aen. li. 11. 89.
• Luer. li. 4. 982.
• Ibid. 986.
• Ibid. 993.
• Proper li. 2. el. 18. 26.
• Ouid. Metam. lib. 1. 84.
• Cic. Nat. deo. lib. 1. Enmi.
• O••id. rem. Am. lib. 2. 33.
• Luer. l. 4. 1176.
• Cic. Nat. d••••••. lib. 3.
• Hor. ••pod. 8. 17.
• Iu••em. sat. 14. 156.
• Genesis. ca. 3. 5.
• Colloss. ca. 2. 8.
• Her. li. 1. epist. 1. Antepen.
• Cic. N••t. de. lib. 3.
• Torquato Tasso.
• Ennius.
• Ci••. Tusc. qu. ••. 3
• Ci••. Fin. li 2. ••urip.
• Ci••. fin. bon. li. 1.
• Plu. in vita Them.
• Lucr. li. 3. 1086. Epicur.
• Sen. Oed. act. 3. s••e. 1.
• Hor. li. 1. epist. 5. 14.
• Hor. li. 1. epist. 2. 138.
• Soph. Ala. flag.
• Ecclesiast••••.
• Cic. Tusc. que lib. 2.
• Ci••. ib. lib. 5.
• Hor. lib. 2. pist. 2. vl••.
• Lucr. lib. 3. 1083.
• Plut. in Solo••s l. f••.
• Aristo. can. 14. stanz. 84.
• Sa. Augustine.
• Tacitus mor. German.
• Cic. vnive••
• Luer. li 5. 122.
• Cic. Nat. Deor. lib. 1.
• 1. Cor. 1. 19. 20. 21.
• Cic. Acad. q. l. 1
• Cic. divin. l. 1.
• Lucr. 3. 1091.
• Lucr. l. 3. 108••
• Lucr. l. 4. 471.
• Cic. academ. qu. lib. 10.
• Ibid.
• Cic. ibid.
• Cic. diuin. l. 1.
• Psal. 93. ••1.
• Cic. Tusc. qu. l. 1.
• Cic. Vnivers.
• Cic. Nat. deo. l. 1.
• Lucr. l. 1. 656.
• Euripides.
• Wisd. c. 9. 14.
• Sen. epi. 89 f.
• E••••. Cice. diu. l. 2.
• Lucr. l. 5. 123.
• Pers. sat. 2. 62. 61.
• Virg. Aen. l. 6. 443.
• 1. Cor. 2. 9.
• Orid. Trist l. 3. el. 11. 27.
• Lucr. l. 3. 781.
• Ib. 890.
• Ib. 580.
• Ib. 903.
• Ibid. 888.
• Virg. Aen. l. 10 517.
• L••c. l. 1. 102.
• Ibid. 99.
• Aug. Civi. Dei l. 6. c. 10.
• Ibid. e. Senec.
• Lucr. l. 1. 82.
• 1. Cor. 1. 25.
• Lucr. l. 6. 675.
• Ib. 2. 1094.
• Ib. 1086.
• Ib. 1••73.
• Pla••. Gerg ••x Eurip.
• Hor. car. l. 3. od. 29. 43.
• Pli••. nat. hist. l. 2. c. 23.
• Cic. Nat. D••••r. lib. 2. Cic. ib. lib. 3.
• Cic. ib. lib. 1.
• Run. 1. 22. 23.
• Lucan. l. 1. 484
• Lucan. lib. 1. 452.
• Hor. serm. lib. 2. sat. 3. 324.
• Cit. nat. Deo. lib. 1.
• Cit. nat. Deo. ib
• H••r. ••••r. l. 2. ••d. 12. 6.
• Virg. Ae••. lib. 2. 610.
• Virg. Ae••. li••▪ 1. 10.
• Cic. diu. lib. 2.
• O••id. Fas••. lib. 3. 81.
• lib. 1. 294.
• Ovid. M••tam. ••••b. 1. 194.
• Ovid Met. l. 8. 99.
• Orid. Met. l. 2. 107.
• Ci••. Acad. q. lib. 4.
• Cic. div. lib. 2.
• Hor. li. 1. epist. 12. 16.
• Plin.
• Aug. de spir & anim.
• Lucr. li. 1. 113.
• Vir. Aen. li. 9. 349.
• Lib. 6. 730.
• Lucr. li. 3. 100.
• Cic. Tus. qu. l. 1.
• Saint Bernard.
• Lucr. li. 3. 103.
• 142.
• Cic. Tuse. qu. lib. 1.
• Cic. di••. lib. 2.
• Claud. 6. Hon. cons. pan. 411.
• Lucr. lib 3. 144.
• Virg. Georg. lib. 4. Ge. 222.
• Hor. car. lib. 4. ••d. 4. 29.
• Luer. ••i. 3. 766.
• 77••
• Luer. li. 3. 692.
• 695.
• Ib. 450.
• Ib. 517.
• Ib. 176.
• Ib. 501.
• Ib. 495.
• Ib. 467.
• Ib. 831.
• Ib. 463.
• Cic. di••. lib. 2.
• Lucr. lib. 111.
• 1. Cor. 1. 19.
• Sen epist. 117.
• Cic. Tusc. qu. l. 1.
• Virg. Ae••. lib. 6. 739.
• L••cr. li. 3. 802.
• Plin. Nat. hist. lib. 2. cap. 1.
• Justin. l. 1.
• Petr. p. 1. canz. 13. 48.
• Cic. T••sc. q••. l. 2
• Ovid. Metam. lib. 10. 284.
• Ovid. Trist. li 1. ••••. 2. 5.
• Cic. Acad. q. l. 4.
• ••uer. l. 5. 1424.
• Cic. exi••tert.
• H••••. ••ar. l. 1. od 26. 3.
• Cd••••l. lyr. epig. 22. 12.
• Cic. Tus. qu. l. 4.
• Cic. ib. lib. 5.
• Virg. Aen. l. 11. 508.
• Lucr. l. 5. 1••86.
• ••b. 1422.
• L. Apul. de deo Socrat.
• ••ic. de ••••to.
• Iuven. sat. 10. 4
• Ibid. 352.
• Ovid Met. lib. 11. 128.
• Psal. 23. 4.
• Iuven. sat. 10. 346.
• Hor. lib. 2. epist. 2. 61.
• Lib. 1 epist. 6. 1.
• O••id. Metam. lib▪ 10. 331.
• Virg. Ae••▪ lib 3. 559.
• ••••ue. sat. 15. 36
• Mart. ••••▪ 3. ep••••▪ 70.
• Lib. 1. epig. 74.
• Lu••r. l. 5. 10••.
• lib 4. 480.
• 484.
• 488.
• 491.
• Lucr. li. 5. 576.
• Lib. 4. 380. 387.
• 502.
• Lucr. l. 4. 398.
• 390.
• 423.
• Ovid. r•••• a••. lib. 1. 343.
• Ovid. M••••am. lib. 3. 424.
• Orid. ib. l••. 10: 256.
• Ci••. d••vin. lib. 1.
• Virg. Aen. l. •• 470.
• L••••r. l. 4. 1147
• Ibid. 80••.
• L••••r. l. 4. 640.
• Ibid. 333.
• Ibid. 452. 454.
• Ibid. 73.
• Ibid. l. 3. 72••.
• Ibid. l. 4. 514.
• Ibid. l. 5. 937.
• Vir. Aen•• l. 3. 72
• L••ced. l. 2. 113.
• Lucan. li. 3. 579.
• Ibid. 653.
• Virg. Georg. li. 1. 466.
• Plin. nat. ••ist. l 2. ••. 8.
• Lucan. l. 2. 179
• ••ib. 4. 797. Gurie.
• Cie. Tusc. qut l. 1. Epicha.
• Hor. art. Po••••. 467.
• Plin. nat. hist. lib. 2. c. 7.
• Sen. epist 98.
• Orid. Am. li. 2. ••l. 19. 27.
• Mart. l. 4. epig. 38. 1.
• Hor. epod. 11. 13
• Lucr. l. 4. 1070
• Hor. Ser. l. 1. Sat. 2 107.
• Orid. Am. lib. 2. ••l. 19. 47.
• Ter. Phor. act. 1. s••••. 3.
• Opid. ••m. lib. 2. ••l. 19. 33.
• Prop▪ lib. 2. ••l. 14. 19.
• Virg. ••uc••. ••cl. 3. 65.
• Pro. ibid. el••g. 15▪ 6.
• Orid▪ Am▪ lib. 2. ••l. 19. 3.
• Sen▪ ••pist. 69.
• Luk. 2. 14.
• Iuven. Sat. 7. ••1.
• Hor. car. l. 4. od. 9. 29.
• 2. Car. 1. 12. Aug. bo••. 35.
• Ariest. Orl. can 11. stan 81.
• Hor car. li 3. od. 2. 17.
• Cie. fin. l. 1.
• Aelian var. hist. l. 2. c. 1.
• cic. fin. bon. l. 2.
• Orid. epist. Pe∣nel. v. 18.
• Pers. sat. 1. 47
• H••r. lib. 1. epi. 16. 39.
• Pers. sat. 1. 5.
• ••bid. 37.
• I••rem sat. 13. 9
• Virg. Aen li. 7. 646.
• Verg. Aen. l. 5. 292.
• Senec. epist. 81.
• Cic••. Nat D••••r. lib. 1.
• Luca. l. 1. 461.
• Cit. fin. l. 2.
• Ovid. Am. l. 3. el. 4. 4.
• Hor. s••r. l. 2. sat. 1. 30.
• C••r••. Tacit. vi•• I••l. Agri••.
• Hor. art. Poet. 372.
• Mart. lib. 12. epig. 64.
• Ovid. Pont. lib. 1. ••. 6. 15.
• Hor. art. P••••s. 25.
• Lucr. l. 5. 11. 20.
• Virg. Aen li. 7. 725.
• Psal. 45. 3.
• ••••a••t. li. 6. epig. 56. 1.
• Luer. l. 2. I 140.
• Hor. li. 2. epist. 2. 55.
• Ser. lib. 2. sa. 2. 12.
• Iurem sat. 3. 54••
• H••r. lib. 2. epist. 2. 201
• ••or. lib. 1. epist. 6. 45.
• S••n. Agam. act. 3. sc. 1. 29.
• Ter. Adel. act. 2 se. 2.
• Throp. lib. 3. ele 2. 23.
• Sen. Agam. act. 2. Sc. 1. 47.
• Hor. lib. 1. Epist 1. 51.
• Prop. lib. 3. cle. 8. 5.
• Inven. Sat. 13. 60.
• Cic. Off. lib. 1.
• Ter. Eun. act. 1. scen. 2.
• Mart. l. 13. epig. 2. 1.
• Petr Pa. 1. son. 138. 8.
• Ter. And. act. 1 scen. 3.
• Act. 1. 26
• Ci••. Acad. qu. lib. 4.
• Til ••••••. lib 4. h••ro. v. 41.
• Hor. lib. 2. epist. 2 97.
• Iuve. sat. 8. 183
• Pers. sat. 4. 23
• Cic. Off. lib. ••.
• Hor. ser. lib. 2. sa••. 3. 253.
• Hor. ser. l. 1. sa••. 4. 73.
• Per•• sat. 5. 19.
• 21.
• Mart. li. 13. epig. 1. 1.
• Catul. epig. eleg. ••7. 8.
• Lucr. l. 4. 12. 24
• Se••t. quare &c.
• Ori. Trist. l. 4. el. 3. 37.
• Cat. lyr. epig. 24. 1.
• Sen. epist. 69. ••••
• Tacitus A••••. l. 14. Cass••.
• ••••••. d••••. 4. l. 2.
• Li••. d••••. 〈…〉〈…〉 ••. 2
• Livius.
• Juven. sa••. 6. 192.
• Cat. epig. el••g. 6. 77.
• P••ud ••••st. Sym. l. 2. f.
• Prud. cont. Sym. lib. 2.
• Ma••il. astr. l. 4 224.
• Claud. in E••∣trop. li. 1. 20
• Cor. Tac. vit. Jul. Agric.
• Mart. lib. 7. epig. 38. 8.
• Mart. lib. 12. e∣pigram. 99. 8
• Hor. lib. 1. epist. 18. 66.
• Iuven. sat. 3. 36.
• Claud. epist. ad Hadr. v. 39.
• Ovid. Trist. li. 3. ••l. 5. 35.
• S••••t. ••••lv. lib. 5.
• Tass•• ••i••r. can. 12. ••••••••. 55.
• Claud in Eu∣trop. lib. 1. 182.
• Iuve. sat. 6. 344
• Hor car. lib. 2 od. 18. 17.
• Sen. epist. 77. p.
• Virg. Aen. l. 4. 653.
• Catul. eleg. 1. 103.
• T••b. l, ad Pri ap. v 4.
• Propert. lib. 3. el. 12. 17.
• Cic. divin. lib. 2.
• Cic. divin. lib. 2.
• I•••• sat. 6. 548
• I••••. sat. 14. 70.
• Ovid. art. Am. lib. 3. 53.
• Virg. Ae••. lib. 462.
• Sen. episti 56.
• Claud. in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 1. 48.
• Vir Aen. l. 12. 1. 03.
• Virg Ae••••. 10. 134.
• Lucan. l. 5. 289.
• Iucau. l. 4 505. Virg. Ae••. li. 12 684.
• Lucan. l. 4. 151.
• Her. car. lib. 4. ••d. 14 25.
• Virg. Georg. Il. 2. 473.
• Ma••t. li. 1. epig. 14. 1.
• Propert. li. 2. ••l: 34. 79.
• ••or. li. epist. 23
• Ovid. Am. li 3. ••l. 8. 25.
• Lucr. l▪ 3. 1081.
• Ma••il ••st. l. 2. 8.
• A. Gel. ••••ct. Att. 13 c. II.
• Lucan. l. 1. 148.
• Virg Aen. l. 8. 589.
• Lib. 12 521.
• Sen. epist. 101. f
• Mart. l. 10. ••∣pig. 47. v••t.
• Ci••. T••sc. qu. l. 2
• C••••. ibid.
• Virg. Aen. l. 6. 103.
• Iuv▪ sat. 3. 236.
• Vi••g. Ae•• l. 7. 770.
• Ci••. divin. lib. 2.
• Lucil. Auso••. epig. 73
• Mart. l. 6. epig. 53.